A Deep-Breath Moment

It’s been a whirlwind month! We lost our 36-year-old parrot, Sylvester, which was devastating by itself but losing him in the middle of final packing for our yearly month in Kenya was really difficult. (I have to admit I forgot quite a few important items because of my lack of concentration.)  We have been moving so fast that there has been little time to process we are actually here in Kenya; 1 week and already 3 towns.

Today, I awoke in my own sweet home in Bungoma. The sounds of worship from the Bible School fill the yet-dark morning and I lay here in awe of the Father who chose to use me in this way. I don’t do much while I’m here…a little teaching, a little preaching; not like the team that just left after re-painting the Bible School and building Margaret real live cabinets for her kitchen! We visit other missionaries during the day, but come home each night to a comfortable dinner and relaxing evenings with our Kenyan brother and sister.

But, I know it’s where I am to be. The Lord planted this place in my very core as a child and now in the heart of my husband. It is truly a home to us. We live life with the people here. We know the bible students; they come over and hang with us to  share in the Word. Young and old working through living in this world, knowing we are from another. We wave at the kids coming and going past our window to pre-school. We have watched 15 of the kids at the Children’s Home grow from little boys to high school graduates and rejoice as more are welcomed in.

It’s different. The food is unique albeit tasty. Bottled water is used for everything, even the daily habits like brushing your teeth or making tea. Routines are shattered and though I will daily teach at the school it is admittedly more laid back in Africa. We are also spoiled. Hannah & Margaret do most of the cooking, cleaning and washing, though I have my small chores, as any eldest sister!

So, though I am used to a task-filled day when I am at home in the U.S., I find God has brought me here (at least this year) to regroup from a crazy change-filled year. Time to write.  Time to ponder. Time for conversations with Papa planning our upcoming season. It’s a deep- breath moment. Sometimes we just need those.

A Cruel Taskmaster

Time can be a cruel taskmaster.  One hand of the timepiece stretching toward the riches of future joys and one holding tight to the memories of the past.  I see it even in the décor of my own home.  The Victorian stylishness of days gone by slowly replaced by African treasures, new technology grace our work spaces and beautiful gifts of paintings, quilts and furniture fill our rooms.

In all that shifting of time sits a lovely coleus plant and whimsical giraffe where a birdcage once reigned. I miss Sylvester’s little voice that brought so much joy and laughter to our lives. 36 years ago, he called to me from across a pet store floor. “Hedddddo There”.  I fell in love immediately and never once regretted the moment I took him home.  Oh he was precocious and ornery and sometimes hard to handle but we were partners in life. Through the good and bad, happy and sad we stuck together.  We moved across states together, mourned the loss of Phil and Georgana while rejoicing in the delight Roy’s love brought to our home.  We came to Christ together, watched Barney and sang every Frank Sinatra song we could remember.  He sang with all his little might like he did everything.  He was so proud to show off his tricks to everyone that came over. He loved little children and was tender while talking to them. He poo-pooed Alex and gave us the raspberries when he didn’t like something. He was his own personality. And spoiled rotten. But I didn’t care. He was my best friend, the child I never was able to have, my companion, our pride and joy.  Roy & I are both grieving our loss.

There were few quiet times in our house! Now there are way too many. Ouch.

But that ticking hand; moving through seconds, minutes, hours and eventually days, takes away the immensity of pain and reminds me to look up as God so lovingly massages my grief yet again. His Grace is so sufficient, so amazing, so unrelenting. Africa looms ahead just 2 short weeks away. Products still need shipped, missionaries still require resource hunting and fundraising for more still ensues. Fall is in the air and with it comes my favorite season of the year. Crisp weather, ground-soaking rain and the promise of holidays.

This year will not look the same as most of my past life. But that is the mercy of Papa. Joy comes in the morning – a fresh, clean fragrance of what is to be.  The air crackles with expectation. There is nothing holding us back. Nothing to keep our feet planted. Eden’s Song will flourish throughout the nations. Our hearts will heal; the place left void from Sylvester’s death will be open to more of God’s goodness and pleasure. Eyes, weary from stress, tears and mourning, will sparkle once again.

The simple chime of another hour passing reminds me there are things to do. Time to move on. Deep breath. Head up. The nations are calling and we are ready!

We Get To Do This (Thank you, Lori Salley, for another incredible quote)

This morning I had to battle overwhelming discouragement, sadness and hopelessness! It is so NOT like me that I was able to see it for what it was. The enemy’s plot. Watching my little birdie boy decline is breaking my heart and at the same time so is the provoked racial division, the hurricanes, fires and floods, the immaturity of rioters, looters and murderers (in the name of some cause) and all the other negative things jamming our social media and news outlets! 

BUT GOD!

I have a good friend who has been through 2 near death experiences…a bout with cerebral malaria and recently another disguised as a cancer threat. One of the things she heard God tell her during this last ‘scare’ was “We get to do This”.  It’s become a mantra for me (and many others) as we go through things.  I’m so sad to lose my little friend of 36 years, but we get to do this.  I’m sorry to see our country being torn apart by a small percentage of people that want to cause division, but we get to do this. I’m hurting for those devastated by the storms, but we get to do this.  We get to come together. We get to praise God in it all. We get to thwart the devil’s plans by rebuking him and gather together in truth. We get to rise up as a church, a body of Christ, and claim what we have been given authority and dominion over.

It is time to take it all back. It is our decision to sit back and watch it all happen around us or stand up and fight! We can raise our voices against racial divide as we are all one in Christ. Together we can command the storms to stop, terrorism to cease, rioters to stand down. For this reason He says, “Awake, sleeper, and arise from the dead, and Christ will shine (as dawn) upon you and give you light.” (Ephesians 5:14). Paul was not talking to sinners but to one of the best churches in the NT. Tozer writes, “Some of the Ephesians were in a somnolent condition, that is, they were morally god but unenlightened. They were religious but unanointed. It is perfectly possible for a good, faithful, loyal church member to be spiritually asleep – being in a spiritual state that parallels natural sleep. When your husband, your wife, your child, your relative, your friend or you go to sleep tonight, the fact that you are unconscious and out of the running for a while is not bothering you. You know that normally you will wake up again. You are not dead, but you are cut off from your environment, all but that which is reflex-breathing and a few other things. Likewise it is possible to be a Christian, to be in the church and yet be asleep spiritually.”

I am proof that everything going on around us, personally, physically and/or spiritually, can be overwhelming and cause us to want to bury our heads for a bit. But I encouraged myself this morning with this reminder and pray it encourages you as well. We get to love, undergird, encourage, embolden and keep each other in the fight.

WE GET TO DO THIS. Together with our Triune Godhead and each other.