A good read on building genuine fellowship and community life - Behind the Mask talks about 3 key areas: forgiveness, integrity and humility, and highlights also, that without love, all else would be meaningless.
Saturday, 29 November 2008
Tuesday, 25 November 2008
C is for Cookie
Maybe I'll make my own books to supplement reading material for my children in the far away future if I can convince myself to produce any. I've already thought of some little ways I'm going to decorate their room/s with special things that mark milestones in or stages of their lives.
"A" is for apple, as shiny as a pearl
"A" is for Amy, a cute name for a girl
"B" is for bedknob, not corn on a cob
"B" is for the builder, whose name is Bob
"C" is for cookie, and cookie is for me
"C" is for crumbly, as a cookie should be
"A" is for Amy, a cute name for a girl
"B" is for bedknob, not corn on a cob
"B" is for the builder, whose name is Bob
"C" is for cookie, and cookie is for me
"C" is for crumbly, as a cookie should be
My colleague brought in a wedge of chocolate cake that the mum of a friend of his made. He placed it in the fridge when he got to work (in glad wrap) and just had it for morning tea. He just came in to tell me it tasted like fridge. "Taste of fridge in a sponge", he said, "with a hint of chocolate". Hmm, yummy...
Monday, 24 November 2008
Schoolies
It's that time of year again. School and uni are out and everyone's planning their holidays. This post will show my age as I have long passed the days when I used to do likewise. Only problem is, none of my plans (if I made any - probably in response to my spiritual mentor's recommendation) ever materialised. In fact, I have a habit of not carrying out most of my goals and plans. I just like how they look on paper, typed out in some pretty and orderly fashion with tables and illustrations. Anyhow, I often penned down that I'd spend the holidays finishing a particular Christian book and studying a particular book of the Bible or theme. Good things like that. Apart from spending quality time with family and friends of course. But, sure enough, the three-month summer break would come to a close and my plans would have all gone to pots (down the drain, into non-existence, whatever expression tickles your fancy). SO. I thought I would write this in a hopefully-not-vain attempt to persuade a student or two not to follow in my complacent (more like downright lazy bum bum) ways.
Spend your holiday wisely. 3 months (give or take) is actually a decently long time, but it can go very quickly if not careful. I can't believe how many of these precious breaks I have wasted in my years as a student here (not to mention my entire schooling life previously! But at that time, I really did not know much better...ok, that was a lousy "justification").
I could have gotten really serious about pursuing my relationship with God and making the most of those times to study His word, read, listen to sermons, do something really constructive even if it was a leisurely project (but at least put my mind to something) and not just fiddle around and sleep too much and consume an illegal amount of television.
I could have been far more intentional with time spent with family and friends. I look back now and I realise how little I have made the effort to really know my family members. To sit at my grandparents' feet and take in all their life stories and learn from their experiences and rejoice in how God has brought each generation through. I could have learnt how to play the violin from my grandfather or asked him about his camera collection. I could have taken more interest in every single person I claim to love yet effectively isolate by not fully opening up my life to them out of pride or whatever silly notions I may have. I've been telling of my regrets to Fab off late, saying how I miss home and want to be back for a while. We can't just yet and so are aiming to do so later next year. He reminded me I ought to call home more, even if I may not have a whole lot to say. It's about making that connection. Letting them know they are important. That you care about them and want to include them in your life by letting them in on what's been happening. I thank God that it is not too late to start now. I do not want to regret when they are gone. I want them to know, always, that I really do love every one of them very dearly.
Don't let this time pass by with nothing to show for it. When you start working, you'll wish you had holidays like that. It may be different if you end up being a teacher or working part time or something. Still, why let the chance to make something of the time you have now slip?
Spend your holiday wisely. 3 months (give or take) is actually a decently long time, but it can go very quickly if not careful. I can't believe how many of these precious breaks I have wasted in my years as a student here (not to mention my entire schooling life previously! But at that time, I really did not know much better...ok, that was a lousy "justification").
I could have gotten really serious about pursuing my relationship with God and making the most of those times to study His word, read, listen to sermons, do something really constructive even if it was a leisurely project (but at least put my mind to something) and not just fiddle around and sleep too much and consume an illegal amount of television.
I could have been far more intentional with time spent with family and friends. I look back now and I realise how little I have made the effort to really know my family members. To sit at my grandparents' feet and take in all their life stories and learn from their experiences and rejoice in how God has brought each generation through. I could have learnt how to play the violin from my grandfather or asked him about his camera collection. I could have taken more interest in every single person I claim to love yet effectively isolate by not fully opening up my life to them out of pride or whatever silly notions I may have. I've been telling of my regrets to Fab off late, saying how I miss home and want to be back for a while. We can't just yet and so are aiming to do so later next year. He reminded me I ought to call home more, even if I may not have a whole lot to say. It's about making that connection. Letting them know they are important. That you care about them and want to include them in your life by letting them in on what's been happening. I thank God that it is not too late to start now. I do not want to regret when they are gone. I want them to know, always, that I really do love every one of them very dearly.
Don't let this time pass by with nothing to show for it. When you start working, you'll wish you had holidays like that. It may be different if you end up being a teacher or working part time or something. Still, why let the chance to make something of the time you have now slip?
Saturday, 22 November 2008
Called to unity and mobilisation
Colossians 3: 1-17 Rules for Holy Living
"Since, then, you have been raised with Christ, set your hearts on things above...Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things...Put to death, therefore, whatever belongs to your earthly nature: sexual immorality, impurity, lust, evil desires and greed, which is idolatry. Because of these, the wrath of God is coming. You used to walk in these ways, in the life you once lived. But now you must rid yourselves of all such things as these: anger, rage, malice, slander, and filthy language from your lips. Do not lie to each other, since you have taken off your old self with its practices and have put on the new self, which is being renewed in knowledge in the image of its Creator. Here there is no Greek or Jew, circumcised or uncircumcised, barbarian, Scythian, slave or free, but Christ is all, and is in all. (We are equal)
Therefore, as God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity. Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, since as members of one body you were called to peace. And be thankful. Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly as you teach and admonish one another with all wisdom, and as you sing psalms, hymns and spiritual songs with gratitude in your hearts to God. And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him"
Pastor Lance spoke of unity and mobilisation this morning in our prayer meeting. In speaking of these, he explained the meaning of fellowship. The word fellowship signifies the coming together, in harmony (and intimacy), of two or more people, with a common purpose that effectively leads to movement - like fellow skilled crewmen on board a ship making it able to move across the seas in a decided direction. The Church is often attacked in such a way that derision and division set in to bring its downfall and destruction. We need to stand firm and stand by one another. If one needs to be corrected, do so in and out of love, not with the motivation to expose and ridicule. He asked us to pray for ourselves, that we would be people who seek to investigate and not be quick to judge, criticise and accuse our fellow brothers and sisters.
As we were praying, I thought about how I have spoken about others, claiming that I was sharing of their "weaknesses" as I was "concerned about them". In effect, I was hurt or angry and so wanted to get others on my side of thinking. How often have I spoken ill of my colleagues or students when they have rubbed me the wrong way, even in the most trivial manner. They certainly did not deserve my slander.
Recently, a friend was crushed by groundless accusations that were mass publicised, under false credentials, with the supposed intention to warn fellow ones of this friend's "strikingly flawed attitudes and personality". This person even quoted scripture as they flogged my poor friend with one character assassination after the other. It made me think how what I have said in the past could really tear down the person I was speaking of, particularly if they ever got wind of my unchecked words. Naturally, I felt the urge to defend my friend. To protect, to vindicate. Then I thought. Hurt people hurt people. Though nothing can actually justify what the accuser has done, we have to address the fact that the person acted out of being caught up by their pain and rage. I ought to uphold them in prayer just as much as my friend and not crucify the accuser. It would go nowhere otherwise. Be just another vicious cycle of hatred and revenge.
Was thinking, one of my life mottos should be: Don't say, of someone, behind their back, things you wouldn't say to their face. And if you're just mean and would say hurtful things to their face anyway, then go to the back and sort yourself out.
Friday, 21 November 2008
Wishing for...
More creativity and the patience to sit down and make something as cool as these hand made journals by Tia Bennet (refer to Two Peas in a Bucket under All Things Fancy). The bottom set would be a real challenge for me. She used the binder (cover) of an old classic (Pride and Prejudice - I love it! Reminds me of my beautiful mum - we used to watch the 6-hour long BBC version together), attached a recipe book inside, retained some of the pages of the original text but included sections for personal reflections to be recorded. She also sewed the edges of the pages and hemmed in little fabric pieces as tabs and decorative items inside (notice the pretty doily). She made her own little bookmarks and surreptitiously stuck little phrases amongst the pages (note the first image)...how fabulous would these be as gifts for that special someone who has a penchant for journals and writing and all things pretty and maybe even a little vintage!
Thursday, 20 November 2008
So thankful for...
God's constant protection over Fab, myself and our families and loved ones. We made it through the massive storm on Sunday, praying it would not hail and we'd get back safely. There was no hail and we made it back safely. With each rumble in the sky last night, you could feel the whole little house shake. I prayed nothing would happen to our home and cars. Everything was standing fine this morning. Oh, that's right, I have yet to write about God's blessings in our honeymoon. Yes, will have to get to that one of these days before the year is up!
Many of my colleagues have been so badly affected by the recent storms. Trees through roofing. Broken windows, head concussions from having slipped and fallen hard on concrete due to the panic of trying to get the car inside away from hail, flooded horse stables and the whole downstairs portion of the house. They've been spending this week trying to remove debris, secure other areas of their homes, try and get some form of cover as the relentless rain has not been making things any easier.
A lot of focus has been given to The Gap but so many other suburbs have been greatly affected too. Learnt from a colleague this morning that The Gap has had all the media coverage and help due to a political feud, where one of the councils is trying hard to get more votes from the residents. All assistance has been given with the wrong motive. And residents of other areas are left alone to manage the disaster with no aid. That is just awful. Let's pray for these people. Don't get me wrong though, the residents at The Gap have been hit really hard (the photo above is real), so they do need our fervent prayers. Let's also pray for the government and people in authority to open their eyes and hearts to do the right thing by everyone and not be driven by personal agenda. Families have lost everything in the blink of an eye. They need to know God is real and watching over them and that He can and will bring healing from the pain and provide all they need to get back up again. Let's pray they will not harden their hearts all the more towards Him but come to experience His love, grace and goodness through this tragedy.
Psalm 95: 1-2 "Come, let us sing for joy to the LORD; let us shout aloud to the Rock of our salvation. Let us come before him with thanksgiving and extol him with music and song" - One area I need to grow in is to give God thanks all the time, in all circumstances. To recognise that no matter what happens, He's got it all under control and will work it for the best of those who love Him.
Many of my colleagues have been so badly affected by the recent storms. Trees through roofing. Broken windows, head concussions from having slipped and fallen hard on concrete due to the panic of trying to get the car inside away from hail, flooded horse stables and the whole downstairs portion of the house. They've been spending this week trying to remove debris, secure other areas of their homes, try and get some form of cover as the relentless rain has not been making things any easier.
A lot of focus has been given to The Gap but so many other suburbs have been greatly affected too. Learnt from a colleague this morning that The Gap has had all the media coverage and help due to a political feud, where one of the councils is trying hard to get more votes from the residents. All assistance has been given with the wrong motive. And residents of other areas are left alone to manage the disaster with no aid. That is just awful. Let's pray for these people. Don't get me wrong though, the residents at The Gap have been hit really hard (the photo above is real), so they do need our fervent prayers. Let's also pray for the government and people in authority to open their eyes and hearts to do the right thing by everyone and not be driven by personal agenda. Families have lost everything in the blink of an eye. They need to know God is real and watching over them and that He can and will bring healing from the pain and provide all they need to get back up again. Let's pray they will not harden their hearts all the more towards Him but come to experience His love, grace and goodness through this tragedy.
Psalm 95: 1-2 "Come, let us sing for joy to the LORD; let us shout aloud to the Rock of our salvation. Let us come before him with thanksgiving and extol him with music and song" - One area I need to grow in is to give God thanks all the time, in all circumstances. To recognise that no matter what happens, He's got it all under control and will work it for the best of those who love Him.
Thinking of...
Family, and visiting over the Easter break in April next year if not earlier. Hee, my dad looks all serious and proper, Fab looks really big and my nephew's making the peace sign
Writing and being one of those freelance Christian women writers who have the most beautiful lives that bless the multitudes and who are great designers or photographers or creative people of some formLearning photography
Making my own Christmas tree and decorations to go on it and around our home
Antique furniture - I want to be one of those people who have a knack for finding great little pieces of furniture or things for the home that are super cheap. They may look like they've seen better days but if you know how to put on the artist eyes, they have great potential if given a few touch-ups and coordinated with other pieces that just make the place look totally spesh
Karen Cheng's pancakes and white chocolate and raspberry muffin recipe. I love these photos she took of the final product. She is one very hip and happening mum of three (with the last little one scoring free rides everywhere in her womb)
This pretty scarf I found on someone's blog - oh dear, let me try and remember whose - she made it. You can't see the gorgeous embroidered detaling but trust me, it's sweet, classy, girly and great for a light winter all rolled into one! Aha! Found it! She also carved this awesome pumpkin for Halloween
Driving a taxi. No, I'm kidding. I just wanted to include this picture somewhere. It makes me think of travels someplace completely different
Being an awesome cook! Am so lazy when it comes to cooking but actually there are lots of things that can be done very easily. I just have to get the right recipes and ingredients and stop making the same boring things all the time for my poor husband
Wednesday, 19 November 2008
i ♥
Comfort Food
There's something about pastry that's crispy on top and chewy on the inside...pastry covering warm treats like melting Ricotta cheese and chives or curried mince and vegies like the one I made last week (picture above). May not look so impressive by the photos but gosh, it was yummy. Fab ate lots of it the night I made it for dinner but there was still enough to give a dinner-sized container full of it to a friend and for Fab and myself to have it for lunch the next day. Although reheating caused it to lose its crispy bits, I still thoroughly enjoyed it with splashings of ketchup.
Was a little sad we couldn't have dinner at Oishi Sushi at Pinelands on Monday as it is closed every Monday, we discovered to our dismay. But Charis suggested we try Kaisen further down the road. Not too bad. The sashimi and karaage were good. Poor Vania...I forgot she's not much of a raw fish fan nor does she eat many types of greens, but we had tempura and unagi rolls and Norman got teriyaki chicken so I think she had enough to eat. Besides, we proceeded downstairs to the Soy Cafe for dessert afterwards, who incidentally ran out of grass jelly and sesame balls. Sigh.
Was a little sad we couldn't have dinner at Oishi Sushi at Pinelands on Monday as it is closed every Monday, we discovered to our dismay. But Charis suggested we try Kaisen further down the road. Not too bad. The sashimi and karaage were good. Poor Vania...I forgot she's not much of a raw fish fan nor does she eat many types of greens, but we had tempura and unagi rolls and Norman got teriyaki chicken so I think she had enough to eat. Besides, we proceeded downstairs to the Soy Cafe for dessert afterwards, who incidentally ran out of grass jelly and sesame balls. Sigh.
Tuesday, 18 November 2008
Only my husband can
Dedicated to you, Fab
10 of the gazillion things that "only my husband can"
Only my husband can tell me I look pretty sporting a frumpy shower cap as I fiddle around in the bathroom or carrying a large red pimple slap bang in the centre of my forehead
Only my husband can make me the perfect 'Nutella' and banana sandwich for breakfast
Only my husband can make me smile just by drawing a happy face in the air and giving me that little twinkle in his eyes
Only my husband can fully appreciate my totally bizarre sense of humour and join me in being completely kooky like some giant fruit loop until we both end up in a heap laughing like silly little kids
Only my husband can start reading one of the daily devotions (for couples) for the month of September instead of November and comment, "Hey, haven't we read this before? I think they made an error in the printing", only to have me glance over and remark, "You're in the wrong month!" (And burst out laughing of course)
Only my husband can quietly reach for my hand in the car and tell me he missed me when he had to spend one night away for work
Only my husband can make me feel special in a crowd as he acknowledges me from afar with a blink that says, "Hi"
Only my husband can physically put his arm around me and enfold me in his warm embrace to comfort me as I bawl my eyes out after altar call on Sunday night
Only my husband can call me his baby, his princess, his beautiful wife (OK, apart from God calling me His beloved and blushing bride as well) and kiss me on the forehead as he gently tucks me into bed at night, making sure I am comfy and warm enough
Only my husband can make me know I'm the most adored wife on the face of the universe
Fab, you're the most gorgeous man I have ever met and know. Apart from Grandpa and Pa, you're the most treasured man in my life. You are the most wonderful husband any girl could ever have. You love me with a love that is so pure and generous and deep. You are often quiet and unassuming and so big on your actions that show me I am esteemed. You lift me up when I am down, you lead me when I am tempted to give up. I thank God for you every single day for you are surely one of my greatest blessings from Him. My family loves you and that has always been hugely important to me. When my parents supported our relationship and kept asking after you, I knew you had to be the right one, for they too love me unconditionally and have the wisdom and reliance upon God to let me know what is best. There is so much about you I could write. All the beautiful aspects of who you are and what you do and how you are to me. But perhaps I will continue to store them in my heart and reveal each one to you slowly so you know I love and appreciate you fully.
Love, yours forever, Jos
Only my husband can make me the perfect 'Nutella' and banana sandwich for breakfast
Only my husband can make me smile just by drawing a happy face in the air and giving me that little twinkle in his eyes
Only my husband can fully appreciate my totally bizarre sense of humour and join me in being completely kooky like some giant fruit loop until we both end up in a heap laughing like silly little kids
Only my husband can start reading one of the daily devotions (for couples) for the month of September instead of November and comment, "Hey, haven't we read this before? I think they made an error in the printing", only to have me glance over and remark, "You're in the wrong month!" (And burst out laughing of course)
Only my husband can quietly reach for my hand in the car and tell me he missed me when he had to spend one night away for work
Only my husband can make me feel special in a crowd as he acknowledges me from afar with a blink that says, "Hi"
Only my husband can physically put his arm around me and enfold me in his warm embrace to comfort me as I bawl my eyes out after altar call on Sunday night
Only my husband can call me his baby, his princess, his beautiful wife (OK, apart from God calling me His beloved and blushing bride as well) and kiss me on the forehead as he gently tucks me into bed at night, making sure I am comfy and warm enough
Only my husband can make me know I'm the most adored wife on the face of the universe
Fab, you're the most gorgeous man I have ever met and know. Apart from Grandpa and Pa, you're the most treasured man in my life. You are the most wonderful husband any girl could ever have. You love me with a love that is so pure and generous and deep. You are often quiet and unassuming and so big on your actions that show me I am esteemed. You lift me up when I am down, you lead me when I am tempted to give up. I thank God for you every single day for you are surely one of my greatest blessings from Him. My family loves you and that has always been hugely important to me. When my parents supported our relationship and kept asking after you, I knew you had to be the right one, for they too love me unconditionally and have the wisdom and reliance upon God to let me know what is best. There is so much about you I could write. All the beautiful aspects of who you are and what you do and how you are to me. But perhaps I will continue to store them in my heart and reveal each one to you slowly so you know I love and appreciate you fully.Love, yours forever, Jos
Monday, 17 November 2008
Standing in the gap
I don't know how it came about, but I found myself standing in a room in my dream. Ahead, stood a man with his back to me. I heard a cry followed by repeated pleas for him to stop. He was beating her down with an iron rod. The woman was on the ground. I could see the terror in her eyes, the pain across her face as this man, her partner, one whom she had come to love and trust, struck her endlessly with no mercy, without even flinching. Everything within me wanted to make it stop. But I couldn't. I was a ghost in that room. Neither could see or hear me. I couldn't even move towards them. I woke up with a heavy feeling in my guts.
It started when I was young. Somehow I'd come across articles upon articles of women revealing their gruesome ordeals of rape and abuse; reports of children being treated with violence. People even forwarded me emails with explicitly graphic photographs of women, taken after they had been sexually assaulted and tortured. Why I kept coming in contact with such writing and imagery I did not know. Each one would make me cry for hours, my heart aching, my head spinning and laden with questions and thoughts of revenge on their behalf. Each one would deepen the hole in my heart, the fear of being hurt myself, the resentment towards God and men. This would always come up as a barrier at some stage of my spiritual growth. A dead-end in my walk with the Lord. I'd make some form of progress but then end up at square one the next time I heard, read or saw anything that related to rape, abuse and torture.
Over the years, the questions, the "reasons" for my hatred and fear have increased. And every so often I would crumble into a heap on the floor, weak from the incessant begging of God to make it all stop, from bawling my eyes out, from feeling completely vulnerable, from trembling because a noise in the night when I was home alone made me think someone was breaking in and would take advantage of me and murder me because it just happened to an elderly woman in another suburb. I only felt perfectly safe when others were in the house or when I returned home to be with family. A couple of years ago, God brought a release from some of the nightmares I had been experiencing. I could be home alone and not be as consumed by frightening thoughts as before. I could make it through days without being overwhelmed by haunting thoughts and images in my mind. But I'd still hear and come across reports on the net, articles in magazines. I'd still struggle and fight with God, cry and intercede.
I remember sitting in a restaurant and seeing at the other end, a man grabbing hold of a waitress' hand as she tried to clean the table. He was with a male friend who thought nothing of it all. The man seemed to be making rather lewd comments while the waitress pulled her hand away, lowered her head and tried to clear the dishes as quickly as possible. As he approached the cashier, he reached out and rubbed her back. The young girl stepped away, went behind the counter and squatted down to hide, under the pretence she was looking for something. The man continued to talk to her, and asked the cashier what the waitresses' name was. The cashier replied, not clueing onto the situation at hand. The moment I spotted him behaving inappropriately, my stomach went into knots. I became quite light headed and nauseous and rage grew from within me. My face had lost colour but I could feel heat rising in my cheeks and along my ears. I finally managed to speak, "How can he not see the way he's making her feel? He doesn't deserve to live, He's a sick man, I want to punish him". My hands gripped my knife tightly as I turned to face him as he and his smiling friend walked up to the counter. My legs went weak and I couldn't move myself. I felt disgusted at him, helpless for the girl, and frustrated at my cowardice. Fab had no idea what I was muttering to myself about. He did not understand why I had suddenly fallen silent, why my expression had changed and why I was clutching everything around me until my knuckles went white. "Jos, Jos!...what's wrong? What are you saying? What's going on?" I snapped out of my insanity but couldn't shake the fear, rage and disgust. I couldn't stomach anymore food and told him I had to leave the place before I threw up.
There were a million thoughts racing through my head of how I would make the man understand the severity of his actions. He and his friend thought it was harmless fun. I wanted them to see otherwise. I wanted to hurt them. Very badly. I went up to the waitress who had emerged from behind the counter since the men had left. She looked shaken. Her head was still hanging low. I asked her if she was alright. She quietly replied she was fine now they had left the restaurant. I wish I could have done more for her. I should have stood up and defended her. Why did I not have the courage to do something? I cursed that man for weeks on end. The scenes replayed themselves in my mind every night as I tried to sleep. I prayed for the girl and spoke death over the man. God tried to persuade me to take on His perspective of the situation. To see the man through His eyes. I refused. I yelled at God, I threw probing questions into the silence that answered me. Finally I stopped. After a couple of months. We drove past that area the other day. The restaurant is now gone. I wondered about that girl. I wanted to know she was alright. I thought about that man and his friend. My thoughts didn't go anywhere. I prayed God would change his heart.
Recently, the haunting thoughts and images have returned. Every single day they are with me. While I work, while I listen to the sermon in church, while I drive...every waking moment. And now my dreams are reflecting the things that burden me and make my head hurt and my heart ache with pleas that God will intervene and end rape, end abuse, end the sex trade.
What do I do, God. with the image of a little girl being beaten into submission and locked into a dark cold room to wait for her "client", some man who has tossed some loose change to manipulate her body, as if she were an invaluable toy he could purchase at a whim? He will be aggressive with her. She will not escape. Her tiny undeveloped body will be broken. Her insides will be ripped. Her gift of virginity will be violently robbed from her. She will become just another object on the market. Another option for the millions of man who want nothing more than to satisfy their lust and greed for power and control. Another possession of the man, or worse, woman, who now "own" her for the purpose of their profitable trade. They are fully committed to protecting their business for it earns them a great deal. It is a booming industry. More and more men are throwing money into this trade. We cannot work fast enough to save them. With every one finally rescued, many, many more are being trapped in the business through kidnapping, fathers selling their daughters to clear debts, and reasons so many they fall off the page.
What do I do, God, with the image of a woman begging the gang to let her go as they throw her to the ground, rip off her clothes, press themselves against her roughly all the while bruising her as she struggles and fights, and tear away her self dignity, her joy, her hope for life, her desire to be beautiful, her emotional stability, her ability to trust in others, her sanity...? She lies exposed, vulnerable and shamed to the core. She's crying because her body burns with excruciating pain, her heart trembles with fear seared into every fibre of her being, her mind turns to thoughts of how she's now been made nothing. How will she face her family, her friends, society? Will she be forever rejected as dirty, as worthless? What did she do to deserve this? Was this punishment? Had she really been that bad? Was she dressed inappropriately? She'd always been conservative. She'd never invited that kind of attention. Maybe she ought to withdraw herself completely now. How will she ever heal? They did not care. The trauma was repeated as man after man lay on her and stripped her of everything. She begged, she tried to push them away. That only made it worse. Now her body was wrecked. There was blood everywhere. She found another bruise and another tear in her flesh. Her mind was weary. She couldn't even stand up. They left her for dead. The abuse lasted for hours on end. It felt forever. It is forever. She will carry this with her for the rest of her life. Every wound, every scar, every condemning thought, everything. There is no life remaining. They have brutally taken it all. Her life was perfect until that day she was dragged into an alley. It was broad daylight. Why did no one hear her? Why did no one come to her rescue? Why did no one stop them? Why did God turn His back on her?
Tell me Lord how I can make a difference. I want to take them out of those situations before they happen. I want to protect them, shield them, defend them, fight for them. I want to make the men understand what they're doing. Put them in the women's' shoes. Make them see that though to them it is nothing (they experience no pain, but sick pleasure), to the woman it can be everything (her whole life, her very sense of self). Show them the effects of their words, their violence. God, You don't want revenge. I plead You for vindication but to You, justice is quite different. My perspective is biased, limited, wrong.
Help me God. Help me to be someone who can bring Your light, Your life. To bring encouragement, truth where disillusionment has set in, hope, joy, peace for the fear someone will strike them down again. I want them to know they will never be shamed again. That You can and will restore them. That You love them and did not abandon them to the trauma. I cannot understand how You could stand by and watch and not do something. But there is so much I don't see, that I just don't know or comprehend. So much of You I need to learn and discover. Give me strength to trust You. To wait upon You. To believe I can make a difference even if I have not gone through the same things. Please do not let it be that I have to endure those horrible experiences to be of use to You. Please.
Forgive me for my unbelief, my lack of faith, my unwillingness. Grant me peace for my mind that runs like a tape recorder I can't shut off. Give me resolution. Please. Place within me the ability to reach out to them. The words to say to bring healing and restoration. Just as You have promised. Cause me to discover our true identity in You, to love being a woman, to celebrate everything about us and my purpose in You, to see beyond the circumstances so I can raise their heads. You have said that the same power that conquered the grave lives in me. You have said that the same love that saved the earth when Jesus laid down His life once and for all lives in me. Let it be so!
In my prime, I want to see the world change in this regard. I want a revolution in culture, that women can be exhorted. I want a revolution in perspective, that women can be respected, honoured and protected by men. That children will be adored and cared for with a love that is pure. Let me see this change. Let me see it first as a strong vision in my heart and mind and spirit so I can pray with fervency and sharpness. Give me words so sharp I can speak into their lives, into any situation and bring Your truth to set them free from everything that has happened. That they may look back at their pasts and laugh at the devil for he has lost all authority over them. You are our stronghold, Lord. Our ever present help in times of trouble. May I truly be convicted of this in my spirit right now Lord.
In Jesus' most precious and mighty name I pray, Amen
Friday, 14 November 2008
I pray this for every woman I know, every woman out there who is to be a mother or mother more children, I pray this for myself...God's peace, God's presence, God's grace in granting a supernatural birth
Tuesday, 11 November 2008
Dear God
"In my life, be lifted high"
In my thinking, in my attitudes - the way I perceive You, others, myself and Your work, that I will seek Your kingdom and Your righteousness first
"In our world, be lifted high"
In our political arena, in our socio-economic arena - that it won't be the rich getting richer and the poor getting poorer or people gaining profits over the lives of others like in human trafficking and the sex trade, in our education, in our healhcare, in our entertainment and media - that we will seek after what is holy and pure and not destroy the sacredness of our sexuality and the intimacy that should only exist between husband and a wife who love and honour each other dearly, in our life goals, in our priorities, the things we pursue
"In our love, be lifted high"
In the way we regard and treat one another, in the way we regard one anothers' property,in the way we look at what we have and how we can actually give so much more of ourselves and what we have that others may not be living on nothing or too little - that we will not be afraid to lose our comfort, that we will not be afraid of being short changed or missing out because God will provide
In my thinking, in my attitudes - the way I perceive You, others, myself and Your work, that I will seek Your kingdom and Your righteousness first
"In our world, be lifted high"
In our political arena, in our socio-economic arena - that it won't be the rich getting richer and the poor getting poorer or people gaining profits over the lives of others like in human trafficking and the sex trade, in our education, in our healhcare, in our entertainment and media - that we will seek after what is holy and pure and not destroy the sacredness of our sexuality and the intimacy that should only exist between husband and a wife who love and honour each other dearly, in our life goals, in our priorities, the things we pursue
"In our love, be lifted high"
In the way we regard and treat one another, in the way we regard one anothers' property,in the way we look at what we have and how we can actually give so much more of ourselves and what we have that others may not be living on nothing or too little - that we will not be afraid to lose our comfort, that we will not be afraid of being short changed or missing out because God will provide
Monday, 10 November 2008
Learning to appreciate my differences
God's design for man and woman is perfect. We are equal in stature, though our makeup is quite different, and we hold very different roles and responsibilities. Man's nature and strength lie more in the physical and outward, whereas woman's lie more in the emotional and internal. What God intends for good, Satan uses for harm.
Since sin came in, we have been attacked more so in these areas. Man toils endlessly to seek after goals that become unattainable as true satisfaction is not found, and are drawn away from others, particularly loved ones. Woman, on the other hand, seeks relationships that end up being broken, disappointing and discouraging. Man struggles more with lust and sexual sin. Woman struggles in her emotions and gives herself, sacrificing a great price, in an effort to gain love. This is not to place each one in a stereotype, or to say that struggles do not present themselves in other areas or that the reverse cannot be true. Man too can struggle in their emotions, and woman battle with the desire for physical gratification. Some women even choose to take on the role of a man perhaps as it appears stronger, more powerful, and safer. I realise the extent to this can also vary depending on personality type and general outlook on themselves, life and situations.
Ever wonder why women seem to bear the brunt of sin more? I'm talking about how women across the world have been, and are, broken through a culture that says they are pieces of property, items to be owned and traded and treated in whatever manner men desire, objects for the sexual pleasure of men, a culture that stipulates a woman's standing is half or a third that of a man's. In some countries, a man can rape a woman and her father and brother have the right to stab her to death for she has brought disgrace upon the family. Broken. Through abuse and violence from complete strangers, or even worse, those whom they should be able to trust and receive love, respect and protection from.
Since sin came in, we have been attacked more so in these areas. Man toils endlessly to seek after goals that become unattainable as true satisfaction is not found, and are drawn away from others, particularly loved ones. Woman, on the other hand, seeks relationships that end up being broken, disappointing and discouraging. Man struggles more with lust and sexual sin. Woman struggles in her emotions and gives herself, sacrificing a great price, in an effort to gain love. This is not to place each one in a stereotype, or to say that struggles do not present themselves in other areas or that the reverse cannot be true. Man too can struggle in their emotions, and woman battle with the desire for physical gratification. Some women even choose to take on the role of a man perhaps as it appears stronger, more powerful, and safer. I realise the extent to this can also vary depending on personality type and general outlook on themselves, life and situations.
Ever wonder why women seem to bear the brunt of sin more? I'm talking about how women across the world have been, and are, broken through a culture that says they are pieces of property, items to be owned and traded and treated in whatever manner men desire, objects for the sexual pleasure of men, a culture that stipulates a woman's standing is half or a third that of a man's. In some countries, a man can rape a woman and her father and brother have the right to stab her to death for she has brought disgrace upon the family. Broken. Through abuse and violence from complete strangers, or even worse, those whom they should be able to trust and receive love, respect and protection from.
If not tainted, our strengths prove to be a blessing. Men are called to be leaders, and women their help meet. Yet, with sin, we see men being attacked in relation to this privileged position they have been granted. They are deceived by a consuming urge for power and control in twisted ways. So they misuse their strength towards those who are meant to be following and supporting, thereby breaking the flow of blessing God intends for both. Women are crushed, told that submission is about obedience unquestioned, obedience to everything, though what is placed upon them is not a leadership of love, truth, holiness and freedom, but an oppression of greed, lust, aggression, self righteousness and self centred desires and ambitions. What woman would want to come under that? It's nothing like the leadership God speaks of in Ephesians 5: 25-29: "Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her to make her holy...In this same way, husbands ought to love their wives as their own bodies...After all, no one ever hated his own body, but he feeds and cares for it, just as Christ does the church"
It amazes me how much women throughout the generations have endured and even survived. Many still live in constant fear, others have found human ways to suppress the trauma, to escape the pain, to manage. Though they live, there is death inside. Their hope is short lived. They have not been freed unless they have been restored fully by God. I have often seen women, on a whole, as weaker, and resented the way I am (being the more emotional of the lot), thinking that how I have been created and how sin has worked have made me very vulnerable. I think many women try to shut their beauty down to not attract unnecessary attention to themselves because this gift has not been celebrated but, instead, invited a cruel stripping away of dignity, sense of free will, self image and security, and brought pain, shame and disillusion. God has been trying to show me that He has given us an internal capacity so great that we are capable of so much more than we give ourselves credit for, especially when we look to God for our true identity and purpose, and as our one source of strength, hope and life.
When sin first entered, God punished according to the make up and role He had given to man and woman. To the man, he was to toil painfully. To the woman, she was to experience pain and struggles in the area of relationships. I think women seem to suffer more because of the way that sin has caused things to pan out in relation to our different nature and composition. And when has sin ever been fair? God is not unfair in having made us different. It is a perfect design that when allowed to be as He wills, brings much blessing, fruitfulness and fulfillment to both. It is not about one being weaker to the other. I need not despise who I am and how I 'function'. It does not mean that I would be more effective if I were to be like my friends who are more thought-driven than emotion-driven and are able to focus better on tasks and keep moving forward instead of mulling over doubts, questions and fears. Each person is to be appreciated as a perfect design of God. A masterpiece. That's not to say our flaws can be used as excuses or justifications though.
I believe women have been created the way we are, to be life bearers, life producers and life givers. We are nurturers. Men are called to nurture spiritually, through discipleship (and they have their role in nurturing their children), yes, but they do not experience the power and privilege of gaining a deeper insight into the heart of our Father God with regards to creation the way that women do. God, from the day sin came in, has experienced pain and heartache from creating beings that have chosen to turn against Him and turn against one another. Our relational God grieves over our sin. Yet, He loves unconditionally, provides for, and blesses His children as they return and call upon Him. So too, a mother, will come to understand the pain (and of course joy) from pregnancy to labour to childbirth to raising her very own flesh and blood. There is an intimacy there that is unspoken and in part indescribable because this life is so interwoven with hers as she carries it from seed form to full term and becomes its sole provider in many ways. But all is not lost. For in God, she can find restoration from what sin has stolen and brought about. She can find that infilling and complete satisfaction that no man can give. God can meet her every desire as she chooses to set her life apart for Him. And He wants to. What God spoke as a consequence of sin will cause us to realise how much we need Him. It is His way of safeguarding us from searching elsewhere for what only He can give, though it can be difficult to appreciate this when in low times of our lives. But when we return, we are blessed. And I am sure this goes for men too.
I am still struggling greatly with accepting how things are in this world. The way women are dishonoured and dismissed and destroyed at the hands of men. I understand not all men view women as objects. I understand many women disgrace themselves. They disrespect their own bodies and do not treat themselves as God's temple. Too many do not know their real identity. Who they are in God. I struggle as I do not want to endure pain that only women face. Like in pregnancy, labour, childbirth and motherhood. I struggle as I think maybe I ought to learn kickboxing so I can adequately defend myself and protect my loved ones from men who do intend to bring harm. The thing is, men are not the enemy as I often feel. I'm not targeting any of the men I know though as they're all lovely people. I'm frightened and fixated on what is such a tiny aspect in the big scheme of things. I am really praying that God will set me free in this area. That I can truly come to appreciate myself and have love and compassion for all people. Men and women. And not be quick to judge and criticise and label.
What is a priesthood church?
Bible Reference: Isaiah 1]
Belle preached last night on us being A Priestghood Church, as part of the series of lessons we will be covering in the coming weekend's seminar on this topic. More specifically, she was covering the question posed in this post's title. In pointing out that a priesthood church is one that is holy and set apart for God, she directed us to look at the Israelite nation - how they were (and still are) God's chosen people, yet they turned against Him repeatedly (choosing, instead, idols and a lesser life), and in so doing, brought adverse consequences upon themselves that carry even through to generations today.
Belle did not quote from this passage I have included but verse 18 happens to be the daily verse on Biblegateway. It caught my attention and led me to read the whole chapter to better understand its context. The Israelites rejected God over and over and over again, despite all He did for them, all He revealed, and promised and provided. Effectively, they gave away their great inheritance and received persecution and destruction. It amazes me that God wanted to 'talk it out with them' (verse 18: "Come now, let us reason together..."). He wanted to give them yet another chance to return to Him and to be in a postition where they could have the incredible blessings He had prepared for them, blessings that were now just sitting in cold storage waiting for them to get their act together. God was willing to humble Himself and say, "Ok, you've done terrible things, completely misunderstood me and miscontrued all I've spoken into your lives and presented before you, but I'm willing to put that aside. Let's talk about this. Tell me what's on your heart. What's going on? Why are you doing this? We can put it all out on the table and have a heart to heart discussion. Just you and me. I just want you to know you can approach me. I'm here to listen. To reason with you. Don't just walk away."
How many times have I done just that though? Messed up and then turned my back on God despite His love, grace and faithfulness without consulting Him about anything in my life. I've certainly faced some consequences. Honestly, though, I am pretty sure I could have faced far worse but God was being really gracious with all my gross sin. The promise was for the Israelites. And still is. In His love, He has extended this to all of us too. Will we, also, take it for granted and lose out on life eternal with a God who loves us deeply and just wants to have an intimate relationship and bless us out of the abundance of His riches? The point here is not to get the blessings but to see that ultimately it is not worth it to trade eternity with God for things we can see and own on earth. They don't last, those things.
Matthew 6: 19 - 21 "Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.
Sunday, 9 November 2008
On wrestling
The passage by Oswald Chambers I posted just before this has provided me with some keen insight on my current struggles. All this while, I have been battling with God over things which I lack understanding in. Things that really shake my faith by causing me to doubt God's real intentions or His ways of doing things. I know God is never the enemy but as my fight has to do with what I see God has allowed and even enabled, in some sense, I've been picking on Him for answers, for change. I'm just not getting the big picture. And hearing that His ways and thoughts are higher and He's got it all in control, and who am I to question, and that I ought to just trust and obey and believe in the unseen (His character, which I have come to know through personal experiences, and His Word, which I really need more wisdom for as I find some parts rather contradictory to what I see - but that's just due to my limited knowledge and comprehension) is not helping me to feel at peace. In fact, it seems to create more turmoil in my heart and mind.
Now, it appears I should turn my attention to battling with the things I am using as ammunition against God, instead of fighting with God over these things. That does seem to make more sense. So how does one do that exactly? My guess is through relentless prayer and seeking of His face not His hand. I do not need answers. What I need is a fresh revelation of His grace (what He has already done for me on the cross) everyday. Ok God, open my eyes and heart and mind and spirit to You. Draw my focus away from the world and the issues within it, and just help me get it. You know, the thing I need to get so I don't keep mulling over things I cannot control or fix (which, incidentally, make me feel incredibly vulnerable to the point I go crazy in my head sometimes and just want to become a mushroom and hide away somewhere for eternity)
Wrestling Before God
You must learn to wrestle against the things that hinder your communication with God, and wrestle in prayer for other people; but to wrestle with God in prayer is unscriptural. If you ever do wrestle with God, you will be crippled for the rest of your life. If you grab hold of God and wrestle with Him, as Jacob did, simply because He is working in a way that doesn’t meet with your approval, you force Him to put you out of joint (see Genesis 32: 24-25 ). Don’t become a cripple by wrestling with the ways of God, but be someone who wrestles before God with the things of this world, because "we are more than conquerors through Him . . ." ( Romans 8: 37 ). Wrestling before God makes an impact in His kingdom. If you ask me to pray for you, and I am not complete in Christ, my prayer accomplishes nothing. But if I am complete in Christ, my prayer brings victory all the time. Prayer is effective only when there is completeness— "take up the whole armor of God . . . ." ( Ephesians 6: 13,18 ).
Always make a distinction between God’s perfect will and His permissive will, which He uses to accomplish His divine purpose for our lives. God’s perfect will is unchangeable. It is with His permissive will, or the various things that He allows into our lives, that we must wrestle before Him. It is our reaction to these things allowed by His permissive will that enables us to come to the point of seeing His perfect will for us. "We know that all things work together for good to those who love God . . ." ( Romans 8: 28 )— to those who remain true to God’s perfect will— His calling in Christ Jesus. God’s permissive will is the testing He uses to reveal His true sons and daughters. We should not be spineless and automatically say, "Yes, it is the Lord’s will." We don’t have to fight or wrestle with God, but we must wrestle before God with things. Beware of lazily giving up. Instead, put up a glorious fight and you will find yourself empowered with His strength.
Oswald Chambers
Saturday, 8 November 2008
Work in Progress
Wrote this during prayer meeting this morning...had more to add to it but I don't quite recall what it was I had in mind nor the tune to which I sang this to...
I can trust in Your heart
I can trust in Your plans
I can trust in Your ways
I love You Lord (2x)
I seek You in a dry and weary place
I seek You as the world around me crumbles
I seek You as my tears have gone dry
And my heart is burdened
For You are my peace
For You are my strength
For You bring Your healing
And You lift me up again
My salvation lies in You
And nothing can shake me now
Hope for life is in You
I glorify You Lord (2x)
Friday, 7 November 2008
Piece-ful but Peaceless
There are so many thoughts bogging my mind down. They're clouding my perspective of God, the world (men in particular and my perceived plight of women), myself and the future of my loved ones and I. God is saying to me, "Lay them down. They're not for you to carry. These things that weigh you down. They are a burden to you but I have them all in my sovereign control. In my hand of grace. In my unfailing love for you". So what is it that's holding me back from trusting?
I've written to Ashley Weis again, who has given me some godly insight and relevant pointers to consider. Thank you Ashley. (Poor woman, I hope I haven't scared her off. Whoops) Now I just have to start to put everything into practice. Everything being what is written in God's Word. What He has revealed. It's time to reposition myself to finally be blazing along the path He has already set out even though I only have a couple of really basic instructions and directions. We watched a preaching by TD Jakes the other night at care group. And I've bought his book on Repositioning. I recommend listening to his sermon on this topic. I think he gave it at the Hillsongs conference last year or this.
Will finish Lisa Bevere's Out of Control and Loving it first I think. I'm near the end. She's talking about gossip now. A very appropriate topic for me. Before that was anger, of which I have come to realise I have been experiencing or harbouring and unleashing more of in recent years, though I can't quite put a finger on why it's there, deep in my being. Perhaps it's the lack of faith and discontentment. That is a killer. Discontentment. Pastor Lance delved into this at the Grace camp. Another one to ponder over and pray through.
Revelation 3:19-21 - "Those whom I love I rebuke and discipline. So be earnest, and repent. Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with him, and he with me. To him who overcomes, I will give the right to sit with me on my throne, just as I overcame and sat down with my Father on his throne"
God has been speaking about taking Him seriously and responding. About having a kingdom mentality and seeking Him for revelation and following it. The end is drawing near isn't it? And there is little time to make preparations so it's all about grabbing every opportunity to learn and grow now. We are called more than conquerors. So we don't just get over our challenges. We do more than that and are more than that. What exactly does that mean in my life? How would I live if I were to live as more than a conqueror. I tell you what, my life would look a whole lot different to what it is now. I may even be in a different place already. But let's not get carried away. I can start now. And you can too.
Different point of conversation: What do you think of the presidential election votes outcome?
Thursday, 6 November 2008
Two new discoveries
I learnt two new things yesterday, one in the car, one in the shower. It rained yesterday, which brought about the two realisations. I drive in the mornings and so, as any normal human being would, I flicked on the windscreen wipers as the rain pellets belted down on our way to work. They weren't heavy and relatively spaced out in frequency. So Fab leaned over and adjusted something, commenting softly, "don't need the intervals to be so close". "Huh?" "Intervals? What intervals?", his bewildered wife asked. "You can adjust the frequency with which the windscreen wiper moves on the first setting where it operates on an interval basis", came the response (ok, it wasn't in so many words nor did it sound so formal but this explains what Fab was getting at). "I never knew that", was my ditsy remark. "What a fascinating new discovery! Ha!" "Ah, you never knew that?", quizzed my gorgeous engineer husband. "No! Heh! Right, so that's why it says on the thing "Int, Lo, High" (well, something like that) "and has that bar picture thing" (wow, my vocabulary excels!)
Never in my life had I paid any proper attention to what that feature was all about nor had I any reason to need anything apart from the three settings as I had them. That morning, though, I fiddled with the frequency and switched between speed settings according to the rain conditions. It was all very exciting and made me very happy.
A natural phenomenon occurred that day as a result of the rain - the ground got wet. And so did my pants as I walked across it to get to the spot where Fab collects me after work. It wasn't so much the water as it was the mud that so artistically flicked itself all along the legs of my pants that bothered me. Yes, they went all the way to the base of my bum. Why? Because I am short and the dirt doesn't have far to travel up as it gets a boost from the back of my slippers when I walk. So I went home with grotty pants that I will be chucking in the washing machine with other dark laundry tonight.
Anyways. The muck on my feet led to very focused washing when I got into the shower. I spotted this black patch on my toe and proceeded to give it a good scrub. Except, it hurt! That's when I made discovery number 2. I have a bruise on the inside of my little toe, right foot. How does one get a bruise there? How obscure! I'm such a klutz though so I suppose I shouldn't put it past myself.
This morning, I feel like chocolate cake. Correction. I feel like eating chocolate cake. I wouldn't know what being a piece of chocolate cake would feel like. Although it wouldn't surprise me if it would feel rather proud of itself, being so delectable and alluring. Or maybe it has a really strong inferiority complex. A fatalist attitude. A fear borne from the knowledge that it is destined to be consumed and so probably won't get to live for more than a day.
Monday, 3 November 2008
The folded napkin
Truckers Story - sent by a colleague of mine
If this doesn't light your fire, your wood is wet!
I try not to be biased, but I had my doubts about hiring Stevie. His placement counselor assured me that he would be a good, reliable busboy. But I had never had a mentally handicapped employee and wasn't sure I wanted one. I wasn't sure how my customers would react to Stevie.
He was short, a little dumpy with the smooth facial features and thick-tongued speech of Downs Syndrome. I wasn't worried about most of my trucker customers because truckers don't generally care who buses tables as long as the meatloaf platter is good and the pies are homemade.
The four-wheeler drivers were the ones who concerned me; the mouthy college kids travelling to school; the yuppie snobs who secretly polish their silverware with their napkins for fear of catching some dreaded 'truck stop germ' the pairs of white-shirted business men on expense accounts who think every truck stop waitress wants to be flirted with. I knew those people would be uncomfortable around Stevie so I closely watched him for the first few weeks.
I shouldn't have worried. After the first week, Stevie had my staff wrapped around his stubby little finger, and within a month my truck regulars had adopted him as their official truck stop mascot.
After that, I really didn't care what the rest of the customers thought of him. He was like a 21-year-old in blue jeans and Nikes, eager to laugh and eager to please, but fierce in his attention to his duties. Every salt and peppershaker was exactly in its place, not a breadcrumb or coffee spill was visible when Stevie got done with the table. Our only problem was persuading him to wait to clean a table until after the customers were finished. He would hover in the background, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, scanning the dining room until a table was empty. Then he would scurry to the empty table and carefully bus dishes and glasses onto his cart and meticulously wipe the table up with a practiced flourish of his rag.
If he thought a customer was watching, his brow would pucker with added concentration. He took pride in doing his job exactly right, and you had to love how hard he tried to please each and every person he met
Over time, we learned that he lived with his mother, a widow who was disabled after repeated surgeries for cancer They lived on their Social Security benefits in public housing two miles from the truck stop. Their social worker, who stopped to check on him every so often, admitted they had fallen between the cracks. Money was tight, and what I paid him was probably the difference between them being able to live together and Stevie being sent to a group home. That's why the restaurant was a gloomy place that morning last August, the first morning in three years that Stevie missed work.
He was at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester getting a new valve or something put in his heart. His social worker said that people with Downs Syndrome often have heart problems at an early age so this wasn't unexpected, and there was a good chance he would come through the surgery in good shape and be back at work in a few months.
A ripple of excitement ran through the staff later that morning when word came that he was out of surgery, in recovery, and doing fine.
Frannie, the head waitress, let out a war hoop and did a little dance in the aisle when she heard the good news.
Belle Ringer, one of our regular trucker customers, stared at the sight of this 50-year-old grandmother of four doing a victory shimmy beside his table.
Frannie blushed, smoothed her apron and shot Belle Ringer a withering look.
He grinned. 'OK, Frannie, what was that all about?' he asked.
'We just got word that Stevie is out of surgery and going to be okay.'
'I was wondering where he was. I had a new joke to tell him. What was the surgery about?'
Frannie quickly told Belle Ringer and the other two drivers sitting at his booth about Stevie's surgery, then sighed: 'Yeah, I'm glad he is going to be OK,' she said. 'But I don't know how he and his Mom are going to handle all the bills. From what I hear, they're barely getting by as it is.' Belle Ringer nodded thoughtfully, and Frannie hurried off to wait on the rest of her tables. Since I hadn't had time to round up a busboy to replace Stevie and really didn't want to replace him, the girls were bussing their own tables that day until we decided what to do.
After the morning rush, Frannie walked into my office. She had a couple of paper napkins in her hand and a funny look on her face.
'What's up?' I asked.
'I didn't get that table where Belle Ringer and his friends were sitting cleared off after they left, and Pony Pete and Tony Tipper were sitting there when I got back to clean it off,' she said. 'This was folded and tucked under a coffee cup.'
She handed the napkin to me, and three $20 bills fell onto my desk when I opened it. On the outside, in big, bold letters, was printed 'Something For Stevie'.
'Pony Pete asked me what that was all about,' she said, 'so I told him about Stevie and his Mom and everything, and Pete looked at Tony and Tony looked at Pete, and they ended up giving me this.' She handed me another paper napkin that had 'Something For Stevie' scrawled on its outside. Two $50 bills were tucked within its folds. Frannie looked at me with wet, shiny eyes, shook her head and said simply: 'truckers.'
That was three months ago. Today is Thanksgiving, the first day Stevie is supposed to be back to work
His placement worker said he's been counting the days until the doctor said he could work, and it didn't matter at all that it was a holiday. He called 10 times in the past week, making sure we knew he was coming, fearful that we had forgotten him or that his job was in jeopardy. I arranged to have his mother bring him to work. I then met them in the parking lot and invited them both to celebrate his day back.
Stevie was thinner and paler, but couldn't stop grinning as he pushed through the doors and headed for the back room where his apron and bussing cart were waiting.
'Hold up there, Stevie, not so fast,' I said. I took him and his mother by their arms 'Work can wait for a minute. To celebrate you coming back, breakfast for you and your mother is on me!' I led them toward a large corner booth at the rear of the room.
I could feel and hear the rest of the staff following behind as we marched through the dining room. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw booth after booth of grinning truckers empty and join the procession. We stopped in front of the big table. Its surface was covered with coffee cups, saucers and dinner plates, all sitting slightly crooked on dozens of folded paper napkins. 'First thing you have to do, Stevie, is clean up this mess,' I said. I tried to sound stern.
Stevie looked at me, and then at his mother, then pulled out one of the napkins. It had 'Something for Stevie' printed on the outside. As he picked it up, two $10 bills fell onto the table.
Stevie stared at the money, then at all the napkins peeking from beneath the tableware, each with his name printed or scrawled on it. I turned to his mother. 'There's more than $10,000 in cash and checks on that table, all from truckers and trucking companies that heard about your problems. 'Happy Thanksgiving.
Well, it got real noisy about that time, with everybody hollering and shouting, and there were a few tears, as well.
But you know what's funny?
While everybody else was busy shaking hands and hugging each other, Stevie, with a big, big smile on his face, was busy clearing all the cups and dishes from the table.
Best worker I ever hired.
If this doesn't light your fire, your wood is wet!
I try not to be biased, but I had my doubts about hiring Stevie. His placement counselor assured me that he would be a good, reliable busboy. But I had never had a mentally handicapped employee and wasn't sure I wanted one. I wasn't sure how my customers would react to Stevie.
He was short, a little dumpy with the smooth facial features and thick-tongued speech of Downs Syndrome. I wasn't worried about most of my trucker customers because truckers don't generally care who buses tables as long as the meatloaf platter is good and the pies are homemade.
The four-wheeler drivers were the ones who concerned me; the mouthy college kids travelling to school; the yuppie snobs who secretly polish their silverware with their napkins for fear of catching some dreaded 'truck stop germ' the pairs of white-shirted business men on expense accounts who think every truck stop waitress wants to be flirted with. I knew those people would be uncomfortable around Stevie so I closely watched him for the first few weeks.
I shouldn't have worried. After the first week, Stevie had my staff wrapped around his stubby little finger, and within a month my truck regulars had adopted him as their official truck stop mascot.
After that, I really didn't care what the rest of the customers thought of him. He was like a 21-year-old in blue jeans and Nikes, eager to laugh and eager to please, but fierce in his attention to his duties. Every salt and peppershaker was exactly in its place, not a breadcrumb or coffee spill was visible when Stevie got done with the table. Our only problem was persuading him to wait to clean a table until after the customers were finished. He would hover in the background, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, scanning the dining room until a table was empty. Then he would scurry to the empty table and carefully bus dishes and glasses onto his cart and meticulously wipe the table up with a practiced flourish of his rag.
If he thought a customer was watching, his brow would pucker with added concentration. He took pride in doing his job exactly right, and you had to love how hard he tried to please each and every person he met
Over time, we learned that he lived with his mother, a widow who was disabled after repeated surgeries for cancer They lived on their Social Security benefits in public housing two miles from the truck stop. Their social worker, who stopped to check on him every so often, admitted they had fallen between the cracks. Money was tight, and what I paid him was probably the difference between them being able to live together and Stevie being sent to a group home. That's why the restaurant was a gloomy place that morning last August, the first morning in three years that Stevie missed work.
He was at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester getting a new valve or something put in his heart. His social worker said that people with Downs Syndrome often have heart problems at an early age so this wasn't unexpected, and there was a good chance he would come through the surgery in good shape and be back at work in a few months.
A ripple of excitement ran through the staff later that morning when word came that he was out of surgery, in recovery, and doing fine.
Frannie, the head waitress, let out a war hoop and did a little dance in the aisle when she heard the good news.
Belle Ringer, one of our regular trucker customers, stared at the sight of this 50-year-old grandmother of four doing a victory shimmy beside his table.
Frannie blushed, smoothed her apron and shot Belle Ringer a withering look.
He grinned. 'OK, Frannie, what was that all about?' he asked.
'We just got word that Stevie is out of surgery and going to be okay.'
'I was wondering where he was. I had a new joke to tell him. What was the surgery about?'
Frannie quickly told Belle Ringer and the other two drivers sitting at his booth about Stevie's surgery, then sighed: 'Yeah, I'm glad he is going to be OK,' she said. 'But I don't know how he and his Mom are going to handle all the bills. From what I hear, they're barely getting by as it is.' Belle Ringer nodded thoughtfully, and Frannie hurried off to wait on the rest of her tables. Since I hadn't had time to round up a busboy to replace Stevie and really didn't want to replace him, the girls were bussing their own tables that day until we decided what to do.
After the morning rush, Frannie walked into my office. She had a couple of paper napkins in her hand and a funny look on her face.
'What's up?' I asked.
'I didn't get that table where Belle Ringer and his friends were sitting cleared off after they left, and Pony Pete and Tony Tipper were sitting there when I got back to clean it off,' she said. 'This was folded and tucked under a coffee cup.'
She handed the napkin to me, and three $20 bills fell onto my desk when I opened it. On the outside, in big, bold letters, was printed 'Something For Stevie'.
'Pony Pete asked me what that was all about,' she said, 'so I told him about Stevie and his Mom and everything, and Pete looked at Tony and Tony looked at Pete, and they ended up giving me this.' She handed me another paper napkin that had 'Something For Stevie' scrawled on its outside. Two $50 bills were tucked within its folds. Frannie looked at me with wet, shiny eyes, shook her head and said simply: 'truckers.'
That was three months ago. Today is Thanksgiving, the first day Stevie is supposed to be back to work
His placement worker said he's been counting the days until the doctor said he could work, and it didn't matter at all that it was a holiday. He called 10 times in the past week, making sure we knew he was coming, fearful that we had forgotten him or that his job was in jeopardy. I arranged to have his mother bring him to work. I then met them in the parking lot and invited them both to celebrate his day back.
Stevie was thinner and paler, but couldn't stop grinning as he pushed through the doors and headed for the back room where his apron and bussing cart were waiting.
'Hold up there, Stevie, not so fast,' I said. I took him and his mother by their arms 'Work can wait for a minute. To celebrate you coming back, breakfast for you and your mother is on me!' I led them toward a large corner booth at the rear of the room.
I could feel and hear the rest of the staff following behind as we marched through the dining room. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw booth after booth of grinning truckers empty and join the procession. We stopped in front of the big table. Its surface was covered with coffee cups, saucers and dinner plates, all sitting slightly crooked on dozens of folded paper napkins. 'First thing you have to do, Stevie, is clean up this mess,' I said. I tried to sound stern.
Stevie looked at me, and then at his mother, then pulled out one of the napkins. It had 'Something for Stevie' printed on the outside. As he picked it up, two $10 bills fell onto the table.
Stevie stared at the money, then at all the napkins peeking from beneath the tableware, each with his name printed or scrawled on it. I turned to his mother. 'There's more than $10,000 in cash and checks on that table, all from truckers and trucking companies that heard about your problems. 'Happy Thanksgiving.
Well, it got real noisy about that time, with everybody hollering and shouting, and there were a few tears, as well.
But you know what's funny?
While everybody else was busy shaking hands and hugging each other, Stevie, with a big, big smile on his face, was busy clearing all the cups and dishes from the table.
Best worker I ever hired.
A Priesthood Church
That's the theme for our upcoming Church seminar mid November. How apt that the verse for today by Biblegateway is the one on us being a chosen people, royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people belonging to God. Received more confirmati0n last night during the altar call regarding God's calling for me to write. Belle saw a vision of an ink bottle and me holding a pen. A pen cannot write without ink. The ink represents God's anointing which I need. As I ask, God will pour it out onto me. So that's all I know for now. I'm supposed to write and God will anoint it. What to write, where, how and to whom are questions I don't quite have the answers to yet so it'll just be on this blog for now. She also saw me holding a diamond. Diamonds have many facets to them. So too does God's character. Belle sensed that God wants to reveal more of His glory to me and I will begin to understand more facets of God. That sounds good Ü...funny actually because as she came forward to pray for me, I saw myself being handed something with facets but the odd thing was, as I brought it closer to myself, it was a nicely moulded blob of red jelly. You know how they have many sides to them as they come out of one of those jelly bowl moulds.
Sunday, 2 November 2008
Wrote this during quiet time this morning:
Verse 1:
Lord, still my heart
I long to know Your peace
I come to lay my fears at Your feet
Lord, still my thoughts
I want to know Your truth
I'll take Your Word, renew me everyday
Chorus:
There's power in Your name
Healing as we call upon You Lord
Your joy is my strength
I will never let You go
I choose to walk beside You all my days
Verse 2:
Lord, here I am
I long to know Your heart
I come to sit before Your feet in prayer
Lord, take my life
I want to do Your will
I'll set myself apart for You my King
Bridge (added at this moment):
Though I do not yet understand
Though I do not yet grasp
I choose to follow
I choose to follow You
Verse 1:
Lord, still my heart
I long to know Your peace
I come to lay my fears at Your feet
Lord, still my thoughts
I want to know Your truth
I'll take Your Word, renew me everyday
Chorus:
There's power in Your name
Healing as we call upon You Lord
Your joy is my strength
I will never let You go
I choose to walk beside You all my days
Verse 2:
Lord, here I am
I long to know Your heart
I come to sit before Your feet in prayer
Lord, take my life
I want to do Your will
I'll set myself apart for You my King
Bridge (added at this moment):
Though I do not yet understand
Though I do not yet grasp
I choose to follow
I choose to follow You
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
