Beauty and Pain

I know its been too long since I've posted anything. This summer has been difficult, as excpected. I'm anxious to go back to school in a week and a half and get back into life there.

On Sunday I heard a sermon about John 11, when Lazarus is raised from the dead. I was struck by the sermon because some of the pastor's comments have been so true for me over the past couple of months. Also, it made me think back to several days before my mom died. She was very sick, although at the time I had no reason to fear that she wouldn't live through it. I was praying that she would get better, saying to God "I don't understand why you don't just HEAL her! That's what you do, isn't it? She's in so much pain, can't you just take away the pain now?" And then I read John 11. I though God was saying to me "just wait...my timing is not yours. I will heal her when I'm ready." To be honest, all the way until the end I thought that God was going to miraculously heal her to show his power and draw her and us even nearer to him. "Why did you lead me to read about Lazarus' resurrection?" I asked God. "Why would you do something like that then if you never, ever do it now? And why did you heal every person who asked you to be healed when you were walking the earth, but now you don't seem to hear our prayers?"
Well, 5 months have passed, and I keep asking questions, but God has taught me a LOT, and the themes from the story of Lazarus have been very central to what I am learning.

Jesus intentionally allowed Lazarus to die because he loved them. Thats what the Bible says. As the pastor put it, Jesus was essentially saying to Mary and Martha, "I am about to do something good for you and when you see who I really am, it will cause belief." And that good thing was in the middle of their mourning their brother's death. SO how it applies to me is that in the middle of the horrible-ness of my mom's death, God has shown me himself in a way that I've never felt before. Its only when my life seems to be falling apart that I begin to really recognize my desperation for a savior. The peace and security that I can give myself, or that my family or circumstances can give me, mean absolutely nothing. They are worthless. God's peace and security are absolutely everything, and six months ago I didn't understand that as much as I do now. At least not in a tangible and personal way.

Another change that has taken place in me since March 28th is that I better understand verses in the Bible like Psalm 63:1 "My soul thirsts for you, my body longs for you. In a dry and weary land where there is no water." Some parts of this summer could definitely be described as dry and weary. And they make me long for God and seek God more than ever before. And the verse in Romans that says "All of creation is groaning as in the pains of childbirth...and we also groan inwardly as we eagerly await the redemption of our bodies" (that's the Cristi Bratt paraphrase version). I long for the day when everything will be redeemed and perfect once again. No more death or pain.... six months ago, to be honest, I didn't really think about that very much. My life was just fine as it was.
Today I heard that one of the former Meadow Greens residents, someone I talked to fairly often, passed away today. Working at an old people's home, I get to know a lot of people shortly before they move to heaven. I promise, I'm not suicidal, but I'm a little bit jealous that many of them are so close to letting go of this broken and messed up world. Their feeble bodies are just holding on, like a caterpillar's cocoon, for the last moments before they are released into life as a beautiful butterfly. Like Lazarus, coming forth from the grave. Wow, resurrection is a beautiful thing. God is so good to us.

Books and Dreams and Questions

I have a new place to put on my list of where I want to go someday: Nepal. I recently started reading the book Little Princes, about a guy who works with children who are victims of child trafficking after Nepal's civil war. It's such a good book and I highly recommend it, although I haven't finished it yet. Nepal just sounds like the Bolivia of Asia--the mountains, the people, the poverty. One paragraph made me laugh because it easily could have been written about Bolivia (or any Third World country, probably):


"There are no destinations written on the front of local Kathmandu buses. One learns the route from the ten-year-old boy leaning out the open side door as the bus speeds along, looking for passengers, barking the final destination. Often the bus does not even come to a full stop. You are meant to run alongside it, grab a metal bar, swing onboard, then quickly cram your way into the horde of humanity already aboard. If it's too crowded, you simply cling to the outside and hope cars don't pass too closely. Sometimes an old lady would be waiting by the side of the road, as there are few official bus stops, and the boy would pound the side to indicate that the driver should slow enough to give the woman a fighting chance to swing herself aboard with the help of the boy."

Its interesting to me that people in poverty, no matter where they are on the globe, tend to end up doing a lot of the same things, like cramming on to buses with a little boy yelling the destination out the window and only stopping for old ladies.

Reflections on Mom

This morning I have been looking through my mom's Bible. One of the many things in her Bible is a slip of paper with lots of quotes or little sayings that she liked. Reading through them, I can see that her life really reflected these little bits of advice. The first says "The happiest people are not those who have the best of everything but those who make the best of whatever they have." During my parents first years in Bolivia, they sure didn't have the best of everything. Dirt floors, no washing machine, an outhouse...they really lived on very little. But my mom learned to make the best of everything and came to love it. Another quote in her Bible says "If you're conflicted about whether to be right or be kind...be kind!" If ever there was a disagreement about something trivial, my mom would just say "oh, ok", as if the other person was always right even when she knew they were not. And most of the time it was her who was right. The next one says "Nothing is a bad as it first seems and nothing is as good as it first seems." In my entire 19 years with her, I never once saw my mom lose her temper. She never yelled at us out of anger. She took everything calmly and I always admired her for that. There are a lot more of these quotes, but one that really sticks out to me is "We may not be able to build the future for our children, but we can build our children for the future." I can't think of a much better way to bring up kids than the way my parents raised me and Peter and Jonny. I hope one day I can be the same kind of mother that my mom was to us.

Heaven

In the last month I have spent quite a lot of time thinking and reading about heaven. A couple years ago I read a book by Ted Dekker, I don't remember what it was called, but it was about setting our minds on eternity and living in that hope every day. When you think about it, really, life on this earth is not even a tiny speck of dust in the grand scheme of things. Compare 80 years on this earth to eternity...millions upon millions of "years", at least in the way we understand time. I can't comprehend it but I kind of visualize our lives on this earth as just a glimpse of life before we are really truly born to life. And we groan as in the pains of childbirth...waiting, and longing for a time when we no longer have to face death. I remember my mom telling me once about childbirth. She said there's incredible pain for a little while, but as soon as she held each of us in her arms, she completely forgot the pain, and she thought she must be the first person in the world to experience such deep joy. I guess her sickness was like that pain. The thing that hurts me more than anything is remembering her sickness, seeing her body being attacked and eaten by the sepsis infection that slowly overcame every organ in her body. But that's all in the past. Now she's experiencing a joy that far outweighs the suffering in her last days on earth. And for that matter, it even far outweighs the joy of having a child. Now she gets to be with even more of her children than she had on earth. Four unborn and one son who got to heaven before her. My grandpa remembers my mom saying after Derek died that she has a whole family waiting for her in heaven...now she gets to be with them. We just have to figure out how on earth we can live without her until we get to join them in that perfect place where we can experience real life.

An Exciting Easter Weekend

It was a memorable weekend. It started with looking for a couch. Krisula and I want to get a couch for our room next year, so on Friday we went to a couple of thrift stores to look for one. We didn't find any that we really liked. After we got back to campus we were looking on Craigslist to see if there was anything, and while we were looking, someone posted a free couch that looked pretty nice only about 10 minutes away. So we asked a friend if she would drive us there to get it. She, Krisula, Kurtis, and I went to get the couch, but by the time we got there (45 minutes after it had been posted), the couch was gone. We were all disappointed.
We decided we wanted to go to a Good Friday church service, which would mean we had to get back to campus and eat dinner and then leave in only about 30 minutes. So we were in a bit of a hurry. When we got back to campus, Sarah forgot we were going into the cafeteria rather than the dorm, so just as we were passing the main Whitworth entrance, Krisula said "Wait I thought we were going to eat" which made Sarah swerve and try to make the turn. We didn't. My thought process went something like this: Is she really going to turn? Oh my gosh, we're not going to make it. I've never been in an accident before. This is bad. Smash.....so this is what its like to be in an accident. Whoa that was the Whitworth Sign, this is a bigger deal than I thought. Sarah: "This did not just happen. This did not just happen. This did not just happen." About 30 seconds later a student came running over to us to see if we were ok, and the security guy came not long after. He was somewhat awestruck and couldn't quite make clear sentences or decide what to do next. None of us was injured as far as I knew at the time, except the poor brick wall that was in ruins all over the lawn and the street. A little while later Krisula said she did have a headache and was dizzy. The sheriff asked if she wanted to get checked out, and she agreed. It wasn't until we heard the sirens that we realized getting "checked out" meant two fire engines, an ambulence, and about eight paramedics with a stretcher crowding around Krisula, who was shaking her head and saying "I just have a headache!" Kurtis and Sarah and I couldn't help but laugh as we waved goodbye to her, strapped down and covered with a sheet on the stretcher, arms crossed and shaking her head at us as they took her to the ER. At that point there was the campus security car, two state patrols, a sheriff, two fire engines, and an ambulence, all with lights flashing. Kind of intimidating for poor Sarah.
Later on, Kurtis and I and a couple other people went to go wait at the ER with Krisula. They said that she did have a concussion, and gave her some instructions on what to do. I just ended up with a few bruises and a sore arm. So in the end we didn't make it to the Good Friday service, or dinner for that matter. We decided it was a good thing that the couch had been taken, because who knows how bad it could have been if there was a couch in the back of the truck. So, that was the excitement of my weekend. I won't hope for any more excitement in the near future, although it did make for a good story to tell people a few years from now.

Hope

Over the last three weeks, I have grieved for myself, for my brothers, and for my dad, but I have not grieved for my mother. For her I rejoice. It hurts me to think about the fact that my mom won't be there to help plan my wedding, she won't meet my husband, she won't know her grandkids. She won't see Jonny finish High School, and won't get to go back to her beloved Bolivia. I've lost my friend, mentor, role model, advice-giver and reassurer. But in the middle of loss and grief, I have reason to rejoice. And my reason to rejoice is infinitely greater than my reason to mourn. Because the hope of eternal life, together, in a perfect world, with Jesus, drowns out all fear and all temporary sorrow. If I did not have this hope, my life at the moment would be shattered. I would have no motivation to go on. But my mom's earthly death has projected God's astounding gift of resurrection all the more. She did not die, really. Her flawed earthly body died, but her soul was born, truly born. She got through the preparation for real life faster than most people do. I rejoice because she doesn't have to live in this messed up world any more. She doesn't have to go through the aches and pains of being old (she always said she didn't want to live to be ninety). She gets to be with her son Derek, she gets to see Jesus and understand what pure beauty really is. This is not some sort of wish that Christians have, it is real! The other day I read I Corinthians 15:54-56, "When the perishable has been clothed with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality, then the saying that is written will come true: Death has been swallowed up in victory. Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting? The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ." Yes! Twice in the last week I was in a worship service where we sang such a beautiful and reassuring song: Still, my soul be still, and do not fear though winds of change may rage tomorrow. God is at your side, no longer dread the fires of unexpected sorrow. God, you are my God, and I will trust in you and not be shaken. Lord of peace renew a steadfast spirit within me to rest in you alone. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YsXMiysZfNQ

An Outpouring of Grace

I'm sitting in our living room surrounded by beautiful bouquets of flowers. Next to me is a stack of cards about a foot tall and our freezer is full of food. We have been so so amazed at the incredible support of this community. I will never again complain about how sheltered and isolated Lynden is. I hope it never changes! I also am so thankful for the most wonderful extended family. They are all gone now but I couldn't ask for a better family at a time like this. Something that I'm learning right now is that the only things that really matter in life are the eternal ones. The treasures that will truly last. The picture I get in my head when I envision God right now is a father who knows that he has to put his kid through something painful (and it is!), but it is painful to him as well, so he holds us in his arms, desperately wanting to carry us through it. He will. I have felt his nearness in the most amazing ways over the past week and a half since my mom's death. I actually physically felt his hand on my head as I went to sleep the second night. He is so good, and I just thank him that his plan is so much better than my own.

Peace like a River

When peace like a river attendeth my way; When sorrows like sea billows roll, Whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to say "It is well, it is well with my soul!" Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come, let this blest assurance control: That Christ has regarded my helpless estate, And has shed his own blood for my soul. My sin, oh the bliss of this glorious thought: My sin, not in part but the whole Was nailed to the cross and I bear it no more. Praise the Lord, praise the Lord oh my soul! And Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight, The clouds be rolled back as a scroll. The trump shall resound and the Lord shall descend. Even so, it is well with my soul!

Lemons

This has been a very sad week. First of all, my mom is very sick. She has not gotten sick for years, but this week she really got hit. We're thinking its bronchitis or something worse. I hate watching my mom suffer.
For the past few weeks, my grandma has been having health issues, and she went into the hospital earlier this week for surgery. After the surgery, she got some sort of infection and her health just went downhill for a couple days, and last night she passed away. Thankfully, I got to see her in the hospital before the surgery, and I also got to spend a couple hours there last night before she died, along with most of my extended family.
Later I found out that my mom's uncle also died today. His health has been bad for a while now.
Since my mom is sick, she called in to say she couldn't work, but they could not get a replacement for her so she had to work anyway. She didn't feel like driving, so I took her to Bellingham, as she coughed her lungs out and sounded awful. A couple minutes down the Guide Meridian, a policeman pulled me over....I wasn't wearing my seatbelt. Wonderful. I thought since this is the first time I have ever gotten pulled over, maybe he would give me a warning or something. But no, 124 dollar ticket. Is it just me or does it seem like policemen are just out to ruin people's day? Maybe they measure how well they did their job each day by seeing how many people they could get to cry, or how miserable they could make someone's life. Who doesn't get at least a slight feeling of dread when they see those awful blue and white cars.
Later at the doctor's office, I was in the car waiting for my mom, and I turned on her music, Roger Whitaker singing "Life throws you a lot of lemons, you've got to learn how to make lemonade or you'll be sour all your days." (I love my mom's oldies). Yep, this week has been very lemon-y. I guess I need to learn to make lemonade.

Thian

This week I got to meet Thian, who is a refugee from Burma living in Spokane. She came here with World Relief about a month ago. I signed up to volunteer at World Relief a couple weeks ago and now I got matched up with her just to help with stuff like setting up a bank account and getting a library card and things like that. I'm really excited about it, and I got to meet her for the first time on Thursday. We were going to get together today but something else came up for her so we'll get together next week instead. It will be fun to get to know someone outside of my normal circles at Whitworth and someone with a really different background. I will also probably learn more about Spokane in the process too.

Nostalgia

Last night as I was lying in bed trying to go to sleep, I heard a dog barking outside and something about it just made me happy. It brought me back to my childhood because that's what I used to listen to every night when I would go to sleep. That and the distant cumbia music of chicherias playing until early morning hours. Those sounds were annoying to some people but they make me feel at home. As I lay there in bed, I started thinking about the other sounds of home for me. There's the clanging metal sound of the garafa truck and the trash truck letting the neighborhood know to bring out their trash or garafas. If we were in the city, there was the fruit vendor's nasally ..."naranja-mandarina-durazno-limoooon...naranja-mandarina-durazon-limoooon". And the trufis..."Villa Adela Villa Adela Villa Adelaaaa" And of course the endless chorus of honking buses and taxis. Funny how some random things can make you so nostalgic for home. The streets in the US are so strangely quiet.
Its not only the sounds of city life in Bolivia that make life there so much more interesting, but also just the unpredictability of every day life. You never know when the roads will be blockaded or when half the city will go on strike. Maybe you'll end up having to drive through a steep rocky riverbed in order to get home because the roads are full of protestors. Maybe you'll get caught in the middle of tear gas being shot off in downtown La Paz, maybe you won't be able to leave your house for several days...
Life is unpredictable.
To me, there's something appealing about the craziness of life in Bolivia. I know that Bolivia's social unrest is not something to be envied. Its more just the fact that the unexpected is expected, and simply going out into the streets of the city can be an adventure on any given day.

Lessons from Vintage

Ever since coming to Whitworth I've been going to Vintage Faith Community Church. Being a part of Vintage has probably been the most important and most wonderful thing about living here so far. Every single Sunday God challenges me again and my experience usually goes the same way every time. First, God uses Steve's sermons to make me painfully aware of the utter hopelessness of my cause without a savior. He brings up my most sensitive, most hidden sin and presses on it kind of like those deep tissue massages which I have never experienced by sound extremely painful. Just when I feel that I can't handle it any more, I feel the incredible immensity of God's grace pouring out on that sensitive sin and for a moment I am just awed at God's incomprehensible love for such an unworthy person as me. Being able to stand on Jesus' righteousness instead of my own is the most freeing and wonderful feeling I could imagine. And I worship God, truly from my heart. But soon I start thinking about what the people behind me will think if I raise my hands when I worship. They will think I'm a good Christian, right? Oh and maybe that person over there will notice me because I'm being so humble about my sin. The fact that these thoughts have run through my mind disgusts me. My sin really is everywhere. When I worship, there is sin. My thoughts and my desires and my motives are all polluted by the nasty sin that tries to destroy me. BUT praise God because there is absolutely nothing in me that can save me from hell and absolutely everything in Jesus that can save me from hell. The depth of God's love is greater than I can possibly know and for that I can do nothing but worship and adore him.

I decided to start a new blog. Last night I went back and read my blog from my Guatemala internship and I got inspired to start up again. Life is full of things that are worth writing down, but they usually are not written down and then they just get forgotten.
Like last Saturday. I went to En Cristo, which is a Whitworth ministry on Saturday afternoons for homeless and low-income people who live in downtown Spokane. A group of about 15 to 20 students goes downtown to visit and share a meal with people in a low-income apartment building and people on the streets. I hadn't been there for a long time but my friend Kelsey wanted to go so I went. I was assigned to be on a street team with two other people, and our group went to the bus plaza. We hadn't been there very long when we saw three homeless men sitting on some benches reading the Bible together. We started talking to them about the Bible--with all their free time they get a lot of opportunity to just sit and read 15-20 chapters a day. I started talking to Robert, who clearly knew his Bible very well and was really excited about his faith in God. He told me the story of the rich young ruler who asked Jesus what he had to do to inherit eternal life. He had done everything right, followed all the rules, knew the law perfectly. Maybe today he would have gone to a Christian college, been involved in Bible studies, made lunches for homeless people, and gone on mission trips to Guatemala. A good Christian. But he missed the point. He didn't know the love of God, loved something else more than God. Hm...
I stood there listening to the gospel coming out of the mouth of someone whose earthly posessions added up to nothing but the backpack at his feet. Maybe God wanted to show me something. God dwells among the least, the last, and the lost. His grace is like water, pouring down from above and pooling up in all the lowest places. I think Robert understands the truth of the gospel in a way that I do not. There is something really backwards in our mentality that we, the rich young rulers, need to "bring" the kingdom of God to the poor. No, we, the rich young rulers, need to go see that God dwells in the lowest places already. We need to throw away all the security that we put in our "good deeds" and our theological knowledge, and just be filled and awed with God's amazing grace which we are in desperate need of.