Prepared . . . or not?

I should have started the countdown days, even weeks, ago but I didn't.

3 days until Zim.

As we got together to pray yesterday one thing in particular hit me that may define this trip - the opportunity to give a voice back to the people of the country. I don't want to tell their stories. I want them to tell their stories, in their voices, with their own emotion and struggle, in their words not mine. That makes me a humble gatherer of stories and tears. A servant that will take a basket full of dreams and nightmares out of one country and attempt to hand the harvest to those willing to listen.

I expect to be surprised by this trip. Surprised by the beauty. Surprised by the hope. Surprised by resilience. I expect to be stretched and to eventually ask myself, "Could I have done this?" and not know the true answer. I expect to be overwhelmed by the heart of God, simply because He is overwhelming in nature. Finally, I expect to be changed somehow. One of the words I got about the trip from some faithful prayers in Hong Kong was that I would "uncover something vital." I hope that is true. I hope I am ready.

What is my cause?

I have been thinking about causes today. Those dedications of the heart that make life meaningful and take up all your time and energy but are absolutely worth it. What is my cause? I have been travelling the world, searching and finding so many unexpected things. My heart has been pulled one million directions and I have seen both absolute beauty and utter pain. I have considered dedicating my life to people groups, to issues of injustice, to working with others whose hearts and passions I admire and trust. Yet, something feels unfulfilled in all this. I have found my niche in writing and research and am still learning such things, but I desperately want to commit my writing to things worthwhile. I want to pen the stories that the world needs to know because they are symbols of both the best and the worst of humankind.

I read a story in National Geographic today, the February 2009 edition, on North Koreans fleeing their country and eventually ending up in South Korea via China, Laos and Thailand. It was brilliant. The stories of the individuals involved were honoring and descriptive of their plight. They brought awareness while not shedding off hope and painted a picture of the human heart to overcome, and the ongoing struggle of so many on earth. I want to write such brilliance. Not because I want the limelight, but because many people have stories that need to be told, because I believe they honor God in their resilience and attitudes and because if we, whoever you want to define "we" as, will do what we are called to do, maybe the world will be a brighter place. "Commit your way to the LORD; trust in him and he will do this: He will make your righteousness shine like the dawn, the justice of your cause like the noonday sun." Psalm 37:5-7
I travel in 6 days to a country with ongoing problems and people of formidable perseverance. I pray, may my precious Father God hear me, that I can tell the stories of what I see and experience there with absolute excellence. May we all find our cause and pour our lives and souls into the pot that will be poured out in healing. AMEN . . .

Bloggers-Block

I have been sitting here trying to decide what to write on this little blog-o'-mine and fear I have bloggers-block, that pesky little irritation of increativity and un-inspiredness (look, I am even making up words.) I contemplated writing a brief synopsis of what I have been doing here in Africa, but realized loyal readers of the blog already know that or are actually part of it. I pondered ranting about something that disturbs me, but found I had no energy for such a thing. I thought through the list I have made of possible topics and didn't connect with a single one that would be worthy of this time. I haven't written anything for class that is postable, or journaled anything amazing this week that I feel like sharing with the world. So here I am . . . blocked up like a road closure on the local highway. So here are some random thoughts that probably wouldn't be included in anything else.

. . . .

This week went entirely too quickly. I feel like I went to bed on a Saturday and woke up on the following Saturday with no week in between. Why does this happen to us? It makes me feel like I am very out of control and trying to grab hold of anything is futile and I shouldn't try so hard. In the picture on the right, the bubble over the chicks head says, "Jimmy, Answer me! Please!" Am I the egg or the chick?

. . .

I have officially settled what the schedule of my life may look like for the next few months: Here until end March (with a short trip to Zimbabwe next weekend that I feel utterly unprepared for), Uganda and various other African nations until end May, Ireland for the first half of June and home on June 17th. Apres? Je ne sais pas . . .

. . . .

I really love my family. They sent me a package of sweets and said that they "didn't want to send anything I would have to pack back, so everything is 'disposable' " meaning edible! Plus, they sent a giant card that speaks to me when I open it. It is great. I also really love my friends. I have gotten letters and emails and wall posts from so many people and feel so much love and support. THANK YOU! I can't tell you how much these things mean to me. To feel connected to the people I love and miss is one of the biggest blessings. You guys are rock stars. :)

Sign Translation Course 1, Lesson 1

One of my favorite things about travelling is trying to translate signs. I think I have decided that the one above says: those who try to sneak into heaven won't make it.

If someone could please tell me how Pregnancy Tests are an alternative to abortion . . . I think I am old enough to understand. I just assumed that if you were considering an abortion you already knew you were pregnant.

I really love the UK, check out these signs letting you know just where making-out is appropriate. Yes, UK, set the standard! As a side note - they call it snogging there. I like that word just about as much as I like the people's lips in the sign and wish my hair was that shape.

My Secret Ingredient

These pictures are almost 100% purely for the enjoyment of my family, mainly my sister, who cannot get over the fact that more than 10 years ago I mistakingly added cinnamon to my spaghetti sauce (I got a bit confused - My grandmother adds BROWN SUGAR to her CHILI . . . yeah, I know, not even close.) Oh, did I mention that in the same sauce I added an egg. Don't know why, but it gave it a rather orangish color - I think they call the color salmon actually. More power to my mom who raised us on canned ravioli's and peas. Maybe cooking classes are in order??

I think this is the perfect spot for one of my new favorite quotes: "In order to make an apple pie from scratch, you must first create the universe."

The sword and the pen . . .

Today we had 20 minutes to write on the question, "Is the pen really greater than the sword?" and here is what I came up with without further edits . . . image from http://photos.jpgmag.com/232899_78475_0be2350999_p.jpg


The sword may bring a moment of change, a fight or battle that attempts to settle something by taking life from the opposition, but the pen . . . the pen can bring life. The pen can move mountains that are buried deep in a soul. The use of the pen can change mindsets and open eyes. I have never heard of a story of war and violence that moved the world closer to Godliness. I have hardly heard a soldier tell his story without regret for what life was lost, but I have been inspired by the writings of people who stood up for justice. I have been moved to give my own life to causes greater than me because I know the names of great men and women of faith that changed the world. I have never studied a war that left beauty in its wake, but I’ve held the beautiful words of poets in my heart. I have sat with the Words of God in my hands and been moved to tears that, I believe, softened the hard ground of the world and my own heart. I have read and pondered stories of saints and stories of miracles that make me believe more fully in a God of Truth and Love. A sword can rarely bring deep conviction to a person’s soul, but the right words often do. Words of forgiveness can release a hardened criminal from his prison. Words of action can inspire a nation to give to its neighbor. Words of truth can show the depth of a matter and lead an entire tribe to freedom.
God communicates with us in so many ways. The sea speaks of His greatness. The mountains reach to His heavens. A song can touch a corner of our heart that was in darkness. A painting, hung casually on a blank wall can remind us of love and family. God can whisper to our spirits, show us in our dreams, and reach us in our darkest state because he is willing to communicate with us. And He can change the world by communicating with it, if we, His children in the world, are willing to express His heart, express His dream for our brothers and sisters and stand on His Word. “My heart overflows with a pleasing theme; as I address my verses to the king; my tongue is like the pen of a ready scribe.” Psalm 45:1

We covered an anti-abortion protest and had to write an editorial response. Here is mine.

The issue of abortion has evolved, and I fear the church has been slow to catch up. No longer an issue of right and wrong, abortion is an issue of why. The true measure of the success of the Church will be if abortion is available to everyone, forced upon none and never chosen. As a Christian, I am pro-life. I believe that a baby is a precious life to be protected, cherished and nurtured. I also believe we are deceived if we see government legislation as the solution to abortion.
None of the majority reasons cited for having an abortion falls outside the role of the church.* We must see that where abortion is the solution, the church has not engaged the problem. If a woman is shamed, the church has failed to open its arms. If a family cannot afford another child, the community has not stood beside them. The often cited “hard cases” of abortion are rare and need to be dealt with in wisdom and understanding, and our stance should always be freedom. Not freedom to choose to have an abortion, but freedom from having no other choice.

* Excluding forced abortions, such as is seen in China. The government was involved in the de-legislation of abortion as it was necessary to adhere to the one-child policy, though most reports suggest that some abortions are still forced in the PRC.

Pause

In the throes of passion
In the throes of grace
Life turning
Around.
Grace abounds
Lack-luster turns brilliant
Hope shines
Determined.
How much would this cost?
The price, you’re already bought
Blood mingled down
From a heavenly crown
No more sin.
Pause.
Take that first breath
Again.
Imagine,
Life on this rim
Fully his, fully yours no turning back
Forgiven.

Rosedon House

here are a few pics from a trip we took to Rosedon house to act like real journalists.

Love. . . a few excerpts

Love so beautiful, sunsets only hint to it.

Love so deep, the oceans depths cannot hide it.

Love so rich, all the money in the world could not purchase it.

In pursuit of man without hesitation, leaping over every hill and skirting desert boundaries to be with them, the object, the unworthy focus of undying dedication.

What is it about love?
Love that is so dedicated and passionate that the world tries to rise up against it. Love that should never be, but is breathtaking. Love willing to die, willing to sacrifice, willing to move all the mountains in the world to just be. What is it about love? Perfect, strong, sure, deep, forbidden, against sense, against reason . . . What is it about love that makes you hold on with both hands, through pain and fire, for the chance to be expressed. What is this love that stirs my heart, deeper still and threatens to overtake me - with one move too quickly I'd be gone. What is it about this beautiful, painful love that I cannot let go of, nor find relief from? It is truth in my bones, truth that does not fit in this body. It is too strong to contain - purity at war with the dirt of humanity. Love that cries from the pits hidden inside me - how can I feel this way about something so beautiful? How can it cause me to cry as I crave it?


I prayed, and there he came, on the wing of the wind to respond to my prayer. I cried and He stepped from His throne, a jar in His hand, and caught every tear I shed. He spoke so that I could breathe. He died so my blood would flow and here I stand . . . heart of hearts beat for Him, heart of hearts, long for Him, in desert and draught there is one water.


May my drumbeat, though different,
Sound loud and clear as I walk,
Nay march,
To its beautiful rhythm -
Neverending as a source of strength
Play something for me, God
To stir and awaken my heart.
I am restless to discover you.


It is hard to believe there is a river of living water inside me when I feel like this. I feel like there is nothing - emptiness deep inside - but just under my skin is something great, imprisoned. I don't even feel real, like I am looking at everything from outside . . .