Changed
I stood in Chrissy’s kitchen and cried. The house was still warm and sweet with the scent of cinnamon rolls and snickerdoodles from our afternoon of baking. The last afternoon together, at least for a while. The tears came suddenly, like the rainstorm that was beating against the windows and soaking the parched ground. I cried with gratitude for the rain and for my friend. But mostly I cried because I was leaving. This was another in a string of goodbyes over the last few days, each one leaving me breathless and aching. I did not ask for this. It was not part of my plan. When I arrived in Papua New Guinea, I came prepared to pour myself out, to encourage, to listen… but not to get attached. Hellos and goodbyes move like the tide, sweeping us up in the ebb and...
Read MoreEvery Moment
I could feel it in my chest. The pounding of hands and hearts. The music flowing around us, a strong current pulling us to the throne of God. We were all together, held tight in this moment, connecting spirit to Spirit. He was there, and we could feel him. And then it ended, and as the tingle left the air and the students around me blinked at the sudden return to daily life, I found myself wishing we could pause time and remain there for just a little longer. I’ve felt this before, these times of worship that seem to open the veil between Heaven and earth and let a bit of eternity through. But they always end. Feet shuffle and people stretch, and our thoughts return to grocery lists, schedules, and mundane things that seem out of step with the experience...
Read MoreHere in the Highlands
Smoke hangs heavy on the hills around Ukarumpa. Locals burning the dry grass, partly to clear for planting, but also to get the attention of the spirits they worship, pleading in flames and embers for much-needed rain. Dust lays thick on everything, inside the house and out. It billows from the gravel roads, blurring the eyes and choking the lungs. There are whispers of drought. Water tanks are running dangerously low. People are borrowing jugs from neighbors who have some to spare, relying on kindness to be able to wash dishes, to cook, to quench thirst. The rainy season is coming, they say. It couldn’t be here soon enough. The hillsides burn on, a deadly and silent cry for help to spirits who neither hear nor care. And then it starts. One drop, two, twenty,...
Read MoreA Teacher’s Legacy
Time heals, they say. And it’s true, but there are some things that don’t fade over the years. Like the memory of someone’s laugh or the deep reservoirs carved by words spoken again and again. It’s been two years this weekend since my mom’s battle with cancer ended and she stepped, whole and healed, into eternity. Tears don’t come as frequently as they did for a while, but there are still days the ache to hear her voice is visceral and overwhelming. Sometimes I still reach for the phone without thinking to call and ask for a recipe or to tell her about something funny one of the kids did. Oh, how I wish Heaven had cell phone reception. She was only five feet tall, but my mom made a big impact on anyone she met. I love it when people know me as “Jo’s daughter”,...
Read MoreThat Look
We’ve had some beautiful summer days recently, and we’ve done some beautiful summer things. The other day, the girls and I joined the little one’s Sunday school class at a local park for playtime and popsicles, and then we ran by the drug store to pick up a prescription. The grocery store right across the parking lot carries good produce, so we stopped in to get some fruit for smoothies before heading next door to the new Lebanese bistro to split a shawarma wrap. Then it was home for naptime for Little Bit and mango banana shakes for the big girl and me. Our beautiful day was capped off by a picnic in the state park near our house. Reading back over the day’s events, I think, “That sounds perfect. Whose life is that anyway?” Because, in reality, our...
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