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S. A. J. Lyttek, a multiple award-winning writer, always loved writing, but didn’t arrive at the profession in the typical manner. After college and graduate school, she plunged into government consulting. In this environment, she discovered a knack for writing tests, interviews and other measurements. That soon became the focus of her career—reigniting her love for the written word. Thus captivated, she spent evenings freelancing “fun” writing including short stories, poems, articles and cards. When her eldest was a toddler, she quit full-time work to stay home and write. Eager to spend more time with her children, homeschooling intrigued her. From preschool through high school, she homeschooled both sons while continuing to freelance. While an integral part of the homeschooling community, she developed and taught writing classes to a generation of homeschoolers. Married to her childhood sweetheart, Gary, Mrs. Lyttek loves to share her commitment to learners of all ages and her fascination with the written word.
I have long imagined that the saddest day that ever existed on earth for people who love God was the day between the crucifixion and the resurrection. The day between the victory of hell and the triumph of heaven.
The grief that they experienced was catastrophic. Can you imagine? Not only was someone you considered a dear friend dead, brutally killed in the most horrific way you could imagine, but all the hopes and dreams you had for a better future had died with him.
It’s been such an ongoing mental track that it became part of the Portal Watcher series. I wanted to show that level of despair for when the prophesied one is no more. In the final book, Via-tel is called to an account to pay for the wrongs she’s committed. She begs Parep to help her deal with the demon Let which he does. Then she returns alone.
Her royal gown was dirty and torn. Her face was stained with tears and smudges of who-knew-what. She appeared sorrowful, not regal. But more than that, she was beaten.
Garth hurried to her side to help. “What happened?”
She managed to squeak out, “He’s not coming back!” before starting to cry again.
“Parep?”
She nodded.
“Are you certain?”
She nodded again.
“Can you explain why?”
She nodded, wiped her eyes, and blew her nose. “He…he took my place!”
I’ve also written poems and skits about it. One collection, now out of print and by a publisher that no longer exists, called Three Days, devoted one third of the monologues to Saturday.
Most of them are too long to include in this blog post. But one, with Mary the mother of Jesus as its narrator, is both the right length and poignant. May it help you celebrate holy week.
MARY: (Looking heavenward) What does it mean? What do the events of yesterday mean for us, dear Jehovah?
From the beginning I have trusted you, Lord. I was young then, but I trusted you. I asked you to let my life be according to your Word. I have tried to continue in that promise day by day and year by year. It was difficult in the years after Joseph died to see your purpose, Lord, but I have found it in my children, your promises for Jesus, and my love for you. But what now, Lord? He was your son as much as mine. More really. Why did he die? I don’t understand.
Lord, dear Lord. I know nothing with you is impossible. That is what the angel told me thirty-four years ago. But to my frail mind, this certainly seems impossible.
Holy are you, Lord. Holy is your name. I know you are mighty beyond all things. You have shown our people great mercy for many years. Since Abraham, you have kept your promises. You have said that Jesus’ kingdom would never end. How can that be, now that he is dead? You have said that he will have the throne of David. From the grave, Lord, will he rule?
Lord, I loved the son you gave me. (Wipes eyes to dry tears) I loved also the Savior you gave our people. Now that he is dead, how will your words come to pass? I cannot see it. I do not understand.
(Bows head) No matter what, Lord, I am your handmaiden. Amen. Let my life be unto you as you will.
(Begins to walk off-stage) But oh Lord, I miss my son so!
As we remember the pain of Thursday, Friday, and even Saturday, of Holy Week, may it help us appreciate Sunday all the more!
I had planned to write this week’s post about our 45th anniversary of our first date (April 4, 1980) and Gary’s birthday tomorrow (which this year makes him fully retirement eligible). In my head it was sweet and retrospective.
You would think that by now I’d learn to expect glitches when I make plans. I can still wax poetically about the two things I’d planned to write about, but a couple of other things happened that cannot skip these pages.
Sunday, I went to church. Normal, right? I had a mild headache, but as time passed, it got worse. By three p.m., I was huddled under a blanket and groaning. It felt mostly like allergies, but at the same time, I felt awful.
Monday, we had our monthly chiropractor appointment. I was tempted to call in that I was sick and skip it, but my back really needed the attention after the cruise and a fair amount of driving and lugging things. So, I donned a mask and went. In the midst of explaining how I felt, Gary said to the chiropractor, “Her allergies always act up around my birthday.” And once he said it, I remembered it was true. There’s some tree pollen or mold in Virginia that I’ve never identified (the two times I was tested for allergies didn’t reveal anything), that comes into its strength the first week of April.
Therefore, happy allergy anniversary!
Give me a couple more days and I’ll feel okay again.
Moving onto yesterday’s fun. Still, not feeling great. But needed a few things and wanted to stock up on some others because of the sale prices. Since I usually do a store pickup order, I figured I could handle that. Do all the shopping from the comfort of my chair and then spend ten to fifteen minutes in the car waiting for the clerk to put the order in the trunk. Easy. Low-stress. I’ve done it a bunch of times.
Ha. Ha-ha.
My pick-up time was scheduled for 1 PM. Usually, I get some kind of notification no later than a half hour before pick-up. Nothing. At 12:45, I called the store. The young woman who answered said she was working on my order, but I ordered too many things, and she was having a hard time finding many of them. After saying it would be at least a half hour, she hung up. Not rudely or anything, so it was hard to get mad at her. She sounded overwhelmed.
By 1:30, half hour after my scheduled time, and still having heard nothing in terms of updates by app, email, or text, I decided to head to the store. I parked in the pickup spot, but instead of hanging out there, I walked into the store, planning to go to customer service. There, right in front of customer service was obviously the person picking my groceries. She looked frazzled.
“I think that’s my order. Can I help?”
She asked me to approve a couple of substitutions, which I did. Then I followed her over to the pick up office where she logged the items she had bagged into the computer.
“Is this it?”
“I just have to do your freezer items and then everything will be done.” She tapped at the device on her wrist. “Ten, fifteen minutes tops.”
At this time, it was already 2:00 PM.
She directed one of the stockers to load my car with the completed portion. He did. I walked back into the store and stood near the front for ten minutes while the stocker complained about my situation to one of the clerks at customer service. The clerk smiled at me ruefully and said, “The manager’s at a regional meeting and we’re short-staffed today.” In other words, nothing top down would be incentivizing my packer.
Tired of waiting, I headed off to the freezer section. “Can I help?” I asked again.
She looked at my list.
“If you could tell me which yogurt you’d ordered and find your cheese?”
For the next twenty minutes, she gave me item names and I found them. Basically, I picked a good share of my own groceries. And, I spent more time at the store than I would have if I had just gone shopping.
By 2:45, an hour and forty-five minutes after my pick-up time, I was finally home with my groceries. After a coughing-sneezing fit*, I put everything away and got dinner started just in time to teach online.
And yes, tomorrow is my darling’s birthday. And yes, 45 years ago I agreed to go on a date with Gary (we went horseback riding) and my fate was sealed.
But sometimes the snafus are just too crazy for fiction and they have to be told.
Now, excuse me while I go get all fancy. I have the honor and the privilege of being the unofficial official photographer at one of Gary’s speaking events tonight!**
*Amazed I didn’t cough or sneeze through that whole mess. **Praying I don’t cough or sneeze while I’m trying to unobtrusively get the best shots!
Sometimes I wish that my imaginings of what a day or week will be like actually take place.
For instance, last week. I imagined a week of cruise bliss. Trying some new activities, trying some new foods, and a whole lot of relaxing. For the record, all of that did happen on some level, just not as I imagined. But Gary getting food poisoning on our third day—the day we had scheduled a shore excursion—threw a monkey wrench into my ideal plans. And until I found out the doctor’s verdict of food poisoning (around 5 PM), I spent a good chunk of the day worrying if I would catch whatever Gary suffered from.
On the plus side, while Gary was still recuperating on day 4, I got to spend some a few hours with the lovely couple in the cabin next to ours as they shopped and people watched on Grand Turk. It was a fantastic way to get to know them better and add someone else to my Christmas card list!
And after that point, my darling was mostly normal and we could go to the spa and the pool and even take in a few shows. Overall, the week was good, just not what I expected. The sudden illness was a hiccup in my plans.
I don’t like hiccups. Physical or theoretical. They’re uncomfortable. They’re distracting. And they’re good at pointing out how self-focused I really am.
Near the end of the cruise, a less dramatic (albeit embarrassing) hiccup occurred. While walking up a short flight of stairs, the wind blew my hair across my face in such a way that I could see nothing. Of course, that meant I missed a stair and fell. On the pool deck. In front of dozens of people. Fortunately, I’d had a hand lightly on the rail which I instinctively tightened so I didn’t fall as hard or as far as I could’ve. When I stood quickly, saying, “I’m fine. I’m fine,” I had two bruised knees, a red nose (that faded within an hour—thank God), and a black and blue toe. Of them all, only the toe persists days later. And that’s not bad. But it meant I had to keep tabs on those body parts to make sure nothing more serious happened—especially my trick knee which did swell briefly.
On the way home, we discovered, on an 80+ day, that the air conditioning in the car didn’t work. For whatever reason, that’s always been a weak spot in the Subie. Yes, there were ways to compensate (windows and sunroof), but it’s another thing we had to bounce back from after the trip. Our SUV goes into the shop on Friday.
Sometimes, life is just like that. You look for things to go in a straight line, on a predictable path, but instead you slam into one thing after another like you live within a pinball machine.
In this world, Jesus said, you will have trouble. (You will have ricochets, hiccups, and even full-on body checks. You will have change that merely unsettles you as well as change that takes your breath away.) But take heart, He says. I have overcome the world.
In the midst of the normal returning home stuff, unpacking, doing laundry, I called my sister and dad. When they answered my hello, I knew something was wrong. Sometimes, you can just hear it in the voice, you know?
“We didn’t want to interrupt your trip, spoil a good vacation.” Thoughtful and appreciated. “Your Uncle Karl passed away while you were gone.”
I wouldn’t have been able to see him no matter what and I knew that. But just like that, the world changed. The man who’d play the crocodile in the swamp to entertain his nieces and nephews on holiday get-togethers (always ending in giggling fits), who could put together an old radio from parts, and who laughed deep and long like every good Ghost of Christmas Present was absent from my world.
Ricochet.
Yesterday, as I post this, was Earth Day.
Now, while I don’t actively celebrate it, I think remembering our planet is a good thing. We don’t have the choice to go live on Mars or Vulcan. This planet, this Earth is our home. And as we should maintain and take care of any apartment, home, or tent we live in, we need to take care of the fragile spinning globe that God provided for us.
In fact, the first role given to human beings, given before sin entered the world, was to tend and take care of the place they lived. Genesis 2:15 (NKJV) Then the Lord God took the man and put him in the garden of Eden to tend and keep it.
Our job from the beginning of time has been to keep the growing things growing.
Somewhere along the way, human beings decided that the Earth was theirs to plunder rather than keep. Maybe, like a child who’s been disciplined for choosing wrongly, they reacted to the curse and said, “If I can’t have what I want and paradise, too, then I might as well take everything good out of the world and make the gift of land I’ve been provided into hell.”
Genesis 3:17b-18 (NKJV) “Cursed is the ground for your sake;
In toil you shall eat of it
All the days of your life.
Both thorns and thistles it shall bring forth for you,
And you shall eat the herb of the field.”
In spite of the penalty we brought upon ourselves, by wanting to be God essentially, God never intended Earth to be hellish. If you look at the wording of the curse, it promises food. It says we will eat from the ground and from the field. We do, though, have to fight the thorns and the thistles.
That said, even thorns and thistles have their uses. Milk thistle has been used in herbal remedies for centuries. Blackthorn and hawthorn also have histories of application for human health. Not only that, but thistles grant havens and food for butterflies and thorn rows and bushes protect the nests of smaller birds.
Even the curse has beauty woven in. That’s the magnificence of a good and bountiful Creator.
I’ve never understood treating the earth as something to be used, abused, and then thrown away. Its bounty and richness should be treasured and nurtured. Does that mean we ignore its provisions? No. We were given it for food from the beginning of time. God even clothed Adam and Eve with animal skins, so that too, is included in how we should live.
When I think of the ideal way to live, treating the gifts of our world with respect, I think of my grandfather. He lived in his own home until just shy of 100. He kept a garden and enjoyed its produce. He didn’t pay for a trash service. Instead, he composted anything organic to go back into his garden, burned what would burn to heat his workshop in the garage, and repurposed and reused everything else.
He lived lightly. He enjoyed the benefits of what creation offers while contributing back to it whatever he could.
I’m not that good or that diligent.
My latest passion on being kind to the world is finding ways to use and consume less plastic. For instance, neither the dishwasher detergent we use nor the laundry sheets have any plastic within them or in their packaging. It’s not much, but it’s something.
Personally, I believe God commands all our days to be Earth Days, not just the one that we observe. Tending the planet and its bounty goes back to our original work—something deemed right and holy before we ate from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.
Like Grandpa, let’s find ways wherever we can and within our abilities to live lightly. Christians especially should honor the world in obedience to God’s original plan and design.
Because, until God creates the new Earth, it’s the only one we have.