Lessons from the road!

It really is quite an amazing place we live in.  It is rustic, no doubt.  But God's beauty surrounds us.  We just traveled the 145 mile trip to the capitol.  That's roughly Wichita to Austin's childhood home in S.E. Kansas.  But it usually takes us 6 1/2 hours.  This time it took us 8 hours.  But it was a really good trip; one where I was able to reflect quite a bit.  I think my life, and heart journey here in Aobistan, has many similarities with the road trip.  I thought I would share a few.

I'm learning it's all about the expectations!

This is how the trip began; an obvious proclamation of God's glory, both in the sky and in the land.  With this view before me, only 10 minutes into the trip, my heart was tuned and alert to what Father had for me to see.  Expecting His Majesty, I was far from disappointed.  On the days I start life expecting to see Him, at work in me, at work in those I love and those around me . . . it never fails that I do.  On days where my feet first hit the floor with dread heavy in my heart, it feels like an up hill battle to see the goodness and mercy He has promised will chase after me all my days.

There are guaranteed to be rough spots!

Rumour is there are fixing the road from where the road forks and the 3 hours of bumping commence.  If you've been to visit, you know that stretch of road that can rattle your brains out and leave you feeling like you are honestly about to drive right of the edge of the world.  Since the rumours started circulating, I think we've seen 1 surveyor.  Repairs are a long way off.  So we set off on the road and we know that stretch of road will be hard.  It's that stretch of the trip I work hard to keep the encouragement coming.  Whether in the form of special snacks, or music per each family member's request, we fight hard to keep our spirits up.  

"Many adversities come to the one who is righteous,

but the Lord delivers him from them all."   Psalms 34:19

I'm realising that I'm far from arriving when it comes to figuring cross cultural living out, let alone cross cultural min.  Yet in the many rough spots of planting our lives here, I can trust in His deliverance.  And I can fight hard for the encouragement I/we need to make it. 

He has not left me here.

At some point as we neared the top of the mountains, and everywhere we looked I saw white capped peaks my heart was moved by His sweet whisper.  It was almost audible as He reminded me "I have created all of this."  Isn't it amazing when you step back and think of God speaking the mountains into existence.  And not just any old boring mountains, but awesomely, glorious mountains.  "But I am not distant.  I know you intimately and I am here, pursuing your heart," He continued to speak to me.  "and I am coming back for you!"  That just leaves me speechless.     

Pride, Foolishness and Sin, impact others too.  

You see these narrow roads?  Toward the end of the trip, the snow banks on both sides of the road crowd in.  Two lanes of traffic are squished into one lane and we must take turns.  We don't understand all the cultural rules about how it's determined when to go; when to stop; etc.  But there is some sort of order.  This time we followed a small town car, operating as a taxi.  Much of the way four of the patrons (paying for their seat in his car) pushed the car through the deep snow.  We had already been waiting, at standstill, for 45 minutes and everyone was eager to keep the line of vehicles moving.  "He better not get stuck" I uttered.  The driver's foolish selection of vehicle for the winter roads, his refusal to stop and put on chains directly impacts all of us.  His wheels spin, not gaining ground, as he's stuck in a deep rut.  You can almost feel the tension in the air as all the stopped vehicles loaded with weary passengers look on.  If he were to get stuck, both our lane and the on coming traffic would have to sit and wait for him to get it all sorted out.  

Yet my impatience, how I am quick to grow angry, the small exaggerations I tell in hopes of gaining the approval of man . . . all of these sins don't only impact me.  They spill over onto the lives of those around me.  And isn't it true of my heart, that I'm always wanting others to extend grace to me when "he better not get stuck" is the first response I have towards others. 

I know there were more lessons learnt from the time on the road, but these are the ones that come to mind.  

For all the pictures from the road trip: 

Rounding a corner

This has been the meds stash on top of our dresser since before Thanksgiving.  The flu has been especially bad this year.  It feels like someone, at least one of us, has been sick for a really long time.  High fevers, coughing, headaches, etc.  And Ezekiel is working on cutting his top teeth while Elias' two year molars are pushing him to points of (what feels like) insanity at times. 

But it seems we are rounding the corner.  We've all been healthy for the last couple of days. 

I'm hopeful!

Walking in Grace

There's a group of eleven women, only three of us English speakers, that are gathering in a monthly game this year.  On the third of every month, we're throwing $20 into the group pot.  We've drawn names and each of us gets a turn to take the pot home.  It totals almost $200.  Some of the women are related and some have never met.  But we are all connected somehow.  In a world where it is impossible to save, where the financial outputs far exceed any salary that is brought in, a large lump sum helps in so many ways.  I plan to post more of this game, with pictures of my deepening group of friends. 

With the start of the year, we started on Thursday.  Big snowflakes were falling and it was really cold out.  There had been all kinds of discussion over where we should meet to draw the names and get acquainted.  I told them we could meet at my house.  Most of the local ladies objected.  Though a restaurant in January is guaranteed to be cold, to meet in a house demands the obligatory spread.  The table cloth, often spread out on the floor, covered with nuts, dried fruits, multiple kinds of cookies, chocolates and cakes.  Several bottles of soda or pitcher of home-canned compote carefully placed in the center and some fruit, of it's very limited varieties perfectly placed for the satisfaction of the guests.  Beyond the spread, a meal would be expected.  A good hour into chatting, homemade nan and soup or the traditional osh would be presented to each guest.  Though everyone of us would strongly resist with comments of "why did you work so hard, you shouldn't have," if the meal isn't offered, the "gap" (the gossip) starts to fly as soon as the guests leave the party.  "She didn't feed us," "what she gave us was so simple, was warmed up leftovers."  I've left countless gatherings, in the pack of women all walking home together, and heard the criticisms fly.  The criticisms have come back to me; "so-n-so's mother-in-law has told people that your yard is dusty and disorderly, that you don't pick up your children's toys."  Those words sting, when it feels like such a battle and process to do it right; to do it like them.

After much debate, we met at my house.  And I intentionally laid a very scant table; cookies bought by the kilo and a wacky cake.  I've learned in living here that even the simple things can be made beautiful.  So I laid my contrasting cookies on the plates and sprinkled powdered sugar over top the chocolate cake.  As I made the preparations I could feel the knot in my stomach growing.  It took a bit to identify.

It is hard to walk in grace among a people who have never received it; who never give it; who, when I speak it, don't even know what the word means.  

I wanted them all to know I know how to lay the spread.  I have learned what their culture requires and I can (try to) do it.  But if that standard is set in the first meeting, then it must be maintained.  And the cost of such a spread would quickly drain the pot that had us meeting together in the first place.  So I chose to walk in grace.  I do so, that others may find freedom to do the same.

And really, isn't that what we've been called to do.  Far beyond how we receive a guest or what my yard looks like.  I've been called to live among those who don't know Him.  But live as His child, in all the grace and freedom He has given me.