Tag: Psalm 121

Road trip!!!

photo credit: author

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 brings Him joy? Does He expect us to notice what He made? Does it hurts 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!”

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.