Overactive Guilt Reflex

I'd worked every day since last Thursday and hadn't gotten much sleep the last two nights, plus, the packing and sorting I still need to do before next week was feeling overwhelming. So last night, I turned down a sub job for the first time. And I felt SOOOOOOO guilty! What in the world?! I began praying and begging God that I wouldn't get any early-morning calls today, but that he would just let me sleep in, and then we'd enjoy the day together doing all the errands I need to do. I got five!!! Count 'em. It felt like a battle of the wills, and I kept asking God if this was a sign that I was meant to take a job today. But I did keep pressing "no," so we'll see where this day goes. Do I just have an overactive guilt reflex?

My friend Ramona from Spittal thinks it's the Austrianness in me because Austrians don't say "no." In fact, there's a saying: If he says "yes," he means "maybe." If he says "maybe," he means "no." If he says "no," he's not an Austrian.

Shell

There it is: the house that bears your name
worn, weathered, watching
a 60-year-old testament to the world.
And I try to take it all in

the same sweet aroma
of plumeria and white ginger
greeting my nose as it once did yours
rising from the flower beds Marj planted

the same touch of rain
that patters on the palm tree leaves
and darkens the orange earth runway
where your plane once stood

the same grand mountains
standing guard over this outpost
to make sure that Shell
is never swallowed by the jungle

the same delicious coconut milk
sold by the ladies on the corner
in their bright pleated skirts
smiling with their toothy grins

the same chorus of jungle crickets
who soothe the city to sleep at night
and sing with the parrots, only
occasionally to be interrupted by Piper engines

the same God
who still works all things out for good
even the death a precious Saint
and garners glory for himself from all over the earth

Reunion, of sorts

Yesterday I subbed at the high school that most of my students from last year went to. (Last year I student taught in an 8th grade classroom in the Spring Lake Park district). I didn't think too much about it until I showed up and found out I'd have all 9th grade classes. Looking at the seating charts, I was so excited to see that I still recognized many names, and it was even more hilarious throughout the morning as they came in and would look at me suspiciously. Lindsay did some double-takes and finally worked up the courage to come up and say, "Have you subbed for us before?" Henry could place me, but couldn't remember my name. With pointed finger in my face, he kept stuttering, "You're, ... you're, ... last year ... you're Miss ... Miss ...." I finally helped the poor guy out. Colton, my super loud-mouthed kid from last year, didn't say anything until I called on Andrew and Jonathan by name to stop chatting. Colton's head jerked up and he stared at me. Finally, Lorna next to him leaned over and whispered something, and in typical Colton-fashion, he burst out, "Oh, Miss Custer!!! Freaky!" It was pretty funny.

Where the rubber meets the road

Well, it's probably time for a more personal blog here. Things are slowly moving forward for the missions side of my life. I have a few churches lined up between the end of April and the beginning of July where I'll be sharing about my ministry and inviting people to join me in it. Powerpoints are being worked on, today I'll finalize my brochure, and I'm wracking my brain trying to come up with nice decorations for a table setting. I'm excited though. Just in the few personal conversations I've had with people, I've surprised myself over and over with how much I can talk about the school, the kids, and the needs in Europe and also with how passionately I feel about the work.

It sure is a time of trusting though. At church this past Sunday and at bible study yesterday, two different people spoke encouraging words to me, saying God will provide because he owns the cattle on a thousand hills (or something like that). What are a couple of bucks to him! I told them that I'll need to hear that often, so I hope God keeps sending them. :-) Honestly though, trust has never been my forte when I'm such a immediate, detail person. But I'm trusting that God will bring the right people to partner in this ministry, and I'm trusting that it will happen in HIS timing, not my own. I'm trusting he'll provide for my in-between needs (as he already is), and I'm trusting that this will be a time of intense personal stretching (as it already it).

Anyway, thanks to all my friends and family who love me! May he stretch you all, too (haha)!

He lives!

Last night as I was lying in bed, trying to fall asleep, I was randomly very aware of my heartbeat. And as I listened to it for a minute, I was struck by the thought that when Jesus arose, he arose also in body. That's probably very obvious, and most of you have thought of it before, but I've never really reflected on the physical aspect of his resurrection. The body was gone. It was the same body he'd had before even though it had been dead for 3 days. So, I grabbed a pen and paper, and this is what came out. Forgive any theological incorrectness and unpolishedness, but I wanted to post today.


Come with me to that Sunday morning in Jerusalem long ago. Step into a new tomb, sealed only 3 days ago. The guards can’t see us, and the rock isn’t a barrier right now. Just sit here next to the body of the man they called Jesus. It’s very still. The tomb is completely dark except for the torch we brought. Hold it over the body and watch as history unfolds.

At first, absolutely nothing is happening. Then suddenly, as you strain against the void of all noise, you make out the faintest, most indistinct sound, a thump. You lean a little closer to the body, and sure enough, there it is again, near the chest. Thump, this time louder. The sounds come more regularly now, and you realize with astonishment: it’s a heartbeat! That’s when you see his chest and stomach rise ever so slightly. Holding your fingers to the body’s face, you can just make out the slightest warmth of air as the corpse exhales. Thump. The lungs fill with air again, the stinky, dank air of a 3-day old tomb.

The linens, initially cold to the touch, begin to feel warmer as well as looser. It’s fairly obvious by now that the body is breathing. At the same time, you notice a little trembling in his fingers and toes as muscles come back awake. Soon other muscles are flexing, stretching, and shaking off the stiffness after 3 days of no use. Clearly you’re standing at the opposite end of the tomb by now, watching in amazement. In one great exhaling breath, the linens seem to collapse inward onto themselves as the body simply slips out of them. And in dazzling white clothes that light up the entire interior, Jesus Christ – God himself – stands before you, very much alive!

Thank you, Jesus

Hard, rusty nails
held his hands and feet
in a place they didn’t want to be.

Ropes tied tightly around his arms
held his body
in a place it didn’t want to be.

A crown of thorns
was firmly pressed
in a place he didn’t want it to be.

The cross
was roughly fashioned,
a place Christ didn’t want to be.

His love for you and me
kept him there,
in that place he chose to be.



(Excuse my lack of poetic skill, but I wanted to express a little bit of gratitude.)

Happy Birthday, Mama!

Existence of Satan

I'll post again for real some time, but here's a link to a debate I just watched. Very informative as to what people out there are saying about Satan:

http://abcnews.go.com/Nightline/FaceOff/

Any thoughts?

:-(

My camera is officially broken. Sad day.