This 3-day weekend has begun with a bang!! And there are still two days left of it! Rock on!
The Roof-ball team competition was especially fierce, but mom and I came out on top!!!
This week, I’ve published reasons why I should not write a blog series. They included not having a regular audience, not having anything worthwhile to write a series about, the necessity to commit to writing about a certain topic for a certain period of time, and the potential that it has to get insanely boring. The final reason is that I can’t deal with the pressure to review and tie it together at the end. It’s been building all week to, what’s the last reason?!!, and then… it might end something like this…
Note to self: Don’t write a blog series. It just won’t work.
I know that you all have been losing sleep as you wonder what my final 3 reasons could be [probably just as much as I have lost trying to compile them]!! Reason number 3 is as follows: I must commit to writing about the same topic until the series is finished and God inspires on His own schedule. Committing to a series means not committing to other things. I like to write when and where the spirit moves me, not on a schedule. This is part of the reason that I never want to write for a living. Instead, I write to live.
Meanwhile…
My Beach Settlement
I used to live on a rock. It stood fast and unmoved. The fortress that I had there was strong so that no enemy could come against it successfully. Its foundation went deep into the Earth so that nothing could shake it. It took many years to build, but I did not do it. I inherited it before the world began.
This rock that I lived on was near a beautiful beach. It had palm trees and views of the ocean that would make any vacation-dreamer salivate. The ocean was bluer than the brightest blue and the sounds of the waves were soothing and calming, almost too calming. For the beach called to me. It said, come and enjoy me. I will give you lush life on my soft sand near the palms. Nothing grows on that rock of yours. I have the ocean at my fingers and the sun is brighter here than in the shadow of your walls.
And so, I determinedly left the rock – its strength and safety – and moved out of my citadel to the beach. It was so beautiful there. I had so much more freedom than the “prison of rock” that I had dwelled in previously. I could walk endlessly on the beaches, feeling the sand between my toes. The shade of the palms was a cool and refreshing break from the sun that shone on the ocean and reflected brightly onto my baked skin. Why didn’t I settle hear first, I thought. Its pleasures far outweigh that grimy old rock!
But then, the storm came. I found that the foundation I had built for myself on the sand was shaky… in fact, it was less than shaky – it was non-existent! The beauty of the beach ran toward ruin. The fierce waters swept away the life that I had built there on the soft sand. I was taken out to sea. In all of my time living on the beach, I had never learned to swim. I clutched a piece of palm that had surfaced from the wreckage in the waves. I spluttered for breath. In the distance, I saw my rock fortress, standing firm through the storm.
Its foundation was deep into the Earth so that nothing could shake it. When the storm quieted, the sun came out again, shining down on that fortress. I wanted so desperately to be back in my old home, thinking of the beautiful gardens within the walls of the stronghold that I had forsaken to the lure of the beach. On my rock, there also lived an old man. He was not much to look at, but he was wise. He had advised me to stay on the rock, but I had the beach on my mind. Its pleasures had outweighed the enduring word of that old man.
My life now hung on a small scrap of wood, waiting for the sun to dehydrate or the sea to swallow. I was full of self-loathing and without hope. Why did I think the beach was better just because of its fading façade? The tide continued to take me further and further from my home. And now, I was losing my hold. The end was near.
The old man from my citadel came to my rescue just then, in a rickety little boat that we kept in the guards’ quarters. He pulled me into the boat and as I collapsed on the floor, I honestly said, “Thank you.” This was, perhaps, the first truthful thank you I had spoken to this dear friend. His smile gave me life and hope, but he said, “Maybe next time, you’ll listen… but probably not. In any event, I’m patient.”
Somehow, series blogging means that I would have to have something profound to say, at least 3 days in a row and about the same topic! This seems highly unlikely. Therefore, I should refrain from writing in series form.
Here’s what I propose [and Blogger is ahead of me here]: Simply use “topics” on the sidebar!
Because things normally stew on the back burner of my mind, to be revisited at my convenience, or when necessary, I’ll just put a tag on it as I write about it. Then, when you want to read about “culture” or see pictures, you can simply click there and Blogger will let you know what I think. This seems a whole lot easier than me racking my brain, probably unsuccessfully, to package these thoughts all at once.
Good work, Blogger!
Today is the kickoff of my new blog series, entitled: Reasons why I should not write a blog series. I thought that I would try it because I’ve discovered that I either need to have kids to write about or publish a blog series in order to get people coming back. Since I don’t have kids [and wasn’t allowed to borrow any!], I thought I’d give series writing a try.
So, the FIRST reason that I should not publish blog series is that I’m not sure I even have an audience, let alone one that would come back from day to day to get the next installment. I know that commenting doesn’t correlate directly to readership as I read several blogs that I never comment on. But that said, an occasional shout out couldn’t hurt my ego and writing confidence! I suppose that you could give criticism if absolutely necessary as well. Just let me know that you are there and breathing.
Keep coming back for the remaining 4 reasons this week… ;o)
There are many moments like these ones in life, where I wish the sun would just stand still like it did for Joshua, letting me savor the moments I have in my cave of now.
It was the perfect summer night… friends gathering for food, fun and a love for Peru… I looked around and saw a table full of women, sharing kid stories. The men were out front trying to rip-stick. I caught a glimpse of Derek and Matt S talking shop, Terry and Matt K fighting about baseball. A missions team in the states is hosting a missionary family who live in Lima, Peru. This family is amazingly integrated into Peruvian society and yet, remaining strong and a fire for God. They see with their eyes open – the deep needs that the people of Lima have – far beyond the economic or physical need that an everyday person might notice. The weather cooled as the sun left for the night. Andria was a wonderful host, with a beautiful back yard with lots of seating. Derek is never without joke or wisecrack. Josh & I lose to the impressive skills [and luck!] of Matt and Austin. The kids play so well together, as if tomorrow’s church is meeting early. We have a common love – that is, for Peru and its people. And for us, when we stop twirling around our own tiny worlds and grab hands with one another, beginning to spin around each other, with our eyes toward God, it is a beautiful picture. It’s like time has slowed and the lights around is glow brighter. Our smiles and laughter electrify the night, causing artificial light to be unnecessary. There is True Joy here… people truly living, perhaps now for the first time in a very long while. Our now tanned faces are vibrantly happy. We are in good health, clean and together again, six months following our time in the dusty streets of Lima.
The Panaggios intensify the sultry evening’s excitement. These missionaries have raised well-rounded, missions-minded servants – five of them – while simultaneously doing ministry in the sprawling metro of Lima. These kids amaze me: Their easy-going & ready for anything nature, willingness to serve, and love for one another. Stephen announced that he flew Dr. Galuk’s plane here from Michigan – first time in the pilot’s seat! Jim remembered my name and their interest in our lives is truly admirable. I received hugs from each one of them after doing ministry with them for only one week.
We look back at last year’s clinic and anticipate this year’s … the dates falling in the end of February this time. A flower-shaped discussion of facebook arises as the young ones win over the old for the sake of long-distance friendships. The Brewers, Heath Ledger’s death, American Idol, The Dark Knight and HP 7 wander through our words. Church health in Condevilla and the challenges there also visit our conversations.
Twilight knocks and people begin to fidget with their watches. Our other worlds are calling us back, to make the “efficient and responsible” decision to end this reverie and return to race. I hit the snooze button, but others heed them, collecting their children, food and bags. The rounds of goodbyes begin once, twice and a third time before I make my exit.