Waiting Places

Waiting places are what they are. The term "Waiting Place" is from a Dr. Seuss book my Mom gave me titled Oh, The Places You'll Go! as a graduation gift. In the book, the waiting places don't look like very fun places, but looks can be misleading. Waiting Places are filled with questions, anticipation, hopes, dreams, and the occasional trickle of fear or stab of anxiety. (I know those last two are not what Christ calls me to, but they still happen.) There are so many avenues that I could go down right now, but I am not sure which direction will be the route I take out of this Waiting Place. (Yes, I know that is cryptic, but the decisions to be made are in the hands of people who have better motives and more wisdom than I... and I need to keep my mouth shut in public forums like the internet until given permission to speak.) The very existence of many possibilities and the very uncertainty of what lies ahead is what makes a Waiting Place exciting.

Transition

It seems like the whole world is on its ear. There is change in much of our lives right now. I want to say, "Stop that!" and hang onto a policy of normalcy, but much of the change is potentially for the better ("the better" does not necessarily mean "my version of better".) Change requires people to stretch... and I m not feeling very flexible today. I will just wait on the answers that will come in the weeks and months ahead. Transitions are always interesting. I think people tend to start waving their true colors when the ground drops from beneath them. I hope I'm flying a white flag of surrender.

Christmas Comes Again

I've been occupied putting away a batch of treasures that arrived over the weekend. In response to our Christmas tree toppling several months ago and my drama over my Christmas Tree china being outsourced to China and Malaysia, my aunt made a decision. She, who is personally responsible for my love of Spode Christmas Tree, pulled out her own treasured pieces and sent them along with her Christmas tree decorations. As I was sorting through the ornaments, I came across a box that looked familiar. My favorite ornament that has always graced our family Christmas tree (a gift to Don and I from my Grandmother the Christmas we were engaged to be married) was among those broken when the tree went over several months ago. The duplicate ornament was very carefully tucked away in the original box in my aunt & uncle's ornaments. I know it is a thing, and that possessions are not our lives, but I still cried over that ornament. What a gift!

Give It Up

It's all in the grip. How tightly I hold onto relationships, possessions, and desires seems directly tied to whether or not they wriggle free to escape. If I hold lightly to all I hold dear, then God multiplies and grows... our marriage, the relationships with our increasingly independent (though still far from ready to fly) children, possessions and finances have all shown this belief in practice. If I hang on for all I am worth then objects begin to hold too great a priority, I waste the present on the future, and the people I love feel trapped and overwhelmed. Here's to letting go.

Speak To Me

I have not actually given up on learning a few words and phrases in Polish in the next few weeks. I think the desire was sitting back-burnered after discovering the level of difficulty involved in learning that particular language. (My lack of ability to comprehend Spanish after 34 years in Texas might have colored my thoughts on that!)
Evan and I were in our favorite used book store yesterday. I have looked for books that are in any way related to Poland with very little success there in the past months. Yesterday was different because I found a computer program that claims it can teach me Polish tucked away in the software section. I picked up a copy for myself and one for Lisa. Evan and I dropped Lisa's copy by her house and heard a quick update on Ralph before heading back home with our bonus Polish audio cd carefully pronouncing words and questions. The sounds still seem strange to me, but I am hoping that they will become more familiar in the weeks to come.

Clearance

When was the last time you cleaned out a closet in your home? I can honestly say I cleaned out the closets two weeks ago. (Don and I made a run to Goodwill with multiple bags of clothing and some household goods the same day we hauled our super-funky old carpet to the dump.) I would think between leaving at least one bag for every charity that comes by our house and our trips to specifically pass along usable items to friends that we would have an empty home. Nope. Not even close. (Uh-oh. What does that say about our consumption around here?!)
If you have not seen us in many months, Don and I lost 100 pounds between us since last June. That means we replaced every stitch of clothing from underpants to overcoats culminating in a swimsuit purchase last week. (I actually giggled while trying on a swimsuit--- probably because I was pulling it on over my clothes in the middle of Sam's.) I keep thinking that I have cleared all usable items to go to someone else who needs them. I started by giving away everything in a size 24. (Yes, a 24. No, I am not 8 feet tall.) I eventually realized that the 18-22 sizes were long since too large, and those items were donated or given away. I admit to hanging onto the 1X-2Xs because those items might be needed. (There's that pack-rat trying to justify hanging onto stuff!)
This morning saw yet another search for clothing to be donated. I was floored to find my arms filled with items that someone else could be wearing that are in excellent condition--- much of them in reasonably current or classic styles and colors! I will make yet another trip to drop off these items as I continue to fight the good fight against the accumulation of an overabundance of possessions.

Language Barrier

I had a chuckle this morning at my cluelessness in yet another area. Joan Stockdale who serves as a missionary in Poznan, Poland is excited about a prayer meeting that will be for native English-speakers. She is looking forward to the freedom of praying in her native language. I am familiar with the concerns of the missionaries there with the ability to speak Polish, but I have not ever thought about the challenges that can present in a prayer meeting.
I have been in prayer groups with Spanish-speakers, but they have always been fluent in understanding English. That's a good thing since my Spanish is sorely limited. Unless we were praying (in a really bad accent) for "Greetings! Beer window kitchen please pregnant warning. Good-bye!", I would be at a loss. I have honestly never considered the challenges of prayer and worship on a regular basis with believers who speak a different language, despite the fact that our church offers a growing Spanish service on Sunday. (I'm having a bit of a "Duh!" moment.)
The question of my inability to either speak or understand languages other than my native English created questions early in the plans for OPS. I thought it would be good to be able to offer greetings and say good-bye as well as the basics of "Thank You", "yes", "no", and "please". Shelley had a good-natured laugh over that initial idea because she has been immersed in Polish culture for years, and she is still learning the language. (She very kindly did not point out my unwitting arrogance in thinking I could just "pick up" a bit of Polish.) Polish is utterly different from the English I have always spoken, read, and understood. I found just the alphabet daunting with 32 letters in the Polish alphabet (and that doesn't even include Q, V,or X!).

Voices

A friend recently posted a video for Casting Crowns' "I Know You're There". Our Erin LOVES this song. The little one has a very big voice that is incongruous with her age and size. (It shows when she sings this particular song rather than the high-pitched sing-song we typically hear out her during play.) The song is an anthem of faith, and this morning it speaks to me, a bit of scripture out of Luke whispers to my heart, and a pair of other moms with "special" kids confirm what I think I am hearing. All these voices speak to the continual grief and hope of trying to train and teach a special needs child toward autonomy.
I made the statement this morning without really thinking (So, what's new, right?) that, "Our children are not extensions of ourselves, but they are entirely separate individuals." That seems like such an obvious reality; yet, when one has nurtured a life, there is an inextricable link. It is easy to make that sort of declaration, but far harder to genuinely recognize the autonomy of our children. It is further complicated when the child in question shows himself or herself incapable of meeting responsibility that needs to be accepted to gain greater freedom and independence from Mom and Dad.
Last weekend we had multiple less-than-admirable incidents with our son. I was horrified to hear he stole from our hosts Sunday night, lied about it, was disrespectful to the sitters who were charged with his care, and followed all of that up by running after a group of little preschool girls with a pair of scissors. (The scenario is just wrong on so many levels.) I admit I was mortified first, but not one person looked at me with condemnation as the rotten parent of this out-of-control child. I was concerned with the risk to and fear of the little girls, and frustrated that Evan showed such a lack of sense and restraint. I wanted to crawl in a hole somewhere, and let Don deal with this round. So I did. I was just past my ability to know what to do or say after a series of maddening issues throughout the weekend.
So this week we study God's provision. Literally, God will provide our physical needs for food, clothing, shelter, and medical care (!). Our God is bigger than our physical needs. He meets the needs of the heart and soul. He hears our sad, angry, bereft, broken inner-most being crying out for relief. He hears the voice that cannot speak, and the words I do not utter. I am thankful that I am not in physical want, but I am down-on-the-floor awed that needs I refuse even to recognize because they feel shameful ("What kind of a mother...") and cannot put into words are met.

Take It Back

What a relief. The insurance company has taken back their original denial of my January IVIG claim. I am so much more okay with meeting our deductible than trying to pay out the $5,000 total bill, and getting hit with more to come since we have already done two more rounds with February and March behind us! I get tired of having to fight and/or beg for insurance claims that are well within our stated coverage to be paid.
If I walk into any retail store and want to buy something, I will be expected to pay the seller at the point of sale. The grocery store won't let me waltz out the door with food that I have not paid for because once it is consumed, the food is GONE. It cannot be returned. Well, guess what?! Neither can the blood product the nurse runs through my IV every month. (That would be one bizarre attempt at repossession.) It's just completely silly.

Up and Out

I woke up in the middle of the night, and it was that full-on BAM! wide-awake. No point in trying to roll back over to stare into the quasi-darkness, so I rolled out of bed to ponder the thoughts of Ralph Adler that had awakened me. It's a weird world when I wake up thinking of Ralph. Now that it is actually time to be awake, I am irritable. That will probably change in the next 20 minutes. I'm out the door for this morning's breakfast with a friend I have not seen since October.

We haven't really had the opportunity for a heart-to-heart one-on-one time in far longer. She's the kind of friend who I can not see or have any communication with for a year, but the second we are in contact it's as if no time at all had passed. I love those comfortable, long-time friendships.

Waiting Room

The future of OPS is that we are waiting. Our team has two precious members in crisis. Even as we prepare to travel thousands of miles to pray for the Holy Spirit to move in the hearts of Poles, we also pray for long-term missionary Shelley, our short-term companion Lisa, their Mom Tammy, and their large family as they wait to see if the medical measures taken to preserve the life of their father will be successful. It would be such a small thing for God the Almighty to heal Ralph, but the hopes of many may not be God's plan. Healing is my wish, but I do not lack for hope because Ralph's future is certain. Salvation leaves no room for doubt, but offers the surety of Eternity free from earthly cares to worship God.
Paraphrasing the words of another, "It is our honor to stand in the gap for our fellow believers."

April Fools

Ahhh, April Fool's Day. My favorite April Fool's Day in retrospect was the one when we found out we were (Surprise!) expecting our youngest child Erin. It's ironic that she herself is quite the comedienne. Eight years ago, our GP called up after running some blood work following a nasty allergic reaction I had to congratulate us. He thought it was just the greatest thing ever to be calling up a couple who was not "trying" to give the good news on April Fool's Day.
April Fool's Day was my maternal great grandparents' wedding anniversary. I think that would get my vote for second favorite if I were in need of a runner-up favorite.