Someone to Watch Over Me

 

Psalm 32:8

I will instruct you and teach you

in the way you should go;

I will counsel you

with my loving eye on you.

It's the perfect time of year for fresh morning walks.  Praying as I go, grateful for promised guidance and counsel, and that tender 'loving eye' upon me.

With a nod to Gershwin (1929), the longing expressed in his classic jazz piece "Someone to Watch Over Me" is more than satisfied.  

[Ruminating on Psalm 32 in preparation for some teaching coming up in the spring.  Love this part of my process, just to 'feel' the text even before the 'study' part.]

Sustaining Grace

 

After an over-the-top fabulous-but-demanding weekend, I knew I needed to spend Sunday afternoon on recharge.

So, two things.  A nap, which I happily relaxed into after worship service this morning (and it was SO GOOD to be home again with my beautiful faith family).

  

And then some slow putzing-around kind of fall decorating for the rest of the afternoon.

I don't do all that much for autumn decor, and much of it is from thrift stores or Dollorama.  But there's something centering and settling about turning the corner on summer, and embracing the beauty of what's to come.

As I wrote about previously I left some 'volunteer corn' to grow in the front in hopes it would add to the fall vibe on our porch later on.  Well, it's now later on and....I'm liking it!!  Add a fall mum and a ceramic (squirrel-proof) pumpkin, and we could be on a little farm somewhere!

I'll admit that at no other time of the year is orange my default colour.  But somehow, right about now, it's about the cheeriest hue there is.  And the yellows and the browns.  Just brings the beauty happening outside inside somehow.

Inside and out.  All the fall things.

Sometimes all it takes is a little garland of leaves.

By now, on Monday morning, I am surprised and grateful.  With a few nagging health issues off to the side, in the midst of all that transpired this weekend, I fully expected to be more or less trashed by today.  Had planned to treat it as a recovery day and not get back into things until tomorrow morning.

But here I am, rested and ready for the week ahead.  I truly believe I have been carried on the prayers of so many these past several weeks.  I have been sustained by God's sweet grace, given what I needed 'for life and godliness' (2 Peter 1:3) in ways beyond my own capacity to provide.  

To all who love fall, enjoy the week.  It's supposed to be spectacular.  

To any who are weary, I know what that feels like.  Hang in, rest if you need.  Prayers for you.

And to everyone who need a bit of orange cheer these days....look around.  It's everywhere waiting for you to notice.

September Office Reset

 

For many, probably obvious reasons, September always feels like a new beginning.  Despite the forest heading into shut down, many other rhythms of autumn are starting fresh.

No doubt it's mostly all those childhood memories of school, and then our years as a homeschooling family, and then my own long and prolonged academic pursuits lasting well, well into my adult years.  September is new books, and new schedules, and, if I think about it enough, even the whiff of new pink erasers.  (Bet some of you can smell them too, now that I said it.)

I'm no longer in school.  But I do love a fresh September reset of my office space.  An extra effort to tuck away any loose papers (yes, I still have some binders), sorting and tidying those office supply drawers, finding better systems to have the stapler and hole punch handy, and a thorough wipe down and dust off of my desk top and books.

Despite having two significantly-important-but-not-urgent tasks still left unchecked on my list and no time until Monday to get at them, I chose the luxury of clearing out and freshening up my work space yesterday afternoon.  Took my time.  Enjoyed the simplicity of it.  Was mindfully present in the moments of it.  Letting it be September.  Feeling as clear headed and ready for the season ahead as my desk.

A doctor I once had the privilege to work for (in a long ago life I was a medical transcriptionist, true thing), was notoriously and ridiculously disorganized, particularly in terms of his office and desk.  And he was brilliant.  And we all respected him and he got the job done with excellence.  

And while there appears to be fascinating thought about the psychological effects of a tidy workspace, and also the connection between intelligence and messy spaces -- the debate about which I won't address here but leave to your own exploration if you like -- I know for a fact that I can't think clearly in clutter.  

So.  Big sigh of satisfaction.  My office is ready, and now I feel ready.

And I bet those two tasks get done more efficiently on Monday anyways.  

Giving myself space.

Embracing small joys.

Wishing for you simple pleasures as well.

Let the Colours Begin!

 

Pausing here in the middle of what feels like busy-enough day, just before I move into three busier-than-I've-had-in-a-while days over the weekend.  (Yay for New Family Foundation's Annual Garage Sale!)

Yup.  Back in the city.  That means places to go, people to see, things to do.  It is all the more important that I begin the day with my walk, which I do, in glorious sunshine, the warmth of which feeling so good through my jacket against the crisp of the morning air.

And while the leaves on the trees along the path have yet to turn, there's a creeping vine that always seems eager to get autumn going, with it's brilliant red flourishing finish to the summer season.  

I feel ready.  My summer-loving soul is always clingy for the last days of warm and bright, and it's never easy to close down the cottage for the winter, a task we have yet to do, booked for the week prior to Thanksgiving.  Still, there comes a time, especially when the summer's been so abundant and rich and full and good, when it's okay to let go.  Like the leaves will show us soon.

It's a kind of contentment, satisfaction, feeling all filled up that the psalmist described in Psalm 131.

My heart is not proud, LORD,

my eyes are not haughty;

I do not concern myself with great matters,

things too wonderful for me.

But I have calmed and quieted myself,

I am like a weaned child with its mother;

like a weaned child I am content.

Israel (people of God), put your hope in the LORD,

both now and forevermore.

Like a weaned child.  Not needy.  Satisfied.  Content.  

That's how this fall is starting off for me.  

Plus, I still have my seasonal decorating to do, which I love!  And the birdfeeders to refill!  

Happy Fall Thursday, folks.

Let the colours begin!

White Asters

It's been an intentional choice of self-care to be here at the cottage for these first days back in Canada.  I haven't really done this before - stayed "away" just a bit longer.  Usually I succumb to the pressure to be "back," responding to various requests for my time and attention, now that I'm "available."  All of which is understandable, and I actually very much want to re-engage quickly, having been so far away for a period of time.

But.

This time things felt different.

Partly because, despite being more or less stationed here at the cottage since early June, I really haven't blocked off any personal time except for when the whole family was here in July.  Preparing for this past visit, plus several speaking engagements, plus preparing to officiate two weddings, not to mention the regular stuff of ministry life as a Missionary in Residence, made for quite a demanding summer.  And I'm not complaining.  I chose it, and I love what I get to do.

And.

My body is more seasoned, which has significant advantages, but also some greater needs for maintenance.  I just don't bounce back from 24 hours of travel and 12 hours of time difference like I did 20 years ago.  So there's that.

So.

Looking at and praying over the calendar for the fall, there was this strong leaning towards pushing pause before jumping right back into city life again.

Pause to stop typing and just be still for a moment.

Then.

As I write I am on the deck on a slightly breezy and very pleasant September afternoon.  It's quiet.  One of those 'no human-made sounds' moments that have such restorative powers.  It's Sunday, and on Sunday NOT working is very much the obedient thing to do.  I embrace this.

The plethora of white asters that surround the cottage this time of year remind me of the lilies of the field that 'do not work or make their clothing, yet Solomon in all his glory was not dressed as beautifully as they are.'  Matthew 6:28  Which reminds me that it's okay to just 'be' and let God take care of the rest.

The rest.

The resting.

I suppose it's evidence of the deeper places of lingering workaholism and perfectionism that I still find it necessary to make such a thing of taking time to do nothing for a while; that it's actually still so hard to do; that I have to make such a point of it; that I feel the need to write about it.  It reveals to me the work still needed in my soul, I feel.  The letting go and letting God.  The releasing of control for outcomes.  The surrendering of the desire to impress.  The defiance against the fear of not being enough that pushes and drives and demands.  

The asters know nothing of this.  They just are.  In abundance, dancing.  Soaking in the sunshine on a sabbathy afternoon.  And I am with them.

 

See?

 

There's something so humbling about this moment for me.  Every time.

It's the farewell prayer on the last night before leaving.  

It's at the end of evening worship.  We've sung the last songs, read the last books, and recited Colossians 3:17 for the last time...for now.  I've wrapped up our last lesson about "In Style With Jesus."  [On this particular night we had a ridiculously silly fashion show, wearing all the items given out for each lesson.  That's what all the bandanas and such are about.]   And I've told them how much I love them.  Told them to never forget it.

That's when I'm invited to sit on a chair, and they come and lay hands.  Gentle little fingertips, and two of them have taken one of my hands to hold.  They all pray together out loud, like a mystic murmuring that wraps around me and upward in a wispy multicoloured ribbon of promise and unconditional love.  

I receive it openly.  And each time I hear the Father say, "See?  Here it is. The desire of your heart."  And all those moments in the past when I felt useless, and unworthy, and not enough, and forgotten, and misunderstood, and accused are all revealed for their folly.  Every promise to 'work all things out for good' is made solid.  And I get the sense that should the Lord choose that singular moment to take me, I would wake up in the presence of God, totally surrounded by love and peace, and not feel any different.

My bags are all packed and weighed all but what can't be done until you brush your teeth for the last time and walk out the door.  Breakfast first.  Then a last wave goodbye to the kids on their way to school.  Then I'll sneak back into the meeting room and hide 'ganoms' (treats) on the bookshelves for them to find tonight.  Then off to the airport around 8 a.m. my time.

Expectations are to arrive in Toronto at around 9:30 p.m.  I will have been travelling for more than 24 hours, but we chase the sun back, and regain the 12 hours we lost on the way here.

I am eager to be back with my beloved husband and all the other loves God has so richly granted me in Canada.  AND my heart aches with the human limitation of only being able to be in one place at one time.

As always, I cannot adequately express my gratitude for how well taken care of I've been while here, and for the deep respect I have for Suradet and Yupa and all they so generously offer to the plans and purposes of God in this place.

And also, my deep, deep thanks to all those who support my being here in so many ways; not the least of which is my own husband and family, but also all those who contribute to my Missionary in Residence stiped so faithfully each month, and anyone who takes on just a little more work and responsibility to cover my absence in big and small ways.

I'll do my usual Facebook posts along the way, letting everyone know my progress.  First stop, Taipei.  Then the long flight to Toronto.  I have myself a pretty decent seat, if I do say so myself.  Aisle, near the back, close to bathrooms and a little bit of extra aisle space to stretch in.  And I have  LOT of pictures to sort, so there's that.

Grateful.

On my way.

The Little Things That Aren't Little At All

 

"Whoever is careless with the truth in small matters

cannot be trusted with important matters."

Albert Einstein

When a kid does something that's just decent and good, you want to say something about it.

But first you need to try to imagine the happy chaos of being with about 12 children who are all working hard on their English reading, writing and comprehension skills -- all at the same time.  I'm on my own this trip.  No such luxury of dividing up into groups with competent and eager English-speaking members of the Team.  No such assistance from "Crew Cher-o" (our experienced English learning specialist who's been twice before).  Just me, setting out the notebooks and activities Cheryl has designed for us, and then, as they arrive one by one, immersing myself in the happy buzz of kids figuring things out.

My job is to supervise as best I can, then, when a task is complete, provide a check on their card.  Once the card is filled up with thirty checks in total, they can select a prize from the basket later on during evening worship time. They work hard for this.  It's a big deal.

The challenge comes when they are finished one task and ready to go on to the other, but have to stop by me first for their check.  If too many finish at one time, I've got several little eager voices calling my name, and it's easy to lose track of who's completed what.  I do my best, and I'm pretty careful.  Don't worry, they will certainly make sure I don't miss any check marks on their card.

And then there's Jonah.  

Yesterday they had two printing assignments to add their notebooks.  Most of the children completed both of them before coming to me for two checks.  Jonah, however, did it one at a time.  But the second time he came for a check mark, I had forgotten about already doing so for the first assignment and just gave him two checks automatically.

He stopped me.

No, Ahjahn Ruth.  I only get one this time.

Okay, just stop here for a second.  I know this seems small.  One little check amongst thirty.  It would have been so easy for him to let my mistake slide for his benefit.  I mean, it's just one little checkmark, right?  But he didn't.

I made a point of commending him in that moment.  And I also mentioned it again in front of everyone later that night at evening worship.  Now I'm bragging on him to you.  Because we can't let little things like that go unnoticed.  If we want to raise up people of integrity; if we want to teach and model honesty, let's celebrate it when it happens.

Jonah (right) waiting his turn for popcorn, 

with Jua (left) and Tharit (centre).

One more thing.

Our kids come from places of neediness, most of them.  It would be so easy for them to stay into survival mode and think and behave in ways that are understandably self-serving and tight.  When they can relax and come at life with a gentle confidence that allows space for waiting, space for honesty, space for others, it's a particularly encouraging sign that they feel loved and secure.  And this is huge.  A small thing, but a huge deal.

Today our English time will be reading only.  Just to change it up.  We have been given a great gift of many books designed especially for early readers, provided to us by Pat Harrison of Blueberry Hill Books for which we are so grateful.