Today I have tried to come up with a list of things that are worse than being home with the flu. It surely must be an incomplete list, but it is a difficult thing....since there isn't all that much that really IS worse than being sick with the flu.

So...here's a start.

1. Dying.

Lost.

It is a strange thing, how God works in our lives, the unusual tactics He uses to speak to us, the surreal happenings that, if not explained by His miraculous ways, would otherwise be creepy. I say this, because today God had an entirely new perspective on what my quiet time was going to look like.

I arrived home from another day of BSN meetings with a long mental list of everything that needed accomplishing tonight. My day had started at six a.m. It was now six p.m. The meetings had lasted from 9-5:30. However, my list of things to do had not been shrinking, and I was determined to do the one thing that would make me feel like I was a contributor to the world, and not a lazy bum.

Do something. Anything. As long as I could feel as though an item on my list was scratched off, or at the very least chipped at, I would be able to go to bed satisfied.

"I want you to watch an episode of Lost with me." There was no mistaking His voice.

"Now? If I watch it now I will get out of the work zone and be lazy the rest of the evening. I have really a lot of stuff to do."

"I want to cuddle with you and watch an episode of Lost." Oooh....Lost....??? It took a few moments of reluctant guilt before I decided to go along with God and obey this enjoyable direction.

The episode of Lost I watched was from the first season, titled White Rabbit. It was about stepping up to leadership, letting go of past experiences and realizing you are in a new place as you work together in a team. Work alone, you die. Work together, and you'll thrive.

My entire day of staff training had been about team building, stepping out of your comfort zone, and learning to work together and as a leader.

It was one of the surreal moments. "Did you REALLY just use Lost, my current source of relaxation (besides Caleb) to teach me a huge spiritual lesson?" I wrote it down, in His words.

"You need to let go of the past to be a good leader. The past hurts. Lay it down. Step up and take your tasks so that you can be a strong leader and team member. You're ready for this."

God, you are so beyond the normal idea of awesome. You blow me away with your creativity in your relationship and communication with us, Your children. I am in awe of the fact that You take a quiet time and turn it into innovative quiet time fun. You are a brilliant friend and mentor. I love you.

Test of Obedience.

I had every intention of driving home.

"I think," God said, "We should go to a park."

"We should?" I mulled this over as I rolled down the windows to enjoy the chill spring air.

"....Tenney Park? Are we to have some quiet time?"

"Yes. And yes."

I sighed. If nature and fresh air was what He was looking for, there was plenty of that far more conveniently located than Tenney Park. However, the suggestion remained implanted. Tenney Park is one of my favorite parks of the few I have been to in Madison. It lays along Lake Mendota, with a pier stretching far out into the water, like a little rock and cement peninsula. Large boulders surround the cement pier itself. I immensely enjoy scampering on boulders.

So, I went. A few wrong turns and some twenty minutes later, I pulled into the muddy parking area. "A test of obedience," God murmured to me as I arrived. I noticed to my left a man sitting in a junky car staring at me. While emptying my bag, hiding my computer, and finding a snack in my glove box, I glanced up at him now and again. Each time, his eyes remained impassively upon me.

God directed me to a path that rimmed the still icy water. Gulls and ducks caused a cacophony that calmed rather than distracted. In spring such sounds are welcome relief to the dead winter.

There was no mincing words as I walked with God along the sand. "You," He said, "are no longer a child. You are going to grow up. You are ready for this." More followed in a rapid succession of reminders, instructions, and encouragements.

As an ending flourish to such candor, He stated, "You can go back to the car now."

A test of obedience...my bright red shoes scuffed themselves on the pavement as I nipped across the street back to my car, three steps ahead of a mini-van. I looked up. And who should I see, staring at me just as before? The odd little man. He was perched on the hood of his car in an almost feminine pose, hands clasped daintily on his lap, and legs crossed at the ankles.

"It would be just like You," I prayed silently, "to have me talk to Him." I felt God smile. And then....

"Do you have a cigarette?" the odd little man asked.

"No, I'm afraid not. Sorry." He accepted the reply with a nod that seemed to say, 'I rather expected not'.

"Give him your Bible instead."

"For real?" I knew it. I knew it!

God repeated. "Give him your Bible."

"But it's my tiny ESV from Becki and Tim, " I objected, "All my notes from China and Japan are in there! Their little loves notes are written in the cover! There is a picture of Becki and I glued in there, for heavens sake."

His resolve was unmoved. I hesitated a moment. I admired the pretty purple designs. And knew it wasn't mine anymore. Half in and half out of my car, I turned, and was this time not surprised to find him staring at me. His curiousity heightened as I walked to him and held out a tiny purple book. My favorite Bible.

"I don't have cigarettes, but would you take this instead?"

His green fingerless mitts reached out. "Bible?"

"Yeah. I took it with me on a missions trip to Asia last summer. I feel like you're to have it."

It opened. "Oh. There's a picture of you in there."

"My sister and I. She bought it for me before I left."

Suddenly, he began to talk. He explained that his daughter and her boyfriend had gone to find some gas. He'd been waiting with the broken down car for quite some time, but was sure his daughter would be back soon. "I'm homeless," he said, "but my daughter is letting me stay with her off and on. I'll give the Bible to her."

I asked if I could pray for him, but he quickly demurred. "But I'll give the Bible to my daughter."

"I had thought," I prayed as I drove away, "that going there would result in something for me."

"Test of obedience..." God said, "wasn't this better?"

Perfectly Adorable Boys

“Did you know that Monday is our four month anniversary?” Caleb announced chirpily. Caleb always sounds chipper. It is just his way.

“I did. What romantic thing shall we do?” I sat on the stairs with a joyous plop. “Can we be romantic when we are broke?”

“Why yes!” Caleb said. And then he said this poem to me, in a most dramatic, romantic way. Just like this….

Your eyes are deeper than the depths of the sea

But they are full not of water,

But of beauty

And of mystery.

You are like a…

A rose!

You are like an unattainable rose at the top

Of the highest mountain

Many have sought to pluck this rose

But have failed.

…Miserably.

But hark! A prince!

A prince climbs to the top of the mountain!

Plucks the rose!

Stares deep into it’s beauty

And states,

(Both heroically and romantically)

I have won and you are mine.”

Perfectly adorable boys prance about their rooms as they come up with beautiful poetry on the spot for their princesses.

I have a perfectly adorable boy.

Day One

It has all begun...!!!

After a whirlwind of activity this morning and afternoon as BSN staff had our first day of staff training, I have come home, done my homework for the evening, and now collapsed on my bed. And here I am.

Last weekend, I moved into a lovely large house on Twinflower Drive. My sister and her husband Tim have taken me in as the new upstairs roomie, where I have domain over my space--and my own bathroom! (The joys of such a thing are truly magnificent.) I spent the first week here cleaning ferociously, nestling into my rooms, and preparing for the first week of Bible School for the Nations staff training in YWAM Madison.

Staff training will last for another two weeks. Then, on Easter weekend, we will receive our students! We have quite a collage of ethnicities so far. One from Uganda, one from Haiti, one from Canada, one from Minnesota, and one from England. There are also two Koreans in the midst of the application process, and several others still considering.

So, here I am! First day under my belt.

And tomorrow is rapidly on its way!

The Oriole Nest

The Oriole Nest

I have a new home.

It is like an oriole nest, I tell my sister.

Three walls are bright orange.

One wall in dark chocolate brown.

And sometimes it makes me wonder

If there is any chocolate to be had

For eating. Instead of staring.

My oriole nest is above two love-birds

Their names are Becki and Timothy O’Brien.

That is my sister.

She creates magic in her mind and fingers.

I love thunderstorms.

She loves rainbows.

But she loves Timmy most.

My oriole nest is snug and sweet.

The sweetest bits are two photos.

One on my desk.

One on my shelf.

I miss my perfect prince.

(I have an amazingly perfect prince.)

His name is Caleb.

My oriole nest has two large windows.

My bed lies right beneath them.

I watch the sunrise make the world yawn.

I watch the sunset wick the color away.

From everything.

Except my oriole nest.

That stays orange. Orange and chocolate!

I have a new home.

It is like an oriole nest, I tell my Lord.

Three walls are bright orange.

And one chocolate brown.

Together, my Lord and I watch each sunrise

And each sunset.

Together, we miss my prince

And write him letters.

He tells me that He loves my oriole nest.

And I admire his sun.

The Minstrel Finds a Spot

The Minstrel Finds a Brave Spot

By:

The Princess

 

 

“I have found a spot,” the minstrel announced to the darkness as the princess came running up to him. They had agreed to meet just before moonrise, at a place where they had never played before, a dark corner on the outskirts of the village.

“A spot?!” she cried in anticipation, “A spot to play?”

“The sort of spot that’s kind of scary at night, and charming during the day.” He had thought himself quite clever for finding it, though it had been entirely by accident.  One moment he was on a familiar path, the next following a strange curiosity away into the woods. He’d thought himself most brave at the time, and still did in fact, for the woods at night were always a little frightening. “Follow me, and I’ll take you there.”

So, he turned and led the way up a scree of dirt and stones to a train track filled with weeds and rough rock.

            “Oooh,” the princess pulled her coat close around her shoulders, with dark eyes wide, “It is ever so creepy! What fun!” The minstrel smiled. In a few moments, they had emerged from the tree shadows and found themselves facing a holey bridge over a heavy black river.

“Oh! Oh my!” The princess was utterly charmed, “It’s just…perfect!” And then she went skipping onto the bridge, leaping from plank to plank, pausing here and there to put her face down to one of the gaps and ‘ooh’ with butterflies dancing in her stomach.

The minstrel hadn’t been expecting this sort of response. So he followed her, stepping carefully to avoid the holes, and wondering how she could even see what was hole and what was a dark wet plank. They amused themselves for some time chattering over the superb discovery, and wondering what on earth they were going to name such a glorious spot. Soon, however, the princess began to dance about again. He watched her skittering with a bemused look until he saw her race right up to edge of the bridge.  Then he became alarmed!

“Do you suppose that’s a good idea?!” The princess leaned her head out over the water and waved at her black reflection.

“Is what a good idea?” The minstrel pursed his lips.

“Leaning.”

“When you lean you get all sorts of butterflies! It’s fun. Here, come here! Come, come…oooh.” She stared fixedly at something that the minstrel couldn’t see from where he was standing, happily safe and secure in the middle of the bridge.

“Hm.” She hummed. He frowned. She had the sort of look she got when she was about to do something. Curiosity had just gotten the better of him when she sat down on the edge.

“I just don’t think that’s a good idea.” His voice strained.  

Then the princess jumped, and landed smartly on a wooden support beam. It was wide enough to sit on, and stuck out several feet beyond the planking behind her. She eyed her situation with satisfaction, and promptly sat down with her head over the end of the beam.

“Oh my.” The minstrel said, “You would do that, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes! I would. Oooh, there are more support beams further down…but I don’t think these shoes are very practical for that.” The princess looked with disappointed accusation at her feet.

“No,” the minstrel was quick to agree, “I don’t think they would at all be very good for climbing.” There was a pause.

“Would you like to try?” The princess whirled around, sitting with her knees up by her chin and the end of the beam only an inch away from her back. Her stomach had settled down now, for the butterflies there had realized all was safe and were no longer fluttering at the height and narrowness of her whereabouts.

The minstrel eyed the wooden beam suspiciously, peering at the deep dark water so far from the bridge.

“You’ll get the butterflies,” the princess said in an obnoxiously delighted voice, “when you walk out as far as you can.” Her pale face stayed turned upward to him from her airy perch. “Come on—I’ll move for you.” In a half moment she had scampered back onto the bridge.

The minstrel took a breath. He sat down on the bridges edges and scooted his legs over. He felt the air with his toes until the solid wood met them. He eased gingerly onto the beam.

Then he opened his eyes.

“I’m here,” he announced. He was half surprised at it himself.

“Good,” the princess clapped appreciatively at his feat. “Don’t you want to go to the tip?”

The minstrels toes inched forward, tiny bit by bit as he thought things to himself like “She asks an awful lot of a fellow,” and “I don’t want to, thanks very much” and “I am a brave minstrel!” until he finally reached the end of the beam.

He looked up and saw all the stars that the city lights hadn’t hidden with their pink glow. He looked around and saw the river banks of trees watching his courage. Then he looked down and all his butterflies fluttered their wings.

“Hurray!” the princess cried with glee, “You’ve done it! Isn’t it lovely?”

And it was. The minstrel could see none of the bridge behind him, only the bottomless river and the charcoal sparkling sky, and the naked arms of black trees.

“I feel as though,” he said proudly, “I am standing in the air! As if I am in the middle of the sky!”

“You are” the princess murmured. The minstrel stood there until the princess began to feel impatient. He clambered back onto the bridge looking just so pleased with himself.

“I did it,” he reminded himself as he looked at the beam. “I stood there.” He pointed to be sure she had remembered and would marvel at him.

“Yes, you did.” Their scampering and games continued on the middle of the bridge, nicely safe and free from the butterflies, but by the time the moon had begun to hide itself below the tree line the minstrel ran to and fro on the very edge without scarcely any flutterings at all, and the princess had discovered a new game she was good at.