songs that take you by the heart

I realize that, coming from a Presbyterian, this may sound a little strange, but I don't have words for God right now. I know, I'm from a theological following that shuns scripted prayers and liturgies. I've been told by pastors and teachers that Jesus denounces "vain repetitions" when he teaches us the Lord's Prayer. Bu like a stroke patient in rehab, I can't move my mouth. My heart has no power of speech, it just gives signals for "yes" and "no."

So I go looking, grasping for what I know. Like a favorite tune long-forgotten, I strain to make out the lines of what had been a familiar prayer. Words are old friends I can't remember.



Songs can take a heart by the hand and lead along,  lend a prayer when no prayer was there, point you down the path when you are lost, lift you up when you crumple in a heap by the side of the road...

it's not here

"Why do you seek the living among the dead? He is not here, but has risen." 

Being back at my parents for the past few days, I have made a couple forays into Ben's old room--with Mama, with Dan and Anna, alone. Just to look, take in the pile of shoes under the clothes rack, take in the disarray of student work piled about. It's been cleaned, but things are where he left them for the most part--pencils and staples, college textbooks, old Bibles, Air Force pins, worn out running shoes and work boots, doodles and silly sketches...

I found myself looking over things, looking for Ben, hungry for something significant--just one written letter or note, something to hold on to that still radiated his goofy fun-loving personality. Why do you seek the living among the dead? He just wasn't there.

I can't go in there every day like Mama could, so being in Ben's room felt like it should be some kind of special occasion. The last time I spent any time in his room (that I remember) was a special occasion. Ben let me sleep on his bed one weekend when I was visiting with several other people. There were no beds left in the house but he offered to take the couch. He let me enjoy his wool army surplus blanket and sheets… didn't even ask to come in to his own room until I was up and the door was opened. That was special because Ben was still there. Today, by contrast, I felt distinctly the lack of specialness.

What was I hoping for? What did I expect? I was looking for the guy who isn't in his room any more. I was digging around in the husks of a man who shed mortality almost 3 weeks ago. Like Mary, the truth is dawning slowly and I am a slow learner.

When the perishable puts on the imperishable, and the mortal puts on immortality, then shall come to pass the saying that is written: "Death is swallowed up in victory."

The hope of the imperishable can't be found in a stack of worn shoes. No, the worn shoes have been left behind --my mortal brother has put on immortality. The seed has fallen and lies dormant; the husk has fallen away and has died. He--like his Savior--is no longer here. The old has been exchanged for the new, awaiting transformation into something new and beautiful.

"He is not here, but has risen. Remember how he told you…"

The eaves are dripping.

"I've come at last, said [Father Christmas]. "She has kept me out for a long time, but I have got in at last. Aslan is on the move…"

--The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe

Winter is not forever; Christmas is tomorrow. Melting ice and dripping gutters, blue sky and muddy boots stand as a testament of mercy. After the freeze comes the thaw; after silence comes the Word; into the darkness, light. 

Calvin shook melting ice off the tree branches and plants with his "quarter staff."

We stopped to admire ice-encrusted cedar berries...

…and the icicle-covered hillside...

Packed for an adventure: thermoses of peppermint tea and volumes of poetry.

What do these two have in common besides coats and handkerchiefs?

Can you guess? Well, can you?

A Smile.

God gives little blessings all the time--in the form of a moment to capture, or an extra-special little something that says "Child, you are loved lavishly, extravagantly, above measure, running over..."

This picture is an example. Today I was working on a painting project with some kids at my table, when I was accosted by a 6-year old child on an iPad2. 

"Mih Fitsow, Smow!" (He majors on smiles--not good articulation).

I smiled. Later on during the day I found a KidBlog entry entitled "Ms. Fisher" 

The words were, "Ms. Fisher is My sdrdgB." He read it to me--it said, "Ms. Fisher is my teacher." He sounded out the word "teacher" all by himself. 

Yesterday, the smile came in a bouquet of yellow mums. Sweet smells first thing in the morning. "I have a surprise for you!  Here!" Sunny smile was gleeful, and announced confidently, "If these die, just let me know. I have more in my garden!"

Then there's the moment I look down at two writers, heads bent together over a clipboard and I overhear one saying to the other, "No, don't write the word there. You need a space… ok… now we are writing the word 'it.' You are going to have to sound this out. First write '/i/'…that's lowercase…then "/i/-/t/. There's a /t/ at the end… good..." 

And I thank the Lord for the child who didn't let his buddy copy, but patiently guided him through every letter and sound and space. And what's more, the other child let him help! Amazing. 

Then there was the friend of mine who came by this afternoon and cut out 25 sets of sight word cards--60 words each--and wiped down tables with antibacterial spray, and sharpened all the pencils, and got a good music jam going in the mean-time.

Then there was my dad, who laughed his head off the other day as I recounted workplace drama; laughed himself to tears, in fact, while I repeatedly said (being completely tied in knots, of course), "Yes, I know it sounds funny--except that it's really happening!" and I remember for the millionth time why he makes such a good administrator himself. Because he sees humor in the predicaments of politics. And then he moves on.

God doesn't always wait for me to ask--sometimes He gives good things that we didn't even know we needed or wanted. Unlooked-for flourishes that come home like a letter from a friend, or a like gift when it's not my birthday.

Prayer for the Broken-Hearted

"O blessed Jesus, may we find a covert in thy wounds. Though our sins they rise to meet us, how they fall next to the merits of You!"

Sometimes I'm surprised by the fact that I'm a sinner. First I screw up. Then I scrape my self-respect off the pavement, trying to save face after saying something arrogant, or criticizing one of my colleagues, or gossiping, or one of those other "respectable" sins that I fall into so easily.

Maybe "surprised" isn't the right word. It's just that someone with my excellent character can't fathom what just happened when the evil let loose. That was sarcasm, in case you didn't catch it dripping... What should be remorse for sin boils down to the feeling that I am quite a good person, and quite proud of it, and therefore there shouldn't be any sin. In fact, the appearance of any imperfection is annoying at best, because it affects my reputation and temporarily smudges the crystalline self-image that I have of myself.

And this is where the prayer for the brokenhearted comes in--as David says, "A broken and contrite heart, O God, this you will not despise." Confession is God's love language. He falls for it every time! While my pride, arrogance, and self-exaltation make show of stubborn independence, repentance drives me back into God's heart. No day in my life has passed that hasn't proved me guilty.

And yes, today I've been proven guilty. Today I have nothing in my hand to offer God--no respectability, dignity, self-worth, sound judgment. I don't even have the self-control to make myself feel and think and discern the right things--especially in the face of people that I know to be wrong. I have criticism. I have pride. I have gossip. That is my native language. My "mother tongue" is self-righteousness.

But Jesus demands that I shed that righteousness for His, that I shed the ways of the old country and humbly ask for what he offers. I come from a place that is graceless--a place where even I can't accept grace because I try to be good on my own merits. Christ in his grace asks me to relinquish this, in order that He may conquer all in his own name. Though our sins may rise to meet us, how they fall next to the merits of You!

A princess came to the door.

We invited her in, poured her tea from a teapot, seated her in our singular blue armchair, and watched Miyazaki together. 

What a pleasure and honor to have such fancy friends as she.

A Child's Heart

Where is the one who is wise? Where is the scribe? Where is the debater of this age? 
Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world? 
For since, in the wisdom of God, the world did not know God through wisdom, 
it pleased God through the folly of what we preach to save those who believe.

There is nothing more fantastical, spectacular, and otherwise unbelievable than the story of Christ. By all known accounts He was conceived of God (not by a man), born into poverty as God himself in human flesh, knew the law and prophets from an incredibly young age, performed the miracle of raising Lazarus out of his tomb, fed 5,000 people on a couple loaves of bread and some fish, was killed by crucifixion at the age of 33, and raised from the dead (scars still intact) only to ascend into heaven triumphantly. 

This is the crazy but true story that God has used to make foolish the wisdom of the world. No wonder he says, "Only if you have faith as a little child." 

This morning while sitting with my mug of tea, stewing over a problematic situation with a parent of one of my students, I was listening (absent-mindedly as always) to songs playing on the stereo. "Good to Me" by Audrey Assad began to play, and somewhere in the stew the words crept in.

I steady my soul on the ground of your goodness.

I am beloved of God. Peace washed over like a wave as I remembered that indeed, He has set his love on me. How do I know? Because of this crazy, fantastic, unbelievable story we call the gospel. I can't be too grown-up to believe in those stories. God has made foolish all that we call wise, and is pleased to save those who believe... through the folly of the good news.

Hold on to the promise--the story is true.

a shelf for everything

...to those who are called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God.

"I confess I have a shelf for everything now. Whatever I read I know where to put it; whatever I learn I know where to stow it away. Once when I read books, I put all my knowledge together in glorious confusion; but ever since I have known Christ, I have put Christ in the centre as my sun, and each science revolves round it like a planet... Christ is to me the wisdom of God."

(From Spurgeon's Sermons Vol. 1, "Christ Crucified")

The Church

Came across two little gems on life in the church--

The Christian Pundit, quoting Spurgeon here, "..the Church is not an institution for perfect people, but a sanctuary for sinners saved by Grace, who, though they are saved, are still sinners and need all the help they can derive from the sympathy and guidance of their fellow Believers."

And from Gentle Reformation, some early church fathers speaking on the diversity of the church--from the perspective of the pastoral ministry. This article reminded me that we are unified by the Holy Spirit--that his work in our hearts is the "glue" that sticks us together. We need the glue because often we Christians are more different than alike--in domains such as talent, interest, walk of life, finance, intellect, temperament... Which means that yes, we have different needs--but also have different abilities to help and encourage others. 

The Wonders of the Waterproof Camera

Last weekend was Anna's last weekend in Cyprus. The perfect reason for the entire family (plus several friends) to take a trip to the sea!

Don't we look great in snorkeling masks?

The first day we went out to a beautiful long, shallow, rocky shoreline. The shore was dotted with two tall islets (big rocks with grass growing on them). We swam out to one in particular with a cross erected on top. The story goes that someone died while swimming in an underwater cave somewhere around there. We wanted to check that out.

The sights on the way out were spectacular! I didn't have the camera--Anna did--and also didn't have my glasses on (bummer). There was a beautiful world with plants, fish, mussels, and other random sea creatures, glowing with the mottled sunlight that filtered through the water. The schools of fish didn't seem phased by our presence.

 The giant rocks made the sea-bed like a sort of canyon--one was either suspended over plummeting depths of seawater, or skimming over the underwater gardens that flourished on the surfaces of the towering rocks.

Of course, the underwater camera was fantastic--we didn't get too many of the sea life. This friend found the sights so mesmerizing that he never actually made it out with Anna and I to the island.

Well , we made the trek from the shore to the island. If you look at the red dot in the far left corner, that's where we started (an old Pajero parked by the shore). The sea is so clear you can see the rocky terrain below. Anna took this photo after mounting the island.

The tiny dot in the water is Susie, who was watching to make sure we didn't fall and dash ourselves on the rocks. After Anna climbed up she "helped" me by taking a photo. 

We made it to to the top, walked around briefly. Apparently the way we climbed up is the only way to climb--every other side was a precipice. We stood on the edge and waved to the neighboring rock... the shadow of the cross is to our left and looks vaguely like a stick. 

Then we took a bunch of self-portraits involving us and the seascape. Here is one such example, involving a little bit of shoreline and a lot of our faces. :o)

After we climbed back down, we swam out to sea. Anna wanted a deep-water picture of herself. We made a couple of attempts...

Those rocks aren't small--they're just a long way down. And those slivers are some kind of fish...

Of course, the token "swimming back to shore" photo. That's me standing on the left, and the famous red Pajero parked on the right. After a full two hours swimming we were ready for a long drink of water, souvlaki, and a good night's sleep. What a great day.

Theme: Flowers

For all you botanists out there... a sample from the walking trail in Nicosia...

(wild figs)

Rioting in the Streets

...or not.

Another piece of news we witnessed while out and about: (You can find the article here.) We were walking up town and I stopped as we crossed the street to snap some photos (thinking that later I might be able to figure out what was going on). 

The woman's sign says "Say NO to the closing of IDAVEP" which (as I later figured out) is a little business training program that the government is closing.

While the press captured the front of the protest, I got a little backward glance. The weight of this event lies in the fact that it is an everyday occurrence--one can expect some such protest to make the news practically every night of the week. Such things are commonplace--even dull. Meanwhile each demonstration is adding up to skyrocketing unemployment and economic depression all across Cyprus. 

(When we were walking past, there weren't even enough people to stand across the barricade that the police had set up for them. Guess why? To do that, they would have to stand in the hot mid-day sunshine! They looked tired and overheated and were just so riotous as to require one whole police car and six traffic cones. :o)

For me this provides a visual reminder to pray--pray for jobs and economic growth in Cyprus, and pray that we will learn to trust the Lord to provide for us. I can easily live under the illusion that I am able take care of myself and find a way to live a good life. How fragile that illusion is, and how quickly it can be shattered! The only answer is to find our security in the God who works out not only our employment, but also eternity.

Walls

Here is a part of the old city walls of Nicosia. These walls were built by the Venetians, back when the Venetians were in vogue, I mean power. Most of the walls still look completely fine, actually, but I took a photo of the section that's crumbled. They've put up parks around the base of the wall. Apparently there used to be a moat down here. 

The buildings (apartments and a church) are from a neighborhood inside the old city walls down by the postal museum (it was closed, so I didn't take a look). 

I love the various colors of shutters that come up even on the shabbiest buildings. 

Also note the car parked on the definitely-not-EU-regulation-width sidewalk... this is a perfect example of how Cypriots will do anything to get their car parked in the shade... 

We were just riding the bus...

Monday night (17th) I watched Cyprus News with Hercules and Eleni (their guest). There was an account of a gruesome butcher-shop murder in Nicosia. The victim (a 70-some-year-old butcher) was stabbed over 30 times and hidden in one of his walk-in refrigerators. The area outside the fridge was cleaned up, and when they found him, he was still (barely) alive, but died on the way to the hospital.

This murder had happened that morning. The murderer, they believed, was a 27-year-old Pakistani man who was seen leaving the shop that morning. The general hospital reported that they had treated wounds on his hands sometime later that morning, making him a prime suspect in the stabbing.

As we watched the news Anna and I looked at each other. Around noon we had been riding the Nicosia bus to the general hospital, where she was getting a TB test read. On the bus both of us had noticed a 20-something Pakistani man with his hand wrapped in an Ace bandage. "We saw that guy!" we both exclaimed.

Reader, judge for yourself. It's quite possible that we were riding the bus with a wanted man. On the other hand, maybe more than one young Pakistani had an injured hand on Monday... Let your imagination decide.

We were just riding the bus.

Today Anna and her friend Stephanie and I went out to the old city shopping area in search of shoes: fancy, formal, all-dressed-up shoes for Stephanie's graduation. We never found the shoes, and at some point, in the heat of the afternoon, all the shops closed for the day. We sat down at ABO's for a bit of a snack, then went home to (you guessed it!) eat lunch....

We ordered long Halloumi rolls: they were filled with grated cheese and mint; wrapped in a chewy yeast dough that tasted something like a thick pizza crust. . . 

After we sat down, pretty much all the pictures are of us with our mouths full... 

Evidence that there's at least one picture somewhere of me taking a picture... :P

Other adventures of the day didn't get any pictures whatsoever. This morning Anna and I went for a jog (the plan is to go for some kind of exercise every morning til she leaves in a couple weeks). We followed a bike trail all the way up to the Presidential Palace and back home again. As we got close to the house, we came to the little stream. The water was cold; our feet were hot and steaming inside our shoes... so of course there was only one logical thing to do... which we did...

and we were sitting there splashing with sticks and in general being quite juvenile. 

Then I saw it--a flash of bright red about the length of my palm streaking through the water, sporting antennae and a hefty pair of pincers. 

The sight was followed up by a shriek, our feet went out of the water. Then the game became trying to find him again--and we did; with another of his kind, speeding through the water, hiding here and there under rocks... the top predators in their tiny ecosystem. Of course, once you start looking for moving things in the water, you start to notice others as well--minnows and such. Although that really spoiled the fun of putting our feet back in, for a brief moment I felt like I was eight years old again, teasing small creatures out of their dwellings and chasing them here and there... 

Anna and I took a walk down to Finikoudes on Sunday evening. The place was overcrowded thanks to Whit Monday being a week from today...there were carnival booths and concessions and swarms of people and even an accordion player (sorry I didn't take a picture of him). We decided to walk the shoreline so that we could take off our shoes, and also to avoid some of the people swarms...

But of course, our feet looked dirty and gross by the end of the beach... so we sat on a platform by the accordion player. At some point a group of people got up and left a park bench open. So we scuttled over and sat down to let our feet dry. 

And of course took a few cheesy self portraits before the fun began. 

A Cypriot woman sat down right next to us, and called her friends over. In Greek she told one to sit by her, and the other sat by me. Let me remark right now that five goodly sized women on a bench is not exactly a comfortable fit. "I think they want us to leave," Anna said to me. 

"I'm not moving," I said. 

So we sat tight. Very tight. 

To pass the time while our feet were drying, we whipped out the camera once again to see if our seat companions would co-operate for some pictures.

One did. (but I missed Anna). 

One didn't. (and we missed me)

All in all it was quite hilarious. At some point, when a different bench opened up, the same woman led the way and they moved over to a spot where they could carry on a conversation properly, without the interference of the unyielding American tourists. ;)

Reboot. :)

The blog is back! I hope to update this at least a few times a week.

Where to start...

Care for a few snapshots? Grandma and I went out to Aurelio's last week for pizza. Here we are, trying not to gloat (can you tell?).

So far, the only adventures of this trip have been surprises: a stay in the Dulles Hilton, a late-night trip to Frankfurt... three days with only my checked backpack to keep me going... The good news: My camera was with me the whole time! 

These are all from the 13th...

The weather was cloudy and made for great photography.

Airplanes everywhere!

The space shuttle "Discovery"... actually just the burners.... my camera couldn't get the whole thing in one picture!

The highlight of the day was watching a documentary on the Hubble telescope. The footage of the deep space galaxies was reminiscent of Psalm 8--"When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place, what is man that you are mindful of him, and the son of man that you care for him?"