Friday, June 29, 2007
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Saturday, June 23, 2007
waiting on steps
in the dusk with a friend
reminiscing about friends
who are moving
"the first time
I was here
was when..."
he said
"the first time
I met ARG
was here, too"
i said
the minutes passed
the darkness grew
the years went on
through our words
and the one thing
neither of us said
"it was here
that you first held my hand"
in the dusk with a friend
reminiscing about friends
who are moving
"the first time
I was here
was when..."
he said
"the first time
I met ARG
was here, too"
i said
the minutes passed
the darkness grew
the years went on
through our words
and the one thing
neither of us said
"it was here
that you first held my hand"
Exploring the Vast Wilds of...the Dump
Turns out that there are interconnected ponds near our town's old dump. Who knew? (Didn't spend a lot of time there.) Dad and I checked them out Wednesday evening after he'd heard of people canoeing and fishing there. While one can conquer the span in a 25-minute paddle, it was an excellent retreat.
Again, the grassed-over dump was about fifty yards away. Grass on top does not mean icky things are sealed underneath, but if fish were jumping and the turtles I saw were only one-headed, life couldn't be too bad. One dragonfly stalked me; the attention was kind of nice.
Paddling down a channel with Dad, no civilization in sight, made it seem a bit Lewis & Clarkish...until we came to the end of the waterway and identified the bike trail and softball fields...
A good night. I even pulled out my leftover Subway and ate in my kayak...in the pond...next to the covered-up dump...though if any part of me had actually touched the water, I would have bathed myself in Purell. Visions of the disintegrating boat scene from "Dante's Peak" came to mind as I first paddled, but either plastic is stronger than metal...or...there's no volcanic activity near our dump.
Again, the grassed-over dump was about fifty yards away. Grass on top does not mean icky things are sealed underneath, but if fish were jumping and the turtles I saw were only one-headed, life couldn't be too bad. One dragonfly stalked me; the attention was kind of nice.
Paddling down a channel with Dad, no civilization in sight, made it seem a bit Lewis & Clarkish...until we came to the end of the waterway and identified the bike trail and softball fields...
A good night. I even pulled out my leftover Subway and ate in my kayak...in the pond...next to the covered-up dump...though if any part of me had actually touched the water, I would have bathed myself in Purell. Visions of the disintegrating boat scene from "Dante's Peak" came to mind as I first paddled, but either plastic is stronger than metal...or...there's no volcanic activity near our dump.
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Sunday, June 17, 2007
An Oddly Perfect Father's Day
The highlights:
At my parents' church this morning, I introduced myself to one of their elderly friends. I'd met his wife on numerous occasions and loved her for her openness and appreciative qualities, but this was the first I'd actually talked to him.
As she pushed his wheelchair toward the spot where the community bus would pick them up, I extended my hand. She introduced me and made the connection to my parents. He didn't talk at all, but grasped my hand. And he didn't let go.
The bus arrived, and the driver loaded on another elderly friend. Still, BE had me in his grip. His wife and I carried on a conversation, I included him through eye contact, but I was pretty much glued in that position, walking backwards as she wheeled him forward. While slightly awkward, it was delightful.
Hold my hand. If that's the highlight of your day, take as long as you like. I don't know who I remind you of or what I make you think of, but it really doesn't matter. Besides--this is the longest my hand has been held in quite some time!
The other highlight was bonding with a four-month-old at a church event this evening. I am amazed at God's provision--that on a day when, frankly, it would have been nice to have helped make someone a father, He provides an outlet for those counterpart maternal instincts. There is something so perfect about a contented baby's head against your chest.
So odd to be so deeply touched by both ends of the spectrum on the same day. So gracious of God to meet needs--maybe not in my way, but in His.
At my parents' church this morning, I introduced myself to one of their elderly friends. I'd met his wife on numerous occasions and loved her for her openness and appreciative qualities, but this was the first I'd actually talked to him.
As she pushed his wheelchair toward the spot where the community bus would pick them up, I extended my hand. She introduced me and made the connection to my parents. He didn't talk at all, but grasped my hand. And he didn't let go.
The bus arrived, and the driver loaded on another elderly friend. Still, BE had me in his grip. His wife and I carried on a conversation, I included him through eye contact, but I was pretty much glued in that position, walking backwards as she wheeled him forward. While slightly awkward, it was delightful.
Hold my hand. If that's the highlight of your day, take as long as you like. I don't know who I remind you of or what I make you think of, but it really doesn't matter. Besides--this is the longest my hand has been held in quite some time!
The other highlight was bonding with a four-month-old at a church event this evening. I am amazed at God's provision--that on a day when, frankly, it would have been nice to have helped make someone a father, He provides an outlet for those counterpart maternal instincts. There is something so perfect about a contented baby's head against your chest.
So odd to be so deeply touched by both ends of the spectrum on the same day. So gracious of God to meet needs--maybe not in my way, but in His.
Saturday, June 16, 2007
In the times
when it's just
the two of us
what do I say?
My response
is just that--
a reaction to
the good that You bring.
But what if all
were carried away
and the only thing left
were You?
Would I still bring You praise--
would my heart still rejoice
if all that I knew
were You?
What is it inside
that makes people praise
from the bowels of
hell on earth?
What part of You
do I not yet know--
the Anchor, the Hope,
the Author of my day?
when it's just
the two of us
what do I say?
My response
is just that--
a reaction to
the good that You bring.
But what if all
were carried away
and the only thing left
were You?
Would I still bring You praise--
would my heart still rejoice
if all that I knew
were You?
What is it inside
that makes people praise
from the bowels of
hell on earth?
What part of You
do I not yet know--
the Anchor, the Hope,
the Author of my day?
Saturday, June 09, 2007
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
Oh, Dear God...
That's all my heart can breathe.
I just spent an hour with His Highness, going through pictures from the Honduran missions trip he and others just returned from. There were the "These are the ancient ruins" and "This is where we stayed" photos...and then there were the children.
His Highness's eye for aesthetics was gifted as usual, and children in ratty, dirty, outdated clothing were beautiful. His Highness's enthusiasm and value for the kids gave personality and life to two-dimensional images. But God--God worked in my heart.
Just before we sat down with the album, another friend stopped in and talked about her dissatisfaction with her own Christian service.
*I bring two little girls to Sunday School and Vacation Bible School, and I get puffed up about it. I want something more. I want to do something more.*
Pages of faces... Bright, brown eyes. Chubby cheeks framing downturned lips. Hand-me-down leather jacket in the heat of a Honduran summer. Immaculate white shirt against the deep tan of a wiggling and grinning four-year-old.
Oh, dear God, what do I do? What is the future of these children?
My heart felt like a frog climbing out of my throat. Still does, but at least it's more socially acceptable to let the tears flow now that I'm alone. What do I do?
His Highness mentioned wanting to see if one or more of "his" kids needed sponsorship. That reminded me that I already have a child through World Vision--a little 2nd grader in Colombia. Yes, my monthly payment of $30 goes in...but what's my investment? A dollar a day? Not enough to buy a threshing floor.
Three goals (the setting and following-through of which is also a new venture for me):
Extra credit: buy a goat. 75 bucks for food, fertilizer and fun!
I just spent an hour with His Highness, going through pictures from the Honduran missions trip he and others just returned from. There were the "These are the ancient ruins" and "This is where we stayed" photos...and then there were the children.
His Highness's eye for aesthetics was gifted as usual, and children in ratty, dirty, outdated clothing were beautiful. His Highness's enthusiasm and value for the kids gave personality and life to two-dimensional images. But God--God worked in my heart.
Just before we sat down with the album, another friend stopped in and talked about her dissatisfaction with her own Christian service.
*I bring two little girls to Sunday School and Vacation Bible School, and I get puffed up about it. I want something more. I want to do something more.*
2 Samuel 24:24 (New King James Version)
24 Then the king said to Araunah,
“No, but I will surely buy it from you for a price; nor will I offer burnt
offerings to the LORD my God with that which costs me nothing.” So David bought
the threshing floor and the oxen for fifty shekels of silver.
Pages of faces... Bright, brown eyes. Chubby cheeks framing downturned lips. Hand-me-down leather jacket in the heat of a Honduran summer. Immaculate white shirt against the deep tan of a wiggling and grinning four-year-old.
Oh, dear God, what do I do? What is the future of these children?
My heart felt like a frog climbing out of my throat. Still does, but at least it's more socially acceptable to let the tears flow now that I'm alone. What do I do?
His Highness mentioned wanting to see if one or more of "his" kids needed sponsorship. That reminded me that I already have a child through World Vision--a little 2nd grader in Colombia. Yes, my monthly payment of $30 goes in...but what's my investment? A dollar a day? Not enough to buy a threshing floor.
Three goals (the setting and following-through of which is also a new venture for me):
- When my next World Vision statement asks if I'd like to sponsor another child, say yes. $2 a day.
- Invest in the life of "my" child(ren) by sending letters and pictures. Being a pen-pal with a 2nd grader from a different language isn't easy--more of a challenge than the financial aspect.
- Tell you. I've always been a cynic toward child sponsorship organizations, but something cracked a year and a half ago at a Women of Faith conference. I knew it was time, and I knew that World Vision was the group to trust. I haven't regretted it. My only frustration was looking through all the faces and choosing only one. That's still a struggle, but it's remedied the way so many things are--by passing it along. Think about it, pray on it, and if you're convicted, check out the link.
Extra credit: buy a goat. 75 bucks for food, fertilizer and fun!
Sunday, June 03, 2007
Faith, Hope & Love
Odd; I just realized I've been wrestling with all of these recently.
Faith and hope are what came to mind as I read this article. Love is probably what made them possible. Perhaps that's why it's greatest?
Faith and hope are what came to mind as I read this article. Love is probably what made them possible. Perhaps that's why it's greatest?
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