The Door

The door.
It has a way through and a way out.
I consider it as I stand about.
The way it is built strong,
I cannot relate with its structural stays
knowing within this door a body lays
on a bed of white sheets.
White, a reflection of my hands as I hold them tight
in anticipation of a long-suffering night.
For this body is hooked up to machines
and I often do not know if this body will sleep in peace.
The door.
It has a way through and a way out.
A frame of passageway I wonder about.
Knowing within this door a body lays
with a head and a heart and blood running through those veins.
Again I look down and see a tag
with the words "CHAPLAIN" written in black.
I've been named with so much to give
and what if my words are not what they need to live?
Oh, but I am reminded:
Words are not needed.
Only a hand to hold and a heart wide-open.
These are the gifts we are given.
So, I told those hands to open and my feet to move
and I knew I had nothing to loose
because we are given a great gift of connection!
One where we find love and affection.
Moving towards the door,
I looked harder than before
and found as I walked through
a face much like my own.
And this is where the healing takes place
when we look at each other and can see a face
and not just some colored space where
there might be an eye and a nose,
but a face in which communion in brokenness knows
there is the gift of
the door.

In my work as an intern chaplain at the hospital, I find myself standing before many doors every day. Each door is a physical and metaphorical passageway into someone else's life. I am reminded often as I walk through these doorways what a gift I have been given as a broken human being to have the opportunity to connect with another's heart in a matter of moments. It's an extremely humbling experience. Now, full and deep connection doesn't always take place and I respect and can often relate to the patient's boundaries for when they do not feel comfortable sharing, but when connection does happen it is a beautiful awakening in which I realize the patient and I are not much different from one another. We are broken human beings in need of a Savior who will restore us. May we become aware of the great gift we are given in each other and feel the full weight of the importance of being with someone, valuing them. 

To Wrestle is a Good Thing

I need it. You need it. The person you work with needs it. The rambunctious kids in Bangladesh need it. Even the people who have the beauty of softness and peace in their eyes need it. We all just need time to wrestle.

A woven grass mat lay beneath my cris-crossed legs as the long-awaited sunlight lit the courtyard in the middle of the receiving center at Bangla Hope. It was late December and the fog had fallen upon this little country like a damp blanket, shielding us from the sun for almost two weeks. But as Friday afternoon came like a gift, so did the sun, and we sat in the courtyard on a woven mat just after nap-time.

Lisa and Kelsey had been visiting for Christmas and it was hard to tell who was more excited about their visit, the kids or me! The last full-day of their visit arrived and so here we sat on the woven mat in the grass.

I remember sitting down first and seeing the little boys come running towards me. All of sudden, I was on the ground as little bodies pushed the full force of their body weight right into my shoulders and stomach! At this point I was on the ground with three boys on top of me and two more on their way, giggling and making play growling sounds all the way. Alright, you want to wrestle?, I thought,  you asked for it!

We wrestled for a few more minutes till we were all out of breath. Then one of the cooks brought out a huge bag of rice balls for everyone to snack on and we feasted calmly on the mat in the grass enjoying the sweet treat.

It's been eight months since I landed in San Francisco in utter awe of the clear blue skies and clean carpet of the airport wearing a bandana and my shalwar kamis. Eight months of taking in America with new eyes and discovering the amount of internal struggle around me. The word "struggle" usually comes with a negative connotation, but I believe it doesn't have to. A struggle is a process, an action of wrestling to overcome. And may I even go as far to say that this is a good thing to do? To struggle? Am I crazy?

Hear me out, complacency is not a place we want to find ourselves too often. If we are just "okay" with how life is and happens around us then something is missing. When we find something that makes us excited or gets our stomachs churning then we know we are alive! This is where the wrestling comes in.

We have to have time to wrestle! With the good and the bad, because that's how you find out if it is a good or bad thing by wrestling, pushing it around in our minds, pinning it down and staring it straight in the face, and perhaps ending up on our backs, laughing our heart out at the joy we find.

So, this is what I have been doing a lot of lately. Wrestling with all the knowns and unknowns in my life until I come to a place of discovery, make a conscious choice to distance myself from the bad and moving forward to grasp the good with all I have and be thankful.

My Thankful list today:

The tree that is on fire with color in front of Chan Shun!
My little red road bike "Penny"
Random dinners with friends throughout the week
Long walks in the glowing light of Fall at dusk
Wise old ladies in the hospital who are still smiling

Dark Brown On White

A pillar of fog, steam climbs towards the ceiling. The new Gungor album plays to the beat of my wondering as it travels a road of mountains and grassy fields. The windows are both open and through them the outside comes in; a brisk, brilliant Fall day. Two sweaters wrap me up tight and this moment is beautiful as rice cooks in the corner and the music wanders on with my soul in tow. And for the first time in a long time I feel present in the moment, paying attention to what life consists of in the here and now. Warmth, rice, and melodies mixing and rising.

I look up to the brick wall and find deep brown eyes and lips smiling back at me. Pictures from another place. And it reminds me of the ever-present question that is asked of my today, "How was your experience?"

What a question! Does the "asker" even know what they have asked, I often wonder. Their care is apparent and is valued. But, how do I take the smile of a child and have words flow and form into the same picture?

For you hold the depth of an ocean in your eyes,
little one. The deep brown of wonder,
of love, of loss, of the growing your body still has to take.
Little one, your eyes are a pool of gentleness,
of grace that holds you together,
a grace foreign to your race.
Show them, little one, through eyes of light,
that loss and abandonment will not be the deciding factor tonight.
But, instead, show them your eyes,
the contrast of color: dark brown on white,
that constants aren't of this green and blue orb,
but of the light that pricks through the darkness;
stars on a canvas, black.
Look up, little one, and your eyes will reflect,
the beauty of the broken and a love that does not forget.

So, "How was your experience?" is a question we use as a definition, a point of quick collection, of summary. And I choose to respond with "life." Life happened and with it came immense joy, suffering, and a ton of learning!

May I, as a returned student missionary, continue to choose life and live out the lessons I have learned and let the joy I experienced seap through to my today where my experience becomes my reality which will continue to impact who I am and those around me. This is my prayer. May it be so.


*This is written in honor of those precious children who have stolen my heart and for my fellow returning Student Missionaries who answer this question daily.

Word Drinking

Word drinking. It's a lifestyle. When you soak in words far past the obvious and dig straight to the simple depth of a phrase. Then you let it sit there and mix with your soul. You can find truth, beauty, and a pathway.  And when you take the time to walk down that path you will find yourself face to face with another whose heart is searching and with whom you find much in common. If you walk a little farther and around a bend, you too will find pathways of your own where words and ideologies grow and bloom along the way. Humanity. Expression. Longing. This is the journey of self-actualization.

My fingers leaf through the see-through pages of my pocket-sized, stitches coming loose, brown leather version of the Good Book and I know what I'm looking for. My page-thumbing is intentional. I'm looking for those soul-open words of the Psalmist. And the moment I mention the poet, your mind leaps to the image of an emotional wreck of a writer. That's true. David was searching and walking down his own pathways and watching the seeds of his thoughts sprout, grow, and burst with color all around him. He let it out! This guy was going somewhere, he was on a journey.

"The Lord is my light and my salvation - so why should I be afraid? The Lord protects me from danger - so why should I tremble? When evil people come to destroy me, when my enemies and foes attack me, they will stumble and fall. Though a mighty army surrounds me, my heart will know no fear. Even if they attack me, I remain confident. The one thing I ask of the Lord - the thing I seek most - is to live in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, delighting in the Lord's perfections and meditating in his Temple. For he will conceal me there when troubles come; he will hide me in his sanctuary. He will place me out of reach on a high rock. Then I will hold my head high, above my enemies who surround me. At his Tabernacle I will offer sacrifices with shouts of joy, singing and praising the Lord with music. 

Listen to my pleading, O Lord. Be merciful and answer me! My heart has heard you say, "Come and walk with me." And my heart responds, "Lord, I am coming." Do not hide yourself form me. Do not reject your servant in anger. You have always been my helper. Don't leave me now; don't abandon me, O God of my salvation! Even if my father and mother abandon me, the Lord will hold me close. Teach me how to live, O Lord. Lead me along the path of honesty, for my enemies are waiting for me to fall. Do not let me fall into their hands. For they accuse me of things I've never done and breathe out violence against me. Yet I am confident that I will see the Lord's goodness while I am here in the land of the living. Wait patiently for the Lord. Be brave and courageous. Yes, wait patiently for the Lord." (Psalm 27 NLT)

David is walking his own pathway here. He's already drank the words of promise in (Psalm 23) and now he's claiming them and working out what those mean in his own life. He's coming to a place of conviction! Self-actualization, or maybe more accurately, a Theistic view of self-actualization: his existence defined by the Father.

Conviction is essential to survival and ultimately to thrive. It's a journey. It involves vulnerability, connection, and deep word drinking. Searching out and holding onto our beliefs is a beautiful pathway of learning more about others who have walked the path and coming to a place where you define what makes life worth living and who we are at our core and how this will seep into the lives around us.

Holy

The piano began to play and everyone stood. Middle-ranged notes told the story and all gathered there knew this song was for them. And the song beheld all; the utter wretchedness, the tears, the first glimpse of the Lover, the traveled way. The notes mingled and ran together and light streamed through the branches overhead. There were no walls around the piano and the people gathered, because it wasn't about the walls at all, but faces. And they all stood in a circle around a tree, waiting.

The music began to build in the most quiet and full way as the notes climbed further up the scale as if they were traveling as water does, rippling over the rocks after the cascade of a waterfall.

Gently, someone across the circle took hold of the person's hand next to them. Standing on soft mossy ground, hands reached out and connected. Connected, the circle complete, and the piano player kept building the quiet climax of the noted melody.

Then it happened. It started quiet with the music and a word formed on the lips gathered around to make the song whole. A few strong voices whispered the word while it took others moments to form as the fullness of such a love penetrated them. All joined in and began to express the overflowing of their souls,

"Holy, holy... Holy, holy."

Oh! It was breathtaking to behold the sound of such a verse being sung by humans. You see, the gathering included everyone. Everyone; the faithful father and mother, the light-filled daughter, the generations of the deceived, and the wild, searching man whose light had not yet been lit again. All had the potential of light. All broken, all connected. All singing, "Holy."

The music changed slightly and rang with anticipation as eyes searched the rough texture of the tree in front of them. Its roots rippled out like waves, laying the foundation for growth. Strong, secure, firm. Tatooed with the mistakes of the gathered, the tree bore them all.

Then the expected happened and everyone waiting stood tall and singing louder than before the words of the One who was set apart. A man with dark hair broke through the circle bearing an ax in his right hand. Walking boldly up to the tree without hesitation, he raised the ax above his head, took aim, and cut deep into that etched tree.

The tree began to sway and bend with the sound of sorrow as the wood creaked and broke with the final swings of the ax. The man with the dark hair bent down and tied a rope to the base of the scarred trunk. Standing, he pulled the slack over his shoulder and began to walk toward the perimeter of those gathered there. Dragging the broken tree behind him and with the weight of much on his shoulder, he said, "It is finished."

The gathered stood close together and watched, knowing this was not the end, but a beginning. Their wedding day was coming and the Lover would be among them again to close up the circle of the broken and make it whole. And the roots of the great tree would be there, laying the foundation for new growth. This is the hope of the people who sing, "Holy."

*I wrote this after hearing the song, "Holy (Wedding Day)" by The City Harmonic. "Holy" in Hebrew means "to be set apart for a special purpose."

God's Blog

Addicted, captivated, and distracted! These words describe my behavior when reading. Currently, I am in the middle of three books...well, actually four. Bottom line: I love to read a written word and the journey to understand another being through those words.

Since being abroad, I have savored reading other people's blog entries. Minutes ago, I was staring at my computer screen wondering which blog I would read next, when I glanced across my white metal desktop at the new copy of the RSV of The Green Bible which was given to me by a friend today. Then I heard it, "There you go: you've got God's blog right there."

In a culture that derives its satisfaction on  instant communication we are an impatient people. Once in Bangladesh, while waiting for our bus to leave the station, the "schedule" changed a counted four times that day, resulting in us leaving 12 hours later than our expected time of departure (Well, expected by mostly me). As these changes kept happening through out the day, I leaned over to my Bangali friend and said, "I think Bangladesh is teaching me patience."

And my friend in turn said, "Yes, you Americans want everything now. It doesn't work that way here."

Hmm...impatience. I'm in the middle of four books, because I am too impatient to stick with just one story-line. I prefer the variety. Much like my times of prayer and worship; I want to feel God and I want to feel Him now. And there is value in the desire. We were created this way. Yet, in my life the least read book of my chosen four is the Bible. So, am I the one missing the point? And is it all about feeling, anyway?

Reading blogs intrigue me, because people are laying their thoughts out in the wide-open and if they are really okay with the "wide-open" business then it can get quite interesting and very compelling to experience those words. Tonight, I picked up a Jesus-follower's words and my eyes instantly found this title: The Purpose of This Book.

Good, I thought, now we are getting somewhere!

"Now Jesus did many signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book. But these are written so that you may [continue to believe] that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name." (John 20:30,31)

"God is here whether we feel him or not." This was said by a close friend of mine and it turned my thoughts toward faith. Faith is deeper than feeling. Faith is searching what we know to be true and grasping hold of it to live. To live! And mercy isn't about us being prime candidates of a love campaign. Grace is about Jesus being here no matter the feeling. Immanuel: God with us.

All I Keep

Breathe deep and full.
I'm feeling the air come and go
feeling my chest rise and slow.
And I've got it.
I've got the time to be.
You've got it too
if you just stop and breathe.
Breathe deep, breathe full.
Taking a walk outside to see the moon whole.
And then
it all stills...

The world stops from time to time,

but have I the time to watch the world stop?
I do,
but I choose to walk more often than not.
The message is in the eyes of the stars
as they rhythmically twinkle:
Breathe deep, breathe full.
So, I fill that space behind my heart with air
and empty it as a kind of prayer
for who am I to breathe deep of love
and not have fear of a God
who binds and forms the mud that framed my lungs.
The air floats between these cheeks
and I savor the raw delight for He is all I keep.
For I am a creature of dust
a manifestation
of  breath.