We have an early morning departure day. The island volcano rises from the sugar cane plain in dark mysterious wonder. This was once the sugar cane capital of the world, they tell me.
In contrast, its evil twin is a prolilific weed called wild sugarcane. Pesky as it may be, its white feathery softness glows in the sunlight of the rising sun. It catches the light and shimmers as it softly moves in the breezes. It is magnificent. I will try to be a lightcatcher today as well.
We are going to Lakawon Island. It is a small island that is a 30 minute ferry ride off the northern shore. It is a private island resort with white sand beaches and starfish galore. It is reminiscent of Rocky Point back in the day. Thatched roofed cabanas called cottages line the beach. There is an open air restaurant and a swim up floating bar. This bar is quite a distance off shore and I am quite sure that I will not be ‘swimming’ up to it…unless they have those fish tacos from Rocky Point…
It is an overcast day with lovely ocean breezes that in the afternoon turn into wind propelled stinging sand missiles. The tide is out in the morning which cramps my style a bit but I am under the influence of cold medicine so I take a NAP meeting under the shade of a mini cottage and breathe in the moist, fresh air.
As the day ends, the light on water show tries to hold the stunning depth of God’s beauty. The clouds open to send a beam of silver to illuminate the water. I can follow it with my eyes all the way from the horizon to the shore. It is mesmerizing in its electric brillance.
As the sun begins its bedtime routine, the silver turns to vibrant color. It begins in the white puffy clouds toward the northern horizon hinting at light pink and coral but as it extends toward the silver it deepens in intensity. The resonant magentas and oranges explode flooding the water path with color and majesty.
It is God’s Word in Hebrews 4:12 displayed by the sunset:
4:12 For the word of God is alive and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to where the soul and the spirit are joined.
Intentionally allowing His beauty to penetrate and resonate in my inner being is always His invitation. He invites me to draw near to Him so that He can create the shalom, wholeness, of His original intention in me. And the shalom He creates in me, He uses to draw others to Himself and so on…
It is the transforming power of this receiving, sharing and receiving that draws me to Zoe Hope. To be embraced by God’s circle of giving is to be embraced by the same unparalleled beauty displayed in His sunset masterpiece.
I walk to breakfast after a fitful night of congestion and aches which seem to have resolved themselves. The sweet birdsong rallies my spirit as I feel welcomed into God’s garden in the coolest part of this day.
Last Cinic Day New Talistay City Public Market
Today, we serve in a mall. There are small shops on two levels with a food court that includes Myrna’s Refreshments. We are given a glass walled, air conditioned long room off to the side. It is snug but manageable.
Kind and curious and intuitive Risa returns to me, still anticipating my moves. Hypertension and diabetes continue to be the headliners but today my patients seem to be taking their meds with fine stabilizing effects. I do love when the plan of care works well.
Risa has a wisdom tooth giving her trouble so off she goes to the Dental truck. This trip we have the gift of a mobile dentist office that is providing tooth extractions. They have been with us everyday. I’m told that the average patient has 3-4 teeth extracted. There are those who have brilliant white smiles and others who do not. It is a great service but Wow so many teeth…
Midway through clinic I am called away to start an IV. This morning during devotions, I shared how my skills failed me in Africa. It was my intent to show how I was learning to rely on God instead of my skills. It seems ironic that I am then called to use my skills for the first time on this trip. I feel kind of sorry for my patient who might well be skeptical. Be a Frog I say to myself. Fully Rely on God and the IV slides right in.
I end the day with the last two patients. They are coworkers though they look like sisters and they both simply want vitamins. They want to improve their health, they say.
They are not alone in this request. Many of my patients today seem to be healthy and have come for vitamins. It is curious to me how they seem to value them above medicine and tell me repeatedly how beneficial they are for improving life. It is a simple blessing that they are so excited, satisfied and grateful to receive. I began the day expecting to give them medicine and I end the day simply being grateful alongside them.
Dinner
We gather for dinner with our interpreters. I sit at the end surrounded by my friends. R. is by my side. S. is across from me with J. beside him. They tell me their stories.
My soft spoken, kind R. leads with: my dad has been in prison for rape for 24 years and was recently released. He has two families and she wants to help her younger brothers succeed. She works for the government M-F. She spends her weekends oyster farming and eats oysters every night for dinner. She plays the trumpet in a band and rides a bike taxi for extra money.
She tells me the story of how we met this week and how she has looked for me everyday since. She likes the way I am patient with her and willing to teach her. I listen and nod. It is not so much a conversation as it is a sharing of her search for significance. Of course, she wants to be seen but more than that her openness is a way to give thanks, I think. This makes me wonder if we shouldn’t start a clinic week with a dinner like this but then, we would not have reason to give thanks or the safety of experience to fuel our connection.
S. is a trained chef, a photographer, and always asking God to show him where his next gifting lies. He tells me the whole intricate tale of love lost. She lives in Japan now. He is eager to share his story and connect it to mine. His mother is my age and travels the islands often. He sometimes doesn’t know where she is. This makes me smile. My Sam, back home, might say the same thing.
J. is a quiet young man and it takes a little bit to lure his story out. He is one of five sisters and so perhaps has learned to listen more than talk.
These three have been so present for me this week, eagerly seeking every opportunity to assist me. I often get so focused on caring for my patients I feel like I forget to learn about those who help me. This evening tells me I have been enough. It is a lovely blessing to end my week with them.
Thank you, Lord, again! for bringing our stories together so we can be reminders to each other that we matter to You!
Thursday. As I awaken, it sounds like the 30,000 thoughtless boys of my speech therapy youth are busy making a thunderous noise, complete with lightning and torrential rains. It is a symphony, or is it a cacophony, of God’s splendour.
I feel diminished this morning. My voice is strained, my throat is sore and its swollen punching bag is resting on the back of my tongue. It seems I may need to take a non speaking role in clinic until God intervenes and sends me tiny dots of brown out on the lawn. The longer I look, the better I see. There are frogs of all sizes spread out across the grass. They hop and stop remaining completely still, until repeating this morning routine countless times. A long ago VBS catch phrase comes to my mind: Be a Frog= Fully Rely On God. And so I shall.
Clinic Day 4 Barangay Zone 3
The rain has relented leaving an ambient dimness to the overcast day despite the scattered pockets of blue sky. Our clinic is a mostly covered but open air pavilion in the center of another busy part of town. The narrow uneven street out front is barely two way. Our conscientious driver tries to delicately maneuver to avoid puddles and holes to best serve us. Upon crossing I am pleasantly surprised to sense that it does not seem to be as oppressively hot today. I still welcome the fans, both human and electric.
Our patients are already in line when we arrive. I wave and they wave back. The rain may have delayed some but I feel confident we will not have a shortage.
Risa is back as my interpreter. She has an innate ability to appear right when I need her. When I praise her for this she stares blankly back at me. It is clearly a lost in translation situation. I will have to find a more relatable opportunity to encourage her servant heart.
I float between exams and pharmacy. Pharmacy, a non-speaking role btw, is short staffed today so I try to be aware of their need of support.
I just love when I greet my patients with a Filipino greeting, Mabuhuy! They receive it but almost always look to my interpreter for confirmation and laugh. I’m not sure if my attempt is hilarious or if they simply can’t believe their ears. This delights us both.
Kent is a popular name I am discovering and I have a few patients named so. Though none are paired with Clark, one stands out as a superhero perseverer who smiles despite his challenges. He is a severely malnourished 13 year old who also has asthma, diabetes and an allergy to our deworming pill, Mebenezole. While I’m assessing him, the drug Ivermectin randomly pops into my head. I am not so familiar with it but upon further investigation, it turns out to be exactly the drug I need to substitute for his allergy. I love it when God meets me at the point of my need, especially when I don’t even know I have a need.
Next, I have a set of 13 year old identical twins with identical concerns. Their dad is kind and gracious and clearly cares well for them. Asthma seems to be the soup de jour this afternoon as I have multiple patients, both old and young with histories of such. My twins are wheeze-free right now but still need hydration, inhalers and education. I wonder what it is like to have an identical twin right down even to disease.
Speaking of Wheezing. I am treated to a 1 year old beauty named Louise. They call her Ouisy. She is bright and playful and a delight, much like my 2 year old Louise back home.
I often have neck pain in clinic because I am hunched over and intently focused on my patient without regard for my posture. The beauty of a radiant child straightens me up and renews my strength as I raise my eyes to see the glory of the Lord displayed before me.
There are stories galore among the team. Tales of bamboo houses on stilts with the rapidly rising disease carrying waters of the sea and rain. There are children reveling in the unleashed thunder and rain splashing joyfully in the deluge of muddy puddles. Other children gather at the clinic barrier fence to hear about Jesus and receive a Gospel color bracelet. It is clinic at its best.
Each morning my roommate puts on a lovely devotional that pairs Scripture with prayer and music. This morning it has elements of lament in it. This, of course, cuts through all my defenses. “I can’t start my day with lament.” I tell myself as I pick up a water bottle and walk out of the room to refill it.
As I’m walking away I think about our dinner the other night. We were invited to the summer home of one of our organizers. It was a lush tropical paradise with fruit trees and museumesque antiques. There were charming places to gather and of course a karaoke machine. The dancing that went on that night was nothing short of wild and fun. It was also bittersweet as I imagined that Philip and I would have been twirling on that dance floor and he probably would have even twirled me into the pool. Grief is a strange thing and can pull the rug right out under you even if you are dancing on it.
It seems listening for the prompting of the Holy Spirit is not just for clinic.
My tendency is to keep lament in a compartment and bring it out when I am alone with God. “There is no urgency in lamenting” I tell myself, because it follows me wherever I go. This morning, however, I feel God prompting me to lament. His message seems to be: don’t run away and cover yourself in your positivity but instead Be still and know that I am is God…
Clinic Day Three: Barangay Dos Hermanas
Clinic today is in the center of a bustling neighborhood. It seems to be a hub for Filipino tricycles, a motorcycle with a sidecar. They line the narrow concrete street awaiting deployment. There is a grand Catholic Church nearby and a large gathering place/basketball court where we set up clinic. Unlike our first days, the walls are high and little natural airflow is available but our hosts have provided powerful fans again so we swelter but are not undone.
A long queue of waiting patients has already formed when the team arrives. I stand on the stage to pray for the day while clinic is being arranged. I follow the path of clinic with my prayers asking God to strengthen each participant in our inner beings through the power of His Holy Spirit.
I watch a tiny trio of darlings run and play across the pavilion floor. Their giggling joy at being alive and moving captivates me and I find it strengthening my inner being already. The simplest blessings are often the best of all.
Hypertension, Diabetes and TB take prominence today. So many come to me with treatment already established but somehow simply want my opinion. My day is full of teaching and encouraging and referring to Dr. K when follow up is needed. Dr. K listens with patience and a smile always welcoming whomever I bring her. I am tempted to feel like I am burdening her yet she never receives me with any indication that I am. She is a wonder of fortitude, dedication and compassionate care.
I have a young Mama come with complaints of frequent nighttime trips to the bathroom. She has no other concerns and her exam finds her healthy. I am about to wrap up our time with teaching and send her off to vitamins when my darling Everly offhandedly mentions that our patient’s dad died last month. God immediately pokes me and I sit her back down and hug her.
With tears in both our eyes, I take her hands in mine and share my story. I share how God welcomes us in our lament. How He promises to comfort those who mourn and to bless them. It is not an easy road but He promises to walk alongside us all the way to the end. As Everly assures me that she will need no translation, we pray together. Somewhere down these broken roads we will share again, only then, it will be all about the faithfulness of our God Who walks beside us.
We end the day seeing over 300 patients. It is a new daily record. I am reminded again of something my Pastor says: Every number has a name, Every name has a story, And every story matters to God.
Thank you, Lord, for bringing our stories together so we can be reminders to each other that we matter to You.
The singing continues. I awake to an unformed song on my tongue which makes me smile when I work it out: As You Open the eyes of my head…Open the eyes of my heart, Lord. I want to see You.
Clinic Day Two Barangay Matan-ang
Our clinic today is in another high ceiling pavilion with ample room. The signature blue and yellow surround us. It is market day over one wall. A small market of vendors share their space with our spiritual counseling. There are fruits and vegetables and belts that I can see from my station. I am told there are also a variety of dried fish and whole body lizards.
Dear Wilma is one of my first darlings. She comes with sky high blood sugar and pressure and dons an animated, infectious smile. These things do not appear to be slowing her down. I assume she comes for treatment of these glaring needs but the longer I assess and investigate, her story slowly emerges. She adds vital details that I thought I had already asked about. Nonetheless, I find myself smiling and captivated by her zeal despite my struggle to understand. At last, she pulls out a bag full of health records and scatters them on the table. In these are the answers to my questions as well as solid proof that she is being well cared for despite her numbers. I consult Dr. K who then takes over care.
Alea, another darling, comes to me telling me she has some DOB and thinks she has asthma. I ask why she thinks that and she tells me she hears extra sounds when she breathes. I ask her if she has ever been told that she has asthma and she tells me no. I ask her if she has any squeaking sounds when she breathes and she says yes. I confirm this when I hear wheezing. This leads me to teach her about the disease process. When I launch into treatment options, I eventually find out that she uses an inhaler and is on two different asthma meds that help! Off to Dr. K we go, again. Dr. K has some contacts that can provide special services for her.
As my time here progresses, I begin to understand that the communication style of my patients appears to be akin to storytelling. There are few short answers and much revisiting and restating until a kernel of truth emerges, if ever… I am grateful for Dr. K. She will get to the bottom that I cannot find of all Wilma’s and Alea’s needs.
The day is full of joyful sick people. I care for several families with kind, attentive mamas; sweet elderly lovelies escorted by younger family members; animated spitfires who want only to use their energy for good, it seems. Their enthusiasm inspires my own and I join their uplifting-despite-hardship chorus of praise even through the convoluted conversations it takes to get there.
I sleep for most of my 13 hour flight to Manila awakening to prayer and hymns just before landing. My hymn app brings me “Come Thy Fount of Every Blessing” and I sing along: “Here’s my heart, Lord take and seal it. Seal it for Thy clinics abroad.” The early morning in Manila greets us with a humid, 82° day just as the sun is rising. I quickly remove my cozy hoodie. It was a necessity on the plane but is no longer a cherishable item.
Our next one hour flight takes us to the island of Bacolod, pronounced ‘Bacola’ to my ear, where we will serve this week. There are mountains rising beyond the small airport fields of vibrant green encircled by trees all around. The sugar cane crop towers in the fields beyond its borders. It is a lovely morning with the moist breezes of this island rainforest.
I find another song impressing itself on my lips. “Create in me a clean heart, Oh, Lord and renew a steadfast spirit within me”. It is in perfect tune with my thoughts on the plane. I have been struggling with some adequacy issues these past few months which have flared recently. In my discomfort and confusion, God has sent me this song. It is an anchor of sorts and allows me to redirect my thoughts to the joy of greeting old and new friends.
Rick and Everly are old friends from back home. I have served alongside them for years. This week will be spent in Everly’s hometown of Talistay. Her signature effervescence shines from her face as she greets each one of us. Her team here, which includes government officials, all share her generous kindness and hospitality. My tired traveling self finds them an invigorating balm contagiously perking me and the whole team up.
Our first stop is a Bacolod everything shop, like a Filipino Target if you will. This one is complete with appliances, furniture, clothes, linen, food … and karaoke machines. There is live music in the grocery store! The singer and I sing as I wander about the store.
“I’m arriving on a jet plane; don’t know when I’ll be back again, oh babe I hate to go…” without a portable washing machine.
“Country roads take me to my Talistay home, to the place I belong…Bacolod, mountain Mama, take me home… country roads.”
After arriving at our hotel, I take a NAP meeting but find my mind spiraling with my thoughts on the plane. I ask God to help me find resolution to my roiling emotions so I might more fully commit to our week. His clarity comes as we gather for dinner.
My last song of the day is the Lord’s Prayer, played by our hosts to set our hearts right for service, they say. It’s as if God crescendos the words I need at just the right moment: Forgive us our debts as I FORGIVE… it is in the art of forgiveness that I find rest for my weary strivings. Tired but prepped and ready.
Monday
It seems that this trip will be full of music. I awaken singing “You raise me up”. This makes me smile as I rise.
“You raise me up so I can stand on mountains You raise me up to walk on stormy seas I am strong when I am on Your shoulders You raise me up to more than I can be”.
This pairs nicely with the words of my teammates’ that keep resonating in my mind. Trust God with the unimaginable and be mindful that your face reflects His presence.
He has sent me. He will raise me to be All that I can be.
Clinic Day One!💥 Barangay Matab-ang Concepcion
There are fruit stands galore with pineapples, pokey gourds, nanners and lazonias, an unattractive small pear-like fruit. This is the ‘bread basket’ area of the city, I am told, and we are just entering the abundance of fruit season.
There are stores of random wood and sheet metal lining the narrow streets as we leave the city proper. They are keeping back the ever encroaching thickness of the tangled forest landscape. The electric wiring above the streets is a mass of snarly chaos. The knots and bunches and random hanging ends are an enigmatic marvel. I imagine it as a 5,000 piece untenable puzzle.
We pass by brightly colored school buildings that are painted blue and yellow with colorful, muraled walls. They are small pockets of invitation all along our route.
We set up clinic in an outdoor covered pavilion that belongs to the Catholic church across the street. It is also yellow and blue with tall ceilings and plenty of room. So I am an examiner today, sometimes, and my first patient of the day comes to me with complaints of DOB. I try to wrap my head around its meaning… to me, dob=date of birth. I smile as I consider if my patient is unhappy with her age.
Everly is my interpreter and she asks the vital sign ladies what it means. It turns out she has difficulty of breathing, SOB or shortness of breath to me. Now that’s something I can investigate. It is a silly start.
I try to rely on the Holy Spirit’s hovering over me and each patient, wanting to be sensitive to His inner prompting. I tend to lean toward what the patient can do to improve their situation: Diet, exercise, hydration. I want to trust God to put before me those whom He chooses.
I see several adults today with complaints of hypertension and diabetes. Most of them are already on meds and being followed by a local MD. This is encouraging. It is when I have a patient with borderline blood sugar that my confidence begins to falter. I didn’t treat her for it. I opted for diabetic teaching instead. Later when Dr. K, one of our local doctors, shares her protocol with me, I see the error of my ways. If I had known the protocol, my patient would have been sent for labs.
I’ve been pondering this ever since, wondering where my inadequacies fit into His plan. This, again, has been my repeated question of these past few months. My trouble is, of course, my focus…on MY adequacy. He redirects me by bringing my teammate’s words to my mind again. In times like these, when I think my adequacy is faltering, I am invited to trust God with the unimaginable: He could, and does, make me more than enough despite what I fear are my failings.
He lifts me up to be more than I can be because He is more than able to take care of both my patient and me. He has purposes beyond my imagination and the wonder of it all is that He chooses to use me anyway. What a wondrous God we serve.
I began studying the book of Titus this week in my Bible study. I admit I was skeptical. We are going to do six weeks on a three chapter book and our memory verse for the session is the one below? Thinking it was the only verse for the whole session, I found this a preposterously odd choice and decided I probably wouldn’t memorize it.
Titus 3:3 For we too were once foolish, disobedient, deceived, enslaved by various passions and pleasures, living in malice and envy, hateful, detesting one another.
As I felt the darkness and oppression of these words, a picture took form in my mind. A picture of me as a prisoner shackled, each word another step down into the darkness, dirt and stale air of my underground cell.
For we were once… Foolish, disobedient, deceived, enslaved… living in malice and hating one another…
What in the world are they thinking? I asked. Bible studies traditionally are crafted to inspire and encourage and they picked this verse? I read on to see what I was missing and quickly realized our memory verse was a passage of verses, not just the one. It was the ‘But When’, though, that captured me and blasted open my first picture.
3:4 But when the kindness of God our Savior and His love for mankind appeared, 5 He saved us…
But when the kindness of God appeared…It was as if my shackles fell off and the prison walls crumbled around me and fresh air flooded my lungs as the Son rose before me…to save me!
He “But When’d” me!
I’ve been smiling all week as I consider all the BUT WHENs in my life. As I consider my hard times, I see now how they parallel the first verse. I feel the oppression of them BUT WHEN my Savior appears in my hard time, everything changes!
And! The passage gets better:
:5b He saved us—not by works of righteousness that we had done, but according to His mercy.”
He doesn’t save me because of what I did, I was stuck in a hole, but He saves me because of His mercy, kindness and love: these are the reverse steps up out of the hole. Appear and save Me! Kindness Love His Mercy
But there’s more!
3:5 He saved us—not by works of righteousness that we had done, but according to His mercy—through the washing of regeneration and renewal by the Holy Spirit. 6 He poured out His Spirit on us abundantly through Jesus Christ our Savior.”
Topside, He washes me clean and renews me and pours His Spirit on me Abundantly!
Why? 7 so that, having been justified by His grace, we may become heirs with the hope of eternal life.
Do you see it? He BUT WHENs SO THAT: we can become His Hope-Full Heirs instead of hopeless haters!
From the dark hopelessness of my malice and hate to a world of His kindness, mercy and love plus hope of a future!
What I thought I would not bother to memorize has, instead, consumed my thinking. I realize that He has been teaching me, though I didn’t have the words until now, to anticipate His “But When”!
If you can’t see it just yet, know He always appears with the purpose to transform and escort you through the difficulty and into His glorious light!
Lord! Bring on Your well crafted design of Titus and give us eyes to see Your ‘But When’s and ‘So that’s as You enlarge our vision of You.
Titus 3:3-7
3 For we too were once foolish, disobedient, deceived, enslaved by various passions and pleasures, living in malice and envy, hateful, detesting one another.
4 But when the kindness of God our Savior and His love for mankind appeared, 5 He saved us—not by works of righteousness that we had done, but according to His mercy—through the washing of regeneration and renewal by the Holy Spirit. 6 He poured out His Spirit on us abundantly through Jesus Christ our Savior 7 so that, having been justified by His grace, we may become heirs with the hope of eternal life.”
I am living Peppa Pig this morning. Tiny little voices calling “Deddy” in her accent. My heart is melted before I even emerge which I hesitate to do. There is an early morning chill in the air.
I am afforded the luxury of a solitary walk down our dead end lane. I pass growing corn towering above me, taller than my sons. The wind in the field is like a crowd cheering in the distance, soft but insistent. It crescendos and decrescendos as if doing the ‘wave’. The chittering of birds singing with the motion.
I pass a magnificent jacketed stallion as he romps in joy around a neighborhood corral, playfully lying down in the dirt to exalt in his freedom to run. Around and around he trots until he breaks into a gallop, mane flowing with the breeze. We stop to look at each other with curiosity and admiration and then off we both go to revel in the day.
Oak lined streets making shady tunnels under which to wander. Bird houses on every five or six trees. Flowers and farms and gardens galore. There are not enough words to describe the earthy green perfection of this countryside. This land speaks to my heart in countless reviving ways.
We take the train to Amsterdam. My Peter and Richard have been diverted from their European Rhine cruise to The Netherlands because of drought caused low water levels. As a bonus, I get to meet them for an afternoon in Amsterdam. This will make three of my sons sharing one of my favorite cities with me.
Elske gives us a walking tour which is more of a guided pub and canal crawl. From White beer to smoky porter with raspberry ale in between, Elske and Peter do Philip proud. I stick to wine and Richard is our designated walker. It is a really fine day. I am overflowing with the sweetness of my unexpected blessings.
It is later than my first awakening and I am being coaxed awake by the deep throated growl of an unseen owl, mourning doves with their lyrical repetition, and a guttural fluttering sound of the unknown; is it a bird on wing or a daddie playing with his baby…or both? The flurry of pattering feet join the chorus as children begin their days with laughing and playing.
We visited the Maastricht Museum yesterday. The tour started with these words: “Tell your stories in the company of those who have already told theirs”. I like this. What better motto to have on a history tour with historic friends.
Today, we have no agenda. Sit and breathe. Eat and savor. Be silent (or not) in the company of those who already share my stories. It is sure to be one of my favorite kind of days.
It is cool and bright. A very fine day, indeed. We venture into Den Bosch , also known by the crazy ‘sHerto…name.
The ‘square’ is bustling this Friday afternoon. The long tunnel streets lead up to it with their stately manors of brick and stone; many with a distinct peak and weather vane. St. Jon cathedral rises magnificently in all its gothic medieval charm. Its ornate expansive details ignite my doodling mind. Its stained glass glittering in the late afternoon sun.
The ‘square’ is more of a meeting of many paths into a wide gathering place. I am told it is like many squares opening together. It is lined with iconic pubs and shops. We sit at the edge in one pub under a green umbrella sipping smooth refreshment and watch the people.The town is alive with activity.
A Calliope-like music box is being pulled by two men. As we sit, it plays one of my dads favorite songs by Abba, I Have A Dream. It is the song that prompted him to send me the album when I was in college with Elske. Together with our roommates, we would dash out on the balcony at midnight and sing ‘Gimme, Gimme, Gimme…a man after midnight.” Turns out our wishes were granted to us all!
The evening in the glen of Namaste camping park is also full of life. The weekend has brought in families for every spot. The young ones find each other easily and become best friends in an instant. Their laughter and tears ring with abandon. As one of the olders, I sit with my friends and enjoy the close of day. The sun in its brilliant oranges and pinks illuminate the tree border displaying God’s natural stained glass in all its brilliance.
This place with my people, it gives my heart rest. I could stay here in this comfortable warm bed in my glamping tent of repose… if only the bathroom wasn’t a half a mile away in the middle of the night!💥 JK. (It seems closer in the daylight)
We return to Amsterdam tomorrow with wonders all its own. I fall sleep, grateful for how pleasant my boundaries are, indeed.
6 The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance. (Psalm 16:5-6, RSV)
The laughter of children awakens me today. They are just outside bouncing on the in-ground trampoline. It is an enchanting song as they glory in a life of living in the present. This is a worthy goal for my day.
The clouds dot the light blue sky as the cool breezes suggest I may need my coat today. The horses are up and snorting in protracted fervor and we are off to meet a brand new grandbaby in Echt.
A baby is God’s opinion that the world should go on Carl Sandburg
It is the same message from the early morning trampoline.
Echt E an J’s darling new one is fresh from heaven with sweetness and light in every centimeter. Her presence in my arms touches my deep places and my tears at her perfection are hard to hide. There is something so tender, pure and right about sharing the happiness of those I have seen grow.
Their home is not only a musical paradise but a marvel of quirky character with its nooks and crannies. Why does architecture so captivate me? I could live here.
Maastricht The roads to the square are cobbled and narrow like slot canyons of the city, the old brick row houses rise to the sky. There is joy in being back.
I speak to this city of my heart. Would I love you if it weren’t for your history in my life? Do I see you only through the eyes of the memory of young love, of continued love? If I let you go, do I let Philip go? Maastricht is a safe place to leave my heart, to pick it up again in cherished memories when I visit… Do others see it’s magic or is it simply my overactive mind’s eye?
You know what? It doesn’t matter. This is my happy place. Sitting on the Maastricht square at VRIJTHOF 9, eating a delicious meal I have loved for years, with friends who are family. The cool wind rustling its chorus through the rows of trees. Three grand cathedrals in contrasting colors standing sentinels commanding my notice. What else could I want or need in this moment? Well, maybe Philip…but he is already here.
