seasons

Since February of 2009, when I moved to Bogota, I have missed the Seasons more than many other things in North Carolina. The changing weather -- from a wet, bone-deep chill to start off the year, in NC the daffodils, forsythia, quince, and the dogwoods' white blossoms appear to lighten the naked forest. After that, the trees bud into leaves, and those leaves deepen their green as the springy dampness evaporates and hangs, dense, in the air. After breathing 98% humidity during those summer months, the leaves begin to fade from vibrant green to gold, bronze, leather, pumpkin, and crimson hues. The air changes, abandons that heavy feel for crisp freshness and the excitement of autumnal expectation. The forest loses half her cloak as the deciduous sisters fall asleep. There may be snow - or just freezing rain - coating branches and stopping vehicles. We spend time inside, ideally by a fireplace; our diet changes too, from fresh produce to stews and hot drinks.

Yet, as other Carolinians breathe in the changes every few months, I live in a static, 12-month season. The Rolos (Bogota natives) say that here you can get all four seasons in one day. While it's true that the weather changes suddenly from hot and sunny to chilly and rainy, or anything in between, the air quality and the flora stay consistent. I miss my seasons.

As we close out 2011, I am naturally thinking of what 2012 will bring: what to expect, what to plan, what to attempt.
I expect and plan to continue in Kiwi House, with Formando Vidas. I find myself wondering if I should (watch out for that sense of obligation!) change anything, implement something new, set new goals with the kids or carry out new projects. Surely something should be different? Am I okay if not? Does God approve of what I'm doing, or doesn't he want something different?

Why am I feeling this pressure to change something?
The answer, I believe, lies in SEASONS.

I realized, today, that I may be entering into a new season of life, and that's why I feel a little unsettled.
From 1990 to 2003 (13 years!), I lived in the seasons of school - every year there was a new grade level, new classes, and new friends.
From then until 2007 (4 years), I changed even more frequently -- every six months there were new college classes, and every year I moved in and out of a dorm or an apartment.
For almost 2 years after that, I continued moving residences, as I worked two jobs. My main job was at a community college, which meant that three times a year I changed classes and students, experiencing the varying challenges of teaching and also of waiting tables!
Then, I came to Colombia for 1 year. (Intentionally understated, because that involved too many changes for a blog post dedicated to another topic!)
After my first year here, I went to do a DTS with YWAM -- a 6 month commitment that involved more moves and new people and challenges.
Now, I've been back for almost 1 1/2 years here, and I think I am so accustomed to yearly (or more frequent) changes that it has almost become a neccesity!

A friend of mine wrote me the other day, in a way that really encouraged me, as I was experiencing this doubt or unsettled feeling of needing to change something, yet not seeing what it could be.

...God has put that passion in your heart for [the kids]; He has filled you with an extraordinary love. Don't get discouraged if others don't have the same passion that you do... sometimes the dreams that God gives us are so strong that we can only understand them in our souls.
God has seen your perseverance; don't grow faint. You have planted, invested in the Kingdom of Heaven and I know that that seed will produce eternal fruit. You have been God's hands in the lives of each one of them: hands that give love, hands that accompany, hands that build lives and don't tear them down. Emily, I keep praying for your life, that nobody and nothing will take you out of God's purposes for you...

What words of encouragement and blessing! She didn't know that I was questioning the coming year, and what it SHOULD look like, yet she told me to "keep on keeping on."

I will press on, although I do not know what the future will be like, nor what it "should" be like. God has not directed me anywhere other than Kiwi House, Formando Vidas, Colombia. This new "season" calls for Perseverance Beyond the Short-Term.

Kittens!

TabbyCat gave birth to these little creatures on November 20th.

They're pretty cute, even if they do resemble small rats. We think there are two girls and two boys, based on comparing the calico's "intimate parts" with the others (since calico cats are always female). I have two (maybe three) homes for kittens so far.

She's a good mommy cat, but is getting restless of being enclosed so much. We mostly have her shut into the laundry room because every time she comes out into the main part of the house, one of the first things she does is jump up on the table and countertops and eat whatever food she finds there. (She's eating a ton anyways... I suppose that producing milk for four growing "rats" will give you quite an appetite!)
She's also pooping way more than normal, and has some serious diarrea, and apparent sphincter-control problems (translation: drops of poo all over the laundry room floor and wall, not just in her box). Does anyone know if this is normal for post-partum mammals? (Feel free to share your own experience, ha ha.)
I don't want her to be outside much, because she can actually go into heat and get preggo again before the kittens are weaned and adopted out! After they're gone, I think she will become an almost-exclusively outdoor kitty, just coming in at night to get some attention and warmth (who am I kidding... my house has no heating).

Tabby has started bringing the babies out for some quality time. It's weird. She brings them out one by one to sit in her favorite chair while they do what they do best: drink milk and sleep. This picture is from the first time she did it, and surprised me and Bibi when she showed up with the runt in her mouth.

Trust me! (but not too much)

I believe that we each have our personal "recurring themes" in life, and with God. I don't know what yours are. One of mine is "trust others - but not too much."

No one is an island, a fact that I readily accept -- I'm a rather social creature -- and yet I struggle in certain aspects of really trusting others. (don't we all?) This includes God. Even though, looking over the course of my 26 years, I can see that my Creator has been faithful, more often than not I have to consciously remind myself to TRUST HIM!
So, as He invites me again, and again, and again, and again ("to infinity and beyond!" grin the little boy's Buzz Lightyear slippers cast aside on the floor) to put my hope in him alone, to not rely on human beings nor place my confidence in their plans, I get to choose in whom I will place my trust: myself, others, or God?
The problem has been that I am too trusting, actually. And not in simple matters of believing what someone says, or being a casual friend – my grave tendency has been to put my trust in a human being in the deepest sense of the word, in the sense that the psalms use with the words "hope, trust, confide, wait." I have all too often given others a place that only God can (and should) hold. The result is disastrous, and yet my temptation is always to do it again!

I have struggled against this for so long, in fact, that now I am actually starting to learn to stop it earlier and not let it run its full course! While this is great news, it means that now deeper friendships get more complicated from the beginning! How do I keep myself in check, and keep friendships in balance? I know that God always wants first place, and deserves it; it is His. But how do I know when He is actually inviting me to open up to someone new? And how do I keep the balance of: God in that deep place of "trust, hope, wait," and friends on a different level? Especially when it is a friendship that I feel that God is bringing along...
And, on the flip side: as difficult as it is to 'hang the weight of my soul' on the One who has never let me down, how am I supposed to really trust another human being, when every one of them has the potential to hurt me?! [Just as I am extremely adept at injuring others, whether unintentionally or not! Yet, I love me!, and expect the understanding and forgiveness that I "deserve"!]

So, here are some verses that He's brought to mind as I'm processing this stuff:

1 John 4:18 "There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love."

Psalm 62:2 "Truly he is my rock and my salvation; he is my fortress, I will never be shaken." (See also: Psalms 130 and 131)

Isaiah 33:6 "He will be the sure foundation for your times, a rich store of salvation and wisdom and knowledge; the fear of the LORD is the key to this treasure."

Based on these scriptures, and my experiences with God, I feel that these are His invitations to me in this area:
1. Believe, and receive, His love.
2. Choose, daily, to cling to the Unshakeable Rock, and to none other, as my source and the one who is always trustworthy.
3. Walk in the fear of the Lord -- respecting and honoring Him above all other desires or ideas -- and let Him perfect me in love as He teaches me to trust others.

Holiday moods

Yesterday I decided to break my own rules and start listening to Christmas music before Thanksgiving. Some would argue that I actually listen to Christmas music year-round, but I generally try to restrain myself (the Charlie Brown Christmas soundtrack is technically jazz, and is great background music).
It happened like this: We arrived back to the house after the parent visit, at which we made plans for next month's year-end visit, Christmas party, and lunch. We were all in good spirits, and I said to Bibi that I wanted Christmas music, even though Thanksgiving isn't for another eleven days. So, she put it on and of course the topic of the holidays came up -- the decorations, the food, the outings to see the lights, opening presents. The older girls were in the room and we were all talking about Christmas, when I started feeling attacked or ridiculed for some things we did or didn't do last year. Like having a live tree that we cut down on the farm, which (for me) was very special but for the girls wasn't as pretty because it wasn't a perfect cone-shape (and, since we don't have a proper tree stand, it dried out, even though we tried to keep it watered). And the fact that we all decided (the girls included) to open presents on the morning of the 25th, for the sake of the little kids, when in Colombia the tradition is to open them at midnight on the 24th.
I didn't want to make a big fuss, but I knew that I needed to let them know how I was feeling, because I really can't spend the next month and a half with those looks and critical attitudes. Well, I ended up crying a little bit, which pretty much killed the jolly mood we had before (or maybe they killed the jollyness when they started being bratty).

Here's the thing: we are all away from our families for the holidays. And Christmas, most would agree, is first and foremost about spending time with family and loved ones. Bibi and I have decided to be here, have chosen to sacrifice our family holiday season for the sake of these kids, that they won't be alone. But they don't have a choice in the matter, which is quite sad. Apart from that, each family (not to mention national culture) has different holiday traditions that are important to them. In this "family," we represent three countries and five families. How do we combine those things to have an enjoyable and memorable Christmas season? Plus, these kids honestly don't have a "family culture of holiday traditions," because of their backgrounds (mostly: lack of resources), yet they complain that we don't have "good Christmas" here. And, I realized yesterday, in most families, the parents don't ASK the kids how they want to "do Christmas" -- the parents form the family culture and the kids grow up in that and adopt those traditions, until they move out on their own and adapt them. Yet another facet of being, but not being, a family

Yesterday I suggested that we each choose ONE THING (be it a meal, or some part of the decoration, or a certain activity) that we really want for Christmas to be special for us; that it be something that won't negatively affect the others; it isn't supposed to be a gift that we want for Christmas.
So now I have one week to decide what is going to be the most important thing for me, that I can reasonably hope and ask that we have or do.

a live tree? -- I don't want to deal with the complaining. Plus, part of what's special about the live tree for me is picking it out and decorating it together, and I think they will have bad attitudes. Maybe I'll just have a little one in my room, and we can decorate the artifical one for the house.

brunch on the 25th? -- but this, for me, works better after opening gifts that morning. If we've stayed up really late on the 24th, who is going to want to be up and enjoying brunch?

having a turkey or ham for Christmas dinner? -- this just means spending money. I don't think there will be too many complaints, although one doesn't like pork, so ham would be a "problem" for her.

the advent wreath? -- I like this tradition, but really it just makes more work for me, when I don't have the support of others in the house to make it a family tradition.

handing the gifts out one by one instead of all at once? -- this one really is important to me, but I don't know that it has to be the "one thing" I insist upon.


Anyways, I have until next Sunday to decide. We don't like how the holiday season is starting off with household conflict (again). The point is to ENJOY being together, even though we will probably all be sad at some point or another that we are away from our families. The point is to remember that God gave up everything he deserved to be with us, because he loves us.

concerning social justice

Concentrated smog pelts my white hoodie and forms into gray puddles on the cracked sidewalk scattered with garbage. A dim streetlight reflects off of a hunched figure on the stoop just around the corner from my friends' front door. He is drinking or huffing something out of a large jug. I recognize his face, but don't know his name. We are on the way to the corner bakery to get bread and milk for a simple soup dinner. It's cold and wet, and he will have no where to escape.

On the way back a few minutes later, I pass him some bread and coffee; he asks me for a blanket (which I don't have to give), then a "limosnita" -- spare change to make us all feel better about the unchanging nature of his life situation. ("...a shortsighted and perverse notion of charity leads Christians simply to perform token acts of mercy... This kind of charity has no real effect in helping the poor: all it does is tacitly condone social injustice and to help to keep conditions as they are -- to help to keep people poor." -Merton)
I don't give him anything, with my thoughts vacillating between, "I just GAVE him food!" and "He'll just spend it on drugs."

If I were out in that cold, raining night, I would probably want something to numb my reality, too.
Yes, his addiction either drove him to the streets, or the streets drove him to become substance-dependent, I assume. But what can I do about it? Giving him money won't help. Giving him bread and coffee doesn't reach to the core of the problem and wholistically bring about change and restoration to this man: created with the mark of the Divine, but beaten so far down that the Image is all but destroyed.

He has shown you, oh man, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To do justice, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God. (Micah 6:8)

But what does it mean to "do justice" for the untouchables of a westernized society? What is our part? What can I do to work justice?
And even my mercy in this case was watered-down, perhaps. Yes, I gave a bit of my money to put something in his belly -- I didn't just cross over and look away when I saw him, like the priest and levite in the Good Samaritan parable -- but I didn't take him in, offer him his human dignity again, care for his body and soul. Okay, there are all kinds of reasons to NOT do this -- it's not my house, he would take advantage, he needs rehab, I'm a single woman, etc. But what is he calling us to DO about it?
And walking with God in humility? Well, we're working on it.

Thomas Merton broaches the subject in his book Life and Holiness, which I am (slowly) reading. "There is no charity without justice. ... The sacrifice must be real, not just a gesture of lordly paternalism which inflates his own ego while patronizing 'the poor.' The sharing of material goods must also be a sharing of the heart, a recognition of common misery and poverty and of brotherhood in Christ." And he later declares that, "The task of each Christian today is to help defend and restore the basic human values without which grace and spirituality will have little practical meaning in the life of man."

He cites Jesus' parable of the judgment - those who fed the hungry, visited the sick, etc. did it for Jesus and are given eternal life.
God's divine revelation in the Mosaic law represents how we are to relate to God and to each other. He teaches us many times to care for the widows, orphans, and foreigners, and gives specifics of how to do good to our "brothers."
Who is my brother?
This question that I ask sounds eerily like the, "Who is my neighbor?" which prompted the Good Samaritain parable. My neighbor, my brother, my sister, is everyone; and especially those who most need my help.

I still don't know what to do for the street people. How to do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with my God.

unconventional motherhood

A friend just sent me this link: http://www.kissesfromkatie.blogspot.com/ to a blog about a book by a missionary in Uganda, and this is from the most recent blog entry:

"I want her to be a baby so I can strap her on me and hold her there and she will feel secure and safe and protected. I want to be the person who taught her to write her name and how much fun it is to make mud pies, and I want to be the person who laughed with her when she lost her first tooth. I want to know where the scars came from that she can’t remember the stories about, and I want to be the person who wiped her tears when she fell.

But I know that is not how God intended it.

He did not choose me for those moments, He chose me for these. I entered motherhood through a different door, and I get a different kind of stretch marks."


This resonates with me. I would add, "I want to be the one to contiue to live each step of the journey, each stage of this wonderful, awfully painful, beautiful, forever-surprising journey called life with him/her. I want to be able to say 'you are my son/daughter' without the doubt that one day this will end; that legal situations or living arrangements may change, although my heart won't."
I entered motherhood through a different door, alright. And my stretch marks may seem out of place, but they are beautiful scars that I will cherish as they increase in number and size throughout our lives.

unQUALIFIED

“For the foolishness of God is wiser than human wisdom, and the weakness of God is stronger than human strength.” (1 Corinthians 1:25)

When asked what profession I have, I never quite know what to say. I studied English and Spanish, but I’m not a certified teacher. I taught ESL for a while after graduating, and now these degrees are useful on a daily basis, but they are not the foundation of what I do. I’m basically a mom, but sometimes people want to know what qualifications I have for the missions work and children’s work that I do.
None.
According to university standards, government job pre-requisites, legal or technical know-how… I really am unqualified to do this -- And boy do I feel it!!! There are so many situations that I don’t know how to manage!
I feel particularly unqualified when dealing with the kids’ sexuality, and hoping to encourage healthy development in that area. With their backgrounds, which –generally speaking— do not provide good examples and precedents of loving relationships, commitment, and healthy sexuality, I find myself asking God, “WHY ME?!” Why on earth would he have me dealing with these issues and supposedly teaching his children to grow up into healthy women and men who know how to take care of and respect themselves and others, and who can walk in the tension of every human being – physical AND spiritual, neither animal nor angel (as Rob Bell puts it so well in his book Sex God).
Yet, when I recently felt so unprepared and helpless and useless and undesiring-of-this-responsibility, the Holy Spirit brought this scripture to my mind:

“At that time Jesus said, ‘I praise you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and learned, and revealed them to little children. Yes, Father, for this was your good pleasure.” (Matthew 11:25-26)

What a thought! What a truth! God delights in using the unwise, unqualified, and uncapable to fulfill his perfect will!
A day or two after that, I received a letter confirming it – Isaiah 55 invites the thirsty to come and buy without money. What we most need, we can’t provide ourselves, but he makes the way. Because his thoughts are not my thoughts and his ways are not my ways. So, even though I would be a lot more comfortable with someone more qualified, trained, or wise to take care of the really complicated issues, that’s not how it is right now. I know that I “can’t” and he seems to think that that’s perfect: that way, anything good, any transformation, will obviously be OF GOD, and not have anything to do with my abilities! Dependency, not self-sufficiency!

oops!

I had a minor car accident on Saturday! I think it was my first accident ever, and thankfully no one was hurt.
We were all in the car (3 staff and 6 kids) going to a park for the afternoon. As we approached the full parking lot, the traffic lane we were in turned into a line, waiting for a parking space to become available. We slowed to a halt, also waiting in line for a few minutes, until I realized that it could be hours before the owners of those cars decided to leave!
So that's when I decided to continue on down the road and find somewhere else to park. The only problem: the cars coming in the other lane weren't about to stop to let me back into the flow of traffic. But that's normal for Bogota traffic; you often have to just go, and the cars are forced to slow down for you. The hand-out-the-window also works well to alert others that you need them to give you room to merge (except for the "intentionally oblivious" -- a.k.a. rude -- drivers), but on Saturday, nothing was helping. The motos, buses, cars, taxis, and vans just kept on coming as fast as ever! I inched forward and a little to the left with my arm hanging out the window, hoping to see my chance and take it. When I finally tried to pull out, I was closer to the car in front of us than I realized, and scraped his bumper a bit!
I reversed, got out of the car, and went to apologize and see what we should do. The driver and his girlfriend were pretty nice, we exchanged contact information and just today I met up with him to take care of the damage. Thankfully, there was no dent, just paint damage, so the mechanic (who helps with all of our ministry car needs) only charged me 100,000 pesos (about USD $55). Painting a bumper in the States would be way more expensive than that, right???
So, I'm grateful for the little discount that he gave me, for how minor the damages were, that no one was hurt, and that my car is a beast -- a little red-paint smudge on her side just gives her more character!

craft ideas

In other news, I'm in a Christmas mood, barely resisting the urge to bold-faced listen to holiday music (charlie brown Christmas doesn't count... it's jazz!)
That being said, we're definitely making this craft to decorate the house/tree, or for the kids to give as gifts (it's also the solution to all the incomplete puzzles we have!):

The problem is that close to the holidays we all get crazy busy and my best intentions don't usually work out. We should get on this now... maybe it can be a Thanksgiving Day project, after the meal.

I really want to make fresh evergreen garlands or a wreath. Any tips on that one? Won't the branches/leaves/berries get all dried out?

solitude vs. companionship

Some of you may know that over the last year, God has been teaching me to live in the present, to enjoy life, to take today for what it is and all that it has to offer.

That being said, my good friend, Ingrid (from Canada) gets to Colombia tomorrow evening. She's just completed her DTS with YWAM, and is coming (back) to Colombia to work with us again. She'll be staying at my house, at least for a couple of weeks. I am very very very happy to see her again, and to have an adult in the house! But then I wonder if I've taken advantage of these 3 weeks of solitude as I should have... if I have learned what God had planned... but in order to live in the present, I'll have to stop second-guessing and just enjoy each stage whole-heartedly!

.

It's the little things that are overwhelming me, that seem like enormous failures, that I feel unable to do anything about:

A trash bag torn open by dogs and strewed all over the driveway.

A phone call from a little girl's preschool to tell me that she still has lice (even after we keep treating her), and that it's unacceptable and we really have to do something about it.

Lights left on by the kids on my day off.

Finding that jobs are only partially done when I'm told they've been completed.

gleanings walking home from preschool

Today feels a bit like autumn.

Footracing Horses, pt. 2

Bibiana is on vacation for six weeks. Five weeks to go...
I'm glad for her, but I never wanted her to leave. I found myself sad, nervous, scared, unsure, at the prospect of taking care of these children and this house on my own.

A friend suggested I re-read the book of Numbers, the account of Israel's wandering in the wilderness. He told me that the desert doesn't only represent difficulty, but that it is the place where they experienced God's presence and holiness and provision. That my own desert wandering, during these six weeks, could be the same.

If you've kept up with my blog, maybe you remember the post a couple months ago, in which I wrote about Jeremiah 12:5. "So, Jeremiah, if you're worn out in this footrace with men, what makes you think you can race against horses? And if you can't keep your wits during times of calm, what's going to happen when troubles break loose like the Jordan in flood?" (The Message)

Bibiana left on a Wednesday morning, right before the kids walked out the door for school, while they were still eating breakfast. After they were all gone and I was alone with a cup of coffee, the morning view of the valley, and God, I asked him if he was going to teach me to run with the horses now. A fellow missionary told me that I need a picture of some horses galloping to remind me of this.
--"What, with me running like crazy after them, trying to catch them? Oh, and I should put the kids' faces over the horses'!"
--"Just so long as you're not running ahead of them, about to get trampled down!"
--"I think it's more likely that I would be hiding behind a bush in the fetal position, letting them run on by."
Because that's my standard reaction: shut down, block it out.

My friend sent me another passage, Isaiah 54:2-3
“Enlarge the place of your tent, stretch your tent curtains wide, do not hold back; lengthen your cords, strengthen your stakes. For you will spread out to the right and to the left; your descendants will dispossess nations and settle in their desolate cities."
Here, according to the person who sent me the verse, I was supposed to feel that I'm not alone. Instead, I felt the Holy Spirit nudging me to not shut down, withdraw, block out. In fact, to do the opposite: to open up, to live fully, not on half-power.
But how? How does one keep up with horses? How do I strengthen my stakes and lengthen my cords when I feel like my resources are running low?

How have others done the impossible in the past?
In the book of Numbers, Moses has the ridiculously, impossibly difficult task of leading the unruly and incredulous People of God. Time and time again, when the people rebel, when they complain, when there seems to be no way out, this is the response: "Moses and Aaron fell facedown and cried out, “O God!" What strikes me about this is that these were the big guys, yet they didn't dare try to resolve the issues on their own. They realized their complete dependence on God and their utter incapability apart from him.

When I am pushed to the breaking point, this is not my natural reaction. I daresay it was not Moses and Aaron's natural reaction either, but they learned through trial and error that it was the only way. At Sinai, Aaron gave in to the people and made a golden calf for them to worship. Moses broke the stone tablets that God himself had written. They screwed up. But they moved on, and they became more dependent on God.

From that same post near the beginning of July:
"I believe that everything that comes my way passes through God's hand, is permitted by him (even though this is hard to accept when I think of the horrible things that happen in this world). Also, I believe that God uses it all for my best interest -- to conform me more to Jesus' image. Thirdly, that God permits more than I can handle, so that I must become more dependent on Him."

Dependency... when Bibi is here she covers my weaknesses at times. it's uncomfortable to have to go it alone, exposing myself and feeling like I have no one to keep me in check or support me. But maybe her absence is an invitation to let God work on those weaknesses and faults. A wilderness where I confront my errors, which I am incapable of redeeming, and let the Holy, Present One make me into something new.



"The power of the LORD came on Elijah and, tucking his cloak into his belt, he ran ahead of Ahab [and his horse-drawn chariot] all the way to Jezreel." (1 Kings 18:44-46)

pets

Introducing the newest animal member of the Kiwi Household: Tabbycat!

We picked her up Sunday after church. So far she is adapting very well, is very curious and friendly and not too mischeivous.
Yesterday I decided to take her to get her vaccines, so I found a large shoe box, lined it with newspaper, put her in and used masking tape to secure the lid.
Negra, our dog, also needed some medical attention, due to the mysterious swelling of her face on Saturday and then the breakout or scratched-off skin on her snout Sunday and Monday. I attempted to cross-tie her in the back of the Nissan Patrol, put Tabbycat's box on the front floorboard, and we were off down the bumpy dirt road. (Oh, this was after I had to break into my own house, climbing through the small bathroom window, since I left my keys inside.)

Negra's leash clasp is damaged, so she soon freed herself and proceeded to stick her disgusting snout uncomfortably close to me while I was driving. The cat in the box behaved well. We arrived to Veterniaria El Oso and Negra pulled me through the door. It turned out to be some sort of allergic reaction, either to bee sting or some stinging plant that grows around here. The vet treated her and sold me some medicine and cream for her nose, as well as a new collar and leash.
One pet down, the other to go. I finally got Negra back in the car, lifting all 26.6 kilos of her (over 50 lbs) into the back of the car. Then I went to the front to carry in Tabbycat, who by this point was going crazy in the confined space of the shoebox. After they gave her her shots I put her back in the box, which she did not like one bit. She started clawing and biting at the cardboard and trying to stick her head out of the side. By this point the masking tape was getting a little worn and had lost much of its adhesive power, but I didn't bother to put on anymore.
Bad idea.
As I turned on the car and started down the road, TabbyCat emerged from the box. I tried to shoo her away, even stopped the car to put her back inside, but nothing worked! So I suddenly had a loose dog and a loose cat in the car, while driving along a curvy mountain road!
These animals did not know each other yet, and I wasn't sure how they would react. For a while I held the cat still against my abdomen with one arm, driving with the other hand. When she squirmed free she began to look for a way to get into the back of the car, where Negra was loose, looking out the window!
Thankfully it's a short drive, only about five minutes, because that was some intense, and strange stress! The good thing was that it was a stress utterly different to that which I'm used to, so it wasn't horrible!

more delightful surprises

Today I had an appointment with the otorrinolaringologo. That is how you say ENT (ear, nose, and throat doctor) in spanish. Wow, enough learning for one day!
Anyways, that went well... hopefully I won't have to have sinus surgery anytime soon, but there's always that possiblity. But that wasn't the delightful surprise. Nor was it delightful (although it was a surprise) that the computer system fell right as I was finishing up and therefore they weren't able to print off my prescription and order to get another x-ray.
After waiting in lines of people with the same problem, and watching the poor receptionist get more and more distressed, I decided to go out for a while and hope that the system came back up while I was gone. So I started walking along Avenida 19, which is lined with brick sidewalks and evenly-spaced maple trees, expensive car dealerships, kitchenware stores, and spas. I was thinking about getting my nails done, but didn't want to pay the prices of the high-end salons around there, so kept walking until I saw a promising side street.

Halfway up that block, the ornate facade of Jacques' tea room juts out. It is... luxurious... and cute... and inviting. Above and a bit behind the facade, enormous brass letters read "JESUS." Jazz music drifts out from the glassed-in front sitting area. I walk in and immediately like the place. Small tables, walls lined with Mucha prints so close together that their frames are nearly touching... a little further in there is beautiful bread, scrumptious pastries, heavenly merengues, and red velvet carpet going up some stairs to another sitting area.
I stop, in awe of the delectable sight.
Then continue upstairs and choose a seat at the counter, where I can take it all in. A kind-faced, gray-haired man is at the other end of the dark wooden counter. He asks if I wouldn't like to sit at a table. No, I prefer to look down at the rest of the tea room. He has an accent. I ask where he is from. France. He is Jacques, the owner of the establishment. I am from the U.S. His colombian wife studied in Charleston, South Carolina. I'm from North Carolina! I meet his wife. They find out I'm a missionary. They are Christians, their children go to the same (american) school as some kids I know, they go to the same church as some friends of mine. Jacques invites me to follow him outside to meet a friend of his from their church and to see the name "JESUS" hanging above his bakery.
Once back inside, upstairs, I eat a delicious -- DELICIOUS -- cinnamon roll and drink a fruity tea, read some, and go downstairs to pay. Jacques tells me that God paid for me today, and they give me a little card with a Bible verse on it.

After this delightful surprise, I felt very blessed and walked back to the clinic smiling. There I turned in my forms to the now-calm receptionist, waited half an hour (reading), then was called up to the desk to learn that the system fell again! Oh well, some things shouldn't be surprising...

A hummingbird landed on my windowsill to rest. It was beautiful and surprising to see something that small and fleeting stop and look in at me.
His green wings were soon lifted and he was gone. Jesus knows how to make me smile, and likes sharing those moments with me.

friends?

So, after my post about my social anxiety, I forced myself to go on a young adults retreat with church this past weekend. It was great! I had a lot of fun and met a lot of neat people. Hopefully I will make a couple of friends through this...

phobia

Recently I have really been struggling in social settings where I am "the new one." I experience a lot of anxiety, inability to speak up even when I have something I would like to say, and feelings of being stupid, self-pity, and then self-deprecation.
What is up with all of this????
Is this something new? Or is it just that, before, I wasn't exposed to such situations as often?

As a kid, when I switched neighborhoods, churches, or schools I was with my brothers, or already knew at least person in the class. I was never ALONE in my newness.
When I went to college, and when I went to Chile for my DTS, all of the students were new, not just me!
When I came to Colombia long-term, I had already been once before so I knew a few people. All the same, it took me a while to get to know people before feeling comfortable to be myself, express my opinions, etc.

But the other week, when I went alone to a "young professionals" group at church, I felt mute when we were divided into small groups. When I left, I had to cry. If only I had been with a friend, I think it would've been way better!

Of course, I think that Spanish is a factor here. Yes, I am fluent, but I still feel self-conscious when I am surrounded by all native speakers, especially those who already know each other!

So, how do I get over this paralyzing fear? And what is the root? Do I need to know how it began to be able to overcome it?

The woman who is unmarried...

[How hard it is to fully place my trust and hope in God alone! Even when I make great strides in that direction, so soon I find myself looking to others to fill me up!]

Here's another book recommendation by Emily: Sacred Singleness, by Leslie Ludy.
I generally don't read "singles" books... but at the insistence of my friend Casia (a talented, witty, and beautiful 30-something single woman who is currently on a short-term missions trip to Uganda, with plans to go back long-term next year), I bought the book, and then I forced myself to open the book, and to read the book.
(It is really good.)

Over the past couple of weeks, this was part of what God used to speak to me about where my heart is, and to set me straight about where it should be -- to seek his glory above all, to trust him completely, and to receive every season in life as a gift and enjoy it accordingly!

"...the woman who is unmarried ...is concerned about the things of the Lord, that she may be holy..." (1 Cor. 7:34)
So when I find my mind drifting to doubt or discontentment, or hanging the weight of my soul on a 'false infinite' (looking to anything or anyone other than God to be my source of identity and worth)... I have to catch myself and redirect; to discipline my thoughts (as well as my tongue and my actions)!
If I could bring more glory to God by being married at this time, then I would be, right? So here's to taking advantage of this "season of singleness" (to use Ludy's words) as a time to draw closer to God in an intimate relationship, and to really form habits like intercessory prayer. These things can continue if I get married, but now is a really good time to establish them!

voluntary solitude

Yesterday I had a "getaway day." The plans I had been making for my weekend off fell apart as I experienced more sinus pain (I decided that going in a bus for about 9 hours up and down mountains would be excruciating). What I really needed and wanted was some time to get away from life and pray, to hear from God on some specific issues.
So I went up to the cabin, a tiny little house up the mountain from mine, and spent over 24 hours alone.
For those who know me well, you're probably wondering how on earth I managed! In college, when Mary came back tot he apartment after I had spent TWO hours alone, I would be so enthusiastic to have companionship again that I think I probably squelched any desire of hers to hang out with me! I'm not the kind of person who can be alone for extended periods of time.
All day Friday I was in Bogota, and came back up to the farm late. Bibi met me with the car, we loaded my stuff (food, water, books, guitar, art supplies) and she dropped me off at the cabin. I had freely chosen time alone, but when she left me I sobbed to God that I didn't want to be alone. Then, I slept.

All day Saturday, I was fine! I really enjoyed it, actually. I painted (don't like how it turned out, but I enjoyed the process, so it was worth it) I read, I prayed and journalled and read some more, I played guitar to begin and end my day... and I didn't feel lonely!

Today I was wondering about how that was possible. Is it that my life affords so little personal space and alone time that I have developed the need for extended periods of it?
Or is it that, as I cried out to Jesus in my solitude, he drew near and I was able to enjoy a day with him, instead of being swallowed up by loneliness and anxiety for human contact?


Either way (and maybe both) it was really great.
And about my questions and desires for the time with Jesus? On several topics, I feel like he pointed out how my views are skewed... and he lovingly set me straight.

I still couldn't be a hermit, and I still never want to live alone. But my "voluntary solitary confinement" wasn't bad at all!

Father

Jeremiah 31:20
"Oh! Emily is my dear, dear daughter,
my child in whom I take pleasure!
Every time I mention her name,
my heart bursts with longing for her!
Everything in me cries out for her.
Softly and tenderly I wait for her."
GOD's Decree.


Insert your name here. Do it. Now, decide to believe it.
And declare it about your loved ones, your children.

After all that I've learned and am learning about the Father Heart of God,
I still find myself struggling to believe. I mean, YES, I believe that God is my Father, and the Father of the fatherless, the father of the children I love... but I was just confronted with the realization that have still been thinking-believing-living that an earthly father is more real than God-as-Father. That these children so desperately need an earthly father to make up for the Daddy-hole they have...
But I choose to believe that God is enough.
For me, for them, for you too.

I still believe that God's perfect plan includes good, earthly fathers for all of His children, but even the best Dad cannot fill everything his child needs. The Daddy-hole will still be here -- because we are souls, with bodies. We need to believe the reality of the spiritual and our necessity for more than the what the physical realm can supply.
Someday we won't be physical beings anymore; that part of us will die and decay and what remains will be spirit. Until then, we will continue to live in both worlds: our two feet firmly in the physical, and our spiritual feet firmly in that realm. But when our time on this earth ends... what will it be like? No more struggle to believe, no more living in the tension, no more doubting the Spirit's reality and relevance... Anybody got any scripture-enlightened thoughts on this?

Footracing Horses

Sad news: Toñeco died. I think I'll wait a while before maybe getting another kitten, unless one just shows up and needs a home.


Do you know the feeling of life being too much to handle? Like you don't know what you're supposed to do, or how to begin, or even if you're supposed to get involved, or how much?
Jesus says, in John 17:4, that he brought God glory by completing the work that God gave him to do. The whole point is bring glory to God. But knowing which tasks God gives us, and which are not ours to take on, is difficult.
He says in another place in the gospels that anyone who plans to build a structure will first sit down and count the costs and make sure that he has enough to pay to complete the project.
And in Jeremiah 12:5, God says, "If you're tired out by competing in a footrace, how will you run against horses?"

What's the work He's calling me to do?
Do I have what it takes? Can I pay the price?
How WILL I run against horses? (It cannot be done, outside of God's supernatural strength, like he gave to Elijah to outrun Ahab's chariot.)

I believe that everything that comes my way passes through God's hand, is permitted by him (even though this is hard to accept when I think of the horrible things that happen in this world). Also, I believe that God uses it all for my best interest -- to conform me more to Jesus' image. Thirdly, that God permits more than I can handle, so that I must become more dependent on Him.

Toñeco

 

When I got home, this little birthday surprise was waiting for me! I've named him Toñeco, a venezuelan word for "spoiled."

June twenty-first

Before the Thunderstorm, a haze like smoke filled the heavy air. Mom and I went for a walk. Leaving the air conditioned house was like walking into a fiery furnace: Oppressive, the heat on this first day of summer. Halfway out on the loop we saw the lightning... waited... heard the thunder; started to walk briskly toward home as the wind picked up.

I had been waiting for this: North Carolina summer thunderstorms -- and was a little disappointed not to have had any. But as we crossed through the woods behind the house and arrived at the back stoop, big drops fell as lightning cracked close by.

On the front porch I watch it, laughing: Rain, buffeted like clean white sheets on a line, so thick that the other side of the lake is masked as with fog -- only marked by the neighbors' light. The thick cloud passes by, curtain opening on late-light-illuminated clouds beyond. Now, I only hear the wind in the oaks -- feather leaves rasping together like a million dry and calloused palms; see the slowdance of the lanky pines -- silken needles stabbing the air; sense that the rain has stopped falling -- only the downspouts sing as the water-full gutters empty themselves.

This is my last night at Mom and Dad's house for... a long time. For me, the storm is a hoped-for treat, a parting gift received with open arms and smiling eyes. For many here in Sanford, storms are now a source of anxiety, terror; but I was not here for the tornado. My memories of thunder are sweet: of childhood summer eves on the porch with Dad, trying not to get wet from the wind-blown water; of going out to play in the last light of the day after the humidity has been nullified -- so heavy that it up and decided to fall from puffy clouds; of waking up in the dark to listen to rumbling, safe in bed.


I've grown more accustomed to traveling; I've not gotten used to having my heart in two different places -- split between continents, languages, families. It would be easier to ignore one and embrace the other--

Again I come to it, this tension in which I'm called to live, all of us are. Physical AND spiritual beings. Bounded by space and time. Invited (forced?) to LIVE -- on a tightrope, in the gray (there is no black and white in most cases). It's a circus act -- one must keep the right amount of slack in the line without letting loose; constant adjustments required.

How can we learn to enjoy the tension?
To live in the present?
To lead lives of moderated passion and prudence?


The deep-toned resonation of a wind chime reaches me on the rocking chair, following her invisible waves through the calm breeze. Rain's stopped again... or has it?
Thunderstorms make me want to write. Low thunder passes with a sound like an airplane (...or is it that an airplane sounds like thunder?), but the rain may stay. Tomorrow we'll drive to Charlotte, say goodbye for the months (year? more?) to come, and I'll board a cloud. Then, rumbling across the sky, I'll pass from one home to another.
I will live it, this division, this split affection, this tension; so I might as well enjoy it: every moment.

 

 

 

This morning, waking up in the comfort of my parents' home, I wondered why I haven't felt like God is speaking to me directly during this time of vacation, other than daily reminders to put my hope in Him alone, and to enjoy life each day. Have I not given him time? Has he been desperately trying to communicate to me but I am lost in the pages of some other author's book? Or driving between cities? Or sleeping? Or watching birds squabble over seed? Or staring at the wind in the leaves?

Probably not. He usually speaks to me when he wants to, asleep or awake, driving or reading or watching the world. And maybe he is speaking to me, about rest and enjoyment and freedom in love... and other things I haven't even realized yet.

as watchmen wait for the dawn...

Blue days happen everywhere.

Sitting by the lake at twighlight, lines from two songs collide in my mind:
the everybodyfields: "I can be lonely here; I can be lonely anywhere"
enter the worship circle: "Though I feel alone, I am never alone, for you are with me, you are with me, O my Lord. You take all those who will come to you..."

God meets us on the down days.

And then a verse of my own creation:
I thought that my searching was over,
that my waiting was almost through.
But my searching and waiting and hoping
will be ever, and ever, in You.

And one from the Bible:
Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord;
O Lord, hear my voice.
Let your ears be attentive to my cry for mercy.

If you, O Lord, kept a record of sins,
O Lord, who could stand?
But with you there is forgiveness;
therefore you are feared.

I wait for the Lord, my soul waits,
and in his word I put my hope.
My soul waits for the Lord
more than watchmen wait for the morning,
more than watchmen wait for the morning.

O Israel, put your hope in the Lord,
for with the Lord is unfailing love
and with him is full redemption.
He himself will redeem Israel
from all their sins.
-Psalm 130

I'm grateful for

Friendships that pick right up where they left off years ago

Fireflies

Family that loves me, even if they don't always understand me

Driving with the windows down

Good roads and cars (and airplanes) that make traveling to see family and friends quick and safe!

Childhood memories

So many things that stay the same even when everything changes

Blue sky, flowers, the beach, wind in the trees, birds, fresh strawberries and peaches, mountains... summer sights and smells and sounds and tastes!

Innumerable blessings poured out upon me by my loving Father.

Fish

Between the upper and lower falls at the Graveyard Fields, I saw a rock-colored fish. After our hike along the gentle trail, Mary and I were squatting by a pool created by some boulders damming the water flow down the mountain. She wanted to stick her feet in it before beginning the trek back, easing her swollen ankles.

Behind us, the white water rushes down the almost-vertical rock face: which turns horizontally; upon which we now sit; which continues beyond and below us, with a ribbon of a brook through the middle. On either side, the still-young green of late spring masks branches and rocks and birds and all manner of things unknowable in these woods.
But here, on the broad river of stone between the verdant, wooden shores, there is only Fish.

Twice he jumped to try to eat an insect hovering above the surface. The winged creature flew on. Betrayed, again, by his fins, his scales, his water-breathing. I crossed my legs and watched the Fish. How had he chosen this tiny pool? Had he come over the falls? Could a fish survive such a battering, this side of the frying pan? For how long has he been in this pool? For how long can a pool so small sustain him -- can he grow there? Will he squeeze past the boulders and tempt fate by going down the rest of the mountain? If he depends on catching insects to survive, he won't last much longer...

We had walked the path, cut through the middle of rhodedendron forests, where the monotony of wood and leaf is shattered by silent bursts of color. We passed through fields that the 1925 forest fire had cleared, and over the crooked fingers of the stream we were following. Before we saw it, we heard it: the waterfall. First there were the lower falls, beautiful but small, pouring down the naked mountain. Stepping across the broadly-diverted water -- mere trickles across so much even, down-sloping, soil-less space -- we continued upward, until the upper falls were in view. I know that the mountain laurel always sees it. It does not take the maple tree's breath away. When it rains and there is more water, the fern is not impressed by the sight. But I made a rock sculpture. An ebenezer, said Mary. And we truly enjoyed it. And we just WERE. I just WAS. I just am. ...be...


Mary's baby is swimming like a small, but growing, Fish in his own personal pool.

The rock-colored Fish has sunny speckles on his sides. He lives in, and breathes, pure light rippled by water. He moves slowly, precisely, through the cold water collecting above the Fish-colored rock.

Mi Negra!

We have a new dog! Yesterday we went to "Manimal" clinic and picked up our new girl! She looks almost exactly like Rocco did, but has a girl face and softer fur. She's a lab mix, and is around 7-8 months old. At the clinic where we got her they've been calling her "Negra", so I guess the name is sticking!

it's time for a vacation. patience levels are rapidly falling. energy and desire to fulfill necessary tasks are disappearing.
"carolina, one day i'll, some day i'll come home" [the avett brothers]

until monday, springtime!

understanding

I generally want to be understood.
If I don't feel that someone understands me well, or that they don't agree with me, it's like I NEED to explain myself. And often the things I feel most strongly about are the most difficult to explain (add a second language to the mix, and the complication multiplies).
Like the time in my DTS when I tried to briefly explain how I felt about the tolerance zone (part of the city where prostitution is overlooked, though not legal)... all I could say was how angry it made me that the police just drive by and LOOK at the women and men who are selling themselves in every doorway.
But what I meant was it boils my blood to see humans stripped of their God-given dignity!

Our eleven-year-old has a school activity on Thursday. They sent a note home that she needs to bring "a shirt that shows her belly button and a very short skirt" as her costume for a dance that her class is going to perform. The dance itself is extremely inappropriate, even if they are doing a toned-down version.
I wrote a letter to the teacher, to say that we didn't feel it was suitable and asking for an alternative activity for her to participate in that day. They are respecting our decision, thankfully, but I know that they don't understand why.
And that they won't understand.

How do you talk about the spiritual impact of an overly sexual dance on children, to someone who doesn't see the spiritual realm as equally real as the physical?
How do you convince him that these kids have experienced too much, too soon, and that dancing this, or even watching others, will only serve to open more doors in their lives and further awaken what should be left dormant for a longer time?
How do you explain that the problem isn't with studying culture, but rather with which elements of that culture are age-appropriate, and also that as Christians, we aren't to conform to any culture other than God's.

You can't explain that. So you listen to his disappointment on the phone, but thank him for respecting your decision as her caretaker. Then you disappoint her by telling her she can't participate, knowing that she doesn't understand, but praying that she will know it's in love.

this too...

Lately I've been listening to the long list of sermons that are set to automatically download via podcast and then sit, unheard, in iTunes. At Mars Hill Bible Church, they did a series on the book of Ecclesiastes.
Sermon number 1: "lessons in vapor managment"
Turns out that the word "meaningless" is actually better-translated "vapor" or "mist," which isn't nothing and isn't without meaning, it's just passing. And that the book's author is showing that EVERYTHING in the realm of the created is temporary. And the ONLY permanent, non-vapor thing, is the uncreated: God and the spiritual realm.
But we end up spending a lot of time and energy and emotion on what Rob Bell calls "vapor management" -- not that it's all bad, but we do need to remember that all these things, like the early morning fog that creeps up the side of these green mountains, will vanish.

Sermon number 2, which I heard today while working in the garden: "a time"
Yeah, we all know the passage... there is a time for [a long list of contrasting actions]. Shane Hipps points out that most of the time we think of this as a list of things we should do at different points in our lives, but that it's really a list of a whole bunch of circumstances that we will experience between birth and death.
It's not a to do list. It's just stating the facts. And, reminding us that all these situations are vapor.
"He has made everything beautiful in its time" And the vapor is beautiful, even when it seems like a bad mist.
"He has also set eternity in the human heart" This point was really interesting for me: When we get tired of all the "vapor management," then we can learn to experience what Hipps explains as a state of joyful acceptance of the now. To stop obsessing over the past or anxiously awaiting the future.
Is this how Jesus lived, all the time?
Is this what He has been inviting me to experience all these months with the reminders to live in the present? Because I want that.

Jesus says that the Kingdom of God is within us. Solomon says that God has set eternity in our hearts.
Hipps suggests that Jesus came to show us the way into that peaceful, joyful, eternal kingdom; how to unlock the still water within us, that eternity in the midst of the ever-changing mist. And to do that, we need to 1. have a relationship with the Master and 2. be actively involved, choosing to live in the present, and be able to rest in the NOW
Then we can start to access the eternal, which is in our hearts, which also happens to be the recipient for the infinite love of God.

So, bad day? Good day? Sunshine or rain? Laughter or tears? Hired or fired? Finally got pregnant or another negative test? He loves me or he loves me not? Chicken or fish for dinner?
This, too, shall pass.
But the love of God remains, and it's in me, and it's unchanging. Will I choose to experience it?

mothers' day

Our friends went home this weekend. Went, and aren't coming back within the foreknow-able future. Home, to England.
Today was the parent visit.
Today is also Mother's Day.

That's a lot of emotions.
I cried, kind of a lot.

Wanna know the hardest thing for me today? I don't know how to do what I do. I don't know how to be, and at the same time not be, mom.
And I can't imagine being a kid and not knowing who to give my school-made mother's day project to. Which mom?
And when I am present, and the biological mom is present, what am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to react? Interact? And when our son gashes his head open... it's not my role to take care of him, because she's there. So I wash dishes and cry in the corner by the sink. And she probably thinks I'm cold and neglecting.
Plus, I'm a single mom. Well, my housemate is my co-mom, plus the biological moms... man it's complicated! These kids need dads, too!
And in church, when the pastor invited all the mothers to stand up, I didn't know what to do.

I don't think I like this day very much, being and not being, mom.

Easter and earning it

Update on Rocco: he died. That's pretty sad, and I still keep thinking he'll come wagging up to the gate when we get home, but it's part of life. Hopefully we'll get a new dog soon. He's the fourth dog at our vet who has died from multiple organ failure after eating these tiny beetles, which apparently become addictive to the animals, causing them to eat more.


I'm reading a book called One Child by a woman named Torey Hayden, who used to be a teacher for disturbed children. There's one part where the six-year-old girl that Torey is teaching and with whom she forms a very close bond gets very frustrated because she messes up on a math worksheet that is above her grade level. (She is very bright and can do 4th grade math, but this was a 5th grade workseet.) The scene is portrayed this way:

"I done them wrong, didn't I?"
"You didn't know, kiddo. No one showed you."
She flopped down beside me and put her face in her hands. "I wanted to do them right and show you I could do them without help"
"Sheila, it's nothing to get upset about."
She sat for a few moments covering her face. Then slowly her hands slid away and she uncrumpled the paper which she had mashed. "I bet if I could have done math problems good, my Mama, she wouldn't leave me on no highway like she done. If I could have done fifth grade math problems, she'd be proud of me."
"I don't think math problems have anything to do with it Sheila. We really don't know why your Mama left. She probably had all sorts of troubles of her own."
"She left because she don't love me no more. You don't go leaving kids you love on the highway. And I cut my leg. See?" For the hundredth time the scar was displayed to me. "If I'd been a gooder girl, she wouldn't have done that. She might still love me even now, if i could have been gooder."

This broke my heart. I dog-eared the page. It makes me think of Li'l J, and his breakdowns about doing homework sometimes, and how much he dislikes having to be taught to do something new, even when it's explained to him that there is no way he can know (how to write, for example) without help from someone older.
Then there are some of the other kids who won't even try anything unless they know beforehand that they will be successful. So they sit, passive, unwilling to try to "earn" respect by their actions, but also unwilling to even be helpful if they don't feel like they already HAVE someone's acceptance.
And it reminds me of a friend from back home who is brilliant and wonderful, but who came to the realization that no matter how much he studies, how many degrees he gets, what kind of great job he has, or how many times he gets published or otherwise honored... his family won't love him, won't give him what he so desperately needs and wants from them.

Does it remind you of anyone? Of yourself?
We are all broken, to different extents. In that injured state we try to earn love, and unjustified love doesn't make sense.
If only I'd been prettier, smarter, more talented, wittier, more helpful, willing to do or be something different... things would've turned out differently. That person I loved would have reciprocated, wouldn't have changed, wouldn't have left me.

We all need a healer.

Today is Easter in the Christian faith. The day that we remember that pure love, unmerited reward, jolted into this world and tore apart the system of earning acceptance.

A cross, a tomb: the symbol of Roman imperial oppression; the symbol of the unavoidable fate of every man and woman
Christ on a cross, an empty tomb: the symbol of love we can't earn, nor nullify; the symbol of abundant life, and hope as a firm anchor for the soul.

The eucharist, the Lord's supper, Santa Cena: as we eat a bit of bread and drink a bit of wine or juice, we say, "YES! Count me in! I need a healer and I want one, too. I want more of this counter-culture love and grace and open-armed acceptance. I can't do anything to increase it and I can't explain it away. It's beyond me, and that's just the sort of healing I need."

beetlejuice

A little over a week ago, Rocco the Kiwi House Dog got sick. He had gunk in his eyes, not much appetite, was really lethargic, lost a LOT of weight, and was weakly/trembly in general. I decided to take him to the vet.
Before we got the test results back, I thought I had paid about $50 for her to tell me he's probably just sad (his brother disappeared around the same time that he got puny and sickly).
But, apparently there is an epidemic in our area of dogs eating beetles and getting deathly ill. Our dog is sick, but not that bad yet. Hopefully we've caught the symptoms in time and the medicines, extra attention, and especially the bright green bandana that the nice, but fast-medical-jargon-talkin' vet, gave him will help Rocco get back up and running soon!

Today we harvested little yellow potatoes out of our garden! It was really exciting to see our first fruits!

the tiniest potato ever:

CONTROL

Hi, my name is Emily, and I have a control problem.
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Raising children, I wonder what the difference is between control and obedience. Obedience is a choice, and I want to be part of the process of these kids to learn to willingly choose obedience and its good consequences, even when they don't want to.
However, I sometimes wonder if what my actions and attitudes communicate that I want controlled children...

If I'm trying to read my Bible, or pray, or take a nap during the little ones' nap time, but I hear them out of bed playing, running around, getting into things that they know they shouldn't (examples: Taking cold bits of charred wood out of the fireplace to paint themselves and the floor. Opening others' closets and pulling everything out. Emptying the baby wipes to clean themselves, the furniture, their toys, other kids.), it drives me crazy! Even if it's not something that they've previously been told to NOT do, and maybe already been disciplined for that in the past... sometimes they just do things that I don't want them to, because it bugs me.

But these kids do not have to live to please ME.
They are people, and as such I can't control them.
But how do I teach obedience, and what things to I need to let go of in order to love them better and show God better?
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In church one day, after thinking through these things, there was a song that says "Mi mayor deseo es tu presencia; Tu mayor deseo es mi obediencia, y que te aclame" -- "My greatest desire is your presence; Your greatest desire is my obedience, and that I would acclaim/proclaim you."
Obedience. The CHOICE to do what pleases God, not out of fear or duty or control. Freely chosen. Because of love.
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Bibi was gone that weekend, and it was a tough time. There were 7 children in the house. But she needs time off, and friendships, just like I do. So why do I struggle against feeling like it's unfair and unloving for her to leave me alone? I recognize feelings of possessiveness, of jealousy, of "needing to be needed", of co-dependency, and of control. I recognize my life-long desire to be the chosen one, the best friend, the one and only... That always came into play when I felt like a friend or a boy was choosing someone else over me.

But other people -- friends, family, coworkers, the kids -- do not exist to fulfill me or to please me or to meet all of my needs!
So in the name of Jesus I prayed to BLESS Bibi's friendships and free time, to give THANKS for her weekend off, for her days off, for her current and future relationships and the social network that we all need. In prayer, I released her to be my FRIEND, not my SOURCE.
"Otras personas pueden ser un puente, mas no la fuente" -- others can be bridges, but not our source (of emotional fulfillment).
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I see where this is heading. I've invited that all-consuming fire in a little further, into the CONTROL PROBLEM, and it burns a bit! So far he's already ignited some major points:

I can't control God. (He's real and alive! He doesn't want to control me; he wants love-inspired obedience!)

I can't control my peers. (They don't exist to fill my needs. They need others and freedom. They are different than me! They cannot be and do all that I want, nor should they.)

I can't control the kids. (They don't exist to please me. They can't and shouldn't be controlled. How can we teach love-inspired obedience to authorities and to God??? They are KIDS -- don't be too hard on them or too serious!)

Book recommendation

So this past weekend I had a great time visiting my cousin, Iris, who's living in Barranquilla, on the northern coast of Colombia. (Yes, Shakira's hometown.)
While I was with her, she lent me a book, which I was able to read during my super-chill weekend. Written by Kevin DeYoung, a pastor in the midwest, it's called Just Do Something: A Liberating Approach to Finding God's Will, and I can really recommend it to other Christians who want to live in God's will. He specifically has lots of advice for my peers (twenty- and thirty-somethings wondering about the major decisions -- where to live, what job to take, who to marry), which is both challenging and freeing.

There are many topics it covers that I would love to discuss, but really I just suggest that you read the book, and then maybe we can chat about what you found interesing. However, I do want to share this excerpt, which resonates with me a lot:

"God is all-knowing and all-powerful. He has planned out and works out very detail of our lives -- the joyous days and the difficult -- all for our good (Ecclesiastes 7:14). Because we have confidence in God's will of decree, we can radically commit ourselves to His will of desire, without fretting over a hidden will of direction.

In other words, God doesn't take risks, so we can.

... God promises to be your sun and shied and to carry you and protect with His strong right arm. So we can stop pleading with God to show us the future, and start living and obeying like we are confident that He holds the future." (pp 41, 42)

Oh Israel, put your hope Lord both now and always. (Ps. 131:3)

Let's stop our sins of unbelief and a lack of trust in God. He holds the future, so we don't have to micromanage it.

the purpose of ministry is to change the minister

The scene:
Tony, Laura and I in my living room, chatting to catch up on the day. Eight children, ages 1-11 in the house. J. in discipline, waiting for me to go talk with him.

Emily: "I have to go talk to J. He's in his room."
Laura (English sarcasm): "Oh, he's not just there for fun"
Emily (gives a quick summary of what happened): "Yeah, the two things that bother me most are a mocking attitude and disrespect."
Tony: "So, why are you working with street kids?"
(laughter)
Emily: "I think God wants to change that in me."
Tony: "And then you can have a NORMAL job!"

Vending Machine or Consuming Fire?

Someone once told me that an idol is a controllable god. Anything we put in a place of utmost importance, while in reality we maintain ourselves "in charge":
Our "sacrifices" to that god must be met in the timeframe and the manner that we expect, desire, demand. If they're not, then the obvious conclusion is that the offering wasn't worthy and we must do something else: deny ourselves more, fulfill a ritual or vow -- all on terms we've invented or discovered or believed -- until said "god" does what we are requesting.
This puts us in charge, but helpless. Controling and controlled.

But the thing about GOD is that he can't be controlled. Our God is a consuming fire. The only form of controlling a fire is setting boundaries by refusing to feed it more fuel. In the spiritual sense, placing a limit on God, saying "I allow Your involvement in my life to this point, but no further." Our God is a God of invitation, not of obligation. He's a gentleman.

I have a desire to control. Myself, my life, my future, even others....and to turn GOD into a god. If I fast and pray, god has to respond to me. If I ask for a response by Thursday, god must give it. If I willingly suffer, god owes me something I want.

But our God is a consuming fire. He's not a stick of wood, he's not a carved bit of stone or metal cast in a mold. He's alive, not lifeless. He is not a vending machine. If I put in a dollar I can make my selection. If the candy bar gets stuck, it is divinely unjust and I can shake the metal god into releasing my deserved blessing, or if that still doesn't work, I can go to the security guard who has to give me back my dollar. The vending machine is about supply and demand: business. That has NOTHING to do with a living being. The vending machine works on the basis of my needs and my justice. It's all about me. That has NOTHING to do with relationship.

Recently I needed to hear from God about an important decision for the ministry. I didn't feel like he was responding to me, but I was getting frustrated because God knew that I had to tell the team what I had heard from God on Monday. {Umm, Hello! That's called a Deadline, god! Jesus called us his friends, not just servants, because he doesn't hide what he's doing from us. So, if I'm your friend, why won't you tell me anything?! Remember, I need to know! By MONDAY! We need to hear from you so that we can do what you desire and therefore bring you glory! This is a really important decision! What will others think of me if I don't have a clear response?!} But there the focus wan't God being glorified, but rather myself receiving glory for how well I can hear from God... for how well I can manage the vending machine.

God wants relationship -- to know and be known. And, God is a consuming fire. So, when I ask forgivness for my demanding and my attempts to control, I invite that fire further in. What does a fire do? It burns, it warms, and it purifies. When a fire receives more fuel the flame gets hotter. That can be uncomfortable, but what the fire leaves behind is that which is unburnable, unconsumable, permanent. The result is purification.

barefootin'

Today was beautiful. We sat in the warm grass with no shoes on, playing with the kids for about an hour. The little ones went over to the fence where the cow, Lola, was. She lowered her head to let them pet her and they ran back, squealing with delight, to report the incident. We all played "montonera" (montañera) ... which I think is maybe called "dogpile" in the States...

I just listened to an Avett Brothers' song that my friend Leah posted on her blog -- a song that fifteen-year-old I. said "sounds sad"; a song that reminds me how much I love the banjo; a song that makes me sure that I want to go to the mountains, to Asheville, NC, when I'm home in May/June, and to hopefully hear some live bluegrass music.

On the downside... I think I have a louse (yeah, that's the singular of lice...) running around on my head. At least, I hope it's just one.

Tuesday was one of those "price of being a mom" nights.
2 1/2 year old M. is sick.
When I to sleep I made her a pallet on the floor next to my bed because in the other room she was already waking up crying and coughing. Between 10:00 and 3:30, I think we woke up at least every half-hour.
She's feeling a lot better now, although not 100%, and I'm almost all recovered from the loss of sleep.

vacation!

One weekend in February Bibi, Liz, Ingie, and I went away! (Liz and Ingie are two friends who worked with Formando Vidas during my first year here, and have since been in Wales and Canada, respectively. They were here for a visit.) We piled into Ruby "the Beast" and headed out mid-morning on Friday.
"What about the children?" you ask?
Well, Evi and Steve (my directors and neighbors) offered to take care of them for the weekend, with Tony and Laura helping out.
So, being the young, adventurous, single women that we are, we headed across Bogota and grabbed the highway toward Medellin. No, we didn't go THAT far... that's about a ten-hour drive! We just went a couple of hours, to Villeta, where the climate is so different that I was drenched with sweat!
We walked around to find a hotel for maybe a half-hour, then got changed and went to the pool! aaaaaahhh!
Day two, we went white water rafting! The Rio Negro (Black River) really is Negro, because of the rock that the mountains there are made of. The four of us, plus the guide, plus a co-guide, went in a raft together. We jumped out and practiced "rescuing" each other on the calm bits of the river, which turned out to be a good thing because at one big rock, the whole raft flipped over!
After quickly getting out from underneath it, I stuck my feet out in front of me, grabbed my oar, and floated along the fast river. It was great! Definitely worth 45,000 pesos! (about $25?) As we approached some small rapids, I started to get a bit nervous, thinking, "I have to go through that outside of the boat?!" But then I was close to the other raft and they dragged me in, where Liz already was seated. Soon my raft pulled up, and I scrambled across!
Later we got to jump out and swim around a bit, and shortly after that the tour was done! All told, I suppose it lasted only an hour or so. The place we disembarked was in the little town that Mom, Dad, J. and I stayed at when they visited me a eyar and a half ago! We got out of the rafts at the same bridge where my parents and I picked up rocks to take as keepsakes. The guide said that further down the river there are class 5 rapids (where two rivers join, I think), and that crazy american kayak-ers travel there to attempt dangerous maneuvers.
The next day we got up and walked through town to the train tracks. Our mission: to get to the "balneario", the locals' swimming hole. At the tracks we waited for a little cart to arrive that would take us there. It was a platform with three rustic benches and the driver's seat at the back, propelled by a motorcycle motor. We paid 5,000 pesos (less than $3) round-trip and sped through the lush green thickets, stopping a couple of times for carts that were coming toward town to move off the tracks so we could continue on. We stopped by some little houses and a bit of a clearing, arranged for the driver to pick us up in an hour, and walked down the bank to the river.
We were the first ones to arrive that Sunday morning, at quarter-past-nine. Only a few people who live there and sell snacks to the bathers were setting up their chairs and starting fires to cook corn on the cob. Wading up to our ankles, knees, through the strongest part of the current where Ingie fell down and we all died laughing... we went right up to the "falls" and one by one, stuck our heads under the water, feeling the cold weight of it pounding down on us.
Soon it was time to head back to town on the little motorcart, get our things ready, and drive back to Bogota.

Sunday at church, we take up a whole row of seats, practically. During the music time, in a song that sounds very moving and while all of the people in the congregation raising their hands and closing their eyes, I sit with three small children (trying to keep some kind of order and not be a distraction to everyone around us). I look over at Li'l J and what is he doing?
His eyes closed and head slightly inclined, with a little smile on his mouth, he's swaying back and forth and doing an over-exaggerated slow clap!
My first thought is to make him stop, because he'll bother the others. But almost immediately I realize how ridiculously over-spiritual the whole situation is, and burst out laughing with J., who actually feels the freedom to mock our evangelical culture. Of course, trying to get over the giggles is difficult for both of us, and the lady in the next row shoots us a dirty look, but it's worth it.
(I'm not saying that the song is bad or anything, just that we take ourselves too seriously. God laughs, people!)


After church we go to the parent visit. It is pretty good, actually, but so emotionally and spiritually charged that when we leave I feel like I need to cry.
If the visit affects ME that much, how must the kids feel??