For the past 10 days, my new morning routine has been to start the coffee maker and to read the Monsma blog for updates and comments. I suspect that I am not the only one who has this new routine. Like Doug has done countless times in my life, just when I get comfortable with a routine, he disrupts it by asking me to consider something different. Classic Doug – just when I am comfortable, he changes my way of being. So, this morning, instead of reading the blog, I am writing for it.
Some of you have been able to share the same air with Doug, Loretta and the girls during this next page of Doug’s journey. For many, including myself, who are separated from the family by things like distance, mountains, international borders or oceans, this blog has been our invitation into the Monsma story and Doug’s next page.
And, parallel to the work Doug has been doing through his work with hundreds of Christian school teachers globally (therefore, thousands of students), this blog has been an invitation from the Monsma family for all of us to reflect on the stories that we are part of, that we are living. That is what good stories do; they reframe things for us and empower us to reclaim every day moments that may have lost their significance.
For our family, a routine car ride home from dance class became an opportunity for my 9 year old to share with her friend about her dad’s friend, Doug, who is “really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really nice” and….. had brain surgery. Listening to 9 years old speculate about the details of brain surgery actually makes for a good car ride – ending the car ride in prayer for Doug with my daughter makes for a great car ride. After starting the day by reading the blog, my morning dog walk, something to get done before work, has become my morning ‘Doug walk,’ something to be intentional about. A simple bracelet that has been without purpose in my girl’s toy bin has become my prayer beads for the Monsma family – Pink for Doug, yellow for Loretta, purple for Tara, blue for Leanne, and orange for Erin – I don’t leave home without them. Added bonus: listening to my 7 year old daughter explain to her teammates at soccer practice why their coach is wearing this bracelet.
That’s what good stories do – they change ordinary moments. By sharing their journey with us, the Monsma family hasn't given us a blog, they have given us an invitation to live a better story and change our ordinary moments.
I think that is why the blog is so important to many of us – it shares the story of a family who knows they are part of a bigger story, who are living a better story.
One of my very first encounters with Doug was him sharing a passage from Donald Miller’s book, A Million Miles in a Thousand Years:
“And once you live a good story, you get a taste for that kind of meaning in life, and you can’t go back to being normal; you can’t go back to meaningless scenes stitched together by the forgettable thread of wasted time. The more practiced stories I lived, the more I wanted an epic to climb inside of and see through to its end.”
My friend Doug has always been a good story to me; his life continues to be an invitation. I am very grateful that the Monsma clan has invited us to climb into this epic story, Doug’s next pages, with them.
- Darryl deBoer
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