Tour of the New House

Here is our duplex. Sometimes we call it "The Castle." Paula's and my unit is on the left.

Our entry-way. The two posts of the porch are just perfect for hanging a hammock between :-)

Here's the entry-way, with Paula's big 13-year-old dog Bogey. He's a very sweet dog, loves kids, and moves pretty slow these days.

We love the kitchen. It's got lots of cabinets so all our stuff fits easily.

Here's our breakfast bar (also used as the potluck food-center) and the living room. There's Paula and Kwili too!

Here's the other side of the living room.

This is Paula's corner of the house - bathroom and bedroom. Across is the laundry room but it was too boring to show.

My newly-decorated office; I still need to put up my hunter green curtains.

Upstairs bathroom - down the hall is a spare room that has a door into our house and also the neighbor's. It's not decorated yet, just functional :-S

My room! I chose it for the view, mainly... too bad you can't see the mesa and the bosque through the windows :-)

Another shot of my room. The picture on the wall was painted by a friend of the mission. I inherited it during some of the recent moving. :-D

I heard a cool fact in the sermon today. And I looked it up on google just for fun, so it must be true. Did you know that the Inuit have 12 different words for snow? They don't just say "snow", but have distinct words for wet snow, powder snow, etc. They need these words because snow is such an important part of their environment. The specific kind of snow affects their daily life. Hence, the specificity of their words.

The Bible has several different words for love. The "big three" are eros (romantic love - no explanation required), phileo (brotherly love - a feeling based on common regard and shared interests), and agape (self-sacrificial love - not a feeling but a choice to do what's right for the other person at any cost). And why would God need to be so specific instead of just letting us guess what the generic term "love" means through the context? Because, like the Inuit are surrounded and affected by snow, we as Christ-followers are surrounded and affected by love. It is such an important part of our lives that we need to be specific about what it means. "They will know we are Christians by our love..." yes. And, hardest for me to comprehend, They will know we are Christians by the way we accept love too.

I got a good analogy for my life the other day. It came third-hand. My housemate had talked to her friend who had received a letter from her daughter that said this. The daughter explained that communication, to her, is like showing up at a buffet. There's so much good food there and you don't know where to start, so sometimes you just don't start. And other times you sample everything because it's all so good, and then you end up feeling horribly overstuffed afterwards.

Yup. Usually I don't say anything because I don't know which of those things in my head I should let out for air. Which means that when I finally do say something, I say it all at once and it's a three hour conversation which I oftentimes regret. Sounds like I need to learn self-control. And trust.

Homesick...

Everything is wonderful here - the new school is finally beginning to take shape (the surveyors came and stuck posts in the ground at each corner, accentuated by bright orange spray-painted lines). We had a fundraiser with lots of parent involvement and laughs tonight. My students and I had a particularly great field trip on Monday. The past weekend was an exceedingly wonderful one, complete with several hikes, many great conversations, and important time with God.

This Wednesday, a friend was killed. He played basketball, football, board games, and just hung out with us. He set himself up in the DJ business and was always ready to lend a helping hand with a church outreach or graduation party. He was a very accepting, easy-going person. And he's dead now.

I'm very angry because it wasn't his time to go. It's never someone's time to go by the hand of another human. I'm afraid that justice may not be given. I'm afraid for his family, having to deal with one more tragedy in a long list. I'm afraid Satan will win, as he tries to break people apart, destroy lives, and most of all eliminate hope.

But there's the good news, right there. He has already lost. Jesus, at the cross, won the war. So... All things will be right. ...someday...

And in the meantime I'm homesick. For a place where death doesn't take loved ones, a place where freedom and love and hope reign. "Our citizenship is in heaven" Phil. 3:20. But. God calls me to make my home in the now, in the messiness and growing pains of this square inch of His universe. One day, all will be right. Today, all I have to do is live, acknowledging His rightness and truth and love and in-charge-ness. And pray - "Let Your kingdom COME and Your will be done... ON EARTH as it is in heaven."

Please pray for this young man's family. Thankfully, they are part of God's kingdom. On earth. As it is in heaven.

Love

When I was 13 years old, I became acutely aware of my sin and rebellion. I knew I did not want to go God's way; I also knew I should want it. This cycle continued for a while until my Father brought this verse to me:
"My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish; no one can snatch them out of my hand" (John 10:27-28).
Suddenly it became clear. I knew I had loved Him in the past, and this verse said He would never let me go. With this newborn assurance that God would continue to love me and take care of me, He broke down my resistance and I surrendered my life to Him.

My sophomore year of college began with a retreat. One of the messages during that retreat was about Jesus' sacrifice for our sin. Suddenly seeing a glimpse of the depth and immensity of my own sin, I sat alone after the message, crying out to Jesus over and over, "Why? Why did you do that for me? And in the clearest way I've ever known Him to speak, Jesus answered me -
"Because I wanted to."
My heart broke with joy that He would love me enough to go through that pain, not because He had to, but because He wanted to. After understanding this all-encompassing love, God helped me to see that He didn't want me to hide myself - He made me "me" on purpose. My sophomore year was filled with incredible stories of God working through and in me, and was marked by a newfound confidence and joy in knowing I was working with Him.

It's been a rough past couple of years. I love my life, teaching in a remote mission school, twenty-seven and single and busy, but it's certainly not what I had in mind ten years ago. I have spent a lot of time and effort pushing God's blessings back in His face because they were not what I wanted. This year is breaking point - something has to change or I will go crazy or be eaten up by bitterness. I see my patterns and failings a bit more clearly each day. But along with admitting my unattractive sin and inability to change myself, I have to beg for grace and help. And guess what God is doing once again? You guessed it - instead of condemning, Jesus says "I love you." Here are some ways:
- I begged last year for more friends. Thought God had ignored me. But instead, He was bringing "bridge" people. I now have friends who have friends in the public school and the medical field... and it's great fun getting to know them all.
- Several women among my staff have been going out of their way to listen to my ramblings and mentor me.
- A dear friend from highschool suggested that we do a book study together by phone. Talking with her each week has made many things more clear for me, not to mention I treasure the friendship!
- My sisters and I are enjoying a closer relationship than we have for years. We are learning and praying together.
- I've been missing playing flute in a group for years, and was given the opportunity to play with the Red Rock String Quartet for a concert in a week and a half!
- God has been really speaking to me through sermons, chapel speeches, and Bible reading. He has been showing me that I need to stop hiding, start trusting, and DRINK from His water of life (Heb. 6:7). After accepting His love, I can share it with others.

I keep wondering why I feel so comfortable with my family and close friends, and am slow to adjust to new people. It's this: I can only perform if I feel loved and lovable. If I feel this, I will do almost anything and be myself. If I don't feel it, I shut down, do only the requirements, and show people a mask. But here's the sad thing- I am an adult. Can't go back to my family again. I have to learn to live in a world where I might not always "feel the love" or be pre-accepted by others. I think the key is to accept what God says about me instead of waiting till I hear it from people. He says I am lovable because He loves me. Here's the song that really brought that home to me today -
from Jars of Clay's "Heart."
I let it get dark, so you'll see the stars
They'll say we're in love, we probably are
No mountains to climb, papers to sign
Offer your heart, I've given you mine
No walls to defend, wars to align
Give me your heart, you already have mine.

He already loves me completely - proved it on the cross. I don't have to do anything to be good enough or popular enough for it. If I drink from that well, I will be hydrated to run this race of life. I can rest, and drink, and love, and live in the freedom given by my Father.

Running down one lane of an overgrown dirt road, watching the sunset through the sunflower stalks and listening to my happy dogs... this is beauty.

Coming home to a full pantry, a working stove and delicious filtered water to drink... this too is beauty.

Grading students' work for the morrow... this too is beauty. Even if not so enjoyable.

If only I could see God's love as easily through them all as I can through the sunset...

Grace is hard to take.

This weekend I went to the Grand Canyon with my housemate Jessica and her friend Kimberly from Virginia. Our plan was to hike to the bottom, camp, and hike out the next day. However, when we arrived we found that there was no chance of having a campsite at the bottom; the only way to get down there was to hike in and out in the same day. We figured we could do it – we were well-prepared and all in decent shape.

The hike was beautiful. The canyon changes shape quite a bit each 1000 feet you descend, and everything is bright green because it's spring. At 7:00 in the morning, the temperature was about 40 degrees. It quickly climbed from there to the 70s or 80s by the middle of the day. The sun was screened behind a few misty clouds so we didn't fry. I got some great pictures! We were so excited to reach the bottom of the canyon. There were two huge suspension bridges, one for the South Kaibab trail and the other for the Bright Angel trail. The Colorado River was impressive and very muddy, and just a bit further up the trail we found the Little Colorado coming through clear as could be. Everything was green and peaceful and sunny.

I took a bit too long at the bottom because I really wanted to stick my feet in the river, partly because they were hot and sore but mostly just to say I did. :-) We were all a bit stressed about making it out of the canyon before dark. The Bright Angel trail had a water stop halfway up, which I thought wouldn't take too long to reach. The bottom of the canyon to Indian Gardens, though, was the hottest, hardest part of the trail. The sun was beating down, my pack felt heavier and heavier, and I walked slower and slower. By the time we reached Indian Gardens, I was tired and sore. And there were still 4.5 miles to go.

After drinking two quarts of liquid and trying to eat a few calories too, with muscles no longer trembling we started off on the final ascent. The beginning was pretty gradual, not too bad but still very hot and sunny. Then we started the switchbacks – interminable switchbacks. We just climbed those switchbacks for three hours. We tried everything from eating along the way, to counting steps, to making short-term goals. Finally, Jessica and I resorted to leap-frogging: I would stop in the middle of the trail and lean over to rest. She would catch up to me and go on as far down the trail as she could make it before she needed a rest. Then when I caught my breath, I would pass her and keep going as far as I could before I had to stop again. People passed us, mostly going up but a few going down too. A tall middle-aged couple went down, smiling cheerily at us tired climbers.

Finally I sat on a log by the side of the trail to rest a little longer. Jess caught up and sat too. We felt exhausted – knew it couldn't be too much farther to the top, but didn't know how we would make it. The tall middle-aged couple came bouncing back up the path and stopped.

“Do you need any food? Water?” they asked.

“No, we've got enough of that, thanks,” we replied.

“Is there any other way we could help?” Other than a ski lift, I couldn't think of any solution to my current problem. But Jessica was braver than I.

“You could carry our packs,” she suggested jokingly.

The couple looked at each other. “We could do that,” they said. In disbelief, I watched as the woman, whose name I later found out was Carla, took off her hiking rucksack and reached for my pack. My pride kicked in for a second and I came so close to saying, “No, that's okay – I'm almost there and I'll be fine.” I wanted to make it to the top on my own steam so I could have boasting rights. But then I realized that I was being offered a gift. I gave her my pack, her husband took Jessica's, and we began hiking again. The weight off my back was great, but nothing was so wonderful as the fact that a pair of strangers were willing to carry my burden for me – willingly. Not only that, they were interested in getting to know me too. Tears stung my eyes as I lightly walked behind them.

It couldn't help but remind me of another man who carried a burden I couldn't lift anymore. I'm not good at asking for help so I feel like the scenario has to be replayed often for me.

Jesus: “Can I help you with that?”

Me: “No, I'm okay, thanks.” A couple miles further down the road, when my knees are buckling and I can't move another step: “Um, did you really mean what you said back there? You can take it now.” And again I have the feeling of walking lightly down the road behind the guy who did everything for me, who gives everything to me.

All I have to do is accept it.

But I don't have boasting rights anymore.

Grace is hard to take. But so good!