So, this blog has been a venting/learning/celebrating/sharing point throughout this year back in the States and at school. "Through the Looking Glass" has been a good theme for this year--so much of the struggle has involved relationship, separation, longing, loneliness, and new-found relationships and joy. Lessons learned:
- God will provide--not just physically, but emotionally.
- HOPE is a focusing on a future that is sure and certain through Jesus.
- No matter what broken relationships I experience now, and no matter what the sadness, eternity will be restored, complete, full...the closeness of a relationship with God is more than enough. We WILL see God face to face...
I'm sure that there are more things. :) And I may come back to this blog and post on and off as I experience "murky glass" things, but I'm going to move most of my posting to a new blog focused more around ministry and life in Fukushima.
Here is the link: http://byfaithinfukushima.blogspot.com/
Catch you on the flip side...
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Thursday, May 6, 2010
I don't know how to say goodbye
After three days of sleeping more and still stumbling through the daylight, I finally decided that this trudging through fog is maybe more mental and emotional than physical...and so last night I found myself walking out towards the swing-set next to school with two sweaters, an ipod, and Amber's blue-and-white checkered "band blanket" that's slightly ragged from similar times of me dragging it out and about.
Sitting on that swing was like opening a floodgate to snapshots of memories, which cycled through my head just as easily as if I were sitting at a computer clicking the "next" button to scroll through a folder of pictures.
Click.
My first birthday away from home. I spent the day doing homework and went out to the playground for an hour or so just to think on that day...processing through what it meant to be away from home, to be moving out, to be growing up...
Click.
Voices, laughter...four friends gathered in the darkness around the brightest light pole on the playground. We had our Bibles opened to Luke and were reading through it, commenting on what we were learning and praying for each other and the world...
Click.
Kevin and I on a Sunday afternoon my freshman year. He had his camera, and we were wandering down Summit, stopping often to take pictures of the flowering trees...I can still see, in the memory, his thoughtful, passionate, processing look as he asks me, "If you had to pick one Bible verse to focus your life, what would it be...?" Oh, Kevin. From you I learned about core values...the Bible, praying...
Click.
Inside the room that Gwen and I shared in Hyatt. Christmas with Matt, Emily, Paul, Gwen my sophomore year...the big stuffed chair that Greg or Matt would sleep in when they did not want to drive home at night, since they lived off campus. Then I heard Gwen's voice in my mind, saw us walking amidst the lilacs one spring, talking about restoration and big-picture vision versus small-picture administration. Oh, Gwen...stories about dentists, losing keys, and most of all grace...grace...
Click.
One dance with Luke the fall of my freshman year. I did not know that such an intense guy would have devoted time to learning how to dance, but I felt free and safe letting him spin me around and lead me...
Click.
Luke standing ahead of me at FISH one night, arms outstretched in praise. The guy has a wingspan that takes up six chairs...or at least it seemed like it. Tall, exuding strength...standing open and vulnerable before a God who he seemed to know and see...
Click.
Katy leading Bible study, singing in stair wells, wandering around talking about boys and life and God's leading. Her face scrunched up as she leans her head on my shoulder, wiggling her nose back and forth and making me laugh and feel loved all at the same time. Her honesty...Aileen...Bob...Josi...Aj...
Click.
Eric. Bringing me a glass of water when I had a fever during our home concert my sophomore year. Sitting next to me after Holden, just staying with me while I cried...basketball with Kevin and I...
I have tied the blanket around my shoulders, and it blows out behind me like a crazy super-hero's cape as I sit and just...remember. And as I sit, I think to myself, "God...I don't know how to say goodbye."
I stare up into the sky and think that instead of Japan, I should be moving to some country where they kill Christians...some place where I don't have to keep leaving, keep remembering, keep experiencing the brokenness of relationships...
And as I sit, and think, a girl stumbles up behind me and sits immediately down on the swing next to mine. Her sway and giggle raises red flags for me, and I start to pray for her and pray for words. After a few minutes of swinging in silence, we start to talk and chat.
And there I sat. Feet in the sand, super-hero cape around my shoulders. Super-hero I am not. But I chatted with the girl and tried to make sure that she was ok. And it hit me again that there is a reason for my every breath. Not just experiencing death, sorrow, brokenness, and goodbyes...but experiencing life, relationships, love, care...offering and receiving grace...
After all, that is what those memories are. Expressions of grace.
I don't know how to say goodbye. It physically halts me in my tracks, mentally blocks everything that I do. I spent two hours today curled up on the floor of my room, unable to leave, to think, to...deal with life and transitions and goodbyes. I don't know how to do this.
One foot in front of the other. Recognizing the memories that I'll hold and the blessings that were and are...that's going to have to be good enough for now.
Sitting on that swing was like opening a floodgate to snapshots of memories, which cycled through my head just as easily as if I were sitting at a computer clicking the "next" button to scroll through a folder of pictures.
Click.
My first birthday away from home. I spent the day doing homework and went out to the playground for an hour or so just to think on that day...processing through what it meant to be away from home, to be moving out, to be growing up...
Click.
Voices, laughter...four friends gathered in the darkness around the brightest light pole on the playground. We had our Bibles opened to Luke and were reading through it, commenting on what we were learning and praying for each other and the world...
Click.
Kevin and I on a Sunday afternoon my freshman year. He had his camera, and we were wandering down Summit, stopping often to take pictures of the flowering trees...I can still see, in the memory, his thoughtful, passionate, processing look as he asks me, "If you had to pick one Bible verse to focus your life, what would it be...?" Oh, Kevin. From you I learned about core values...the Bible, praying...
Click.
Inside the room that Gwen and I shared in Hyatt. Christmas with Matt, Emily, Paul, Gwen my sophomore year...the big stuffed chair that Greg or Matt would sleep in when they did not want to drive home at night, since they lived off campus. Then I heard Gwen's voice in my mind, saw us walking amidst the lilacs one spring, talking about restoration and big-picture vision versus small-picture administration. Oh, Gwen...stories about dentists, losing keys, and most of all grace...grace...
Click.
One dance with Luke the fall of my freshman year. I did not know that such an intense guy would have devoted time to learning how to dance, but I felt free and safe letting him spin me around and lead me...
Click.
Luke standing ahead of me at FISH one night, arms outstretched in praise. The guy has a wingspan that takes up six chairs...or at least it seemed like it. Tall, exuding strength...standing open and vulnerable before a God who he seemed to know and see...
Click.
Katy leading Bible study, singing in stair wells, wandering around talking about boys and life and God's leading. Her face scrunched up as she leans her head on my shoulder, wiggling her nose back and forth and making me laugh and feel loved all at the same time. Her honesty...Aileen...Bob...Josi...Aj...
Click.
Eric. Bringing me a glass of water when I had a fever during our home concert my sophomore year. Sitting next to me after Holden, just staying with me while I cried...basketball with Kevin and I...
I have tied the blanket around my shoulders, and it blows out behind me like a crazy super-hero's cape as I sit and just...remember. And as I sit, I think to myself, "God...I don't know how to say goodbye."
I stare up into the sky and think that instead of Japan, I should be moving to some country where they kill Christians...some place where I don't have to keep leaving, keep remembering, keep experiencing the brokenness of relationships...
And as I sit, and think, a girl stumbles up behind me and sits immediately down on the swing next to mine. Her sway and giggle raises red flags for me, and I start to pray for her and pray for words. After a few minutes of swinging in silence, we start to talk and chat.
And there I sat. Feet in the sand, super-hero cape around my shoulders. Super-hero I am not. But I chatted with the girl and tried to make sure that she was ok. And it hit me again that there is a reason for my every breath. Not just experiencing death, sorrow, brokenness, and goodbyes...but experiencing life, relationships, love, care...offering and receiving grace...
After all, that is what those memories are. Expressions of grace.
I don't know how to say goodbye. It physically halts me in my tracks, mentally blocks everything that I do. I spent two hours today curled up on the floor of my room, unable to leave, to think, to...deal with life and transitions and goodbyes. I don't know how to do this.
One foot in front of the other. Recognizing the memories that I'll hold and the blessings that were and are...that's going to have to be good enough for now.
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Homework Thoughts
So, I'm working, and I can't use my laptop, but I do have the internet...and a google document is not getting my brain juices flowing, so I'm going to try typing random homework-y thoughts here...there's the warning. :)
For a final paper in my intro to lit class, I have to choose two texts and compare and contrast them...not hard, right? The difficulty comes in that there are so many lovely things to choose from...I'm pretty much sold on Aimee Bender's "The Rememberer" and am leaning towards Dylan Thomas' "Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night" for the second text, but I'm having problems fleshing out the ideas or main points for the paper...so here are random thoughts. :)
"The Rememberer" is a woman's story of the last month of her lover's life. Instead of dying from natural causes, her lover, Ben, is dying because "reverse evolution." The short story depicts the unnamed woman's struggle to deal with Ben the lover, the ape, the sea turtle, the salamander. As she watches her lover die in pieces, she clings to memories, lessons, normal habits--anything that might "bring him back" into her life. In a poignant self-realization, after seeing Ben as a salamander in a glass baking pan full of water on her cupboard, she finally says, "This is the limit of my limits: here it is. You don't ever know for sure where it is and then you bump against it and bam, you're there. Because I cannot bear to look down into the water and not be able to find him at all, to search the tiny clear waves with a microscope lens and to locate my lover, the one-celled wonder, bloated and bordered, brainless, benign, heading clear and small like an eye-floater into nothingness."
In the same way, "Do Not Go Gentle..." also reveals the struggles of a person letting go of one he loves--this time, a son saying goodbye to his father. The son asks his father to struggle, to fight..."rage, rage against the dying of the light." He tells of the lives and deaths of wise men, good men, wild men, and grave men, insisting that his father follow their example and fight to live. In Thomas' picture of the young son pleading with his father, I see Bender's unnamed young woman, dripping tears into a glass baking dish that holds the salamander that was her lover. Grieving. Recognizing the loss and the separation.
In some ways, though their grief draws them together, their method of grieving is wholly different. The son still asks for a fight; the woman realizes that her fight to cope has reached its limit, and it is time to for her to say goodbye.
Another point of contrast between the two pictures of grief and loss is the reason for the separation and death of the loved ones. In "Do Not Go Gentle...," the father is dying because of old age, and he shares mortality with all those who have gone before them, no matter what their personality. In "The Rememberer," the de-evolution process starts to occur because of sadness and an unspoken choice to turn away from the thought that stifles feeling and is so much a part of our world's idea of success.
When one reads these two texts side by side, one realizes that they raise just as many questions about life as they raise about death. What makes a human life successful or valuable? Is it the life-long struggle against mortality? If everyone dies, is it really important to differentiate between those who are wise, or good, or wild? Is it the knowledge and thought that betters the human existence? Is it, as Ben suggests, simply a feeling, living by the heart? At what point is life no longer a life? At what point can life no longer sustain relationship? Thomas' "Do Not Go Gentle...," written in 1951, seems to focus on natural death from old age, but "The Rememberer," written in 1998, hints at the controversies and pain in society regarding alziehmers, dementia, depression, and other sickness that would seem to maybe bring loss before the actual physical death.
A reader who reflects upon both of these texts may come to the conclusion that although the themes of death and grief run through both pieces of literature, the texts are different in their portrayal of grief, reason for death, and depiction of life. They are more different than they are similar. However, an over-arching similarity can be found in the profundity of the images used in the texts to depict grief and loss. Bender is quoted as having said that "it's easier to talk about things when there's a metaphor to see them through." In the same way, both Thomas' poem and Bender's short story give readers words to help capture, see, and speak of an experience that truly goes beyond words, bumps us right up into our "limits" of coping, and leaves us with a solitude that is imprisoning. Bender and Thomas' works are an effort to reach out across that expanding, binding solitude and pain and share the experience of living with mortality.
Sigh. At least, that's what these two texts do for me. This is where my theological training comes in--these texts are clear pictures of "seeing through a glass darkly," and the brokenness and separation that we all experience in life practically every day. The brokenness is real...the pain is real...so real that we have to use metaphors and rhyme to capture a glimpse of the depth of our experiences with brokenness...
Whoever said that people are not interested in God? How can they not be interested in God? These pieces practically scream an interest...a longing...a need for God...and a recognition of sin and shame and pain...
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Standing on the doorstep...
Mailed two signed contracts off to Japan today, and suddenly realized that I will need plane tickets soon! Last night I was so excited--today I feel already the steeling of my heart and the alone-ness of journeying that feels so familiar, and so painful. The questions abound: why does God create us for relationship if our relationships will always be broken? Why does He call us to trust each other, when we are all so untrustworthy? Why can I not simply live in a cave and not relate to the world? Can I ever get away from fear and pain in relationships? How can I let His love fill me and get my own fears and desires out of the way?
And finally, simply, selfishly, and childishly...how much will this new journey and uprooting and moving hurt?
Prayers, friends, please...I should have expected this--did expect it, I guess. But I still don't know the answer to the questions...only know to walk and pray that God carries me when my own fear and hurt paralyzes me and I'm unable to move forward...and I know that He does.
There is joy and peace and new lessons and love along the way...I know that. It is truth, not logic or feeling...simply truth.
I hate the murkiness of the glass, the separation, the darkness!!!! When can we see face to face, be fully known?...how much I long for that!!
And finally, simply, selfishly, and childishly...how much will this new journey and uprooting and moving hurt?
Prayers, friends, please...I should have expected this--did expect it, I guess. But I still don't know the answer to the questions...only know to walk and pray that God carries me when my own fear and hurt paralyzes me and I'm unable to move forward...and I know that He does.
There is joy and peace and new lessons and love along the way...I know that. It is truth, not logic or feeling...simply truth.
I hate the murkiness of the glass, the separation, the darkness!!!! When can we see face to face, be fully known?...how much I long for that!!
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Moments
Living with three girls who identify themselves with disney princesses this year up at school has taught me a lot about different disney stories and songs. I find myself singing Aladdin at random intervals throughout the day on a regular basis, and when all of us girls get together we randomly talk about dresses, shoes, princes, and the like. :) The funny thing about Disney movies is that there is always a moment in them--the moment that the prince rescues the princess and all is certainly well...the moment when torn and dirty rags are turned into beautiful evening gowns, and magic is in the air...the moment when somehow, by reaching deep down, the heroine or hero finds the power to succeed. The viewer of the movie can usually tell when a moment is coming because of the music, which builds to a climactic point...
Anyway, enough about disney. :)
I walked into class today and my professor started talking about how God gives us moments and wants us to enjoy them. They are not the disney-style moments accompanied by stringed instruments necessarily...but they are moments of peace, joy, love...blessing. My professor went on to read from Tolkien's Return of the King...the moment when Sam and Frodo are in the darkness of Mordor, and Sam looks up and finds one bright star shimmering above the heavy clouds and oppression. The bright star was a moment--a time of peace, of hope...in the midst of darkness, light and joy.
I was struck by that, because I've been thinking of "normal" moments of blessing all weekend...so here are a few in an attempt to document and give praise for them...snapshots of joy and love:
- Three friends gathered around a bowl of popcorn drizzled with honey and butter...
- Ben's face as he watches the people around him sing...
- Being woken up by the whining of Shep and seeing the sunrise in my pajamas and a blanket...
- Honest conversations that communicate trust and grace better than any disney song... :)
- Seeing countless stars that proclaim God's faithfulness...
- The daily conversation of a family...
- Hanging laundry together and cutting garlic...
- Experiencing failure together...loving, gentle competition...off-key music and laughter...
I wish I was a poet, so I could communicate not only these scenes or snapshots but the smile that stretches all the way across my soul in these moments of life...truly, salvation and grace and love are not things that are separate from the human existence...not just things that come to us through moments of romance, finery, or perfection...but things that are captured in countless moments of living that are scattered through each of our physical steps...and I am so thankful for the blessings of each moment.
Anyway, enough about disney. :)
I walked into class today and my professor started talking about how God gives us moments and wants us to enjoy them. They are not the disney-style moments accompanied by stringed instruments necessarily...but they are moments of peace, joy, love...blessing. My professor went on to read from Tolkien's Return of the King...the moment when Sam and Frodo are in the darkness of Mordor, and Sam looks up and finds one bright star shimmering above the heavy clouds and oppression. The bright star was a moment--a time of peace, of hope...in the midst of darkness, light and joy.
I was struck by that, because I've been thinking of "normal" moments of blessing all weekend...so here are a few in an attempt to document and give praise for them...snapshots of joy and love:
- Three friends gathered around a bowl of popcorn drizzled with honey and butter...
- Ben's face as he watches the people around him sing...
- Being woken up by the whining of Shep and seeing the sunrise in my pajamas and a blanket...
- Honest conversations that communicate trust and grace better than any disney song... :)
- Seeing countless stars that proclaim God's faithfulness...
- The daily conversation of a family...
- Hanging laundry together and cutting garlic...
- Experiencing failure together...loving, gentle competition...off-key music and laughter...
I wish I was a poet, so I could communicate not only these scenes or snapshots but the smile that stretches all the way across my soul in these moments of life...truly, salvation and grace and love are not things that are separate from the human existence...not just things that come to us through moments of romance, finery, or perfection...but things that are captured in countless moments of living that are scattered through each of our physical steps...and I am so thankful for the blessings of each moment.
Friday, March 19, 2010
Waiting
Strength will rise as we wait upon the Lord
We will wait upon the Lord
We will wait upon the Lord
Our God, You reign forever
Our hope, our Strong Deliverer
You are the everlasting God
The everlasting God
You do not faint
You won't grow weary
You're the defender of the weak
You comfort those in need
You lift us up on wings like eagles
Because of daylight savings time, when I rolled out of bed at 6:15am on Wednesday morning this week to run it was pitch-black outside. I stumbled down to the exercise room with my ipod, squinting against the fake light in the stairwell, and settled down to run with some Chris Tomlin music. The exericse room is set up so those running or using the machines can mostly face several big windows looking outside, and it is just possible to see the sky above some of the surrounding buildings. I ran for a few minutes before the song "Everlasting God" came on (the song above), and in those few minutes I was struck by the change from darkness to light as the sunrise started to peak above the surrounding buildings.
Strength will rise as we wait upon the Lord.
And maybe because it is Lent, I thought of the darkness and horrible grimness of death and a cold tomb...I thought of being sealed in despair...and then I thought of the rising light as light pouring into the tomb through the cracks as the stone is rolled away, death is defeated, and life and light become the reality again... The darkness of the tomb...the light and new life--such different pictures! Yet God is present in both, and His character doesn't change in the dark...in fact, the darkness of the tomb is what brought life to us...
Last post I talked about the haziness of the future...maybe the joy I felt in watching the sunrise came from the knowledge that no matter how unclear my future is right now, God brings light, strength, direction, joy...
I feel like this transition period of my life is one of waiting with baited breath and awe to see Him direct the sunrise over this next season...
We will wait upon the Lord
We will wait upon the Lord
Our God, You reign forever
Our hope, our Strong Deliverer
You are the everlasting God
The everlasting God
You do not faint
You won't grow weary
You're the defender of the weak
You comfort those in need
You lift us up on wings like eagles
Because of daylight savings time, when I rolled out of bed at 6:15am on Wednesday morning this week to run it was pitch-black outside. I stumbled down to the exercise room with my ipod, squinting against the fake light in the stairwell, and settled down to run with some Chris Tomlin music. The exericse room is set up so those running or using the machines can mostly face several big windows looking outside, and it is just possible to see the sky above some of the surrounding buildings. I ran for a few minutes before the song "Everlasting God" came on (the song above), and in those few minutes I was struck by the change from darkness to light as the sunrise started to peak above the surrounding buildings.
Strength will rise as we wait upon the Lord.
And maybe because it is Lent, I thought of the darkness and horrible grimness of death and a cold tomb...I thought of being sealed in despair...and then I thought of the rising light as light pouring into the tomb through the cracks as the stone is rolled away, death is defeated, and life and light become the reality again... The darkness of the tomb...the light and new life--such different pictures! Yet God is present in both, and His character doesn't change in the dark...in fact, the darkness of the tomb is what brought life to us...
Last post I talked about the haziness of the future...maybe the joy I felt in watching the sunrise came from the knowledge that no matter how unclear my future is right now, God brings light, strength, direction, joy...
I feel like this transition period of my life is one of waiting with baited breath and awe to see Him direct the sunrise over this next season...
Sunday, March 14, 2010
For Thee the hammer holds...
"So dream a little dream for me, in hopes that I'll remain,
And cry a little, cry for me, so I can bear the flame,
And hurt a little, hurt for me, my future is untold,
My dreams are not the issue here, for thee the hammer holds."
About a month ago I was introduced to Bebo Norman's "The Hammer Holds." For those of you who haven't heard the song, check it out here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eKS4UQ7xev4&feature=fvst. It is a song that has been echoing through my head ever since I heard it, because it is so clearly a song of calling, of growing, of crying and stretching and pain and beauty...I was especially convicted by the last line in the chorus: "My dreams are not the issue here, for thee the hammer holds." God has given me so many dreams and blessings. My time at Nozomi was totally a time of living miracles and seeing dreams turn into reality, and I've been walking down a path of real-life dreams the last couple of months.
Everything is coming together for the Fukushima English school, working with Nomura-sensei and Cindy again, seeing people that I love dearly...we have an apartment, a class schedule, the beginnings of a website, and probably crazy-scattered ideas about harmony, truth, love, and joy and how all of those themes can combine into a good English curriculum. :) Through all of it though, the sentence that has started to roll through my head again and again is simply "my dreams are not the issue, for thee the hammer holds." What will it look like--this English school partnership? This decision to come back to Japan has not been made easily. I know that it will be different from Nozomi. I realize that again I am entering a world of living as a kindergartner, with limited vocab and the high stress of not knowing anything and feeling like a failure at everything. Relationships with church members, with students...times of music and prayer...new commutes and new materials...it is all something hazy that I know is up ahead and that has been breaking into my American reality ever since last June, really. :)
One would think that something that's been hazy for almost 10 months would be starting to have a clearer picture. :) No, no...only more confusion. There is so much haze that the only thing certain now is the need to pray. Besides the haze of the future, there is also the haze of the present. Eric's name has come up every so often on this blog...this last week we had discussions like, "What would you think about teaching in Fukushima at a conversation school? Some different company? Can we actually be near each other in the future...?" The more we talk about these things, and the more that I spend time with him, I more sure I am about what kinds of dreams I have in that regard...but again, my dreams aren't the issue here, because God holds the hammer.
In some ways, it is so reassuring. There is so much I might want to manipulate--good jobs and incomes and schedules in Fukushima for Cindy and Eric and I. But we don't even know if we'll have students, let alone finances and good schedules. :) It has to be God opening doors and showing us opportunities...
What if He doesn't bring enough students for Cindy and I? What if He doesn't open up a job for Eric? What if time and distance separate me even more from my family and friends and make me unfit for any reality? What if I simply break down, become crazy, and end up in a psych ward?..."My dreams are not the issue here, for thee the hammer holds"...
It's good...and so much in need of prayer and listening...one last song to sum up the plea of this time:
Take oh, take me as I am
Summon out what I shall be
Set your Spirit in my heart
And live in me...
And cry a little, cry for me, so I can bear the flame,
And hurt a little, hurt for me, my future is untold,
My dreams are not the issue here, for thee the hammer holds."
About a month ago I was introduced to Bebo Norman's "The Hammer Holds." For those of you who haven't heard the song, check it out here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eKS4UQ7xev4&feature=fvst. It is a song that has been echoing through my head ever since I heard it, because it is so clearly a song of calling, of growing, of crying and stretching and pain and beauty...I was especially convicted by the last line in the chorus: "My dreams are not the issue here, for thee the hammer holds." God has given me so many dreams and blessings. My time at Nozomi was totally a time of living miracles and seeing dreams turn into reality, and I've been walking down a path of real-life dreams the last couple of months.
Everything is coming together for the Fukushima English school, working with Nomura-sensei and Cindy again, seeing people that I love dearly...we have an apartment, a class schedule, the beginnings of a website, and probably crazy-scattered ideas about harmony, truth, love, and joy and how all of those themes can combine into a good English curriculum. :) Through all of it though, the sentence that has started to roll through my head again and again is simply "my dreams are not the issue, for thee the hammer holds." What will it look like--this English school partnership? This decision to come back to Japan has not been made easily. I know that it will be different from Nozomi. I realize that again I am entering a world of living as a kindergartner, with limited vocab and the high stress of not knowing anything and feeling like a failure at everything. Relationships with church members, with students...times of music and prayer...new commutes and new materials...it is all something hazy that I know is up ahead and that has been breaking into my American reality ever since last June, really. :)
One would think that something that's been hazy for almost 10 months would be starting to have a clearer picture. :) No, no...only more confusion. There is so much haze that the only thing certain now is the need to pray. Besides the haze of the future, there is also the haze of the present. Eric's name has come up every so often on this blog...this last week we had discussions like, "What would you think about teaching in Fukushima at a conversation school? Some different company? Can we actually be near each other in the future...?" The more we talk about these things, and the more that I spend time with him, I more sure I am about what kinds of dreams I have in that regard...but again, my dreams aren't the issue here, because God holds the hammer.
In some ways, it is so reassuring. There is so much I might want to manipulate--good jobs and incomes and schedules in Fukushima for Cindy and Eric and I. But we don't even know if we'll have students, let alone finances and good schedules. :) It has to be God opening doors and showing us opportunities...
What if He doesn't bring enough students for Cindy and I? What if He doesn't open up a job for Eric? What if time and distance separate me even more from my family and friends and make me unfit for any reality? What if I simply break down, become crazy, and end up in a psych ward?..."My dreams are not the issue here, for thee the hammer holds"...
It's good...and so much in need of prayer and listening...one last song to sum up the plea of this time:
Take oh, take me as I am
Summon out what I shall be
Set your Spirit in my heart
And live in me...
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