Light Trumps Darkness

"There's always going to be bad stuff out there. But here's the amazing thing -- light trumps darkness, every time. You stick a candle into the dark, but you can't stick the dark into the light." -Jodi Picoult

My world has recently been expanded to include the famous story of Nate Saint, and his four companions who were slaughtered by the Waodani (also called Huaorani or Auca) people of Ecuador. And I was shocked by how dedicated they were…to go to the people who knew only killing and being killed; to be that totally given to a mission that they’d go through with it, no matter the personal cost; to not fight back or fire their guns when they saw the warriors charging with their spears.

They let go of their personal comforts that they could have had at home and moved to the untamed, foreign land of Ecuador.

They let go of their reservations in reaching an untamed, barbaric tribe and initiated contact.

They let go of their own natural instincts of safety and self-preservation and put themselves in a very dangerous place.

Somehow, without knowing the natives personally, they loved them enough to let go and reach out.

And as if that isn’t amazing enough, I was struck with another thought. My mind flashed to the wives of these five men. They loved their husbands to the point that they would share their mission. They would leave their extended families at home and struggle to take care of their immediate families in this unforgiving alien country. They hugged and kissed their men goodbye on that fateful morning, praying that this meeting with the natives would go as well as the previous, but still knowing that anything was possible. And, when days went by and their men didn’t return, they could only assume the worst. Somehow, by some divine assistance, those new widows found forgiveness in their hearts for their husbands’ killers, enough to go visit and even live among them.

They loved their husbands enough to let them leave on the ill-fated trip, loved the natives enough to forgive, and loved their God enough to get through the whole mess.

As it is so clearly evidenced, love is not safe. In a world obsessed with personal safety, this story could be more proof not to put yourself out there; an “I told you so” to every person warned of the danger of love. I see danger in elaborate home protection systems, and numerous insurance plans. I’m not talking about being dumb with our material things; keep honest people honest. But the extent to which we go, making sure that we can’t be touched, should be called into question. The same goes for heart matters – get to know the cashiers at your local grocery store, get involved in the community, give time and energy even when you don’t feel like it. Be yourself, even when you face the fear of rejection. Love wholeheartedly and unconditionally, even when you know it might never be returned. Our hearts, time, and money are not our own.

We know that Operation Auca and the missionaries’ sacrifices were not in vain. The killing of the men, followed by the forgiveness of the woman, allowed the Waodani people to accept God (or Waengongi) into their lives, and the revenge killings between tribes reduced by 90%. In the well-known words of Jim Elliot (one of the five men killed), “He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain that which he cannot lose.”

What differences can I make if I open my heart to the people around me and leave my safety in the hands of God?

~~~I have only watched the movie “The End of the Spear”. If any of my readers own books pertaining to the Palm Beach massacre, or the missionaries’ lives before or after, I would love to borrow them.~~~

"We are all in the gutter...

...but some of us are looking at the stars." ~Oscar Wilde

Hope is...

...the fizzing sound you hear when you open a new bottle of soda.

...the childish delight that makes you whoop and holler when you wake up to the snow that covered up the muddy mess from yesterday.

...listening to a new Christmas CD for the first time.

...hearing the hum of the washer and dryer as you clean up the kitchen.

...finishing the 600 page book you've read a dozen times before, but keep re-reading because the story of redemption and recovered dreams changes your life each time.

Hope has showed up in many more different moments, but these are the ones that most recently stood out to me. It's just good to know that no matter how much mud and rain there is in my life, there's a snowfall around the corner to cover up the mess and teach me that life is beautiful.

"You will not fear the terror of night nor the arrow that flies by day, nor the pestilence that stalks in the dark...for He will command His angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways." Psalm 91:5, 6a, and 11

"As long as we both shall live..."

Today was my first day with a new job. I am helping out a couple that lives in the community. He is 97 years old, and she just turned 91 years old last week. They are both darling. I can't wait to learn all that I can from them. Can you imagine having nearly a century of knowledge and experience to impart? And yet that's when people stop listening and write you off as "outdated" or "out of touch."

This woman reminds me of my grandmother. She worries when she perceives the room in which I am reading as too dark. She speaks proudly of her sons and their families and "my niece that wrote two books!" She offers me a glass of pop several times in an hour, and feels bad that she didn't have the energy to do the sink full of dishes herself. She wants to know all about my life, and has an amazing memory for names and events that are important to me. She brings to life the stories of the times that her husband walked to work because they only had one car and when "we were poor, so we didn't have much meat."

The most memorable part of the afternoon though, was when she got a soft look in her eyes and said this: "I never imagined that he would have a stroke and we would need to get help like this. I never expected it. But, I married him 'for better or for worse.' I guess now it's time for the 'for worse' part."

She's my newest hero.

Living Life Loved

This is the first fall in 14 years that I haven't started another semester of school. And, related or not, this is also the first fall I've really enjoyed the season.

It wasn't too long ago that I saw the first touches of gold on the trees and thought to myself "Wow, it seems early for the leaves to be turning!" Before I knew it, though, one tree had ignited another until the gold, red, and orange flickering flames raged up and down the hills of Northwest PA. Becca and I stopped at Meadville's beautiful graveyard the other day to drive around and take in the glory. Eventually, the fallen leaves along the road called to me until I just had to ask Becca to pull over so we could scuff through them. Right now I'm looking through my front window as the sun streams in past me. I can see a tree - half bare and half ablaze with brilliant yellow leaves. Behind it, a gorgeous blue sky littered with a few fluffy white clouds.

My question to myself and to my readers is this: are we recognizing the beauty around us for what it is? Or are we taking it for granted? Autumn will come every year as it always has. The leaves will change color and fall in our yards; clouds will float lazily through the sky. Will we choose to take time and recognize it for the gift from God that it is?

Please, live your life looking for the glory of God. He's really in every mundane detail.

"We may ignore, but we can nowhere evade, the presence of God. The world is crowded with God. God walks everywhere incognito. And the incognito is not always hard to penetrate. The real labour is to remember, to attend. In fact, to come awake. Still more, to remain awake." -C.S. Lewis

Bread Dough, Bowls, and Blood Sugar

I like to think I'm invincible. True, my struggle to find a job set me back on my self-confidence for a while, but now that I'm working, it's been better. I also recently started baking and cooking again after a 2 year hiatus (being at FB wasn't conducive to working in the kitchen). And I've been loving it! I'm good at it and I like sampling my creations and having other people say they're good. Two silent pats on the back for me!

But it's humbling when you call your mom about 4 times during the course of the afternoon because you've never made bread before and how do you do it? And is it supposed to be this sticky? And how much are you supposed to knead it? And why isn't it rising? Finally, I had something that resembled bread dough in texture, color, smell, and taste. I set about cleaning up the huge mess I'd made (for some reason, baking is a full body experience for me. If a recipe has flour or brown sugar, you can pretty much count on finding it everywhere, including, but not limited too, the counter, the floor, the cupboards, my dress, my face, my hair, and my toes).

Now, unbeknownst to me, my blood sugar level had been silently dropping during this entire process, leaving me as it usually does - light-headed, slightly nauseous, weak, and shaky. I realized it while I was washing dishes, but figured I could wait to eat some protein and sit down in a minute or two when I had finished the chore. However, on one of the last dishes, a large mixing bowl belonging to Rebecca, this low blood sugar contributed to me losing my grip on the bowl and smashing it into about 5 pieces in the sink. I stared in shock for a moment and then noticed the blood oozing from my fingers. I grabbed a paper towel and tried to staunch the bleeding and made it to our first aid kit. I fumbled around until I found the BandAids, trying not to get blood on too many other "sterile" items. I checked the cuts. Not too deep, thank God. Wouldn't want to drive to the ER in my condition. I picked up the glass and took it out to the garbage can in a paper bag, and had one moment of detached panic in which I thought I might faint. Held really still, clutching the porch railing. Buzzing stopped, vision cleared, didn't fall down the stairs.

I have questions. I drop things. I bleed. My fingers are held together with BandAids. I don't know yet if the bread will survive my fumbling attempts.

I am not invincible. Too bad. It might have been nice.

Wouldn't it be Loverly

Tonight I watched "My Fair Lady" (1964) for the first time in my life. I had listened to the soundtrack before and thoroughly enjoyed it, but seeing it was truly a fuller picture. I loved each song in turn and the story that brought the song to life.
And I have to wonder - what am I taking for granted because of my pride? Am I like Professor Higgins? He's utterly insufferable in his pride. He takes credit for all the work of polishing and presenting Eliza and he ends up losing her. "I've grown accustomed to her face. She almost makes the day begin...I was serenely independent and content before we met; surely I could be that way again. And yet - I've grown accustomed to her look; accustomed to her voice; accustomed to her face."
I've lost before and I live on. But pride worms its way back into my life. What am I about to lose? What am I about to realize I can't live without?

Watch the movie, by the way. You aren't likely to regret it!

To Wish Upon a Star

There's just something magical and utterly relaxing about lying out on a blanket watching the stars. Of course, it was made so much better by the Perseids meteor shower that is currently at its peak.

But that sounds so scientific. Shooting stars, people! Brilliant bursts of light streaking across a velvety, diamond-studded night sky. You lie there continually realizing just how small you are; just how potentially unimportant your hopes, prayers, and dreams could be to the Creator Who found it good to fashion this sight.

And you worship.

And then there's the hilarity that could only be produced by these two over-tired Mennonite girls with the same name. Trying to find a place away from lights, trees, and noise to watch. Choosing a seemingly abandoned spot by the road, then realizing lying on the ground behind your car, mere feet from the edge of the road probably isn't a good idea (as evidenced by the panicked whisper aimed at the passing vehicle: "Please don't hit us, please don't hit us!") The completely simultanous gasped expression when a meteor is spotted: "Oh! Did you see that?" The car that seemed to have pulled into the entrance to the park where we were reclining, causing immediate jumping about and the frantic whisper: "Run!"

And we worship.

A cynical, sneering part of me murmured in my ear tonight: "It doesn't really do any good to wish on a falling star, you fool."

And the innocent, trusting part of me defiantly answered: "Yes, it does. It gives back the thrill of hope and expectancy that everyday life is so apt at wringing out of us. So there."

And we worship.