Waiting while Moving

 

"Waiting on God isn’t about the suspension of meaning and purpose. It’s part of the meaning and purpose that God has brought into my life. Waiting on God isn’t to be viewed as an obstruction in the way of the plan. Waiting is an essential part of the plan. For the child of God, waiting isn’t simply about what I’ll receive at the end of my wait. No, waiting is much more purposeful, efficient, and practical than that. Waiting is fundamentally about what I’ll become as I wait. God is using the wait to do in and through me exactly what He’s promised. Through the wait He’s changing me. By means of the wait He’s altering the fabric of my thoughts and desires. Through the wait He’s causing me to see and experience new things about Him and His kingdom. And all of this sharpens me, enabling me to be a more useful tool in His redemptive hands”
 

~Paul Tripp

(Re-posted from Courtney on WLW) 

O LORD God of hosts,

Who is mighty like You, O LORD? 

Your faithfulness also surrounds You.

You rule the raging of the sea; 

When its waves rise, You still them.  

~Psalm 89:8-9

  Lord, You have been our dwelling place in all generations.
 Before the mountains were brought forth,

Or ever You had formed the earth and the world, 

Even from everlasting to everlasting, 

You are God.

 ~Psalm 90:1-2

        

No word from China yet, and today is move out day. Praying that everything goes smoothly.

What is a home?

We're moving. Where? I don't know! We'll move our things to Mom's basement until we hear if we're accepted for the scholarship for the fall term in China. We don't want to pay the rent on an empty apartment if we go. So... everything will stay in Mom's basement until we return. In the mean time, we'll either be in Toronto (for July helping with tent work) or at my mom's (for August). Box by cardboard box, I am neatly and efficiently packing away my newlywed life. I hardly knew there was so much of it! Every wedding card, picture, book and spoon seems to have a memory attached to it. "This was from so and so," "that was what we bought that one day at ___," "What is this, dear?" Most are together, some are memories from our single days, but they are all precious. Joel found my first driver's license and laughed -- "You look so nice now, Rachel." I'm so glad my 15 and-some-odd-month self couldn't hear him.

Almost one year ago I walked (or rather was carried) through that front door and deposited into my very first, very own living room. I was terrified. The city scared me, the neighbors scared me, my car still scares me, and for goodness sake, my husband scared me. Well, no really. Just the fact that this crazy, fun, carefree boyfriend now had "husband" labeled on his left hand -- that's what scared me. There I was, a closet full of fine china and new towels and a heart full of fear. The wedding was over, and I  was supposed to be "coming home". Home??

One evening, not too long afterward, I was complaining to Eleo over skype... and she was patiently listening to all my woes, when I finally slowed down long enough to let her talk, (she says she's practices her English speaking with me, but I say the only thing she practices is her English listening) she said something that my heart reached out and grabbed like a hungry sparrow: "It may not seem like home now, but one morning you'll wake up and without knowing why it will suddenly be home to you." And somewhere in the middle of my classes and job, my cooking and shopping, and my cleaning (things I never knew needed cleaning), I did. I woke up or walked in or looked around, and it was home. I don't remember when it happened, but it did, and I loved it. I felt like little Basil reaching my roots into my little pot and stretching my arms with joy. Home. The place just breathed it.

Maybe the Lord knew I need pictures, but I would always get this image in my mind of love and home seeping from my heart throughout the house. With ever hour spent at His feet, the aroma of love was spread all over the house like the steam comes out of a hot just-showered-in bathroom. It would hang on the walls and drape over the ceiling, breathe with the windows and be mixed over the floors and down the stairs with the shuffling feet of two young newlyweds and their company. It would warm and surround hands and hearts the kitchen with the cutting, cooking, baking and sauteing; and laugh in the bedroom or over bowls of ice cream on the couch. It was lit in little dollar store candles and given in neat little Christmas presents. It was offered to the passer-byers on notes of piano and violin music. Yes, here is where I first felt "our home".

But I found there is a battle for this "home". Yes, there is always a "house," but you have to fight for a "home". It is not a loud one (well not always), not an obvious one, but there is one that is waged every day. With every sun that goes down on our anger, the home slips away a little more.With every careless word, cranky thoughtless waking, or sullen posture, it slips away and leaves the house behind. It was as if I would look around, and suddenly I saw what was left - only my (our) things. When the invisible left, the visible stood starkly naked. The fridge was sparse, the wallets empty, the dust was piling and the tissues crumpled. "Better is a dinner of herbs where love is than a fattened ox and hatred with it." Prov 15:17 It was only after the riches of Gods love were left folded away with each closed Bible did I notice the sparsity of my physical life. It was then that I got on my knees beside my bed and asked for His pardon and went to seek His fullness. How many tears were shed in the battle for home? He knows -- He has them in a bottle. I was weeping for home, for love, for the surrounding embrace of a Father when my dad was no long there to stand in the gap.

And now, I am surrounded by boxes. My house is being packed away, but where is my home? It is here still for a little while, clinging to the walls and hiding in the corners. Elusively peaking out of books, Bibles and the pages of scribble filled journals. We're moving, but will home come with us? Will home be with us at my parent's house? Will our home and theirs match and mix together? Or stand resolutely separate like olive oil on a frying pan? I don't know, but the verse Joel read this morning reverberated in my heart:

"By faith Abraham obeyed when he was called to go out to a place that he was to receive as an inheritance. And he went out, 

not knowing where he was going." 

Hebrews 11:8

How on earth did he explain that to his family and friends? "So where are you moving Abram?" "Don't know yet. Just following God." "Oh. That's nice..."

I know exactly how he feels. But on we go and only He knows where. Goodbye my dear little newlywed house and life.

I know these verses are about heaven, but they have been running through my head all day. So I'll post them here. If a house on earth can feel like home, how much more will heaven actually be home?

“Let not your heart be troubled; you believe in God, believe also in Me...

In My Father’s house are many mansions; if it were not so, I would have told you.

I go to prepare a place for you. 

And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you to Myself; 

that where I am, there you may be also. 

And where I go you know, and the way you know.” 

John 14:1-4

Oh Joel....

Profundity lost:

me: (contented sigh) You know, Joel, the older I get, the more I enjoy hymns.
Joel: You know Rachel, the older you get, the older I get.

"Your gentleness made me great" Psalm 18:35

Do ants have beds? The little girl pondered this as she sat on the dust doorstep leading onto a busy street. She was poking thoughtfully at a little trail of ants marching to a crack in the packed dirt of the street. Only 5 or 6, she small for her age, wiry and thin. Her hair fell in dusty ringlets around her face, arms and knees as squatted under the lintel of the the doorway of her sun bleached home. Her skin was olive brown and her eyes were a solemn deep green as they slowly followed the busy little insects. Suddenly, she was kicked from behind as her mother tripped over her in her haste to leave the house.

"Agh! Get out of here! You are always in the way! Can't you play somewhere else?" The tall woman reached down the swat at the little urchin that she was burdened with.

The little girl jumped up and ran down the street losing herself in the crowds in her haste to avoid the strong merciless hand that she saw raised out of her the corner of her eye. She had become very good at dodging such blows, though they were usually worse coming from her father -- a shrewd dishonest shop keeper that lamented his wife ever becoming pregnant with a girl, especially after she gave birth to a large healthy male baby 5 years previous. Her brother was 10 now and followed his father to the market every day, learning the tricks of his father's dishonest trade eagerly. Her father didn't want or need any more children, especially not girls with solemn green eyes that unnerved him and made his temper flare with discomfort and anger. She had born the brunt of his anger many times.

She ducked and clambered over and under people's feet, mules, market wears and rubbish, expertly weaving through the crowd. She knew which feet to jump over or go around and when an opening in a crowd would be open long enough for her to slip through. Her world was a world of calves and knees, sandals and hooves, because that is all she saw as she made her way through the city. She was headed for the gate in the hopes that the fields surrounding the walled city would be free of feet and full of things to watch and ponder in solitude.

Presently she arrived at the gate, and slipping behind the guard as he haggled over an old man pulling a cart much to large for him, she was in the open countryside on a packed dirt road. There were still people here, though, so she tripped and ran along the edge of the road, hoping to leave it as soon as something interesting caught her eye. Her small and weathered bare feet pounding the sand and pebbles that shifted under her toes. Presently she was joined by two boys, one slightly older, one slightly younger, but both bigger than her. They were often her playmates and she was pleased to see them.

"Are you going to thee the teather?" One lisped over the din of the crowd.

"No, what is that?" she answered.

"He means 'teacher'. We're going to see him with everyone else. He is beside the sea today." Explained the older of her companions.

"Oh," She said, pretending to understand. It dawned on her that most of the crowd was also moving away from the city. "Can I come too?"

"Uh'tourse! Tum on!" cried the younger, as he sped away down the road. She tossed her curls and She laughed at his nearly unintelligible speech and darted after him, the other boy at her heels. How good it was to have found an adventure!

On they ran until the people started to slow and stop, but they took no notice, having started a game of tag on the way and slowing would mean being "it". Several other children had joined them by that point and they were all very hot and dirty as they screamed and laughed darting through the forest of legs that was growing denser and denser as they ran. The little girl was at the head of the group, being the smallest and nimblest, and she was the first the burst through the crowd. She tried to slow herself to see why the crowd had suddenly vanished, but she was going too quickly and ran headlong into the legs of a man that was standing at the center of the crowd of onlookers. He had been talking, but he stopped when he felt a thud on his leg and looked down.

There, in a heap of dusty curls, arms and legs, was a little girl. She looked up, grabbing her curls violently to clear them from her face. Her eyes were huge with terror and she started to shrink away, like a caged animal waiting for a blow.

"Oh Tabissssa!! Tum back! That'ssss Him!!" A little boy hissed from the edge of the crowd. Then another, "Tabitha! Come back!!"

She was abound to dart away, when against all reason and the behavior of every adult she had ever known, the stranger's look of surprise turned to amusement and he smiled at her. Before she could help herself, she smiled -- no -- beamed at the face looking down at her. She had hardly dared meet an adult's eyes before, much less a man's, but this man was different. He... He loved her.

Suddenly she was grabbed from behind by a strong arm and she felt her feet leave the ground and a distinct growl of an irritated man sound in her ears, "Get out of here, what do you think you're doing? You little..." She immediately started struggling and bit the arm that held her as hard as she could. She tasted blood. The man yelped and she saw his other arm raise.

Before the blow came, the teacher spoke, His voice indignant, "Judas! Stop! Let the children come to me; do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of God." He moved towards her then, and instinctively she reached for His arms. He took her from the angry man's hands and she clung to Him. He held her close, murmuring comfort to her while he smoothed her unruly curls. He then knelt down and beaconed to the other children standing wide eyed at the edge of the crowd. 


He went on teaching, beaconing to the mothers also who had brought their children to be blessed. But all the while he held Tabitha in His strong arms, occasionally stroking her curls while her enraptured eyes never left his face. "Truly, I say to you," He continued, "whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it." 


She drank it in and never forgot. 

-----

 Now there was in Joppa a disciple named Tabitha,

 which, translated, means Dorcas. 

She was full of good works and acts of charity.

Acts 9:36

My Birthday

In Brief:

• My friends posted on my facebook wall (and I didn't post when my birthday was! :D) and sent me e-cards, 
• my little sisters wished me happy birthday (one by just sayin it... and the other by making me a card and specially asking my hubby how old I was turning -- you can guess which is which)
• my mums both called me and my 
• hubby took me out for Thai food and sushi.... and.... gave me a CAMERA! :D
• I gave myself a shopping spree at Dollar Tree (7 dollars!!! :-o) and here is the loot: (plus a glue gun from Target) Taken with my NEW camera, of course. 

 

I don't feel like turning it right-side up, so just turn your laptop... and if you have a desktop ...turn your silly head!

Obviously, I'm excited. I'm making headbands and I laid out all the stuff and a arranged it pretty and took a picture just like a real-live-and-obsessed blogger! hehe... this is great.There are beads, flowers, buttons (you can't see them) ribbon and plastic headbands. Here I go... I'm makin stuff and its my birthday. :)

Oh, and hubby has another surprise on Saturday... I think its the beach, but he's not sayin... even though I've been bugging him...

The Bride and Groom

So I guess its about time to post. :)

As I referenced before, I have a seeking suspicion that my basil plant has gotten all of its odd habits from jealousy the trees across the street. (By the way, though... I found him today on the ground... yes, on the ground. He must have jumped. I vacuumed up the dirt and put him back on the window sill. Oh dear... from having an identity crisis to being a thrill seeker... :s poor basil). Anyway, I can't blame him his silly antics. For the trees across the street have the most beautiful love story. I'm going to take my time and savor the details of it. :)

So, every morning, or most of them, I make coffee, eat breakfast with my hubby and curl up on the loveseat in my living room. The living room is across the street from a huge old catholic church:

 
And right next to the church, on the left is a large tree, see? I have no idea what kind of tree it is, but there are two of them. The same kind, but male and female. (Yes, trees have genders.) They stand guard over the priest's home, which is a stately old Victorian house.

In summer, right after we got married and I was still getting over the shock of it all and desperately missing any signs of nature around me in this huge, old, (often ugly) city. (I've found my havens of beauty now though, don't worry). I would curl up with my coffee and watch the leaves rustle in the wind, almost clapping their hands for joy at being alive and together in the middle of a concrete jungle with no other trees around them. Just grass across the street (by the way.. that is all the grass there is on that corner hehe... you can't tell from the picture though) with some fuddy-duddy looking little shoe boxes turned on their sides into 3 story apartment/town homes... which is where we live:

Anyway, these trees were SUCH comfort to me. I was a newlywed wife in a big intimidating city that I was too proud to admit scared me. I would drink my coffee and watch the trees, getting lost in their branches and leaves and the old-tree whispers until all the traffic sounds and people walking on the sidewalk faded out. Once, Joel woke me from my revelry asking if I was counting people, "Oh look there's another one... and another one!" But I wasn't. I was watching the Bride and Groom. But they didn't had those names yet. I was just watching two trees, wondering what they would look like in the fall with their red leaves blowing around them, or in the winter laden with snow. At the same time, I wondered what my life would look like in the fall... then the winter... then the spring... then the summer...then... My future seemed so big and uncharted. But I didn't really think that to myself... I only pondered the trees; letting my subconscious ponder my own life in its parallel year of seasons.

Slowly I began to respect these huge old trees, whispering to each other over the old Victorian home. I loved watching them courting each other through the fall, happily flinging leaves at each other and out to the wind in joyful praise to the God who made them and let them stand together through life. Their leaves grew a brilliant red and began to fall, swirling around them.

Then winter came with its icy grip of snow, wind and rain that battered the poor trees left without a covering to the world. This was their testing, for they had pledged themselves to each other, and all sacred pledges will be tested. They both met the realities of life together and bend and swayed and shivered together in the onslaught of that violent season. Sure there were times of peace and crisp sunshine, but these periods would end in the fury of a new winter storm that grid locked the city several times through the frozen months. And there they stood as winter fought to maintain its grip through January, February, March, and yes, even into April. They stood together, tired and cold, but resolute waiting for the coming of spring as they reached their helpless, barren fingers up to the sky; asking their Maker for the strength to endure.

Then, finally, the snow turned to rain and the Lord let blizzards become life-giving thunderstorms. The rain fell in blessing from the heavens from the God who loved them both. Slowly, timidly, they thawed and reached their roots in His abiding grace, and finding water and life-giving nutrients in the soil that they drank heartily and gratefully. They started to grow small leaves and buds again, plaintively seeking the sun. Then, one weekend, they suddenly exploded with joy and life. This, you see, was their wedding week. God, I and little Basil were the only guests. One tree, covered in delicate white bouquets of white blossoms, was the bride. The other, in a elegant green suit tailored for him by his Father, met his bride with the dignity and joy that befit the occasion. They had a week, you see, because only humans abbreviate the joy to a day that should be savored. They were married there, at the end of the week as the sun set behind them and the old Victorian home under their boughs. And God saw it, and said that it was good.

I did not see them for a time, you see... because I was away, but that is just as well, for every couple should have privacy on their honeymoon. When I returned, the white blossoms of the wedding day were gone and the bride was a newlywed wife, ready to live out the rest of her days next to the grand old tree she loved so much.

And there they stand. I move away in a month, but I know they will stand there much longer together. They will quietly face the seasons and their trials together, never complaining or asking for pity from the passer-by, but simply looking unto their Maker and Father.