In lieu of working on a presentation on leadership in nursing, I thought I’d think through writing about some of the things on my mind and heart.
This week marked a strange anniversary for me–I can no longer say “A year ago I lived in Ethiopia.” This adds another challenging piece to the ‘identity crisis’ of the past year. I am still far from settled in my life here in Dallas, and often wish I could speed up the process of becoming a part of a place. But the hours demanded for both grad school and work suck me dry, and I’m not often faithful to put the remaining few hours toward investing in people here.
Through the transitions of the past year, and especially over the past couple beginning weeks of Lent, I’ve been thinking a lot about joy–what does it mean? Where does it come from? How do you hang on to it? What does it mean to pray for the Father to “restore the joy of Your salvation” (Ps 51), to understand what Jesus meant when He said, “Abide in Me . . . if you keep my commandments, you will abide in My love . . . these things I have spoken to you, that My joy may remain in you, and that your joy may be full.” (John 15). Fullness of joy–how much more satisfying is joy than anything this world has to offer? I want to hit the road running this week to try to make it through John Piper’s “How to Fight for Joy” conference messages. And I’m thinking about picking up D. Martin Lloyd Jones’ Spiritual Depression again, and actually making it through the book this time. I find I am worn down by the weight of the world–my own busy schedule is a small part, hectic crazy life is another, but the immensity of poverty, war, disease, and brokenness in world is the largest.
I’m reading–finally, really reading–Philip Yancey’s What’s So Amazing About Grace. Today’s chapter dealt with the unnatural act of forgiveness.
The very taste of forgiveness seems somehow wrong. Even when we have commited a wrong, we want to earn our way back into the injured party’s good grace. We prefer to crawl on our knees, to wallow, to do penance, to kill a lamb–and religion often obliges us.
These words struck me–how often do I try to “earn” my way with God, with my family, friends, classmates–instead of seeking forgiveness and forgiving?
This past week was my spring break (it felt a little strange to have one again. But I’m sure I could get used to it!). I spent a few quiet days in Albuquerque, and Leah let me spoil myself a bit. 
We both got haircuts and pedicures (then of course it was cold when I got back to Dallas and all I wanted to wear was wool socks!!).
I could stand to live around the mountains again!
It rained a bit there (I should get an award for bringing the first rain of the year, right?) and a striking rainbow appeared–a perfect arc of reminder.
One night we went to see Slumdog Millionare–I realize that pretty much everyone else and their dog has already seen it, but it was only the 2nd movie I’ve seen in the US in the last 3 1/2 years! I’d been warned by a few friends that the movie might be hard for me, that the slum life of India might hit too close to home. I thought I did ok, the credits were rolling, I was quietly mulling how amazing a film it was, when Leah asked, “So, what did you think?” The tears came then–the movie was real. I have no doubt they veiled the brutality of religious violence, of the pain of poverty, of the fear of bondage–but enough was shown to make me long for the day when justice will roll down.
Recently I picked up my tattered copy of Christy (sorry for the cover art on the edition Amazon offers!!). I’ve read this book, or parts of it, many times–but over the past few months I have appreciated it a lot more, I think mostly because I could more readily understand the struggles of poverty, disease, familial breakdown, and hopelessness. In thinking about evil that had torn apart families and destroyed communities, the author wrote,
I had to step aside and ask Someone else to do the fighting for me. And every time I thought of my particular battle–usually many times a day–I had to step consciously out of the way again and give gratitude to Him for the battle He was waging on my behalf right then. Sometimes it took days, sometimes longer, for evil was rarely flimsy but the outcome was sure; sure becasue He was and is the Lord of life. And sure, because evil is at the last a coward that slinks away when finally challenged and faced down.
How grateful I am to know that the outcome is sure, and evil is, at last, the coward–because some days it doesn’t seem so.
This weekend I went to Paris to join a whole host of extended family (most of whom I’m not actually related to!) to celebrate the 80th birthday of my “extra” grandmother. It was a sweet time of celebrating her life, and seeing the astounding legacy of a life lived for love of God, family, and people. My cousin Amory sang a fitting song entitled Legacy
I don’t have to look too far or too long awhile
To make a lengthy list of all that I enjoy
It’s an accumulating trinket and a treasure pile
Where moth and rust, thieves and such will soon enough destroy
I want to leave a legacy
How will they remember me?
Did I choose to love? Did I point to You enough
To make a mark on things?
And last, but certainly not least, I’ve been savoring the new U2 album, No Line On the Horizon.
It’ll probably take me awhile to give a final verdict on the album, but so far I like. I’m intrigued.
Now this dry ground, it bears no fruit at all
Only poppies laugh under the crescent moon
The road refuses strangers
The land, the seeds we sow
Where might we find the lamb as white as snow?
I think it’s time for me to stop here. Past time, you’re probably thinking! Time to go running, and then–it’s always time for Girl Scout Thin Mints.
And maybe, finally, that presentation.
