Category Archives: life

Scattered

Posted in Family, life, travel by

I lost my heart to Italy. I’m completely smitten.

Finally I’ve found a place where it’s ok to have a raised voice in normal conversation. Where I found a market and bought the best pesto I ever had, plus real ciabatta and vine-ripened tomatoes and the lemons and oranges still had their leaves attached. Where the espresso and cappuccino is first-rate and the gelato is beyond words.

Thursday night I went to Rome with a friend and her son, with plans to spend four days there. Yesterday was a fantastic day of getting our bearings and relaxing and being charmed by the way the Italians enjoy life. We did a bus tour then sat at the Spanish Steps and the Trevi Fountain and soaked up the sun and atmosphere. The crowds–I never saw so many people– were happy and not too obnoxious.

All I could think to say was “It’s really real.” The ruins, the faded walls of the houses, with geraniums and greenery on the balconies. They’re real. The cafes where four men at a table all talk at one time. I saw/heard them. It’s not just in stories and pictures. It’s real. The smiling clerks who never hurry. The lack of a personal bubble of any size. It’s how they live. The crazy driving and the crazier pedestrians and the parking that’s so tight you can’t walk between the cars. It’s a mad, happy chaos that could become addictive.

All the pomp of the pope and his attachments are pretty much lost on me. It made me sad to hear that the Vatican is considered the heart of Christianity because I know what Jesus would say about the wealth and power it wields. But I had my heart set on seeing the Sistine Chapel, and paid a deposit yesterday to join a tour this morn.

Then in the evening my sister called while we were meandering toward a park. It’s my grandpa. A brain hemorrhage. He’s got only several hours.  Later the text: he died during the night.

Today I spent all day alone, travelling back from Rome to Warsaw. The map worked and I could walk to the right street for the bus. (You have no idea how huge this is to me.) I had an espresso in a simple cafe and read Psalm 90 in a piazza while waiting for the airport bus. I cried and read by turns during the hours but I cried when Wizz Air said they’d charge 10 euro for the cabin baggage, but the agent said it no, they charge 20. And then no, it’s 30 because the airport gets a commission. It felt like extortion and deceit to me, and my tolerance was in short supply.

But finally I’m home and  doing laundry and packing to leave for Indiana with my sister in the morning. I’m glad and sad to go. The week will have tears and laughter. There will be grandma and parents and aunts and uncles in grief, babies to cuddle, stories to re-tell and reasons to laugh. I want to celebrate my grandpa whose itchy feet I inherited. Whose solidity and faithfulness gave us a legacy that I don’t even realize fully.

I guess it figures that tonight I feel completely scattered.

Fight with Light

Posted in books, life by

One strength of novels is that we recognize ourselves in the characters. We see how they fight their Appolyons and win or lose, how they make decisions with good or bad results, how they aspire or despair.

August Boatwright is a character who shows me what a wise mentor is like. She’s the kind of person I’d like to be: diligent, forward-thinking, patient.

More often, though, I see myself in May, August’s sister. She’s a sensitive woman, happy and delighting in simple things–until she hears or sees something that’s sad or broken, and then she starts humming “Oh Suzanna” as if her life depends on it. (No, I don’t do that.)  What endeared me to her was when she put socks on the cold feet of the old-fashioned bathtub because she worried about anything that is distressed.

May’s sensitivity was tragic when she eventually killed herself. And no, I don’t see myself doing that. But some days it feels that the aches of the world are going to crush  me. Anything can set it off: a broken flower, a staggering drunk, a mother shouting at her son in the parking lot, a friend’s mother filing for divorce, an old man rifling through a dumpster. This morning it was a traumatizing picture I hadn’t chosen to see on a headline connected to the Gosnell trial. I want to vomit. I want to find a dark closet and curl into a ball and not come out until the sun shines again. It’s too big for me.  I don’t have the emotional elastic for it. I have to run away.

May’s sisters, August and June, helped her by devising a plan patterned after the Wailing Wall in Jerusalem. When May felt one of her spells coming on, she’d keep humming “Oh Susanna,” grab a scrap of paper, and write the trouble on it. They would lead her out to the stone wall behind their house, and she’d wedge the paper between the rocks and leave it there. Periodically, May would haul up more rocks from the river to use as she needed them, and the wall kept growing even after ten years, sporting little bits of paper sticking out all over.

I think writing helps process things and get it out of our system. More than that, I’m learning that I when I have no answers and am whimpering, overwhelmed in the blackness, I can only fight with light. Light is the only antidote to the dark that smothers me.

Like May, I tend to absorb the pain I see around me and carry it with me. But Jesus did that already–carried on His shoulders the cares and aches and intolerable agony of every life. What He wants me to do, I think, is invite Him, the Light of the world, into every terrible, twisted darkness that threatens me and those I love.

Curling into a ball or shouting in rage at the wrongness–neither is redemptive or finally helpful. Today I choose to fight with light, not denying the dark of midnight, but resting all the weight of my heavy heart on the sureness that morning will come and the darkness will run away.

The sun will come.

Meanwhile, singing and writing help.

Perspective

Posted in life, teaching English by

Good artists, I’m told, know what  perspective is. I don’t know much about horizons and lines doing the right things on a page, even though I had my first acrylics painting lesson recently and found it completely exhilarating. But back to perspective: I know that everyone needs it, more than only graphic artists.

Last week one day, spring finally, finally arriving, I happily wore my new shoes that Michelle had talked me into buying. It was liberation to put away the winter boots and wear something light. As I walked down the sidewalk, I noticed a woman scowling at my shoes. My cute, brown shoes didn’t deserve a look like that. In a flash, I decided that she was narrowing her eyes at them because she was jealous, not because she thought they were ugly or unseasonable. Perspective.

The next day a mother interrupted my English lesson by knocking and handing a huge orange to us, her two children and me. A single orange, in the middle of doing a worksheet.   I found a knife to peel it, and the children and I ate the segments, dripping and squirting, between questions about spring. I remembered the stories of women who got one orange for Christmas when they were girls in communist Poland. They savored just the fragrance for several days before peeling it.

Perspective. Contrast. Color.

An artist needs an accurate way of seeing things. Not only for a project on a canvas, but for the whole of life.

I’m learning, slowly. That crooked lines and dark colors aren’t the whole picture. That the person next to me sees something differently from me because of where she’s standing, not because her eyes don’t work.  That failure and coloring outside the lines is not fatal but a sign of life.

Book Giveaway Celebration

Posted in life, My Book, singleness by

I love celebrations! The times we remember, laugh, reminisce , dream. I love the tactile reminders of what was and is, the closure and the looking ahead. I don’t do well with stiff formalities because they usually make me want to laugh or do something distracting, but something deep inside feels satisfied when a milestone or important event is acknowledged sufficiently.

So I want to celebrate that now it’s five years that my book is out in the big, wide, beautiful world.

I maintain that the best authors don’t write because they have all the answers but because they’re the ones who are brave enough to wrestle with questions that might not have tidy answers. I have experience as a single, but I don’t do it perfectly, so the book isn’t about pat answers. My vision as I wrote was to give ladies a picture of what kind of life God is inviting them to even if theirs doesn’t have the color and shape of their expectations. I saw girls become desperate or depressed when they didn’t get boyfriends by age 26, and it grieved  me because I knew that desperation or depression was never what God designed them for.

What IS our design and purpose? That’s what I explore in the book.

I’m still exploring the question. I’ve slid into the same kind of depression/desperation/despair that I’ve seen in others. During the past five years, there were times when my closest friends told me maybe it’s time for me to read my book again. ugh. (I haven’t met any author who wants to go back to read their book. Never.) There were dark, dark nights. Even dark months, when I felt only questions and emptiness and heavy sighs. That was real, but so is the bright sunshine, the wide vistas, the incredible care of the wild, unpredictable, endlessly-loving Almighty.

So I’m still learning. Still reaching forward and messing up and living as falteringly and certainly as one does when she knows where and who Life is.

I’ve loved the interaction with readers, the feedback (mostly positive, thank God), the questions it sparked off, and most of all, the embarking on a  journey of wonder and knowing we are never, ever alone. Now I want to celebrate the amazing five years behind us.

I want to do a DOUBLE book giveaway to FIVE people–one for you and one for you to give away.  In comments here or by Facebook message or email, tell me why you want need a copy of the book, and who you’d give a copy to. The giveaway is open from April 5-10. I want to give the book to the desperate, depressed girls I wrote it for. Will you help me get it to them? Let’s go!

Self-Check

Posted in life by

I think that I already live pretty simply. But the truth is that I live in luxury. I’m not sure what to do about it, but I do know that it means saying NO to things I could do or get. Often–every day and probably many times a day. It also means finding beauty and pleasure in things that are already around me.

Some of the costliest places of sacrifice for me has been living far away from most of my friends and relatives. My friends do amazing things like get married and have babies or suffer funerals and tragedies and I’m a million miles away. The loneliness and distance is something that never lessens even though it’s been like this for 17 years. Another sacrifice has been living in a country where I can’t speak the language well enough to communicate easily.  It’s hard, hard, hard for me, the girl whose biggest problem used to be having too many words.

Serving people cuts across the grain of my soul because I think people should spend their days thinking about how they could make my life better. I’m a princess after all. Ugh. When I see how ugly that stance is, it helps me rearrange my focus and CHOOSE to serve.

Simplifying, sacrificing, and serving are all part of the shape of Jesus’ life and what it means to be part of His Kingdom. The beauty of it is that His invitation to join Him is not about making us squirm or feel as miserable as possible. It’s part of selling everything just to buy the pearl that we treasure.

What do you love the most?  That’s where your treasure is.

A Treasure Worth Serving

Posted in life by

Serve.

In away, serve encapsulates simplify and sacrifice. This is about living with an outward view. Which calls for radically reorganizing the contours of our hearts because we are born looking inwardly and serving ourselves.  Which is what the Gospel is all about—getting new hearts and looking at our world in a different way than is natural.

There are so many ways and places to serve that it sometimes feels overwhelming. I could stay in Poland and love people who don’t know Jesus and need Him so desperately. As an English teacher, I could do the same thing anywhere in the world. I hear my cousin’s Liberia stories and I just got done reading Kisses from Katie and I know that if I’d go to Africa (or India)  (or Cambodia) and touch those children’s hair and feel their tears on my cheeks, something would break deep inside me and I could never be the same again.

We all applaud serving sick children in far-away places, and pouring out our lives on behalf of poor people in other countries. It all sounds exciting and exotic and news-worthy.

But sometimes the most important thing we can do is serve the person beside us. The brother who’s always asking favors from you. Or the neighbor who irritates you every morning.  It’s all very easy to talk about serving someone in the Far East. It feels a little different when you realize you don’t have to step outside your living room to serve.

Last January I had the huge honor of visiting at Sharon Mennonite Bible Institute the same night they were having their term banquet. Instead of asking parents and friends to come pamper them for an evening of finery, they invited neighbors up and down the roads around the school. The students cooked the food and served and played music and sang for and visited with the guests. I happened to be a guest of the administrator’s wife, so I got in on it too. I was eating delicious food in a beautifully decorated gym and the pianist was playing “Shine Jesus Shine” and I wanted to melt into a puddle of tears. Vibrant, gifted young people were working and smiling and serving their world and it was so beautiful and right it made me cry.

Yesterday: Sacrifice

Tomorrow: Self-Check

A Treasure Worth Sacrificing For

Posted in life by

Sacrifice.

Ouch. I don’t like this word.

And, like simplify, it’s a relative term. But still, what sacrifice colors your life? I’m not saying we should aim to be ascetics, but I am saying that we shouldn’t let discomfort determine our choices.

A friend recently spoke of her Sunday school teacher who was talking gravely about financial sacrifice. “Ladies, I’ve had to go a whole month without buying clothes for myself!” I want to say this as lovingly but as loudly as possible: if not buying clothes for yourself for a month is your idea of sacrifice, you have NO IDEA what sacrifice is.

If we could look into Jesus’ face when He was on the cross, and watch Him for hours like His mother did, we’d have a better idea of sacrifice. The most costly sacrifices have to do with the intangible parts of us that can’t be quantified in money or stuff.  Sacrifice could mean choosing to live far away from family members. It could mean prioritizing ministry more than career.  It could be sharing time with someone instead of money. It always means doing without something you value for the benefit of another.

When I heard about a young man who bought a swanky car because he said he didn’t know what else to do with his money, my first thought was, “Wow, he has a really small world.” I guess he doesn’t know that the missionaries his church supports have to seriously scrunch to make their grocery money reach every month. I guess he doesn’t know about Comeragh Wilderness Camp that pours itself out for delinquent boys and is strapped for money.  And about half a million other ministries that need funds.

Then I thought about my friend who was in college and was crying because she couldn’t give as much to missions as she used to, and I know she’s a lady who knows what sacrifice is and it’s clear what kingdom she’s part of.

Yesterday: Simplify

Tomorrow: Serve

A Treasure Worth Simplifying For

Posted in life, recommendations by

There are 3 emphases that I think are necessary for engaging well in God’s Kingdom. There’s another kingdom out there that vies for our allegiance, and we can tell which one we belong to by the things we love.

The next few posts will be about ways to look at what we treasure.

Simplify. We, the 20% of the world use 80% of the world’s resources. This thuds deep into me and I cringe at our mindlessness and sense of entitlement. Even so, I like my comfort and routine and ease. We all do. It’s human.  For example, please don’t think about taking away my morning coffee comfort. Don’t talk to me about 25,000 people starving every day while we Westerners go on diets to look better and fit into our clothes.

It’s possible to live with less stuff. It’s entirely possible to be gloriously happy without the latest home-deco your neighbor has. It’s possible to live well without shopping at Walmart or even thrift stores every week or getting a manicure every month. It’s possible to have a wonderful life with only three sweaters to choose from in your closet.  You can feed guests tomato soup and toasted cheese sandwiches and still have a fantastic evening together.  We don’t need all the extras we think we do. Amy Carmichael idealized living with as many things that could fit into a hobo’s handkerchief. I think she was on to something and it’s why I hated hauling a 50+ lb. suitcase from pillar to post when I was on furlough.

For a push toward simplifying, I suggest reading Jen Hatmaker’s book called “7, An Experimental Mutiny Against Excess”. It’s her account of when she simplified 7 parts of her life for 7 months as a discipline and way to assess her life. She’s crazy and disorganized and funny, and her book makes you think that if she can do that, you can cut out something in your world too.  After my aunt read the book, she decided to not go to the grocery store for one month but eat what they already had in their pantry and freezer. Bravo!

Tomorrow: Sacrifice

For the Children’s Sake

Posted in life, singleness by

At our last family holiday, we had 9 children under age 7  playing and shouting and tumbling around us like so many cuddly puppies. We did some extra things, but most of the week was about making food and taking care of children.

Which seemed right to me. And it got me started thinking.

I grew up in a culture where children were at the top of the list of priorities. After your relationship with Jesus and your spouse, your children were the most important things in your life.Everything else came after that. There were Child Training topics and seminars at church.(Does anyone still have them?)  Huge effort and funds went into the church school to make it productive and functional for the sake of the children even if they could have been sent to public schools for free.

Last fall, four of us Mennonite Americans were in a Polish language class, and the theme of one lesson was computers and technology. We were to choose one idea from a list of nine and give our opinion in Polish. Should employers block websites from their workers? What’s the best way to learn a language? And so forth. Individually, we each chose the same topic to talk about: “Should children’s internet usage be monitored?”  Even our teacher commented that we were all interested in the same topic: children and their safety. It’s who we are and what we care about.

At any gathering of my friends or relations, there is always a good chunk of time given to the children’s latest capers and stories. We laugh and laugh, constantly amazed at their ingenuity and originality. We cheer for every baby born, and keep track of when they start walking and talking. What they do is huge and significant to us. A recent testimony from a mom showed me what she treasures: “God graces me through my children.” And isn’t anyone is better for having a two-year-old in their life?

Moms and dads in my world sacrificed and skimped and served in hidden ways to make happy, educational, safe lives for their children. I sometimes think we were the exception after all the horrible stories I’ve heard of trusts betrayed and hearts missed. It makes me want to scream and throw things and shout out a million questions. But even that response stems from my deep sense of what is right and good and what I grew up with.

My (limited) perspective tells me that valuing children is the right, whole way to live. The first social structure God created was the family, and it seems impossible to improve on that design. It seems to me adopting God’s values in all of life includes loving and cherishing children. Even if it doesn’t come perfectly naturally for some of us.

So we’re part of a pro-family counter-culture where we do our best to live well and according to our design. This leaves women who live with long-term singleness and/or infertility in a kind of no-man’s land. How to live this well is something I’m exploring and asking questions about.

These are some things I think we CAN do to reflect our design and to be more whole. I’d love to see your additions and ideas in the comments! (Or, if you’re shy, by email.)

  • Fight for the marriages and families of your friends.Pray for the struggling ones. Believe in and cheer for them.
  • Teach children and teens your interests in art and creativity. Use your  hands to be involved in their lives. I maintain there’s something sacramental about our hands and what they do.
  • Ask God for marriage and children for your single friends–and yourself.
  • Teach children’s Sunday school.
  • Help equip young women with domestic skills because they will be useful skills for life wherever they go.
  • Tousle a child’s hair when you walk past them. Cuddle a baby as often as you can.

The Stuff of Discussions and Recipes

Posted in life by

I have a small complex. It’s this:

I’ve always thought men’s discussions more interesting than women’s. I don’t know why, because I do love to hear about my domestic friends’ gardens and kitchens and babies. Honestly. But generally, men have these controlled, under-stated turns of phrase that hold my attention and make me laugh.

I don’t know what to do about this complex, but I’m putting it out there because I suspect that I’m not alone in it. There are some of us who want to live as full and rich lives as possible without denying our feminine design of nurturing and supporting. We want to think in addition to make dinner.

How can a young woman become a thinking woman? A sweet friend asked me this last week, and it was fun to think/talk/discuss it for a little bit instead of compare pudding recipes. (I’m all for cooking good food but not if it becomes pride or one’s life focus.)

These are some of my ramblings about it:

A woman who reads and thinks through and discusses ideas is a wise woman. She pursues wisdom, not intellect or logical men’s discussions. All of Proverbs urges her to call out for, search for, be turned toward wisdom. It’s a direction and shape of her life, not just words that she bats around.

My friend is a mother, and I’m single, and both of us need huge amounts of wisdom–probably she needs it even more than I because she’s needing to equip her children to live their stories well out of passionate love for Jesus, and she’s supporting and walking beside her husband in his life vision. She needs lots more inside her than knowing recipes for puddings and salads.

A couple weeks ago I was teaching a girls’ class, and we explored Proverbs 31. It’s a daunting chapter for women, especially when they aren’t even 20 years old yet. But we did a fun exercise with the text. At every verse, we wrote at least one character quality that describes the action in the verse–words that describe what the woman was inside more than what she did.

We found words like thrifty, active, cheerful, prepared. It made the description of the woman seem warm, human, inviting to be with.

What if Proverbs 31 is a personification of wisdom, and not describing a super-woman? If this is true, we could say that being cheerful, active, prepared is part of being wise.

Which means that every woman regardless of her giftings and life assignment can intently look for wisdom, watch around the corner for it, be prepared to take in whatever she can learn. God knew life would be too big for us and that we’d need help outside ourselves. James wrote the wonderful words that God invites us to ask Him for wisdom for life, and He won’t scold us for asking.

Maybe there aren’t enough thinking women because there aren’t enough of us who are humble and needy enough and desperate enough to ask God to give us wisdom, when all the time He’s waiting for us to ask so He can help us and share His character with us.

A woman who is a thinker is only a researcher and analyst until she becomes a woman who is amazed at her Jesus and wants to be like Him and asks Him constantly for His advice and to share His heart with her. This has to give a beautiful shape to her life, and make her a nurturing, attractive person.

Which might or might not include making pudding from scratch.

Related post: No Bird-Brained Women