Letters from home and long ago

February 19, 2014

True to the way of this world, this week has brought a few more cares and trials along.  In an effort to "lay aside every weight and sin which clings so closely" so that I may "run with endurance the race that is set before [me], looking to Jesus the founder and perfecter of our faith," (Hebrews 12:1-2), I've been reviewing old letters.

Last fall when I ventured across the pond, some of my dear friends wrote me letters of encouragement in a journal, which I also brought with me to Mexico.  I've been rereading these precious words like a thriller novel because they're so full of encouragement that seemed to be written for these days of hardship.  Don't you just love how God inspires ordinary people to write things that will provide encouragement in a myriad of situations?  Such a joy is God's truth that it applies to all situations of life.  These letters addressed to some distant Renee that used to exist what seems like eons ago (every day lasts a year in Mexico, people.  I'm now an old lady.) apply to this frail Renee who can't bear to think about tomorrow, but who prays to God literally to just live through the day, even the next five minutes.

Today, I want to share with you all some encouragement I rediscovered in a letter from my dear friend, Abby.  I love every words of it.


"Dear Renee,

"This entry comes from something I wrote in my journal back in June while at the beach.  I was watching a dad with his little boys.  One was probably around 6 or 7 and the other 4 or 5.  The younger child clung to his dad as they played in the waves, but the older let go of his dad's hand after a few moments.  When they were both holding dad's hand, they were safe from the crashing waves.  The moment that the older boy let go he was unsteady on his feet and was [k]nocked around by the waves.  After a couple times of coming up spluttering, the boy reached for his dad.  The dad's hand was right there waiting for the boy to take it, wait[ing] so that he could take hold of the boy and finally lead him safely out of the water.

"I thought this was a cool picture of how God cares for us even when we try and do it ourselves.  Sometimes we can think that we can take the waves ourselves.  We can't.  We need to hold God's hand and he will bare us up with his everlasting strength.  I want to encourage you, Renee, to hold God's hand while you are here in France.  He will guide you.

"Proverbs 3:5-8 says: 'Trust in  the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding.  In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make straight your paths.  Be not wise in your own eyes; fear the Lord, and turn away from evil.  It will be healing to your flesh and refreshment to your bones.'

"Know that the hand you hold is the Lord your God.  The one you fear and trust.  He will hold you against the waves.  He knows the waves you can handle and he will protect you from the ones that are too big.

"I am praying for you my dear friend!

"Abby"


"He knows the waves you can handle and he will protect you from the ones that are too big."  I love this sentence so much.  I feel as if the waves are battering me constantly, some old, some new.  I haven't drowned yet, but sometimes I wonder if I will soon.  Will a wave come that holds me under until I have no breath?  Or will the water shoved in my mouth with every wave finally fill my lungs?  I've found grace for yesterday and today, but can I make it through tomorrow?  What about the 98 tomorrows that will follow?

How easily have I forgotten the 6,977 yesterdays!  Each of those yesterdays, God was there, sustaining my every breath, sometimes lifting me above the waves, at other times holding my hand through the waves.

And what of the millions of yesterdays before I even existed?  The innumerable saints who have gone before me?  The God who escorted them by his divine hand into their eternal rest is grasping mine with an unrelenting grip!  No, the waves will not overtake me.

En francais:

Oui, je suis horrible.  Je n'ai pas traduit mes mise-a-jours il y a trop de temps et aujourd'hui ne va pas etre different.  Je n'avais pas de temps, et c'est tres difficile de parler en francais.  Peut-etre un jour, je le ferrai.  Peut-etre non.  Mais je suis vraiment desolee aujourd'hui.  S'il ous plait, pardonnez-moi!

"WARNING:

All words spoken in prayer will be taken as sincere, even if they're not."

I've started to think God should just include that warning every time we pray.

I often think of prayer as a comforting thing.  You can talk to the infinite holy God and he listens!  You can pour out your anguish to an ever-listening ear who can do something about it!  But I forget all too soon who exactly he is.  He's the God who sent his only Son to die on a cross for rubbish like me.  He's the God who consumed Nadab and Abihu with holy fire for getting a little fancy with the incense.  He's the God who commanded Hosea to marry a prostitute.  He's not confinable, but he reigns supreme over everything, and his ways are radical.  His ways are certainly not my ways, they're higher and much more humble.

I'm sitting here looking at my life right now and scratching my head,  How on earth did I get here?  And why am I even sticking around?  I think the answer has everything to do with that prayer warning I mentioned above.

You see, more than a few times over the years, I've read an amazing story, or sung an inspiring song, and thought, "Why doesn't God seem to my as close as he did to the person who lived or wrote this?"  And then I'd get the brilliant idea to pray and ask God to make him the most precious thing to me, whatever the cost.  I just forgot to mention in my prayer the fine print, excluding everything I hold dear from that "whatever the cost" phrase.  And I didn't pray this just once, I prayed at many, many times.  I had no clue how heavy those words would weigh into my life later.  Even if I didn't mean them all, God took them oh-so seriously (and the scary thing is I'm only nineteen).

Without getting into too many of the grubby details, my life's pretty tough right now, with no signs of getting easier within a bearable amount of time.  Put on paper, my trials look smaller than they feel.  Living at work, having no social life whatsoever, working over fifty hours a week, having just about zero fellowship, feeling so, so, so, alone, attempting to raise kids coming from difficult backgrounds with people who have different parenting principles.  The list goes on.  Put in such definable terms, I find it easy to imagine grace when I separate these circumstances from myself. The person going through all this just has to cast themself on Christ and boom! joy will abound and they will conquer all the giants staring them in the face.  It's just so easy, trials are no big deal.  Trust God, it'll all be better!

But when it comes to living every day under all of these weights, grace looks a lot different from the imagined flowing cheerfulness and strength.  The grace given looks a lot less like Superman and a lot more like the ragged dogs that wander around down here looking for trash to eat.  It's a grace that allows me to see my utter helplessness in all of this and pushes me to cry out to God to make it through the next five minutes.  It's a grace that dries my many, many tears and helps me get back up on my feet to receive the next blow.  And I honestly don't think that last sentence is an understatement, because it feels like as soon as I've come to a place of faith to face the next day under this set of circumstances, a few more complications are added.

For a while, I was, quite frankly, mad at God for this.  My life's already hard.  Why did he have to add another thing?  And then another and another?  I was only timidly sure that I could live with all of those burdens, and here's a new and even heavier one!  But thinking about it a little more, I'm a little more at peace with this pattern.  I can't help but think that God is actually delaying the added trials until I've wrestled and found his grace for the original ones.  I am most definitely constantly breaking, but I've not yet broken.  It's a beautiful balance of pain and grace.  Just enough misery that I am so aware of my need for God and so full of worship for his sustenance, but never enough hardship that I collapse.  My hands are increasingly raised in praise, but never thrown up in despair.

Every day, I'm living those prayers I prayed.

"Jesus, be my all!"

"Fashion in me the same character found in Christ!"

"Make me a servant for your glory!"

The words sounded so sweet, so noble; the realities are so bittersweet, so lowly.  But the grace given.  Ahhh, it's so much richer, so much deeper than anything my comfort-saturated soul could have invented through imagination.

So, when you pray, offer it all, even though you don't really mean it.  God will take you at your word and when your prayers are half-forgotten, he'll begin to answer them.  If you're anything like me, you'll watch with initial horror as your treasures are tugged from your tight fist, but you'll rejoice as they're replaced with unspeakable beauty and unending grace.

And don't say I didn't warn you.

NOTE:  I wrote this sometime last week, when things in my life were really hard.  And then, after I wrote it, they, no surprise, got even harder.  And I just believe it's worth saying that, even as troubles pile miles high in your life, if your hope is in Christ, the sweetness of fellowship you will gain with him through trials is worth all of the painful sacrifices. Though my life is harder than it was when I wrote these words, God's grace is still sweeter.  Sweeter than my trials, sweeter than the comforts lost.

En francais:

Desolee, mais je n'avais pas de temps de traduire ma mise a jour en francais.  (Ma vie est pleine maintenant!)  Alors, si vous voulez vraiment savoir qu'est-ce qui se passe avec moi, vous pouvez lire ma mise a jour en anglais (si vous voulez une aventure) ou vous pouvez utiliser google traduction.  Desolee!!!!!

Tears, Christmas, and thankfulness

Before writing this post, I considered fibbing a little and telling you what I think you want to hear, not what really is going on.  But I decided against that, because if you are reading this, you are probably a close friend and not interested in the least about a "white lie."  So, sit back and get ready for a slice of the truth.

This last week has been rather hard.  I've cried at least once four out of the last five days.  And for those of you who know me well, I try to avoid crying if I can help it.  Obviously, I couldn't.

You see, this last week, I've been feeling an unrelenting bombardment of sin.  More and deeper problems are coming to light in the kids I watch; problems that seem to have Satan's name written all over them.  Yes, I know that sounds creepy.  Believe me, it is.  There is a pain that cannot be described when you watch the image of God become distorted into the face of Satan. Many of my tears were shed over this pain.

Another pain prompted my tears this week: the pain of sickness and death corrupting those I love and their loved ones.  A good friend was taken sick this week, and a family member of many friends passed away a few days before Christmas.  I felt pain for both of them, as well as the persistancy of sin in this fallen world, so once more, my tears flowed.

And just as icing on this cake of sin and sorrow, Christmas happened, but there was little celebration on my part.  Sure, I am overjoyed that Jesus Christ came to right this world of wrong, but at the same time, my heart was heavy with all of the darkness encompassing it.  On top of that, I worked with tired and sugar-highed kids on Christmas, I was exhausted emotionally and physically myself, I was far from my family, and few of my Christmas staples were there.  In the spirit of honesty, let me just admit that I cried about this too, but really it was made worse by everything else.

Amidst all of this, there is good news.  Lets just start with the fact that I didn't give up on Christmas even though I didn't feel particularly cheery.  For me, that's pretty good, since I have a track record of giving up on cheerfulness in the face of gloom and doom.  It may not have turned out quite like I wanted, but at least it wasn't for lack of trying.  I made my own Christmas dinner, complete with a pot roast, sweet dilled carrots, garlic green beans, stuffing, and sweet potatoe casserole.

And what would a Christmas dinner be without dessert?  Ice cream adorned with sweet cranberry pear relish with a side of apple pie.  How could you go wrong with that?

My efforts did end up failing, though, because I ate Christmas dinner alone.  That wasn't my plan, but because I haven't quite mastered timing the cooking of five dishes at the same time, that's what happened.

Now, I'm not trying to list all the reasons we should feel sorry for Renee.  That's not what I want, because you don't need to feel sorry for me and I don't need you to eel sorry for me.  A pity party helps no one.  (Trust me, I just had one with my Christmas dinner.)  I'm trying to be honest first of all, and secondly, I'm trying to paint a backdrop for the next piece of good news.

And what might that be?  Well, it's Christmas.

We all know the story: Baby Jesus, the Son of God, was born in a manger to the Virgin Mary.  Shepherds showed up out of the blue because angels told them about this baby, and a little later, some wisemen stopped by to give the birthday boy a few gifts because they were following a star.  Somewhat of a strange tale as stories go, but a familiar one.

Some of you may be scratching your heads wondering why this is pertinant, and the rest of you are probably thinking, "I know where she's going with this."  Just bear with me though, because I'm hoping to surprise both of you.

Those of you a little more familiar with Christian theology are probably recalling at this point the Easter story: Jesus came to earth to live a perfect human life, take on the penalty of every human's sin by dying on the cross, and rise from the dead on the third day, thereby conquering sin.  He did all this so that he might offer us his perfect righteousness to restore our relationship with God if we trust in his work on the cross as our only payment for sin and if repent from our sin.  This, in a nutshell, is the storyline of the Bible, and I believe it with all my heart.

So what does this have to do with my rather depressing Christmas?  Lots, actually.

Lets start off with my first problem: the problems in the kids that I see.  Due to several reasons, I can't discuss in depth the problems I deal with every day, but I'll reduce them to a few broad categories.  In scholastic terms, I deal with psychological problems, behavioral problems, and trauma.  In spiritual terms, I face sin, the effects of other's sin, and, honestly, Satan.  (The items in these two categories are not necessarliy the same things with different names; there is plenty of overlap.)  And it just so happens that baby Jesus came to right these problems.  More importantly, he succeeded.  Because he rose from the dead, he conquered sin and its effects, meaning that all that weighs on me isn't hopeless.  Certainly, there's this waiting period, where I feel the pang of sin and I wonder why, why is there all this hurting?  I can't explain all that, nor do I have time to write down all my thoughts on the subject, but I do know that I won't be waiting forever, one day Christ will return in glory and establish his perfect kingdom.

My second problem, death and sickness, is also corrected by the cross: Christ conquered the effects of sin (including death and sickness), and so one day, they too will end.  Moreover, for those who trust in Christ, we know that death is not the end, but they will have eternal life.

Now for my last problem: I was alone on Christmas and it kind of stunk.  Now, I could cite here the fact that, as a child of God, I'm never alone, that his Spirit is always with me, but I actually found comfort in a different part of the gospel.  I've come from far away to an all-around worse situation in hopes of bettering these children's lives.  I miss my family, my church, my friends, and I'm assualted with many problems I've never faced before (long-term childcare, different culture, new language, the efffects of abuse, dearth of material goods, etc.).  What I'm doing is good, but loving other people can be painful, especially when you see them suffer.  Now, I'm not trying to say all this to convince you all that I'm a saint, because, in all honesty, any good you see in me is because of Christ (and that's not just church jargon, it's true!  Just ask my family...)  My point is, in some ways, I see similarities between my trials and those of Jesus when he came to earth.  I miss my family and love them incredibly, but sometimes I fight with them and they get on my nerves and I just want some time to myself.  Jesus, on the other hand, experienced perfect unity with his  Father.  It must have stunk to be separated from him. I find all of this sin heavy to deal with, and I, too, sin.  Jesus was perfect and so not only was all the sin heavy for him, it was oppposite from him and an affront on his character.  Not only did he live a human life and watch all the sin around him with perfect knowledge of the destruction that sin was wreaking, he also bore every sin of every human being for all time.  I may be crying more than my fair share right now, but surely, Christ wept more at the brokeness of sin.

So, this Christmas, while bitter, had its sweet side.  I understand more completely (though far from perfectly) what Christ experienced coming to earth.  I see more clearly the depth of love and sacrifice in the cross.  And I am so incredibly thankful.

C'est Noël!!!!

19-11-13

Il n'y a pas de grande chose a vous raconter au ranch.  Il y deux internes de l'egise de Juarez qui ont le meme age que moi, et bizarrement, elles ont le meme nom.  C'etait tres enjoyable de passer du temps avec elles et je suis tres contente que, peut-etre, elles vont rester pour Noel.  En parlant de Noel, on a decore la maison un peu pour Noel et les enfants commencent a etre impatients.  Moi, je suis impatient aussi et j'ai passe ma journee libre en decorant ma chambre.  Oui, oui, je sais qu'on devrait esperer jusqu'a apres le Thanksgiing, mais je n'avais pas de patience.  De plus, je n'y serai pas pour le Thanksgiving, alors j'ai du le faire en avance, n'est-ce pas?  Comme ca, ma chambre sera tres heureuse quand je reviens.

Dans mon cas, decorer pour Noel etait un peu plus different que normal parce que je ne pouvais pas aller au magasin pour un temps et alors j'ai du decorer aec ce que je pouvais trouer.   Je n'avais pas beaucoup, alors, j'ai fait mes decorations moi-meme et ils sont.... uniques.

La premiere chose a faire etait, bien sur, un sapin de Noel.  Plus tot, je croyais que je pourrais faire un sapin avec un poste et les branches artificielles que j'ai trouve cet ete, mais peut-etre quelqu'un d'autre a fait son propre sapin parce que les branches n'y etaient pas.  Ainsi, j'ai fait un sapin avec des cintres et de t-shirts verts.  (Je vous avais dit que mes decorations etaient uniques!)  Alors, ecoutez-moi bien si vous voulez savoir comment faire un sapin.

Tout d'abord, tu ramasses toutes les choses.  En ce cas, on a un poste, des t-shirts verts, cintres, du scotch tres fort, un peu de toile, et choses pour faire des ornements.

Ensuite, tu attaches les cintres au poste, et tu veux qu'ils ont assez d'espace pour que ton sapin puisse etre grand.

Apres tu as fini, tu veux pendre les t-shirts sur les cintres.

Depuis ca, tu veux inviter une amie qui peut t'aider a faire des ornements.  Pour les resultats meuilleurs, tu veux avoir beacoup de nourriture en ce temps-la.

Quand tu n'as plus d'idees (et il n'y a plus de nourriture), ecoute bien fort la musique de Noel et decore ton sapin.  Et voila, tu as fait ton sapin.

Un sapin n'etait pas assez, alors on a coupe des flocons de neige, on a pendu des ballons verts, rouges, et blancs, on a fait une scene de la Nativité, et on a pendu une couronne sur ma porte.

Voici ma scene de naissance.

Et voici ma couronne.

Et c'est tout.  J'espere que vous avez enjoyer savoir un peu de mon Noel et j'espere que le votre est asussi joyeux.

It's Christmas!!!!

11-19-13

Not too mcuh has been happening around the ranch.  We have two interns from the Juarez church that are the same age as me, and, oddly enough, they have the same name.  I've enjoyed hanging out with them and am excited at the possibility that they might stay for Christmas.  Speaking of Christmas, we've been decorating in the baby home and getting the kids excited about Christmas.  I've been getting pretty excited too and even spent my day off last week decorating my room.  Yes, yes, I know that you're supposed to decorate for Christmas after Thanksgiving, but I got a little impatient.  Besides, I'm going to be gone for Thanksgiving, so I needed to get it done early, right?  That way my room can be all happy when I get back.

In my case, though, decorating for Christmas looked a little different than usual because I hadn't been able to go to the store for a while and so I got to make do with what I had.  Well, what I had wasn't all that much, so my decorations are handmade and.... unique.

The first item on my list was, of course, a Christmas tree.  My original plan had been to make a tree out of a post and artificial branches I had found in the bodega this summer, but maybe somebody needed to make their own Christmas tree, because the branches weren't there.  I therefore improvised with some hangers and green t-shirts.  (I told you they were unique!)  So, sit back and learn how to make your own Christmas tree.

First, you gather all your materials.  In this case, we have a post, green t-shirts, hangers, duct tape, fabric for a tree-skirt, and random craft supplies to decorate your tree.

Next, you duct tape all of the hangers onto the post, making sure to have them evenly spread out so as to make your tree nice and bushy.

After you've done that, hang the shirts on the hangers and arrange them so that they look as branchy as possible.  (Note: the last part of this step takes some imagination.)

Once you've completed that step, invite a good friend over to help you make ornaments.  Make sure to include bacon-cheddar popcorn and homemade hot chocolate in your craft time to ensure creativity.

When you have no more ornament ideas left (and all the hot chocolate and bacon-cheddar popcorn is gone), turn the Christmas music up and decorate your tree.  Congratulations, you have succesfully made your own Christmas tree.

The Christmas decorating didn't end with the tree though (it was an all-day event), and we proceeded to cut snowflakes (wishful thinking, I know), blow up and hang green, red, and white balloons, make a manger scene, and hang a wreath on my door.

This is my little manger scene.  It was late in the afternoon and I had used most of my craft supplies (and energy) on the tree, so Baby Jesus may or may not be made out of a little pink pom-pom wrapped in a popped balloon...

And here's my little wreath.  It's made from old wedding decorations, aluminum foil, snippets of red paper, and green pipe cleaners.

That's just about it.  I hope you enjoyed this little peek into my Christmas season and I hope yours is just as cheery.