Good bye blogger. I have tried to post on you for the last time. I've been working for an hour to post a simple paragraph with error after error in simple text. And the photo upload time is ridiculous. If I have followers, email me and I'll let you know where I end up. I want to write everyday, but I can't stand having to wrestle the composer interface to the ground every time. So I end up avoiding it altogether. Not good. I'm a writer, not a computer geek.

The road, friendly, inviting
my wandering feet around the next bend,
and the next.

The brook, joyful, singing
simply within its rugged banks
freshly greened.

The sunshine, penetrating, reaching
into cold soul-yearnings
of darkness.

The air, fresh, awakening
heart-thoughts caught on cobwebs
until each thread gives way
one by one.

The sky, behind silvery tree-fingers;
the sky, over all,
so deep,
going on forever
into the eye of God.

From a walk down by the river
Keynote Ladies’ Retreat
Nashville, Indiana 1-26-06

(Unfortunately, I don't have a photo from the day I took this walk when the sky was a dark crystal blue, but I've included a couple pictures from other days of similar settings.)


Please leave comments suggesting a title. I just can't decide!

Tree Flowers

There are flowers on the trees. Not brilliant splashes of color like the crocus in my garden, but deep red bunches, each individual bloom the size of a small pea, covering the ends of every small twig of these trees. From a distance they might be mistaken for last year's berries, not fresh growth announcing the birth of a new season after the death of winter.

Their under-stated beauty appeals to me. While contributing to the cycle of life by eventually producing scads of those twirling helicopter seeds, each one is delicately radiant. The rich red color that originally attracted me, covers the surface of a solid green base-every one a mini-powerhouse of activity adding to the high pollen count this week no doubt!

There are no showy petals like the tulips will soon wear in order to cajole bees to visit and provide transport for their pollen. How are the tree-flowers pollinated? I didn't see bees on the branches or hear the steady hum that will soon surround our crabapple tree when every branch bursts into bloom. I wonder if the wind does the work?

Spring winds, full of new warmth when the earth is still cool, blow life back into my soul while touching my cheeks with roses. They blow away the soggy wetness from the melting snow and spring rains that washed off the filmy dust-dirt of winter, allowing the earth to be new again.

Soon the tree flowers will fall making rusty puddles on the path. But today they are brilliant against the infinitely blue sky-simple, full of life, and beautiful.

Given the choice of all the flowers, I'd be a tree-flower.

Merry Christmas!
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I'm hoping to start blogging again... maybe once a week.
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O Little Town

Tom and I had been on the road with Ritmo D, Keynote’s summer Latin band, for almost three weeks. That’s eleven (mostly) Hispanic (read: loud, emotional, not time-conscious) people riding in a 12-passenger van and equipment truck, eating together, setting up together, playing music together, tearing down together… There was a LOT of togetherness! Toward the end of the tour when we were all sleeping in a church sanctuary on the chairs-- which made very comfy beds, actually, when facing each other-- I found myself enjoying the extended quiet in a bathroom stall. As my soul took a deep breath, my heart began to sing, and then my voice sang the tune out loud in my pink ceramic resonance chamber. The melody grew kind of like a Glade commercial where beautiful flowers and vines spring up out of the sink and from behind the mirror, until my soul was once again full of life.

Singing takes the weariness away and lets out stuff in me that can’t get out any other way; it picks up my heart from behind a van seat where it got left in the urgency of the ministry before me and rejuvenates it. A new song in my heart, I left the bathroom and went back into the sanctuary, climbed into my eight-chair-bed and fell asleep before I could notice the snoring, irregular breathing, and faint salsa music emanating from iPod headsets.

So we get back home, and weeks pass before I remember the “bathroom song”. When I rediscovered it recently, I tried fitting various hymn lyrics to the tune, since it has a kind of hymn-like quality. The best fit was “O Little Town of Bethlehem”. To be honest, I was a little disappointed that a deeper, rich-in-theological-truth text didn’t turn up. But since OLToB fit so well, and I needed a Christmas card song, I followed that thread… and found a familiar tapestry saturated with color and shades of meaning.

Philipps Brooks, the carol’s author, was one of THE pastors in the 1860’s in America, and he was American as they come, being from generations of pastors going back to the Puritans. Preaching at Trinity Church in Boston every Sunday, Pastor Brooks had a rapid delivery style (someone reportedly clocked him at 250 words a minute!) because he had so much to say (that sounds familiar!) to his beloved congregation, most members of which had tragically lost someone in the Civil War. This great, but deeply sensitive man, carried the grief of his church family. And when the war ended, joy was short-lived as five days after Lee’s surrender, more heartache covered the nation when President Lincoln was assassinated. Because of his renowned eloquence, Pastor Brooks was asked to give the oration for the president’s funeral. Soon after, because of the prolonged strain he had been under, Brooks came to the end of himself, completely broken,.

He left his pulpit and traveled to the Holy Land for an extended Sabbatical. Riding on horseback through the fields surrounding Bethlehem on Christmas Eve 1865, probably near where the angels spoke to the shepherds the night Jesus was born, Brooks paused and contemplated what had happened in that place long ago. Reading through the lyrics and knowing what he had just been through, it’s easy to imagine his thoughts that night: pastoral peace as he watched shepherds with their sheep contrasted with the carnage of war and national turmoil at home; sweet silence without telegraph messages and newspaper stories of horrible violence; blessed comfort from the incredible presence of the same God who had been with him in Boston, still with him as he looked over the town where his Hope was born. On Christmas Eve in 1865 overlooking Bethlehem, Brooks was reminding himself that “the hopes and fears of all [his] years” were met in Bethlehem that night.

When I was singing in the bathroom in a Brooklyn church this summer, I wasn’t weary with the kind of cares Pastor Brooks had carried, but in a sense, we found the same release in stillness and in letting our hearts sing.

O little town of Bethlehem, how still we see thee lie!
Above thy deep and dreamless sleep the silent stars go by.
Yet in thy dark streets shineth the everlasting Light;
The hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight.

For Christ is born of Mary, and gathered all above,
While mortals sleep, the angels keep their watch of wondering love.
O morning stars together, proclaim the holy birth,
And praises sing to God the King, and peace to men on earth!

How silently, how silently, the wondrous Gift is giv’n;
So God imparts to human hearts the blessings of His Heav’n.
No ear may hear His coming, but in this world of sin,
Where meek souls will receive Him still, the dear Christ enters in.

O holy Child of Bethlehem, descend to us, we pray;
Cast out our sin, and enter in, be born in us today.
We hear the Christmas angels the great glad tidings tell;
O come to us, abide with us, our Lord Emmanuel!

NOTE

Hi everyone... in case you check my blog routinely, just thought I'd point out that I published a new post yesterday, "Mee and I", but it ended up further down the page. I began it soon after getting back from Thailand, saved it as a draft, and just finished it. Blogspot must use the date I began writing it, so it's out of order according to when I published it.

I'll have more photos by next week. Last night I went throught the hundreds and hundreds I have on CDs from all the women who went with me. Fun... but there are a LOT of them! I'll look for the best ones and get them up here soon.

Thailand Highlights

(For some reason there are formatting issues... sorry about that, and bless you for struggling through!)

Watching the faces of the parents as the children sang during the closing program. I was on stage, so I had the perfect vantage point to see their expressions of pride and delight… and the sparkling array of camera flashes!

Leading about 160-180 children of missionaries in worship everyday. Several of these children gave their hearts to Christ during the week!

Using songs I’d written during the worship time. I wasn’t sure which songs would work best, so I brought a whole stack with me--songs we sing in church, traditional favorites like “Jesus Loves Me” and “The B-I-B-L-E”, VBS favorites, and some I’d written. I was so excited during a prep meeting when it was agreed that my songs conveyed the meaning of the lessons the best!

Hearing over and over “Thank-you for coming from the US to teach our children!! They look forward to this conference all year. It’s the only time they get to play with other American kids.”

Getting to know servants of the Lord from all over Asia, many of whom are making great sacrifices to spread God’s love.

Feeling like a celebrity walking through the hotel and Night Bazaar as children excitedly pointed at me and introduced me to their parents. Each child is so special!!

Leading our team of nine women in prayer and reflection as we went through this journey together.

”Talking” with Kaye, the hotel staff worker in charge of my classroom. After I found out he knew some English (he sang “Take Me Home, Country Roads” for me!), I asked him if he understood what we had been telling the children. He said, “Oh, yes! I love God and read my Bible!” I gave him the Jesus Film on DVD which he received with great joy.

Spending time with Mee at the night market. A kindred spirit, Mee makes Christmas tree balls out of yarn and thread which are beautiful. She explained how she makes her ornaments and we talked together twice. I was surprised to find out that she can write English and even has email! (More on another post.)

Getting to know Teerapol, a young man on his first business trip to the US, on the long flight from Bangkok to NYC. He had a book of English phrases for businessmen, so I asked if he needed help. We talked about the difference between Thai and US foods, customs, driving, etc. He wrote the names of each of our team members in Thai, and I gave him the Jesus Film on DVD. He graciously accepted it and mentioned that he has a Christian friend in Thailand.

Holding Owen (10 months) during the long flight to Thailand, so his mother could eat her meals. Although she didn’t want to know how to receive Christ, I prayed for Owen while I held him… that he would grow into a strong man of God and serve the Lord.

Riding an elephant! I went with our team just to be a good sport, but found that I loved it!!

Worshiping with Thai believers Sunday morning. We sang the English words to the tunes we recognized as they sang the Thai words. This is what I imagine heaven will be like! All languages being used to praise God! J And the pastor’s message on “Love is Patient” was perfect timing on the day before our 32-hour journey home. (Photo taken outside the church.)

Please continue to pray for the missionaries who attended the conference, the children who received Christ, Teerapol, Kaye, Mee, the Thai believers, Owen and his mom, and our team. That all of us would walk closer to Jesus today than we did yesterday.

Mee and I

After working with the children all day, we went to the night bazaar several times. The sidewalk on both sides of the road was lined with two rows of portable metal stalls leaving enough room for one person to walk down the center of the walk. With people going both ways there was no room for personal space! Just stopping to look at a vendor's wares caused a major traffic jam. And since buying something requires a lengthy dance of haggling over the price-- squishing, jostling, and sucking it in only begin to describe the effects of the press of the crowd.

My first potential transaction just about sent me back to our hotel. A gorgeous skirt hung up high in a shop along the sidewalk. Just looking at it was enough for me to be noticed by an eager vendor who suddenly broke into a steady stream of halting monotone English-- "Hello Madam! Best price for you! Tell me best price!" I asked her how much, and in the pause of trying to remember the exchange rate, convert Bahts into dollars, and evaluate whether it was a good deal, I was hit by a barrage of more broken English and also advice from my teammates about how to figure Bahts to dollars, how to bargain her down, etc. My introverted personality wanted quiet so I could think, but my hesitation just made it worse. In confusion and frustration I walked away without the skirt still being assaulted by the Thai woman's sales techniques.


That first night got better as I learned the rhythm of offer - counter offer and grew more comfortable with the exchange rate. I found another skirt I liked later and successfully made a good deal all by myself (although I didn't like it as much as the first). I kept meaning to return to the first place, but we didn't get back that far. I never saw the beginning or ending of the bazaar. It seemed endless.

Our meeting place every night became a small plaza in front of McDonald's. There was open space in which to gather (ahh!), and the brightly lit sign towering above the booths was our homing beacon in the sea of confusion... and there was a clean western bathroom (although it cost 5B to use it!)

I didn't notice her or her merchandise the first night, but during a rendezvous under the yellow and red neon the second night, Kristen called my attention to her beautiful Christmas ornaments. We had been talking about tree ornaments earlier that day, so I went over to investigate, even though I was pretty sure I didn't want to buy any. After a brief look, however, I knew I had to have one!

While I waited for Kristen to get her "best price" for the two she wanted, I selected the prettiest small one, made in the reds-greens-and-golds of Christmas. I went small because I heard the prices she gave Kristen-- not cheap! As I admired the exceptional needlework, I knew (and so did the vendor, I think!) that I HAD to have such a pretty thing even if it was more expensive than most of the other things I had purchased. Most of the wares at the bazaar were cheaply made things for tourists manufactured in who-knows-where! But this ball was a work of art, handmade by the woman sitting in front of me. The perfect memento of my trip.



Soon everyone in our group also wanted an ornament exactly like the one I found. (That happened many times--- I'd find something cool, then everyone also had to have one. I guess I'm a trend-setter! Ya, right!) Of course, mine was the last one she had like it, but the woman agreed to make enough for our group and bring them to our hotel by 5pm the next day, since we didn't think we would be coming to the night bazaar again. We all paid for our ornaments, then arranged for a sang-taw (enclosed small pickup with benches in back) trip back to the hotel.

Since the conference was finished, we spent Saturday at the elephant camp and other touristy spots. (Maybe I'll write about them later.) When we returned to the hotel, we checked at the hotel desk and found the bag of ornaments with a hand-written note-- in English. The woman who made them spoke rather good English, superior English compared to most night bazaar vendors and my Thai! I wondered if she wrote the note, or simply spoke to the hotel clerk who could have written it for her. Since we had gotten back to early from our sight-seeing, four of us decided to take yet another trip-- our third-- to the night bazaar. None of us wanted to stay very late... but by the time we each found what we were looking for, it was very late!

My purpose in going back was to see if the "ornament lady" was still there. I had remembered someone back home that I wanted to get a special gift for, and her ornaments would do perfectly. Besides, I wanted to see if she had written the note. If she could read and write English (quite an accomplishment, since Thai uses a completely different alphabet!) I could get her address and order some ornaments through the mail. I knew there would be others I would want to give such a beautiful gift to in the future. I waited for the others to do lots of shopping before finally getting back to the McDonald's plaza... and there she was!

Right away I asked if she was the one who had written the note. She said she had, and yes, she would give me her address and do business through the mail. She would even give me her email address if that was easier! I never thought a street vendor would have email... silly me! Because I was a return customer, she gave me a tiny ball keychain she had made the same way as the ornaments which was displayed on a card where she wrote her email address. It wasn't until this point that I asked her name. "Mee," she said. "It means bear. A few years ago a friend gave me the new name because my hair is dark and I am tall-- big, like a bear," she smiled.

As the rest of the group sat on the steps in front of Mee's booth, she invited me to sit down next to her on a stool low to the ground while she made a hanging loop on the new ornament I had chosen. We talked for almost half an hour. She answered my many questions about how she made the ornaments. She said, and I believe her since I didn't see anything like her wares, that she is the only one who makes these balls because it is difficult and time-consuming. I know if we lived closer we would probably be good friends. Our love for quality handmade needlework, beauty, and pattern/symmetry, I think would only be the beginning of what we have in common. I could tell by talking with her that we think alike and have similar personalities. I know our time through email won't be as nice as in-person visits would be, but I'm looking forward to the developing relationship between Mee and me.