Running out of time...

It is funny, I am kind of running out of time for advent posts...Christmas being less than a week away.  This season has been so full of the unexpected that the routine of this season has been lost. In fact, to be totally honest...I am not in the Christmas 'spirit' at all.

I was hoping that as the school time winds down I would wander effortlessly into the warm fuzzy of Christmas time but having a student dealing with chemotherapy on the eve of Christmas, having violence hang so heavy in the air has washed this season of its sparkle. 

It's ok...it is what it is and I can't generate what isn't.
Sorry folks...
Merry Christmas!

Bathsheba...ashes and beauty

We are familiar with this story in all of its titillating details.  I have often thought that this isn't story about Bathsheba at all but about how sin spatters and ruins and destroys people around especially when you think your sin is secret, especially when you keep your sin secret.  David's arrogance seduces, destroys what was a great love story and murders. David repents and writes eloquently about his repentance in a often quoted Psalm but Uriah still is dead and Bathsheba still lost her baby and her life and her husband. 

There isn't much in this story after all is said and done. David is front and center ... What do we know about Bathsheba. She was beautiful, she was bathing on a roof top...most likely a ritual bathing area for purification, David wanted what he saw and he got it.  She got pregnant...David began the process of cleaning up his tracks. He hadn't thought about marrying her...he wanted Uriah to unknowingly become the father of his baby growing in Bathsheba's womb. Uriah was a good man, a noble man and loyal man. David was none of those things. He dies, Bathsheba marries David, baby dies...another baby is born and baby Solomon becomes the next king, wisest man in the world. Bathsheba's is mentioned in Mathew as the wife of Uriah...she is mentioned only in connection too...Some think this is a slight to Bathsheba, I think it is an honoring of Uriah ,who was not in the line of Jesus.

This week we are numb with the horror of children's death by a madman. It is the face of evil, it is the embodiment of what evil is...The madman who killed 20 children, the madman who killed all the babies in Bethlehem, the madman who killed one man.

A baby changes everything...

Come, Lord Jesus, Come...
Make things right
Shine again in this dark night
Let us hear some angels sing
And hear the hope those angels bring
We will come and bow before
Only to adore..only to adore
Broken hearts and bended knee
 Such a desperate need

Ruth...Once upon a time

Ruth 1:1There was a time when Israel didn't have kings to rule over them. But they had leaders to help them. This is a story about some things that happened during that time.


The Bible doesn't ever say, once upon a time but Ruth comes close. This is a story about things that happened during this time...and it is a love story.

Ruth...a daughter-in-law, a widow, a servant to her mother-in-law ( on a side, that must have been one amazing mother-in-law for Ruth to forsake all just to be with her) a provider, a pursuer, a bride, a mother ... a wife. She was resilient, obedient, kind, loyal, beautiful, unselfish, strong and kind.

Ruth is a story of great loss and bitterness, struggle, resilience, survival and redemption. In every step, God was worshiped and honored.

Once upon a time everything was really bad, then everyone trusted God and they loved happily every after.

Ruth 4: 11 Then the elders and all who were at the gate spoke. They said, "We are witnesses. The woman is coming into your home. May the LORD make her to be like Rachel and Leah. Together they built up the nation of Israel. May you be an important person in Ephrathah. May you be famous in Bethlehem.

12The LORD will give you children through this young woman. May your family be like the family of Perez. He was the son Tamar had by Judah.”

Here we are in Ruth and we are pulled back to Tamar...that other resilient woman: Happy ever after. How does this prepare us for Christmas? Have you been seeing the same themes over and over again in these stories of women? It is beauty for ashes...redemption stories ...every one of them.

This means, that this Christmas all my ashes are not worthless. My story is not a mismatch of events, or losses disorganized and haphazard.

My story today, your story today is being written in the ink of redemption. That is the always story of Christmas.

 

A silent night for me...

I drove home from Childrens' hospital having just heard from the doctors that one of my Chinese students has Stage4 lymphoma Hodgkin's cancer.  It is hard to focus on Christmas or family joy or anything for that matter. She is only 17 but the offensive thing about cancer is that as we sit in the waiting rooms for hours on end there is a stream of children wandering through with bald heads, tubes and cute knitted caps, holding on to IV tubes.  There are 4 floors and they are adding on to this hospital full of very sick kids.  I have said that this place is sacred, for healing takes place and hope is dispersed by competent and skilled doctors, nurses and staff. Cancer is so offensive , evil, insidious, and scary.  So much needs to happen to get her ready for the treatment that ironically will make her feel much sicker then this deadly disease ever will.  Her parents have to come from China, they have to be here for the next 4 months while she fights for the right to live longer. So many moving parts...

A silent night as I pondered the weight of this information. She does not know how much God loves her...or her parents...I pray in these awful months she will.

Rahab...the mother of Boaz

Joshua 1: 21"I agree," Rahab replied. "I'll do as you say." So she sent them away, and they left. Then she tied the bright red rope in the window.

Math.1:5 5Salmon was the father of Boaz. Rahab was Boaz's mother

When we left Tamar, she had just given birth to her twins Zerah and Perez...the mix up in the womb was that Zerah, stuck his fist out so the midwifes thought he would bet he first born so they put a scarlet thread around his wrist only to go back in and Perez came out. For those who have had children...OUCH. From a scarlet thread around the wrist to a scarlet rope out the window. No other significance maybe except that the story of Tamar ends with a red thread and then when we get to know Rahab, the red rope/big thread is significant to the her own rescue from the hand of God in the swords of his people.

In Mathew, she is no longer Rahab the prostitute, but Rahab the mother of Boaz, who for all intents and purposes is the Prince Charming of the Old Testament and Ruth his Princess.

In short, Rahab hides the spies from the oncoming hordes of Israel upstairs under the flax bushels and then lies about their whereabouts. Because of her faith in the God of Israel, she ends up saving her whole family and marries Salmon, and is grandmother to Jesse, who is the father of David...but more importantly, in the story of Jesus. No wonder she had no problem with Boaz marrying Ruth, the Moabite. She was also an outsider and a gentile.

In chaos, fear and uncertainty...she had faith to rescue not only herself and family but to start a whole new other life. No longer the prostitute but mother. This is the story of Jesus...always the story of Jesus...Rescue, redemption and resurrection..of all that we want not to be, to what we can finally become.

I think we forget that Christmas is about a great rescue from the gates of our own Jericho's.
With any enemy stronghold...you send in small. What can a baby do in a manger? What can a prostitute do?

A prostitute...saved her family, saved the spies, loved Salmon and raised a cross-cultural aware son Boaz, who married  Ruth..one of only 2 books in the bible all about a woman.

Then...through her, that baby in the manger.

A kind of creepy story in Christmas...

Gen 38: A chapter stuck in between the saga of Joseph, a weird, kind of creepy story of prostitution, incest, running with the wrong crowd, death by God and redemption.  Most commentaries believe that the only reason this story is in here is so that we have the back story to Tamar and ultimately the birth of Jesus. To those unfamiliar...here it is in short.

Judah leaves home, hangs out with a Canaanite, Hirah who is from Adullam.
Marries a Canaanite has 3 sons, Er, Onan and Shelah.
Er, marries Tamar...is evil...God kills him.
Onan is to produce a child by Tamar, being the brother-in-law, lets his seed miss...God kills him.
Judah is nervous to see his last boy die ,though he promises Shelah to her, sends Tamar back to her home.
Judha' wife dies, he mourns, goes to the Sheering festival..sees a prostitute...sleeps with her.
In the meanwhile, Tamar realized the promise of son #3 is not coming to past..goes by the road and is that prostitute Judah sleeps with. She asks for his signet ring and walking stick in lieu of the goat(payment).
Tamar gets pregnant, this was her plan. Judah hear, roars his offense...BURN HER !!!!
Tamra sends the signet ring to Judah, you are the father.
Ummm...she is better than I....
She gives birth to Perez and Zerah...a mix up in the womb with who comes first...Perez, in the line of Jesus.

Soooo, what can you glean from something like this. Definitely a 'skelaton in the closet' kind of story. I can imagine sitting around the dinner table and hoping  no one starts telling that story...it is just kind of embarrassing and R rated. It really is a story about Judah and his leaving home and becoming entangled with Hirah, who plays a role in the whole saga. A story of bad company corrupting good morals etc. I like Tamar, though.
Tamar, she lives at the whim of her father and father-in-law. She slept with everyone in the family except the last son. She fought for her heritage with craftiness and tenacity. She very well could have stayed at home and lived out her life in widows clothing but she would have none of that. She fought for her rightful child, her place as a mother.
God's role in this story is judgment on Er and Onan and then seeming quiet. Tamar does not seem to have any relationship with the God of Judah, nor does Judah seem to have a relationship with God. He walks in his own way but even in this far away place, God writes His story. Even in the midst of awful compromising sin....God writes His story.

We often think we can derail God with our disobedience. That He is subject to our whims of choice. We live in the consequences of our sin, but we can not derail God's purpose for us. 
That's Tamar's story, justice, tenacity and Sovereignty. God's got this, whatever your 'this' is.

Those Christmas Women

Tamar, Rahab, Ruth, Bathsheba, Elizabeth, Mary and Anna..

2 Prostitutes
1 Adulterer
4 Widows
3 Pregnant with children not their husbands
3 Gentiles
2 Barren
2 lost their first born to violent deaths
1 lost their baby because of their sin
2 mothers of Kings
1 mother of the King of Kings

What an amazing group of women listed and named in the story of Jesus' birth. I will be wondering with you, the significance of these women and what we can learn from their stories.

Tamar...Tenacity for Justice
Rahab... Survival in Chaos
Ruth..Loyalty in Suffering
Bathsheba...Beauty in Ashes
Elizabeth...Honor in Humility
Mary...Ferocity for Righteousness
Anna...Worship in Waiting

Advent/Christmas

I will start my yearly musings on this most emotive of holidays. I hope you enjoy and share with friends if you are so inspired. I will begin on Sunday...

the enemies chew toy

#1. Put on as if it is clothes, humility.
#2. God opposes pride..anywhere.
#3. Place yourself under God's mighty hand
#4. He will honor you at the right time.
#5. Roll your worries over to him/He cares for you.
#6. Control yourself
#7 Be on your guard
#8. The enemy prowls, roars and looks to chew up and swallow.
#9. You can stand against him.

1 Peter 5

A prayer

Your word is a light to my path, and since I have placed myself under your hand…I have been assuming you would feel the need to use me because of my amazingness. Forgive my arrogance and my pride, for who am I but clay in your hand. Who am I to tell the potter, when and where you should use me. You are the one who honors me by using me…if I am not being used in my perceived areas of strength; it is because I am full of pride. Not only are you not using me, you will oppose me. I have not clothed myself in humility and I seek your forgiveness again this morning. I have been chewed on, it is interesting that pride and the enemy's chews are not far apart from each other.  Pride is the enemies chew toy. I like that …. I can beat myself about this…I think you would rather me just humble myself and get on with it.

Amen

beautiful bits...

 I am being chiseled down to the beautiful bits.  http://karavanderbijl.com/

If you have not read my Niece's blog, you need too. She writes so well and today, she said this and it struck me. This is what is happening to me...I am being chiseled down, but I am hoping they are beautiful bits.  My Dad turns 83 today, what a beautiful man in all his beautiful bits.  See, maybe we don't become whole and balanced as we age but the things that seemed to matter so when we were younger are chiseled away and we sparkle in our bits. I would like to think there are things in which I sparkle...I think it is in the things most unselfish that I do.

Wise Woman...Foolish Woman

Wise woman builds her house. But a foolish woman tears hers down with her own hands Prov. 14:1

It has been awhile since I have posted and lots has happened in the world since the last time. We still have the same president...and some  men in power seem to have an inability to be faithful.  What I am thinking about though, is the foolish women, the ones who tore down their homes with their own hands.  It seems these women  get a pass when it comes to infidelity in high places. No jobs seem to be lost or ugly photos seem to be shown.  They only  know who fired the first shot across the cheating deck but neither said a simple no.
I am musing about this because I wonder what foolishness  we women do in our own homes that tear down protective walls but don't go as far as unfaithfulness. What do we do that builds...what do we do that tears down/busts.

Loving our husbands and protecting our marriage = builders
Watching our tongues=builders
Holding sacred our marriage bed by not reading what others seem to do better =builders
Not controlling by moods, anger, pettiness, insecurities =builders
Trusting God = builders
Loving but not idolizing our roles as mothers =builders
Confronting and being a peacemaker =builders
Making a home = builders


Self-centered whining = busters
Comparing anything =busters
Holding tight to rigid rules of expected behavior =busters
Unrealistic expectations for what  he should do, what I can do =busters
Letting ourselves go = busters
Holding sacred the idea of control by worrying = busters


This verse seems to say that we hold a lot in our hands...we builders and destroyers of homes.

PS. Goodness knows that men have their equal  share...but then I am not a man and cannot speak to that.

This man

I traveled to Southern California to go to a symposium for my job. What an excellent time of learning and reshaping my ideas on how to help the students and the host parents in their separate but similar journeys.  The fly in this ointment was that I traveled by plane and for me, that is my specific and annoying fear. I can do, snakes, heights, tight places and overcrowded elevators...but flying...I become stupid. This man knows me well, took a week off of work and accompanied me to this symposium just so I had a rock in the storm of my fear. I am ashamed and frustrated that this is my reality and for the life of me have to figure this out but I am so thankful for his man who does not seem to be afraid of anything...well, maybe spiders but he kills them.
The flights were calm, uneventful but you would never know this by looking at me. On one portion, landing in Portland the weather channel told me we were going to fly right into storms. A half hour before landing, I was gripping Scott's legs and doing my breathing exercises. There was no turbulence at the time, I was just preparing.
 How sad is that...because the reality was that it was really the smoothest landing of all the landings...and there were 6 of them.
I think I live in a lot anticipatory anxiety. Wait...isn't that what worry is...an anticipation of what may happen but usually does not. We are preparing for turbulence when it is smooth sailing...as if my death grip on Scott's leg would alleviate the fear or even the turbulence.
We are not to worry...fear not fear not fear not fear not fear not....
Now when the reality of the storm is at hand...ie: Sandy, accident, bad news....we can in reality do things to make a difference when it is real not imagined.
 It all comes...we should enjoy the ride when its turbulence free...bumpy comes.

Useless purpose

Remember how short my life is. You have created all people for such a useless purpose. Psalm 89:47

We are like the grass of the field, here today and gone tomorrow...

Are you discouraged yet?  I can imagine the verse from Psalm 89 isn't used for many sermons or picture captions. I am sure if this verse was someones favorite life verse we would wonder at the mental health of this tortured soul.  This Psalm is a strange one, it is so full of the power of God, His faithfulness, His strenght, His goodness, His Might, His Rightness and near the end...it seems that Ethan the Ezrahite. after extolling the wonders of God and virtues of David looks at his own life and wonders quickly...who am I anyway?  I love that about scripture...it speaks what not only is true about God, but what is true about us. I can't be the only one who has wondered in the grand scheme of life how short it is...and how useless it seems.  What is amazing about these 10 words is that the blame for it all is on God. You have created all people for such a useless purpose..You, mighty God.  Not some, all people...all of us are created for such a useless purpose. I wonder what Ethan was thinking that one purpose was. 

I am going to chew on this verse for awhile...not because it is encouraging but maybe because it seems to be spot on in the babble of all the wonders of who we think we are or have been told we are.  A cold shower of reality...I wonder what joy God gets from these broken vessels that try so hard to carry around any bits of glory.
 It seems He does....I just wonder why when the truth is from our viewpoint is that we are useless.  Our view, though, isn't always the one that matters.

Canning Hotness

So...we have tomatoes all producing at the same time so Scott and I decide to make salsa and can it all.  All goes well until our last batch. Scott loves it spicy so we make two batches, one with hot and one mild.  We did not grow the necessary peppers so Scott went and purchased the add-ins and I just chopped and put in the mix, chopped and chopped and chopped. During the milieu of throwing whatever Scott purchased into the batch...something sinister was happening. I got a whiff of it when I tasted a bit and my  tongue burned.

"Scott, what king of peppers did you buy?"
"You, know...the normal non-hot kind you like."
" Really, because something tastes really hot."
"No, you are just sensitive."

So we continued and interestingly after washing everything and putting all the pots away, my hands began to burn. When I took my contacts out, I burned my eyes and 2 hours after I fell asleep I was awakened to burning, aching hands. I quickly put some coconut oil on my burning hands and was able to fall asleep.
I am a little afraid of what we have concocted in those recent salsas. I will not try them...I will watch Scott closely and see how flushed he becomes because we  have made something powerful.

My Niece says it well...

Eliminate From Your Routine

1. Any book, web site or television show that gets you thinking you’d be a lot happier if you could just have ____________;
2. Any food or drink that makes you feel sick after you consume it;
3. Any way of thinking that promotes you to favor ideas over people;
4. Any belief that causes you to see yourself as fundamentally worse or fundamentally better than anyone else.

Kara vanderBijl

A picture

As far back as I can remember, this picture has graced a prominent place in our living room and continues its place of honor in Dad and Elfrieda's home in Saskatoon. It is so familiar to me but still I always pause to look at it again when I am in their home. You would think it is a maple tree in a fall setting but rather it is a tranquil very tropical, Indonesian home with this extraordinary red tree.
 I don't know anything about where it was purchased, who painted it and where it is...yet, it has graced all our homes in Indonesia, Holland, Pennsylvania ( 2  houses), Tennessee, back in Indonesia, Saskatoon, Kelowna and back in Saskatoon.
I have always liked this painting...it's the red tree that draws you.

We dropped Mijo off at Caperwray Harbour just this past Friday. It was 32 years ago I arrived at the same Harbour, a year younger and weary already with the weight of the world. As we said goodbye at the dock and we left her crying and uncertain, I realized how much stronger she is and how much more whole she gets to be starting out her own life.

Like this red tree so prominent in this picture so is the baggage of my life. I wondered as we made our long way home, when would I be free of that residual baggage. Is it a choice that I have to make? Or will it always be present in every 'home' I settle?  Have I been so marked that every goodbye and every transition will be fraught with so much anxiety? 

Big Sigh... I have no idea except that leaving her there was hard on me. Her taking her first steps away from me...makes me feel that the best of my life's work is winding down. I hope this is not true...but it is how I feel. When Nick leaves...will I be finished with all that is important? 

Maybe the red tree is what also defines my strength...even as I see it as my weakness. What I have called my wounds has been what has made me resilient and adaptable. Maybe, but more often I think it makes me brittle and unforgiving. I guess that's the choice I have with that ever present red tree.

What should have been said...

What Obama should have said…

As Americans we have always dealt with people in our midst who believes in awkward, divisive, inflammatory and rude opinions. As a government because they are allowed to say it, produce it and celebrate these inconvenient and often times stupidly wrong ideas, I cannot apologize for what I have not said or believe.  I will acknowledge with you that this person’s opinion and his expression of his opinion has offended you and enraged your beliefs.  As an American, I acknowledge his freedom of expression but wholeheartedly express my opinion that what he said and did was offensive and stupid.

I, personally, find it offensive that you have taken this one man’s  obscure, asinine expression as a wholehearted disregard from the majority for what you honor and hold sacred. We are not a target for your anger; we are not an expression of this one man’s opinion. And though we allow his expression of stupidity, we will not allow your expression of physical brutality and anger toward innocent Americans go unanswered.  You may tell us we are stupid and ignorant, but you cannot kill us because you think we are. 

If your governments cannot tell the difference between the two, maybe they also do not need the financial and economic support we have given over these past months and years and decades. We want to be a good neighbor in our global economy but we cannot be held hostage by violence from your radical groups because of some radical ignorant  thinkers on this side of the world...  You may be angry, you may write and scold and harangue…but you cannot kill and destroy, for that we will hold you accountable.

random opinionated thoughts

I am so tired of playing nice to the radical Muslims of the world and in saying that am I now a target?  I would ask as God says, that revenge belongs to God...is theirs not big enough to take care of being insulted? Revenge is mine says the Lord...Why do they believe it is theirs?

Politicians cannot tell the truth...don't know the truth...are unable to see the truth...don't care about the truth. It is hard to believe anything that comes out of any of the talking heads.

I think the biggest misunderstood aspect of Obama is that he is not of this culture or of any, really. He is a third cultured person, being raised in a culture not his own and really not knowing where he belongs.  Being a TCK myself, I get his ambiguity because fundamentally he has no loyalty. Loyalty to a culture is what differentiates those from being on the outside and those who belong.  He has always been one looking in. It isn't right or wrong, it is just what it is. IT is hard though if you are the head of a country where your loyalty to its cultural heritage is ambiguous.

Marriage is hard but worth every and all effort to make it spectacular...it is a direct road to being content.

Trusting God is the hardest aspect of faith not because He isn't trustworthy but because our discomfort doesn't seem to be an aspect of high importance. 

Money, the need for, the desire for, the necessity is a god that runs closest to our need for an idol.

Being a middle age woman has to be the most powerful, overlooked age group in our country. When our looks become secondary to our influence, we seem to garner less attention but more respect.

No matter how much Romney seems the be an answer to some of the woes , it bothers me that he is and will be so easily influenced by the man he thinks is a direct apostle from God, his Elder. That his faith though moral in its behavior is exclusive and secretive in its membership.

Seeing the forest for the trees...

or something like that... Or is it , the trees for the forest...
Someone who "can't see the forest for the trees" has typically become so focused on details that he or she begins to ignore the overall situation. People might also phrase this expression as “you can't see the wood for the trees,” which is the more common form in the UK. A person accused of being unable to see the forest for the trees may want to take a step back from the situation, to regain a wider perspective on a problem.

Oh, google you are so succinct in giving wisdom. The Bible being a bit better on the topic " Teach me to count my days...O God".
" Today when you hear His voice"...
The Bible, it seems, on one hand tells us to keep count of the trees yet on the other hand, tells us to embrace the forest with all the trees.

There seems to be a collective weariness in my home as well as at school. It may be just me as I concentrate so on the day to day that I am losing sight of the Big Picture. 

Myopia isn't healthy or productive or fun or essential or interesting or life giving or beneficial or good. It is easy and lazy to think that my world and my issues are of utmost importance. We are told to lift up our heads...literally when I am walking around and figuratively when I am being myopic. See that the world I have been called to inhabit, the sphere of influence I have been stationed in...is not so much about how comfortable and I happy I am.
 I  have been hugging my personal trees and I need to see the forest I have been called to wander in...Life up your head, Heidi...look around.

On the eve...

I turn 49 years tomorrow and even though this picture is when I was a bit younger, this may be the vision I have for this last remaining year in the 40's. Age is so relative to perspective, health, outlook, personality and numerous other markers that a number means so little. A baby of 1 month was sent home to his His Heavenly Father just two days ago...and this will be the 3rd this year of babies I knew who had not celebrated their first birthday. These little lives in their moment of earthly time had and continue to impact the lives of those who loved them. So, what really does it mean that I turn 49? As internal as I am, I wonder if I am becoming someone of significance.
I look over the side of this mountain called life and I know longevity isn't promised nor is comfort. I know because the road I have traveled to be here is marked by tragedy and intense joy. I know that relationships matter and that relationships take time. I know that getting things are fun and traveling is so much fun, as I know that having nothing and coming home has its own amazing comfort. I know God is mysterious and I come to Him with much more trepidation for I know what He allows. I know that we all suffer our private griefs and deep sorrows and shame.  I know that we all need more time then we have to be what we want to become. I know that evil is real and that the enemy continues to prowl mercilessly in search of devouring whatever is good.
I sit on the edge of 49 and I am very gratefull for good heatlh, wonderful family, good job and enough to give away. I am also sobered at what may lay ahead....

Psalm 71: 17-21
God, ever since I was young you have taught me about what you have done. To this very day I tell about your wonderful acts.18God, don't leave me even when I'm old and have gray hair. Let me live to tell my children about your power. Let me tell all of them about your mighty acts.19God, your saving acts reach to the skies. You have done great things. God, who is like you?20You have sent many bitter troubles my way. But you will give me new life. Even if I'm almost in the grave, you will bring me back.21You will honor me more and more. You will comfort me once again

And we are off....

There is a minute in the middle of the day where the new IS are safely in classes, I have prepared enough for the classes I am teaching today and I have responded to all emails...
Breath.....In and out, in and out, in and out.

I sat in a daze in front of our TV last night and realized how things don't ever start slowly in school...it is gun shot start and we are off to the races. I have to be careful or I will wear myself out on the first lap..it's all about pacing. Up and down times, TV and conversation, running and sitting, reading and facebooking, quilting and gardening, cooking and eating out...the rhythm of school life and knowing it is all good in the balance.
Like this house on the top of a ski lift, waiting for the snow to make sense of its place, I have to be careful that what I do isn't what makes sense of who I am.  I can take busyness as a sign that I am significant or that I am doing significant things...neither is the case.
Breath...In and out. Love more, listen intently, laugh often, taste my food, enjoy my coffee, look to lighten anothers load...In and out.

a little bit of that

A little bit more of  random events on our trip northeast.

My husband turned 50, smack in the middle of the time here...could not celebrate better than with Elfrieda and Dad...they had him unwrap 50 gifts...I do love this soul.

Driving back we drove into the Rockies in the evening...caught a glimpse of heaven...and sleeping giants. Next time you drive, find the sleeping faces in the outline of the mountains...it will make you laugh.

When a car drove by and told us a wide load was coming...it wasn't kidding.

The amazing sisters...really remarkable friendship these women have had over their lifetime..it is enviable.

My father and husband...two men who love me dearly...I am so blessed.

A little bit of this...

Some bits of our trip to Saskatoon town and back

The old lady was breaking up again...and that isn't me...that would be our wonderful but cranky Mercedes. Traveled like a dream, until it decided to overheat. Well, that could be me as well :) I'm waiting for Scott to get some coolant in Medicine Hat.

We were watching these Ukrainian dancers and I started to cry. It is a strange, I mean really a strange aspect of unresolved grief. Needless to say, Scott looked at me and said" Menopause"." No" I said..".dancing Ukrainians always make me cry"....(that old overheating lady again)

So the last stretch of our trip home, this old Dame decides to blow a tire....she was nice enough to have it happen overnight while we were in the hotel in Revelstoke.

These days

I was going to write and ponder much more than I have. It is now the end of the summer and I'm not ready at all for school to begin. We just came back from my one week away and it was grand. There is an anxiety that curls around the start of this new school year and I just wish I was more excited. Mijo and Nick have come back from their family in MI...Curtiss family. I may be ready to talk about him in light of their discovery of his family. And they are such a good family. This week I will begin that yearly transition from summer to fall, being busy. It has been not so much these past weeks. Busy is overrated and too often a road to live on rather than an intersection to avoid. We place too much pride in doing too many things and no matter how much we think it's not healthy or good we add 'busy' to our cart. As if the more we do the more important we are. I'm not buying it anymore...selfish ambition has some roots in being busy. Do nothing from selfish ambition... A most important reminder this week before school.

Redundant

It seems I've said the same things on my last two posts..kind of. I apologize for the redundancy....it seems to be on my mind.

It is what it is

It is almost August and I don't think I have started summer vacation.  I am still a bit on edge and I don't really know why except that I have had to come to the school at least 2x a week and we haven't 'escaped' to anything.  Not even a simple day trip away...not anybodies fault but it is what it is. When August roles around, usually tension begin to rise. When I saw the back to school adds on TV, I changed the channel. It really isn't a healthy way to start a new school year but like I said...it is what it is and I have to figure out how I can get ready for the business of the fall without the rest of the summer. 
When we were in Papua, we would escape to this beach as often as we could. An all day away which was exceptional in its beauty and restorative value.  I don't have anything like that here...I need to find something similar.
I have accomplished some of my goals...I finished a quilt and started another. I have read many books. I have begun a running program, I have cleaned and re-organized the home. We are building a woodshed this weekend and the garden we planted is growing and producing. I haven't rested though...or disconnected from the drum beat of school expectations.
I'll figure something out...but a trip to this beach, if possible, would be exactly what I need.

on a side ...strange songs we sing on Sunday.

Before I begin...or even if I do...begin to talk about acedia...I need to have an aside. BTW...acedia is a heavy subject and to delve into how this affects me and when it affects me may require a depth of thinking I am hesitant to begin.

This has been a weird summer in that I still am working at least 2 days a week. Going into the office to do paperwork and to follow up on students and their agents makes me  a bit disgruntled.  Not because I have this job which I enjoy, nor that students are coming which is necessary...it's just mid-July and don't feel like I have had summer yet. Whine, grumble....
I am still training for my 5K..which has been pretty amazing for me in my hatred for running. I am my own trainer..you should hear me on the treadmill.
 "Come on, Heidi, you can run this...it isn't that bad, just 2 more minutes....not even a song."
So for the body part...I am in training.
For the soul part...I am also reading every day. These two work in tandem for me like both wheels of a bike. The other Sunday we were singing the song..."One day in your house is better that thousands elsewhere...

One thing I ask,
And I would seek,
To see Your beauty
To find You in
The place Your glory dwells
(One thing I ask)
One thing I ask
And I would seek,
To see Your beauty
To find You in
The place Your glory dwells

What struck me ...# 1. it is strange that we sing a song about That temple...#2..that His Glory no longer dwells in That temple but in this temple...me!  I am His beauty and His glory...Think on that next time you sing this song. Changes everything doesn't it? It makes me more aware of how I treat this temple, how I feed this place where the Glory of God dwells. I guess church on Sunday is where His Glory dwells because we are all there...It is a strange song to sing anyway...catchy tune though. 

Acedia and me: Kathleen Norris

Late Latin, from Greek akēdeia, from a- + kēdos care, grief — more at hate

First Known Use: 1607

 

It is serious...

 

Acedia
Acedia, Characteristics of: Time Hardly Moves
Acedia, Characteristics of: Hate
Acedia, Characteristics of: Withdrawal
Acedia, Characteristics of: Resignation
Acedia, Etymology of: Care and Cry
Antidote 1: Daily Activity
Antidote 2: Help Others
Antidote 3: Friendship and Good Friend
Antidote 3: Friendship, Characteristics of
Antidote 3: Friendship and Not Befriending Ourself
Antidote 3: Friendship and Mental Discomfort
Antidote 3: Friendship, Nature of
Antidote 4: Pliancy
Antidote 4: Pliancy and Envy and Covet
Antidote 4: Pliancy and Hate and Wisdom
Antidote 4: Pliancy and Reality
Antidote 4: Pliancy and Pleasure
Antidote 4: Pliancy and Friendliness
Summary: Regain Your State of Mind

 

http://www.whiterobedmonks.org/macedia.html

 

I have been reading this book by Kathleen Norris in the past few days and I found me.  I will be working through some things via this medium...for it seems necessary. If you could walk with me in the next few posts, it would be most helpful. If you want a quick overview of this whole subject...the website is helpful.

 

decisive dedication

I went to a funeral yesterday and it was the first one I have ever been to that the Pastor blamed the enemy for stealing away what is precious. You know that verse that says the thief comes to steal, kill and destroy? Finally...finally we were able to not pretend that death is somehow a good thing. I did not know Colleen, but knew and respected her husband. He was instrumental in a round about way for my entrance into LC. What a great love story they had and what a HUGE loss for her family. I felt as I listened to her life story how much of who she was, was intentional and decisive on behalf of others. She poured her life out... What a grand life...what an awful death. Cancer reeks of satan. It is so like sin and it's consequences that it is uncanny. We think our sin is benign, it should not affect anyone we think but left alone and hidden all it does is become deadly. If we bring it to the light and undergo radical treatment of confession and decisive dedication is there a chance for life. I want a life well lived. I don't want to meander, hoping for something. I want to be vigilant in screening for hidden sin and bring it out. Amazing, but even in her death, this unknown woman to me still pours out an example.

Summer came...

Hair - do blues

Obsession with self in these matters is a dead end; attention to God leads us out into the open, into a spacious, free life.  -Romans 8:6 (MSG) I've ruined my hair for the foreseeable future. About two months ago I went in for a color and came out with nothing changed. Strike one... I went in for a perm the other day...a usually wonderful turn for my hair which likes to curl haphazardly on it's own but with a good perm, curls gracefully. I walked out of the salon with haphazardly frizzy...strike two. Then with this huge mane of hair , I got some layers put in to make it manageable which magnified the bad perm in frightening ways...strike three.  I have come very very close to shaving my head and starting over but I don't have cancer and don't want people to assume that I do. My hair...a wonderful combination from my parents has befuddled me for most my life. I have changed hairstyles and fretted over products too often to count. I am vain...I hate this about me.  I am thankful for a hair straightener ... I will be frying my over processed hair until it grows out or I give up.  I am thankful it is the start of the summer...maybe it will shape up before school starts. Or not... Everyone has a story about a bad hair experience...I've had too many and     now one more.  Obsession with self is really a dead end...

Out there...

 ... somwhere.

Facebook and now Pintrest creates in me an unsettled feeling. As I observe through updates and pictures the travels of others, the creative ideas implemented and the great new ideas I think I have somehow missed the great somewhere out there. If I am not traveling with abandon I am missing the global secrets of life. If I am not creating a new space, redefining my body in a new shape or being with a best friend over a creatively designed centerpiece full of flowers and shiny objects. I have somehow missed ...living. If I don't see worth in every day or every person...or take that specific picture that encapsulates everything...I have missed a grand opportunity. Is it me or have we become as a whole voyeurs of others’ lives while at the same time being dissatisfied with our own?  

 I posted once that Facebook makes me interested in lives I would have never even thought about. It also makes me judgmental, irritated, jealous, condescending, compassionate, anxious and aware on a level of community that will never be a reality. Is this healthy...or am I like everything overthinking and overanalyzing. Well, I am not around people very much in the summer  and I have a lot of thinking time...Maybe I am.

Still...

Heart and Soul

 I want to be a runner. I hate running. Running seems the quickest avenue to being fit, my family all runs, it seems a good way to stave off the extra pounds that are supposed to arrive uninvited as I enter my middle year and last but not at all least...runners are cool. I still hate running.
So I bought an App...Couch to 5K. In X number of weeks if I follow the automated extremely motivated voice on my IPod I will effortlessly run a 5K. We will see...though I realize this about myself, I really don't like to be told what to do by anyone or now, anything. BUT...I want to be a runner even though I hate running. I will abide and do what little tin voice tells me to do.

So that will take care of my heart...my soul on the other hand also needs come impetus to be disciplined. I don't hate the Word...this is good but I have been slack in my reading and listening and praying disciplines. So I think if I run for my heart, I will read for my soul...this works in tandem I think. A two pronged effort into the small disciplines that affect the largeness of living.

I also have an App for that. :)

Summer time and the living is ....

Live in THIS moment, the fortune tells me. As if I don't know this but somehow can't seem to remember.  I am on the down side of an up week. Last week was full of THIS MOMENT kind of living.  5th Avenue Awards night, Last supper with International students, Graduation speech and evening, Graduation party and parties and now all is quiet and I am in restorative mode. It was a most excellent week and a most exhausting one.  Summer time and the living needs to be restorative.

Scott is turning 50 this August, Mijo 18, Nick 16 and we will be married 10 years. Summer time and the living is a celebration. My father has a thing for numbers..times when turning an age is more significant than others. This year would be a significant year, and it all happens in August. Us on the 10th, Scott on the 15, Mijo on the 16th and Nick on the 25th.  Since I don't know how to put a party together really well...I am trying to figure it out now. Summer time and the living is a celebration.

Summer time and the living is creative. I have projects to do and things to make. When I become creative I become content. I have a quilt to make, rooms to clean and decorate, gardens to produce, books to read and thoughts to ponder.

Summer time and the living is healthy.  I want to exercise more consistently, eat healthier and drink more water.  The rush of the school year wears on me and I want to get into a habit of eating, sleeping and exercising so that when the rush comes again, I am in a habit.

Summer time and the living is simple...friends, family and fun.

Like a salt shaker

It used to be that every time I went to a restaurant I would try and balance the salt shaker on its side. Sprinkle some salt on the table and see if you can balance it just so for it to stay tilted on its side for just a few moments. I was able to balance this salt shaker long enough to take a picture, I was particularly balanced that day.

It really isn't a measure of my state of mind on the given day that I happen to be in restaurant with a good salt shaker and an even table...I just like to think it is. 

I would like to think I can balance life's demands that easily. As elusive as it is for me to attain this balance with a salt shaker in any given restaurant, so it is true with life. Balance is illusive and precarious.  

Moderation and Balance are often replacements for peace and contentment. However, I think the peace we are promised is when we can't balance and life does not bring with it moderation. We think that the more we can control, the more we can balance the more we will be happy. I don't know about you but life is a pendulum, and balance and moderation is only on the swing through between the extremes. It is very much like a salt shaker on a restaurant table.

I am learning to find those moments and instead of assuming it should be the norm, appreciating the fact that I was able to pause in the middle of the swing.

and so it goes ..part 2

Mijo and I for our JSB.

Dear Mijo,

You burst into the house yesterday with the news of your nomination to 5th Ave. That's just it, you burst everywhere with good news, exciting news, sad news, complicated friendship news...you burst tears, songs, joy, love, animosity, frustration...life is always bursting out of you.  There have been some where this is too much, too much of this bursting...It is never too much, it is you.
Your will to control all those around you, to help them conform into that you think is best has been such an interesting if not frustrating thing to watch. Your determination to change yourself always blows me away. AS you finished your 1/2 marathon, those last few miles as you ran with friend you made along the way, I saw you apart from me, clearly your very own.
We are so proud of you, I beam when I see you and hear about you. I can't imagine home without your bursts...how I will miss you, my daughter of my heart.

Me

and so it goes

This is Mijo's 8th grade graduation in Sentani...I remember this day like it was yesterday. I remember what I was thinking as I wrapped my arms around this lovely daughter of mine. She had struggled and overcome in this brand new place that was my home. I was so proud of her and this is what I wrote on that day..

Dearest Mijo,

OK, so what happened exactly? How did you become so old so quickly?. I know you were born just the other day, in all your wonder and newness.

What an amazing gift you have been, every expression of hope, joy, despair, surprise dances across your beautiful face. We haven’t even started to talk about your compassionate, dramatic, gentle, spontaneous servant soul.

When you were about 5 years old, you were starting to learn to write your letters. We were on the letter C and you kept writing the C backwards. Finally, after a while of seeing your backward C I sat down and explained that the C if you wanted to write it correctly pointed the other direction. I thought it was a matter of education; you just needed to know the right way of doing things.

 

You looked at me and said, “No, I like my C’s to point this way”.

“Well Mijo, you may like them that way, but there is a rule about how C are supposed to be written…you can’t just change it, you aren’t the ruler of the universe”.

Under her breath she said quietly...”Not yet”.

I thought in that moment we were in for a long road ahead. It has been a road but not a long one. We can’t imagine how much less our family would be without you and your dramatic imaginations and consistent love.

We so love all that you are and all that you are becoming.

We are so proud of you and who you are choosing to be…Especially since you have decided Who the ruler of the universe is and that it isn’t you.

Your Dad and Mom.

Now, she is graduating from High school...

10 reasons Why Men Should Not Be Ordained For Ministry

This isn't mine, I found...laughed and want to share.

10 reasons Why Men Should Not Be Ordained For Ministry.

10. A man’s place is in the army.

9. The pastoral duties of men who have children might distract them from the responsibility of being a parent.

8. The physique of men indicates that they are more suited to such tasks as chopping down trees and wrestling mountain lions. It would be “unnatural” for them to do ministerial tasks.

7. Man was created before woman, obviously as a prototype. Thus, they represent an experiment rather than the crowning achievement of creation.

6. Men are too emotional to be priests or pastors. Their conduct at football and basketball games demonstrates this.

5. Some men are handsome, and this will distract women worshipers.

4. Pastors need to nurture their congregations. But this is not a traditional male role. Throughout history, women have been recognized as not only more skilled than men at nurturing, but also more fervently attracted to it. This makes them the obvious choice for ordination.

3. Men are prone to violence. No really masculine man wants to settle disputes except by fighting about them. Thus they would be poor role models as well as dangerously unstable in positions of leadership.

2. The New Testament tells us that Jesus was betrayed by a man. His lack of faith and ensuing punishment remind us of the subordinated position that all men should take.

1. Men can still be involved in church activities, even without being ordained. They can sweep sidewalks, repair the church roof, and perhaps even lead the song service on Father’s Day. By confining themselves to such traditional male roles, they can still be vitally important in the life of the church.

UPDATED 5/2: Thanks to our commenters, we’ve tracked down the original source. This list is the work of Dr. David M. Scholer, a former professor at Fuller Theological Seminary.

Gift #5...free things

Grace Cathedral is this beautiful Episcopalian cathedral on top of one of the many  hills in middle San Fransisco. We went to Wednesday service in the cavernous place and were completely enthralled. The service was sung, we sang, they sang, everyone sang and it was hauntingly beautiful and it was wonderfully free. We were in a side chapel as they could not fill the main space. Wow, what a building. I thought it was a Catholic building, it may have started out that way. But if you have a chance...see it for yourself. On that afternoon while we were wandering through, we had two different kind of expereinces. The first one  was a prayer maze to walk on right to the side of the main door. We decidide to walk it only to be twarted by a small group of Chinese women preparing for their tai chi, or jogging routine. Whatever it was, they were loud and running on our maze...Strange mixture of culture expression.  Soon after for our second expereince , we had  about 25 preschoolers come to find their easter eggs that had been obvioulsy scattered about. How excited they were, and how fun to watch.

 Art on walls...free and a bit creepy.

I think I am done with our San Fran trip.

 I could talk about the aggressive homeless people right outside our hotel door, or the window in our room that needed to be repaired with Duct tape to keep it closed or the hotel room bathroom that was the same size as the closet or that a glass of orange juice cost $5. Or that the great deal I thought I was getting for the hotel room was offset by the $35 a night for parking.  I could tell you about having to drive to San Jose because we forgot to tell our GPS to allow toll roads, all bridges to San Fran are tolls. I could also tell about the road trip home hugging the coast and the full moon while driving through the redwood trees and how amazingly effecive 5 hour energy drinks are when you are sleepy. Or how green, my color car green it was as Spring was taking hold. But then...I have kept you long enough.

Gift #4...weather

We had spectacular weather in San Fran while we were there. Clear, sunny, windy and COLD. We had tickets on a tour bus where we could hop on and off. This was great getting where we needed to go but because they went on a certain route, if you got on in a certain place in the trip you would have to go the long way around. The long way around was going over the bridge. The first time we went across the Golden Gate bridge, we were in the open top...it was great, it was clear, it was really windy, it was COLD. The second time, the bridge looks about the same from below...and it was warmer.
We walked everywhere and even today, 2 weeks out, the shoes I was wearing still are painful in the same spot. Nick and I wandered and found ourselves in out of the route places and I feel we kind of know San Fran a bit better than from the roof top of a tour bus.
If you know anything about me I don't do cold well. After this open roof top adventure, it took me the whole night to get warm to the core. Some things though are worth doing uncomfortable.

San Fran gift #3...Nick

San Fran gift #2...prison windows

   One of the reasons we went to San Fran was because Nick really wanted to see Alcatraz. This old prison is only a short mile from shore and as we piled on the shuttle boat, I was amazed at the volume of people just like us wanting to see this old place of haunting stories. It was a spectacular sunny day and as we meandered in the prison hearing stories of those who had lived or worked here. I was struck by the smallness of the cells and the lingering hopelessness of being in this prison. The most desired cells to find yourself were the ones facing these windows. As I looked up, I realized why...sunlight was streaming into an otherwise dark and gloomy hallway, bars on the windows, but sunlight nevertheless.

It has been a rainy spring here and gloomy. We have had a few sunny days but not a string of them. San Fran is known for its fog, and I am sure on this island in the Bay, fog was constant company. Wet, dank, dark , and cold were the four other tyrants of this prison. When the sun comes out here...it is as if we sigh collectively...I can imagine those men did the same when the sun came streaming in those high and barred windows.

We are all prisoners of something...fears, the unknown. There are walls we ourselves have built that keep us from reaching out, trusting...being free.

I stood in the pool of sun collecting at the bottom of this barred window.

I was grateful.

He shines into all our misery...glimpses at times, and at times through the bars of our fears.

He shines nonetheless.

Giggles and Fish... San Fran gift #1



I can't quite figure out how to make this picture vertical...This was taken in the San Fransisco Science Academy and it was fantastic.

I am amazed with fish, the color, the shapes, the sizes, the personalities, the fantastic mixture of it all swimming around lazily, darting, sitting, scoping... It is just a peek into the creative mind of our God. Just a peek, mind you, and at the same time something a very small child can grasp.
The morning we were there it seemed as if it was fathers day out  with their little 3-4 year old children. There were a lot of families running from one tank of fish to the other.
Nick and I were just starting to look into the first aquarium when this little boy ran giggling past us laughing and screaming...whale! ...whale!  That would have been interesting in that enclosed environment. What he saw was a small shark and he was so excited and giggly,laughing, pointing, stopping, running back and yelling. I could not help think that this was exactly how God much have felt when he began this creation process. He must have been giggling.  Every time a 3 year old giggles it is that same pleasure. SO much of the ocean and its inhabitants are only there for God's pleasure as He is the only one who gets to see them all the time. When they are displayed for us humans to see...the child innately seems to  get the splendor, sense of humor and wonder. I think that is why they were  giggling. It is funny, it is wonder..full, it is spectacular.
 It was a gift to be a part of the whirl of visual and audible magnificence.

String of Pearls

It is all about balance, holding precariously on to what seems only the thinnest line of hope. God is good in the details, He does so visible all over nature; dew drops clinging to a spider web on a crisp morning.  So tentative in the holding on...Mijo hopes that the future will hold as much life as her present. Nick hopes to find his voice in the chorus of shouting 15year old boys. Scott hopes to keep working after the end of this turn-around. He hopes to find his purpose in a world full of wanderer's. I hope that age will not limit opportunity and that as I let the kids go, I hope the absence won't render me full of angst.

I hope sanity will win over rhetoric in our public offices. I hope teenagers will choose the hard way rather than the easy nonsense. I hope my extended family figures out how to communicate consistently rather than sporadically. I hope to break patterns of behavior and thinking and replace with what is simple and holy. I hope to know God's pleasure and hear His voice.

These are strings of pearls...a collection of hope, hanging on precariously.

God's prayer beads

Getting there...

I remember this day quite well...long ago and far away but the exhaustion and stress was starting to overwhelm.  I am not stressed and overwhelmed at the moment, I am trying to come to terms with the idea of getting older which was beginning its toll on this day. All the cliches being what they are...what makes me pause is the unknown of age; health, wealth and opportunity.
Both Scott and I work hard, well him a bit harder than I, at exercising and eating right. Even after the horse accident which I thought would hinder me , I feel rather healthy and relatively able to do all that life expects of me.  Who knows what will happen financially....both kids are reaching college years and that can't be easy on the bank account. What I wonder is will we still have opportunity? Will things still open up for us? Are we where we will be till we aren't? Does ageing bring such angst to most people?  Is there a group I can attend that will help in the transition?
"Hello, my name is Heidi...I getting older and don't know how to stop."
Is there a 12 step program to deal with the inevitable?

Mijo spoke in chapel yesterday. She is on the cusp on all that will be. So much ahead of her, so much to happen and live and learn. She has had such a relatively simple life and as a result carries such little baggage into the great beyond. It could have been so different for her with the death of Curtiss and his drinking but that was in a time before strong memory. She carries hope and expectations and longing...I watch in curiosity. "So this is what normal looks like?' 
I am grateful and a bit in awe of how good normal can be. I do not envy her youth...but I wonder how I would have worn normal, and how now I would look at what lies before. Would it be any different or is the baggage I carry still a hindrance?
I am getting there..I just wonder where there is...

Try, try, try, try and then quit

This is the remnant of my last attempt to grow a STUPID avocado plant. You would think it would be easy to grow a plant from a seed that sprouts roots in your window sill. And to be honest...every attempt to replace the amazing avocado plant Scott brought into our marriage has failed. The plant that Scott had was over 6 feet tall and beautiful. I am usually quite good with house plants but Avocado's have something against me. Maybe because it took me 45 years to like the fruit/vegetable/green slimy edible thingy. I can get the seed to sprout, the leaves to grow ...then one day all the leaves are curling up, the next they are dropping off and I am left with a stump like this one dead and more dead.  This is the fourth attempt and I am now officially finished with the trying.

It really irks me though. I have looked online, I have followed protocol for growing and snipping and watering. I have talked nicely, put the plant in sunny but not too sunny places. I even kept the dead looking stump over a month with the idea that it may decided on a whim...much like it did to die, to come forth with new life. It sits and mocks me in its deadness.

Scott often sighs and reminds me how lovely his Avocado plant was...how lovingly it grew for him.

So I put the stump outside in the cold...I dare it to survive.

 I secretly hope it will...

I may try again...

one more time!