Just as we are

[what's brewing: your aromatic words]

flexible, reliant, with a sense of humor,

prayerful, dependent, born of Light,
creative, diligent,
part of a community of faith,
filled with perseverance.

love and courage, hope and prayer, faith and patience,

laughter and tears, strength in weakness, loneliness and godliness,

clear purpose and yet difficult, unclear paths to get there.

language barriers to leap over, and cultural barriers to learn,

families in 2 parts of the world.

two:

homes,

traditions,

diets,

churches (or more),

groups of friends,

sets of clothes,

of so many important parts of our lives.

one:

God

who is everywhere and unchanging.

a huge need to have Christ be our everything

hands that cling to God and His Word,
a heart that aches for those dying without Christ who will probably never hear.

beautiful feet

as I struggle to share in a tongue not my own of God's grace and hope;
legs and arms

that seek to serve my family and live out my relationship with God

in a way others know He is real.

whatever can fit into a suitcase

simplicity and a willingness to let go of things

lots of tears

flesh and blood...

real people with real struggles, real pain, real frustrations...

and real joys!

We are nothing more special,

nothing more note worthy,

nothing more unique

than any woman created by God;

just a "hand" or a "foot" in the body of Christ.

real people who need a really reliable God.

Amen, and thank you for your words.

Looking Back

[what's brewing: last year's grind...]

As I've confessed before, I am a saver – a treasure keeper, that is. Two of the many things that I keep every year are my wall calendar and my daily planner. I keep them as a record of what filled my days in a particular year – the milestones, the events, the insignificant details that come to be fond memories over time. To my credit, I am not the only one who does this; it runs in the family. My brother-in-law has asked the same questions of my sister that Jason asks me each time I direct these items into the treasure box rather than the trash can: “Why? You’ve just copied all the significant dates into your calendar for next year – what do you need this for?” But the battle is lost for the men in our family; the calendars stay and that’s all there is too it.

Having recently copied dates into my new daily planner (it runs on the academic year, not the calendar year; I don’t think I’ll ever stop thinking in terms of semesters!) I was reflecting back on the events of the last year and the many milestones that we passed. It got me wondering what I was thinking about and writing about at this time last year so I clicked back to September 2008 on Coffeegirl Confessions and found this post. Rereading your words and comments in response to the previous post, What are we made of?, warmed me through like a soothing cup of coffee in the early morning. I just loved reading your comments and reflecting on who we see ourselves to be.

I thought of the many experiences I’ve personally had since then and was struck by the depth and complexity of the events, emotions and experiences that we have collectively endured over the past year. I reconsidered the question, “What are missionary women made of?” and reflected on the different answers I might give today than I would have a year ago, which I assume may be true for some of you as well.

Because of this, and thinking of the many of you who have joined us since that post last year, I’m re-posting the following question to you all from last year’s post:

I would like to hear from YOU about the components you think should be included in the following poem. It doesn’t have to be clever or even rhyme – my goal is to hear more about you all and how you describe yourselves. If you’ve never commented before, this is your time!! Let your voices be heard!!

What are missionary women made of, made of?
What are missionary women made of?

How would you answer this today? Has your answer today changed from what it would have been last year?

I personally see now that I’m made of a far deeper dependency on others than I knew before –transparent relationships with other people are essential for me. I’m more adaptable than I ever thought I could be – what I used to see as laborious routines in everyday life are now familiar (dare I say comforting?) norms that structure my lifestyle. And I have to say I’m also made of a lot more resistance to foul odors than I ever thought possible!

How about you?

Laboring to See the Day

[what's brewing: what's the occasion?]

As I went to jot something down on my calendar for next month, I was reminded that Labor Day is coming up next week in the US. Feeling the need for a day off and a fun weekend, I found myself wishing that Labor Day were observed here. We could host a barbecue, go swimming, go camping…ah, the possibilities for a 3 day weekend in the US!

My Labor Day-dreaming eventually got me thinking about the number of national holidays that are observed here, which is actually quite high though it doesn’t feel like it because we so rarely end up having the day “off” on national holidays. There are all kinds of holidays and festivals here and I still couldn’t tell you what even half of them are commemorating. One thing is for sure though - the people love to celebrate each and every one, a fact I am most often reminded of by the celebratory fireworks (more bang than beauty around here though…) that seem to be going off nearly every week.

We’ve celebrated some of the holidays with our national friends and we’ve hosted events in the Children’s Home for the major holidays, but I’d have to say that I feel little to no connection to the holidays themselves. I have no special memories connected to the historical dates here, and the festivities are more of a learning cultural experience at this point than a relaxing pastime. I don’t feel inspired to decorate in certain ways or to make certain foods to contribute to the celebrations; the traditions here don’t resonate with me.

I suppose that’s why the thought of Labor Day conjured up such different sentiments than the various local holidays than have come and gone over these summer months. I couldn’t tell you the reason that many US national holidays feel different to me, they’re simply part of my cultural identity.

And as I’m developing my cross-cultural identity, this is one of the elements that sticks out to me.

I do enjoy participating in the cultural holidays here, even if just for the insight it gives me into the people I’m living and working with. And many times I find there’s a good bit of humor tied into the various holiday traditions and festivities. Who’d have thought that running around the block with an empty suitcase would bring good luck for the New Year? Or that seeing an owl on a holiday or wedding day brings good luck?

I’m curious to hear from you all about the holidays and traditions in the countries where you are serving. Do you have any favorite new holidays, or strange commemorations that are observed? Any funny traditions or festivities, whether you understand why or not?!

As you consider it, have a happy Labor Day weekend, wherever you may be!

Metaphorically Speaking

[what's brewing: is coffee an animal, vegetable or metaphor?]

I have been quite fond of metaphors ever since I learned what they were back in elementary school. I can imagine our teacher had an amusing time reading through the metaphor-writing exercises after that lesson, presented with the most extravagant and over the top examples of metaphorical imagery – like a...

What I like about metaphors is their capacity to concrete a concept in my mind by creating a visual image or connection to a familiar concept. Some of the most significant lessons I’ve learned in my life have come as a result of effective metaphors. Many of my favorite verses and passages, at least the ones I’m most able to remember, contain metaphors.

… so that you may become blameless and pure, children of God without fault in a crooked and depraved generation, in which you shine like stars in the universe, as you hold out the word of life… Philippians 2:15

…I spread out my hands to you; my soul thirsts for you like a parched land… Psalms 143:6

He tends his flock like a shepherd: He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart… Isaiah 40:11

Recently I read a passage of Scripture (Exodus 17:8-13) that, while not literarily metaphorical, contains a powerful image that has brought all kinds of metaphorical connections to my mind. (Ever since my Biblical interpretation class in seminary I’m very cautious to suggest that any passage means any particular thing or contains metaphorical implications. But I do believe that God can use passages like this to teach us important lessons that are in line with His truth. So, in that way I am referring to this passage, even if my metaphorically inclined mind is drawing more from this than the text actually suggests.)

8) The Amalekites came and attacked the Israelites at Rephidim. 9) Moses said to Joshua, "Choose some of our men and go out to fight the Amalekites. Tomorrow I will stand on top of the hill with the staff of God in my hands." 10) So Joshua fought the Amalekites as Moses had ordered, and Moses, Aaron and Hur went to the top of the hill. 11) As long as Moses held up his hands, the Israelites were winning, but whenever he lowered his hands, the Amalekites were winning. 12) When Moses' hands grew tired, they took a stone and put it under him and he sat on it. Aaron and Hur held his hands up—one on one side, one on the other—so that his hands remained steady till sunset. 13) So Joshua overcame the Amalekite army with the sword.

The image of Moses sitting on the rock, exhausted and weary, with Aaron on one side and Hur on the other, together holding his hands up has burrowed deeply into my mind this week. Aaron and Hur offered this type of support when Moses could no longer do it alone, and they did so to allow God to continue working through Joshua as he had declared. They gave him a seat, they held up his hands, and Joshua overcame the Amalekites.

The metaphorical connections that this passage brings to my mind are countless, and undoubtedly greater in number since our move into a cross-cultural life. But I want to hear from you.

What does this passage bring to your mind?
What elements of the story stick out to you most?
Who are you in the story?
Who is holding your arms and bringing you a stone to sit on?
How are your arms being held up, or how are you holding the arms of others?
What do you see God accomplishing through obedience, despite weariness and fatigue?

I can’t wait to hear what you have to say.

And thank you for holding up my arms through your comments and companionship over the last 14 months here on Coffeegirl Confessions.

My Toughest Critic

[what's brewing: leave room for grace]

First of all, thank you for your gracious responses to my confession this past week. While failing to get things done is nowhere on my list of enjoyable experiences, I have to say that I was pleasantly surprised by the relief I found in simply acknowledging my oversight and apologizing. No scrambling to recover. No rush to get something in as I would have if I’d remembered in the middle of the night. Simply taking responsibility and then letting it go.

I didn’t realize how un-like me it was to experience that type of relief until I read Kimom’s comment about being brave enough to not just take responsibility for our failures but then to forgive ourselves, without holding onto guilt.

It’s true – forgiving myself is one of my greatest challenges.

It is far easier for me to forgive others for their failures than to forgive myself. I extend much more grace to others than I am able to give myself (which is probably why I end up running myself ragged and forgetting things like writing my weekly blog post!).

I am indeed my own toughest critic.

In thinking about Kimom’s comment, I realize that I tend to think of Christ’s sacrifice as covering the serious offenses, the deep wounds and the grievous sins that we carry around. I don’t think of the little things or the general inability to perform at levels of perfection that I somehow think I need to.

And this reveals the real source I am going to for my strength to accomplish all that is on my plate, whether by choice or by circumstance: myself.

I rely on my ability to multi-task, maximize efficiency, and manage my time far more than I rely upon the grace and goodness of God. Ultimately, I know that each breath is a gift from God and therefore my ability to do anything is dependent on His sustaining grace; but practically, I rely upon my own abilities to get so many things done. Self-reliance makes it especially hard to do anything but blame myself when things don’t go as I’d planned.

As novel as these thoughts seem to be, they are all too familiar. I’ve had similar realizations in the past; I’ve wrestled with the idea of extending grace to myself in recent years. And yet this all feels so new. It’s similar to the surprise I feel when I am so encouraged by a verse I hear or read somewhere that I go to find it in my own Bible, only to see I have underlined it myself previously.

Last week I was glad to find I’m not the only one who drops the ball and then wants to give excuses for why it happened. This week I’m wondering if anyone other than Kimom and myself struggle to extend forgiveness to yourself, whether for great things or small. And I’m wondering how you deal with it.

Any thoughts? Pour yourself a cup of coffee and let’s talk.

Confession, without excuses

[what's brewing: uhhhhmmmmm...I forgot]

Well, since this blog has not only disclosed many of my own confessions but is in fact titled Coffeegirl Confessions, it would only be fitting to add another confession today in explanation of the tardiness of this blog post: I forgot. Sure there are many factors that contributed to my forgetting, but the bottom line is that in the midst of juggling too many balls this week, this one got dropped. And the strangest thing is that I didn’t even know I was dropping it until I woke up this morning, shocked and disappointed that this one slipped through my hands.

But it brings up an interesting conversation I recently had with my mom about excuses. Having found myself frustrated and unsatisfied by the excuses I’ve been offered by others lately, I have recently challenged myself to stop offering excuses and simply apologize when I haven’t managed to do something or be somewhere that I said I would.

I have realized that although it is personally satisfying to offer an explanation of the why behind my failure to pull through on something, it is ultimately an attempt to escape responsibility which is ultimately mine to be taken. I am most often uninterested in the why behind other people’s failure to pull through. I find that it is far easier for me to accept someone’s apology (if offered, which many times it isn’t because the offending party is clearly the circumstance, not the individual!) when responsibility is simply taken and no excuses are offered.

So I resolved to stop offering excuses and to simply take responsibility for the times when I would much prefer to offer an excuse or explanation of my failure to pull through. And as it often seems to go, I awoke this morning to a very unwanted opportunity to put this new resolution into action.

So to all you Coffeegirls out there, I’m so sorry to have let this slip. I dropped the ball this week and hope to pick it up today and deliver the usual weekly brew of life as I’m experiencing it in this crazy world of cross-cultural living next Tuesday. (And if for some reason I don’t manage to do that, be prepared to find some darn good excuses here next week – I don’t know if I could resist under double temptation!)

[editor's note: I forgive you, Coffeegirl.]

I Can Only Imagine

[what's brewing: something sweet...]

While it’s hard to say whether the change has come as a result of my language learning, cultural adjustment or simply as a matter of time, over the past couple of months there has been a change in my experience of worship with our church family here. It’s hard to describe the difference because the shift has been slow and subtle, but it is a change that I feel in my soul and it ripples through and affects every other part of who I am. Previously my experience in worship here was guided more by tradition or habit than the true experience of worshipping my Creator.

While the setting and style of worship were obviously different than what I grew up with in North America, the idea of coming together with believers to sing and study and praise the Lord was familiar and it was easy to connect with that traditional experience. But my mind was working overtime in order to engage with it all – learning new songs, reading Scripture in a new language (and one that varies greatly from the everyday spoken language I’ve been studying) and intensive listening to understand and appreciate the sermons being delivered. I was encouraged by the experience, but it was a lot of work.

Recently I’ve noticed that the level of work needed to engaging in worship has dropped significantly. I know the songs and the music so well that my heart can engage in a way it never could before. The off-key singing and the tinny sound of the keyboard no longer distract me as much – it fits within the framework of this new worship setting. My familiarity with Scripture in our new language has increased to the point that I can usually just read along, not struggle to translate each verse into English in order to understand it. I can simply listen to the teaching and take it in without straining so much to piece it all together.

When we leave after a church service, I am encouraged and feel as though my cup has been refilled. Before, I was desperate for a Sunday afternoon nap because I’d been mentally working so hard all morning. It happened so gradually that I didn’t see it, but now that I feel the difference, I am amazed by how much it has changed my ability to connect spiritually with the people in our church.

The bond between us used to be our shared identity as children of God that unites believers around the world; now I feel like an active member of this local body of believers.

And this past Sunday, when our music team prepared a special song to share with the congregation, I suddenly realized how right it felt to hear these words sung in a new language, in this new setting, in a new way. The song was familiar to me in English, but hearing it in their language increased its meaning so much because of the many experiences that I now bring to understanding and appreciating the impact of the words to the song “I Can Only Imagine.”

Several months ago I would have experienced that song very differently, but this week my mind was overridden by my heart and I cried as I listened to the lyrics. I pictured the setting that will one day bring each one of us and the people we are working with into His presence, with all the burdens and struggles of this life finally relieved. Oh, what a beautiful picture – I can only imagine.

I Can Only Imagine
by Bart Millard

I can only imagine
What it will be like
When I walk
By your side

I can only imagine
What my eyes will see
When your face
Is before me
I can only imagine

I can only imagine

[Chorus:]
Surrounded by Your glory, what will my heart feel
Will I dance for you Jesus or in awe of you be still
Will I stand in your presence or to my knees will I fall
Will I sing hallelujah, will I be able to speak at all
I can only imagine

I can only imagine

I can only imagine
When that day comes
And I find myself
Standing in the Son

I can only imagine
When all I will do
Is forever
Forever worship You
I can only imagine

I can only imagine

[Chorus]

I can only imagine [x2]

I can only imagine
When all I will do
Is forever, forever worship you

I can only imagine