4.30.2016
Rain
My backpack bears heavy countries
straining a load of sorrows on my shoulders
carrying this Rwandan mountain road
curving, twisting hard to safety
for some survivors who flee
holding nothing
I collect the senses of Musanze
visions of a blind Blessing dancing
and sighted children waving weeds like palm branches
the scent of dust ground into the souls pounding feet
throbbing in heart cadence
We walk on rocks like eggshells
Muzungus
Adding gifts of bananas and eggs to our storehouse of wealth
Gifts from a passerby who wants me to help him to study in the West
I've parceled more sorrows at the border
waiting for our visas at dusk
amid the angry stragglers threading through
Rains
Flooding and pouring memories
Ugandan slums
absent fathers
orphan children
mothers breaking rocks
the imam's haunting call to prayer
Rain soaks my skin
Deep
Drops of pain stinging and slapping hard
I pull glimmers of hope and compassion
From the side pocket
Like used tissues
Soggy
Tattered
Wilted
Rivulets of red flow
Mudstained pools
Scars like Christ's bleeding
There are things about the incarnation I do not know
I unzip my faith and unwrap it
Vulnerable
What do I carry home?
What do I leave behind?
January 2016
6.12.2014
The fatherless find their rest...
We sing this song in church sometimes, and I think of it as my personal prayer to God. It goes something like this: "the fatherless find their rest in your Great Name...Jesus, worthy is the lamb who was slain for us...son of God and man..." So there in a nutshell is my theological belief: the very personal Jesus who has been my comfort and rest in all of these years of being fatherless. He is God who entered my world and felt the same pain I feel by being separated from his Father the same as I am temporarily separated from my father. There is something supernatural at play. There is a veil that makes my understanding of Kingdom-life cloudy. Sometimes I get a glimpse of understanding of the strength and power Jesus brings to my life. He has helped me weather some hard times, self doubt, and He has given me a new life of trust and confidence in him, still imperfect, yet evident. Though death is separating us now, my hope is in a future shared with my earthly father and with Jesus. He who will lift the veil of my understanding and give me new eyes to see and ears to hear.
I wonder quite a lot what my father understood about Jesus. I think he had faith in Him. I remember that he took us to church and I remember his preferences in certain preaching. I think he chose churches based on the preaching, perhaps Wesleyan theology, but wasn't involved (at least later in life) in the administration of the church during my lifetime. I was told that at one time he was a good Sunday school teacher, but I think before I was around. When I was going through some papers I found this scripture in his handwriting: Proverbs 25:2-3 which says, "it is the glory of God to conceal a matter, to search out a matter is the glory of kings. As the heavens are high and the earth is deep, so the hearts of kings are searchable." This has come to be one of my favorite verses. I wonder if it encapsulates his own belief and how he came to choose it to write down.
I think he modeled the fruits of the spirit: peace, love, joy, goodness, faithfulness, self control (in most areas but not in regards to smoking cigarettes and an occasional cigar) patience, and gentleness. I want to think more about how he reflected these in later posts.
I wonder quite a lot what my father understood about Jesus. I think he had faith in Him. I remember that he took us to church and I remember his preferences in certain preaching. I think he chose churches based on the preaching, perhaps Wesleyan theology, but wasn't involved (at least later in life) in the administration of the church during my lifetime. I was told that at one time he was a good Sunday school teacher, but I think before I was around. When I was going through some papers I found this scripture in his handwriting: Proverbs 25:2-3 which says, "it is the glory of God to conceal a matter, to search out a matter is the glory of kings. As the heavens are high and the earth is deep, so the hearts of kings are searchable." This has come to be one of my favorite verses. I wonder if it encapsulates his own belief and how he came to choose it to write down.
I think he modeled the fruits of the spirit: peace, love, joy, goodness, faithfulness, self control (in most areas but not in regards to smoking cigarettes and an occasional cigar) patience, and gentleness. I want to think more about how he reflected these in later posts.
Memories
Yesterday I spent the day at the Allen County Public Library researching some genealogy. One of the things I remember about my dad was that he liked history and doing genealogy research. I think he was accepted into the Sons of the American Revolution as a result of his research, but joining selective groups isn't the reason I am interested in family history at all. What interests me are the stories. I have been able to uncover real life stories of people who were born as far back as 1795, finding things I am sure he did not know. Some of the stories I've uncovered aren't heroic or patriotic--although some are-- but rather the opposite. Just as there are people who are selfless and heroic today, there are others whose character is based on selfishness and weakness. People have the same nature, passions and desires no matter what generation. I am discovering stories of real people that I want to write about as part of my sabbatical.
But for the blog I am thinking of memories of my dad. I don't think of him as a hero, but I don't think of him as selfish or weak either. If I could use words to describe him they would be balanced and faithful. I think he was faithful to hard work, family, community and he was grounded as a man of Faith. He was balanced because he was interested in a lot of things. Golf, basketball, current events, Sunday night tv (Ed Sullivan), history, and travel come to mind.
I was thinking of one memory when he signed me up to be a page in the Indiana Legislature in Indianapolis. He was working in Indianapolis at the time, so I went with a girlfriend and it was her father who drove us to Indianapolis for the day. I was about 10 or 11 years old at the time, just beginning to become aware of things outside my narrow Royerton Road window. On that day we went to Block's Department store for lunch and then on to the Genealogy Department of the Indiana State Library. That small event must have made an impression on me because later I would work in that very Division as my first job as a librarian. One day when I was working there I dug out the daily registers hidden in the dark recesses of the storage area. I found the January 31 entry to see his name as he had inscribed it there. There is a memory in that. Years after he had passed away that signature gave me something physical to remember him by.
I inherited the research and papers that my father had collected and then some more. I've probably quadrupled the amount of information, a benefit of the ease of access to online resources and a few skills I learned in the profession. So that day, just one moment in time, ended up being a significant force in my future. Little did know at the time. I have come to love to research. I love it more than writing, although writing is what my sabbatical is about.
I hope this blog will prime me for writing about those stories. I have heard time after time that to be a writer you have to write. So this blog is my warm up exercise. I don't think what I say is profound or deep but it is personal. Writing that is personal is risky and cuts open deep gashes of the past. In that writing I hope it will heal those gashes.
But for the blog I am thinking of memories of my dad. I don't think of him as a hero, but I don't think of him as selfish or weak either. If I could use words to describe him they would be balanced and faithful. I think he was faithful to hard work, family, community and he was grounded as a man of Faith. He was balanced because he was interested in a lot of things. Golf, basketball, current events, Sunday night tv (Ed Sullivan), history, and travel come to mind.
I was thinking of one memory when he signed me up to be a page in the Indiana Legislature in Indianapolis. He was working in Indianapolis at the time, so I went with a girlfriend and it was her father who drove us to Indianapolis for the day. I was about 10 or 11 years old at the time, just beginning to become aware of things outside my narrow Royerton Road window. On that day we went to Block's Department store for lunch and then on to the Genealogy Department of the Indiana State Library. That small event must have made an impression on me because later I would work in that very Division as my first job as a librarian. One day when I was working there I dug out the daily registers hidden in the dark recesses of the storage area. I found the January 31 entry to see his name as he had inscribed it there. There is a memory in that. Years after he had passed away that signature gave me something physical to remember him by.
I inherited the research and papers that my father had collected and then some more. I've probably quadrupled the amount of information, a benefit of the ease of access to online resources and a few skills I learned in the profession. So that day, just one moment in time, ended up being a significant force in my future. Little did know at the time. I have come to love to research. I love it more than writing, although writing is what my sabbatical is about.
I hope this blog will prime me for writing about those stories. I have heard time after time that to be a writer you have to write. So this blog is my warm up exercise. I don't think what I say is profound or deep but it is personal. Writing that is personal is risky and cuts open deep gashes of the past. In that writing I hope it will heal those gashes.
6.10.2014
Father's Day Reflections
I created "The Readster" for the purpose of reviewing books and movies, but I shunned the notion of sharing anything deep and certainly nothing overtly personal. I had thought ---and still think---there is too much blatant self-promotion and indiscriminate self-disclosure on social media. I suppose I contribute a bit of that on Facebook. I have a Twitter account that I don't use. And I rarely blog. This post turns all that on its head. As I am trying to write for publication (my sabbatical project is an article/novel after all. ) I began to think that all writing is, in some form, self-disclosure. So I am going to try my hand at writing reflectively in this post. It is for all the world to see--or at least the world that happens on to it. This post is great departure from my use of social media so a toe in the water, so to speak. We'll see how it goes. It might be the last or it might be the start of a new day. That remains to be seen.
Father's Day is fast approaching. Honestly, I haven't thought much about Father's Day since I was a teenager because my father died when I was 15. For the record, I think Mother's Day, Father's Day and Valentine's Day are Hallmark holidays, vastly overrated, and consumer driven. I generally do not celebrate them or in the case of Mother's Day try to keep it pretty low key. I take my mother out for dinner at Red Lobster or Seasons 54 and that's about it.
For some reason just recently I started thinking more intentionally about my father, or what I remember of him. The trigger might have been the fact that I ran into one of my fellow professors and his wife the other day while getting ice cream at Ivanhoe's. A few years ago that colleague spent his sabbatical project discovering and researching his mother who had died when he was a boy. His project report was emotionally moving and touched me in a way I haven't forgotten.
We share some of the same scars, although I have some snippets of memory of my own father that he did not have of his mother. It is probably a truism to suggest that we tend to venerate parents who have been gone for a long time. Time has a way of magnifying the saintly characteristics while diminishing the human or less honorable ones. I have tried hard not to do that in my thoughts of him. I have tried to recreate the memories in my mind realistically. But time has a way of playing with our memory. I want to keep my thoughts and writings of him in balance.
The fact is that while our culture reveres holidays like Father's Day, I have paid little mind to it. Over the years I would say Father's Day has passed by more often than not without thought of my father. Maybe because memories are still a little painful and raw. Maybe my feelings are still unresolved. Or maybe I have focused on those people who immediately surround my life.
The truth is I have this gaping and vacuous hole when I start to think about my dad. The conversation I have with myself often begins: "I wonder what he would have thought about...x or y or z." And I wonder what kinds of conversations we would have had as adults. I wonder what kind of person I would have become had he lived to influence my choices: college, boyfriends, books, political persuasion, philosophy of life, or theological beliefs. Would I spar with him intellectually? Would we have respectful conversations? Would I have been a rebel and challenge him or would we have similar ideas? I always seem to think of these questions when I am in the car. (One of my strongest memories is that he loved to drive. Or maybe he was like me and enjoyed the fresh air and the momentum of going and returning. Did I get my love of travel and adventure from him? ) I can get quite a bit of mileage out of those questions. When I get lost in my reverie of imaginary conversations with my father time speeds. Before long I realize I have traveled from Upland to Chicago or Grand Rapids or wherever I am going.
I guess this is long enough for this post. If you have read this far I welcome your feedback. I have been thinking about reflective writing as I prepare to lead a workshop on Writing As Healing. In then next few days and weeks I hope this post puts into practice the very thing I am going to talk about. So here is my first stab at it. So let me know what you think.
Father's Day is fast approaching. Honestly, I haven't thought much about Father's Day since I was a teenager because my father died when I was 15. For the record, I think Mother's Day, Father's Day and Valentine's Day are Hallmark holidays, vastly overrated, and consumer driven. I generally do not celebrate them or in the case of Mother's Day try to keep it pretty low key. I take my mother out for dinner at Red Lobster or Seasons 54 and that's about it.
For some reason just recently I started thinking more intentionally about my father, or what I remember of him. The trigger might have been the fact that I ran into one of my fellow professors and his wife the other day while getting ice cream at Ivanhoe's. A few years ago that colleague spent his sabbatical project discovering and researching his mother who had died when he was a boy. His project report was emotionally moving and touched me in a way I haven't forgotten.
We share some of the same scars, although I have some snippets of memory of my own father that he did not have of his mother. It is probably a truism to suggest that we tend to venerate parents who have been gone for a long time. Time has a way of magnifying the saintly characteristics while diminishing the human or less honorable ones. I have tried hard not to do that in my thoughts of him. I have tried to recreate the memories in my mind realistically. But time has a way of playing with our memory. I want to keep my thoughts and writings of him in balance.
The fact is that while our culture reveres holidays like Father's Day, I have paid little mind to it. Over the years I would say Father's Day has passed by more often than not without thought of my father. Maybe because memories are still a little painful and raw. Maybe my feelings are still unresolved. Or maybe I have focused on those people who immediately surround my life.
The truth is I have this gaping and vacuous hole when I start to think about my dad. The conversation I have with myself often begins: "I wonder what he would have thought about...x or y or z." And I wonder what kinds of conversations we would have had as adults. I wonder what kind of person I would have become had he lived to influence my choices: college, boyfriends, books, political persuasion, philosophy of life, or theological beliefs. Would I spar with him intellectually? Would we have respectful conversations? Would I have been a rebel and challenge him or would we have similar ideas? I always seem to think of these questions when I am in the car. (One of my strongest memories is that he loved to drive. Or maybe he was like me and enjoyed the fresh air and the momentum of going and returning. Did I get my love of travel and adventure from him? ) I can get quite a bit of mileage out of those questions. When I get lost in my reverie of imaginary conversations with my father time speeds. Before long I realize I have traveled from Upland to Chicago or Grand Rapids or wherever I am going.
I guess this is long enough for this post. If you have read this far I welcome your feedback. I have been thinking about reflective writing as I prepare to lead a workshop on Writing As Healing. In then next few days and weeks I hope this post puts into practice the very thing I am going to talk about. So here is my first stab at it. So let me know what you think.
4.20.2010
The Crazed by Ha Jin
The Crazed by Ha Jin is a masterful book. Engaging. Carefully detailed. Excellent characterization. Well plotted. The setting is China at the time of the Tiananmen Square movement in 1989.
Briefly, it is about a college professor, Mr. Yang, who after suffering a stroke, is cared for by his star student and soon-to-be son-in-law, Jian Wan. On his sickbed, Mr. Yang recalls things from his past in a rambling disjointed way. At times he is lucid and at times, not. As Yang reveals secrets from his past, Jian Wan, the narrator, begins to see Yang's life in a new and different light, realizing that this is not a life he wants to follow.
I loved how Jian Wan's growth is revealed. As he comes to new realizations, he seeks and discovers what is true and important and what is not. He discovers his true passions do not lie in academia; he learns of the "tricks of the academic game." As he questions his life to that point, the reader begins to see shifts in his ideology and a transformed purpose. Jian Wan's awakening is the story of his generation and his coming of age story parallels that of China's.
In a discussion with Mr. Yang, Jian Wan's true thoughts begin to unfold:
"Have you read Dante?" he asked me in a nasal voice...
"No, I haven't." Unable to say yes, I was somewhat embarrassed. "You should read The Divine Comedy. After you finish it, you will look at the world differently."
So I borrowed all three books of the poem from the library and went through them in two weeks, but I didn't enjoy the poem and felt the world remained the same." (p. 71)
I loved this quote:
Yang recalling his experience as a scholar in the West says this: "Oh, you should have seen the libraries at Berkeley, absolutely magnificent. You can go to the stacks directly, see what's on them, and can even check out some rare books. Frankly, I would die happy if I could work as a librarian in a place like that all my life." (p. 105)
The tension that Jian Wan feels is revealed when another professor asks Yang: "Why should we look down on ourselves so? We're both intellectuals, aren't we?" Yang replies, "No, we're not. Who is an intellectual in China? Ridiculous, anyone with a college education is called an intellectual. The truth is that all people in the humanities are clerks and all people in the sciences are technicians. Tell me, who is a really independent intellectual, has original ideas and speaks the truth? None that I know of. We're all dumb laborers kept by the state--a retrograde species." (p. 153) While this is a conversation between another professor and Yang, Jian Wan takes it to heart and acts on it.
The final quote from the book is this: "Ever since I boarded the train back, a terrible vision had tormented me. I saw China in the form of an old hag so decrepit and brainsick that she would devour her children to sustain herself. Insatiable, she had eaten many tender lives before, was gobbling new flesh and blood now, and would surely swallow more." (p. 315)
A worthy read. One of the best books I've read this year.
photos of Czech Republic
My 
Top: Linda and Czech friends having tea.
Middle: Linda and Verka
Bottom: Joanie and Ondra. I love their smiles and laughter.
4.19.2010
Destiny
I've been thinking of how miraculous it is that the God of the universe desires a relationship with his human creatures. That faith, my faith, is tied to destiny. My destiny is secure. Nothing can separate us from the love of God. We are promised this in Scripture. And God's love is for everyone. I really don't understand it. I don't understand the God, Jesus Christ, Holy Spirit relationship. But I believe it in faith. My little brain and my small human logic doesn't really get it.
It does have something to do with humility. Humility is from the Holy Spirit. He makes us who we are and gives us the mind of Christ, a true, right view of self. Our character is produced by the Holy Spirit. Our lives manifest the fruits of the Spirit. Christ bought us with a price and we can live in the moment of today resting in faith. Praise be to God for His unspeakable gifts.
4.18.2010
I'm Inspired to write
The Festival of Faith and Writing has inspired me. On the trip home I was dreaming of plots for future writing. I envisioned a short story here and a novel there. The trouble is I never act on it. I think I have great ideas in my head, but those ideas never seem to get on paper. So I'm going to try to do a new thing. I'm going to blog some random thoughts. Just snippets of unfinished ideas. Fiction. Non-fiction. Truth and Error. Inspired or uninspired. So here's my first paragraph.
Why do Christians judge other people?
I was thinking of a time when I was younger (but still old enough to know better.) I once thought that making fun of people's idiosyncratic behaviors as fodder for my sad and pathetic humor; I thought it was funny. I did make fun of people. I did (and still do) judge people. I confess it, and it shames me.
Mostly I'm thinking of times when my sister and I spoke unkindly of our aunt (and some other relatives.) My memory has faded as to what specific quirky things she said or did that we felt were so amusing. But I'm left with feelings of remorse for making fun of her behind her back. She really was a hospitable and generous person, undeserving of those words. Although she is gone now, I find that I miss her quite a lot. I wish I could enjoy those idiosyncracies today that at one time I thought were so funny.
The reality is that we are all quirky people. We all have those characteristics or behaviors that, while they seem funny to other people, are really sometime endearing when we turn them a little bit, looking at them from another angle. Our quirkiness is what makes us who we are. But if we are authentic, if we are human, we need to embrace a love wide enough to accept others with their all of their quirks and flaws, just as we ourselves want to be accepted for our own.
The trouble with backbiting is we are far to pious and clever to mock people to their faces. Wouldn't speaking directly to them be more honest? But backbiters never do. By hiding behind spaces and distance, heartless comments can never be defended. How cowardly this backbiting is. And arrogant. How is it that we think we are better than another? How unbecoming is this kind of posturing and pride. This unkindness is not love. It isn't living out the Golden Rule. I am shamed by it.
I wonder sometimes if those behaviors come back to haunt us. For example, I've wondered if children exhibit the behaviors of their parents. So, for parents who speak unkindly, backbite or mock others, do their children model this? For example, do my nieces and nephew think of me, their aunt, in the same unkind terms that my sister and I spoke of ours? I don't know my nieces and nephews well enough to say. But I would want for them a deeper conviction to live their Christian faith with a wider, more generous view of others, and to be able to understand humility in the face of other people. None of us has anything to stand on based on our own actions or worth. How is humility and a gracious spirit learned if not from those mentors and models around us?
I was just thinking about a legacy I might live for them. I would like them to know me not for my behaviors but for my heart. A heart of compassion and humility. I hope I've learned something about enlarging my heart toward accepting other people and I hope to share this idea some how.
The message in church today was: "Do not judge or you too will be judged. For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you." Matthew 7: 1-2.
These are some of Jesus' words that I don't like very much. I don't like this passage in light of my past. And sometimes even my present. This passage seems to imply that if I continued to live a life of mockery, I might also be mocked. If I continue to backbite about others, others will talk badly about me. I have been thinking about opening my heart to a wider acceptance of people.
Oh, I know that God forgives us because Jesus' action on the cross on our behalf.
I just don't have it all resolved. This is a paragraph in the making just as my actions are.
4.17.2010
Broken For You by Stephanie Kallos
I just returned from the 2010 Festival of Faith and Writing at Calvin. Oh, it was wonderful. I am inspired to write more and read more. I'm reading Broken for You by Stephanie Kallos who was one of the presenters. I love the sense of place--Seattle and the lively characters. Without giving away the plot there is a lot of brokenness in ways I didn't expect.
So here's a brief entry. Keep looking for more.
2.11.2010
How could God use peanut butter cookies to advance His Kingdom?*
The destination this January was Chotebor, Czech Republic for a team of 16 students and three sponsors where we shared our lives and Christian faith on a great God-assigned adventure. It is hard to describe these very busy 3 weeks or to convey in a few words the significance of our efforts there. But I'll try.
What we did.
We were invited into several schools to teach English and PE and to engage students in conversational English. We invited those students to a number of after-school activities for follow-up and intentional conversations over coffee or tea at the local coffee shop. We participated in youth group and invited kids there, spent time hanging out with kids of all ages: at a couple of state run children's homes, a nursing home and some local Gypsy kids (the boys are great at beat boxing). All of our efforts were to provide links for the local ministry and draw them into relationships with local Believers.
We hosted two bigger community events where the Americans provided desserts* (one of my roles was to bake about 9 dozen, mostly peanut butter, cookies as well as several dozen muffins. Since peanut butter is relatively unavailable the peanut butter cookies were quite popular! We also made a chicken enchilada meal to serve 70 people as part of an outreach. Relationships we made have continued through Facebook, Skype, and e-mail. And we heard that many new kids are attending the youth meetings. Since we've been back on campus a few girls on the team are meeting at my home weekly to pray for the ministry and people in Czech Republic, especially for the planting of a church in Chotebor where there is currently no Protestant church.
A few reflections
A few things I learned have to do with keeping my eyes and heart open for God's work, being a willing and obedient servant, and participationg fully in the moments I've been given. Perhaps these aren't very profound thoughts, but God has reminded me that it is the small things that matter. Frequently He reminds me that in my weakness He will do what I cannot, but that I need to do my best for Him even when I don't see the bigger picture or my role. Even though 3 weeks is a short time, I am reminded that time is in God's hands, and He alone chooses to do what He will with our moments, a minute or a lifetime. And His work goes beyond our vision or knowledge. The truth that reassures me is that our lives, even the mundane moments living in Indiana, have an impact to further His Kingdom.
In short, my attempt to write a reflection is a form of verifying and thanking God for His work. I am grateful for this awareness. It is a great day to be alive! And now whenever I make peanut butter cookies I will remember Chotebor, the friends I made, and the outstanding team of students who shared the experiences. God will build His church and save people using small things. I'm blessed to play a small part in it.
What we did.
We were invited into several schools to teach English and PE and to engage students in conversational English. We invited those students to a number of after-school activities for follow-up and intentional conversations over coffee or tea at the local coffee shop. We participated in youth group and invited kids there, spent time hanging out with kids of all ages: at a couple of state run children's homes, a nursing home and some local Gypsy kids (the boys are great at beat boxing). All of our efforts were to provide links for the local ministry and draw them into relationships with local Believers.
We hosted two bigger community events where the Americans provided desserts* (one of my roles was to bake about 9 dozen, mostly peanut butter, cookies as well as several dozen muffins. Since peanut butter is relatively unavailable the peanut butter cookies were quite popular! We also made a chicken enchilada meal to serve 70 people as part of an outreach. Relationships we made have continued through Facebook, Skype, and e-mail. And we heard that many new kids are attending the youth meetings. Since we've been back on campus a few girls on the team are meeting at my home weekly to pray for the ministry and people in Czech Republic, especially for the planting of a church in Chotebor where there is currently no Protestant church.
A few reflections
A few things I learned have to do with keeping my eyes and heart open for God's work, being a willing and obedient servant, and participationg fully in the moments I've been given. Perhaps these aren't very profound thoughts, but God has reminded me that it is the small things that matter. Frequently He reminds me that in my weakness He will do what I cannot, but that I need to do my best for Him even when I don't see the bigger picture or my role. Even though 3 weeks is a short time, I am reminded that time is in God's hands, and He alone chooses to do what He will with our moments, a minute or a lifetime. And His work goes beyond our vision or knowledge. The truth that reassures me is that our lives, even the mundane moments living in Indiana, have an impact to further His Kingdom.
In short, my attempt to write a reflection is a form of verifying and thanking God for His work. I am grateful for this awareness. It is a great day to be alive! And now whenever I make peanut butter cookies I will remember Chotebor, the friends I made, and the outstanding team of students who shared the experiences. God will build His church and save people using small things. I'm blessed to play a small part in it.
9.23.2009
too many books so little time
I'm reading a book I've found is quite good so far. The Mercy Seller by Brenda Rickman Vantrease. I bought it because part of it takes place in the Czech Republic--where I will be headed for the month of January. Part of it takes place in Prague and England in the time period of Jan Hus--around 1400 or so. Hus was a martyr, and translator of the Bible. He was burned at the stake for his faith. So this book talks about the selling of indulgences, religious intolerance, church history and dogma. I am not half way through it and find it very well written, with rich and captivating characters, a sustainable plot. It seems well researched. I recommend it to those who like historical fiction that is grounded on real history. I can't wait to read her first book The Illuminator.
9.01.2009
The First Day of The New School Year
I am energized. Refreshed. Ready to go. Summers are a wonderful time of easy living. This summer was fulfilling and restful in spite of the fact that I was in Upland for most of the time. We merged a library into our library. I traveled to Oregon, Washington, Costa Rica and Nicaragua. I spent time with family. I had visitors. I read and did a little bit of knitting. Like I said in my previous post, I am going to try to post more often. So here's my attempt.
7.21.2009
Summer 2009
Well, after quite a long hiatus I am back to blogging. I wish I had lots of pithy things to write, but I don't. My days consist of evaluating books for withdrawal and selection as we merge the Ft. Wayne campus library into our Upland campus library.
I'm going to try to write more faithfully. Probably not every day. But I will try to post more.
I'm going to try to write more faithfully. Probably not every day. But I will try to post more.
4.26.2008
3.03.2008
From Indiana to India and Back
Since I returned from India a little over a month ago, I have been trying to distill and capture my impressions, emotions and experiences into a meaningful written snapshot. This has been a more difficult task than I expected as there has been so much to sort out in my own processing before I could write about it. Clearly this description won’t do justice to our three week experience, but I’ll try in the limits of a few paragraphs.
I didn’t expect to be overwhelmed by so many contrasts. The contrasts within India itself are great – not simply the cultural, economic and religious differences between East and West.
· The sights of women wearing bright jewel toned sarees and salwars walking on dusty, garbage laden streets.
· The aromas of fresh papaya one minute and cow manure/sewage the next. (well, the cow manure part isn't that much different than home--if you want to know the truth about it. It's just that we find that particular aroma in the countryside, not the city.)
· The hundreds of bright yellow “auto” rickshaws competing side by side on the streets with motorcycles, busses, cars and trucks, pedestrians, and cows (Oh and while riding in our bus, we were almost T-boned by a wayward cow coming from a side street at a gallop! He swerved and barely missed us.)
The biggest contrast was perhaps the overwhelming number of people. It was staggering beyond description. Over 7 million people live in metropolitan Chennai with over 2,200 people per square mile. It is one of the most densely populated places in the world. Bangalore has over 5 million people and is the third most populous city in India.
I didn’t expect to see a slum with 20+ children next door to the training center compound where we stayed. While we did invite the children over to play games in an attempt to reach them (in spite of a language barrier) I realized how much of the need for a Savior is bound to a complex system of oppression far beyond human intervention. Clearly the young girls between the ages of 11-14 appeared to be the mothers of the babies they carried on their hips. How does one begin to even think about the tangled intersection of spiritual darkness, poverty and overpopulation? What remedy is there but Jesus Christ alone who gives value and worth to every person.
I didn’t expect the generosity and hospitality of people I didn’t know. (One example is the perfectly formed small shell given to me by a poor man on the Chennai beach.) We easily made friends with out hosts, our home-stay family and several of the teachers at the schools where we went. I didn’t expect to have my heart deeply touched by the smile and hug of a Hindu orphan girl, at one of the schools we visited. I didn’t expect to see radiant smiles of the boys at the Boys Home as I showed them how to take photos of each other with my camera. I didn't expect to be served Indian coffee at every turn--and least of all -- I didn't expect to like it! (It's 40% chicory, 60% coffee, made with scalded milk and lots of sugar.)
As a team of 18 (16 students and one other co-sponsor) we prayed that people would see Jesus Christ in our performances and our lives. I asked myself “how much could we realistically accomplish in three weeks?” I have to be content with the answer that we may not know where the seeds that were planted will take root. We did meet young people who are spiritually hungry and are seeking to fill the God-shaped vacuum in their lives. And we trust that our ministry has provided an entrée for our hosts, Youth for Christ India, to begin Bible studies in the schools where young people are seeking to fill that void. Our schedule was a busy one: we presented 24 programs to about 13,000 young people. We also scraped, primed and painted the chapel at the YFC Training Center where we stayed.
So the story of our trip is still being written. I can report that we did witness God working in India. I am thankful to have been entrusted to a small role of a much bigger picture and to have been able to serve under and support YFC India. I read somewhere that Christians represent about 5% of Bangalore’s population. (Hindus 79%, Muslims 13%.) So now that I’m back at home, I have unanswered questions about all that being a global Christian means. Yet I can know and be confident that God is drawing Indian people to Himself in a myriad of different ways.
Do people return from short term mission trips changed people? I think they can be when they intentionally look for God to change and challenge them. I went to India with openness for God’s leading, wanting to be obedient to God’s direction, hoping that He would make a difference in someone's life through me. I didn’t go with a long list of personal expectations, although one of my main goals was to enable the students to have a bigger vision of God, his Kingdom and help them discover the necessity of and how they might live as global followers of Jesus Christ and to live for others more than self. (Yes, I know these are big goals!)
If there was a theme of the past 6 months--the preparations, the trip itself, as well as the culmination of thoughts about India, the ministry, the people, and resulting personal application -- it is the working out of the meanings of the words “compassion” and “gratitude.” Both have taken on new importance in my life. These two words: “compassion” and “gratitude” have come to the forefront of my life since I’ve been back because of what I have experienced and seen.
I think about and pray daily that I will have a heart of “compassion” and “gratitude” that overflows as a result of this trip. This plus the fact that my heart has been humbled even more as I understand the sacrifice Jesus Christ extended to me. It's because of Him that I’ve found I want to express a joyful life of compassion and gratitude.
This hasn't always been easy, quite honestly. There are people in our lives who are difficult to relate to and to love. But I recognize how I need to offer compassion and gratitude regardless of their response. People don't always respond in kind. They even reject our attempts in caring for them and offering what we have to give. And this trip reminded me of how I need to have Jesus' heart of compassion and humility. When people reject our attempts, when they pull away from a sympathetic touch on the arm, when the draw back emotionally, we have to keep offering compassion and gratitude in the face of that rejection. Because that is what Jesus did, too. He faced rejection by his best friends and the whole world and He loved them anyway. So, our scale is pretty limited in comparison.
My convictions for living in gratitude and compassion as central to daily life have fueled a passion for serving God in a fresh and renewed way. I don’t know where or how that will lead. I've just been taking it one day at a time. I don't want the India experience to be the sort of momentary spiritual "feel good moment" that evaporates a few weeks out. I don't know if or how people will see changes my life, but I pray that this heart change will extend to actions that will spur others to compassion and gratitude.
In case you can't tell, I've grown to love India! I've grown to love the lessons that God has taught me because He has shared more of Himself with me over the past months.
So that's my story. To God be the Glory!
I didn’t expect to be overwhelmed by so many contrasts. The contrasts within India itself are great – not simply the cultural, economic and religious differences between East and West.
· The sights of women wearing bright jewel toned sarees and salwars walking on dusty, garbage laden streets.
· The aromas of fresh papaya one minute and cow manure/sewage the next. (well, the cow manure part isn't that much different than home--if you want to know the truth about it. It's just that we find that particular aroma in the countryside, not the city.)
· The hundreds of bright yellow “auto” rickshaws competing side by side on the streets with motorcycles, busses, cars and trucks, pedestrians, and cows (Oh and while riding in our bus, we were almost T-boned by a wayward cow coming from a side street at a gallop! He swerved and barely missed us.)
The biggest contrast was perhaps the overwhelming number of people. It was staggering beyond description. Over 7 million people live in metropolitan Chennai with over 2,200 people per square mile. It is one of the most densely populated places in the world. Bangalore has over 5 million people and is the third most populous city in India.
I didn’t expect to see a slum with 20+ children next door to the training center compound where we stayed. While we did invite the children over to play games in an attempt to reach them (in spite of a language barrier) I realized how much of the need for a Savior is bound to a complex system of oppression far beyond human intervention. Clearly the young girls between the ages of 11-14 appeared to be the mothers of the babies they carried on their hips. How does one begin to even think about the tangled intersection of spiritual darkness, poverty and overpopulation? What remedy is there but Jesus Christ alone who gives value and worth to every person.
I didn’t expect the generosity and hospitality of people I didn’t know. (One example is the perfectly formed small shell given to me by a poor man on the Chennai beach.) We easily made friends with out hosts, our home-stay family and several of the teachers at the schools where we went. I didn’t expect to have my heart deeply touched by the smile and hug of a Hindu orphan girl, at one of the schools we visited. I didn’t expect to see radiant smiles of the boys at the Boys Home as I showed them how to take photos of each other with my camera. I didn't expect to be served Indian coffee at every turn--and least of all -- I didn't expect to like it! (It's 40% chicory, 60% coffee, made with scalded milk and lots of sugar.)
As a team of 18 (16 students and one other co-sponsor) we prayed that people would see Jesus Christ in our performances and our lives. I asked myself “how much could we realistically accomplish in three weeks?” I have to be content with the answer that we may not know where the seeds that were planted will take root. We did meet young people who are spiritually hungry and are seeking to fill the God-shaped vacuum in their lives. And we trust that our ministry has provided an entrée for our hosts, Youth for Christ India, to begin Bible studies in the schools where young people are seeking to fill that void. Our schedule was a busy one: we presented 24 programs to about 13,000 young people. We also scraped, primed and painted the chapel at the YFC Training Center where we stayed.
So the story of our trip is still being written. I can report that we did witness God working in India. I am thankful to have been entrusted to a small role of a much bigger picture and to have been able to serve under and support YFC India. I read somewhere that Christians represent about 5% of Bangalore’s population. (Hindus 79%, Muslims 13%.) So now that I’m back at home, I have unanswered questions about all that being a global Christian means. Yet I can know and be confident that God is drawing Indian people to Himself in a myriad of different ways.
Do people return from short term mission trips changed people? I think they can be when they intentionally look for God to change and challenge them. I went to India with openness for God’s leading, wanting to be obedient to God’s direction, hoping that He would make a difference in someone's life through me. I didn’t go with a long list of personal expectations, although one of my main goals was to enable the students to have a bigger vision of God, his Kingdom and help them discover the necessity of and how they might live as global followers of Jesus Christ and to live for others more than self. (Yes, I know these are big goals!)
If there was a theme of the past 6 months--the preparations, the trip itself, as well as the culmination of thoughts about India, the ministry, the people, and resulting personal application -- it is the working out of the meanings of the words “compassion” and “gratitude.” Both have taken on new importance in my life. These two words: “compassion” and “gratitude” have come to the forefront of my life since I’ve been back because of what I have experienced and seen.
I think about and pray daily that I will have a heart of “compassion” and “gratitude” that overflows as a result of this trip. This plus the fact that my heart has been humbled even more as I understand the sacrifice Jesus Christ extended to me. It's because of Him that I’ve found I want to express a joyful life of compassion and gratitude.
This hasn't always been easy, quite honestly. There are people in our lives who are difficult to relate to and to love. But I recognize how I need to offer compassion and gratitude regardless of their response. People don't always respond in kind. They even reject our attempts in caring for them and offering what we have to give. And this trip reminded me of how I need to have Jesus' heart of compassion and humility. When people reject our attempts, when they pull away from a sympathetic touch on the arm, when the draw back emotionally, we have to keep offering compassion and gratitude in the face of that rejection. Because that is what Jesus did, too. He faced rejection by his best friends and the whole world and He loved them anyway. So, our scale is pretty limited in comparison.
My convictions for living in gratitude and compassion as central to daily life have fueled a passion for serving God in a fresh and renewed way. I don’t know where or how that will lead. I've just been taking it one day at a time. I don't want the India experience to be the sort of momentary spiritual "feel good moment" that evaporates a few weeks out. I don't know if or how people will see changes my life, but I pray that this heart change will extend to actions that will spur others to compassion and gratitude.
In case you can't tell, I've grown to love India! I've grown to love the lessons that God has taught me because He has shared more of Himself with me over the past months.
So that's my story. To God be the Glory!
8.16.2007
Academic Social Networking Applications
Here is one of the YouTube tutorials we created: Google Scholar and JSTOR
Social Networking Sites To Explore:
Facebook
http://del.icio.us/readster
LibraryThing
Social Networking Sites To Explore:
http://del.icio.us/readster
LibraryThing
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