my ears are pierced.

I waited patiently for the LORD;

he turned to me and heard my cry.

He lifted me out of the slimy pit,

out of the mud and mire;

he set my feet on a rock

and gave me a firm place to stand.

He put a new song in my mouth

a hymn of praise to our God.

Many will see and fear

and put their trust in the LORD.

Blessed is the man who makes the LORD his trust,

who does not look to the proud,

to those who turn aside to false gods.

Many, O LORD my God,

are the wonders you have done.

The things you planned for us

no one can recount to you;

were I to speak and tell of them,

they would be too many to declare.

Sacrifice and offering you did not desire,

by my ears you have pierced;

burnt offerings and sin offerings you did not require.

Then I said, "Here I am, I have come--

it is written about me in the scroll.

I desire to do your will, O my God;

your law is within my heart."

Psalm 40:1-8

birches.

I've always really enjoyed this. Hope you enjoy...

When I see birches bend to left and right

Across the lines of straighter darker trees,

I like to think some boy's been swinging them.

But swinging doesn't bend them down to stay.

Ice-storms do that. Often you must have seen them

Loaded with ice a sunny winter morning

After a rain. They click upon themselves

As the breeze rises, and turn many-coloured

As the stir cracks and crazes their enamel.

Soon the sun's warmth makes them shed crystal shells

Shattering and avalanching on the snow-crust

Such heaps of broken glass to sweep away

You'd think the inner dome of heaven had fallen.

They are dragged to the withered bracken by the load,

And they seem not to break; though once they are bowed

So low for long, they never right themselves:

You may see their trunks arching in the woods

Years afterwards, trailing their leaves on the ground,

Like girls on hands and knees that throw their hair

Before them over their heads to dry in the sun.

But I was going to say when Truth broke in

With all her matter-of-fact about the ice-storm,

I should prefer to have some boy bend them

As he went out and in to fetch the cows--

Some boy too far from town to learn baseball,

Whose only play was what he found himself,

Summer or winter, and could play alone.

One by one he subdued his father's trees

By riding them down over and over again

Until he took the stiffness out of them,

And not one but hung limp, not one was left

For him to conquer. He learned all there was

To learn about not launching out too soon

And so not carrying the tree away

Clear to the ground. He always kept his poise

To the top branches, climbing carefully

With the same pains you use to fill a cup

Up to the brim, and even above the brim.

Then he flung outward, feet first, with a swish,

Kicking his way down through the air to the ground.

So was I once myself a swinger of birches.

And so I dream of going back to be.

It's when I'm weary of considerations,

life is too much like a pathless wood

Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs

Broken across it, and one eye is weeping

From a twig's having lashed across it open.

I'd like to get away from earth awhile

And then come back to it and begin over.

May no fate willfully misunderstand me

And half grant what I wish and snatch me away

Not to return. Earth's the right place for love:

I don't know where it's likely to go better.

I'd like to go by climbing a birch tree

And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk

Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more,

But dipped its top and set me down again.

That would be good both going and coming back.

One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.

"Birches"

Robert Frost

Juan.

It was our team’s last day in the Peruvian village as they were packing up I had snuck off to say goodbye to a specific villager that had touched my heart during our time there.

His name was Juan. We met by God’s divine plan as I was walking the narrow path through his property. Shortly after surviving a nearly deadly encounter with a Cebu, completely consumed with thoughts of where my kids were in relation to I was and if it was really that smart to be wandering the jungle alone, I heard him call to me. It wasn’t that his calling to me was odd…a lot of locals call us as we pass by (probably something about being American. In the jungle. Doesn’t happen too often around those parts) but it was that he was calling to me in English. It caught my attention and quickly found my way safely around the Cebu and to his doorstep.

We shared the afternoon together, a twenty something American girl and the 60 year old Peruvian man. We talked and chatted over fresh sugar cane, through broken English he shared the mystic legends of the jungle, and I spoke in my broken Spanish of America. A small group of kids from my team passed by and we called to them. Juan chopped some more sugar cane and we chatted more of his life as the children’s director at the local church and the recent miracle involving one of the children there. I shortly got up to leave the students to connect and went on to connect with some of the other parts of the team.

In the days to come I would often stop in at Juan’s. He was one of the first houses along the narrow path that lead through the small jungle village, and as I would pass by he would call to me. He would twist my arm into eating some more sugar cane and he would pick my brain with questions about his English vocabulary, and God, and faith. One afternoon as I stopped in with a new group of kids from the team (I was determined to be sure that everyone had their chance to engage in conversation with this incredible man of God) he spoke of a dream he had the night prior. The dream involved a swarm of butterflies coming to visit him, but their faces were are faces, and he knew we were coming. He had the pieces of sugar cane chopped and waiting for us when we got there that day. Exactly enough, one for each of us, he really did know we were coming; coming with the spirit. He loved to sing, and sometimes we (myself and whatever group of students were with me) would sit and sing old hymns or worship songs, and he would share with us ones he knew in Spanish.

As our friendship unfolded it became more and more beautiful to me. He encouraged me as a leader, and I him. And by the end of our short stay, I was sad to need to say goodbye.
So as I snuck away to have a few last moments with Juan before our departure, he surprised me by wanting to come and address the team. So I left him with the promise to wait until his arrival at our base camp before we left. And so with tents all packed and storage bins stacked we waited. Juan soon arrived along with a gathering of other villagers and through teary eyes he addressed the team, thanked us for everything we had done in the hearts of his neighbors, and hugged us all tight. We all turned to leave and after ushering off the last kid with the last bundle of empty water jugs in tow I turned and said my goodbyes. He passed me a small note; we embraced and spoke of our seeing each other again, some day.

I recently found this note haphazardly in a drawer with a few other random things that are dear to me, but I'm not sure what to do with. It saddend me because I could hardly understand what it said, but I knew it was dear to me. I often think of Juan, and pray for him, and his ministry. Worlds apart yet connected in ways only imagineable in God's mind.

peeps.

The conversation still resonates in my mind. A frustrating argument. A friend trying to be there in a moment of crisis and overwhelming emotion. Snide sarcasm in order to build a fortress around my heart. A simple,” what can I do to help?” Turns into a bitter response,” nothing, I’ve spent a great deal of time making sure I don’t need anything, that I can take care of myself.” A defeated response. “I know.”

In immediate retrospect I hated this spat. But now I relish in it, because I realized so much about myself. As it plays through my head even now I laugh on the inside recognizing God’s hand in it all. As though God said, you think you’re strong eh? I’ll show you how to need people.

I’m recognizing once again the beauty of the body of Christ. The beauty of relationship at all levels. Relationship that calls you out on your junk, that pulls you back from the fire when you can’t seem to do it yourself. Friendship that comes through a phone call; lives miles apart yet connected in ways only fathomable in God’s mind. The simplicity of just being able to be and be quiet, together, and have the comfort wash over you that all is well in the world at that very moment. The joy of children, and the love they give without needing anything in return. The obnoxious uncontrollable friend who barely lets you get a breath in between the incessant laughter. The overprotective sibs that are ready to face anything for each other.

I’m recognizing more and more my need for people. Not just for them to be faces in my life, but for them to really KNOW me. To allow them “in” and help me along this road…