1,000 Words

The Sea of Galilee.

We were on a boat.

We'd been dancing- the Hava Nagila and other folk dances, twirling and laughing and holding hands and going in circles.

As we caught our breaths, they told us that the water is never that calm.

But I could think of at least one other time that it was. Peace. Be still.

And I could think of another group of people who crossed from one side of that Sea to the other.

And my breath was gone again, for a different reason.



(I have a feeling that many of my Israel moments will come out in this form…)

1,000 Words

I'm borrowing ideas from Gretchen over at The Little Pink House again. She's been doing 1,000 Words posts on Mondays for quite some time and I love it!





I finished the blanket I've been crocheting since Christmas!

Five-Minute Friday: Grateful

GO:

I’m grateful for American life.

There’s a good chance that I’ll spend a large percentage of my lifetime somewhere else. Where I’ll live instead depends on what exactly my ministry call turns out to be (I’m studying for Bible translation as well as ESL teaching). But no matter what, it’ll probably be a different culture.

So in case I end up in a jungle, I’m grateful today for the four seasons of northwest Indiana, for the varied food and the benign bugs, for the sturdy house and air conditioning and readily available medical care.

In case I end up in a non-English speaking country, I’m grateful today for the time I have in a place where everyone communicates in my heart language.

In case I end up in a place with very few Christians, I’m grateful today for the enormous network of believers who love and support me from the same campus or town.

In case I end up halfway ‘round the world, I’m grateful today for my mother’s hugs and the chance to watch a movie with my sisters late at night and the frequency of sleepovers with good friends.

I’m grateful for all the things I have right now that I might someday miss. But mostly I’m grateful that I can trust in God’s sovereignty, rest in His plan for my life, and live with joy and“strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow”.

STOP.

Five-Minute Friday: Welcome

It's been a while. I've been too busy living life to write about it- but there are plenty of ideas floating around in my mind. Give me a bit, they'll show up here eventually. Meanwhile, I've decided to join in on The Gypsy Mama's Five Minute Fridays, which I was first exposed to on Gretchen's "Little Pink House" blog (there's a link on the side of mine to hers). Each week she gives a prompt, and you write for five minutes and post it. So here goes!



I’ve always been welcomed to new places, but this year I’ve been learning about the special joys of being welcomed home.

Sometimes it’s a good, home-cooked meal from my mom, who knows that dining hall fare is never as good as something from our kitchen. A happy dance in the kitchen with my sister. A hug from my dad. Those are the intentional welcomes.

Then there are the things that just are—things that scream, “You’re home!” The way my house smells (you know how every house has a unique scent?). The familiar feel of my bed. The sound of my dad making bad jokes, my dog skittering across the hardwood floor, the train whistle blowing at night.

But my favorite welcome? When it’s late at night, and my parents have gone to bed, and I’m in my room. Maybe reading, or skyping someone, or journaling. At some point there’s a soft knock on my door, and one of my sisters creeps in and sits on the bed with me. She tells a story about something that’s happened, plopping her legs across mine. Soon the other one has joined us, bringing her laptop or her homework. And we spend the evening that way, all doing our own thing, but together and there’s usually a lot of laugher. Because we’ve grown up, we’re not the little squabbling girls we used to be. The youngest is about to turn sixteen. We’re (mostly) friends now. And they’re glad I’m home.

I love college. I’ve started to refer to it as “home”, too, but there’s just nothing like returning to my family and the place where I grew up.

Thoughts on 1 Samuel 8

When my Government teacher in high school was explaining the existence of government, he used an interesting example: the Israelites in Canaan.

People have two inherent conflicting desires, desires that are so strong they are almost needs. One is the desire for independence. The other is the desire for community.

As I said before, those two desires are intrinsically at odds—but God had a plan for Israel that would allow for both. He outlined exactly how to live so that they could exist as free, independent people in a well-functioning community. He gave them the Law.

If Israel had been capable of following the Law to the letter, it would have worked perfectly. Even as sinful people, with the institution of the judges it worked pretty well.

But they weren’t content. They asked for a king, so that they would be like all of the other nations. To protect them, to bring them together to fight battles, to make them prosper. And check out Samuel’s response:

“This is what the king who reigns over you will do: He will take your sons and make them serve… He will take your daughters to be performers and cooks and bakers…He will take a tenth of your flocks, and you yourselves will become his slaves.”

He knows that the price of the benefits that a king provides is a great loss of independence and freedom. God’s balance will be upset. But the people don’t care, of course. So they get a king, and many more kings after that, and out of a good fifty kings in Israel and Judah only nine or ten turn out to be considered “good”.

I just thought all of this was really interesting. God knows the desires of our hearts, and he knows how to respond to them. He knows us and our tendencies and natures better than we ever could know ourselves.

Moments and Sensations

Some days, my senses seem to play a larger role in life than usual. Things feel fragmented and instead of people and events, what stands out in my mind are emotions, scents, temperatures, color schemes.

Glasses fogged with raindrops blur the world and make everything insubstantial. Somehow they make me feel as though I look blurred and insubstantial to the rest of the world, too, until I wipe them off.

Juggling a McDonald’s caramel latte (better than Starbucks’, I’ve decided), a FedEx package, an ID and door key, a Walgreens bag, and a purse while holding open the Houghton door with my foot for a dad with a dolly loaded with his daughter’s things. It’s move-out day. Chaos.

Chill air, misty raindrops- wind and water are the elements of the day. Contrast: in three-ish days I will be under the Israeli sun.

Hugs. Hard ones. Prolonged. These are goodbye hugs— some for a few weeks, some for three months, some much longer. These are emotion-filled and bittersweet. And yet it hasn’t quite sunk in that I won’t be seeing all of them tomorrow.

Grey and white and greenish and black. Clouds, empty dorm room walls, my rain jacket, graduation gowns. Those are the colors of today.

Echoes. Calls of “Goodbye!” echo through the halls. The echo of the microphone through the large Moody Church sanctuary as the speaker gave the commencement address. The echo of my voice when I sing (as I incessently do) in my nearly-empty dorm room.

A musty smell. A rainy smell. Nail polish remover. Cleaning spray. The fast food everyone’s brought back for lunch since the dining hall is closed.

These are some of today’s moments and sensations.

100 Days

You know that pattern of conversation where you say, “I just can’t wait for ____!!!!” and someone decides to insert wisdom into your life by saying something along the lines of, “Well, don’t wish away the time till it gets here. You’ll end up wishing away your whole life if you’re not careful. The journey is sometimes the best part” ?

Well, it’s gotten to the point in the year where everything is about “next year”. The ways our floors will change. The things we’ll do differently. The classes. The many different sorts of relationships that have to be put on pause for now but will be resumed in the fall.

There are exactly 100 days until the day I have to be back on campus for choir. 100 days until that much-anticipated “next year”.

What will I do with that 100 days?

I won’t wish them away. In the next 100 days, I will learn some things. I will grow a bit. I will accomplish some tasks, and have some fun, and go through some bad days. I’ll earn some money, and deepen friendships, and move on from some things. I’ll live.

And on August 19th I will still be me, but a little different.

As I was reminded last August by a very wise lady, “Don’t spend your life waiting to live it”.