Archives for September 2012

5 Minute Friday – Graceful

September 8, 2012 By Diana

Late to the party, but hopefully, not too late. Lisa-Jo issues a weekly 5-minutes-by-the-clock writing prompt and I’ve loved joining in whenever I can. This weeks prompt has been sitting in the back of my fuzzy, aging brain for 24 hours now and maybe, just maybe, something might come out these fingertips as I let my mind go. It’s always fun to try this, so I encourage you to hop over to Lisa-Jo’s beautiful, encouraging blog and check out the other party animals – there’s a whole lotta them.

GRACEFUL

GO:

I used to think about gracefulness like this:

delicate,

beautiful,

breakable,

fragile,

hold-your-breath-watch-in-awe.

But the longer I’ve lived,

the more people I’ve come to love,

the wider my world has become,

the less those words seem to apply to what

graceful

is really all about.

My husband plays tennis,

really, really well.

And he is graceful when he does.

Strong,

swift,

accurate,

powerful,

concentrated.

My grandchildren play a wide variety of games,

engage in fascinating conversations with one another,

and broaden their thinking and their horizons with

every passing year.

They are

open,

eager to learn,

generous with their encouragement,

quick to laugh,

lit from the inside with life.

So I wonder.

All my life, I have felt entirely graceless.

I am physically uncoordinated,

cannot play a sport to save my life,

am large and carry too many pounds,

and feel like an elephant in

most situations.

But maybe, maybe…

grace is not about how I move

or even how I look.

Maybe grace is about

strength,

courage,

adaptability,

openness,

honesty,

commitment,

being able to laugh out loud

at myself,

at life,

at the wonder of it all.

And if that’s true,

then graceful

is attainable.

Graceful

gift

and

reward.

Graceful

is how we grow in life

in faith,

in wonder,

in delight,

in the fear of the Lord.

STOP

My husband inadvertently interrupted me, so this might have gone about 1 minute over the time…

Filed Under: 5 Minute Friday, personal journey, Writing

Quiet for the Weekend – September 7-9, 2012

September 8, 2012 By Diana

“And God rode upon the wings of a cherub, and flew.

He flew upon the wings of the wind.

He made darkness his secret place,

his canopy around him was dark waters

and thick clouds of the skies.

From the brightness before him,

his thick clouds passed with hailstones and coals of fire.”

– Psalm 18:10-12

“It’s wonderful to climb the liquid mountains of the sky.

Behind me and before me is God and I have no fears.”

– Helen Keller

“The sky is the daily bread of the eyes.”

– Ralph Waldo Emerson

“Excuse me while I kiss the sky.”

– Jimi Hendrix

“Clouds come floating into my life,

no longer to carry rain or usher storm,

but to add color to my sunset sky.”

– Rabindranath Tagore

“i thank you God for this most amazing day,

for the leaping, greenly spirits of trees,

and for the blue dream of sky,

and for everything which is natural,

which is infinite,

which is yes.”

– e.e. cummings

Hoping your weekend is blessed in very way and that the sky invites you into glory and praise.

Joining with Sandy and Deidra in their spaces for beauty and stillness:

Filed Under: God's gifts, Quiet for the Weekend, worship

Entering the Home Stretch. . . A New Place to Write

September 6, 2012 By Diana

This is where I am who I am – in the middle of my family.

With my partner of almost 47 years, our three adult children and their partners,

and our eight grandchildren, ranging in age from 2 to 21 years of age.

I found an invitation in my email inbox last week.

One that surprised me, pleased me and humbled me.

One of my favorite ‘found’ websites, in these 18-20 months of

exploration, reading, commenting and blog-writing,

is called A Deeper Story: Tales of Christ and Culture.

A variety of people write monthly essays there on a wide variety of topics.

They don’t always agree with one another,

they don’t always write things with which I agree.

But they always write things that I value –

honest, searching posts,

filled with questions,

reflections on the beauties and the pain of life,

honest admissions of failure,

invitations to re-think old patterns and prejudices.

About a week ago, there was a cryptic remark on Facebook

about changes coming to this site.

That made me nervous.

Then I read a little further,

and I saw that there was going to be MORE

rather than less of what I loved.

The invitation I got was to become a part of that more.

A Deeper Story is now a 3-channel website.

The original tribe continues to write under the original banner,

with the creative and capable leadership of

dreamer-extraordinaire, Nish Weiseth,

and two new groups have been added to the flagship –

A Deeper Church,

edited by Seth Haines.

And

A Deeper Family,

edited by Megan Tietz,

co-author of my favorite new book on parenting

entitled, “Spirit-Led Parenting:

From Fear to Freedom in Baby’s First Year.”

(I’ve given away three copies so far!)

My surprise invitation came from Megan at A Deeper Family.

Since I am undoubtedly a complete stranger to most of this site’s readers, I decided to try and introduce myself with my first monthly contribution.

And the essay you’ll find there today is what

came to me when I tried to think about

who I am right now,

at the age I am,

the stage I am,

the place I am.

I am entering the home stretch,

and this is how I hope (I pray!)

this last part of the journey plays itself out…

You can read it by clicking here, right here on this line.

I’d be honored if you click over and read. . .

Filed Under: Guest Post, personal journey, Writing

An African Journey: Post Four – An African Wedding

September 5, 2012 By Diana

At our wedding reception in December of 1965,
one of my husband’s oldest friends and his wife stood in line, shook our hands, wished us well, and jokingly said,

“Hey! Maybe we’ll see you in Africa!”

Ray and Dick were born just a few days apart and ‘met’ at the church their parents attended when they were infants.

They went to high school together and were part of a group of guys who kept connected through college and beyond.
Finding out that they were thinking about

traveling around the world the same time we were?

Astoundingly good news!

And that’s exactly what happened, eight months later.

Only their location was a little more in flux than ours,

we traveled on different ships,

and we weren’t at all sure where they would end up

once we all got there.

As it turned out, for the first few months,

they were housed at a mission station in the bush, about 40 miles away from us. To get there required driving on this dirt road,

the same corrugated dirt road that we traveled

nearly two years later when I went into labor.

There were villages located all through this area,

and all of the people who lived in them walked or rode their bikes to the mission for two primary reasons:

to receive quality medical care or

to get married in the chapel.

Every few weeks, we would drive out that road

to see how our friends were doing.

Or they would come charging into Choma,

often on the motorcycle they bought their first week there.

Their presence was a huge gift to us. Huge.

This was the small rondaval they called home for those months. It was one room, with a corrugated tin roof and an outhouse.

And you may remember how we lived . . .

in a stucco and brick house, with three bedrooms and indoor plumbing.

Plus, we had electricity about 80% of the time.

And yes, we did feel more than a little guilty about

encouraging them to come on this adventure.

They both wanted to teach school,

so while they waited for an assignment,

they lived at Macha Mission.

Ray managed this workroom, and used his considerable mechanical gifts to repair all kinds of things.

Anita made herself useful wherever she could and was

so delighted when they rigged up cooking equipment in their small home.

Prior to that, they had to eat in the main house,

with a tribe of other workers.

Once in a while, that kind of community is a grand thing – if everyone is moderately compatible and easy-going.

But three meals a day, seven days a week?

It can be tough sledding.

In about our third month there, we had a true adventure together.

There was a wedding at Macha – and we were invited!

The wedding was scheduled for about 10:00 a.m.,

but didn’t begin until a little after noon.

Why?

Because in Zambia, it was customary for the groom

to purchase the attire for the bride.

This groom didn’t have a clue about sizing and the dress

he selected for his small wife-to-be was about four sizes too big.

The entire mission staff was busily trying to make adjustments

so that this girl could come down the aisle.

Many safety pins and an improvised cummerbund later

(made from a cloth diaper) – and, voila!

It worked and somehow the wedding happened.

Some western traditions were incorporated – like the clothes and the attendants. But one custom was entirely Tongan:

the bride never looked up, never smiled. Ever.

This was the most important and serious day of her life

and she was not supposed to make light of it in any way.

And she did not.

Following the ceremony, we were invited to the feast held in celebration of the new family – at the groom’s village.

The women had been cooking for hours,

gifts had been gathered,

and the couple’s new hut had been officially decorated . . .

by the groom, with new clothing, fabric and other gifts for his lovely bride.

We drove over a bike path, then a cow path, then through a small stream, where we had to get out and push the Kombi-bus. The bride and groom hitched a ride with us, however, so we knew the party couldn’t begin until we got there.

The houses in the village were made of mud bricks, the roofs thatch. The smaller structures were grain storage bins because the staple food for this entire region is ensima, a porridge made from ground field corn. Every village kept a ready supply of the tough kernels in these small, raised huts, out of the reach of hungry warthogs and wandering cattle.

In the morning, ensima is served thin, gruel-style.

For meals later in the day, it is quite stiff and usually served with a relish – most often vegetables, but on special occasions, chicken or beef.

This was a special occasion and there was chicken cooking in the pots!

Meals were cooked communally and sometimes eaten together,

sometimes in smaller family units.

On this day, we were ushered into the groom’s hut and food was brought to us.

We felt overwhelmed and embarrassed by so much special attention,

but had been told ahead of time what to expect

and to just receive this hospitality for the lovely gift it was.

The groom’s hut was not quite as large as this one and did not have windows,

but it was cozy and welcoming.

As I recall, I was not feeling at all well that day, but I was determined not to miss this once-in-a-lifetime experience!

You can just barely see that the groom has a good supply of both sugar and hand soap – high on the list of desirable products to own.

They brought us so.much.food – stiff corn meal mush and some stewed chicken to go with it. And we loved the enamel ware bowls it came in!

This was the view looking out the door of the groom’s hut,

just a snapshot of village life.

After everyone had eaten their fill, the party began.

There was dancing,

and there was singing,

and there was gift-giving.

Each gift would be danced up to the couple –

a five-pound bag of sugar,

a box of tea,

a bar of soap or a box of soap flakes.

Everyone was delighted to be there and showered this

couple with love and generosity.

About six weeks after this remarkable adventure,

Ray and Anita were moved 500 miles south of us

to one of the oldest mission stations of the denomination.

It was located in the beautiful, rocky landscape of the Matopos hills in what was then Rhodesia, now Zimbabwe.

Getting together got a lot more complicated.

We thanked God for the steam train and made the effort, however.
And we got to see some gorgeous country in the process.

This is the school where Ray and Anita taught for nearly two years. They had indoor plumbing and generated electricity during daylight hours. They loved their students and made some long-time friends in this place.

Whenever we visited, they took us sight-seeing.

And there were such beautiful sights to see.

They came back to Zambia to visit us, too.

We celebrated birthdays and anniversaries together when we could, laughing and enjoying the long threads of our shared history.

Anita was one of the greatest friends of my life.

She taught me how to cook, how to laugh,

how to enjoy life.

She died one month before I began my life in Santa Barbara

and I have missed her ever since.

Ray was skilled at so many things and so generous with those skills!

He and Dick shared many years of close friendship.

After we returned to the States,

our families gathered every New Year’s Eve and Day,

and vacationed together several times.

Those ties were begun here,

in our bright red kitchen and their hilltop adobe home.

Ties that connected us heart to heart,

soul to soul.

Sharing such life-changing experiences binds people

in ways that are hard to describe or define.

But I am eternally grateful for all of it –

the experiences,

the ties,

the friendship.

I am so very glad we had this cross-cultural

adventure when we were young,

but I find that what I miss now that I am not-so-young is

not the adventure itself, but that sense of long history with heart-friends.

It has never been replicated in our lives.

And as I look at these old pictures,

as I read the letters I sent home,

it is this connection that I miss the most.

There simply is no substitute for it.

Thank you, Ray and Anita, for loving us well

and sharing our lives for so many years.

I miss you.

I will join this at Jennifer’s and at Emily’s and at Duane’s places. Also with Laura Boggess and with Michelle and Jen and the SDG:

Filed Under: An African Journey, death, friendship. personal journey, God's gifts, personal journey, Photo Essay, Travel

A Photo Essay: Quiet for the Weekend – August 31-September 2, 2012

September 1, 2012 By Diana

It’s been a strange sort of week.

‘Found time,’ here at home,

time we thought we’d be traveling –

but we’re not.

So we got to extend our days with our

youngest granddaughter by a couple of weeks,

and that was sweet.

Next Wednesday, she begins pre-school.

We took time to plan vacations for next year,

always a fun thing to do.

But communication with the agent got a little dicey

and we weren’t sure why.

Everything worked out in the end;

it generally does.

Yesterday, we went to see “The Odd Life of Timothy Green,”

and found it quirky and sweet.

And then the projector blew up about 2/3 of the way through.

Say what?

We got a couple of free theater tickets out of it,

but still . . .

So we had an early dinner at a nearby

cheap-o place that turned out to be pretty good,

and we shopped at Costco, to prepare

for the thundering herd (in the nicest possible way!)

that will descend on us for the holiday weekend.

It was 7:00 p.m. and the sky was unusually pretty,

so I turned the car right instead of left as we drove out of the parking lot, and headed to Isla Vista – the crazy college community that isn’t quite crazy yet,

as UCSB hasn’t begun their fall semester.

There was a good place to park, so I grabbed it,

reached in the back seat for my camera bag,

and headed out onto the bluffs,

just as the sun was beginning its last

sinking, saturating radiance,

and the blue moon was starting its ascendency.

And I walked.

And I looked.

And I breathed.

Every once in a while,

I stopped to take a picture

to exclaim over the beauty all around,

and to say, ‘Thank you’ to the One who made it all.

Come along with me, won’t you?

(By the way, I have no idea what all those multi-colored small flags mean,

but they were pretty and whimsical in their own right, so I took their picture.

And I have to say that just scrolling through these pictures makes me say ‘Thank You’ over and over again. I cannot begin to put into words how grateful I am to live where I do.)

And these words from scripture jumped out at

me as I reflected on this experience today,

the day after all that confusion – and all that beauty.

Because someday, all that we see now as

spectacular,

glorious,

breath-taking,

and life-giving

will pale in comparison to the LIGHT

that will overwhelm and bedazzle us on the Day of the LORD.

“No longer will violence be heard in your land,

nor ruin or destruction within your borders,