Tuesday, March 31, 2015
Monday, March 30, 2015
Sundays. Sundays are my favorite. They are never perfect, never without squawls or irritations or all the things that plague us and with which we plague each other. They simply are a reminder of much needed Grace, and a place to rest.
This Sunday we were especially grateful for being together again, though we did not even do that very gracefully. Also, apple pancakes and friends to not only eat them with us, but make them for us, cricket world championships to while away the afternoon, naps, blocks, and the ever present Living God who covers over and lifts us up.
Sunday, March 29, 2015
A day of refreshing, stowed away in the mountains with friends.
| From the breaking of the dawn, He is in the details |
| Shared |
| All the Doors |
a door is a reminder that there is a way in
knock, and it shall be opened
| Covered, Seen, Washed |
Saturday, March 28, 2015
Friday, March 27, 2015
We were given a replacement fish at the market. The stray cats at the first one that was swimming happily in his little bucket on the rooftop. Thank you kind lady who keeps giving us free catfish to terrorize.
There are people everywhere. Doing all kinds of things. The immensity and importance of all this humanity is overwhelming at times. I hear echoes of Hudson Taylor's feeling of the blood of millions on his hands. Sometimes the streets, while interesting and lovely in their own way, are also too much to bear.
Every few days, I ride the bus with Sadie and Quinn to go teach. It's a bittersweet time. Usually carsickness and rowdy kids are the bulk of the experience. Today I looked over and Sadie was reaching back to hold hands with her little friend as they talked back and forth in Chinese, or sometimes remained silent. I had to remember how thankful I am for this experience for her, and for all of us.
Wednesday, March 25, 2015
Monday, March 23, 2015
The gift of daylight, first light, starting again, beginning anew.
But already, just a crack after dawn, I can feel the weight of it all.
The schedule, the needs of the week, the thoughts in my head, the burdens.
Cast all your cares. Cast. Cast. Casting.
Roll, let them roll like a mighty boulder crashing down the mountainside
onto an altar.
Don't go pick it up again.
Oh, you picked it up again?
Cast it off.
Or drop to your knees, and let Him
take it for you.