I've got a fierce case of homesickness. I mean fierce! My heart literally aches, my body shakes, I cry without warning and I won't go into the specifics of other bodily symptoms. I miss my family, my friends, my neighborhood-- and a million other familiar things.
It's not that it's terrible here in the west valley of Arizona-- in fact, it's very beautiful. And it's warm! And there are even people here that I enjoy; people who missed me while I was away in PA over the past week. But it's just not home.
This miserable ache in my gut got me thinking about the fact that Jesus left is perfect home to come to live among people who hated him and wanted to kill him from moment one. My mind cannot compehend the love that motivated him to leave his Father's side, to come to this foreign place, to live among such unpleasant creatures, to give and give and give-- and then give the ultimate gift of his own life. He must've missed the perfection of heaven and the company of the Father and the Spirit, but love drove him. He didn't look back-- he only looked forward and I am so thankful.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Finding a church is no easy task. I've read through about a dozen web sites and my mind is spinning! Every site insists their church has what I need, what my heart is longing for, what my family requires in order to develop a strong faith. My mind has been a BLUR of denominations, of worship styles (?!?), of cool splashy web sites, of ministry options, of sermon topics and on and on-- SO much information! I was very discouraged after visiting two churches last week (see below for comments), but this past Sunday I left the apartment with list and directions in hand. I intended to visit one church but couldn't find it, so I ended up at another (amusingly, earlier that morning when Jordan asked me where I was planning to worship I told him I was looking for a cosmic sign to show me where I should go. God is funny!).
Now, I confess I was feeling a bit cynical as I remembered the lack of warmth from the week before. I arrived at the high school where the church meets and there were a few other cars already there. One family was heading toward the door when one of their little boys came toward me and said, "Are you new?" I laughed a little and said ,"Yes, how did you know?" And he said, "That's easy-- I don't know your face!" It was that simple. Then Matthew yelled, "Hey Mom, she's new!!" Mom laughed and apologized and looked uncomfortable, but all I could think was, "This kid knows the love of Jesus!" He saw someone by herself, someone he didn't know, he asked a simple question and it made all the difference.
Now, I confess I was feeling a bit cynical as I remembered the lack of warmth from the week before. I arrived at the high school where the church meets and there were a few other cars already there. One family was heading toward the door when one of their little boys came toward me and said, "Are you new?" I laughed a little and said ,"Yes, how did you know?" And he said, "That's easy-- I don't know your face!" It was that simple. Then Matthew yelled, "Hey Mom, she's new!!" Mom laughed and apologized and looked uncomfortable, but all I could think was, "This kid knows the love of Jesus!" He saw someone by herself, someone he didn't know, he asked a simple question and it made all the difference.
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Glory
Of all the apartments available in Arizona, in Goodyear, in Verrado, God gave me one with a porch that faces west. Arizona is famous for it's beautiful pink sunsets, so I was happy with the porch from the first minute I saw it!
At first I simply enjoyed the view, but last evening the view became a word from God. See, yesterday was the first cloudy day I've experienced since arriving here and it was a bit of a novelty (this morning in an email, my sister said, "Let me guess-- clear, sunny and warm?"). But as I passed by the porch door last evening, I glanced out at the sky and God spoke. It had to do with the clouds, the added dimension they allow and the metaphor right in front of me.
The sunsets are pretty on clear evenings, but last evening's clouds allowed the colors to bounce around and create shades and shapes of amazing beauty. As I sat there, the show continued on with the colors becoming deeper and richer. Of course I was thinking about the fact that I am SO far from all that's familiar, from all the ones I love, and how hard this week has been. That's when God whispered Psalm 19:1-- "The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclain the work of his hands." As my heart heard those words, I found hope.
I saw the metaphor clearly in front of me last evening and it goes like this: an Arizona sunset on a clear evening is a beautiful thing full of color and creativity. An Arizona sunset on a cloudy evening is just breathtaking, and it's the clouds that make the difference! Life on a good (clear) day is a beautiful thing, full of blessing and joy. Life during a rough patch (cloudiness) can be breathtaking because of the things that God teaches, provides and reveals through the cloudiness. Just as last evening's sunset was the work of His hands, my life is also the work of His hands. He's fully aware of the ache in my heart and can use the pain to declare His glory-- if I'm cooperative.
I haven't been very good about sitting and soaking in God's lesson these last few weeks-- mostly I've just wanted the pain to go away. But last evening's sunset reminded me to sit back and look around at what God is doing and to be thankful for all the shades and shapes-- they are the work of His hand and will produce a thing of true beauty if I let them. The heavens declare God's glory and I want to do the same.
Strange as it seems to me, when I got up this morning I smiled to see it was another cloudy day!
At first I simply enjoyed the view, but last evening the view became a word from God. See, yesterday was the first cloudy day I've experienced since arriving here and it was a bit of a novelty (this morning in an email, my sister said, "Let me guess-- clear, sunny and warm?"). But as I passed by the porch door last evening, I glanced out at the sky and God spoke. It had to do with the clouds, the added dimension they allow and the metaphor right in front of me.
The sunsets are pretty on clear evenings, but last evening's clouds allowed the colors to bounce around and create shades and shapes of amazing beauty. As I sat there, the show continued on with the colors becoming deeper and richer. Of course I was thinking about the fact that I am SO far from all that's familiar, from all the ones I love, and how hard this week has been. That's when God whispered Psalm 19:1-- "The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclain the work of his hands." As my heart heard those words, I found hope.
I saw the metaphor clearly in front of me last evening and it goes like this: an Arizona sunset on a clear evening is a beautiful thing full of color and creativity. An Arizona sunset on a cloudy evening is just breathtaking, and it's the clouds that make the difference! Life on a good (clear) day is a beautiful thing, full of blessing and joy. Life during a rough patch (cloudiness) can be breathtaking because of the things that God teaches, provides and reveals through the cloudiness. Just as last evening's sunset was the work of His hands, my life is also the work of His hands. He's fully aware of the ache in my heart and can use the pain to declare His glory-- if I'm cooperative.
I haven't been very good about sitting and soaking in God's lesson these last few weeks-- mostly I've just wanted the pain to go away. But last evening's sunset reminded me to sit back and look around at what God is doing and to be thankful for all the shades and shapes-- they are the work of His hand and will produce a thing of true beauty if I let them. The heavens declare God's glory and I want to do the same.
Strange as it seems to me, when I got up this morning I smiled to see it was another cloudy day!
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Olivious
I'm really, really tired of non-friendly, non-welcoming churches. I went to two different churches today and was greeted by a total of TWO people-- and one doesn't really count because it was her job to greet everyone at the door! It wasn't like I was in the midst of hundreds of people-- this morning's service was about 40 people while this evenings totaled 19!! What's going on? Whatever happened to welcoming the stranger? Whatever happened to "...and they'll know we are Christians by our love..."?? How can a conversation with a fellow member override extending a welcome to a visitor? How many unbelievers visit churches and never return because of this sort of thing? I just don't get it. I just don't get it.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Paradise
This morning I went SCUBA diving from a tiny beach on the south side of Maui. We only went to a depth of about 40', but we saw 2 giant sea turtles, an eagle ray, 3 octopus, moray eels in various colors and sizes, and lots of fish. That feeling of weightlessness combined with the silence and the beauty is... indescribable. Even when there is nothing swimming by, the sights are awesome: the sunrays through the water, the colors of sand against the blue water, the shapes of coral growing up from the ocean floor. The surroundings are so very different than dry ground that just hanging in the water is worth the effort to get there.
As we resurfaced I looked around at the folks on the beach and I began to feel a bit sorry for them. Sure, the beach is very beautiful-- the waves are fun and the sun on your skin feels great, but there's so much more that a lot of people don't see. A metaphor began to form in my mind: some people stay on the beach under the umbrella . Some people swim along the surface of the water with a mask and see the underwater world from a distance. And then some people put on all the gear, leave the shore and go deep to be among the creatures. These are the ones who get winked at by a sea turtle, who hold a puffed up puffer fish, who feel a little crab skitter up their arm-- the ones who get a fuller picture of life on this planet.
I'm glad to be one of the ones who leaves the beach and dives in. It's scary at times and maybe even risky, but from where I stand, it's so worth it.
As we resurfaced I looked around at the folks on the beach and I began to feel a bit sorry for them. Sure, the beach is very beautiful-- the waves are fun and the sun on your skin feels great, but there's so much more that a lot of people don't see. A metaphor began to form in my mind: some people stay on the beach under the umbrella . Some people swim along the surface of the water with a mask and see the underwater world from a distance. And then some people put on all the gear, leave the shore and go deep to be among the creatures. These are the ones who get winked at by a sea turtle, who hold a puffed up puffer fish, who feel a little crab skitter up their arm-- the ones who get a fuller picture of life on this planet.
I'm glad to be one of the ones who leaves the beach and dives in. It's scary at times and maybe even risky, but from where I stand, it's so worth it.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
The Beginning
Today is the first day of an entirely new life. I woke up in a new bed in a new home in a new town in a new state. After 25 years of marriage, I'm on my own and the thought is overwhelming. The title of this blog, "39 Boxes of Books" refers to the bulk of my belongings-- books. I feel at home when my books are near-- perhaps because I can trace my life through the subjects and titles. The one common thread that runs through 99% of my book titles is faith in Christ and how to face life in light of his love and grace. As uncertain and overwhelmed as I feel this morning, I need to focus on the reality that he loves me, he has a plan and he is at work...
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