A Different Tune

Hello! So this is all quite new and confusing for me, signing into Sadie's blog and trying to figure out how to work it and all, so please bear with me. That was quite an introduction she gave, wasn't it?! I hope I live up to your expectations. And hey if I don't, you can always just wait until next weekend to tune back in :D

With Spades in Peru (and yes, you should all call her that...or one of the many other nicknames we have for her, so just ask!), I got to thinking about my trip to the Dominican Republic this past May. About 20 of us went to a small town called Banica right next to the border with Haiti and did some work in very small neighboring villages. It was truly an amazing experience. One of the main things I enjoyed about the trip was the chance to work alongside people of such faith. Those people have next to nothing. We were building outhouses for them because they have no running water. They walk over 10 miles to school, and only then provided that their families don't need them to work on the family farm or hire themselves out to larger farms. They have no cars or scooters, and they more or less survive on the food they grow. Needless to say, these towns were quite different from Fredericksburg, VA. The thing that struck me, though, was the fact that in the midst of all this poverty, they had the richest faith of anyone I'd ever met. It seemed like every time we learned about different families' hardships, we talked about their challenges for 2 minutes but their faith that God would provide for 10. Dying relatives, inability to water their fields because they can't walk through the mountains to get to the river, going without so that their children could eat--these all paled in comparison to God's strength. It was an amazing reminder to unite all of our sufferings with the sufferings of Christ on the Cross.

So that's what I've been trying to remember since the trip. Going about my comparably cushier life, I remind myself of the words my mother relentlessly ingrained into my head every time I complained as a kid (and let's be honest, now too)..."offer it up." It was and still is a good way to stop my complaining in its tracks. Because when I think about the Passion, I can't help but swallow my grumbling about a rude customer or smile about cleaning the dishes even though I hadn't dirtied anything in the overflowing sink.

One of my favorite authors is St. Josemaria Escriva. Now if I were Sadie I could do all of that fancy hyperlinking business to wikipedia and you could read about him and his life, but hopefully you'll do that on your own since I'm more or less technologically challenged. He wrote The Way which is probably one of my favorite books of all time. Right now I'm meandering through Furrow and one of my favorite ones is
"When you started your ordinary work again something like a groan of complaint escaped you: 'It's always the same!' And I told you: 'Yes, it's always the same. But that ordinary job--which is the same one your fellow workers do--has to be a constant prayer for you. It has the same lovable words, but a different tune each day.'"
The nice thing about his books are that they're short thoughts like that which you can read for an hour or pick it up, read one, and continue about your day. Sometimes I sit and read many of them or I only get through a few and have to put the book down to think about them. Either way, I learn a lot from his writings as they challenge and teach me.

So, whether or not you're going to a far-away country to do missions work, enjoy the day and it's opportunities to offer up lovable words to a tune all your own.


I found the link button!!!
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Josemar%C3%ADa_Escriv%C3%A1
http://www.amazon.com/Way-Essential-Classic-Opus-Founder/dp/0385518293/ref=ntt_at_ep_dpi_1

I'll Tell You What I Told Her

It went something like this:

"Deirge,

...I'm heading to Peru on Monday and got to
thinking. I am all the time sharing short stories of our
correspondences and people (like Katie Jones, for instance) keep
saying they love you and would love to be your friend, too and would
love to know more about your wit and humor-- so I thought, why not let
them?

I could, of course, just not blog for the weeks I'm gone, as is my new
style, and the world wold not miss more of my rambling, I am sure.
BUT. how awesome would it be to have you guest post in that time?!

I mean, would it be fun for you?

Because if there is anyone I'd love to hear more about deep thoughts
on life and love and God and friendship and maybe even Hey Arnold
from, it's you. I keep thinking about that e-mail you sent me when you
lost your voice last year and wishing you wrote stuff like that down and shared
it more often because you are an excellent writer and brilliant mind.

Perhaps I'm just suggesting you have your own blog for Pope and C.S.
Lewis ponderances. But in the meantime, would you write for me while
I'm gone?I would LOVE it. Don't feel like you have to, but DO know that

I know people would benefit from the way you love and serve God with your life

and in your words."

And then she agreed, fortunately for you ;)

So while I'm gone, please enjoy what I refer to as Deirge's insights and hilarities.

She's a trip. And a gem.

And now that you have a little face for a big name (get it? Big D?!) AND a chronological, pictoral view of our friendship, please enjoy getting to know her!

See y'all on the flip side.

Over to you, Big D.

:D

Sweet Zaida

Maybe I was just feeling particularly motherly.

It was, after all, Mother's Day.

I also know it had to do a lot with Jessica's short post reflecting on her WorldVision trip to the DR.

I felt like I was giving up my 7 babies (really full grown teenagers, but still).

I was sad about still not having a quasi-Smith to hold on and love.

I was thinking of Truett and how much love and care he'll be born into while millions of others have none to speak of.

I was thinking of meeting parentless faces in Peru and the desire I know I'll have by the end of this trip to take some home and possibly give my right arm to offer them continued care and education and a loving embrace.

I was listening to JJ Heller's "Little Things."

I was reading things like this from Mark Batterson:

"If loving God with all our heart means a heart that breaks for the things that break the heart of God, then loving God with all our sould means a sould full of wonder, a soul flooded with the glory of God, a soul awed by beauty and mystery, a soul that hallows God above all else.

Don't let what you cannot do keep you from doing what you can. Put your money where your heart is. It's not a drop in the bucket. Every act of generosity creates a righteous ripple effect that can change the course of history. It will also change your heart.

When it comes to getting, it seems like enough is never enough. And the same is true with giving. It seems like enough is never enough, so we don't give anything. Let me challenge that subconscious lie that we buy into. You'll never have enough. You'll never be enough. You'll never do enough. But don't let that keep you from giving what you have, being who you are, and doing what you can. If you make a difference in the life of one little girl, isn't that enough?

The bottom line is this: your focus determines your reality. As your perspective changes, you life will change. You might find yourself in the same circumstances. but your heart will change, along with it your motivations and expectations. If you focus on your wants, enough will never be enough. And your heart will get smaller and smaller. If you focus on the needs of others, you'll discover that you have more than enough. If you focus on the here and now, you'll try to hang on to everything you have. But if you focus on eternity, you'll give away everything you've got.

Matthew 6:21-- "Where your treasure is, there you heart will be also."

I think it's easy to talk about things like faith and obedience and compassion in abstract terms. The more abstract, the less convicting the truth is. So let me get concrete. Faith equals God-ordained risks in the face of fear. Obedience equals God-honoring decisions in the face of temptation. And compassion equals Spirit-prompted generosity in the face of greed.

Every word of scripture, with its seventy faces and 600,000 meanings, must be translated via obedience... truth must be translated in your life. YOU are among the company of translators. For better or for worse, your life is your unique translation (of the bible)."

So.

I hopped on over to World Vision.

I decided to peruse and then it hit me that I was "shopping" for faces and I cried.

I cried again when I "added" Zaida to my "cart."

I prayed that she would know now and always that she was added to God's "cart" first.

That's what I want as her sponsor. I really don't need to feel all fabulous and mushy for giving $30 a month when it is well within my means and so worthy a place for my money to be anyway. It's not a pat on my back and I am certainly not a fool enough to believe that sponsoring a child covers my compassion and generosity bases. But I have to say, it felt like an amazing start.

A three year old, convicting me to spend wisely. A smile from a wind-burned face, reminding me of what's important. Deep brown eyes that beg me to see myself in her and say to my soul that it is worth the money and the time and the hassle to get to Peru and meet more of these precious faces.

She is fearfully and wonderfully made. (Psalm 139:14) I know that full well.

When I decided to sponsor Zaida, I figured Jessica had run out of the necklaces she was giving away to new sponsors, but I still wanted something to be a constant reminder of her in my life. I'd bought a pendant weeks earlier, but hadn't put it on a chain yet. When I bought it I thought it was cool because it had a picture of a sheep on the front and "John 10:11" written on the back. My life verse that Mom and Dad chose for my baby dedication comes from that passage, talking about how the sheep know Jesus and he knows them and they follow Him because they know His voice.

Now it would be Zaida's necklace, reminding me that we both have a Good Shepherd, concerned with both of our affairs. I decided to look at the passage again to pray over it for us both and something new jumped out at me:

^"11"I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. ¹²The hired hand is not the shepherd who owns the sheep. So when he sees the wolf coming, he abandons the sheep and runs away. Then the wolf attacks the flock and scatters it. ¹³The man runs away because he is a hired hand and cares nothing for the sheep.¹⁴"I am the good shepherd; I know my sheep and my sheep know me— ¹⁵just as the Father knows me and I know the Father—and I lay down my life for the sheep. ¹⁶I have other sheep that are not of this sheep pen. I must bring them also. They too will listen to my voice, and there shall be one flock and one shepherd."

I'm venturing out of my own sheep pen, with a Jesus that will follow me to make sure I'm safe, who will break my legs (as was a common practice back in the day) if He has to in order to bring me rest in the company of the Shepherd's one flock.

I wore the sheep necklace the day I got to briefly meet Jessica and thank her for spurring me on to the decision to sponsor.

Turns out, though, that there were still Lisa Leonard necklaces from her giveaway. Something I didn't know until a little package arrived in the mail about a week later.

French is the language I studied in high school, when everyone said it wouldn't come in practically. Amor, of course, is French for love. But that doesn't mean anything to the Spanish-speaking Peruvians I'll visit. Given that I'm visiting Peru, it seemed ironic to me that the necklace is in french. Then I came across what Mark Batterson had to say about my life being a translation of the Bible in and of itself.

The pearl had no apparent meaning except for to make the thing look prettier. But anytime I wear pearls, I think of Matthew 7:6-- "Do not give dogs what is sacred; do not throw your pearls to pigs. If you do, they may trample them under their feet, and then turn and tear you to pieces." Meaning, to me, don't waste this gift of hope and the blessing of necessary means on keeping quiet or on being clumsy about sharing the Word of God. Be careful about where and how you are using your voice and your resources.

The silver and the pearl clank all of the time. A reminder of that sweet face and all that it teaches me. After all, it is all I have to know her by for now.

There are other things I know about her, per the pamphlet I got in the mail:

"Zaida lives with her parents and 1 sister. Her parents struggle to provide for the family. Her father is an agriculture worker. Despite their efforts it is difficult to meet the family's needs.

Zaida is growing up in a farming community 41 miles south of Cusco. Typical family homes are very rustic and are constructed mostly of wood with a thatched roof. The local diet is high in carbohydrates such as potatoes, beans and cereal. Temperatures reach 70 degrees and fall to lows in the 40s. The climate is cold and dry. Rough, mountainous terrain and deep valleys surround the community.

Zaida is not in school at this time. She likes to play with dolls. She helps at home by being good. She is in satisfactory health."

I know that she and I share a love for doll-playing and roles as the youngest in the family.

I know that her birthday, August 26, is Truett's due date, which I chose because I wanted a reminder of what a miracle it is that every bit of his body is growing normally and healthily. Many of the stories I follow reiterate to me that babies don't just happen. Every bit of the body and heart that is being knit together right now is the constant work of God and not guaranteed to work out the way we very badly hope and faithfully pray it to be. So when I say a prayer for Zaida, I say a prayer for Truett and for a d-day that brings us a happy, healthy, sweet baby boy to enjoy for days and years and a lifetime.

I know that she was born the year I graduated, 2007, and is the age of this phase of my life. Her growth mirrors my own as figure out this independent world.

I know that she shares a birthday with Mother Teresa, so she has quite the legacy to learn from. Also the 19th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution took effect on August 26, so that's pretty sweet.

(Yes, I am just perusing the date on Wikipedia)

Historical precedent aside, I can't wait to really get to know this little girl as she grows into her own little history maker. It was too late this go-round to Peru to organize a trip to meet her, but I'm hopeful I might get the chance to go again with the Fairview team and meet those cheeks.

Until then, I'll see her in the face of the kids I do get to meet and praise God that not one of them is "just" another face, as the kids on the front of the pamphlet have long been to me.

Not for long.

Stream of Consciousness

On Tuesday, as I prepared to report to work at 6:30 a.m., I had a lot on my mind.

It wasn't really sparked by anything other than anticipating this trip to Cuzco-- I had an awesome Monday night and turns out Tuesday was really a fun day. Just a glimpse: Dad remembered to add me into the cup count for the coffee pot. And there was a street sign propped on the prep table at work. Like I said, good day.

It was 6:07 when I thought to myself, "maybe I should write some of this stuff down."

But there was no time. So. Like a dork (and like Felicity) I recorded myself speaking what I was feeling. (after all, I did just take a class in Oral History this year). Then I transcribed it and it remains a pretty accurate display of my thoughts going into this trip. For the past couple of weeks I've had all sorts of topics that I've considered writing about and never got around to it. My dictation starts with some of those:

Love and Sarah's wedding and more Addie and Huddy or Baby Truett or funny lyrics or my job or people that I love or Sarah's visit but most of it all comes down to a new recognition of all that I have.

And how much I have.

And I’ve become very aware of this as I pack for Peru, because as you pack to go to a third world country or at least a poor part of a city, in an orphanage, you're surprised at how much you don’t need. And I’m already preparing myself for a complete change of pace. I'm excited.

Because I think that another thing that all of the topics I mentioned come down to, and probably the fact that I haven’t blogged, indicates that there’s a complete lack of urgency in my life right now

Or that the urgency is on things that just aren’t as big a deal when you’re thinking of meeting people struggling every day for food and water and love.

Over here it’s urgent to look your prettiest, be the best, have the best clothes.

And then you go to this country and realize that what’s urgent is the need to be warm.

It's urgent to be clean and sanitary here.

There its just a feat to not have the next small disease that could take a life.

And I feel like I know what I’m going to encounter-- I’ve been to Brazil.

I know Brazil and Peru are two different countries and landscapes and cultures. But they have similar problems. And I don’t expect I get to fix them all in two weeks. But I have a God who’s very concerned with those problems and I’ll go and tell them about that God.

But not really with my words because I can’t

Here its urgent to keep people posted on the next greatest dramas in our lives and we use so many words to convey them. There I’ll just have to use a demeanor. I'll use my eyes and love them with my hands.

And what makes me really sad is what I really just though of was “that’s what she said” because that’s the cheap humor I settle for to keep my life happy and fun because that’s urgent here.

I’ll use my smile.

And I’ll have a heart ready to be broken for these kids. I suspect that when I come back, there’ll be a new sense of urgency in my life. Whereas before I’ve just been lazy, too busy, too--maybe even hurt-- to blog and choose the words to describe the same ole subjects, I have a feeling that when I get back from Peru, it will not be laziness or hurt keeping me from writing. It’ll just be a general speechlessness because I suspect that I’ll be convicted by my God who says, “Sadie, you should have been loving that way long before. Your life should’ve spoken to a different urgency long before.”

God provided this trip for me.

And I know He’s here. And He’s in the closet of Highway 10 fitness just the same as he is in Peru. But I just expect especially to meet Him there. And you can call it a high and I could already suspect that I’ll come down from it and stay pessimistic towards the mission trip mindset or I can choose to believe that He has something to show me there that He couldn’t here. That he can shake things up there the way he couldn’t here. Because I was too lazy or busy or hurt.

He can lay something on my heart there that maybe he couldn’t get through to me here.

I'll leave you with pictures from the last month of life, because it may be all I get the chance to say on the subjects. It has been so much fun, these times with these friends in this place, and I don't begrudge this life in the least.

But when I get back, different stories will be on my mind. I might be speechless, but I don't want to remain so about these kids. About Cuzco. About sweet Zaida. About Vicente and Stephane. Because in so many ways their lives are filled with the right kind of urgent.

But in other ways there is an urgency that is so not necessary. Urgency in a daily struggle to live.

Maybe I’m taking this whole trip too seriously. But I don’t think so.

I’m looking for a broken heart. I am anticipating the Spirit’s movement.

And maybe that’s the main difference between life here and what I expect to learn apart from it.

Why Peru?

In January I wrote a post about numbers. And Uganda.

What I didn't know then was that I was writing about 7 interns, a great boss, one of the most generous families, a little church that could in the heart of D.C., and Peru. And a lot more.

To me it was mostly about $3400 and the feeling that I might never know where to best serve God through a mission trip and even if I did that it would literally cost too much. I ran across Katie's blog. She's in her twenties and is the mother of 12 Ugandan girls. She began a ministry back in 2006 called Amazima and as I read, I had the very real desire to be her. Or at least be as selfless and held by the Lord as her.

For a week I couldn't get the idea of at least joining with Amazima for at least two weeks out of my head. But I reminded myself every time that I could not afford $3400. What with school loans to pay off and no certain career lined up and a car that will only be reliable for so long and flights to pay for and what not. There was no way. Nuh-uh, no way, no how. See ya.

That Saturday night I got a facebook message from Matt Paxson offering me a job and a salary that would all but pay for Uganda. I cried and thanked God and immediately felt like the whole situation wasn't about me going to Uganda, but God's absolute ability to provide a way. It was a humbling experience to completely write God off one minute and see Him make a way seemingly out of nowhere in the next. And once He made the offer, I realized that my doubt needed addressing before I was going to even know where in the world He willed me to be.

At my first meeting with Matt, he offered me the chance to go to Peru with the youth as a leader, and even reduce my fare further for doing so, technically, as a staff member. The total cost to me would be $500.

It would also cost me my naivety in believing that I was too poor to follow God wherever He calls and that He had no use for an average privileged rich girl like me.

No, no, He has use for me and it starts with asking me to count it all as loss compared to knowing Christ Jesus as Lord. And this I actively do as I sit down to full meals and sweet laughter and a bonded family rich enough to muster up a week to make a house a home for its newest member and his parents. We are rich. In many ways I am so thankful for that, especially in the ways that have no monetary value attached. And it is an aspect of our lifestyle not at odds with God or Christlike living.

But. For some reason God has put on my heart that it could all be gone in an instant. That it could all literally be lost and Jesus Christ would still be the giver of righteousness, just, and the source of joy.

I've also become more aware that on my own, which I will be soon, I really don't have that much aside from loans and last semester's salary. That takes me back to how rich I am in things not of monetary value, like parents and siblings who would not only support me through rough financial times but already encourage me, no matter the cost, to follow God's leadership in my life. I have a happy childhood, meals on the table every day either at my home or at a restaurant and the luxury of pedicure outings with my sisters (including mom) or movies with friends. I have access to medical care and the physical means to maintain a healthy lifestyle. I have the safety and security of knowing I am loved by many and would be missed if someone, say, grabbed me off the street. There are people seeking relationships with me who care to be my friend. If I had none of this, I still live in a country where running water is so plentiful it's free.

And even if I didn't have that, there would still be this:

But whatever was to my profit I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them rubbish, that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ—the righteousness that comes from God and is by faith. I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, and so, somehow, to attain to the resurrection from the dead. Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already been made perfect, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. Brothers, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.

-Philippians 3:7-14

That hope makes me rich on its own. Living like I have that hope should be my desire each and every day. And it should make a difference. I think it's hard to do so-- live like I've been redeemed and have it make a difference-- in America, where the majority of people aren't often faced with not having things. And then the things get confused with hope. And soon people live like all hope is lost when they get a $40 ticket or the team didn't win or the server is slow or there isn't enough money in the bank for a trip to the mall to buy more hope.

I get so caught up in it all. Like my day is the worst because Mom asked me to unload the dishwasher or because my hip hurts from painting the air conditioned home.

News flash for Sadie. I'll be going from working in this

to this

in one week. And with me I better be taking some hope for the people who would be happy with four simple sturdy walls and a family to work alongside. Who would be thrilled by some medical attention or the leftovers I just threw out. The good news is that I do have Hope and even if in my rushed, hurried life I don't take the time to know Him as often or deeply as I should, He will reveal and does reveal Himself to those not as rich as me in languages I don't know based on their own commitment to following Him.

And in doing so He makes them rich.

In doing so He makes me rich.

So, dear one, put aside nuances of how much you do and don't have, how much control you want of your life and circumstances and look to me for worth and profit.

I can't meet every need I'll encounter in Peru, or here at home. But I know Who can. And He asks me simply to point them in His direction. I look forward to doing so in a place and amongst people who have little. The sights will be hard and shocking, I'm sure. Orphans are hurting, people with destroyed homes are devastated. But they are not shy in admitting their need.

^{As Jesus went on from there, he saw a man named Matthew sitting at the tax collector's booth. "Follow me," he told him, and Matthew got up and followed him. While Jesus was having dinner at Matthew's house, many tax collectors and "sinners" came and ate with him and his disciples. When the Pharisees saw this, they asked his disciples, "Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and 'sinners'?"}On hearing this, Jesus said, "It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. But go and learn what this means: 'I desire mercy, not sacrifice.' For I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners."

-Matthew 9:9-12

Why Peru? Because God can. Because Jesus said "follow me" and, like Matthew, I want to listen. I'll let Jesus speak for and defend himself among the cynics (including myself) and those who say I'm too good to make a difference amongst those financially poorer than me. I'll return to America hoping that conviction will hit me closer to home so I won't feel I need a Peru to make a difference or address suffering with compassion and mercy.

I'll consider myself amongst the sick, because I, too, need a doctor.