god – Joy in the Journey

In God’s economy… no in-between???

I was in my late twenties when our good friend’s father was killed in a car accident. And yet the way in which that news was conveyed has been indelibly seared on my heart and mind…

My husband and I, along with our friend and several others, had been camping over the weekend. When we stopped at Christina’s to drop her off, her father told all of us to come inside. We gathered in a circle in the dining room, unsure of what was going on.

Her father then looked intently at each of us and asked each of us in turn, “Are you ready to die?”

Gulp. I’d never been asked that before! I fumbled before saying that yes, I think so. After all, isn’t that the “correct” response for a Christ follower?! Shouldn’t we always be ready/not be afraid to die because of knowing that it means being eternally with God in heaven? In any case…

He then shared a verse from the Bible that instructs us to “number our days, that we may cultivate and bring to God a heart of wisdom” (Psalm 90:12, Amplified Bible ).

After several minutes of subdued silence — letting those words sink in — he told us that our friend’s father had been killed several hours earlier in a car accident.

Fast forward forty-some years… and another person, someone I’ve never even met but who has been one of my brother and sister-in-law’s dearest friends, has died. Not from a car accident, but in a bizarre, tragic turn of events: he contracted an infection after accidentally cutting himself on a dumpster as he threw out the trash.

The past two weeks, ever since being asked to pray, my heart has been wrenched with each update, each a harbinger of news that I fervently wished would be positive… but became increasingly negative. Increasingly devoid of hope.

And then… yesterday afternoon…

Bill passed into the loving arms of his Savior at 3:10 pm today. He was surrounded by family.

This morning, as I was journaling, I found myself wondering why I was so affected by all of this. Maybe it’s because of this stage of life… In my twenties (and the next few decades) it was our parents’ friends who were dying… but now… we’re that generation. Now it’s people our age or younger, as was Bill.

My husband and I talked about this in-between time we’re currently in and what it means to “cultivate and bring to God a heart of wisdom.” And I’m beginning to see how in God’s economy, there actually is NO in-between time.

It seems that learning to “number my days” encompasses learning to live wisely. Making the most of each day, living it to its fullest. Being intentional in using and investing the gifts God has entrusted to me. Seeing each day as a gift and not one to be squandered away by wallowing in the past or being obsessed by the future, which is filled with unknowns that can only sidetrack me from undivided attention to the NOW.

Yes, my heart aches for this dear family who are in the throes of grieving and navigating life without their dear husband and father. And yet I’m personally thankful for the wake-up call that has reminded me to “number [my] days, that [I] may cultivate and bring to God a heart of wisdom.” If there is to be any joy in the journey of this thing called “Life!” then that, dear friends, is how it will be achieved.

Laundry therapy?!?

I’m not exactly sure how it came about, but for some reason, I LOVE hanging laundry on a clothesline outdoors. Maybe it’s a nostalgia thing… conjuring up memories of growing up in a rural setting, helping my mom hang the laundry outside on bright summer days and then racing to get it inside when an unexpected shower threatened to drench the almost-dry clothes.

And so recently, when the maintenance guy at the temporary place where we’re living restrung clotheslines that had been pulled down in last winter’s snow/ice storm, I was VERY happy.

Laundry flapping in a summer breeze… my “laundry therapy.” Bliss.

It’s funny how “little” things make a difference. Can be a morale booster. Can go by unnoticed by most people, but be of significance to others.

My laundry therapy has been instrumental in becoming more comfortable in this in-between time we’re currently in. Plus getting back into some good routines (like joining a gym, which enables me to swim regularly). Plus recognizing more fully how music is often a balm to my soul. A seemingly “little” thing, and yet something God often uses to connect my head and heart to the truth of His Word.

“Oceans” by Hillsong United (https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=uZ75yIP1t0w&si=k4aDZs5HD8opgXWN) is one of those songs God has been using recently. It’s meaningful to me on several counts:

* Having grown up near the Atlantic Ocean, I’m a bona fide lover of all things related to the sea! Hence, the song name alone draws me in to wanting to hear and know more!

* “Oceans” is one of my good friend’s favorites– and so every time I hear it I’m transported back to when our paths first crossed in Thailand — and how our friendship continues to grow and deepen now that we’re both on the same continent.

* The words resonate with my soul.

You call me out upon the waters
The great unknown where feet may fail
And there I find You in the mystery
In oceans deep my faith will stand

Chorus: And I will call upon Your name
And keep my eyes above the waves
When oceans rise
My soul will rest in Your embrace
For I am Yours, You are mine

Your grace abounds in deepest waters
Your sovereign hand will be my guide
Where feet may fail and fear surrounds me
You’ve never failed and You won’t start now

Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders
Let me walk upon the waters
Wherever You would call me
Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander
And my faith will be made stronger
In the presence of my Saviour

Yes, God has called my husband and me to a “great unknown,” a place where our “feet sometimes may fail.” And yet IN that mystery, IN the depths of the unknown our “faith will stand.” Why??? How???

Not because we have some extraordinary faith… but because of WHO our faith is in. Because we’re endeavoring to keep our eyes fixed above the waves, above the challenges and uncertainties, above what’s comfortable and familiar.

We’re choosing — at least on our good days! — to call upon God. To trust in HIM wholeheartedly, to try not to figure everything out with our own understanding, to acknowledge HIM in all our ways. In all we seek to do. In all the decisions we need to make.

We’re learning to “rest in His embrace.” Because we’re His. We’re His children, and He’s our loving Father.

Yes, we’re learning. Yes, we have good days and hard ones. Discouraging days when one or the other of us loses perspective. Frustrating days when we get tired of the holding pattern we’re in.

And yet we’re asking God to “lead us where our trust knows no borders.” Where our trust is refined and doesn’t have any “what if’s” or “but’s” or “why’s” attached. We want our faith to grow stronger… and we know that that happens “in the presence of our Saviour.”

… and that our faith grows one step at a time. One choice at a time.

So we do not lose heart…. for this light and momentary [challenge] is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look NOT TO THINGS THAT ARE SEEN BUT TO THE THINGS THAT ARE UNSEEN. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.

– 2 Corinthians 4: 16-18

Back to my “laundry therapy…”

I’ve never “seen” the breeze that causes my laundry to dance on the clothesline. And yet the gentle flapping of laundry in the wind transforms wet clothing to dry.

Trusting in something unseen. Something that yields results. Something that is completely independent from my efforts. Something totally out of my control.

Something accomplished by my Heavenly Father.

And so that — remembering to trust in God, remembering that “His sovereign hand will be my guide,” remembering that “You [God] have never failed and You won’t start now” — is how I’m wanting to live during this in-between time. And that is how I’ll have joy in the journey of this thing called “Life!”

Living in the in-between…

Too blah to blog.

That pretty much sums up where I’ve been the past days… weeks.

We anticipated this would happen. After all, we’ve now been in our home country seven months. Initially, there was all the hubbub surrounding leaving — leaving not only our home for almost eleven years, but also our lives as expats. We’d lived overseas almost 47 years, and so returning “home” was fraught with a myriad of emotions.

Then there was the excitement of Christmas with family, followed by both our kids joining us in our temporary home the beginning of the New Year. That, in and of itself, was something we don’t take for granted, because until our move the four of us had lived on three different continents. Now it’s only two.

Then we took off on a nine-week road trip. An incredible time of reconnecting with family and friends. Of getting reacquainted with our home country. Of “ooing “and “ahhing” our way from coast to coast. Of marveling at the beauty of God’s creation.

And now…

Now we’re living in the in-between. We’re neither settled here — in our temporary home — nor do we know what our next steps are.

This in-between place is

awkward. Do we start building relationships here? building community? Or do we distance ourselves, knowing that by the end of the year (hopefully!) we’ll be moving elsewhere? This is so “not me” to not be intentional in reaching out to others! I’m in this weird limbo-land of wanting to do one thing and yet feeling paralyzed to do the opposite. Plus… how do I talk about our past lives — like when we lived in Austria and the closest beach was Italy — without sounding like I’m bragging? It’d be the equivalent of someone who lives in Memphis wanting to go to Myrtle Beach, which doesn’t sound so strange, right?! Or the fact that we visited over one hundred people on our road trip? That’s normal for folks like us who have lived and served overseas our entire adult lives, but I’m realizing is hard for a lot of people to relate to.
confusing. Some days I’m doing fine. Other days I’m discouraged, disheartened. Some days I want to embrace this season of ambiguity. Other days I’m yearning for the familiar, for a sense of belonging. A sense of purpose.
perplexing. I’m still shaking my head, unable to fathom that I fell for an advertising gimmick on Facebook and bought a bunch of laundry and dryer sheets that I really didn’t need… and paid more than I probably should have. I’ve always been so skeptical of that sort of thing. I remember my dear mother buying a super-duper vacuum cleaner/carpet cleaner that some salesman convinced her would be ideal. Once my siblings and I found out we were aghast, especially when we saw that it was too heavy and cumbersome for her to maneuver. What happened to our sensible mother?! And now… I fell for a similar ploy.
baffling. My identity — who I am, not what I do — is something you’d think would be indelibly and confidently settled at this stage of life, and yet it’s been fraught with questions like where do I fit in? what’s my niche? does so-and-so have time for me in their lives… or is their “friend quotient” filled? how do we reintegrate with others when they’re not accustomed to having us around for holidays and birthdays and other celebrations?

“It’s not so much that we’re afraid of change or so in love with the old ways, but it’s that place in between that we fear … It’s like being between trapezes. It’s Linus when his blanket is in the dryer. There’s nothing to hold on to.”

—Marilyn Ferguson as quoted in https://www.traininternational.org/blog/blog-post-bridge-of-transition

Yep. This in-between place is like being stuck between trapezes. One side is safe. Comfortable. Familiar. The other is potentially exhilarating. Fresh.

… and yet terrifying. It demands letting go. Trusting. Looking ahead, not back. Refusing to listen to doubts, questions. Refusing to second-guess oneself.

I was reading a few days ago about a man and his family who made a major, cross-cultural move several centuries ago. They left a large city for a place where they were supposed to receive an inheritance. And yet as they left, they really didn’t know where they were going.

Sounds familiar to where my husband and I are these days!

As this man and his family were on their way to this yet-unknown destination, they encountered a “divinely orchestrated pause.” His father died, which I would imagine compounded the sense of loss they were already feeling having been uprooted from everything that was familiar. They temporarily settled in an important city on an ancient trade route, and yet its inhabitants embraced pagan lunar worship, which was diametrically opposed to the faith and practices of this man and his family.

On a positive note, this “detour” enabled them to accumulate possessions and servants (which was common back then). It forced them to choose between the gods of this idolatrous city and the God they had always worshipped.

But it wasn’t the only detour as they journeyed to their final destination. Later, they had to go to another country because of a famine…

Living in the in-between...

This story made me stop and think: what might be some of the advantages of this in-between time for me? for us as a couple? How might it help to refine my beliefs? Am I willing to let go of those things that may be holding me back from embracing our unknown future? Am I open to anywhere, anytime (regarding our move) — or am I dictating my own destination, setting my own timeline?

Back to the family in this story… The main character was a man named Abraham. He made it into the “Hall of Faith” of the Bible… not because he did everything perfectly, not because he had some great plan. But because “by faith he lived as a foreigner in the promised land, as in a strange land, living in tents [as nomads]… for he was [waiting expectantly and confidently] looking forward to the city which has foundations, whose architect and builder is God (Hebrews 11:9-10, the Amplified Bible).

That’s the bottom line: living by faith, which is “the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen” (Hebrews 11:11) It’s what will enable me — enable us — to let go of one trapeze bar so that I — we — can make it to the other side. It’s that intangible sense that even being stuck in the in-between can be a divinely orchestrated pause, one in which God refines, directs, renews. Refreshes. Yes, even refreshes.

And clinging to that, dear friends, is what will enable all of us to have joy in the journey of this thing called “Life!”

To read more about this story, see Genesis chapter 12 (Old Testament of the Bible)

Road trip!!!

Since we haven’t lived in our home country for a LONG time, my husband and I decided to go on a road trip… one that would enable us to reconnect with family and friends who are scattered from literally one coast to the other — and lots of places in-between.

We’ve been on the road for three weeks now, and the past few days we’ve “oohed” and “ahhed” our way from Colorado to Idaho and now to Montana. The scenery is breathtaking. Awe inspiring. Overwhelming at times. My attempts to capture what my eyes are drinking in are futile — and yet I keep snapping away on my phone’s camera, trying to digitally record the sights.

With so many hours in the car, we’ve had a lot of time to talk. To listen to music. To simply stare out the window. We even started listening to War and Peace, a novel neither of us had read but figured the 60+ hours of narration would help to pass the time, especially on some of the long stretches of highway we’ve been on.

As we’ve been driving, I’ve tried to imagine what the world looked like when it was first created. When it was perfect, unmarred by human negligence. Untainted by greed. Unspoiled by buildings and traffic. To me, even the imperfections I see are stunning in their beauty.

I wondered out loud what God must think when we take time to marvel at His creation. Does it bring Him joy? Does He expect us to notice what He made? Does it hurt Him to see what a mess we’ve made of things due to littering, pollution, overpopulation, taking advantage of this habitat in which we live?

My husband’s response surprised me. Made me think.

He used an analogy of someone painting or sculpting or building or writing or knitting something. Something the person put a lot of time, energy, and effort into. Something that reflects the person’s heart, interests, intentions.

And no one notices.

No one takes the time to see — really see — what was created.

No one appreciates the effort, the skill, the love that motivated the project.

Instead… the painting was destroyed. The sculpture broken. The building torn down. The writing trashed. The knitting unraveled.

No one acknowledged the maker.

God’s Word (aka the Bible) talks about how the heavens themselves declare or proclaim His craftsmanship, the work of His hands (Psalm 19:1). How He has displayed His splendor, His majesty, which is higher than the heavens (Psalm 8:1)!

When I look out the window of the home where we’re staying, I see snow-covered mountains. And I am reminded of Psalm 121…

I look up to the mountains — does my help come from there? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth!

Yep! This is quite the road trip! But one in which I’m daily being reminded that there’s a God who intentionally has made this world in which I live. A God who knows all that is happening in our world — and isn’t surprised. A God who has a plan for you and for me — a plan that ultimately is for good, His good and mine.

And that, my friends, brings me joy in the journey of this thing called “Life!”

The missing lyrics…

photo credit and license: Computer Gremlin by Larry Wentzel

Aaarrgh…. I’m beginning to think there is a gremlin living in my laptop! The lyrics to “Thank You for This Year” by Elohim Songs that I thought had been in yesterday’s post somehow mysteriously disappeared from the email version that was sent. Two failed attempts… so here goes number three… but hopefully, as the saying goes, “the third time’s a charm.”

Thank You, thank You Lord

Thank You for this year.

For every morning that I woke

for every breath, for every hope

for all the blessings I could see

and those you gave invisibly

for answered prayers and those still held

for stories written, stories yet to tell

for laughter shared and tears You dried

thank You, Lord, for this year’s ride.

Through the highs and through the lows

through the joys and through the woes

You were there in every way

so I lift my voice today…

Thank You for this year

for every moment, every tear…

for holding me close, so near…

for blessings seen and unseen…

for everything it’s been

for friends who walked beside me here

for family held both far and near

for open doors and lessons learned

for every bridge that You have burned

for strength when I had none to give

for grace that taught me how to live

for second chances, fresh new starts

thank You, Lord, with all my heart.

You’ve been so good to me this year

Your faithfulness so crystal clear

I can’t keep silent anymore

my gratitude is overflowing more…

For trials that became my strength

for waiting seasons, perfect length

for disappointments turned to gold

for stories only You could mold

for healings, breakthroughs, victories won

for battles fought, for races run

for quiet mercies every day

thank You, Lord, in every way.

How can I thank You enough?

For all You’ve done, for all Your love?

My words fall short but still I say

Thank You, Lord, thank You today.

For January’s hope

for December’s grace

for every month between

I’ve seen Your faithful face

for Spring’s new life, for Summer’s warmth

for Autumn’s change, for Winter’s calm

every season bore Your mark.

You’ve been faithful from the start…

Thank You for three hundred sixty-five

Thank You for keeping me alive

for every sunrise

for every sunset

for every moment

I won’t forget

Thank You for all You’ve done!

My heart is full!

My cup runs over

with thanksgiving…

Thank You for Your presence

Thank You for Your guidance

Thank You for Your mercy

Thank You for Your love.

As this year comes to a gentle close

I count the blessings, everyone I know

not because my life was perfect,

free from pain

but because through it all, You remained.

Thank You for this year

every high and low

…. for helping me to grow

Thank You for this year

and for the year to come…

— lyrics from “Thank You for This Year” by Elohim Songs

Goodbye 2025… Hello 2026!!!

I happened upon a new song — released December 27th — that expresses a lot of what is on my heart these days…

Thank You, thank You Lord

Thank You for this year.

For every morning that I woke

for every breath, for every hope

for all the blessings I could see

and those you gave invisibly

for answered prayers and those still held

for stories written, stories yet to tell

for laughter shared and tears You dried

thank You, Lord, for this year’s ride.

Through the highs and through the lows

through the joys and through the woes

You were there in every way

so I lift my voice today…

Thank You for this year

for every moment, every tear…

for holding me close, so near…

for blessings seen and unseen…

for everything it’s been

for friends who walked beside me here

for family held both far and near

for open doors and lessons learned

for every bridge that You have burned

for strength when I had none to give

for grace that taught me how to live

for second chances, fresh new starts

thank You, Lord, with all my heart.

You’ve been so good to me this year

Your faithfulness so crystal clear

I can’t keep silent anymore

my gratitude is overflowing more…

For trials that became my strength

for waiting seasons, perfect length

for disappointments turned to gold

for stories only You could mold

for healings, breakthroughs, victories won

for battles fought, for races run

for quiet mercies every day

thank You, Lord, in every way.

How can I thank You enough?

For all You’ve done, for all Your love?

My words fall short but still I say

Thank You, Lord, thank You today.

For January’s hope

for December’s grace

for every month between

I’ve seen Your faithful face

for Spring’s new life, for Summer’s warmth

for Autumn’s change, for Winter’s calm

every season bore Your mark.

You’ve been faithful from the start…

Thank You for three hundred sixty-five

Thank You for keeping me alive

for every sunrise

for every sunset

for every moment

I won’t forget

Thank You for all You’ve done!

My heart is full!

My cup runs over

with thanksgiving…

Thank You for Your presence

Thank You for Your guidance

Thank You for Your mercy

Thank You for Your love.

As this year comes to a gentle close

I count the blessings, everyone I know

not because my life was perfect,

free from pain

but because through it all, You remained.

Thank You for this year

every high and low

…. for helping me to grow

Thank You for this year

and for the year to come…

— lyrics from “Thank You for This Year” by Elohim Songs

Yes, like the songwriter I have a lot to be thankful for as we say goodbye to 2025 and welcome 2026. In the joys and pains, the victories and failures, the straight paths and crooked ones God can be trusted. May you be encouraged as you reflect on what He has done in the past and look expectantly to what He will do in the future…. and together, we can have joy in the journey of this thing called “Life!”

Unfortunately, I was unable to embed this, but you can listen to the song on YouTube or Spotify.

Goodbye 2025… Hello 2026!!!

I happened upon a new song — released December 27th — that expresses a lot of what is on my heart these days…

Thank You, thank You Lord

Thank You for this year.

For every morning that I woke

for every breath, for every hope

for all the blessings I could see

and those you gave invisibly

for answered prayers and those still held

for stories written, stories yet to tell

for laughter shared and tears You dried

thank You, Lord, for this year’s ride.

Through the highs and through the lows

through the joys and through the woes

You were there in every way

so I lift my voice today…

Thank You for this year

for every moment, every tear…

for holding me close, so near…

for blessings seen and unseen…

for everything it’s been

for friends who walked beside me here

for family held both far and near

for open doors and lessons learned

for every bridge that You have burned

for strength when I had none to give

for grace that taught me how to live

for second chances, fresh new starts

thank You, Lord, with all my heart.

You’ve been so good to me this year

Your faithfulness so crystal clear

I can’t keep silent anymore

my gratitude is overflowing more…

For trials that became my strength

for waiting seasons, perfect length

for disappointments turned to gold

for stories only You could mold

for healings, breakthroughs, victories won

for battles fought, for races run

for quiet mercies every day

thank You, Lord, in every way.

How can I thank You enough?

For all You’ve done, for all Your love?

My words fall short but still I say

Thank You, Lord, thank You today.

For January’s hope

for December’s grace

for every month between

I’ve seen Your faithful face

for Spring’s new life, for Summer’s warmth

for Autumn’s change, for Winter’s calm

every season bore Your mark.

You’ve been faithful from the start…

Thank You for three hundred sixty-five

Thank You for keeping me alive

for every sunrise

for every sunset

for every moment

I won’t forget

Thank You for all You’ve done!

My heart is full!

My cup runs over

with thanksgiving…

Thank You for Your presence

Thank You for Your guidance

Thank You for Your mercy

Thank You for Your love.

As this year comes to a gentle close

I count the blessings, everyone I know

not because my life was perfect,

free from pain

but because through it all, You remained.

Thank You for this year

every high and low

…. for helping me to grow

Thank You for this year

and for the year to come…

— lyrics from “Thank You for This Year” by Elohim Songs

Unfortunately, I was unable to embed this, but you can listen to the song on YouTube or Spotify.

Fare thee well…

photo credit: http://www.postermywall.com

Well, we made it. My husband and I have been back in our home country a week now. Moving from the tropics to a wintry climate, exchanging flip flops and shorts for multiple layers and yet still being cold… it’s an adjustment to be sure! A crackling fire on the TV screen gives the illusion of warmth and coziness. But hey, I’ll do anything I can to fool my body into thinking I’m warm!

The past two months have been a whirlwind of goodbyes, closing out bank and internet and phone accounts, selling our car, rehoming most of our possessions so that we could travel with only four suitcases (three of the four being overweight, but thankfully the airlines were gracious!), scurrying to be all done with packing and moving so that we could have our “boat days….”

When I took time a couple of days ago to reflect on all that has transpired, I realized that our current physical tiredness is partly due to jet lag — after all, there’s a twelve-hour time difference from where we lived to where we now are! But probably more of the exhaustion comes from fatigue. Decision-fatigue. Moving-fatigue. Goodbye-fatigue.

In other words, emotionally draining stuff.

Back in August I wrote about the importance of building a R.A.F.T. (see link below) The acronym refers to key elements to leaving a place well so that one can enter the next place well.

R = Reconciliation: making sure relationships are right.
A = Affirmation: acknowledging what others have said or done to encourage us, to help make our stay here meaningful.
F = Farewells: saying goodbye to people, places, possessions… AND allowing others to “farewell” you.
T = Think destination: thinking about what happens next.

My husband, who is an introvert and behind-the-scenes type of guy, wasn’t so sure about the farewell stuff. I didn’t nag or pressure him — really! He saw that it was important to me, and so acquiesced. Two events in particular ended up being a huge encouragement to both of us… and helped us to see the value of being “farewelled.” Those events provided a sense of closure to a major chapter in our lives. They helped us to say goodbye. To prepare mentally and emotionally for this next chapter. To leave well.

This made me wonder… are there any farewells in the Bible??? What, if any, similarities do they have with what we’ve experienced? What can I learn from their example?

When Moses was nearing the end of his life, his parting words to his protege Joshua were…

Be strong and courageous.

Do not fear or be in dread of [the people of the land he was going to conquer],

for it is the Lord your God who goes with you.

He will not leave you or forsake you.

— Deuteronomy 31: 6

When King David’s time to die drew near, he said to his son Solomon…

Be strong….

keep the charge of the Lord your God, walking in His ways and keeping His statutes, His commandments. His rules, His testimonies…

— I Kings 2: 2-3

After Jesus’ death and resurrection, He appeared to His disciples before ascending into heaven and said to them…

All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me.

Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you.

And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age.

— Matthew 28: 18-20

These farewells included…

encouragement to be strong… to be courageous
encouragement to not be afraid
a reminder that God would be with them… they wouldn’t be alone… He would never leave them or forsake them… He would be with them forever
instructions on how to live life according to God’s plans and ways

Yep. Farewells are important. They’re an integral part of life. They help us as we move from one country to another; from one job situation to another; from one season of life to another. From the familiar to the unknown.

We’re not sure what this new chapter of life will look like for us… but we ARE sure that we are not going it alone. That God is with us and will be guiding us. That He’s rooting for us and encouraging us to be strong, to be courageous, to not be afraid.

We’re ever so grateful that we have His Word — the Bible — to instruct us on how to live life according to His plans and ways. And that, dear friends, is how we’ll have joy in the journey of this thing called “Life!”

It’s time to build a R.A.F.T.

Empty shoes…

They were the first thing I saw when we returned to my parents’ home from the hospital. Returned home from sitting vigil with my dad the final hours before his death. Returned home to an eerie emptiness that sucked the life out of me.

Daddy’s empty shoes.

I remember the surreal feeling in the hospital parking lot with my mom, brother, and sister. We had said our final goodbyes. Signed all the necessary papers. Zombie-like, we walked in silence to the car.

I remember feeling like the world as I had known it had ceased. There was a disconnect when seeing others laughing, smiling, continuing on with life as though nothing had happened. Nothing earth-shattering HAD happened in their worlds, but in mine… April 25th would never again be “just another day.” It would forever be the day my Daddy died.

That was over twenty years ago, and yet recently I’ve been grappling with similar emotions.

We’ve been counting down from 100 days until our departure from Thailand. Forty-two days until we leave this place that has been home for almost eleven years. Forty-two days before moving to our home country. Forty-two days until we are no longer “expats living abroad,” which has been part of our identity since 1979.

We’re in that surreal in-between time of disengaging from life here before re-engaging in another country, our “home” country. It’s strange to be with friends as they talk about plans for the upcoming Christmas season — realizing we won’t be here to go to the Christmas markets (always a great place to find unique, homemade gifts), watch the play a local theater group puts on each year, attend our church’s Christmas breakfast and service, take in a special holiday concert. It’s strange to realize we will no longer be a part of normal life here.

Yep. Life goes on.

Without us.

This is, of course, natural. OK. It happens! But just like my dad’s death, the finality associated with any kind of change means loss. And loss necessitates that it be acknowledged. And grieved.

I’ve been spending quite a bit of time lately reading and meditating on Psalm 121. Six times in this short psalm the word “keeps/keeper” is used:

… He who keeps you will not slumber.

…. He who keeps Israel with neither slumber nor sleep.

… The Lord is your keeper…

… The Lord will keep you from all evil;

… He will keep your life.

… The Lord will keep your going out and your coming in from this time forth and forevermore.

When something is repeated frequently it makes me wonder why. What’s the significance of the word “keeper/keeps”?

“Keep,” in this context, comes from the Hebrew “shamar.” It has the idea of guarding, watching over, attending to carefully.

What an encouragement to me at this stage of our journey to be reminded that my God is guarding me, watching over me, attending carefully to me. He never gets tired. He never sleeps. He’s ever attentive and wants to protect me. He knows my comings and goings — both here and elsewhere. He is with me in ALL of the uncertainties, the changes, the challenges I face.

As I’ve been doing the “100-day countdown,” I’ve been listing things I’m going to miss living here in the tropics and things I’m looking forward to as we move to our home country (see blog post below where I first shared this idea). What’s been happening lately is that several things in the “miss” column have had their flip-side in the “looking forward to” column. For example, missing routine is paired with looking forward to reestablishing routine; missing familiarity with looking forward to eventually having things be familiar again — with an emphasis on the word eventually!

In the midst of change and the disconnect we’re now experiencing, I’m grateful that my husband and I are focusing on and clinging to the One who is the keeper of our souls. Some days my husband does better than I… other days I’m reminding him… but together we’re choosing to have joy in the journey of this thing called “Life!” A journey that has ups and downs, to be sure. But a journey in which God will continue to guard, watch over, and attend carefully to our steps.

It’s time to build a R.A.F.T.

Storms of life…

I LOVE the sea! Having grown up near the ocean and having spent countless hours swimming, sailing, water skiing, and walking on the beach, being on or near water truly is my happy place. There’s something about watching the never-ending cycle of waves crashing onto the beach — or even when the sea is merely gently caressing the shore — that calms me. Restores me. Nourishes my soul. Reminds me that my Creator God is likewise constant, consistent, dependable, steady.

But sometimes the sea can be frightening. Overpowering. An adversary to be subdued rather than an ally to be enjoyed. Watching a storm from the safety of the shore is vastly different from being in the midst of the angry waves, tossed to and fro at the mercy of nature. Add to that being pelted by rain or sleet or snow. Lightning flashing. Darkness that engulfs and disorients. Feeling like there is no escaping destruction and loss of life.

There’s a story in the New Testament of the Bible about a sea voyage that took place in the first century. It was a journey that started in Caesarea (on the eastern-most shore of the Mediterranean Sea) and eventually ended in Rome (complete opposite direction).

map of Paul’s Journey to Rome from Olive Tree Bible App

The journey was a challenging one from the start. It started late in the season for sea travel. The initial small vessel wasn’t adequate for the open-sea voyage. Stormy winds blew them off course before they had gotten halfway. The wind was “tempestuous,” which is how we refer to a northeaster in today’s parlance. Such storms appear suddenly, often with violent, whirling winds. They had to stop and take shelter several times.

An additional problem was that the vessel was transporting a man named Paul. He was a God-fearing man who was on his way to Rome to stand trial before Caesar. Paul had warned the captain and crew that the journey would more than likely result in the loss of the ship, cargo, and lives. His warning went unheeded.

They went without food for fourteen days. They had to jettison the cargo. Then they had to get rid of the ship’s tackle. Some of the crew panicked and wanted to escape using the ship’s dingy. BUT Paul warned that doing so would put everyone in jeopardy.

Soon afterwards the vessel ran aground and the stern broke apart in the surf. None of the 276 men on board were lost… but the journey wasn’t over yet! They were only as far as the island of Malta.

… the rest of the story is for another time…

Paul had an unshakeable belief that IF those on the ship did what he suggested all would go well.

… the God to whom I belong and worship…said,
“Do not be afraid, Paul;
you must stand before Caesar.
And… you and all who sail with you [will be safe.]”

So take heart, men,
for I have faith in God
that it will be exactly as I have been told.
But we must run aground on some island.
Acts 27: 23-26

Note that he didn’t say that it would be smooth sailing. But rather in the midst of the storm, all would be well.

Sometimes life feels like being in a storm. We start our journey well… and then “stuff” happens that blows us off course. We lose our bearings. We feel as though we’re being pummeled from all sides with the relentless intensity of circumstances out of our control. Hopelessness and fear engulf us. In our panic, we jettison those things that normally would help keep us upright.

I am not afraid of storms
for I am learning how to sail my ship.
Louisa May Alcott, from her book “Little Women”

From my perspective, it seems that sometimes being “blown off course” is actually more of a detour, a way God uses to get me where He wants me — in HIS timing, not mine. Wanting to jump ship, to try to figure things out and manipulate the results usually is counter-productive. In all honesty, I can feel overwhelmed. Abandoned. Fearful. Hopeless. But the more I get to know God, the more I realize that He is a loving Father who is with me in the midst of the storms, never abandoning me. Never wishing me harm. Wanting me to trust that HE is in control. He has His hand on the rudder and will guide me safely to port.

I’m learning to not be afraid of life’s storms. I’m learning how to sail my ship. I’m learning that wherever my ship goes — by whatever circuitous route, in whatever time frame — I’m not alone.

And may that become true for you as well, dear reader, so that together we may have joy in the journey of this thing called “Life!”

to read more about this sea voyage, see Acts 27:1 – 28:14

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