Category Archives: life

Recomendation

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Nearly two years ago, I took a 12-week on-line distance course from Christian Counseling and Education Foundation called “Dynamics of Biblical Change.” It was the start of a new way of looking at/dealing with life and its inevitable heat and thorns. I was impressed with how Biblical and sound the teaching is, and how it meets people in the real world. (CCEF is part of Westminster Theological Seminary, whose bookstore I have posted as a link in the right sidebar.)

The Dynamics course is the prerequisite for 2 other courses: ‘Helping Relationships’ and ‘Counseling in the Local Church.’ I’m a month into ‘Helping Relationships’ now, and am so very grateful for the opportunity. Dr. Paul Tripp is the lecturer, and his book, Instruments in the Redeemer’s Hands is our main textbook. Dr. Tripp is dynamic and so excitable that he frequently gets his words fumbled up in his hurry and enthusiasm to get them out. Often he’ll say “Now fasten your seatbelts for this one.” Or today it was “Now take that and smoke it in your theology pipe!”

I am learning that the Bible is not an encyclopedia for resources or topics. If it were, it would have come topically indexed in Greek and Hebrew. It is the epic story of God’s glory, and we needy, fallible humans get to witness, experience, and spread that glory as His ambassadors. I want to learn methods to help myself and others to change more into God’s likeness and glory, and this course is a good way of helping that happen.

If you love people, and feel called to any kind of Christian ministry, and have about one spare day per week for 3 months, I highly recommend these courses. Every week there is a down-loaded lecture to listen to, chapters and articles to read, response paper to write, reading quiz to study for and community forum to respond to–all due every Thurs. midnight. Dr. Tripp emphasizes that change happens in community, and the only way to do that long-distance as a class is to have a community board. At first it felt clunky and stiff, but the group spirit is coming slowly, and I have been amazingly ministered to already. I feel incredibly blest to have the time/energy/money to take in this privilege.

Comfort and Joy

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I can’t say she’s my oldest friend, because she’s younger than I. But we go back further than pretty much all my friends, so in that way she my oldest friend. I was a basket case today, and particles of my soul were oozing out of the basket. God arranged the day so that I had an unexpected hour to be at home, and on the spur of the moment, I called my oldest friend.

She listened and commented and asked questions and for several rare seconds, there was even silence, just because it was comfortable and there wasn’t anything to say. She gave me perspective because she knows me well enough and can see my life in its wider spectrum than I can when I’m in the middle of things. She can connect the dots for me because she’s seen so many of my dots, and she lets me feel that I’m not a toad.

It was the swiftest 50 min. of the day. I cried, and laughed/howled and advised her in turn. The serendipity phone call was the best thing I did the whole busy day. The basket holes aren’t leaking so badly now.

The rest of the day, I sang to myself my current favourite hymn. For weeks now, it has fed me day in and day out. I sing to myself, plus keep the words close so that I can see them often:

O Jesus, grant me hope and comfort,
O let me ne’er in sorrow pine,
My heart and soul, yea, all my being,
O Jesus, trust alone in Thee.
Thou Prince of Peace,
Thou Pearl from heaven,
True God, true Man,
My Morning Star!
O come, Thou precious Sun most radiant,
Thy beams illumine my heart and soul.

O Jesus, with Thy advent quiet
My restless soul and anxious mind.
In true humility I welcome Thee,
Jesus Christ, my Joy divine.
My thoughts, desires, and all my longings
I dedicate, O Christ to Thee.
O come, Thou precious Sun most radiant,
Thy beams illumine my heart and soul.
–Johann Franck

Slothfulness vs. Fervent in Spirit

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I follow “Boundless,” Focus on the Family’s blog for singles, and this post was particularly thought-provoking. I have a lot of respect for Josh Harris, and his honesty here has potential to be life-changing.

It gave me something to go on when teaching the ladies’ SS class last Sunday. I mentioned, like Josh Harris did, that we probably don’t think about laziness in terms of wanting to sleep all day–at least I don’t. But the ladies started laughing self-consciously, and said it’s an issue for them. Then it emerged that one is prone to bad migranes, another is pregnant, another is recovering from serious ear/sinus infection, and so wanting to sleep is, for them, necessary, and not necessarily a sign of laziness.

It can be hard–if not impossible–to quantify laziness or lack of self-control in the physical realm. I’m not sure that working hard from dawn to dusk so as to keep up with the latest and preserve my reputation with the neighbors is the best kind of diligence. I tend to think that God is more interested in what is unseen, and whether my heart is intentional about seeking His face and His kingdom. That means being decisive about where my soul’s energies go. About doing the thing that needs to be done with a view of the future, and not only the convenience/pleasure of the present moment. It was the man without understanding and forsight whose house was covered in weeds and thorns. I think God is pleased when we live life with thought and intent. It is how He made us to operate, and it helps keep out the weeds from our souls.

Tribute to Billy

Posted in Ireland, life by

When we first met Billy over 13 years ago, we said to each other: “He’s Captain Jim!” (from Anne’s House of Dreams) Billy really was like a story book character, and looked the part with his grizzled beard, knee-length britches, and long stockings. He grew up in Waterford, but spent most of his life in England, and developed a most impressive, distinguished English accent. He married Sarah from there, a most patient, smiley, competent lady. She must have heard the stories of his escapades a million times, but as we’d listen, she’d always sit there smiling and nodding knowingly at him and us. I would so like to know what kind of person he was in his days with the RAF and in the class room as a teacher.

His turn of phrase and insight and story telling was unlike anyone I know. He was a perfect gentleman, tipping his hat when he saw me, asking how I was. When we asked him, he’d favour us with a song or poem. His scratchy, gravelly voice would recite “The Sea is a Dog” and make it come alive. Billy is infamous for having checked himself out of the hospital and walking 10 miles home. He did things his way. When the doctor told him he’d lose his legs if he didn’t stop smoking, Billy stopped smoking. To do it right, he walked all around Ireland as a fundraiser for the Life Boats.

Billy lived by the sea and in his boat. When he was diagnosed with cancer some years back, he kept his boat as long as he possibly could manage it. This spring, he and his wife came to church for a service, and I sat beside him. Instead of staying for tea afterwards, he politely told me he’s not feeling well, and left immediately. Billy died in July, and it was a huge honour that he had asked us to sing a particular plain chant rendition of Psalm 23 at his funeral.

My sisters and I sang it from the balcony of the little country church. We had learned the song from a recording Billy had made of himself singing it. The antiphon: “His goodness shall follow me always, to the end of my days.”

Billy and Sarah had a lively, lovely family, and Ben, the youngest, shared this story at the funeral. I share it here as I remember the account as a tribute to a rare soul who I was privileged to have for a neighbour.

When I was 11 or so, my siblings, along with our neighbour’s children, would meet the school bus at the end of our lane, and it would take us to the village to school. One morning I had the great idea that when we heard the bus coming, we would jump behind the hedge, and wait out of sight until it gave up waiting for us and go on without us.

It was a great plan and it worked. The bus came, waited, and waited, and waited…and drove off. And we were free from school for the day! But the eagle eye of the neighbour lady saw us and reported us to our mother, who was VERY cross with us. My mother told me that my father would have some words for me when he came home.

When my father came home, I was terrified, and as he walked toward me, I wondered which limb he would tear first from me. But all he said was, “Get in the car, son.” He drove to Dower’s grocery on the corner, and bought two cans of Coke and a packet of crisps. Now, a packet of crisps in those days was like winning the lottery!

We sat outside the shop at a table, and we ate our crisps and drank our Coke, and my father said, “So tell me what you did today.” I told him, and he said nothing. We finished our treat, got back into the car and went home. He never said anything more about the escapade, but I can tell you that I never again tried to skip school. That was the genius of my father. I never knew a man who could think outside the box like he did, and have a solution when no one else had one.

Ladies’ Night

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It turned out that 15 ladies came, and fit nicely into the sitting room which my co-planner said was the nicest, coziest sitting room in Ireland. =) I felt sorry for the few who sat on hard surfaces, but it could hardly be helped.

I’d been asked to give ‘The Gift of Story’ talk that I gave at the Oasis Ladies’ Retreat at SMBI in Aug. I discovered that it’s much scarier to talk to women who know me than to speak to strangers. I teach the ladies’ Sunday school class; I don’t know why this talk was different and more intimidating than that is every Sunday, but it was.

However, talking to women who know me is more productive than talking to strangers, because my friends constructively point out the broad, sweeping generalities I’m prone to make, and they challenge my various ideas, and get me to hone this or that point. Very, very good. Strangers just smile and say thanks, and make you feel like you said something profound and encouraging. But they don’t point out what you should have clarified, or question what you said.

And afterwards, after most had left, some of us stood around the food table, nibbling the leftovers, in fun, girlish camaraderie.
It was a fun night. And next time, I get to critique what’s said!!!!

My Happy, Sociable Evening

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This post is supposed to make my readers think that I live a charmed life. Because I do! I don’t write fiction–not yet. This story is true.

Last night I made a Spanish omelet after I came home from work. The phone rang as I was eating dinner on the back steps in the setting sunlight. “Are you having a bridge of silence?” she asked.

“No,” I said. “I’m sitting on the step, eating and chatting with my house mate and listening to choral music.”

Then we talked to catch up with each others’ news, and then I had to hang up because another friend was walking through the door. She and I drank several cups of tea and talked and laughed, and then, because she’s a far better wordsmith than I, she helped me draft a letter that I was needing help with and had asked for her assistance.

Minutes after she took herself away, the phone rang again, and it was another friend whom I haven’t seen for far too long, so we chatted awhile, and arranged to meet for dinner one night next week.

It was after 10 when we hung up, and when I looked at the clock, I felt this excited, relaxed thrill that comes after having had a most sociable, chatty, interactive evening. It refreshed and energized me as little else does. My housemate is moving to Dublin on Monday and while I am not excited about living alone, this evening helped me fear it less.

In 30 min. another friend is coming to finalize plans for our church women’s fellowship evening that I’m helping to host and share at, this coming Saturday night. I hope she can help me move some furniture so that we can put 19 ladies in the sitting room. I suspect one is as lonely as one lets herself be, and as long as I have a phone and friends and family nearby, I will never become a hermitess. For this I am grateful and relieved.

Strategies at the Job

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This is the end of a marathon 3 weeks when 2 and sometimes 3 regular workers were gone from the store and bakery. I knew it was going to be a Big Job and tried to plan accordingly. I found a good book to read in spare minutes, which helped time go fast. And I asked God for nice customers.

In the 12 years of being at this store, I have never had a 3 wk stint when the customers were so super nice. The weather always makes a difference in making people happy and pleasant, but I know these good customers came because God answered my desperate prayer. The children were jolly and happy. The grown ups were polite and appreciative and smiley. They chatted and told stories and took time to let others go first. They were delightful and funny and happy. They made me laugh more than ever before.

Something I love about Irish people in general is that they are great story tellers, and can always chat about something. This used to annoy me, but no longer. I am fascinated and amazed at how they can talk and talk, and maybe it’s not about something profound or substantial, but they’re communicating more than we who are silent.

I would like to learn how they do it. What kind of thought processes it takes to be able to effortlessly talk forever about nothing in particular. Guess I’ll keep watching and listening.

A Bridge of Silence

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Being with people usually energizes me. Observing and interacting with people makes my world bigger and more exciting and I love it. I love people and communication.

Maybe it’s part of maturing, but as I become more self-aware, I’m learning that I need silent spaces that link between the intense, noisy, crowded, fun hubub of people. The bridge of silence gives me a place to regroup, assess where I’ve been, and where I’m going. It is, as a friend says, a time for my soul to catch up with my body.

The bridge of silence is an active place, not lethargic or lazy. But it is silent. And in a different way than the crowd, it energizes me again. Sometimes I have 20 min. on the bridge. Sometimes I have half a day to spend on it. Solitude and silence is a spiritual discipline that saints have practiced for centuries. I treat is as a luxury, but I might be more saintly if I kept it as a discipline.

These days, when seemingly endless lines of customers and chit chat fill my hours, I desperately need silent bridges to connect the days and keep me from falling off the peaks. Which is where I’m going now.

Silence and Solitude

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Let us be silent, so we may hear the voice of God.

Felt a soul-deep exhaustion most of the day. Since I didn’t have to go to work until 1:00, I used the morning as a bridge of silence between 2 chasms of noise and action. It was good to be quiet, to talk to God, to hear Him speak. Amazing, that the God whose voice thunders like the ocean also speaks in stillness.

The Tea Ritual…

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…tea is the beverage of the wealthy and of the poor; the tea ritual, therefore, has the extraordinary virtue of introducing into the absurdity of our lives an aperture of serene harmony. Yes, the world may aspire to vacuousness, lost souls mourn beauty, insignificance surrounds us. Then let us drink a cup of tea.   –Muriel Barbery, The Elegance of the Hedgehog