I am not sure if I should say Happy Halloween, Harvest, or Reformation day! It gets confusing for us seminary students!
But this week has encompassed Mardi Gras bead throwing, Magic Kingdom celebrations, introducing my troll/Tina Turner maroon wig to the seminary, and tonight I will be escorted by a princess, a fairy, and a ninja to trick-or-treat! Somewhere between carving pumpkins and roasting pumpkin seeds I remember that these are the things in life which make me smile.
Happy day everyone!
Monday, October 31, 2005
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
TREASURE!
I went on an invigorating run through my “narnia” forest after the remains of Wilma left us with a brisk wind and cool temperatures. I had gotten back from our Louisiana trip at 4am that morning and slept most of the day, it was good to get some air. Our team of 15, two 12-passenger vans titled “cherry-bomb” and “silver bullet”, and one large truck we filled with donations for hurricane victims made there way to Louisiana for a long weekend.
We unloaded our truck supplies in a small town on the Mississippi/Louisiana border which had been devastated by Katrina. I like millions have watched the news, I have seen the pictures, but I can not describe walking down the streets of neighborhoods which have been demolished, no structure left standing, debris strewn through the trees. Peoples lives, their memories, their treasures, now laid for miles open for the public to stroll through like a garage sale offering you a trash bag to fill for $1.
Our team worked with a small Catholic church, we went from house to house tearing down sheetrock, pulling out floors, removing flooded appliances, etc. I deemed the two breathing masks with orange peels between them our best invention. Through mold, maggots, and mud we searched to offer life to the remains of these massacred homes.
My most heartbreaking discovery was the remains of my home. My heart raced as I drove down the familiar roads, homes I had seen so often now destroyed, and I still found myself hoping ours might have made it. Maybe our home would be salvageable, perhaps my fears would not be true. Turning the corner to our home, I moved into a new genre, I was no longer the relief worker, now I was the victim. The frame of the house was torn, leaving the kitchen and living room exposed. I wept. As if I were attending a funeral, I cried, as if someone had died. I felt silly no one had died, yet hundreds had died, hundreds of memories.
I returned the next day to the house with a small team, we searched through the remains with my aunt and I, yelling “treasure!” every time we found something of worth. I was digging with a shovel through the insulation, broken furniture, and glass in one room, when I found what seemed to be a book, I dug through the mud and pulled out a photo album. The first page I wiped off was a picture of me and my sister as young teenagers with goofy hats on. Again, the tears came, “treasure!” I yelled in through the sobs, “treasure!”.
At dusk, we sat in the driveway, looking through our treasures, we had a few pieces of dishes from my great grandmother, a painting from my aunt, pictures I had found, a bowl my uncle had made, an newspaper article of grandpa’s eulogy and 6 notes from loved ones. Maybe I can explain a little more why it felt like a funeral, no one died, but the physical, tangible memories of many who I have loved where broken, lost, or destroyed. My grandma’s crochete blankets are gone, thousands of our pictures destroyed, multiple pieces of our artwork lost.
I turned on a song by MercyMe called “Homesick” as I ran today, looking at the sun shine through the remains of the now passed hurricane. The sunshine felt so nice after all the rain, as did my treasure, they felt like redemption from so much destruction of the storm. The team I was on loved me well, they walked with me as I dug through my saddest losses of my family’s memories.
How is it that God brings redemption from such tragedy? From such devastation? How is it my heart is still tender towards You, Father? Natural disaster plague us universally in recent months but still I find the tenderness of the Lord here in the debris amidst the mud and the remains. There in the lowest places I find hope. God is good.
We unloaded our truck supplies in a small town on the Mississippi/Louisiana border which had been devastated by Katrina. I like millions have watched the news, I have seen the pictures, but I can not describe walking down the streets of neighborhoods which have been demolished, no structure left standing, debris strewn through the trees. Peoples lives, their memories, their treasures, now laid for miles open for the public to stroll through like a garage sale offering you a trash bag to fill for $1.
Our team worked with a small Catholic church, we went from house to house tearing down sheetrock, pulling out floors, removing flooded appliances, etc. I deemed the two breathing masks with orange peels between them our best invention. Through mold, maggots, and mud we searched to offer life to the remains of these massacred homes.
My most heartbreaking discovery was the remains of my home. My heart raced as I drove down the familiar roads, homes I had seen so often now destroyed, and I still found myself hoping ours might have made it. Maybe our home would be salvageable, perhaps my fears would not be true. Turning the corner to our home, I moved into a new genre, I was no longer the relief worker, now I was the victim. The frame of the house was torn, leaving the kitchen and living room exposed. I wept. As if I were attending a funeral, I cried, as if someone had died. I felt silly no one had died, yet hundreds had died, hundreds of memories.
I returned the next day to the house with a small team, we searched through the remains with my aunt and I, yelling “treasure!” every time we found something of worth. I was digging with a shovel through the insulation, broken furniture, and glass in one room, when I found what seemed to be a book, I dug through the mud and pulled out a photo album. The first page I wiped off was a picture of me and my sister as young teenagers with goofy hats on. Again, the tears came, “treasure!” I yelled in through the sobs, “treasure!”.
At dusk, we sat in the driveway, looking through our treasures, we had a few pieces of dishes from my great grandmother, a painting from my aunt, pictures I had found, a bowl my uncle had made, an newspaper article of grandpa’s eulogy and 6 notes from loved ones. Maybe I can explain a little more why it felt like a funeral, no one died, but the physical, tangible memories of many who I have loved where broken, lost, or destroyed. My grandma’s crochete blankets are gone, thousands of our pictures destroyed, multiple pieces of our artwork lost.
I turned on a song by MercyMe called “Homesick” as I ran today, looking at the sun shine through the remains of the now passed hurricane. The sunshine felt so nice after all the rain, as did my treasure, they felt like redemption from so much destruction of the storm. The team I was on loved me well, they walked with me as I dug through my saddest losses of my family’s memories.
How is it that God brings redemption from such tragedy? From such devastation? How is it my heart is still tender towards You, Father? Natural disaster plague us universally in recent months but still I find the tenderness of the Lord here in the debris amidst the mud and the remains. There in the lowest places I find hope. God is good.
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
kayaking is my new hobby!
And I will glory only in the cross
Yes I will glory only in the cross
And I will make my boast in the Lord Jesus Christ
Crucified to ransom us.
Crucified to ransom us. I sang that while I sat in the middle of the lake watching the ripples from the wind. It was a long week, I was in Texas and Louisiana. It was bittersweet. Moments of embracing dear friends were priceless and the pain of driving into my home state and encountering all the debris from what has been titled a natural disaster. There were all levels of intimacy and shallowness, I suspect it is what we call survival mode. Survival mode. When I know the Lord has called me to LIVE…yet living is so exhausting and painful. So today when tears began to spill down my face during class I knew He was tugging on my heart. Don’t survive, babe, live. I grab a kayak and paddle my frustrations all the way out to the middle of the lake…where I am surrounded by Him alone. He doesn’t answer my fears, my pain, my anger, my hope, but He doesn’t have to because He is there, all around me.
Yes I will glory only in the cross
And I will make my boast in the Lord Jesus Christ
Crucified to ransom us.
Crucified to ransom us. I sang that while I sat in the middle of the lake watching the ripples from the wind. It was a long week, I was in Texas and Louisiana. It was bittersweet. Moments of embracing dear friends were priceless and the pain of driving into my home state and encountering all the debris from what has been titled a natural disaster. There were all levels of intimacy and shallowness, I suspect it is what we call survival mode. Survival mode. When I know the Lord has called me to LIVE…yet living is so exhausting and painful. So today when tears began to spill down my face during class I knew He was tugging on my heart. Don’t survive, babe, live. I grab a kayak and paddle my frustrations all the way out to the middle of the lake…where I am surrounded by Him alone. He doesn’t answer my fears, my pain, my anger, my hope, but He doesn’t have to because He is there, all around me.
Tuesday, October 04, 2005
Where are you?
I hung up the phone as I reached the doorway to class just a minute late. As I found my seat in the classroom I remember thinking life is getting a little too methodical, I want to make out with someone. You might find that odd but there are days, which I call make out days that I would just about mug down with anyone....too honest? well there it is. I mean, I never act on it. To explain this shows how I was relating to the Lord, I mean, in our relationship it has been alot of hardship and loyalty lately. Not much room for passion, a long time since we have had a "make out session". I mean this in the most non-sexual way, I miss the passion. Anyway, class begins and through the next 2 classes I feel the longing grow, and the Lord even asking me if I could meet Him in the woods behind school this afternoon. In our last class, we were talking about Gen. 3 and how God called out to Adam and Eve....where are you? we discussed what the meant. so strongly I felt the Lord say I was calling to them because I am lost without them, they are a part of Me. Christy, you are a part of Me...there is a loss when I am without you. I found myself racing to the back to the campus to find a favorite little brook that I love to sit by and there I told the Lord that I feared He could not quench my needs, my wants, my passion. It began to lightning and thunder loudly, and the rain came. I let them pour down on me, I let His answer to my desire reach deep into the crevices of my doubts.
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