grandson – Jerry Lout ⚬ Writer ⚬ Speaker ⚬ Mobilizer

There is no surprise more magical than the surprise of being loved. It is God’s finger on man’s shoulder.

This reflection attributed to Playwright Charles Morgan, brings a soul-warming smile this day.

I was not smiling those several weeks back at Christmastime upon learning my twenty-seven-year-old grandson was being wheeled off to surgery. T.J. would soon be left without a colon. The culprit – advanced Crohn’s Disease.

The procedure complete, T.J.’s body then faced a string of bewildering, daunting and very worrisome hurdles. The hospital’s I.C.U., his new address. Seven weeks into the journey, T.J. and his (rock star companion) wife Ashley are breathing a bit more easily. This week’s physician report thankfully signals a turn for the better.*

The expressions of love directed toward T.J. and to our whole family certainly did not come as a full surprise. Many readers of this column can relate.

A number of those praying and caring supporters cheering us on are people already near and dear in our lives. Still, the parade of well-wishers, friends and acquaintances, shoring up our feeble faith through their voices and their unrelenting praying seemed at times super-human. Indeed , the Divine element is irrefutable – his strong presence.

Our brother-in-Christ and past co-laborer Pastor Wangombe in Africa – adds his voice to many of our international student friends, past and present, “It is war; and in all these things we are more than conquerors through Christ our Lord”.

South Asia friend, Raj, chimes in, “Amen, rock on TJ and team. PTL”!

Smiles, indeed.

*further update: T.J. is out of hospital. With family, gaining strength

I think we all need – really need, this to navigate life.

My friend Roger continued. Bringing less frazzle, more sanity. More life. Roger, was on a roll. Not unlike a drum roll.

When I hear drum rolls or things to do with foot-tappings, knee-slappings, fingertip-rappings, I think, Cody.

Not the Cody, Wyoming of other blog posts here recalling bus rides westward, motorcycle adventure, romance.

Rather the Cody from Southeast Oklahoma – my first grandson. Is he twenty-two now – Really?

For years his hands, wrists, even shoulders have unleashed pulsating energies.

What’s that distant rat-a-tat? More than one head-scratching visitor has posed the question to my daughter – his mother. She smiles, Oh, that’s Cody out in the game room. Drumming.

Distracted family members have implored little drummer boy – Umm, Code-man, could you ease up on the finger tapping. Focusing on our card game ain’t going well.

From eighth grade he began wowing us (grandparent bragging rights are constitutionally-protected.) Ten years beating away on drum heads, cymbals, chests of drawers, kitchen counters, bathroom mirrors, pickup hoods. God be praised he drums in rhythm.

Our lives need rhythm, Roger went on. My wife and I take a ‘couch time’ break most days. Breaking for fifteen minutes from all the action swirling around us. To connect, to catch up. To be in each other’s worlds. On purpose.

Rhythms. On Purpose.

Call them practices. Call them disciplines.

Whatever we call them – practices, disciplines – thoughtful people weave them into their calendar. Stewarding ebbs and flows of on-purpose living. On purpose.

Much like ancient Jesus-followers did, like mothers and fathers of the faith did – century by century.

Like the master Jesus himself did,

“Rising a great while before day he went into a solitary place, and there prayed”.

And Paul, “as his custom was he entered the synagogue”. Prayer, Scripture, Church community, Service, Solitude, Rest, Labor.

I ponder such a list and an appetite stirs. I’m homesick to ebb and flow like this, in my own design.

As surely as I am made for God, I’m made for rhythms. He moves in, takes up more space in my affections. Helps me live my design.

Going to Youtube I watched several drummers – really accomplished drummers. Not all were specimens of health. So physically disabled were some they struggled to mount the drum stool. Then magic took over. How?

Their disciplines – repeated practicings – carried them to astonishing mastery. Melodious thumpings and swishings, clangings and tappings easily flow from their wrists and hands. Amazingly they have long stopped thinking their limbs into action. The body takes over. It is trained.

Such is the way of the Jesus-follower. More becoming his, in the ebb and flow of spiritual disciplines. Trusting his help, his ready strength at every step. Entering the easy yoke.

“I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.” -Jesus

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Rhythm