I find I am not bouncing back as quickly after surgery as I would like. I'm really trying not to be a whiner. I think I'm really quite good at a number of things in life - whining, for instance! I probably have reason to whine - my legs ache, I'm uncomfortable, I can't sleep well... I'd tell you more, but I might sound like I'm whining!
After getting back to Costa Rica again, my goal was to become less of a wimp each day. (In other words, I really wanted to steadily get my strength back and slowly get back to my normal activity level.) After a few days, I felt like I'd made no progress. I had little stamina, I felt a bit sad and discouraged, and even my recent fresh encounters with the Lord Jesus were only seen in the rear view mirror. As I took a slow, truncated Celestial Walk one morning, I was praying from Hebrews 12. "No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it."
I began to pray, "Lord, I'm not sure this present trial falls into the category of discipline, but I sure know it isn't pleasant! My worry, though, is that I feel like I'm just trying to get through to the other side. I've given up on becoming less of a wimp, and now just hope to get through it - even if it means I come out a weaker person. I have the feeling that's not what You want from me. I think You're OK with me being weak. But, it would be a crying shame to simply endure and not see any harvest of righteousness or peace as a result. Do what You need to so that I won't put this trial to waste."
I can't say anything has changed dramatically. I'm still slugging my way through the trial - mostly sidelined, spending a lot of time between the couch and the bed! But, my attitude has changed. I read this week in Romans 5:3 about exulting in our tribulations, knowing that they bring about perseverance. I'm learning to exult in my trials. I'm learning to "sink into my weakness," as my good friend Sarah wrote me. I want to be a good steward of these tribulations, coming out with better character. According to Romans 8, all of creation (us included) are groaning (along with the Holy Spirit), "waiting eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our body." If groaning is good enough for the Holy Spirit, it's good enough for you and me!
I am determined not to be a whiner today, but I WILL be a groaner!
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Costa Rica Fast Track
Before traveling to Texas, I knew I would have a little over a week upon return to get my Costa Rica driver's license renewed. However, little did I know that I would have surgery and have my return home delayed.
So, like it or not, on Monday I had to go get my license renewed. The consequences of letting it expire would be to fulfill a new requirement to take a driver's education course and the driver's test! That did not sound like a good option!
Still weakened from the surgery only ten days earlier, I decided I would take a taxi with Kari instead of driving myself. I also took along my cane for two reasons: it would help me walk more steadily, and it might be a passport to the fast track for renewal. Kari was not only my "right hand man," but also hoped to get her Tico license for the first time.
The taxi ride to La Uruca took quite a while, and with recent price hikes, as the taxi meter climbed quickly, I had to keep reminding myself that there was really no better option. Upon arrival at the expansive campus of the Department of Public Safety, Kari told me to wait for her as she made the three block hike to a line to get a slip of paper necessary for a required bank deposit. She got to cut to the front of the line and observe first-hand the inefficiency of the disgruntled employees.
There was nowhere to sit and my energy was quickly fading. Kari and I kept texting back and forth as she waited. I finally found a concrete base of a flagpole and perched there. Knowing we would have to wait in bank lines, I finally texted Kari to say I would walk a block to the bank and start waiting through that line.
There were actually two bank lines - one outside and one inside. I'd just gotten to the head of the outside line, when Kari arrived, panting - the needed slip in her hand. We asked the guard at the bank door if we could go to the preferential window. He was not very sympathetic, but by this time I think one look at my pitiful face convinced him to let us pass by the other 30 people in line inside.
The deposit successfully made, we worked our way back four blocks to Kari's original line (fitting in a Snicker bar and some milk, in hopes of reviving me!). Again, we skipped a two block long line to talk to a guard at the door. He looked through my papers and announced, "You need to go to Paso Ancho to get authorization to put your new residency number on your license." I begged. I cried. But, there was no way around it.
We hiked the three blocks back out to the main street and caught another expensive taxi with a wild driver. From there we hiked in to another government complex and waited through a line of just one person. But, that one person took FOREVER! There was a bench there, and I sat while Kari waited - so tempted to stretch out with my sweater as a pillow under my head!
When we finally got that slip of paper, we wound our way out of the complex back to the street. By the way, outside the door we were barraged with vendors selling everything from driver's manuals to tests with the correct answers (only $4! WAY cheaper than the taxi ride!) to fake licenses!
Arriving at the Uruca complex again, we walked the three blocks back to the original door, passing by a line at least two blocks long! Technically, I should have waited through that line, but my legs could barely hold me up by now, and I was ushered to the front of the INSIDE line, which was about another 30 people!
The employee who took down my information and took my photo was not a happy camper. In fact, Kari and I prayed for all the employees there who looked like they were as happy as prison inmates.
I forced a smile for the license photo, not wanting to live for the next six years with a license reminding me of my renewal experience.
Both of us managed to get our licenses and I made it back home after a five hour fast track and $60 in taxi fees!
So, like it or not, on Monday I had to go get my license renewed. The consequences of letting it expire would be to fulfill a new requirement to take a driver's education course and the driver's test! That did not sound like a good option!
Still weakened from the surgery only ten days earlier, I decided I would take a taxi with Kari instead of driving myself. I also took along my cane for two reasons: it would help me walk more steadily, and it might be a passport to the fast track for renewal. Kari was not only my "right hand man," but also hoped to get her Tico license for the first time.
The taxi ride to La Uruca took quite a while, and with recent price hikes, as the taxi meter climbed quickly, I had to keep reminding myself that there was really no better option. Upon arrival at the expansive campus of the Department of Public Safety, Kari told me to wait for her as she made the three block hike to a line to get a slip of paper necessary for a required bank deposit. She got to cut to the front of the line and observe first-hand the inefficiency of the disgruntled employees.
There was nowhere to sit and my energy was quickly fading. Kari and I kept texting back and forth as she waited. I finally found a concrete base of a flagpole and perched there. Knowing we would have to wait in bank lines, I finally texted Kari to say I would walk a block to the bank and start waiting through that line.
There were actually two bank lines - one outside and one inside. I'd just gotten to the head of the outside line, when Kari arrived, panting - the needed slip in her hand. We asked the guard at the bank door if we could go to the preferential window. He was not very sympathetic, but by this time I think one look at my pitiful face convinced him to let us pass by the other 30 people in line inside.
The deposit successfully made, we worked our way back four blocks to Kari's original line (fitting in a Snicker bar and some milk, in hopes of reviving me!). Again, we skipped a two block long line to talk to a guard at the door. He looked through my papers and announced, "You need to go to Paso Ancho to get authorization to put your new residency number on your license." I begged. I cried. But, there was no way around it.
We hiked the three blocks back out to the main street and caught another expensive taxi with a wild driver. From there we hiked in to another government complex and waited through a line of just one person. But, that one person took FOREVER! There was a bench there, and I sat while Kari waited - so tempted to stretch out with my sweater as a pillow under my head!
When we finally got that slip of paper, we wound our way out of the complex back to the street. By the way, outside the door we were barraged with vendors selling everything from driver's manuals to tests with the correct answers (only $4! WAY cheaper than the taxi ride!) to fake licenses!
Arriving at the Uruca complex again, we walked the three blocks back to the original door, passing by a line at least two blocks long! Technically, I should have waited through that line, but my legs could barely hold me up by now, and I was ushered to the front of the INSIDE line, which was about another 30 people!
The employee who took down my information and took my photo was not a happy camper. In fact, Kari and I prayed for all the employees there who looked like they were as happy as prison inmates.
I forced a smile for the license photo, not wanting to live for the next six years with a license reminding me of my renewal experience.
Both of us managed to get our licenses and I made it back home after a five hour fast track and $60 in taxi fees!
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Airline Reservation Mix-Up
I am so happy to be home after two weeks in the USA which included having surgery! The trip seemed terribly long, made all the longer by the other two sitting in my aisle. One of them was a LOUD Canadian man who lives in "Caasta Rica" and was delighted to boast of all he knew about "Caasta Rica" to my seatmate. Supposedly he spoke fluent Spanish. I was so tempted to at least teach him how to pronounce the name of the country where he lives! I could not even drown him out with my iPod and headphones! The music would be blasting my ear drums and I'd still be hearing things like, "Every day on the coast it gets to 115 degrees." (I have never known it to hit 100 at the beach!) My head started to ache half way through the flight and by the if that was because they, too, were irritated with his brashness, or if they thought I was terrified of landing and was saying my prayers. Anyway, I had to laugh because on my flight up to Dallas, my brother "reserved a seat for Jesus beside me." THIS time, I think American Airlines got those reservations mixed up!
God did give me strength equal to the task yesterday. I had good skycaps and wheelchair assistance and it was a breeze to get through check-in, security, immigration, and customs.
Woody and Kari were a wonderful sight to me as I rolled out in a wheelchair! It is so great to be back home and with Woody. Kari and Woody had the house fixed up so beautifully. The campus gardener, Tulio, had picked and arranged flowers for me. Donald had made a frame with Woody to mount my large Bolivian tapestry in our stairwell and it looks AWESOME! And I actually slept all night - something I haven't done in over a year!
I am feeling weak, tired, and uncomfortable. I decided today that my goal will be to become less of a wimp every day - starting tomorrow! Thanks, Vito, for telling me that God loves wimps! I took a very slow, short walk today with my wonderful Celestial companion and taught her a new command: "Heel!" She's not used to walking so slowly. She sure is happy to have me back, though! She is so tender and loving and is amazingly cuddly for a beast of 115 pounds of pure bone and muscle. By the way, it is always amazing to return to the beauty here. We live in the most incredibly gorgeous spot in the world!
Thanks to each and every one of you who have been praying for me (and Woody!) during the past two weeks. We covet your continued prayers. I have to say I have felt very loved and cared for during these difficult days. We have some more difficult days ahead, so don't let up on praying!
God did give me strength equal to the task yesterday. I had good skycaps and wheelchair assistance and it was a breeze to get through check-in, security, immigration, and customs.
Woody and Kari were a wonderful sight to me as I rolled out in a wheelchair! It is so great to be back home and with Woody. Kari and Woody had the house fixed up so beautifully. The campus gardener, Tulio, had picked and arranged flowers for me. Donald had made a frame with Woody to mount my large Bolivian tapestry in our stairwell and it looks AWESOME! And I actually slept all night - something I haven't done in over a year!
I am feeling weak, tired, and uncomfortable. I decided today that my goal will be to become less of a wimp every day - starting tomorrow! Thanks, Vito, for telling me that God loves wimps! I took a very slow, short walk today with my wonderful Celestial companion and taught her a new command: "Heel!" She's not used to walking so slowly. She sure is happy to have me back, though! She is so tender and loving and is amazingly cuddly for a beast of 115 pounds of pure bone and muscle. By the way, it is always amazing to return to the beauty here. We live in the most incredibly gorgeous spot in the world!
Thanks to each and every one of you who have been praying for me (and Woody!) during the past two weeks. We covet your continued prayers. I have to say I have felt very loved and cared for during these difficult days. We have some more difficult days ahead, so don't let up on praying!
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Seeing the Hand of God
As I prepared to dive into this intense period of time facing medical testing in Texas, I visualized God's huge hand and me stepping up to it, sitting down in His palm, and buckling up a seat belt. That's been a good image of what this time has meant for me. It hasn't been easy, but I've been firmly in His hand, and there is no better place to be.
Let me share a few ways that His hand has been so evident:
1) Last year I had a horrendous experience with a urologist in Costa Rica. My friend Debra wrote me from Texas and we discovered problems in common. She had found help after years of chronic issues, and recommended her urologist to me. God's hand was obvious in connecting Debra and me!
2) I could not easily get in to one of the top urologists in Texas. I wrote him a personal letter, and the door opened for me to see him during the time frame that worked best for me. Then, to add one more amazing element, he and I exchanged several emails in which he narrowed down my problem - before ever seeing me as a patient!
3) Meanwhile, I was trying to find a gynecologist with experience in an area not well understood by the medical profession. I came up with the name of a nationally recognized physician in Houston who not only heads the OB/Gyne program for Baylor Medical College, but is also heavily involved in research and teaching. I called to ask for an appointment. I was put on a long waiting list and told he rarely takes new patients. After two months on that list, I was told he still was not taking any patients and that I had best look for another option. Meanwhile, I had also written him a letter explaining my situation and the date that would best suit me, if he could possibly see me. Three days after being told it wouldn't be possible to see him, I got a call to give me an appointment for the very day I wanted!
4) Debra and her family were not only happy to host me during my time in Texas, but also to loan me their car for whatever I needed to do.
5) Upon arrival, the urologist was not only an excellent and kind physician, but also managed to pull strings to fit all my testing into a day and a half. (It took Debra two months to have the same testing done!) Even the doctor himself was amazed at how it all worked into peoples' schedules. One nurse volunteered to come in on her day off to oversee a test for me!
6)I was told I would need surgery, but would have to come back in 2011 because the surgical schedule was full. While headed to Houston to see the other physician, I got a call. "Can you come in for surgery tomorrow?"
7) Even more shocking, is that I replied, "Sorry, I can't have surgery tomorrow! I have an appointment in Houston. Can you make it Wednesday?" Who ever heard of the patient dictating to the surgeon when to do surgery that is being squeezed in?!? They said "Yes, come Wednesday."
8)I called Debra and asked if I might be able to stay on several extra days and if she could take me in on the day of surgery. Even though they were in the process of changing the carpet in her house that day, Debra took me in and spent the day with me! The carpet in my bedroom was changed as I was at the hospital and Bill had the guest bedroom all ready for my return!
9) Our health insurance only covers 80% after meeting the deductible. Though we've met our deductible, there is still a huge chunk of change to pay on the remaining 20% until a maximum out of pocket is met. A donor volunteered to cover a large part of our remaining out-of-pocket expenses. (We have yet to see if there will still be more to pay!)
10) Just as an added blessing and evidence that God was pampering me... my surgery was performed on my birthday. The hospital personnel made it a special day and the operating room crew sang happy birthday to me right before putting me to sleep.
10) Debra had a six month follow-up appointment scheduled with the urologist on Monday the 15th. She did not need to keep the appointment and almost canceled it a while back, but felt led to hold onto it longer. On Friday it was decided it would be best for me to go back in before traveling back to Costa Rica. I was actually able to take Debra's appointment. God scheduled it, I know! Who else would have guessed that I'd need an appointment on the morning of November 15, 2010?
11) Though Woody was unable to be with me during the unexpected surgery, during each step of my journey I've had someone put their arm around me and pray. Even the hospital admission clerk, after chatting with me and checking me in, asked, "Could I have my Bible study group pray for you this evening?" I have felt well-loved, even as I've been far away from loved ones!
Now, I sit here wondering if I will actually feel better once I get over the surgery and follow the medical advice I've been given. Should I doubt? Hasn't God's hand been VERY evident so far in this journey?
PS My big thanks to Brian and Stephanie, Jack and Karen, and Lu Ann and Ed, who have been stepping stones of faith in this journey! And, thank you, love of my life, for constant phone calls, love and encouragement!
Let me share a few ways that His hand has been so evident:
1) Last year I had a horrendous experience with a urologist in Costa Rica. My friend Debra wrote me from Texas and we discovered problems in common. She had found help after years of chronic issues, and recommended her urologist to me. God's hand was obvious in connecting Debra and me!
2) I could not easily get in to one of the top urologists in Texas. I wrote him a personal letter, and the door opened for me to see him during the time frame that worked best for me. Then, to add one more amazing element, he and I exchanged several emails in which he narrowed down my problem - before ever seeing me as a patient!
3) Meanwhile, I was trying to find a gynecologist with experience in an area not well understood by the medical profession. I came up with the name of a nationally recognized physician in Houston who not only heads the OB/Gyne program for Baylor Medical College, but is also heavily involved in research and teaching. I called to ask for an appointment. I was put on a long waiting list and told he rarely takes new patients. After two months on that list, I was told he still was not taking any patients and that I had best look for another option. Meanwhile, I had also written him a letter explaining my situation and the date that would best suit me, if he could possibly see me. Three days after being told it wouldn't be possible to see him, I got a call to give me an appointment for the very day I wanted!
4) Debra and her family were not only happy to host me during my time in Texas, but also to loan me their car for whatever I needed to do.
5) Upon arrival, the urologist was not only an excellent and kind physician, but also managed to pull strings to fit all my testing into a day and a half. (It took Debra two months to have the same testing done!) Even the doctor himself was amazed at how it all worked into peoples' schedules. One nurse volunteered to come in on her day off to oversee a test for me!
6)I was told I would need surgery, but would have to come back in 2011 because the surgical schedule was full. While headed to Houston to see the other physician, I got a call. "Can you come in for surgery tomorrow?"
7) Even more shocking, is that I replied, "Sorry, I can't have surgery tomorrow! I have an appointment in Houston. Can you make it Wednesday?" Who ever heard of the patient dictating to the surgeon when to do surgery that is being squeezed in?!? They said "Yes, come Wednesday."
8)I called Debra and asked if I might be able to stay on several extra days and if she could take me in on the day of surgery. Even though they were in the process of changing the carpet in her house that day, Debra took me in and spent the day with me! The carpet in my bedroom was changed as I was at the hospital and Bill had the guest bedroom all ready for my return!
9) Our health insurance only covers 80% after meeting the deductible. Though we've met our deductible, there is still a huge chunk of change to pay on the remaining 20% until a maximum out of pocket is met. A donor volunteered to cover a large part of our remaining out-of-pocket expenses. (We have yet to see if there will still be more to pay!)
10) Just as an added blessing and evidence that God was pampering me... my surgery was performed on my birthday. The hospital personnel made it a special day and the operating room crew sang happy birthday to me right before putting me to sleep.
10) Debra had a six month follow-up appointment scheduled with the urologist on Monday the 15th. She did not need to keep the appointment and almost canceled it a while back, but felt led to hold onto it longer. On Friday it was decided it would be best for me to go back in before traveling back to Costa Rica. I was actually able to take Debra's appointment. God scheduled it, I know! Who else would have guessed that I'd need an appointment on the morning of November 15, 2010?
11) Though Woody was unable to be with me during the unexpected surgery, during each step of my journey I've had someone put their arm around me and pray. Even the hospital admission clerk, after chatting with me and checking me in, asked, "Could I have my Bible study group pray for you this evening?" I have felt well-loved, even as I've been far away from loved ones!
Now, I sit here wondering if I will actually feel better once I get over the surgery and follow the medical advice I've been given. Should I doubt? Hasn't God's hand been VERY evident so far in this journey?
PS My big thanks to Brian and Stephanie, Jack and Karen, and Lu Ann and Ed, who have been stepping stones of faith in this journey! And, thank you, love of my life, for constant phone calls, love and encouragement!
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
A Sparrow Named Colossus
Many of you wished me a very happy birthday yesterday, and I am moved by the love and compassion of so many dear friends. My birthday was scattered with bits of joy, but overall it was one of the most uncomfortable days of the year so far. I've slept 2 hours out of the past 24, but can't seem to get to sleep no matter what. I drove five hours from Houston to Dallas yesterday in order to have surgery in the afternoon. When finally back with my hosts, I ate a tiny bit after fasting for 25 hours. My husband and other family are all over 1000 miles away.
So, I breathe a feeble prayer and recruit my limited resources... "my strength is made perfect in weakness," God has said, and I can say "when I am weak then I am strong." As Vance Havner once said, "By that rule I should be a colossus right now, for I couldn't be much weaker."
On Sunday, I heard a marvelous special number at church - the classic I most associate with Ethel Waters and the Billy Graham crusades: "His Eye is on the Sparrow."
Why should I feel discouraged, why should the shadows come,
Why should my heart be lonely, and long for heav’n and home,
When Jesus is my portion? My constant Friend is He:
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.
It puts a smile on my face in the midst of discomfort when I picture myself as God's sparrow, named Colossus!
So, I breathe a feeble prayer and recruit my limited resources... "my strength is made perfect in weakness," God has said, and I can say "when I am weak then I am strong." As Vance Havner once said, "By that rule I should be a colossus right now, for I couldn't be much weaker."
On Sunday, I heard a marvelous special number at church - the classic I most associate with Ethel Waters and the Billy Graham crusades: "His Eye is on the Sparrow."
Why should I feel discouraged, why should the shadows come,
Why should my heart be lonely, and long for heav’n and home,
When Jesus is my portion? My constant Friend is He:
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.
It puts a smile on my face in the midst of discomfort when I picture myself as God's sparrow, named Colossus!
Friday, November 05, 2010
Yesterday Jesus Died for Me
In follow-up to what I wrote below, "When Were You Last Moved to Tears?" I want to tell you that yesterday Jesus died for me.
I've had several more special moments alone with Jesus since I last wrote. For instance, on Tuesday I flew alone to Dallas for medical reasons. It's a pretty scary time for me - not knowing what they will do to me or say or recommend. So, I was fervently praying on my trip. I didn't have a book in particular to distract me on the four hour flight, so I paged through my daily agenda notebook, crossing through anything that could be tossed and circling important things to remember. Though it is not my journal, it is peppered with thoughts from God's Word. As I circled those thoughts and passages that have spoken to me in the past weeks, I felt almost as if Jesus were in the vacant seat next to me.
When I arrived in Dallas, I got a Facebook note from my brother, Vito, which said, "Hey, sis! I've asked God to reserve a seat for Jesus beside you on all your flights. Gotcha covered!" God did just that!
On Wednesday I got to wondering why God's timing would have me reading about my Lord being crucified on the very day I would be going to the specialist and having testing done. I also wondered to myself, "If I was crying just thinking about this coming up, what will I do when I read the crucifixion accounts themselves?"
Early yesterday morning I began to read. I was deeply impacted by Jesus' suffering and His compassion in the midst of it. I did shed a few tears, but the meaning and the timing came clear to me throughout the course of the day. I sensed clearly that Jesus died for ME yesterday. That's why He was hanging on the cross on Thursday, November 4th. In the little bit of suffering I went through yesterday, I was only reminded of the suffering He did as He lovingly looked on me and died for my sins.
Oh, what a Savior I have!
I've had several more special moments alone with Jesus since I last wrote. For instance, on Tuesday I flew alone to Dallas for medical reasons. It's a pretty scary time for me - not knowing what they will do to me or say or recommend. So, I was fervently praying on my trip. I didn't have a book in particular to distract me on the four hour flight, so I paged through my daily agenda notebook, crossing through anything that could be tossed and circling important things to remember. Though it is not my journal, it is peppered with thoughts from God's Word. As I circled those thoughts and passages that have spoken to me in the past weeks, I felt almost as if Jesus were in the vacant seat next to me.
When I arrived in Dallas, I got a Facebook note from my brother, Vito, which said, "Hey, sis! I've asked God to reserve a seat for Jesus beside you on all your flights. Gotcha covered!" God did just that!
On Wednesday I got to wondering why God's timing would have me reading about my Lord being crucified on the very day I would be going to the specialist and having testing done. I also wondered to myself, "If I was crying just thinking about this coming up, what will I do when I read the crucifixion accounts themselves?"
Early yesterday morning I began to read. I was deeply impacted by Jesus' suffering and His compassion in the midst of it. I did shed a few tears, but the meaning and the timing came clear to me throughout the course of the day. I sensed clearly that Jesus died for ME yesterday. That's why He was hanging on the cross on Thursday, November 4th. In the little bit of suffering I went through yesterday, I was only reminded of the suffering He did as He lovingly looked on me and died for my sins.
Oh, what a Savior I have!
Monday, November 01, 2010
When Were You Last Moved to Tears?
Yesterday I cried.
I've been reading the Chronological Bible this year. At times the Old Testament readings were a bit long and heavy for me. But, perseverance has paid off and the gospels have meant even more to me after wading through the whole Old Testament.
Before I tell you why I cried yesterday, though, let me tell you of an embarrassing experience in my past. Many years ago while serving in Bolivia, we went to visit a very conservative missionary couple who had worked for decades in the city of Sucre. As a result of many hard years among people hostile to the gospel, they had planted a small, very conservative Brethren church. We went with Gordon and Myrtle to join the small gathering of believers to celebrate the Lord's Supper. As part of the remembrance, one believer or another would request to have a hymn sung. Sadly, the hymnals had only the words in them, so we were unable to read the music of the unfamiliar hymns. The Bolivians attending had no ear for music. Gordon was obviously tone deaf - evidenced by his loud grunting, boisterously following the words in a monotone. Myrtle probably knew the melody line, but her voice was one of those soprano, quivering ones that grate on the ears. Woody valiantly was trying out different melodies to the words in front of him, hoping to make up for the cacophony, but sadly failing to land on a melody to match the lyrics. It was too much for my musical ear and I felt laughter welling up inside me.
Now, I promise you, that it is not appropriate to laugh at the Lord's Table in a conservative Brethren assembly. I made every attempt to stuff my guffaws inside, bending over with my face buried in my hands. I occasionally would get control over myself, only to hear another warble and grunt, and clearly hearing Woody's various melodies run out before reaching the end of the lyrics. That communion service was torture for me, and I knew my career as a missionary was over!
However, in a twist of God's mercy on me, Myrtle came up to me after the service, exclaiming, "How wonderful, Susan! It's been years since I've seen someone moved to tears at the Lord's Table!" I choked out some enigmatic reply, stuffing in my impulse to break out once again into laughter!
Now, back to the present... As I've been reading the parallel gospel accounts of the life of Jesus, I've actually felt like I've been walking alongside my Savior while reading the events of His life and soaking in His words. As I've quickly approached the end of His life on earth, I have found myself feeling more and more grief. Why? I think it's partly because I don't want my time reading the gospels to draw to a close. But also, it's because I am enjoying "being with Jesus" so much, and I don't want Him to die and "leave" me! I feel almost like I am in the disciples' sandals as He is giving them final words.
As I sat down yesterday to read John 15-17, these words struck me like a knife penetrating to my soul. Jesus said to the disciples, "But because I have said these things to you, sorrow has filled your heart." (Oh, Lord! Yes! Sorrow has indeed filled my own heart!)"I have many more things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now." (Oh, how I want to hear more of Your words, but I cannot bear more right now. You are so right!) "Therefore you too have grief now." (Yes! I do have grief!)
By this time I was crying. Celeste, at my feet, was craning her head, staring at me. She's not used to such emotion during our quiet times together!
Jesus also said to them, "But I tell you the truth, it is to your advantage that I go away; for if I do not go away, the Helper will not come to you."
At this, I began to bawl. I know I have the Holy Spirit. But, I wanted so badly to have the actual physical presence of the Lord Jesus! Oh, how I love Him! Oh, how I want to be with Him! Silly me, I prayed and cried aloud, "Please, Lord Jesus! Don't go away! I want You to be with me right here on my front porch!"
I know. It's silly. But, this has been a soul-stirring experience for me. (I've been crying, even as I write this!) Never have I longed so deeply to walk hand-in-hand with Jesus.
I've been reading the Chronological Bible this year. At times the Old Testament readings were a bit long and heavy for me. But, perseverance has paid off and the gospels have meant even more to me after wading through the whole Old Testament.
Before I tell you why I cried yesterday, though, let me tell you of an embarrassing experience in my past. Many years ago while serving in Bolivia, we went to visit a very conservative missionary couple who had worked for decades in the city of Sucre. As a result of many hard years among people hostile to the gospel, they had planted a small, very conservative Brethren church. We went with Gordon and Myrtle to join the small gathering of believers to celebrate the Lord's Supper. As part of the remembrance, one believer or another would request to have a hymn sung. Sadly, the hymnals had only the words in them, so we were unable to read the music of the unfamiliar hymns. The Bolivians attending had no ear for music. Gordon was obviously tone deaf - evidenced by his loud grunting, boisterously following the words in a monotone. Myrtle probably knew the melody line, but her voice was one of those soprano, quivering ones that grate on the ears. Woody valiantly was trying out different melodies to the words in front of him, hoping to make up for the cacophony, but sadly failing to land on a melody to match the lyrics. It was too much for my musical ear and I felt laughter welling up inside me.
Now, I promise you, that it is not appropriate to laugh at the Lord's Table in a conservative Brethren assembly. I made every attempt to stuff my guffaws inside, bending over with my face buried in my hands. I occasionally would get control over myself, only to hear another warble and grunt, and clearly hearing Woody's various melodies run out before reaching the end of the lyrics. That communion service was torture for me, and I knew my career as a missionary was over!
However, in a twist of God's mercy on me, Myrtle came up to me after the service, exclaiming, "How wonderful, Susan! It's been years since I've seen someone moved to tears at the Lord's Table!" I choked out some enigmatic reply, stuffing in my impulse to break out once again into laughter!
Now, back to the present... As I've been reading the parallel gospel accounts of the life of Jesus, I've actually felt like I've been walking alongside my Savior while reading the events of His life and soaking in His words. As I've quickly approached the end of His life on earth, I have found myself feeling more and more grief. Why? I think it's partly because I don't want my time reading the gospels to draw to a close. But also, it's because I am enjoying "being with Jesus" so much, and I don't want Him to die and "leave" me! I feel almost like I am in the disciples' sandals as He is giving them final words.
As I sat down yesterday to read John 15-17, these words struck me like a knife penetrating to my soul. Jesus said to the disciples, "But because I have said these things to you, sorrow has filled your heart." (Oh, Lord! Yes! Sorrow has indeed filled my own heart!)"I have many more things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now." (Oh, how I want to hear more of Your words, but I cannot bear more right now. You are so right!) "Therefore you too have grief now." (Yes! I do have grief!)
By this time I was crying. Celeste, at my feet, was craning her head, staring at me. She's not used to such emotion during our quiet times together!
Jesus also said to them, "But I tell you the truth, it is to your advantage that I go away; for if I do not go away, the Helper will not come to you."
At this, I began to bawl. I know I have the Holy Spirit. But, I wanted so badly to have the actual physical presence of the Lord Jesus! Oh, how I love Him! Oh, how I want to be with Him! Silly me, I prayed and cried aloud, "Please, Lord Jesus! Don't go away! I want You to be with me right here on my front porch!"
I know. It's silly. But, this has been a soul-stirring experience for me. (I've been crying, even as I write this!) Never have I longed so deeply to walk hand-in-hand with Jesus.
Monday, October 25, 2010
Affliction
I've been re-reading a book that I read almost 28 years ago... Affliction by Edith Schaeffer. I read it while bedridden for two months while pregnant in Bolivia. The doctor had told me the chances of saving the pregnancy were slim. I'd had constant bleeding during my first trimester. I spent a lot of time in prayer, mostly questioning God why I had to spend all that time in bed. I remember praying, "If I'm going to lose the baby anyway, why not just lose it now, rather than spend weeks in bed? And if the baby will survive, why not make me better right now, rather than make me spend weeks in bed? I just don't get it!!"
The book impacted me greatly, because it brought home to me that no matter what would be the earthly outcome of my trial, each and every moment spent in that bed was a unique opportunity to trust Him and win spiritual battles. Here's a paragraph that might bring home the concept better than my own feeble words.
"On the day when the believers' rewards are given out, we will be craning our necks to see who is being given a shining reward and some special treasure. I am sure that we will be astounded at the things that were counted 'the greatest' and the things that were counted 'the least.' There is no one who is shut away from having a victory (or even a whole string of victories in the heavenly battle) because of wheelchair lives, hospital walls, prison bars, concentration-camp barbed wire, desert abandonment, nursing-home loneliness, mundane work in some wilderness spot, or absence of another human being over miles of lonely farmland to be worked on a tractor. None of us can know which shock or illness (headache or operation, disappointment or disillusionment with a friend, criticism or other human attack, loss of job or loss of house and land, news of a close loved one's death, or totally destructive earthquake) will turn out to be the most important opportunity we are ever going to have to honestly love God and truly trust Him in a way which will bring Him joy and defeat Satan. We cannot know which is the most important moment in our lives. Its arrival won't be announced with a blast of silver horns or a blare of an orchestra's full crescendo. Our most important moment can come when no one but God and Satan are aware of it, when our response to the Lord is one which wins at once a battle which could have left a horrible tear or hole in the fabric of history."
Thankfully, our daughter Kari is the blessing that came after those long bedridden days! But, we cannot be guaranteed of a joyful outcome on earth. One thing we CAN do, is trust Him in the midst of whatever circumstances we are experiencing right now, knowing that this might be our shining moment in history... even if no one else on earth notices!
The book impacted me greatly, because it brought home to me that no matter what would be the earthly outcome of my trial, each and every moment spent in that bed was a unique opportunity to trust Him and win spiritual battles. Here's a paragraph that might bring home the concept better than my own feeble words.
"On the day when the believers' rewards are given out, we will be craning our necks to see who is being given a shining reward and some special treasure. I am sure that we will be astounded at the things that were counted 'the greatest' and the things that were counted 'the least.' There is no one who is shut away from having a victory (or even a whole string of victories in the heavenly battle) because of wheelchair lives, hospital walls, prison bars, concentration-camp barbed wire, desert abandonment, nursing-home loneliness, mundane work in some wilderness spot, or absence of another human being over miles of lonely farmland to be worked on a tractor. None of us can know which shock or illness (headache or operation, disappointment or disillusionment with a friend, criticism or other human attack, loss of job or loss of house and land, news of a close loved one's death, or totally destructive earthquake) will turn out to be the most important opportunity we are ever going to have to honestly love God and truly trust Him in a way which will bring Him joy and defeat Satan. We cannot know which is the most important moment in our lives. Its arrival won't be announced with a blast of silver horns or a blare of an orchestra's full crescendo. Our most important moment can come when no one but God and Satan are aware of it, when our response to the Lord is one which wins at once a battle which could have left a horrible tear or hole in the fabric of history."
Thankfully, our daughter Kari is the blessing that came after those long bedridden days! But, we cannot be guaranteed of a joyful outcome on earth. One thing we CAN do, is trust Him in the midst of whatever circumstances we are experiencing right now, knowing that this might be our shining moment in history... even if no one else on earth notices!
Saturday, September 25, 2010
AH! AH! AH! AH-Bee-Guy- EEL!
My best friends in San Isidro live at a little nursing home called Albernia. Recently they opened a new wing and expanded their capacity from 18 residents to around 25. I used to be able to call all by their names. Now, every week there seems to be another name to learn.
Several weeks ago I got "introduced" to a new resident. It was obvious no one had warm feelings about Abigail(pronounced in Spanish AH-bee-guy-EEL). It was no wonder! She can quickly make you realize that peace and quiet has moved to another community. She repeatedly cries out at the top of her lungs, "AH! AH! AH! AH!" As I glanced her way that first day, I was told by staff and residents alike, "Pay no heed to Abigail. All she wants is to have you take her out of here."
Sadly, my first time or two with Abigail I almost heeded the consensus of advice... stay away from Abigail. Two weeks ago I was showing my friend Ana some photos when Abigail pulled up behind me in her wheelchair. Tugging at my elbow, she shouted, "Ah! Ah! Ah!" Ana told me, "Don't let her see the photo pages. She'll destroy them." I replied, "I'll show them to her. I just will tell her not to touch them."
I coached Abigail to keep her hands away from the pages as I gently explained the photos to her. The "Ah! Ah! Ah!'s" stopped, and soon AH-bee-guy-EEL tugged on me again, only this time she buried her face in my arm and sobbed. I held her close to me and whispered in her ear, telling her about God's love for her. Quietly, I whispered a prayer for her to sense God's presence and for her to put her trust in Jesus in the midst of her trials. She was calm for the rest of my visit... until I went to leave. Then, she desperately stretched her arms out towards me, once again chanting, "AH! AH! AH!" I held her close one more time and whispered a promise to spend time with her on future visits. She cried as I spoke with her, but was at peace when I walked away.
Yesterday I went back to visit my friends at Albernia. As I approached the women's wing, I could hear Abigail's shouts. When she saw me, her shouts became more desperate. I went straight to her and reminded her of my promise. She was immediately calm, and I was able to talk and pray quietly with her again. She was silent for the rest of my visit.
Don't think me a hero. I'm really not doing anything extraordinary. Instead, God has granted me the privilege of seeing someone respond to my presence in an extraordinary way. I have a feeling she and I might become good friends - maybe even sisters in Christ!
Several weeks ago I got "introduced" to a new resident. It was obvious no one had warm feelings about Abigail(pronounced in Spanish AH-bee-guy-EEL). It was no wonder! She can quickly make you realize that peace and quiet has moved to another community. She repeatedly cries out at the top of her lungs, "AH! AH! AH! AH!" As I glanced her way that first day, I was told by staff and residents alike, "Pay no heed to Abigail. All she wants is to have you take her out of here."
Sadly, my first time or two with Abigail I almost heeded the consensus of advice... stay away from Abigail. Two weeks ago I was showing my friend Ana some photos when Abigail pulled up behind me in her wheelchair. Tugging at my elbow, she shouted, "Ah! Ah! Ah!" Ana told me, "Don't let her see the photo pages. She'll destroy them." I replied, "I'll show them to her. I just will tell her not to touch them."
I coached Abigail to keep her hands away from the pages as I gently explained the photos to her. The "Ah! Ah! Ah!'s" stopped, and soon AH-bee-guy-EEL tugged on me again, only this time she buried her face in my arm and sobbed. I held her close to me and whispered in her ear, telling her about God's love for her. Quietly, I whispered a prayer for her to sense God's presence and for her to put her trust in Jesus in the midst of her trials. She was calm for the rest of my visit... until I went to leave. Then, she desperately stretched her arms out towards me, once again chanting, "AH! AH! AH!" I held her close one more time and whispered a promise to spend time with her on future visits. She cried as I spoke with her, but was at peace when I walked away.
Yesterday I went back to visit my friends at Albernia. As I approached the women's wing, I could hear Abigail's shouts. When she saw me, her shouts became more desperate. I went straight to her and reminded her of my promise. She was immediately calm, and I was able to talk and pray quietly with her again. She was silent for the rest of my visit.
Don't think me a hero. I'm really not doing anything extraordinary. Instead, God has granted me the privilege of seeing someone respond to my presence in an extraordinary way. I have a feeling she and I might become good friends - maybe even sisters in Christ!
Saturday, September 18, 2010
A Dream Come True
This is written in honor of my dear friend, Nena, who died on Monday. It's
taken from our book, God Save the Eggs!
We co-own a cabin in a remote mountainous area of Costa Rica. It’s been a wonderful retreat spot for us. It’s also served as a youth and leadership retreat site and a honeymoon cabin for more than one couple.
We pay Rodrigo, a local gardener, about $25 a month to keep up the yard for us. During our first year of ownership, we went out of our way to make friends with Rodrigo. As our friendship deepened, Rodrigo opened up with us and told us of his wife’s struggles with clinical depression. I had only met Nena once. She rarely accompanied her husband on his visits to the cabin.
Woody and I began to pray for Nena and Rodrigo and their family. We decided that if Nena showed up with Rodrigo sometime while we were at the cabin that we would invite them in for coffee. Not soon afterwards we went to stay overnight at the cabin. Early that Saturday morning Rodrigo showed up to mow the lawn. Surprisingly, Nena came with him. She is a very shy person, but she actually came up to the door and asked to borrow a rake to help Rodrigo.
After I fetched the rake, I began to chat with Nena. I mentioned that we would love to invite them in for coffee. As we stood on the porch, Nena began to share her life story with me. She was amazingly open about her experiences as an inpatient at a psychiatric hospital, struggling with severe postpartum depression. Several times in her conversation she mentioned her desire to know God. As I prepared to go in to fix coffee, I mentioned to her that I had a pamphlet that tells what the Bible says about knowing God personally. I suggested she look at it while I put the coffee on.
When Nena took the tract from me, she paged open to a diagram showing man’s separation from God. Before I could even turn to get out the coffee, she began to cry.
“What’s wrong, Nena?” I asked.
“This picture! I know just what it is! Several years ago I had a vivid dream of this picture. See the person on this side of the chasm? That is me. And on the other side is God. There is a big chasm separating us and I am ready to fall into it and be lost forever. But, I have one very important question. In my dream, there was a bridge that spans the gap between God and me. Susana, what is that bridge and how can I find it?”
I decided the coffee could wait a minute. Nena wanted to know every single detail and hear every single Bible verse. Before we could get to the last page, Nena excitedly interrupted me.
“I know I am a sinner. I know that Jesus died and rose again so that He could be the bridge to bring me back to God. Can I pray right now to tell Him that I want to trust Him as my Savior? I want to do that so badly!”
I felt like saying, “Just wait! We haven’t gotten to that page yet!”
But, instead, I said, “Sure, Nena. I know that God would be so pleased to respond to your prayer.”
As she prayed her own simple sinner’s prayer, I shook my head in wonder of God’s work in her life.
After she prayed, I added my own prayer of rejoicing over this miraculous new birth. I turned to Nena and said, “You know what your name means, right? It means a little girl or baby girl. Now you are a new baby in Jesus and He is so eager to have you read His Word and learn from Him.”
As I stepped into the little kitchen to finally put the coffee pot on, I heard Nena run with excitement to her husband. I think Rodrigo was a bit taken aback with her enthusiasm. She said, “Remember, Rodrigo, my dream about being separated from God?!? Susana told me exactly what the Bible says about that and now I know the bridge is Jesus!”
taken from our book, God Save the Eggs!
We co-own a cabin in a remote mountainous area of Costa Rica. It’s been a wonderful retreat spot for us. It’s also served as a youth and leadership retreat site and a honeymoon cabin for more than one couple.
We pay Rodrigo, a local gardener, about $25 a month to keep up the yard for us. During our first year of ownership, we went out of our way to make friends with Rodrigo. As our friendship deepened, Rodrigo opened up with us and told us of his wife’s struggles with clinical depression. I had only met Nena once. She rarely accompanied her husband on his visits to the cabin.
Woody and I began to pray for Nena and Rodrigo and their family. We decided that if Nena showed up with Rodrigo sometime while we were at the cabin that we would invite them in for coffee. Not soon afterwards we went to stay overnight at the cabin. Early that Saturday morning Rodrigo showed up to mow the lawn. Surprisingly, Nena came with him. She is a very shy person, but she actually came up to the door and asked to borrow a rake to help Rodrigo.
After I fetched the rake, I began to chat with Nena. I mentioned that we would love to invite them in for coffee. As we stood on the porch, Nena began to share her life story with me. She was amazingly open about her experiences as an inpatient at a psychiatric hospital, struggling with severe postpartum depression. Several times in her conversation she mentioned her desire to know God. As I prepared to go in to fix coffee, I mentioned to her that I had a pamphlet that tells what the Bible says about knowing God personally. I suggested she look at it while I put the coffee on.
When Nena took the tract from me, she paged open to a diagram showing man’s separation from God. Before I could even turn to get out the coffee, she began to cry.
“What’s wrong, Nena?” I asked.
“This picture! I know just what it is! Several years ago I had a vivid dream of this picture. See the person on this side of the chasm? That is me. And on the other side is God. There is a big chasm separating us and I am ready to fall into it and be lost forever. But, I have one very important question. In my dream, there was a bridge that spans the gap between God and me. Susana, what is that bridge and how can I find it?”
I decided the coffee could wait a minute. Nena wanted to know every single detail and hear every single Bible verse. Before we could get to the last page, Nena excitedly interrupted me.
“I know I am a sinner. I know that Jesus died and rose again so that He could be the bridge to bring me back to God. Can I pray right now to tell Him that I want to trust Him as my Savior? I want to do that so badly!”
I felt like saying, “Just wait! We haven’t gotten to that page yet!”
But, instead, I said, “Sure, Nena. I know that God would be so pleased to respond to your prayer.”
As she prayed her own simple sinner’s prayer, I shook my head in wonder of God’s work in her life.
After she prayed, I added my own prayer of rejoicing over this miraculous new birth. I turned to Nena and said, “You know what your name means, right? It means a little girl or baby girl. Now you are a new baby in Jesus and He is so eager to have you read His Word and learn from Him.”
As I stepped into the little kitchen to finally put the coffee pot on, I heard Nena run with excitement to her husband. I think Rodrigo was a bit taken aback with her enthusiasm. She said, “Remember, Rodrigo, my dream about being separated from God?!? Susana told me exactly what the Bible says about that and now I know the bridge is Jesus!”
Saturday, September 11, 2010
A Theology of Groaning
I’m reading a book called Jesus Driven Ministry. It’s by Ajith Fernando, the Youth For Christ director from Sri Lanka. He gives a very Scripture-based presentation of Jesus’ style of ministry which we should imitate.
One thing that struck me was when he wrote about how today’s church has a strong theology of the necessity for growth (although we don’t grow that much in the West!!), a strong theology of praise, and a strong theology of power. But, he says that those must be balanced with a theology of groaning. The term groaning is taken from Romans 8:23, “We ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies.”
Earlier Paul wrote that because of the Fall, “the creation was subjected to futility.” (8:20) We, too, are subjected to futility – accidents, sickness, being disliked or hurt by others, etc. Even though we strive to be like Christ, we make mistakes and commit sin. As the author puts it, “Our thirst coming from the foretaste of heaven will clash with the reality of living in a fallen world, and the result is that we will groan sometimes.”
Groaning can coexist with praise. In fact, the Bible is full of groaning and complaints and laments. About 50 out of the 150 psalms are laments – raw, painful expressions of hurt and sorrow. I liked a quote by OT scholar Chris Wright, describing the biblical laments: “God, I am hurting; and, God, everyone else is laughing. And, God, You are not helping very much either; and how long is it going to go on?”
Groaning in the context of a fallen world is not only natural, it is to be expected. After all, the Spirit stays tuned in to our groaning, and Jesus Himself probably expressed His emotion that way more than once - for instance, in the Garden of Gethsemane. Complaints are the cries of those who believe that God is good, but cannot see this goodness in what they are currently experiencing. Their cries are “tinged with hope” and are an honest expression of struggle.
We do wrong when we do not allow one another to groan. Yes, we must groan with hope, but groaning is part of life on this side of heaven. We need a place where we can share honestly without facing rejection or reprimand by others for “not being good Christians.” If our Christian community cannot listen to our groans, it is evidence that there is a lack of understanding of grace. And, unless we have a theology of groaning, our faith will remain superficial.
One thing that struck me was when he wrote about how today’s church has a strong theology of the necessity for growth (although we don’t grow that much in the West!!), a strong theology of praise, and a strong theology of power. But, he says that those must be balanced with a theology of groaning. The term groaning is taken from Romans 8:23, “We ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies.”
Earlier Paul wrote that because of the Fall, “the creation was subjected to futility.” (8:20) We, too, are subjected to futility – accidents, sickness, being disliked or hurt by others, etc. Even though we strive to be like Christ, we make mistakes and commit sin. As the author puts it, “Our thirst coming from the foretaste of heaven will clash with the reality of living in a fallen world, and the result is that we will groan sometimes.”
Groaning can coexist with praise. In fact, the Bible is full of groaning and complaints and laments. About 50 out of the 150 psalms are laments – raw, painful expressions of hurt and sorrow. I liked a quote by OT scholar Chris Wright, describing the biblical laments: “God, I am hurting; and, God, everyone else is laughing. And, God, You are not helping very much either; and how long is it going to go on?”
Groaning in the context of a fallen world is not only natural, it is to be expected. After all, the Spirit stays tuned in to our groaning, and Jesus Himself probably expressed His emotion that way more than once - for instance, in the Garden of Gethsemane. Complaints are the cries of those who believe that God is good, but cannot see this goodness in what they are currently experiencing. Their cries are “tinged with hope” and are an honest expression of struggle.
We do wrong when we do not allow one another to groan. Yes, we must groan with hope, but groaning is part of life on this side of heaven. We need a place where we can share honestly without facing rejection or reprimand by others for “not being good Christians.” If our Christian community cannot listen to our groans, it is evidence that there is a lack of understanding of grace. And, unless we have a theology of groaning, our faith will remain superficial.
Saturday, September 04, 2010
Two Versions of the Same Story
Occasionally all the students in an English class are given the same sentence and told to complete the story. Each student develops his own unique creative essay. Today Woody and I have decided to repeat that classroom exercise. Read both of our blogs to see how we took the same basic sentence and went our own direction with it!
Woody and I spent our Saturday afternoon fixing a toilet. You may have always wondered how missionaries spend their Saturday afternoons. You may also have wondered, "How smart are Woody and Su?" Now you know the answer to both questions. If we were really smart, we probably would have fixed the toilet in just one afternoon. If we were really, really smart, it would have taken less than 2 hours to fix it on our first attempt. The way things currently stand, we aren't sure if we will be spending NEXT Saturday afternoon fixing this same toilet all over again!
For well over a year, our toilet has been an adventure. Just sitting on it required faith. Thinking back on it, it was the only rocking chair we had in the house! It reminds me of a toilet adventure we once had in Bolivia. A couple of years ago we had a reunion of our immediate family on the shores of Lake Titicaca. We rented three cabins. Two of the cabins were really nice. Ours, on the other hand...
In the evening, Woody decided to step into the tiny bathroom with a book called 882 1/2 Amazing Answers to Your Questions About the Titanic. The floor of the bathroom was significantly slanted and the floorboards creaked and flexed with each step. I was peacefully reading in bed when I heard Woody cry out. Jokingly, I asked if I should call an ambulance. It worried me a bit when he replied, "Maybe!" It ends up that as he was reading about the sinking of the Titanic, the toilet literally began to sink through the floor!
Our toilet has been at risk of a similar sinking of the Titanic for quite some time. So, last Saturday we decided to buy a new wax seal and get to the root of the problem. I will not tell you how much not fun it was to get at the root of the problem! I will simply say that it was not the most comfortable or pleasant experience I've had in my life! To top it off, that evening we noted a distinct sewer smell in our bathroom which has persevered throughout the week. The toilet no longer rocked, but obviously had new, serious issues.
So, this afternoon we were back on toilet duty. This time we had all the equipment lined up and ready... newspapers, rags, towels, flashlight, thread, paperclips, needle-nose pliers, wrenches, cooking spray, and spare wax rings. (Write me if you want to know why we had this strange medley of tools!) Woody had the body-building job of repeatedly lifting the toilet. I had the disagreeable job of being underneath it time and again. By the end of the process, not only were all the rags, papers and towels filthy and wet - I was, too!
As I lay there, stinky and damp from head to toe, I thought of a verse I read this morning. "He who sacrifices thank offerings honors me." Psalm 50:23.
Our reactions to everyday occurrences can change a piece of history and bring glory to God. There are many things that can glorify the Living God, the Creator of the Universe. You may think that we missionaries are just out here preaching and discipling and teaching and helping people find God. But, sometimes we are simply down on the ground, stinky and dirty, doing a nasty job, and doing it for a second time at that! But, in the midst of it all, we have a unique opportunity to honor God by sacrificially thanking Him.
We may never have another moment like today to thank Him in the midst of some less-than-favorable circumstances. Let me rephrase that. I hope we never have another chance to sacrificially thank Him while kneeling at a toilet!
This moment, like every moment, offers you just one chance to act and react in a way that glorifies God. So, whether you are painting a work of art, telling someone about Jesus, directing a symphony, serving a meal to the homeless, or fixing a toilet… don’t miss your chance to honor Him!
Woody and I spent our Saturday afternoon fixing a toilet. You may have always wondered how missionaries spend their Saturday afternoons. You may also have wondered, "How smart are Woody and Su?" Now you know the answer to both questions. If we were really smart, we probably would have fixed the toilet in just one afternoon. If we were really, really smart, it would have taken less than 2 hours to fix it on our first attempt. The way things currently stand, we aren't sure if we will be spending NEXT Saturday afternoon fixing this same toilet all over again!
For well over a year, our toilet has been an adventure. Just sitting on it required faith. Thinking back on it, it was the only rocking chair we had in the house! It reminds me of a toilet adventure we once had in Bolivia. A couple of years ago we had a reunion of our immediate family on the shores of Lake Titicaca. We rented three cabins. Two of the cabins were really nice. Ours, on the other hand...
In the evening, Woody decided to step into the tiny bathroom with a book called 882 1/2 Amazing Answers to Your Questions About the Titanic. The floor of the bathroom was significantly slanted and the floorboards creaked and flexed with each step. I was peacefully reading in bed when I heard Woody cry out. Jokingly, I asked if I should call an ambulance. It worried me a bit when he replied, "Maybe!" It ends up that as he was reading about the sinking of the Titanic, the toilet literally began to sink through the floor!
Our toilet has been at risk of a similar sinking of the Titanic for quite some time. So, last Saturday we decided to buy a new wax seal and get to the root of the problem. I will not tell you how much not fun it was to get at the root of the problem! I will simply say that it was not the most comfortable or pleasant experience I've had in my life! To top it off, that evening we noted a distinct sewer smell in our bathroom which has persevered throughout the week. The toilet no longer rocked, but obviously had new, serious issues.
So, this afternoon we were back on toilet duty. This time we had all the equipment lined up and ready... newspapers, rags, towels, flashlight, thread, paperclips, needle-nose pliers, wrenches, cooking spray, and spare wax rings. (Write me if you want to know why we had this strange medley of tools!) Woody had the body-building job of repeatedly lifting the toilet. I had the disagreeable job of being underneath it time and again. By the end of the process, not only were all the rags, papers and towels filthy and wet - I was, too!
As I lay there, stinky and damp from head to toe, I thought of a verse I read this morning. "He who sacrifices thank offerings honors me." Psalm 50:23.
Our reactions to everyday occurrences can change a piece of history and bring glory to God. There are many things that can glorify the Living God, the Creator of the Universe. You may think that we missionaries are just out here preaching and discipling and teaching and helping people find God. But, sometimes we are simply down on the ground, stinky and dirty, doing a nasty job, and doing it for a second time at that! But, in the midst of it all, we have a unique opportunity to honor God by sacrificially thanking Him.
We may never have another moment like today to thank Him in the midst of some less-than-favorable circumstances. Let me rephrase that. I hope we never have another chance to sacrificially thank Him while kneeling at a toilet!
This moment, like every moment, offers you just one chance to act and react in a way that glorifies God. So, whether you are painting a work of art, telling someone about Jesus, directing a symphony, serving a meal to the homeless, or fixing a toilet… don’t miss your chance to honor Him!
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Egypt, Here We Come!
Funny how God will sometimes hit us with related thoughts… BAM, BAM, BAM!
Early this morning I read a very interesting article on cnn.com about American young people who call themselves Christians. Based on interviews with at least 3,300 American teenagers between the ages of 13 and 17, the study found that most who called themselves Christian were indifferent and inarticulate about their faith. "Though three out of four American teenagers claim to be Christian, fewer than half practice their faith, only half deem it important, and most can't talk coherently about their beliefs,” the study found.
The article went on to explain that unless a young person sees a parent or other model actually step out in faith to do something out of the norm and is willing and able to verbalize reasons for his actions, the child is unlikely to have anything but a watered down faith. Many churches practice a "gospel of niceness," where faith is simply doing good and not ruffling feathers.
After reading the CNN article, I read in both Jeremiah and Ezekiel about the small remnant left in Jerusalem after God's people were taken as captives to Babylon. The remnant approached the prophet Jeremiah and told him, "Beg the Lord your God to show us what to do and where to go. May the Lord your God be a faithful witness against us if we refuse to obey whatever he tells us to do! Whether we like it or not, we will obey the Lord our God to whom we send you with our plea."
After Jeremiah consulted God, he returned to them with new insights. He told them that their fears of famine and retribution by the king of Bablyon were unfounded, and that they would have nothing to fear if they remained in Jerusalem. BUT, he said, if they chose to flee to Egypt, all their fears would be realized and they would die of famine and war. None would escape from harm.
On top of that, God made it clear to Jeremiah that the people never had intended to obey Him. Their intent was always to flee to Egypt - no matter what God or Jeremiah had to say about the subject. So, they made their choice. “Egypt (and destruction), here we come!”
All these thoughts came to me before 6:30AM! After church today we met with our mentees, Christopher and Alicia. Alicia was asking me to pray for her uncle, who claims to be a Christian, but wants to live life on his own terms. “After all, I am a man!”
It seems like not being serious about our faith has a long history. We can talk all we want about God, but unless we are willing to stick our necks out, and risk our lives for His cause, at best we are practicing a “gospel of niceness.” At worst, we may face the very fate we most fear.
Will we never learn? That must be a question God asks Himself often!
Early this morning I read a very interesting article on cnn.com about American young people who call themselves Christians. Based on interviews with at least 3,300 American teenagers between the ages of 13 and 17, the study found that most who called themselves Christian were indifferent and inarticulate about their faith. "Though three out of four American teenagers claim to be Christian, fewer than half practice their faith, only half deem it important, and most can't talk coherently about their beliefs,” the study found.
The article went on to explain that unless a young person sees a parent or other model actually step out in faith to do something out of the norm and is willing and able to verbalize reasons for his actions, the child is unlikely to have anything but a watered down faith. Many churches practice a "gospel of niceness," where faith is simply doing good and not ruffling feathers.
After reading the CNN article, I read in both Jeremiah and Ezekiel about the small remnant left in Jerusalem after God's people were taken as captives to Babylon. The remnant approached the prophet Jeremiah and told him, "Beg the Lord your God to show us what to do and where to go. May the Lord your God be a faithful witness against us if we refuse to obey whatever he tells us to do! Whether we like it or not, we will obey the Lord our God to whom we send you with our plea."
After Jeremiah consulted God, he returned to them with new insights. He told them that their fears of famine and retribution by the king of Bablyon were unfounded, and that they would have nothing to fear if they remained in Jerusalem. BUT, he said, if they chose to flee to Egypt, all their fears would be realized and they would die of famine and war. None would escape from harm.
On top of that, God made it clear to Jeremiah that the people never had intended to obey Him. Their intent was always to flee to Egypt - no matter what God or Jeremiah had to say about the subject. So, they made their choice. “Egypt (and destruction), here we come!”
All these thoughts came to me before 6:30AM! After church today we met with our mentees, Christopher and Alicia. Alicia was asking me to pray for her uncle, who claims to be a Christian, but wants to live life on his own terms. “After all, I am a man!”
It seems like not being serious about our faith has a long history. We can talk all we want about God, but unless we are willing to stick our necks out, and risk our lives for His cause, at best we are practicing a “gospel of niceness.” At worst, we may face the very fate we most fear.
Will we never learn? That must be a question God asks Himself often!
Sunday, July 11, 2010
If Anyone Takes Your Sunglasses, Let Them Have your Kit Kat Also
While on a trip to Rome with our dear friends Gary, Joy, Joe and Jan, we were robbed by a band of gypsies while on a Metro train. We might have suspected what was going on, except that the group who crowded into our train car were young women carrying their babies. It seemed strange to have five young moms all get on at once and not talk to one another. Joe graciously offered his seat to one of them, but she ignored him and stood between the two of us. As we jostled through the moms and babies to get off at the next stop, Joe thought he felt a baby's foot pressed against his waistline. It was the mom's hand which successfully fetched cash and train tickets from his money belt and managed to unzip my own pack as well and grab my sunglasses. We realized what was happening before the train doors could close, but there was nothing we could do about it.
As the six of us gathered our wits and assessed the losses, we actually saw that very mom further up the platform! We ran after her and stopped her, asking for our things back. Since she was working in a pack of thieves, I'm sure she had already passed off our cash or glasses to another. She protested her innocence, but made no effort to escape. Joe and I ended up wasting over an hour in a hot, smoky, crowded Metro police office while the rest of our group waited outside the door.
We caught an insider's glimpse of how the Rome Metro police work (0r don't work!). At times we had up to eight officials in the room with us, doing absolutely nothing. One of them spoke English and told us we could not leave until the city police showed. We were literally prisoners in that stuffy, dark room! Meanwhile the gypsy mom continued to insist upon her innocence, vociferously protesting her detention and complaining of the heat.
After an hour or so I was feeling light-headed and asked permission to have Woody buy me a candy bar. Woody knocked at the door and handed me two Kit Kats, telling me to give the second one to the gypsy. I looked at him incredulously. "Really? Give her one?" Woody gently encouraged me to do it.
At first she sullenly refused the Kit Kat. I kindly looked her in the eyes and insisted. The English-speaking officer told her in Italian, "Go ahead. Take it! She wants you to have it."
Thanks to Woody's encouragement, I began to change my perspective towards the gypsy mom. I began to pray for her. I knew that there was no chance we'd retrieve any of our lost possessions. The only way to redeem this lost time in Rome was to see the situation through God's eyes.
Shortly after eating her Kit Kat, she spoke to me through the translator. "If I had the money, I'd give it back. I really would." She even told me how many work in their band of thieves, though she still insisted she hadn't stolen from us herself.
When the Rome police finally showed up, they were not particularly friendly or helpful. The best thing they could do for us was to finally release us from that smoky, hot room which felt like our own prison cell by that point. They said they were escorting her out of the subway (where I'm pretty sure they just let her go!). Before leaving, though, I asked if I could share a few words with her through our translator. As a bevy of police stood around, I shared a few inadequate, but heartfelt words. "God loves you and wants to forgive you. I believe you that you'd give back the money if you could. You need to turn to God to find forgiveness and to have the power to choose a different lifestyle. This is no way for you to live or raise your child. God wants you to turn to Him."
I know that she is a woman hardened by life's circumstances, but I trust God spoke to her through my paltry words and Woody's prompting to be Christ to her in some small way. As for me, the loss of my sunglasses was worth the spiritual lessons I learned.
The next day I was reading from the book of Proverbs, and verse after verse struck me. Among them:
I doubt many people pray for that young gypsy woman. I'm sad that I did not ask her name. Her face, I will not forget. And, even as I write this blog, I am reminded to pray for her, that my inadequate words might be used in some small way to open her heart to the new life God would have for her.
As the six of us gathered our wits and assessed the losses, we actually saw that very mom further up the platform! We ran after her and stopped her, asking for our things back. Since she was working in a pack of thieves, I'm sure she had already passed off our cash or glasses to another. She protested her innocence, but made no effort to escape. Joe and I ended up wasting over an hour in a hot, smoky, crowded Metro police office while the rest of our group waited outside the door.
We caught an insider's glimpse of how the Rome Metro police work (0r don't work!). At times we had up to eight officials in the room with us, doing absolutely nothing. One of them spoke English and told us we could not leave until the city police showed. We were literally prisoners in that stuffy, dark room! Meanwhile the gypsy mom continued to insist upon her innocence, vociferously protesting her detention and complaining of the heat.
After an hour or so I was feeling light-headed and asked permission to have Woody buy me a candy bar. Woody knocked at the door and handed me two Kit Kats, telling me to give the second one to the gypsy. I looked at him incredulously. "Really? Give her one?" Woody gently encouraged me to do it.
At first she sullenly refused the Kit Kat. I kindly looked her in the eyes and insisted. The English-speaking officer told her in Italian, "Go ahead. Take it! She wants you to have it."
Thanks to Woody's encouragement, I began to change my perspective towards the gypsy mom. I began to pray for her. I knew that there was no chance we'd retrieve any of our lost possessions. The only way to redeem this lost time in Rome was to see the situation through God's eyes.
Shortly after eating her Kit Kat, she spoke to me through the translator. "If I had the money, I'd give it back. I really would." She even told me how many work in their band of thieves, though she still insisted she hadn't stolen from us herself.
When the Rome police finally showed up, they were not particularly friendly or helpful. The best thing they could do for us was to finally release us from that smoky, hot room which felt like our own prison cell by that point. They said they were escorting her out of the subway (where I'm pretty sure they just let her go!). Before leaving, though, I asked if I could share a few words with her through our translator. As a bevy of police stood around, I shared a few inadequate, but heartfelt words. "God loves you and wants to forgive you. I believe you that you'd give back the money if you could. You need to turn to God to find forgiveness and to have the power to choose a different lifestyle. This is no way for you to live or raise your child. God wants you to turn to Him."
I know that she is a woman hardened by life's circumstances, but I trust God spoke to her through my paltry words and Woody's prompting to be Christ to her in some small way. As for me, the loss of my sunglasses was worth the spiritual lessons I learned.
The next day I was reading from the book of Proverbs, and verse after verse struck me. Among them:
- If your enemies are hungry, give them food to eat. If they are thirsty, give them water to drink. Proverbs 25:21
- Men do not despise a thief if he steals to satisfy himself when he is hungry. Proverbs 6:30
I doubt many people pray for that young gypsy woman. I'm sad that I did not ask her name. Her face, I will not forget. And, even as I write this blog, I am reminded to pray for her, that my inadequate words might be used in some small way to open her heart to the new life God would have for her.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Door Two, Information, Door Two, Information, Door Two, Etc.
I spent half of my day yesterday getting a signed paper from the associate director of the Central American Churches. Today at 7:30AM I asked Woody to sit down with me to go over all the papers I'd pulled together for my immigration appointment. We compared my papers to the list of requisites I'd gotten from the official immigration phone hotline. We read that the letter I'd worked so hard to get needed to be notarized. I quickly called Olga, a lawyer friend, who said she'd be glad to notarize it. But she lives on the other side of the valley and she told me that her house is very hard to find. I quickly showered and headed out. Thankfully, traffic was light and I had no trouble following her directions... to the Hipermas store, turn on the highway, go 500 meters and turn right after the sports field. Go about a kilometer and turn at the little store called "La Favorita." Go another kilometer or so to the bus stop for an area called "Los Mojados." (Stop and ask someone where Los Mojados is.) From the bus stop go 50 meters south and 100 meters west. It's an apartment buidling that's three stories high.
I got there quickly and easily and proudly I thought to myself, "I deserve my residency here!" Olga not only notarized the Central American Church letter, but also the ITeams one and my slip from the clinic in town. I didn't have much time to make it to my appointment, but traffic again was light, so I had 15 minutes to spare!
I remembered Door Two from my last visa renewal, so I found an employee there who looked at my appointment slip and told me, "Oh, that appointment was canceled. We canceled a number of appointments and told some of the people that they were canceled. You need to go to the information desk to schedule one through the Banco de Costa Rica." Obviously, I was one of the people they decided not to inform about the cancelation.
I waited through the Information line. The lady there said, "Go to Door Two."
The man at door two said, "Why did she send you here again? Listen, mi reina (my queen), I'll walk you back over there."
We cut to the front of the Information line. There she gave me the phone number to call to reschedule an appointment. I asked her about a sign posted in the window that stated that all transactions require a delinquency report. "Yes, you must have that."
"Why didn't they tell me that when I called about the requisites? I went over them all with them on the toll phone line and they said nothing about a delinquency report."
"That requirement just went into effect last week. You need to go to the court to get it."
"What about the deposits I paid? Will they still be right for my rescheduled appointment?"
To make a long story short, I was told that the hotline deposit information was wrong. I cannot get a five year renewal and the deposits were for the wrong amount and cannot be applied to the new appointment. I asked about getting my money back, and she said I had to get it back from the treasury office around the corner, but first needed to go back to Door Two. She then painstakingly wrote out explanations on the back of each of my three deposit slips.
I went back to my friend at Door Two, who disappeared with my deposit slips. "Reina, you need to take these to the treasurer's office."
The woman working at the treasurer's office looked at me with great pity before she told me, "The system is down. You need to come back on Monday to get your money back." I'm sure she saw my crestfallen expression as I asked, "Isn't there anything I can do? I really don't want to come back on Monday!"
"You can go back to Door Two and ask them to apply it as a credit to an appointment at our offices rather than the bank."
So, I went back to my friend at door two. He said, "I'm so sorry, reina, I can only do that if you go back to information and get an appointment there."
I knew that the lady at the information desk, unlike Mr. Door Two, was not my friend. Each time I had returned she glared at me a little more. So, I asked my friend, "If you were me, what would you do?"
"I'd skip the information booth, forget about your deposit for now, go home, call the appointment number, do the paperwork at the Banco de Costa Rica, and come back here some other day to get your money back."
I thanked him, thanked God that I hadn't lost my patience, and headed home with a long list of things to do before I might possibly get my residency renewed.
There's got to be a good spiritual application to all this. If anyone thinks of one, let me know. Meanwhile, I'm going to call it a day!!
I got there quickly and easily and proudly I thought to myself, "I deserve my residency here!" Olga not only notarized the Central American Church letter, but also the ITeams one and my slip from the clinic in town. I didn't have much time to make it to my appointment, but traffic again was light, so I had 15 minutes to spare!
I remembered Door Two from my last visa renewal, so I found an employee there who looked at my appointment slip and told me, "Oh, that appointment was canceled. We canceled a number of appointments and told some of the people that they were canceled. You need to go to the information desk to schedule one through the Banco de Costa Rica." Obviously, I was one of the people they decided not to inform about the cancelation.
I waited through the Information line. The lady there said, "Go to Door Two."
The man at door two said, "Why did she send you here again? Listen, mi reina (my queen), I'll walk you back over there."
We cut to the front of the Information line. There she gave me the phone number to call to reschedule an appointment. I asked her about a sign posted in the window that stated that all transactions require a delinquency report. "Yes, you must have that."
"Why didn't they tell me that when I called about the requisites? I went over them all with them on the toll phone line and they said nothing about a delinquency report."
"That requirement just went into effect last week. You need to go to the court to get it."
"What about the deposits I paid? Will they still be right for my rescheduled appointment?"
To make a long story short, I was told that the hotline deposit information was wrong. I cannot get a five year renewal and the deposits were for the wrong amount and cannot be applied to the new appointment. I asked about getting my money back, and she said I had to get it back from the treasury office around the corner, but first needed to go back to Door Two. She then painstakingly wrote out explanations on the back of each of my three deposit slips.
I went back to my friend at Door Two, who disappeared with my deposit slips. "Reina, you need to take these to the treasurer's office."
The woman working at the treasurer's office looked at me with great pity before she told me, "The system is down. You need to come back on Monday to get your money back." I'm sure she saw my crestfallen expression as I asked, "Isn't there anything I can do? I really don't want to come back on Monday!"
"You can go back to Door Two and ask them to apply it as a credit to an appointment at our offices rather than the bank."
So, I went back to my friend at door two. He said, "I'm so sorry, reina, I can only do that if you go back to information and get an appointment there."
I knew that the lady at the information desk, unlike Mr. Door Two, was not my friend. Each time I had returned she glared at me a little more. So, I asked my friend, "If you were me, what would you do?"
"I'd skip the information booth, forget about your deposit for now, go home, call the appointment number, do the paperwork at the Banco de Costa Rica, and come back here some other day to get your money back."
I thanked him, thanked God that I hadn't lost my patience, and headed home with a long list of things to do before I might possibly get my residency renewed.
There's got to be a good spiritual application to all this. If anyone thinks of one, let me know. Meanwhile, I'm going to call it a day!!
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
A Soldier is Never Laid Aside!
No soldier on service is ever "laid aside," he is only given another commission, sometimes just to suffer (we are not told the use of that), sometimes, when pain and weakness lessen a little, to fight among the unseen forces of the field... the soldier must let his Captain say where and for what... A wise [captain] never wastes his [soldier's] time - there is great comfort in remembering that.
Taken from the book Rose from Brier by Amy Carmichael
Taken from the book Rose from Brier by Amy Carmichael
Monday, June 21, 2010
Pouring What?
Sometimes it's hard to describe exactly what our ministry entails. For those of you who've followed our "knee-mails" for years, you have a pretty good idea. For those who haven't quite figured us out yet, this knee-mail states clearly what we are all about.
The Lord Jesus Christ.
That's it!
We are so privileged to be reminded again and again of the centrality of the message of Jesus and the hope He offers to our world... the US, Latin America, and the rest of the globe. Recently Woody passed on to me an article by Leonard Sweet that put it well.
Christians have made the gospel about so many things—things other than Christ. But Jesus Christ is the gravitational pull that brings everything together and gives it meaning. Without Him, all things lose their value. They are but detached pieces floating around in space. That includes your life. It is all too possible to emphasize a spiritual truth, value, virtue, or gift, yet miss Christ, who is Himself the embodiment and incarnation of all of these things.
What is Christianity? It is Christ. Nothing more. Nothing less. Christianity is not an ideology or a philosophy. Neither is it a new type of morality, social ethic, or worldview. Christianity is the “good news” that beauty, truth, and goodness are found in a person. And true humanity and community are founded on and experienced by connection to that person.
This global, Google world needs a meta-narrative more than ever, and the Jesus Story is the interpreting system of all other systems.
In this hour, the testimony that we feel God has called us to bear revolves around the primacy of the Lord Jesus Christ. Specifically, we need to decide how we are going to answer one question: “Who do you say that I am?”
This week we've had the privilege of pouring into four men from Minnesota who came down to partner in our ministry. While they have dug out dirt and rock and poured concrete to extend our road at the Latin America Multiplication Center , we have poured in to them our vision for being true disciples of Jesus who are committed to making disciples. It's been a great week with them, and I think we all love the Lord Jesus even more than last week!
What is Christianity? It is Christ. Nothing more. Nothing less. Christianity is not an ideology or a philosophy. Neither is it a new type of morality, social ethic, or worldview. Christianity is the “good news” that beauty, truth, and goodness are found in a person. And true humanity and community are founded on and experienced by connection to that person.
This global, Google world needs a meta-narrative more than ever, and the Jesus Story is the interpreting system of all other systems.
In this hour, the testimony that we feel God has called us to bear revolves around the primacy of the Lord Jesus Christ. Specifically, we need to decide how we are going to answer one question: “Who do you say that I am?”
Monday, March 08, 2010
Lists!
I am stealing most of this blog entry from an article I was sent from the BBC, written by Jane O'Brien, called, "The Art of List-Making." She tells about a fascinating museum exhibit featuring lists made by famous people. I would love to see that! You see, I am quite a list-maker myself! Here's part of what she writes:
There are several stages to writing a list.
There are several stages to writing a list.
First there is the gentle thrill of anticipation as I contemplate the pristine paper in front of me. I may not yet have a subject for my list, but just the thought of one gives me a sense of purpose.
Second there is the light-headed buzz that gradually develops into bliss, euphoria and an all-consuming calm.
Third comes the extraordinary sense of satisfaction from having created a rigid timetable of impossible tasks that has taken a disproportionate amount of time and thought.
It doesn't matter that I will never look at it again.
Psychologists say that obsessive compulsive list makers (I guess that includes me) are trying to create an illusion of control in otherwise chaotic lives.
I see nothing wrong with that. In the words of the American abstract artist, Charles Green Shaw: "Real happiness consists in not what we actually accomplish, but what we think we accomplish."
If you want to see her full essay and also some of the photos of actual lists, including ones that are works of art, check this out: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/americas/8537856.stm
I have a list waiting for me today. And writing a blog entry wasn't on it.
Saturday, March 06, 2010
Learning to Drive in Costa Rica
Today's blog entry was crafted into my own words (with permission), but mostly written by one of our team mates, Jamie Wright.
If you’ve never driven in a developing country, simply imagine any action movie’s violent, high-speed car chase - one that includes speeding the wrong way down a one way street, splitting the difference between two cars and zipping between them, playing chicken with an oncoming bus, and every other moment where you thought to yourself, “That would never happen!” Now, take away all road signs and street names, add a bunch of motorcycles, dirt bikes, ox drawn carts, heavy machinery, and stray dogs. And that is what it’s like to drive here.
In the beginning, it was scary for me. Without street names or addresses, I was sure that I would get myself lost to such a degree that I would never return. (I've been lost many times, but I've always managed to get back home again!) Whacky directions are kind of a thing here. Take our home “address”, for example, which looks like this:
1 kilometer north of the San Isidro bridge over the Tibas River - the street that runs along the back side of San Isidro high school. When you see Cusuco's Bar on the left, turn around and go back about 50 meters. Turn in at the black gate on the east side of the street just north of the really huge house in Jardines de Cadaquez. Go 50 meters east and 50 meters south. The last house on the left.
Not. Even. Kidding. If you write that in Spanish on an envelope, the post office will actually deliver the letter to our door!
So, one of the obvious and inherent problems is that, duh, I’m from the U.S. I deal in miles, yards and feet, not kilometers, or meters, or any of the measurements that go with them. And even more duh, I had NO IDEA which way was north, or which way any other way is, for that matter. I know right and I know left. And sometimes I get those mixed up.
Once I managed to figure out how far 50 meters is and learn the critical land marks, there was still the challenge of the "being on the road" part of driving. Everybody drives crazy close to each other here! Most of the time, I can easily put my hand on the car next to me. Or the bus. Or the ox.
Now, it took me awhile, but I’ve actually gotten comfortable on the roads here. I don’t even really think about it anymore. The secret to driving in "crazy town" is knowing your limits.
As simple as that may sound, it's true; the key to driving very, very close to other cars, the trick to navigating through an itty-bitty opening in traffic, is to be keenly aware of the sides of your vehicle, and to have a clear understanding of your car’s capacity. You need to know exactly how far you extend in every direction, how fast you can pick up speed, what you can carry, and how your load impacts your car's performance, and then - this is the important part - you need to move only within those specifications.
If you aren’t clear on these things, you will - for sure - end up getting t-boned by a bus. And then they’ll show every detail on the evening news without even blurring anything out and your gory accident will cause four hours of grid-lock and non-stop honking which will give the gringa missionary, now stuck in her car somewhere behind your wreck, a headache and might make her pound on her steering wheel while shouting something like, “Let’s go, people! There are accidents on the road here ALL THE TIME - this is NOTHING new!! Come on now, GET MOVING!!” (Which, yes, is reeeally culturally insensitive.)
So, basically, I'm giving you super good advice. Especially if you don't want to cause a missionary, who is working hard to bear the spiritual fruit of patience, to stumble.
As you too well know, we often are struggling with figuring out our limits here. Many of you have offered loving advice on defining those limits. But, when you are out here, on the road, it's not that easy to say what is simply an issue of taking needed time off and what are things that God has asked for our obedience in going the extra mile. Take this week, for instance. It was a full week and I could have just said no to having an extra house guest for two nights. But, when you read River's guest book entry that says, "You're the first missionary I've ever met and definitely a positive Christan example... thanks for answering all my questions about your faith... and changing some of my paradigms," doesn't it seem that maybe God did want me to go that extra mile so River could catch a glimpse of His Son?
Learning our limits is a lot like learning to drive here. I think I've got the driving thing pretty much figured out, so I’m hopeful that we're on the right path in other choices about limits. I guess time will tell.
Now,...if I could only figure out which way is north...
(Thanks, Jamie!)
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Health Update
For those of you who want to know, here is the latest on my health status. In November and December I had an acute flare-up of esophagitis. Finally that is back under control - probably due to eliminating a couple of other food irritants.
Meanwhile, though, I continued to have symptoms from interstitial cystitis - diagnosed in November. The urologist said that food allergies often cause this condition. Allergy testing showed that I needed to eliminate a number of key foods for at least four months: eggs, all dairy products, yeast and peanuts. Now I am 2 1/2 months into the diet, but have not seen any improvements. The allergist has prescribed two additional medicines for me and will see me again this coming Thursday.
Between the esophagitis and allergy diet, I have lost about 15 pounds since October. I really hope that the allergist will simply say to quit the diet restrictions. Worst case scenario, I trust I will only have to stick to the diet a month and a half more. I have the feeling the pounds will come back (probably more than I'd wish) once I dig my spoon into ice cream again... fresh bread, milk, caramel corn, butter, cheese, cookies... the wish list would go on, but I'd better stop before I drool on my laptop!
If the allergy approach does not help control the cystitis, I don't know what the next step will be. I will be honest with you: I am not too keen about the urologist I am seeing, and my horrible experience with the cystoscopy has made me gun shy. So, pray for wisdom and/or healing!
Meanwhile, though, I continued to have symptoms from interstitial cystitis - diagnosed in November. The urologist said that food allergies often cause this condition. Allergy testing showed that I needed to eliminate a number of key foods for at least four months: eggs, all dairy products, yeast and peanuts. Now I am 2 1/2 months into the diet, but have not seen any improvements. The allergist has prescribed two additional medicines for me and will see me again this coming Thursday.
Between the esophagitis and allergy diet, I have lost about 15 pounds since October. I really hope that the allergist will simply say to quit the diet restrictions. Worst case scenario, I trust I will only have to stick to the diet a month and a half more. I have the feeling the pounds will come back (probably more than I'd wish) once I dig my spoon into ice cream again... fresh bread, milk, caramel corn, butter, cheese, cookies... the wish list would go on, but I'd better stop before I drool on my laptop!
If the allergy approach does not help control the cystitis, I don't know what the next step will be. I will be honest with you: I am not too keen about the urologist I am seeing, and my horrible experience with the cystoscopy has made me gun shy. So, pray for wisdom and/or healing!
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Mexico Team Visit - February 2010
MEXICO! I thank God that I was able to minister with Woody as we visited our teams in Toluca, Tenancingo and Queretaro, Mexico. We traveled to Mexico City and enjoyed a day just to ourselves, staying in the center of the city the first night. Despite the rain and cold, we really enjoyed walking through the huge Chapultepec Forest located right in the center of the city - about a mile from our hotel.
The next morning we took a bus south to the city of Toluca where we met with Miguel and Vicky. The Cadenas are serving as coaches for national church leaders. From there, we caught a ride with Matthew Reed to the city of Tenancingo where we stayed with our team leaders, Chris and Kathy Gouzoules. Over the next two days we spent time with the Reeds, the Petersons, and the Gouzoules family. We were also privileged to speak at the "graduation ceremony" for about twenty couples who had participated in a marriage enrichment course.
As an aside, it was FREEZING COLD and VERY RAINY our first four days in Mexico. There was widespread flooding and we were both chilled to the bone most of the time due to an unusual cold front. There is no heating in the homes, and each night it got down to almost freezing. Daytime highs were in the 50's. We were thankful for three thick, heavy blankets on our bed!
After a good visit in Tenancingo, we headed north by bus again, passing through flooding in the capital city. 29 deaths were reported associated with the weather there.
In the city of Queretaro we stayed with Martin and Mayte Macedo, the team leaders. It was a privilege to spend time with their family in their home for three days while we met individually with Justin and Lluvia Hoste, Jean Paul and Jessica Uribe, and Phil Jones and his fiance/wife Sandy. Woody was privileged to perform the wedding ceremony for Phil and Sandy. I helped with program details and translation for Phil's family who came from Australia for the wedding. Mexico is rich with tradition, and it was fun to be in the midst of that cultural event. (It was especially fun to see how in love Phil and Sandy were and to see them enjoying the celebration!)
The next morning we took a bus south to the city of Toluca where we met with Miguel and Vicky. The Cadenas are serving as coaches for national church leaders. From there, we caught a ride with Matthew Reed to the city of Tenancingo where we stayed with our team leaders, Chris and Kathy Gouzoules. Over the next two days we spent time with the Reeds, the Petersons, and the Gouzoules family. We were also privileged to speak at the "graduation ceremony" for about twenty couples who had participated in a marriage enrichment course.
As an aside, it was FREEZING COLD and VERY RAINY our first four days in Mexico. There was widespread flooding and we were both chilled to the bone most of the time due to an unusual cold front. There is no heating in the homes, and each night it got down to almost freezing. Daytime highs were in the 50's. We were thankful for three thick, heavy blankets on our bed!
After a good visit in Tenancingo, we headed north by bus again, passing through flooding in the capital city. 29 deaths were reported associated with the weather there.
In the city of Queretaro we stayed with Martin and Mayte Macedo, the team leaders. It was a privilege to spend time with their family in their home for three days while we met individually with Justin and Lluvia Hoste, Jean Paul and Jessica Uribe, and Phil Jones and his fiance/wife Sandy. Woody was privileged to perform the wedding ceremony for Phil and Sandy. I helped with program details and translation for Phil's family who came from Australia for the wedding. Mexico is rich with tradition, and it was fun to be in the midst of that cultural event. (It was especially fun to see how in love Phil and Sandy were and to see them enjoying the celebration!)
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