It Doesn't Look Good

Sometimes things look downright bleak.
Like the day five years ago when my husband first saw the house I had bought for us in SC. The yellow duct tape holding the door sills together was warning enough that the preretirement home his wife bought was about to wipe him out of time and money, and there was no turning back.

Other times—downright confusing—senseless even.
Like when we returned from Guatemala much sooner than we     planned:

" I wore the year following our return from Guatemala as though it were a lead apron on my chest. We moved back into our New Jersey home. Bob returned to his job in the electrical union, dutifully leaving at four a.m. for the daily commute to New York City two hours away. Lily donned baggy jeans and pre-teen concerns without missing a beat. The only apparent remnant of her foreign life was the long hair-wrap she had acquired that first day on a sidewalk in Antigua."                                                                                       

"The ripples from the boulder that had been tossed into my pond ebbed away, and life resumed as though it had never been interrupted—except for the vague depression, the persistent ennui, and loss of direction that dogged my every move—except for the knowledge that something big had displaced the waters of my life and was still there under the surface." –Call of a Coward

And in the worst of times—downright hopeless.
Like when we have no means within ourselves to carry on except to fold up to die. One of my favorite movie scenes to capture this absolute resignation is from The African Queen. Having exhausted every effort to free their boat from the mucky, reedy channel that entraps them, Rose and Charlie lie down to die.

Sometimes we too can’t see around the reedy bend in our river. We‘ve lost our view of the plans, possibilities, and purposes of God in our lives.We see only the Friday vision as our hero and hope dies bleeding on a cross, no different than the ones hanging next to him. What now? Who can save us?

But as the camera pulls back on the two figures huddled in the bottom of their boat, we see that the channel is really only feet away from the lake, which is hidden by the reeds. Unbeknownst to the sleeping two, rain begins to fall, the channel swells, and their little boat rises to freedom.

In Friday’s gloom, the disciples couldn’t see Sunday’s glory. But we know the impossible was possible. 

As I conclude this week’s photo journey from Call of a Coward, I pray you would be encouraged to fix your eyes on that Sunday vision—on that empty cross and abandoned tomb—on the Living One “who makes cowards courageous, ordinary lives purposeful, and dried-up dreams fruitful.”—Call of a Coward

first birthday cake

felicidad

town kids

Good Friday Sufferers

 

 

 

 

Vermont church

"....she looked me straight in the eye and ...asked, "Como esta?"

Counting the Costs

Little did I expect the divine connection waiting for me as I followed the link from a Google alert of my book.

The blog post , Full Heart Moment, began, “My heart is full tonight. The last two months have been a flurry of activity. . . . In a quiet afternoon of leisure at my in-laws’ pond a few weeks ago, with the sun shining down and the warmth of camaraderie all around me, my heart suddenly felt a pang.  I was leaving this. And a season of counting the cost began.”

I could almost see the writer squaring her shoulders, breathing deeply as she lovingly touched each of the “costs” one more time before laying them down—security of paychecks, homes and gardens, comforts of friends and family, holidays with parents and Mom’s signature dumplings.

I wondered where this writer was going that she needed to sell off her children’s toys, and get her house in order. What decision had she made that caused her to feel so reflective about “counting the cost.”

As if the word Guatemala wasn’t enough to get my attention, combining it in the same sentence with Costa Rica certainly was. I scrambled around her blog site and discovered that not only had this woman been to the same village in Guatemala as we had, but to the same ministry in Costa Rica.

 In fact, she and her family were preparing to move there for full time ministry with our dear friends, Tim and Dena at Hogar de Vida!

And then the gift: someone had lent her Call of a Coward. In her time of weariness, from the comfort of her chair, she was able to travel familiar dusty paths with me, to face shared fears, to rejoice and be refreshed at the fountain of grace.

Two ordinary women, half a country apart, on a similar journey, linked by a story.

 I was one in spirit with her as I read her conclusion:

“Tonight my heart is full with all that the Lord has in store for us.  The cost is real, but so is the blessing of trusting him more fully.”

Please join me again later in the week as I interview Kris Gnuse about her family’s upcoming move to Costa Rica.