“The LORD your God is with you,

 the Mighty Warrior who saves. 

He will take great delight in you;

 in His love He will no longer rebuke you,

 but will rejoice over you with singing.”

Zephaniah 3:17

The crystal blue sky with its ribbons of soft clouds lingers above my dry, dirt field with its yellow, brittle grasses. A lone dragonfly floats on the breeze and my pups gather around some newly discovered delight as I take refuge in the constancy of the ocean-sounding traffic.

There is reassurance in constancy, a sort of sound break from the voices in my head. They quiet and become still as if listening for a message from the road.

My African adventure brought me joy, opening me, somehow, to the gratitude all around me; empowering my deep cleansing breaths to actually feel cleansing. Through giving to others, I was given the beginnings of peace and I felt like I had turned a corner in my grief journey.

Last week, however, in the middle of Fry’s grocery store, in the thick of the holiday clamor, I was suddenly aware of how incredibly irritable I had become; an overwhelming irritability with no specific target or source. It surprised me with it’s vehemence. I stood wondering at it and like a small, naive child, looking up at my widowed self, I asked, “Is this what it feels like to have a first Christmas without Philip?”  My widowed self answered with an angry irritation: “Of course it is…”

On some unspoken level, I had thought that my African respite would save me from this but of course, it cannot. It does, afterall, make sense. Quite frankly, it is irritating to be back in the heartache that I have only weakly cloaked as irritability.

Nonetheless, I feel like I need to wake up from this fog already and show my world the true, hope filled meaning of Christmas. How Jesus truly does work all things for the good of those who believe. I feel like I need to: put lights up on the house to declare that Jesus is the light of the world and of my darkness; send Christmas cards in gratitude for the kindness of friends who have held me up this past year; buy gifts to give others a glimpse of what a gift they are to Jesus and to me.

I want to be the light of the world for Jesus… but I just can’t seem to manage it today.

Instead, I sit in my running car in an obscure, isolated parking lot and I cry.  I cry tears I had hidden away in my toes. I use up my car’s tissue box and as my eyes become red and swollen and my nose dripping, a song comes on the radio and God sings to me:

“You are not hidden. You are not hopeless. I hear your SOS.I will send out an army to find you…”

I am the light not because of what I do or say but because of whose I am.And, suddenly, there is a knock on my car window. When I think I am unseen, He sends out an army of one in the form of a sweet stranger who sees my tears and asks if I am okay.  She listens to my tale of woe and through her, His message is clear.  I will get through this. I will be alright. By feeling the grief that is born from the love that fuels it, I am His light in this world even if my house is not. The light shines because Christmas is proof that God came down to feel what I feel and to love me through even my hardest fights. What better light is there than feeling grief’s journey while being held tightly in God’s double grip? I am the light not because of what I do or say but because of Whose I am.

“You’re not defenseless,” He sings. “I’ll be your shelter. I’ll be your armor. I will never stop marching to reach you in the middle of the hardest fight. It’s true, I will rescue you.”

Words of comfort and joy through a song and a stranger, both sung by my Jesus, to rescue me.

And doesn’t that just about sum up the true meaning of Christmas? 

Merry Christmas, indeed,

Anne, December 12, 2021

You are not hidden

There’s never been a moment

You were forgotten

You are not hopeless

Though you have been broken

Your innocence stolen

I hear you whisper underneath your breath

I hear your SOS, your SOS

I will send out an army to find you

In the middle of the darkest night

It’s true, I will rescue you

There is no distance

That cannot be covered

Over and over

You’re not defenseless

I’ll be your shelter

I’ll be your armor

I hear you whisper underneath your breath

I hear your SOS, your SOS

I will send out an army to find you

In the middle of the darkest night

It’s true, I will rescue you

I will never stop marching to reach you

In the middle of the hardest fight

It’s true, I will rescue you

I hear the whisper underneath your breath

I hear you whisper, you have nothing left

I will send out an army to find you

In the middle of the darkest night

It’s true, I will rescue you

I will never stop marching to reach you

In the middle of the hardest fight

It’s true, I will rescue you

Oh, I will rescue you.”

“Rescue” by Lauren Daigle

This is the message of Christmas.  Amen.

MaasaiMaasai Girl’s Rescue Center

maasairescue.org/campaign 

While I was in Tanzania, I was given the privilege of transporting Neema, a young Maasai girl, to Arusha for burn care. I wrote about her and the Plaster House where she is receiving care.

Later in my trip, I was able to visit the girl’s home where she will go after her burn treatment. The Maasai Girls Rescue Center in SW Tanzania’s Karatu. It is a colorful place of smiling, singing children. Please see the link for all it’s specifics but read on for an overview.

We were greeted by a group of eager, welcoming girls. They sat beside us on their living room couches while we were introduced to their home. One girl had arrived with no language skills and now speaks Maasai, Swahili and is studying Iraqi. Barb was able to greet her in Iraqi. It made them both smile.

Currently, 55 girls live in a rented facility but new land has been acquired with plans to build. The founder, Rick Morro, took us on a tour. 

The land is on a hill in the trees. The deep red earth accents the lushness of the landscape. On one side of the road, the farm is already up and running. The cabbages in the cabbage patch were gorgeous. They have bunnies, chickens, pigs, and cows. Mr. Morro proudly tells us that he gets many of his innovative and sustainable ideas from Pinterest.

Across the road are the 12 acres of land being prepared for their new home with room for 120 girls. There are plans for a vocational school as well. 

It is beautiful and hopeful and creative and even awe inspiring. It will be such a place of healing for my Neema.

TanzaniaAnne

November, 2021

It is a Sinterclaus dance party with balloons and music and dancing. Sinterclaus is like our Santa and sits upon a throne looking chair. His helpers are called black Peter because they are the ones who slide down the chimneys with gift from Sinterclaus. Up on the festive stage, children and their families are welcomed. Each little one stands before Sinterclaus and with their family is photographed as the helpers dance around in jubilation and merriment. I see three little ones dressed in medieval garb who are waiting for their turn to dance but they do not wait still. They’ve have caught the spirit of the season and joy expands as they do.

Waterland

Take me to Waterland where there are paths of water separating the paths for cars and bicycles alike. In front and behind the houses the mini canals flow as well. The living green of the land falls away to the right and the blowing brown grasses to the left shielding the cows and horses. Driveways, like floating docks, connect the historic quaint houses over the water to the one lane road. Small villages, each one with an old church, anchor the land at random intervals. It is all surrounded by the protected land of the bird conservation area. Amsterdam’s skyline can be seen in the distance like a distant frame.

My heart lives here. My spirit cries within me to stay; to never leave; to find a way to remain connected to that which cannot be held. The beauty and peacefulness of this land speaks to my depths as if it calls me to God Himself. And I suppose it does. It is God who anchors my soul, Who offers me His ultimate beauty and peace. These villages do not need a church building to anchor them. They have the land itself; this land of living water.

AmsterdamAnne

November 20, 2021

We sit at the edge at one of the cafes that cross the street from the main Maastricht Square. The prominent, exquisite architecture of the 13th century churches rise up before us. The Protestant Church with its sentinel red tower overlooks it all. 

I am tired and my feet hurt and this distracts me from grief but it allows gratitude to bubble up between the aches. 

Thank you, God for this most amazing day. I stand in the Maastricht Vrijhof square and close my weary eyes.

I hear the motors of distant vehicles. There is the gentle tinkling of bicycles pedaling past behind me and the lyrical deep,undulating voices from the row of cafes across from me. Cool, crisp air fills my lungs as I appreciate what I once shared with Philip here where we once danced and I now share with my beste Elske and Marijo. We will always have Maastricht, my friend and friends.

The cobblestone roads (Or are they brick?) make paths through this river city which we walk and share with the plentiful bikes and less frequent cars. They are at times uneven but the character they lend is nothing but charm. Tall buildings meet the sidewalk like a slot canyon meets the inner path. Some have winkles, Dutch for stores, and restaurants on their street levels, some with housing above. Maastricht is an old city with new imaginative reuses. All decorated for Sinterclaus with magical lights and garlands. It inspires me to overcome sadness with the inklings of celebration 

And celebrate we do at Elske’s son Micah’s home. Eggplant risotto with my favorite Pofferjets for first dessert and for second dessert a sampling of the musical talents of Micah and Annuk. 

What a perfect way to end our time in the city Philip and I cherished together.

I am thankful,

AmsterdamAnne

November 19, 2022

I grew up looking through my father’s eyes at

I grew up looking through my father’s eyes at Van Gogh and his Starry, Starry Night. He loved Don McClean’s song Vincent as well.  On my first visit to Amsterdam with Philip, we went to the Van Gogh museum because of my dad. There we fell in love with Vincent and each other.  Philip had such a wonder about him that trip. Whether it be Van Gogh’s wheat fields or his flowers, Philip was giddy with the experience, so many new things to explore that he had never considered before.

I went the Van Gogh immersive exhibit in Phoenix recently. The wall sized, 360°, moving paintings put to music were amazing. The paintings brought to life Van Gogh’s masterpieces. 

So, of course, I wanted to go to his museum in Amsterdam. I blew past the works that didn’t inspire me and went right for the ones that did.

His “View of the Sea” with the exquisite light on water; his “Reformed church in Nuenen” which he painted to honor his dad who was a Pastor there, with it’s dark, hallowed feel; his “Pink Peach Tree” with its lacy white flowers that make me feel as if I could step into it’s world; and “At Eternity’s Gate” of a worn out, anguished man ready to be done.

I love all these but my favorite, in house, is the “Almond Blossoms”.  The turquoise shading with delicate branches and blossoms fill me with proof that the world should go on if only for the beauty of these colors. I stand for a bit before it to let the colors sink into my own weary, sometimes sorrowful, soul.  It waters my dry places with it’s message of life.

AmsterdamAnne

November 18, 2021

Anne Frank House

Downtown Amsterdam

“May we light our own torches with the incandescence of her spirit.”

“All her would-haves are our opportunities”

Emma Thompson

I walk through Anne’s story as I walk through her secret annex. Such overwhelming fear and uncertainty and yet “I hope…” Anne writes.

In the most desperate times, she hopes. She hopes to be a famous writer one day. She hopes to capture the value of words in her book of beautiful words. She hopes to change the world when she leaves the annex.

“I hope…”, she says.

I just want to sit with that.

I want to let the “incandescence of her spirit” wash over me. 

I want to consider all her would-haves and honor her life and the million of lives taken with intentionality and hope in my own opportunities. 

I want to hope as she hoped with light and life to inspire others.

AmsterdamAnne

November 18, 2021

November, 2021

As I sit on the bench in the Muiderslot Castle garden, I pay tribute to you my love. We came here at our very beginning. We were fresh and new to each other and full of wonder as we discovered the castle and the city and beyond together.

You knew you loved me back then but I was too afraid to admit I could be loved. Your persistence and truth, that began here, brought me with you until I learned to believe. Your patience waited until I could love in return. 

The garden is brown in the cold and damp of winter beneath the grey and clouded sky. It’s lush potential dormant until the Spring, a distant memory away. 

I came here to say goodbye and leave you here in the place where we began. I thought I would need some moments alone to leave a teary tribute but am surprised, instead, to find only gratitude.

You did not always love me well but you always loved me and I, you. Our undercurrent of connection never failed, even now. Just as the timid crocus blooms on this crisp, misty day amid the winter bleakness, I remember and my heart blooms in gratitude for the privilege we had in loving one another.

Blessed,

AmsterdamAnne 11/16/2021

Morning:

Look up Anne. See the glory of my creation and let it heal your soul. Listen to the bird song It is Me singing over you with joy and thanksgiving as I see you become who I’ve made you to be. The beauty all around you is just a glimmer of who you are becoming every time you seek My presence and bask in the glory of My creation.

Breath in My fragrance. Hold it in your lungs. Breathe it out. In with My mercy. Out with My grace

Watch the hook nosed white birds in their circle over the water, dancing to the music they make themselves for Me. It is the beauty and the rhythm of life in each wing flap. They touchdown on the water to swirl around again. 

Breathe in.

Breathe out. 

Be still,

And know that I am God.

Afternoon:

I spent the day smiling today in Kampen, Elske’s hometown.

There is Autumn in the trees and winter in the air. Colored leaves of gold and red litter the garden park paths along the river and canals. While the green grass illuminates the in betweens.

Marijo and I walked the narrow stone streets of the medieval city of Kampen. Towering old buildings with bright, inviting shops decorated for Christmas. There are lighted garlands connecting the building tops above. It is a magical place.

Her dad has lived here for most of his 90 years. From his seat in his living room, he regales us with his walking history book tales. He has a way of elevating history from stuffiness to joy and we leave smiling.

AmsterdamAnne

November 17, 2021

Philip I miss you. You would not have gone on this trip with me but you would have been eager to hear my stories. 

Fifty times a day I see something I want to share with you and every time my heart cramps as reality pokes me.  I still can’t believe you’re gone.

I saw a simple shoe horn…cramp

The hot sauce at dinner…cramp

Buying coffee at the market…cramp

Talking about grandpas…cramp

Gazpacho, salsa soup…cramp

Our daily cooks…cramp

The easy conversations about covid are not easy for me. I have been mysteriously devoid of covid fear these past months but I am always wondering why others discuss the possibility of death without awareness.

Even here in Africa I am constantly reminded  your strengths and talents. 

You would have been friends with all of the translators, all of the locals, all of the cooks…like you were in Nicaragua. 

Your wonder at discovering every new animal or rash or food or coffee.

You would have been out there fixing the generator unaware that you were a hotel guest and not a local. 

You would have had a whole soccer game going in the dirt with a tennis ball.

I am left dreaming of my life without you. It is bittersweet. So many possibilities…I know that

God has something for me that could not be accomplished with you and this is hope filling. I know that full well but my heart aches with prospect of not sharing it with you…

TanzaniaAnne

November, 2021