Remembering...

I remember one night, feeling absolutely overcome with fear. I was alone on the compound except for the guard, and the reality of evil and darkness felt too close. I played Kristene Mueller's "Praise the Lord" over and over and over again until I finally didn't feel afraid anymore.

I remember waking up in the middle of the night to the sound of the death horn. There, whenever someone died in the community, a person would walk the streets blowing a trumpet and yelling the name of the person that had just passed.

I remember watching my neighbors wail over the dead body of their young son. A man carried the boy, wrapped in a sheet, back and forth in front of the family. The mother just screamed and screamed and screamed.

I can't keep these memories away. I rejoice that God gave me Africa. I praise Him because of what I've seen--not because it was always joyful, but because I gained perspective. I can't forget it. I won't forget it.

My first encounter with Andrew Murray

I am FINALLY reading Andrew Murray's Abide in Christ thanks to my beloved friend and devoted follower, Sarah Edmundson. Read this tonight:

"Who would, after seeking the King's palace, be content to stand in the door, when he is invited in to dwell in the King's presence, and share with Him in all glory of His royal life? Oh, let us enter in and abide, and enjoy to the full all the rich supply His wondrous love hath prepared for us!"

I'm reminded that fellowship with Christ, our Savior, shouldn't be determined by circumstance; it should be a moment by moment awareness of His presence.

Confession

I've been cranky and ungrateful. Much like an Israelite, I have forgotten the Father's beautiful and perfect provision for my life. God forgive me.

"Take care lest you forget the Lord your God by not keeping his commandments and his rules and his statutes, which I command you today, lest, when you have eaten and are full and have built good houses and live in them, and when your herds and flocks multiply and your silver and gold is multiplied and all that you have is multiplied, then your heart be lifted up, and you forget the LORD your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery, who led you though the great and terrifying wilderness, with its fiery serpents and scorpions and thirsty ground where there was no water, who brought you water out of the flinty rock, who fed you in the wilderness with manna that your fathers did not know, that he might humble you and test you, to do you good in the end." Deuteronomy 8:11-16

Contentment in Him grows with each new day, and I know that He is good.

Latter Days

I started a new job this week. Today I'm off, and I'm grateful for the time to sleep-in, read, and leisurely drink my coffee, but when I'm not busy, my mind begins to reel on things I manage to forget when there are tasks to complete. This place is not where I thought I'd be. I had to say goodbye to Louisville all over again and some days it breaks me in two. Especially when I insist on playing Over the Rhine songs over and over and over. That, of course, never helps.

The Art of Losing

I have been in the process of saying farewell to a people and a place that I love, and I sense that more loss is fast approaching. All that to say, Elizabeth Bishop's poem "One Art" (one of my favorites) keeps coming to mind. The parenthetical thoughts add authenticity to the speaker's voice:

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.


--Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

Elizabeth Bishop, The Complete Poems 1927-1979

Feelin' sad today.
Dwelling on this Scripture, "Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light." Matthew 11:28

You guessed it--More Pictures!

Friends!




Baby Birds. Chirp.




My first piece of Mickie Winters' art work!