chords float in the wind
fill my soul
the notes drown empty spaces
soak like nothing else
a dry, withering, empty, cracked ground
needs water, a replenishing, a pouring
to sprout shoots, seedlings,
full with the promise of fruit,
replete with the hope and desire of a deeper root,
held in the hollow of a gentle, powerful hand
***
Yesterday I sat beside him with a ruler and showed him how small a millimeter is, and how many of them it takes to make a centimeter, and I thought about how quickly the numbers get big when the distance is so small, that 10 centimeters equals 100 millimeters… and what does this mean?
I call out spelling words for a test, review vocabulary flashcards, help with geometry problems, and go to the library, all part of my slow, nice, relaxing day yesterday. I wish I remembered to write down things like this daily, because at the end of the day when the sink is overflowing with dirty dishes and the laundry isn’t folded and the house is as far from perfect as it could ever be, and I’ll never be Martha Stewart (and I confess, I’m not trying to be), I’d like to smile as I remember what we did and realize there will be days like this and my goal is not perfection, but love…. and I try to remember this when I’m tempted to listen to voices that tempt me to believe that I don’t matter or I’m a failure, and remind myself of the voice that matters, the one that says “well done, good and faithful servant and look in the direction that builds up, not down, and what is important in life.
So each night I hug the youngest who is getting bigger and remind myself that those who are as tall as me or taller need the hugs too… and the tallest one won’t let anyone pray for him at bedtime anymore…. I know his heart hurts and he is growing and needs love as much as anyone does at any age, and it makes my heart hurt, too, so I still pray for him but alone and silently, because when does a mother ever stop praying for her own kids?
Unnumbered thoughts and questions race through my mind each day, from the immediate situation to the longer-term future to the known and the unknowns. And only God knows the answers to any of these questions, as I walk through life day after day.
And on earth here, trapped in time and space, God reminds me that he can divide the smallest unit of matter and space into pieces I can’t see, he can get closer to me than a millimeter and inhabit my very soul, my heart, he can get into each invisible internal cell. And that is not all, even from far away, there is no place I can hide from him, whether in the bottom of the sea or in an airplane or under the bed.
That’s why a millimeter matters.
And I want the kids to know this, this kind of closeness, this kind of knowing God— I long for them to know Him, not the things about him or to be perfect, because no one can ever know it all or be it all, but we can know him the best we can, finding him as the source of love and all that is good. Because when the world rejects, people’s words hurt, when relationships falter, when money is gone, jobs are lost, when health fails… what falls, the pieces, what is left, is what matters, is what he picks up and holds and kisses and says, “It will be Ok.”
And that is just the message I needed to hear from him today. It brought me to tears, this message I needed to be reminded of again.
I know what can get smaller than a millimeter, kids, and why you need to know, if you should ask.
***
Sharing with sweet Emily at Imperfect Prose:
He woke up with a high fever.
He became ill quickly.
He had no appetite. He threw up a couple of times.
And when he complained of dizziness and severe chest pain when breathing, I knew something was wrong.
It was Saturday, just over a week ago, Jan. 14, when he woke up with a very high fever. Usually a dose of ibuprofen will help, but in this case it didn’t help much– he stayed in bed, for hours. Since we are visiting India, I have to keep all illness possibilities in my mind (malaria, typhoid, other viruses, etc.). It seems this is not the typical cold or virus.
In the afternoon, when my nearly 11-year-old son tells me he has severe chest pain when breathing, and the room looks like it is upside down, I thought I had better call a doctor. It was around 4pm, and fortunately I got an appointment for 7pm. We had just seen a doctor the day before for my other son, who was given antibiotics for a mild infection — so we had a clinic already in mind, with a doctor we had just met. It was fortunate– not that we needed the doctor but that we already had a place to go for another child who was much more ill. God prepared the way to the hospital the day before.
By the time we arrived at the clinic, I whispered to my husband that I knew Joshua needed to be hospitalized. I didn’t know the diagnosis, but I knew he was quite sick. Vomiting had become worse; he couldn’t even hold down water. He was becoming more ill while simply sitting at the doctor’s office. He was getting dehydrated. He was slouching in the chair, leaning on the left side since the right side hurt so much. He didn’t want to stand, but lie down.
And the blood tests confirmed it. The doctor was surprised at the results. “When did he first become ill?” he asked me, for the third time.
Again, I told him, “just today.” Just today. In one day. He was fine yesterday, no signs of anything amiss.
We are all surprised at the blood test results.
His white blood cell count was nearly 3 times the normal amount, over 31,000. (The normal range is 4,000- 11,000). The neutrophils were high, at 91.4% (normal is 45-70%). The lymphocytes were low at 6.4% (normal is 20-45%).
His C-reactive protein number was astronomically high, 44.5 mg/L (normal is up to 6 mg/L in adults).
The doctor asked us to get a chest x-ray. I knew my child was getting dehydrated, we all could see the numbers, and the doctor already said he’d need an IV with antibiotics, so I asked if we could get the IV first. But the doctor insisted we get the chest x-ray first.
More time, more dehydration, I’m thinking to myself. To get the x-ray, we’d need to leave the clinic and go outside. Our relative had taken his van to purchase something, and we couldn’t reach him by phone. So we had to call an auto rickshaw to take us there.
The "auto rickshaw" is an open-air, three-wheeled Indian taxi. It can seat about three people.
We put Josh in the middle, him leaning on the left side, and covered our faces and mouths because of the air pollution, and the driver took us to the clinic. The bumpy ride felt like an eternity, but in reality was less than 10 minutes, maybe even five minutes, I’m not sure, as time seemed warped that night. Am I really in an auto rickshaw in south India at this moment with a very sick boy? It felt like a bad movie.
I walk in the x-ray clinic. A man is by the front desk on the phone. He continues speaking for quite some time, and I don’t understand his language. Finally, he gets off the phone, and I tell him in English we are here for an x-ray. But we can’t communicate. I don’t speak his language and he doesn’t speak English. When my husband comes in after paying for the taxi, the man explains in their native language that no x-ray technician is on duty that night because of the festival (it’s the first day of the Harvest Festival in south India), and we’ll have to go somewhere else for the x-ray. He tells us another clinic is just down the street.
Really? I am frustrated as I sit back down while my husband goes outside to herald another auto rickshaw. Didn’t the clinic check before they sent us here? They said they’d call! I can’t believe it. I feel as if valuable time is being wasted. I am getting worked up, my blood pressure is rising, I am mumbling (rather loudly) about the situation… and my son, leaning on my shoulder, weakly tells me to stop. I stop. I realize — this is not what he needs. My child needs me, and doesn’t need me to be upset at a situation that is beyond our control. I pray silently for speed, for clarity, for a clear diagnosis, etc., while he leans his head on my shoulder.
The taxi is summoned, so out we go again, in another bumpy auto rickshaw ride, a few minutes down the street, to another clinic.
I walk in and head to the front desk. Few people speak English in Vijayawada in places of business, I discover, and I can’t speak Telugu, the language they speak. When my husband walks in, he communicates to them why we are there. In a few minutes we are called back for the x-ray.
When finished, I ask the x-ray technician as he steps out in the hall how long will it take to get the image processed? He says 30 minutes. At least he understands some English– he can’t speak much English, but he understands me. I ask him if he can process it faster, that the child is very ill and is waiting to go to the hospital. He seems to understand and nods his head.
And in fact, the wait is less than 30 minutes, it is about 15-20 minutes. While we are waiting, our relative arrives with his van. We pay the bill — and then open the envelope with the x-ray image.
We see the x-ray picture and read the diagnosis.
Pneumonia of the right lung.
Wow. Pneumonia. We head back to the original clinic in the van, and sit in the waiting room. In a few minutes they call us back to see the doctor. We show him the x-ray and diagnosis. He tells us that Josh must be admitted to the hospital, for at least 3-4 days, even up to a week.
They draw some more blood for further testing. They do a penicillin test dose to ensure he is not allergic to penicillin. He is not. An IV needle is inserted in his wrist.
They ask us to pick out a hospital room. We march upstairs to the 3rd floor of the clinic and look at a room. It is clean and white and spotless. There are two beds, one for the patient, one for the parent. Some empty shelves are at the front of the room, by the door. A Western style bathroom is attached. The room has an A/C unit and a ceiling fan.
We take the room, #302.
Things are done differently here. We carry our own medical records and test results from place to place. We pick out our own hospital room. But they have processed all test results quickly and despite language barriers, we all understand numbers and pictures.
Josh is moved to the room and his IV medications are begun.
The doctor said 3-4 days, up to a week stay. We process this information.
It is Saturday night. On Monday morning, we are supposed to fly to Bangalore, a city several hundred miles away. Late Tuesday night, we are supposed to fly from Bangalore to Frankfurt, Germany, and then from Frankfurt, to Chicago, and be home by Wednesday.
The doctor says he does not think we can do any of this, that Joshua is sick and must get well before traveling. He continues to tell us of his plans for the next week– that he will be out of town at a conference for a couple of days.
We know we have to take one day at a time. We know we may need to reschedule our flight home. We know that Josh is sick and must get well. So much uncertainty on Saturday night.
I head back to my mother-in-law’s home, while my husband stays with my son at the hospital (the nurses on call do not speak English, only the doctor speaks some English). My other two kids are already in bed- it’s 11Pm. I open the computer and post a message on my personal Facebook page, asking people for prayer. The internet connection is sketchy– it knocks me out every 10 minutes and each time, I have to reconnect; occasionally, I have to reboot the computer, but I’m thankful for this– that I can instantly communicate a message from 8,000 miles away.
That night, I am reminded of Psalm 91, a scripture passage that a friend of mine shared with me just before I left. I found so much comfort in that passage before leaving for this trip, and that night, I am reminded particularly of this:
1 He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High
will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.
2 I will say of the LORD, “He is my refuge and my fortress,
my God, in whom I trust.”3 Surely he will save you from the fowler’s snare
and from the deadly pestilence.
4 He will cover you with his feathers,
and under his wings you will find refuge;
his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.
5 You will not fear the terror of night,
nor the arrow that flies by day,
6 nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness,
nor the plague that destroys at midday.
7 A thousand may fall at your side,
ten thousand at your right hand,
but it will not come near you.
I had prayed through that entire Psalm before leaving, and tonight these verses give me comfort. And I sleep.
On Sunday morning, Joshua’s fever is gone.
He is feeling much better.
I stay with him for a few hours in the afternoon. We take a nap, and watch some TV. The TV has a zillion channels. A cartoon in English called “Chotta Bheem” provides some amusement and laughs. It feels good to laugh.
His appetite is resuming, he is able to sit up and walk, and his chest pain is greatly reduced.
He eats one “idli” (a steamed rice cake) for breakfast, two pancakes for lunch, and two chapatis (wheat flatbread), vegetables and yogurt for dinner.
And when the doctor said it could be up to a week– it becomes only two days.
The doctor agrees to discharge Joshua on Monday morning, so we can catch our flight, provided he keeps the heparin lock on his wrist and we go to a hospital once we are in Bangalore to continue his IV antibiotics and get injections through the IV needle. All of which we agree to do. (And accomplish. We take him to the clinic in Bangalore twice on Monday and three times on Tuesday before we fly home).
What if I had not taken him to the clinic on Saturday night? What if I had kept him home to keep an eye on him? For the usual types of viruses and illnesses, which is what I usually deal with in my kids, this would have been fine, an acceptable approach–wait and see. I shudder to think what would have happened had we waited– an ambulance in the middle of the night? He had become sick so quickly, the lung pain so severe, so fast, the illness could have progressed much further through the night. Would we still be in India now? How would Joshua be? All I can say is, “God, thank you.”
Because it is like this, God is too good, so good. We could still be in India, Josh could still be sick, we don’t know where we would be… but now, all unknowns and illnesses are transformed into a certain plan and a turnaround so quick, as fast as the uncertainty had begun. And God, He is like this, holding our hands in the midst of uncertainty, and putting our feet on a steady place while we look at numbers on papers that surprise and fevers and needles and IV’s, and try to choose the place of rest and peace.
Late Tuesday night, the heparin lock is removed, and Joshua is given antibiotic tablets to carry on the plane and back to the U.S.
He recovers in one day. Not seven.
We continue on with our travel plans.
We fly home. As scheduled. On time.
We arrive safely.
And here we are.
At home.
And we have much to be thankful for: God’s grace and goodness, His healing, His protection and prayers of many friends. I sent a call out for prayer on my personal facebook page- and it was answered by many people– and I was shocked on Sunday to see the response– over 40 people had said they’d pray– it brought tears to my eyes, choked me. They prayed, God healed, quickly, and let us come home on time, and no sicknesses on the travel home.
In a foreign country, in a hospital where a mother cannot communicate to the staff about her child (the staff did not speak English), I appreciated each and every prayer and comment that came my way, and asked God to heal my child, and He answered. With so many illnesses, possibilities, we are thankful for this happy ending. We know that we still have to follow up here in the U.S. with another blood test and another x-ray, but for now, all is well.
Joshua, on Sunday night a week ago, in the hospital room in India, eating his dinner of chapatis, vegetables and yogurt. (Shhh, PLEASE don't tell him I posted this pic, he'll be really mad at me!) 
***
Continuing with a list of thankfulness, #592 – #612 :
592. Joshua getting better, after 2 days of hospitalization with pneumonia in India. Quick medical care, quick diagnosis, all by God’s grace– he turns around quickly.
593. His quick recovery meant we could fly home on time, no flight changes needed.
594. A safe, healthy, unventful flight home.
595. God’s protection while in India. Nobody else got severely ill, although my youngest did need antibiotics for an infection (probably strep). Nobody got severe diarrhea, which is one thing visitors do often get when visiting India. We were extra, extra careful– didn’t drink tap water (drank only bottled water) and were careful about what we ate.
596. A wonderful visit with family and friends in India the past 3 weeks.
597. Safety on roads while traveling there. If you’ve been there or other parts of Asia, you know what I mean! (See my previous post, Driving in India)
598. The kids were able to see their cousins and relatives… some of whom they’ve never seen before. It was our first trip in 10 years, when my eldest were only 4 and 1, so for all practical purposes this felt like their first trip. They are all old enough now to remember this trip.
599. We came back with about one thousand photos (digital photography means more pics!) We’ll have to sort through them and make some sort of an album. My daughter, especially, had great fun taking pictures. We have pictures of family, places, and interesting pieces of daily life.
600. Thankful for so many things– that we have a wish list for the next visit. We want to see this, or go there, or visit that, all for “next time”. It’s nice to leave a place thinking that you’ll come back again. After 10 years, I had forgotten so much. I don’t think it’ll be another 10 years before the next time.
601. We were blessed to enjoy 80 degree weather, sunshine, and lush tropical views. When we got back to the U.S., the high for the day only reached 6 degrees Fahrenheit. Brrrr.
602. Easier getting over jetlag than 10 years ago. I’m still not there yet (going to bed at 6 or 7 pm and waking up at 4am) but last time was worse and took longer to recover! Now, I remember why– I had a one year old and a four year old! This time, my kids are older and we are all on a similar sleep pattern!
603. Thankful for kind friends who watched the house, neighbors who picked up the newspaper, and a boy across the street that we paid to shovel snow when necessary. Turns out it was unseasonably warm while we were gone and it only snowed maybe once that required shoveling. But it got cold after we returned, as if the cold weather was waiting just for us. It snowed 4 inches just two days after we reached!
604. Thankful that the kids adjusted easily there. I guess kids can adapt quite easily. Even for my youngest with extensive food allergies, he stayed pretty healthy (except for the antibiotics needed), and we were able to accommodate his special dietary needs. We can’t travel much because of his food needs, unless we stay with family, or have access to a kitchen and a grocery store.
605. Learning– how much I’ve learned on this trip. So much has changed in just ten years. There’s so much to learn and understand of this culture.
606. Coming home and sleeping in my own bed.
607. Hot water! They had hot water, but not everywhere and not always available, and it isn’t always so hot in some places, and you have heat up the water tank each morning. And in one city, the water shuts off for some time each day.
608. Eating a sandwich and a bowl of cereal after coming home. The types of things I get sick of usually– that’s exactly what I wanted after returning. Funny, isn’t it!
609. Stopping for a burger and fries on the way home. The kids wanted Culvers (a burger restaurant in this part of the country that is famous for its butter burgers and custard). Oh, did it taste good. Not that we didn’t enjoy the food there– we did, but some things taste like “home” and are comfort food. I guess in this case, a burger did it. We have a whole menu in our heads, with items like quiche, bacon, tacos, muffins, and more.
610. Thankful for friends praying for us while we were gone!
611. While in India, I fell in love with the Bournville “fine dark chocolate RICH COCOA” chocolate bar. I kid you not, I have not eaten a whole chocolate bar of this size in years. I only ate one. I had to bring a few bars home. It is DIVINE, I’m telling you. I had expected to lose some weight on this trip (I usually do while in India), but I actually gained a little this time. Oops. I don’t think the chocolate bar is completely to blame, though; they put “ghee” (refined butter) on nearly everything. And they eat a lot of rice and carbohydrates. I also brought home a bag of butterscotch candies with some sort of filling I thought were the best butterscotch I’ve had. This is unusual because I’m not someone who typically goes after sweets, candies, and desserts. I like salty stuff. So this is worth mentioning!
612. Thankful for a ride home from the airport. We were too sleepy to drive. We were home by 4pm, and we all crashed by 6 or 7 pm that night.
***
In India, this is the view from the front of the house I was staying in– near a large city called Vijayawada, near the coast of the Bay of Bengal:
There is a banana farm just beyond the gate, across the street. Beautiful driveway, isn't it! The designs are drawn and colored by hand.
Back in the midwest, the view is a plain snowy landscape; roads, lawns, roofs are covered in white dust. It looks barren compared to the green banana trees.
In the bigger cities I stayed in, the view was of buildings and streets, but it was vivid, alive, and noisy, certainly not quiet and devoid of people. On the contrary, it is anything but quiet in the city, even in the village. If it isn’t a truck honking or people talking on a city street, it is a rooster heralding the dawn right outside the window.
I can see why people who come to a U.S. suburb can feel lonely and isolated if they are used to what I’ve described. Unless they are staying in the hubbub of a large city, they might feel unsure of what to do, where to go, stuck indoors. If it is in the winter, even we who live here do not see our neighbors much– and for those used to seeing neighbors daily, then it could feel like they’ve been thrown onto some alien planet. Unless, of course, they are truly seeking a solitary time, they might not like it. It is different here.
I feel it too, occasionally. There are times I want to see neighbors mulling about, too, and in winter, we hardly see anyone except when we’re all out to shovel our driveways. But then, other times, yes, I need some time alone.
It’s Saturday morning here, Sat. night there, and I can imagine the traffic is beginning to die down a bit as the shops are closing and people are heading home. Last week was a festival weekend, and perhaps more people were out. Any night, however, is busy and crowded by American suburban standards.
On the plane headed to Frankfurt, I sat next to a woman headed to Athens, Greece for a 3 week tour of the country with her brother and his wife. Her husband had recently passed away and she was emotional, in tears. Her brother found her a seat next to himself, and then a man from Sudan was sitting next to me. He was heading back to Sudan to visit his family. On the way back to the U.S. from Frankfurt, I sat next to a young woman who had just graduated from college. She had been in Germany for a month, visiting her brother who plays in an orchestra there. She had applied for a Fulbright scholarship to study in Sweden, and told me all about it. So fascinating; I sincerely hope she gets to go! Three interesting stories, on just two airplanes.
And so many stories in the faces I saw in India– only a fraction of the one billion faces who live there. I saw poverty and I saw wealth and everything in between. I saw people living by the roadside in shacks, and people living in expensive, security-protected, high-rise condominiums.
A security-protected, expensive condominium colony in Hyderabad, India
India is still a country of contrasts. On city streets with buses, trucks, motorcycles, scooters, minivans and all makes and models of cars, all traffic will still slow down because of a cow on the side of the road. When driving between Vijayawada and Hyderabad (a journey that took about 7 hours), we passed by several herds of water buffalo and had to slow down for the herd to move to the side of the road.
Billboards in cities small and large advertise jewelry and clothing. In one city I visited, the number of jewelry shops was staggering. In general, Indian women dress up for weddings and events– and dressing up includes fancy outfits or saris made of silk, and jewelry of gold and precious jewels. The billboards don’t advertise small rocks or chains, either– the pictures are of some of the most extravagant necklaces and earrings I have ever seen. I am left to wonder how many people actually wear jewelry that large and extravagant…? Is it perhaps to strike a chord of want or longing? Most of us could never afford or dream of owning such jewelry- and would have little use for it, not attending state dinners or Hollywood galas. Is such advertising meant just for a small number of middle and upper class? If I were there, and living in a shack, would it taunt me every day that I could never afford those kinds of things? Remind me daily of my karma? How would I respond?
While in India, I saw servants coming in daily to sweep, mop, do laundry, wash dishes, chop vegetables, cook, etc. And I wondered what it must feel like for these women to know that this is their job, day after day after day? I know how I feel about washing dishes– how must they feel? And to believe that they are in the midst of a cycle that they cannot escape?
Where does the desire to live another day come from for most people? for them? I know where my hope comes from; but what about others? In so many cases, there are people who get up and face their lives of drudgery, and then there are also those who face more difficult circumstances and get up and beat the odds.
In each of us is a divine spark, put into us by the Creator, that innately tells us we are here for a reason, a purpose, and it is no accident. And for those people who I’ve seen, who worship their Hindu gods, they also have that same spark given by the Creator. But what they don’t know or understand is that there is hope and that God loves them as equally as He does all of us; that we are all equal to Him. And somehow they arise and do their job and visit temples and hope that in their next life they are more fortunate…. How do they know? What assurance do they have? Do they know what life they’ve lived in the past and that they’ve done enough to earn a better place in the future?
It’s an interesting time India is in. People are complaining that they can’t find good help these days. The lower castes are coming up and it’s much harder to find a driver or reliable household servant. Turnover is high. Some years ago, it was not unusual to have a servant and his family to stay for years. This is no longer the case. Why do people complain? Perhaps they don’t want things to change. Life is easier with help (there are no dishwashers, washing machines are still not so common, people still need drivers, etc.). Is it our human nature, no matter where we are in the world, to want to think we are a bit higher and there is someone a bit lower? Does it make us feel better, do something for our ego, or perhaps do we believe certain levels are closer to God? I don’t understand the entire situation, it is complex, but it wasn’t so much different in the U.S. not too long ago, was it?
Life is changing there, the economy is growing, and while there are still many problems to be dealt with, the growth is offering more opportunities for more people. And in addition to that, at some point, there will also be a reckoning with the statement that “all people are created equal”… this statement points directly at one of India’s societal foundations– the caste system. At some point, India will have to face this statement and make a decision. Either they believe we are all equal or we aren’t. The caste system says we are not. What does democracy say? What does God say? What does Hinduism say? What does the Bible say?
This is not meant to be political by any means… it’s where my thoughts and observations are today… by someone who has some ties to the country. I was born there, but not raised there. I can’t escape that when others look at me– they first me as – a person from India. I am not that on the inside, but that is who people see on the outside. It’s kind of like being an Oreo cookie, according to a friend of mine: brown on the outside, white on the inside! So take it as it is– an Oreo cookie’s observations — who believes that God loves us all equally with a passion unequaled to any love or anything this world has to offer.
In God’s eyes, we’re all the same kind of cookie.
Twice in the past few days I came across this verse about the Lord setting “my feet in a spacious place”.
For several reasons this verse is relevant to me right now.
First, I’ve heard a number of different conversations in this country I’m visiting (India), and there are a few common themes and topics that recur. One of these is the very high price of land. In some villages, one acre is selling for over $200,000. It is unthinkable, because just 10 years ago, the people of this village were boasting that nothing in their village had changed for at least one hundred years. But that is no longer the case.
One billion people live in a space about one third the size of the U.S. Land is in high demand and in short supply, so the price is high. But the high prices also mean that there is an affluent middle and upper class that can afford the exorbitant prices. I’ve seen condominiums in large cities that sell for $200,000-$300,000. Perhaps for the U.S. it doesn’t sound too high; after all, it’s pretty close to the median price of a house in the U.S. But here, it’s a very high price to pay, and even though there are those who can pay it, there are millions who cannot. And another thing, the type of housing, the quality, the cleanliness, the type of housing—nowhere matches what most of the U.S. lives in—even for these expensive flats. You would be surprised.
So the seeking of a “spacious place” is something in demand here.
Also, as I travel and stay in different homes, and are accommodated very well and I’m very thankful, we are also a family of five staying with other families in a highly populated country. Finding a private place and quiet time isn’t as easy as it sounds. On a personal level, we are also seeking a “spacious place”.
But as I came across that verse and thought about it, I realized that spacious place isn’t just about the external—it’s also internal. It isn’t just about the physical, it’s also spiritual. We’re not only promised abundant living, but also spacious living.
I read Psalm 31, and found it even more meaningful, as I see many around me who are very poor, with very little belongings, who live hard lives; the untouchable caste who live with contempt and scorn and difficulties – it’s like I am seeing verses 9-14. I read two stories in the newspaper just two days ago of a poor man being burned, leaving behind his wife and four children, his mother and his sister. These people are desperate, turning to anyone who will listen and help. I read another story of a person’s hands being cut off. Another story I read is of a farmer, 60 years old, who was devoured by a tiger and her two cubs, and his children were searching for him—he was late coming home from the fields— and saw the tiger eating their father. The untouchables live in “utter comtempt of their neighbors… people flee from them.” Desperation.
An elderly woman came very close to me, brushing against my arm, with her hands open, begging for coins. I’ve seen so many elderly women begging. I’ve seen many elderly women working, carrying loads on their heads, or walking in the market. I can imagine their life has been the same day after day—work, clean, wash—with little hope of anything else. I can’t imagine how depressing that might be.
Verse 6 talks about worthless idols and clinging to the Lord… I am in a country full of idols everywhere. I mean everywhere. Each house has statues and pictures of various gods. In the house I am staying in right now, I’ve counted over 20 statues or pictures. Some larger, some smaller. One relative’s house we visited today has a 4 foot statue of Lord Krishna in their “puja room” (some homes have a little room set aside as their worship room). My father in law arises each morning and spends one hour worshipping. Loud. He wakes me, perhaps the neighbors. Nobody complains. He says the same things each day. He reads from a prayer book. He goes out to the front porch, and begins speaking there. Then he comes indoors and says some more, then goes back outside. He sings for a bit. Then he comes to his puja room, and continues with more prayers and singing. He lights incense. I’m not sure what else is part of the ritual (candles?) Fresh flowers are brought in from the yard every morning by the servant as an offering to the gods—the flowers are placed by various statues and in the puja room. This is his morning ritual and has been the case for many years.
At least I have to ask myself—am I this consistent? Are American Christians? I’m not trying to take the side of Hinduism, just pointing out where I see I am lacking. I see a spiritual people and a country that doesn’t hide its beliefs. Yes, Hinduism is more of a culture than a creed… perhaps that is why it is more open? I’m not sure.
I know that singing and making loud noises and praying out loud outdoors on a daily basis wouldn’t be accepted in the states. Here in India, at least where I have visited, the homes are quite close together. You can hear very well what is going on in the neighbor’s yard or home, even! (Be careful what you say and do!!!)
And this is the case for many homes. Hinduism is part of the culture. In the large expensive apartment complex I stayed in (where over 1,000 families own flats), a statue of one of the Hindu gods is in the lobby as you walk in. And this is the usual case. Go to the doctor’s office, a department store, restaurant, street billboards… and you’ll see the same thing.
Each taxi or auto rickshaw has a small statue in the dashboard of a god. Once on the way home from the airport we hired a van whose driver happened to be Christian, so he had a picture of Jesus on the dashboard.
I can’t imagine this kind of overt spirituality would fly in America, where all kinds of freedom-from-religion groups would sue. But you know, it isn’t like that here. Fascinating, isn’t it? And this is a Hindu country. And what about America… where we are supposed to be able to enjoy the freedom to worship…. How far has this country gone from whence it began….
It’s part of the culture. We are the oddballs here, since we don’t visit temples, or have pictures of gods in our homes, etc, and of course none of this makes sense to anyone practicing this religion. Yes, I can see a difference in some cases on how we are treated as converted Christians (our families are Hindus). Some people see themselves as superior and we as inferior. Some don’t understand and criticize or ridicule it. Some don’t say anything but frown heavily inwardly without speaking it. Some are more hostile outwardly. It comes out in various relationships—personal or familial or just the stranger on the street.
So I’m drinking in this psalm on various levels. I feel attacked in some ways (not overtly or in a bad way)… just I feel it in the way some people behave. I see that this is a country besieged by idols (verse 21). I feel verses 9-13 in a different way, in my own life. I feel as one accused (verse 20). But in this psalm are some incredible promises. He promises to be a refuge, to deliver, to not allow his beloved to be put to shame, to put our feet in a spacious place… a place of freedom, rest, peace… full of His goodness and promises. He is a real, living God who hears and delivers. I’m not crowded. I have freedom. God’s love is freeing.
Psalm 31
For the director of music. A psalm of David.
1 In you, O LORD, I have taken refuge;
let me never be put to shame;
deliver me in your righteousness.
2 Turn your ear to me,
come quickly to my rescue;
be my rock of refuge,
a strong fortress to save me.
3 Since you are my rock and my fortress,
for the sake of your name lead and guide me.
4 Free me from the trap that is set for me,
for you are my refuge.
5 Into your hands I commit my spirit;
redeem me, O LORD, the God of truth.
6 I hate those who cling to worthless idols;
I trust in the LORD.
7 I will be glad and rejoice in your love,
for you saw my affliction
and knew the anguish of my soul.
8 You have not handed me over to the enemy
but have set my feet in a spacious place.
9 Be merciful to me, O LORD, for I am in distress;
my eyes grow weak with sorrow,
my soul and my body with grief.
10 My life is consumed by anguish
and my years by groaning;
my strength fails because of my affliction,[a]
and my bones grow weak.
11 Because of all my enemies,
I am the utter contempt of my neighbors;
I am a dread to my friends—
those who see me on the street flee from me.
12 I am forgotten by them as though I were dead;
I have become like broken pottery.
13 For I hear the slander of many;
there is terror on every side;
they conspire against me
and plot to take my life.
14 But I trust in you, O LORD;
I say, “You are my God.”
15 My times are in your hands;
deliver me from my enemies
and from those who pursue me.
16 Let your face shine on your servant;
save me in your unfailing love.
17 Let me not be put to shame, O LORD,
for I have cried out to you;
but let the wicked be put to shame
and lie silent in the grave.[b]
18 Let their lying lips be silenced,
for with pride and contempt
they speak arrogantly against the righteous.
19 How great is your goodness,
which you have stored up for those who fear you,
which you bestow in the sight of men
on those who take refuge in you.
20 In the shelter of your presence you hide them
from the intrigues of men;
in your dwelling you keep them safe
from accusing tongues.
21 Praise be to the LORD,
for he showed his wonderful love to me
when I was in a besieged city.
22 In my alarm I said,
“I am cut off from your sight!”
Yet you heard my cry for mercy
when I called to you for help.
23 Love the LORD, all his saints!
The LORD preserves the faithful,
but the proud he pays back in full.
24 Be strong and take heart,
all you who hope in the LORD.
***
Sharing with Emily at Imperfect Prose
Driving in India isn’t for the faint-hearted.
I will explain.
Imagine a 3 lane road. There should be 3 lanes of traffic, right? Each vehicle in single file, right?
Not in India. If there is a 3 lane road, you might really see 5 or 6 lanes of traffic.
Here’s how it is. If there is space between two cars, one or two motorcycles or scooters might fit into that space, or an auto rickshaw. Bicycles and people walking by foot stay on the outer lanes of traffic. The same lanes of traffic are of course also shared by buses and trucks.
I used to think this was opportunistic– people trying to get ahead of everyone else and be first. I also wondered if this people were hard to govern– is it hard to enforce rules? Corruption, is after all, a major issue here. Rules are bent and broken.
Maybe some of that is true, but I also think there is more to it.
The first reason has to do with space and waste. I notice that people don’t like to waste things. And, space and land is at a premium here. I can see how the extra space between cars in defined traffic lanes might be viewed as a waste of space if no one fills in that gap.
I also realize that with so much population and crowding and the traffic jams in cities, if people did stick in those single file lanes of traffic, traffic would move even slower. Despite the organization and lack of following certain rules, they seem to have figured out a way to make it work.
Well, there you go, my two cents analsyis on why traffic is the way it is, and I’m not sure it’s even worth that much. I believe I have left out more reasons.
But that’s not so much the scary part. The scary part is actually driving on roads or highways. Here’s what happens.
Buses and large trucks are quite slow, so people in cars and minivans want to pass them. Cars also want to pass motorcycles. No one can really go the full speed limit because of the number of trucks and buses and scooters and motorcycles on the road. Cars want to pass them so they can go faster. Buses pass other slower buses or trucks. So what happens is that even for a one or two lane road, there is so much passing going on. Lights are flashing, horns are constantly honking and people are passing. And the passing isn’t the kind of pass that involves long stretches of road in the front– oh, no! It means that you’ll be passing quickly and quickly moving back into your own lane and drive only a few inches between you and the truck coming in the opposite direction. This will happen repeated times. Very often you will find yourself on the dusty shoulder as you move as far as you can to make space for all the passing vehicles. You might be surprised at how many near misses you will feel like you have, by the time it is all said and done, and you will have breathed a heavy prayer of thanks to God for keeping you safe and alive and in one piece.
It’s even more scary at night.
At night, even with headlights, there is a dusty haze over the roads. As cars pass, they stir up the dust on the shoulder. This dust, combined with the air pollution, makes it hazy. And at times, I could only see headlights coming at me from the haze.
This was last night. Whew– we made it safely, but it is really how driving is here. I prefer traveling in daylight hours but yesterday it couldn’t be helped.
I was in an accident 16 years ago. I was traveling at night by auto rickshaw ( a three-wheeler taxi) with two other people to the local train station. On the way there, we were hit by a truck. The truck did not stop, it kept going. The auto scooter was totalled. Thankfully we all survived. My companion to the right of me was most injured, with swollen knees and her sari was tattered. I had one swollen knee and one scraped knee. The companion to my left had no injuries. That knee injury took about a year before I forgot about it, and now it only flares up very occasionally, when temperatures change.
I am not at all afraid to travel by auto rickshaw but I won’t be traveling at night. My daughter is quite interested in riding in one, so we will do this. Air pollution makes it unpleasant in the cities but it is still something fun to try while here!
More to share later, I have more to share– but little time– and a goofy internet connection!!!
I’m experiencing it– a phenomenon that writers sometimes have.
Writer’s block.
Maybe it’s the change of place. Or maybe it’s still the jetlag–it’s almost a 12 hour time difference between home and here.
I am, after all, over 8,000 miles from home (the calculated flight distance from Chicago to Bangalore, India is 8,543 miles). It’s about 16-18 hours of flight time, one way, not including the several hour layover in Europe. And while here, by the time this trip is done, I’ll have added another 1,000 miles because of traveling within the country. The total mileage when I’m back home and sleeping in my own bed will be over 17,000 miles. Wow.
On a bus safari at the Bannerghatta National Park in Bangalore, we spotted Bengal and white tigers. Here is a Bengal tiger stretching on a tree. Exciting!
Speaking of beds, I’ve slept in six different beds so far in 3 different cities, in 3 different homes. Not that I’m counting… LOL.
I’ve also eaten lots of rice. I normally don’t eat rice every day, but here, they eat it every day. Even breakfast consists of a steamed cake made of lentil and rice flours, or a flat pancake made of the same. If it’s not the rice-based breakfast, it’s a wheat based hot cereal cooked with spices and vegetables.
Big bins of various types of rice at a "wal-mart" store in Bangalore that was called "Easy Day"
The cuisine of north and south India varies, and even varies among state to state– so if I were visting the north, we’d have chapatis or rotis for dinner. They eat that sometimes here in the south, too, but it is a different diet and way of cooking curries. They cap off their meal here (rice with vegetable curries) with just rice and yogurt. Oh– and they eat by hand in the south. No spoons or forks needed. Just hands. I’m still using my spoon, but my kids really like this eating by hand thing– really, how often have I told them in their lives to please get a fork or spoon and not just eat by hand! So this is a fun experience for them. It is culturally acceptable to eat this way here.
Even though this is not my first time to visit India, it feels different because all 3 of my kids are here, too. Although the older two were here 10 years ago (one was four years old, the other was only a year old), it is like their first visit here. I feel a tremendous amount of responsibility for their health and well-being, and maybe all of the changes, the environment, the diet, the heat, the language differences, all of it– sometimes puts me more in a cultural shift/survival mode than a sit-back-and-enjoy-the-vacation mode. It isn’t that kind of a sit-back-and-relax-vacation. I realize that my idea of a true vacation is a carefree, swing in the hammock under the palm tree kind of vacation– the kind I see pictured in magazines– and I never have to see the inside of a kitchen! Ha! I’ve seen hundreds of palm and coconut trees here thus far, but no hammocks are to be seen near the majority of them.
Speaking of trees, I’ve been keeping a list of the types I’ve seen so far– at least the identifiable ones (there are dozens of others.) Here’s the list:
I’m forgetting a few–and just reading that list makes me hungry for fruit– yet many are not ripe at this time of year. We have gotten pomegranate, papaya and guava, and coconuts seem to always be in season, as well as bananas. Mangoes are small on the tree and mostly not even seen yet, and we’ve heard grand stories for years– like legends almost, the way they talk about mangoes– about the variety of the mangoes available and how deliciously sweet they are in season. I don’t care much for papaya, but I do like mangoes. Too bad that mango season is also in the hot season– when I prefer not to visit, so I can’t confirm whether any of the legendary mango stories are true or not!
Coconut tree (Bangalore, India)
I did get to eat a sweet fruit that is not available in the states– here it is called “sapota”, in north India, it is called “chikoo”. It looks something like a kiwi on the outside, but the inside is a sweet brown flesh, unlike any fruit I’ve ever had. I first tasted it over 20 years ago and never forgot how much I enjoyed it. I have no clue what the English word might be for this fruit.
Horns beep constantly on the road (it’s customary here to honk the horn if you want to pass, to warn someone, etc.). And the pollution here is horrible– it’s not uncommon to see people on motorcycles cover their noses and mouths. There is a visible dusty haze over the city, obscuring buildings and the view. I am sure Hyderabad is no different from other cities. Bangalore is the same. Pollution is most definitely an issue.
Fishermen at sunset on the Krishna River in Vijayawada, India
A country of one billion also needs to address waste and plastics– and I’ve noticed a most definite push against plastic bags. Utilizing reusable bags are highly encouraged and people are heeding.
It’s noisy. If it’s not the cars, horns, or construction noise, it’s the people. People selling their goods on the streets will shout to let the neighborhood of the opportunity.
The "auto rickshaw" is like the Indian taxi-- very common mode of intra-city travel. It's a three wheeler vehicle and seats about 2-3 people.
It’d take some effort to live an isolated life here, at least it seems that way. The doorbell rings several times a day, whether in a city or in a village. If it’s not a visitor, neighbor or relative, it’s the house cleaner, the lady who washes clothes, or the person who irons the clothes.
Many people hire household help for cleaning and washing. In one village, a house servant still washes clothes by hand. This was the norm until recently, as more people can afford washing machines now and have the water set-up in their homes or flats to accommodate them.
In the village I visited, the house was so close to the other house (a few feet perhaps), I could hear the baby crying. I could hear the servants who rose before dawn and began their daily work. I saw green parrots flying among banana trees just across the street. Now, that’s not a sight anyone typically sees in the Midwest! It was most definitely a vacation-y type of moment!
Power outages change the daily life of those who do not have inverters or generators to rely on for some electricity when the power cuts off. The power goes off daily here for a few hours.I’ve been to 3 cities so far, two of them with a population of 7-8 million, one with a population of over 1 million, and the story is the same in each place. In the village (next to the 1 million sized city), the power outage was more obvious (even with an inverter providing some electricity)– lights and any unncessary electrical appliances are all switched off. In large businesses and some more modern homes, the power outages are not even noticed because generators kick in automatically when the power is turned off.
Typical Indian kitchen. The stove is a portable gas appliance, connected to gas cylinders behind the cabinet doors. No dishwashers-- they are uncommon. Also in the kitchen in a pantry closet, and a door leading to an area outdoors, where dishes are washed and dried.
And in some places, the water shuts off for a while, too. In Bangalore, we experienced water loss in part of the house. The power even goes off on an unscheduled basis as well. The microwave and the computer couldn’t operate at the same time– one has to be unplugged it the other is in use. Not all flats are like this– but issues like this are very common.
It’s colorful here.
Women dress in colorful saris and kurtis (long tunics). I went to a department store the other day and marveled at the fabrics– beautiful fabrics (silk, chiffon, cotton, you name it, in every color and in hundreds of different designs) that are sold for custom tailoring into women’s clothing. Each ensemble was unique and colorful– so much variety. No one wears the same thing. In the stores, one won’t see rack after rack of the same shirt or outift in different sizes. Quite the opposite. Expect to see a variety in one size. I suppose for people who care about being seen in the same outfit at a public event– they’d feel quite safe that is not so likely to happen here!
Okay– and that’s just the clothing. The interest in jewelry, and gold in particular, is another subject entirely.
Each morning, in order to have a hot shower, a switch must be turned on to heat the water, which is stored in a tank. I suppose if someone is running late, she’d have to deal with a cold shower. Some areas of the country are so hot (especially in the summer) cold water is probably what most people prefer anyway. I’m visiting in the “winter”, and in two of the cities, the temperatures are in the lower 80s, and one city in particular is quite hot. (Homes don’t have air conditioning, although now some have units installed in bedrooms. People use ceiling fans to cool off and open windows to get cross ventilation in their dwellings. 80s sound wonderful to me, but it feels hot! The seasons in Bangalore are “summer, rainy, and winter”. I’m not sure if that is true everywhere. In the extreme north, in Kashmir, they have snow right now. And remember, “winter” is a relative term. Here, in south India, winter means temperatures in the 70s and 80s. For the people here, it is cold. It is not uncommon to see people in sweaters or scarfs in the winter, in 80 degree temperatures. In the Midwest, we get excited when it reaches 50 in the winter! I could get used to this kind of winter!!
Drinking tap water would be an invitation to some unwanted ailments. Even the people here boil their tap water and drink it. Some people have water filters in addition to the boiling. I’m not even drinking the boiled water– only drinking Aquafina– since that just happens to be the first kind we found after arriving.
Here is the advice I’ve been given: don’t just buy any bottled water on the street. Don’t buy from a very small shop. Purchase well known bottled water brands from larger stores, and make sure the bottles are sealed and never been opened. Stick with the same brand of water for the entire duration of your stay. Don’t use ice. Don’t drink fountain sodas (only drink from glass or aluminum containers).
It was so much fun to drink coke from glass bottles– boy did we get a kick out of it (more advice– don’t drink straight from the bottle, use a straw). Perhaps it sounds a bit picky to take precautions, but believe me, after having experienced unwanted illnesses here in India in past years, I know the key to enjoying a happy visit here is to be cautious. It makes the trip enjoyable for all concerned!
My daughter enjoying drinking coconut water straight from the source. This is one thing safe to consume from the street-- street vendors sell these all over the place. The coconut in cut in half with a very sharp knife right in front of you, they put in a straw, and you can drink right from the coconut. It's what the Indians drink to cool off-- like a natural kind of Gatorade, keeps people cool and refreshed. You can see the large pile of coconuts in the background. It's a fun thing to enjoy if you're in India.
I’m also avoiding eating any food prepared outside the home. No restaurants– although some would be safe, clean and hygienic. And absolutely no street vendor food! Eating something from a street vendor over 20 years ago has left an indelible mark on me– I will never forget the illness that resulted from that one. Lesson learned!
So while it seems less spontaneous to live this way, and I carry bottled water everywhere, I can tell you that in the past two weeks, thus far, my kids and I have not suffered from a serious “Hyderabad- I feel bad” syndrome (also known as “Delhi Belly” if you happen to be visiting Delhi). I hope we continue to have success during out stay here. It isn’t perfect even with our precautions– we’ve had a few very minor stomach disturbances. Of course, it works for us to only eat home-cooked food since we are only staying with relatives and friends and not in hotels.
Well, I guess I wrote a lot for someone who has “writer’s block”– I think when I’m back home I’ll have a different perspective and will continue to process all of this.
There’s so much more to say, this is all for now!
I am thousands of miles away from home. 25 hours of traveling bring me to a region replete with coconut trees, banana trees, crows cawing and sunny skies– to a land in south Asia.
My mind is spinning and still processing the change in scenery and place.
Women in brightly colored saris or kurtis (long tunics) walk the streets, scores of motorcycles fit in amongst cars of varying sizes, larger trucks and buses honk horns, and auto rickshaws ferry passengers across town. There are people in each direction I turn my head; India’s neighborhoods are abuzz with activity.
In just two days of driving in a 5 mile radius in just one part of the city, I have seen half a dozen Hindu temples, and the sounds of a nearby mosque wake ne each morning. I see evidence of Hindus, Muslims, and Christians living in the same city of 8 million. Diverse and cosmopolitan describe Bangalore, in the south central part of the country. Traffic isn’t as frightening as I have experienced in Delhi or other cities bit it certainly is busy and congested– highly congested!
Two days ago we flew to a smaller city in another state– closer to the coast, and the weather here is warmer and a bit more humid, not as pleasant as Bangalore. The mosquitoes here are a force to be reckoned with– but we are so far managing and avoid going outdoors at dusk or early evening.
There is much more to say, but for now I’ll have to save all of the stories for later. The internet connection here isn’t so great– I get disconnected every 10 minutes and must reconnect!
Just wanted to write quickly to say that I’m still here… and I look forward to adding more as soon as I can.
I love the pencil scrawls of a young child. The words are out of proportion, misspelled, and the sentences are incomplete and full of grammar mistakes. But, I love to read and see these early attempts at writing. It is a glimpse into the thoughts of that young child.
Aren’t the imperfections and innocence part of what make it so endearing?
The heart and mind of a young child are innocent. Don’t get me wrong, we are all still born with Adam’s genes and with a sin nature… and that propensity to sin continuously clings closer to us than the best type of cling wrap! But we also are spiritual beings. Our physical bodies will die one day, but our spirits will live in eternity.
We are all born with a sin nature, but the childlike faith and sweet innocence we possessed as children somehow get lost after some years and experience and hardship have taken their toll. It is part of the experience of growing up, maturing and becoming adults. Yet Christ says to us, “come as little children”. He asks us to look at the faith of a young child, and tells us to come to him like that. He wouldn’t ask us to do it if it were impossible; on the contrary, there must be a way for us sophisticated adults with our correct grammar and important agendas to be able to come as a little child. Can you imagine it?
Children have the amazing ability to be fully in the moment. Their young minds are not crowded by the fears of the future or the failures of the past, or what every other person is the room might be thinking about them. They are blissfully uninhibited and un-self-conscious and simply enjoy being in the momen
t, and are fully into the moment they are in. Have you noticed that the sadness or happiness involved around a small thing can seem so large, but is also quite fleeting? That is a child, living in the moment.
Jesus says we are to come like those little children– he doesn’t mean with those kinds of fleeting emotions, but with their kind of trusting faith.
In fact, Jesus himself came into this world as one of us, as a little baby. He didn’t come to earth as a grown man. Nor did he come as a spiritual being only. He came as a human baby, in the most helpless, fragile, vulnerable way he could have come. God’s son came as a human baby! Perhaps many of us who have grown up with the story of Christmas, sung Christmas carols, seen countless Nativity stories, etc., have lost some of the wonder of that miracle. Jesus, God on earth, came as a baby, in human form!
He had to grow up in the same way that little boys do today. He had to learn how to talk and how to walk. He probably spilled his milk. He probably fell down and scraped his knees and cried because of the pain. The Bible clearly tells us he experienced everything we as humans do. By coming as a human, and growing up, he has the capacity to understand us fully in our humanness.
I am marveling today about that little baby boy, Jesus, God in flesh. It almost sounds trite today, since we are so used to hearing about the baby born at Christmas, but it is an astounding occurrence! A supernatural event. Something that would change the course of human history— and shows us God’s heart for mankind. “God loved us so much He sent His only begotten son…” (John 3:16).
Oh, how sweet the Father’s love for us…what a privilege and joy it is to be able to rest and marvel in the miracle that God made a way for a sinner like me. That is something to be thankful for. No other Christmas gift is needed. His gift of love for me is quite enough for a lifetime…for eternity. That is Christmas!
I mess up again. And again.
I lose it. I yell, and think some things in my mind and feel things in my heart that don’t get heard by anyone but God.
And I go to God and tell him and He is the place where I get the balanced view. He loves unconditionally, but He also speaks to my soul and conscience. He corrects, convicts, and comforts.
“The Lord does not look at the things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.” I Samuel 16:7
I want a few days during Christmas break where I can stay home in my pajamas, all day if I want, and not go anywhere. But then I also want to get in my car and drive home, drink some sweet tea and feel warm breezes on my face, talk to my mom, and know that will cure this girl of her homesickness. But there is more I want, and none of the desires are attached to anything money can buy. I want to just rest for a while. I want… I want… it sounds so… selfish. But yes, I do. I want.
Then I remember.
“The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want.” Psalm 23:1
I memorized that when I was 12. And when did I forget? That even in the busyness of the season, the travels, or my mess-ups– that I shall not want?
“I give you my heart-cup, Lord. Please fill it overflowing.”
The other day I tried to string some lights around a bush. It was a new string of lights. I bought them last year at an after-Christmas sale. And while stringing the bush, I dropped the strand on the driveway, and one of the lights shattered. Later, when I plugged the lights in, they didn’t work.
I was irritated. I bought this new set, and they ought to work. Furthermore, I had tiny shards of red glass to gingerly clean up.
Sometimes Often, I feel like that little red bulb. Broken.
Yet I know the truth– that there is no amount of brokenness that He can’t fix. God is always willing to make things new if I simply ask. I am reminded of his gift of grace again, through a tiny piece of red glass.
It’s when I am broken that He shines bright in me.
I give up on that bush and refuse to buy another string of lights. The lights on the Christmas tree, sparkling through the window, will have to do. It’s lovely to see houses glowing with lights, but this year, the decor will be simple.
And I’m ok with that, because this broken empty bulb has a light shining inside her, all year round.
***
Sharing with Emily at Imperfect Prose
The Five Minute Friday word prompt: Connected
OK, are you ready? Give me your best five minutes on Connected.
GO:
I call because too many days alone have left me wanting the company and conversation. I write a few lines on the card so that she knows I still remember and value her friendship.
I plug in the computer, log in, tune in online, to share stories and thoughts, tweet and post status updates and find myself communicating in a way I’d never thought possible just a few years ago. I read what others are saying and doing, friends and strangers… facebook friends (most of whom I know at some level) and blogging friends (most of whom I’ve never met)– but whose storie and hearts shine through words I feel a kindred connection.
If the cable lines should fail and the invisible wireless strands should go haywire, I’d lose some feeling of connectedness that I’ve become used to.
But even those can’t replace the time spent with real people, the sharing of a laugh over coffee, the nuances and tones of conversation that can’t be translated across media miles. That takes more effort, more time… but this is what my soul needs… this kind of connectedness.
Some people live as islands their whole lives, connected in their own web of interpersonal thoughts and singular lives.
But others… move beyond that. Others have learned to live and love– not only themselves, but the people around them and are engaged in knowing and being known… and being aware of what is important. Jesus knew. And he wants to be known. The example of knowing. The example of true connectedness.
Was there ever a man so connected to the rest of humanity, than him? No one knows me better than him. No one is better connected. And the closer I get to him, the more connected I am. The closer my friends are with him, truly close to him, the closer my friends and I are– as we can share something at such a deep level that can’t be explained unless you’ve been there yourself.
I like being connected this way.
Jesus connects the dots for me in my life... makes sense of things that make absolutely no sense at all. He puts it all together and in the end I’ll see the bigger picture.
So glad to be connected with Jesus, and with friends like you. And I honestly mean that.
STOP
***
It’s Friday — and I often like to participate in the Five Minute Friday writing prompt offered here, at The Gypsy Mama. I encourage you to read her beautiful thoughts on other days of the week, too. Stay connected with others, friends, online and in real life. We aren’t meant to be alone.
I have known about this happening in parts of the world, but I didn’t know the numbers, until I saw this:
India’s Deadly Secret (please watch this before reading on)
For a while, I have no words, only tears.
But a word finally comes.
You see, I was born there, in that country in the video, on the other side of the world. Even though I live in the U.S. and grew up here, and am a U.S. citizen, I was born there; my parents are from there.
And one thing I know is this, the two words that God gives me in the light of this tragedy: hope exists.
It does.
Somehow, I, born in a dusty, small town in northwest India, ill as an infant… found something I needed: Hope. Or shall I say… Hope found me.
Hope first came to me in an American hospital in India… through the medical care I received there as an infant.
Years later, Hope showed up in other forms. In words from others. In visits to church. In the words read from a book that are said to be “alive”. In solitary moments where only tears are spoken to a God who listens.
I found the person of hope; the one born in a lonely, smelly feedbox, in a stable, under the light of a heavenly star.
There is hope for a world full of atrocity.
If you hear of atrocity, or experience it personally, or don’t know what to do with its existence… walk to the manger and peek in. Look into the face of Love, the God-baby come to earth as a man.
See him, the person of hope, the Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace.
Now, walk a little further in his footsteps… to the cross.
See where he died… and know why he came.
And find hope there.
Because it can’t be found anywhere else.
Even with the heartaches of this world — whether they be faraway, or closer to home… I celebrate. I celebrate hope.
I celebrate the hope of Him… that he is come, that he is alive, seated at the right hand of God. I celebrate who he is, anticipate his redemptive work, his plan, his peace, and his mercy that covers the darkness in the world and the darkness in hearts.
My soul rejoices in the G0d-baby born… and I know that any bad news is not really the end of the story… because Hope lives.
***
Sharing with Emily
and Ann
The Wise Men bring him a ham, instead of the usual precious gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh.
My very own shepherd takes a turn holding the ham backstage
I sit in the audience of the play called “The Best Christmas Pageant Ever” (based on a book by the same name). It is full of hearty laughs, and at the end, I can’t help it– tears fill my eyes.
Because it isn’t the usual ending and it isn’t the usual way of doing a Christmas pageant.
A group of kids– the Herdmans, the roughest kids in town, who’ve never gone to church until the pageant rehearsals begin– end up taking the lead roles in the Christmas pageant, creating havoc and resulting in the most unusual Christmas pageant ever.
The Herdmans are surprised there is no Herod (he’s the main villain, after all), and want to go after him, since he wants to kill the baby Jesus. The Wise guys (Wise men) end up staying after Jesus is born and sharing cigars (fake, of course) with Joseph; Mary wears huge earrings; the Angel of the Lord bosses the Shepherds around; the Wise Men bring a ham as a gift (instead of the gold, frankincense and myrrh) and Mary walks in pregnant and pulls the baby out from under her shirt when she gets to the stable.
Like I said– not your usual Christmas pageant!
It is hysterical– and full of generous laughter.
But the show is also about change; how the girl playing Mary changes– to understand that this baby doll she is holding represents Jesus. It’s about the neighborhood and church kids, who understand that the gospel can change anyone– even the roughest kids. It’s about the adults in the church, who are frantic about what is going to really happen in the pageant– but who witness a change in the kids and experience one in themselves, as they watch the drama unfold and see how the Herdmans are affected by this story. It is, after all, the first time the Herdmans ever hear the Christmas story and come to church– to participate in the pageant (and they first come to church because they heard there was some free dessert).
It all brought tears to my eyes. Isn’t this the gospel story– the story of One come to us all, the sinners, the dejected, the forlorn, the bullies, the lost, the hurting? A child born “unto us”– the Light of the World? Come so humbly and quietly in a stable? (Or as Imogene Herdman put it, “… they didn’t have room for Jesus? … you mean they put him in a feedbox? Where was the child welfare?” Haha!
It is a marvel to think how Jesus was born. Joseph couldn’t even find an inn. No soft bed or pillows. For Mary– there was no hospital, no pain meds, not even a midwife. Jesus was born in a stable with animals. No trumpets or earthly fanfare– but a star in the sky and a heavenly host of angels.
And I realize I am also changed… as I draw nearer to the stable, as I draw nearer to the heavenly throne, I am changed every step on the way. No other thing in this earth can change me like this, love me like this. It’s all about Jesus. When I smile at the 8-year-old little girl who comes to hug me, I am changed. When I kiss the one-year-old baby of a friend, I am the one changed. When I help a little shepherd tie his headpiece, I am changed. When I help my little guy with his belt and re-buttoning his wrongly buttoned shirt, I am reflecting His heart… and I am the one who is blessed.
The "Red Cast" after the last performance
May we see the birth of Jesus in a new light this season, drawing us closer, showing us something new we may not have seen before.
May each Christmas be the best one ever; may each day be so!
***
Sharing with Laura
and Michelle
and Jennifer
and Jen
***
And listing the weekly gifts of thanksgiving (#576-591):
576. a lady in the cast of The Best Christmas Pageant Ever who went to each child just before the performance, touched them on head and said, “Bless you”.
577. People who laughed at the play.
578. Thankful for so many people who contributed to the production.
579. A friend and hairdresser who cuts my hair– and does a fantastic job.
580. Getting the tree and Christmas decorations up. Keeping it a bit more simple this year, but still festive.
581. A science class taught by a former teacher for my eldest.
582. A Godly young man in his 20s offering to come over and teach my 10 year old son how to play a complicated strategy board game.
583. Meeting new people through the play.
584. A dinner invitation.
585. Jesus, come to us, the Light of the World.
586. Funny moments over the past few days– like sitting in the play this weekend, and a lady next to me fell asleep with a stack of toothpicks in her lap. Why do you ask, did she have toothpicks? Believe it or not, she was picking her teeth, during the show, in public– and wasn’t quiet about it! Oh my oh my, I wish I were making that one up. And then, later that night, at another show, the people sitting behind me were snacking on something (peanuts? who knows?) but the bag made a crinkly sound that just drove me crazy. Yet, overall, these were funny moments that made me and the kids laugh so hard when it was all over.
587. Chocolate mint cookies.
588. How beautiful people are. I stop– and really look– and I marvel at the beauty of God’s creativity and how he made us.
589. How great is His love for us, that he sent His son into the world, to live, to die, to dwell with us.
590. People who quietly bless behind the scenes at church- moving chairs, picking up trash from the floor, replacing the paper in the restroom- it’s all done, and we don’t think much about it.
591. Hearts that change, that truly transform because of who He is. Even if it’s just in a play, or a movie– it represents what happens in real life.
“It’s Friday.
Let’s do it. Let’s just write without worrying if it’s just right or not.
For only five short, bold, beautiful minutes. Won’t you join me?
OK, are you ready? Give me your best five minutes on:
GO
We’ve got them in primary (red, yellow and blue) and secondary (green, orange, purple) and in shades in-between and beyond.
We’ve got tints and hues and lights and darks.
When God painted the world, He dipped His paintbrush into some stunning wells of beauty.
And I imagine that in Heaven, He’s got colors up there we’ve never seen and can’t even fathom.
In addition to iridescence, I wonder if maybe there’ll be a color for… grace. For mercy. For kindness.
For love.
Maybe all of the colors are wrapped up in a Person; he absorbs them all and reflects it all back to us. Jesus’ red blood sweeps up the black and it all turns to purest white.
Maybe all the color just comes from Him, since He was there in the beginning, before blue seas and green forests … and when He speaks, a plethora of colors burst forth, waiting to be told where to sparkle and live.
When He painted the world and its people, He did so with gorgeous hues.
I see it—all of the colors in Him—present in you, all of you, and in all of us— the people in this amazing beautiful colorful world.
Oh, there is hope in the sweeping brush of His love.
STOP
***
In his book How to Win Friends and Influence People, Dale Carnegie said that one of our deepest longings is “the need to be appreciated”.
But there is another need our pastor spoke of, and that is the need we have for “justice.” We have this need built into us, written in our hearts– because our hearts reflect His. Just as a painting reflects the heart and views of the artist, so we reflect the heart of God as His creations, His works of art… His fingerprint is on our lives.
“Here is my servant…I will put my Spirit on him, and he will bring justice to the nations.” Isaiah 42:1
God reveals His plan to send a servant — but this person is unlike any other worldly leader.
1 “Here is my servant, whom I uphold,
my chosen one in whom I delight;
I will put my Spirit on him,
and he will bring justice to the nations.
2 He will not shout or cry out,
or raise his voice in the streets.
3 A bruised reed he will not break,
and a smoldering wick he will not snuff out.
In faithfulness he will bring forth justice;
4 he will not falter or be discouraged till he establishes justice on earth. In his teaching the islands will put their hope.”Isaiah 42:1-4
This servant, God says, will not “shout, break, snuff out, will not falter, or be discouraged”. His character will be different. God’s plan is to send Jesus to us, to a world longing for justice, but that is unjust, in disarray, full of human and political suffering. His plan is to bring justice and proclaim truth, through His chosen one who reflects the heart and character of God.
In our humanness, our longing for justice is not as pure and righteous as God’s… He has the perfect balance of justice and mercy. In our human imperfection, we are more likely to be skewed one way or the other or be more self-serving in our desire for justice or mercy. No earthly leader is perfect in this regard; no human person is.
But God is.
We do have hope in a lasting justice and mercy, in a perfect balance, in an ending that is “right”.
***
My Thankful list (#561-575):
561. Perfect justice and mercy — hope for this world!
562. That the character of God is reflected in His son.
563. God’s plan will not be thwarted.
564. Even in the deepest pit, there is hope.
565. That the Spirit of God is available to us, in us, here on earth.
566. That God became flesh and dwelt among us.
567. That the inner man can be built up strong even while the outer man is perishing.
568. That God sees and knows the inner man.
569. That prayer and fellowship with God, communion with Him, is available to me, to us.
570. That nothing can separate us from the love of God.
571. That the lights on the trees and sparkling decorations are reminders of the eternal light that never dims, never fades, never dies.
572. That Christ’s birth is celebrated all over the world, and in the U.S. we still have the freedom to celebrate.
573. The music of the season.
574. The spicy, sweet smell of cinnamon in the air.
575. The smell and taste of fresh homemade cookies.
***
Sharing with:
In this lovely “thanks-giving” season, those in the USA turn to thoughts of home, family, friends, turkey, food, and to giving thanks and remembering God’s goodness. I do not cease to be amazed at the bounty of God’s goodness in the feast eating and food — we do live in a country blessed with bounty. We are fortunate and I wonder how often we remember to stop and remember, when so many of the seven billion on this planet live in poverty and hunger. While I eat and give thanks and joyfully spend time with others, I do remember and think of the others in the world who are not so fortunate.
My days have been full to the brim with the activities of the season, with homeschooling, with extra-curriculars, and with the general stuff of life, which explains why I didn’t post much last week!
After returning from my hometown and my father’s unexpected heart-related issue, I was sick with a virus which knocked me out for a day or two. But before that, I was hit by a sinus infection in late September which has taken me weeks to recover fully from. After nearly two months, I’m feeling more like myself. I’ve felt like a little child with a runny nose for nearly two months! Weird, never had that before, but thankful to be better!
I’ll say all the rest in my gratitude list:
534. Finally– needing less kleenex! I was taking kleenex everywhere……and thankful to be feeling better… recovered…yay, oh big yay!!
535. A mild autumn up until now!
536. Honey crisp apples.
537. A meaningful Messianic Seder dinner for the home school co-op we are part of. It’s not the right time of year, but we are studying ancient history so it fit in with the time period, and as a unit celebration, we held a Seder.
538. Attending a very fun, exciting Novice Speech & Debate Tournament for home-schoolers. I had so much fun myself, watching all the young students, ages 12 and above, give speeches and debate in their very first tournament. They were dressed very professionally, conducted themselves professionally, courteously, and were encouraging to one another. It gives me hope to see how many young people are being trained in character development and in articulation– learning how to articulate clearly about their faith, and about other things that matter… in short– these ARE the future leaders, in training. My daughter has been asking to be part of debate for 2 years now, and finally this year, it worked out for her to attend a debate class. And well, as a proud mama, I share that my daughter and her teammate placed 2nd in the tourney– they won all 3 of their rounds! That was quite exciting for us all. We didn’t expect anything at all– certainly no placements or wins– but it was surely an encouragement to have that honor of winning! Besides the 2nd place, though, my daughter had so much fun that day, laughing with the other kids in between the speaking rounds. It was, to me, the way a debate or speech tournament should be– organized, and with kids who are serious during the rounds, but also having so much fun with other kids who share similar interests. I just can’t say enough about the whole experience and what they are learning. I’m also thankful I was able to work out my schedule so I could be there all day– from 8 am until 8pm! And I even had fun also with a friend of mine and talking to other people there…. fun, fulfilling day for me personally, on different levels. At the end of the day, we all celebrated with pizza together. I could go on and say even more, but I’ll stop here.
539. A special “Fiddler on the Roof” performance– with another group of home-schooled students. Again… so much “good” being poured into the kids by adults who care……
540. We should call this the “drama season” in our house, since all 3 kids are in an upcoming Christmas play. My 10-year-old son received “the most improved actor award” from the director the other day, and this surprise “award” was such a boost to his confidence! At first, he was only just reading his lines… but then just recently, he really got more into it and improved his character, his expression, his tone. And what is wonderful is that the director noticed and thanked him for it. God is good. Sometimes I feel as if small things (or big things) often go unnoticed… but the truth is that God always sees and notices even if others do not.
541. Having a few friends from the same 10 year old’s Sunday school class over for games and pizza recently. Such a fun night… I do enjoy having my kids’ friends over!
542. My daughter reaching out and inviting someone to a church youth event. They were both so excited.
543. Finally– back to my women’s Bible study after many weeks of not being able to attend… back to a rich study of I Samuel.
544. Pruning bushes. Never thought I’d say thank you for that, but I actually enjoyed getting those clippers out and it was quite a good little workout.
545. Finished planting the rest of the tulips last weekend, with the kids’ help. Now… let’s see what comes up in spring…
546. Watching the “Lord of the Rings” movie trilogy again… I just finished movie #2…and I can’t recall what happens in movie #3 at all….Love those movies.
547. Being busy in a good way.
548. A sweet note from a friend.
549. A kind word and prayer from a friend.
550. A kind e-mail.
551. Hearing my kids laugh.
552. Listening to my 8-year-old give a speech. (He just took a speech class this past fall, and I love listening to him). He fought going to the classes occasionally (and so did his older brother), but in the end, it was a valuable experience and I dare say they even enjoyed it.
553. A recent home-school co-op which focused on ancient India and China. It was fun having a friend share some of her cultural background from China… and it was fun to share some of my personal experience, too, as a native of India, but who grew up in the U.S. I enjoyed the discussion on comparative religions we had– comparing Hinduism, Buddhism, Confucius, and Dao. It was so good for the kids. I hope and pray seeds of what was spoken take root and grow.
554. Good bye iPhone. We’ll be saying good-bye real soon. I liked you while you were mine. But we can no longer afford to keep you. Thank you for keeping me “plugged in”!
555. A fun and wonderful trip to the zoo for a zoo class today! And I have another story, again, how God works out little details: Up until last night, I still wasn’t sure how I was going to do this— because for the zoo class, the parents can only drop off the kids (unless we want to pay the zoo admission price) and then leave the kids at the zoo… but that didn’t feel right to me, and neither did I want to fork over the admission price for just an hour or two. But just last night, the coordinator of the class e-mailed, looking for another chaperone (and chaperones get in free!) So I responded that I was available… and there you go, dilemma solved… I didn’t have to leave the kids at the zoo and even attended one of the classes and got in free as a chaperone. Bonus: I learned some new things! Did you know that there are “rainforests” in the US? Yes, there are! They are in the Northwest– they are not “tropical” rainforests, but they qualify as a rainforest because of the amount of annual rainfall! What do you know, you learn something new every day! We also got to watch some funny ape and gorilla antics at the zoo… they were certainly active today.
556. A lovely peppermint mocha from Starbucks.
557. A couple of very kind twitter comments about my writing… brightened my day!!
558. Coming up with a couple of “new” outfits by putting different things together in my closet… isn’t that so much fun, ladies!
559. My youngest dressing up as “King David” for our church’s annual Fall “Heavenly Party”… he made his own crown… they play games, do crafts, did a “corn maze” in the church basement (with cardboard boxes) and talk about heaven. Sweet.
560. Some fun pics my daughter took of her brother playing in the leaves…
I’ll be stopping here for this week’s list. Happy Thanksgiving!
***
I’m crazy about these fall photographs that we took at the apple farm recently… and am linking these with Sweet Shot Tuesday at My 3boybarians. Enjoy these pictures of fall… autumn is fading fast here in the midwest.
They ask me for tulips.
Large brown eager eyes await my answer.
How can I say no?
The day is not so cold, and this may be our last chance to plant.
“Which colors?” I ask.
“Red,” says one.
“Pink,” says another, “and yellow”.
“I don’t know,” says another one who doesn’t really give me an answer.
“What about daffodils? I like daffodils, too,” I suggest.
I receive a nodding of heads in reply.
I drive to the store to buy spring-flowering bulbs, and select a few from among what is left, at 25% off. Most folks around here have finished their fall bulb planting, I realize. I’m OK with that.
I come home with purple and yellow crocuses, purple hyacinths, red, yellow, and pink tulips, and daffodils. We plant about 100 bulbs on Sunday afternoon, and I still have another 60 more left for Monday morning. The digging and planting proceeds fairly quickly with six other hands helping me.
After a while, the kids take a break, and I am alone, kneeling in the dirt, still digging holes in dark, moist soil. I stop for a moment on the cloudy, breezy, afternoon and stare at the bulbs resting in the hollowed places.
We plant these bulbs because we desire the delight of the color, the beauty, the touch of loveliness to feast our eyes upon after the long winter. We bury the bulbs under dirt, and hope we’ve done it right, and hope we’ve planted them deep enough, but we’ll have to wait until April or May to know whether we’ll see what we’re hoping for.
I’m glad the kids asked for this. I’m happy I can oblige. I’m privileged I can say “yes” to this request.
I look down on the row of bulbs and marvel over the strangeness of planting garlic-shaped objects that will emerge into something completely different, and I can’t help but wonder what the Flower Maker has in mind for me. What sorts of treasures will emerge and flower after seasons of winter in my life? I am sure I can’t imagine. Even if I think I have any inkling of a notion, I could be totally wrong. Does a planted bulb know what it will be?
The Flower Maker has planted seeds of hope in me… and my life itself is like an ever-growing planted seed. I want to see some of the results now, but I simply can’t. Some things can’t be known yet.
We can only fully grow when we’ve died, and let God grow us.
Likewise, we’ll know more fully in Heaven, as our lives here are but a shadow of the real life we’re meant to live.
I must wait until spring to know what will emerge. Hope lives amidst the burying.
***
Sharing with Laura
and L.L. Barkat
Speckled gold is the autumn landscape; speckled gold with dots of brown, shades of crimson, rust, and fading sienna. On lanes with rust-colored leaves, I notice the waning colors, and flaky papery leaves falling brown to the ground.
Pumpkins aren’t bountiful anymore, the patches are picked clean.
And my mind turns to those things that are not dying or falling, but to the graces that fall like autumn leaves. I look for those things, big and small, that He’s given, provided, graced.
509. Thankful for a wonderful visit home, in autumn! My favorite season!
510. A tall sunflower.
511. Thankful that despite missing my flight, I still made it home on time.
512. That despite getting sick after coming home, I was better after a day.
513. My grain order arriving and dividing up the order with a friend.
514. Planting tulip bulbs in the ground, because my kids asked for them. I also added some hyacinths, crocuses and daffodils. Thankful that I have the privilege of saying “yes” to this request.
515. A quick trip to the park to try to catch some photos of a sunset.
516. A hawk resting on the table in the backyard for just a minute (couldn’t get a picture in time!)
517. Planning a Seder dinner and writing a fairly complete Messianic Haggadah for our homeschool co-op. It’s not the right time of year for the Passover feast, but it is what we are studying in history right now. It will be my third Seder.
518. Seeing my daughter smile.
519. Dark chocolate. (I haven’t already mentioned this, have I?)
520. Three carved pumpkins on the front porch. The kids did a great job, didn’t they!
521. Taking my middle son out for a burger in a small but well-known mom-and-pop burger place in my hometown.
522. Thankful I found snow boots that fit that same son. His size is hard to find.
523. Meeting old high school friends! And running into two more unexpectedly! That’s what happens in a small town! So much fun. And the food was good, too, in the Mexican restaurant.
524. Thankful I don’t need gloves and a hat yet. Can’t always say that the beginning of November.
525. Thankful for GPS, which got us to the airport last week, and has helped with directions so many, many times.
526. Thankful for nowhere to go on Sunday night. After planting bulbs, I felt like watching a movie with the kids. And so we did.
527. For my hearing restored after the sinus infection.
528. Hugs. For others, and myself.
529. For reading some sweet things in other places.
530. For seeing marvelous pictures of fall scenery taken by other bloggers out there.
531. For the smallest of answered prayers.
532. For people who say they will pray, and then do.
533. Persistence… for the right things. For when I see it in others, and in myself.
***
A plane carries me hundreds of miles, flying faster than a bird, to my home. I had to fly to get there, nearly a thousand miles away. When I walk off the plane and into the airport, I hear the voices. It’s the southern accent I grew up listening to, like a sweet sound in my ears. I had forgotten; it is like the sound of home; familiar.
I used to talk that way, but now the accent only emerges when I’m in the south or speaking with another person with a southern accent. It’s a funny thing… like it’s always there, just waiting for a chance to come out and speak its voice.
And I see him, my father frail in the hospital bed, another reminder of how quickly the years go by. My mother, already frail with age and time, sits on a chair in the same room.
And when we come home, the air is full of drifting pink camellias and the sun is bright, the sky is a deep blue. A soft warm breeze brushes past me. I don’t need a jacket here. I find prickly burs that have fallen off the sweetgum tree and collect huge pinecones. The crunchy leaves crush to a fine powder, the smell of minced leaves a lovely nutty smell. A baby pomegranate falls off the tiny tree in the front yard. Dry brown leaves blanket the yard.
And I’m whisked from past to present, present to past, back and forth… jolted by how roles reverse and how what was white becomes black and what was day becomes night, to see the strong become weak, the young become old and fragile.
I wish I weren’t hundreds of cement miles away.
I try to swim out of this winter, the one that is coming and the one that won’t go away… but snows won’t give way. I see it coming on the horizon and I know some of it is unstoppable. I see sprigs of summer hope in my imagination, ripe for the picking, and I want to get my hands around them and pluck them and keep them, plant them, but so far they are elusive…yet I keep them in front of me, and reach for them.
It feels like Joseph in prison and Moses in the wilderness and I keep looking on the horizon for some kind of answer written as clearly as if Jesus scribbled it in the sand.
An old familiar ache hits me again and again, a homesickness that won’t go away… a loneliness, too, of the walk that each one of us walks, with no one else truly knowing….
Except God. He knows the truth of each and every heart, and I’m thankful for that, comforted by that. I tell God. He gets it. He gets what no one else does. He sees the plight of each heart, each life, each soul. He walked this same earth, got dust on his feet and dirt in his fingernails… he cried salty tears. He knows the trials of this world. And I tell Him this, all of this, and more… and there is no condemnation.
Walking by faith… sometimes it feels like this to me– like a walk in the valley, in the wilderness, in desert places… with only the knowledge that He is there with me, even though I don’t know the road ahead. He is faithful to never leave me.
He says to keep walking, keep fighting the good fight. I keep faith and hope as companions, but also try to remember these words he spoke: “the greatest of these is love”.
And I ask Him the question, how to do this, how to wrap my arms across hundreds of cement miles, and why to a million other things, and dozens of other heartaches I put in His palm… and I wait for Maker of the universe to talk to me. Because He does.
***
Sharing with Emily
and Ann
A call comes that I’ve dreaded, one that I’ve imagined, but hoped wouldn’t come.
She calls and says it’s urgent. When I hear the message, I brace myself, I pray.
My mother says it’s his heart, his blood pressure… and he was in the hospital overnight, and now he is going to another hospital for a heart catheterization. When dad is there, the next day they put in a stent, and he’s alive and his heart wasn’t damaged, and that is after the prayers for more time, God’s mercy, God’s healing- all answered.
And I see how each moment alive is bathed in grace, how thin the vessels of a heart… how thin the thread between life and death… how narrow the escape from death each day of unknowns… of bodies that work, taken for granted….
But how great the depth of the love that breached the great chasm of death… how big and gracious our God is… and we ask ourselves what is our time for? what is each moment left here for? God has given me this day, this very moment, to be alive– to live. Am I living as if each day is my last? Am I? What must I do differently? And if life isn’t the way we expect or want… what must be done then? What does God expect of us? Are we living in full realization of who he is?
When fully faced with death, mortality, and questions of the future, moments have more weight.
Each breath we take and each heartbeat is only one stop closer to eternity.
I want to live with no regrets. I want to live walking with the Almighty. I want to know that I’ve done what I could do and I can smile at the end.
Now, they are home, resting, my dad is recovering, and we are thankful, but I know that life is not in our hands. A bigger hand holds us, makes our hearts beat, a bigger river of mercy flows, a heavy grace rain pours down. Regardless of whether or not a person acknowledges the Giver of good gifts, it still all comes from Him. He pours blessing on us all.
Embracing the gifts… #487-508
487. Thankful my father received quick medical care and the problem was found.Thankful to still hear his voice.
488. Thankful my mother is recovering from bronchitis. Thankful to still hear her voice.
489. Thankful I could be here with them, and bring my 10 year old son, too.
490. Thankful for genuine people who truly care.
491. Thankful for a friend who can help on Wednesday.
492. Thankful for other friends here, who do not even ask what to do, just come and do what needs to be done.
493. Thankful my brother and sister could also be here.
494. Seeing beautiful fall colors here in the south, after they are gone now in the Midwest… it’s nice to see a second view of the season! Fall was always my favorite season in the south. Fall has always been magical, and metaphorical in different ways as I observe the leaves changing colors and watch trees giving up their beautiful coats. The weather is just perfect here in autumn… autumn speaks to me here. I’ve learned lessons from the trees. I miss it so… the warm breezes that are not icy or biting, but gentle and flowing. With an autumn that takes its time, more of the message soaks in… whereas in the midwest, autumn is brief and cold, and a heavy rain can knock leaves off in one day and there is nothing but a barren landscape left, and the bare branches seem to prick my soul. I’m not saying that snow doesn’t have it’s own kind of beauty– it does, from a distance. But for me, it’s not inviting, drawing me in to stay a while and learn and soak in creation. It affects me somewhere deep; it speaks to me of desolation, not fruitfulness. One can’t stay and linger too long outdoors on a cold wintery day. Life is still spent indoors, closed in, surrounded by the same. I miss green and woods and trees and I’m not what you’d call a nature girl, but there is something that fills my soul when surrounded by trees and natural beauty. Okay… I’m tearing up.
495. For God holding us in his palm.
496. For each moment bathed in a grace we do not always see or feel, but know it is there.
497. For people, smiles, warm eyes.
498. For my parents’ home, the home I grew up in, still here, same place, comfortable, warm, cozy.
499. Thankful I can be of some help: cooking meals for them to freeze, take them places they need to be.
500. Thankful for the dried herbs my mother gave me to take back and put in my tea.
501. Thankful for God who will never leave nor forsake me.
502. Thankful for bright yellow sunshine glistening behind golden and crimson leaves.
503. Thankful that God never forgets and hears and sees it all.”I cried out to the Lord with my voice- to God with my voice; And he gave ear to me.” Psalm 77:1
“I sought the Lord and He heard me…” Psalm 34:4
504. “The Lord is near…” Psalm 34:18
505. “I waited patiently for the lord, and He inclined to me, and heard my cry.” Psalm 40:1
506. “God is our refuge and strength…” Psalm 46:1
507. “… O God, who is like You?” Psalm 71:19
508. “We give thanks to You, O God, we give thanks! For your wondrous works declare that Your name is near.” Psalm 75:1
***
Sharing in community in thanksgiving with A Holy Experience:
When I began this 31 day series of blog posts this month, I made a list of ideas for the 31 posts. I’ve used many of the ideas so far. But what has surprised me a bit is the direction that some of my posts have taken. I hadn’t really planned on writing some of them, they just sort of … happened, kind of like how life happens. When life happens, as it surely has been happening, then I write about it. Like “relevant“, for example (yesterday’s post), and also today’s post, which is called “Open”.
“Open” wasn’t on my original list. The word never occurred to me, until today. But, it is what I think I should write about today.
This morning I awoke about 4 a.m. to catch a 7 a.m. fight to another city 850 miles away. My father was not well, so I had to be “open” to the idea of, first, him not doing so well, and second, considering how I was going to be involved. I decided to come and visit.
Yesterday, he had a heart cath, and they found an 80% blockage in an artery on the left side of his heart. The doctors put in a stent and a balloon, and now the artery is open, allowing blood to flow freely. He was discharged today and is at home now. I am also here. My older son also came with me, and my brother is visiting, too. My sister left earlier today.
The clogged artery had to be “opened” to allow the blood to flow through. It turns out he has high blood pressure and will need to keep it under control. Now his heart is getting the blood supply it needs.
That is why today I am contemplating the word “open” and the ramifications of that word in my life… or, in a life.
The physical heart situation has me pondering the spiritual heart situation.
Am I open to God’s teaching, leading, working in my life? If I’m not, there is a clogged artery, and pressure is building, and love and life aren’t flowing.
Sometimes, we want to stand in the way of what God wants to do in us or in those around us. We think we know better than God, and hinder His work and purpose.
In order for His kingdom love to flow, the arteries need to be open. And friend, you and I are like arteries, which when open, are a flowing a life-force when we love people around us.
But sadly too many arteries are clogged. They need stents or surgery to open them up.
And yet, other arteries are too full of themselves to be a vessel for anything else (think “Pharisee”, “pride”, “self-righteousness”… the list could go on). Pride leads to disease (too much of the self). Unfortunately, like the Pharisees, this disease is often not recognized until it is too late, or not acknowledged at all. It’s so easy to see the spots in others’ eyes, but not in our own.
Should I wait for an “emergency” before going to God or should I already be in the midst of a conversation with Him? I’ve learned from reading Oswald Chambers that a crisis will reveal what is already in us… if the roots haven’t been growing, it will show during the difficulty.
Thus, the time to prepare for a crisis is before it happens… which, in my thinking, means we should constantly be in preparation for it. Not in a negative way, as if to be pessimistic, and with a fatalistic attitude, but simply to know that “in this life you will have trials, but take heart: I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33) Jesus tells us that trials will most definitely be part of our life, but we are not to live defeated and downcast by that knowledge and fact. Should we (gulp) perhaps be… “open” to them….?
Yet, on the other hand, many vessels are open, pouring forth a life-giving force. What a blessing to be in the midst of someone whose arteries are not clogged. It energizes, encourages, builds up. Just like the blood that flows through arteries in our heart and offers oxygen to all parts of the body, open arteries also can offer spiritual oxygen to others.
I know I’ve got clogs, have had blockages, and will continue to be in need of regular checkups. If we are honest, we all know we do, in some area or another. We aren’t perfect vessels. But the closer we are to the Father, and allow Him to do what may sometimes be a painful work of opening the artery, the greater His love will flow.
Being open first starts with being open before God… an honest outpouring before God. Once we are free and secure and open with Him, we can be open around others. It should be like this: if anyone bumps into us, out will splurt the Love from free-flowing arteries, connected to the Father.
Well, at least that’s one way to picture all of this.
Without full openness before God, our spiritual lives are hampered. And since our spiritual life is the center of our being, if the spiritual artery is clogged or in need of repair and attention… other parts of us will also be clogged.
***
Every Friday I participate in a five-minute writing exercise (click over here to go Lisa-Jo’s website for the prompt and link-up page). The rules are to write for five minutes with no editing. The prompt this week is: Relevant.
GO
What’s really relevant in life?
When life it about to be taken away, when death brushes with life, when loved ones suffer, when we know our lives are but a vapor… that’s when we realize what is truly relevant.
It isn’t the stuff. It isn’t the things. It isn’t so much of what we spend our time on.
It’s the people.
Relationships.
And doing this, which fulfills the law: Love the Lord your God with all your mind, heart and soul and love your neighbor as yourself.
That fulfills the law, and is also “relevant”.
Loving God, and loving our neighbor as ourselves is what makes life relevant… because now we are doing relevant things.
When difficulties happen, all of the fluff and stuff is easy to recognize. At least I think so. And I wish to throw all the fluff and stuff away and focus on what is truly important.
One of the challenges to living healthier, living more fully, and living according to God’s word, is to recognize what is relevant and what is not. It may require a bit of organizing, simplifying, re-shifting focus to get to what is really important.
Most of us don’t want to live our life only to face a pile of regrets at the end. If we focus on what is truly relevant, then we’ll have spent our time on what is important to God, important to us, and important to the world.
I don’t want to be irrelevant. Do you?
Jesus was relevant. Am I? Are you?
When I see the faces of my kids, I am reminded of what is relevant.
When I see friends and loved ones hurting, I am reminded of what is relevant.
When I see a hurting world, I am reminded of what is relevant.
When I read God’s word, I am reminded of what is relevant.
If any of us feel as if our lives don’t matter, are irrelevant… it is a lie, in direct opposition to what God says. We are each here with a specific purpose and plan.
No matter where you are– at home, at work, at school, at church, at a conference… remember who you are (child of the King), and what is truly Relevant.
A person living a healthy fulfilled life… knows and remembers what is relevant.
***
***
I mentioned in a previous post this week that I enjoyed my father’s sense of humor when he was here recently visiting. My mom also enjoys a hearty laugh or two when visiting, because inevitably something one of us does makes us all enjoy a good laugh.
Laughter has such power. It is healing, restorative, and eases tension in difficult situations. Laughter draws people together and uplifts us when we feel down.
I don’t think we fully understand, nor has medical science fully proven the full benefits of laughter (and perhaps it cannot be scientifically validated in the way that research studies are conducted).
I do take scripture at its word, that “A merry heart does good, like medicine, But a broken spirit dries the bones.” Proverbs 17:22
My parents left a few days ago, and I found out my father was hospitalized last night with very high blood pressure. He was transferred via ambulance to another hospital this morning (a larger facility in a larger city) and tomorrow he will have a heart cath done.
Well, we aren’t laughing much today. But we have the memories of our laughs with us.
If I could suggest one thing to those who are reading, it would be not only to laugh, but to record the voices of those you love. I realize how familiar certain voices are, and how I want to remember what they sound like. I want to be able to recall the sound of my parents’ voices. I heard them daily for over 18 years, and even after college and moving away, their voices are still familiar. Not only would I like to remember, I’d like my kids to remember as well– their stories in their own voices.
I may travel to be with my parents the next few days. I hope there is some laughter. And I hope to record their voices and some stories.
She prays so fervently he thinks she is drunk. She doesn’t speak out loud, just moves her mouth quietly, silently but in earnest.
Guessing by the priest’s response (that she is drunk), I presume that not too many people actually come to the temple praying earnestly, like her. Perhaps it isn’t a common sight to see such sincere, passionate prayer, and the natural assumption must be that this is a drunken woman.
When questioned, she answers honestly.
“I am not drunk,” she says… I’m just a woman pouring out her heart to God.
She is taunted because she has no children, and is looked down upon in society. Her husband loves her, but cannot fully understand her pain. “Am I not better than ten sons?” he inquires. He cannot remove the social stigma she feels, cannot stop the teasing she endures, cannot take away her pain.
God hears, and answers Hannah’s prayer.
Little Samuel is born.
Hannah offers a prayer of thanksgiving to God—right after she leaves Samuel at the temple in the care of Eli the priest; she fulfills her promise to give Samuel to full-time service in the temple. (God uses Samuel in a mighty way. Little did Hannah know, not only is her prayer for a child answered, but God also wants to rid the nation of the immoral priests and raise up people who will honor His name).
In her prayer of thankfulness and praise, she says, “it is not by man’s strength…” (see 2 Samuel, chapter 2).
It isn’t by a human’s strength that the taunting is stopped. Nobody could take away her pain of not having a child.
Rather, it is by supernatural strength, by the grace of a God who delights in giving gifts— that her gift is given and received, and that her tauntor is silenced, and that she finds favor in society when her shame is removed… all through His gifts and not by any human means.
In my own life, I ask for the same: for His strength to prevail over the unknowns, over the fears, over the unfairness, over injustices, over nay-sayers, over tauntors, over it all, over me.
So I wait in earnest, and pray in earnest to a God who listens and cares– the same God that Hannah cried out to. I ask for help, for his ear, for his direction, for his answers, for his deliverance, for Him.
I crawl into the lap of the one who loves me, and am comforted. There is no such comfort as this. I wait on the same God as Hannah.
***
Sharing with Emily at Imperfect Prose
and Jen at Finding Heaven
One thing that highly distracts me is clutter. The truth is, though, I still have too much clutter around me. I find that when I’m in a room that is clutter-free and clean, I feel much more relaxed.
So my goal is to gradually declutter. I read a great tip on decluttering from the author of Organized Simplicity. (See her website, Simple Mom, for more great articles and ideas).
Her simple solution? When uncertain whether to discard or keep an object, ask this question:
Is it beautiful or is it useful?
If the answer to that question is yes, then keep the item. If the answer is no, then consider either donating the item if is still useful to someone else, or throwing it away (if it is broken, torn, etc.).
I love that tip.
The more I practice this, the better I get at it.
Decluttering and living more simply gives me a bit more peace. I’m not stressed or distracted by too many things around me calling out for attention.
And I like that.
***
Sleep. Ah, to have a good night’s sleep.
I remember the season of life when I had newborn babies, and how I felt like a zombie during those days and nights of repeated feedings and diaper changes! How I longed for a good night’s sleep! I can remember how good it felt to finally get adequate sleep.
According to statistics, even without newborns, women still aren’t getting enough sleep. The average woman aged 30-60 sleeps an average of 6 hours and 41 minutes during the workweek (source-National Sleep Foundation). Most of us need more, between 7-9 hours of sleep per night.
In fact, the problem of lack of sleep is quite widespread. “Women’s lack of sleep has become a societal crisis bordering on a national health epidemic.” (quoted in “Sleep Deprivation Threatens Women’s Health” by Molly M. Ginty, for Women’s eNews, March 28, 2005). Our society as a whole is moving at a fast, go-getter pace, which is affecting our sleep, which is affecting our health.
Besides feeling groggy and a little grumpy, not getting enough sleep may be linked to more severe conditions, such as a higher risk of heart disease and heart-related problems, and even obesity.
A study published July 1, 2009, in the American journal Sleep, found levels of Interleukin-6 (IL-6), a marker related to coronary heart disease, were significantly lower in women who reported sleeping eight hours as compared with 7 hours. (Read more about the study here). See also “Lack of Sleep ‘Hits Women Harder’”, BBC NEWS, 2009.
Another study tracked 70,000 women over 16 years, and found that women who slept five hours per night were more likely to gain 33 pounds or more and 15% more likely to become obese over the course of the study. (Read about this study here).
Getting enough sleep isn’t always as easy as it sounds. It isn’t always easy or feasible to simply go to bed earlier.
In some cases, other factors are involved in getting enough sleep (insomnia, hormones, depression, stress, illness, other health conditions, etc.).
Yet, minus other health factors, if it is possible to consider altering the schedule to get a bit more sleep, it is worth it. With adequate sleep, not only will we be able to function at a higher level, but will also be healthier.
***
Question for you: Do you get enough sleep? If not, why? How might you be able to get adequate sleep?
We live hundreds of miles away, and yet I can feel the breath of the southern autumn I grew up with. Each day I awoke in a valley surrounded by hills, but I didn’t appreciate its beauty until after I had gone. But I haven’t truly left, since large chunks of my heart are in places my body isn’t.
I miss people and places, and I allow the perfume of memory to draw me in… I succumb to daydreaming of sunny days and places, of youth and innocence and dreams freshly birthed.
No matter how many years pass, or the older I become, my heart is still young in some places and thoughts and hopes. I hope it doesn’t grow old. The color of my hair will change, my eyes may see more dim, but what I truly see, that which can’t be seen with the physical eye, and what I know, which can’t be known from a book, and what I feel, which can’t be transplanted to something else– those things don’t change.
Continuing in my weekly list of thanks:
465. A beautiful October, with milder temperatures.
466. Safe traveling journeys for family visiting here.
467. A wonderful time with my parents. Thankful they could still travel and visit us. Thankful for all the help and encouragement they were (are). Thankful the kids could spend time with their grandparents.
468. Picking apples at the orchard, and then coming home and making six pies– two of which were wheat and dairy free. And then falling asleep exhausted at 9:30 pm after it all– which is really early for me!
469. Making more apple treats later in the week: hot cinnamon applesauce and dried apples in a food dehydrator.
470. Watching kids make model tabernacles from household items (cardboard, cloth, play-doh, toothpicks, sticks, tape) at a home school co-op. The kids did it– came up with models! Below are a few pictures:
471. Football and basketball in the yard– I watched the football, but did join in a few basketball games.
472. Running into an old friend who is now a registered nurse practitioner… she gave me good advice for my sinus infection and sore throat, and gave me a box of licorice chews for my throat… thankful for the gift of running into her, and it saved me a visit to the ENT.
473. Along the same vein, another friend who is a naturopath, gave me some vitamins for the kids! I was looking for vitamins (she didn’t know that)– but just offered them to me to try! Another gift… “don’t worry about what you will eat or what you will wear….” Matthew 6:25
474. Watching “Prince Caspian” and “Fiddler on the Roof” with my parents… love that movie…such fun. My kids have been humming the tunes from the musical since… I just love it.
475. Taking a walk in the park, crunching through leaves, walking near the river.
476. Having a few kids over, bringing their school work, doing some work together, some just having the kids sit side by side on the table, doing their own thing… such a nice and fresh change… loved it, will do it again.
477. Eating fried green tomatoes… my mom brought a recipe with her, and I had plenty of green tomatoes in my garden… the last of this season’s tomato crop. They tasted fabulous!!
478. Seeing my mom laugh, laugh hard. Between the kids and myself, there’s plenty to make her laugh.
479. Hearing my dad’s jokes. I’m terrible at jokes, I can’t remember any. And even when I do, I just can’t make it sound as funny, ha. Guess I wasn’t meant to be a comedienne.
480. Getting better after a three week sinus infection and being unable to hear out of my left ear for two weeks… still not completely 100% back to normal, especially the ear, but it’s so much better. I can sympathize better now with those who are hearing impaired; I had to ask so many people to repeat things and the world sounded as if I were listening from underwater. Driving felt strange being unable to hear so well.
481. Worship. Music. Love. Next week, I just might be better enough to sing again.
482. Putting my faith and hope in God… waiting on Him… His word, Him = Hope.
483. Finally realizing… what I need is reading glasses to wear over my contacts to be able to read. Much better! (I’m too young for this….or so I think… apparently not….)
484. Thankful for safety on the roads these past few weeks… I’ve passed several wrecks, a couple of cars flipped over, and a car on fire. The highways have been more busy than I can recall and there is still construction all over the place. So thankful for continued safety on our trips all over town.
485. Pictures in the pumpkin patch.
486. Thankful for a God, a personal God, Jehovah, YHWH, I AM… who is Holy and above all, but also close enough, personal enough, to hear each word I say, and lets me sit on His lap… a God who remembers me, and calls me an adopted heir, a daughter of the king. No other identity means as much as this.
Today is Day 17 of the Healthier Living series, and the topic is “probiotics”.
Probiotics: What are they?
First, what are probiotics? According to a widely used definition by the World Health Organization and the Food and Agriculture Organization of the UN, probiotics are “live microorganisms, which, when administered in adequate amounts, confer a health benefit on the host.” (Microorganisms are tiny living organisms — such as bacteria, viruses, and yeasts — that can be seen only under a microscope.)
In other words, probiotics are living bacteria that are beneficial to health when taken in appropriate quantities. More than 400 different bacteria live in the gastrointestinal tract, and two of these are Lactobacillus acidophilus and Bifidobacteria bifidum. These two bacteria act as balancing agents for non-friendly bacteria, such as E. coli and Candida.
Where do I find Probiotics and how much should I take?
Probiotics are available in food or in supplement form (capsules, powders). Foods that contain probiotics are fermented milk and other fermented drinks, miso, and yogurt.
The recommended daily intake for probiotics are between 1 billion and 10 billion units per day (source). Some common species in supplements are: . acidophilus, L. bulgaricus, L. casei, L. gasseri, L. plantarum, Bifidobacterium bifidum, B. lactis, B. longum, Enterococcus faecium, and Saccharomyces boulardii.
What are some benefits of taking Probiotics?
Antibiotics, stress, or illness can upset the balance between the friendly and unfriendly bacteria in the gut. Probiotics can help restore the balance.
Probiotics have also been very helpful in the treatment of infectious diarrhea, especially in infants in children, shortening the duration of diarrhea by up to 50% (source).
Probiotics are also useful in treating Irritable Bowel Syndrome (IBS) and Crohn’s Disease. Approximately 58 million Americans are estimated to suffer from IBS. (source).
Other conditions that are treated with probiotics include: reduces childhood eczema; reduces lactose intolerance; enhances the immune system response; aids in digestion; reduces incidences of yeast infections and candidiasis; and increased absorption of vitamins and minerals, such as vitamin B and calcium.
Probiotic therapy is also being studied in the treatment of allergies, diabetes and high cholesterol. Research is still early.
Are there any side effects to taking Probiotics?
Probiotics are usually considered safe except for those with compromised immune system. Symptoms are usually minor, and may include gas, bloating or abdominal discomfort. There is the possibility of an allergic reaction, but this could be from the other ingredients used. (I usually buy probiotics that are free of most common allergens: dairy, wheat, soy, egg, nut, etc.) Reading labels is important!
As always, consult your health profession for information and advice; this blog is not meant to substitute for any medical advice whatsoever. Also, tell your health care professional if you are taking probiotics.
Probiotics have been part of my regular life for the past eight years. I also give them to my children on a regular basis.
Question for you: Do you take probiotics? Do you take supplements or take them through food?
As promised, today I will share how to make your own chicken stock. (To read about the benefits of making your own stock, click here).
I recently made my own turkey stock, and I will explain how I made mine. Instead of the stove, I used the crock pot. After cooking my turkey, I saved the bones and other turkey parts and put them in the crock pot, along with some onions, celery, carrots, and some herbs. I put in enough water to cover the bones. I also added 1-2 tbsp of cider vinegar and then cooked on low overnight. Adding the vinegar helps to leach the minerals from the bones. I basically used whatever leftover vegetables I had. I read somewhere that you can also freeze your carrot tops, celery ends, etc., and then add those to your crock pot whenever you are ready to make your stock.
After cooking, I strained and poured in my containers, because it was a free range turkey. You could store overnight in the fridge and then take the top layer of fat off if you like and then pour in your containers. I found some freezer containers that hold about 2 cups.
If you’re looking for a recipe, here is one recommended by Sally Fallon, author of Nourishing Traditions. I found her recipe featured here, and it is also in her book, as well as more recipes for beef stock, fish stock, etc.
Chicken Stock
1 whole free-range chicken or 2 to 3 pounds of bony chicken parts, such as necks, backs, breastbones and wings*
gizzards from one chicken (optional)
2-4 chicken feet (optional)
4 quarts cold filtered water
2 tablespoons vinegar
1 large onion, coarsely chopped
2 carrots, peeled and coarsely chopped
3 celery stalks, coarsely chopped
1 bunch parsley*Note: Farm-raised, free-range chickens give the best results. Many battery-raised chickens will not produce stock that gels.
If you are using a whole chicken, cut off the wings and remove the neck, fat glands and the gizzards from the cavity. Cut chicken parts into several pieces. (If you are using a whole chicken, remove the neck and wings and cut them into several pieces.) Place chicken or chicken pieces in a large stainless steel pot with water, vinegar and all vegetables except parsley. Let stand 30 minutes to 1 hour. Bring to a boil, and remove scum that rises to the top. Reduce heat, cover and simmer for 6 to 8 hours. The longer you cook the stock, the richer and more flavorful it will be. About 10 minutes before finishing the stock, add parsley. This will impart additional mineral ions to the broth.
Remove whole chicken or pieces with a slotted spoon. If you are using a whole chicken, let cool and remove chicken meat from the carcass. Reserve for other uses, such as chicken salads, enchiladas, sandwiches or curries. Strain the stock into a large bowl and reserve in your refrigerator until the fat rises to the top and congeals. Skim off this fat and reserve the stock in covered containers in your refrigerator or freezer.
***
How do you usually make your chicken stock?
