September 3, 2022

Zanzibar is cool and cloudy this morning. Soft, ocean breezes greet the day at its beginning as I sit on my third floor veranda and listen, the ocean unseen behind me.

The sounds of the day float easily to my weary ears. Nearby shoveling, rhythmic sweeping, the falling of water. The chitterings of delicate birdsong is interrupted intermittently by the abrupt, guttural cawing of a black crow like seagull.  The bird glides effortlessly on it’s slightly turned up wing tip in striking contrast to it’s scraping voice.

There is a hint of morning fires on the wind, voices below preparing the day as I turn within to do the same. I open my Chosen Devotional and am reminded that Jesus prayed for those who hurt Him. He asked the Father to forgive them “because they were not the enemy He was defeating that day.”

From my perch, I see a Muslim woman walk down the paved sidewalk that borders the yellow walls of my hotel. She is covered in the traditional black floor length robe with a bright turquoise scarf on her head.  In my preparation for the trip, I did some reading. Many of the stories were of the miracle of overcoming the violence Muslim women suffer from the hands of their men. How they were transformed by the message of Jesus because they understood who the enemy was whom Jesus was defeating each day. It is an apt reminder as I launch into all He has for me today.

The Free Pentecostal Church of Tanzania is ablaze with the colors of heaven. The clear beryl of the pulpit, the onyx, pearl and slivery shine of the backdrop with the ruby curtains are made  complete by the jewels that each of us bring. We have been made and called to shine as chosen ones of God Himself. And so it begins…

Pastor Johanna is a tall handsome Tanzanian with a joy that beams from his face and wide grin. He hugs everyone he meets and grasps my hand and holds it as we walk. He does the same with Joe.

It is a smaller space than we typically use but Kelly is, as always, a wonder as I watch her arrange her vision of clinic. To some it looks like a cacophony of chairs but its organized chaos is beauty in it’s execution.

Joe in his independence and other centered gifting has made immediate friends with the children. Miquel, Pastor Johana’s 6-year-old son, is among his most fervent admirers and Joe’s constant shadow. When I cannot find Joe, I’ve only to look for a gathering of children to find the white-haired boy at its center. The thing is, he is also at ease with the adult team members and his ability to connect agelessly makes me smile with joy and gratitude.

We spend our morning at our second church, The 

Free Pentecostal Church and Upendo School. It is a 40 minute drive into the more rural countryside. The church is a large building. Pastor Peter, whom I met last November on the mainland, takes me aside and tells me that he has a vision for his own church. He dreams of a building this size. He is a man of great faith and purpose and I am honored to share his vision.

We prayer walk around the school grounds, escorted by Elijah it’s principal. In the preschool, I see English painted on the walls. The 6 year olds have the multiplication tables on theirs. Elijah tells us that it is a Christian school and 85% of it’s students are Muslim. He says that most of his students pass their exams and the excellent education draws all faiths in.

The air is thick with the school’s cooking fires as two ladies prepare the day’s porridge. On the perimeter are every kind of fruit tree: breadfruit, jackfruit, plantains, mangoes. The old growth large trees with out of reach branches have Joe tossing sticks in the hope of dislodging one for closer inspection. After he steps away, one finally falls and he picks it up asking me to look at what God has given him.

The afternoon is spent in clinic back at Pastor Johana’s church. We don’t usually hold clinic on Saturday but this trip’s timing makes it possible.  At first, I am tasked with taking blood pressures. I have brought a new wrist BP but soon consider that it must not be working as the blood pressures on all my initial patients are so high. It turns out that there are an unusually high number of patients with high blood pressures here.

I begin to see patients with an interpreter that I have inherited from Pat but soon I am called away by Kelly. Three lethargic, pale siblings are brought in by their father. The oldest boy is 8ish. He hardly reacts when I start his IV. He is in obvious distress with labored breathing, cough, skin rashes and thrush. I have him lie down on the couches in the corner while we open wide the fluid.  Tim prays over me and this boy and reminds me of Whose hands we are both in.

The next is his 3yo brother who musters the energy to struggle as I, by the grace of God, slide his IV in and hold on while we fashion a makeshift splint. He, too, is sick but I am encouraged by the fight in him. He sits in his daddy’s lap as his fluid flows freely.

Their sister is the least sick of the bunch but still in need of care. She lays across Joy’s lap for her antibiotic shot and falls asleep while her brothers sleep nearby. They are a brave trio. 

Dinner is spent with Samantha and Obed at Joe’s request. They are a lovely, young couple who are from Kenya where they have a health ministry. Sam is talkative and spirited while Obed is sometimes quiet and reserved. His face, however, breaks into a marvelous, face filling smile when properly enticed. Barb joins us and we dine al fresco, oceanside. Seafood is their specialty and Joe and I feast on lobster with lemon garlic butter “gravy”. It is the ‘gravy’ I fancy and only use the lobster as an excuse to drink it. The Zanzibarbarians have outdone themselves tonight.

As my weary eyes begin to close, I think back over my day. How fun it has been to be part of a team who supports one another in precisely the necessary ways simply by being open to the One Who calls us.

Blessed, Z-Anne-zibar

On the morning of my departure for Africa, I awoke from a disturbing dream that penetrated my whole self with deep sadness.  The kind of feeling that lingers and oppresses even after waking. 

I tried to push the feelings aside as I gathered myself for the trek to the airport but found frustration after frustration clouding my view. 

I made it to take off but as I sat in my middle seat with my head buried in my neck pillow, the tears came.  I released my dream sadness silently, drenching the foam.

The dream had been about Philip. He was in conference with ‘the General’ and  he had prioritized this general over me even when he knew I was in desperate need. It was this desperate sadness that lingered.

I  wondered about this: “Are You the general, God?” I asked Him. “Could my dream really be telling me that I am mad at You and Philip for being in cahoots together against me?” 

I stopped, my words shouting at me: Against me? Never. As I recognized the lie in this, my tears became my prayer and declaration: Neither God nor Philip are against me. I only feel alone in my own power but thank God, He doesn’t leave me there! 

My God goes before me and after me and all around me and He is more than able to accomplish ALL that concerns me today whether I am asleep or awake. 

Now that is a start I can renew my mind and spirit around. Bring on, Africa, Lord. I think I may be ready now.

"I  am demolishing arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God! I am taking captive every thought in obedience to Christ" so that, that which I may fear in my dreams, I can demolish in my waking.

2 Corinthians 10:5 (my paraphrasing)

Thank You, Lord!

Z-Anne-zibar. August 31, 2022

I went on a private retreat last week and when I got back I added two guest dogs to my lineup. This  means I had five dogs this weekend: three big ones, one medium and one small. When I took them for walks it was like a clown car with  dogs coming out every door. 

When it came time to take #4 home, I opened the car doors. Two went right in, the little one followed but then the comedy sketch of my life began. #4 wouldn’t go in while #3 was there so I opened up the back to get #3 to move so #4 would get in but while I was doing that #5 went on a walkabout. I got #4 in and went to get #5 when #4 came back out, so I got #5 in there. I went to shut the back and #5 came out again… It went on like this for an undisclosed amount of time and made me giddy with laughter. To top it off, I almost left the one who was going home at my house. 

I tell you this because the whole circus made me laugh and smile like I haven’t for a long time. It was something that would typically push me to the edge of oblivion but today, instead, it gave me delight. That’s when I knew, as Philip used to say, my spark was back.

I don’t know exactly how it came to be but my  Psalm 51 prayer was clearly answered:

Psalm 51:10,12
Create in me, a clean heart 
And renew a right spirit within me
Restore unto me, the joy of thy salvation
And renew a right spirit within me

Grateful and smiling,

Anne
July 31, 2022

In the Silence, Name Me

By Ted Loder: Guerrillas of Grace page 30

Holy One,

untamed 

by the names

I give you,

in the silence

name me,

that I may know

who I am,

hear the truth

You have put into me,

trust the love

You have for me,

which You call me to live out

with my sisters and brothers

in your human family.

Anne’s Silent Naming
Personalized

You are untamed by the names I give You.
You are so much more than
I could ever think or imagine,
And yet You stoop low
to offer and pursue and name me.

In the silence of this desert morning
with Your sprinkling of birdsong
and leaf whirring
and gentle breezes,
You invite me in
as You name me.

You name me so I might:
Know who I am: and know Who I am is…

“But now thus says the Lord, I AM:
He who created you, O Jacob,
He who formed you, O Israel:
‘Fear not,
For I have redeemed you;
I have called you by name,
You are mine.'”
Isaiah 43:1

Hear the truth You have put into me
that is awakened when I see You move,

Trust the love You have for me:
To Fear Not!
And
To act
As You call me:
To live out my salvation
over the power of sin in my daily life:
With my sisters and brothers
in Your family.

May I grow into my name today, Lord,
according to Your good purposes.
Philippians 2:12-13

Anne

July 27, 2022
A Personalized Guerrillas of Grace

Help me listen

By Ted Loder: Guerrillas of Grace page 31

Oh Holy One,

I hear and say so many words,

Yet Yours is the Word I need.

Speak now,

And help me listen;

And, if what I hear is silence,

 Let it quiet me,

Let it disturb me,

Let it touch my need,

Let it break my pride,

Let it shrink my certainties,

Let it enlarge my wonder.

Help Me Listen

My Personalized Guerrilla of Grace

The desert air, moist from the rain, hangs heavy around me like a soft cushioning 

amid the pummels of my sobbing.

Tears of joy and gratitude and unshaped sadness mixed together and separate 

in a whirling of wordless wondering.

I anticipated that the poet’s silence would be from God albeit for His purposes.

I did not expect the silence to be in me.

I did not expect it to be made of tears,

a wordless forming of currents deep,

cascading waters from a hidden,

unknowing depth I did not perceive.

From my own silence, my heart overflowed; 

wave after wave, moving up and out,

in rhythm with God’s Spirit within me;

A complicated silence that caught my breath

 as it emptied me.

And, somehow, this silence of mine 

accomplished all of God’s purpose:

I am quieted, 

washed 🫧 clean, like the desert after rain.

I am disturbed, my pride broken, 

by the unexpected, uncontrolled 

shrinking of my preconceived certainties.

My need,

though formless and void and without sound, 

springs forth taking expression 

as it enlarges my wonder 

at this new thing done.

It is the becoming of Isaiah 43:18-19

“Remember not the former things,

Nor consider the things of old.

Behold, I am doing a new thing;

Now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?”

Help me listen and hear and perceive,

O Holy One.

Anne

July 28, 2022

A Personalized Guerrilla of Grace

I Need to Breathe Deeply

By Ted Loder: Guerrillas of Grace page 28

Grant me an ease

 to breathe deeply of this moment,

this light,

this miracle of now.

Beneath the din and fury 

of great movements and harsh news 

and urgent crises,

make me attentive still

to good news,

to small occasions,

and the grace of what is possible

for me to be,

to do,

to give,

to receive,

that I may miss neither 

my neighbor’s gift

nor my enemies need.

Breathing Deeply

My Guerrillas of Grace Personalized

I begin by breathing deeply.

In this miracle of now 

within the light of the falling day

 in the desert of this center for renewal, 

grant me an ease to breathe deeply of You.

Beneath the din:

of grieving prolonged, of fears recurrent,

 of patterns of fatigue, of implacable pain;

Beneath the fury:

Of relationships strained 

and misunderstanding’s grip, 

of my own lack of authenticity 

and recognized purpose, 

of inadequacy believed 

and of triggers unchecked. 

Of urgent crises unspoken.

Make me attentive, still:

To the good news:

 You pursue me to welcome me

So that I might bring small occasions 

and every other,

 boldly to Your throne of Grace.

The grace of what is possible:

For me to be, 

when I am in Your presence,

For me to do,

when Your presence refocuses my eyes 

and realigns my heart with Your intentions.

For me to give,

back to You in gratitude 

realized and released.

For me to receive,

Your power to become 

the person of action I am called to be

 in I Peter 1:13,

So that I might not miss either 

my neighbor’s gift 

nor my enemy’s need.

This is my songful prayer to You.

Anne

July 26, 2022

A Personalized Guerrillas of Grace

To the First Century and Beyond

My sister, Sally, and I took an adventure into the 1st century this week. We flew to Midlothian, TX to join the cast of the tv series The Chosen in the filming of the feeding of the 5,000. Recorded in the Gospel of Matthew 14:13-21, it is the only miracle of Jesus, along with the resurrection, that is recorded in all the Gospels. It is proof that God can, does and will use the ordinary things we bring to Him to reveal His extraordinary truths in  our lives. 

He’s been especially leading me in just such ways this past year so to be a small part of bringing this truth to life is a profound, soul refining blessing.

Our day began at sunrise as we donned our 1st century costumes complete with a covering of our uncharacteristic blond hairs. After satisfying our Screen Actor’s Guild requirements, we, and the lot of our new friends, were bussed to a Salvation Army camp. 

Before us was a large field; the dry yellow grasses moved in unison with the hot, humid breezes. The sky began overcast, shielding us from the scorcher it promised to be. The crew anticipated our needs as Jesus did all those years ago. There were tents for our 21st century feeding, for shade, for photo ops, for entertainment. Umbrellas and hats were plentiful  in anachronistically odd contrast to our costumes. 

We were filmed in waves: some waiting at basecamp and while others making the trek over the hill to the filming site. At the filming site, we were spread out in family groups complete with our overseeing Roman Guards on horseback. The crew mingled in and around us, instructing and staging with large cameras on cranes placed strategically. Dallas Jenkins in a turquoise t-shirt directing it all with the cast off to my right. There, life-sized, were Jesus, Simon, Judas, Andrew, and Big James, to name a few, gathered under umbrellas, holding paper drink cups, smiling and laughing as they waited, as well, for their cues. It was strange and beautiful all at once.

Several scenes were filmed, mostly short snippets that culminated in the feeding. The disciples gathered in a huddle which expanded into a circle of hand raising joy as they witnessed the miracle. They then rushed into our crowd to deliver it. I, myself, was handed a piece of bread by Andrew as he called out “only 4000 more to go!”

Though it may have been hot and uncomfortable, I was filled to overflowing, like the fish and loaves baskets, with gratitude.

What a privilege and an honor and a thrill to be part of the show that proclaims the name of Jesus in authentic, tangible ways. #F5K.

Anne

June 8, 2022

So I woke up at 4:30 in the morning the other day and decided to clean the garage during the cool of the almost day.  I made a good inroad and was proud of my work. It was a hopeful spot in a string of discouraging days. 

You see I’ve been awarded my VA annuity at last. At first, I was giddy but as this year and a half of waiting comes to a close, I recognize I’ve come to a crossroads. 

Up until now I’ve had only to dream about how I would redefine myself, but now it seems the time to get on with it has come. No more waiting. I need to embrace my new reality.

Instead, I’ve been mired down in such melancholy. It seems I don’t want to move on. I still want my old life back.

I haven’t been able to escape it; my low energy seeming to ebb lower and lower. Just as I considered that it couldn’t get much lower,  I awoke to find that my car wouldn’t start again. It needed a jump for the umpteenth time. The thing was that I had driven it face-in into the driveway and my new jumper cables weren’t long enough. 

As this ridiculous timing’s frustration began to collapse in on me, I was reminded of a set of heavy duty  jumper cables that I found while I was cleaning the garage a few days before. They were just long enough to get the car to start so I could get it to the repair shop where, for the third time, they replaced the battery and I drove it home.

It just made me think about God’s ridiculous timing. 

At my lowest ebb, He gave me a problem to solve and preemptively gave me the tool that I needed to solve the problem. But more than that, He did that to invite me back into my life.

It was ridiculous timing, ridiculously cool as it turns out.

And it was all a gift to show me that it’ll be okay. I will be okay. I can do this moving forward thing with Him, one baby step at a time.

I may still be low ebbing but the tide is definitely coming in…

Grateful,

Anne
June 3, 2022

I had a reiki session today. My Reiki darling asked me to set an intention for the session. She told me that I might get very emotional which is what I actually was looking for. I asked to release my grief about Philip and Uncle David. 

I wanted an outward expression of our loss. An explosion of emotions would do just fine.

Lying on the exam table, I did my measured breathing, attempting to relax with intention. The session was lovely but the release I thought I needed didn’t come.

She told me that I have a very peaceful energy and a lot of light around me. She said I was very open and peaceful and calm.

As I considered her words, I wondered. I perceive grief as darkness to be released but maybe, instead, it is light to be welcomed.

Could it be that to embrace the love which is at the center of the grief is to be empowered to endure?  It may lead to an outward release but it begins with an inward acceptance.

And so perhaps my Reiki intention was accomplished after all.

What if grief is not darkness. What if grief is light?  A gift with which to see…

Anne on Long Island

April 7, 2022

It is quiet here. There is no wind to lend its fragrance to the air. The sky is pristine and unmoving; I hear no birds or activity; all is hushed and still. 

The solid branches of the cork oak easily hold up the trouble bundles hung around the tree. It’s trunk is strong and mighty and gnarled with growth, the cork just visible beneath a break in the bark.

It is a lonely place and I sit on the old wooden bench beneath it’s impressive towering to think.

My thoughts swirl around me. I open my devotional and read:

“Do you want to be healed?” Jesus asks the lame man.”

John 5:2-9

So I ask this of myself:. Do I want to be healed?

I struggle with this concept. It is somehow not the right question.

I think of healing in terms of sickness. I am sick with grief, I suppose, but is grief really something to be healed?  

Is it a wound that can be fixed? A disease to be corrected or reversed to a prior state of health? A condition to be cured?

If grief is a response to deep love then these healing definitions have no part in this.

What if instead, as Webster says, healing is restoration?

My world has been upended and has flown apart. It is in need of restoration; a putting back together of my various parts, restored to wholeness, to Shalom. It is a definition that could work…

I read further

“In the gospels, lonely isn’t a condition; it’s a place.”

Luke 5:16 from The Chosen devotional vol 2

Perhaps grief is less of a condition and more of a place.

What if restoration is not found in the healing of a condition but in the transformation that comes from meeting with Jesus Himself.

He transforms the condition left by grief into a meeting place with Him because He knows how the flying pieces fit back together into His new creation. He knows what new life awaits.

It is in this lonely place beneath the Oaken trouble tree that He meets me today. He takes my hands in His own and with overflowing compassion in His eyes and in His touch,

He asks: “Do you want to be restored?”

Why, yes. I think I do.

Anne

February 25, 2022