Looking Back

One year ago today, I shut myself into our SUV and sobbed as we drove away from the dearest faces on earth. I followed the square yellow truck northwards, through sleepy Southern towns and flooding Georgia cities, through awe-inspiring mountain passes and quiet peaceful forests. And finally, Maryland. 

A year later, I'm back, and I'm so much richer than I was but one year ago. I've gained more dear, darling faces that I weep to leave. I've gained another home in the beautiful hills of Maryland. I've gained stories of my King's faithfulness and love in times of deepest struggle. I'm back, and I'm blessed. 

One song rings through my mind as I look back on the eighteenth year of my life, the hardest, most painful and the best, most beautiful year of my life. One song in particular that looks backward and marries the tears and the pain with the joy and the hope found only in God.

I never have and never will walk alone.

Standing on this mountaintop

Looking just how far we’ve come

Knowing that for every step

You were with us

Kneeling on this battle ground

Seeing just how much You’ve done

Knowing every victory

Was Your power in us

Scars and struggles on the way

But with joy our hearts can say

Yes, our hearts can say

Never once did we ever walk alone

Never once did You leave us on our own

You are faithful, God, You are faithful

Kneeling on this battle ground

Seeing just how much You’ve done

Knowing every victory

Was Your power in us

Scars and struggles on the way

But with joy our hearts can say

Never once did we ever walk alone

Carried by Your constant grace

Held within Your perfect peace

Never once, no, we never walk alone

Never once did we ever walk alone

Never once did You leave us on our own

You are faithful, God, You are faithful

Every step we are breathing in Your grace

Evermore we’ll be breathing out Your praise

You are faithful, God, You are faithful

You are faithful, God, You are faithful

(Never Once, Matt Redmon)

Favorite Heroines: Molly Gibson

for her trustworthiness and her constancy,

her diligence and modesty

Friendship

"A blessed thing it is for any man or woman to have a friend; on human soul whom we can trust utterly; who knows the best and the worst of us, and who loves us in spite of all our faults; who will speak the honest truth to us, while the world flatters us to our face, and laughs at us behind our back; who will give us counsel and reproof in the day of prosperity and self-conceit; but who, again, will comfort and encourage us in the day of difficulty and sorrow, when the world leaves us alone to fight our own battle as we can." - Kingsley

The Eowyn Challenge

No... Not the challenge to exercise through Middle Earth, not the challenge to bribe Tolkienites into healthy lifestyles. Though I have indulged in that Eowyn Challenge, today mine is different. Do you remember this dialogue from the film?

Aragorn! I'm to be sent with the women into the caves.

That is an honorable charge.

To mind the children, to find food and bedding when the men return. What renown is there in that?

My lady, the time may come for valor without renown. Who then will your people look to in the last defenses?

Since my introduction to Lord of the Rings, I have always felt a keen empathy with Eowyn. As the years pass, I discover more and more similarities between the two of us that bind my heart closer to hers. We both love our families, we both block people out, we both dream of noble deeds, we both have gorgeous hair (in my dreams, at least), etc. Today, a new one has surfaced.

We both struggle with behind the scenes servanthood. Most people assume that this struggle comes from a desire to be celebrated and praised. This is definitely a factor; however, I know for myself, and I believe for Eowyn too, that this is not the whole of the picture.

As I've already mentioned here today, one of my closest friends is undergoing serious surgery in a city an hour's drive away. This girl is so loved and cherished, many have flocked to the hospital, all the while knowing that we will know nothing for a while. They just want to be there to support the family, to support one another, to be right there in the thick of it. But, I cannot be there. There are tasks at home that must be accomplished, and I have been left responsible for them.

As I go about the mundane chores, I think of how much greater and nobler sitting nervously at the hospital would be. I consider the anxious thrill I could experience there as I try to keep my cool and comfort others. I wish I could be there to hear the news immediately, to be there in the midst of the storm, rather than learning secondhand, sitting on the edge.

I think this is Eowyn's struggle as well. Sit in the caves, not knowing what fate befalls us? No! We'd rather be standing on the battlements, as the mud forms from the rain and the sweat and the blood. We'd rather be fighting with all our might, even if it means exhaustion, confusion, and death. We'd rather join hands with our comrades and brave the gruesome sights, sounds, and smells of battle. Anything but being forced to sit in the caves, alone, waiting to learn what everyone else already knows.

In my sinfulness, I could curl up on the couch and mourn over the cruelness of my lot, to be left at home, yet again, to clean and cook and wash and wait. But, by God's grace, I turn down the seductive invitation to a pity-party. Instead I will, like Eowyn, bind up my hair and fold up my sleeves. I will set to work and complete each task, however small and mundane with excellence and precision.

I know that I am called to each task for a purpose. As Aragorn reminds Eowyn, working on the home-front is no less honorable than charging on the battlefield. After all, the most terrifying and ferocious battle is being fought here where the greatest enemy challenges me, in the very depths of my soul.

MJ

MJ, second from the right, with the inseparable six

A dear friend of mind, MJ online, is in need of prayer. She is undergoing sudden surgery this morning to remove a possibly cancerous tumor from her brain. Praise God, though, she is of the elect and rests completely in His sovereign care and faithfulness. He is good, storm and sunshine.

Home

Isn't it wonderful? Katie and Chloe designed it for me, with a little help from Mr. Ossian Popham.

And chalkboard paint on our dresser was the best decision we ever made. ;-)

Today, I Have...

(Lady in the Water, Toni Frissell)

... the strangest desire to put on a dress and go swimming in it.

The Tree That Never Flowered

Once upon a time, just outside a sweet, little village, there lived a simple family with four daughters. In front of their little cottage stood many an old tree. One of them was a Dogwood.

However, this tree was not merely a tree. Oh, no. It was a doorway to cozy cottages, hidden chambers, bustling hospitals, and enchanting worlds. It was an ivory perch for exuberant birds, frisky squirrels, and giggling children. It was a tree of many trades.

For nine years, it watched the girls and all their companions grow in wisdom and stature but never too old for imagination. It served all its purposes well, except for one -- the Dogwood never flowered.

Every year all the other trees in the village burst forth in their seasonal radiance. Crepe Myrtle, Bradford Pear, Japanese Magnolia, and Dogwood, all flowered except for the girls' Dogwood.

Perhaps all it threw all its energy into accommodating the playmates; perhaps it was just old and weary. Whatever the case, spring always came and went, with narry a flower on the Dogwood.

One of the four girls, the oldest girl, always considered how melancholy the tree must have been, being a flowering tree that never flowered. "What a perfect poem that would be," she'd romantically think to herself, and in her artistic endeavors, she's shut herself up awaiting the nymph called Inspiration. But, no words she penned did proper justice to the dear, old tree.

Eight years passed, and the girls and the tree grew older together. The girls grew busy, and their playful jaunts beneath the Dogwood became shorter and sparser.

One spring day, after a long morning of studies, the oldest girl arrived at her dear, little home. She climbed out of her modest wagon and gathered her books. Weary in spirit, she looked about herself upon the familiar sight. But she stopped short.

What did she see perched delicately on the Dogwood? If her eyes did not betray her, there were pink flowers on the Dogwood!

But perhaps the sun was toying the the leaves. She dropped her things and rushed over to see the Dogwood clearer, but the sun wasn't plotting tricks. There were, indeed, frail and dainty, but indisputable blushing blooms adorning the sweet tree.

Of course, much rejoicing quickly filled the cottage of the little women to overflowing. Never was a simple work of nature more pleasing in a human's sight. If possible, the tree became even more esteemed in the girls' hearts. It was the pride and joy of their spring.

And, guess what. The next year, that dear, old Dogwood bloomed again.

Maybe it just needed eight years of tender love from four motherly figures. Maybe it was just saving a pleasant delight for a weary soul. Maybe...

But whatever the reasons, that dear, old tree will always be watered with love.

An Untitled Poem

Sterile:

Nothing but sterling bars

and pearly tile

gleaming in stringent light.

Looking down,

my eyes stare back at me.

Clear:

No more cigarette smoke

or dusty air

choking my lungs and

dirtying my

face. No cloud of smog.

Silent:

No moan for help,

plea for food,

giggle for joy,

just dozens of Chinese baby eyes

stare back at me.

Orphan:

Nothing, no one to love,

but busy nannies

and the hope for American

mommies.

So their eyes stare over

the ocean at us.

It Is Not Death to Die

It is not death to die

To leave this weary road

And join the saints who dwell on high

Who've found their home with God.

It is not death to close

The eyes long dimmed by tears

And wake in joy before Your throne

Delivered from our fears.

O Jesus, conquering the grave

Your precious blood has the power to save.

Those who trust in You

Will in Your mercy find

That it is not death to die.

It is not death to fling

Aside this earthly dust

And rise with strong and noble wing

To live among the just.

It is not death to hear

The key unlock the door

That sets us free form mortal years

To praise you evermore.

Currently, I'm musing over the glorious hope of my Eternal Home. How I cannot wait to throw off these earthly shackles and take up my residence there! Living in light of eternity, with that beautiful rest ahead of me, that shining promise, keeps my mind focused on "things that are above." After all, they're far pleasanter to think about, aren't they?

A Today Thought

If friends are trenches, I'd rather dig mine narrow and deep, not broad and shallow. - Joel H.

Spring Fever

(Peruse the picture's link at your own discretion. Unfortunately, mixed amongst the whimsical pictures and beautiful inspiration are occasional suggestive photographs.)

It's spring fever. That is what the name of it is. And when you've got it, you want -- oh, you don't quite know what it is you want, but it just fairly makes your heart ache, you want it so!

~ Mark Twain ~

Lest We Forget

We may look on in awe at the beauty and serenity of North Florida,

but did they as the boom of cannon and stench of smoke invaded its tranquility?

We may halt and smile for spectators' cameras,

but how could he smile when every moment might be his last?

She may lark about and climb oaks to her heart's content,

but would she feel so young bearing burdens no child should bear?

This is why we don the blue and the grey. This is why we reenact -- "Lest We Forget."

*Happy Sigh*

"You know you're in love when you can't fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams." ~ Dr. Suess

What can I say? It's a new favorite quote! So sappy and sentimental . . . kinda like me. ;-)

Rock of Ages

Exodus 33:18-22: Moses said, "Please show me your glory."

And he said, "I will make all my goodness pass before you and will proclaim before you my name, 'The LORD.' And I will be gracious to whom I will be gracious, and will show mercy on whom I will show mercy. But," he said, "you cannot see my face, for man shall not see me and live."

And the LORD said, "Behold, there is a place by me where you shall stand on the rock, and while my glory passes by I will put you in a cleft of the rock, and I will cover you with my hand until I have passed by."

Rock of Ages

Rock of Ages, cleft for me,

Let me hide myself in the Thee;

Let the water and the blood,

From Thy wounded side which flowed,

Be of sin the double cure;

Save from wrath and make me pure.

Not the labors of my hands

Can fulfill Thy law's commands;

Could my zeal no respite know,

Could my tears forever flow,

All for sin could not atone;

Thou must save, and Thou alone.

Nothing in my hand I bring,

Simply to the cross I cling;

Naked, come to Thee for dress;

Helpless, look to Thee for grace;

Foul, I to the fountain fly;

Wash me, Savior, or I die.

While I draw this fleeing breath,

When mine eyes shall close in death,

When I soar to worlds unknown,

See Thee on Thy judgement throne,

Rock of Ages, cleft for me,

Let me hide myself in Thee.

*pictures from our heavenly, all-too-short winter holiday in Alabama*

Go on...

Tell me, 'cause I know.

I should start working out.

How else is a big sister to keep away the boys in a few years?!?!

To Emmy Xiang

I love you so much. So often I am reminded of the fate you've been saved from and the deep, deep love that your family has for you, and I am overwhelmed with the goodness of God. Emmy, I hope that you never forget how much our Heavenly Father has blessed you -- you, my darling sister, have been chosen from the thousands of fatherless Chinese daughters with a home in an affluent country, with a body spry and healthy, and with the opportunity to learn about Him and His gospel.

My dear, I pray continually that you might be among the chosen ones, that the Lord would sweetly woo your heart into submission to His will. And I thank Him daily for giving you and our sisters, Katie and Gracie, to me. Sisterhood is a wonderful thing, a bond none can describe: treasure it.

At times like the one Mrs. Lenfestey captured, when you snuggle with me and caress my back, that I miss China and the sweetness of adoption so much that I can hardly stand it. Oh! How I hope that we can repeat those experiences again soon. Until then, you are the best China-sister ever. Love, love, love you!

An Evening's Labors

What's in a name?

That which we call a rose, by any other name, would smell as sweet.

~ William Shakespeare ~

I love names. I love the creativity, symbolism, and memory that is so often breathed into them. I love name meanings. I love naming imaginary friends and children. I love watching people go about their daily business and guessing at their names. And, yes, I know I'm strange.

This is one of my favorite (and, consequently, one of my most frequented) websites: www.behindthename.com. Enjoy, my fellow name-lovers!

The Land I Love

There are days I continually complain about the heat or the humidity or the sand or the flatness or the tourism -- the list goes on and on. But then, I see this:

~ emerald waters with foaming crests ~

~ clear blue skies and thin wisps of white ~

~ vast ivory beaches and plump cumulous clouds ~

~ dramatic colors fuming with passion ~

~ the heavens ablaze with beauty ~

and suddenly, my complaints stop their constant flow, and I stumble backward in awe.