there is a river

There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God, the holy place where the Most High dwells. God within her, she will not fail; God will help her at break of day. Nations are in uproar, kingdoms fall; he lifts his voice, the earth melts.

-Psalm 46:4-6

"I do not at all understand the mystery of grace- only that it meets us where we are but does not leave us where it found us."

-Anne Lamott, Traveling Mercies, pg. 143

She spotted me just as I was beginning my walk to the church from the bus stop. she stopped, waiting for me, her hand waving as I walked towards her. The same hand that grabbed mine as I neared her, that we might walk together to church, to Sunday school, to a room of singing and dancing and some throwing of elbows when they should be listening.

she was a part of the river of grace that led me to a crowded room of 4th and 5th graders, my co-teacher and translator in Korea, and a mess of craft supplies strewn about the tables, questions and where are the scissors? arguments abounding, relative peace and limited chaos an answer to my Please-Dear-Lord-Don't-Let-Me-Fail-At-Teaching-By-Myself pleas.

Jawa's text message as I made dinner last week, wanting to know why I had not been at church the past two days (i was off helping with the ger building), don't I know that they want to learn? Don't I know that I need to teach English? Won't I please, please come tomorrow?

he was a part of the river that found me back in the classroom on Friday. Grateful for my sweet students who make me laugh. Grateful for the the humor in teaching English as a second language as I stood doubled over in front of the whiteboard, trying to figure out how to explain that saying "I'm loose" is an inappropriate use of that vocabulary word. Grateful that relationships born out of classes lead to ping-pong games and hugs and joking.

An invitation to climb the stairs of Zaison for the fifty-hundredth time this summer. Bus rides to the war memorial that is also a hang-out spot and ritual meeting place for any and every event of any kind of importance. A climbing of the stairs with Naraa, a farewell hang-out as he prepares to move and be a part of the raising up of a new church.

A river of grace to pictures with the sun setting in the background, clouds hanging breathtakingly in between the depths of the mountains. Silliness mixed with sadness as the sense of saying good-bye stands among us. Recognizing that no matter how many times we climb these stairs, no matter how many different seasons find us standing in these spots, the only thing remaining unchanged is the memorial itself.