Space.

Last night we hosted the Vandenberg family in our home for dinner.

This family is unusual. And different. And wonderful. And our family relates to their family quite well.

Why is that?

Because they live in this.

(Just in case you might wonder why a minister's family has a Budweiser sign in the front of their bus, this picture was taken by the former owners before the Vandenbergs bought the bus.)

And they travel most of the year singing and preaching in churches around the U.S. and Canada; in fact, Lloyd and Cathy have been living on the road three-quarters out of every year for their entire marriage—25 years!

The main difference between them and us?

They have six children as opposed to our two. So for much of their time on the road, they had eight people living in a bus for 8-9 months a year!

Since their older daughter has recently gotten married and will be moving to China with her husband to do missions work and their next oldest daughter is in Bible school, they have “only” six people on the bus now.

Which is a lot of people in a little space.

We’ve known this family for about twenty years and used to run into each other occasionally in different parts of the country; we'd always try to grab a meal or two together before heading down separate highways. Since they home school, play instruments, sing, write songs, record CD’s, etc. it was always wonderful to get to meet up with them.

Getting the chance to spend the evening with them last night (after not seeing them for about 10 years) was an extra special treat. Sarah especially enjoyed talking with their kids; they have things in common with each other that very few other kids can understand or relate to.

This past Sunday, the Vandenbergs sang and preached in our morning service and then last night after our meal, they gave us a tour of their bus. That brought back so many memories from our own road days.

Here’s Sarah on their bus reading to their cute-as-a-button 3-year old.

A little serious.

A little not-so-serious.

(There are seven people in this picture instead of the usual six because Katelynn—the young lady on the left--has been on break from school for a couple weeks.)

I have to admit to you that once we left their noisy, crowded, happy bus and arrived back at our home, I walked in the front door, took a look around, sighed and said to myself. “Ahhh. Space.”

I have lived full time for over twenty years of my life (first with my parents and then with Steve) in R.V’s and I have quite happily gotten along in the teeniest spaces imaginable. (Most of the time, we lived in less than 300 sq. feet of space.)

So I can truly say that I greatly admire the Vandenbergs for their long term commitment to their traveling ministry. I can also say that I’m glad I got to live that unusual and fulfilling lifestyle for twenty years. And lastly? I can definitely say that I appreciate beyond all description the fact that I now live in a home that has space.

Space, wonderful space. Ahhh.

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You all were so sweet to chime in yesterday about my post on Snowy’s liver results; I was touched by how many of you shed joyful tears and/or did your own happy dances over our good news. Snowy is a blessed little fella to have his own Smithellaneous Fan Club. (He says to tell you all howdy but he can’t write right now because he’s too busy trying to keep up with his grueling Napping In The Sun schedule.)

Here are Snowy and his sister before she left for school this morning. A good lookin’ pair, don’t you think?

Before I close, let me respond to a few of your recent comments:

Mary H. said, “I, for one, would be heartbroken if there wasn't at least a little mention everyday of Snowy's brightness and funniness and health. A Christmas miracle, for sure - he came to you at Christmas time, isn't that correct? He was a miracle then and a miracle still.”

Mary, you have a good memory! Yes, we did get Snowy at Christmastime, Christmas Eve, 2000 to be exact. He was two months old, weighed about two pounds and was the most darling ball of white fluff you have ever seen!

Jodi said, I can barely see the screen to type this email as the HAPPY tears are falling. We should have known Snowy Stud Muffin (is that right?) Smith would be just like his sister PGC!

Yes, Snowy’s unofficial middle name is Stud Muffin.

(Jodi continued . . . .) And while we are talking about the functions of the Smith Children; how is Nathan feeling/doing with the thyroid issues--HYPER, RIGHT)? You haven't talked about his health "issue" in quite some time. I am hoping NO NEWS IS GOOD NEWS; but assuming is not something I am good at so please let us know, if you wish.

After Nathan’s last visit to the doctor to have his thyroid checked, she said his levels had come back to near normal. He just needs to be re-checked every year.

Anne said (in reference to my post about time going faster the older we get), Hi Becky, I read somewhere about a theory that as we age our core temperature rises ever so slightly - the hypothalamus is the reason I think? And they postulated that it affects our perception of time.

Anne, I have no idea what all the means but it sounds very impressive and I am also impressed that you used the word “postulated” in a sentence. That is a lovely word that is so underused!

(Anne continued . . .) Happy Anniversary!!! Will you plan something extra-special for the big 3-0 next year?

Steve and I were just talking the other day about our 30th anniversary and what we might do. Since my dream of touring old buildings and castles in Europe is a little “much” and since his dream of sightseeing out west in a Mazda Miata convertible roadster may not be financially feasible till we’re about ninety, we’re still a bit undecided as to our 30th anniversary plans.

But as fast as time goes? We’d better hurry and start planning because 2011 is probably going to be gone within the next ten minutes.

Known By Love.

I sat down to write today. And I said to myself, “Self, I think it’s about time (according to the Unofficial Smithellaneous Rotating Subject Schedule) to write a personal essay. A more serious post. Something with some meat on it. Something a bit more highbrow than “The Hairstyles of a Maltese.”

Although Snowy did ask me to pass along his most gracious appreciation, his most fervent felicitations and his eternal expressions of ongoing gratitude for all the gracious sentiments that were expressed about yesterday’s missive of masterpiece-esque proportions. (Well, actually all he said was, “Aw, shucks” but as his personal editor, I felt compelled to dress up his response a bit.)

So anyway, all that preliminary rambling brings me to the title of today’s (slightly more serious) post:

Known By Love

As most of you know, I am married to a minister. My dad was a minister. My sister is married to a minister. I have many friends who are ministers. I am a credentialed minister myself.

As a result, I have had an insider’s view of the church since the first day I entered my first church sanctuary as a wee little baby. And truthfully? An insider’s view of just about any organization--whether a church, a restaurant, or a business--can be a bit alarming. It can be a lot disillusioning. It can show you stuff that you really don’t want to know. And why is that? Well, it’s probably because people are involved in all of those enterprises. And as far as I can tell, people aren’t perfect. (Which is not an excuse. Just a reason.)

Of course the media doesn’t help matters any. Any negative thing that crops up concerning a religious leader immediately becomes fodder for instant headlines. It gives the talking heads on the news shows something to dissect. And dither over. And dismiss with an airy wave of the hand and the comment, “Well, why are we not surprised? Church people are no different from anyone else!”

And sadly, sometimes that’s true.

Sometimes church board meetings break out into fist fights. Sometimes gossiping saints stomp on the hearts of people already broken. Sometimes a preacher starts sniffing around the edges of another church, just looking for the opportunity to engage in a bit of “sheep stealing.” And sometimes a pastor even gets on Facebook and criticizes the actions (or sermon titles) of a fellow pastor in town.

Although the Bible says that Christians would be known by their love, there sometimes seems to be precious little love in our churches. And among our pastors. And between different denominations and various faith backgrounds.

Which is why I’d like to shine some light on something good. Something I’ve mentioned before. Something I’m going to keep on mentioning as time goes by.

Steve and I are part of an interdenominational pastor’s group. We meet once a month, sometimes for a meal, sometimes for prayer, sometimes for conversation.

At one of our recent meetings, a pastor’s wife said to the group, “I just want you all to know that my husband and I are committed to praying for you all and defending you. And if anyone comes to us and starts to criticize any of you for any reason, we have got your back.”

Another pastor said, “This group is a place where I can come and feel safe. No matter what has gone on in my church during the past month, I know I can come here and be loved and prayed for. Because I know that you understand.”

Another pastor, who had reached out to the rest of us for some financial help due to a crisis in his church, had tears in his eyes as he thanked us for standing with him during a challenging time.

And yet another pastor got up and told the story of some painful things that had happened to him in another church, things that just about killed him and turned him into an emotional, physical and spiritual wreck. Although he hadn’t told his story to many people, he shared it with us. We were honored to listen, we were moved to tears, and we were inspired to hear how God had restored him and brought him here to pastor on the Outer Banks.

There were three denominations represented in the room with us at our meeting last Friday. Since all of us pastor within about twenty minutes of each other, one might think that we would view each other as competitors; instead, we choose to see each other as team members. All of us are called to reaching people. And all of us know that we’ll accomplish that mission better if we work together—not apart.

So. Do some preachers fight and tear each other down? Sometimes. Unfortunately.

Do some preachers make a commitment to being “known by their love?” Sometimes. Fortunately.

Do me a favor. The next time you hear a story about a church fight, the next time you read a headline about bickering religious leaders, the next time you see something in Newsweek about a preacher who denigrates another denomination, please stop for just a minute. Please stop and remember that there are pastors and churches all over the world who will, thankfully, never be featured in those kinds of stories.

There are pastors everywhere—just like our small group in eastern North Carolina-- who are committed to caring well for their flocks, committed to caring well for each other, and committed to being known by their love.

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PS. I thought it might be fun to show you a few pictures of the church we met in last week. If you’ve ever visited the Outer Banks of North Carolina, you have no doubt seen this church on the main road. (Because any church built in the shape of an ark and called, “The Ark” is sort of hard to miss.)

It even has port holes for windows. Is that cool, or what?

The church also has a thriving Spanish congregation which meets Sunday afternoons.

There’s an anchor in the front yard.

For those who have vacationed here, seen the church and been curious as to what it looks like on the inside, here’s your chance to get a tour.

I love the doors that look like they belong on a ship.

Another view of the porthole windows.

The flags of the countries where the church supports missionaries.

The platform.

The Ark.

How great to see a church fit in so perfectly with it’s coastal surroundings. Gotta love it!

And Their Absence Thereof

At 6:30 am, Steve's hospital pager went off. When he called in, they said someone had just died and the family members were asking for a chaplain. (As a rule, if a family doesn't have a pastor of their own, a chaplain is called.)

Steve was out the door in a jiffy and since he's been gone, I've been sitting here thinking of that family, caught up in death's aftermath.

Birth and death are such universal experiences and both of them so drastically change the lives of those around them. One of the privileges of being a pastor (and a pastor's wife) is that we are invited into those most sacred, painful, intimate parts of a person's life. It's a trust we never take lightly.

And speaking of being a pastor, I would like to thank everyone from our previous church, First Assembly in Smithfield, who sent cards, prayers and compassion after my dad's death. You'll never know how much your love and concern meant.

In yesterday's post, I finished out my series on Dad's funeral and my trip to Wisconsin; this week I'll get going again on regular ol' Smith life. I also have an announcement I'll be making soon concerning Life Transition news.

There's lots of good stuff going on, including the fact that I am planning on getting out of my pajamas today and attempting to face the real world. Hurray for me! Hurray for the real world! Hurray for pajamas!

And their absence, thereof.

Plus and Minus

Steve got a call from a pastor friend yesterday with a last minute invitation to sing and preach in Charleston, SC this Sunday morning.

Okay. That's good. A chance to do what we're called and gifted to do. A chance to earn some income. (Which, in our present state, is a lovely thing.)

As you may recall, we sang in another church about a month ago and I was all nervous about it, since we hadn't done a concert in seven years AND I had no foggy idea what my voice was planning on doing. (It has a mind of its own. Just like my hair.)

But this time around when I heard about the invitation, I was feeling a little bit, sort of, quasi-confident because, hey, I'd done it before! I'd sung seven songs in a row before and I figured my chances were good I could do it again!

However, as I was getting all the details from Steve he casually said, "And by the way, they have two morning services."

I sputtered to a stop. Two? Morning services? I have to sing two services back to back? In one morning? Using only one slightly used, not-so-reliable, undeniably fragile voice?

Um. Hello? Is this such a great idea? Non-stop singing ALL stinkin' mornin'?

Let the butterflies commence their abdominal maneuvers.

The other difference on this trip is that we will be taking Princess Groovy Chick and The Dawg with us since Nathan is not at home to babysit the aforementioned family members. Sarah, of course, is a delight to travel with. Snowy? Not so much.

He seems to get it in his head that the ONLY Snowy-worthy seat in the entire vehicle is on MY lap. Or leaning on MY arm looking out MY window. Which is fine. Except I can't read or work on my computer when my lap is already occupied by six pounds of Snowyness. And we have to find a hotel that takes dogs and find something to do with him during the TWO morning services. AND it's eight hours, round trip. I'll definitely have plenty of "Snowy on my lap" time.

Sigh.

But with all that aside, I know it will be a great outing. Sarah has not heard her parents do a concert since she was six years old so I'm sure she'll be a fascinated audience member. In fact, the last concert she ever heard us do was on Mother's Day, 2002, five days before her cancer diagnosis.

It really amazes me that we can never really know when life is about to change abruptly. We had packed up our equipment on that Sunday so long ago and driven away from the church with a full calendar for the following year and cases of newly recorded Cd's in our truck. We were set to travel forever. And then some.

We had absolutely no way of knowing that that Mother's Day morning marked our very last official, "on the road" concert. Ever.

And now seven years later, here we are on the road again. For a weekend at least. Except with a thirteen year old daughter instead of a six-year old.

And minus one College Dude. (Of course, back then, he was an Elementary School Dude.) Minus one strong singing voice and one healthy set of lungs. Plus a lot more wisdom and maturity. Plus a pound or two. (Or three.) Minus the hundreds of pounds of gear and the semi truck. Plus an actual house to live in. Minus an RV. Minus the youthful certainty that we were in charge of our future. Plus the thankfulness that we still have the opportunity to sing and preach. Minus the knowledge of what our immediate future holds.

Plus the comfort that we know Who holds the future.

Even WITH the dog in my lap for eight hours? It'll be a great weekend.

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I'm posting a video here that I will also post on Sarah Smith's Spot. I thought there might be a few people who come here that don't always go to that site and I wanted everyone to see the celebration of ten years of the special friendship between Sarah and Victoria.