Breathless Thanksgiving

We laid low for this, our second day at Hot Springs. 

Sunday had been abundant with worship and conversation over lunch with the three adults who want to be baptized next Sunday.  Hearing their stories and being in awe again of how proactively God intervenes on behalf of those who have nothing, I felt as though I was in the presence of a different kind of royalty.  More on their stories later though.  Esther had her first performance.  I had preached and led evening devotions.  We fell into bed reminded that we'd just traveled half way around the world and were in a completely different time zone.  Slept well, both of us.

Monday was a day off.  Appropriately so, since at home in Canada we'd be eating too much, having a nap, and just chilling with the family.  Exactly what we did, and with great thanksgiving.

I'd brought a ping pong set (inspired by a video Suradet had sent me earlier where there was a string for a net and only one paddle and a book used as the other :) so we watched a mini tournament for a bit.  Then Fruk brought out his magic set and wowed us with his tricks.  Except no one has told him that a magician never reveals his secrets, because at the end of each trick he seemed to take great delight in showing us exactly how it was done!  Both Esther and I were challenged to arm wrestles.  We went on a 'lion hunt'. 

In the flat space provided by the new shelter between the main church building and the conference room, cartwheels and hand stands and various flip over moves can be practiced and shown off.  Wild applause as only a visiting 'gramma'  and 'auntie' can provide.

And on the empty spaces of my notebook, second and third graders can help me with my Thai spelling.  Over the top praise for every effort, as only sweet children eager to encourage my language learning can give.

Guitars were brought out and Esther and Miki and Boy, surrounded by curious littler ones, sang soft songs of worship for about an hour or so. 

We 'helped out' a local business owner by receiving the good gift of a Thai massage at the little shop just down the road.  After that was when the nap happened to us.  Then supper.  Then....

Opening Sponsors' packets at evening worship.  And suddenly it all feels more like Christmas than Thanksgiving.  Except the kids at Hot Springs are tidy in their excitement, pulling each item out with care, exclaiming over treats and gifts, and then gingerly replacing them into the packet before pulling out the next, and exclaiming over that as well.  Prayers for Sponsors.  Oh so grateful.  And then to bed.

Because of the baptisms and because it will give us more time to prepare (and decorate!), the celebration of Thanksgiving Sunday (service) won't happen until next week.  But today..... today felt like Thanksgiving Monday should feel.  Surrounded by loved ones, simply enjoying being together, having fun, being grateful.

I miss my own family and sharing in the gratitude rituals with them, and with my wonderful Highview family as well.  It's odd not to be with them, for sure.  But this was good and deep and beautiful. 

If Thanksgiving is a time to set aside the regular schedules and routines that can distract us from gratitude, to allow us to stop and say thank you, then I was considerably distracted today. 

Being here brings clear focus to what my life is about, and sharp awareness of who I'd be without Jesus. The depth of my gratitude for God's goodness and sovereignty and delicate love makes it hard, at times, for me to breathe.

Random Acts of God-ness

As we settle into our first day at Hot Springs, I'd actually like to tell a story that happened on the trip over.

It was on the first, long flight from Toronto to Seoul.  Both Esther and I had aisle seats, which is exactly the way to go for the endurance flights.  Means you can get up and move around any time you want.  It also means that each of us had 'other' seatmates.

On my side of things, I was traveling with two stunning, well dressed Korean women who were friends with each other.  We got along fine, but they mostly kept to themselves, slept a lot (more than me, I was jealous) and apologized profusely any time they wanted to get up.

It wasn't until the very last hour of that flight that I actually had a conversation with either.  It was with the woman who had the window seat.  She was standing in the aisle to stretch, like me, and we began to chat.  The first topic of co-travelers always leads with inquiries as to respective destinations, and so I found out that she was on her way home for some surgery so she could return to Toronto and continue her studies.  Asking further, I found out that not only was she studying theology, but she was a student at Tyndale Seminary, just like me!

Immediately the conversation moved into high gear, comparing programs, professors we had in common, and a little bit about what God was doing in our lives.  At this point we exchanged first names, and Meeching asked me about our destination.  She was very excited to hear Suradet and Yupa's story, about how God was reclaiming young lives in Thailand, and about Highview's strong connection, relationally and spiritually.

Then we sat down again and the conversation ended in the midst of the 'we're almost there' tidying ritual of the attendants.  But then Meeching reached over her friend to touch my arm. With a sincere face she told me that she felt God would have her give something toward the care of the children at Hot Springs.  And she handed me a single piece of paper money.  It was dark, and I couldn't tell at first exactly how much it was for.  But then I held it up closer to the screen and saw she'd handed me a US $100 bill.

This she gave freely to a stranger.  

I pray all the time that God would provide for the needs of our kids.  Our Sponsors are a HUGE part of that, for sure.  And the various times we've raised funds for specific needs, that's been phenomenal as well.  But to have this much just handed over to me at random like this?

I thanked her so much, over and again.  Promised it would get straight into Suradet and Yupa's hands.  Tucked it away into my wallet.  I couldn't wait to give it to them and tell the story.

Which I did, in the car on the way to Hot Springs from the airport.  Prajao di - God is good - in so many wild and random ways like this.

And I can't help thinking that this is only the first of many surprises God has in store for both Esther and myself this time out.

Esther, by the way, is a pro traveler, has a strong and positive disposition, and is embracing this experience fully.  Her first flute performance was this morning at the Sunday service, and both her poise and servant's heart served the dear people of Hot Springs well.

Stay tuned for more.   Especially pictures.  Just tried to include some here, but I have to figure something out on my phone first :P. 

Lifting Sails

It's totally crazy how stuff clusters.

The fall began more or less as I expected, and in happy rhythms of Sabbath, giving way to pressing into work, giving way to Sabbath again.  Times outside, by the pond or on the patio, helped elongate summer's restorative benefits, even as the pace picked up and seasonal events unfolded.  Life and people seemed at ease with one another.  Community purred.  All was good.

Then, beginning about two weeks ago, the first little ruffle seemed to let in a series of random and unrelated gusts of unhappy surprises, not unheard of in my 'line of work', but unusually clustered and all coming out of left field.  Each difficulty took me completely by surprise.  I would leave the conversation, or finish the email and say to myself, "I didn't see that coming."

Like I said, it's random and unrelated, each situation oblivious to any of the others.  But, almost every other day since it started, there's been one unhappy surprise after another; one surge of adrenaline, or dip of sadness, or even rise of anger after another requiring the disciplines that keep me centered and calm.

Perhaps not-so-randomly, I recently received my special edition of Steve Bell's 25th anniversary collection entitled "Pilgrimage".  Amongst its generous offerings is a guitar and voice only rendition of the traditional hymn "I Feel the Winds of God Today."  Love it.

It's simplicity and honesty has encouraged me.  The strength of the resolve to say with conviction, "today my sails I lift" when you know there is drenching spray ahead....  I find I am braver because of the gentle melody and gutsy lyric that sets me back to sea.

I include the lyrics here, in case anyone is in need of some grit to lift the sails this day. 

And it's with joy and deep gratitude that I realize the abundance of my life, the loyalty of friends, and the anticipation of visiting my Thai family starting in just a few days. 

I Feel the Winds of God Today (Kingsfold)
Music: Traditional, Lyric by Jesse Adams – public domain

I feel the winds of God today
Today my sail I lift
Though heavy oft with drenching spray
And torn with many a rift

If hope would light the water’s crest
And Christ my bark will use
I’ll seek the seas at His behest
And brave another cruise

It is the wind of God that dries
My vain regretful tears
Until with braver thoughts shall rise
The purer brighter years

If cast on shores of selfish ease
Or pleasure I should be
Lord let me feel Your freshening breeze
And I’ll set back to sea

If ever I forget Thy love
Or how that love was shown
Lift high the blood-red flag above
It bears Thy name alone

Great Pilot of my onward way
Thou will not let me drift
I feel the winds of God today
Today my sail I lift

[I wish I could offer a link so you could actually listen to the song if you wanted, but I can't seem to find one.  So, if anyone finds one and wants to post it in the comments, or email me, I'll include it at a later date.]

Love Like You've Never Been Hurt

Saw this sign in a store this weekend and it made me stop to consider whether or not I did these things, or even agreed with them.  After some pondering I realized, with some interest, that the only one I had trouble embracing entirely was "Love like you have never been hurt."

It's not that I disagree exactly.  This sounds like a good philosophy, and fits well in this list of positive life-affirmations.  But I'm just not sure any of us can actually do this.

I'm not sure it's possible to love like you've never been hurt.  Is it?  Don't we all carry with us some of the leftover woundings from hurts within each relationship itself, and baggage from stuff that happened in other relationships? 

Isn't each love more of a mixture of sweet and sour that ends up being good and honest and true because we've lived through the hurts and are brave enough to keep loving and/or love again?  Maybe the hurts make us wiser lovers.  Maybe loving like you've been hurt is a deeper love.

Maybe that's what the sign is trying to say.  And if so, then, yes, I'm all for it.  I would say, right or wrong, that I don't love with the same quick, reckless abandon that I used to when I was oh so much younger than I am now, before I was hurt.  But I find that my experience of love is grittier, fiercer, less selfish now, in my post-hurt love life.  It's more chosen, more deliberate, more secure.

It's a crazy thing we do, giving our hearts away to imperfect others, while at the same time holding in our imperfect hands the hearts of beloveds we would never want to wound.   Risky business, this loving thing.

But never mind.  No one's watching or listening, the possibilities are endless, there's a little of heaven here on earth, there really are no winners, and plenty of family and friends.  So, according to the sign, and because of the great blessings of our lives, we apparently have lots of joy to do. 

The Flip Side of Sabbath

Sunday afternoons are the best.

It starts the moment I come down off the platform at the end of the sermon, sit down, turn up my hands, close my eyes and let it go.  All the work of this past week, culminating in the delivery of what I can only hope were pleasing and acceptable meditations and words, is released into the care of the Holy Spirit for Him to do with as He pleases.  Me?  I'm done. 

I'll connect with as many people as I can after the service, pray with some when needed, encourage and be encouraged, bless and be blessed.  Then it's home for lunch with Ken.  And then...the nap.

And so begins my time of spiritual restoration, from Sunday at noon until Tuesday morning, when I arrive again at the office to begin a brand new week.

Work and rest, in the rhythmic breathing of life.

A lot has been written about Sabbath lately, and a call to reclaim the essential rest God ordained for human souls.  I've needed to reclaim this for myself, unlearning patterns of drivenness and workaholism as I go.

But today my reading in Proverbs turned my thoughts to the flip side of Sabbath, and the idea that work itself is also a gift from God,

"The sluggard craves and gets nothing, 

but the desires of the diligent are fully satisfied."  

Proverbs 13:4 NIV

If I think about it, there two key points in any given week for me, and they are anchored in this work/rest balance.  One is that moment of letting go just as the sermon is done.  And the other is that moment when I turn the key in my office door and open up to the start of a fresh cycle of meaningful work.

What a gift to be able to expend my energies in meaningful labour.  To press through the challenges, put my shoulder to the wheel, and diligently carry out my responsibilities.  True enough there will be bad days.  But the overwhelming experience of my work is one I find fully and abundantly satisfying.

By the time I get to the end of the service, at the end of a well-spent week, I will welcome the Sabbath.  But I find I can't have one without the other.  I won't release into my time of renewal with any joy unless I have given my all to the work.  And I can't give my all to the work, and it would soon become a joyless experience, without the release of renewal.

Sunday afternoons are the best.  But so are Tuesday mornings.  Two bests.

Grateful for the wisdom of a loving Father who knows the cravings of the human soul, and the holy ways that fully satisfy His children.

Calendar Calm

There's something about September that requires a fresh new calendar.  And there's something about a fresh new calendar that makes me very, very happy.

I mean, just look at all those clear open spaces, smiling and ready to receive the appointments, due dates and events that make life rich and meaningful.  Neat squares, systematically lined up, mapping out all the possibilities of a brand new season.  Clarity, order, purpose.  What's there not to love?

In fact, I love calendars so much that my husband used to claim that if I saw an open day with nothing written on it, my hand would shake until I could find something to add.

Never mind that he's like that with clean open spaces in our house.  And never mind that I wouldn't ever write something on the calendar with a shaky hand and risk making it look messy!  I mean, really!

Still, upon honest reflection of calendars gone by, he was right on.  But it wasn't about an obsession with calendars, actually.  It was about an obsession with 'doing'.  It was about finding it hard to say 'no'.  About workaholism and insecurities and lack of self-control.  And lack of self.

Having a lot on the calendar had a way of making me feel important and needed.  True thing.  Without ever having thought it through, in my gut I believed that only selfish, lazy losers had 'empty' calendars.  'Empty' being a relative term.

That was a while, and a few hard lessons ago, however.  These days my calendar is calmer.  There are open spaces....on purpose!  Yes!  I'll show them to you if you like.  Mondays are my Sabbath when I rest and play and be quiet with God in longer, unhurried ways.  Thursdays have recently become my 'no meeting' days when I can dig down into the part of my job that requires quiet concentration and deeper reflection.  For the most part, evenings are left untouched to allow for the simplicity of just being at home with my husband. 

Psalm 90:12 says, "Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain a heart of wisdom."

The bigger context of the psalm speaks, in part, about understanding God as being where you live.  Our dwelling place.  I don't think there were wall calendars around back then, but the overall concept is the same.  And as someone who needs all the wisdom she can get, I welcome God's continued teaching on this, particularly as I am increasingly experiencing a deeper calm the more I give myself the time to be 'home' in Him.

It's the beginning of September, so my calendars look pretty sweet right now.  Yes, predictably, the unexpected will arrive and mess up all the well laid out plans to varying degrees throughout the season to come.  All the more reason to have the calm, empty spaces marked off, both to be the buffer, and to provide the stored-up reserves to face the challenges with more serenity.

Now, if we can just get the basement cleaned out.   I think I'll go put that on the calendar.

Thank You Summer 2014

Leaving so soon?
Really?
Must you go?
If so
allow my gratitude to follow you
wherever it is you fade off to
every year about this time.
I'm inclined
to pause and remember paws,
tiny and cool on my sun-warmed skin,
receiving nuts and giving simple moments of cheer.
And drawing near
in the spectacular spaces of dawnings and dusks,
flat water and rusks.
And foxes dashing by.
And trying not to cry
at the sheer wonder of family
altogether in one space.
To have the space to breathe
to rest
to read and feed my soul
on rocks, my sockless feet
soaking in the heat of the day
soaked in by the granite.
Best place on the planet.
That was Summer Act One.

Summer Act Two.
Home with you
still outside because I can't abide
to be indoors doing chores.
Patio or pond
I am fond of the birds
and writing words to journal the journey
of my soul, being whole, and not rushed
but hushed, still.
Except when fun chugs in
and we ride the train,
avoiding the rain.
Or a tree comes down
and we own the wood,
piling our satisfaction in stacks
against the winter.

Three celebrations, one for 87,
one for 36,
one for ten years.
No fears going forward,
just God's goodness to trust.

And now, you're leaving
and I'm disbelieving
that it's really that time
again.
Calendars are ready,
plans are steady,
but still.
Maybe you will
visit, on warm days,
when, my friend,
I'll pretend you haven't left.

Thank you, Summer 2014,
and the Father who sent you
and bent you to be
what I needed.