Pausing and taking a break

More than anything, I want to be known in heaven as a lover of Jesus.  I want to look back on my life and see that my decisions were made on loving Jesus well.  

You may have noticed that I haven’t written much on my blog recently.  I have half a dozen unfinished blogposts of things I am mulling over but never felt fully able to finish and there are two reasons for that: 

1. Life is so busy and I am trying to be faithful in loving God and my family before doing other things. 

2. I am feeling a wall of discouragement against me in terms of writing and I am trying to discern if that is a sign to push through with writing here on the blog or if it is actually right for me to shift my writing focus for a while. 

God is speaking to me about writing on the pilgrimage of motherhood.  Slowly I am working through several posts / chapters, and they are taking much of my writing time.  And perhaps, I just need to realise that that is okay.  Perhaps my writing focus at this time needs to be in more of a hidden place.  

But I would love you to pray for me. 

Would you pray firstly that I would hear God clearly on His timing and will for my writing? 

Would you pray that if it is His will, I would find a writing mentor, who I can be accountable with and thrash out ideas / get wisdom from? 

Would you pray that writing would never become a distraction from seeking Him.  My heart’s desire is to be faithful always to Him, and to serve Him as a demonstration of my love to him.  

Thank you for your prayers, friendships and encouragements.   If you come back here and I still haven’t posted anything new, perhaps you would keep praying for me about the next steps? 

Love, 

Anna 

The Sadness of Feeling the Pain of those Close

Like a light veil that covers everything:  the dishes;  the people; the clothes in the basket;  the smiles on my children’s face. 

A heavy balloon filled with water wobbling around in my stomach only temporarily dislodged by deep breaths. 

Wanting to cry because I deeply feel. 

Peace. Silence.  Holy silence.  Needing to wait. 

No answers right now.  Just waiting for time to propel us forward.  Upwards. Seeing hope, but it is so, so far off right now. 

Needing to make provisions for the journey.  Needing to make plans perhaps, but wanting to curl up in an armchair with a chocolate biscuit and a warm cosy blanket instead. A heavy rain day. 

The sadness does not belong to me but I feel it and I live it. 

I feel helpless, but fall into Your arms. 

And it reminds me of Solomon’s death.  Of Your all enveloping arms that hold me despite what is going on.  That remind me that You are faithful.  That You feel.  That You care, and that You are working, Beautiful Spirit of God.  We just have to wait.  And trust. 

And hope.  

Even in the jungle...

By midday I was feeling uncomfortable and trying to work out why.  I know God has me here in the jungle for a reason, but maybe it was not for what I imagined. (Again?!).  

My body got fed up long before my mind did and I was wondering why I was feeling so awkward.  Finally, I realised that the wooden benches and concrete or dirt floors were making me physically uncomfortable, but perhaps they just mirrored what was going on in my mind.   

I feel like a foreigner again.  Yes, I have been with the Shipibos many a time.  There is nothing overtly ‘new’ about them, but yet I am still so foreign to their ways. I am still unaware of what is ‘normal’ behaviour or just an individual acting out of the accepted norm. And it is uncomfortable to feel like an outsider. 

Is picking lice out of one another’s hair acceptable ‘normal’ behaviour or normally ‘done-in-private’ behaviour? Is a toddler walking around with no clothes on his bottom half a practicality for an un-toilet-trained tot or a result of Mum’s ability to keep up with the laundry (or did he escape before his mother could dress him properly)?  Do the mothers mind me photographing their children? What do the giggles mean? 

And reflecting with the ladies in group time, I find myself wanting to get to a point, to move the conversation in a certain direction, impatient and frustrated with the limitations of translation, trying to understand and empathize but wondering if that is even possible.  

Talking with Mark this evening, I realise how driven I am by efficiency.  My life in Lima has to be super efficient to get everything done and to give different people the time they need. Our week is so scheduled, even my ‘free’ time comes in one or two hour slots.  Today we spent 8 hours in the village and I was only ‘being effective’ for 2.5 hours of that time leading group time.  The other hours were spent chasing Kaleb around the village, taking photos, listening to the main sessions and hanging out with the Shipibo women and children.  And yes, even as I write I know that those things matter too - I just am not used to jungle pace and jungle life, which is so contrary to my time-slot existence. 

And in Lima our life is so scheduled and tight that I have to make every hour count.  I have to take every opportunity and choose to engage with the children and our team whenever I can because it is so often now or never. We have chosen our priorities so as to maximise our potential, and sitting on a wooden bench getting a sore bum, seems such a...waste!
(Perhaps the other problem is that it gives me too much time to reflect!) 

And yet as I do reflect I know that even in a foreign place surrounded by foreign people there are things I know to be true that I need to still practice: gratitude; chatting with God throughout the day; taking those moments I remember to pray; being present in the moment rather than allowing my mind to rush off.  I need to remember that God’s presence and His ability to answer my prayers is the same, so my faith should be the same too.  I need to remind myself that it is good to be part of a team, to slow down and that my value is not in what I do, but in who I am in Christ. 

So, Jesus, I am sorry when I have believed it is all about me when it should be all about you.  Thank you that you are the same here, there and everywhere. Help me to remember the foundational things. May tomorrow be all about You. 

Inspiration: thoughts on writing a blogpost...

The most helpful and inspiring workshop I ever went to at University was a voluntary one.  

Only 6 or so students turned up, all seeking the answer to the same question: How can we get top marks in our essays with this teacher? (From what I remember the class was on French existentialism!) 

I think we all expected to be pointed to key academic texts we could discover the answers to the varied essay questions in, or to be given a secret or two by the teacher. But as far as I recall, there was none of that.

Instead, the teacher told us that what distinguished a good essay from an excellent essay was inspiration.  She told us that too many students looked at an essay question, researched as much as they could and collected the information together into a fluid piece of writing.  Perhaps they spent hours doing this and then came back disappointed that the highest mark they could ever achieve was a 2:1. (a ‘B’ on the University marking scale).

She told us that if we wanted to write interesting 1^st grade essays then we needed to divide our essay writing into three parts:

1. Research,

2. Thinking time,  

3. Writing. 

She told us Starbucks was essential to essay writing. 

She told us that as much time should be spent thinking about the research we had done, with a notebook to jot down thoughts and questions, than should be spent with our head in our books.

Perhaps to others it had been obvious (although due to the lack of first grade essays, I doubt it!), but I had NEVER seen the importance of thinking time before.  Surely that was just procrastination?

That semester I wrote the first essay I enjoyed writing.  Sure, some of the delving through books was a bit monotonous, but interacting with the research and exploring my own ideas led me to really engage with the subject. For a week or two I pondered on and grappled with the different ideas; questioned the research I had read and put forward my own ideas and opinions. It was the easiest essay I wrote at University and it just flowed.  It was also the first essay I received a ‘first’ in.

And today, essentially, that is how I write:

1. Spending time with God and engaging with His word, reading and life experience (Research)

2. Pondering, questioning, praying and taking notes often over a week or two (Thinking time)

3. Bringing the thoughts together (Writing).

And that is how a blogpost usually comes together, generally over a week or two. 

First comes the living, then the resting in Him and then the writing. 

How do you engage with creativity in your life?

Do you have time to put in thinking time?

Blessed is the one…who meditates on his law day and night.

That person is like a tree planted by streams of water,

    which yields its fruit in season

and whose leaf does not wither –

    whatever they do prospers.

Psalm 1: 1-3 

I have never worn a watch

Sitting around a table with people who are happier sitting on the floor to eat always makes me feel a bit uncomfortable.  I am aware they are in a world foreign to them and part of me wishes I didn’t have – that they would know I would be happy to eat with them on the floor too, and that I wouldn’t feel uncomfortable – just awkwardly unknown like they feel now. 

They are late for lunch.  We have already started.  Who knows when they might arrive, and we have other things to do.  Must keep things moving.

He looks strangely nervous in our house.  We have met a dozen times on his earth, and I remember his confidence at killing the chicken and his laughing at my innocence and squeamishness. 

Now he is here at my table eating lasagna and wearing checkered shirt over checkered shirt to keep away the damp Lima weather.

- I have never seen you wear so many clothes! My husband realizes why he looks different. He laughs shyly.  - It has been many years since I was in Lima.  Over 5 years. 

In his eyes I glimpse sight of his son we know well, and I see the joyful playful innocence there too and I guess he was not unlike his son twenty years ago – impulsive, daring and determined, jumping head first into murky piranha waters to cool off, or pushing out the dug out canoe to catch fish. 

- We are late for lunch.  

It is a statement of fact, not regret. 

- We have never worn watches.

Sometimes I regret that we are so time focused.   That our schedules are so inflexible that we cannot allow time to delay lunch until the special guests have arrived. 

- I guess the Shipibo’s tell the time by the sun? I ask trying to sound like I understand, when really, how can I?

- No.  We tell the time by the birds. 

I listen, fascinated. He likes to tell stories. 

- But it is not always accurate.  Two ladies in my village agreed they would meet in the field before sunrise, at the first cry of the rooster, about 4am. They both went to bed early and arose at the first cry, hurrying in the cool to the field before the sun rose.  Together they waited and waited and the sun never rose.  Finally, they decided to return to the village, where talking to others they realized it was still the middle of the night.  The rooster had been confused by the full moon and had crowed at 11pm!

He laughs and I feel the freedom in the fact that it doesn’t matter that they were wrong.  It doesn’t matter if the rooster cries too early or too late – no one is going to get annoyed or frustrated at being a moment or hour late or early – even if they realize! Estimation is good enough.  It leaves time for life. And the variety just makes for a funny story!

Having spent time in his land, I realize that God designed rhythm, he designed order, but it was never meant to be something that controlled us – it was something that was meant to guide us. 

And it makes me wonder, what things are there around me that God designed that I miss? How much do I listen to the world around me? Where have I made my life too structured or too routine that I miss out on God trying to tell me something? It was the priest and the Levite, the ‘holy helpers’ who passed the needy by, hurrying to their task.  

Because the thing about the clock is that it always tick-tocks the same.  The bird’s call and the Lord’s call is specific to the day.  And I don’t want my watch to dictate what I do – I want my actions to flow out of my relationship with my Heavenly Father.

…the sheep listen to his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out…

– John 10:3