Who is George Lucas?

(I wrote the following story a number of years ago, but it seems appropriate to repost it at this time, considering the notable records the new Star Wars movie, The Force Awakens has already achieved. Hope you enjoy it!)

We can thank my mother-in-law for introducing Star Wars into our children’s lives by getting our 5 year old son his first Star Wars LEGO set.  He ripped the boxes open and within seconds our home was invaded by the Imperial Stormtroopers and the Droids.

I was mortified.

Star Wars?!!! He is waaay too young for Star Wars!

It wasn’t the complexity of the building process I was concerned about, because that never seemed to be a problem for our pint-size engineer. What bothered me much more was a matter of introducing complex adult issues into his immature mind, and the challenge that creates for me as his parent. But, like it or not, the door was open and there was no going back.  From that day on, my son turned into a miniature StarWars-maniac.  So far, he’s been mostly preoccupied with recreating cosmic wars against his little sister. Along the way he somehow acquired a prodigious amount of information about the characters and the plot and various twists and turns in the storyline.  He learned the difference between the Imperial and the Rebel blaster, the who’s who and what’s what of the Imperial Army and the Rebel Alliance, and all the whys and therefores of the narrative that molded the worldview of generation after generation since the first movie was released.  He bought a Star Wars Visual Dictionary with his own money(!) that looks more like Encyclopedia Britannica to me. 

Now, all this wouldn’t be so surprising if it wasn’t until this afternoon, years after the initial encounter, that he saw his very first Star Wars movie.  Episode IV, to be more precise, which I picked up from our local library.   Watching him watch the movie was as much (or more) fun as watching the movie itself.   It was as if he had all these loose pieces of a puzzle, and he finally saw how they all fit together, he could finally place them in their exact spots in the larger, 4-D story-puzzle.  His delight was quite contagious. During dinner, he continued chatting enthusiastically about all the fascinating trivia he picked up during the afternoon Star Wars extravaganza.  In the course of the conversation, my husband casually mentioned George Lucas and what his intent might have been for the unfolding of the various episodes in a certain sequence.

George… Lucas?!!  Our son muttered hesitantly… And who is this George Lucas? There was no doubt that he was utterly confused.  You could tell that he was scrolling down the imaginary database of Star Wars names and faces,  from Emperor Palpatine through Chewbacca and Ewoks, but there was no suitable match for the name “George Lucas”.

It was now our turn to be confused. How is it possible that with all these years of borderline obsession with the Jedi and their pecking order, Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader, R2D2 and Obi-Wan Kenobi, our son never ever heard the name George Lucas? We looked at each other and burst into laughter.

Hmmm...George Lucas….  George Lucas….  Well, he is kind of like God to the world of Star Wars. Without him, there would be no Star Wars, nor the galaxy, nor anybody or anything else belonging to this galaxy far, far away.  He created it all.  This amazing world exists because it first existed in the mind of George Lucas.

It took several minutes for the news to settle in his shaken-to-the core 9 year old mind screaming for a paradigm shift. Until this moment of revelation he was so preoccupied with the fascinating universe which George Lucas had created that for a brief while he simply couldn’t contain the information about the existence of the creator of that universe.

There…there is a George Lucas… there IS a George Lucas and I never even knew it! 

In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. Genesis 1:1

The Empty Chair of Christmas

At first, it looked like it was going to be the best of both worlds.

Except for a little mishap at the departure – when one of the giant bags overstuffed with gifts burst open as it was checked in – the journey went without a hitch.  And even the unfortunate bag, hastily refilled with all the gifts so nothing was lost, then saran-wrapped so it could, if need be, withstand a flight to space and back, made it safely along with all its contents.

The question still remains unanswered… how does one cram all the love that’s inside a heart into a giant suitcase?

Then came joyful reunion.  The hugs and the kisses. The celebration on both sides of the globe, and a huge sigh of relief.  The unpacking. The ooohs and the aaaahs over the exotic cargo, an intoxicating taste of a far off country . The cross-cultural mission accomplished. Raving success.

On both sides of the vast ocean everyone is busy with their Christmas preparations. The gifts to buy and make. The decorations and the lights. The cooking and the baking.  The tablecloths and the stemware.

The distance divides.

The distance unites.

Then, at just the right hour, everyone gathers – separated and united at the same time by the grainy video feed filled with jubilant faces.  Everyone is cramming together peeking, waving, nodding, calling out.  So much noise you can barely hear yourself.

It’s all good.  All around good.

Until over the din of excitement and the party noise somebody says,

It’s NOT GOOD!

Hush.

Not good??? What do you mean it’s not good?  Everything is GREAT!

Everyone else nods.

Yea.  It’s all good.  All very, very good.

But the one insists that there is something that is not good.

The rest are finally silenced.

The chairs, the renegade points, These chairs are EMPTY! That’s NOT GOOD. We MISS YOU.  We miss you HERE. We miss you bad. I miss you here, sitting in these chairs next to me.

The rest, having been temporarily lost in the jubilation of successful mission, agree.

It’s just not complete without you.

And so, as long as there are two worlds, there will always be some chairs left empty.  

Heaven’s gain, earth’s loss. 

Heaven’s loss, earth’s gain. 

There are empty chairs in each of our lives, even as we celebrate the good.

Which makes me think that there was another chair left empty – that remained empty – in heaven for thirty-some Christmases.  A chair next to the Father’s, while angels and saints celebrated… Christmas in, and Christmas out…. and muttered to each other,

We miss Him here… We miss Him bad. It’s just not the same here without Him…

For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though He was rich, yet for your sake He became poor, so that you through His poverty might become rich.  2 Corinthians 8:9

Although He existed in the form of God, did not regard equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied Himself, taking the form of a bond-servant, and being made in the likeness of men. Being found in appearance as a man, He humbled Himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.  Philippians 2:6-9

Racing the Mousetrap Car of Fear

Earlier today we received an automated call from the Superintendent of our children’s public school district with the following message:

This morning the OCPS staff discovered a threatening email similar to those received in other large districts, including LA, NY, Miami, Houston and Broward, where they were deemed to be less than credible. We have established communications with law enforcement agencies and are following appropriate protocol. We wanted to share this information with you and will keep you informed. A regular school day is expected today and tomorrow. Principals have been asked to stay alert and keep students calm and focused on instruction.

Just what a parent wants to hear. 

I am not kidding. I mean it. 

Really.

Keep Calm.  Stay focused on instruction.

Keep Calm and Study On.

After all, it’s just a bomb threat.

Of course, inside this mother's heart there is a little panic button going off, demanding immediate action. It's soooo easy to freak out. To be hijacked by terror. Especially for parents. Including those who are celebrating the birth of their Savior during this season. It would be so easy to race to the school, wheels of composure and joy and peace falling off, and instigate and/or fuel even more disruption. Ricochet off each other's frantic-parent fear. Perhaps even sow some animosity and hatred.

But, I am so tired of panic.  I am just plain old exhausted from all the endless potential threats and fears they fuel and the life-sucking effect they have on all of us.  I am not going to let yet another day be ruined by it's false alarm. 

And what if it's nor false? 

Well, in that case, I'll need all the presence of mind and composure I could muster to deal with a real emergency that I can't afford to waste the precious emotional and physical resources on the cowards hiding behind the Internet anonymity for their fear-mongering tactics.

.

And this afternoon when I pick up my kids from school, the first question out of my mouth is going to be,

How did the mousetrap car race go? Did the wheels stay on, or did they fall off?

But the angel said to them, Do not be afraid; for behold, I bring you good news of great joy which will be for all the people;  for today in the city of David there has been born for you a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. Luke 2:10-11

Partners in Crime

Maybe it’s because I live in the world of tight schedule, answering machines and playing phone tags ….

Where making advance appointments is expected not just for doctors and oil changes, dentist visits and air conditioner tune ups…

But also for seeing friends …

Where talking to a real person and not a recording is scarce like snow in Florida (it DID happen ONCE last year!)

So, when,

in the throes of the busyness of Christmas season,

I send a tentative text…

Me: Good morning J Two questions…

Julie: Yes…

Me: Before that, a warning…

Me: I need a partner in crime.

A rather frivolous, a quite innocuous crime, I must add…

And while I am still pecking at my screen, explaining the nature of the crime, stating the two yes-or-no questions…

Back and forth, back and forth…

I lift my head and look up

through the dining room window

and see her there, laughing!

A blue van decorated with Christmas lights parked in our driveway, the engine still running…

And my jaw drops and hits the floor…

Maybe it’s because I live in the world of schedules and important priorities, answering machines and advance appointments…

When someone like my friend Julie shows up in my driveway while I am still texting…

Her schedule as busy with responsibilities, obligations, kids, to-do lists and what-nots, as anyone else's I know…

Especially during the hectic Christmas season….

And yet

A ready partner in crime…

Rather frivolous crime…

So frivolous someone may consider it a pure waste of time…

Precious time that could have been spent on something more useful….

More important….

More dire…

While the rest of the world is busy with useful, important and dire…

She lights up my driveway with laughs…

And helps me scrape my chin off the floor.

And helps me 'hide' the evidence -

Reminding me that ‘hiding the evidence’ is part of committing a crime,

as if deaf to all the shoulds and shouldn’ts screaming inside my head and only hearing the laughter of the opportunity to be a partner in crime…

in whatever

as long as we get to be together …

No plan, no schedule, just a spur-of-the-moment silliness…

…And my heart bursts with thanks to God for allowing me to have a friend like Julie in my life…

A friend who shows up not just for life-and-deaf emergency, but for just-because.

Who shows up while I am still texting, before I am even able to finish the sentence.

Perhaps it’s only because I live in the world where one must set up appointments, and plan according to the priorities, the busy world of goals and accomplishments and no time left just to be…

And to be a partner in a frivolous crime…

No time for laughter in the driveway…

And no time for hiding the evidence the way child hides the crumbs and sticky fingers after eating a chocolate-chip cookie…

Where God appears more like a CEO or a president or at least a manager, with important world-saving jobs and soul-budgeting priorities, where one must set up an appointment and not just show up…

Where God appears way too lofty to join me as a partner in an utterly frivolous crime…

Too preoccupied with clearly more important things than to light up my driveway with the light of His laughter, the way the angels lit up the sky over the shepherds' field that night…

But He - He sends me a friend like Julie to remind me it’s only because I live in this world that I think…

It will also come to pass that before they call, I will answer; and while they are still speaking, I will hear. Isaiah 65:24

This Old Dresser

Maybe it’s because in the place where I live, we discard old, broken, damaged or just perfectly good but ugly things without a second thought…

In the place where repair is a lot more time-consuming, more hassle and more costly than just replacing the old with the new…

So, one would think that Jeff came from a different planet... 

When someone like Jeff comes along, and describes

what somebody else labeled as

THAT piece of JUNK!

- which I later tucked away in the guest bedroom,

too embarrassed for anyone else to see it -

But he… he describes it using words like

FABULOUS! 

And

GORGEOUS!…

as if utterly blind to its woeful actuality and only seeing its far off future potential …

…I think,

 I need more people like Jeff in my life…

Someone who is undaunted by the damage…

By scarred, ugly exterior…

Someone who is not intimidated by the enormity of the restoration task ahead…

Someone who, without blinking an eye, says,

Of course it’s worth it!

The labor.  The mess. Battling the desire to quit…

Someone who doesn’t leave me alone to figure it all out, but comes alongside and not just says but does the work, We can do it! It’s no trouble at all…

Someone who makes me think,

If an old beat up dresser is worth it in someone's eyes....

Worth the trouble....

Worth the mess...

Could it be.... that a person – an old, damaged, broken, beat-up man or a woman, 

like you and me  – 

is worth the trouble....

Worth the mess...

Worth the time?

Perhaps it’s only because we live in the world where old, broken, damaged things… and people… are treated as junk… easily discarded without a second thought… replaced by a newer model with barely a shrug…

...that people like Jeff give me just the right gentle kick in my perspective pants…and I look at the old beat-up dresser, and old beat-up men and women (including the one in the mirror) with a pair of brand new perspective eyes....

A bruised reed He will not break and a dimly burning wick He will not extinguish; He will faithfully bring forth justice. Isaiah 42:3

Pass Some Perspective, Please

It doesn’t take me long to figure out that without proper point of perspective my house turns into a crammed in, jumbled up mess.  A caving roof-line.  Distorted siding. Crooked doors and windows and a leaning chimney.

Merriam-Webster dictionary defines perspective as the capacity to view things in their true relations or relative importance.

Do I hear anybody say, I need perspective?

But where in the world, and how do you get, train, cultivate, develop this capacity of seeing not just drawing but our entire lives and their many diverse components in their true relation to each other.  How do I gain understanding of the relative importance of each and with that understanding put them in their rightful, appropriate place at this time in history.

After all, who wants to end up with a mess of a house that caves in on itself?

The point of perspective – it’s actually called the vanishing point of perspective – rests on the horizon line where heaven and earth meet.  Mostly we experience it as peaceful coexistence, each doing their own thing, each minding its own business. But, recorded history indicates that there were and are many many instances of heaven and earth touching, skimming, mingling together, even igniting!

There is only one life, however, that perfectly embodied this unity symbolized by the horizon line. A life that came from what we as humans view as eternity past – before Abraham was I AM - but was uniquely formed at a specific point in history inside a virgin womb of a teenage girl impregnated by the Holy Spirit.

Welcome to first Christmas. 

The vanishing point of perspective for each of us clobbering together our houses and our lives.