Sleep

Last night my eyes hit the pillow at 4am.

Facedown into my billowing down clouds they went

Only to be abruptly awoken at 8:50am by a husbands kisses goodbye,

and a glance to the clock to see that I was being picked up

in 15 minutes time.

Car horn honks at 9:05 to which a reply is sent:

Just got out of the bathroom. Be down in 2 mins.

Tiredly I climb into the car emotionally but not physically ready for 8 hours of writing, conversations, birthday brownies delivery, emails and Facebook polling.

Followed by dinner and talks, celebrating the life of an 8 year old.

Cosied in pyjama’s, at nearly midnight, I cuddle with husband as he continues his Fifa ‘Battle of Glory.’

Oh how I wish this day wasn’t typical.

But such is the life when you believe.

That your skills and gifts are not for your sake.

People are valuable.

There is much to be learned from those older than you.

That children desire and love your attention.

That even brief moments together can make an impact.

That Father God is doing great things

And you are desperate to be a part of them.

My feet drag when faced with enforced task

Knowing there is an impact, and I need to be a good steward,

I will continue to work hard

By my heart knows it tastes dissatisfaction

And it longs for more

But when you love

Oh how your butt can haul

And work

Feverishly

Feverently

Tirelessly

Relentlessly

Tired eyes continued to type, edit and examine

With the arrival of the dawn

For the heart believed in the work

Of the hands.

How long can my soulless body

Sit at bring desk

And look outside at open field

Desperate for exploration?

When I stepped out of Pais almost a year ago,

Several wondered if this was a turn wrong

I stretched and pressed in

To hear Father God’s voice speak to me

Yearning for the noise in the whisper

And I stand now

Awed

Amazed

At how wonderfully hard

How beautiful an adventure

Into who I am

And who I am in Him

And how this changes

the world around me

Exposing where my heart lies

by what my actions have done

time spent on strange, and new, and ordinary

made sweet lemonade

when given oranges

The wandering 

has been the most honest thing I have ever truly done.

deep calls to deep

soul cries loud

"Wouldn’t take nothing for my journey now"

Ready?

The last words from my lips

last night were a cry out to God, and Steve who was listening too…

"I just want to be able to speak more…I feel like I am losing my gift…”

early morning phone call with cell phone on the breakfast bar

causes sleepy hearted stumble

voicemail reveals the unbelievable

“are you able to speak today?”

12 hours after prayer, answer comes.

My God listens

My Father is attentive to me

I am heard

Hurried panic to find words

And activities

50 children?

Aged 6-13?!

That usual thought of “this only happens to me”

Runs through my head

But exciting thought jogs alongside

“What a beautiful chance to speak into young lives.”

Last nights meditation meets this morning’s devotion

Conversation just between Father God and me

Brought to larger sphere

From the overflow of my heart

Shall my mouth speak

Clock ticks

Panic sets

Arrive to crazy kids running loose

Heart pains in chest. Can I do this?

Crazy English games of true or false

1.     England can fit into Texas 5 times

2.     I have met The Queen

3.     The 2012 Olympics are in London, England

4.     England’s most popular sport is soccer

5.     In cricket there are 11 players on a team

(answers below)

Then into passionate reading of Psalm 84:

“How lovely is your dwelling place…

…my heart and flesh cry out for the living God…

…Blessed are those who dwell in your house, they are ever praising you…

…better is one day in your courts than a thousand elsewhere…

…no good thing does he withhold from those whose walk is blameless.”

Returning to the sweet spot:

“Blessed are those whose strength is in you,

Who have set their heart on pilgrimage.”

What does a blessed face look like?

Where do you get your strength from?

What is a pilgrimage?

Both

a journey that 6 year old boy travels with heavy backpack on shoulders, as he face plants sprinting across gymnasium floor

and

a dance, celebration, the full life with Father

Time spent sketching and pondering: Do you want to set your heart on a journey and dance with God?

Paper and pen reveal hearts overflow

Sweet prayer time with babes

Hearts deep with praise

Then silly questions like

“are you married?”
“Do you have any brothers?”
“Do you like playing American football”

“What position did you play in soccer?”

but questions none the less, desiring relationship, understanding

to be connected with another person

connected to another place

isn’t that the desire of us all

to be connected?

And it all it takes is a heart

Willing and open

To say

I am ready

I will speak

As the letter of Peter says:

“always being prepared to make a defense to anyone who asks you for a reason for the hope that is in you”

And I am ever hopeful.

 ----

[True/False: 1.True, 2.False, 3.True, 4.True, 5.True]

Fairytales

The whole world stood still.

2 billion tuned in to watch.

I awoke at 4am, an event paramount to a lunar eclipse.

Tweets flew around as champagne breakfasts began on a country’s day off.

What would she wear?

How proud would his mother be.

“the scars of your love remind me of us, they keep me thinking that we almost had it all”

the heartbroken soul pens her album

dirty with the fingerprints of the thief of her heart

yet this break up record still spends consecutive weeks at #1 of charts

on both sides of the Atlantic

rough winds creating a tide the lovesick surf upon

“Sometimes it hurts instead, sometimes it lasts in love”

It’s prickly fingers juxtaposing soft skin

Provide the best metaphor

Bright vibrant colour expressing what words cannot

Yet uncultivated, uncultured

It cuts the soul

Millions of thousands of dozens delivered

Gushing smiles receive them willingly while the singletons look away, dreaming of when their turn will be

That tangled mess of a thing called love

That we don’t want, yet we do

We search out, but act coy

Enthrals each one of us

5 years ago I walked away

afraid of it

yet wanting it

hearing words from Father

loud enough for even my deaf fearful ears to hear

“if you don’t trust him, you’ll never trust anyone”

but when cardiac muscle, strewn like confetti, damp with your tears, lines the cotton of your pillow

how can you believe?

Because you don’t roam a forest, with a basket of muffins, red cape hooded over blond locks of curls

And you don’t live in the frame of a Toshiba set, with all resolved at the end of a 30 minute slot

But you listen to ‘21’

and you watch the Royals

looking longingly at the roses

And you wouldn’t do it at all

if your heart didn’t still hope

for fairytales. 

It's not naive to think they still come true.

Field Trip

Our last full day in Accra was truly a beautiful day.

Our hectic schedule included visiting an orphanage, a school, a market and a beach. Driven by Royalhouse Chapel's drive of 17 years, Harrison, we spent what felt like most of our day listening to the honking horns of Ghanaian traffic. But the long drives from place to place gave me lots of time to think and reflect. 

Our first stop was to see Miss Beckylynn runs Pathfinders, a home for children who have been orphaned as a result of either (or both) of their parents dying from HIV/AIDS. The children are aware that their parents have died, but not the reason why. This is for two reasons:

1. So they are not stigmatized by their school mates or those in the community around the orphanage

2. They do not stigmatize themselves (thus leading to self-fulfilling prophecy – where you believe bad myths about your race/gender/situation, and through your own fault, live up to the low expectations set by these folklores)

Twenty children, ranging in ages 2 to 17, gathered anxiously on wooden benches, excited that the number of guests exceeded them.

For once they wouldn’t have to share, but have one-on-one time with an adult.

Steve and I quickly became engaged in conversation with Selestina, a 15 year old with aspirations of being a civil engineer. Her father, only the day before, had dropped her off to be placed in the capable hands of Pathfinders, seemingly in the aftermath of her mother to that life-taking illness. For an unknown/unexplained reason, her siblings remained with her dad. Her manner was warm and educated. She was planning on setting up a Christian Club at her school as she wanted to see people genuinely living out their faith and encouraging one another.

Mavis, aged 17, was single, abandoned and pregnant. She only spoke Tre (one of the many regional languages of Ghana) which was a sign of her lack of education (Ghanaian students in good schools, are taught in English) so translation was difficult. As Selestina told me she was 7 months pregnant, all my questions seemed pointless and silly. I felt like I had no words of encouragement to this young troubled woman, who was painfully shy and embarrassed to be asked questions, embarrassed to be the center of attention when she had previously been ostracized by her previous community. She felt it was shame that had resulted in her arrival at Pathfinders.

Elijah, no more than 2, strode confidently over to Andrew (Pais:Ghana apprentice from Northern Ireland), reaching his hands upwards, as a signal to be lifted into Andrew’s arms. Andrew’s surprised but very paternal obedience to the wordless command brought a smile to the toddler’s face. 

We ran relay races played games, and sang songs. One girl's request of both ‘The First Noel’ and ‘Hark the Herald Angels sing’ was met with stifled laughter, but as we sang and saw a smile rise, we realized that somehow these festive songs brought a joy to her spirit.

When so much had been taken away from her, who could we not happily meet her simple request.

Before we left, we handed out school supplies to each student. They lined up excitedly, as each apprentice passed over a coloured notebook and a decorated bright blue paper sack containing coloured crayons, pencils, erasers and a glue stick. Esther (Pais:Ghana apprentice from Germany) was firm in her ask for a yellow notebook stating “It’s that girl’s favourite colour.”

We somberly got back onto the bus; the scorching sun smudging make up, and sweat falling down our foreheads as we grabbed and shared the few water bottles we had between us. Carmen (Pais:Ghana apprentice from Mexico; was on Steve’s team Jan-June 2009) and I looked around the neighbourhood as we continued our journey. How different would our lives have been had this been our home? How much does the environment a person is brought up in shape the adult they become?

How easy it was to bring a smile to their faces with a fun action song, and a nicely decorated gift bag.

How easy it was to meet their maybe strange, but very obtainable, desires.

How easy it is to take for granted all that you have, then visit a place where others are in need, or see a sad story on the news, or read a harrowing tale of poverty in the paper…

…and have your heart moved, your gut wrenched, your tears fall…

…and tomorrow be no more changed than you were before you had even seen or heard.

My friend Anna, a self-confessed hater of all Physical Education in school, and all organized sport, ran in the Great North Run on Sunday.

13 miles, on a cold and rainy northern England morning, in a time of 3 hours 30 minutes.

She describes her idea of exercise as dancing at clubs on Saturday nights and walking to the fridge for a bar of chocolate. She lost toenails, bled through her shoes and has two almighty blisters but was led to put her “squidgy around the edges” body through it for a reason:

“I am running this to raise lots of money to help people with visual impairments like my Pa. Losing his sight affected his life in more ways than you could imagine and I hope that the money I raise will help support those who have lost their sight and also help in the research and treatment of diseases that cause blindness.“

Father God, would you make me a person, who doesn't forget, cannot forget, and is changed beyond words...

...and into action.