mission

As I hopped onto a tuk-tuk bright and early this morning, my main concern was which would run out first: my camera's  memory capacity, or the batteries. Well…at least it was early, if not bright. The skies were a bit overcast, which was another slight concern. I needed good lighting for my photo outing today.

I bumped my way along the now familiar road leading to the ancient ruins which is the main tourist attraction in this place. I have been here many times before, but today was very different than all the other visits. Today I was totally on my own. No group of visitors to shepherd and guide. Not even any hubby, Mr. having begged out of the adventure due to a painful back.

No, today was all about me and my mission: to get enough good photos to fill a calendar. And not just any shot; I'm talking twelve super extraordinary digital works of art. And I could move at my own pace and do it any way I wished.

And it was wonderful. Just as I got to the ruins, the sun came out gently. Then I chose where to go, breaking all the conventional wisdom about the best approach to seeing this site. I lingered as long as I wanted at any given spot. I moved on when I felt like it. Sometimes I just sat and soaked in the environment. Nice.

However, the day was also rife with danger and mishap. (Sort of.)

I managed to injure myself in pursuit of the perfect shot. I was standing on a stone ledge, and saw a beautiful bas relief through a large stone window. Eyes focused on the details of the carving, I leaped the two foot gap between the ledge and the base of the window. All of a sudden, BAM! I cracked my head soundly on…something. The combination of my singular focus, and the brim of my ball cap had totally obscured the the top of the sandstone window from my view. It was shorter than I had expected, and came as a total surprise. I saw a few stars, but had no time to notice them, as my fingers grasped at the window sill on either side. If I fell backwards I had about a 3-food drop to even more stone below. My finger nails made the same sound as a cat's claws on a tile floor (and did just about as much good), but the outward pressure of my hands against either side of the window steadied me enough that I could step into the building onto solid floor. Whew! No harm done, other than a painful lump on my forehead, which threatens to turn a nasty purple by tomorrow.

And then, later, I almost knocked an older gentleman off of his bicycle. What's more, I did it with just the force of my words. Don't believe me? Here's how it happened.

He was peddling past and said, "Bon jour, Madame."

I replied in the local language, "Hello, uncle." I heard gravel flying and brakes screeching behind me and turned to see him skidding to a halt.

"You know my language?"

"Yes, uncle."

"Can you stop and visit for a little bit?"

Of course I did. He was a delightful old guy. One gnarled tooth still clinging stubbornly to his naked gums. He just basically asked my nationality, and why it was that I knew his language. I explained that I had been here a long time, and came to tell about the religion of Jesus. Oh, that seemed to explain it. We visited a little more about family, etc, and then he released me to go on my way.

I said, "God bless you, uncle!"

"OH!" he said. "Yes. I want long life."

I said, "OK, and good health too." He seemed very pleased. He pretty much made my day.

Heart full from a kind conversation. Senses full of intriguing scenery. Memory card full of countless attempts to capture beauty.

I call that a good day.

(Oh, and it was the batteries that gave out first.)

familiar

I traveled six hours today and ended up in another world.

About 300 km from our city is a town with a major tourist attraction. It is built up to make foreigners feel comfortable, and boy, does it feel good sometimes to come and get pampered. The hotels are gorgeous and the myriad of restaurants offer all sorts of familiar western foods.

But that isn't the only reason this place feels familiar. For about three years we traveled to this town twice a month for our work. We know our way around, we have our favorite "haunts", we feel a sense of belonging here.

Unfortunately, since it is such a tourist town, no one else recognizes us as the "old timers" we are. Everyone assumes we're like 98% of the other westerners here: tourists. And so even though we feel very comfortable here, we are treated as strangers.

I think this is symptomatic of our whole time in this country. Coming from the States, this has been a little hard to understand, because in the US you can be from almost any ethnicity or race, and still be an "American". But this country is very homogenous. Everyone looks the same, speaks the same language, shares a common history. It doesn't matter how comfortable or adapted we become, we will always be outsiders.

I started a new yoga routine this week, and the instructor says at one point, "I want you to get comfortable with being uncomfortable!" Well, I think that's the problem. After 12 years my heart and mind feel relatively at ease here, but I can never rest easy because every day I am reminded that I don't fit. It's very uncomfortable, and I have never become comfortable with that discomfort.

I see, by the way, parallels here for a transformed Christian living in an unregenerated world, but I don't have it all worked out yet. Plus, I have a 5 AM wake-up call planned tomorrow morning so that I can get out and get started photographing bright and early.

I can't wait!

soft

I congratulated myself on an extraordinary accomplishment today, only to realize that much of the world achieves this particular "feat" every single day. Mr. brought the message at our international church, both the morning and afternoon services, which meant that we were busy pretty much from 7:30 this morning straight through to 7:30 this evening.

[I was, for the record, SO proud of Mr. He did a great job! What a good thinker. And I'm not biased at all! A lot of people expressed appreciation.]

At supper I was thinking we had handled this extremely busy day quite well, when it struck me that most people have schedules this full, most of the time. Even more shocking was the realization that I used to push at an even more hectic pace day in and day out. And I liked it that way.

But I must be getting soft in my "old" age, because by supper time I was wishing for some down time, some quiet reflective time, some chill out time just being with Mr. and the kitty.

Who, by the way, I expected to miss us immensely, seeing as were out of the house a large majority of the day. But alas, she still takes us for granted. Oh, sure. A few purrs when we got home this evening, but that soon passed and she's now busily ignoring me.

Well, she'll be sorry, because tomorrow we leave to spend a few days in another town. I'm going on a photographic expedition. Every year I produce a souvenir calendar, and I'm off in search of good shots.

And that leaves me with two thoughts: one, I was too busy to put much time into getting a photo today, and two, I really need to just post this and get to bed. Hopefully tomorrow I'll have more interesting shots and thoughts.

material girl

Do you remember the feeling you used to get opening your new box of crayons on the first day of school (IF you could wait that long…)? The exhilaration of all those colors and the thrill of the wonderful potential that lay in that little box.

I got to relive that glorious sensation today.

There is a large market in the middle of town. It has absolutely everything, and is known as the place to get things wholesale. It is a confusing, chaotic maze of stalls overflowing haphazardly with wares. And one corner of this market has rows and rows of fabric shops—three floors of them! Oh, gorgeous burst of visual and tactile (or should I say textile?) intoxication!

Don't get me wrong. I am not a seamstress. I wouldn't actually know how to make much with these beautiful bolts of fabric. But it doesn't matter! The colors, the patterns, the textures. Not only is the cloth full of creative promise, the fabric itself is often a work of art.

I wandered around this magic land for about two hours today, my senses filled to overflowing, and returned home happy. (No, I didn't buy anything, I was helping a friend find fabric for a dress, and just gathered swatches this time. But OH what fun!)

It was also very encouraging interpersonally there. Most vendors were accommodating and excited to show me what they had, especially because I communicated with them in the local language. Not that that's all that unusual, but their demeanor seemed more positive and helpful than normal. (Or is it possible that MY attitude was the changed one?)

One funny moment came when I was answering a lady's question and said, "Yes, yes." Another passer-by heard me and said to her friend, "Oh, that foreigner knows a LOT of our language! Did you hear her? She said, 'Yes, yes.'" HA! Really?? That's all it takes to impress around here? Sheesh.

Besides that obvious highlight, it was an over-all good day. I tried a new yoga routine this morning, and HOLY COW thought I was going to die. This instructor is tough. How tough, you ask? I sat down to study the Bible right after the workout (actually, right after a shower, which was right after the workout) and I tried to take notes. It was actually an effort to write, my arms were so rubbery tired.

(No, not rubber tires—rubbery, from being tired!)

In spite of my physical fatigue, my time with God was really good. He challenged, comforted, and called to me today. It felt very personal. I cried a little bit.

Come to think of it, that is probably the reason the rest of the day was so good, not my trip to fabric heaven. He sat with me as I looked for Him, spoke to my heart, and then opened my eyes to the beauty around me so that I could find it easily today.

Very grateful.

doing

Mr. likes to remind me sometimes that we are human beings, NOT human doings. Sadly, I need this reminder because I get so tense about accomplishing things. It is hard for me to just stop and "be", without feeling a sense of guilt.

I don't know exactly where this comes from. Probably partly from my family background, and partly from my Christian heritage. We have unconsciously woven a fierce drive to "do" into our Protestant work ethic. I can't relax and watch a bit of TV without "number my days aright" and "making the most of every opportunity" rumbling through my head. It's like I have this moral obligation to be productive.

And yet I'm mellowing in my old age, believe it or not. I know this younger person who reminds me of myself 10 years ago. Driven to change the world and fully expecting to do so. They live with so much self-imposed stress, to the detriment of themselves and those around them, in their determination to achieve.

I have tried to share my viewpoint from a few years farther down the road. Looking back I see things so differently, and I try to share that perspective with them. I am met by blank stares.

It is hard to accept that there are some things that people just have to learn for themselves. It's so frustrating to watch them repeat mistakes which I would gladly help them avoid. What is the point, if I can't pass on what I'm learning??

I guess the point is that I actually am learning. Today I spent the whole afternoon visiting another friend. I was BEING with her, just hanging out. I have nothing really tangible to show for those hours. And yet I believe it was probably the most important thing I did all day. I saw it in her eyes and heard it in her words. I felt it in my heart.

And yet as I sit typing this blog, I feel twinges of guilt that I did not do more with my day. But I am determined to bludgeon that guilt every time it raises its ugly head, like that "whack-a-mole" game at carnivals. Because I know I made the right choice. In fact, I am pretty sure it's what Jesus would have chosen to do with His afternoon.

And that makes me smile. :-)

wondering

Have any of you ever been so hot you got goose bumps? Just wondering. I got up early this morning. I'm talking 5:30 or so, and got back from my walk/jog before 6. Even so, I was boiling on the "cool-down" phase of my exercise, and was surprised to see my arms were goose-bumpy. Mr. said that's no good; a sign of heat exhaustion or something. (I shouldn't have told him—he already says exercise is bad for you!) All I know is, I drank 3 glasses of water and 1 glass of orange juice in less than a half an hour once I got home.

Why am I trying so hard at this? I don't know. It has something to do with turning 40 on my next birthday, wondering where the past 10 years have gone, seeing doors close simply because I'm getting too old for them.

Two nights ago we were flipping through channels, when I said, "Oh my gosh! Go back—I know that person!" And sure enough, Mr. returned to the previous channel, and there was a girl I had known in college, acting in a TV show. It was SO weird to see her; of course she looked just like she did in school 20 years ago. (Gulp. TWENTY?! Is that even possible??)

We were in the same class, and were actually pretty good friends our freshman year. We both loved drama, although she made it clear that someday she was going to make it big. And none of us really doubted it.

She made some pretty bad choices and left school after just two years. Gradually I lost track of her. And now I find her on TV! I guess she has accomplished her dream, or is close to it, anyway. (It was a small supporting role, but hey—she had lines!)

I wondered what it had cost her to get as far as she had. I wondered if it was all she had expected it would be. I wondered what she would think of me and the path my life has taken. I wondered a lot of things.

All of us sacrifice things in pursuit of other things, which we deem more worthy or valuable. It is simply logic to see that when we choose one path, we turn our backs on countless other paths. For me, my choices have resulted in the loss of some dreams. Seeing her on the brink of realizing her dream made me wonder what she had given up to make that dream come true. There's always a trade-off. I hope hers has not been too costly.

Although it has been hard, I am grateful for the path I have been given. I am grateful for the deepening of my spiritual walk and this relentless pursuit of God I have been driven to as everything else has let me down (myself being the chief culprit!) But still, there are moments—brief flashes—of doubt, of “what if….”

And it's those insecurities that make me want to spiritualize my journey, or at least justify it. There's that smug urge inside of me to quote the "gain the whole world but lose his own soul" verse. But I don't think that's the right attitude.

I guess I should just pray that God is working to bring her closer to Himself through her journey, just as He is doing for me. I can't take credit for that. I should be more grateful than I am.

inside

I traveled half-way around the world today, back and forth in time a bit too, and never left our apartment.

I spent most of the morning on skype, with two coaching calls. I talked to someone in Ohio, and someone in California. After lunch I wrote a bit on my short story, downloaded e-books by various authors. I couldn't resist, and read one short story by Nathaniel Hawthorne, written in the early 1800's. I also researched beach houses in Florida and wrote to someone in Colorado. The internet is truly amazing, when you really stop and think about it.

My work today was varied and interesting, and I didn't realize until about 5 pm that I had been inside the whole day. It was around that time that I started thinking of this blog, wondering what I was going to do for a photo. And the reason I didn't have a photo is that I hadn't gone out looking for one.

It was also then that I realized I hadn't given God much of a thought today, either. That is unfortunate, especially in light of the fact that just yesterday I had been struck by a verse yesterday that said, "I have set the Lord continually before me…." I was wondering what that would look like, how one would achieve that. I think it would really make a difference if I remembered His constant presence with me. Not only that, but kept Him at the forefront of my mind at all times. The rest of the verse says, "Because He is at my right hand, I will not be shaken." Could be the key I have been looking for to maintain a more steady, less reactionary approach to life.

But today I just went about my business as if those thoughts had never even crossed my mind. Not a promising start…

Fortunately tomorrow is a new beginning, and I'll start out with some intentional God time. That actually gets me kind of excited.

Not that today was bad at all. I'm inspired both by the practice of writing, and by the classics I downloaded, to learn from the masters. Coaching was fulfilling. I finally left the house around 6 with Mr. to have supper with an acquaintance, which was quite enjoyable. And yes, I found a good shot for the blog. :-)

eyes

How can it be that a positive four hours with God can be totally undone in just 3 minutes?

Really. I had a good time of journaling, thinking, meditating. Then I read a chapter in a book—the final chapter in the One Thousand Gifts book that started me on this photo blog journey. It was all about intimacy with God. Being continually in His presence. Seeing His good gifts everywhere.

I was totally tracking. Taking notes. Resonating with line after line, thought after thought.

Satisfied as if after a good meal, I packed up my things and headed home for lunch. (My physical tummy was a bit empty and starting to grumble.)

But then, in the 500 feet or so that it took me to walk one block, I was hailed three separate times to ride moto taxis, and had to dodge twice to avoid pedestrians or motorists who weren't paying attention.

And all that good progress was just gone. I was ticked. I was defensive. I was…so disappointed.

As I walked the rest of the way home, I worked to calm myself. I thought of that verse about the eyes—how if the eyes are good the whole body is full of light, but if the eyes are bad, the whole body is full of darkness. And I see now how true it is.

I realized that when it comes to this place, these people, my outlook is very negative. I expect the worst, and so I see it—whether it is real or not. Again, another shot of disappointment.

I started taking daily photos and writing this blog because I was hoping to change how I saw things. I was hoping to gain a new perspective. I was hoping to learn to find beauty in even the most difficult surroundings.

And it is working, to some extent. I know God is close. I see Him in nature, old buildings, and occasionally in people. I see beauty when I look through the camera lens. But without it, my eyes still see darkness and ugliness. It's like the camera acts as a pair of glasses, correcting my vision. But my mind still hasn't been transformed. I lose a positive perspective as soon as I put the camera away and start walking through "real life" again.

Oh, no. Not all the time, to be fair. Not immediately. There are good moments and bad moments. It was just disappointing to lose it so fast today.

drama

Sometimes I get tired of the drama in my own head. I feel foolish when I get so melodramatic—especially when I record it in blog entries! Today was a fine day. A good day. All that drama yesterday just dissipated with a little kitty cuddle time and a good night's sleep.

But obviously, the drama isn't in my head. It's my emotions. I try and try to reason my way out of my moods. I know I have it really good. I know I don't have much of anything to complain about. And yet I can't seem to shake it when my feelings start to spiral downward.

When will I reach that maturity that holds steady regardless of emotions or circumstances? When will I be so grounded that I am unshakable by inward or external fluctuations? That's what true peace, true joy are. They don't come and go like ocean waves. They don't vanish like morning fog as soon as they take some heat.

Wow. When will I learn? Tomorrow, coffee time with God. Hoping for good things. All I know to do is keep at it.

angry

I heard a conversation this evening, went something like this:

"She's a pretty angry person."

"Yeah, well, she has a lot to be angry about."

It struck me particularly, because I spent a good bit of today angry. I woke up mad. I stayed upset most of the morning. My best strategy was to just keep my mouth shut so that I didn't say anything I'd regret.

We were still at the hotel, on a retreat. I tried and tried to relax and enjoy the pool, the cabana, the trees and the birds. After all, that's why I came there. But I just couldn't shake my dour mood.

I was supposed to be spending time with God, but couldn't seem to focus, concentrate. I was a bit distracted by the foreigner with his hired "girlfriend". Or what about the other foreign guy wining and dining the young teen-age national? Yes, I know I am making assumptions, but 90% of the time those assumptions are accurate. If anything, I probably give too many people the benefit of the doubt.

And how do you live every day and see filth and pain and evil and not get angry? Yes. There is a lot to be angry about.

But somehow, Jesus did it. He not only faced the sin of a fallen world, He also read the evil and pain in every human heart. And He was not an angry man. He moved through His life with grace and gentleness. He loved freely.

How do I do that? How do I open myself to others, not fearing their pain, or the pain they will cause me? How do I stay gentle instead of hard? How do I battle despair, hopelessness and helplessness? How do I not become an angry person? (Or stop being one, at least…because I'm already there.)

I don't know. But until I can learn to live in the pain and brokenness without lashing out, I don't think I should be here.

full

Sort of an ironic title, since I fasted most of today.

I don't think I did it right, or maybe I missed the point. In any case, I'm not sure what it accomplished.

I wanted to dedicate today to God, since we were setting it aside as a sort of retreat. I studied the Bible much of the morning, but by lunch time I started getting grumpy. I had trouble concentrating, because I was hungry. I tried praying, but just ended up thinking about food.

Maybe that is part of the point. I don't think my mind's very disciplined.

By about 2, Mr. suggested we go get massages. That was great. It took my mind off of things. Then I decided to nap. I figured if I was asleep supper time (and the end of my fast) would come more quickly. I had a bit of trouble falling asleep, because my stomach was growlingly empty.

As I laid there, I tried to think about what I should be learning from this experience. I figure that my life is full in many ways. I shouldn't just focus on the one thing that's lacking. I tried to think of all the things that made my life rich. I thought right away of Mr. and the kitty. Then I got stuck.

Right before I drifted off, though, I thought of a verse I had been pondering a few weeks ago. Psalm 16:11—
"You will make known to me the path of life;
In Your presence is fullness of joy;
In Your right hand there are pleasures forever."

There. That's it. That's the answer. And I'm always in His presence, so there is never actually any reason not to be joyful. Now if only I really lived that way…

I made it through to supper time, and then we went out to a restaurant. I ordered a big old burger and some fries—and I could only finish about half of them. Crazy. I had been starving, but I got full really fast. The heavy food was a bit of a shock to the system. (Typical rookie mistake, I suppose.)

I guess I'm glad I tried the fast, although I'm still not really sure what the benefits were. We'll see. I'll probably try it again sometime, but right now I'm reveling the feeling of a full stomach. I guess I'm still a bit of a heathen at heart! ;-)

control

So, today my husband got a bit of an insult. I took it as a compliment.

We stopped by a grocery store that we frequent. When checking us out, the cashier—who we've known for a while—started, well…checking us out. She looked a bit, and then said to me, "You're the same, but Mr. has gotten bigger."

As we exited the market, Mr. said, "This is all your fault you know."

The truth is, he hasn't been gaining weight, I've been losing. Not only do I feel my clothes fitting differently (I could do with an extra hole in my belt right about now) but people have also been commenting that I look thinner than before. The cashier noticed something was different as she saw us standing side-by-side, but came to the wrong conclusion.

Yes, the exercise and eating has been paying off. It feels good. I am seeing the rewards of discipline.

We also got an e-mail from a friend a few days ago, saying he has found a potential place for us to stay during our sabbatical. I was thrilled. Mr. was noncommittal. I wanted to jump at it. Mr. wants to know more. I want a plan. He is content with none.

And so I wonder.

Am I doing so well with my exercise routine and disciplined eating because I feel out of control about almost everything else? If nothing else is in my power, I can at least determine what and when I eat. I can master my body and push it to its limits. I can control this one thing.

I know there are both dangers and lies in the preceding paragraph. That kind of thinking can be taken to an unhealthy extreme. I won't do it. And I have so much freedom to choose, in so many areas of my life.

Of course I could push Mr.. I could demand. I could put my foot down. I could say, "I need this…" and he would give me what I want with little fuss. But I won't do that to him. I won't force my own will on our future. I will give him the freedom to find his own way, because my way lies with him.

I will trust him. And I will trust God.

After all, He's the One really in control.

hope

I recently lamented to a friend that Christian writing (movies, novels, etc.) rarely makes its point as powerfully or as beautifully as secular media. Unfortunately, Christian media often comes off a bit, well… lame. And today I think I might have found one reason why.

I have decided to invest some time into honing my skills as a writer, and in my reading today I came across a bit of advice that I'm finding a bit hard to swallow. The author of the article, specifically addressing Christian writers, advised that we keep things positive. Even when describing difficult or painful events, try to avoid being too negative. He said, further, that what people are really looking for is hope.

Now, on one hand, I agree with him. What the world desperately needs more than anything else today is hope. And not just hope in some vague, feel-good platitude. The world needs to know the Hope that only comes from knowing the eternal God of creation.

Further, what the world does NOT need more of is ugliness. I do not understand artists who make works of darkness and despair in the name of being "real"—adding to the already heavy burden of sadness that the average individual bears. It is a personal quest of mine to be a source of beauty in this tragic world.

However, if we hesitate to paint the blacks to their full darkness, fail to dive down into the depths of human suffering, shrink back from staring evil in the face and unmasking it, then we give the impression that we are out of touch with the actual state of the world. That we are ill equipped to deal with reality. We paint a pristine Pollyanna scenery with which most people cannot relate. Worse yet, we communicate that the Answer we have is not potent enough to handle the grimmest facts of life.

Granted, some scoff at us for even offering any answer at all. That we DO have hope, that there IS a Salvation, that the whole story really DOES come out "happily ever after" discredits us immediately in their eyes.

But knowing that they already hold that against us, wouldn't we be more conscientious to state the rest of our case in as convincing a way as possible? Glossing over or cleaning up the messiness of life does serious damage to our credibility.

It is my hope one day to write a God-centered story that grips even the hardest heart with both the agony and beauty of life, the harsh edge of reality softened by the absolute certainty of redemption.

overwhelmed

Today I was completely overawed with the presence of God.

As promised, I got up bright and early and finished exercises and domestic tasks so that I could spend my morning with God. Everything felt good. I was centered and balanced as I did my yoga—barely wobbling in the tree pose. I left the house by 8 and walked to the coffee shop. On the way I snapped photos. Ordinary, every-day objects radiated beauty, lit up by the morning sun and Something otherworldly. I was already in a state of worship as I found a comfy corner in the shop.

Also as promised, I simply sat quietly for the first moments as I sipped my coffee, trying to just place myself in God's presence, to enjoy His company without achieving or doing anything. And I actually met Him.

He was under the weeping willow tree. That circle of drooping leaves and serenity that I often picture in my mind's eye, cutting me off from the rest of the crazy world around me. And there was Jesus, waiting. I usually meet with Him, since I am flesh and He has a Body. My imagination can stretch no further. We sat and chatted a bit, my heart slowly filling with love. And then I could contain it no longer. My soul burst out in exuberant dance. In my mind I spun and leaped with every graceful and joyous move I have ever seen. To my surprise Jesus partnered with me in the dance, lifting me and guiding me to breath-taking heights of bliss and beauty.

It was then that I realized we were dancing for the Father. While He walked this earth, Jesus had consistently diverted praise and glory to His Father, and now we were dancing for God's pleasure. But His pleasure was ours as well, and the Spirit sang with joy.

Overwhelmed with emotion I then found myself back under the willow, weeping. I was crouched on my knees before Jesus, my forehead and my palms pressed to the grass. Silent sobs shook my soul. I struggled to stay outwardly calm in the crowded coffee shop, even as a few actual tears sneaked out of my eyelids and down my cheeks.

And I thought back to the morning's yoga routine. My video instructor had introduced "child's pose"—a posture much like the one I was mentally holding at Jesus' feet at that moment. The instructor said we should revert to child's pose any time the routine seemed too much for us. We could rest, regain composure, and then re-enter the flow of the exercises.

And then I realized that this must be what it means to abide in Him. To live in this attitude, this position—of childlike helplessness, trust, and abandon—at the feet of Jesus. To maintain this perspective throughout the minutes and hours of every day. Especially when things get to be too much. When I get overwhelmed. When my own strength fails. I must intentionally assume this posture of rest, submission and worship. Only then can I move through life as it flows around me—moving in His strength instead of my own.

revamp

Funny the unexpected twists and turns that a day can bring. Nothing major, but the day really didn't go at all as I had planned it.

The first twist was when a friend from across town called, sick. She was wondering if we were coming her way at all today, and if we could pick up some groceries for her from the super market if we were. Well, we weren't going to be in her area until evening, so I just went and got the things and made a special trip over to give them to her. It really wasn't a great sacrifice; she has helped us out many a time.

But it did take a chunk of time out of the morning, which I had planned to use for a few other small errands. Mr. and I had also agreed to an early lunch, so that I could go to a coffee shop and spend my half day with God, and then get to a 6:00 meeting.

By the time I got back from my friend's house it was almost time for lunch. Then, after lunch I tried to work out how I could get my remaining errands done, have my time with God, and still be ready for the meeting. But as I was contemplating it all a sense of weariness crept over me.

And so I decided to chuck the whole plan and took a nap. Then I ran my remaining errands, and spent a few hours studying at home. That way I was able prepare for the evening meeting in a graceful, unhurried way.

I think God understands. I will get with Him bright and early tomorrow morning for half a day—hopefully more awake and alert than I was today. I want to approach our time together with a sharp, clear mind.

I guess I'll ask Him for that as I go to bed tonight. Although I have been sleeping better in the last week or so, I have still been waking up feeling simply exhausted. I have no idea why, but it's getting old. I remember once upon a time when I had boundless energy, or so it seemed.

Someone who still has a bit too much energy tonight is the little kitty. She hasn't been played with properly this evening, and so she is being a bit naughty in her friskiness. I'll need to wear her out a little bit when I get done with this post. Well, you know—it's a rough job, but somebody has to do it. ;-)

vindication

Why is it that some days you feel so together and on top of things, and other days it feels like everything is falling apart?? Today's babysitting went so well compared to last week!

What made the difference? Who knows. Contributing factors? Possibly more sleep the night before, prayer, and mental preparation. And a complete adjustment in expectations. I did not expect to just breeze through the morning. I expected challenges. As a result, I met them with much more grace than before.

I wonder how life would be different if we woke up every morning expecting difficulties and struggles in our day. As dismal as that might sound, I am a hopeless optimist who just gets totally blind-sided by problems when they come my way. What would it be like if I had a more realistic outlook?

On one hand I would probably struggle to get out of bed every morning if I expected each day to have troubles. But on the other hand, I might be a little more prepared to take them in stride. I might handle them with more grace.

We (meaning many of us from mainstream American Christianity) seem to expect smooth sailing and rosy paths. From the pulpit (to radio broadcasts to televangelists to pod casts) we hear of God's love, blessings, and good plans for us. And we interpret that to mean an easy life. Somehow we glibly skim over all those passages that talk of suffering, those verses that tell us to expect trials.

I think it's because we have had it so good and so comfortable for so long. A theology of suffering simply doesn't fit into our world view. Sure, we each struggle with this and that, but for the most part, our lives in the US are blessed. We live with relative security and ease. (Anyone who tells you differently has not seen life in other parts of the world.) We have come to expect lives of fulfillment and stability.

I fear the time is coming when we will need to adjust our expectations. We will need to develop some mental toughness and spiritual resilience. I fear that our days of comfort are slipping away.

missing

For a Sunday there was distressing little time to focus on God today. Not that it was a bad day, just full of other stuff. We started with four (yes, count them—FOUR) hours talking to my sister and her husband. Lunch, TV, housework. To church early to practice singing, then the service, then out to supper with some friends. That's it. Home. Blogging. Full day. Not much time to reflect, think, or pray.

It's OK. Not every day needs to be have an "aha" moment or a mountain top experience. It was a good day. I didn't waste it. I just didn't feel terribly close to God today. The service had a few good moments, the pastor had a few good points. The time with our friends was nice. And the conversation with my sister was great.

But I think I missed God today.

Now I need to get to bed. An early bed time is needed because 1) I go babysit at 8 and 2) I need to exercise before that. I am determined to have a much more positive babysitting experience tomorrow. Wish me luck!

bungee

Boing. Bouncing back today from a down day yesterday. It feels good to be on the upswing.

I finally sat down and listened to God a bit. After reading a passage in the Bible I listed out everything it said about who God was or what He does. It was amazing. I really needed to sit and let it soak in a bit. They were familiar verses, but when I pulled out all the things pertaining to God, I saw new things about Him. How exciting! How precious. Here's I heard summary, as I tried to pull all the thoughts together:

"Stop fighting Me and be still, humble under My hand, because your spiritual life—from beginning to end—is all My doing. And even though I am a righteous and ready Judge I am patient and merciful to those who love Me—and even to those who don't."

My time with God set the tone for the whole rest of the day, and it felt really good. I read about writing, and then actually did some writing for a while. I'm writing a story of redemption. It's based on someone close to me. I feel a drive in me to get the story written. It's like a prayer which I'm hoping it will come true.

Later, off to see a movie with members of our church. Babbette's Feast. Beautiful story, beautifully told, beautiful messages. "A true artist is never poor." Ahhh. Soul-filling. Satisfying. Inspiring.

Then off for, of all things, a Korean meal with our pastor and his wife. (Sort of seemed like we should have French cuisine, after seeing the movie, but…) Anyway, it was kind of a double date. We really enjoy their company.

So, I must say, I end today feeling rich and full (in more ways than one) whereas last night I was feeling empty and needy. What a gift.

uninspired

Today was singularly unremarkable. Rather ordinary and a little dreary.

Mr. had an on-line class starting at 5:30 this morning. His alarm went off at 5, so I figured I might as well get up and get my exercise in. I went for my riverside jog, showered, and was back in bed by the time his class ended at 7. He thought I hadn't stirred since he got up. Ha!

I don't actually jog the whole time when I go down to the riverside. I jog and walk intermittently, catching my breath in the intervals. I have recently started praying in the walking periods. I pray for a specific person, take off jogging, then when I slow to a walk again, I start in on a different person. When I'm jogging, I can't pray because just getting air into my lungs takes most of my concentration. But I like the spiritual exercise I have added to my physical exercise. It brings God into my morning (in a rather sweaty, irreverent way that I hope He doesn't mind) and gets some people prayed for on a semi-regular basis.

Anyway, when Mr. found me dozing in bed, I was actually trying to have some devotions. Not very successful this morning. He was in the mood to go out for breakfast noodles, though, and I was game. We had a nice time; a really nice time. I like being with him.

The rest of the morning I worked on letterhead design for a client. Lunch, cat cuddle time, nap. Spent an hour or two searching my photo library for a few upcoming projects. Read a chapter in a book on writing.

So why do I feel dissatisfied, as the day comes to an end? It was relatively productive, not a difficult one, really. I think the problem is that God has been calling for me to spend some serious time with Him, and I have been ignoring Him. Not the fighting-to-keep-your-eyes-open morning devotions. Not panted prayers as I jog. Some serious one-on-one time. But I keep avoiding Him. Finding other things to do. It sounds pretty bad to say I'm not in the mood, but I'm not. Am I mad at Him? Discouraged? Maybe a little of both. But I do know that the longer I shut Him out, the worse I'm going to feel. It won't matter how much I accomplish, or how well things go. I must do better tomorrow. Snap out of it. Get things in the right order.

Not great, for someone who's supposed to be blogging about pursuing God. But, again. Tomorrow is a new start.

PS: I didn't want to post this; I wanted to sleep on it and see if I got a new outlook on things in the morning. But Mr. said blogs are about honesty and real-time reflections. Bah. Sorry if this entry depresses anyone besides me!

surrounder

The local language here has a wonderful word. It sounds something like "srowm" and the best way to translate it would be "surrounder". If you see anything that wraps around or surrounds another thing, you could guess and call it a "srowm" and you'd probably be right about 75% of the time. A glove is a hand surrounder, a sock is a foot surrounder. An envelope is a letter surrounder.

So, last night I was lying awake in the wee hours of the morning, thinking about the news I got yesterday. I must admit, I was feeling upset about it. I was trying to pray, but I am not very good at praying when my emotions are riled. As I worked to calm down, I thought I heard God say, "What are you so upset about? Your body is just like an envelope. Kind of a "srowm" for your soul. And that's where the really important stuff is. I'm writing a letter on your soul, full of meaning and beauty. Who really worries about the envelope? It's the message inside of it that's worth keeping. And I intend to keep that for all eternity."

I never know if it is really God talking in moments like that. I suppose it might be, because they were all new thoughts for me; a new perspective. But in any case, I was able to calm down and sleep again for a few more hours.

Nevertheless, yesterday's discovery sort of took the wind out of my sails for about half the day today. That, and being tired from lack of sleep. I had trouble getting going.

Really, I think I'm kind of a whiner. The results of the biopsy aren't back yet, so nothing is for sure. And even though the doctor is pretty confident of his diagnosis (his actual words were, "The kind of skin cancer you have… er, might have, depending on the lab results…) he is just as sure that it is not a very dangerous strain, and will be easy to take care of.

Besides that, I have a great life, really. I mean, I am a child of God, to start with. Headed for Heaven, and sure that there is meaning and sense to this life. I am well loved by a husband who walks with me as a friend. I am free to follow almost any path I should choose, I am housed in a comfortable, secure home and have never known what it's like to be hungry. And I have a cat, for Pete's sake. How can cat owners ever be sad?? ;-)

And yet I was admittedly a bit down today. And then it rained almost all day, too, which is unusual and kind of gloomy.

I had a coaching appointment this morning, but other than that I struggled to be motivated to do anything. The afternoon was a little better. I did my exercises, which I had skipped in the morning, went grocery shopping, and made a really nice supper for Mr. and a friend of ours. I felt really good about the meal: vegetarian and healthy, but tasty. Indian food from scratch. I might have mentioned before, but it bears repeating—the smell of Indian spices just makes me feel happy. I have no idea why, but it never fails.

Hopefully my positive feelings from the evening will translate into a quiet night's sleep tonight.