Author Archives: Life is For Living book

Warning

Posted in life, words by

Warning:

When I am an old woman, I shall wear purple

with a red hat that doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me.

And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves

and satin candles, and say we’ve no money for butter.

I shall sit down on the pavement when I am tired

and gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells

and run my stick along the public railings

and make up for the sobriety of my youth.

I shall go out in my slippers in the rain

and pick the flowers in other people’s gardens

and learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat

and eat three pounds of sausages at a go

or only bread and pickles for a week

and hoard pens and pencils and beer nuts and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry

and pay our rent and not swear in the street

and set a good example for the children.

We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practice a little now?

So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised

When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

–by Jenny Joseph

Announcing: Hope Singers Concert!

Posted in music, Poland, recommendations by

Everyone is cordially invited to a reunion concert by the Hope Singers at 7:00 pm on Saturday, August 20, 2011, at Martindale Mennonite Fellowship Center, 352 Martindale Road, Ephrata, PA 17522. The program will include information about Anabaptist International Ministries (AIM) and their work in Poland. Opportunity will be given for a free-will offering in support of this ministry.

Beginning in 2004, and every two years since then, the Hope Singers have traveled and sung throughout Poland. As an extension of Anabaptist International Ministries in Minsk Mazowiecki, Poland, the Hope Singers strive to bring encouragement to believers throughout the country and to bring an awareness of an Anabaptist presence in Poland. The choir is directed by Lloyd Kauffman of West Jefferson, Ohio, and includes about 30 singers from the US, Canada, and European countries.

The focus of Anabaptist International Ministries is pointing people to Christ and a lifestyle of wholehearted obedience to Him. Besides operating an English language school for all ages, the AIM team does private tutoring, Kid’s Klub, and Bible studies, holds weekly church services, and distributes the Seed of Truth magazine (in connection with Christian Aid Ministries).

For more information, please
~attend the above-mentioned concert,(and say HI to all my friends who are singing!)
~contact a board representative at homeoffice@aimpoland.org or 814-789-4394, or
~visit us on the web at www.aimpoland.org.
_______________________________

He Leadeth Me

Posted in Ireland, life, Poland, travel by

I’m in that twilight zone of being back in Poland, feeling at home but not home. I was home in Ireland for the last month. Now, these familiar smells and sounds flood my senses, and it’s as if I was never gone. Except that it’s all better because I was gone. I am refreshed and revived, my head feels clear, and my soul is calm. Maybe it would’ve happened here, but the break helped me see things with new eyes, and it’s good.

At home, things were incredibly, wonderfully comfortable. I fell in love again with everything–the lush scenery, (July, in Ireland, in the sunshine, is heaven–sunshine being the important qualifier there). The accents–I couldn’t believe the wonder of understanding the bus drivers and shop clerks, and always wanted to talk with them as long as they had time because it felt like such a novelty. The food–I’d only mention that I’m hungry for something, and mom would cook it. My church family–their support and love overwhelmed me. My family–especially the littles who I couldn’t fully get to know in 1 month because they are so deep and fascinating.

It’s not logical that I prefer living in a place without those aspects, but it’s reality. I guess it has something to do with being called to fill a place, and knowing without any niggling question that I belong at this place at this time. Even if there is no ocean down the road, and no shopkeepers with whom to make small talk. I am being led here for some reason, and somehow, it is good.

At my sister’s wedding 3 weeks ago, the ensemble sang an exquisite arrangement of “By His Hand.” As the words and harmonies washed over me, I felt deepest awe, mystery, and confidence: by His own hand He leadeth me…His faithful follower I will be.

It suits me to live somewhat in transit: at home but not rooted, fulfilled but not complacent. I’m led by a hand that is big and wise, by a will that is higher than mine, and I stumble and get distracted, but He keeps leading, and that is my confidence.

Yes, Gideon Yutzy is Married

Posted in Family, Ireland, life by

My blog dashboard tells me the terms people write when they come across my blog. Usually the phrases are normal and predicable, like ‘gift to receive’, or it’s an author’s name or some poetry line. This evening it cracked me up to read one search term: is gideon yutzy married.

The question deserves an answer, and besides, other readers have been wondering about it, so even if this isn’t really a newsy kind of blog, I’ll say a little bit. I’d been thinking about writing about the wedding, but didn’t know how, because it was so special and intimate that I didn’t feel like gushing or blabbing about it.

But yes, Gideon Yutzy married my sister Esther just over a week ago.

For a long time, I’ve thought that to celebrate a wedding for only one day isn’t nearly long enough. Now I’ve discovered the solution: the bride’s family must be in a more remote place like Ireland, to ensure that guests arrive before the day. The wedding was Sunday, and the first relatives came Tuesday, with more guests arriving every day after that. Our house was the hub of action to serve meals and socialize. Oh, yes, and to play volleyball in the evenings.

I soaked up the hours of seeing Esther and Gideon surrounded with their friends and relations, eating and talking and laughing. It was as it should be.

The day before the wedding, I cut blooms and buds of antique-white roses from one of mom’s gorgeous, over-flowing rose bushes, and walked down the road to cut flowering privet greenery from a lane. I played with roses and greenery in the sun for the morning and had way, way more fun than anyone else had that day. Esther’s bouquet had a few red roses added to the white ones like the bridesmaids carried. It felt idyllic and right: roses from mom’s garden, greenery from the lane. Less is more, and simple is better.

The wedding was in a lovely old church in the village. You could see the sea from it, and hear the gulls crying. The entire service was weighty with significance, beautiful and sacred, happy and holy. Afterward, I even had a little turn with the bell-pull, but I had a nephew in one arm, and couldn’t manage the rhythm very well.

That evening, our house and yard were alive with people socializing and playing and eating and discussing. I loved it. And I had a priceless conversation with my four-year old nephew about the wedding, the flowers we’d been carrying and where we’d been sitting in the church.

Me: And I saw you and you were sitting pretty close to me, weren’t you?
He: Yes, but why were you crying?
Me: Because I was happy AND sad, and so I cried. Does that ever happen to you?
He (very seriously): No, I’m just happy.

Yes, Lord

Posted in books, life, recommendations by

Yes, Lord. Yes, to anything You ask of me, anytime, anywhere.

When I was much younger, one of my aunts loaned us a recording of Ann Kiemel. The title of her talk was “Yes, Lord” and I must have listened to it about 500 times, folding the towels, mopping the floor, whenever.

Later, I found her delightful books. Ann’s books break the capitalization rules. They’re written in a kind of blank verse poetry, telling her simple stories of how she sang to taxi drivers and took children out for ice cream, telling them that Jesus loves them and together, with Jesus and love, they could dream and change the world.

I could never quite place her accent, but it fascinated me, and I liked her stories and her raspy little voice singing little songs at any time. “Something beautiful, something good, all my confusion He understood…”

She grew up in Hawaii and never fit into that world, but her pastor dad kept telling her “It pays to serve Jesus” and she’d say “Why, Daddy? I’m nine years old and ugly and hardly anybody likes me. Why does it pay to serve Jesus?” Then her dad would say “Give God time.”

When she was a junior in college, she was asked to be an administrator at Cornell University. They’d never offered the job to someone so young, or to a woman. It sounded so glamorous, her chance to be somebody, but she felt God saying “No.”

I remember kneeling by a little couch and opening my hand and putting into my hand all the things that I really loved: my family, good health, ambition, dreams for a husband and a home. I put them all right there. ‘Yes Jesus, you can take anything out or put anything in that You see I need. Yes, Lord.I want to be your woman more than I want anything else in the world.’

But dreams are made from mountains, and her dreams led her through dark valleys. After the years she had been a teacher and youth worker and dean of women at Easter Nazarene College, she was a speaker and writer. She found herself unable to keep up with demands and said, “I can’t go on. I can’t be a dreamer. I’m just not cut out for this. I can’t handle the criticisms. People don’t even know me and they make judgements about me and it’s harder than I thought to change the world, and I’m not strong enough.”

At 3:00 in the morning, weeping in my little apartment, again I opened my hand. ‘Jesus, I give all of this to you. I just started out to dream for my neighborhood. I didn’t ask to be a messenger to the world. But Jesus, here it is. Here’s my future, here’s my loneliness, all the pressures, the criticisms, the books, the dreams. Take me again. And I will try to make Yes, Lord the continuing motto of my life.’

Ann has written over a dozen books but these are the ones I’ve read:
I’m Out to Change My World
Yes
I Love the Word Impossible
I Gave God Time (the story of her marriage at 35)
Taste of Tears, Touch of God (the story of many miscarriages and adopting 4 sons)
Search for Wholeness

I found her “Yes Lord” speech on the internet today, and loved how all the stories came back to me as I listened. Now, as an adult, I hear her differently, with more understanding and empathy, not so much with the wide-eyed wonder of a child. I know she put me on a path to living with a ‘Yes, Lord’ motto, and with His help, I intend to keep my hand open.

Yes, Lord. Yes, to anything You ask of me, anytime, anywhere.

God’s Slowness = Salvation

Posted in life, recommendations, words by

Because I have no original words right now, and because I want to share some amazing, wise words from someone else, I’m cutting and pasting part of Margaret Manning’s recent article in Slice of Infinity.

The piece reminds of a great John Piper quote I saw recently: Beware of hurry. Beholding glory begs for lingering. I know that I often miss seeing glory because of my rushing, and the loss is real.

More often than I’d care to admit, I find that I am in a hurry. Now, it’s not the typical kind of hurrying—rushing to get into the “15 items or less lane” at the grocery story, speeding through traffic, or running around juggling four or five tasks at a time. It’s more an inability to be present to my life as it is right now. So often I find that no matter the circumstances, I’m hurrying through, wondering or worrying, as the case may be, what is next.

Living in an efficiency-driven society doesn’t help the propensity towards hurrying through life. We live in an “instant” society, and our increasingly rapid technological developments only add to our impatience when things are not achieved instantaneously.

While technology has greatly improved many aspects of our lives, the ever-quickening pace of development coupled with my own propensity to hurry can be very repressive to the spiritual life. Perseverance atrophies like an unused muscle, and there is no space left for quite contemplation and reflection. Impatience fills my heart with disappointment when answers don’t come quickly, or interruptions slow my “perceived” achievement of goals, or the “improvement” of others doesn’t move at my break-neck speed.

From a human perspective—particularly for humans living in an “instant” society—it is difficult to understand why the Bible depicts the slow unfolding of God’s redemption; both of God’s promises to individuals and of the redemption of the world.

The long, slow, work of God is not to torment those of us who find ourselves in a hurry, wondering what’s next. Rather, the “slowness” of God is seen as a good gift [in 2 Peter 3:9, 14-15]. God’s seemingly slow movement gives ample opportunity to be present to our lives allowing the journey to shape us and mold us into the people we are designed to be. In addition, a spacious timetable gives more opportunity to grow in understanding the multi-faceted implications of God’s rescue—not just for ourselves but for the world.

Blog Keeping

Posted in My Book by

I’ve now added new pages under the My Book widget on this blog. If you want to see how my book reads, I’ve posted the first page of each chapter. Only the first page, which means that some sentences are left unfinished. Enjoy!

If you want to order a copy or read what some readers have commented about the book, go to My Book.

Dreams, Fear, Story

Posted in life by

One of Don Miller’s recent blog posts asked what our deepest fears and dreams are, because they have to be addressed in order to live a good story.

I’m all about good stories, but I wonder sometimes what my story is. There doesn’t seem to be a definite pattern in it, which makes it both mysterious and puzzling. It definitely has something to do with people and words, and an amazing Shepherd-King. It also involves following pursuits that are counter-inutive and counter-cultural: thankfulness vs. complaints, creativity vs. banality, modesty vs. flagrance, worship vs. selfishness.

It takes big amounts of courage for me to look squarely at both fears and dreams.

Don says:

We don’t normally face our fears willingly. Usually, God has to woo us into the desert. We are either chasing love or some other desire, and we find ourselves in the midst of a situation in which we have very little control. And when we lose control, we go into a mild form of trauma. But the good news is the greatest stories are lived in the desert. The great lives are lived in the places we most fear.

I don’t know how my fears and hopes fit into the story I’m living. I don’t know the pattern or the plot of my story because being in the middle of it, I have no accurate perspective. I don’t want to live a fear-based life nor do I know what I can DO to make my impossible dreams come true. So I don’t know anything. Only that I am my Lord’s, and I know His heart, and His heart is…well, neither boring nor predictable.

So it’s going to be a good story.

Jezus Kocha Mnie

Posted in life, Poland by

Last night at Bible study I chose the song ‘Jesus Loves Me’. Sung in Polish, it still means the same as the words I grew up with.

‘Ah!’ my friend said beside me. ‘Why you want to sing this–because you feel like a child today?’

‘No. Because I like to sing it,’ I said. I carried an adult-sized load yesterday, not a child’s.

But Jesus said we are to be like children to be part of His kingdom. I like that about Him, because it means He will take me in my simplicity and helplessness. I think part of my soul would die if I’d feel too grown-up to sing ‘Jesus Loves Me.’

Excerpt from ‘Strangers and Sojourners,’ V

Posted in books, recommendations by

[Anne, after nearly 60 years, is aboard a boat back to England. She’s talking with an elderly gentleman enroute and they’re swapping stories about their lives.]

He asked: “Were you happy there? There in the mountains?”

She was taken aback. “I suppose it depends on what you mean by happiness. I’ve known moments of ecstasy. There were many, many joys. There were years of desolation and blindness. Years when I prayed to die. But life doesn’t let you do that, you know.”

“I know.”

“Life always asks us to forgive in the places where we’ve been most hurt.”

“Most abandoned?”

“That too. Just when you think it’s over, when there’s no hope, there’s some great surprise. There’s always more. And then you realize that we humans understand practically nothing about all this. All this we live in–as if it were ordinary.”

“Nothing is ordinary.”

“Yes,” she said, and fell silent.

“You were happy then?”

“Yes. I was happy. But not with the kind of happiness most people want. It went much, much deeper. I can’t describe it. It was the feeling that just grew and grew over the years, a current underneath everything, a feeling, a form, a hand that was on my life. A sort of fierce, fatherly love that demanded everything from me but hid itself from me. It had given everything. It wanted total trust in return.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. It’s strange.”

“Like always being alone, but not alone?”

“The feeling was abandonment. It was emptying. No strength. No power.”

“You seem to have survived in good condition, for all that,” he said.

“It made me stronger. I gave everything, you see.”

“When everything’s given, nothing is lacking.”

“But not in the way we want.”

“Right. Not in the way we want.”

“Not in the style to which we would like to grow accustomed.”

“Precisely, Madam.”

“Later, after the worst of it, you begin to understand that you’ve survived. You grow old and you find yourself able to take a walk with a stranger and sojourner and speak with him of the sea.”

~from Strangers and Sojourners, by Michael O’Brien, Part 3, Chapter 34