Christ is Risen! {Multitudes on Monday: an Easter photo journal}

He is risen indeed!

for when the only way out is through {Multitudes on Monday}

{An honest glimpse of our reality from several weeks ago, still on the road…}

“The secret of happiness is not in doing what one likes, 

but in liking what one has to do.” 

~James M. Barrie (1860-1937), Scottish novelist and dramatist

I feel crazy. 

No, I feel dry and helpless.

Someone else has my baby, my boys are parked in front of the TV, I’ve just packed up our bags for the umpteenth time, and my heart feels so dry.  I felt like I just couldn’t do one more thing (pack lunches, pack dinners, do something creative with the boys) until I wrote down some of how I’m feeling.

I’m dying to be a good Mom.  I’m dying to not have “stress spikes” that make everyone else in my family miserable.  I’m dying to memorize Ann’s Romans passages, to start exercising again.  My heart feels thin and my tummy feels fat and flabby.  

When my heart runs dry, and there’s no song to sing…

No holy melody, no words of love within

I recall the height from which this fragile heart has slipped

And I remember You

I will turn back and do the things I used to do

For the love of You

Matt Redman

I feel like I have to put my life on hold, to live my life.  Like, in order to obediently complete the life God has asked me to live, I have to put all the things I long to do on hold.  I know in my heart that’s not really true, but today, as we contemplate getting on yet another plane, with 11 more days, and then an international journey, 2 more weeks of yet another country, and a grueling all-nighter to get back to our house - which will probably be filled with cobwebs and freezing cold… as I look at that, my heart sinks within me.  I quail.  I can’t do this!  I don’t want to live this day, this life!  How can this possibly be good for us?

What about the healthy rhythms?  How in the world do I maintain those, when my baby is still waking up 2-3 times every night, and I despair of going to sleep because I know I will not feel any more refreshed or rested in the morning.  I lie there with eyes open, aching, frustrated.  

I feel like I have to wait to start exercising again, memorizing Scripture, creating music, cooking creatively, until we get back to our “settled” life.  But that’s another whole month away, and we’ve already been 5 months in transition.  When I think those thoughts I feel like screaming. 

So what’s really going on here?  What’s pushing me?  Ann’s beautiful blog, maybe?  Ok, well, what do I see when I read her blog?  Health.  Contentment.  Peace.  Fulfillment.  Rest.  Intentionality.  Creativity.  Beauty.  All the things I long for and desire.  All the things I’m craving this morning, none of which I feel is true of me right now.  My socks don’t match my shirt.  My muffin-top tummy sticks out over my pants.  My hair is frizzy, boring, pulled half up, exactly the way it always is.  My face is unmade-up and blotchy with tear stains.  I’m sitting on the floor in the guest room with our borrowed bedding piled next to me, our borrowed bed behind me, the carpet still dented with the wheels of our suitcases.  

Sometimes this life just doesn’t make sense.

James read Psalm 30 to me this morning, and it was these words that sang to me:

2 O LORD my God, I cried to you for help,

and you have healed me.

3 O LORD, you have brought up my soul from Sheol;

you restored me to life from among those who go down to the pit.

4 Sing praises to the LORD, O you his saints,

and give thanks to his holy name.

5 For his anger is but for a moment,

and his favor is for a lifetime.

Weeping may tarry for the night,

but joy comes with the morning.

Psalm 30:2-5

Joy comes with the morning.  

I do not feel like that is true today.  I feel like despair came with this morning.  

But the reality is: It IS true.  Those words ARE true, whether I feel like they are or not.

Joy comes with the morning.  

If the punctuation of the last verse of Psalm 30 were slightly different, it would read like this: 

12 that my glory may sing your praise and not be silent, O LORD my God, 

I will give thanks to you forever!

In order that my glory may sing praise and not be silent (oh, how I feel like being silent!), I need to give thanks.

Thank You that my baby girl has almost doubled her birth weight in four months and is plump and happy, unlike the starving babies I read about this morning in Christianity Today.

Thank You that my boys are happy, healthy and learning how to be holy, despite all my weaknesses and failings.

Thank You that my husband paused to kiss me through my tears and whisper, “We’re doing this together… we need each other… I’ll help you and you help me.”  

And thank You for the words James gave back to me then, the same words I gave to him a few days ago when he was spiraling into frustration: 

“The only way out is through!”

Help me Lord, 

to give thanks and not be silent, 

that my soul might sing praise on every day, 

no matter where in the world I am 

or what lies in front of me to do.

for when you take water for granted

I used to take indoor running water completely for granted.  

Not anymore.

For reasons we have yet to understand, the man who controls the water pump in our village only turns on the water three times a day.  To combat this, we installed two huge tanks in our basement that fill up when the town water’s turned on, and a pump to move the tank-water through our house when the town water’s turned off, creating 24-hour running water in our house.  (I think we’re only house out of 4000 in our village who considers this a priority.  Those lucky enough to have indoor plumbing just deal with the on-off mess, and those without just draw water in buckets from the local pump on their street.)  In warm weather, our tank system works great.  In winter… not so much.  

After our delectable two weeks in warm tropical sunshine, we returned to sub-zero temperatures to find the water pipes to our house from the street frozen solid.  (A common occurrence - every house on our street currently has their pipes frozen, for lack of proper insulation and being buried too shallow.  Why they didn’t bury them deeper to begin with, since the winters here have always been frigid….)  We hired a welder to use his element to thaw the pipes, and the town water obligingly flowed into our tanks for the day and we did laundry and took showers … and then the pipes froze again overnight.  In the past month since getting back, we’ve called that same welder every 3-4 days - once we’ve used up all the water from our basement tanks, and then spent at least one day dipping water out of the two barrels we store in our kitchen and bathroom.  

We are so ready for spring.

But… I’m trying hard to be thankful.  And here are the things I’m most thankful for in this trying situation:

1. Running water.  I will never take it for granted again. 

2. This welder, willing to come a couple times a week for a minimal fee and spend 2+ hours in our basement thawing our pipes. 

3. Our tank system, and my husband who faithfully maintains its finicky valves and adjustments. 

4. My new house helper, Ellen, who is used to not having running water and happily dips water and boils it on the stove to wash my mountain of dishes each morning. 

5. Her sparkly head-scarf that catches the morning sunlight and throws it in dancing dapples across the ceiling, eliciting shrieks of delight and wild gyrations from both my boys!   

6. How my daily mountain of dishes magically shrinks and transforms under her capable fingers from slimy, grime-encrusted to shining and clean.   

7. The fact that spring is just around the corner...

exercising the gratefulness muscle

Another Monday… and I’m struggling to be grateful.  This gratefulness thing is like a muscle in my heart: when I consistently give thanks, the habit gets stronger and stronger and joy flows steadily, even in inconvenience.  When I stop for a few days (or a few weeks), my heart-muscle degenerates quickly back into mushy complaining, and the world goes back to looking gray and dour.  

Maybe it’s because I’m so “all or nothing” - if I don’t write down a whole list in a day, I just don’t write down anything at all.  And I feel awful.  Bland.  Joyless.  Guilty.  Heavy.

How do I keep strengthening this gratitude-muscle?  What if I gave thanks for just three things a day?  What if I wrote down JUST ONE THING?

The cross of Christ.

My healthy, thriving children.

My faithful, loving husband.

A roof over our heads.

Aren’t these things true every single day?  And couldn’t remembering to give thanks for them spark joy every single time?

I write “Feb 20” at the top of a fresh page in my gratitude journal, and start new today: 

1199. New praise from Kari Jobe1200. Fresh sounds, inspiration1201. WATER RUNNING1202. Living Water1203. Chicken and dumplings1204. A little more energy1205. That even though I keep taking my eyes off of You, You shine out so gloriously that You call me back to You, and I come running

Deep down, under the tiredness and the water issues and the depressing, defeating state of affairs we’re currently walking through, I can feel the joy-trickle start.  

He never changes.  

He is always the same.  

He is always Joy Himself, Joy-filled, and able to Fill with Joy.  

*****

What do you do to exercise your gratitude muscle when you just don’t feel thankful?

grace poured down {Remembering December: Part 4}

For the month of December, I counted doggedly to 1000, scribbling blue-inked gifts lists across fields of white paper, pounding new habit-nails on top of complaints, criticism and stress…. Hungering for joy.  In those moments, joy came slow, if it came at all.  I didn’t feel much of anything.  

But now, warm January sun streaming through the window, paging back through lists of hundreds and hundreds of graces - all poured down in just one month - the joy begins to well, deep and strong.  

All is grace.  I lived it, counted it, for 31 days straight, over 30 gifts every day (and for each one written, so many more slid past unnoticed).  

I review the gifts of December, and I remember… 

December 26

834. Cleaning out the toy cupboard 

835. Presents to give away
836. Poor people to give to
837. Ben carrying Arli’s present all the way there by himself, bouncing the bag along the ground, refusing to let me take it

838. Boys learning the joy of giving
839. Three boys, with no common language except joy and boyhood, playing wild in a threadbare living room 840. The ability to buy this family a ton of coal
841. That Jesus loves them enough to die for them

855. Having the perfect Christmas present for a friend: bamboo knitting needles
856. Her genuine pleasure
857. Being able to say God arranged it (I bought them in August)
858. The hope that their curiosity in God will grow
859. She and her husband pairing up with my boys to “box”
860. Fits of laughter all around

861. The stars on the way home862. Explaining to William how God knows each star by name, 

and William saying, “Does He just call them ‘stars’?” 

 “No, each one has a name.” 

 “What are they?” 

 “I don’t know - why don’t you ask God?” 

 “God, what are the names of the stars?”

863. The faith of a child

December 27

886. Twenty packages of cookies assembled for the neighbors
887. Planning ahead
888. Thirteen homes visited
889. Thirteen presents given

892. Thirteen conversations

893. Two or three interested parties
894. The Holy Spirit’s discernment
895. Words to explain things in this language
896. Open homes
897. This friendly, hospitable culture
898. The hope of glory

899. Discovering that our new street has four other ethnicities besides ours
890. James serving lunch when I got back 

909. The way Ben cuddles into me when I read to him before naptime
910. Led to open the word during rest time
911. The joy and challenge of personal goal setting
912. The way my “Year of Letting Go” (more on this later) is overlapping and dovetailing with my “Year of Here” 

December 29

933. Grace for a new day

934. Avalon’s “How Great Thou Art”
935. Climbing out of the pit
936. That Your lovingkindness never ceases
937. And Your mercies are new every morning
938. Building new habits, one nail at a time 939. Hope
940. Being in the 900’s at the end of this year
941. Being blind before and now SEEING

942. Fighting crankiness with thanks 

972. Water for showers and laundry and dishes
973. When I turned Avalon up loud, Will exclaiming, “Let’s get all the instruments! PRAISE GOD!”
974. How gospel music can make it fun to wash the dishes
975. Shaving my legs in stages to get ready for our holiday at the beach in two weeks -- the bigger the smooth patch, the closer we are to having a break! 

December 31

991. Breakfast in bed! Banana pancakes and coffee!
992. 6 happy years of marriage 993. My husband gifting me time for a lovely walk by myself
994. Poetry forming
995. Glory all around: mountains, fields and sky

998. How blessed we truly are

999. My husband’s gifts to me: poetry, a promise of dates to plan, a promise of music to make

1000. The privilege of living in this place, with these people

1001. Salmon for New Year’s dinner!

1002. Fireworks in our backyard!
1003. Mulled white wine with rosemary, lemon and honey
1004. A fire in our fireplace
1005. Counting past one thousand gifts in one month, and knowing they will just keep on coming -- and coming -- forever

a new way of seeing

like a bird on a wire

awareness of grace

turns commonplace

into glory and fire

like wood to a tree

like waves to the sea

let thanks become

the fiber of me

Christmas graces {Remembering December: Part 3}

While I counted my December gifts, racing to 1000 in the last month of 2011, each new habit-forming nail pounded hard.  

I glimpsed joy now and then, but my heart wasn’t flooded.  

Now, looking back, reading through the poetry of grace after grace, joy wells deep and full...

624. Ginger cookies in process
625. Andrea Bocelli
626. Enchiladas for supper

656. Any internet at all
657. Thanks-filled heart buoyant, lifting
658. The fact of cookie dough
659. Ben learning how to pretend, exaggerated: “Shh! QUAH-yet, Mama! Dey LI-yun SEE-ping!” (the lion’s sleeping)
670. Brownies cooling on the counter

661. The hum of our happy furnace

686. Our Advent Calendar - that today (Dec 19) is the camel

692. Candles when the power goes out
693. The flood of light when the power comes back on

776. Leaving the dishes for later
777. Nice things to do tonight: mull wine, ice our Christmas cake

778. Presents to wrap
779. Stockings to hang
780. Anticipation

798. Christmas morning!

800. Jesus born as a little baby, for our sins
801. My red Christmas sweatpants from my Mom
802. Bacon and kiwifruit for breakfast!
803. Running water most of the time (we just ran out)

815. James made stuffing!
816. The smell of chickens roasting
817. Ham for lunch! A once a year treat!

818. The Christ candle lit and burning brightly

820. Spinach dip
821. Mulled wine
822. Lovely guests finally here
823. Wonderful meal my husband prepared! (roasted chicken with stuffing, mashed potatoes, gravy and baked pumpkin)
824. All I had to do was peel potatoes, lay out pumpkin and stir gravy!

825. Wonderful time of fellowship, reading the Word and praying
826. Hearts connecting 

827. Boys playing wild and happy
828. Genuine compliments on my home-making from my sister here
829. Feeling full in every way

831. Boys sleeping hard
832. Surfaces re-emerging
833. A long happy day coming to a peaceful close

Christmas grace.  Delicious.  Sweet.  

{Best of all, tomorrow continues CHRIST-mas grace towards you, and me, and all!}

really SEEING grace {Remembering December: Part 2)

I breathe slow.  

I flip pages of white, lists scrawled in blue.  My counting to 1000 the last month of the year.  Numbers jump off the page, memories of grace...

197. That God protected Ben’s skull (he fell off our bed backwards and hit the radiator)
198. Good doctor advice
202. Ben sleeping through the night despite his cut head
203. A working hand and a pen to write down gifts
206. A doctor only a phone call away

208. A new furnace being installed!
209. Running water
210. A working washing machine
211. Electricity to run the washer
212. Load of bloody clothes (Ben’s) getting cleaned
213. Righteousness as filthy rags, the blood of Jesus that cleanses from sin 

283. Daddy playing with the boys at lunchtime instead of doing the furnace!
284. A diesel furnace, installed and working!

301. The Rilke quote on my kitchen desk
302. The image of a tapestry of my life
303. The Holy Spirit's patterning - much more beautiful and balanced than mine could ever be 

367. The chance to study the Bible in this language
368. My house helper
369. A new, fresh week unrolling
370. Wearing my grandmother’s sweater, who’s with Jesus right now

407. A trip to the bazar alone
408. Riding home with a cow’s head in the taxi trunk!

417. A prolonged Russian lesson
418. A friend who won’t let me quit and who’s adorable while doing it!
419. Naptime, finally!

421. And all at once, 

with the releasing of threads and picking them up again one at a time, as directed; 

with the holding of everything loosely 

and the delicious expectation of every day beginning differently 

and containing different things, ordered by the Pattern-Maker, 

I am suddenly and ridiculously happy. 

Is this the secret of being content in all things? 

And is contentment the wellspring of joy?

434. Grace and more grace
435. Losing my temper 4 times in half an hour - thankful for grace and my kids showing it to me
436. Stability restored

455. A stage to sing on
456. Tired souls to sing to
457. Christmas carols and the truth of them

458. Finding chicken breast sold in our town!
486. IBProfin
487. Warm soft wool sweaters
488. A good nap
489. A neck warmer
490. Hot tea
491. Chicken soup for dinner

545. A fifteen-minute walk all by myself
546. A cluster of red berries
547. Snowy lanes
551. Everything encrusted with crystal
552. Sparkling grape vine tendrils at eye level
553. The gift of new awareness

573. A long sleep-in!
574. Ready-made breakfast!
575. A gracious husband!

While I wrote my December gifts, climbing doggedly towards joy, each new habit-forming nail pounded hard.  Dull.  Mundane.  

But looking back, the joy comes steady.  Looking back, I can see grace.  

all IS grace {Remembering December: Part 1}

I crossed the finish line on New Year’s Eve, wrote down my one thousandth gift from the last 31 days of the year.  {And for every gift-moment I numbered, so many more slid by unsung; God is truly gracious and generous.}

But the counting-challenge was a fight.  Like pounding new nails on top of old ones, making a new habit is hard work.  And the joy trickled in slowly for me, if it came at all.  I struggled to keep it a real-time, real-connection-with-Jesus exercise, not just one more task to finish each day, filling up the numbers to 1000.  Where is the praise, the glory, the joy? I kept thinking.  In writing gifts, shouldn’t the very act of moving my pen across the page uplift me to the Giver?  

I am so sinful.  Painfully, acutely aware of my own imperfection pressing down on me, bursting out of me.  Counting gifts was like struggling to breathe heavy, gasping from under the weight.  

But - at least I’m breathing.  At least my gratitude-lungs drew breath after breath, all day, every day of December, and at least I tried to remember to pound a gratitude nail instead of a critical, wounding word.  And now I have my December 2011 preserved in long white pages of lists, the positive recorded, the negative forgotten, or transformed into praise.  

I flip pages and remember…

5. Starting our Advent Calendar: little voices repeating the story.

6. Hot eggs for breakfast

7. A faithful husband faithfully tending our old furnace.

8. The promise of a new furnace!

14. Dishes to wash
15. Time to pray and worship

22. American deoderant

35. Kids coming to a birthday party!
47. Kids too full from potato salad to eat any pizza!
49. The loving care of a mother who came over just to make sure I gave her son hot drinks - nothing cold.

65. William turning FOUR!

81. Day 3 on our Advent Calendar: Bethlehem, a town like this one

82. The fresh whiteness and Christmassy-ness of new fallen snow

83. Clipping greenery for an Advent wreath

84. Delivering birthday goody bags to happy kids

85. How easy it is to make kids here happy...because they don’t have much.

86. Grace - for lost tempers, perfectionism, self-criticism

96. Boys collecting potatoes on the veranda
97. The deep sparkling laughter on Will’s face when he really gets tickled
98. Michael Buble’s Christmas album
100. A lazy night by the fire with crocheting and Discovery Channel

116. God’s Word staying powerful regardless of who’s listening or not

127. These pages, and how they ground me firmly in God’s love and presence.
128. How my pen can coax my heart and spirit into synch with the Spirit129. Pen & hand, ink & blood, thanks & heart

151. Handel’s Messiah making the house majestic and holy
152. Being invited to a party
153. An invitation to do a whole concert!
154. Feeling included, wanted, appreciated, valued, loved!

157. Mickey Mouse’s “mousekitools” as a metaphor for the Holy Spirit: when you’re in need, just call, and choose the tool you need from the ever-ready, ever-wise supply!

158. Seeing my wonderful friend V, even just for 15 minutes

159. Bumping into my friend Mercy on the street, big smiles

160. Having real friends in this place

Now, having crossed the threshold of a new year, I’m finding it coming easier.  Without the pressure (self-imposed) of racing to 1000, continuing on into a second millennium of gifts with no time crunch, the joy is starting to come steady. 

I breathe slow, and remember: all is grace.