Thanks Giving

Four things I'm thankful for:

1: My growing, changing, vibrant relationship with my Creator. There's such peace and comfort in getting to know God. He's capable of so much, but restrains that capability to kind, generous, gracious, honorable acts. The more I read and discover about Him, and the more I talk to and choose to love Him, the more I focus on a clearer picture of Him. That picture is revealing to me a God of astounding patience in dealing with people not just throughout the ages, but also with me. It is pure delight to know that He loves me, He's protecting me, He has good things in store for me, and He will walk with me through every good, bad, ugly, and beautiful time that comes.

2: I'm thankful I'm in this geographical place. I live in an amazing community - with the ability to retreat easily into the countryside and find solitude and peace, or interact in a social setting of various sectors. There is natural beauty in the green forests and abundant waters. Mountains tower protectively nearby, but the vast expanse of the beach is within an easy drive. Wild animals waltz through my life, while industry and commerce provide their own artistic scope to my world. God has put me here and I'm content with it.

3: I'm also thankful for the friends that are in my life. This picture is of my friends Pete, Julie, and Gabe, on a last-minute, random clam digging trip last month. I never expected to have such strong friendships with people I lived close to. I've often developed a close bond with someone while traveling or overseas, but I thought it was something special that only occurred in a foreign environment. God has kindly blown that misunderstanding out of the water and blessed me with dear, wonderful, soul-level friends in THIS place. There are so many; these three can only serve as a representation of how wonderful it is to be close friends with people that I can stop in at their house and drink tea with or run the lake with or invite over for a last minute get-together. I am grateful that I don't just live in a social circle, but genuinely live in a community of believers that hear my confessions of sin, confess their struggles to me, pray for me, hear God with me, trust God for me, and model loving and serving God, and thus encourage me to do likewise. From grocery shopping with my friend Amber (and my surrogate nephew, Trace), to receiving a hug from the stately gentleman at my church at his wife's funeral, regular interactions with the individuals in my community bless me immensely. And the fact that I can contribute toward this community is humbling, sobering, and inspiring all at the same time.

4: My family is another thing I'm thankful for. This week, because of an unseasonably early snow storm and the holiday, I got to spend extra time with my siblings and parents. My family isn't perfect, because the individuals in this family are not perfect, but I'm beginning to learn to appreciate and value what each person brings and contributes. I love my Mom and Dad and how they sometimes do weird, quirky things, but how they also love to spend time with their children. I love that my older sister married an awesome guy that I respect and appreciate and love, and that he fits into our family dynamics pretty well after a mere 5 months. I love that my older sister, who is a strange combination of being like me and being my diametric opposite, lives only a couple hours away and she and Andrew can come home for holidays. My next younger sister amazes me with how good she is at being a big sister to our littlest siblings. I love her fun, dramatic personality, quick sense of humor, and fierce protection of the people she loves. My youngest siblings add the opportunity for new experiences ("Wanna help me skin my deer, Dani?"), and demonstrate immense patience, generosity, and kindness toward me, their often-preoccupied older sister. I am richly blessed to have the family God gave me.

What Abimelech Observed

I spent most of my time last week in Genesis 21. I kept rereading verses 22-34. I just couldn't seem to get anything too profound out of it, and I thought for sure I was missing the point. Then I realized two things:

1 - Abimelech noticed Abraham was blessed and sought to be a part of that blessing. I think this is fascinating, especially given that Abimelech doesn't get any mention in the Biblical canon as being a believer in God. That fact was convicting to me: a non-believer is more in tune with seeing who is being blessed than I probably would be, and he also DOES something about it.

How often do I simply overlook God's blessings? Whether it be in my life or in other people's lives? And not only that, but when I do see that God is blessing someone, does it prompt me to action? Or is it just, like, "Oh, hey, that's cool. Hm. 'Bout them Huskies..." It makes me think of how much more I could be doing. If I'm looking for blessings around me, and notice someone as being blessed, why on earth don't I go to them and say, "Hey, what's the deal? I noticed you're being really blessed. How can I get a part of that?" Not that I'm promoting being greedy, but perhaps more from the perspective of maybe I have something I can learn from that person. Not that God operates on a strictly "those who deserve it get blessed" basis, but there ARE some areas where it seems to follow that logical thought - honor your father and mother, and you'll be blessed with long life, etc.

2 - Sometimes I expect that God will work in supernatural ways to accomplish what he plans. Wrong. I think sometimes he uses very normal, everyday, human events and actions. In this case, Abraham and Abimelech developed a peace treaty. I don't believe this was wrong, after giving it some thought. God didn't tell Abraham to go into the land and destroy every living inhabitant - that didn't come until much later. Not only that, if God said that Abraham would live in this land, why can't he do it as a "legal resident," so to speak, rather than as an "illegal immigrant"? There's nothing wrong - and, in fact, it might often be RIGHT! - to progress through conventional, legal, appropriate, ethical chains of command. Abraham was blessed that the chain of command came to him, of course, and that he didn't have to go seek it out... but still, it seems insightful.

So there you have it: God grants lots and lots of blessings. I want to see them. I want to search them out. I want to not be afraid of letting God work through circumstances and not wondering if maybe I'm missing the clear leading. So maybe, when all the doors start opening for you to purchase plane tickets to Niger to work with a Medical Team at a remote hospital, it's reasonable to take that as an indication that's the direction to proceed, don't you think? :-)

Holy Stories: Dean and Becky

I really love stories. That's probably why I love reading so much. I especially love "Holy Stories." I've decided I'm going to try to record some "Holy Stories" on this blog as I come across them, because even though I know God is always working in our lives, there is just sometimes when it is SO obvious. I think those instances should be remembered.

Last night I went to the wedding reception of the couple pictured above. Theirs is a unique story:

Becky married when she was young - 18 or 19 I think. All she'd ever wanted to be was a wife and mom. Her family had worked in North Africa while she was growing up, before returning to the states when she was a young teen. Not only her family but the culture she'd adopted as her own saw women's valuable role as being home with the kids. Becky loved that idea.

Becky and her husband worked at a ranch in Christian ministry. They had one son, then another, and then a daughter. They seemed to have an idyllic life - Becky and her husband were both modelish in looks, their children were adorable, they had a sweet little cottage, there were horses and ministry and kids and fun.

Then Becky's husband had an affair with a young woman in the community. Becky was pregnant with her fourth child. Becky's parents, brother, and his wife and family continue to live and work in N. Africa building homes for the poor families victimized be a natural disaster almost ten years ago.

Becky's brother and his family were living in N. Africa when Becky had her fourth - another boy - but Becky's parents and youngest siblings were joining them for the summer, so Becky went also with her four small children to gain some perspective, gather her bearings, and try to figure out which way to go.

That's when I met Becky. We'd do dishes together, bounce babies together, and wander through town and get stared at together. While it was certainly a community of young women that developed there, I always have felt a connection to Becky and her fun-loving, deep-thinking, random-and-crazy personality.

Becky went home at the end of the summer and experienced what - looking back - was probably one of the most emotionally trying, tempestuous, all-over-the-board seasons anyone has experienced. She tried to reconcile with her husband, they attended counseling, she attended counseling, they tried living together, they tried living apart, and at the end of it, he wasn't willing to compromise and neither was she. He refused to work on rebuilding love and trust, and she was tired of being threatened, abused, and emotionally destroyed. She filed for a divorce. By then they had added a fifth child - another boy - to the brood.

Dean, the man next to Becky in the picture above, was born and raised in Ireland. I don't know his story very well, but at some point he ended up coming through the community in N. Africa and working on a short term team. He felt lead to come back for a longer amount of time. When he did, he began to impress Becky's Dad and brother with his honorable character, tender heart, and love for Jesus.

I'm still not completely clear on the details - Becky has been over to Africa several times to visit the members of her family, and obviously she and Dean's paths intersected at some point - but last summer they were engaged when Becky visited Dean and his family in Ireland, and yesterday they were married.

I am astounded at the heartache, chaos, hurt, pain, and despair that threatened this story, especially having walked through it with Becky. But I find myself even more aghast at the redemption, grace, and love seem to saturate it as well.

Dean loves Becky. Dean loves her children. Dean respects Becky's family. Dean respects Becky's ex-husband's position in his kids' lives. Becky has been won over by Dean's love and respect for her and the people in her world. She loves him because he loves her and he loves her kids and he loves her family.

It's almost like the characters in this story exhibit signs of the Holy and the Divine - or, at least, they strive for it.

That's what I call a Holy Story.

Notes from Noah

I picked up lice while I was in India (disgusting, I know), and although the pesky little bugs are LONG gone now (thanks to olive oil, vaseline, combing, lice shampoo, tea tree oil applied to hair every day for a week, tea tree oil shampoo, more combing, a second round of lice shampoo, several rounds of letting rubbing alcohol soak in my hair, AND consistent use of a hair drier and straightening iron... just in case), there is one major lesson I learned from the experience:

Fine-tooth combing and attention to details can really pay off.

I think I've mentioned I'm studying in Genesis right now. While in India I realized there are a number of things I THINK I know about God, and assume to be true, but I also severely doubted as I looked at what was around me. I can still close my eyes and see the face of a leper woman 10 years my senior who had such severe leprosy that it looks like her body is decomposing while she continues to live. I can still feel the pressure of a little orphan girl clinging to my torso. I cannot even now articulate exactly how these sights changed me - probably because I don't really know - but there's no doubt in my mind that I'm different now. Something small but significant has been tweeked in how I look at the world.

So I decided that I wanted to know if this God I worship - this God I claim to love and know and have a personal relationship - actually IS the God that is revealed in the Bible. Because if He's not, then I'm worshipping an idol. My "relationship" is nothing more than a fantasy. I really want to know God for who He is and in the context of who He shows Himself to be.

Genesis called my name. I'm planning to read carefully through the first 5 books of the Bible, as they were the original recordings that God gave to man that reveals Him through the written word.

I had coffee with my friend Rinat today and something about people's weaknesses came up. I shared this with him. God seemed to use it to hit me over the head and then dumped it in my lap a couple weeks ago:

Genesis 9:18-28

Noah makes a vineyard and gets drunk and lies in his tent naked. Ham find him. He goes out and tells his brothers. His brothers come in and cover up Noah. Noah wakes up and realizes what happened, curses Ham, and blesses Shem and Japheth.

Here's what I noticed:

1 - We don't know Ham's attitude or circumstances in finding Noah. Maybe Noah was in his private tent and Ham rudely barged into his tent. Maybe Ham had reason to be in Noah's tent. Maybe Ham was snooping. We also don't know what Ham's attitude was when he came out of Noah's tent. Was he laughing at his father and ridiculing him? Was he disgusted? I dunno. But I do know that he saw his father in a weak and vulnerable state, and he did the wrong thing.

2 - Shem and Japheth found out from Ham that their father was laying in his tent drunk and naked, and they did the opposite of what I'd expect: rather than going to see the spectacle, or even just leaving Noah alone in an attitude of indifference, they go out of their way to cover up their father without giving him additional reason for shame or dishonor. They BACK into the tent and don't look.

3 - Ham saw his father's weak and vulnerable, and he tried to exploit it somehow. He told people. He drew attention to it. He magnetized Noah's flaws. Shem and Japheth did the opposite. They knew about their father's weakness, and they didn't do anything to further expose it. They didn't prey on him in his weakness. Instead, they purposefully tried to use their own strength to protect their father's weak points.

How often do I see someone's weakness and jump at it? Or, more subtly, how often do I just happen to "casually" mention it? Or use it against them or their reputation in even the slightest way? More importantly than that, though, how often, when I see a weakness, do I FAIL to purpose to protect and shelter that weakness, using my own strength to make up for the shortcoming in another person? Or, at the very least, to help them deal with their problem by assisting them.

4 - Noah seems to dramatically overreact. Rather than responding in humbleness and saying, "Boys (although they were all well over a 100 a this point, I believe!), I did something stupid, and I know you know about it, and I just want to confess and come clean to you," instead he starts throwing up smoke screens and cursing Ham and drawing attention to his son and diverting it off himself. How often do I do THAT? Rather than, in humility, admitting a mistake or foolishness or sin, I try to point out other people's faults, or use them as an excuse.

It's really sobering to see myself reflected in the negative side of these old Bible stories. But it's also good for me to come face to face with my sin.

Father, thank you for how you continue to work through your Word to teach. Open my eyes to my sin so I can repent and stop. Help me be a champion for people, a warrior maiden fighting FOR people, not against them. Help me honor and respect them, their stories, their past, their present, and their future. Thank you for your insurmountable mercy.

What is my Passion?

I spent the weekend in Seattle, attending the applicant interview and preview weekend for Mars Hill Graduate School. It was, as the advertised name for the preview weekend identifies, an "experience." I haven't decided if it was good or not, but it was definitely insightful, interesting, and idea-evoking.

I've applied to their Master's in Counseling Psychology program, and I am intrigued by the school. they're technically a seminary, and they describe their focus on psychology as being also theological and philosophical. I really like that idea.

What has me concerned is the vibes I've picked up that, perhaps, I might think differently than I do now upon graduation if I were to go to the program. It's a progressive and liberal school in the Christian world. Part of me is drawn to that - there's a great emphasis on holistic experiences - but part of me is equally repelled.

I'm scared. What about if I change while attending? What about if I lose track of who or what I am? But then a part of me is also craving the freedom and liberty the school seems to provide within the academic and intellectual structure. What if I were to figure out who I really am?

One of the things the various student speakers and alumni presentations brought up was the idea of living out our faith within our passion. I also read a recent post on the blog of a gal I met once in Texas (Danielle), which pertains to pursuing our passions.

Is this selfish? By pursuing what I'm really passionate about, will I be entering self-glorification mode? Or is it essentially the most self-less thing you can do? By pursuing what I'm most passionate about, I'm unlocking my heart and really myself for the enjoyment and benefit of the world. But even more importantly, I'm wondering what it is I'm truly passionate about.

I don't know. Off the top of my head, I'd say a number of things: people, stories, art, music, relationships, books, writing, photos, beauty, etc. But I don't really know if I am. I'm trying to think of the things that don't seem like work.

I think one of those things is speaking publicly. I actually quite love it. I also love making beauty somehow, or maybe it's just representing beauty. I love to capture beautiful melodies in my head onto scribbled chord in my head. I love to write or read beautiful phrases, that conjure beautiful images or feelings in my heart. I love to put together outfits that just somehow "meld" right. I love to hear beautiful music. I love to create and serve beautiful and tasty food. I love to look through the lens of my camera and see beauty in something minute or insignificant.

But is loving something the same has having a passion for it? I don't know. I wish I had a definitive idea of what it is I'm passionate about. I feel like there's a lot of things I SHOULD be passionate about, but I'm not. And I feel like there's a variety of things I enjoy which I should probably not focus on, for practicality and maturity reasons. But I'm not sure what it is that drives me.

Maybe I don't have a passion? And if so, what would that mean?

Humble Pie and Faithful Friends

I feel strangely obligated to write here. I just posted on my other blog (the one where I do more of my Bible-related musings; check out the "Shulke Safari" link over to the right, and the 074 entry if you're curious), and since I don't want to repeat myself, I actually don't know exactly what to write, but I'll post a little something all the same.

Today seems like as good of thing as anything to focus on.

I met with my boss today and talked about the class she observed me teach last week. It was a good meeting, in the sense that it felt very constructive and helpful. It was a tough meeting in the sense that it was humbling to realize (coming from the mouth of another person, I might add, not just my anxious thoughts and nudging fears) that no, of course, I am not perfect. In fact, I have much to learn and many ways to grow.

While I definitely feel I've learned a LOT about teaching in the past year and a half, and I do believe that God has graciously gifted me with some natural flair for teaching (or at least a genuine appreciation for people and learning and seeing people learn), there are still areas to work on.

The good news? I can most certainly work on these areas. In fact, I am drawn to the fact that my boss gave me some specific areas to focus on, and thanks to her own vast experience teaching and exposure to various teachers and teaching styles, so very helpful tips and suggestions.

The bad news? My pride most certainly does not want to be reminded of my shortcomings.

Ugh. Sometimes I really disgust myself.

To further drive home the point that I am oh-so-fallible and human and do NOT control my life like I'm sometimes tempted to think, my car wouldn't start today. This is not the first time it has failed to start on the first attempt, but I've always just walked away and come back to it later, and somehow (amazingly!) it starts (I wonder if Poppy is rather progressive for a car in this county in the sense that he seems to absorb solar energy or something). Today I had no such luck.

Now, to preface that, I am not an extreme traditionalist; I do not think guys are the only ones who can understand cars. Granted, I am not a woman who knows a lot about them, but there are at least two girls in one of my classes who are in the auto tech program at school, and only one guy. I am feminist enough to believe women are perfectly capable of knowing how to operate and work on machinery. However, since I naturally seem to be disinclined to easily grasp the concepts of how my car works, when it fails to start, I don't really spend a lot of time trying to figure out why. I just start calling my list of "Please help me, I seem to be stuck in a problem I cannot take care of!" people.

That list mostly comprises of guys. God bless my guy friends!

There is nothing that makes me feel more helpless than car problems, because I know I'm completely at the mercy of whomever stops to help me. There is also nothing that makes me feel more single than car problems. This may be COMPLETELY unreasonable (and I'm probably placing incredibly unfair expectations on you gentlemen. Sorry!), but I have this crazy idea in my head that a significant other in my life would know something about cars (maybe it's that whole opposites attract/balance each other kind of thing. Maybe I figure I need someone who is capable of handling the practical side of these things). This could be based on the fact that every woman in my family always seems to defer anything remotely complicated about cars to the men in the family - my Dad, my uncles, my grandpa, my cousins, etc, always get the phone calls. Growing up, my Mom would always call my Dad (and if she couldn't get him, her brother) when she had car problems.

When I have car problems, I have to rely on my friends' boyfriends or husbands for help. My first call was to my buddy Rinat. He was in Portland. I was frustrated by my lack of control of the situation (and the meeting I'd just had), and I literally started crying right there on the phone when he said, "We need to figure out what's going on with your car. It's done this a few times lately, hasn't it?" I didn't really expect him to take my problem and assume some responsibility for it. It just seemed so kind of him to use the word "we" (thereby assuming some part in the process) rather than just "you." It made me feel not-quite-so-alone in dealing with this problem.

But, given he was an hour away, he deferred me to our friend (and my friend Claire's boyfriend) Jon. I don't usually call Jon, so he probably thought it was weird that I did. I asked if he was in downtown, and he wasn't, so I moved on along the list, BUT Jon texted me a few hours later to check in and see how the car was and what the problem was. Seriously?! I was, like, on the verge of tears all over again. What is WITH these guys and how they care about my problems!?

Next I called my friend Nate, who happens to also be my friend Mollee's boyfriend. He's come to my rescue before (flat tire last summer ring a bell?), but I just got his voicemail this time (I didn't leave a message, but guess what? He called me back a few hours later to say he'd seen he missed a call from me, and he just wanted to check in and see why I'd called).

Somewhere in there I texted my friend Julie, who lives near where I was stuck... err... parked, and she texted back to say her son, my friend Peter, was on his way over to give my car a jump.

Peter rocks. He pulled up beside me. I'd just been giving myself a 3 minute pep talk to stop the ridiculous crying (I mean, REALLY! Why was I crying? Sometimes I do not understand myself), and the moment I saw his smiling face, the tears started flowing again. I tried to just act normal - tears make people feel weird sometimes - but Peter just helped me get the cables hooked up, and then asked, "Are you alright? Frustrated?" I nodded [more tears]. He gave me a hug (whatever you do, reader, if I'm struggling to not cry and you hug me, I guarantee I will fail every time), had me start my car, and then took me over to get the battery tested.

It's old. It's not working. It needs to be replaced.

Sometimes I am so reminded of my humble position on this life path: I can't teach very well. I can't reverse the natural aging of my car battery. I certainly don't have someone to count on as my "go-to" individual for mechanical problems.

But at the same time, I cannot help being reminded of how blessed I am also. I have a God who orchestrates situations to remind me of my sin, point out my pride, provides opportunities to be humbled and repent, AND supplies a whole network of faithful friends who go above and beyond the call of duty, completely out of their way, to help me. Wow.