A peek into my heart...

Each time I sit down to blog and type in a post title, a new song comes to mind. Cathy & I worship together a couple of times each week. It's such a sweet time. We love fun, new songs, but it is funny to me that we always find ourselves going back to the hymns of old. They just always seem to give me the words that my heart is feeling.

I stand amazed in the presence of Jesus the Nazarene.

Great is thy faithfulness, Great is thy faithfulness;

Morning by morning new mercies I see.

All I have needed, thy hand hath provided;

Great is thy faithfulness, Lord unto me.

~Heather

All in a Day's Journey

An email came on Friday evening that threw the schedule for a loop, to say the least. We were informed that we needed to make a quick journey to the bordering country in the north. Now, when I say "quick," that is a relative term. It needed to take place soon. It did take place soon; it did not happen quickly.

See, there was a possibility that we would be required to remain outside of India for a couple of months. I found it quite challenging to locate and pack all that I may need for two months in a small, carry-on sized suitcase. However, I did, in fact, pack what I decided I needed, if indeed, we had to remain out of our country for an extended amount of time.

The Father provided way for us to exit and reenter the country within the week. What a blessing! I am thrilled to be headed home to M-town. We haven't yet made it there, but hope to continue the journey shortly and reach home by noon tomorrow.

The following is a short recap of the today's return travel:

• Just after breakfast, I finalized the repacking of everything for the return trip.
• We walked the long driveway with all of our belongings in tow.
• After a short walk down the road, we perched ourselves, and our bags, on a bicycle rickshaw.
• The rickshaw took us to the border (approximately 5 or 6 kilometers) and stayed with us the duration of the immigration process.
• After reentering India, I bargained with a taxi to bring us to another city.
• The taxi journey lasted just over 5 hours.
• During that journey, some road rage got the best of our driver, and he pulled over to physically and verbally fight with the driver of another vehicle.
• A small, mild mannered man had ridden in the taxi with us and got out of the car to quietly encourage our driver to let things be and continue our travels.
• Once reaching our destination, we were dropped off at the train station.
• We are now waiting for the train to come. It is only running 30 minutes late, so far.
• We will board the train for a 9 1/2 hour trip to M-town.
• Once we reach M-town, we will climb the steep steps of the city bus to ride about an hour, to a point close to home.
• We will drag ourselves down Pothole Lane and finally reach home sweet home.

Home again, home again, jiggity jig!
I will certainly do a jig, if I have the energy to do so.
Every single day is full of adventure!

~Heather

*Praise the Father for traveling mercies and the ability to exit and reenter the country without difficulty.
*Praise the Father for His guidance in each step.
*Ask the Father to guide others as they will have to complete a similar journey.
*Ask the Father to provide physical, emotional, and spiritual renewal.
*Ask the Father to ordain opportunities to share the story of the Birth of His Son during this joyous season.

Here and Not There

There is hardly a worse feeling than being unable to help. Not, "oh, I wish I could but I have an appointment," or "I don't know how to do that, I am sorry;" but, a literal inability to do. It is a frustrating paralyzation when one realizes that the situation requires more and is indefinitely out of reach. When a simple hug, a strong embrace, would alleviate much of the tension, the inter-turmoil, surrounding, engulfing, a precious one, but you just can't get your hands untied. What to do?

If I let this stew long enough, it leads to disgusting characteristics - a pity for myself, and because I pity myself, a slight contempt for others. Why go there?

I must interject that it is in this time that I am eternally grateful that my counseling program is hip to boundaries. We are taught to maintain boundaries, to not weave in and out of the client's experience, not to counsel from our own experience, but from objectivity. To throw someone a rope, down a hole, amongst the mud, and not climb down in the hole with them and sit. To be empathic and not sympathetic.

Heather is a long way away tonight. Days upon days are starting to way intolerably. I sit here and not there, painfully aware of my inability, wanting to trust the Lord with this situation. Isn't that where help truly begins?

~Sarah

From Time to Time I Recall...

"Whoever restrains his words has knowledge,and he who has a cool spirit is a man of understanding." Proverbs 17:27

Papaw did not like to venture outside of Sabine County and found particular favor for his small cedar-sided house. But there exists a hope that can make a homebody want to travel. He was tired. He was ready. And, some Septembers ago, four to be exact, Papaw went home.

Vivid memories of those few hours, before Papaw died, still float around. Dear friends stayed up late with me, drove me to the airport, gave me comfort. I flew, on Continental, from Nashville, to Houston. My cousin Anthony took me from the airport to the hospital. I was wearing a pink, long sleeve oxford, khaki shorts and slouchy, brown leather flip flops. His chest heaving sharply for breath. His swollen, taut skin. Tired family napping in the chapel, sitting in the hospital room. The few moments we shared, just he and I. And thirty minutes later, a room full of family watching, as the nurse checked his vitals, and then told us she was sorry. The sigh of emotion, relief, grief....peace.

A man, I had never laid eyes on, who's twig is somehow affix to our family tree, preached the funeral. He was long winded. But, he illuminated a bit of Papaw's character that is often the encouragement to conviction. As he labored behind the pulpit, trying to do his best, he recalled Papaw's manner of reflection, his slowness to speak, his caution in answering. He noted, "there were times when you thought he wasn't going to answer..." He went on to explain that Papaw said little that was not weighed. And, because of this, what he said carried weight.

He listened. This is probably why he was, and still is, the only one who could tell me and my mother apart on the phone. Phone rang, I answered, with my East Texas hello, and he would kindly respond, "Is this Miss Sarah?" He knew my voice because he had listened to it time and time again. Listening has a chance when you are not quick to speak. Words, that do not flood the atmosphere, are valuable.

There many days this memory creeps up on me and I long to be a woman who never rushes to speak, who weighs her words - consistently, by default. To not speculate out loud, to choose no answer over whatever half answer systematic logic can conjure. And, as I wrestle with how to be better, my heart is thankful that in dying Papaw was able to point his family in a direction called out and honored in Scripture.

"Know this, my beloved brothers: let every person be quick to hear, slow to speak..." James 1:19a

~ Sarah