My anticipated place of assignment for the next year and a half?
Mongolia.
:-)
That's right.
I am tentatively, bearing unforeseen changes, and movements of the Holy Spirit throughout the process, moving to Mongolia.
But until then, I'll be tying up loose ends in Dallas and Western PA and traveling and visiting and going to training.
Living in the tension of coming and going, grateful for this:
The Lord will keep you from all harm- he will watch over your life; the Lord will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore.
-Psalm 121:7-8
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Monday, July 20, 2009
i'll take a large order of tucking away memories
Quiet, early mornings spent tip-toeing through the apartment so as to not awake any sleeping roommates- my dear, wonderful roommates who make home a place of laughter and celebration and shared life.
Remember this, I say to myself.
Prayer times on the balcony, the city coming to life before me, heat rising as the sun rises, peace found as the soundtrack of Dallas noise grows louder.
Remember this.
Toes in the pool, friends laughing in the background, the warmth of Texas summer rolling like waves over us all.
Remember this.
My desk at work covered in papers torn from a yellow legal pad, scribbles of notes from past thoughts upon them. Long afternoons of spreadsheets and Excel formulas, abstract thoughts for a concrete cause.
Remember this.
Potluck dinners spent round an ever-changing kitchen table, new scenery to match the shifting foods each Friday night. Long, silly conversations with the women who have walked these past four years with me, who at moments know me better than I know myself.
Remember this.
Bedtime stories with the children who make babysitting a gift. One more story and then another and another. Snuggled amidst blankets and pillows, the words of Lilly and her purple purse, Madeline and her adventures, Dora and her backpack, dancing them into sleep.
Remember this.
Long runs round the park path just a hop, skip and jump from the apartment. The dogs and owners that smile and step aside so I might pass. The rhythm of pavement and sneakers, wind and shimmering trees.
Remember this.
Frozen yogurt consumed as we walk through West Village, the topic of conversation drifting from the serious to the ridiculous and back again. Remembering the moments of the past and speculating on the future.
Remember this.
Visits to the library, eight floors of books to be explored and placed inside my bag. Always leaving knowing I'll never be able to finish all that I've chosen by the due date, but darn if I will not try.
Remember this.
Worship, song, reflection, sharing. Placing small stones around the candle, filled with prayers for courage, the circle of people around me the church in a way that pews, stained glass windows and words like "traditional" or "contemporary" can never encapsulate.
Remember this, I say to myself.
And so I tuck them away, moments, routines, fragments of daily life. Tuck them deep into myself, hopeful that they will bring comfort in the midst of change, that remembering will maintain connection to these present moments that are bound and determined to become the past.
Remember this, I say to myself.
Prayer times on the balcony, the city coming to life before me, heat rising as the sun rises, peace found as the soundtrack of Dallas noise grows louder.
Remember this.
Toes in the pool, friends laughing in the background, the warmth of Texas summer rolling like waves over us all.
Remember this.
My desk at work covered in papers torn from a yellow legal pad, scribbles of notes from past thoughts upon them. Long afternoons of spreadsheets and Excel formulas, abstract thoughts for a concrete cause.
Remember this.
Potluck dinners spent round an ever-changing kitchen table, new scenery to match the shifting foods each Friday night. Long, silly conversations with the women who have walked these past four years with me, who at moments know me better than I know myself.
Remember this.
Bedtime stories with the children who make babysitting a gift. One more story and then another and another. Snuggled amidst blankets and pillows, the words of Lilly and her purple purse, Madeline and her adventures, Dora and her backpack, dancing them into sleep.
Remember this.
Long runs round the park path just a hop, skip and jump from the apartment. The dogs and owners that smile and step aside so I might pass. The rhythm of pavement and sneakers, wind and shimmering trees.
Remember this.
Frozen yogurt consumed as we walk through West Village, the topic of conversation drifting from the serious to the ridiculous and back again. Remembering the moments of the past and speculating on the future.
Remember this.
Visits to the library, eight floors of books to be explored and placed inside my bag. Always leaving knowing I'll never be able to finish all that I've chosen by the due date, but darn if I will not try.
Remember this.
Worship, song, reflection, sharing. Placing small stones around the candle, filled with prayers for courage, the circle of people around me the church in a way that pews, stained glass windows and words like "traditional" or "contemporary" can never encapsulate.
Remember this, I say to myself.
And so I tuck them away, moments, routines, fragments of daily life. Tuck them deep into myself, hopeful that they will bring comfort in the midst of change, that remembering will maintain connection to these present moments that are bound and determined to become the past.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
a heart's hymn
I am the church! You are the church!
We are the church together.
All who follow Jesus, all around the world,
yes, we’re the church together.
The church is not a building, the church is not a steeple,
the church is not a resting place;
the church is a people!
“We Are the Church.” Words and Music: Richard Avery and Donald Marsh; © 1972, Hope Publishing Co
May the favor of the Lord our God rest upon us; establish the work of our hands for us- yes, establish the work of our hands.
-Psalm 90:17
On this mountain he will destroy the shroud that enfolds all peoples, the sheet that covers all nations; he will swallow up death forever. The Sovereign Lord will wipe away the tears from all faces; he will remove the disgrace of his people from all the earth. The Lord has spoken.
-Isaiah 25:7-8
We are the church together.
All who follow Jesus, all around the world,
yes, we’re the church together.
The church is not a building, the church is not a steeple,
the church is not a resting place;
the church is a people!
“We Are the Church.” Words and Music: Richard Avery and Donald Marsh; © 1972, Hope Publishing Co
May the favor of the Lord our God rest upon us; establish the work of our hands for us- yes, establish the work of our hands.
-Psalm 90:17
On this mountain he will destroy the shroud that enfolds all peoples, the sheet that covers all nations; he will swallow up death forever. The Sovereign Lord will wipe away the tears from all faces; he will remove the disgrace of his people from all the earth. The Lord has spoken.
-Isaiah 25:7-8
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)