Today I prayed for pregnant mice. Okay, I prayed for a friend who wants to do research project on pregnant mice. That has not been my oddest prayer. My oddest prayers are the ones that come when I'm half asleep. Like the other day I was nodding off and praying for a friend. I prayed, "Please bless X and the state of Arizona." I woke up just enough to wonder why I was praying for my friend AND the state of Arizona. Then the other night I prayed, "Please help me to understand my limitations, please make me a better friend, and please help me to buy more comfortable shoes." Again, the last part was an accidental addendum to the prayer.(Maybe my feet were sending a message to my subconscious, and my subconcious made sure to slip that thought into my prayers.)
I'm thankful for odd prayers and a God (I hope) who laughs at them.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Your Heart Will Be Free
I was sharing with a friend recently a small struggle that I have been having. I said, "You know even though I struggle, I surrender everything to God." My friend looked at me and said quite emphatically, "God is doing something special for you and if you keep surrendering this area of your life, you'll find that your heart will be free." I loved that line "your heart will be free." The words were a promise. My friends words stayed with me all day yesterday and even into the night. This morning I struggled to get up not only because I was sleepy but because my sleep had been so peaceful. It was as if God had come and stayed near me through the night. I wanted to linger in bed in His precense.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Sounds
I love house noises: the dryer and the dishwasher running are small comforts of sound. I don't own a TV, I infrequently listen to music, and I don't have a cat to keep me company.
Sometimes coming home is difficult (for some reason it is always most difficult after a social event), but it is not always lonely. I take a certain pleasure in puttering around, in doing my laundry and washing the dishes, in putting things away, and in reading my books.
One great pleasure is weaving prayer into all these things. I have a list of names that I keep handy so that this "time alone" is given to prayer. My house is made somehow less empty by prayer.
Sometimes coming home is difficult (for some reason it is always most difficult after a social event), but it is not always lonely. I take a certain pleasure in puttering around, in doing my laundry and washing the dishes, in putting things away, and in reading my books.
One great pleasure is weaving prayer into all these things. I have a list of names that I keep handy so that this "time alone" is given to prayer. My house is made somehow less empty by prayer.
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Catch and Release
I recently finished reading a memoir on friendship called Same Kind of Different as Me. The passage below moved me so much I had to read it twice.
"I been thinking a lot about what you asked me."
I had no idea what he was talking about. "What did I ask you?"
"Bout bein your friend."
My jaw dropped an inch. I'd forgotten that when I told him at the Cactus Flower Cafe that all I wanted from him was his friendship, he'd said he'd think about it. Now, I was shocked that anyone would spend a week pondering such a question. While the whole conversation had slipped my mind, Denver had clearly spent serious time preparing his answer.
He looked up from his coffee, fixing me with one eye, the other squinted like Clint Eastwood. "There's somethin I heard 'bout white folks that bothers me, and it has to do with fishin."
He was serious and I didn't dare laugh, but I did try to lighten the mood a bit. "I don't know if I'll be able to help," I said smiling. "I don't even own a tackle box."
Denver scowled, not amused. "I think you can."
He spoke slowly and deliberately, keeping me pinned with that eyeball, ignoring the Starbucks groupies coming and going on the patio around us.
"I heard that when white folks go fishin they do something called 'catch and release.'"
Catch and release? I nodded solemnly, suddenly nervous and curious at the same time.
"That really bothers me," Denver went on. "I just can't figure it out. 'Cause when colored folks go fishin, we really proud of what we catch, and catch. . . in other words, we use it to sustain us. So it really bothers me that white folks would go through all that trouble to catch a fish, then they done caught it, just throw it back in the water."
He paused again, and the silence between us stretched a full minute.
Then: "Did you hear what I said?"
I nodded, afraid to speak, afraid to offend.
Denver looked away, searching the blue autum sky, then locked onto me again with that drill-bit stare. "So, Mr. Ron, it occured to me: If you is fishin for a friend you just gon' catch and release, then I ain't got no desire to be your friend."
The world seem to halt in midstride and fall silent around us like one of those freeze-frame scenes on TV. I could hear my heart pounding and imagined Denver could see it popping my breast pocket up and down. I returned Denver's gaze with what I hoped was a receptive expression and hung on.
Suddenly his eyes gentled and he spoke more softly than before: "But if you is lookin for a real friend, then I'll be one. Forever."
from Same Kind of Different as Me p. 106, 107
"I been thinking a lot about what you asked me."
I had no idea what he was talking about. "What did I ask you?"
"Bout bein your friend."
My jaw dropped an inch. I'd forgotten that when I told him at the Cactus Flower Cafe that all I wanted from him was his friendship, he'd said he'd think about it. Now, I was shocked that anyone would spend a week pondering such a question. While the whole conversation had slipped my mind, Denver had clearly spent serious time preparing his answer.
He looked up from his coffee, fixing me with one eye, the other squinted like Clint Eastwood. "There's somethin I heard 'bout white folks that bothers me, and it has to do with fishin."
He was serious and I didn't dare laugh, but I did try to lighten the mood a bit. "I don't know if I'll be able to help," I said smiling. "I don't even own a tackle box."
Denver scowled, not amused. "I think you can."
He spoke slowly and deliberately, keeping me pinned with that eyeball, ignoring the Starbucks groupies coming and going on the patio around us.
"I heard that when white folks go fishin they do something called 'catch and release.'"
Catch and release? I nodded solemnly, suddenly nervous and curious at the same time.
"That really bothers me," Denver went on. "I just can't figure it out. 'Cause when colored folks go fishin, we really proud of what we catch, and catch. . . in other words, we use it to sustain us. So it really bothers me that white folks would go through all that trouble to catch a fish, then they done caught it, just throw it back in the water."
He paused again, and the silence between us stretched a full minute.
Then: "Did you hear what I said?"
I nodded, afraid to speak, afraid to offend.
Denver looked away, searching the blue autum sky, then locked onto me again with that drill-bit stare. "So, Mr. Ron, it occured to me: If you is fishin for a friend you just gon' catch and release, then I ain't got no desire to be your friend."
The world seem to halt in midstride and fall silent around us like one of those freeze-frame scenes on TV. I could hear my heart pounding and imagined Denver could see it popping my breast pocket up and down. I returned Denver's gaze with what I hoped was a receptive expression and hung on.
Suddenly his eyes gentled and he spoke more softly than before: "But if you is lookin for a real friend, then I'll be one. Forever."
from Same Kind of Different as Me p. 106, 107
Friday, April 30, 2010
The Folded Page
Last year I sat in a faculty meeting at APIU writing in my journal. This is what I wrote:
Two months from today I'll be on a plane back from Cambodia. And then the States.. . We're in faculty meeting. Damrong is showing us a preview of a faculty retreat I'll never attend.
After writing that entry I flipped to the back of the journal and folded a page. I wrote:
March 26, 2009
Father, I'm praying the unfilled, unknown pages into your hand. I'm trusting you now with these pages. I want to commit myself to your promises.How did God bless you between March 26 and _____________?
Tonight I finally reached my folded page: April 30, 2010. Here are some of the blessings I have received since I folded that page in my journal.
1. God gave me a job that doesn't consume my life. For once I don't work every night--I have a life outside of school (gasp).
2. I have found some solid friends in Orlando. (As iron sharpens iron friends, Prov. 27:17).
3. God provided a car, a place to live, and even a new bike :)
4. When the future seemed most unsure, God sent people to encourage me (my parents and the Redding church members).
5. God gave me a six months to reconnect with my parents.
6. God gave me some good colleagues to work with.
7. I have (as one friend mentioned recently) a rich life with things to do, adventures to have, and events to look forward to.
I'm grateful for my blessings and yet I'm not satisified. No, I want more blessings!! I love the idea that I read in Desire of Ages that God's blessings actually prepare us for more blessings. A larage blessing would be for a greater hunger for God and then (of course) there are temporal blessings I'm praying for. I'm so grateful for God who gives and keeps giving.
"But the gifts of Jesus are ever fresh and new. The feast that He provides for the soul never fails to give satisfaction and joy. Each new gift increases the capacity of the receiver to appreciate and enjoy the blessings of the Lord. He gives grace for grace. There can be no failure of supply. If you abide in Him, the fact that you receive a rich gift today insures the reception of a richer gift tomorrow. The words of Jesus to Nathanael express the law of God's dealing with the children of faith. With every fresh revelation of His love, He declares to the receptive heart, 'Believest thou? thou shalt see greater things than these.' John 1:50."
Desire of Ages 148
Two months from today I'll be on a plane back from Cambodia. And then the States.. . We're in faculty meeting. Damrong is showing us a preview of a faculty retreat I'll never attend.
After writing that entry I flipped to the back of the journal and folded a page. I wrote:
March 26, 2009
Father, I'm praying the unfilled, unknown pages into your hand. I'm trusting you now with these pages. I want to commit myself to your promises.How did God bless you between March 26 and _____________?
Tonight I finally reached my folded page: April 30, 2010. Here are some of the blessings I have received since I folded that page in my journal.
1. God gave me a job that doesn't consume my life. For once I don't work every night--I have a life outside of school (gasp).
2. I have found some solid friends in Orlando. (As iron sharpens iron friends, Prov. 27:17).
3. God provided a car, a place to live, and even a new bike :)
4. When the future seemed most unsure, God sent people to encourage me (my parents and the Redding church members).
5. God gave me a six months to reconnect with my parents.
6. God gave me some good colleagues to work with.
7. I have (as one friend mentioned recently) a rich life with things to do, adventures to have, and events to look forward to.
I'm grateful for my blessings and yet I'm not satisified. No, I want more blessings!! I love the idea that I read in Desire of Ages that God's blessings actually prepare us for more blessings. A larage blessing would be for a greater hunger for God and then (of course) there are temporal blessings I'm praying for. I'm so grateful for God who gives and keeps giving.
"But the gifts of Jesus are ever fresh and new. The feast that He provides for the soul never fails to give satisfaction and joy. Each new gift increases the capacity of the receiver to appreciate and enjoy the blessings of the Lord. He gives grace for grace. There can be no failure of supply. If you abide in Him, the fact that you receive a rich gift today insures the reception of a richer gift tomorrow. The words of Jesus to Nathanael express the law of God's dealing with the children of faith. With every fresh revelation of His love, He declares to the receptive heart, 'Believest thou? thou shalt see greater things than these.' John 1:50."
Desire of Ages 148
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
A Yellow Shirt
Someone recently asked me if I like her spent a great deal of time analyzing what to wear for the day. I didn't say much because I was too embarrassed to respond with how little I analyze what I'll wear. My criteria is: is it ironed?
Well, today I ran out of ironed shirts but I noticed my Thai yellow shirt hanging in the closest. I looked at it in its unwrinkled glory and thought, "What are the chances that I'll meet a person from Thailand today? Hmmmmm...zero." So I put on my yellow shirt and went to work. While I was at work, I got a phone call from a friend. She told me that she was on my side of town for an appointment and suggested we meet up for lunch. At her suggestion we went to Thai food. It wasn't until after we ordered that it hit me. "I'm sitting in a Thai restaurant wearing a yellow shirt that has Thai writing on it." What weird forang would show up at a Thai restaurant during a month when the yellow shirt/red shirt situation had gotten even worse than usual looking as she supported the PAD?
When we went to pay the bill, I stood in this awkward position trying to cover up any Thai writing on my shirt. I don't know, maybe the restaurant owners saw the writing on my shirt and thought of the time when yellow only meant loyalty to the King and not loyalty to a political party.
Well, today I ran out of ironed shirts but I noticed my Thai yellow shirt hanging in the closest. I looked at it in its unwrinkled glory and thought, "What are the chances that I'll meet a person from Thailand today? Hmmmmm...zero." So I put on my yellow shirt and went to work. While I was at work, I got a phone call from a friend. She told me that she was on my side of town for an appointment and suggested we meet up for lunch. At her suggestion we went to Thai food. It wasn't until after we ordered that it hit me. "I'm sitting in a Thai restaurant wearing a yellow shirt that has Thai writing on it." What weird forang would show up at a Thai restaurant during a month when the yellow shirt/red shirt situation had gotten even worse than usual looking as she supported the PAD?
When we went to pay the bill, I stood in this awkward position trying to cover up any Thai writing on my shirt. I don't know, maybe the restaurant owners saw the writing on my shirt and thought of the time when yellow only meant loyalty to the King and not loyalty to a political party.
Monday, April 26, 2010
Observations
I've been playing host to a friend from Bangkok for about a week now. I've had fun hearing Thai words again and just getting a chance to talk about Thailand. I've also had fun listening to my friends observations about America.
For example, every time we drive pass a homeless person she says, "I can't believe Americans help so many countries but they don't help their own people."
Also, my friend is completely unimpressed with my apartment situation. "What you pay that much and they don't have a maid to sweep the halls or security guards?"
Life is different here. My friend says, "It's more convenient in America." I say, "It is more lonely in America."
For example, every time we drive pass a homeless person she says, "I can't believe Americans help so many countries but they don't help their own people."
Also, my friend is completely unimpressed with my apartment situation. "What you pay that much and they don't have a maid to sweep the halls or security guards?"
Life is different here. My friend says, "It's more convenient in America." I say, "It is more lonely in America."
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