stille nacht

We had our first snow a few weeks ago. It was a bit of a surprise for us, though we both stood in awe and stared out the window as large flakes came falling down. It's still novel. It's still so fresh for us. And we both find it exciting, that first snow of the winter. There is an all encompassing stillness that happens when the dirty, rubbage laden streets get purified for a breath of time, and traffic slows, and people stop to watch their step. And green growing things cease. And All is white.

 Even though it is certainly a known fact that Jesus was not born in December, I find it a perfect season to celebrate and remember something so precious, so amazing, so humbling, and so earth shaking.

It is as if Holiness has stepped on the earth, and our response is the gravitational pull to just be... still.

 In late January of 2008, my health decided to take a left when I wanted it to go right. Months of doctors and tests followed. And then remission. And then flare up. And then strength. And then weakness. The past few months have been weak ones. I grow easily tired of weakness and I struggle so much to be a super hero woman writer artist friend wife mentor (and so forth). I can't do it right now. I can't job hunt. I can't create coherent sentences well. I can't pursue friends. I can't cook for all. I can't keep the house as clean as I want it. I can't heal her wounds. I can't make it all better for a friend.

 After a long talk with my amazing husband, we concluded what I can do. I can be still. I can heal. I can reach out where Jesus calls me to reach out. I can slow down, tread carefully down the snowy path. Watch my steps with care.

 I've noticed a remarked change that has begun as I slow down. I've stopped struggling. I've stopped trying to be super me. And through this process of letting go of all that I can't do right now, I can now see how Christ is moving in my life and the lives of those around me. I can see that God is working in my loved ones' lives. And I can see that I don't have to do it all or hold it all together in my hand.

 The work of mending broken hearts, the work of providing, the work of words and profundity, the work of truth and of grace, the work of healing began all those years ago in a stall among farm animals and the simplest of people.

All is calm. 

 There is profound peace in trusting Christ with burdens. There is hope knowing that all the mistakes and wrong doings I have racked up through the years don't keep me from God because of what Christ has done.

Glories stream from heaven afar.

 There is rest knowing this is not all there is. The noisy cacophony will one day be silenced and the grime of this world will no longer be when Glory of Glories, the Holy of Holies streams down once more.

With the dawn of redeeming grace.

There is a sigh of relief that we don't have to redeem ourselves.  We don't have to worry that God won't forgive us because of the work of Jesus who carried that burden for us.  And it started all those years ago with a humbled virgin and a kind, strong young carpenter both called by God to parent a baby not their own,  A baby whose life brought us redemption and showed us grace.

All is bright.

What joy there is! Even in the pain.  Even in the days when exhaustion is so great that I don't have energy to brush my hair.  What Joy there is when I can't be and do all that I want to be and do.  This joy, this brightness comes from a void of despair, it comes from the wide open gates of Hope, from the radiant beams of His Holy face.

The days have been hard but they are getting better.  Something that improves them and kind of makes the pain lose some of its potency is letting go and being still.  My, how He makes this burden lighter.

black nails and valentine's tales

By noon yesterday, I was fed up with the day which is highly unusual for me. I woke up 2 hours later than intended because my alarm had been knocked down and the battery knocked out. My friend wrote on facebook that (oh, my friend who is 9 months pregnant) during her 30+ minute train ride to work, she was never offered a seat. 9 months pregnant. On Valentine's day even. Driving home from the grocery store and stopped at a light, I had trouble shifting gears and a woman decided I was way too slow and that it was imperative that she had to lay into her horn to make sure I went faster. I tossed up a peace sign hoping she would "chill". The moment she passed me later on when I turned, she decided to lay into her horn again. The reason I couldn't shift quickly? I've had very painful tennis elbow for three months.

I know it's winter here and I know there are a lot of people who look at the day as a "Hallmark Holiday". I know there are scorned lovers and those who are loveless. There are plenty who are most likely tired of being single and find the day a horrible reminder of their singleness and their loneliness. I know. I have been there.

I also heard people complain about the day; "my daughter would always come home without receiving a Valentines" and "I think Valentine's should be about him pursuing me".

Every year I'm reminded about what this day is: it is to remember a martyr, a priest sainted for his sacrifice to Christ, his noted sacrifices for marrying Christians when Claudius the Goth had ordered against it. It was a bloody time in Roman history for Christians with much persecution. Valentine stood up for Christ, stood up against oppression and attempted annihilation of a people. He is known as the saint of Love and Lovers, of happy marriages, even bee keepers (and other people I didn't quite understand... like the plague). He is known for his blatant defiance of a brutal and tyrannical ruler.

He sounds like a man to celebrate, to emulate. Why can't we let go of what we want, what we can get out of the day and turn it instead into at least one day of loving others, of showing kindness, of noting love where love is, not where it isn't, remembering those who have generously loved, selflessly loved, and showing love to them. Loving without expectation of return, loving when it may even mean being hurt or a sacrifice of pride.

I've been generously loved. I've been shown undeserved love. I've been lavished in love. And I've been selfish with it all. I too have sat back with pity wanting, desiring love to be shown to me. A coined and overused quote seems to capture so much, "Be the change you want to see in the world." Another quote from another saint, "grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love." prayer of St. Francis

A final thought; for me, I have known great love because of the Love of God. From that deep love, a love with a force greater than Iguazu Falls, I am truly overwhelmed. Oh, to give like Him, to love like Him. And, what I've seen of His love, it is only a glimpse of Love, only a glimpse of Heaven.

"Because your steadfast love is better than life, my lips will praise you." Psalm 63:3

even the rocks cry out!

REJOICE! salvation is near. Rejoice! for you have been given the oil of gladness. Rejoice! for the light will overcome the darkness. JOY! for the sackcloth has been torn. Joy! for the Heavens cry out with song. SING! for good news has been proclaimed to the poor. Sing! for freedom has come to the captives. SHOUT! redemption draws near! Shout! you have been given a garment of praise. Sing! for what was devastated will be rebuilt. SING! you have been clothed in righteousness. Joy! for your head has been lifted of shame. JOY! for you have been made clean. Rejoice! There is no need for despair. Rejoice! you have been crowned with beauty. REJOICE! for eternity is written on your heart and HE has come that you might know him!

"these things i have spoken to you that in me you might find peace. in this world you will have trouble. BUT be of good cheer! for I have overcome the world." ~

isaiah 64
ecclesiastes 3
john 16

sweet home.

We are so grateful for our time here and for being here in the big city. We know we are supposed to be here. And we have great friends. A sweet church. A cozy home. And we are really enjoying ourselves. In the same breath, it's a particularly nostalgic and illuminating time of year remembering all we left behind at home in the far away land of Texas. Five months is not that long of a time to be away but as families begin to come together, I am longing for certain familiar things or even simple luxuries we no longer have living in this faraway city.



I miss real Tex Mex. The kind I ate almost every single day because it was part of the culture of Austin.

I miss having a washer and dryer in our place. It is a wonderful wonderful thing, let me tell you. We do have a laundromat not too far away, but to have it right under your finger tips? Please, enjoy yours for me.

Speaking of luxuries, I miss the wonderful and spectacular invention called... the dishwasher! Seriously.

I miss space. Wide open space that declares freedom. And the sky. I miss the sky.

I miss the warmth and friendliness that is part of the Texas culture, though not always genuine, still it is reflective of kindness, the kindness that comes as fruit of a grateful and loving heart.

I miss my nieces coming to the office with the excitement and joy and wonder only they could bring in. They were always in awe of the space and thought that my office was the only place in the world that offered Starfall.

I miss my nieces. I miss snuggling them into me, my nose resting on their heads, praying for God's safety and protection over them, promising to do all I could to keep them safe.

I miss my family, sister and brother. my parents. I have the best parents, really.

I miss their dogs!

I miss our dear dear friends, whose lives and love poured into both of us and has shaped us by His love and grace.

I miss our sweet church.


We have been given much here. We have a fellowship of great friends and people who love the Lord. We get to do all of our own dishes. And, Texas, you are etched in the wrinkles of my smile and the soles of my boots (hiking boots, actually).

to know joy

Man is fond of counting his troubles, but he does not count his joys. If he counted them up as he ought to, he would see that every lot has enough happiness provided for it. ~Fyodor Dostoevsky

When I was 18, I betrayed a friend. I started dating her boyfriend (it was terrible of me and don't ever do it, btw). I then dumped him a couple of weeks later to find that he had gone straight back to her. And it went back and forth like this for a while. I was devastated and broken, depressed, and upset with myself for the rest of the year. One day, I was sitting on a trampoline enjoying time with my favorite 9 year old when she started singing this song, "I choose to be happy." And her words, those simple words, changed me. It started an upward climb as for the first time in my short years I realized Happiness is a choice. Just a choice. Not something that happens to you but something decided.

I would like to say that the years that followed were all filled with the choice to be happy, but I would be lying. I chose to wallow in sorrow and self pity a couple of times. A couple of years. I had emotional baggage as we ALL do. I experienced life, as we all do, with all of its ups and downs. Sometimes the downs were traumatic. Sometimes in the trauma I chose to avoid dealing with it.

One time though, after being broken up with, I chose joy. I chose to look at my "terrible" circumstance and praise God for all the good things he has done in my life. I praised Him. I stopped looking at my sorrow and loss, and looked to my God. Someone told me for the first time in my life, "You are glowing". Someone who I looked up to and didn't know my circumstance. I faced my problem, wept, and chose joy.

I've quoted this before; as Abraham Lincoln said, "Most folks are as happy as they make their minds up to be." It's really true. I would also add that joy is something deeper than just happiness. Happiness only skims the surface of what joy is. Joy is looking in the face of tragedy and saying, I rejoice. And again I say, rejoice. I know what comes my way, whatever my lot, I have reason to be full of JOY. I will say, when I lost my friend last year, it was tragic. I was devastated. I've had other losses that brought sorrow, too. There is nothing wrong with experiencing sorrow, entering into sadness. But when it turns, and you'll probably know exactly when that is as I did, when it turns into bitterness and self-pity, when you can no longer see hope, then it is no longer good.

In those moments of sorrow and loss, I have had to look on to hope, on to the joy in my life, on to remembering all there is to be thankful for, all there is to rejoice in. For in those moments, hoping and rejoicing have brought me peace. They have reminded me that though sorrow and loss happen, I have a choice. I can wallow in them and be discontent and un-comforted, or I can look at them and say, there have been so many blessings, there is much to enrich my life with, and there is so much to hope in.

As a Christian, I have a great hope, a great joy in knowing Christ and trusting him and his promises. One such promise of the Lord's is from the Old Testament, "I will never leave you or forsake you." It is a promise I hold true. Another is of his love for his children. Shakespeare captured love beautifully when he said , "Love is not love which alters when it alterations find or bends with the remover to remove. Oh, no. It is an ever fixed mark that looks on tempests and is never shaken." (Sonnet 116)

He loves his children that much.

"Whatever my lot thou has taught me to say, it is well, it is well with my soul." ~Horatio Spafford (whose story and life were wrought with sorrow and inspired the hymn quoted)

"O the deep, deep love of Jesus, love of every love the best!
’Tis an ocean full of blessing, ’tis a haven giving rest!
O the deep, deep love of Jesus, ’tis a heaven of heavens to me;
And it lifts me up to glory, for it lifts me up to Thee!"

~Samuel Trevor Francis

How wide and long and high and deep is the love of Jesus Christ.

You turned my wailing into dancing; you removed the sack cloth and clothed me with JOY.

notes from the big city:

-bright, sunny walks in the city after eight days of the flu are eye opening and life giving

-children and babies on the bus or public transportation make me smile.

-narcissists on public transportation make me want to scream, "the world's axis does not rotate just around you!"

-breathing is under-rated.

-on a walk the other day i passed by a Guatemalan/Salvadoran/Mexican restaurant, Japanese, Korean, Vietnamese, Pakistani, Burmese, Afghan, Israeli, Turkish, Indian, Italian, Brazilian, Russian, Irish, American eateries (and many more nationalities). hello world in my city.

- I passed by a Rabbi today and it no longer felt like a strange thing. Rather, a daily occurrence.

- i plan on taking up letter writing. it is a lost art.

-can't wait to purchase rain boots. a thousand years ago, i wore them when no one else did. it was a sight that received many giggles and i loved causing the giggles. now, everyone's wearing them here. bizarre!

-i love our new friends and my new friends. there are some kind, wonderful women in this city that single guys are completely missing out on. i can't wait to have a girl's night. (i do have to say, it was fun to be at the grocery store and run into someone we knew.)

-i love that i got to sit next to a young girl from Trinidad, in this country for 3 years. we had a little chat while watching football. again, we get to meet the world here.

-city life is more communal than what it was at home. i love, love, love that. i'm looking forward to having people in our home.

- i watched a sweet, tiny Korean toddler look with amazement and admiration at her mother. it was profound even though it occurs all over the world daily.

- farmer's markets in every area of town are beautiful. i salivate a little every time i see a wooden crate overflowing with fresh picked apples.

-i've lost 10 pounds since we moved here. i know exactly how, too. city walking.

"Mine eyes do smell an onion."

Sitting in a cafe sipping iced tea while the rain falls outside and the bosa nova plays inside, i stare at the iron railing wondering what city we have landed in, what season we are truly in with 62 degree temperatures, and why I'm wearing a sweater... in August. You can at least tell that it's a week day; the hustle and bustle abounds in droves as rush hour begins. but here, in here, all seems still. i keep my heritage ingrained in me in the middle of this metropolis while sipping an iced tea though I should be sipping something warm... I can't do it right now. I'm still on the Southern schedule where it doesn't get cool until.. November. Thus the confusion.

iced tea in gray gray weather. At least I'm not alone; an elderly couple just walked by dressed for summer. No one told them we were having a "monsoon" all week long. Am I now part of the collective we? Someday. Ha. The woman who chose the seat next to me bought an iced tea. I guess I'm not that strange after all.

I miss my Italian espresso/ gelato shop just around the corner from the office. Marco knew what I ordered though he never knew if I was in a playful "caramel macchiato" mood or a plain-jane-non-fat-latte mood. He and my husband would speak Italian to each other. I actually miss my bank where Lida and Angela knew me so well, when my sister walked in to sign up for account, they actually said, "You must be M's sister." Just by seeing her face. I miss my nieces, one who recently said that instead of going to her new school, she would come stay with me. When she was told how far we live now, she was not moved. She'll just come to us.

I've noticed how many strangers there are here. A couple sat down next to me speaking Norwegian. Some young Spanish kids came in for a respite from the "monsoon". Many are unknown. They too came here not knowing others. A city full of strangers. (and the girl next to me is so loud. There's no way she is a native metropolitan.)

In time. (concentration is lost by the girl's incredibly loud voice.) We'll make home. Carve out a place. Find a new place where we are known (other than the laundromat where the woman scowls at me while she tries to flirt with my husband. I'll knock her out and then maybe, just maybe,(if she'll finally show me respect) we'll be friends.) {that's a joke. i'm not violent at all. and, yes, she did finally stop glaring at me and smiled. happy day.}

Note to self: buy rain boots, umbrella, and rain parka. And don't talk loudly in cafes. Especially about your personal life.