That old feeling again....

We were 6 years old when we were sent off to boarding school. 1st grade, loaded on a little airplane for the next 4 months with a visit after 2.  I really had no idea how young six years old was until I had a six year old of my own. Dropping her off on her first day of school, 1 mile from my front door, caused me all sorts of angst. I can't imagine what my Mom and Dad were thinking. I do remember Mom never crying until we left...then looking over my shoulder, as the little airplane went hurtling down our little airstrip, I would see her pull the white handkerchief out from her sleeve, fluttering in the breeze like a sign of surrender. 

The week before was a slow withdrawal from family life to school life as we packed our little suitcases. We heard over and over again from my parents how exciting and fun being at school would be. They said it so often that we began to anticipate the 'fun' of it all knowing all along how terrible it would feel to be away from them.


I couldn't wait to see my friends, to be in school, to swim in the pool, Friday fun nights,  soft ice-cream, sunshine, 6 weeks break and everything that was orchestrated to give us a good place to go for 'necessary' school. For the most part our teachers and houseparents did a wonderful job. There were a few who made it  hard but for the most part it was fun, it just wasn't home.

 I will write soon about how it was at school, but for today I want you to know what it was like to be home. We were home only 4 months out of the year but it was the only time we were not one of the many...we were one of the few. We had our parents attention. The Nduga tribe lives in  many valleys where it rains most every day. Summer plans had to be crammed in before the afternoon rains; pick nicks,treks to the waterfalls, adventures.  Then we moved to inside fun...adventures with Lego, many many books, games and furniture forts.  We had clay in the back yard, parrots to avoid, turkeys to run away from, dogs to catch before they ate the chickens, ducklings to hatch and fruit to gather.

Christmas break sent us off to Karubaga where we visited a much more organized station with tennis courts and sunshine all day.  Christmas was spectacular...Mom was amazing in cooking on a wood stove and creating such a wonderful space for our family to celebrate.
We always counted the days...because there was never enough time.  Too soon we would start packing and preparing to leave.

Anchoring every time at home was the reality that it would end too soon. I could see through my young eyes that it was hard on my mom...it was hard on me...we pretended it wasn't.

This boarding school policy was short sighted and the ramification of this cycle long lived. I still unpack baggage from those years. It does not weigh me down, limit my progress or stunt my ability to thrive.  I am weary of the idea that MK's continually need 'help' to cope or the idea that MK's needs are that special. Our world is much too global now to have the market on issues.   Everybody has their stuff...mine is packaged in loss.

Scott is home 3 weeks then gone for 3. As we count the days he is home, it is a familiar feeling.

But, I should be ....

The thing about pain, disappointment, grief is that there is always someone else who is suffering more.  So in comparison...we should be grateful. It could be worse is a refrain bouncing in the back of my mind as I contemplate my own personal sorrow.  It stops me from sharing, from crying in public, from going out with friends, from having people over...I have no right to my pain because it is not nearly as bad as ______________. 

Currently in the lives around me there is unbearable pain of  a person losing their battle with cancer, a child who is suffering from an incurable life threatening disease, family pain and discord, loss...in all its shards.

  Ps. 31: 1 I take refuge in you, LORD. Please never let me be put to shame. Rescue me by your righteousness! 2 Listen closely to me! Deliver me quickly; be a rock that protects me; be a strong fortress that saves me! 3 You are definitely my rock and my fortress. Guide me and lead me for the sake of your good name! 4 Get me out of this net that's been set for me because you are my protective fortress. 5 I entrust my spirit into your hands; you, LORD, God of faithfulness— you have saved me. 6 I hate those who embrace what is completely worthless. I myself trust the LORD. 7 I rejoice and celebrate in your faithful love because you saw my suffering— you were intimately acquainted with my deep distress. 8 You didn't hand me over to the enemy, but set my feet in wide-open spaces. 9 Have mercy on me, LORD, because I'm depressed. My vision fails because of my grief, as do my spirit and my body. 10 My life is consumed with sadness; my years are consumed with groaning. Strength fails me because of my suffering; my bones dry up. 11 I'm a joke to all my enemies, still worse to my neighbors. I scare my friends, and whoever sees me in the street runs away! 12 I am forgotten, like I'm dead, completely out of mind; I am like a piece of pottery, destroyed. 13 Yes, I've heard all the gossiping, terror all around; so many gang up together against me, they plan to take my life! 

  14 But me?

 I trust you, LORD! I affirm, "You are my God." 

Often times in the moment, my prayer is simply...

"You are my God, I have no other. Have mercy not only on me but on every story I know, and every story I will never hear. I know if what gives me pain is hidden in plain view, we are all the walking wounded." 

I think it is more honest to be wounded and grateful, grieving and joyful, disappointed and hopeful, doubtful and faithful.

I keep forgetting this.

I rejoice and celebrate in your faithful love because you saw my suffering— you were intimately acquainted with my deep distress. 




I should be everything that I am...and so should you.

  

Pearls

Droplets hanging on a spiders web.
Tenaciously hanging on...like pearls of wisdom. 

Wisdom was used by the Almighty to create the foundations of this world and the glories of the Heavens.  Wisdom is more precious then rubies and to be desired more then gold. To be envied is the one who finds wisdom and the one who gets understanding. Her ways are more precious, nothing we desire compares to her. Her ways are pleasant and all her paths are peace. She is the tree of life. Wisdom is life to  your soul, keeps your feet walking securely. You will not be afraid and your sleep with be sweet.

Wisdom is female.

She stand in the market place and calls out to all who come by...
Folly is also female...she brings destruction.

I wonder .

More to come....as I ponder. 

"It takes a long time to grow young"

“For we have sinned and grown old and our Father is younger than we.”           ------G.K. Chesterton

 

 And we, who with unveiled faces all reflect the Lord's glory are being transformed with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit.  1 Cor. 3:18

But those who wait upon God get fresh strength. They spread their wings and soar like eagles, They run and don't get tired, they walk and don't lag behind. Is. 40:3

 

 

“It takes a long time to grow young.”  P. Picaso

 

 “It does not take much to make us realize what fools we are, but the little it takes is long in coming.”
― Flannery O'Connor

You got me when I was an unformed youth, God, and taught me everything I know. Now I'm telling the world your wonders;  I'll keep at it until I'm old and gray. God, don't walk off and leave me until I get out the news Of your strong right arm to this world, news of your power to the world yet to come, Your famous and righteous ways, O God. God, you've done it all! Who is quite like you?  You, who made me stare trouble in the face, Turn me around; Now let me look life in the face. I've been to the bottom;  streaming with honors; turn to me, be tender to me, and I'll take up the lute and thank you to the tune of your faithfulness, God. I'll make music for you on a harp, Holy One of Israel.
  Ps. 71:17-22

Now for something completely different

In my drop box I have a collection of photographs from my youth, my parents youth and pre-children days. I look at my parents...

and think...OK, these cats were cool !
I mean, they should have graced the pages of some Paris style magazine, since that is where these two met each other and lounged gracefully I am sure in some cafe.

In reality, they were in the jungles of Papua, Indonesia. They were raising 3 kids in a tent with no running water with people who had not yet wandered out of the stone-age let alone into the 20th century until My Dad  trekked into their valley September of 1963.   
I am humbled by their stories, their boldness, their trust, their courage... their really cool clothes/style.
Looking at them from this perspective...our generation, we have lost some of the cool and most of the courage.
Me,  looking out from those baby eyes, how could I have known all that was normal for me then is amazing from these 51 year old eyes looking back.

What a legacy ! 

Curtiss Lee

Curtiss would have been 55 years old today. We met at Moody Bible Insititute and married the year we graduated. This picture was taken at CMA conference in Pyramid, Papua on July 13, 1985.  6 months later my Mother left this earth and 14 years later Curtiss followed.
This man captured my heart with his passion for the Lord, his sense of humor, his love for adventure and his love for me. He played scratch golf and wrote poetry. He loved his friends and loved his family and wrestled with demons of addiction and self worth.  To say we had a lovely and peaceful marriage would be false, there were some years that were hellish for both of us. When he died at the early age of 39 he had driven most demons away and had lived shame free for a year. He is the father of both our children and has left his legacy imprinted on their personalities and features.
There are times when I am still angry for the years swallowed by addiction and its aftermath. I have another life now but on this day and April 26th, the anniversary of this death...the life we had comes back into focus. It is strange to speak of a former husband, I know. It is at times awkward when I call Scott, Curtiss though that happens less and less. Most the people I see on a daily basis never knew Curtiss or my life with him. I wonder what my life would have been if he was still in it. If we would have worked through our issues and had a good life. If his love for his kids would have given the impetus to live sober. He was such a good soul, such a peaceful and broken man. When I hear the phrase from Leonard Cohen's , Anthem...

Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in.


We are all cracked open with our own brokenness...if ever I saw light shine through broken though was in the life of Curtiss Lee.


September 4, 1959 - April 26th, 1999

A conversation can change things

Since he has been able to pick up a stick , this boy of ours  has played a soldier, walking around our neighborhood in full camouflage and pretend rifles and hand grenades slung over his little shoulders. When I married Scott coming from a family of Marines, being a Marine himself, must have been a gift from the God he was getting to know. I was sure this was going to be a phase...like being an astronaut or president.
As he got older, he immersed himself in WW I and II history, military history and reading soldier stories of old and present. I began to understand that this was not a little boys imagination but a young mans ambition and my Mama influence came into full force. I was using my 'amazing' persuasive powers to change his mind.
I have worked on him for the last 4 years and finally when he decided to go on a mission to Palestine with Pioneers, I thanked God I had a year more to talk him out of it or God  who if course was also  on my side, would change his mind while he wandered in the "holy" land.
Last week at the fair which comes here every summer, Nick went to talk to the Marine recruiter...on a whim, a short conversation changed to a long conversation. It seems that if you go to a country that is hostile to the US after the age of 15, your security clearance to do anything in the Marines is significantly limited. He could be a cook...maybe. You would think that this would be an answer to my many years of prayer, he would go on his mission and never go in the Marines,
 OR...go on his mission, which is the Marines.

In churches, I always have found it amazingly ironic that students who go on mission trips, or go to YWAM  get prayed for in  front of the church.  As if what they are doing is more important than a student who is working a job or  going to University where their faith will be tested and their opportunity to be a witness more profound then a 10 day mission/tourist trip or a 6 month long discipleship course. I think if every student was sent out with prayer support from their church body, than students would realize they are always on a mission to bring the Kingdom of God wherever they are planted. There is nothing we do that is of more value then something else in kingdom building.There are some things however,  that are more difficult.

I think going in the Marines will be difficult for his mind, body, and soul as a Kingdom Builder. I would have asked you to pray for Nick if he was going to Palestine, I need to ask you to commit to pray for Nick going into this mission, the Marines. You won't have to support him financially...but can I ask for your prayer support?

There is a lot of fear in this decision...not him,I have never seen him more sure. I am afraid because I know God does not necessarily keep safe. I know the business of the Marines is war...
He wants to be an Honorable Warrior.
He wants to honor God in the Marines...I wonder at times if that is possible.
I know, I know....

One conversation...