return to things

It doesn't take long, the reinstating of motherhood. They fared pretty well without me for nearly twelve days, and yet the routine that Daddy had down pat was broken within seconds of my arrival. In a way, I'm grateful the little one didn't cry for him like she does for me, I'm thrilled they were all so helpful and played so lovely together. It made my shoulders light and my heart free when I was so many thousand miles away. It's a mother-love thing, this crying and grasping at the knees. At least that's what I try to tell myself.

So I returned home to fevers and weepy eyes, but smiles all around. And the day routine is slowly finding its way back into my blood. That's what a few too many days away, sitting by the poolside and exploring ancient relics will do to you, make the day routine return slow.

Besides all their beautiful blue eyes and silly welcome pictures taped on the door, it's the little things that are bringing a happy, inward sigh and making me feel at home again. I kept the camera close the last day or two, just to help me see and remember them.

1. Sitting across from bright eyes as they peek over the table, munching lunch and peering intently at puzzle pieces.

2. Running painfully, laboriously up a seaside hill, spitting on the fact it's been two weeks since these burning lungs have tasted fast wind. But the tight calves and cleared mind make it worth it, and the smiling wave from my polar swimmer Chinese friend who laughs gleefully at my slog jog, gives these lips a grin in the hair whipping wind.

3. Walks along the city streets in the late afternoon sun, air warming slowly to the tune of coming spring and my little man at my side, chatting cheerfully as though I were his closest friend. 

4. The sights of familiarity as roasted sweet potatoes pushed on an old cart come rumbling our way.

5. Korean food.  Fresh and light and fully of salty, pickled flavor. A shared lunch in a small, upstairs room, bright with sunshine and the sounds of women cooking.

6. A boy with chopsticks and a silly smile. He seems so old, so grown up and boyish with his cocked hat and serious questions.

6. Baking. With the middle one in tow. Back to flour on the counter, on his shirt, in her hair, on the floor. But back to warm breads and fresh lemon scones, french-pressed goodness and homemade smells in the air.

It's good to be home, in China.

why else do we Live?

And so today is Easter. The day of days, to remember the moment of all moments, when the powers of death were swallowed up in the light of an empty tomb. I have spent the last several weeks in preparation for this day, and it has helped me immensely. Perhaps it prepared me more than I could have realized, for today was anything but a festive day.

I remember as a college girl, enjoying the sunrise services deep in the heart of Philadelphia, the full brass ensemble echoing through Rittenhouse Square as pigeons pecked through the cobblestones and sparrows twittered cheerily in the cherry trees. I remember sitting up on the grassy rise in the backyard of my childhood home, wrapped in blankets, chomping away happily on warm muffins and hot chocolate as the sunbeams rose and we listened to the marvelous story. I am sure today all over the world there were cathedrals and high school gyms ablaze with the sounds of worship and thanksgiving, pomp and celebration. But today, we saw none of that.

Instead of a sunrise service, we were cuddled on the couch reading the Story together. Instead of community of worship, I was trying to unpack with a feverish daughter on my chest. Instead of the sound of choirs and congregations crying out with praise, my lone and simple voice rocked sickness with resurrection lullabies. Instead of an Easter feast with friends and family gathered ‘round, there was peanut butter and jelly, and rice for dinner, with a whimpering, sweaty brow tucked tight against my arms. It certainly wasn’t the festive celebration I would have planned or that I can hope for again come another year, but in many ways it was just what has been planned for all along.

I’ve been reading Cry the Beloved Country by Alan Paton. It is such a beautiful book, on so many levels. If you haven’t already, please, please read it if you are able. This time around, a new voice has stood out to me: the simple, quiet housekeeper who lets out rooms to the suffering minister who has come to Johannesburg to find his wayward son. She is forever serving, allowing Kumalo to bring his prostitute sister and her small son in from the streets, then allowing him to bring yet another young girl his son has made with child. She cares for these girls, feeds the entire group, covers Kumalo with her prayers and her daily small kindnesses. Three or four times throughout the story, she is thanked. Each time, she simply says, “It is for this we were born” or, “why else do we live?”

I keep thinking of her response, her way of living, and I am brought low.

Broken and spilled out. Wounded for our transgressions. With his stripes, comes our healing. His was a life poured out, a cup offered up, a sacrifice laid down.

The Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many. Then he turns it on us to do the same. Powered by the same strength, armed with the same love, filled with the same Father-centered purpose, he asks us to lose our lives for the sake of others.

It’s what we’re to be known for isn’t it? It’s what makes us seem backward in a forward driven world. What seems more foreign to a survival-of-the-fittest humanity than giving up your own survival so another can thrive? Who thinks of others before their own interests are met? It seems like death, and indeed it is. For in losing your life, there you will find it.

Today I am humbled by my own ugliness, the sin that creeps up everywhere, clouding everything. I am humbled but I am lifted up. I died with him and now I can know raising life power. I feel defeat and yet I can claim victory because of Jesus. It is all Jesus. There is nothing for me but Jesus. I see him, high and lifted up, the Suffering Servant who bears all our sin and shame, and washes me clean once and for all- and over and over again.

I sit here with my weak little girl, writhing in her achiness, unable to do much but hold and rock her gently and I know that this is just the Easter celebration I need. He came to serve, he gave it all, he lost his life to give me mine, he rose again to make it sure, and I am learning day in, day out, “for what else are we Born?”

egypt :: cairo uncovered

Finally, today, I felt like I saw Cairo. So be prepared... I have posted lots of pictures. For the whole set, click here to view them on flickr.

We headed out this morning to the popular market known as Khan el Khalili, and were dropped off on a dirty side street corner with a finger pointing us "that way" before driving off in the ever busy traffic. We crept hesitantly into what seemed to be back corridors and a maze of secret passageways. Suddenly, a friendly "student" walked up and politely informed us we were on the Egyptian side of the market, whereas the Tourist side was on the other side of the busy street. No matter, this is the side to be on apparently; no tourists and cheaper prices, and of course legitimate handicrafts, food, and goods as opposed to the knock off, made in China junk from the other side of the road.


We soon found out our extremely knowledgable guide was a local university student who is studying antiquities. He led us to the most beautiful mosque in the city, knew all its ins and outs and how to climb the tower, the dates and names of those who had built it, the streets to head down to find the most well known and respected papyrus maker/painter in the city (there was a stack of highlighted guidebooks on the artist's table to drive home the point... he is a legend), the best kebabs, and the Old Spice Market. Now, whether or not this student just "happened" to be there as we teased him about all day, he was still very friendly and compliant, not pushy, and of such vital importance to us (as we soon discovered wandering hopelessly in the maze at his mercy) that we were happy to comply and send him off with a handsome tip at the end of the day.

After spending most of the day climbing towers, exploring mosques, pushing our way through markets and wandering through ancient city streets, we headed down to the Nile for a traditional Falukah ride. This was an old sailboat that took us out on the most refreshing and beautiful early evening tour of the river, especially after a long and exhilirating day of walking and exploring.

After a long day of snapping the camera at everyone and everything else, I thought a little proof that I had in fact been there as well was in order. One posed and one self-portrait are enough for now:)

Hopefully the pictures speak for themselves. I am sitting in a hotel lobby, hocking internet time and it is time to sign off. Good night from Cairo!

egypt :: falafel any day of the week

Today I bring you some Egyptian cuisine. There's not much time as we are checking out of our hotel in a few minutes and moving to a different location for the next few days. But I have been enjoying this fantastic food so much I had to try to share some pictures with you. I really do enjoy living in China, but the eats here are forcing me to consider whether or not a move is in order. Is it okay to move for food?

Hummus (please say that H with as much guttural phlegm as you can muster), feta cheese, fresh marinated grilled vegetables (all in one mouthful- delightful), pita bread, filafel (for breakfast- yum!).

Turkish coffee. I was hesitant at first because I know they boil it with the grounds and leave it unstrained. But they are so fine they become a clay-like paste that sits at the bottom of the cup while the liquid above becomes a smooth, black delicious means of caffeination. You can order it plain, mildly sweet, or very sweet. But the most important thing to note here is how smooth and strong it is... just like this girl likes it, as long as it doesn't put any hair on my chest.

I leave you with one sad little shot of the glorious pool that we have looked longingly at for nearly four days now. This was all I could get before the pool manager came over and kindly informed me photos were not permitted. But let me tell you, there are cabanas, there is foliage, lots and lots of green foliage, flowers, and cool clear water. There are piles of towels, little votive candles everywhere in the evening, the sound of waterfalls.

The next two days we venture into the city on our own so hopefully I will have much more to share here soon, with pictures. For those of you who are interested, things on the homefront seem to be going well. I was informed by a friend that my daughter was adorably dressed with her hair neatly combed (didn't know we even did that) in the Nursery on Sunday, so the Man appears to have things in order. He did tell me that earlier that morning she had thrown herself into the tub fully dressed, twice, while her brothers were getting cleaned up. She does keep things interesting.

egypt :: why 16 year olds won't rule the world

Today I stand in a land where nearly three thousand years ago a bruised and battered nation saw a miraculous deliverance out of a dark and brutal enslavement and into the shining glory of freedom. I walk on sand and look up at a sky that could have seen the same footsteps and felt the gaze of another Foreigner who came to  live and walk among us.

Yesterday was the first of four conference days we came all the way to Cairo to take part in. That means for now, the sightseeing is on hold. The issues being discussed at this conference by hundreds of high schoolers from all over the world are swirling around in my head as I also try to reflect on the significance of today... it is Palm Sunday, the first day of the final week leading up to Easter.

The moon has risen warm and bright, full and luminous like  a freshwater pearl dropped kerplunk in the middle of the deep midnight sky. It is a vivid reminder of the truth that surrounds me: the world is very dark. There is beauty there, the remnants and glimspes of it so wonderful that sometimes you can almost forget the burden of pain that we all live under. But in spite of all that reminds us of joy, we don't escape the reality that this world, and each of our lives, are shadowed, darkened, marred by all that destroys what we long and hope for in life.

I sit in a city full of people living in buildings that are crumbling, crusted with dirt and surrounded by piles of  trash and refuse from its inhabitants. I sit in a lavish hotel with marble floors and bath towels the size of my living room and listen to passionate debates about issues like genocide, human trafficking, violations of treaties, civil wars, and thre rise of nuclear powers. I see the effects of poverty, corruption and human fallenness all around me. The cries for collaboration, peace, and mutual consideration seem to fall dead and silent on the floors of high walled conference rooms. They are necessary talks, but will they truly bring about the "hope for a better tomorrow" that these youth dream of?

As I return every day to the comfort of my hotel room and look out onto the scene of depravation and struggle, knowing its sorrow is known to millions of people in every nation on earth, the darkness can seem to close in. I listen to the heartwrenching issues and feel overwhelmed, hating the small feeling of problems so large and the heavy burden of my small, protected life. It is easy to look out and ask, "Where is He?"

He was here. He came into the darkness but the darkness has not understood it. Nevertheless, He came still. He entered our darkness and broke its power over us. Some can see it  and believe, others cannot or have not. It is a thing of faith- for we are faith creatures. But it will not always be this way.

This is the beauty of the Easter preparation, of enjoying the season of Lent as it leads you through the Word and gives you time to think about all that this great moment in history, the Resurrection, means for us. The world can seem so dark to me, but the Light of the World stepped down into darkness, and madea way for us to be free. This Friday we will remember the darkness that Jesus friends and followers felt as all they had believed and hoped for seemed buried and dead with the broken body in the grave. But in the early light of a Sunday sunrise, the light of Truth will remind us again that though all seems lost, we know for certain who is Victorious, and who is working even now in the midst of all that still remains broken. He is making things new, and He will make all things new when the time is right.

Tomorrow we head back to the conference rooms and delegation proceedings. It will be Monday and the streets outside will be the same as they were today. But I know whom I have believed and I am persuaded that He is able... because He was stronger than the grave, and the death that could not hold him.

May you rejoice in the Light that came, comes, and is coming into your darkness!

egypt :: camel rides and a missing sphinx

This morning dawned bright and... hazy. What is with this haze that follows me everywhere? For some reason I forgot that pollution is a serious problem here too and was just envisioning blazing hot sun in the desert pyramid land. But, haze it is, and it seemed to clear as the day wore on.

Before heading off to the pyramids we stopped at the Egyptian Museum to view all the ancient relics that date over 4,000 years old. Mummies, chariots, sarcophogus, carvings, jewelry (even sandals pretty similar to my own), and King Tut's treasure were housed in dusty old glass cabinets and lined up in cavernous, echoing halls that reminded you of a warehouse long forgotten. Oh, and cameras were forbidden.

Small side note... do you know where else picture taking was forbidden? The Tashkent Airport. In Uzbekistan. Have you ever had a layover in this airport? It's a great place if you like lots of alcohol, chocolate, and dozens of men smoking in your face. Other than that, I'm not sure what they are afraid you will record on your precious film. But, nonetheless I just wanted you to know I was in Uzbekistan.

So after the mummies, we were supposed to go to the pyramids. One of the options was to get  to them via a camel ride. I could hear the chastisement I would receive if I didn't take this opportunity so I decided to go (despite all my dislike for the idea of trail animals and the uncomfortableness of riding an animal that is mad at you for not knowing how to ride IT). Little did I know that this meant we would only be able to see the pyramids at a distance of about 100 miles.

With that in mind please take this little photo journey with me through the back villages and up to the pyramid site. If you're disappointed in the final delivery... know that I was slightly as well, and we're now trying to figure out if we need to take another trip to a different site later in the week. I didn't even get to see the Sphinx.

:: Our spitting, I've-got-a-little-man-complex camel who kept trying to race to the front  of the line. He nearly lost us several times and I found my hand holding on for dear life to the rump of this gorgeous animal ::

:: One of our guides who was forever curious about our marital state. I tried to dress modestly but maybe the dusty ankles or hair whipping constantly across my face and in my mouth was just too much for him ::

:: This little guy was a pro at handling the animals. He was full of smiles and friendliness, and you know he was hoping for a tip in the end. There were handfuls of these boys everywhere... playing soccer by the burning trash heaps, shooting marbles on the dirt road outside the front gate, one group walked by sipping coke out of little plastic bags. ::

I just love open air markets. All I want you to see here is what the cart in the background is holding. A huge pile of fresh artichokes. I might move here.

:: On our way through a narrow alley, we had to pull up to let a funeral procession by ::

:: and here they are, in all their glory ::

:: another close up:) ::

:: Can you see the Spinx behind there? I can't either. But I'll always have my camel, and that's something. ::

:: and so will this boy... have his camel I mean. He also didn't seem too concerned about missing the Sphinx ::

Tomorrow is a work day, and by work I mean changing the the world through diplomatic netotiations (at least pretending to). That also means more time sitting, and reading, and thinking. So, be prepared... another wordy post may be looming on the horizon.

The Way There

I sit at a fiberglass table, looking out on a tarmac where winged machines the size of several Blue Whales are taking off into the air in what seems like an act of defiance of natural law. Concrete runways stretch nearly to the horizon, there are little piles of rumpled clothing hiding the tired flesh of slumbering beings on every suitable (and unsuitable) surface you can find. An overhead sound system gently and serenely speaks arrivals and departures into our ears without the slightest hint of the anxiety that someone or other must be experiencing.

It's like an in-between world, this airport, this transfer lounge. A place between places, a stop on the Way. I'm not a travel blogger, but I feel like I need to update you on my travels since I left yesterday and won't be arriving in Cairo until sometime late tonight. Nothing much has happened since we left, since I left those  sweet cheeks and strong hands. But here I am without them, in a world between worlds and with nothing but a tarmac and people to look at, a book in my hands and thoughts running uninterrupted.

So, if you choose to join me here, please stay and feel welcome! I wish we were sitting together. Know that since I am no travel blogger my observations may be a bit more metaphysical than you were hoping for, and since I am without children my words may get a bit lengthy. We will hope for the best though.

I left on this trip to one of the oldest recorded civilizations with the realization that I would be traveling during the final days leading up to Easter. As a new Lent observer, this kind of disappointed me at first! I wanted to be home with my family and friends, preparing our hearts and minds and home together for the greatest of our Christian Holy-days. But the more I thought about it the more I realized this could be a unique way to enjoy the preparation for Easter. The historical place we will be, the unique stillness I will experience, the precious time to read and think and pray, these are gifts sacred to a mother and not to be treated lightly or wasted with the weight of guilt.

So this morning I sit watching man-made birds and God-made man and read and think through the Stations of the Cross. It's a simple, prayerful exercise, thinking through the progression of Jesus' journey from the time he is condemned to die by Pilate until he is laid in the tomb (oh the anticipation for the final Triumphant Morning!) It's impossible to sit in an international terminal and watch its crowds of people, reading about the act of the Incarnated God giving himself in death to redeem the world, and not think through it's implications for the span of all these varied lives.

 It brings questions, and sorrow-- for the fallenness of these precious creatures is evident everywhere: the businessman who berates the stewardess for her misunderstanding, the anger and frustration from the customer who is hindered by language, the harried sharpness of the mother whose child will not listen, the child who refuses to go any way but his own. There are days when I look around and can see the beauty that is still present too, the wonder that still remains of all the glory of God's original intent in creation, but today his need to die looms large on this concrete horizon.

The way of the cross is not all doom and despair. I sit here rejoicing, knowing the sweetness of forgiveness, of freedom, of hope, of joy because of the Way that Jesus took. But the journey to that sweetness begins at the cross. And wherever you are, whatever you see, you can look at him There, high and lifted up, and find that He is the Way.

On a lighter note, but one that is highly important to me, I had a Quizno's sub last night! Turkey and swiss cheese on a rosemary crusted bun. Sheer delight.