Wednesday

The overcast skies of the morning, lend a brilliance to the many colors of green that surround me in the forest. There is a captivating little creek along the edge of the thickness of the trees. As I come near, I hear the gurgling of the brook and just barely see the tadpoles as they dart and hide under the rock shelving. They are so swift in their retreat it is hard to get a good look. I find that if I stand just right and still enough, for long enough, they venture back out. I can then see that among the tiny tadpoles are also a marvelous little school of small fish.

I breathe deeply of the fragrant forest air and consider the fish. I think of myself this week darting to and fro, in and out of fear for my player.
He is such a relational person. When the coach doesn’t play him, he feels disconnected and doesn’t play as well, so coach doesn’t play him… round and round it goes. It’s the personal connection that fuels his game of both baseball and life.

Yesterday, he was mightily challenged. It was hump day and fatigue was high as was my concern for him. But, it turned out that his struggles opened up communication with his coach and the next game was the best of his Coopertown experience. My player was back, energized with his diving catches, rifling throws to first, his racing slides to third. I suspect it was the connection to coach that turned him around.
So as I stand still and watch the fish who now come out to play in numbers, Psalm 46:10 comes unbidden: “Be still and know that I am God.”
It makes me consider how He takes my darting thoughts, my in and out of fear and brings clarity to calm my silly soul. When I stand just right on His promises and am still enough, for long enough, I can know that He is God. And when I stop to know, He opens me to the stillness of His beauty alongside a gurgling brook and the fantastic greens of His forest.

Tuesday in C-Town

“Behold, he is coming in the clouds”
Revelation 1:7

“God often manifested Himself in an energized, blazing light called the Shekinah or Glory cloud. No one could see it fully and live so it had to be veiled, but when Christ returns the glory will be completely visible.” -MacArthur

How fitting that a day of clouds is followed by a morning devotion about God’s glory cloud. As the clouds rolled in yesterday and granted me some relief from the heat, they also covered the baseball field where Joe was pitching. Close your eyes and imagine God coming on those clouds.

Imagine Him present as Joe pitched and the batters hit home runs. Imagine God lending some of Himself to Joe, though we, and especially Joe, did not recognize it. Imagine God coming on those clouds to empower Joe to extend His mercy and grace through Joe’s weakness; through the opportunity for Joe to give out of his own need to others in need thereby meeting everyone’s need.

And finally, imagine, if God’s present glory can be veiled in the weakness of a struggling 12 year old pitcher, how, then, will He show it through your own?

Monday in C-Town

The overcast skies with their rain laden clouds bring intermittent yet cherished respite from the searing sun and the damp blanket of air that lays heavy about my ears and shoulders. I combat my discomfort with weak attempts at distractive cooling. I pace, fan, drink ice water but to little avail until game 4 begins.
As the game gathers forward motion, the heat is easily defeated by the almost linear succession of homeruns that arch high over the green wall of the outfield.
We celebrate these victors, some of whom glory in the accomplishment of their first home run ever! But we, also, search for the elusive words of encouragement for those yet to glory.

Winning by a significant lead, I am surprised that the boys stay so focused on playing well. Their heart break is almost palpable when they miss their own expectations. Caught in the intensity of the moment, they are unable to notice the victory and joy they allow others to receive because of their own undoing.

It is a hard lesson to embrace but it is, perhaps, the one lesson that allows us to experience the true glory of being beautifully human.

Game Day

It was Joe’s first game at Cooperstown and he was on the bench. I told myself to trust the process but sharp memories of days gone by and the spirit-breaking of another son as he sat on the bench, gripped my heart. I was already overwhelmed by the morning with tired, hot, cranky bones and an attitude of parched unsettling. I felt disgruntlement creep up from my toes. As fear began to take a foothold, I knew I needed the breath of God to turn me around, to redeem my attitude and revive me.

As I prayed for God to intervene, I thought of how my devotional life had been disconnected as of late but I opened to Oswald Chamber’s July 28 anyway and read:

“God’s purpose is for me
to depend on Him and on His power now.
If I can stay calm, faithful, and unconfused while in the middle of the turmoil of life,
the goal of the purpose of God is being accomplished in me…
What He desires for me is that
I see Him walking on the sea
with no shore, no success, no goal in sight
but simply having the absolute certainty
that everything is alright.”
Mark 6:45-50

Remaining calm, faithful and unconfused in the absolute certainty that all is well. I repeated those words over and over and let their living water sink into the dryness of my fear.
When I looked up, Joe was playing third and smiling and, to my surprise, I found my heart was smiling too.

AMRB, 2019

Cooperstown
Game Two

I say goodbye to our first Cooperstown game day as the sweet cooling breezes of the evening allow me pause. The pink tinged skies of the setting sun against the endless greens of the forest, connect me to the beauty that is baseball.

Game 2 proved to be a challenge. The thick, warm air somehow provided buoyancy for the pitching; the red dirt with its sticky, denseness slowed our sliding; the 200-foot fields practically taunted the batters to breach them nonetheless our Fire boys came together.
I see them learning each other’s ways: high-fiving the homerun-ers of both sides and encouraging the struggling…Living outside of themselves on this journey to become true champions. Win or lose, this is the real prize.

AMRB, 2019

Flagstaff is our cool, breezy host for this tournament weekend of baseball, nestled within the fresh smelling pines of the Arizona high country. Through the tall pines, I can see the briskly blowing flag at half mast in honor of all those who have fallen but are not forgotten. Joe wears flag socks with his baseball uniform for the same reason. It is good to celebrate this Memorial Day in the home of the free because of the brave.

The sun plays hide and seek with the clouds in the crisp blue sky as the temperature tags along like an unwanted younger sibling, chilling and warming as it follows the sun. I am grateful for Audrey’s long sweater coat as my desert-dwelling self shivers in the shade of a silly 59 degrees.

Today, it is a glorious day on the Frances Short Pond that lies just beyond the baseball fields.

It is a small pond within a meadow encircled by trees. All textures of green thrive with abandon here: the full roundness of the green-yellow willow trees, the shorter narrower whitish green of the delicate birch leaves, all skirted round about by the towering arrows of the dark green pine. There are scattered boulders around the shore, randomly perfected for sitting on in the recurrent ebb and flow of the sun.

Local fishermen families also line it’s shores while the Mallards and the brilliant white Pekin ducks clean themselves without fanfare or fear. The breezes ruffling the velvety down of their necks and hind quarters in untouchable waves of softness.

Sparkling twinkles of silver draw my eyes to the beauty of the wind rippled water as my ears catch the distant, patriotic rhythms of a tuba. Snatching my attention away, it signals the start of, and summons me back to, our afternoon of play.

Easter, 2019

I had just been to the eggstravaganza at church on the day before Easter. It was a beautiful cool day to be out under the trees in the grass. Beautiful Easter dresses on the little girls and the amazing smiles on all the children spoke to my heart. It made me wonder if my face would hurt because I was smiling so much with wonder at their wonder.

There was a 12 year-old or so boy who was running one of the game tables all by himself. Dillon was so interactive, kind and gentle with all the little ones. His energy was inspiring as his servant’s heart joyfully burst from his every action.

Afterwards, however, as I was sitting in a shady spot sipping an iced tea, I began to cry. I was crying, in part, because I am in a different stage of life and my little ones are grown. But also, maybe mostly, because I have been at Grace for 27 years and there I was celebrating Easter without even one of my family with me. My mind filled with doubts and self-recrimination as I regretfully considered what could have been different so that my family would be alongside me here serving; serving independently of my faith having found their own; having found a faith in my unparalleled God who fuels them and bursts from them in service. What has gone wrong?

And then, as is my way, I tempered my regret with thoughts of the uselessness and outright sin of trying to place blame. I reminded myself that I am a godly woman who has lived my life of faith out loud, raising my children at Grace and seeking Jesus to fuel me through it all. I claimed God’s promises: It is God’s gig, I say, not mine. He asks me only to be faithful with what/who is in front of me. He promises to take care of the rest.

Yet, I was still crying in my shady spot, unable to accept my own faith as comfort. With my next thought I was back wondering, Why has it not worked? Why have they not caught a glimpse of God through me that has been so welcoming and authentic that they could not stay away?

In my distress, my tears spilling everywhere, I opened to Mr. Chamber’s My Utmost for His Highest:

“Worrying means exactly what this servant implied–‘I know your intent is to leave me unprotected and vulnerable.’”

“Never forget that our capability and capacity for spiritual matters is measured by, and based on, the promises of God. Is God able to fulfill His promises?”

O. Chambers, April 20.

It is a question that God, with blinding precision, used Mr. Chambers to ask me. It was almost as if the Holy Spirit sprang from the page and flew right into me, dispersing my doubt in an instant as I realized the implication of my sorrow.

My heart gasped as God’s truth and the truth of my sorrow was revealed in Mr. Chambers words. I am sorrowful because I am doubting God’s intent and heart. My sorrow sprouting from within an entangling lie. God will never leave me nor forsake me! He will never leave me unprotected and vulnerable. I reject the sorrow of my premise and embraced the new sorrow at doubting my unparalleled God.

This is exactly why we must bring our state of being into God’s light every time. All our sorrows and emotions and questions to the throne of grace where He will reveal His truth in our circumstances.

I do not know the whys and wherefores of my life but I am knowing my unparalleled God. He has told me all along:

“But seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added to you.” Matthew 6:33

Today, I read this verse with my new eyes and I believe anew that some of the things that shall be added to me will include those I love best. And I know this because He is right beside me lighting every step of my seeking way.

Postscript: How perfect is it that He gives me these new eyes at Easter? Easter when we remember Jesus and His suffering, death, burial and Resurrection; because of Easter, I no longer need to be buried by my sorrow and shame; because of Easter, I can choose to be raised to new life (and eyes) by my God Who pursues me. My God Who came to bury my darkness and raise me to new life so that I might have my greatest need filled, my need to be fully loved.

Happy Easter, my friends, because Easter changes everything!

Anne

Sunday, March 24, 2019

“Listen intently with your entire being until you hear the voice of God in the life of another. Never give any thought to

what difficulties it might bring,

just rejoice that his voice has been heard.”

O. Chambers, (Mar, 24)

The difficulties we have seen on this trip have been doorways. When opened, the darkness within is chased out by the light of the truth of Jesus. Some of the darkness has been horrifying yet we have the privilege to rejoice that His voice has been heard. We can rejoice that the renovation can now begin.

“Turn your eyes upon Jesus,

Look full in His glorious face

His word shall not fail you,

He promised
Believe Him and all will be well.”

•HH Lemmell•

Adios, Honduras.

~Anne~

Saturday, March 23

It is a brilliant day in the country. We travel 45 minutes out of the city to a rocky, white sand, bowl valley. The hillside is covered with parched beige grass, scatterings of trees and homes. The dirt roads cut into the hillside as if preparing for the building of a subdivision.

This multi level church is built into the hillside in various stages of completion. It is open air, breezy and bright. The bird song is sweet and inviting. I see a sign: Church on the Ridge.

Clinic starts and I go over to CSI. Many of my young adult team members have been doing this all week. There have been many tears and for good reasons. How in the world have they done it? My second patient reduces me to a quivering blob of protoplasm.

Sofia is 10. When I asked her if she’s afraid of anyone in her community she breaks down in heavy sobbing. Eventually we make out that the boys at school call her names and it hurts her heart she says. They tell her they’re going to kill her. She is also afraid of the dark and fears that they might come and kill her then. My first instinct is to tell a grown up but she begs me not to tell her mother and won’t tell me why. I gather her up in my arms and hold her a while, wondering what in the world I can do.

My interpreter, Gina, tells me that she was bullied when she was a child and never told her mother. I have her share this with Sofia. I tell her it’s important to tell someone, to get secrets out in the light. The bullies have power when they think no one else knows. It is important to let somebody know and take their power away.

After some hugging and affirmation, she allows me to tell her mother. Her mother knows. Her mother has talked with the teacher. Her father has talked with the teacher. But the teacher says she has too many students she can’t be bothered with that.

I am, once again, in a painful quandary but it comes to my mind to call over David, the project coordinator. I ask him if there’s anything he can do. He talks to the mom for a bit and they decide that One Child Matters will send a letter to the teacher about the situation and that he will then follow up. This doesn’t seem like enough but it is a start.

I want to take this child’s pain and fear away. I want to fix this. I want to give Sofia power…so I give her two Gospel color bracelets. I tell her God’s story through the colors and I ask her to wear one bracelet and hide one bracelet under her pillow. When she is afraid at night I tell her to hold the bracelet and remember God’s love for her. At school, I want her to remember how precious she is to God and drown out the bullies’ lies with God’s truth.

Though my heart hurts for her, I am reminded of my morning devotion from Mr. Chambers:

“If the Spirit of God detects anything that is wrong. He doesn’t ask you to make it right. He only asks you to accept the light of truth and then He will make it right.”

What a relief to know that God sheds His light on both patient and caregiver. He doesn’t call us to fix it. He calls us to love in the moment and leave the rest to Him. It is a painful, uncertain lesson to learn.

Pastor Michael comes to find me for my next encounter with a mom who, it is feared, is doing drugs and hitting her special needs son. She is a thin, pale woman with golden, shimmering eyeshadow on her eyelids. She smiles and tells me she knows Jesus but doesn’t go to church. She’s afraid she will be judged.

As I talk with her she shares with me that her parents loved her sister more than her so she left home at 9. She survived by cleaning houses. She says she has done a lot of bad things and she struggles with hating her mother, and I suspect, herself.

We talk about how important a mother’s love is and how much pain it can cause and did cause her. Our parents show us who God is so when they fail then our view of God suffers. It is a perfect segway for talking about Who God is; about the importance of being a good mother to our children; for the importance of getting help when we struggle with our children. In the end, I don’t know if she was doing drugs and I don’t know if she’s hitting her son but it is, again, a start, a launching pad for God’s truth.

As I stand aside in clinic and watch as the last patients finish, I wonder what my week’s take away will be. There are random times in my life, between trips, when I think of particular moments standing in clinic. They return to my mind periodically and instantly I am back reliving it. I wonder if this will be one of those times.

There have been multiple times this trip when my emotions have been stretched. When I have had to trust God for an outcome that I will not see. When I need to rest in my knowledge of God’s character and trust He is trustworthy. My morning devotion from Mr. Chambers comes back into view.

“God will see to it that you have a number of opportunities to prove to yourself the miracle of His grace…And you will never cease to be the most amazed person on Earth at what God has done for you on the inside.” (Mar, 23)

He’s right, I stand amazed.