So Happy

Genuinely peaceful is the person whose sin is forgiven,
the one whose sin has been covered over and forgotten forever.
Deeply happy is the person against whom God counts absolutely no sin
and who, deep down, doesn't lie to himself, to others, or to God.

When I refused to confront my own heart and its darkness, I felt like my body was wasting away
and I groaned inwardly--even as I smiled for others.
Night and day, You wouldn't let it rest. Your hand was heavy on me
and my joy dried up like a lawn in the heat of summer. I couldn't escape You or me.

Then I finally confessed my sin to you,
I just admitted it.
I said, "I can't live like this. I have to tell You as I look into your face."

And You forgave me completely, just like that.

So everyone who calls You 'Lord' should pray to You while You can still be found.
When dark waters rush around us, and we panic, is that the time to reach for You?
But you are a hiding place for me, an impenetrable bunker;
You keep me from final harm.
Like a warrior who defends me, You shout your warning to all my secret and public fears.

I'll tell you how which way you should go.
I'll teach you with my eye always on you.
Don't be stubborn, like a horse or mule who drags its feet by nature.
They have to be controlled with a bit or bridle
or they won't stay near their master.

Many are the sorrows of those who don't love You, Lord.
But constant, unstoppable, unchanging love surrounds those of us who put our trust only in You.

You who love Him, be happy. Jump up and down and show your joy, like a little kid at Christmas.
Shout and don't worry about the noise.

(My paraphrase of Psalm 32).

Happy Birthday, G!

Gulp.

The Box is the Best Part

J just got back from three days in another city. It was a good and productive time and he made new friends. It's a custom here to give a gift to someone who comes and visits or performs some service. J has received hand-knitted bags, books, trinkets, etc. But this time, his host handed him a wrapped package (it would seem all of the country uses a deep pink wrapping paper with sparkles). He didn't open it until he arrived home. We, of course, wanted to know what surprise was lurking under the Lisa Frank exterior, and it was this (see above).

Always Pay Attention to Directions!

A Token of Affection in Spray-Painted Plastic

The kids and I cried with laughter when we assembled this ship-clock-lamp and placed it on a table. Then, we cried some more when we read the ubiquitous Asian box with its crystal clear instructions. But then J shut us right up when he said that his host was so poor that he had to time when he'd turn the lights on for the training because he could not afford electricity. And he still spent money on the above item. Well, I swallowed any mirth I might have felt right then and there. This thing is staying in our room now.

My Moment

This was a cut-and-paste from a Skype conversation I had with an 'M' friend of mine. I took out her responses and left mine in, which is why the format is irregular. But I'm exhausted just thinking about it and yet I wanted you all to know. Because it's this sort of thing that has melted my flesh and is altering my shape:

I had a deeply moving moment with a beggar woman in DD.

That seems to be where I meet my mercy moments.

Well, we'd seen her earlier one day and Grace offered her a McDonald's toy for her child. The woman's face was so beautiful and grateful and gentle that I was struck instantly. She blessed G with her hand--some Hindu something...

Well I let it go...

Then we went to Barista for books and coffee later that day and she was there.

It happened that the bookstore was closed and we were sitting in the cafe section in front of a large window. We saw her squatting there in the shade and then saw her try feebly to get a few rupees here and there...no one even looked at her.

And the H. S. was heavy on me. So I told J I wanted to give her money and that I was going to sit and talk with her for a moment.

I was trembling, which I always do in significant moments and I hate it and wish I didn't...

So I took the money and squatted like a yogi in front of her. My children and husband could see my face as I was facing Barista, but not the woman's as she was leaning against the window--down on the ground.

I pressed the money into her hand and said in Hindi, "I'm giving this to you in Jesus' name. He loves you."

She stared into my eyes and said, "Aachaa?" Really?

And I might not ever forget that surprise in her voice.

Then she began pouring out her heart to me

and I stared into her yellowed eyes, and I wept.

Could not stop myself.

She did not cry and I did.

And my kids watched me.

And people stopped to see the white yogi talking to the beggar woman and--Lord, no!--touching her arm.

And she told me that not everyone has love in his heart...that people aren't kind. That it's devastating to have no husband in this hard world.

That she comes from Bihar, the dirty place.

And like an idiot, I cried and nodded

and said, "I know."

Even though I don't.

And then I talked to her children a bit. And I don't know what made me do it, or maybe I do, but I touched her forehead with mine.

And I asked her if I might pray for her.

And she said 'yes.'

So I did--but in English.

And I asked Jesus to save her from her sins

and reverse her fortune.

Father to the fatherless.

And my heart was so full I thought it might split.

And then, it was time for me to go.

So I went back into the air-conditioned Barista and lost interest in my expensive coffee.

And then Caleb said, "Look! Just now the book store opened."

And so it had.

So we went in and bought books and I managed to cobble my heart back together as I stared at titles, places I might escape to.

And then, as we were leaving, back through the coffee shop, she smiled at us and J handed her a bottle of water from the cafe.

And she pointed to heaven with her hands and smiled.

And then we said goodbye for maybe ever.

And I don't know how to live here.

But when my children said to me solemnly, "Mom, we saw you crying," I thought maybe that will bear fruit someday

in the soil of their little hearts

because their mom cried.

Jesus was sweet to me.

because I know what a bad M I am

and He let me have that moment

and I thanked him for it as if he'd given me something very special

because he had.