Christmas Music

I love Christmas.

I think perhaps it has something to do with the fact that I’m named for my grandmother, Joann, who was a major Christmas fan as well but that's beside the point.

The point, ladies and gentlemen, is that I put on Christmas music when it is not socially acceptable to do so.

September.

June.

March.

February.

Whenever.

And before you get all judgey on me and tell me how I’ll wreck my taste for Christmas music let me explain. I love Christmas and Christmas music because it’s good news.

I need good news. I need a story to cling to, a concept to put my hopes on when I come home feeling emotionally and physically exhausted. Babies keep dying, being abandoned, losing limbs. Story after story of sad and hurt. That’s life in a fallen world anywhere. There is pain here too deep to be fixed with band-aids and platitudes. We need something deeper.

We need Christmas.

Not Santa Claus.

Not Rudolph.

Not Baby it’s Cold Outside.

The Incarnation. Christ coming to us and becoming the God-Man. 100% of each in some deep and wonderful way that I don’t understand.

I need the promise that HE was here. That HE walked our dust. That HE was temptemted in every way. That HE came and suffered for us. That HE loved us enough to come. That HE loves the babies who are abandoned, who die, who lose limbs, who are healthy, who are somewhere in between.

I think that’s why I love the book of Hebrews. Over and over again the writer stresses that Jesus came and was a worthy sacrifice. A worthy high priest. He could give as no one else could because only his sacrifice could make full and lasting atonement for the sins of the people.

I know that that’s all properly classified as theology. And I know that I can read it in Hebrews. And I do. A lot.

But then again I’m a human and I think God put a couple of desires in our hearts that explain why Christmas and Christmas music are so important to me.

First, we need music as people. Something wells up deep within us as we listen. I don’t know why. The neuroscientists are working on it but if I had to guess it is because God birthed in us a love of beauty and creativity. He himself loves music, that’s why it surrounds his throne in Revelation. And we are in his image so it follows that we too would love melody and harmony, verse and chorus.

Secondly, we need a mechanism to remember. God didn’t plan feasts just for kicks. I think he gave his people days to stop and remember because we are very easily distracted. I’m a very forgetful person. I don’t remember well on my own.  So I rely on lists in the short term. But in the long term, I need to remind me of who God is and what he has done. In the short term that’s time in the scriptures, etc. Long term, though, I think that’s why we need Easter, Christmas, Passover, and Purim. We need them to remember what God did.

And that is why I love Christmas music. The festivities are great and the music does remind me of precious times with family and friends but I need to stop and remember and music helps me do that. If a little holiday cheer is a bonus, well, I’m not going to complain.

You also should wash one another's feet.

Yesterday I got to go to an orphanage for the first time since I've been back in Kenya. It's called Bosto Children's Home and is run by the African Gospel Church, which is the denomination we are affiliated with at Tenwek.

In John chapter 13 Jesus and his disciples have gone up the the "upper room" or guest room in a house in Jerusalem to have the Passover meal together. Jesus knew that he was going to be killed and rise again and that this was his last night with all 12 of his disciples. He also knew that "he had come from God and was returning to God." And so, the scripture says, in light of all of that he took a towel and washed each of his disciples feet. In the first century this was a task for the lowest of slaves as feet were only covered with sandals and came in contact with all kinds of crazy over the course of the day. Afterward Jesus gave his disciples, and all of us, a charge - wash each others feet. Whether lower or higher than another person in age, intellect, social class, wealth, whatever, wash their feet. Wash the feet of the greatest king and the lowliest peasant. This is the gospel - to love all and to be sent to all and to be willing to do anything for the sake of the name.

Obviously washing feet is symbolic today in the west. We wash each others feet during Holy Week, on Holy Thursday when we celebrate the last supper. But we don't so much need our feet washed. It is a reminder. Instead we give time or talent, we serve when it's uncomfortable, etc.

Yesterday, though, I got a taste of real, down and dirty foot washing. And it was incredible.


Begin rabbit trail

At Jacob's Porch, the Lutheran church I attend in Columbus we often talk about the four loves - agape (sacrificial, perfect love that puts another first, think Christ dying in or stead), philos (friendship, love of others with whom we are in close community), eros (passionate love, spur of the moment, outpourings of "YES". Obviously this applies to romance but it also happens when we see an old, dear friend who has been away for awhile or when we have an amazing moment with a child we love, etc.), and stroga (love for another or a stranger.)

End rabbit trail


For me, foot washing came with some intense storga. I got to love these boys physically and pray silently over them as I cleaned off mud and grime from their feet. (I also decided that a foot washing should come with a little bit of foot rubbing because, well, it feels good to have someone rub your feet.)  I don't say all of this to pat myself on the back or to sound like a Christian who has arrived. I'm weak and frail and only just beginning to learn what it is to follow Jesus. One foot washing is a very small thing. The larger, greater thing is to give each day in small ways, to be faithful in the every day. And if there is any glory at all in washing feet then all glory should go to Christ, for he alone could take this apprehensive girl (I was quite nerved about the whole thing) and turn it into a powerful spiritual experience. But then, our God delights in showing himself in the small things.

................................

I thought it was funny to see construction equipment at the orphanage. Pictured are some of the 29 kids who were at Bosto, the other 11 were at secondary school.

Hanging with the kids

In order to bless the kids we washed each of their feet and gave them all new socks, new shoes, and a new t-shirt. Here are two of the big bags full of shoes we had.

Foot washing supplies - bucket of water, towels, and basin. There was soap too, but I didn't get a picture...

The sign in front of the orphanage

Kenyan Hills behind the orphanage

Farmed hills behind the orphanage

One of the boys wearing his new shoes next to the water buckets we used

One of the boys and me. Excuse the squinting...

Chuck Bemm sorting shoes.

Some of the kids had lots of fun with their socks!

Hannah drove us part of the way home. :)

Much love to you all. May you know the depths of the His love, "love so amazing, so divine demands my soul, my life, my all"

Joanna

Sunday night

I'm sitting in the living room with my roommate, Carolyn and a friend of ours, Laura, who came to Tenwek from England. It's been lovely to have another 20 something on the compound and to commiserate with her about life here. We're watching Robin Hood (the Disney one, which is so classic and which Laura had never seen before!) 

Monday seems like a lot. I get a few days off of math class, which is a blessing as I'm behind on other things. I struggle to know what to prioritize, as usual. I'd never been to Tenwek's ICU before last week and all of a sudden I find myself invested in so many very sick patients. So many have died this week. A baby ate a dead goat and got anthrax. He was on a ventilator and it malfunctioned when people weren't looking and he died. A woman with lupus came in with so many body systems out... she died yesterday. The pain she experienced must have been incredible. There aren't words. 

Facing another week... I don't know how to love the people in the ward. I can't treat their hurts, I can't love them the same way I want to. All I can do is take down their information, smile at them, and pray. I feel like a child with a messy picture to give as a gift to Michaelangelo. 

And yet, there is good news. 

I got to spend about 3 hours with the babies today and I had a blast. Ellie is a huge fan of the put-blanket-over-her-head-and-then-pretend-like-I-can't-find-her game. Her response was either to stick her hands up under the blanket or say "hi!" or "aboo!" after taking off the blanket. With help of the 12-14 year old girls here (there are 3) I managed to get all three diapers changed, gotta love massive amounts of poop, and got dinner on. I had a ball. 

A dear friend of mine is having a baby. It's one of those babies who was given at just the right time and I'm so excited to hear from them.

**********************************

I'm not sure what to do. On the one hand, I'm concerned about burnout factor. Simultaneously, though, I don't think there's anything wrong with getting attached to patients. Grief is great and it's okay to be sad. It's good to mourn that a life is gone prematurely. I don't want to be numb to suffering.

Romans talks about praying in groans that words cannot express and that the Holy Spirit understands those groans and puts words to them. I'm so grateful for that. In moments when it feels hard I'm also so glad for words written by people who can put things much better than I can.

We will Run, Gungor

You are on our side, Bethany Dillon

After the Last Tear Falls, Andrew Peterson

The Silence of God, Andrew Peterson

In the messiness of life, when things seem too nuts to get our arms around, may we run to him.

Joanna

Sheepish...

First of all, a few ground rules - I live in Kenya. I also have wireless internet in my apartment and that internet isn't dialup. This in and of itself is a small miracle, which I tried to remind myself last week as I constantly fought with the internet to get it up and running. Despite the fact that it made me bone up on my troubleshooting skills, largely, it was just a big pain in the neck. Carolyn informed me that something was interfering with the Tenwek server, which was over my head technologically so I wondered what was going on but kept up my daily skirmishes unabated.

That is, until today.

Today I decided to lug my computer back up to IT because the internet was not working again and I was very confused. I was told that the problem might be in the modem and that I should bring that up. I did. However, I forgot the power cord. Oops. They told me to just come back at 2:30 with the modem and power cord. Okay. I can handle simple directions most of the time so I continued on with my crazy day and waited for 2:30 to arrive.

After spending some time at the Hospital I returned home to hear Chuck call me from their porch. Not terribly surprising, but he said he had something embarrassing to tell me. Hmmm... I was then informed that the internet problems had somehow been coming from the modem Carolyn and I had inherited from other missionaries here! Oops! The folks at IT told Chuck that a mzungu (white) young lady with blue glasses had come up and, well, I'd been caught red handed in my accidental internet trouble causing.

Needless to say I turned very red and rushed up to IT. Currently they're running a bunch of tests on the modem and then they'll figure out how to get it working again. We have a temporary one and I'm very thankful we found the problem, even though I feel very sheepish.

The End.

Normalicy

There is something strange about routines. I seem to have found one and I'm so glad that I'm figuring out the best time for all of the various activities a day brings. My mornings start with a workout, then a quick hiatus for breakfast (and blogging!), and then I head up to the hospital for morning rounds at 7:30. At 8 am we have morning report, a lecture on Morbidity and Mortality, a specific disease and how to treat it, or a presentation of an interesting case from the night before. I've been learning a lot. After morning report I finish up whatever I have left to do at the hospital and scurry home to teach math class at 10:15. The rest of my morning is free to do paperwork, sort out art class, and so forth and at 1 pm we either have lunch or go up to the hospital for another lecture. Afternoons are flexible except on wednesdays when I teach art class to the 4th and 5th grade from 3-4. In the evenings Carolyn and I always cook dinner together, which is normally a fairly involved meal, eat, and talk for awhile. By the end of the day I'm totally exhausted and I'm glad to have my days so lovely and full, even if I don't have quite the down time I was anticipating. 

Please, all of you in the USA - let the Steelers know that they're disappointing those of us who appreciate Steeler football in the compound. We've got too many Colts fans and Bengals fans and Patriots fans to deal with a bad season, thank you very much. My pride is already a little bit bruised.

One unfortunate side effect of living in Africa is the bugs. We get flies of multiple varieties, ants, general flying things, moths, small roaches, and the ever present mosquitos. No pincher ant sightings as of yet, though I know that we're doomed to being pinched at some point while we're here. I've discovered that fear of pincher ants makes a person do strange things - like running across the compound in the middle of the night so they don't have a chance to latch on. But as far as bugs go, I have a personal vendetta and deep, deep hatred for cock roaches. I'm glad we don't have them and am hopeful that the trend continues. In the meantime, though, Carolyn heads up the flying bugs seige while I focus on the long campaign against anything that crawls. If we have to open up a new "roach focused" arm to our strategy, then so be it. 

Love to you all!

Joanna

Home Sweet Home

Growing up I lived in the same house for all of my life (that I could remember, that is.) The last few years I've moved around a ton - into a dorm, into a new dorm, back home, to Africa, back home, into an apartment, to a great friend's house, and now to Kenya. As much as I'm looking forward to moving somewhere and living there for more than a few months I'm feeling very settled in to my new digs.

Our front door. I love the flower beds. Shadrach and Ellie love to climb on the chairs and look at me while I look out the window

My roommate Carolyn in our living room. (Unfortunately I forgot to tell her I was taking the picture...) The kitchen table faces the window and it's an awesome spot to work.

The kitchen. Note the freshly baked bread in zliploc bags on the counters and the very much beloved coffee maker and hot pot.

Laundry area of the kitchen. Our washer is great and our clothes get hung up to dry outside, one of my favorite chores. Being outiside, wrangling a big, wet, sheet, figuring out which clothes pins have decided to work.

My bedroom. The blue mosquito net makes my night.

My desk in the corner of the room. Love it.

View from the door to my room.

One of the greatest blessings of being here is the wonderful surroundings. The outside is beautiful and the inside is sweet and very much home already. I often think of the idea that home should be an oasis and coming home here feels that way.

Well, I'd write something profound but I'm tired and I'm getting up at some ridiculous hour of the morning to watch part of the Steeler game with some of the missionaries (some of whom like the Colts! So sad...) Anyway, so I think I'm gonna go to bed now.

Love to you all!
Joanna

Happy Birthday Shadrach!

Today I learned some things.

I learned about the fact that I can, in fact, do pushups. I learned that P90X hurts when you haven’t done enough workouts in between trips to Africa. I learned a few new cultural nuances. I learned some new medical terms. I learned a little more about teaching.

But the part about today that I think I’ll remember for the longest time is that today I learned about evil.

We like to pretend that it’s not there, that there’s no such thing as a battle. We read about it in books (The White Witch, The Wicked Witch of the West, etc) but it feels far away. Today I saw the battle, it’s a sobering and hard place to be. I met a baby today who is so sick and malnourished and abused. So tiny at 2.5 years old that I think I know some kids who were born outweighing her. She has a brittle bone disease that will make her life more challenging. It was heartbreaking, to see what had happened to her. I don't want to blame anyone, I just need to grieve that such a sad thing has happened. I just want to lift this little one up to the savior.

The world is broken. Evil exists. For some reason I don’t understand it is allowed to continue. Romans says that “the whole creation is groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up until the present time.”

These are the moments when all I can say is in the words of an old song we used to sing at Jacob's Porch "Come, Lord, quickly, come" and grieve the brokenness and bentness of our world.

But I also saw hope today. I saw hope because today we celebrated the birthday of a sweet little man named Shadrach. God provided a loving family for him and a home that is stable and where he’ll be safe. Even though it’s easy to look out at the masses and despair, I’ll keep holding onto the pinprick of hope that I see. Much has gone wrong, so many babies are dying and hurting, there is so much restoration left undone, but today, I see hope in the faces of Shadrach, Esther, and Ellie. And I even saw hope in the little one who came through Tenwek at 10 pounds and 2.5 years – she is going to a wonderful orphanage where she’ll be loved and cared for an someday she’ll be given a home just like Esther, Ellie, Shadrach, and Hannah have. There is hope for these lives. And there is hope for each of ours.

Three ladies outside my apartment hanging out on a tree. They're also all in my 4th and 5th grade art class. Today we had "tea and crumpets" in the apartment and my roommate did a very convincing English accent as she served the pretend food. I struggled with the accent so I focused on my curtsies.

A lymeric (spelling?) written by one of my other art students. I was really impressed by his poetry... I certainly couldn't manage all of that structure!

Three of the Tewnek teenagers - the two in the front are some of my three Pre-Algebra students. Those guys are all tons of fun! (Though they think a lot of my music is lame)

Ellie showing off her big smile!

Me holding Esther (aka Eh-der aka Anne of Green Gables. Really, if they had a part for 1 year old Annes, Esther would nail the audition.) She loves cuddles too and I'm making the most of that.

Shaddy with his brand new Tonka truck. The ladies at my church were so generous - I took 2 suitcases of donations with me, including the Tonka Truck which is being played with and loved by a newly two year old boy :)

Ellie wasn't so into the whole cupcake thing, unless her dad fed it to her. She's a little goofball.

Esther, on the other hand, was all about cupcakes. She LOVES to eat

Shaddy getting to dive into the wonders of the birthday cupcake

My wonderful roommate Carolyn and Esther in front of our apartment 5-plex

May you see the pinprick of hope in your every day, may there be majesty in the mundane, and know that "the joy of the journey is enough to make a grown man cry"

Joanna

In Kenya!

Chamague!

In Kipsigis that is the traditional greeting. It translates to “Do you love yourself” and the answer (Mising) means “yes, very much.” I’m enjoying getting back into Kenyan culture, even if I find myself a little out of my depth. Being out of my comfort zone is challenging, which is good for me, even if it makes my knees knock together sometimes.

I arrived in Kenya last Tuesday and was so glad to be met by Amy Bemm at the baggage counter! They’d lost one of my bags and having someone to help me figure out all of the crazy that had to happen to get it sent out here was such a huge blessing. Once we’d gotten all of that sorted we headed off to shopping and lunch and (at last) the long drive to Bomet. Luckily I slept through most of the three hours and enjoyed the nap tremendously. Once I arrived I spent most of the evening unpacking and settling in. Last night I hung the last of the pictures that needed to get put up in my room so it feels very much like home in here. It’s so fun to look next to me and see pictures of my family hanging on the wall.

Life in Africa is, by necessity, slower than life in the states. I’ve decided that I’m going to enjoy the time that it takes to do simple things and to find God in the mundane work of washing dishes, bleaching vegetables, hanging wash out to dry, and doing daily battle with the internet. Being thankful for small things and being faithful in doing them has been my greatest learning curve this week and one I think I’ll be working on mastering for a long time yet. I have been blessed with a very neat roommate (a necessity as I can be a major slob) and somehow knowing that Carolyn will appreciate it if the dishes are cleaned up makes it infinitely more enjoyable to do it. Since so much of my time has been spent puttering around the house I’m very thankful that it’s been so pleasant!

I have especially enjoyed my time with the kiddos around the compound. Everyone is bigger than they were last year, most notably Hannah who is getting tall and lanky. My days of being taller than that girl are numbered and I’m glad she’s 4 so I’ve still got a few years of height and weight advantage while tickling left! The three new babies at the Bemm house are tons of fun – Joshua Shadrach (Shaddy), Elizabeth Mercy (Ellie) and Esther Gloria (Esther). Each has their own wonderful quirks and personality and I’ve enjoyed hanging with them in the little nook between the Bemm house and the apartment made by a little valley. The cuddles are quite wonderful.

As for life at the hospital I hope to begin regularly attending Morning Report and rounding (sometimes) as well. Watching surgeries is a great passion of mine, especially cleft palates and stuff in the eye ward. Opthalmology is wonderful because you give someone back their sight, which is incredibly rewarding. Things continue to move along research wise as well and I’m slowly ticking off my list of people to meet with, documents to compose, and things to do before getting started on the study itself.

Well, it’s off to make some Thai Curry for dinner. Indian food is easy to come by here and I’m sure that by the time it comes to leave I’ll have developed a huge appetite for curry. :)

In Him,
Joanna

World Traveller?

I thought it might be fun to post a map of the places I've been so far on this crazy journey. I've been to places in blue and lived in places in red. :) Hope you all enjoy maps as much as I do... or maybe not... because if there's a way to love maps too much... I think I found it... oops.



Sometimes I think that I'm well travelled. I've been to 5 of 6 continents, blah blah blah. But then I look at the map and I see all the places I haven't been! Even in the countries the maps say I've visited, I've generally only been to a city or two. I don't know every nook and cranny of the place. I haven't explored the variety of restaurants, haven't found the best park or looked for an apartment. I went, saw the sights, did service projects, and left. It's broadening to go somewhere new and I love love love the adventure of traveling. Simultaneously, though, I love being home. We can spend a lifetime getting to know the people closest to us. It's an adventure without an end, a joyous pursuit into the soul of another. To be honest, it's the kind of travel I'm most excited about these days.

Moving to Africa

It's funny, reading back through this blog, especially the last post I wrote about leaving Kenya. I'm so surprised that God has done a marvelous work in the last year and has provided me with blessings that I didn't even begin to imagine. I am now moving to Africa. (gulp) There are some wonderful things and some crazy circumstances. Most days I feel like my feet aren't quite on the ground, and I think that's okay. Here's some of what's happening....

• Finances are looking good. I have enough money for the year, I think, with a little left over for things that I'm not aware of now. Praise the Lord for his provision for funding when I didn't even ask for it!
• My packing list grows daily and I'm starting to wonder how many crates are going to be going with me to Kenya... (and how much the airline is going to charge me!)
• I have a 13 hour layover in London on September 12 to fritter away and I wonder how I'll choose to spend my precious European hours
• Logistics continue to dog me, from getting approvals from Tenwek and Ohio State, to figuring out the nitty gritty of enrollment, a semester switch, etc. I met with a wonderful advisor today in the Honors and Scholars center and she passed my case to another coworker who is taking over as the financial aid contact. I wonder how big the "Joanna Daigle" file is...
• 
  

I'm adjusting to life as a vagabond. I moved twice between 10 months and 2 years and didn't move again until college. In the last two years I've moved five times and I'll be moving again! My bedroom at home looks incredibly bare as the last boxes have been sorted through. It's teaching me a simpler way of living and, if I were smarter, it'd be teaching me a lot about staying organized.

There are moments when I realize I'm going to Kenya and I cry. I can hardly believe how blessed I am to be able to go "home" to Kenya with a dear friend and a new roommate who I get to meet, a doctor named Matilda who is a wonderful godly woman and a great mentor, and my Africa family to meet me with three new additions! What an amazing God we serve!

And then there are the other moments. I've been feeling overwhelmed lately and, honestly, frightened at times. Kenya is a beautiful place but it is also a smelly place. It is a place where diseases progress farther than they do in the USA and a place where sanitation is not as good. It is a place that is utterly far away from my family and I know I'll miss them. Moving to Africa sounds scary sometimes. But I've found comfort too, in the kindness of the savior.

You see, we went and watched a terrible play yesterday. Yeah, I know, a sacreligious play that we thought would be respectful doesn't sound like a time to have a breakthrough, but it was. Jesus Christ, Superstar is about the Passion but it protrays Jesus as sniviling and Judas as a hero. Gross. In one scene the sick come to Jesus in ghost-like rags and ask him to be healed. It's a creepy song and the characters come at him until he is surrounded and completely covered by their wailing shapes. He then has a moment of "ach! I can't do this!", proclaims "heal yourselves" in a loud voice (well said.... or not), and rushes into the loving arms of a certain Mary Magdalene. Right. So. Not something I'd have expected or hoped to see. But I was surprised. I'd never thought of Jesus being overwhelmed and he wasn't. Jesus could look at everyone and see a person with dignity, which is a goal of mine I feel like I largely fail at because I tend to be rather preoccupied with avoiding looking stupid, among other things. That's reflection A. Reflection B is that Jesus didn't run to Mary Magdalene for comfort and strength. He actually ran to the Father. I don't do that well enough. I'm working on instituting some spiritual disciplines into my life and some practical disciplines as well (it's time to be a big girl and make my bed.) I hope that in these coming days I'll learn more and more of what it is to derive my strength from the Father and to shun the idea of doing anything on my own.

May we all be empty vessels, at his disposal.

Joanna

Musings

Here's my Brain Potluck that I served myself this morning... In reality I was sipping on coffee... but hey, it's nice to think that I was feasting on thoughts and scribbling down ideas of my own. Enjoy the hodge podge!

So it's January, but I feel like posting this little compilation of thoughts I put together in October before a class started.

I saw a grand thing for a bit. It was a beautiful dream, the kind that makes you step back and gasp at the wonder of it all. A picture was before me and I wanted to jump into it, to go on the journey I saw in it, like Edmund, Lucy, and Eustace in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader.

But I couldn’t jump into the picture.

As beautiful as the dream was, as much as I liked it, I found that I had to let it go. And it wasn’t that I had to drop it, scorn it, never return to it. I was simply called to move it from something I was actively moving toward to something that may be brought to me. And I find that I’m not to clutch for it, to wish to have it back more than a little, to long for it above all else. Rather, I’m simply called to pray “thy will be done” and trust that there are works for me to do in the here and now. I find blessings in these days I didn’t expect, freedom that I find surprisingly comforting.

I have been given good things. I have not been given the good thing I dreamed about, the thing I wanted. But if I fixate on that one thing I didn’t get I’ll lose all the good things I do have by neglect. So I’m diving into what I have been given, grieving the loss of a grand dream, trying not to wonder whether I’ll ever get it back.

I find there are some things I won’t be. I won’t ever be a great artist, I gave that dream up to pursue science. There are other things I may be – I may be a great scientist, a doctor, a wife, or a mother. But I doubt I’ll be all of them. And I doubt that if I had all of them I’d escape with my sanity intact.

But there are some things I know that I will be. I will always love children. I will always be a daughter, a sister, a friend. I will always be curious, a lover of learning and discovering. I will always love traveling and going on adventures. And, best of all, I will always be a daughter of the King, known and loved by the one who made the world.

And I find there is only one whom I can trust with my dreams. For he has promised never to leave me or forsake me, that his plans are for prospering, bringing hope and a future. He has promised that he’s always working for the good of those he loves, and I know that he loves me! He has proven himself faithful on countless occasions and in a myriad of ways. So why not trust him with my little hopes and dreams? The little that I have is being brought to the altar once again to be refined by the great artist. Let him do as he wills, who am I, a mere creature, to talk back to the creator? I only wish to be faithful to whatever he task he sets before me.

This poem has meant a lot to me since I found it a few weeks ago in an anthology of Amy Carmichael's Poems. It's called Discipline.

"Who frames his God

As One whose love unstern

Has never wrought for Man a fiery law,

Has never scourged the son whom he received

Whose holiness does not burn

Against iniquity-

He has conceived

What is not. For no myth, God's awful Rod.

Dost doubt it? Go to Calvary.

See there what angels saw,

The sinless One made sin.

Dost doubt it still? Well, be it so,

But know,

Within

All is not well with thee."

Search me, my God;

Seek to the very ground

Of this my shifting and deceptive heart;

Probe keenly, prove me, and examine me,

O God, and see

Whether in rooms within me set apart

From casual search be found

That which requires Thy Rod.

Look well, look well, my God.

Thus pondering, I prayed

By Christ's good grace;

And in a secret place

Was made aware

Of piled up debris, stubble of desire

Vain-glorious, foolish, fuel for the fire

That must burn where

God's righteous judgements are made known to me.

Fell swiftly then

The Rod of God

But I , surprised

Uncomprehending, blamed

The happenings of my day. Had they conspired

To harass me unkindly? Innocent me?

Till suddenly

That bitter thing, the greatly undesired,

That smiting makes ashamed,

I saw. Thus being chastised,

God's Rod I recognized.

I saw Him who my times

Revere, obey;

I saw Him in my day,

Now evident

To quickened conscience to which circumstance

Is no mere play of irresponsible chance,

But planned intent.

Oh, then I did my holy God adore,

Who was before

Unrecognized.

Thus, my kind Father, God,

Did use His Rod

Which is no myth but veriest verity.

He who of old time wrote

That he would smite, now smote.

Yet never, never has He dealt with me

After my sins, or my iniquity

Had ended me.

Oh Father, Thou

Before whom, in my spirit I do bow,

Stripped naked of my hideous vanity,

I own Thee just, I own Thee Fatherly.

I bless Thee that Thou didst not let me go

Undealt with, as too trivial to know

Severity of scourging. This thy work

Continue, Father, for I would not lurk

An unregarded child, undisciplined;

But, knowing I have sinned,

Oh, let me know I am forgiven. Art

To palliate sin flies from me; Father, right

Are these Thy judgements; therefore smite.

Oh Love, made manifest in this Thy Rod,

My God, my God.

Some thoughts from this morning

Right now, I feel like I’m sitting on a hilltop with a few of my dearest of friends. It is nighttime and the stars are out. The moonlight shines on the valley, making things that would be invisible possible for us to see. At the bottom there is a sweet little town, full of people bustling about their little busy lives. And two by two, we watch a man come to a woman take her hand, and walk down into the valley. We sit and watch rejoicing. We wonder whether anyone will come for us. We wonder whether we will be able to choose someone. We wonder if we are capable of loving as they are at all. But mostly we rejoice, or at least, we struggle to rejoice. We know that our God has given us our time on the hilltop and that while the journey into the valley is wonderful, it is also long and hard. We know that disobedience is not an option and we have felt Him say, “wait.” We have seen a grand thing from the hilltop, but we are content to stay there in today because it is where we have been placed by the Great Author. And oh, we love to read his stories. We love to act our parts in his great drama. We ache to be faithful. Sometimes we talk about these things, sometimes we only feel them deep inside. And so, watching and wondering in the summer nighttime, we sit together, enjoying the companionship of today. We on the hillside have been given the gift of each other even as those walking down have been given their partner. It is beautiful.

Before I go return to Ochem and Spanish vocabulary words, I'd like to include a passage from my friend Oswald Chambers' devotional My Utmost for His Highest that has been challenging me.

Worship is giving God the best that He has given you. Be careful what you do with the best you have. Whenever you get a blessing from God, give it back to Him as a love gift. Take time to meditate before God and offer the blessing back to Him in a deliberate act of worship... God will never let you hold a spiritual thing for yourself, it has to be given back to Him so that He may make it a blessing for others... The measure of the worth of our public activity for God is the private profound communion we have with Him. Rush is wrong every time, there is always plenty of time to worship God. Quiet days with God may be a snare. We have to pitch our tents where we shall always have quiet times with God, however noisy our times with the world may be. There are not three stages in spiritual life - worship, waiting, and work. Some of us go in jumps like spiritual frogs, we jump from worship to waiting, and from waiting to work. God's idea is that the three should go together. They were always together in the life of Our Lord. He was unhastening and unresting. It is a discipline, we cannot get into it all at once. - January 7th Reading

May you know his peace that passes understanding. May it guard your hearts and minds in our dearest Lord, Christ Jesus

Jo