Four minutes left to this fourth day of Christmas, and I am just now able to sit down and write. Maybe the four paragraphs of this blog will make up for the length of the last one : ) I think about Gift Number Two in the Christmas Story:
Grace. What does it mean exactly? Forgiveness.....what does it entail? How do we find it, and what does it really have to do with Christmas? I remember watching the magic in Julia's eyes last Christmas Eve. As she asked questions about Santa's arrival and voiced concerns about how he would get into the house. Jumping at every tiny sound as bedtime drew closer and closer - bursting with anticipation. We put out the carrots for the reindeer and drew Santa some pictures for him to find beside his cookies and milk. I don't think I have ever seen her eyes so full of Wonderment. Ever. To tiny hearts with childlike faith and dreams of Sugar Plum Fairies - Christmas is truly magical.
Magical....magical.... I travel back in time to think about that night. God being born from His creation. Pure love transformed into flesh. Grace Personified. Grace. An Act of Forgiveness. A Choice to Release. A gift that we receive so freely, yet seem to give so sparingly. Yet what we don't realize is that it is only ourselves that we are truly damaging. We can't feel the fruit of true Joy when we still have roots in Unforgiveness. Oil and Water.
You know, I could use a hundred flowery words to capture the heart or tell stories that would connect the dots - but I think the heart of forgiveness and the essence of grace can be truly narrowed down into a few statements. God has so patiently taught me this: We don't forgive because what the person did was justified, not because they are deserving, or even because they ask for forgiveness or are sorrowful. Forgiveness doesn't even necessarily mean we stop being completely angry with that person.....though with enough time that may come. Forgiveness is the beginning of healing a broken part of your spirit. It a process in practicing grace - it is slow and it is grueling and it is necessary. William P. Young says that "It is about letting go of another person's throat." Why? Mainly because we ourselves were released long ago on a Magical Starlit Night when Grace became Flesh. The essence of forgiveness being born in a babe. That night, the universe changed forever. With the birth of a Savior, a Grace entered the world that could never be replicated and would never again be witnessed. Forgiveness came full circle...........and we would never be the same. Thank God we would never be the same.
This week, as we are surrounded by those we love dearly and those we simply don't like very much. Those who have loved us well and those who have hurt us deeply. May we have the courage to give that grace-filled gift that we ourselves were given - not because it is easy, but because it is best.
Enjoy Day Three.....In all it's magic.
Thursday, December 25, 2008
The Five Days of Christmas - Her Name was Gloria
This is my gift. Elton sings that his gift is his song (and this one's for you... : ). My gift to you is my small words from my small mind. I had a strange thought in worship this morning about the five remaining days until Christmas, and I wondered if there were five gifts God were to teach us from His Christmas Story - what they would be? I took a stab at coming up with them, and I decided that I would use each day until Christmas to share each of them (for anyone who would want to read - though this one is coming a bit late : ):
~GLORIA~ (from journal in Uganda)
She had captured my heart from the day the children from the orphanage met us after we landed in Uganda. Her smile was not a normal one - her eyes, radiant - and there was something.....something I couldn't quite put my finger on. One by one each of the children came up and gave us a hug individually - as if it were wrapped in a gift and custom made for each person. Her embrace was as special as her smile. It was a shy, side hug and she looked down as she gave it. "What's your name?" I asked as I cradled the left side of her face with my right hand.
"Gloria" She said timidly. "My name is Glooooria," she repeated, in her Acholi accent.
Gloria.....and That she was. I watched her on and off during the week. I found her often standing next to me or looking down to find her seated beside me on the way to the IDP camp. She was subtle in wanting my attention - yet she sought it nonetheless, and I so desired to give it. I asked Rose about her story. They all had a story...but her's was unique.
"She and her parents were abducted by the rebels. She watched her parents die but was spared and then went to live with her auntie.....who died the next year from HIV. She then went to live with her grandmother who soon also died. She was found in a hut living alone."
"Did she have any siblings at all?"
"No - None"
ALONE.....such a powerful word. Cutting. Deep. Barren.
I watched her tonight as the children had their nightly bible study, said their memory verses aloud, and placed their small hands over their eyes as they prayed so diligently. Youth seems to know small boundaries in a war with no limits. I watched her look around the room with a look in her eyes of lostness. Searching - as if out of place. I watched her as she prayed. As she stated her memory verse. She watched back.
As my eyes followed her, I couldn't help but remember a song that must be playing about now back in the states. A song that captured her - a song that God must sing as He looks down on her every day - remembering her story of abandonment and lonliness. Most, if not all, of the other orphans are in sibling groups - but there is only one Gloria. Ironically wearing her green tied died tank top and her red corduroy pants - she simply looked lost - but her smile covered such a multitude of pain. She seemed to be missing something - yet if it were not for the orphanage, she would simply be Missing. So I watched her, and I hugged her goodbye, and I hurt for her, and I sang that sweet Christmas song in my head over and over on the ride home.
"Gloooooria in excelsis Deo"
And I thought about all of the orphans there - why did I hurt for her? Why?
She was alone. She was in a room full of orphans just like her and she was alone. There is little worse in life. Isolation left to its own will kill - if not the body then the spirit. When I got home I opened my bible and looked down to see what i was to read for the night. Matthew One. The first page of the book. I looked down and there were four words underlined. Four Words.
"God Is With Us." The previous sentence was this. "She will give birth to a son, and he will be called Immanuel." Yeah, He never ceases to amaze me.
What is the opposite of being alone? Of being lonely? It is simply to be "together." That's it. So simply. To simply be WITH. When asked what my favorite part of the first week in Sudan was I said this. When I had given each of the children a red heart and told them that represented God. I asked them to hold it close to their chest while they thought of their heartache and to then picture God being there.....somewhere.....with them. Then I had them to stand up and say together in their native tongue and their loudest voices, "GOD WILL NEVER LEAVE ME. GOD WILL NEVER FORSAKE ME. GOD LOVES ME." I captured that moment in my mind......and it will stay there forever.
You know, there are many things that God could have named Jesus. Many names that would have had different meanings. Thousands upon thousands of names He could have chosen. But out of all of those thousands upon thousands He chose one. G O D I S W I T H Y O U....and me.....and Gloria. He wanted us to know that so badly that he came down to show us. Maybe we had to see it for ourselves. Maybe it wasn't enough for Him just to tell us.
So on this long-winded "Day Five" - we find one word: Togetherness. There is a quote that I have struggled believing, "If we could truly grasp how deeply we are loved by God, we would never feel lonely again." Is it true? I have come to believe this: The question is not if it is true - the question is how deeply can we grasp the depth of His love? How diligently are we to pursue it? How welcoming are we to receive it? To be loved? If we can do that.....well, it would truly be.......
Glorious.
Tune in tomorrow for Day Four.
~GLORIA~ (from journal in Uganda)
She had captured my heart from the day the children from the orphanage met us after we landed in Uganda. Her smile was not a normal one - her eyes, radiant - and there was something.....something I couldn't quite put my finger on. One by one each of the children came up and gave us a hug individually - as if it were wrapped in a gift and custom made for each person. Her embrace was as special as her smile. It was a shy, side hug and she looked down as she gave it. "What's your name?" I asked as I cradled the left side of her face with my right hand.
"Gloria" She said timidly. "My name is Glooooria," she repeated, in her Acholi accent.
Gloria.....and That she was. I watched her on and off during the week. I found her often standing next to me or looking down to find her seated beside me on the way to the IDP camp. She was subtle in wanting my attention - yet she sought it nonetheless, and I so desired to give it. I asked Rose about her story. They all had a story...but her's was unique.
"She and her parents were abducted by the rebels. She watched her parents die but was spared and then went to live with her auntie.....who died the next year from HIV. She then went to live with her grandmother who soon also died. She was found in a hut living alone."
"Did she have any siblings at all?"
"No - None"
ALONE.....such a powerful word. Cutting. Deep. Barren.
I watched her tonight as the children had their nightly bible study, said their memory verses aloud, and placed their small hands over their eyes as they prayed so diligently. Youth seems to know small boundaries in a war with no limits. I watched her look around the room with a look in her eyes of lostness. Searching - as if out of place. I watched her as she prayed. As she stated her memory verse. She watched back.
As my eyes followed her, I couldn't help but remember a song that must be playing about now back in the states. A song that captured her - a song that God must sing as He looks down on her every day - remembering her story of abandonment and lonliness. Most, if not all, of the other orphans are in sibling groups - but there is only one Gloria. Ironically wearing her green tied died tank top and her red corduroy pants - she simply looked lost - but her smile covered such a multitude of pain. She seemed to be missing something - yet if it were not for the orphanage, she would simply be Missing. So I watched her, and I hugged her goodbye, and I hurt for her, and I sang that sweet Christmas song in my head over and over on the ride home.
"Gloooooria in excelsis Deo"
And I thought about all of the orphans there - why did I hurt for her? Why?
She was alone. She was in a room full of orphans just like her and she was alone. There is little worse in life. Isolation left to its own will kill - if not the body then the spirit. When I got home I opened my bible and looked down to see what i was to read for the night. Matthew One. The first page of the book. I looked down and there were four words underlined. Four Words.
"God Is With Us." The previous sentence was this. "She will give birth to a son, and he will be called Immanuel." Yeah, He never ceases to amaze me.
What is the opposite of being alone? Of being lonely? It is simply to be "together." That's it. So simply. To simply be WITH. When asked what my favorite part of the first week in Sudan was I said this. When I had given each of the children a red heart and told them that represented God. I asked them to hold it close to their chest while they thought of their heartache and to then picture God being there.....somewhere.....with them. Then I had them to stand up and say together in their native tongue and their loudest voices, "GOD WILL NEVER LEAVE ME. GOD WILL NEVER FORSAKE ME. GOD LOVES ME." I captured that moment in my mind......and it will stay there forever.
You know, there are many things that God could have named Jesus. Many names that would have had different meanings. Thousands upon thousands of names He could have chosen. But out of all of those thousands upon thousands He chose one. G O D I S W I T H Y O U....and me.....and Gloria. He wanted us to know that so badly that he came down to show us. Maybe we had to see it for ourselves. Maybe it wasn't enough for Him just to tell us.
So on this long-winded "Day Five" - we find one word: Togetherness. There is a quote that I have struggled believing, "If we could truly grasp how deeply we are loved by God, we would never feel lonely again." Is it true? I have come to believe this: The question is not if it is true - the question is how deeply can we grasp the depth of His love? How diligently are we to pursue it? How welcoming are we to receive it? To be loved? If we can do that.....well, it would truly be.......
Glorious.
Tune in tomorrow for Day Four.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Her Name Was GLORIA
This is my gift. Elton sings that his gift is his song (and this one's for you... : ). My gift to you is my small words from my small mind. I had a strange thought in worship this morning about the five remaining days until Christmas, and I wondered if there were five gifts God were to teach us from His Christmas Story - what they would be? I took a stab at coming up with them, and I decided that I would use each day until Christmas to share each of them (for anyone who would want to read - though this one is coming a bit late : ):
~GLORIA~ (from journal in Uganda)
She had captured my heart from the day the children from the orphanage met us after we landed in Uganda. Her smile was not a normal one - her eyes, radiant - and there was something.....something I couldn't quite put my finger on. One by one each of the children came up and gave us a hug individually - as if it were wrapped in a gift and custom made for each person. Her embrace was as special as her smile. It was a shy, side hug and she looked down as she gave it. "What's your name?" I asked as I cradled the left side of her face with my right hand.
"Gloria" She said timidly. "My name is Glooooria," she repeated, in her Acholi accent.
Gloria.....and That she was. I watched her on and off during the week. I found her often standing next to me or looking down to find her seated beside me on the way to the IDP camp. She was subtle in wanting my attention - yet she sought it nonetheless, and I so desired to give it. I asked Rose about her story. They all had a story...but her's was unique.
"She and her parents were abducted by the rebels. She watched her parents die but was spared and then went to live with her auntie.....who died the next year from HIV. She then went to live with her grandmother who soon also died. She was found in a hut living alone."
"Did she have any siblings at all?"
"No - None"
ALONE.....such a powerful word. Cutting. Deep. Barren.
I watched her tonight as the children had their nightly bible study, said their memory verses aloud, and placed their small hands over their eyes as they prayed so diligently. Youth seems to know small boundaries in a war with no limits. I watched her look around the room with a look in her eyes of lostness. Searching - as if out of place. I watched her as she prayed. As she stated her memory verse. She watched back.
As my eyes followed her, I couldn't help but remember a song that must be playing about now back in the states. A song that captured her - a song that God must sing as He looks down on her every day - remembering her story of abandonment and lonliness. Most, if not all, of the other orphans are in sibling groups - but there is only one Gloria. Ironically wearing her green tied died tank top and her red corduroy pants - she simply looked lost - but her smile covered such a multitude of pain. She seemed to be missing something - yet if it were not for the orphanage, she would simply be Missing. So I watched her, and I hugged her goodbye, and I hurt for her, and I sang that sweet Christmas song in my head over and over on the ride home.
"Gloooooria in excelsis Deo"
And I thought about all of the orphans there - why did I hurt for her? Why?
She was alone. She was in a room full of orphans just like her and she was alone. There is little worse in life. Isolation left to its own will kill - if not the body then the spirit. When I got home I opened my bible and looked down to see what i was to read for the night. Matthew One. The first page of the book. I looked down and there were four words underlined. Four Words.
"God Is With Us." The previous sentence was this. "She will give birth to a son, and he will be called Immanuel." Yeah, He never ceases to amaze me.
What is the opposite of being alone? Of being lonely? It is simply to be "together." That's it. So simply. To simply be WITH. When asked what my favorite part of the first week in Sudan was I said this. When I had given each of the children a red heart and told them that represented God. I asked them to hold it close to their chest while they thought of their heartache and to then picture God being there.....somewhere.....with them. Then I had them to stand up and say together in their native tongue and their loudest voices, "GOD WILL NEVER LEAVE ME. GOD WILL NEVER FORSAKE ME. GOD LOVES ME." I captured that moment in my mind......and it will stay there forever.
You know, there are many things that God could have named Jesus. Many names that would have had different meanings. Thousands upon thousands of names He could have chosen. But out of all of those thousands upon thousands He chose one. G O D I S W I T H Y O U....and me.....and Gloria. He wanted us to know that so badly that he came down to show us. Maybe we had to see it for ourselves. Maybe it wasn't enough for Him just to tell us.
So on this long-winded "Day Five" - we find one word: Togetherness. There is a quote that I have struggled believing, "If we could truly grasp how deeply we are loved by God, we would never feel lonely again." Is it true? I have come to believe this: The question is not if it is true - the question is how deeply can we grasp the depth of His love? How diligently are we to pursue it? How welcoming are we to receive it? To be loved? If we can do that.....well, it would truly be.......
Glorious.
Tune in tomorrow for Day Four.
~GLORIA~ (from journal in Uganda)
She had captured my heart from the day the children from the orphanage met us after we landed in Uganda. Her smile was not a normal one - her eyes, radiant - and there was something.....something I couldn't quite put my finger on. One by one each of the children came up and gave us a hug individually - as if it were wrapped in a gift and custom made for each person. Her embrace was as special as her smile. It was a shy, side hug and she looked down as she gave it. "What's your name?" I asked as I cradled the left side of her face with my right hand.
"Gloria" She said timidly. "My name is Glooooria," she repeated, in her Acholi accent.
Gloria.....and That she was. I watched her on and off during the week. I found her often standing next to me or looking down to find her seated beside me on the way to the IDP camp. She was subtle in wanting my attention - yet she sought it nonetheless, and I so desired to give it. I asked Rose about her story. They all had a story...but her's was unique.
"She and her parents were abducted by the rebels. She watched her parents die but was spared and then went to live with her auntie.....who died the next year from HIV. She then went to live with her grandmother who soon also died. She was found in a hut living alone."
"Did she have any siblings at all?"
"No - None"
ALONE.....such a powerful word. Cutting. Deep. Barren.
I watched her tonight as the children had their nightly bible study, said their memory verses aloud, and placed their small hands over their eyes as they prayed so diligently. Youth seems to know small boundaries in a war with no limits. I watched her look around the room with a look in her eyes of lostness. Searching - as if out of place. I watched her as she prayed. As she stated her memory verse. She watched back.
As my eyes followed her, I couldn't help but remember a song that must be playing about now back in the states. A song that captured her - a song that God must sing as He looks down on her every day - remembering her story of abandonment and lonliness. Most, if not all, of the other orphans are in sibling groups - but there is only one Gloria. Ironically wearing her green tied died tank top and her red corduroy pants - she simply looked lost - but her smile covered such a multitude of pain. She seemed to be missing something - yet if it were not for the orphanage, she would simply be Missing. So I watched her, and I hugged her goodbye, and I hurt for her, and I sang that sweet Christmas song in my head over and over on the ride home.
"Gloooooria in excelsis Deo"
And I thought about all of the orphans there - why did I hurt for her? Why?
She was alone. She was in a room full of orphans just like her and she was alone. There is little worse in life. Isolation left to its own will kill - if not the body then the spirit. When I got home I opened my bible and looked down to see what i was to read for the night. Matthew One. The first page of the book. I looked down and there were four words underlined. Four Words.
"God Is With Us." The previous sentence was this. "She will give birth to a son, and he will be called Immanuel." Yeah, He never ceases to amaze me.
What is the opposite of being alone? Of being lonely? It is simply to be "together." That's it. So simply. To simply be WITH. When asked what my favorite part of the first week in Sudan was I said this. When I had given each of the children a red heart and told them that represented God. I asked them to hold it close to their chest while they thought of their heartache and to then picture God being there.....somewhere.....with them. Then I had them to stand up and say together in their native tongue and their loudest voices, "GOD WILL NEVER LEAVE ME. GOD WILL NEVER FORSAKE ME. GOD LOVES ME." I captured that moment in my mind......and it will stay there forever.
You know, there are many things that God could have named Jesus. Many names that would have had different meanings. Thousands upon thousands of names He could have chosen. But out of all of those thousands upon thousands He chose one. G O D I S W I T H Y O U....and me.....and Gloria. He wanted us to know that so badly that he came down to show us. Maybe we had to see it for ourselves. Maybe it wasn't enough for Him just to tell us.
So on this long-winded "Day Five" - we find one word: Togetherness. There is a quote that I have struggled believing, "If we could truly grasp how deeply we are loved by God, we would never feel lonely again." Is it true? I have come to believe this: The question is not if it is true - the question is how deeply can we grasp the depth of His love? How diligently are we to pursue it? How welcoming are we to receive it? To be loved? If we can do that.....well, it would truly be.......
Glorious.
Tune in tomorrow for Day Four.
Friday, December 19, 2008
Someone Else's Thumbprint
I haven't lit a candle in a long time. I realized that as I struck the match in my room tonight. I know that may sound strange - but it's even stranger for me to have gone so long without lighting one. I do love candles. Wicks, actually......and the purity of candlelight. There seems little more authentic than candlelight. After a candle is lit for a little while, it cannot be perfectly replicated. It is it's own. Each candle becomes one of a kind according to how the wick is burnt down, how the wax is carved out by the heat of the flame and the density of the air that it breathes. Little by little - as it burns - it becomes more unique. More extinct. More itself.
And I think......are we so different?
Having been out of the country for a little while, I seem to have become even more aware of the beauty of authenticity. To be real. To be truly who you were created to be - not striving to be like someone else. To cease the stance to prove oneself. Finding freedom in being real. As I was journaling on the plane ride back to the states, I found myself writing this, "I have to be honest and say I am not ready to return home. This place is authentic to the core - from the smell of the freshly baked bread that greeted me on my run this morning, to the fresh goat cheese for breakfast......from the food to the people - it is authentic. And in truth, I dread returning to the Land of Plastic a bit. Plastic cards to purchase those things we cannot afford, Plastic bodies to overcompensate for our insecurities, Plastic smiles to cover a multitude of sins....sins that we all have and are all afraid to admit. Having a place, a someone, or a group of someones to be REAL around is just as important to living well as is our basic needs for food and water. But do we know that?"
I often think we try so hard to be someone else that we never find who we are. We compare bodies and bank accounts, cars and clothes, accomplishments and attentions - we are so busy looking to what others are, or have, or are becoming - that our goal becomes to be more like them rather than more like Christ. It's a shame, really. God is a god of originals. He is simply much too vast to re-create. The children's thumbprints in Sudan were used to show them how unique they were. They were told that no one was like them in the universe. No one has ever - nor will ever - be like them.......Ever. EVER. PERIOD. To me, that is a pretty incredible thought. I would say that some of them had never seen their thumbprint. Many didn't even know they had one!
And I wonder.... are we so different?
Being unaware of our uniqueness and trying to cover it up by being someone else's thumbprint. Thinking we aren't "good enough." Good Enough for what? My mind wanders....What would happen if we were on a deserted island and had no measuring stick. No one to compare ourselves against to measure our worth. Would we feel worthy? Would we feel as if we were "the best" because there was no one to compare ourselves to? I think it would be fascinating, really. The freedom of only comparing yourself to the person you see in the mirror - the person that God created you to be - and to make attempts to be a better version of that person (with all its melted valleys and peaks, its breezed carved waves of endentions, its ebbs and flows that is like no other.....Ever. Period.). The Freedom to live without fearing the refection or lack of approval from man. Nothing to prove. Nothing to gain. Nothing to strive for - other than to be more of what God would want us to be (and he makes that pretty clear that it starts with loving Him, letting Him love us, and Loving others through that Love). Truly, that would have to keep us busy enough that we would have little time to even acknowledge a comparison to those around us : ) We would become so busy looking up to God - asking Him to show us how to become a better version of ourselves - that we forget about comparing ourself to others. That is Arrival.
You see, God is teaching me about birthrights. When he chose to create us - at that moment we became valuable. Not because we were worthy - or because we are enough - or even remotely adequate. We aren't and never will be and that is (simply put) the whole point : ) BUT we became valuable at that moment because He saw us as treasured. We - YOU - are treasured. For no other reason than you were created by the fingertips of a mighty God and you now have the freedom to come into the best version of yourself simply by finding yourself, more unique, more extinct, more you. To strive to be anything more or less than that by comparing ourselves to others would actually be like looking at a piece of art that God so proudly created with its own quirks and wrinkles to say, "Well, it's ok, Creator of the Universe, but I wish it looked more like that one." What a shame. Insecurity is born out of a bondage to an void. A feeling that we should be more or different or less or alike. Instead of just coming into the full circle of ourselves, accepting our birthright of value, and walking ahead to live that out for the one who blessed us with that birthright upon conception.
Lord - I pray that we find that. That we are able to blind ourselves to others for a moment. Standing in front of the mirror and comparing ourselves only TO ourselves. Show our spirits the changes that need to be made between you and us - as we are your creation. Your art. And you are the Creator. May we evolve for you. Embracing and loving our originality as your fingerprints instead of fighting against it. Finding the freedom to make those changes we need to make - for no other reason than to become more like you. In doing that......well, there aren't a whole lot bases we won't be covering.
Thrilled and Honored to be Your Unique Creation
(and the world thanks you that you made only one : ) Whew!
I am......Yours, b
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
They Are Precious In His Sight
THEY ARE PRECIOUS IN HIS SIGHT.....
Amost Home...dealys in Amsterdam caused a missed connection to Nashville and I have a few hours to spare - and to share. Hearing the voices of my sweet nieces over the phone brought much joy. I always say if I were half the woman they see me as, I will be doing just fine : ) Hearing their screams, laughter, liveliness, and sweet voices.....two worlds seemed to collide. As soon as we hung up, my mind went back to the children we were just with at the orphanage. I keep hearing Rose's words, "All of them have been previously abducted...seen their parents killed...." The graphic explanations went on and on in heart wrenching detail. Because of their disturbance, I will likely be able to share the stories with only a few others. It amazes me how they LIVED something that I will only feel comfortable REPEATING a few times.
I listened to Julia laugh...Haley's loving spirit. They are so sheltered - and I wouldn't have it any other way. From Hendersonville, Tn to Gulu, Uganda - they are miles apart in more ways than one. The sorrow for those little ones comes over me like a heavy wave. To even fathom my little nieces having to remotely experince any of the pain those orphans have experienced ignites an anger that I hope never dies. It would be just as wrong - just as evil - for those so much a part of my heart compared to those living so far away. For them I will fight. For the Haleys and Emmas and Julias and Emersons in a skin of a different color and a country by a different name. For them I will fight. I think of Peter and Gloria and Richard. I see their smiles and am still in awe of their strength.
They are just as precious in His sight. They are just as weak. He is just as strong.
I saw hope there in Uganda. Hope that what is happening in Congo has a stopping point. Hope that there can be healing. Hope that love is still alive and that God is a God of restoration...if not in this life, then in the next.
Lord, in their beds tonight I pray they will feel you next to them as they sleep - bunk on top of bunk on top of bunk. For those 500 child soldiers still in Uganda, I pray. For the over 700 in Congo, I pray. I pray that although taken from their homes - this world will not forget them......just because they are quiet - just because they are unheard - just because they are far away. May then never be forgotten. May we, as a nation and as a world, realize that they are worth fighting for - and may we fight.
For we are - and they are......
Yours, b
12/16/08 by Bethany P. Haley
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Amost Home...dealys in Amsterdam caused a missed connection to Nashville and I have a few hours to spare - and to share. Hearing the voices of my sweet nieces over the phone brought much joy. I always say if I were half the woman they see me as, I will be doing just fine : ) Hearing their screams, laughter, liveliness, and sweet voices.....two worlds seemed to collide. As soon as we hung up, my mind went back to the children we were just with at the orphanage. I keep hearing Rose's words, "All of them have been previously abducted...seen their parents killed...." The graphic explanations went on and on in heart wrenching detail. Because of their disturbance, I will likely be able to share the stories with only a few others. It amazes me how they LIVED something that I will only feel comfortable REPEATING a few times.
I listened to Julia laugh...Haley's loving spirit. They are so sheltered - and I wouldn't have it any other way. From Hendersonville, Tn to Gulu, Uganda - they are miles apart in more ways than one. The sorrow for those little ones comes over me like a heavy wave. To even fathom my little nieces having to remotely experince any of the pain those orphans have experienced ignites an anger that I hope never dies. It would be just as wrong - just as evil - for those so much a part of my heart compared to those living so far away. For them I will fight. For the Haleys and Emmas and Julias and Emersons in a skin of a different color and a country by a different name. For them I will fight. I think of Peter and Gloria and Richard. I see their smiles and am still in awe of their strength.
They are just as precious in His sight. They are just as weak. He is just as strong.
I saw hope there in Uganda. Hope that what is happening in Congo has a stopping point. Hope that there can be healing. Hope that love is still alive and that God is a God of restoration...if not in this life, then in the next.
Lord, in their beds tonight I pray they will feel you next to them as they sleep - bunk on top of bunk on top of bunk. For those 500 child soldiers still in Uganda, I pray. For the over 700 in Congo, I pray. I pray that although taken from their homes - this world will not forget them......just because they are quiet - just because they are unheard - just because they are far away. May then never be forgotten. May we, as a nation and as a world, realize that they are worth fighting for - and may we fight.
For we are - and they are......
Yours, b
12/16/08 by Bethany P. Haley
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Tuesday, December 9, 2008
U G A N D A
After 30 minutes of internet attempts - I am finally in...My computer tells me that i have nine minutes and 13 seconds left. How do you begin to fill up this space with that much time.
Sudan was humbling and facinating. Kenya proved to be a tower of strength. Uganda.....Uganda......what an incredible place of hope and healing. I dream of seeing this in Goma one day. As we sat around Village of Hope orphanage last night and listened to the singing and prayers of the formally abducted child soldiers and young girls who have experienced horrific events I couldn't help my shed some tears. I was doing good until i saw they cover their faces with their hands and pray and pray and pray.......each one sporadically and unrehearsed calling out to God and praising Him for their safety and security. After we left I was told that all of them had either seen their parents killed at the mercy of the LRA rebel army or were forced to kill their parents themselves - yet they smile. Pure strength.
I am going to the IDP camps tonight to dance and sing with the children. Healing takes on a new level here as heartaches are etched at a deeper level. Much to learn. Much to know. God has been more than gracious already in leading me to those here who have been in the trenches (literally) and have loved in great ways.
Two minutes.....
I am keeping a blog in my journal and will update as i can.
Much love to all....b
PRAYING WITH A LEPOR
Again - only a few minutes, but just wanted to share a moment. After meeting with three NGOs yesterday to learn about trauma healing with formally abducted child soldiers and young girls, brainstoming about peace teaching in the schools, and soaking in an amazing ride on a motorbike.....I was full to overflowing.
Re-reading "The Shack" this morning to escape for a bit and discussing life with Michelle....we saw him. He wheeled himself up to the gate and said something in Acholi that we couldn't understand. Looking at him more closely - his wounds were unmistakeable. He clasped his fingertips together and put his hand toward his lips as the universal sign of "i am hungy." After a little discussion we found out that he has leprosy. My heart sank. I asked if I could give him my crackers and pray with him. The closer i got, the more i realized that he actually had no fingertips at all. most of his fingers were not even complete fingers and his feet were even more decayed. Realizing he would not be able to open the package, I opened it for him and slid my hand through the gate. He took it and smiled. Kneeling down i began to pray for him. A few seconds later Michelle was there beside me. Looking down at his feet as i prayed for him, i was asonished. What do you pray for such a man?
I walked away thinking simply what an honor it had been to bring him before the throne of God. Who am I Lord, that you would use me? Who am I.........
we fly back to kenya tomorrow. so much to learn here....i need weeks instead of days.
thanks to all for the prayers. xo b
Sudan was humbling and facinating. Kenya proved to be a tower of strength. Uganda.....Uganda......what an incredible place of hope and healing. I dream of seeing this in Goma one day. As we sat around Village of Hope orphanage last night and listened to the singing and prayers of the formally abducted child soldiers and young girls who have experienced horrific events I couldn't help my shed some tears. I was doing good until i saw they cover their faces with their hands and pray and pray and pray.......each one sporadically and unrehearsed calling out to God and praising Him for their safety and security. After we left I was told that all of them had either seen their parents killed at the mercy of the LRA rebel army or were forced to kill their parents themselves - yet they smile. Pure strength.
I am going to the IDP camps tonight to dance and sing with the children. Healing takes on a new level here as heartaches are etched at a deeper level. Much to learn. Much to know. God has been more than gracious already in leading me to those here who have been in the trenches (literally) and have loved in great ways.
Two minutes.....
I am keeping a blog in my journal and will update as i can.
Much love to all....b
PRAYING WITH A LEPOR
Again - only a few minutes, but just wanted to share a moment. After meeting with three NGOs yesterday to learn about trauma healing with formally abducted child soldiers and young girls, brainstoming about peace teaching in the schools, and soaking in an amazing ride on a motorbike.....I was full to overflowing.
Re-reading "The Shack" this morning to escape for a bit and discussing life with Michelle....we saw him. He wheeled himself up to the gate and said something in Acholi that we couldn't understand. Looking at him more closely - his wounds were unmistakeable. He clasped his fingertips together and put his hand toward his lips as the universal sign of "i am hungy." After a little discussion we found out that he has leprosy. My heart sank. I asked if I could give him my crackers and pray with him. The closer i got, the more i realized that he actually had no fingertips at all. most of his fingers were not even complete fingers and his feet were even more decayed. Realizing he would not be able to open the package, I opened it for him and slid my hand through the gate. He took it and smiled. Kneeling down i began to pray for him. A few seconds later Michelle was there beside me. Looking down at his feet as i prayed for him, i was asonished. What do you pray for such a man?
I walked away thinking simply what an honor it had been to bring him before the throne of God. Who am I Lord, that you would use me? Who am I.........
we fly back to kenya tomorrow. so much to learn here....i need weeks instead of days.
thanks to all for the prayers. xo b
Thursday, December 4, 2008
The Cup
I am sitting in front of a fireplace on top of a mountain….more in my mind than in reality, yet not too far from the truth. It is my secret place. I am thinking back to last night. Holding him close to me. Cuddling him close to my cheek. Looking into his brown eyes. He will be ONE on Saturday. I had the utter privledge this weekend of spending precious time with my nieces and nephew. Precious and Dear. I leave a week from Thursday to return to Africa, and I want to be able to spend some time with them before I leave.
The house was quiet. Emma and I had shared prayers-n-kisses and she was fast asleep. Emerson – not so much. As I rocked him in the chair and sang to him....Him looking at me with that thumb in his mouth. Me looking at him with a smirk of adoration. I had somewhat of a mind spinning moment. A bit immersed lately in the wars of Congo, reading of wailing mothers, and dying children…..I feel at times as if I am racing the clock to help them, though I know the change for which I pray will take years – decades. My worldview has been so utterly massive as of late with thoughts of child soldier rehabilitation, African art therapy, and learning the language of Dinka; but in that moment……in that eye gazing, thumb sucking, cuddling and snuggling moment– it all went away. All that mattered was what was right in front of my fingertips. The most precious little boy in the world to me.
Plans gave way to pause, and I wondered……where does purpose really lie. To the mother of this dear one, the most important thing in the world is what I was holding. To me, in a little over a week – it will be going into a remote village of Sudan. But is any ONE purpose less purposeful than another? I think not. Loving is Loving whether that is rocking a one year old to sleep or holding an African child as they cry. Isn’t it all just about Loving God with all of our heart and living accordingly, accepting the gift of His love by letting Him love us, and then learning - day by day - to love all we come in contact with as He would love them?
I frequently hear comments shadowed with inadequacy from my family and friends who feel they are not doing much “with their lives” when they hear stories I share from Africa, Haiti, or the DR. When holding a newborn, thoughts of a warlord rebel capturing children to turn them into soldiers is a foreign concept. But my mind always returns to a hymn that was sung at the church my daddy preached at growing up. I loved it. I sang it – over and over and over….”Follow me.” There is one line that has always spoken to my heart:
"If just a cup of water I place within your hand
Then just a cup of water is all that I demand."
Ironically, the sermon today was on this very topic. It's funny that in a room full of hundreds, it feels as if God has chosen the words specifically for your ears. As I listened, a different version of I Corinthians 13 appeared on the screen. It is the “love” chapter that I mischieviously like to call the “choice” chapter. I do this believing that when the desire to love is removed, then the decision to choose to be loving must take over…..which probably happens more often than naught. This morning, I ran out the door, grabbing a journal I hadn’t written in over a year. As I was writing down the words on the screen, I looked over to the opposite page of my journal. Written OVER A YEAR AGO I see this:
“I Corinthians 13: Love is Patient, Love is Kind, Love does not envy. It does not brag. It is humble. It is thoughtful. It is not self-seeking. It is not easily angered.."
Wow – does He think I need it so badly that he has to give me a double dose? And then confirm it times two? Yes - I, honestly, don't think I have been doing a good job of this lately. What did it mean to me? It meant this: If God IS love, and Jesus was LOVE personified, and we are to BE like Christ - then what he calls us to do is to love in whatever way and whichever way is set before us. That may be to the man that just brought me my hot tea with cream or maybe to the person I meet on the road tomorrow morning. Maybe that is to the lady who will be watching your child all day or the next door neighbor who grates on your last nerve. That may be to the co-worker who brings to life the definition of “vindictive” or the boss who doesn’t know how to give a compliment. Maybe that is to the spouse of 15 years who doesn’t understand or the child of three who seems to be possessed by Satan : ) The thoughtless roommate, the unfair professor, the elderly lady with her walker in the elevator. Or maybe it is to the child in a small Sudan village who has seen more horror through her eyes than any movie I could rent at blockbuster could portray.
BUT whoever, wherever, or whatever that cup of water looks like....what's most important is realizing that it is HE who has placed it within our hands. And it is in loving that person in the way that he loves us that gives purpose to our lives. To let Him love THROUGH us - what an incredibly humbling thought that is.
Lord, as I watch the fire dance in the covering of the stone fireplace – I think of you and I often wonder…..do you wish to be able to hold us when we need it, smile at us, speak those words verbally that you know we need to hear with our human ears. Do you depend on us to do that for you? Do you hope that for us – to be the words you wish to speak, the hug you wish to give, the smile you wish to share. The song you wish to sing to sweet Emerson…..What song would you sing to him? What words would you give to Emma? How many hugs would you give the homeless? What sort of kindness would you give to our worst enemy? May we be your smile, your touch, your words, your love – personified. May we take that cup of water that you have entrusted us with – (be that a precious brown-eyed baby boy who loves to suck his thumb or a sweet African little girl who lost her mother in the attacks to her village). May we simply be YOU. May we love freely with all of our might – as unto you…..As unto you.
For you are Love and we are
Yours, b
The house was quiet. Emma and I had shared prayers-n-kisses and she was fast asleep. Emerson – not so much. As I rocked him in the chair and sang to him....Him looking at me with that thumb in his mouth. Me looking at him with a smirk of adoration. I had somewhat of a mind spinning moment. A bit immersed lately in the wars of Congo, reading of wailing mothers, and dying children…..I feel at times as if I am racing the clock to help them, though I know the change for which I pray will take years – decades. My worldview has been so utterly massive as of late with thoughts of child soldier rehabilitation, African art therapy, and learning the language of Dinka; but in that moment……in that eye gazing, thumb sucking, cuddling and snuggling moment– it all went away. All that mattered was what was right in front of my fingertips. The most precious little boy in the world to me.
Plans gave way to pause, and I wondered……where does purpose really lie. To the mother of this dear one, the most important thing in the world is what I was holding. To me, in a little over a week – it will be going into a remote village of Sudan. But is any ONE purpose less purposeful than another? I think not. Loving is Loving whether that is rocking a one year old to sleep or holding an African child as they cry. Isn’t it all just about Loving God with all of our heart and living accordingly, accepting the gift of His love by letting Him love us, and then learning - day by day - to love all we come in contact with as He would love them?
I frequently hear comments shadowed with inadequacy from my family and friends who feel they are not doing much “with their lives” when they hear stories I share from Africa, Haiti, or the DR. When holding a newborn, thoughts of a warlord rebel capturing children to turn them into soldiers is a foreign concept. But my mind always returns to a hymn that was sung at the church my daddy preached at growing up. I loved it. I sang it – over and over and over….”Follow me.” There is one line that has always spoken to my heart:
"If just a cup of water I place within your hand
Then just a cup of water is all that I demand."
Ironically, the sermon today was on this very topic. It's funny that in a room full of hundreds, it feels as if God has chosen the words specifically for your ears. As I listened, a different version of I Corinthians 13 appeared on the screen. It is the “love” chapter that I mischieviously like to call the “choice” chapter. I do this believing that when the desire to love is removed, then the decision to choose to be loving must take over…..which probably happens more often than naught. This morning, I ran out the door, grabbing a journal I hadn’t written in over a year. As I was writing down the words on the screen, I looked over to the opposite page of my journal. Written OVER A YEAR AGO I see this:
“I Corinthians 13: Love is Patient, Love is Kind, Love does not envy. It does not brag. It is humble. It is thoughtful. It is not self-seeking. It is not easily angered.."
Wow – does He think I need it so badly that he has to give me a double dose? And then confirm it times two? Yes - I, honestly, don't think I have been doing a good job of this lately. What did it mean to me? It meant this: If God IS love, and Jesus was LOVE personified, and we are to BE like Christ - then what he calls us to do is to love in whatever way and whichever way is set before us. That may be to the man that just brought me my hot tea with cream or maybe to the person I meet on the road tomorrow morning. Maybe that is to the lady who will be watching your child all day or the next door neighbor who grates on your last nerve. That may be to the co-worker who brings to life the definition of “vindictive” or the boss who doesn’t know how to give a compliment. Maybe that is to the spouse of 15 years who doesn’t understand or the child of three who seems to be possessed by Satan : ) The thoughtless roommate, the unfair professor, the elderly lady with her walker in the elevator. Or maybe it is to the child in a small Sudan village who has seen more horror through her eyes than any movie I could rent at blockbuster could portray.
BUT whoever, wherever, or whatever that cup of water looks like....what's most important is realizing that it is HE who has placed it within our hands. And it is in loving that person in the way that he loves us that gives purpose to our lives. To let Him love THROUGH us - what an incredibly humbling thought that is.
Lord, as I watch the fire dance in the covering of the stone fireplace – I think of you and I often wonder…..do you wish to be able to hold us when we need it, smile at us, speak those words verbally that you know we need to hear with our human ears. Do you depend on us to do that for you? Do you hope that for us – to be the words you wish to speak, the hug you wish to give, the smile you wish to share. The song you wish to sing to sweet Emerson…..What song would you sing to him? What words would you give to Emma? How many hugs would you give the homeless? What sort of kindness would you give to our worst enemy? May we be your smile, your touch, your words, your love – personified. May we take that cup of water that you have entrusted us with – (be that a precious brown-eyed baby boy who loves to suck his thumb or a sweet African little girl who lost her mother in the attacks to her village). May we simply be YOU. May we love freely with all of our might – as unto you…..As unto you.
For you are Love and we are
Yours, b
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
The Voice of Hope
Blanketed by moonlight and shadowed by stars, I read poetry aloud around a campfire a few nights ago.....my body was there, but my mind drifted. I will be leaving in 18 days. In less than three weeks I will return to the continent of my soul - and I remember Congo. I remember the last night we were there, Pastor Kivi said, "You take with you our hearts because we have given them to you. We ask you to leave yours here.....so that you will return one day." He knew. He knew that the fighting, the fleeing that is present today in Congo - now responsible for over 250,000 refugees - would come again. And it did. He knew because he has lived it off and on all of his life. Those we were closest to in Goma are no longer there. They have fled along with the rest of the 250,000 - but, thankfully, in much safer surroundings.
So my drifting led to praying and my praying led to writing and my writing led to reading.......reading past blogs that I wrote just weeks after returning. This one in particular spoke to my heart. If I would have known what the future would have held as I typed this letters making up these words, I dare say I would have shed more tears. Tears that I will no longer (and will unlikely ever) apologize for. Be that on a stage speaking or in Fido telling their stories. Are they not worth my tears? Am I too prideful to shed them? No - not anymore. So I share this with you - to pass along a promise I made in my heart when I left Congo - To Go and To Tell...to tell their stories. To be their voice. And I will.....for their stories are more than worth telling, their hearts more than worth healing, and their lives more than worth saving.
____________________________________________________________________________
The Voice of Hope July 1st, 2008
Sitting outside tonight.... listening to the dogs playing, the tree frogs singing, the train whistling Dixie in the background - I realize many things. Being alone with your thoughts can be a different world. A world that many refuse to go to simply because it is vulnerable, and it is frightening, and it is beautiful. There is revelation there.....I wonder, how can that be a bad thing?
Having the first good run this evening since my return - much was revealed. I felt as if I was symbolically running from something that I could not get away from. Maybe because I wasn't supposed to. I told a friend on Sunday that I felt God had pulled back a curtain while I was in Africa to reveal a different level of hopelessness that I didn't know existed. The type of hopelessness that only Heaven could heal. They cannot really hope for things to get much better....for fear of sounding harsh, I must be real. Will the violence, the violation, the poverty, the corruption stop? Honestly? No. Will it get better? I hope so - I think so - I must believe so. But do they hope for such a thing? They must. But I wonder....
I honestly think they are so worried about survival that they often do not stop to hope. Or maybe they hope cautiously. Or maybe they hope desperately. I think often - they are just focused on Survival - Making it - Keeping their head above water. Pressing On - that takes presidence. But I have realized this: Hope of Heaven is so much sweeter when the reality of life is Hell. Hell is a strong word to use. Maybe I should say "Hellish." Ironically - that was one title of Ben Affleck's documentary about Congo: "They are in a living hell." I thought about that as I was running....in a twisted way, hell is not so hellish if you don't know you are living in it. I think maybe that's how they survive - they know no difference. They don't know what it's like on the OTHER side of the curtain - my side. Rape, Running, Guns, Volcanos Erupting, Abuse, Hunger - that is their reality. That is their stage. And somehow, it is in knowing nothing different that a strange blessing lies. You know the saying, "If you are going through hell, keep on going." Yeah, well - they do. And I hope they continue to.
Heaven will be so much sweeter to them than we could even grasp. Can you imagine? After living in this all of their life and finally getting through it.....finally able to rest in Sweet Peace? Having Him hold them for eternity....as they rest. I only wish I could capture their faces on the other side of the Gate : ) I want to meet them there. Washing their feet for the first 100 years or so - that would be such a blessing.
Lord, they are there and I am here and I confess that I feel I have left them there...in somewhat of a Hell. Here I am in my world of cush and comfort. They are there in their world of pain - not even knowing the degree of pain they are actually living in. Keep them sheltered - strangely, it is in sheltering them that they will become even stronger. Stronger because they have to be. Not being strong simply isn't an option in their world. They know no different and they probably never will. I pray on this silent night that you whisper to them the Voice of Hope. They may not be able to have the hope now of peace - save that of Heaven. But I pray that tonight....as they lay their head down in the midst of a refugee camp, a prison, a rock, a tiny shack of a home....that you give them a glimpse of a 100 year foot washing in the Marvelous Heavenlies. And that they smile. And, in thinking about that, so do you : ) Happy to volunteer as the first-in-line foot washer,
I am
Yours, b
So my drifting led to praying and my praying led to writing and my writing led to reading.......reading past blogs that I wrote just weeks after returning. This one in particular spoke to my heart. If I would have known what the future would have held as I typed this letters making up these words, I dare say I would have shed more tears. Tears that I will no longer (and will unlikely ever) apologize for. Be that on a stage speaking or in Fido telling their stories. Are they not worth my tears? Am I too prideful to shed them? No - not anymore. So I share this with you - to pass along a promise I made in my heart when I left Congo - To Go and To Tell...to tell their stories. To be their voice. And I will.....for their stories are more than worth telling, their hearts more than worth healing, and their lives more than worth saving.
____________________________________________________________________________
The Voice of Hope July 1st, 2008
Sitting outside tonight.... listening to the dogs playing, the tree frogs singing, the train whistling Dixie in the background - I realize many things. Being alone with your thoughts can be a different world. A world that many refuse to go to simply because it is vulnerable, and it is frightening, and it is beautiful. There is revelation there.....I wonder, how can that be a bad thing?
Having the first good run this evening since my return - much was revealed. I felt as if I was symbolically running from something that I could not get away from. Maybe because I wasn't supposed to. I told a friend on Sunday that I felt God had pulled back a curtain while I was in Africa to reveal a different level of hopelessness that I didn't know existed. The type of hopelessness that only Heaven could heal. They cannot really hope for things to get much better....for fear of sounding harsh, I must be real. Will the violence, the violation, the poverty, the corruption stop? Honestly? No. Will it get better? I hope so - I think so - I must believe so. But do they hope for such a thing? They must. But I wonder....
I honestly think they are so worried about survival that they often do not stop to hope. Or maybe they hope cautiously. Or maybe they hope desperately. I think often - they are just focused on Survival - Making it - Keeping their head above water. Pressing On - that takes presidence. But I have realized this: Hope of Heaven is so much sweeter when the reality of life is Hell. Hell is a strong word to use. Maybe I should say "Hellish." Ironically - that was one title of Ben Affleck's documentary about Congo: "They are in a living hell." I thought about that as I was running....in a twisted way, hell is not so hellish if you don't know you are living in it. I think maybe that's how they survive - they know no difference. They don't know what it's like on the OTHER side of the curtain - my side. Rape, Running, Guns, Volcanos Erupting, Abuse, Hunger - that is their reality. That is their stage. And somehow, it is in knowing nothing different that a strange blessing lies. You know the saying, "If you are going through hell, keep on going." Yeah, well - they do. And I hope they continue to.
Heaven will be so much sweeter to them than we could even grasp. Can you imagine? After living in this all of their life and finally getting through it.....finally able to rest in Sweet Peace? Having Him hold them for eternity....as they rest. I only wish I could capture their faces on the other side of the Gate : ) I want to meet them there. Washing their feet for the first 100 years or so - that would be such a blessing.
Lord, they are there and I am here and I confess that I feel I have left them there...in somewhat of a Hell. Here I am in my world of cush and comfort. They are there in their world of pain - not even knowing the degree of pain they are actually living in. Keep them sheltered - strangely, it is in sheltering them that they will become even stronger. Stronger because they have to be. Not being strong simply isn't an option in their world. They know no different and they probably never will. I pray on this silent night that you whisper to them the Voice of Hope. They may not be able to have the hope now of peace - save that of Heaven. But I pray that tonight....as they lay their head down in the midst of a refugee camp, a prison, a rock, a tiny shack of a home....that you give them a glimpse of a 100 year foot washing in the Marvelous Heavenlies. And that they smile. And, in thinking about that, so do you : ) Happy to volunteer as the first-in-line foot washer,
I am
Yours, b
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Watching the Cork
She was there. He was beside her. Side by side in their wheelchairs pushed up close to the edge of the pond at Centennial park. I took a second look as I ran past them on my late night run underneath the moon. It was a strange sight- especially with it being so very late.....but stranger still was the fact that they were Fishing. Yes, Fishing. Poles in hand - side by side. Catching anything? Nope. Let's be honest, if they were to get a bite, the fish would be pulling THEM in : ) So what were they doing? What in the world were they doing there at 9 p.m. at night in their wheelchairs and their fishing poles?
Being with each other. Just being with each other.
Companions. Friends. Partners. Fishing Buddies.
I have been in thought lately about love: What is it? How do you sustain it? What is the "secret?" I have learned that maybe the secret is not merely to love - but it is to LEARN to love WELL. I think that amazing relationships come when women learn to love and understand men well, and men learn to love and understand women well - and when we all do so in the image of the author and perfecter of love......which basically means that true love in its purest form is a golden opportunity to die to self, swallow pride, and to give out of a place of "the sacrifice of the will". When that happens, power struggles begin to lose their grip and what is best for the relationship overrides what is desired at the moment.There is something about a marriage that gives you a unique opportunity to love in the most unselfish and sacrificial way possible. It is truly more precious to be happy than to be right.
And maybe loving isn't about finding someone who makes you feel more loved, complete, or happy. If that were true, then what happens when they stop making you feel loved, complete, or happy? Maybe God's purpose of marriage was much more about finding a partner - a teammate - to serve Him WITH instead of clinging to someone who fills you UP. Maybe it's less about looking AT the other person and looking FOR the cork. Yes, I said the cork (or bobber for those who are not from the country : ). Stay with me.....
Those two wheelchair fishing buddies - I never saw their faces. Never heard their words. But I have kept that image in my mind, and it has spoken much wisdom to me. This is what I have heard. Watch the cork. The purpose of marriage is to find your best friend to serve with, love with, learn from, and fish with.....with the goal of looking outward to the horizon to see how God can use your coupleship to serve Him, His children, or your children. It is not to look to each other for completion or security. Maybe it's to sit beside each other on late moonlit nights, walk beside each other, run along side each other in the loudest of cheers, or sometimes to simply stay with each other......loving.......serving.....watching the cork. Looking TOWARD His plans for you as a ministry team, instead of looking TO each other for happiness.
Having been on both sides of the marriage fence, I certainly don't have all the answers. I have lived and I have learned and I have seen......an elderly couple sitting beside each other in their wheelchairs fishing under the moonlight, and somehow in this world of division - they have given me hope : )
Being with each other. Just being with each other.
Companions. Friends. Partners. Fishing Buddies.
I have been in thought lately about love: What is it? How do you sustain it? What is the "secret?" I have learned that maybe the secret is not merely to love - but it is to LEARN to love WELL. I think that amazing relationships come when women learn to love and understand men well, and men learn to love and understand women well - and when we all do so in the image of the author and perfecter of love......which basically means that true love in its purest form is a golden opportunity to die to self, swallow pride, and to give out of a place of "the sacrifice of the will". When that happens, power struggles begin to lose their grip and what is best for the relationship overrides what is desired at the moment.There is something about a marriage that gives you a unique opportunity to love in the most unselfish and sacrificial way possible. It is truly more precious to be happy than to be right.
And maybe loving isn't about finding someone who makes you feel more loved, complete, or happy. If that were true, then what happens when they stop making you feel loved, complete, or happy? Maybe God's purpose of marriage was much more about finding a partner - a teammate - to serve Him WITH instead of clinging to someone who fills you UP. Maybe it's less about looking AT the other person and looking FOR the cork. Yes, I said the cork (or bobber for those who are not from the country : ). Stay with me.....
Those two wheelchair fishing buddies - I never saw their faces. Never heard their words. But I have kept that image in my mind, and it has spoken much wisdom to me. This is what I have heard. Watch the cork. The purpose of marriage is to find your best friend to serve with, love with, learn from, and fish with.....with the goal of looking outward to the horizon to see how God can use your coupleship to serve Him, His children, or your children. It is not to look to each other for completion or security. Maybe it's to sit beside each other on late moonlit nights, walk beside each other, run along side each other in the loudest of cheers, or sometimes to simply stay with each other......loving.......serving.....watching the cork. Looking TOWARD His plans for you as a ministry team, instead of looking TO each other for happiness.
Having been on both sides of the marriage fence, I certainly don't have all the answers. I have lived and I have learned and I have seen......an elderly couple sitting beside each other in their wheelchairs fishing under the moonlight, and somehow in this world of division - they have given me hope : )
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
i am a fly
I am a fly. I am a fly on the wall. Standing back and watching reactions to broken nest eggs, falling dreams, and bailing outs. And I have seen Fear in it's purest form. As a rule, I try not to speak on topics I know little about. Ignorance is often most blissful when it restrains itself. Most of you know that I don't really have a TV. If I am near one - it's usually involving ESPN or something having to do with a ball. I would much rather be lost in a book or movie or on a blanket next to Walden Pond. But times are a'changin - in more ways than one. I have been drawn to "the box" lately....not to watch the falling of the numbers or the planning of the rescue - but of the reactions. I have listened and I have learned and I have wondered. What is it that we are truly most afraid of? And if the very thing we fear the most comes to pass - will we (as America and as a people) be o.k.? And what does it mean to be "o.k."? There is a great saying I have held to.
"Everything is o.k. in the end and if it's not o.k., it's not the end."
It has given me pause. Coming most recently from a country where wealth is not a real possibility and basic needs have little to do with anything other than food and insecure safety, I look at our world much differently. I have had to. It has given me a different perspective on what we actually need in our lives, and the misconceptions we all buy into regarding what that means. I have a theory - I have many theories. I often talk about what I "saw" in Congo and then what I "learned" in Congo....What I learned is that when people have such limited choices on how they live - they suddenly find a way of being content. They have to. They have no other choice. But (as in our case) if the choices are there and if the options are present - it breeds a Discontentment. Disappointment in self-created expectations rears its ugly head, and Fear is born. When you do not have financial security, then True Wealth must be based on the ability to have little and find contentment. Yes, it is much easier said than done.
Emerson says that if we face the very thing we fear the most it becomes the death of the fear itself. So I say all of that to ask this: What are we really afraid of? Loosing our retirement. Loosing part of our savings. Loosing our ability to pay our bills. Loosing our comfort. What do we REALLY TRULY need to survive as a person, as a people, as a family. If we tangibly lost EVERYTHING, and we had absolutely nothing else but each other - would we still be o.k.? In the end, would everything really be o.k? Would it be what we had hoped for? no. Would it be what we had wished for? no. Would it even be what we thought it would be, planned it would be, dreamed it would be? no. no. and no. But would it be o.k.? In the end......
I am a fly - a fly who watches the world around her in humble thought. Watching as we compare ourselves to each other, stumble up ladders, and climb mountains that never cease to grow. When that which we value and think we cannot live without becomes fragile then Fear comes with it's most gallant of horses. When that which we lean upon for our security or happiness begins to give way, we - naturally - search around for something else to hold on to. It is natural, normal - even wise. You see, its not the leaning that comes into question. It is the thing that we lean upon. Through my long-lived years of mis-living, God has taught me much. He has taught me this: He is the ONLY thing in life that will never cease to exist or go away.....and when He is all we have, He (whether we realize it or even believe it) becomes all we need. It is Him and only Him who we can truly at a core level - Trust.
The SPIRIT OF AMERICA does not lie in the dollar (we proved that when we survived the Great Depression).
The SPIRIT OF AMERICA does not lie in living the "American Dream" or pursing financial wealth to feed a false sense of security.
The SPIRIT OF AMERICA does not lie in anything you can see, taste, or even touch. It lies in our bond of BEING the people of the United States of America. That is not anything that can be taken away with crashing markets, elected candidates, or even our country going in a direction that we fear......all of those things will happen.
The SPIRIT OF AMERICA is based on a bond that started years ago with small talk around a table and dreams around a fire. It is a common thread of living - of liberty - and in pursuing happiness....as a people, as a nation, in our families and in our homes. And if happiness is actually contentment. And true contentment is actually found in surviving on little and still being at peace - then won't we really be "o.k."?
Lord God- in this place of unrest and removal - my heart hears you calling in the strongest of voices.....cutting past the noise of falling numbers and crashing markets. I ask that you blow away the rains of Fear and remove the scales from our eyes as we look upon all that glitters - realizing that it TRULY isn't gold at all. Bless our nation - feed the American Spirit - and remind us that it is in you that we have and do put our Trust.
And Trusting I am,
Yours, b
"Everything is o.k. in the end and if it's not o.k., it's not the end."
It has given me pause. Coming most recently from a country where wealth is not a real possibility and basic needs have little to do with anything other than food and insecure safety, I look at our world much differently. I have had to. It has given me a different perspective on what we actually need in our lives, and the misconceptions we all buy into regarding what that means. I have a theory - I have many theories. I often talk about what I "saw" in Congo and then what I "learned" in Congo....What I learned is that when people have such limited choices on how they live - they suddenly find a way of being content. They have to. They have no other choice. But (as in our case) if the choices are there and if the options are present - it breeds a Discontentment. Disappointment in self-created expectations rears its ugly head, and Fear is born. When you do not have financial security, then True Wealth must be based on the ability to have little and find contentment. Yes, it is much easier said than done.
Emerson says that if we face the very thing we fear the most it becomes the death of the fear itself. So I say all of that to ask this: What are we really afraid of? Loosing our retirement. Loosing part of our savings. Loosing our ability to pay our bills. Loosing our comfort. What do we REALLY TRULY need to survive as a person, as a people, as a family. If we tangibly lost EVERYTHING, and we had absolutely nothing else but each other - would we still be o.k.? In the end, would everything really be o.k? Would it be what we had hoped for? no. Would it be what we had wished for? no. Would it even be what we thought it would be, planned it would be, dreamed it would be? no. no. and no. But would it be o.k.? In the end......
I am a fly - a fly who watches the world around her in humble thought. Watching as we compare ourselves to each other, stumble up ladders, and climb mountains that never cease to grow. When that which we value and think we cannot live without becomes fragile then Fear comes with it's most gallant of horses. When that which we lean upon for our security or happiness begins to give way, we - naturally - search around for something else to hold on to. It is natural, normal - even wise. You see, its not the leaning that comes into question. It is the thing that we lean upon. Through my long-lived years of mis-living, God has taught me much. He has taught me this: He is the ONLY thing in life that will never cease to exist or go away.....and when He is all we have, He (whether we realize it or even believe it) becomes all we need. It is Him and only Him who we can truly at a core level - Trust.
The SPIRIT OF AMERICA does not lie in the dollar (we proved that when we survived the Great Depression).
The SPIRIT OF AMERICA does not lie in living the "American Dream" or pursing financial wealth to feed a false sense of security.
The SPIRIT OF AMERICA does not lie in anything you can see, taste, or even touch. It lies in our bond of BEING the people of the United States of America. That is not anything that can be taken away with crashing markets, elected candidates, or even our country going in a direction that we fear......all of those things will happen.
The SPIRIT OF AMERICA is based on a bond that started years ago with small talk around a table and dreams around a fire. It is a common thread of living - of liberty - and in pursuing happiness....as a people, as a nation, in our families and in our homes. And if happiness is actually contentment. And true contentment is actually found in surviving on little and still being at peace - then won't we really be "o.k."?
Lord God- in this place of unrest and removal - my heart hears you calling in the strongest of voices.....cutting past the noise of falling numbers and crashing markets. I ask that you blow away the rains of Fear and remove the scales from our eyes as we look upon all that glitters - realizing that it TRULY isn't gold at all. Bless our nation - feed the American Spirit - and remind us that it is in you that we have and do put our Trust.
And Trusting I am,
Yours, b
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