Yesterday afternoon I took a fall.
It was kind of my own fault, but not really.
I was in a semi-jovial mood and therefore felt like hop-skipping up a stair instead of just calmly stepping up. It was one of those times when a flash image went through my head of me totally eating it one second before I actually ate it. So, I experienced it twice. Only, the second time it hurt real bad.
Falling and twisting your foot and ankle under you at the ripe old age of 32 is not only not fun, but also slightly embarrassing. I'm sure I looked less than graceful biting the dust in front of several of my missionary cohorts and onlooking neighbors. Everything in me just wanted to get right up, brush off dry plant debris, get in my car and drive home. However the wrenching pain going up and down my leg told me to stay put. Sweet Isabel who is Willian(our caretaker's) young wife, quickly ran to the kitchen to get me an ice pack. Motherly Daisy, who runs our El Callejon social work site, quickly got down on the ground with me, took off my shoe and sock and applied the ice pack, telling me it was okay to feel like I was 6 years old. Which I did, in case you were wondering. I was trying to be very brave and not cry about it. Instead I listened to Isabel share a story about how God physically healed her once of a pain in her shoulder.
After a while I was convinced I just needed to go home. So, I somehow got myself into a standing position. Immediately I felt like vomiting. The shock was hitting me. I almost passed out, but instead mumbled something in Spanglish and got back down on the ground. Daisy reapplied the ice pack. Nate went up to fetch my car and bring it down to me. I knew I'd be able to make it home since it was my left foot that was messed up and I could drive with my right. He asked if I wanted to go to his house and have Maggie wrap it up for me. Common sense would have said yes. I said, no, it's okay, I just wanna go home. But, I do need someone to follow me, open up the gate, chain the dogs and help get me in the house. He agreed to do it.
10 minutes later, I was at home alone, laying on the couch wincing at the pain and letting the tears flow.
Hopping around on one leg for the rest of the night, trying to make dinner, wash dishes and get ready for bed took more effort than I ever could have imagined. That was when I realized how much I hold onto independence. Actually, I think being independent and capable are not necessarily bad things. Being strong and able to make your own decisions and get about in the world are positive things. But when these things keep you from being able to accept a loving, helping hand from someone else, that's when there is something wrong.
Today as I've been processing some of this, knowing that Nate would have to come pick me up and take me to the doctor, knowing that I really needed to call my friend Katie and ask her to come spend the night so that I could have help doing stuff around the house, I've realized that the deeper issue is that I don't like to be a burden. I know where the root of this comes from, but it's always hard when I come up against it. Living here in the DR has caused me to have to confront many things like this that lie deep in my own heart.
And so now I have to ask myself, where is Jesus in all of this? He told us that the second greatest command after loving God with our entire beings was loving each other as we love ourselves. That's really profound-- much more than we realize at times. Because love is active, not just a good feeling. It's a choice to serve someone else, even if we have to sacrifice our time or our agendas. I think about the Good Samaritan who stopped whatever he was doing, lifted a stranger onto his donkey, took him to a nearby inn and made sure the guy was taken care of. He didn't have to, but he did. God wants us to take care of each other, to take time out of our lives to serve someone else. He wants us to put our love into action. Robbing my brothers and sisters of following this command of God is not loving on my part either. It seems crazy in my mind sometimes that someone might actually recieve a blessing in being able to take care of me.
These are my couch thoughts for today as I give thanks for the servant hearts God has put in my life who are more than willing to stop their agendas to make sure I am being taken care of. Thank you, Nate. Thank you, Katie. Thank you, Dr. Fernando.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Delirious Assumptions
In just one day I went from being in 29 degree weather to 84 degree weather. A few days ago I was wearing wool socks, heavy sweaters, a wool coat, gloves and a scarf. Today I am back to wearing a tank top and flip flops. I am also back to doing laundry in our semi-automatic washing machine (stick hose into left basin, fill with water, detergent and clothes-- wash for 15 minutes; transfer clothes to right basin for a 5 minute spin; transfer clothes back to left basin, fill with water again and let rinse for another 15 minutes; put clothes back on the right for a last spin and then take them all outside to hang dry). As I was hanging out my morning wash, warm breeze caressing my face and lifting up strands of my hair, I marveled at how just days ago I was standing in a little bit of snow; a biting wind stinging my face and threatening to blow off my knit cap. In less than 24 hours I went from icy Colorado back to the sultry Dominican Republic. I thank God for all the hours spent on airplanes and in airports, where the 'weather' is controlled and is kind of an 'anti-climate' that helped me transition back to my tropical world.
It is surreal being back here though, I have to admit. Last night as I was attempting to fall asleep (jet lag still in operation), I laid in bed semi-listening to a neighbor's party going on. Usually, typical Dominican Merengue and Bachata music are blasting during such events, but this time, for some reason, it was all Mexican Mariachi music, which was making the Dominicans hoot and holler much louder than normal. They were having their own cross-cultural experience. Anyway, like at most parties, certain people get really drunk and then get really loud and then start wandering the street being really loud and drunk in front of your house. Our two dobermans were very thankful to have something to incessantly bark at. This also was hindering my ability to drift off into no man's land. In my mind, I kept yelling at the dogs to be quiet, cuz, you know, it would have taken too much effort to get up and actually yell at them through the window. Plus, I didn't want said drunk guys to know a woman was home alone. Anyway, after a bit, the drunks got just as annoyed as I did and I heard two very loud bangs. Someone shot my dogs! I thought. My heart started pounding. I laid very still in bed. I prayed, too, not knowing what else to do at that point. After about 7 minutes or so of no dog barking and total silence outside, I crept out of bed to peek out the window to see if I had two dead dobermans laying on the driveway. Instead, I saw two quiet dobermans standing by the gate doing nothing. Weird. What were those loud bangs? Since I didn't want to walk outside in my pj's in the middle of the night to investigate, I made an assumption that the drunk guys decided to throw some fruit or heavy sticks at our dogs that hit the side of the house, making such a loud noise. This is what neighborhood kids do to our dogs during the day. I finally fell asleep.
This morning, after hanging out the first load of laundry, I walked around the house looking for evidence. You know what I found? Exploded balloons!! The guys probably tried throwing balloons at our dogs or something and our fierce dobermans ripped into them with their ferocious teeth causing majorly loud poppage. I guess balloons popping in the middle of the night can sound like gun shots. Or maybe I was just delirious.
It is surreal being back here though, I have to admit. Last night as I was attempting to fall asleep (jet lag still in operation), I laid in bed semi-listening to a neighbor's party going on. Usually, typical Dominican Merengue and Bachata music are blasting during such events, but this time, for some reason, it was all Mexican Mariachi music, which was making the Dominicans hoot and holler much louder than normal. They were having their own cross-cultural experience. Anyway, like at most parties, certain people get really drunk and then get really loud and then start wandering the street being really loud and drunk in front of your house. Our two dobermans were very thankful to have something to incessantly bark at. This also was hindering my ability to drift off into no man's land. In my mind, I kept yelling at the dogs to be quiet, cuz, you know, it would have taken too much effort to get up and actually yell at them through the window. Plus, I didn't want said drunk guys to know a woman was home alone. Anyway, after a bit, the drunks got just as annoyed as I did and I heard two very loud bangs. Someone shot my dogs! I thought. My heart started pounding. I laid very still in bed. I prayed, too, not knowing what else to do at that point. After about 7 minutes or so of no dog barking and total silence outside, I crept out of bed to peek out the window to see if I had two dead dobermans laying on the driveway. Instead, I saw two quiet dobermans standing by the gate doing nothing. Weird. What were those loud bangs? Since I didn't want to walk outside in my pj's in the middle of the night to investigate, I made an assumption that the drunk guys decided to throw some fruit or heavy sticks at our dogs that hit the side of the house, making such a loud noise. This is what neighborhood kids do to our dogs during the day. I finally fell asleep.
This morning, after hanging out the first load of laundry, I walked around the house looking for evidence. You know what I found? Exploded balloons!! The guys probably tried throwing balloons at our dogs or something and our fierce dobermans ripped into them with their ferocious teeth causing majorly loud poppage. I guess balloons popping in the middle of the night can sound like gun shots. Or maybe I was just delirious.
Monday, January 5, 2009
Home?
"Blessed is the man (woman) whose strength is in You, whose heart is set on pilgrimage. As they pass through the Valley of Baca (tears), they make it a spring; the rain also covers it with pools. They go from strength to strength; each one appears before God in Zion." Psalm 84:5-7
The last line of this psalm proclaims that all who trust in the Lord are blessed. I want to be blessed, but I often find it hard to trust in God. I find it hard to trust in God especially because my life seems to be in constant change, constant transition. Though in my mind I know that I am just 'passing through here' on my way to my heavenly dwelling place, I have found my soul crying out for the last several months, "I just wanna go home!" I cried that from my bed in Jarabacoa; again the cry came while on my bed in Cambria. Just this morning, in yet another bed in another location, I heard my heart crying, "I wanna go home."
A couple of years ago, I was making a visionary collage as I prayed about my next steps in life. As I flipped through one magazine, these words just jumped off the page at me, "Be a world traveler. Be a homebody. Be both at once." These words were used as a catch phrase for some product or place that I can no longer remember, but as I quickly cut them out, I remember thinking, 'yep-- that is totally me.' I have lived my entire life trying to reconcile these two realities-- I want to settle, to plant deep roots, but once I am in a place too long, I get itchy to travel to distant lands, to taste new adventures. I think I live in a perpetual state of homesickness. I am thankful for the words of comfort and promise in Psalm 84. God knows that as we 'just pass through here' keeping our hearts set on His promise of eternal rest, that there will be tears of longing, tears of sacrifice. The beauty is not just that He understands, but that He turns these times of stress and sorrow and longing into pools that refresh in the wilderness. He promises strength for the journey. He promises in another psalm that 'those who sow in tears will reap in joy, bringing their sheaves with them'.
Joy and strength await all pilgrims, all travelers, all who trust in the Lord God.
The last line of this psalm proclaims that all who trust in the Lord are blessed. I want to be blessed, but I often find it hard to trust in God. I find it hard to trust in God especially because my life seems to be in constant change, constant transition. Though in my mind I know that I am just 'passing through here' on my way to my heavenly dwelling place, I have found my soul crying out for the last several months, "I just wanna go home!" I cried that from my bed in Jarabacoa; again the cry came while on my bed in Cambria. Just this morning, in yet another bed in another location, I heard my heart crying, "I wanna go home."
A couple of years ago, I was making a visionary collage as I prayed about my next steps in life. As I flipped through one magazine, these words just jumped off the page at me, "Be a world traveler. Be a homebody. Be both at once." These words were used as a catch phrase for some product or place that I can no longer remember, but as I quickly cut them out, I remember thinking, 'yep-- that is totally me.' I have lived my entire life trying to reconcile these two realities-- I want to settle, to plant deep roots, but once I am in a place too long, I get itchy to travel to distant lands, to taste new adventures. I think I live in a perpetual state of homesickness. I am thankful for the words of comfort and promise in Psalm 84. God knows that as we 'just pass through here' keeping our hearts set on His promise of eternal rest, that there will be tears of longing, tears of sacrifice. The beauty is not just that He understands, but that He turns these times of stress and sorrow and longing into pools that refresh in the wilderness. He promises strength for the journey. He promises in another psalm that 'those who sow in tears will reap in joy, bringing their sheaves with them'.
Joy and strength await all pilgrims, all travelers, all who trust in the Lord God.
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