PRAYING FOR ADVENTURE – Part III

The steps of a good man are ordered by the LORD: and he delighteth in his way.  Psalms 37:23  (KJV)

When the Givors police determined that our carjacking hadn’t occurred in their jurisdiction, they turned us over to the police nationale in their mountainside headquarters.  The cordial officer led us to a spacious office/converted bedroom in a former manor house, and we retold the events of our carjacking.

 

The new policeman glanced at the paperwork we had brought with us from the Givors gendarmes and dramatically tossed the packet over his shoulder.  “Pas bon.  [No good.] We will begin again,” he offered with a smile.  The police showered us with hospitality, bringing pastries and tea as we answered another set of questions.

Various officers came in to join the process, asking us about our lives in the States, why we were in the heartland of France, and if we were enjoying the trip thus far.  One would think this was a part of the Grand Tour—they were so hospitable.  In comparison to the intense interrogation of the Givors police, the police nationale were totally at ease, as if they’d done this before…

A number of cookies and several cups of tea later, the phone rang.  The officer answered, asked a few questions and gave clipped responses, and then he hung up.  “We have your car,” he announced.  “You do?” we asked in unison.  “Oui, we have found your car,” he repeated.  “What about our luggage?  Are our tickets there?  Did they find our passports?” we both asked at the same time.  “Oui, everything.  We have everything,” was the surprising answer.

“But how did they recover the car with everything in it,” Peter persisted.  “Monsieur Juge,” the man responded, “the young men who took your car pulled over to the side of the road to open your suitcases to see what was inside, and it seems that someone interrupted them, and they fled.  They left everything as it was.”  (Coincidentally, the time the men were “interrupted” was about the same time that our prayer group was meeting at home.)

After a round of handshakes and kisses on all cheeks, we were again shuttled into a police car to head for the nearby police garage.  Sure enough, our car was there with all the luggage, clothes, airline tickets, passports, credit cards, and even my purse.  My French francs were gone, but Peter had pocketed his wallet with cash when he had first jumped out of the car.  We still had adequate funds.  We paid the garage attendant, said goodbye to the police, got back on the road, and thanked God for the adventure he’d arranged with lots of stories for our children and grandchildren.

I could hardly wait to tell Lynn and our friends about all the answers to prayer we’d experienced in response to their faithful intercessions.  We couldn’t have planned a more exciting and interesting journey.

 

Lord, you took what could have been a very serious situation with injury and loss and turned it into an adventure we’ll never forget.  Thank you for friends who pray and thank you for constantly watching over us.  AMEN.

SWEET JOSEPHINE

But ask the animals, and they will teach you…that the hand of the Lord has done this?
In his hand is the life of every creature and the breath of all mankind.  Job 12:7, 9, 10

Today I came across a picture of Josephine.  It evoked nostalgia and reminded me of my adventure with her and the bond we formed in months of working in the capital of Uganda, Kampala.  Being away from home so long, I was missing Albert and Victoria and the companionship that came with their unconditional love.

 

 

The night was rainy, one of those times when the skies seemed to be falling and the rain drops stung when they hit you.  It was impossible to sleep.  In the middle of that thunderous monsoon, I heard a sound of desperate crying coming from somewhere near.  I wanted to pretend I hadn’t heard that piercing sound and tried to go back to sleep.  But the moans wouldn’t stop.

Finally, I put on my robe, picked up my umbrella and my torch (flashlight), and headed out the door to locate the source of the cries.  Louder and louder they came as I approached the huge rubbish pit in the banana trees just below my terrace.  I shined my light all around the bottom of the hole, and about fourteen feet down, I saw a terrified dog who had fallen in during her nightly quest for food.  I called to her, but there was nothing I could do until the household woke up, and I could get a ladder.

Several hours later, the house lights came on, so I knocked on the back door and explained the dilemma and need for help.  Gilbert and Jackson put on their rain slickers, got a ladder, and followed me.  The three of us were eventually able to subdue and get the frightened animal out of the hole.  As soon as she reached the top, she sped to a place near the back of the compound where we discovered she had four newborn babies.  (Later, in the morning we discovered two more babies who had fallen into the nearby latrine and needed rescuing.)

Josephine (so named because we had pulled her out of the pit) became my constant companion anytime I left my apartment on the compound.  We gave the babies biblical names (Joseph, Daniel, Jeremiah, etc.) referring to those who had also had “pit” experiences.  The house boys helped with feeding Josephine—the neighboring guest house saved us all their scraps—Josephine didn’t like commercial dog food.  And various neighbors eventually adopted all the babies.

Whenever I needed a little reminder of home, Josephine was there.  She and the babies ran to greet me anytime I was within viewing distance of their little makeshift home.  She changed the entire culture of the compound in a place that wasn’t accustomed to having animals as pets.  And she shared that same unconditional love with all our visitors.

The day came for me to pack up and begin my twenty-seven hour trip home.  I couldn’t bear to tell Josephine I was leaving, but somehow she knew and came up to my apartment to haunt the doorway all day long.  Then she disappeared.  When my driver appeared to take me to the airport that night, I saw a movement in the bushes.  It was Josephine.  She had come out to say goodbye.  And then she was gone.

In all my later visits back to my temporary home in Kampala, Josephine remembered me and was always as happy to see me as I her.  The boys kept their promise and watched over and loved her.  This past year I got a message that Josephine was sick, and the vet was called (an amazing occurrence).  Josephine was loved and buried within the compound.

Am I romanticizing to think that God sent her just to bring me companionship at a lonely time?  That she stayed to demonstrate unconditional love to the other family members in the compound?  And that Josephine changed a tiny piece of culture?

 

Father, I am so grateful for all those demonstrations of love you shower on us.  Thank you especially for Albert and Victoria, for Edward and Frances, and for sweet Josephine.  They have been wonderful blessings from you who created all things.  AMEN.

MAINTENANCE

 

…mine own vineyard have I not kept.  Song of Solomon 1:6  (KJV)

“Come on, we’re going on a field trip,” the bishop announced as he pulled staff members out of their offices.  The rains have been abundant this spring, and so avoiding the many puddles would be part of the adventure as we headed out the door.

We all walked cautiously down the hill and then traversed the pathway that edged the meadow where children hunt eggs every Easter.  We passed by patches of iris that were standing in water, on through stands of Mountain Laurel that had already bloomed, and then made our descent to the springs—the source of the San Antonio River.

When the aquifer fills, the springs burst from the ground and mostly follow their ancient path.  Some spill over onto the meadows creating a bog.  The life-giving source of water has drawn people to this site for thousands of years and was the impetus for settlement of the indigenous Payaya Indians and later the Spanish missionaries.

The sense of history on our sacred grounds is compelling.  Prior to the bequest of the lands to us in the last century, the owner had obviously respected and loved the place where so many had lived and thrived for centuries.  He employed twelve gardeners to maintain the nineteen acres that stretched across the valley and on into the basin.  Besides the native species of plants and trees, Gaucho planted hundreds of azaleas and created a small pond where a boat was moored for an afternoon’s enjoyment.

As we meandered through the soggy grounds, I noticed an overgrown stone walkway climbing the hillside.  And then to our right where terraced cutting beds had lined the walkway, bushes and weeds blotted out all signs of flowers from another day.  The acreage around the old home is lush with naturalistic landscaping, but the farther one roams from the house, invasive plants are obscuring what was once a paradise.  Nothing is static.  Everything has to be maintained.

My practical mother told me of a time she dressed and was headed out the door to do some “good works”.  She said that as she was leaving, she noticed cobwebs on the ceiling of the porch and sensed God telling her she needed to first take care of her own home before she could credibly go out and share Jesus with someone else.  Maintenance.

And so, I’ve been thinking…  Seeing the overgrown beds and walks on our grounds was sad, but it was just a reminder that, while it might be more exciting to get out of the familiar and engage in stimulating ministries, our first obligation is Jerusalem:  our personal relationship with the Lord Jesus and our family and our community.  Solomon’s “beloved” had been busy taking care of the family vineyards, but she hadn’t tended to her own needs (Song of Sol. 1:6).  And Martha was so busy worrying while she worked that she had neglected “the most important thing” (Luke 10:41).  On the other hand, Jesus regularly spent time with his Father, communing and being strengthened by him (Matt. 14:13, Mark 1:35, Mark 6:45, 46, Mark 14:32-34).  Essentially, even our spiritual lives must be maintained.

And that happens through the spiritual disciplines – Bible reading, prayer, and meditation as starters.  To paraphrase the violinist Jascha Heifetz, if I don’t spend intentional time with God one day, I notice it; if I miss two days, my friends notice it; if I miss three days, everyone notices it.  We have to tend our own gardens, spending time with our Father, and then we can go out to work in the fields to which he’s called us.

 

Lord, thank you for speaking to us in our ordinary days through your creation.  Give us ears to hear and feet to obey.  In Jesus our Lord.  AMEN.

COOKIE’S CALL

[He] is able to do exceedingly abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that works in us… Ephesians 3:20-21 (NKJV)

Cookie is home to renew her visa. She has to return from Haiti every few months so that she can go back to work with orphans in their hillside sanctuary. Two years ago she responded to God’s call to go – just for a few months – and now she finds herself returning again and again.

Cookie is an English teacher committed to helping every one of her students learn to communicate in English. She knows that speaking English in Haiti is almost a sure guarantee of a decent job in the stressed economy. But that’s not why Cookie continues to return to Haiti after every break. This afternoon she elaborated on one of the many ways she sees God at work.

Some months ago a young mother came to the orphanage to confess that she had thrown her newborn into a garbage dump—about twelve hours earlier. Cookie and her fellow missioners had become inured to finding little ones who were discarded for one reason or another, but it was unusual for a mother to come with such news.

The small group of missioners hurried to a large trough, sixteen feet deep, where the baby had been tossed earlier in the day. One of the young men was able to climb into the pit, rummage around, and find the plastic bag that contained the baby. He hauled it up and put it on the ground as the others gathered round to pray. An inert little arm fell out of the bag, and as they prayed, they heard the sound of a massive intake of breath and then a cry. Miraculously, the baby girl was alive, unscratched, unmarked.

The missioners brought the little one back to their compound and cleaned her up, all the while thanking God for sparing her little life. One of the missionary couples was moved to adopt the baby and named her Faith, and she is now a thriving six-month-old toddler who is loved and coddled by all the missioners on campus.

And so, Cookie keeps going back to Haiti.

Father, thank you for reminding us of your great power as we call to you in faith believing. Thank you for Cookie and all those who reach out to touch lives in your name. Help us to faithfully “touch the one in front of us.” In Jesus’ name. AMEN.

JUST ASK

…you do not have because you do not ask God. James 4:2 (NIV)

Coming back from my first trip to Uganda after three hard weeks on pock-marked dusty roads in a glorious, yet unfamiliar setting, I was exhausted. We reached at the airport only to be told that our flight would be delayed by about 15 hours because of mechanical problems. We again boarded our mutatu (van) for a return trip to the Namirembe Guest House in Kampala.

Upon arrival, the two guys on the team said they were going to the airlines office to see what sort of compensation they might offer for causing us to miss our connecting flights in London and Detroit. Since this was my first trip and being the newbie on the team, I naively asked if they would see if we could get bumped up to better seats for our 18-hour-plus flights. All five of my companions laughed as if I’d asked for a private jet to take us home. I was determined. “You have not for you ask not,” I reminded the team.

An hour later, the fellows returned, and I asked—expectantly—“Did we get bumped up?”
With barely disguised smirks they responded negatively but allowed that we would all be treated to lunch in a London hotel and our own day rooms. Of course, that was lovely but not what I’d requested.

It was gratifying to have familiar food in London and a hot shower with a nap before preparing to board our transatlantic flight. An airlines vehicle delivered us back to the airport, and we were courteously escorted to our point of departure. Since our connecting flights had all been scrambled, our team was seated in various places throughout the coach section. I sat down with one of my team members, buckled up, and prepared my nest for the next leg of the trip.

As is my custom, I turned on the monitor to watch the progress of the flight as we crossed the ocean – but nothing happened. My companion tried to work the monitor. And then the steward did his best to make the contraption work. “Just wait until we’re airborne,” he assured me, “and I’ll reboot this from our controls.”

However many miles later and after many buttons were pushed unsuccessfully, the steward asked if I minded if he relocated me. “Oh, but I have to bring my friend,” I replied. “Of course,” he said.

A short time later, he reported. “I’ve looked all over the economy seating and can’t find a vacant seat. Would you mind if I put you in business class?” he queried. “Of course, not,” I responded with a huge smile.

As we were being ushered down the aisle, I couldn’t resist reminding my friends in passing, “You have not for you ask not.” It’s a lesson I haven’t forgotten.

Lord, I wonder how many blessings, large and small, we miss because we’re afraid to ask? Help us to remember that you’re a good Father who loves to give good gifts to your undeserving children, and we honor you by asking. Thank you again. AMEN.

LITTLE THINGS

Shew me a token for good…because thou, Lord, hast holpen me, and comforted me. Psalm 86:17 (KJV)

Ordinarily, I’m not someone who looks for “signs,” but when my husband told me to begin planning for my first transatlantic flight, I needed reassurance. Peter had traveled widely prior to our marriage, but I’d never flown so long over the water. I wasn’t exactly afraid, but I didn’t relish all those hours suspended over the ocean.

Our destination was Ireland, and I would have an opportunity to see firsthand the beauty of the Emerald Isle. I threw myself into preparations, hoping to ease or forget my apprehension. Still, I couldn’t get rid of that nagging anxiety.

Chastising myself for lack of trust, I recalled verses of Scripture that related to God’s protection. Nothing seemed to help. I was too embarrassed to admit to my family or friends that I, a Bible study teacher and mentor, was nervous about such a silly thing. Privately, I prayed about my misgivings and surrendered them to the Lord.

The night before we were to leave, a simple thing happened. I stepped into the shower before going to bed and was surprised by the most wonderful scent. Someone, I still don’t know who, had placed in the soap dish a bar of Irish Spring hand soap which literally permeated the atmosphere with hope, joy, and reassurance. I knew it would be a wonderful trip.

Nowadays I spend days and nights on planes going to our various mission ministries around the world, and I am always grateful for God’s patience in giving me such a little thing to assure me he was in control. He prepared me for what he had prepared for me.

Father, your kindness and mercy are beyond comprehension. You answer our prayers and reassure us in the most unexpected ways. Help us to be open to any way in which you choose to comfort and care for us. In Jesus’ Name. AMEN.

SOMETHING HIDDEN

Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already arrived at my goal, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. Philippians 3:12
“There’s no sense in going further — it’s the edge of cultivation,”
So they said, and I believed it — broke my land and sowed my crop —
Built my barns and strung my fences in the little border station
Tucked away below the foothills where the trails run out and stop.

Till a voice, as bad as Conscience, rang interminable changes
In one everlasting Whisper day and night repeated — so:
“Something hidden. Go and find it. Go and look behind the Ranges —
Something lost behind the Ranges. Lost and waiting for you. Go!”
Anybody might have found it — but His Whisper came to Me!

I have always been intrigued by Kipling’s poem that speaks to me of God’s wonders in the natural world and in the Spirit. There are so many hidden treasures of God’s Kingdom that are only discovered by abandoned and radical pursuit of him. And once that wanderlust is awakened in us we will not be satisfied with anything less.

Father, awaken us to boldly launch out in faith to see what you have for us beyond the known. Help us to move to higher heights in you so that we may glorify you in the journey. In Jesus’ name. AMEN.