In the midst of the Leadership Focus program I am currently in, we had to complete a thorough and detailed personality assessment. The findings made a lot of sense to me. I’m not a visionary or a dreamer. I found that I am not strong at formulating goals for a program and pushing people forward to meet that goal in accordance with their personal strengths. However, I am very strong in service. This has been true throughout my life. I have been the “hands” and the “feet” of the dreamers and the visionaries. When they have painted their ideas into the sky like wispy clouds, I have been the one who has grabbed them and forced them down into reality. I guess you call them the “dreamers” while I am the “doer”.

As I reflected on this more and how it has played out in my life, I recognized that this has not always gone well. I have given a lot of time and energy to putting figurative flesh and bones to the dreams of others. Sometimes that has been fruitful, but there have been quite a few times when it just did not come together. All the time, energy and precious moments of my life that I gave to those projects did not produce the result that we hoped for. Some of that was due to my limitations while other times it was because the process was not carefully thought through in advance.

So, what am I taking away from this train of thought? I recognize that although some projects failed, and I could look back and think only of my failure and the waste of my time, I can focus instead on what I benefited from through the experience. In these situations I was working with others, and whether we succeeded or failed, those moments together were valuable in and of themselves. Additionally, I realize that I tend to be too eager. I need to be more cautious and prayerful before I give my time and energy to fulfilling the dreams of another, even if it is possible that I can help. Like other things in life, just because I can do it, it does not mean I should–even when it is something that could be called “good” or “helpful”. Maybe it is not best.

This morning the thoughts swirling in my mind feel like a bizarre modernist painting, splashes going in all directions from a center point- me. As I seek to grab a strand of thought, one brilliant color from the splash, I pick “change”. I think humans don’t like change, because we don’t want to accept and believe that our lives aren’t permanent. We have a hard time accepting that all things that we know and love aren’t permanent, and neither is our way of life. We are learning that in a COVID-19 world. We are learning that in the midst of increased racial tension and other societal problems. There are good things that come from a world turned upside down and inside out, but it isn’t easy or free from pain.

Last weekend my husband and I got to stay at the Eastern Oriental Hotel in Penang, which was built in 1885. One of my favorite short story authors, William Somerset Maugham, stayed there and has a room named after him. Charlie Chaplin stayed there and so did Prince Charles and Camilla (in 2017). They have incredible old black and white photos of Penang in the lobby and newspapers from 1957 encased in glass. They have a metal grate Otis elevator and an ancient rotary phone on the main desk. They have a restaurant that looks right out of colonial British times. If I closed my eyes and imagined, I could see people of the early 1900s there, having tea. In one of the cabinets they had what we could only guess to be ledgers. The leather covers were intact, but the papers were fragile. If you touched them, they would have turned to dust. Being at this place, stepping back into history at a time like this, made me sad. Sad because things change and the past is lost and all that remain are a few tattered remnants. My husband and I also discussed current tensions and anger in the backdrop of this hotel, wondering what it would have been like if colonialism had never happened. Colonialism brought great change, and we still experience the impact of it today. Then we walked outside and I felt more sadness as we experienced a quiet and still Georgetown, reeling from the effects of closed borders on its tourism trade. Nothing stays the same.

My friend left yesterday. We’ve worked together for five years. We have shared a lot and now she’s gone. It’s strange to be at school and be alone (all of my colleagues in my department have moved). I am excited about my colleague’s new adventures, but change hurts and I feel sadness and emptiness. My oldest son is going to have to move on soon. It’s time for him to spread his wings. I am also really excited for him, but that change has a whole new depth of pain attached.

Many religions address this discomfort or problem of change. If you look up “Impermanence” you will find the Buddhist viewpoint as they grapple with this issue. But it is not a concept that is just connected to an Eastern Asian religion. James 4:14 says, “How do you know what your life will be like tomorrow? Your life is like the morning fog—it’s here a little while, then it’s gone.” We can try to hold onto things tightly, but it is futile. Life IS truly about living in the moment and letting go.

It bubbled and gurgled, welled from the deep

A laugh that was tumbling, climbing so steep

It clutched on the edge and rumbled on through

And as it exploded, there was nothing to do

But join in the giggles that made his face red

For it is through laughter that our hearts are fed.

Somewhere along the way

We have lost

The essence

The key

To our common humanity

Somewhere along the way

We have lost

What it means to be human

To be a unique and fearfully made

Image-bearer

Somewhere along the way

We have lost

The value

The priceless worth

Of the human body and soul

 

 

I still remember his angry rebuke

He yelled, fist thrown in the air

He kicked all she owned

All she had

He kicked it down the steps

 

Her mind had been shattered years ago

She had lost love and meaning for life

And her mind was just in pieces

Like the pieces of the rags she owned

Important to no one

But herself

 

What she had was dirty, disgusting

She was annoying, disturbing

In a public place where she did not belong

But I can’t forget how he yelled

His anger overflowing

Spilling out, forceful

Treating her like garbage, not a human

 

 

I still remember what I caught

Out of the corner of my eye

A man, disheveled, dirty, homeless

Getting his belongings together

At the bus stop

 

I see their jeering faces

Young boys- maybe 10 or 11 or 12

Young skin, clean skin, rich skin

And they laugh-a mean laugh

The spit flies from their mouths

Hurtling it at him

Their words, their spit

 

“You are trash,” their actions said

I couldn’t hear their words

But I felt each one like a blow

And the traffic ploughed on

And I could not stop

But their faces and their taunts

Are etched in my mind and heart

 

I’ve never been there

But I have seen the news

Glass shattering, pounding thumps of bullets racing

Screaming, blood flowing

Tears streaming

 

Terror brought by mad men

Who don’t see

Who don’t feel

That we are one

That we are family

That we are valuable

 

Over and over again

It happens, spreading fear

For we can’t see each other

We won’t feel what it means to be human

What it means to love and be loved

 

Somewhere along the way

We have lost

And lost so deeply

 

 

So many people I love are going through tough things right now—terrible and devastating events that change one’s life forever—that cannot be fixed. Nothing will make it better and as a friend and a family member I just feel helpless.  As I have walked through these things with them in the last few weeks, I read verses about Jesus being our Prince of Peace.  I read this verse too, from Isaiah 26:3, “You will keep in perfect peace, all who trust in you, all whose thoughts are fixed on you.”  I know this fact, but it just hit me again, that in order to feel that peace in the midst of the storm, we have to keep our focus on Him. It happened to Peter–and I understand him more. He began to sink as he walked, because he didn’t keep his thoughts fixed on Jesus. The crashing waves and the howling wind distracted him. It is easy for us to get lost in the soul-crushing agony and the devastating pain.  We don’t understand “why” and we begin to sink in the awfulness of it all–because we take our eyes away from the One who has it all in His hands.  I can’t fix anything for my family and friends—I have no power in these situations–I can only hurt and cry alongside them.  But instead of feeling completely overcome and lost, I can put my focus where it belongs.  Jesus himself said, “I have told you all this so that you may have peace. Here on earth you will have many trials and sorrows. But take heart, because I overcome the world.”  John 16:33

Since the garden, blame has been a part of the human experience. “She made me do it…” Its tough to be accountable for our actions.  I hear it almost daily in my house.  “Why did you hit your brother?”…”He started it!!!”

I was writing this week about the challenging story of Dinah and Shechem (Gen. 34).  In this story, Dinah is noticed by the prince of a land.  The first verses of the chapter say, “Now Dinah, the daughter Leah had borne to Jacob, went out to visit the women of the land. ² When Shechem son of Hamor the Hivite, the ruler of that area, saw her, he took her and raped her. ³ His heart was drawn to Dinah daughter of Jacob; he loved the young woman and spoke tenderly to her.”  

As I was studying, I went to read some expositions online about the chapter.  One I came across said this, “And it all came about in the course of everyday family living. Dinah, Jacob’s daughter by Leah, was about 14 or 15. Like any teenage girl, she wanted some girl friends, so she started wandering over to Shechem. As she hung out there, she scored big‑‑the prince, for whom the town was named, fell for her.

What 14 or 15 year‑old girl wouldn’t be thrilled by that? It would be like a freshman girl being asked to the homecoming dance by the captain of the football team. Dinah was probably a bit naive, so she allowed herself to get into a situation with Shechem where the two of them were alone. His passion got the best of him, and he raped her.”

The writer makes the point that Jacob and his family should not have been living in that area in the first place.  There is a good and valid argument for that, but what I read above really infuriated me.

1.)There is no indication that she was “thrilled” by his attentions.  The Bible says HE saw her, HE took her, HE raped her.

2) There is no indication that “she allowed herself to get into a situation with Shechem where the two of them were alone.”  Again, HE saw her, HE took her, HE raped her.

I felt myself really struggling with this point of view put forth by a Biblical scholar.  I have been processing this a lot recently with the Stanford rape case and my own experiences with sexual assault.  Where a woman is and what she is wearing can NEVER give the justification for assault.  We cannot continue to put the blame on women.

Women automatically go there—I know, because I did—“Is there anything I could have done differently?  Was there something I did that I should not have done, in order to prevent this?”   I know that there really isn’t–for the most modest and proper women have also experienced assault.  We can’t tell our daughters “do or don’t do this and be safe”.  If someone has that in mind and finds the opportunity, they will act.  All that I can do is try to take some precautions (not walk alone, etc.) understanding that even those may not be enough.

I talked with my husband about it, trying to get a male point of view and we discussed modesty.  One can argue that a women has a “right” to dress as she wants to, but then she will send a message no matter what.  If she makes the choice to dress provocatively, then she is sharing strong images to the people around her.  This a fact and these images more strongly impact males.  She is aware of this most likely, and is probably why she chooses to dress that way.  She may not realize however how powerfully it impacts them.  It never gives the man the “right” to take any kind of action against her, but she may be pressing an unintended trigger in some men by the way she chooses to dress.

Nothing that I am saying is new–I’ve probably read it all from someone in the last few months.  We should raise our sons to know where the boundaries are and to be respectful of women, we should not blame women for assault enacted upon them, and we should not be fearful but should take appropriate precautions in all areas of life.  I just felt riled again from studying this story and a scholar’s approach to it.  I guess that proves another salient point–the scars of our experiences also never completely go away.

My love affair (??) with jogging began a long long time ago–in the spring of 1993 to be exact.  I was a freshman in college and I had to take a “Walk/Jog” class.  We jogged around the inside of the gymnasium, we jogged around the Nursery-College Road block, and we jogged around the inside of Warner auditorium when it was icy and cold outside (it was freezing inside too).  I remember some of the tips and suggestions the coach gave to this day.  He gave some tips about gait and told us to run through side cramps and pain.  (That one I recalled JUST today in the midst of a cramp!)

My class finished that semester and then something interesting happened.  My Dad offered to go jogging with me during his lunch break from Dunn Hall.  I would go and change in the midst of my day and meet him and we’d do the Nursery-College Road block.  Today, I really wish I had taken a picture of us, doing something together that we would do for years.

I’ve pretty much jogged ever since.  I’ve taken big breaks–maybe even as long as years–with the arrival of the “used-to-be-little-people”.  I’ve experienced injuries and weight struggles that have taken me out for awhile.  Consistency has not been my middle name, BUT, no other exercise is as fulfilling.  It’s not that I LOVE jogging and can’t wait to get out there and do it–in fact, there are plenty of times when I’d just prefer not to—but, there is no other exercise that I feel satisfied with.  You won’t find me doing laps in a pool or jiggling to Zumba.  I’m going to really be a sad, sad woman when my body says “no more”.

I’m sure I am a sorry sight.  My friend told me she doesn’t want to jog in public (like on the school campus) because she doesn’t want people to see her.  I really don’t care about that at this point in my life.  I jog and hope that in my slow methodical plodding that I bring amusement to someone or the tiniest flame of inspiration for something they want to undertake.  This week I have jogged three days in a row.  Today I got up to a mile and a half, which is farther than I have gone in quite awhile.  I’ve mostly been done at a mile–physically and with available time.  That may not seem far to my friends who do 3, 5, 10 and 20 miles on a regular basis, but what is amazing is that I feel pretty good.  My friend and I have been working together to eat healthy and cut out junk, and I don’t remember feeling this great after a jog in a long time.  I’m thankful that I have some jogging days left in my future.

But can I tell you the truth?  Can I tell you what I think about each and every time that I jog?  I think about my Daddy.  Maybe that is another reason I just can’t ever let it go.  I think about how he would meet me, rain or shine.  I remember how he came to do something with me–just him and I—in the midst of busy-ness for both of us.  I think that besides being good for me, the other most compelling reason that you’ll find me there is that I will be jogging for him.  And oh, how I feel like I would give anything if he could just jog a few laps with me again.  I really hope that one day, his body will be restored and we can jog together—not because we “need” it, and maybe not even because we “love” it, but just so that we can be together doing something that we used to do.

Honestly, life here is easier than where we lived before.  We adapted and came to love where we were, but it took its toll in many ways.  There were challenges about it that we just don’t have to deal with now.   For example, it is more clean here.  We were sick a lot the last two years and you can’t help to connect it to the toxic chemicals that were seeping through the wall of our bedroom, the mounds of rubbish, and the black smelly water filling the gutters.  Although some say the beaches here are not that clean, we will never forget the beach we visited in our last city that had more trash than sand!   There are blessings here we could quickly begin to take for granted like cleaner air and sand, fresher air, and water that we can drink out of a tap.  It is surprising and kind of nice that we can often find bagels, Dr. Pepper, Krusteaz pancake mix and an occasional Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup!  Although we really miss the people and the language there so much, people here are used to us and we don’t get laughed at, joked about (that we can tell) or stared at.  Life here can feel like heaven in some ways.

We also aren’t confronted daily by the poverty that we experienced where we used to live. There are many wealthy people here and we live in an area where most people are doing just fine.  We don’t live on the swankiest part of the island, but we live in an area where things are nicer.  Here it is harder to put your finger on people who are struggling.  Where we were, all you had to do was stop at a stoplight.  Opportunities to help people financially were always at your fingertips.

This weekend I caught one though. We went to our local area “Walmart” (but SO not Walmart) as we usually do on the weekends to get stocked up for the week ahead.  There is no time to make it to a store during the week.  We got in line and were waiting (patiently?) for our turn.  As our turn started, two young girls got into line behind us.  They were very young—probably one was around 6 and one was probably 10.  First, it was odd that they were shopping all by themselves.  Then small things started catching my eye—grubby cheeks and clothes, cheap rubber flip flops, their struggle to manage the items they needed by themselves, the single bill that was tightly gripped in the older girl’s fist.  Wide curious eyes watched us, and that in itself was uncommon.   As I finished checking out, I heard Him again–that Holy Spirit nudging, whispering, urging me to buy their things for them.  My hubby moved off with our cart and I asked him to wait.  “Saya mau membayar untuk mereka” (I want to pay for theirs), I told the clerk.  She nodded, a small smile playing on her lips.  It wasn’t a smile of scorn or the look that said I was being taken advantage of–but rather just a smile at seeing something nice.  I told the older girl, “Saya membayar..” (I am paying) with a smile and then I gave them the receipt and she thanked me.

They disappeared —-so quickly—I couldn’t even follow them with my eyes.  It was almost like they were never there, which also felt so odd.  My hubby asked, “What made you do that?  I’m glad you did, but why?”  I felt choked up a bit and said, “I just had to…”

I was reminded again of times I spied poverty or a need and didn’t respond and was also reminded of other victories when I did listen to the urging of the Spirit.  I’ve had successes and failures–I’ve done good things and also neglected to.  When it happens though and I obey, I am always grateful.  I feel the more blessed–and pray for those two sweet faces…that God is blessing them some way too.  I want to keep my eyes open to see and my heart open to feel.  May I always be ready….

Galatians 6:9, “Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.”

We were contemplating what to do for our Christmas vacation.  We thought about visiting an island in Thailand, but then we found tickets from KL to Yogyakarta for the same price.  It felt a little early to go back to Java, but when we weighed going somewhere new or going to a place that was home for so long, we opted for Java.   We kept it really quiet, hoping to cause some big surprises when we arrived.  We wrapped up an intensely busy semester and had to travel right away.  (We have a residency requirement to meet, so we had to be back in the country soon.)

The first available vacation day saw us getting up at 4am and heading to the bus station.  We traveled by bus to KL (5 hours), intercity train to the airport, plane to Yogyakarta and then by car to Salatiga.  On Sunday we caused big surprises and brought smiles to many faces at church in Salatiga and Semarang.  My favorite thing that day was a hug I got from my Sam.  We spent time with friends in Salatiga on Monday and Wednesday.  On Tuesday we caused screams and tears of surprise at our school from the last two years.  That was so excellent!  On Wednesday night we went back to Yogyakarta and we spent two days there in a very BUSY city before we did the loooonnng journey back.   After going to the airport at 8:30am, we finally ended up in our beds at 2am the next morning!

Someone asked me just yesterday if it was worth it-was it good to go back so soon?   It was really hard to answer that question.  One of the biggest reasons to go was the arrival of baby Nathan a month ago–my friend’s new baby.  I got to hold him four different times and just wanted to soak that all up.  He is precious. Niko was smitten with him too and was fighting his Mom for a chance to hold him.   I also enjoyed the time in the presence of some of my dearest friends–who will always be my dear friends-no matter where our footsteps take us.   I did feel, all week, that although it was short, tiring, and we missed seeing some people–that every experience we had that week was a “gift” no matter how short.  It reminded me that EVERY DAY we have is a gift and every relationship brings so much to our lives.  We should embrace the opportunities we have with great joy.

It was also interesting to be reminded that how other people see me is not necessarily how I see myself.  I was surprised so many times, especially in Yogyakarta, to see Indonesians reticent to talk to me because they thought I only spoke English.  One woman at a counter pushed her co-worker toward me to speak to me…and then they had such relieved faces when I was able to talk to them in their own language.   That is such a difference between Indonesia and Penang!  Casey helped some tourists when we arrived because they couldn’t find anyone to speak English. Here you are hard pressed to find someone who doesn’t have English.  We enjoyed being back in a culture where were challenged by speaking another language.  It also made us grateful for our experience there which helped us learn another language.

The other lesson that I had was in confronting my own personal fears and prejudices.  On the day there our flight was delayed for almost two hours because of a staff shortage.  There was a lady who arrived late for the flight and who was quite emotional.  She was from the Middle East and was completely covered except for her eyes.  She came on to the flight with 3 or 4 carry-ons and was quite upset.   She kept coming up to the front and was agitated about her sister who had not yet made it to the plane.  The flight attendants kept trying to get her to have a seat.  Eventually two sisters made it to the flight, one carrying a baby.  She rushed into the gangway and threw her arms around her sister, speaking excitedly in Arabic.  One of the sisters who was carrying a baby was in tears.  They finally got on the flight and got settled.  I found, as I sat there, that I had quite a lot to deal with in my mind.  I think that a fully covered Arabic woman causes some emotions in me.  I know that one thing I have felt in Penang is sadness/anger.  I know their covering hides who they are and in an essence dismisses them and I have seen this as they walk the streets here with their husbands or brothers.   My heart cries out for the hidden gifts and beauty of the shrouded one–who has so much more to offer the world.  I must admit that on the plane it caused me some fear and trepidation too.  The covering just hides their identity and possibly more nefarious purposes and that “unknown” can cause fear.  We didn’t understand what she was going through—why she was so emotional, why she wouldn’t have a seat…and that was perplexing.  I found myself wondering what American flight attendants would have done.   Then, in my mind, I also carefully considered the tears I had seen and the sounds of relief coming through in a language I did not understand.   What I learned is that empathy and understanding is sometimes something we have to FORCE out of ourselves.   We have to choose to put fear aside and put ourselves in some other person’s shoes.

We were also reminded of the things we loved about Java and the things we struggle with about it.  All of that came crashing onto us in the space of one short week.  The biggest love is definitely the people we love there–and the second would be the food we miss.   What we really struggle with is the dirt, pollution, noise (aaahhhh!!!  BLARING music in EVERY store), the crowds and the traffic.   We hit Yogya in one of the busiest times because that was a fact of life.  We were able to go to the beaches of Gunung Kidul (south coast) and it was amazing but there were hundreds of people there with us.   We found a beach where we could take a couple of steps and snorkel.  The diversity of the fish just a couple of feet out was incredible.  Chase said, “This is amazing!!”  We spent two hours there just checking it out.  But, we had to be careful not to crash into others as we snorkeled.   That was the tough, not so relaxing part.   The roads were full and extremely crowded.   So, another lesson is —that life is always a mixed bag.  You have to take the good along with the bad.  That’s just the way it goes.

Now we need a vacation from our vacation and just need a little rest before we start adventuring and playing on our own island.  Thankfully there are some more free days before the second, and even busier, semester begins!

 

 

 

 

 

This Saturday afternoon we made our weekly shopping trip to the large grocery store near our home.  It has a Walmart kind of feel to it–and a warehouse kind of feel to it.  It was insanely busy.  The lines were long and there were tons of people.  When we arrived, they were out of carts.  There were none to be found.   We grabbed a few baskets, but when you have to get some heavy things like milk and cans, we were not looking at a real “fun” shopping experience.  As we started shopping, I heard some rattling and thought, ‘Oh!  They’ve brought some carts up!”  I went all the way to the front of the store and there were indeed some carts, but just as I reached them, the last customer took one.   So, back to shopping by lugging heavy baskets.  It was really not easy and I was out of sorts.  I was starting to sport a headache and my arms were hurting.   People walked by pushing carts with one or two things in them and I just wanted to grumble.  I saw a possibly abandoned cart in the aisle and just was I was considering going for it, someone came along and nabbed it.  I felt so frustrated.  I got into line and started shoving and dragging my stuff inch my inch to the register.   Then, I was stopped short in my griping.  A complete stranger, pushing her produce to the register in front of me turned and said, “Hey, I will share my cart with you.”  I thought she was going to let us use it after she paid and took her stuff out, and I politely declined, “It’s okay.  I have some bags.”    But, after she paid she waited.  She shared her cart with us and she pushed the cart down to the bottom floor where our car was (hers was on a floor above).  She went all the way to our car for us to unload.   In the midst of my grumbling and with my grouchy heart, God whispered, “I see you.”   Even in such a mundane as shopping in a crowded store, He knew just what I needed.   I didn’t know her—she didn’t have to take the time—nothing about me was special or deserving (especially with the terrible attitude I was sporting!!!).     He just stepped in because He cares.  I truly believe it.

I have also been going to Thai church and have been speaking there for three weeks.  I feel that I am so inadequate and am often just stumbling through.  I have said it before and reiterate it,  if they are “getting anything” from what I have to say, it must be because of Him.  Today I shared some observations about Peter walking on the water because I felt like I was supposed to share from that story.  After I was done with my “mumbling” the ladies opened up and shared about how that was exactly what they needed to hear, based on the things they are facing in their lives.  I just feel in awe of Him and how He opens these doors.  Every week I feel tense and concerned about my lack of ability, but here is a situation where I just need to obey and let Him be at work through me.  I totally can’t take any credit for achieving anything, because I am not!   I am so thankful that He has given me this opportunity.

He has provided us several bright and beautiful days which have been such a gift after the terrible haze.  Although the rains haven’t started Indonesia, they have brought some relief here.   We are so thankful!   He DOES show up…