Dick Foth is an amazing man. I don’t know what he does, where he lives (Colorado, I think?), I know he is married to Ruth because he talks about her all the time in the loveliest way, but I have never met her. He is ‘older,’ but I don’t know how old. And he’s got the greatest voice. It wraps around you like a well-worn blanket that reaches all the way down past your toes. Maybe his voice is so scrumptious because it delivers wisdom and kindness most of the time – – at least to me. Either way, every time I see his face, I get his voice in my head at the same time. A two-for-one. He is a close friend of our pastor and kind of a grandfather to our church, speaking on occasion. Every time we show up and “Foth” is there, sitting up front and miked for the sermon, it’s a gift. He is full of humor and empathy, and always cuts a clear and wide swath straight to God. I just love him.

In fact, I wish I could write the whole post about Dick Foth but as meaningful as he is to me and our church, I really don’t know him, and if he were standing next to me on the street, I am quite sure if he looked over, he would smile politely and then cross over when he got the flashing white hand. This post isn’t about Dick himself but it is about an idea he presented which struck me so deeply I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. He was talking about the impressions people make on us and said “you may not be able to recollect a single detail about someone you have met but you will always remember how they make you feel.” He embodies that idea, but I wanted to take it a step further and find the people in my own life who have that effect on me, and ask why.

My father-in-law is one of those people who has always made me feel wonderful. I met him when I was a kid and he seemed to just love me immediately – – no resume required. It was clearly nothing I did, more just a funny connection we shared. Maybe it had to do with the fact that we both were really fond of the same guy – – his son – – and at the time perhaps both of us had questions about where we stood with that boy. Those questions are now answered for both of us. Years after meeting my future father-in-law, I married his son, and today my husband has a rich and restored relationship with his Dad.

I have paid attention to what my father-in-law has done over the years, because he falls into that category Dick Foth talks about – – the way someone makes you feel. And the-way-he-makes-me-feel is so precious to me. With some folks I feel guarded, almost defensive, as if I need to be careful about what I share and how I share it. With him, there is a degree of fearlessness in engaging because I trust him. There are no hidden traps in relating to him, no subtext to translate and nothing that ever comes back to incriminate. That doesn’t mean our relationship is conflict free – – but it’s safe. There has always been this sense that he is “for me,” that he has my back and that he assumes the best, not the worst. I know, with him, I will always get the benefit of the doubt. And that feels great, particularly since most relationships don’t offer that kind of freedom…the freedom to be yourself, not tip toe around the truth, and then be loved, anyway.

I would love to have the people with whom I am in relationship, feel that kind of largesse. And after many years, I think I have finally figured it out what the “it” factor is about my father-in-law. He is by no means a perfect guy – – which makes it even better. Nor has he had a particularly graceful life. He comes with his own share of baggage, like the rest of us. But he has this absolute dependence upon God. When he speaks into my life it is with a deep and abiding understanding that God knows best, he doesn’t. He always points me towards God. He lives as if he doesn’t have the answer but God does. That is a remarkably attractive quality. A combination of true humility (generally the kind borne of real life) and reliance on the Source of all things.

Really what he is demonstrating is strength, in weakness – – one of the most difficult moves to pull off and a posture only possible when authentic. I LOVE this in him. It translates into someone who keeps his hands open, never shuts doors, and reaches out, regardless of the response he gets. He trusts God. He lives in peace in the midst of an authentic and imperfect life. He lives a life in which love really, truly matters. It is the way he communicates. He has loved me well as a daughter-in-law. And all that said, I know I have it easy. I don’t have history or baggage, I came to the game when he had already embraced the humility God offered, but it’s a beautiful thing nonetheless. And it has been a treasure to me.

For me, when I find people who live that way – – truly reliant upon God and obedient to His vision for their lives, strong in the midst of their very own weakness, willing to love and offer unremitting grace – – those are the lives I am drawn to. Those are the lives I am willing to have speak into my own. Lives I need not protect myself from…and examples I want to follow. Those are the lives that share love without expectation or condition but simply because it is the language they speak. Those are the lives that point to God and I always remember how they make me feel.

Once a year, when the kids were growing up, I would go in their room on a Saturday morning, and break it to them, as enthusiastically as I could, “Today is Christmas card picture day!” I’ll never forget the year my daughter Emerson, too asleep to censor, pulled the pillow over her little head cried out, “The WORST day of the year!”

Multiple children were never meant to be lined up in their Sunday best to produce picture-perfect smiles, all in the very same instant. But that’s what the Christmas card exercise demands.

Over the years, I transformed each of our old Christmas card photos into an ornament for the tree. I imagined we would all marvel at how everyone had grown and how we would almost certainly lapse into sweet nostalgia…maybe over some steaming hot cocoa with Christmas music playing in the background and snow falling gently outside. Well, we do marvel and reminisce each year, but it sounds more like…”Oh! That’s the year Mom made us all cry,” and “Remember how hot it was that day?” or “I can’t believe we were so close to the edge of the roof…” and the inevitable, “That was right before the wave crashed over the rocks.” In trying to create perfection, the only memories that have survived are the real ones. The heat, discomfort, tension and mayhem, of trying to get everything JUST SO. So now, every year, I endure quite a different tradition, as I get to hear the horror stories of each picture-perfect photo that emerges from the “special ornaments” container.

The fact is, at this point, I would rather have the real ones. The ones that never made it off the cutting room floor. The ones with the girls looking at everything but the camera or the series in which the dog photo-bombed six shots in a row while the girls fell over themselves laughing, or the hundreds of photos with arms across faces, eyes closed and heads turned. Happy, messy, giggling clumps of children, not the perfect ones who had just wiped the tears from their cheeks.

I try, so hard, to clean up for life – – when the real, actual life I am living is the one to embrace.

So many seasons of my life have been defined by sacrificing the peace of the moment to try and create something wonderful rather than creating an atmosphere that feels wonderful because it is informed by fun and love, grace and whimsy…because it is informed by the Spirit of God rather than my own personal agenda, no matter how noble or “necessary.” I have to decide what is more important, getting it “right” according to my own standard or doing it in the spirit God intended. It’s a choice.

Every time I try and get that perfect picture at the expense of the experience….It’s like I am in the wrong ball park COMPLETELY. I am shooting for the “WHAT,” when I should be shooting for the “HOW.” Shooting for the “What” is about me. Shooting for the “How” is about God.

If I am brutally honest, I give myself plenty of credit for all the things I accomplish on behalf of those around me, but I tend to give myself multiple passes at how I accomplish those things. What a humbling and punch-to-the-gut awakening to discover I have been focusing on the wrong thing all along.

I can shoot for the “What” for the rest of my life and get it pretty much right, because I have the capacity to be a pretty hard-driving, type-A. But that will never get me what I truly want….great relationships, kids who want to bring their families home to visit one day, a marriage based on enduring friendship, a rich, shared history with those I love, and an overwhelming sense of peace and ease and joy….

It is usually at this point in my thinking I start to despair because I feel like I have messed everything up. But I have to listen to God in these moments because no matter how I feel, I HAVEN’T messed anything up yet! I don’t have the power to mess everything up. I am actually not that important or powerful (although I forget that too). How is it possible that it always dawns on me afresh that God is SUPERNATURAL, with a capital everything. That He has the power to restore and redeem….that He IS restoring my life and redeeming my relationships, all the time as I seek to know Him more. That He is living and working in my life every day, tinkering, changing things, fixing what I have broken and infusing everything with love.

His work is a constant Divine regeneration of my life and the relationships in it. God is rooting for me, cheering me on to dive into the commotion of what’s actually beyond the lens. Every moment He is asking me to take a deep breath and try it differently this time, His way, not mine. He is daring me to take an imperfect picture, and have a ball doing it. He is inviting me into the happy mayhem of a life of faith.

Merry Christmas.