"To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket- safe, dark, motionless, airless--it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable.”
- C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves
I finished reading The Four Loves by C.S. Lewis yesterday for the umpteenth time. I have a used copy of the book, picked up from a dusty bookshop whose name I've long forgotten; there were scribbled notes and lines enough in the book before it came to me, and I no longer remember whose notes are mine and whose belong to the previous owner(s).
The Four Loves is my favorite C.S. Lewis book - perhaps more for sentimental reasons, as it was the first Lewis book I ever picked up and read. I know most people are introduced to him through Mere Christianity; that was the fifth or sixth book I ever read by him, and only then because one of my friends insisted on buying and giving it to me because he was so appalled at my never reading it.
I have a deep affinity for clarity, being able to clearly define emotion and relationships and what I owe to God and to the people in my life; and that is another reason I read The Four Loves again and again. The loves Lewis sets out in the book - Affection, Friendship, Eros, and Charity, along with the introductory chapter on Sub-Human Likes and Loves - help me to define how I feel towards my parents, my friends, my fellow Christians, even God. It helps me to recognize the blessings and pitfalls inherent in any "natural" love, such as Affection and Eros.
“Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another, 'What! You too? I thought I was the only one."
- C.S. Lewis, "Friendship", The Four Loves
Charity is my favorite chapter, because in it is described the love between God and man - the Gift-Love of God, as He blesses us and bestows on us everything we need for life; and the Need-Love of man, in that I can fully embrace my utter dependence on God and emptiness apart from Him, as something God has put inside me. In "Charity", he describes how we as Christians have to move on past thinking we have anything of value that makes God love us; that I deserve God's love because of my intelligence, my self-sacrificing behavior, my good choices, even my humility. God does not love me because I am loveable; I have to get past that idea if I am ever to truly experience Charity. God loves me simply because He is Love Himself; He cannot do or be anything else.
"Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God. Everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God. Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love. This is how God showed his love among us: He sent his one and only Son into the world that we might live through him. This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins. Dear friends, since God so loved us, we also ought to love one another. No one has ever seen God; but if we love one another, God lives in us and his love is made complete in us. "
- 1 John 4:7-12
"Nothing is inexorable but love. Love which will yield to prayer is imperfect and poor. Nor is it then the love that yields, but its alloy...For love loves unto purity. Love has ever in view the absolute loveliness of that which it beholds. Where loveliness is incomplete, and love cannot love its fill of loving, it spends itself to make more lovely, that it may love more; it strives for perfection, even that itself may be perfected - not in itself, but in the object...Therefore all that is not beautiful in the beloved, all that comes between and is not of love's kind, must be destroyed. And our God is a consuming fire."
- George MacDonald, Unspoken Sermons
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Secrets in the Dark
I finally finished Frederick Buechner's collection of sermons, Secrets in the Dark: A Life in Sermons. Normally I don't have to spend 2 months on one book, and if it takes me that long to read, I lose interest long before I finish it. However since it was a collection of sermons, it was more like 37 short-stories together. I really should have been writing my thoughts on Secrets the whole time I was reading it, because it's difficult to look back over 2 months' reading and really remember what struck me or stuck with me. (That's why underlining is so useful to me.)
Reading sermons that I've never heard spoken before always makes me wonder if I would grasp as much, if I listened to them first, as I do when I'm reading them - or would grasp more. Although I've never yet had the chance to listen to Buechner's preaching, his style is such that I can almost hear a warm, low, gentle voice exhorting and explaining such issues as the pain of a loved one's death, the first new breath of Christ on Resurrection Day, the importance of Communion, or the Eucharist - "The Blood of Christ, Freddy, the Body of Christ." The security, warmth and familiarity of home - our Home in Christ. He explores some issues close to heart; some sermons I thought were rather inconsequential; one, in fact, I thought unbiblical. Yet what I found most resonating in his words was his repeated theme that - Christ is the fulfillment of our desires, our hopes, our expectations, the One Way to the kingdom of God; Christ is found when we love one another, sacrifice ourselves for each other, look beyond the outer cloak of flesh and bones, and see truly the immortal soul that we can have a hand in transforming, for either good or evil.
So, a few high points/underline-worthy moments.....
...It is not objective proof of God's existence that we want but, whether we use religious language for it or not, the experience of God's presence. ("Message in the Stars")
...It means for us simply that we must be careful with our lives, for Christ's sake, beause it would seem that they are the only lives we are going to have in this puzzling and perilous world, and so they are very precious and what we do with them matters enormously. ("The Calling of Voices")
..."Remember the wonderful works that he has done," goes David's song - remember what he has done in the lives of each of us...remember those moments in our own lives when with only the dullest understanding but with the sharpest longing we have glimpsed that Christ's kind of life is the only life that matters and that all other kinds of life are riddled with death; remember those moments in our lives when Christ came to us in countless disguises through people who one way or another strengthened us, comforted us, healed us, judged us, by the power of Christ alive within them...because we remember, we have this high and holy hope: that what he has done, he will continue to do, that what he has begun in us and our world, he will in unimaginable ways bring to fullness and fruition. ("A Room Called Remember")
...Faith is the eye of the heart, and by faith we see deep down beneath the face of things. ("Faith")
...And God knows we have all had our wilderness and our temptations too - not the temptations to work evil probably, because by grace or luck we don't have what it takes for more than momentary longings in that direction, but the temptation to settle for the lesser good, which is evil enough and maybe a worse one - to settle for niceness and usefulness and busyness instead of for holiness; to settle for plausibility and eloquence instead of for truth. ("The Two Stories")
...We really can't hear what the stories of the Bible are saying until we hear them as stories about ourselves. ("The Seeing Heart")
Reading sermons that I've never heard spoken before always makes me wonder if I would grasp as much, if I listened to them first, as I do when I'm reading them - or would grasp more. Although I've never yet had the chance to listen to Buechner's preaching, his style is such that I can almost hear a warm, low, gentle voice exhorting and explaining such issues as the pain of a loved one's death, the first new breath of Christ on Resurrection Day, the importance of Communion, or the Eucharist - "The Blood of Christ, Freddy, the Body of Christ." The security, warmth and familiarity of home - our Home in Christ. He explores some issues close to heart; some sermons I thought were rather inconsequential; one, in fact, I thought unbiblical. Yet what I found most resonating in his words was his repeated theme that - Christ is the fulfillment of our desires, our hopes, our expectations, the One Way to the kingdom of God; Christ is found when we love one another, sacrifice ourselves for each other, look beyond the outer cloak of flesh and bones, and see truly the immortal soul that we can have a hand in transforming, for either good or evil.
So, a few high points/underline-worthy moments.....
...It is not objective proof of God's existence that we want but, whether we use religious language for it or not, the experience of God's presence. ("Message in the Stars")
...It means for us simply that we must be careful with our lives, for Christ's sake, beause it would seem that they are the only lives we are going to have in this puzzling and perilous world, and so they are very precious and what we do with them matters enormously. ("The Calling of Voices")
..."Remember the wonderful works that he has done," goes David's song - remember what he has done in the lives of each of us...remember those moments in our own lives when with only the dullest understanding but with the sharpest longing we have glimpsed that Christ's kind of life is the only life that matters and that all other kinds of life are riddled with death; remember those moments in our lives when Christ came to us in countless disguises through people who one way or another strengthened us, comforted us, healed us, judged us, by the power of Christ alive within them...because we remember, we have this high and holy hope: that what he has done, he will continue to do, that what he has begun in us and our world, he will in unimaginable ways bring to fullness and fruition. ("A Room Called Remember")
...Faith is the eye of the heart, and by faith we see deep down beneath the face of things. ("Faith")
...And God knows we have all had our wilderness and our temptations too - not the temptations to work evil probably, because by grace or luck we don't have what it takes for more than momentary longings in that direction, but the temptation to settle for the lesser good, which is evil enough and maybe a worse one - to settle for niceness and usefulness and busyness instead of for holiness; to settle for plausibility and eloquence instead of for truth. ("The Two Stories")
...We really can't hear what the stories of the Bible are saying until we hear them as stories about ourselves. ("The Seeing Heart")
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Home...
I read a sermon by Frederick Buechner today that really struck home with me (no pun intended - I didn't even realized I used the "h" word til I just reread that sentence...). He spoke about our longing for a place in which we feel secure, safe, sheltered; a place so familiar to us, there are no surprises, nothing but total comfort, a place we can truly be ourselves, hiding nothing. He described his own childhood home - his grandparents' rambling Victorian household, complete with rickety porch swings and a dusty piano used by no one. He went on to talk about how our hearts long for home, because in home, we find beauty and rest. And how, in the end, Christ is the true home we are seeking. Reminds me, of course, of another man who once said, Our hearts are restless, til they rest in You.
I myself am looking forward, very, very much, to spending six beautiful days home with my family in Chanute, KS. Chanute is a little town, home to 9,000 people, or fewer, quiet, filled with its own tension and stories that seem so important inside its boundaries, yet whose significance fades away as you drive down Highway 169 away from it. Yet it holds for me people more precious than words can describe - the people who bore me, raised me, taught me what life was meant to be, released me from the nest with their blessings on my restless wanderings through the world. Home means a rambling blue-and-white house, sleeping on a soft brown sofa warmed by sunshine coming in through the large front window, peeling tan stain on the back porch, time spent curled up next to my siblings in the chilly basement watching movies on a TV framed by shelves filled with hundreds of books, being wakened by the amplified croonings of my dad's fire-engine-red electric guitar.
It is funny that my idea of "home" has settled on this last house. My family did move rather frequently throughout my childhood, and my different stages of development are framed in memory by whatever house we happened to be living in at the time - four that I can remember, from birth to sixteen years old. All the houses have been in the same small town, so perhaps the variety isn't that much of a bother to my memory.
But even more than the physical reminders of home, are the emotions that home invokes in me - comfort, peace, total relaxation, letting go of worries or troubles, because here, of all places, I can allow myself to simply be. But, just as Buechner said, home is more than a physical location; for Christians, it is a Person. One who left His home, the most perfect place I can even begin to imagine, and sought to give that home to people who were broken, lost, full of strife, anger, and envy, totally incapable of experiencing his peace in any way.
Life is full of unexpected twists and turns; even now, when I look at my life, I'm at a place I never even dreamed I'd be a year ago. I have no idea where I'll even be living in 6 months, or if I'll still be here in the States in 5 years, what I'll be doing with my life in 10 years. God may call me to move halfway across the nation; or halfway across town. But if I don't recognize Christ as my home - the one constant Faithful One in my life, the one who gives me a Place to Be, the one who follows me through all the red herrings I throw out - if I fail to recognize Christ as my Home, I don't think I'll ever be happy, no matter if I'm living in the most gloriously remote jungle village in Africa, or a dirty urban inner city in America.
My heart is restless, til it rests in Him.
I myself am looking forward, very, very much, to spending six beautiful days home with my family in Chanute, KS. Chanute is a little town, home to 9,000 people, or fewer, quiet, filled with its own tension and stories that seem so important inside its boundaries, yet whose significance fades away as you drive down Highway 169 away from it. Yet it holds for me people more precious than words can describe - the people who bore me, raised me, taught me what life was meant to be, released me from the nest with their blessings on my restless wanderings through the world. Home means a rambling blue-and-white house, sleeping on a soft brown sofa warmed by sunshine coming in through the large front window, peeling tan stain on the back porch, time spent curled up next to my siblings in the chilly basement watching movies on a TV framed by shelves filled with hundreds of books, being wakened by the amplified croonings of my dad's fire-engine-red electric guitar.
It is funny that my idea of "home" has settled on this last house. My family did move rather frequently throughout my childhood, and my different stages of development are framed in memory by whatever house we happened to be living in at the time - four that I can remember, from birth to sixteen years old. All the houses have been in the same small town, so perhaps the variety isn't that much of a bother to my memory.
But even more than the physical reminders of home, are the emotions that home invokes in me - comfort, peace, total relaxation, letting go of worries or troubles, because here, of all places, I can allow myself to simply be. But, just as Buechner said, home is more than a physical location; for Christians, it is a Person. One who left His home, the most perfect place I can even begin to imagine, and sought to give that home to people who were broken, lost, full of strife, anger, and envy, totally incapable of experiencing his peace in any way.
Life is full of unexpected twists and turns; even now, when I look at my life, I'm at a place I never even dreamed I'd be a year ago. I have no idea where I'll even be living in 6 months, or if I'll still be here in the States in 5 years, what I'll be doing with my life in 10 years. God may call me to move halfway across the nation; or halfway across town. But if I don't recognize Christ as my home - the one constant Faithful One in my life, the one who gives me a Place to Be, the one who follows me through all the red herrings I throw out - if I fail to recognize Christ as my Home, I don't think I'll ever be happy, no matter if I'm living in the most gloriously remote jungle village in Africa, or a dirty urban inner city in America.
My heart is restless, til it rests in Him.
Friday, December 5, 2008
A confession...
I strongly dislike Christmas.
Yes, I am a bah-humbug-type person. First off, the cold weather completely puts me into a cranky, sour mood. I hate cold weather. I despise cold weather. The coats, the gloves, cranking the heater on the engine of the car, scraping the stubborn ice off the front windshield, not being able to roll down the window and feel the air on your skin without your arm hairs freezing off, waking up in the morning and not wanting to get out of bed or shower or even move because your ligaments have been frozen solid, the thick dry feeling of your throat after breathing in hot dry air all night, not being able to wear flip flops every day...
Yeah, I don't do cold weather.
I also don't like buying stuff for people. Crap is my descriptive word of choice. Or rather, I don't like feeling compelled to buy stuff for people. Gift buying should be spontaneous, done because all of a sudden you look at something and realize that this person would love it; or because you see a need, someone in need, and you have the means to meet that need. But yesterday, I found myself staring at an Etsy.com online store at some flower-themed magnets, thinking, Hm, I really need to get something for my grandmother, and maybe she'd like this. And I realized, her fridge is already covered with photos and scraps of paper and magnets shaped like states, and she really didn't need another magnet. All she wanted was something that said, Yes, I am thinking of you and care about you. What she needs is, above all, not crap.
I am learning to be a not-so-materialistic person.
What do I like about Christmas?
I like Advent - the anticipation of the birth of Christ, the reverence given this very coarse, unrefined, dirty event, the birth of a seemingly bastard Child from the womb of a peasant teenager in a dirty hovel of a cave - a most surprising, unexpected way of entry for the King of kings and Lord of lords. I love the spiced smells of cider, the warmth of fire and candles. I love rum cake! I love cuddling up with Amelia and Grace on the couch, the smell of unwashed little girls' hair and the feel of slightly scratchy old pajamas, listening to my father's steady baritone voice reading out loud the birth story from the Gospel of Luke, the pirouette hazelnut sticks and summer sausage with crackers and cheese at ten o'clock in the morning, Sufjan Steven's quirky, joyful, struck-with-awe-sounding Christmas album.
There still is much I love about the Christmas season; still some things that put me off, but many things still that draw me close to God, the people in my life that God has given me to love and be loved by. So I maturely lay aside my intense hatred for cold weather and dislike for buying stuff, and choose to embrace this season of joy.
O come, o come, Emmanuel.
Yes, I am a bah-humbug-type person. First off, the cold weather completely puts me into a cranky, sour mood. I hate cold weather. I despise cold weather. The coats, the gloves, cranking the heater on the engine of the car, scraping the stubborn ice off the front windshield, not being able to roll down the window and feel the air on your skin without your arm hairs freezing off, waking up in the morning and not wanting to get out of bed or shower or even move because your ligaments have been frozen solid, the thick dry feeling of your throat after breathing in hot dry air all night, not being able to wear flip flops every day...
Yeah, I don't do cold weather.
I also don't like buying stuff for people. Crap is my descriptive word of choice. Or rather, I don't like feeling compelled to buy stuff for people. Gift buying should be spontaneous, done because all of a sudden you look at something and realize that this person would love it; or because you see a need, someone in need, and you have the means to meet that need. But yesterday, I found myself staring at an Etsy.com online store at some flower-themed magnets, thinking, Hm, I really need to get something for my grandmother, and maybe she'd like this. And I realized, her fridge is already covered with photos and scraps of paper and magnets shaped like states, and she really didn't need another magnet. All she wanted was something that said, Yes, I am thinking of you and care about you. What she needs is, above all, not crap.
I am learning to be a not-so-materialistic person.
What do I like about Christmas?
I like Advent - the anticipation of the birth of Christ, the reverence given this very coarse, unrefined, dirty event, the birth of a seemingly bastard Child from the womb of a peasant teenager in a dirty hovel of a cave - a most surprising, unexpected way of entry for the King of kings and Lord of lords. I love the spiced smells of cider, the warmth of fire and candles. I love rum cake! I love cuddling up with Amelia and Grace on the couch, the smell of unwashed little girls' hair and the feel of slightly scratchy old pajamas, listening to my father's steady baritone voice reading out loud the birth story from the Gospel of Luke, the pirouette hazelnut sticks and summer sausage with crackers and cheese at ten o'clock in the morning, Sufjan Steven's quirky, joyful, struck-with-awe-sounding Christmas album.
There still is much I love about the Christmas season; still some things that put me off, but many things still that draw me close to God, the people in my life that God has given me to love and be loved by. So I maturely lay aside my intense hatred for cold weather and dislike for buying stuff, and choose to embrace this season of joy.
O come, o come, Emmanuel.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Going back to college....
...in my memories, that is. The other night I pulled out my old vocal music books from good ol' NCCC, remembered singing along with Dave (Dave! David Smith! I know some of you remember Dave!) pounding out old jazz tunes on the piano, singing loud just to hear the notes echo back to me and letting the occasional high F rip off the ceiling of that practice room. Mood Indigo, Old Devil Moon, God Bless the Child; Morgen, Depuis le jour, O mio babbino caro...hating German with a passion, letting the thick gutteral consonants serenade and eventually seduce me into loving the emotion-filled songs...
There is something in traditional, old songs - both the romantic Italian arias by Puccini, and the speak-easy showtunes of Billie Holliday and Nina Simone - that works over a different part of the musical mind than easy-to-sing, foamy songs that you hear on the radio today. Maybe if I knew something, anything, about the psychology of music, I could explain what that is. True story: I miss singing those old songs with Dave. I wish I knew how to play piano. I love singing opera and jazz. It's 5 AM, I'm awake with nothing to do but listen to music and try to not break out in song...my fellow nurses might try to check me in...although they should be used to my eccentric behavior by now...
There is something in traditional, old songs - both the romantic Italian arias by Puccini, and the speak-easy showtunes of Billie Holliday and Nina Simone - that works over a different part of the musical mind than easy-to-sing, foamy songs that you hear on the radio today. Maybe if I knew something, anything, about the psychology of music, I could explain what that is. True story: I miss singing those old songs with Dave. I wish I knew how to play piano. I love singing opera and jazz. It's 5 AM, I'm awake with nothing to do but listen to music and try to not break out in song...my fellow nurses might try to check me in...although they should be used to my eccentric behavior by now...
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Tis so sweet......
It's 3 AM and I cannot sleep. Not yet, despite a half dose of Advil PM and a glass of go-to-sleep tea and pure exhaustedness that makes my eyelids heavy. So here is some late-night rambling about what's going on in Whitney's world.
God has really been working on me lately, trying to help me identify when I fail to "walk in the Spirit" and start thinking with my sinful nature.
"16So I say, live by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the sinful nature. 17For the sinful nature desires what is contrary to the Spirit, and the Spirit what is contrary to the sinful nature. They are in conflict with each other, so that you do not do what you want. 18But if you are led by the Spirit, you are not under law.
19The acts of the sinful nature are obvious: sexual immorality, impurity and debauchery; 20idolatry and witchcraft; hatred, discord, jealousy, fits of rage, selfish ambition, dissensions, factions 21and envy; drunkenness, orgies, and the like. I warn you, as I did before, that those who live like this will not inherit the kingdom of God.
22But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, 23gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law. 24Those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the sinful nature with its passions and desires. 25Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit. 26Let us not become conceited, provoking and envying each other."
- Galatians 5:16-26
Definition of walking by the Spirit: thoughts, attitudes, behaviors, habits that naturally breed and bring the following into my life: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, and self-control.
Definition of living by the sinful nature: anything that leads to/ends in immorality, etc, whatever is listed in verses 19-21.
It is amazing, when I start monitoring my thoughts and habits and patterns how dependent I am on my sinful nature. When you start asking "where is that coming from?", it's amazing that more times than not, it's coming from my sinful nature. And how often I don't do anything to combat it, I just let the thought fly and influence how I act towards people, what I think about them, what I say about them. How often my flesh has total, complete rein on my thoughts. The mind really is a battlefield.
But, this week, I have been working on letting go - and taking hold. Letting go of my right to do whatever I want with my mind; letting go of trying to plan things out according to how my flesh wants them. Taking hold of the promises of God, that he loved me enough to die for me in order to restore me to the glorious relationship he created me for. Taking hold of the righteousness he wants to clothe me in. Taking hold of the peace that he offers when I totally surrender my life to him and embrace his love.
It really is a simple, kindergarten-Christian lesson. But I also think that - it's one of those rock faces that look incredibly easy to climb, but a third of the way up, you realize it's inclining over your head and the grips are getting smaller and smaller and oh yeah, your spotter just decided to let go of the rope and get a drink or something.
But the peace - oh, tis so sweet to trust in Jesus, just to take him at his word...just to know, thus sayeth the Lord. To know that you don't have to figure everything out in your life and answer all the hard questions at this moment, because God is there, with the pen, writing out your life story, if I'd only stop trying to wrench the pen from his hand; if I'd allow him to dictate my thoughts, my actions, my attitudes. To take my mind and transform my inner woman, changing her from an ugly old withered up bitter selfish woman and make her something beautiful, vibrant, alive.
Tis so sweet to trust in Jesus.
God has really been working on me lately, trying to help me identify when I fail to "walk in the Spirit" and start thinking with my sinful nature.
"16So I say, live by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the sinful nature. 17For the sinful nature desires what is contrary to the Spirit, and the Spirit what is contrary to the sinful nature. They are in conflict with each other, so that you do not do what you want. 18But if you are led by the Spirit, you are not under law.
19The acts of the sinful nature are obvious: sexual immorality, impurity and debauchery; 20idolatry and witchcraft; hatred, discord, jealousy, fits of rage, selfish ambition, dissensions, factions 21and envy; drunkenness, orgies, and the like. I warn you, as I did before, that those who live like this will not inherit the kingdom of God.
22But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, 23gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law. 24Those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the sinful nature with its passions and desires. 25Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit. 26Let us not become conceited, provoking and envying each other."
- Galatians 5:16-26
Definition of walking by the Spirit: thoughts, attitudes, behaviors, habits that naturally breed and bring the following into my life: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, and self-control.
Definition of living by the sinful nature: anything that leads to/ends in immorality, etc, whatever is listed in verses 19-21.
It is amazing, when I start monitoring my thoughts and habits and patterns how dependent I am on my sinful nature. When you start asking "where is that coming from?", it's amazing that more times than not, it's coming from my sinful nature. And how often I don't do anything to combat it, I just let the thought fly and influence how I act towards people, what I think about them, what I say about them. How often my flesh has total, complete rein on my thoughts. The mind really is a battlefield.
But, this week, I have been working on letting go - and taking hold. Letting go of my right to do whatever I want with my mind; letting go of trying to plan things out according to how my flesh wants them. Taking hold of the promises of God, that he loved me enough to die for me in order to restore me to the glorious relationship he created me for. Taking hold of the righteousness he wants to clothe me in. Taking hold of the peace that he offers when I totally surrender my life to him and embrace his love.
It really is a simple, kindergarten-Christian lesson. But I also think that - it's one of those rock faces that look incredibly easy to climb, but a third of the way up, you realize it's inclining over your head and the grips are getting smaller and smaller and oh yeah, your spotter just decided to let go of the rope and get a drink or something.
But the peace - oh, tis so sweet to trust in Jesus, just to take him at his word...just to know, thus sayeth the Lord. To know that you don't have to figure everything out in your life and answer all the hard questions at this moment, because God is there, with the pen, writing out your life story, if I'd only stop trying to wrench the pen from his hand; if I'd allow him to dictate my thoughts, my actions, my attitudes. To take my mind and transform my inner woman, changing her from an ugly old withered up bitter selfish woman and make her something beautiful, vibrant, alive.
Tis so sweet to trust in Jesus.
Saturday, November 29, 2008
I Love.......
Things I rediscovered my love for this Thanksgiving.....
....pecan pie.
....being lazy on an inner tube on the Lazy River.
....loud relatives.
....my mom's homemade enchiladas.
....long naps under the background noise and clamor of a family reunion.
....Psalm 103.
....refusing to get up and shop just because everything is on sale.
....salsa late into the night in the middle of the week.
Aaah the holidays..... :)
....pecan pie.
....being lazy on an inner tube on the Lazy River.
....loud relatives.
....my mom's homemade enchiladas.
....long naps under the background noise and clamor of a family reunion.
....Psalm 103.
....refusing to get up and shop just because everything is on sale.
....salsa late into the night in the middle of the week.
Aaah the holidays..... :)
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Things I Love About My Church Family.....
my utterly beautiful soul-sistah lindsey.
It's Turkey Day!!! Well, almost. This evening all the adult leaders/volunteers/churchgoers from Rosedale Church gathered at a family's home for chili, yummy desserts, games, and loud, loud, loud fellowship. (I did attend, so the latter is almost a given.) Thirty+ adults and kids squeezed into a living room and kitchen oh-so-tight, kids crawling under tables and over chairs and into laps, people spilling over onto couches and windowsills, balancing bowls of chili on their knees and yelling across the room for someone to bring them a napkin or another bowl of chili or a homemade rootbeer, because they're stuck between the table and couch and can't get out. A ridiculous game of Catchphrase in which my team was royally spanked, and of course the line-by-line replay of Nacho Libre by yours truly et al. :)
I still am humbled and amazed by the people that surround me every Sunday morning and evening. Humbled because I feel I don't deserve a community of friends that accepts me so willingly, openly, without hesitation. Amazed that God brought me to them at just the right time in my life, in a city of 1 million+.
And of course, since it is Thanksgiving week, I thought of more I'm thankful for...
...for community - in that I have found myself, in under 6 months of discovering Rosedale, part of a family that genuinely loves and looks out for each other; a group of people from different backgrounds, different styles of worship, different stories of faith - who come together and worship the Lord Jesus as one.
...for a church family that is interested, above all else, in pursuing God's will in their own individual lives and in the direction of the church as a whole.
...for people that accept the crazy, loud, fun-loving side of me and are perhaps a little crazy themselves too....at times...:o)
...for a God who gave His followers the Church, so that we can experience the presence of Christ here on earth, His unconditional love, His compassion, His sense of humor, His arms of comfort during times of sorrow, His shouts of joy during times of excitement. His hands and feet, still touching and walking among those of us left here on earth.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Familiarity.
I'm back at work for the night. Sitting at the little blue desk behind a fiberglass window, hello, what's your name, why is your child sick, sign here please, thank you.
I often think of the familiarity with which nurses treat the human body. And the utter trust that most people place in our hands, just because we have the letters "RN" behind our name on our badge. Complete strangers, trusting that we will do no harm, will work our best to bring their children back to complete health - or at least in a bit better shape than they were brought in.
I find myself holding hands, stroking forheads, patting backs, of children and anxious parents I was unaware existed minutes ago. Asking teenagers to allow me to ask them the most personal, embarrassing questions, to expose their awkward bodies to me, to divulge secrets even their best friends don't know. Listening and holding kleenex's out to parents as they pour out their stories to me, stories of abandonment and struggling as a single mom and the loss of trust between loved ones, even though I can't remember their first name, because I'm there and I ask and my vocation calls for compassion in all situations - and they understand that.
Some of favorite moments of work - those, "aha! this is why I'm a nurse" - come when I'm simply standing in a room next to a child, lying with eyes closed, lights darkened, or maybe even eyes open and staring up at me, those dark, lash-framed, slightly fearful yet trustful at the same time. I hold my stethescope up to their chest, or I slowly push a medicine through their IV that will relieve their pain or ease their breathing. Three or four minutes, nothing said between us, yet I can hear their raspy breaths, the hiccups of a child who's just finished a crying spell, the long tired sigh of a parent struggling to stay awake after sixteen or eighteen hours of caring for a sick child. Nursing opens the door for me to step into someone else's world, to accept that the relief of their pain and suffering is my responsibility - sometimes that responsibility can be heavy.
I also have decided, through my nursing work, that our culture is incredibly touch-deprived. Yes there is plenty of I'm-needy-touching of bodies, satisfy-my-needs-touching, make-me-feel-good-touching; an overload perhaps. But the focus of all of the above is me, me, me. That touch that says - I'm here, I care about you, I am present with you in your pain, in your good times, in your life - it is a rare person who knows how to employ that without any selfish ambition at all. With simply the desire to give hope and encouragement to that person. Just ask yourself - when was the last time that you were given a good, I-care-about-you-and-think-you're-great huge with anyone other than your significant other?
Being a nurse makes me think about all these things - about true compassion, the frailty of the human body, the need for empathetic touch. Nursing is an expression of Christ to the world, in a sense.
"Therefore, as God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience." "Finally, all of you, live in harmony with one another; be sympathetic, love as brothers, be compassionate and humble." "He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds."
"Jesus went throughout Galilee, teaching in their synagogues, preaching the good news of the kingdom, and healing every disease and sickness among the people. 24News about him spread all over Syria, and people brought to him all who were ill with various diseases, those suffering severe pain, the demon-possessed, those having seizures, and the paralyzed, and he healed them."
It's easy for me, as a follower of Christ, to simply go to my job, do the motions, to reject the deeper meaning of my vocation. Yet then I have those quiet moments, almost like that moment in the movie Big Fish, where Ewan McGregor's character freezes the motion in the circus tent, brushes aside popcorn from in the air, and stares intently into the blue eyes of a fresh-faced girl, because he knows instinctively that this moment contains crucial meaning for his life. It's easy to let those moments flash past me.
Yet God is speaking to me through every person I care for - that meth-addicted mom screaming frustratedly at her toddler; the 16-year-old looking at me with empty eyes as she describes her rape; the chubby 5th-grader trying to catch his breath before the asthma catches him and ends him for good; they are all Jesus. He looks up at me with those empty eyes, walks past me in the hall, asks impatiently when he will be seen - asking me, Will you love me, in every shape, form, size, color, smell? Will you see me for who I really am?
Do you love Me?
I often think of the familiarity with which nurses treat the human body. And the utter trust that most people place in our hands, just because we have the letters "RN" behind our name on our badge. Complete strangers, trusting that we will do no harm, will work our best to bring their children back to complete health - or at least in a bit better shape than they were brought in.
I find myself holding hands, stroking forheads, patting backs, of children and anxious parents I was unaware existed minutes ago. Asking teenagers to allow me to ask them the most personal, embarrassing questions, to expose their awkward bodies to me, to divulge secrets even their best friends don't know. Listening and holding kleenex's out to parents as they pour out their stories to me, stories of abandonment and struggling as a single mom and the loss of trust between loved ones, even though I can't remember their first name, because I'm there and I ask and my vocation calls for compassion in all situations - and they understand that.
Some of favorite moments of work - those, "aha! this is why I'm a nurse" - come when I'm simply standing in a room next to a child, lying with eyes closed, lights darkened, or maybe even eyes open and staring up at me, those dark, lash-framed, slightly fearful yet trustful at the same time. I hold my stethescope up to their chest, or I slowly push a medicine through their IV that will relieve their pain or ease their breathing. Three or four minutes, nothing said between us, yet I can hear their raspy breaths, the hiccups of a child who's just finished a crying spell, the long tired sigh of a parent struggling to stay awake after sixteen or eighteen hours of caring for a sick child. Nursing opens the door for me to step into someone else's world, to accept that the relief of their pain and suffering is my responsibility - sometimes that responsibility can be heavy.
I also have decided, through my nursing work, that our culture is incredibly touch-deprived. Yes there is plenty of I'm-needy-touching of bodies, satisfy-my-needs-touching, make-me-feel-good-touching; an overload perhaps. But the focus of all of the above is me, me, me. That touch that says - I'm here, I care about you, I am present with you in your pain, in your good times, in your life - it is a rare person who knows how to employ that without any selfish ambition at all. With simply the desire to give hope and encouragement to that person. Just ask yourself - when was the last time that you were given a good, I-care-about-you-and-think-you're-great huge with anyone other than your significant other?
Being a nurse makes me think about all these things - about true compassion, the frailty of the human body, the need for empathetic touch. Nursing is an expression of Christ to the world, in a sense.
"Therefore, as God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience." "Finally, all of you, live in harmony with one another; be sympathetic, love as brothers, be compassionate and humble." "He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds."
"Jesus went throughout Galilee, teaching in their synagogues, preaching the good news of the kingdom, and healing every disease and sickness among the people. 24News about him spread all over Syria, and people brought to him all who were ill with various diseases, those suffering severe pain, the demon-possessed, those having seizures, and the paralyzed, and he healed them."
It's easy for me, as a follower of Christ, to simply go to my job, do the motions, to reject the deeper meaning of my vocation. Yet then I have those quiet moments, almost like that moment in the movie Big Fish, where Ewan McGregor's character freezes the motion in the circus tent, brushes aside popcorn from in the air, and stares intently into the blue eyes of a fresh-faced girl, because he knows instinctively that this moment contains crucial meaning for his life. It's easy to let those moments flash past me.
Yet God is speaking to me through every person I care for - that meth-addicted mom screaming frustratedly at her toddler; the 16-year-old looking at me with empty eyes as she describes her rape; the chubby 5th-grader trying to catch his breath before the asthma catches him and ends him for good; they are all Jesus. He looks up at me with those empty eyes, walks past me in the hall, asks impatiently when he will be seen - asking me, Will you love me, in every shape, form, size, color, smell? Will you see me for who I really am?
Do you love Me?
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Travelling Mercies.
I am infinitely blessed to have friends who are as much bookworms as I am, and will occasionally nudge me towards books I otherwise would not have picked up. Travelling Mercies by Anne Lamott is one of those books that certainly stretched my idea of "religious nonfiction."
First off, I have to say a few things: I love her hair. Someday, maybe when I am a little more liberated (or off in the boonies in Africa and just tired of dealing with my hair), I will get dreadlocks. Second, I briefly considered becoming Episcopalian/Anglican upon my return to the States after Sudan, but the kneeling/standing up/kneeling routine literally made me ill - not that that was a real reason for deciding against it, but I digress. I do wish my church did Communion every week though, as I do believe it's a Sacrament meant to be done frequently. However it is sometimes difficult to do anything with reverence in the church I attend, with 50+ inner city kids screaming and squirming. In saying that, I enjoy any books about people in the more liturgical churches, such as Lauren Winner's Girl Meets God, another one of my favorites.
Anne Lamott certainly has a way of expressing her faith in God, and her doubts, and her fears about motherhood and love, in ways that startle you, whip your head around, and listen. The friend who lent me the book told me before I started, "Just to warn you - she drops the f-bomb like nobody's business. She's just like, Hey, God, this is who I am and what I'm dealing with." And it is interesting to note that I couldn't find any of her books at Mardell's. Make the connection.
What is faith? What is spirituality? Who is God? Is he/she distant, absent, not caring about the world; does he have any interest in the fact that I'm suffering down here, surrounded by suffering, pain inside and out, living in a world gone terribly wrong? (can I even use the pronoun "She" to describe God without more traditional/conservative Christians accusing me of paganism? When Jesus himself describes himself in Matthew as a mother hen?)
I don't agree with all of her theology. But what is theology - simply my human attempt to describe God. For instance, I don't believe Buddhism is simply "another way of seeing God", or that it is simply, for the Buddhist, "the way he understands God." I can never get away from the God who said simply, in black in white, in human flesh, I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life.
But how do we relate to God? Lamott says the two best prayers you can ever pray are, "Thank you, thank you, thank you," and "Help me, help me, help me." (which certainly makes me feel better about my spiritual maturity, considering those are the two prayers I cry out the most!) Do I live my life as two selves - the self I give to God, allow him to make holy, to act in certain ways; and the self I keep to myself, the self I hold back, where once in a while those fleshly desires leap out at me from the depths that I refuse to let God plunge into.
God has a lot more grace than I give him credit for. Lamott describes in detail her alcoholism, abortion, unsuccessful love affairs, struggles to raise a son as a single mom, supporting numerous friends with cancer and AIDS and children with horrible chronic diseases. Not that I doubt God's ability to love someone out of horrible situations; no, it humbles me because I look at myself somtimes and doubt God's ability to redeem me. Then I remember Who I'm talking about.
He also wants more of me than I realize, and perhaps am willing to give.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Global Missions Health Conference 2008
I spent Thursday - Saturday this week absorbed into the fascinating, challenging, provoking world of community/public health, refugee/IDP crises, relief work, community development projects, evangelism, urban ministry......medical missions.
I joined 6 other Kansas Citians in a 8 hour drive to Louisville, KY to the Global Missions Health Conference held at Southeast Christian Church (aka Six Flags Over Jesus, per Dr Condra from Children's Mercy - no offense meant to anyone - but it IS a flippin' huge church). I don't even know how many thousands of people were at this conference - dozens of hour-long breakout sessions over topics like urban neighborhood transformation through community-based medical care, refugee health in Afghanistan, how to allocate limited resources in the mission field, how to be a medical missionary despite your student loans, community-based primary healthcare and how it reduces the under-five mortality rates in rural India, how to avoid dependence syndrome and promote sustainability in overseas medical projects.........
Yes, if your mind gets boggled just reading all of the above, imagine being completely immersed in it for 48 hours.
I loved every minute of it.
What was even better was the fact that every person in the conference, or at least the vast majority of them, were motivated by the fact that their relationship with a Compassionate Creator motivated them to work in transforming the spiritual and physical lives of people who are born in utter poverty in the darkest corners of the world - from Memphis, Tennessee to Kabul, Afghanistan.
High points -
I joined 6 other Kansas Citians in a 8 hour drive to Louisville, KY to the Global Missions Health Conference held at Southeast Christian Church (aka Six Flags Over Jesus, per Dr Condra from Children's Mercy - no offense meant to anyone - but it IS a flippin' huge church). I don't even know how many thousands of people were at this conference - dozens of hour-long breakout sessions over topics like urban neighborhood transformation through community-based medical care, refugee health in Afghanistan, how to allocate limited resources in the mission field, how to be a medical missionary despite your student loans, community-based primary healthcare and how it reduces the under-five mortality rates in rural India, how to avoid dependence syndrome and promote sustainability in overseas medical projects.........
Yes, if your mind gets boggled just reading all of the above, imagine being completely immersed in it for 48 hours.
I loved every minute of it.
What was even better was the fact that every person in the conference, or at least the vast majority of them, were motivated by the fact that their relationship with a Compassionate Creator motivated them to work in transforming the spiritual and physical lives of people who are born in utter poverty in the darkest corners of the world - from Memphis, Tennessee to Kabul, Afghanistan.
High points -
- Meeting various relief workers who had been in Sudan and worked with my coworkers (the NGO world is really incredibly tiny)
- Listening to Dr Carl Taylor, Dr John Patrick, and Admiral Zeimer
- Hearing Dr Donlon speak about his work in inner city Memphis, providing low cost medical care to refugees and how his work positively impacted the development of skills the ministry workers later used in their long-term work in places like Somalia and Sudan
- Talking with the physician who will be leading the team to Afghanistan in May of which I will insha'allah be a member
- Receiving total confirmation from the Lord that - yes - Kansas City is where I want you to be right now; and yes - I am sending you to the mission field in the future; and yes - I want you to go back to school!!!
There were so many quotes, words of wisdom, practical resources, just information that was poured into me over the few days of the conference, I feel it's going to take me weeks to sort through it all and start applying towards my future and current work.
Maybe even just as incredible as all the speakers and lecturers was the group I went with. I cannot even begin to describe the comeraderie and unity of spirit in that group - despite our very diverse backgrounds and experiences, male and female, nurses and med student, frequent fliers and non-passport-holders, country music lovers and folk music lovers and rap music lovers (that becomes very crucial information when you are in a car for 8+ hours with someone!), Catholic and Protestant - it is amazing how the passion for the Lord and for his people joins such diverse people together, and how much you learn and grow when you open yourself up to new experiences and new friends. I loved it!!!!! :)
Needless to say, I am terribly excited about what God has for me. I have no idea what I'll be doing in 6 months, where I'll be living, if I'll still be a "night owl" or not, but I just long so much to draw closer to God and see him take me down an incredible path of faith.
Let's rock 'n' roll!!!!
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Limbo, limbo, limbo...
Tonight I took a journey down memory lane and went to Skate World with the elementary kids from Rosedale Church. Imagine about 50 four- to ten-year olds who have been skating maybe once before in their lives, all stumbling, shuffling, falling, shrieking out on the cold floor of the skating rink, loud Christian rock and rap music videos being played out, projected onto the concrete back wall, and the adult volunteers trying desperately to avoid wiping out with the one or two kids who are clinging to their arms and legs like barnacles to the side of a whale.I have many, many fond memories of going to Skate City in Chanute, taking kids from Cherry Street, going myself in my neon-green-and-hot-pink roller blades with gel wheels!!! and always wanting to be on the skate racing team....yeah I still get yelled at in the skating rink for going too fast...Skating always feels so freeing, just gliding along in circles, movin' to the music, following the disco ball lights with your feet, playing limbo, falling flat on your face, laughing, getting back up, skating backwards, and just moving.
These kids from Rosedale Church were so fun to take skating. Lots of them had never been before, and I have to admit, as long as the kid doesn't knock himself out, it's hilarious to watch them skate around the rink, legs wobbly, arms flailing out in an attempt to keep their balance, shrieking with laughter when they collide with each other or the wall - I only saw one kid actually come off the rink crying. And I've decided that my new favorite thing in the world is those Fisher Price toddler skates - the ones that don't really roll, just kinda chink-chink-chink across the floor, and you don't really have to worry about the kid falling too awful much.
Sooooo in closing - I love roller skating. I think I should take it up as my new hobby.....And I'm going to a three-day medical missions conference this week in Louisville, Kentucky this week! Going with a bunch of friends from church and work, we're road-trippin' it up there and back, and it is gonna be the bomb. I am pumped. Of course we're leaving Thursday morning at 8 am....and I work Wednesday night, 7 pm - 7 am....so I will be either delirious or comatose or both by the time we get there Thursday afternoon....woop woop for medical missions!!!
Monday, November 10, 2008
Logos.
"In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. In him was life, and that life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not understood it..."
- John 1:1-5
Regardless of how many times I read this, it never fails to awe me with its simple statement of truth, fact, reality. Word = logos, reason; per Heraclitus, the rational principle that pervades human thought; the reason that rules the universe; the moment of beginning or root cause; genesis - the beginning.
The Word - Logos - was with God in the beginning...Jesus, the God-Man, as the Root Cause, the Beginning, the Rational Principle - embodied in vulnerable flesh and making his dwelling among us. And the world did not recognize him...
"He came to that which was his own, but his own did not receive him." (Jn 1:11). How tragic that a world, the kosmos of mankind, has become so twisted, strayed so far from true Reality that it does not welcome him, embrace him when he walks among us as one of us.
"...but in these last days, He has spoken to us by his Son...The Son is the radiance of God's glory and the exact representation of his being, sustaining all things by his powerful word." (Heb. 1:2-3).
Jesus, as the exact representation of the LORD, the embodiment in flesh of the Creator. If I truly desire to be a Christ-follower, an embodiment myself of Jesus and thus of God, how different would I live my life? Would I recognize this fragile shell as redeemed, transformed by the sacrifice of Christ, and now a holy representation of God himself?
In him was life....the One and Only Son, who is at the Father's side, has made the LORD known to the world.
- John 1:1-5
Regardless of how many times I read this, it never fails to awe me with its simple statement of truth, fact, reality. Word = logos, reason; per Heraclitus, the rational principle that pervades human thought; the reason that rules the universe; the moment of beginning or root cause; genesis - the beginning.
The Word - Logos - was with God in the beginning...Jesus, the God-Man, as the Root Cause, the Beginning, the Rational Principle - embodied in vulnerable flesh and making his dwelling among us. And the world did not recognize him...
"He came to that which was his own, but his own did not receive him." (Jn 1:11). How tragic that a world, the kosmos of mankind, has become so twisted, strayed so far from true Reality that it does not welcome him, embrace him when he walks among us as one of us.
"...but in these last days, He has spoken to us by his Son...The Son is the radiance of God's glory and the exact representation of his being, sustaining all things by his powerful word." (Heb. 1:2-3).
Jesus, as the exact representation of the LORD, the embodiment in flesh of the Creator. If I truly desire to be a Christ-follower, an embodiment myself of Jesus and thus of God, how different would I live my life? Would I recognize this fragile shell as redeemed, transformed by the sacrifice of Christ, and now a holy representation of God himself?
In him was life....the One and Only Son, who is at the Father's side, has made the LORD known to the world.
Saturday, November 8, 2008
Now do-si-do your partner round.....
Last night I had the first experience of my life with square dancing...
One of the guys from my church concocted a plan to take all the adult volunteers on a "fellowship night" to Raytown, MO to learn square dancing. I have to admit that although I love dancing, I was a little apprehensive about this. Mostly because,
a) I hate country music. I don't just mean, oh I don't like it very much; I mean I physically leave the room if a truly country song comes on. Yes I am prejudiced and I apologize and I give you permission to make fun of my favorite musical styles. I can handle a lil Hank Williams or Johnny Cash, mostly for its folk-music quality. But strains of Tim McGraw makes me want to vomit a lil in my mouth.
b) We were "requested" by Justin to wear plaid, cowboy boots and hats, or some other countrified apparatus to show our true affinity with - heck, I don't know, I guess the square dancers. I don't own plaid. Correction - I own one shirt with a very faint plaid-resembling pattern. No boots, no hat. I wore a black shirt and trouser jeans with ballet slippers and my amazing red-patterned scarf/shawl from Kassala, Sudan. I know, I'm such a bad sport.
c) Square dancing is a calling dance - meaning, they have a guy up front who calls out different moves and you're expected to immediately start moving in a specific pattern. I have serious problems with verbal directions - a big reason why I no longer do casino rueda salsa. Because when you mess up, you mess up the entire group of people dancing, and they start getting peeved looks on their faces, your partner furrows his brow and says, Ok, let's get it right now, and the whole situation is just awkward...
We finally arrived at the church after a false start at a different one (did we really think a church with a building and people that young would have square dancing???), and were immediately plunged into huge hoola-hoop-sized "fruffly" skirts, golden bloomers, panty-hose-enclosed legs ending in sturdy black orthopedic shoes, old men with hair slicked back with Aussie gel, scattered styrofoam cups stained with coffee and old pink lipstick, Wrangler pearl-snap mens' shirts stretched taut over potbellies, tappin' your toe, do-si-do, plain ol' good clean country fun.
I honestly don't know who had more fun - the eleven "teenagers" staring at the caller, trying to listen intently to the dance moves called out, clenching tightly the hand of whatever poor senior citizen was recruited to yank them through each dance move; or the gray-haired woman or man saying, Now go, that way, hold your hand out, stop, pass through, bow to your corner, no this way, no stay! Through half the dance, all of us collapsed in laughter, we at the fact we were so incompetent in our dancing skills and unable to keep a square "square", the older folks at the antics of those youngsters who would periodically break out a hip hop move or a disco hand when the beat suddenly struck us and we simply did whatever felt natural to us - which is certainly not to promenade or make a half-turn star.
All of us "teenagers" - that's what they kept calling us, teenagers, although none of us are under 21, but I suppose that when you're 75, anything under 30 looks like a high schooler to you! - all of us teenagers expressed amazement that by 10 pm, we were ready to keel over from exhaustion, while the older folks kept on dancing, dancing, dancing. Of course when you drink coffee constantly for the first 2 hours, you can handle pretty much anything that comes your way!
Over and over before we left, I heard from the older folks, You bring so much life to our dancing! And I would stop, and look over the room - on average, 50 years' difference between the people now holding each others' hands, laughing as they share a hilarious blunder on the younger's part. Really, we come from different worlds - the America they experienced and grew up in has now transformed into a totally different country. Some of those people may not even live to see the next President inaugerated. Yet what a beautiful thing when those differences are blurred and you discover that you share something with the grey-haired, wrinkly, smiling, bobbing lady next to you; a love of life.
(don't they look like they're having fun???)
"Square dance is a folk dance with four couples (eight dancers) arranged in a square, with one couple on each side, beginning with Couple 1 facing away from the music and going counter-clockwise until getting to Couple 4. Couples 1 and 3 are known as the head couples, while Couples 2 and 4 are the side couples. Each dance begins and ends each sequence with "sets-in-order" in the square formation. The dance was first described in 17th century England but was also quite common in France and throughout Europe and bears a marked similarity to Scottish Country Dancing. It has become associated with the United States of America due to its historic development in that country. Nineteen U.S. states have designated it as their official state dance." (Wikipedia.com)One of the guys from my church concocted a plan to take all the adult volunteers on a "fellowship night" to Raytown, MO to learn square dancing. I have to admit that although I love dancing, I was a little apprehensive about this. Mostly because,
a) I hate country music. I don't just mean, oh I don't like it very much; I mean I physically leave the room if a truly country song comes on. Yes I am prejudiced and I apologize and I give you permission to make fun of my favorite musical styles. I can handle a lil Hank Williams or Johnny Cash, mostly for its folk-music quality. But strains of Tim McGraw makes me want to vomit a lil in my mouth.
b) We were "requested" by Justin to wear plaid, cowboy boots and hats, or some other countrified apparatus to show our true affinity with - heck, I don't know, I guess the square dancers. I don't own plaid. Correction - I own one shirt with a very faint plaid-resembling pattern. No boots, no hat. I wore a black shirt and trouser jeans with ballet slippers and my amazing red-patterned scarf/shawl from Kassala, Sudan. I know, I'm such a bad sport.
c) Square dancing is a calling dance - meaning, they have a guy up front who calls out different moves and you're expected to immediately start moving in a specific pattern. I have serious problems with verbal directions - a big reason why I no longer do casino rueda salsa. Because when you mess up, you mess up the entire group of people dancing, and they start getting peeved looks on their faces, your partner furrows his brow and says, Ok, let's get it right now, and the whole situation is just awkward...
We finally arrived at the church after a false start at a different one (did we really think a church with a building and people that young would have square dancing???), and were immediately plunged into huge hoola-hoop-sized "fruffly" skirts, golden bloomers, panty-hose-enclosed legs ending in sturdy black orthopedic shoes, old men with hair slicked back with Aussie gel, scattered styrofoam cups stained with coffee and old pink lipstick, Wrangler pearl-snap mens' shirts stretched taut over potbellies, tappin' your toe, do-si-do, plain ol' good clean country fun.
I honestly don't know who had more fun - the eleven "teenagers" staring at the caller, trying to listen intently to the dance moves called out, clenching tightly the hand of whatever poor senior citizen was recruited to yank them through each dance move; or the gray-haired woman or man saying, Now go, that way, hold your hand out, stop, pass through, bow to your corner, no this way, no stay! Through half the dance, all of us collapsed in laughter, we at the fact we were so incompetent in our dancing skills and unable to keep a square "square", the older folks at the antics of those youngsters who would periodically break out a hip hop move or a disco hand when the beat suddenly struck us and we simply did whatever felt natural to us - which is certainly not to promenade or make a half-turn star.
All of us "teenagers" - that's what they kept calling us, teenagers, although none of us are under 21, but I suppose that when you're 75, anything under 30 looks like a high schooler to you! - all of us teenagers expressed amazement that by 10 pm, we were ready to keel over from exhaustion, while the older folks kept on dancing, dancing, dancing. Of course when you drink coffee constantly for the first 2 hours, you can handle pretty much anything that comes your way!
Over and over before we left, I heard from the older folks, You bring so much life to our dancing! And I would stop, and look over the room - on average, 50 years' difference between the people now holding each others' hands, laughing as they share a hilarious blunder on the younger's part. Really, we come from different worlds - the America they experienced and grew up in has now transformed into a totally different country. Some of those people may not even live to see the next President inaugerated. Yet what a beautiful thing when those differences are blurred and you discover that you share something with the grey-haired, wrinkly, smiling, bobbing lady next to you; a love of life.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Passionate Nomad
So I refuse to discuss American politics on my blog ... there are enough people out there to voice their more educated opinions so that I would have nothing original to add ... however foreign politics is different......
This was especially inspiring to me because her life as a traveller and writer really didn't start until she was in her late 20's - and even then, she really found her niche in her post-40 years. She was also single, except for a brief unsucessful attempt at marriage in her late 50's (The man was homosexual, so it's really no wonder it didn't work out). Of course reading it made me want to jump on a plane and run away to Jordan, or Syria or Lebanon, or at least take a look at the Egyptian pyramids, for crying out loud. My time will come...
Speaking of foreign, I just finished a biography today of Freya Stark - an incredible traveller and writer of the Middle East.
Passionate Nomad, by Jane Fletcher Geniesse, is 300+ pages of pure adventure. Freya Stark was a woman born in the late 1800's who went on to travel independently in the Middle East, beginning in the 1920's, when women simply didn't do that. She spoke multiple Arabic dialects fluently, published dozen of books on Arabic history and culture and multiple travelogues, and worked to promote democracy in Iraq and Egypt during World War II. She stated often that her one great regret was that she "was not born a beauty"; but Freya more than made up for that with her adventures of crossing uncharted desert territory with a few donkeys and Arab servants, playfully sweet talking guards into letting her through closed borders, and keeping up a constant communique of all her travels with friends and family at home. Yemen, Iraq, Egypt, Lebanon, Afghanistan - she knew the Middle East like the back of her hand.
What was interesting to me about this book was the picture of the Middle East during the early 1900's that emerged, and the history lessons taught through Freya's travels. It was also revealing to read about Britain's decline as the world's great superpower, and how America firmly grasped that role following WWII. I really do wonder at how America so quickly forgot the occupation that gave birth to our Revolution, and now feels very little regret over instituting its own occupation of foreign lands. Maybe - just maybe - that will change. (And that's as close as I'm coming.......).
This was especially inspiring to me because her life as a traveller and writer really didn't start until she was in her late 20's - and even then, she really found her niche in her post-40 years. She was also single, except for a brief unsucessful attempt at marriage in her late 50's (The man was homosexual, so it's really no wonder it didn't work out). Of course reading it made me want to jump on a plane and run away to Jordan, or Syria or Lebanon, or at least take a look at the Egyptian pyramids, for crying out loud. My time will come...
Monday, November 3, 2008
Nicaragua Travel Tips...
Since I profess to be a frequent wanderer of the world ... I wander in my mind a lot too but that's a different post ... I thought I'd give you fellow travellers some quick tips on my recent trip to Nicaragua.
On our way to Granada, we stopped at Mombacho Volcano and did a canopy tour on ziplines. It took about an hour and a half, cost $23, and was more than worth it. Nothing like hanging 100 feet above the ground with only a metal cable and harness between you and the sky. :) You can even convince the tour guides to let you do the zip line upside down or belly down Superman-style. To get to the zipline course, the guides drive you up the side of the volcano through beautiful rain forest trees and coffee plants. While on the zip line and on the platforms, you can look out over Granada and the surrounding area - incredible views. The reservation also offers a 3-hour hiking tour and other activities, although we only had time for the canopy tours.
Granada itself - we basically stopped in the historical square, ate at Mona Lisa Pizza Shoppe, bought a few trinkets from the sidewalk vendors of "folk handicrafts", and then left. I wasn't too horribly impressed with what I saw - including a street show of a giant woman puppet and a midget man acting out a blow job; the boys who afterward emerged from their costumes and went around with a hat asking for money didn't get any donations from me for that performance. I think they were the same 10-year-olds I had seen earlier in the day lounging against the side of a building smoking a joint and making kissing faces at me when I walked by....
Our first and last nights in Managua, we stayed at the Best Western Las Mercedes. It is literally right across the street from Augusto C. Sandino International Airport. It's $85/night for a double. Rooms were clean; most of the staff spoke English; they had free Nicaraguan coffee in the lobby and a great breakfast buffet. The hotel isn't one building with a bunch of rooms inside; it's really a collection of small rows of rooms, connected by covered walkways that fortunately protect you from the rain, and if you wander around lost trying to find your way back to your room (like I did), you at least get to enjoy small gardens that show off Nicaraguan flora. There are also two pools on the grounds - we tried them both out and they were great.
In Rio Blanco, we stayed at Hotel Bosawas. One small room with two twins and A/C and a bathroom w/shower and running water costs about $15/night. Sheets and pillows provided were clean. It's set on the edge of town, so it's pretty quiet, and it has a great view of the town and surrounding mountains. There's a small bar on the premises, and the owners love to play bachata music loudly through the night. The center courtyard was all torn up and gutted while we were there - it looked like a Roman achaeological dig. Sorry I don't have contact information for the hotel - I'm too lazy to dig the numbers out of my travel gear packed away.....
On our way to Granada, we stopped at Mombacho Volcano and did a canopy tour on ziplines. It took about an hour and a half, cost $23, and was more than worth it. Nothing like hanging 100 feet above the ground with only a metal cable and harness between you and the sky. :) You can even convince the tour guides to let you do the zip line upside down or belly down Superman-style. To get to the zipline course, the guides drive you up the side of the volcano through beautiful rain forest trees and coffee plants. While on the zip line and on the platforms, you can look out over Granada and the surrounding area - incredible views. The reservation also offers a 3-hour hiking tour and other activities, although we only had time for the canopy tours.
Granada itself - we basically stopped in the historical square, ate at Mona Lisa Pizza Shoppe, bought a few trinkets from the sidewalk vendors of "folk handicrafts", and then left. I wasn't too horribly impressed with what I saw - including a street show of a giant woman puppet and a midget man acting out a blow job; the boys who afterward emerged from their costumes and went around with a hat asking for money didn't get any donations from me for that performance. I think they were the same 10-year-olds I had seen earlier in the day lounging against the side of a building smoking a joint and making kissing faces at me when I walked by....
On our way back to Managua, we stopped at Masaya at the marketplace, and the shopping there was fantastic. Tons of touristy handicrafts, clothing, paintings, pottery, coffee, cigars, leather shoes and bags, and tons and tons of hammocks. Definitely the place to go if you like shopping.
Things to buy while in Nicaragua -
Coffee (hint - most of the tourist places want to sell you fancy-looking bags of coffee wrapped up in burlap sacks for $8/lb; just go across the street to the local grocery store and you can pick up the same quality of coffee for $2.50/lb.
Hammocks - the quality and durability of Nicaraguan hammocks is proved by the fact that everywhere you go, you see Nics enjoying the evening breeze on their hammocks. You can pick up one for anywhere between $15-30 in the marketplaces.
Textiles - the marketplaces had beautiful blankets, bags, scarves, etc with ethnic designs, not too expensive.
Pottery - think Mayan.........
Saturday, November 1, 2008
Last night was Rosedale Church's Halloween Bash. I swear there is nothing cuter than kids running arounda gym, boys with funky superhero masks over their heads, carrying too-big swords, or girls with pink frilly princess dresses on, tottering around in heels and carrying their magic wands to "make your wishes come true!" And of course getting all hyped-up on pure refined sugar! It was also amazing to see the Body of Christ come together. We had dozens of volunteer adults, many of them coming in their own amazing costumes (yours truly included!) and chasing after kids, giving out candy, making sure the whole bash came off fantastically. All for the love of kids and Jesus.
It made me laughingly remember my Halloweens - or lack thereof - when I was growing up as a kid. I have distinct memories of dressing up until I was about 5 or 6 years old - costumes included Batwoman and a detective - and then Halloween was labelled "evil" and no longer celebrated. Instead we dutifully trampled off to the church's "Harvest Party" - conveniently held on Halloween night in order to give good Christians an alternative to trick-or-treating and whose requirements included coming dressed as a Bible character - or staying home with my parents and siblings, closing the drapes and shutting off all the lights so no kids would come to our door asking for candy, and watching Apocalypse and end-times themed Christian movies from the 80's. Which, by the way, are just as scary as some of Halloween's entertainments for a 10-year-old with a hyper imagination.
It really does make me laugh to remember it all - not in a mocking or derogatory way, but just that my experiences are so drastically different than many of the kids we saw last night. Some of the kids didn't have costumes - not because their parents were morally opposed to Halloween but because they didn't have the money, or were working too many hours to take their kids shopping for costumes, or simply didn't care enough to make the effort.
Because I am still very much in touch with my inner child, I absolutely relish in Halloween. The imaginations of children is something I think should be encouraged freely; the idea that today, you are a superhero out to save the world, or you are the most beautiful princess in the universe, or you are a slimy scary spider - the idea that kids can act as something else or become something else helps them explore the world they live in. Not to even mention they are too dang cute in their snug-as-a-bug costumes; especially the babies with their fat cheeks poking out of the face hole of some caterpillar onesie.
Let the kids dress up, for crying out loud!!!
Friday, October 31, 2008
Nicaragua Update
I recently went on an 8-day medical missions trip to Rio Blanco, Nicaragua. Below is my final update to my supporters about the trip and what we did....
Hello Friends and Family,
I arrived safely back from Nicaragua this past Sunday night. It was a fantastic trip! God did so many wonderful things and the whole team had a terrific time.I arrived in Managua, the capital of Nicaragua, on Oct 18 and met with the other people on my team. God really answered my prayers in asking for team unity, because we all immediately clicked. There were people from all over the States - North Carolina, Los Angeles, Louisiana, Boston...but everyone shared a heart full of love for God and for the people we would serve.Sunday, we all piled into a huge school bus and and drove about 5 hours to Rio Blanco, a small city of 30,000 in central Nicaragua where we would do our clinic work. We also travelled with several Nicaraguans who were medical professionals (dentists and doctors) and our translators. We set up the clinic once we arrived in Rio Blanco in a huge unfinished cement church building. Sunday night we visited a local church, and a few of the team members shared their testimonies with the congregation.And Monday morning we started the clinic! Monday through Friday, the day's schedule was pretty much the same. People started lining up in front of the church early in the morning, and shortly after 8 am, we arrived at the clinic. I worked in triage, getting blood pressure and vital signs, asking their chief complaint, and handing out worm pills to everyone, as parasites are quite common. We also had a mobile medical unit, which was a huge RV with two rooms inside; one for laboratory tests and x-rays, and a small surgical suite where the doctors performed minor surgeries, such as lipoma and cyst removals. I got to jump in on a few procedures and one of the doctors taught me my first sutures - which was quite exciting. :)
Overall I felt the people's health was pretty good compared to some of the places I have been. We didn't see really very much malnutrition or diarrheal diseases, and nearly all the complaints had to do with musculoskeletal pain - which is not surprising, considering most of them are farm laborers or construction workers! We usually ended clinic around 5 pm and went back to the hotel for the evening after eating at a local restaurant. The food was fantastic - it was pretty much the same every day - beans, rice, feta-like cheese, and either beef or chicken; but it was sooo delicious. Our hotel was also really nice - actually had electricity, air conditioning and running water! So we were happy! Although the weather was so nice there (upper 80's, a little rainy) that we really didn't even need the A/C.
Every morning the team would meet for devotionals, and everyone took a turn giving them. It was so amazing to me how each and every person spoke on something I could relate to and apply. During the clinic, every person that came through was also given an opportunity to pray with local Nicaraguan pastors and to hear the Gospel message. Many of us also had opportunities to pray with people as well as they came through the clinic.On Friday afternoon, we wrapped up the clinic and drove back to Managua. Saturday was spent doing some sightseeing in Granada, a historical colonial city, and the surrounding area. We also went to a volcano with a rain forest on it and went zip lining through the rain forest for about an hour, which was an incredible experience! Doing it upside down is definitely the way to go. :D (see my photos for all the fun!) And then this past Sunday, I flew back to Kansas City and collapsed into my bed, grateful for such a wonderful trip.
I never actually got a "numbers count", but I believe we saw around 1500 patients during the week of clinic. Approximately 150 people prayed to receive Christ, and around 40 chose to rededicate their lives to him. I felt so refreshed after the trip and so thankful for all that was accomplished.Thank you so much for your prayers and support! You all make these trips possible, and I couldn't do it without the Body of Christ standing behind me. Below are links to some photo albums; hope you enjoy!
Faces of Nicaragua: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=79226&l=2a233&id=503720902
Nicaragua Landscape: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=79430&l=bf6bd&id=503720902
Nicaragua Team & Clinic I: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=79434&l=d4148&id=503720902
Nicaragua Team & Clinic II: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=79437&l=436d4&id=503720902
Zip-Lining Through the Rainforest: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=79440&l=4bc50&id=503720902
Granada/Last Night in Managua: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=79444&l=88197&id=503720902
God bless!Whitney Klaassen, RN
Hello Friends and Family,
I arrived safely back from Nicaragua this past Sunday night. It was a fantastic trip! God did so many wonderful things and the whole team had a terrific time.I arrived in Managua, the capital of Nicaragua, on Oct 18 and met with the other people on my team. God really answered my prayers in asking for team unity, because we all immediately clicked. There were people from all over the States - North Carolina, Los Angeles, Louisiana, Boston...but everyone shared a heart full of love for God and for the people we would serve.Sunday, we all piled into a huge school bus and and drove about 5 hours to Rio Blanco, a small city of 30,000 in central Nicaragua where we would do our clinic work. We also travelled with several Nicaraguans who were medical professionals (dentists and doctors) and our translators. We set up the clinic once we arrived in Rio Blanco in a huge unfinished cement church building. Sunday night we visited a local church, and a few of the team members shared their testimonies with the congregation.And Monday morning we started the clinic! Monday through Friday, the day's schedule was pretty much the same. People started lining up in front of the church early in the morning, and shortly after 8 am, we arrived at the clinic. I worked in triage, getting blood pressure and vital signs, asking their chief complaint, and handing out worm pills to everyone, as parasites are quite common. We also had a mobile medical unit, which was a huge RV with two rooms inside; one for laboratory tests and x-rays, and a small surgical suite where the doctors performed minor surgeries, such as lipoma and cyst removals. I got to jump in on a few procedures and one of the doctors taught me my first sutures - which was quite exciting. :)
Overall I felt the people's health was pretty good compared to some of the places I have been. We didn't see really very much malnutrition or diarrheal diseases, and nearly all the complaints had to do with musculoskeletal pain - which is not surprising, considering most of them are farm laborers or construction workers! We usually ended clinic around 5 pm and went back to the hotel for the evening after eating at a local restaurant. The food was fantastic - it was pretty much the same every day - beans, rice, feta-like cheese, and either beef or chicken; but it was sooo delicious. Our hotel was also really nice - actually had electricity, air conditioning and running water! So we were happy! Although the weather was so nice there (upper 80's, a little rainy) that we really didn't even need the A/C.
Every morning the team would meet for devotionals, and everyone took a turn giving them. It was so amazing to me how each and every person spoke on something I could relate to and apply. During the clinic, every person that came through was also given an opportunity to pray with local Nicaraguan pastors and to hear the Gospel message. Many of us also had opportunities to pray with people as well as they came through the clinic.On Friday afternoon, we wrapped up the clinic and drove back to Managua. Saturday was spent doing some sightseeing in Granada, a historical colonial city, and the surrounding area. We also went to a volcano with a rain forest on it and went zip lining through the rain forest for about an hour, which was an incredible experience! Doing it upside down is definitely the way to go. :D (see my photos for all the fun!) And then this past Sunday, I flew back to Kansas City and collapsed into my bed, grateful for such a wonderful trip.
I never actually got a "numbers count", but I believe we saw around 1500 patients during the week of clinic. Approximately 150 people prayed to receive Christ, and around 40 chose to rededicate their lives to him. I felt so refreshed after the trip and so thankful for all that was accomplished.Thank you so much for your prayers and support! You all make these trips possible, and I couldn't do it without the Body of Christ standing behind me. Below are links to some photo albums; hope you enjoy!
Faces of Nicaragua: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=79226&l=2a233&id=503720902
Nicaragua Landscape: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=79430&l=bf6bd&id=503720902
Nicaragua Team & Clinic I: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=79434&l=d4148&id=503720902
Nicaragua Team & Clinic II: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=79437&l=436d4&id=503720902
Zip-Lining Through the Rainforest: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=79440&l=4bc50&id=503720902
Granada/Last Night in Managua: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=79444&l=88197&id=503720902
God bless!Whitney Klaassen, RN
Thursday, October 30, 2008
\ˈwän-dər\
define:Wandering
MerriamWebster.com:
Main Entry:
wan·der
Pronunciation:
\ˈwän-dər\
Etymology:
Middle English wandren, from Old English wandrian; akin to Middle High German wandern to wander, Old English windan to wind, twist
Date:
before 12th century
intransitive verb1 a: to move about without a fixed course, aim, or goal b: to go idly about : ramble2: to follow a winding course : meander3 a: to go astray (as from a course) : stray b: to go astray morally : err c: to lose normal mental contact : stray in thought transitive verb: to roam over
— wander noun
— wan·der·er \-dər-ər\ noun
synonyms wander , roam , ramble , rove , traipse , meander mean to go about from place to place usually without a plan or definite purpose. wander implies an absence of or an indifference to a fixed course. roam suggests wandering about freely and often far afield . ramble stresses carelessness and indifference to one's course or objective . rove suggests vigorous and sometimes purposeful roaming . traipse implies a course that is erratic but may sometimes be purposeful . meander implies a winding or intricate course suggestive of aimless or listless wandering .
I have wandered into the idea of writing my life - my psyche, inner thoughts, the life that sometimes exists quite apart from the outer world - writing it down, in hopes that it may resonate with someone else. Oftentimes I hear my friends moan about not having a "life companion", someone to share themselves with completely, openly, honestly. I feel that way myself as well. All of these ideas, moments in my life where suddenly my mind steps back and I see myself as someone totally foreign, bent over a crying child in the hospital or sitting at a cafe table or being struck by the exhausted beauty of a sleeping traveller's face on an airplane. The constant monologue in my head that chews over the same ideas constantly, my experiences in life refining these ideas, taking away that word, adding this angle.
Starting a blog - one that really reflects the writer, not just allowing them to project the person they wish to be - means becoming vulnerable to complete strangers. Or vulnerable to friends who think they know you, then are surprised when they stumble across your writings on a random Google search.
Who am I? I am a simple follower of the Way of Jesus; a woman; a daughter, sister; a nomadic traveller with a bad case of wanderlust; a competent, compassionate nurse. And perhaps I will become something more, or will discover I am something more through this adventure. Even if it is months until someone reads my posts, and months more til someone writes back, saying they have had a similar experience or emotion - maybe this will allow me to become more fully me.
So here's a toast, smashing the champagne bottle against the steamship's side as it heads out to sea, followed by cheers and hurrahs; here's to the journey, the new destinations, wherever my wanderings may take me.
MerriamWebster.com:
Main Entry:
wan·der
Pronunciation:
\ˈwän-dər\
Etymology:
Middle English wandren, from Old English wandrian; akin to Middle High German wandern to wander, Old English windan to wind, twist
Date:
before 12th century
intransitive verb1 a: to move about without a fixed course, aim, or goal b: to go idly about : ramble
— wander noun
— wan·der·er \-dər-ər\ noun
synonyms wander , roam , ramble , rove , traipse , meander mean to go about from place to place usually without a plan or definite purpose. wander implies an absence of or an indifference to a fixed course
I have wandered into the idea of writing my life - my psyche, inner thoughts, the life that sometimes exists quite apart from the outer world - writing it down, in hopes that it may resonate with someone else. Oftentimes I hear my friends moan about not having a "life companion", someone to share themselves with completely, openly, honestly. I feel that way myself as well. All of these ideas, moments in my life where suddenly my mind steps back and I see myself as someone totally foreign, bent over a crying child in the hospital or sitting at a cafe table or being struck by the exhausted beauty of a sleeping traveller's face on an airplane. The constant monologue in my head that chews over the same ideas constantly, my experiences in life refining these ideas, taking away that word, adding this angle.
Starting a blog - one that really reflects the writer, not just allowing them to project the person they wish to be - means becoming vulnerable to complete strangers. Or vulnerable to friends who think they know you, then are surprised when they stumble across your writings on a random Google search.
Who am I? I am a simple follower of the Way of Jesus; a woman; a daughter, sister; a nomadic traveller with a bad case of wanderlust; a competent, compassionate nurse. And perhaps I will become something more, or will discover I am something more through this adventure. Even if it is months until someone reads my posts, and months more til someone writes back, saying they have had a similar experience or emotion - maybe this will allow me to become more fully me.
So here's a toast, smashing the champagne bottle against the steamship's side as it heads out to sea, followed by cheers and hurrahs; here's to the journey, the new destinations, wherever my wanderings may take me.
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