My Second Day of Christmas
“The second day of Christmas the Lord God gave to me…”
- messages from my coworker in Bolivia with promises of fresh new photos soon of the CHILDREN in the outreach, and news that my coworker is doing fine and getting some much-needed rest.
- two deep, positive, quiet conversations – one with my spouse and another with a friend.
- naturally made cilantro salad dressing on my lunch salad.
- driving, myself, all the way to and through Exeter, to the mall, everyplace, all around. (getting used to driving in this nation – I can do it, but I lack confidence and enough hours logged, through the years)
- fragrance booster powder for the laundry – I had not known such a thing could be bought, until my daughter clued me in. I like it…
There are creative reading, creative thinking, creative sewing and creative cooking, as well as creative writing…
“There is creative reading as well as creative writing.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson
Bikabi Soup and Bitotos (an “Out from Behind her Eyes” entry about Africa)
copyright La Nina de Sus Ojos by The Kailyard, 2012 -2018 Any and all unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material, including all photographs, without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited by law.
I don’t know how Mom and Dad did it – fed their family of five three healthy meals a day with no grocery store within two hundred miles of Sakbayeme, the West African rainforest jungle settlement in which we lived. Mom learned quickly to rely on the friendly, spontaneous, strong and direct Basa women of our community, who would sell or gift her the local jungle foods; tiny white or light green free-range chicken eggs that had to be tested in a bowl of water (to see if they were rotten or good) before Mom dished out the francs in payment.
Many of these jungle eggs were fertilized, but still good to eat, boiled in the saucepan 3 minutes, then placed in our family’s five “humpty dumpty” 50’s-style egg cups, one at each of the carefully and fully-set places at the breakfast table.
A common supper of ours was bikabi soup, sprinkled with Maggi. And bitotos. Bikabi was a common giant tuber (taro in English!), spreading unseen under the shallow rainforest hummus under the huge, spreading dark green leaves of the plant. These giant leaves were often cut and pressed into use as impromptu umbrellas, when the ubiquitous rain would start up.
Oh, bitotos! I’ve never found an English name for these delicate strange West African fruits or vegetables which, in our household, were eaten more as a vegetable; boiled in water ’til the papery skin split a little, then rolled lightly in salt. We then nibbled the soft, greenish-gray and VERY-SLIGHTLY kerosene-tasting mush off of the inedible pit. It was an acquired taste, as Mom always said; with me, the first time or two I had them I didn’t like them and then, I did!
Bikabi Soup and Bitotos (an “Out from Behind her Eyes” entry about Africa)
copyright La Nina de Sus Ojos by NinadesusOjos, 2012 -2019.
Any and all unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material, including all photographs, without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited by law.
I don’t know how Mom and Dad did it – fed their family of five three healthy meals a day with no grocery store within two hundred miles of Sakbayeme, the West African rainforest jungle settlement in which we lived. Mom learned quickly to rely on the friendly, spontaneous, strong and direct Basa women of our community, who would sell or gift her the local jungle foods; tiny white or light green free-range chicken eggs that had to be tested in a bowl of water (to see if they were rotten or good) before Mom dished out the francs in payment.
Many of these jungle eggs were fertilized, but still good to eat, boiled in the saucepan 3 minutes, then placed in our family’s five “humpty dumpty” 50’s-style egg cups, one at each of the carefully and fully-set places at the breakfast table.
A common supper of ours was bikabi soup, sprinkled with Maggi. And bitotos. Bikabi was a common giant tuber (taro in English!), spreading unseen under the shallow rainforest hummus under the huge, spreading dark green leaves of the plant. These giant leaves were often cut and pressed into use as impromptu umbrellas, when the ubiquitous rain would start up.
Oh, bitotos! I’ve never found an English name for these delicate strange West African fruits or vegetables which, in our household, were eaten more as a vegetable; boiled in water ’til the papery skin split a little, then rolled lightly in salt. We then nibbled the soft, greenish-gray and VERY-SLIGHTLY kerosene-tasting mush off of the inedible pit. It was an acquired taste, as Mom always said; with me, the first time or two I had them I didn’t like them and then, I did!
A Fun Thing that Happened to Me in Congo! (Post #4 in series)
Those of ’round-about my generation or older, remember passing notes in highschool?
In my highschool, The American School of Kinshasa, Kinshasa, Congo we passed A LOT of notes!
Here’s a note, that got passed to me there in my school, by one of my girlfriends, R., who was my age, in my grade, and who was also, like me, the daughter of crosscultural workers, only HER parents lived and worked in the middle of the jungle in Congo, while my family was up the Continent a hop, skip and a jump, by plane. A couple of countries up, in GIGANTIC AFRICA, in Cameroun.
We were both sixteen, and Easter Vacation was coming up. Cameroun was too far away and too expensive on the planes and all, in the seventies (which this was!) for my folks to be able to bring me home for the long Easter Vacation, so I didn’t really have anyplace to go, from my boarding hostel (MPH), and I was feeling sad at the prospect of spending all those lonely days all by myself in my empty boarding hostel while all my friends went home for the holidays!
My girlfriend rescued me! She invited me home with her, to inland Congo, to spend the Easter Holidays with her and her family! It was for ten days or two weeks, I can’t remember which.
Only, she and I waited with bated breath (or, at least, I waited with bated breath – I should only speak for myself here!) because there was a potential problem. I might not be able to go!
That’s because there was no road to the place in the jungle where they lived and, the only way for us to GET there was by Piper Cub Cessna Six-seater (I’m pretty sure that was the kind of a plane. Something like that. I know it was very small and light, a six-seater.) There might not be room for me. The crosscultural worker families who lived out there needed to use most of the tiny plane’s carefully calculated luggage and weight allowances for food, medicines and supplies they needed.
Then, on the morning of March 24th, in the middle of First Period English Class , R. slipped me this note!
March 23
Dear C.,
Guess what!!!
MAF has squeezed you onto the flight that I’m going up to V. on! If you had been any bigger or fatter you wouldn’t have made it! Doesn’t that make you glad that you’re the size you are? (Note: I had had to send in my WEIGHT notification, a couple of days earlier, to see if I would be able to get onto the flight or not!)
We’ll be leaving Thursday morning, probably around 11:00 or 12:00 for the airport. Tell your hostel parents everything is clear. Your way back on the boat is all arranged. Praise the Lord!!!
It may be that it would be better if you spent the night here Wed. since I don’t think we’d be going to school that day. I’m not sure about that yet, we may have to go for half a day.
Anyhow, you can set your mind at rest now. The Lord is good.
Love,
R.
P.S. Your entire trip will probably cost somewhere in between 28-30 zaires. (Note: I’m trying to remember the exchange rate from then…..I think that was maybe around 50 dollars…)
__________________ ________________ ____________________
I only just found this old note, handwritten, slipped into an old journal notebook of mine from way back. A couple of years ago, through letter writing, emailing, and Facebook, my highschool girlfriend and I renewed contact and correspondence with each other and are presently benefitting from each other’s communications and friendship even though we live on opposite sides of the world both in very remote locations. Hopefully, she and I can be a mutual encouragement one to another, even after all these years.
Today, I thank God for my highschool girlfriend, I thank God for that wonderful trip with her, so many years ago now, and I thank God for the relationships with HIM that my girlfriend and I had, even way back then when each of us were barely older than children, and also to this day, and continuing. And I thank God for kindred spirit friendships.
I think that notes and letters, cards and emails, Facebook messages, Skypes with vidiocams, texts and phone calls, all variations on the NOTE, can be powerful tools for sharing God’s love and encouragement with others and for seeking to deepen our relationships one with another, whether these “others” be our own children, our grandchildren as they get older, our parents or grandparents, friends or acquaintances. We all know how important the thankyou note is. How would short Scripture verse-headed notes or emails be, as an encouragement to a Christian friend or loved one?
I think of younger local friends, a married couple who are intentionally raising their three gradeschool-aged youngsters without a television set in the house. I’ve noticed the three kids spend tons of time writing and drawing notes, little signs, and “funnies strips”, “cartoon strips”, with black and white line drawings that they create themselves. Not to mention that half the time one meets up with these children they seem to have their nose in a book! They often gift us with some of these creations, and we always LOVE getting them, and proudly display them on our refrigerator or around our house. Our friends seem to be raising their kids to write and give and share NOTES.
People like us tend to have a lot of transitions in their lives, a lot of airplane trips, a lot of road trips, maybe a lot of moves. Come to think of it, almost everyone tends to have a lot of transition, on one level or another these days! More and more all the time! I’ve one longtime friend who often gives tiny handwritten notes of exhortation and encouragement, with one small Bible verse that applies handwritten in there also, sealed up in a small envelope. Before her friend leaves on a plane, she gives it, and says “Don’t open this yet! Open it when you get on the plane!” It’s so fun, and helpful.
My mom has a longtime cherished personal tradition by now of sometimes, for very special ocassions, giving books as family gifts, and she sometimes writes a short note, signed, in a front page of the gift book, all in her old-fashioned, beautiful, perfect “elementary schoolteacher 3rd Grade Palmer Method teaching hand”. My grown children now have treasured little kid books, with her notes in the front of them, that they can now begin sharing with their own babies!
I know the concept of notes and letters is old-fashioned now, but does not that make the creating, the giving, and the recieving of one more special and valuable than ever?
I say, “Long live the NOTE, for God’s Glory!”
“For Our Children” by Amy Carmichael
“For Our Children” by Amy Carmichael
Father, hear us, we are praying,
Hear the words our hearts are saying;
We are praying for our children.
Keep them from the powers of evil,
From the secret, hidden peril;
Father, hear us for our children.
From the whirlpool that would suck them,
From the treacherous quicksand, pluck them;
Father, hear us for our children.
From the worldling’s hollow gladness,
From the sting of faithless sadness,
Father, Father, keep our children.
Through life’s troubles waters steer them;
Through life’s bitter battle cheer them;
Father, Father, be Thou near them.
Read the language of our longing,
Read the wordless pleadings thronging,
Holy Father, for our children.
And wherever they may bide,
Lead them Home at eventide.
untitled today…
” to give his people the knowledge of salvation through the forgiveness of their sins, because of the tender mercy of our God, by which the rising sun will come to us from heaven, to shine on those living in darkness and in the shadow of death, and to guide our feet.” – part of what’s called “Zechariah’s Song”, found in Luke 1:79
There’s a new chosen “life book” I’m adding to my shelf.
It’s SO good! Total Forgiveness by R.T. Kendall who was the pastor of Westminster Chapel, in London, succeeding L. Martin Lloyd-Jones. It’s worthwhile.
Hospitality
The idea is not in vogue this days excepted in its co-opted meaning of working in or getting a degree in the hotel business. There’s an historic sense for hospitality that goes way back in the world of simpler times. Over the past many years, the unique life and work my family’s been in through our children’s growing up years has afforded us a front row seat to the change in people’s ideas about hospitality, in North America. We’ve become MARKEDLY individualistic there! For most people, there, no longer is one’s home and kitchen thought of as, in part, a life tool with which to help to be happy, and facilitate the lives of others (even strangers!). No longer is even the word “hospitality” thought of as a practice to help people connect with each other and give happiness to each other, or as a way to serve those in need, or as a way to worship God! Rather, it’s thought of as a basket description for visual and culinary pleasantness!
Maybe this is partly because doing hospitality is HARD. I think it’s hard – not for everybody but for many people, including myself in recent years, and I think few people are naturally good at it! We all want to be naturally good at it, like my mom and dad are, but, we’re not. You know what, though? We could work at becoming better at it and achieve more skill at, and commitment to, hospitality, if we decided to personally prioritize doing so and if we asked God to help us. We KNOW it would be God’s will for us – this is all THROUGH the Bible. Oh we love to idealize and romanticize the idea of hospitality, but, from loads of personal experience in this years ago – I know what a mountain of work it is. But, that’s the case with many things, and, with hospitality – it IS a two-way street – you DO get to make new life friends through it, and renew and deepen longstanding relationships. Fantastic, a bonus, a frosting on the cake. It’s powerful, for connections. What is the whole world crying out for, these days? More authentic connection in community…
I think it’s easier to practice in some contexts than in others. Sadly, in middle-class suburbia (whatever that IS, exactly, anymore) in North America these days hospitality has become DIFFICULT to do. Why? People tend to have so much. Expectations are high in the areas of choicing, comfort and abundance. The idea of what it IS has gone more toward “entertaining” rather than opening one’s heart (and home) in a concentrated ATTENTION of offering to give to the stranger to ENCOURAGE that person. A little offering , of who you are and what you have, and what you have prepared in love, be that ever so simple. There’s not a modicum of trust anymore, and also, there’s WAY too much attitude of keeping up with the Jones’es. How can a person practice hospitality joyfully and without over- stress when COMPARISON is in everybody’s minds, including their own?
Here in Bolivia hospitality could be SUCH a wonderful tool for us, if we would avail ourselves of it. People would come to us, people would open up to us. It would, still, be a MOUNTAIN of work but what’s worth doing takes WORK, and this is an idea that would be effective here. We know it, from much past experience. I want to get back into it and with a few innovations of my own on what my patterns with this used to be, go FORWARD into the future with it!
A Fun Thing that Happened to Me in Congo! (Post #4 in series)
Those of ’round-about my generation or older, remember passing notes in highschool?
In my highschool, The American School of Kinshasa, Kinshasa, Congo we passed A LOT of notes!
Here’s a note, that got passed to me there in my school, by one of my girlfriends, R., who was my age, in my grade, and who was also, like me, the daughter of crosscultural workers, only HER parents lived and worked in the middle of the jungle in Congo, while my family was up the Continent a hop, skip and a jump, by plane. A couple of countries up, in GIGANTIC AFRICA, in Cameroun.
We were both sixteen, and Easter Vacation was coming up. Cameroun was too far away and too expensive on the planes in the seventies for my folks to be able to bring me home for the long Easter Vacation, so I didn’t really have anyplace to go, from my boarding hostel (MPH), and I was feeling sad at the prospect of spending all those lonely days all by myself in my empty boarding hostel while all my friends went home for the holidays!
My girlfriend invited me home with her, to inland Congo, to spend the Easter Holidays with her and her family! It was for ten days.
Only, she and I waited with bated breath (or, at least, I waited with bated breath – I should only speak for myself here!) because there was a potential problem. I might not be able to go!
That’s because there was no road to the place in the jungle where they lived and, the only way for us to GET there was by Piper Cub Cessna Six-seater (I’m pretty sure that was the kind of a plane. Something like that. I know it was very small and light, a six-seater.) There might not be room for me. The crosscultural worker families who lived out there needed to use most of the tiny plane’s carefully calculated luggage and weight allowances for food, medicines and supplies they needed.
Then, on the morning of March 24th, in the middle of First Period English Class , R. slipped me this note!
March 23
Dear C.,
Guess what!!!
MAF has squeezed you onto the flight that I’m going up to V. on! If you had been any bigger or fatter you wouldn’t have made it! Doesn’t that make you glad that you’re the size you are? (Note: I had had to send in my WEIGHT notification, a couple of days earlier, to see if I would be able to get onto the flight or not!)
We’ll be leaving Thursday morning, probably around 11:00 or 12:00 for the airport. Tell your hostel parents everything is clear. Your way back on the boat is all arranged. Praise the Lord!!!
It may be that it would be better if you spent the night here Wed. since I don’t think we’d be going to school that day. I’m not sure about that yet, we may have to go for half a day.
Anyhow, you can set your mind at rest now. The Lord is good.
Love,
R.
P.S. Your entire trip will probably cost somewhere in between 28-30 zaires. (Note: I’m trying to remember the exchange rate from then…..I think that was maybe around 50 dollars…)
__________________ ________________ ____________________
I only just found this old note, handwritten, slipped into an old journal notebook of mine from way back. A couple of years ago, through letter writing, emailing, and Facebook, my highschool girlfriend and I renewed contact and correspondence with each other and are presently benefitting from each other’s communications and friendship even though we live on opposite sides of the world both in very remote locations. Hopefully, she and I can be a mutual encouragement one to another, even after all these years.
Today, I thank God for my highschool girlfriend, I thank God for that wonderful trip with her, so many years ago now, and I thank God for the relationships with HIM that my girlfriend and I had, even way back then when each of us were barely older than children, and also to this day, and continuing. And I thank God for kindred spirit friendships.
I think that notes and letters, cards and emails, Facebook messages, Skypes with vidiocams, texts and phone calls, all variations on the NOTE, can be powerful tools for sharing God’s love and encouragement with others and for seeking to deepen our relationships one with another, whether these “others” be our own children, our grandchildren as they get older, our parents or grandparents, friends or acquaintances. We all know how important the thankyou note is. How would short Scripture verse-headed notes or emails be, as an encouragement to a Christian friend or loved one?
I think of younger local friends, a married couple who are intentionally raising their three gradeschool-aged youngsters without a television set in the house. I’ve noticed the three kids spend tons of time writing and drawing notes, little signs, and “funnies strips”, “cartoon strips”, with black and white line drawings that they create themselves. Not to mention that half the time one meets up with these children they seem to have their nose in a book! They often gift us with some of these creations, and we always LOVE getting them, and proudly display them on our refrigerator or around our house. Our friends seem to be raising their kids to write and give and share NOTES.
People like us tend to have a lot of transitions in their lives, a lot of airplane trips, a lot of road trips, maybe a lot of moves. Come to think of it, almost everyone tends to have a lot of transition, on one level or another these days! More and more all the time! I’ve one longtime friend who often gives tiny handwritten notes of exhortation and encouragement, with one small Bible verse that applies handwritten in there also, sealed up in a small envelope. Before her friend leaves on a plane, she gives it, and says “Don’t open this yet! Open it when you get on the plane!” It’s so fun, and helpful.
My mom has a longtime cherished personal tradition by now of sometimes, for very special ocassions, giving books as family gifts, and she sometimes writes a short note, signed, in a front page of the gift book, all in her old-fashioned, beautiful, perfect “elementary schoolteacher 3rd Grade Palmer Method teaching hand”. My grown children now have treasured little kid books, with her notes in the front of them, that they can now begin sharing with their own babies!
I know the concept of notes and letters is old-fashioned now, but does not that make the creating, the giving, and the recieving of one more special and valuable than ever?
I say, “Long live the NOTE, for God’s Glory!”
The mayor of Cochabamba, who was arrested suddenly last evening on charges of “overcharging the sellers (in China)” for school backpacks with notebooks, pencils, pens and markers in them, for the municipality to give for free to all the school children of this city, has not been released on bail. About 30 minutes before his citation to appear before a judge and testify or abstain from testifying, he tweeted that the judge wouldn’t allow him to have his own lawyer with him, but had insisted upon and already convoked, public defenders. Also, the hearing was supposed to take place at a certain place at 6 p.m., but at 6:15 p.m. was suddenly announced to be happening at a different place in the downtown, thus causing the mayor and those with him to run from the first place to the second, to not be late for his hearing.
Because of not being allowed his lawyer, he refused to testify. That’s the point at which he was arrested and escorted to the police van and taken to the installations of the ” Division of the Police for the Fight against Crime”, where he spent last night in a jail cell and, to date, is still there.
Several of the social and business sectors that support him have convened today and have announced a “mobilized strike” for this coming Tuesday.
Garbage Collection, of this city of about a million and a half, has convened today and has announced a strike on any and all garbage collection, to go on indefinitely, possibly beginning today, depending on whether or not Jose Maria Leyes, the mayor, is released on bail, today, to go to his home. Garbage Collection supports him.
He has very high support and respect in the city and in the Department of Cochabamba, Bolivia.
Prayer Request
Sudden turmoil in our city, which hits very close to home. The young Christian mayor of the city, who does not belong to the Movimiento Hacia Socialismo (M.A.S.) was accused of corruption and charged and jailed, all in the course of this one afternoon and evening. Everybody’s in disbelief, and tonight turmoil, tear gas and demonstrations fill the streets in our downtown. The charges are trumped up, having to do with school backpacks ordered and paid for, for all the school children of the area – a good thing, not a bad. The charges against our mayor are bogus. This man, his wife and family are our friends, and in our church.
Everybody’s shell-shocked; it’s hard to even believe what has happened.
What happened in Cameroun when I was eleven…
It was a long school vacation time. Our next-door-neighbor family was going away to the seashore for two weeks of yearly holiday. The mom came up to me and asked me if I would like to earn a little pocket money daily feeding and also daily walking, on the end of his chain, their pet “baby” gorilla.
I happily said “yes” and received my instructions for my new responsibilities with conscientious attention. The particular “baby” gorilla in question was much loved by all the kids and teenagers, lived in a large chicken-wire cage/home in the neighbor family’s back yard, and had a general reputation for being tame. I was a fanatical animal lover, had several pets of my own, though none as exotic as a gorilla, and I thought I already had a great relationship with this tame gorilla.
Well! From the very first morning, the gorilla, who had been quietly growing from babyhood, and now was eight months old, (I wonder how old that would equal in people years?) demonstrated a HUGE mind of his own and, instead of walking pleasantly around the grassy yards on the end of his long metal chain, would PLANT himself in the grass and start getting mad at me, working himself up into a rage, then CHARGING me down the length of the chain, wrapping himself around my bony bare shins, and biting on my legs!
Maybe he was missing his family? Probably. Not that used to me, I guess. A few mornings of that and, I’m afraid poor Baby Gorilla didn’t get taken out each day for the rest of the two weeks! He got fed super well though, and petted through the chicken wire, and talked to a lot each day.
A Fun Thing that Happened to Me in Congo! (Post #4 in series)
Those of ’round-about my generation or older, remember passing notes in highschool?
In my highschool, The American School of Kinshasa, Kinshasa, Congo we passed A LOT of notes!
Here’s a note, that got passed to me there in my school, by one of my girlfriends, R., who was my age, in my grade, and who was also, like me, the daughter of crosscultural workers, only HER parents lived and worked in the middle of the jungle in Congo, while my family was up the Continent a hop, skip and a jump, by plane. A couple of countries up, in GIGANTIC AFRICA, in Cameroun.
We were both sixteen, and Easter Vacation was coming up. Cameroun was too far away and too expensive on the planes and all, in the seventies (which this was!) for my folks to be able to bring me home for the long Easter Vacation, so I didn’t really have anyplace to go, from my boarding hostel (MPH), and I was feeling sad at the prospect of spending all those lonely days all by myself in my empty boarding hostel while all my friends went home for the holidays!
My girlfriend rescued me! She invited me home with her, to inland Congo, to spend the Easter Holidays with her and her family! It was for ten days or two weeks, I can’t remember which.
Only, she and I waited with bated breath (or, at least, I waited with bated breath – I should only speak for myself here!) because there was a potential problem. I might not be able to go!
That’s because there was no road to the place in the jungle where they lived and, the only way for us to GET there was by Piper Cub Cessna Six-seater (I’m pretty sure that was the kind of a plane. Something like that. I know it was very small and light, a six-seater.) There might not be room for me. The crosscultural worker families who lived out there needed to use most of the tiny plane’s carefully calculated luggage and weight allowances for food, medicines and supplies they needed.
Then, on the morning of March 24th, in the middle of First Period English Class , R. slipped me this note!
March 23
Dear C.,
Guess what!!!
MAF has squeezed you onto the flight that I’m going up to V. on! If you had been any bigger or fatter you wouldn’t have made it! Doesn’t that make you glad that you’re the size you are? (Note: I had had to send in my WEIGHT notification, a couple of days earlier, to see if I would be able to get onto the flight or not!)
We’ll be leaving Thursday morning, probably around 11:00 or 12:00 for the airport. Tell your hostel parents everything is clear. Your way back on the boat is all arranged. Praise the Lord!!!
It may be that it would be better if you spent the night here Wed. since I don’t think we’d be going to school that day. I’m not sure about that yet, we may have to go for half a day.
Anyhow, you can set your mind at rest now. The Lord is good.
Love,
R.
P.S. Your entire trip will probably cost somewhere in between 28-30 zaires. (Note: I’m trying to remember the exchange rate from then…..I think that was maybe around 50 dollars…)
__________________ ________________ ____________________
I only just found this old note, handwritten, slipped into an old journal notebook of mine from way back. A couple of years ago, through letter writing, emailing, and Facebook, my highschool girlfriend and I renewed contact and correspondence with each other and are presently benefitting from each other’s communications and friendship even though we live on opposite sides of the world both in very remote locations. Hopefully, she and I can be a mutual encouragement one to another, even after all these years.
Today, I thank God for my highschool girlfriend, I thank God for that wonderful trip with her, so many years ago now, and I thank God for the relationships with HIM that my girlfriend and I had, even way back then when each of us were barely older than children, and also to this day, and continuing. And I thank God for kindred spirit friendships.
I think that notes and letters, cards and emails, Facebook messages, Skypes with vidiocams, texts and phone calls, all variations on the NOTE, can be powerful tools for sharing God’s love and encouragement with others and for seeking to deepen our relationships one with another, whether these “others” be our own children, our grandchildren as they get older, our parents or grandparents, friends or acquaintances. We all know how important the thankyou note is. How would short Scripture verse-headed notes or emails be, as an encouragement to a Christian friend or loved one?
I think of younger local friends, a married couple who are intentionally raising their three gradeschool-aged youngsters without a television set in the house. I’ve noticed the three kids spend tons of time writing and drawing notes, little signs, and “funnies strips”, “cartoon strips”, with black and white line drawings that they create themselves. Not to mention that half the time one meets up with these children they seem to have their nose in a book! They often gift us with some of these creations, and we always LOVE getting them, and proudly display them on our refrigerator or around our house. Our friends seem to be raising their kids to write and give and share NOTES.
People like us tend to have a lot of transitions in their lives, a lot of airplane trips, a lot of road trips, maybe a lot of moves. Come to think of it, almost everyone tends to have a lot of transition, on one level or another these days! More and more all the time! I’ve one longtime friend who often gives tiny handwritten notes of exhortation and encouragement, with one small Bible verse that applies handwritten in there also, sealed up in a small envelope. Before her friend leaves on a plane, she gives it, and says “Don’t open this yet! Open it when you get on the plane!” It’s so fun, and helpful.
My mom has a longtime cherished personal tradition by now of sometimes, for very special ocassions, giving books as family gifts, and she sometimes writes a short note, signed, in a front page of the gift book, all in her old-fashioned, beautiful, perfect “elementary schoolteacher 3rd Grade Palmer Method teaching hand”. My grown children now have treasured little kid books, with her notes in the front of them, that they can now begin sharing with their own babies!
I know the concept of notes and letters is old-fashioned now, but does not that make the creating, the giving, and the recieving of one more special and valuable than ever?
I say, “Long live the NOTE, for God’s Glory!”
from my quiet time this morning… quoted thoughts on how to serve God
“When our purpose is to give credit to God for His love, power and perfection in all we do, we can serve Him properly. Serving Him unifies all believers and enables them to show love and sensitivity to others.” – from the NLT “Life Application Bible” study notes, on Romans.
2 Bolivian Quechua Friends conversing with P. in the Q. language and working on their weaving, the figures of which have been handed down orally and through imitation and practice for a thousand years.
Service is the only door out of the dungeon of self. G.K. Chesterton said that.
“Service is the only door out of the dungeon of self.” G.K. Chesterton
Little Sneakers Slung over a Sagging Electrical Line
Yesterday. How will I ever forget? I want to forget, and yet, I don’t. It’s burned on my heart forever, I hope. With my friend, the same one I’ve been writing about here for awhile, we took a walk together through the “neighborhood” and she pointed out the “homes” of our children to me, by name.
The narrow roads were unpaved, just mud and heaps of garbage. The stench of human urine and feces was strong enough to be oppressive. S. explained to me that the dwellings have no plumbing, and no electricity, that the tiny dark rented rooms where our children live are usually so small that not even one little table and chair can fit, and that sometimes up to eleven people live in this windowless cell together. I asked, “What about a kitchen?” “No kitchen”, she replied. “The families don’t prepare their food. When hungry, they walk out and they buy a bottle of soda, or a pack of cheap biscuits, or, look (gesturing down the road), in that spot one can buy a paperful of fried chicken, for only a little bit of money.”
With sadness in her brown eyes she paused a moment, looking into mine. “These children get nothing but junk food.”
She pointed above us, in the intersection of four rutted dirt lanes.
Two pairs of dirty, worn-out canvas shoes hung suspended over the sagging electrical lines.
“You know what that means, right?”
Feeling a little foolish, I replied honestly to my friend, “No. I don’t have any idea. What does that mean?”
“It’s the current signal, meaning that in this place, drugs are sold.”
“Oh. What kind of drugs?”
“Cocaine and yellow glue.”
________ __________
In my less sanguine moments, in all my moments, really, I don’t believe I have what it takes to be involved in this kind of ministry. Last night I could not sleep. Now, I need to tighten up my spiritual armour, raise high my SHIELD of faith, tighten my HELMET of God’s salvation! I KNOW God has the strength to help me and my sisters and brothers who are working with and on behalf of these 57 children. I KNOW that even though I personally have NO SPIRITUAL AND EMOTIONAL RESOURCES to confront this kind of evil, oppression of women and children, and powerful systemized corruption, this kind of a spiritual BATTLE, God does.
God does.
And, we have prayer, together, in the Body of Christ.
GlobeRoamer 
