Horses

I just want to say that there are 3 other posts I've been trying to write... picking away at... writer's block I guess, has kept them from being posted. So in the future when you check in, you may have to check back to see anything new. I'm not techie enough to change the dates, and even if I could, I don't think I'd want to... the chronology is important to me. OK, now on to "horses".

On one of the last days in Costa Rica, spending time with God, He showed me a picture of a horse. She was penned, snorting, wild, wary... eying suspiciously a man sitting on top of the wooden fence. He held a lasso; He wanted to tame her. She just wanted to be free.

Then the man spoke to her: "I will be out here everyday, letting you get used to me." Then I saw the horse as she was roaming the plains - no borders, no boundaries... and still the man was there, patiently watching her, biding his time. You see, He already has plans for her, and they will come to pass.

I didn't need the brain of a rocket scientist to understand that God was talking to me, about me... but I was surprised a few days later when He led me to an article about horses. The writer told about the virtues of a good battle horse... will go ahead without fear... trusts her rider... presses on with courage despite all signs of danger...

This is who He is training me to be. But until I am her, He will sit on the fence posts, follow me into the plains, letting me get used to Him. He is patient with my skittishness... He is gentle with my fear. Someday He will break me... someday He will ride me... and the day I succumb to this is the day I will be truly free.

Had the sun never left, I would have stayed forever.

I spent a couple of hours yesterday afternoon sitting by a river in rural Costa Rica. Unlike most of the other afternoons I've been here, there was no rain - just 25C, the sun, a breeze, and the beauty of the jungle all around us.
Warmth is a wonderful thing... one of the things I treasure and appreciate most, both literally and figuratively. I sat on a rock and read a book, soaking in the heat and loving every moment. All too soon, it was time to go and prepare for the darkness that would set in without warning... the equatorial sun is not like the northern sun; there is no twilight here. So I left the sun in it's empty sky, left the rock that was sharing its heat, left the river, the breeze, the birds, and butterflies... left the paradise of a perfect day.

That leaving was weeks ago now. Yesterday's leaving was of a different kind. I resigned my job of almost 6 years to go back to school. Why? Because I believe it's what God is asking me to do... the journey to bring me here has been rocky and humbling, but through it He is teaching me to believe how trustworthy He is.

When I first began working here, I came across a quote that said "one half of knowing what you want in knowing what you must give up to get it." It was impacting, and since then has remained in my file folder reminding me that someday I would need its advice. Yesterday was officially that day.

I don't know what my new city and new life will hold for me, or if it will be even close to what my logic surmises it will be. But I'm hoping that it will include warmth... maybe literally only from a space-heater and a blanket... but I'm hoping figuratively it will be an entity that will flood my being into my home and through my hands. I hope also it will be shared with me from those who will soon be part of my new life. And if it doesn't, I know that God is capable enough to keep me warm inside and towards others, for it is the way He is.

Figurative warmth can be like a memory you can recall like another place far far away. Closing your eyes you can remember how it felt, you know you were there, but only in memory is it alive... all evidence of today fails to reproduce it.

I am here now... in a 500 square foot apartment, with a cat, a laptop and the homework to make use of it.  It hasn't sunk in yet that this is to be my new life for a while.  Perhaps for a long while... But I am here now, as much as I was there at the fire hall, and as much as I sat on that rock on the edge of the river the day the sun was splendid in its perfect sky.  The delight of that moment is available here, somewhere... my job now is to find it.  So search for it I must... and I'll keep you posted on that journey.

Where the ground is level

They stretched out row after row, most with a single fragmented sentence to capture each life. I walked among them searching for my own grandparent's grave, wondering about the lives that once filled the bodies that lay beneath the stones. The story of a life is so much more than a few words can express.
For the most part, I like cemeteries. I like the peacefulness, the reflection, and the silent history that lies beneath the earth. And on this day, scanning surnames looking for my own, I made an observation about the small town cemetery. Lying side by side were the Catholics, the Protestants, the Orthodox, and those without affiliation or other affiliations. I like that picture so much... I think that it is a picture of heaven.
I do believe that Jesus is the way to heaven, and there is no way around that. Only He could ever be enough to take care of our sin so that we can come into the presence of God. But I also believe, like in the cemetery, that souls once defined as Catholic, Protestant, or Orthodox, and those without affiliation or other affiliations will rest side by side in heaven, worshipping the One who made the way for them to get there. The divisions will be gone, along with the tears, the shame, the hurt, and everything else we will leave behind on this earth. Who we put our trust in is the key to heaven and abundant life on earth- not which affiliation or building we think He belongs to.
The ground at the cemetery was level... as is the ground at the cross. For those of you thinking that any part of you divides you from the celebrations of heaven, take it to the cross and ask Him if He will take it for you. The answer will be yes.

Time to vote

Though elections are everywhere, this post has nothing to do with that... what I need is your help. I have been trying to downsize my things for the last few months, and today marked another milestone. This inland Canadian girl, survivor of decades of Prairie winters, put into the givaway bag and got rid of... my Sorel's. I am a Prairie winter girl who no longer has any -40C boots. So please vote to clear or condemn my conscience - am I still Canadian?

Hey, did you ask the Lord to humble you lately?

Last week was the last adventure race of the season... Race the Rockies Urban Adventure Race in Edmonton... awesome. It is an introductory race designed to introduce new people to the sport without scaring the crap out of them.
My (awesome and amazing and buff) partner were making good time to checkpoint 2. We were with the elites, making good choices, making good time. We had found our way through the bottle neck opening across the river - we were minutes away from a much needed break and change of discipline (our butts hurt and needed off our bikes for a while). 5 minutes away from the checkpoint, navigating our final road - we asked God which way to go... and the answer was SO CLEAR... "Go back to Checkpoint 1 - you totally forgot to do it."
Checkpoint 1 is about a 10km bike ride away, and it's not flat. We were within a few blocks on our way by the first time. ARG! - but so funny. Lessons from this approximately 3 hour mistake (bike time + fatigue) include but are not limited to:
1 - The title of this blog is the question I asked my partner on the bike ride back... going back the opposite way, passing almost every team that is now ahead of you, is a very humbling thing. And I did get asked a few times "is this your first race?" "Ummm... nope."
2 - Even though they're all going the right way, they all questioned their direction because of one team going back the opposite way... 31 teams were going with the flow. The opposite way? - just us;)
3 - We were so focused on that tight river crossing that we totally forgot the next step... my partner is very detailed, and I am a big picture person. We wrote down street for street our entire day. Still, we both missed the elephant on the map labeled Checkpoint 1.
4 - BUT - our communication was awesome. We were on the same page all the way.
5 - AND - our attitudes were pretty good too - we had a wonderful day (though it ended up being 9.5 hours)... we were fatigued and dehydrated and needed real food, but enjoyed the whole day. Yes, it is tempting to give up, but we didn't let it be an option. Wow the Edmonton river valley is something, and with great company and the chance to explore it, it was a dream day.
So that's the nutshell... hope you got a laugh out of it, we sure did:)

PS - As another part of the race, we had to swim across the North Saskatchewan on September 27th... some of you (especially those I've been to Costa Rica with) know just how significant that is for me... BRRR...

Loving a Stranger

I am no template of Christ's compassion, but I know it's something He wants to develop in me. So every now and then, because He is faithful to that goal, He shows me someone and lets me experience a bit of how He feels for them.
It happened tonight walking home from work. As I passed by a random stranger, there was a huge rush of love and compassion for him in my heart. A deep love and feeling of understanding towards him, an intricate knowledge of God's love for Him. I didn't know how to act on it in that moment, in that place, but the experience opened a door in my heart.
You see, on that day, feelings of compassion were far from my mind. As I walked, my thoughts rested on someone else and were far from loving and understanding. Someone who has hurt me and I don't know what to do about it.
In that contrasting moment - feelings of love and compassion towards a stranger vs. a lack of those feelings towards someone I know - God spoke to me. He asked me how it could be so... this compassion for a stranger and not for a friend. "They hurt me" I answered... sent me into protection mode. Active love and compassion require vulnerability, and their actions had sent me into hiding and unable to receive God's own for them.
"You hurt Me." He said... "but I died on the cross for you anyways... I love you that much. I have that much compassion towards you." He hasn't gotten jaded by my daily attempts to push Him away; my multiple promises to draw near and subsequent multiple failures to be still that long; my lack of trust and faith that sprout weeds in every part of my life.
And He made it clear in the same moment, the reason He gave me that intense glimpse into His love for that stranger. It's something He wanted me to taste because it's something He wants to develop in me. It's something He can see even when there's no evidence... because HE planted it there. He wants us to live out our full potential, even more than we don't want to live empty, regretful lives. There is an antidote... it was Him in the flesh, it is He in the Spirit, it is Him who made us and knows us full well.
Someday when I am old, it will be these experiences that will appear in memory to remind me that I had chances to make good choices for an amazing life... I hope to be writing about that journey someday, and not the one I wished I had had. The same for all of you... most of you are in the first halves of your lives, and none of you are dead yet:) - it's not too late to be still and know He's God. I guarantee He has something to say to you.

Testify

It's not every day that I'm aware of God looking out for me in a profound way. I know He always does, and I'm sure if my eyes could see day to day all the places He intervenes on my behalf, I would be amazed... all of us would be. But 2 times in the last 2 weeks, things that should have happened didn't... and when they didn't, God let me see that it was because of Him.

The first happened as I was taking my bike off of my roof-rack. I am not tall enough to get it off without opening the door and standing on the back seat. I also don't have enough upper body strength to pull the fork off the holder without a little inertia. So as I was yanking my bike upwards, using my body as momentum, I fell. Holding the bike above my head, I couldn't hold on to anything or brace my fall. But mid-slip, I stopped... abruptly and completely stopped falling. In that moment, I was very aware of a world that I cannot see.

The second event was on Sunday evening. I was driving back from Manning (1 hr north of Peace River) after a weekend with some great friends. In a very rural place, at dusk, I drove over a peice of tangled steel that lay completely across one lane of the highway. This piece of steel should have given me a flat... but it didn't. As I drove the rest of that beautiful, deserted lonely road, I knew it once again - He was watching over me.


So, that's it... just wanted to testify of His care over me... may I continue to see it in my life, may you see it in yours too.

Loving every minute of it...

I started and titled this post a long time ago... I was in between 2 great things - races. August 9th was an adventure race in Crowsnest Pass, August 17th a half-marathon in Edmonton. Now it's September... (the posting won't tell you this, so I will). It's not just the racing that I enjoy so much, it's everything the training gives me - excuses to get out there, motivation to hit the trails when I'd rather be sleeping, and generally better health. It gives me a better capacity to enjoy life - not just because I'm in better shape, but because I'm out and experiencing it more. Racing forces me to train longer distances than I'd like, bike steeper courses than I'm comfortable with, and get into the outdoors more. You know, I might forget I love it if I didn't have to do it... neither would I love it if I didn't have to do it. Racing in a body that isn't ready isn't so fun. So I began this post in the midst of these 2 things - both things that I wasn't ready for at the time I signed up... the moral of the story? Sometimes you just gotta do it... put your name to something that will make you work to be more of the person you want to be. Otherwise, you can forget who you are.

I'm not who I thought I would be

For me it happened on the beaches of India as I watched the dolphins dance off shore. The close friends I grew up with experienced it in tears, pregnancy (with her fourth child), and visiting her country of birth. Some feared it, some forgot about it - we all faced it. Most of you have at one time, too... for those born in 1978, this is the year we turn 30. Already? Seriously?

In talking with those of "my" generation, I've discovered a myrad of feelings about it. One girl who felt like it fit and anticipated it greatly. Another who hasn't crossed that line yet and is contemplating which tatoo, piercing, and drink will accompany the celebration she doesn't want to have. I myself experienced being the sum of all fears for an 18 year old girl who confided to me in horror "I don't want to be like, 30, and not married!" I don't think I have been someone's biggest fear in the flesh before... it still makes me laugh.

The last post was about our future selves condemning our present selves. This post is to suggest that our past selves may also influence us. In many ways, I remember 16 year old Sandra - her emotions, what she looked like, what she thought was funny, what she was going through. I remember her, we are similar... but I am not the same as she. I have lived her lifetime again, almost... I should not be the same.

She is still alive in me, and I love snippets of memory that remind me of her. She focuses me sometimes, reminds me what's important, she knows how to dream, she is extrememly passionate. But she is not allowed to condemn me for who I've become. I have seen more, faced more, experienced more, lived more...

Though I don't have all the things nor have lived all the things she would have wanted at my age, I have and experienced many things she never dreamed. We don't always get to choose the roads available to us, and few of mine were ones she would have chosen. But my 30 year old self is learning that it's not as much the road traveled as it is how you journey along that road. Sometimes the best we can do is to scatter seeds along the way, for flowers we will never see bloom, for we will no longer be there when they do. At least, we won't be who we were when we planted them. Letting go of seed requires an open hand.

So, I'm not who I thought I would be... most of the time I'm ok with that. And I think that if I could explain it to her why so many of her dreams haven't come true yet, she'd understand. And then she'd reach her hand into a pile of seed and throw it into the wind ... just like me.

Jane Doe

It was neither a dark nor a stormy night. The moon was full, and as it was the summer solstice in Alberta, far into the northern hemisphere - so not very dark at almost midnight. I was with a stranger I don't know, though for those hours she was my best friend. We had been placed in the bush country of Nordegg together as adventure race volunteers. We got a little adventure of our own.

Driving along the highway at 23:30 that night, in the twilight hour, in the stillness of the wind, we saw her. Broken and bloodied, she lay still in the middle of one lane of the highway: Jane Doe. She was hazardous - big enough to cause an accident and difficult to see. She received our compassion - what a horrible way to die. So my new friend, compelled by a memory of her past that I don't know, suggested we move her. As we exited our car and walked towards her, there was a great twist added to the story - she wasn't dead yet.

It took us quite a few minutes to decide what to do. The danger factor was still real for passing motorists. The compassion factor was even greater now as we looked on this helpless, hurting creature. She was going to die, we couldn't help that. Damage had been done that we couldn't reverse. "May You grant us wisdom, O Lord" was my prayer... this was a situation I had no idea what the best thing to do was.

We didn't have a gun, and though we talked about using a knife to slit her throat, neither of us wanted to do it. One memory that flashed before my eyes was of a cat we had when I was a teenager that got caught in the fan belt of a car. Even though he was missing both hind legs and his tail, he didn't want to die. I applied that memory to Jane Doe - even though she was in pain, I didn't think she wanted to die.

We discussed strategy on how to move her - there was too much traffic that night to let her stay on the road. Her legs were too broken to touch - it would be too painful, and her head would have to be supported. So combining any training I'd had with human trauma patients and my friend's knowledge from med school, we came up with a plan. One of us would pull her from the armpits, the other support her head, and we'd get her off the highway as painlessly as possible. She struggled and kicked when we came near her, but I found she would calm when I stroked her side and talked gently to her.

We donned socks as gloves and got started. She was not heavy, but moving her was awkward. As gently as possible, we pulled her off of the highway. She died in our arms. If we had known her death was that imminent, we probably would have left her to die "peacefully" and saved her the trauma of moving her. It's quite likely that our touch contributed to fear that made her heart give out even faster... hindsight is always 20-20.

So much of life is doing the best you can with what you've got at the time. Just like our night with Jane, there are times we have to act and have no idea what to do. Maybe someday life will teach me a lesson so that if I ever come across this situation again, I will know exactly what to do. But in learning that lesson, I can't judge myself for decisions I've made in the past. Same goes for you - you can't regret your past choices when you did the best you knew how at the time.

I guess that's the point of this post, and maybe the whole point of that night with Jane and my new friend. Thank you Jane that your last moments gave me an opportunity to grow. Thank you new friend that your old memory led us to take that opportunity. Thank You Lord for wisdom you gave us to do the best we could with what we had. Now that this event itself is a memory, may it fuel the ability to make better choices for the future - without that future self condemning me for who I am now.

They don't fit

Coming back to "normal" life after an adventure always takes adjustments. This time, the life I've returned to is similar to - but not the same as - the one I left. Same job; different responsibility level and different crew. Same city; different house and living arrangements. Same friends; different places in life. Even the April weather was almost identical to the September that I left. In the early days of being back, I almost believed I'd never left.

Returning after being away a while is like putting on a pair of old jeans and finding they don't fit anymore. At times when you're away, you just think about them and how comfortable they feel. Problem is, you're never the same size when you return. Parts grow, parts change, some parts warp... but whatever the differences, those jeans don't feel the same.

The scientific term for all of this is reverse culture shock... I like to think of it as evidence of growth. No, I am not the same as when I left, but wasn't that the point? Doesn't everyone leave - whether for a 5* vacation or a remote missions trip; 5 days or 5 years - so that they (at least slightly) become a different person than when they left? Some seek renewal, some rest, some persective, some purpose. All want to cope better, understand more, enjoy more fully, see more clearly and live better these remaining days that make up our lives.

For me, being away is most often transforming... experience is a tool God uses for me to not be conformed to this world, but to be transformed by the renewing of my mind. It involves seeing what once was normal in a different light, and reacting as who I am now. Sometimes there is an intense desire to just be who I was, but it becomes impossible to be that person honestly.

I encourage each of you in that journey, wherever you're going, to let it transform you. We are loved too much to not be given circumstances to grow. The obvious opportunities are the ones that use airplanes, languages, and diverse cultures as the mediums. The important opportunities are what surround us everyday as we seek to be world changers in the communities we're in now.

The point of yesterday is always to prepare us for today. So friends, wherever you are, in whatever place, take the best from all you've known and bloom where you've been planted. No matter how you feel, you have been made ready for that. So let yourself be transformed by the days gone by - and get some new jeans.

India Revisited

Here is one more snapshot of India. The class I was able to teach; one of the hospitals we visited trying to find help for our spider bite and (?) dislocated hand; the only ambulance I saw my entire time (note it is an eye ambulance:)); a beautiful colourful market; and if you look 2/3 the way up the white background building, you will see a man working - with absolutely no safety devices.

Bogmolo Bogmolo Bogmolo

Bogmolo is the name of the touristy seaside town we stayed in our first 3 weeks in India. From there we travelled by bus a half hour to serve in 2 of the slum areas. These photos contain pictures of 2 people mentioned in other posts - the 4 year old boy with the ankle wound, and the 8 year old shopkeeper. There is also a snapshot of the pharmacy most of our first aid kit came from - I think if I would have wanted a nuclear bomb, it would have been found here. I believe that India still has more to teach me - it would be exaggerating to say that 6 weeks there even scratched the surface.

Gadarenes

Pictures from Jordan - these are the ancient ruins of the city of Gadarenes, the city of the demonic man that Jesus healed. He was sent back here to show people the difference in his life after he had been healed.

Rudder Me

It was a question I couldn't answer, from a stranger I don't know. Yet my reply would provide direction in one life, if not more. Any wisdom or experience I may have are not enough to answer this question - it is too big, and it means too much. So I went into my sanctuary with God; the place where, by grace, I can hear Him speak... as long as I come in honesty and with ears to hear. And so He spoke - but once again in a way that was more than I expected; He painted a picture so that when I reply, I will understand why.

It's like this - say that I ask someone who is a real estate agent/mortgage broker/financial advisor "should I buy this house?" They can say "yes" or "no", based on all of their experience. Say that person is also one of your closest friends, and they can remind you of what kind of house you want and need based on how well they know you and your house now. God is both of those things - expert and friend - and sometimes He chooses to answer in a yes/no, black/white sort of way. But more often, if we are willing to hear, He will share with us His heart on the matter.

So what He showed me this week, in my basement room huddled around a heater, was a picture of ships. As I was asking Him how one stranger can ask another stranger a life changing question, He "changed the subject" and showed me ships on an open sea. And I saw in that picture that whether we know someone for a second or a lifetime, we steer one another on the open sea. One ship passing another in the night may not say much about the ships one to another, but may be entirely about the courses those ships chose in the passing. "We all rudder one another" are the words that I thought watching this. Sometimes we steer one another to love and good deeds; sometimes to fear and selfishness. But it is almost impossible not to rudder someone, even just one degree, when we sail close enough for another ship to be affected by our waves.

Though I certainly don't have an answer yet for the question, I am in a better place to understand the importance of it. May we have the wisdom and grace to sail past others as we would have others sail past us.

Number Crunching

4 - how many weeks ago I landed back in Canada
2- how many weeks I've been away since then
3 - the number of provinces I've been in
8 - the number of beds I've slept in these 4 weeks
2000 - approx. # of kms. I've driven (personally)
2400 - approx. # of kms. I've flown (not personally)
10 - family members I've been able to see
17- friends I've been able to catch up with face to face (plus their families)
7 - of these friends introduced me to their new babies (one introduced me to 2:))
so many more - friends left to catch up with
7 - days left until returning to work
1 - faithful God who has seen me through all the changes of the last few months and weeks and will continue so into the future

I will continue to post on this site as inspiration hits, and hope to have pictures soon for all of you visual people - I know it's been a long time, sorry 'bout that!

Can you smell it?

It only happens for a few hours, maybe a few minutes when you enter a new country. You can smell it. I don't mean the smells of street stands, perfumes or hygiene, urban or rural; I mean the smell of a nation. Other senses will continue to remind you that you are in a new place or have been to one - vision compares images, sound compares languages, taste compares foods and water, touch compares climates, cultures, and topographies. With just one breath, scent can have us travel across time and space and circumstance faster than any plane. Our will is not involved in this journey; suddenly we are there, in the midst of a memory.

Since smell works by detecting changes, you can stop smelling the ordinary. Whether we spend our days in a rose garden or a pig barn, after a few minutes our noses can't pick it up. But someday, when we've left those places, those scents will bring us back. Not just where we were, but who we were and what was happening in the midst of it. This is how the mystery occurs of how one person can smell crap and think happiness, another roses and think misery. This observation is both literal and figurative.

There is another scent that lingers in the air. For some they are so inundated with it they fail to recognize it anymore. Others fear it or hate it and try not to breath it in. But those who love it can detect its aroma in every place. It is the smell of God. His book tells us that the fragrance of His knowledge is diffused in every place through those that trust in Him. For some it is the fragrance of life, others the fragrance of death - who is sufficient for these things? It is the breeze that blows through both the rose garden and the pig pen, and it is free. May each of us breath deeply today, and may it be life to us.

To all of you I will see again and for the first time - smell ya later!

Hello Canada

The answer to the riddle is:
"Having many things to write to you, I did not wish to do so with paper and ink; but I hope to come to you and speak face to face, that our joy may be full."
There are 4 books in the Bible titled John. One is long and is one of the 4 Gospels - the other 3 are short letters side by side right at the end of the New Testament. Of them all, the shortest is second John (2 John), and the words above in parenthesis are the second to last verse of this letter. This is what I am looking forward to with many of you!
Congratulations to Sarah I. for getting it right - here's looking forward to a coffee date:) And some of you have written to me to say you can't post on the comments page of this blog- I'll try and lift the restrictions I didn't know I had. You weren't willfully excluded:)

Riddle me this...

There are 4 Johns. One is big and stands alone; the other 3 short and stand beside one another. Find the second to last words spoken by the second and smallest of these - they are what I want to say to you:) May they be true of many of you, DV, starting April 2nd - I buy coffee for the first who responds and gets it right:)

Let's talk Turkey...

Another random post, friends, just to say I'm still tickin' here in Turkey. So here's the random thoughts and facts to keep you up to date:
1 - I'm an undult. Yep, that's right, an undult. I found out this fact from a 3 year old I'm spending time with these days; after you are a teenager, you become and undult. Even though she was amazed I wasn't still a teenager - sweet kid:)
2 - Even though it is in the low 20's (70's for you south-folk), it is necessary for me to wear covered shoes and a sweater here when outside. Why? Because I wasn't feeling well last week. And unless I cover my feet and arms (completely and thickly) in public, my hosts are obviously not taking care of me, and it reflects badly on them. So yep, 20+ degrees and my Chacos are at the door as I wear instead... black dress shoes... Some days I just don't feel like myself.
3 - One of my roomates and I went hiking yesterday. Up and over a hill a few minutes from our house you can explore a settlement. A made in stone, ancient ruins settlement. Now there is nothing this old in my country, and if there were, it would be taped off, preserved, and charging admission. Not here - there are SO MANY of these ancient ruins in this country that this one goes unnoticed... it is an entire city... 4 hours there hardly scratched the surface. Amazing...
4 - The computer is still kaiboshed - so much so that it is debatable that is will travel back to North America with me. So this is the still no picture explanation - you just gotta take my word for it.
5 - Have a nice day.

I don't really need it

Somewhere between India and Cyprus, I lost my flash-drive. I have a distinct memory of packing it into my checked-in luggage. The thought trail was something like "maybe I shouldn't put it here - if this pocket was opened it would be lost easily - nah, that pocket's not going to get opened"; you know, something like that. If it has ended up in Cyprus, it has found a nook or cranny somewhere that would win it a prize in hide-and-go-seek. That flashdrive holds all my backup to 2 years of pictures, presentations, music and documents.
I understood its value this week when my computer completely crashed and I lost everything. Thankfully, about half of my pictures have since been recovered due to the genius and kindness of a computer guru who's a friend of a friend's who spent 3 days with it (and wouldn't take a dime - the kindness of strangers, wow!) Everything else is khallas (my Arabic spelling for the word that means "finished").
So what was my reaction when I thought I'd completely lost 2 years of pictoral, musical, and written memory? - "Oh well, it happens." I'm not telling this story to let you know how laid back I am in annoying situations. What happened was that God drew a parallel for me in other places of my life; all of the times I've lost or been without things and catagorized them in the "doesn't really matter" pile. The problem has been that some of the things really did/do matter.
I'm finding it difficult with words to paint the picture that is so clear in my head, but if there's a point to this post, it's to encourage us all to ascribe value to the things that really matter. And if you've lost or damaged or been without those things, don't just say "oh well". I think we'd all be better off if we always put value in its rightful place - on the important things - and also took it off the things that aren't. I am in Turkey this month chillin' and childcaring, hoping to process the last few months and solidify what those important things are.

It's all relative

We arrived back in Cyprus Friday morning, and one of my first thoughts was "wow, this traffic is orderly!" But I was here recently enough the first time (5 months ago now) to know that I didn't always feel this way. And the parents of one of our students here helped to remind me by saying how much less organized the traffic is here than Costa Rica. But compared to India, the traffic is tickety-boo.
I have pictures of the Cyprus river valley from the first few weeks I was here, pictures taken to capture what I thought was a mass amount of garbage in a beautiful place. My thoughts yesterday as I walked the same valley? Man, it's clean here... sparkling, even, compared to India. You should see one picture I have of a residential area near the slums we worked in. I learned that the song "don't put your junk in my backyard, my backyard's full" can be literal.
In the last few weeks, I saw the faces of people I had only read about before I was in India. The 6 year old bride. The beggar whose employee amputates his limb so that people give him more money. The many children who have been sold by their parents to live on the street. The 8 year old shopkeeper. I have seen their faces and have had nothing to give them - no language, no communication, no clear concept of hope. But by grace for a few weeks I could walk alongside and help those that offer something real, something more. The need in India is more obvious than anything I've ever seen before in terms of sheer numbers. People there offering hope in any capacity are desperate for help. The harvest may be plentiful... the labourers are very few.
Today I'm back in Cyprus. I haven't blown black boogers out of my nose for over 24 hours; even though it's been 2 days since I've showered, I'm feeling pretty clean; it's been nice to give my sleeping bag a break (and a wash:)); the machine does a much better job getting dirt out of clothes than I do. But I did not suffer in India - I only stood close enough to observe those that do. There is much my mind and heart has left to process because of this experience. Anything I've written here is only the very tip of the iceberg. I don't mean to sound like it was hard - obviously from the examples of the other people in this posting, for me it was not. It's all relative... and from my perspective from what I've seen and experienced I have it pretty good. So enjoy your traffic and your available outdoor garbage cans today - I know I will!

Taking Inventory...

At the beginning of our 8 weeks away from Cyprus, we bought a first aid kit. And what a first-aid kit it was... sigh... beauty. So MUCH stuff in it. A crazy amount of stuff. The leaders thought I was whack... in their experiences of over 20 combined outreaches they've hardly used a band-aid. And I have to admit that I definitely stocked that kit above and beyond expectations. It's hard to take an EMT and buy a box of band-aids and think you're ready for emergencies, so I got a few extra things... and we've used just about everything! Seriously, it's been bit of a gong show... God has used the illnesses and injuries of our team and those we've been in contact with to challenge me so much. Between a ? dislocated hand, varieties of stomach problems (both vomit and diarrhea like you wouldn't believe), several whack skin ailments, and the world's largest spider bite (final dimensions were from abdomen to knee, and almost the entire circumference of the thigh,... the victim was bedridden for over 2 weeks), my mind has gotten a work out. I was thankful for the reminder from a good friend that God is wisdom and always accessible- especially with a very limited book supply and intermittent internet connection. It's also been great teaching basic community health care and disease to the students here - they are incredible attentive and fun to be with. Hopefully the bizarre ailments are done - the only thing left in our kit are gravol suppositories, malarial treatment, and IV's - any one that would make a good story if we would use them, but thankfully no volunteers yet:) Anyways, it's time for me to header to bed - lots to process are the lessons that come through the mind these days. Wow... that sentence structure sounds a little Yoda to me... really time for bed it is. Ha ha and goodnight.

One of those days...

I wanted to write about today tomorrow, after it was over. I thought it would make a better story then... you see, it's one of those days. And I'm sure there will be more of a story to tell tomorrow, but with intermittent internet and time constraints, I'm learning to write when I get the chance. (Actually, in the midst of writing this 2 days ago, I lost internet connection and couldn't post until now...)
So, at 7:25 this morning I went outside to get my pants hanging on the washing line. I had hand washed them and was anticipating wearing something clean. But I did not find them that way. In the night, the line broke, piling my clothes on the dirty ground. D-I-R-T-Y - just to be clear. But the icing on this cake was that some animal (I think a cat) which had some type of stomach problem, came and DUMPED runny crap all over my clothes. 2 pairs of pants, 1 pyjama top, and 2 pairs of underpants... The trash is not an option for 2 reasons: 1 - they can be salvaged (right now they are soaking in a strong soap mixture and I'm procrastinating from scrubbing them) and 2 - I don't have other clothes here. But this afternoon I understood the reason why. Talking with some of the girls here, the subject of value came up. What makes a person valuable? Can anything happen to them that makes them lose that value? And then I remembered my clothes. Crapped on and stinky and dirty from their horrible night... not their fault. Some may see them as no longer valuable because of the position they are in to get new clothes. But from my point of view, I can see that they just need to be washed and they will be good as new. They will lose the stains and the stink and the filth given to them. They have not lost their value; they just need to be cleaned. We spend a lifetime looking for people and places to tell us we're great just as we are - that our circumstances and choices haven't devalued us. So friends, if you are feeling crapped on and nasty today because of what has happened to you... it has not affected your worth. And there is One who can make you clean - that's a promise available to everyone.
P.S. today, 2 days later, I'm wearing the nastiest of the dump pants - 100% stain free:)

Random

Usually I like to write with some sort of theme... not so today. The thoughts in my head as I will try to sum up our time in Goa are random - snippets of ideas and information connected to eachother often only because they are from India.
1 - The little boy with the ankle wound came back, his infection far worse. We prescribed anti-biotics via telling his teacher to tell whoever would pick him up from school to tell his parents how to take them. They are illiterate so I spent time making a sun-up chart to say when he should take them... no good, his family is picture illiterate too (yes, it's a real thing). And when he returned Monday, (infection much better, thank God) his 7 day course was already finished. We spent copious amounts of water and time and rubbing to continue getting dirt out of the wound. The culprit in the end was an embedded peice of glass. I hope he will continue to heal. Even for our team who have the proper means for cleaning - humidity, sand, and filth slow the process considerably.
2 - Men's speedos aren't so bad - when compared to the local men's swimsuits here - straight up ginch... yeah, even tighty whities... I've seen it all (and presume you have too, right Sarah I.?)
3 - I am so thankful for my nation's passport that does not limit me from border crossings; my nation's health care that makes the unbelievable things I see here day to day obsolete; the sanitation system of my country that makes tap water safe to drink, puts pressure into a shower, and gets rid of waste; an education system that makes it impossible for the clerk at my local retail store to be 8 years old.
4 - Don't get me wrong - I am loving India... I haven't experienced enough of it yet to really understand the things here my own nation is missing that are still alive in this place. Every place I've been has taught me something important we have left behind in the West in pursuit of our big dreams. I know the lesson is here, I just haven't seen it yet.
5 - "Any job, anytime, anywhere" is what I think is written on the equipment at my place of employment... it could also be the motto for the bathroom here.
6 - When I first went to Africa over 9 years ago, I prayed that God would grant me not only compassion, but compassion with wisdom. You can't always give to everyone, and not all giving benefits even the recipient. I am still on this journey.
7 - I bought a pink shirt. Not all of you will understand how whack this is, but Meller I know you're smiling:)
OK... that's all. Thanks for sharing in the rabbit trails. Namastee.

Need a presciption... or something?

I've spent the last few morning in a clinic that services Banaii, a slum area of about 10 000 people. Though I was origonally assigned to visit HIV patients, I was swapped out after the discovery that I am a "nurse". Origonally, I protested this title and tried emphatically to explain the difference (several times). But how do I get introduced? - the "nurse". I am so underqualified for the expectations of this place, yet have the most education and experience in this field at this time. It has been amazing... the first patient had undiagnosed abdominal pain, and without an assessment I was asked to write him a prescription. I have since understood that it is totally expected that I write a prescription for just about every patient. I can put anything from pepto bismol (his) to morphine (I still can't imagine circumstances that would have me write this on a paper and sign it). It is so bizarre to have that authority and expectation. The next stories may not be for everyone, so if you don't like gross, you may want to stop... A little girl came yesterday, about 5 years old, her hands covered with pus sores and blisters and filled with dirt and filth. I'm not sure exactly what she has. I do know there were no gloves available as I took a needle and popped the pustuals, cleaning them as best I could with what was available. Then we bandaged up her hands and told her mother she must apply antibiotic cream and come back tomorrow to have the dressings changed as the infection is spreading. Today they didn't come. The 4 year old boy who came in today cut his inside ankle 5 days ago... today it is open, deep, and the outside tissue is beginning to die. We cleaned and flushed for half an hour but it was still dirty. I cut away the folds of his skin where it was still pushed inside the cut with dirty dull scissors we cleaned with alcohol - no freezing... He just watched and his only tears were when we attempted to pop the large bulge of pus under his skin with a needle. I hope he will return tomorrow so that we can use a scalpel to get rid of the rest. With the dead tissue still attatched, healing will be difficult. There isn't another place for him to go... I have so much to learn. So that's a peice of my day - would love to hear about yours:)

Sensing India

We have arrrived... India... I am wishing I could post pictures today as my words will fail to convey the small piece of this country I've seen. But pictures can't capture it either - they don't communicate sound or smell, taste or touch, which will be the makers of my memories here. But it is beautiful - showing you the view I will wake up to for the next three weeks alongside the beaches of Goa will make it hard to believe I'm a mercenary. It is glorious, the Arabian Sea which runs into the Indian Ocean is just 1.5 blocks from our guesthouse. And neither are there pictures of the beggars I met today, both hungry, unkempt, and persistant. The one man has no legs, and the other an old woman who was obviously not well - both for whom the few cents they get will never improve their quality of life. It has struck me again today, that for these two scenes God finds the second far more beautiful. And the noise! I guess 1.2 billion people in a nation far smaller than Canada is bound to be noisy everywhere, from the fireworks that exploded right outside our house as I went to bed to the rooster that woke me up this morning (at about 4am though it isn't light out til 7 - anyone have a memory like this:)) This doesn't account for the constant people sounds during the day, the hum of life going on as "normal". Smell... well, there's a lot of them here. I would say overall you may be glad that I can't post smells here - but there are some wonderful ones too - streets lined with spices:) Taste... the food so far has been wonderful (Nealeen, I was thinking about you today as I ate my curry, and you too, Deni, remembering how much you like it:)) But I will mention that the snacks are a little, um, weird. Touch will begin soon; I think I've been posted to assist either in a clinic of miscellaneous ages and ailments, or with work alongside people affected by HIV/AIDS. I expect perhaps that some of what I'll see in the next few weeks will far outdo my own capacity to offer love and hope. Offering "there theres" and "it's okays" for things I don't have to experience seem shallow at best. As people, we often hope and love when circumstance offer us reason... and I don't anticipate seeing a lot of reasons for these vices in these places. The mystery is that even here, they still exist to the eyes that can see. May God grant me these eyes that I can see, and at least words to explain this vision to those who can't yet see themselves - that hope and love (as well faith) are undying candles, no matter what. So I am going to header here now, to experience some of that "what", and as you move on to experience yours, I pray you will find and count your reasons for faith, hope, and love today... no matter what!

Impressions

First, I will need to apolagize to the visual viewers - my laptop is stowed away in Cyprus and has not accompanied me to Jordan, and therefore can't come to India with me tomorrow. In short, no pictures for the next few weeks - sorry about that! Which is too bad because Jordan is a hauntingly beautiful country - I have never seen topography like this before, either in the city or in the countryside. The capital looks something like out of the movies. Apartment buildings jammed together along the sides of mountains, all one colour and style, flat roofed, dirty beige, and squashed together. Many have shops on the ground floor. Traffic is a river, not a road, and driving means accepting that the lines aren't necessary reference points. The rural area is made up of a thousand shades of brown, but it is breathtaking in its own way. I don't think I've seen a single flower growing wild here. Just me - glad to be a part of this world for a little while. A few of us swam in the dead sea yesterday, and had a mud fight with the stuff that is so expensive to buy in the stores in the rest of the world... and only one real injury (Stuart's eye - he'll be ok) The people are hospitable and friendly, and the amount of food I've eaten in the last few days reflect this:) I've been trying to speak Arabic - the few words I know - and after stepping on the back of a man's shoe on the street I stated "asfar" which means "yellow" instead of "esfa" which really means "sorry". I hope he's laughed about it as much as I have... anyways, so there's the Jordan first impression... Happy new year to each of you in your places of the world - today I am enjoying mine!