circles

I'll expound on this at some point I'm sure, seeing how all things are related and interrelated and how they come full circle and the layers of concentric circles in life and rhythms and people and relationship, but at this point, I just mean that I've been pacing circles wearing out the floorboards of my mind as well as the creakity old house where I live. I've been in avoidance mode and now little bits of fear are creeping in. I'm getting more tightly wound so that I need to verbally vomit and may be on the brink of tears--not my norm. I want to run 10 miles and write 10 papers and scream and jump up and down and rejoice and mourn all at once. I am a bundle of energy and emotions with no way of funneling it into all of the things I have procrastinated on and am afraid of.
Jesus, will you help me? Do you see your little sheep, just one of the flock, many of whom feel the same? Thank you for being the faithful one and for asking me to follow even when getting out of the boat is terrifyingly wonderful. All my love.

Purposefully coloring beyond the lines

Not just coloring outside the lines for the sake of breaking boundaries, rather that you really get the point of the lines and you use them well...that sort of thing. Listen.

Walk the boundary line of the property or the mountain path to the heights. This can be such a beautiful and thrilling walk as expectancy and dreams push against the casing of your body, threatening to burst forth in hope. All is given, all is required.

Truth and fear and judgment and freedom and self-absorption and being hidden and lost in God alone who is enough.

I’m just a little bit lost and recognizing that my boundary-less-ness is starting to hurt and it will only get worse. I know that at the end of my days I will be called to account. I’m getting hit over the head with the stewardship and priorities piece, but I’m still a little too dense and stubborn to really take it to heart and let it slowly alter the muscle fibers until my limbs move as they were made to in the beautiful dance.

As I try to stand up and join in, fear jumps at me and grabs me, hard, pushing me back down. Anxiety weighs so heavy that at times it’s quite suffocating.

Condemnation, alternating between others and self pushes the shackles tighter until they cut into the skin. I cry out, yelping, whimpering, silent tears rolling down. These chains are gone. I’ve been set free since my kinsman redeemer came for me. Why do I sit with them, so bewildered? Stuck. Playing in the mud until it’s quite a mess of mire and bitterness.

Cleaning it out can be quite the process. It’s smelly, arduous, time-consuming and can feel insurmountable when we’ve let the grime build so long.

We tell ourselves, Yes, maybe they are wrong. So what? Maybe it’s just me. Either way we’re just switching bad guys instead of letting Christ actually set us free and teach us to walk in newness of life. Sacrifice. Lay it down and die. To live.  

It’s true. It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. But you desire truth in our inmost parts. Not compliance and conflict. Peace that passes understanding for those who are far have been brought near!

There's more that goes with all of this, but in general, what joy to think of the freedom that we have when we know how it works--reminded of that process--learning the scales so you can improvise jazz, practicing fundamentals and learning the rules so you can play the game with finesse, cooking by a recipe so you can go without, learning the rules of English grammar so you can play with language and even break the constructs from time to time... It just has to work like that. We can't go for fake freedom. It has to be the real thing. 

that’s kind of what I’m thinking. And now I’m getting past that tired time, so I’ll let the universe carry on while I let my body, mind, soul rest and reset in sleep. completely unsure of what’s to come and ok with that. 

thanks for the Romans 12 reminder, Mom. : )

Lessons from the library

I am enthralled by libraries. Especially aesthetically pleasing ones. I am pleased by the fact that there are still so many patrons in an electronic world that will peruse and check out books—especially the book-end ages—the youngsters and the elderly. I like the smells of books and the wealth of knowledge, creativity and experience that is at ones fingertips each time you step foot in the large doors and are greeted by a librarian.

I especially like libraries with windows, so you can see inside and outside—light can pour in, you can see your surroundings and delve in to whatever world a book or magazine has to offer. I like that they are community locations; a stable part of shifting civics and a place where events of all kinds can be held.

One thing about libraries, though, is that I think they represent how I feel about a lot of life right now. Frozen to my spot and nearly unable to move or make a decision. The opportunity surrounding me is vast, but I have yet to taste any of it and have no idea of where to begin and am saddened by the fact that I’ll have to miss some. That’s overwhelming. It’s not that I’ll make the wrong choice, per say. I know there are things I absolutely won’t try and I know that any choice I make will probably be delightful—I have a propensity to enjoy new and different and learn from just about anything. Even if it’s not, I know I can stop and choose something else and theoretically that’s just fine. Or is it? Either way, I feel pretty stuck. Certain yet uncertain. Content yet dissatisfied. Hopeful and expectant, yet a little fearful and apprehensive. Surrounded but alone. Excited yet lackluster. Always living in consistent inconsistency.

I think this can be okay. Eventually I have to learn to take one or two books at a time (not once from every section) so I can really drink it in and experience the depth of the work instead of worrying about the fact that everyone has already seen or known or moved past this in the fast-paced world. I can let other people point me in the right direction or share what they have learned and celebrate the truth and beauty in the world.

That’s where I’m at. Recognizing that I have a lot of de-cluttering to do but having no idea where to begin. I’m surrounded by stacks of books and lists that are wonderful but not altogether particularly useful or pertinent to me, the mess becoming a bit of a prison even though the clutter is comprised of all “good” things, so I’m praying that God reveals idols and dust, washes me with hyssop that I might be clean, whiter than snow and might pursue Him with wholehearted obedience, undivided attention, unswerving perseverance and unmatched delight so that righteousness can shine brighter than the noonday sun and His people can go out with songs of joy and freedom. 

Perishable

Voicemail from yesterday: “Perishable Package. Please pick it up at your earliest convenience.” 

This is what I’ve been thinking about. 

(fair warning--as usual, most likely overthetop : })

A couple of things—I don’t even like flowers all that much—I can enjoy them and revel in nature and even think they brighten a home, but spending money on sappy gifts and such never has appealed to me. Even so, I had a smile from deep within on my face as I walked away from the campus post office with my “perishable package.” I was eversoblessed by my father (Eric Ness) who reminds me of my heavenly Father. My dad remembered me and reminded me of his love for me as his daughter by sending me cyclamen with a note on Valentine’s Day as he has for so many years! Calls to mind: How deep the Father’s love for us…, consistency and commitment, memory, surprise, delight, sweetness, grace, gift, cherish, life, brevity and faithfulness.

Even in our fallen, dying selves, the Lord clothes and cares for the vainglory of the flowers (Mtt. 6, Lk. 12). It’s ironic that Dr. Ness sent the cyclamen to his daughter who is a Swedish flower, who has been meditating on the verse that stuck out to me in upper elementary school at LWBC “All people are like grass, and all their glory and faithfulness is like the flowers of the field. The grass withers and the flowers fall, because the breath of the Lord blows on them, (perishable packages), but the word of the Lord our God endures forever” (Is. 40 and 1 Peter 1). The passage in Isaiah is reminding the people of God’s sovereignty and his faithfulness to his people, and Peter is reminding us that we can now live out sincere love (apt for Valentine’s Day or single’s awareness day) because we can “love one another deeply, from the heart” now that we are not only of perishable seed, but “imperishable through the living and enduring word of God!”                           

In reflecting on my given name and more so on the reminder of the ancients in the faith who called on the name of the LORD. I can quickly forget the power in the name of Jesus, the presence of Jehovah, the truth of Adonai, all of who He is in His glory and my fallenness as one of the flowers of the field, Linnea. Gentle flower. I miss that mark in the sense that I struggle with gentleness in word and deed, any evidence thereof is by the mercy and grace of the Holy Spirit.  I live up to my name in the sense that I am here today and gone tomorrow, sometimes beautiful in the essence of who I was created to be, known from before my time (Ps. 139) and given a place (1 Jn. 3:1), altogether perishing and being made new. Struck by paradox and finitude in the wake of Ash Wednesday and a general awareness of my shortcomings and the beauty that I am part of.   

Second thing—IV (the 5 yr-old in the family I’ve been babysitting for over the past few years--such a challenge and gift!), says to me today, “Hey Linnea, you know why I didn’t want to play with ya on Wednesday? It was because of your forehead. I haven’t been to church in a while, so I haven’t really seen that stuff. …It was ashes? Oh, it looked kinda like hair. It was only a little terrifying.” (He had managed to keep his eyes mostly on the ground as he gave me a high-five and headed upstairs Wed.) His 1 ½ year-old brother’s reaction on Wednesday was a little bit of hesitancy, but also curiosity, in pointing and soon overcoming and playing like normal with me.

Having ashes on my forehead on Wednesday was a reminder of what we should/do look like to the world—a bit strange and recognizable, mourning the brokenness and praying hosanna, His kingdom come only through the Messiah. Yet, we become pretty normal and some don’t even notice, and there is a beauty to questioning and also to accepting that I learn from hanging out and taking care of these kids.

I was privileged to have some good conversation with Amber,* (the mom) about teaching children about sin and the complexity of the Lenten season, and IV and I had some careful conversation about the 40 days before Easter and the reminders of death and sad and bad things in the world while hoping for Jesus.

I’m stuck on our mortality in a different way than I was as a third grader overly solemn about dying (thought I might at least die a hero’s death at that time : }). More and more aware of the brevity and urgency of life, but not in the helter-skelter panic or competition nor quite epicurean. Urgency and brevity in the sense that we need to be purposeful, pursuing life, being ministers of reconciliation, reveling in moments of glory, administering healing and peace, challenging with Truth, laughing and not taking ourselves too seriously, celebrating God’s abundant goodness, crying real tears, asking hard questions and actually taking action…

Sometimes this will look like slowing down. Sometimes this will be playing tough and being courageous. Sometimes this will be stepping up and persevering. I definitely would still give myself a floundering grade at life, but I’m coming alive by dying again, I think. Not my own.

Came to mind and won’t leave…

“Two little lines I heard one day, 
Traveling along life’s busy way; 
Bringing conviction to my heart, 
And from my mind would not depart; 
Only one life, ’twill soon be past, 
Only what’s done for Christ will last.

Only one life, yes only one, 
Soon will its fleeting hours be done; 
Then, in ‘that day’ my Lord to meet, 
And stand before His Judgement seat; 
Only one life,’twill soon be past, 
Only what’s done for Christ will last.

Only one life, the still small voice, 
Gently pleads for a better choice 
Bidding me selfish aims to leave, 
And to God’s holy will to cleave; 
Only one life, ’twill soon be past, 
Only what’s done for Christ will last.

Only one life, a few brief years, 
Each with its burdens, hopes, and fears; 
Each with its clays I must fulfill, 
living for self or in His will; 
Only one life, ’twill soon be past, 
Only what’s done for Christ will last.

When this bright world would tempt me sore, 
When Satan would a victory score; 
When self would seek to have its way, 
Then help me Lord with joy to say; 
Only one life, ’twill soon be past, 
Only what’s done for Christ will last.

Give me Father, a purpose deep, 
In joy or sorrow Thy word to keep; 
Faithful and true what e’er the strife, 
Pleasing Thee in my daily life; 
Only one life, ’twill soon be past, 
Only what’s done for Christ will last.

Oh let my love with fervor burn, 
And from the world now let me turn; 
Living for Thee, and Thee alone, 
Bringing Thee pleasure on Thy throne; 
Only one life, “twill soon be past, 
Only what’s done for Christ will last.

Only one life, yes only one, 
Now let me say,”Thy will be done”; 
And when at last I’ll hear the call, 
I know I’ll say “twas worth it all”;(vale la pena) 
Only one life,’twill soon be past, 
Only what’s done for Christ will last. ”

Only one life, ’twill soon be past, 
Only what’s done for Christ will last. 
And when I am dying, how happy I’ll be, 
If the lamp of my life has been burned out for Thee.”

--C.T. Studd

Unsure of where this takes me, but willing to sit and soak for a bit. Turning inward, to Him. If Christ came, lived, suffered, died, rose, and intercedes, I certainly can take a little time to think and maybe mourn and move.

Flour-dusted laptop

Flour-dusted laptop

Little vignette of Sunday morning: I want to laugh or cry, so I tell B that either she or Em should have seen me because it would have been funnier--a moment very typical of me....

This morning I got up at the same time as Emily and whipped up another adaptation of gluten-free coconut banana bread (it's kind of a theme and variation experiment I try from time to time for the bungalow). When I got back from a run, B had taken it out of the oven for me. 

I went to take a look and of course noticed what wasn't right about the scene--the burnt spices on the stove-top range next to the banana bread, so I set about fixing that minor problem. 
In order to clean the stove, I had to scootch the pan of still-warm banana bread over. 

I thought to myself--this is a little precarious and will probably fall, so maybe I should reconsider, readjust, pause for a second (reminiscent of the time I tried to bike and change gears with coffee in hand)....
but I brushed that thought away and set to scrubbing, unsuccessful in my attempts at freeing the range from the crusty spice spill, but successful in, yep, you guessed it, feeling my elbow bump the tea kettle which bumped the pan, knocking the banana bread to the floor, producing a *gasp* and *sigh* from me as the bread flew out from the middle and some snuck into Em's Toms for Sadie Mae to lick up promptly. 
I quickly knelt to salvage what I could, abandoned the hopeless stove-top for the time being, and managed to smile, shake my head, and get a clump to go with my coffee.  


These little moments of clumsiness are all-too-common for me in my hurried, have to get it done, think of something and then something else frantic antics. I tend to procrastinate (to justify  my less-than perfect efforts to my perfectionistic-self), wait for the pressure of crunch time, then burst with focus to the finish. It's a weird, yet normal, game I play. 

I used to get extremely upset over the minor mishaps like the banana (coco)nut bread explosion (also a tasty heart-attack at Egglectic). I am learning to laugh at myself and live in the messiness of life. This does not mean I'm anti-cleaning, but I do let the dishes go undone for a few hours at times or refrain from cleaning the bathroom or organizing my room every time I get stressed. Rather, I recognize more and more that things like community and wholeness that we so often throw out as desirable cliches are actually quite grueling and not so put-together as I might like.

Now, it seems minor, and it is, but moments like the banana bread--the clumsy dropping things, running into walls and being late and saying stupid things are reminders of my imperfection and the smallness of my life and the courage it takes to laugh and to keep walking and still present the banana bread to Blanche or my ideas to a class or myself to my friends.

The places God calls us to, whether it be tribal Africa, the mountains of Nepal, the slums of India, the ghettos of Chicago or the kitchen of our homes, are actually quite dangerous. We have to face fears, we are light from the True Light piercing darkness. 

One take-away I'm seeing is that I need a greater awareness. Not only an awareness of my body that could have been helped by dance as a child, but also an awareness of what's really going on, of bigger battles, of what I'm called to in the moment and the future, of the bigger picture, etc. This takes slowing down sometimes to stop, look, and listen before crossing the street. 

Simplify. Simplifying fractions in elementary school-loved it. Simplifying my life so that I can't be so dramatic or running helter-skelter, not so sure. Simplifying complex, inter-connected thoughts and realities of the world and my own life--seemingly impossible. So, I'm gonna give that a shot through the power at work within me, outside of myself. I'm not saying this experiment is going to change my life and prest-o-change-o, I'm the image of perfection. We already have one of those. I'm being renewed day by day. 

As we sang in that kids musical -- It's gonna get rough. So you'd better wise-up

A few of my goals in this vein--not the striving kind, nor the revolutionary idea kind: Try being early a few times. Get 7-9 hours of sleep. Plan fewer people appointments each day. Eat specific foods and do specific exercises (which implies not doing other things). Answer people's questions. Accept and give compliments. One day a week= one thing at a time. Pray in the Word each morning not getting up to do things intermittently.

Bittersweet.1.27.13

I enjoy, relish, delight in the complexities of the bittersweet. Hence, I enjoy the fruit of the vine, eating black licorice and dark chocolate-covered cranberries. I let myself cry today in pain and dance in joy. The love-hate of every part of life, the fact that we can experience the gamut of emotions in a split second and laugh through tears or understand and smile at the ironic in life…It’s beautiful and terrible, like the blanket of winter snow that only comes when everything is sleeping and looks dead or the tombstones of a cemetery solemnly calling attention to the lives and memories of real people.

I like resolution, since I’m a minister of reconciliation and I myself have been reconciled. Unfortunately, I over-apply this principle just like students who learn the existence of the comma, and decide, to punctuate, every sentence, as much as possible, with commas, for emphasis, or for no reason, at all. Sometimes I overanalyze and find problems that aren’t really a big deal or don’t really exist like I think they do so I can fix them—yay! Or, not so much. 

If I weren’t so concerned with being right or what everyone thinks of me, I might not be in this predicament or sticking my foot in my mouth quite as often. As it stands, I frequently battle internally before going into any social setting (or being alone at home) as to why this might happen and what can be done about it and how the best way is to act and interact, and I too often try to help others see the same. Don’t get me wrong (haha, being right again,) I do think this can be helpful—I can get where people are coming from, interpret, confront in love, see complexities, etc. It’s just that sometimes it’s nosey, sometimes it’s kind of fake, even though I’m just trying to contextualize and over-contextualize every.single.thing.

Ooh, the seeds I’ve sown; I’m takin’ the hard way home.

Pondering the body of Christ—challenged to realize that there is absolutely no competition (dang it!). No condemnation either. How strange that we think in terms of winners and losers, scales and measures instead of truth and lies or in dreams and possibilities and reality. What if I actually approached everyone as though I were for them (our battle isn’t against flesh and blood…). If only we understood that God so loved the world that he gave his one and only son, that whosever believes in him will not perish, but will have everlasting life.  ‘Cause, truth is, we’re all dead and living in our imaginary castles and very real shackles. None of us is immune from suffering; none is exempt from momentary pleasures. This does not mean we are all the same and overlook differences and there is no right and wrong; no, we are all wrong. There is no right apart from Christ, but within him, there is ultimate freedom!

Oh, the masks we wear. They become so much a part of us that we can’t even separate ourselves or figure out what it is we need to surrender (except that the answer is everything). I have such a hard time being real, even though people would accuse me of being very genuine. True. I value honesty and am open about my flaws and give thanks no matter what and seek the perspective of my sovereign Lord in everything. I’m being transformed. However, I still tinge my faith with my own flavors of goodness and desire to fit in and be the best. All the while, I am fully aware—more so each day—that I and everyone around me struggle and fall and fail all the time, and that’s ok, that’s the power of the cross overcoming each time we move past those places. So, even with all this reality swirling around, I hide. I try so hard to let myself feel, but when the tears come, if someone sees them, heaven forbid, I shut off the sadness, reverting back to happy is good, sad is bad. Wrong. I know that we are no strangers to suffering in this life and we follow a savior who redeemed us through suffering—he sweat blood in the solemnity of what was to come; he cried over the loss of his friend; he celebrated with sinners. I don’t want to settle for a controlled, balanced life. I don’t want to live out of control or as a “free-spirit” either, because I am not my own. That’s what I desire my life to evidence—the altogether loveliness and sufficiency of my Jesus.

The Word. He’s got the whole world in His hands : )

I don’t have to be perfect. I don’t have to be right. I don’t have to be understood. I don’t have a right to be accepted. I don’t deserve to be liked and listened to and catered to. I don’t have to be pursued. I don’t have to be successful. I don’t have to prove my intelligence or talents. I don’t have to be ashamed of my mistakes. I can sing if that’s appropriate. I don’t need to fear people’s approval or rejection or being bad at something. I don’t have a right to think I am better or better-off than any individual or group of people. I don’t have pressure to know all the answers. I don’t have to look any certain way to be more fully me or more beautiful. I don’t have to say all the right things or be funny or wise or sweet or gentle or in tune to everyone and everything. I don’t have to notice and remember everything. I don’t have to keep up with pop culture or sports or everyone’s life—even mine.

I do have to follow my Lord wherever he leads.

The pathway is broken, and the signs are unclear, and I don’t know the reason why you brought me here, but just because you love me the way that you do, I’m gonna walk through the valley if you want me to. It may not be the way I would have chosen when you lead me through a world that’s not my home, but you never said it would be easy. You only said we’d never walk alone.

Refined by fire. Precious metal.

Looking at the divine wedding…what a mystery—The Spirit presides as God the Father presents us to his son, who is in Him from before the creation of the world, in whom we live and move and have our being; he presents us as one as his glorious, unblemished bride, all because of what he did in love for us, and we enter into the divine romance and dance not because we are qualified and know the steps, and yet yes, we do, we were bought, washed, cleansed, dressed anew. We are readying ourselves, bride. And now, as a single woman, convinced of the love of my beloved, Jesus, I prepare for my wedding and my marriage to my beloved. Everyday learning I belong to another and that includes giving of myself to others .

Correction shy and pain avoider. Drama queen. Skittish. Self-righteous b%$@#. Yes. Sometimes. Other times, a dismal rag-tag, sopping wet, crying puppy. Potentially, a dancer continually moving and rejoicing.

Right now, awash with relief, excitement, uncertainty, sorrow, frustration, pain, anger, confusion, thankfulness, awe, joy, and love like grief.

The wrestling heart

Raw.

Now, I don't love struggle, but I'm an addict to resolution and growth, so I love/hate the failure and conflict and struggle--much like broomball, perhaps (A former field-hockey player described broomball as the most frustrating game invented, but really fun and addicting.)

I'm prone to getting 'preachy,' to Bible bashing the sleeping church and I get emotional over the truth of the gospel--the real thing, not even touchy-feely anything...is this a gift or something I should be wary of? 

Same struggle knowing that I've always loved words and knowing that I know a lot but realizing every moment how much I don't know...

Not knowing where I stand completely on the Jesus Culture movement (wary, actually), I do enjoy singing praise to the Lord and proclaiming the truth that I do see. There are elements of worship music that are a bit disturbing if it ends up focusing back on me all of the time, but even so, I am constantly amazed by the intimacy of the God of the universe--the display of the Glory of the Father come to dwell as Immanuel; that the Holy Spirit indwells and transforms us, that the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ can offer eternal life that starts the moment we believe on His name--that we confess with our tongues, our hearts, our lives that He is Saviour and Lord. This is a life-long process, no doubt, but we know and rely on the love God has for us. We fix our eyes on the author and perfecter of our faith who suffered and we suffer with him, he began it--in the beginning God created...He'll complete it... He who is able to do immeasurably more than we could ask or imagine, according to His power at work... The saints have, do and will overcome, by the blood of the Lamb and the word of our testimony... Amen. All of this blows me away--'You won't relent until you have it all--my heart is yours.' 

Is it? Do I believe that His are the words of life? That drinking in the Holy Scriptures is more desirable than anything this world has to offer? That real communion with Him is where I find life and joy? That I have hope and fulfillment because I've been rescued and redeemed and reconciled to God in Christ? That He holds the words of Truth? That I don't actually have any good thing apart from Him? That anything I have or do is all because of Him and to his glory?

I am ashamed to say I don't always live like that. I am a hypocrite above all. I perpetuate those American Christian stereotypes as much as they make me sick. I back stab and two-time. I bless and curse out of the same  mouth. I try to drink in poison and chug living water. I daily walk through the mud and rejoice over so many lesser things. I struggle with judgement and criticism and cynicism. I shackle myself back to fear and insecurity. I envy and covet. I give in to the hopelessness of the world and wonder if justice really will reign. I think I'm worse than everyone but better than everyone else. I want everyone to think well of me and want me, but I am fully aware that there is no desirable trait about me. I know my weaknesses and annoying characteristics and despise them, too. Mostly, I am sad to say I place myself and other things above my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ all too often. The great I AM is a jealous God and He doesn't let me run for long, but I give glory to such mediocre things or withhold it from the creator of the universe?! How do I manage? What is this constant battle within? How does good truly win? 

As a Hosanna prayer, not a demanding request:

You are good. Show yourself good.

You are gracious. Shower your grace.

You love mercy and justice. Reign.

You are love. Fill us to overflowing.

You are righteous. Transform our lives.

You define beauty and are infinitely beautiful. Open our eyes to see the wonders.

You are glorious. Take the glory.

You are all knowing and sovereign. Give us wisdom and courage to walk in obedience.

You listen to your humble servants. Humble us and respond to our cries.

You are God; there is no other. Reveal yourself.

Transform us, we pray. This very day. 

We'll sing a new song and enjoy you forever.

Yahweh, Jesus Messiah, You have my writhing heart.

Linnea Michelle

Preponderances

My last days in Kodai were somewhat of a blur, as might be expected.  Whirlwind is kind of my style. Hence, I left in a bit of a rush (surprise!) such that the taxi driver (the same one who brought me up the mountain some 3 ½ months ago!) graciously brought me back to retrieve my green shopping bag from market which had my camera and, I thought, my documents for return. Turns out, the librarian found them and mailed them to me the following day (Praise the Lord, they just arrived!). Obviously, my mind was a bit scattered that last day. Everything that was going on I was trying to process and prepare for re-entry and ensure that I was leaving on a good note.

I have yet to understand the music of that mountain and how my guest playing didn’t disturb the symphony too much, although, I wouldn’t want it to just be null and void, either. I don’t necessarily “march to the beat of my own drum,” but it’s hard to realize that I will be another to walk through the “revolving door” I wrote about upon return. It is true, on both ends, this time becomes a memory suddenly distant, hopefully not altogether wiped clear. True as well, is the impact which lives have on one another and that difficulties have in shaping us (as Christians, into the image of Christ—how thrilling!). As I read this morning, life is all about developing character, often through suffering rather than plush living, because that is what we can take with us through to eternity. In this way, I recognize that maybe it is alright to admit the difficulties and the ways that I struggled this semester because, perhaps, no, certainly, I grew in ways I never anticipated and must now apply all of this to a completely different reality, yet reality, all the same.

People tend to speak of getting into the “real world” more and more frequently as we prepare to depart from the “Wheaton bubble.” The majority of the students here (and people in any “bubble”) have gone in and out of this community over the years, and the world is continually more “globalized,” as we all well know. This has always been a pet peeve of mine, people not living their life in reality or recognizing that this is real life. “Remember, wherever you go, there you are,” or, as my youth pastor used to remind us, “The youth are not ‘the future of the church,’ they are an active part of it.” 

C.S. Lewis’ perspective struck me particularly accurately this morning (living with one’s “back to the engine” as society accelerates to who knows where). “The great thing is to be found at one’s post as a child of God, living each day as though it were our last, but planning as though our world might last a hundred years.”  

This is what I have thought yet not been able to formulate so eloquently. Live for today “specializing in the past” in light of eternity. The great balancing act we call life in search of the genuine. Even if we have to go from bubble to bubble.  Perhaps this bubble travel still allows us to piece together parts of the bigger picture in light of true reality and God’s design. Like my host dad in Costa Rica reminded me, the view of the earth from the moon is quite different; looking back at from whence you came from where you are is a difficult act, but essential to your going back having grown.

This song has been periodically stuck in my head over the last couple of months (rotating with Lazy-- “Today I don’t feel like doin’ anything . . .”—thanks to the girls at the interdorm dance competition and my adjustment to American culture…): Hillsong’s “You’ll Come”

I have decided, I have resolved
To wait upon you, Lord.
My rock and redeemer shall not be moved.
I’ll wait upon you, Lord!

As surely as the sun will rise
You'll come to us.
As certain as the dawn appears . . .

You'll come.

Let your glory fall as you respond to us.
Spirit, reign. Flood our hearts with holy fire again

We are not shaken we are not moved;
We wait upon you Lord.
Our Mighty deliverer, my triumph and truth--
I'll wait upon you, Lord.

You'll come.

Let your glory fall as you respond to us.

Come and fill our thirsty hearts again, you’ll come. You’ll come.

Chains be broken
Lives be healed
Eyes be opened
Christ is revealed

For the more bullet-oriented folk: Last days in Kodai included (in no particular order):

Masala tea masala tea masala tea

Funny conversations with shop owners in gathering gifts (some of which I can’t 

find, now …. : [)

Mountain beauty—no rain my last week! (not that rain isn’t good)

Walks and runs up in the hills or down around Ganga and the lake

Family dinner at the Morrison’s and a little party with the dorm kids at Janice’s with the thought-out and obvious gifts from my students that they had been not-so-subtly hinting at throughout the week

Church at the chapel

Last days teaching and student scenes for Number the Stars

Lots of hugs and beautiful farewells ( I hope Beth sends me her little speech from assembly)
Rohaan: Can the boys get a group hug, too?! (girls their age still have cooties)

Last dinner with the basketball team at Aby’s

Prayer with men and women of God who I cherish

Compiling everything for Wheaton

Cooking dinner at a friend’s house—adventures of improvising and nearly poisoning our neighbor

Haircut and time with families we’ll miss

Packing L

Mini tour of Mumbai and the Indian reality once again because I had to take a taxi through Mumbai to the international airport from the domestic (mad at myself for getting ripped off because the men who “helped” with my luggage saw my larger bills and pretty much took them straight from my wallet; guess they needed it more!)

Interesting people on the planes, discussing the world and being confused for being Norwegian with a very American accent.

Back in the U.S.A.

Picked up by church family at the airport and welcomed by fall leaves. Ahh.

Love from friends and family who understand.

Church. Worship.

Visiting people and hearing about life.

Assignments bogging me down. Boo. But great to complete!

Education department/fellow student teachers. So great. Including dinner with the other student teachers who were overseas at our professor’s house for Swedish pancakes. Wow.

Run around little Jesse with my uncle and our adventure with our new, independent friend (dog)

Thanksgiving!! Praise the Lord for this indescribable gift (and those we can describe)

Family. And friends.

Soup and fruit and vegetables. Yum.

Sleep. Organizing.

Remembering I can’t “get it all together,” and that’s not even the goal.

Some of my postcards are just arriving in the states on my tail baha

Etc. etc. etc.

It’s December!!!

Honestly, it’s more strange this week than it was the first couple of weeks being back. It might be the throes of culture shock, or it could just be old insecurities or uncertainties creeping up and assaulting me. Probably a little of both (or a lot of both, since I’m dramatic).

Apparently, I should have been more careful or glowing in my first reports upon getting back (embrace the autumn leaves, jet-lag and confusion aside). Turns out, as we well know, people tend to latch onto the negatives. As the Spirit indwells us, our entire perspective changes—be transformed by the renewing of your mind—a large order in this last part of senior year of college—then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is: His good, pleasing and perfect will.

So that you know: I love Kodai, the mountain and the people there. It is gorgeous and incredibly quirky. I miss it.

It's the final countdown

My mom challenged me with a thought from Acts the other day, and it’s one I’ve been meditating on the past few days, what I tell to my basketball girls all the time in shooting and in finishing a game: it eventually comes down to the follow through. I am terrified that it’s not in me. Yet, I am determined to grow and change . . . now. Take your time, but hurry up?
John Mark ditched out and missed out. I don’t want to do that. Even though God can and does redeem and reconcile, how much greater to experience the sustaining power and the fruits of perseverance. Goodness gracious. Still struggling with perseverance versus the tangles of perfectionism with procrastination.

From a sermon I listened to online the other day (not at home, at work, although internet was on at Swedish house yesterday!) “Life is an incremental series of becoming what you are in Christ. You can move. God is in you. You can move toward becoming the giver, the fountain that you are. People need you—no one can say to another, ‘I don’t need you.’” Where your joy will be deep and strong, and intense, and long.

Highlights working backwards from tonight--Sunday, 6 November:

Soup and conversation with Aren—dorm mom for upper Swedish boys

Processing with Sarah and relishing sunshine today

Our tacky fall display in our entryway

Nischaya loving to mimic my laugh along with “Bummer” and “Shucks!” once we established what they mean. Also the boys coming to sit by me during church. Aww.

Craziness of teaching while dropping and the students wanting more when we finished reading Number the Stars last week.

Enthusiastic hugs when I returned after being gone for only a couple of days.

Basketball tournament in Ooty—another hill station

Working to motivate and keep girls calm and strategize and support and teach etc. even as things turn unfair even when all seems stacked against you. For instance, one of our girls got a hug, a slap and a throw down which earned her a delayed whistle . . . and a call for a travel. This, in turn soon led to another  member of my team earning herself a technical before I could get her off the court. No, those are not the things I’m proud of, nor was it fun to run into a discipline issue the last day. Rather, I am ecstatic over how far we’ve come from the beginning to the end of the season. I wondered what I had gotten myself into a couple of months ago, but am so glad I jumped in headlong. These girls are great. Loved to see development, good defense, passes, keeping it together in our final game, cheering, determination, hustle, friendship with another team, joking, every girl on the team scoring in one of our games . . . these are the things that make me glad to be a basketball coach. Those girls will still talk with me and sometimes even respect me ; ) even when I look like a fool cheering and jumping up and down or trying to get the referee’s attention and being ignored because I’m white or just dressing like a dork.

We enjoyed good food and fun at the guest house (where I froze even with a hot water bottle—MN did not prepare me well, or I thought I was more tough than I am in reality. Further side note: being “tough” or “brave” inasmuch as it means bravado or independence is not really valued here, so my sticking my chin out and toughing it out at different points has not earned me valor points or compassion, just tsking.) and at Punjabi Daba restaurant. Those girls crack me up. 

A couple of situations led me to ponder truthfulness, example, standards, excellence and brokenness, as well. I remembered I like the going but “stuckness” of long car rides or road trips and the reflection that takes place. I enjoyed listening to music while watching the montage of images as we drove through cities and up and down mountain passes.

Long long bus ride back after waking to find the girls asleep and the bus stopped randomly a few different times. (one of these times, the helper excitedly points right in front of the bus window—“look, see the chickens!” yes, it is obvious that that truck directly in front of us has crammed too many birds into metal cages. Lovely sight to wake to at midnight, thanks.)  Finally “reaching” and begging the bus driver and helper to bring me all the way up to Swedish house and having to go back for my bag. Oops. Quarter ‘till 3 am rapping on the door to awaken my roommate in the wee hours of the morning. Sorry!

Football game last week in the mud and fog—ahh so good to play! Little things like assists and goals feel good.

Digging deeper in conversation with friends and coworkers here.
learning Paciencia, understanding before judgment, listening, quiet, stillness and grace.

So, what about me fits here? Well, not a whole lot, in all actuality, but somehow, I’ll still be leaving a part of me and taking a new part with me.

Now it’s game time—the final countdown. Mental toughness. Walk it out.

Reflections on a Sunday 6-11

As a result of reading a few books, listening to a few sermons, being part of a tension and living life.

So, church. The body, anyone? This morning at times left me saying, “Jesus? I love Jesus.” The Word of God became flesh and dwelled among us. We have seen his glory—the glory of the one and only, come from the Father, full of grace and truth. The head of the body for a reason. Incredible imagery to think of the fragility of the brain and its helplessness without the members.  (Especially relevant as my umbrella nearly gave me a concussion this morning before church. No joke.) Reliant on signals from nerves throughout the body, the brain controls and unifies the actions of not only complex, differentiated systems, but organs and cells within those systems.  This is a beautiful picture, but as I was reading in Disappointment with God, a risk of sorts, because when we use imperfect people to represent and embody a perfect God, we still show the brokenness of “holding this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing greatness comes not from us but from God.” Holiness is what we strive for, not as what we do or pushing our way, but rather, as a far-away friend reminded Sarah and I, by “being” in the midst of “doing.” Who you are is to be celebrated in Christ (birthdays?!). Moreover, God delights to show love to His children. Parts of this picture are discipline from the Lord: direct spankings for those he loves, along with suffering and difficulty, not necessarily the glamorous “perfect” you might imagine. Rather, the broken, weary, redeemed, whole, joy never-ending, abundant life. This means, we don’t make the gospel more or less offensive; we stand for Truth. The Truth shall set you free. Choose your battles wisely and fight them hard, first on your knees.

Sarah and I also shared a joyful time, well many joyful, effervescent moments, but also a session of pontificating about heaven and the glory and joy that will be there in fulfillment of all we are and the glimpses we receive here in doing “what we were meant to do” at times as well as the gifting of all that we are and have, completely, in the presence of our Savior.