ramblings

i struggle to know the difference.
the difference between sacred and profane. the difference between the heart hearing the Heartbeats and the heart beating loud on its own time.
to understand how One came and made little so much so that flesh was put on and babe's cries echoed in the night.

sometimes i labor over crutches. lines drawn in the sand.
usually by myself.
"here is the line, bek. dont go any further. don't even bother. you can't. its impossible. see the line, you stay right there."

sometimes no line is seen.
run, run, run free and leap into the sea.

somedays when nothing feels right i pull one of the boys close. tight. tighter. dip my head low to the hollow of their neck. breath in deep the scent of little boy playing. pause. count to five. kiss sweet cheeks usually stained dirty. pull close and its as if His breath has filled me.
stilled me.

i feel an awful kinship with paul. why do i do what i don't want to do, and don't do what i want to do?
why?
and i still ask. beg.
still for an answer.

how can what i see in me and dislike be the constant knowing of my heart.
i can see and feel the panic that rises up far to easily. and before i know it, where i don't want to go is where i'm not only headed, but arrived. how is that possible. habits are hard to nip in the butt and kick.

sometimes Jesus is so sweet to me i just sit and weep.
weep over the love He has for me. the goodness He constantly bestows over me.
little wee me.
that i am the one He stays up singing over. dancing around. that i am the one that gave Him joy to withstand the pain of crucifixion. i can't fathom. i sit and weep thanks. prayers that my tears will clean the feet and that i'll follow forever. tuck me in close, Lord. let me not stray so far tomorrow in my wonderings.

what is in my head is not what makes sense. so i ramble. ramble and what for? and who reads? but my heart beats record, bek. record. the rambling is the Him in you, so i put down.
put down.
if i write Truth enough it will seep into my bones too.
if i sit long enough eventually my body will mold to where i am, mold to whose i am.

Jesus. Jesus makes me weep today. solid, good soul cleansing tears...
and He gets me. marvelous truth. marvelous love. marvelous truth.

still, winter days

i have all sorts of pausing.
stilling.

still, see all the
glory.
glory moments.

still moments.
moments when the only sound i hear is the sound of His step. His breath blowing and showing in the dark blustery days that are here now.

Winter has come.
not over my heart. but over my heart.
the heatbeats and pumping and cold numb fingers are my companion now.
winter has come.

so i still.
still under covers and blankets.
i broke down and got a little space heater for my room. a little bed sheet that heats up for my bed.
warmth for the cold.
the biting cold.

i keep saying it really isn't so bad. and so it isn't.
its only so bad because its never-ending.
how africans go with no heating inside is something i can not understand.
once its cold (and, its cold), its cold till it gets warm again.
come, come, come soon late august. i miss your warmth.

you imagine going inside would warm you up. and no, its just as cold inside; if not colder! the cold is everywhere and no hope of warming is to be found. hats, scarves, gloves.
i pull tight.

the sun shines in the daytime. it warms cold weary bones.
i still.
still.
look up and blow kisses to the Son-shine on my face.
i feel it seep into the bones.
i see its evidence on white blonde strands.
i feel it freckle my back.
thats a lie, i dream of it freckling my back; it really only warms it.

someday, in Heaven, i'll have freckles. you better believe it. i believe it. i believe it and pray prayers for a freckled man to marry so i have freckled babies. but thats anther story....

i still in these winter days.
days when the dark creeps in before the day has had a chance to really shine and expand and be.
i still under covers.
pull tight and pull closer.
hear the Breath steps of Him ahead of me.

isn't it amazing that you only see your breath when its very cold and dark out? when you are just about to doubt everything about everything it is then the breath moments are seen.
catch your breath. wish on a star. sing a song.
and still.
still and watch and listen.
listen to the wind whistling in the leaves.
listen to your fingers type out stories.
listen to the movements in your heart.

still. and glory.
it is blustery winter time.
and there is glory.
all around.
just be still. and wait. its coming. He's coming. He is almost here.
He's on His way to warm my days and pull closer.
pause, pause long and linger.

flying to Dubai

brownies are in the oven.
just finished watching the Blue Bulls win tonights game. that means next week is the final. back to back wins.
i was here last year and watching them win it all was half the reason i became a bulls fan and decided that indeed i do think "God is calling me to africa." ha! but for real...i did so LOVE watching the rugby games last may and any country that has such passion and drive is fine by me and of course, this is blue country here on the farm so its only natural i like the bulls...

i just got done purchasing a ticket for a vacation in june. in the dead of winter. i will be missing one of the world cup games i was going to go to. a game to see my favorite player in the entire world play in. but its worth it. i'm still a bit jittery that its all come together and its going to happen. i've NEVER taken a vacation to another country.

i'm flying up to Dubai for a few days to see my college roommate, her husband and the new baby girl. you better believe there are bottled up Merryn hugs and kisses and this auntie's heart is aching to meet that little girl. i'm also excited because i will pass both parents on countries visited and slept in (love ya, mom and dad!) and in this family those bragging rights are impressive, and, well...bragged on. *smile*

it will be so sweet for so many reasons. there is something about being in the company of dear heart-friends that is healing. ellen and dan have always been such wisdom-filled people and i am deeply looking forward to time away to pray, think, and have their input in my life. due to where elly and dan live and minister and how nomadic my life is i wouldn't see them for at least 4 years if not now, and i am just very gracious and blessed to be able to fly up and meet them. seriously. my heart is fully and my eyes are weeping tears of joy and gratitude.

speaking of bragging. my little baby sister has her graduation party today. she graduates from high school and with her CNA and already has a full-time job. i love you Natalie Grace. I am SO SO SO proud of you. i remember the day you arrived home from the airport, all 13 years of Russian. terrified, wide-eyed, sleepy and adorable. you were so little then, and now you are my grown sister and graduating high school. i love you little sister. i miss you. and i am terribly proud of you today. african hugs and kisses are sent to you tonight!

Things I learned this weekend

What I discovered again, anew this weekend.

• I'm a control freak.
• I still don't really like group projects. Love me a great group (and this was one), hate the feeling of wanting to get the task done, while everyone else wants to talk and share stories and what not. And hate how I can't relax and enjoy the conversing when deadlines loom in my head.
• I'll always be more task-oriented then people oriented and that will always surprise everyone. myself included.
• I get to emotionally attached to imaginary things. Like the kids I wrote. 
• I really like being outdoors in the sun, with leaves and trees all around me.

Most of these are not new things. This past weekend I was away with six other people on a writing and brainstorming weekend. We had a deadline. Today. We had over 48 stories to write. My head hurts from thinking. My eyes hurt from looking at my laptop screen all weekend. My heart hurts for writing what was needed but painful.

It was a weekend of laughter. It was a weekend of questioning and clarifying and figuring out how to say this or how to say that. It was filled with character development. Why would so and so do this? Why would they not do that? On and on the back and forth went till we were confident enough in who each character was. Then the writing began. Then the re-writing began. Followed by the editing. Then the frustrations rang out. Coffee was consumed. There was a bushbaby that peed on everyone but Rita. (yes, this includes me too). There was good food that we ate. There was a heated bed. There was an outdoor shower. There was the mountain and the baby giraffe, twice, was seen.

I can't process all the little ways my heart is thinking and feeling now. I just feel good being finished. It's finished. My part is finished, well, my main part is finished. Small edits, revisions. The book writing process is hard and complicated and slave-master editors (love you, tommy!) make you meet these deadlines. Do not editors realize that creative minds don't like deadlines?!?! 

I have missed catching up with heart-friends and I have lacked sleep. 

Now I go and clean out my old place and prepare lesson plans for the coming week. 

Bye bye weekend. Perhaps next weekend I'll see your rest days.

To whom shall I go?

In the past six months a whole new world has been opened up to me. Its a world I never wanted to understand, never wanted to be a part of.

Its a world of the rejected, the deserted, the abandoned, the divorced.

Of course I joined that group awhile ago, but it was begrudgingly. I tried to stay on the fringe. I tried to be all there with my D-friends at our meetings, in our email exchanges, and late black night phone calls, but deny them when I was away from them. I so loathed being part of them.

Such shame I have in what's become of my life... by choices I really had no control over and had no part in.

But I think something freeing clicked in my heart about six months ago. I began to not only enjoy the new friendships I have formed. I relished the way they understood. Some would say they understand, some compare hard break-ups, but you simply can't understand the betrayal, devastation, and hurt of a vow being shattered and a promise broken unless you've seen a spouse walk away personally. You just can't. And be glad you can't. I have lots of good friends and support I never intended to have in my life, and I love them all so but I still wish to not know them. But how sweeter they have made my life, my journey.

Then He began to bring morning dew to water my parched heart. And life-words always spread like wildfire.

The Breath of Life breathes even when all seems dead and lost and He has gone before me and whispered help pleas into my path from others who've, against their wishes too, joined my secret D-club.

Somehow advice and help and encouragement have been springing up like streams in the desert and I watch, and awe-stare in Him using wee bits of me to bless others. I eagerly wait returned emails hearing how My Sweet Jesus also moves in their lives and speaks desire and belonging and hope where others have sown seeds of death. My dear Jesus is in the business of replacing every broken curse with life-giving love. Love that is not held back from anything, or by anything.

A dear friend of mine who understands and always pushes me into love stained hands said how even in utter desperation, where is there to go but Jesus? For He only has the words of Eternal Life.

Peter actually said it first.

The point is, yes! Where is there to go but Him? No matter how lost and hurting life is, its always so much worse without him. I love what John says about all this too; you may read it here. There is nowhere. There is nowhere that is better than being under His Rod and His Staff and hearing the voice of your Good Shepherd call out your name.

Because I write when I'm not intending. When I have no proper form of dictation in front of me, and when He stirs something....a surprise visit to two separate churches this week with silent filled rooms holding beloved pianos found me sitting and hammering out a love song. One that is for my beloved group of abandoned ones as much as it is for me.

When I said, "take my heart," I mean it. I guess you knew it.

I said, "take my life, make it what you want it."

but I didn't know then what I know now,

this has not been for the fainthearted.

When I said "I trust you," then you sent the darkness.

I said, "I'd follow you," and then your voice became the distance.

I never thought it would be like this,

that my faith would falter at the brink.

Where would I go?

Where would I go?

Only you have the words of life.

Only you have the words of life.

Where would I go?

When I said "I'd go," I never thought you'd put me here.

Said "I love you," and I do and now it brings sweet tears.

You have always been right here with me with

every single thought and every single prayer.

Where would I go?

Where would I go?

Only you have the words of life.

Only you have the words of life.

Where would I go?

You said you'd bandage me, bind up every wound.

Said you'd comfort me and fight off all my fools.

Weary, I had tried and tried to run away,

but my heart is set its here to stay.

.............................................

When there is nothing else to do, and no hope left, and the floor has given way to pain upon pain, He's right there. He's the one with eternal life. May you run to him, go to Him today. I'll be sitting there with you on His tender lap as He washes us in His healing-love words. 

Haiti and my lisp

8:29am

Three of my friends have forced haiti to stay on the forefront of my heart. Its unreal.

Two of them have been there the past weeks. Yu can follow them here and here. It makes my heart sick and heavy hearing about how depoloable the circumstances are and how so much is lacking. Other friends of mine decided action was needed and with the proding of their 9 year old decided to do something different. They spent an entire weekend on public grounds in tents to simulate how the Haitians are living. Plans for a larger scale "in-your-face" are in the works. It has changed them as a family. It reminds me of steven curtis' family and how they started the adtoption process because emily, (I think she was around 9-11 at the time), told her parents they needed too. Three little girls later....

I love their little faces as they adjust to me.
I have 3 two year olds now. They attach themselves to my legs and are little growths that travel with me where ever I go. I love them. Their little smiles and squeals.

I love when I can get most of them busy and then pull one or two away for one-on-one time. The progress I see in those moments is amazing. They are learning and growing. Their little white teeth smiles move me.

8:32
I must go but last night I was told I have a lisp. For real? No one has ever said that but as I was stumbling over every word I must confess I heard it too. Wow.
So heres to being almost a quater century and learning something new about myself.
Lisp speakers of the world unite!
ps: mom/friends...is it true? Do I really have a lisp and no one had the courage to tell me?!?!

Happy Mother's Day!!

(last July fourth)

To the a women I would be blessed to become half as wonderful, sacrificial, and loving as.

my mom. 

the women who has given me dutch and german roots, and my face and thunder thighs :)

thank you for the many blessings you pour into my life and others. you are outstanding among ten million and i rise up this day and call you blessed among all mothers.

i praise Jesus i was born in your heart and nurtured in your womb and raised in your home.

i love you, mom!

(Mothers Day 09 just before Sadie's arrival)

to the big sister who's held my hand and defended me to others. to the one who makes me laugh every moment. to the one who was born to be a mother. i can't believe how fitting you are and how you excel at teaching seana and sadie. you are amazing, abi, and i rise up and bless you today.

(july fourth, 09. just enjoying life and sunshine together)

to the women who bore shame and scorn to raise a baby girl. to the one who has prayed more prayers for me than anyone, every day, for the past 24 years of my life. to the one who gives gracious gifts to me and sends me consistent letters of love and encouragement and life, grandma, i praise the Lord for your faithfulness to Him. i thank Him for giving you a love for sports and dedication and perseverance. good gifts that generations are walking in the blessings you laid down with your prayers and tears. thank you.

and to my grandma, Hilda. who has given me her hands and fingers, her height, her love for crafts, my father, and strength. i remember spending the night with you and sitting and reading books. i miss you and honor you today, too.

to Mothers everywhere....you are the backbone of family. i am grateful this day.

Cinco De Mayo!

Happy Cinco de Mayo day!

Being a fourth Hispanic I tend to think of this holiday as my homecoming of sorts. Of course, no one outside of the US celebrates it, but still.....

Today a friend arrived from the states! Happy day!

She brought an entire suitcase of happy things from home! Happy Day!

One of those was a hat---photos to come tomorrow! Happy Day!

And the book I wrote about last week. Seriously, mom and dad?!?! Happy Day!

And some of my favorite cookies! And Goldfish!! and Beef Jerkey! Happy Day!

And they sent photos of my nieces and family from Disney! Happy Day!

I'm chatting on skype to two of my dearest dearest friends, (hey, Marcia and Melissa), and they bless me. Happy Day!

It is thursday tomorrow! Happy Day!

I had the best time talking and praying and being discipled up in polokwane today! Happy Day!

I have a long night ahead of me of writing stories...I must go....so looking forward to the weekend..

back rubs

i broke my own rule yesterday. grrr....i'm not fully surprised tough! i knew it would happen at some point that i would forget how awesome my idea of writing for four minutes would be and write over that. in fact, considering i wrote yesterday's update on and off the entire day and wednesday night i not only went over four minutes i went way over four minutes.
go big or go home, right?

i spent well over an hour tonight rubbing weary shoulders. sometimes i feel like it is more healing for me to rub and give then to sit and take it in. well, maybe a close tie on that one. but seriously. there was a moment within the first few moments when i was eating a shared cadbury bar, and rubbing paul's back that i felt i was just bliss. in fact, i lost the ability to communicate with kelsey. the moment of savouring was too much.

i realize more and more the power of touch to me. anyone who's met my mother and sister knows you are overly hugged and touched and we all tend to stand a bit to close when talking to you and we like to touch you when we're talking to just ya know make sure you realize we are with you. can't tell you how many times i fight my way out of another hug or swap away hands when i'm at home.
but.
it was safe. it was the sun rising every morning i knew i could depend on those terrible hugs to be there. (love you, mom!).  not only could i depend on them, but they always came to symbolize love and security and belonging. i expect those hugs and the tickling and there are moments i honestly don't like them, but there are more moments i pretend not to like them and secretly ache long for them. and i guess mom knows that and thats why they haven't stopped.

people who let me touch them heal me.
people who reach out to touch me, they heal me too.

i've been consistently amazed at how i've come to associate touch and affection with "ok-ness" and security and acceptance.

its really only been the past few years that i'd have thought of myself as super touchy. but reality is, i'm more and more like mom and my older sister. touching all the time. hug you here. reach across and pat your shoulder there. chide your face like this. squeeze your hand like so. i blame it on the hispanic genes.  whatever....

the point is touch means so much to me. even more now. because when jordan and i were dating we had a normal relationship. if we sat next to each other he'd reach over and rub my arm, or greet me and give me a hug. and then we were married and he decided to make poor choices and there was just never any touch unless it was negative or hurtful.

lack of touch now equates to something being wrong in me.

of course that makes no sense. i know that in my head. but when someone is awkward about giving a hug or shudders as i lean into communicate i freeze up inside and walls are formed that shout "protect, protect, protect" and so i find the best possible way to make an exit and leave.
clearly i'm not wanted. or so my brain has been programmed to feel now.

its so obvious to me how little ones need constant love and affection and touching to grow and feel worth. i still need love and attention and affection to feel worth, and i did not lack one bit growing.

people who let me sit and run my fingers through their hair do me a great gift. rubbing 3 of the nomad's back tonight was a joy. and the grateful faces afterwards melted my heart. in some weird way it communicates they enjoy me. and i bring value to the world.

its so selfish, but what good it does my heart to feel and know i bring value. and yes, in my head i could tell myself and know that i bring such value in simply being a child of the King; but man, to hear and see happy faces makes me so appreciative as i go to sleep tonight.

its just such a happy thing to make others happy. its a drug i'm addicted to. but a good one, right?

what makes you feel completely at ease with someone?

two years ago today...

...i rushed across the street to see my baby brothers at their prom. perk of living close to the nicest hotel in the city. they were dashing that day. i love them.

after a few photos and hugs i slipped out of my heels and walked back home. i think the joy of seeing them look so nice, walking home in blue skies and good ole' lancaster county sunshine, and feeling grass between my toes were little love-miracles to steady me for what was to come.

i entered the house and all was quiet and still till i reached the top step. and there he stood. the one i said yes to when pearl ring was placed on my finger. the one who i promised till death separates us. the one i trusted. he now sat on all his possessions packed in bags at his feet.

so this is what it feels like...

a few words were said. lies uttered. pain spoken and felt. silent nods from me.

"yes i understand what your doing." "yes, i realize you don't want to live with me." "yes, you're going to your parents? ok. ok...yes i hear you."

only...why? and its wrong. and silent pleas and prayers and questions stir in my head. but silence filled my every word. what do you say? when a mind is made up. made up and filled with lies. what do you say when your frozen in shock and disbelief and confusion and more vulnerable then ever.

i watched him gather everything and walk down our steps. it was the last time they were ours. i didn't watch him drive off.

i don't remember calling anyone. but i must have.
i don't remember leaving the floor in the living room, but i woke in bed so somehow i did.
i don't remember knowing how they came. they were those who loved me. sister and sean. parents. my lania. somehow i told them. and they sat and touched and prayed as i rocked and heart sobs escaped my voice. i don't remember them much. but they were there. when floor became ceiling and ceiling melted into floor they were there to signal what was up and what was down and hold me when i had nothing.

i don't know how to write. i don't know how because i still fear unbelief and accusations. and i still want to protect vows i made to keep and protect. and i want to be honest but i don't want or know how to be like that. i wrote something yesterday. posted it. then deleted it. but maybe i'll post it again. i want to name things for what they are. there is power in naming things and i feel sometimes i'd have more courage naming what is mine to name...but its not just my story. i feel you sorta forfeit your rights when you walk away from the Lord and your wife but even then its still not just my story. its his too.
............................
its been two years today. every day has been easier. days, and even weeks go by and i don't think of pain. they till me months will pass without a thought too at some point. really? i question ponder if it could be. i sit and ache in some moments still for every dream that walked out the door and died.

and He gives good gifts and good dreams but pain is still real and questions and whys linger.

i always prayed to be able to touch a life. to be able to share from my stories into other stories and find common ground. and answers to prayer are strange indeed because i never thought any story of mine would entail all that it has. never wanted it too.
...................................
one of the only things i remember after he walked out was calling my mentor on the phone. and i choked out words before swift tears soaked through; and she prayed. i don't even remember the words but i sat on the bed and she prayed over me over the phone over state lines. last year i was in california with my brother. on this day we moved some of my dearest friends into a new house. i sat and they prayed over me. whispers of life and new hope. and today i sat and had hands touch and pray new life again. more whispers of life and hope.
...................................
seasons come and bring new feelings and new processing and new understanding of grace. grace that floods and fills and shatters darkness that engulfs and hurts and frustrates forward motion.

His grace was sufficient for me two years ago.
His grace was sufficient for the dark was that still to come.
His grace was sufficient when i up and moved across the ocean, because though i'd given up on me being used again, He hadn't and still called me to share life and love and teach.
His grace is sufficient even today.
and it will be sufficient tomorrow.
despite the days and moments i have had, and still do have, and will again have thinking it isn't...
it IS. He is.
He's my portion and i believe working out in me good.
..................................
two years ago today i felt and thought and believed i was over. that i would cease to be from the questions and torment and hurt. but here i am. not only alive but somehow teaching and loving precious little wee ones. still alive. still alive. still alive.
that is Grace.
so, here's to two years later, i'm still standing.

about the sex cafe

this morning, as most mornings this week went, i rose early.

early enough to hear my heart beat before the hectic pace of life set in and discolored my white quiet with loud craze rainbows.

and i sat overwhelmed. the quiet screamed to loudly. voices of girls i've never met begged for help. tears poured down my cheeks. i've been following anne the past 2 weeks. have you? she's brought me to tears. yes, i know i cry readily and easily. but you'd be a sick unfeeling person to not cry too.

she wrote about the sex cafe.

and i have no words.

sex trafficking. slavery.

it hurts my heart.

makes my head go all dizzy.

i wanna disbelieve. i want to believe its all lies. lies people have made up. that children are not bought and sold for less than a latte at starbucks. that women the age of my nieces are not lined up with numbers around their neck waiting for the highest bidder. i want to believe its all made up.

but it isn't. its real. its a nightmare.

i spent two weeks in Moldova (where the sex cafe is) the summer of '05. i won't lie and say i liked it. i didn't. in fact, coming from turkey, a country and people i connected with intimately and loved, moldova was a struggle. but a few things stand out in my mind. (obviously there are a lot more)

1. one of them is the heat and sunflowers. lots of sunflowers. 
2. another thing was the orphanage of children we worked in. special needs. children aged 21 the size of 3 year olds. 
3. one more thing was the women, scantily clad, walking and roaming the streets. young girls. we were told it was common and acceptable. but it unnerved me. and that was before i even was aware trafficking existed. let alone that chisinau was a hotspot for transport.

i don't know what to do when i read things like this. nothing else matters. for all i think and process and ache and do here, it often feels pointless when knowing little ones are sold.

sold.
babies. sold.....

.....................................
and if it wasn't providence that had me weeping over hurting women and girls and children. donald miller is at it once again challenging all to live a better story just this afternoon.

please take the next few moments and think about what you can do to end slavery.

sing praise, don't murmur despair

i am not thankful enough.
cancers of frustration and bitterness burn in my soul.
the solution, the drug necessary, is a healthy dose of appreciativeness for what i do have. instead of lamenting all i've lost or miss or do not have.
so, today i will record what makes me grateful.
what i love.
right now, in these very moments of this post-monday-school day.

today i will sing praise instead of murmuring despair.

1. a friend pulling out all the stops to help me help myself. bless you, lelane.
2. a hair cut i can literally do nothing to and have it lay "right" (ladies you know how difficult this this!!)
3. cute little boys who hug my legs so tight i bruise 
4. ...and clamor constantly for my approval and attention
5. my afrikaans getting to the point i can talk to the doctor and understand
6. clean sheets
7. friends willing to pay big bucks to send me packages and bless me and remind me i am not alone. or forgotten.
8. sunshine and cool breezes, all signs point to fall coming soon!!!
9. chocolate brown eyes and white teeth smiles that now can argue with me proving they do in fact understand the English i've poured into them these few months.
10. a backbone to not give into their cuteness....*sigh* they are so adorable
11. impromptu dance party to ms fitzgerald last night in my lapa before i drifted to sleep. i love her!
12. a good monday in school.
13. finding bread in the store that is affordable and reminds me of home and that. i. completely. adore. HUGE answer to prayer.
14. bread for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. it is THAT good.
15. for still believing and thinking bread is my favorite food. ever. of all time.
16. for my brothers girlfriend and the relationship we have and her dear emails
17. dreams of all the home movies i'll make with my sister when i'm home over Christmas and how we'll convince the other siblings to join in.
18. playing an old homey piano in a friends house while they holiday away
19. knowing my gram prays each day for me, and believing many others do as well
20. my $3 wal-mart shoes that have lasted 2 years now and still take me where i wanna go in comfort
21. the sweet girl at mr. video who let me open an account without ID so i could rent a movie
22. quinoa and beans and tomatoes and onions. a healthy happy supper.

the list goes on and on.....once you start you can't stop. errrr....or somethign like that.

what are you grateful for today? its a good day!

ps: if you read this in reeder. hop on over to my site! i finally took the time to update the template to something much more "me" then that green background. i feel at home now.....

carefree

when i think about "me" i always picture me around five. five was a very kind year to me. i'm not sure why, and probably now its just from constant repetition, but i really liked being five. and here are the reasons why.

• my hair was short. white white blonde. curly. and bouncy.
• i wore a lot of dresses and skirts. 
• i hadn't started school yet and hadn't realized what was to come from that (future post of explanation coming, semi-soon. maybe).
• my sister and i were best friends and i had a brand spankin new baby brother.
• my dad would sit with me and we'd read stories on his beloved chair that i have inherited and miss daily and sits in storage till i have a more "permanent" home.
• mom would let us roam the backyard freely and record us singing songs and making up plays and laugh with us.

....mostly when i think of me, i think of me, five and carefree and short bob curly hair bouncing in the wind.

because thats how i want to be now. free.

i've always had short hair. always. that is till very recently. i'll explain why later....i'm too sleepy just this moment.

i cut 13 inches off two years ago this May and had a very similar cut then. its been growing since that time i guess with just trims here and there. so its getting a bit long for me....

last night i was ready for a change and to be "me" again. so 5 or so inches later...here we are! and here is the photo we were going for, didn't quite achieve it, but got very close. give it a month and it'll have grown out to that length!

(the color photo was from this morning when it was still "styled." the B&W shots were just 20 minutes ago. after a hot sweaty day walking in downtown jozi, seeing Stomp, and car riding, so, not the cutest but you get the idea. see how happy i am?!?!)

i couldn't be more thrilled and happy!!

well, thats not true. i could.

i would if my beloved aunt who's always cut my hair did it (love you, aunt rose!). 

and i would be happy if it wasn't quite so layered. and if my bangs were cut and not razored. BUT besides those minor details i feel like me again.

i feel like a little girl. free and untainted and capable.

for those feelings alone i should always keep my hair short like this.

its like i'm a caged bird set free.

i love it!

and stomp was amazing. i darn near cried, which is not a surprise at all. i love that broadway shows are cheaper here. love it. with the drive and tolls and gas it ends up not being that cheap but man, was it worth it to have a nice fun day in downtown jozi and then see the show. wow. wow. wow. 

stars

stars speckle hope on a black night.
stars come forth when day is dimmest.
stars shine forth the moonlight.

stars enchant and delight.
stars twinkle twinkle in the night make you blink and see them twice.
for once is not enough.
stars demand a second glance to pause, still, remember.

silver shining on the midnight sky.
little love beams from fairy tales long ago they remain for ever
shining and reminding that good dances across the night.
even the moonless nights.

stars freckle the sky with beautiful.
stars caught and held in the heart.
expand and swish swoosh create little love beams from fairy lands
and light moonless nights when emotions soar wild.
stars pause the dreams and bring the moonlight full thunder
then sleep, provoked, comes swiftly, and safe envelopes you.

stars are hope across ancient skies.
stars scatter midnight seas and
dance free glitter over all of me.
and silent night peaceful sleep calls out: "rest, dear one."
stars sing their melodies as they shower over me.

....and then the fairy girl drifted to sleep and woke with moon dust in her eyes.

.......
*He created the stars. He created the lights, the expanse. i don't doubt for a moment, His singing over me is accomplished with each glimmer of every beloved star. For He speaks like a lover in ways i cherish and love and in the moments that move me, it is His whisper, then, that i hear. He is the stars. He is the light on midnight seas, beckoning, "rest, dear one."

....and so, i lay my head down and rest as stars dance over me singing their song of peace.
....................
my grandma just commented on my blog! NEVER thought this day would happen. oh, gram! i cherish your every day prayers! love love love you. and keep the comments coming! *smile*

pride

i was once told i was very prideful. it was rather shocking. i've always sort of thought of myself as close to humble you can be without actually being humble. (see, if i say it like that, i sound "more" humble, right?!? *wry grin*).

i remember the day vividly. it was a spring day. i smelled beautiful in the air, flowers were blossoming on campus. i was a junior. i remember walking along the path that led from my dorm room to the student center to visit one of my dearest mentors, the campus pastor. i had developed a friendship, a good surrogate father-daughter relationship with pastor haub. he was where i could be found after a puzzling discussion in any class, after a run-in with authority i questioned, after i was told i couldn't do something, after i got a good grade in class. pretty much whenever i was bored too. he had an entire wall of library books. it was a small piece of heaven in that office! :)

he was all kind blue eyes like my dad, too.

but this one spring day i was lamenting getting a 94% on a big paper. at LBC, for this class, that was a B. i was crushed. to be very honest, i can count on both hands the number of times i've received a B. i'm not naturally smart, i just like working hard and studying. like, as in, i'd rather spend my free time studying or debating then pretty much anything else.

i was complaining about how it would hurt my GPA. how now i'd have to work extra hard. on and on i went. suddenly i was interrupted. he asked me what i think of "______" (insert name of one of the girls in my section who really struggled with passing her classes). without thinking i answered that i love her and think she is amazing (because she is).

he then told me, "how dare i judge myself on a different scale. what makes me think i'm worthy to be on a "must get good grades" scale when i think its fully fine for my girls to get such and such for grades. or get bad grades. the reason i care is because i'm awful prideful and think i'm by nature better then everyone else so i have to get better grades."

it shocked the heck out of me.

still does.

but its true. i hadn't realized it, but its true. i do think i'm better than everyone else and therefore i deserve or "have to" get better grades. or better "this" or "that" or whatever. that conversation has stuck with me since then. i replay it over and over and it still convicts me.

i've been thinking about it a lot the past few days. i still like to get good grades. but i've tried to purpose in my heart and not let grades become an idol for me and source of pride like that. its hard. pride, is the very root of all other sins. and its a creeper. it creeps up slowly. usually very well intentioned at first.

reality is, i'm awfully prideful. and judgmental. if half the thoughts in my head were every said out loud i'd shudder in shame and embarrassment!

i'm prideful when it comes to academics, on a small scale, there is SO much more. what are you prideful about?

lets confess together and practice nipping our pride in the butt :)

*pastor Haub, have i ever told you how much that mean to me? how much it meant and means that you'd pour honest feedback into me and not let me settle or be apathetic? o thank you!

birthdays and a baby!

these two just had their baby. it was a girl!!! she is lovely!

little Merryn Lila is a week old yesterday.

i love her. i love her name. it fits her, perfectly.

her arrival was a bright spot on the year for me. she is loved.

its crazy to believe my old roommate and dear dear friend is now a mom!

its one thing being in different parts of the world with your friends, but when you become an aunt to new babies, it just ups the anti (is that how you spell that phase?!?) even if i moved "home" ellen and dan aren't "home" either.

dear little merryn is blessed to have such amazing parents.

i couldn't be more proud or sure of ellen being a mother. 

merryn, auntie bekah loves you so!!

...................................

this girl, my sweet christine, had a very big birthday on thursday. 

christine, i love you. love our silly conversations and sweet times in prayer together. thank you for holding me up and believing in me so so so much. your phone calls, overseas, the last two years to me in the states, were a source of great joy. you bless me. love you!!

(taken at jade's wedding this past summer)

christine, this is my all time favorite photo of us. do you remember? only 1 day after we met!

..........................

my dear jadie. i have no words.

i think of you and i think of you flying on a moments notice to come hold me as i cried and cried in my bed. to do the hard emotional tasks of cleaning out cars and memories and homes when i couldn't. when i just sat and watched in a semi vegetable emotional state. when i think of you i think of us playing piano and worshiping late into the night and waking my neighbors. when i think of you i think of our extreme competitive spirit that led us to a truce to never play "organized" games together so we stay friends and happy (hahahhaaa). 

i think of the times we'd lay giggling in beds in various countries and states and houses. i think of waking up in sleepy mexican towns seeing chocolate brown eyes and cute faced boys watching us as we wake in their room. i think of hilarious times with sean and carrie, and the gas man, and hilda and her son, and her house!! i think of peeing statues and donkey rides, and dulce de leche, and "quiero helado, papi!" i think of you praying over me. me praying over you. 

i think of me introducing you to Rita's and sheetz hoagies. i think of you taking me to mickey and real mexican food.

(morning of jadie's wedding)

when i think of you i think of someone who is equal parts smart and silly. driven and caring. i love you. oh, i love you! thank you for being always dependable for me to be raw and honest. for believing and hoping for others, for me.

i love you, mrs. matthews. 

love celebrating the good and bad and everything in between. love that you lived here on the farm for a year so you understand so many of the things i see and experience and call "home" now. i love you. happy happy birthday, jade!!

ps: He. is. RISEN.

oh, glorious day!

ups & downs, scars & smiles

every once in a while i hit writing panic mode.

everyday, almost, someone else tells me they read whats going on in my life. but so few comment (which is fine! really, it is) that it just leaves me unaware that "so and so" is reading till in real life they comment about something i wrote WEEKS ago. it gives me the ibby gibbys. however you spell that. do other families say it? its a favorite. of mine.

i sit just now and drink verona coffee dipped with buttermilk rusks that have become a recent obsession. i sit and ponder why i write. what the point is. and should i continue.

i want to continue. but i want to do it in secret. where no one sees. so i don't fear what others will think...

and i. write. free.

because right now so many supports read this, and i want them to continue supporting* me because i only have what is given by you all each month. but then i edit what i say here. and hello...don't all people realize that we're all not perfect so why would "missionaries" be perfect? i used to think missionaries were good, holy people. but that was before i became one. and perhaps i'm the only "non-perfect" one but i'm thinking, since i live on a farm full of other ex-pat missionaries, there are more (no offense, shikwaru family. its reality, and i love you all. truly. even though you all stalk this blog and never comment!!! hahaha *winks*) who also sin. *shudders*

and then there is the issue of knowing what i say could *gasp* offend someone. and that. is. not. okay. not okay for this middle child who is a peacemaker by heart. not okay for this girl who's great joy is in others joy. but this girl has deep deep passions and thoughts refined from heartache and Truth and years studying and starting and almost finishing a billion degrees amazingly getting one of the degrees, and living cross-culturally, and having an unusual family upbringing.* how do i go about balancing my desire for peace and harmony with my absolute conviction in certain things? even silly (or serious) things like why mint magnum bars are better than triple choc ones. or why gnomes should rule the world. or how i dont understand who created God and how He came to be but i absolutely believe He created this earth, this world i see and study about and that He loves me intimately. i am utterly convinced of these facts. but i don't know how to write about them. not in the way i want to write about them....

and people here on the farm are reading this. and my family at home reads about this. and friends of mine (hey chapmans!) asked if i write things i wouldn't say in person. and it makes me think. makes me make sure i've told whoever i want to tell in person what i'm gonna write before i write it, or that i don't write something i wouldn't say if given the chance. wow. did that make any sense? it sounded so much better in my head. but also, instead of searching through my email list its much simpler to just type out a quick update here and let whoever is interested read. and i secretly sorta hope i'll "hook" some new people into my life, into the school, into believing in me, that they would want to donate and help share this journey of starting a school and loving little ones.

this is the very first post i wrote here. that is what this is about. i'm gonna be more honest again. i was getting away from that. from things like this. that was very honest. to much comparing to other writers, to much editing. i might be an English teacher by degree but i despise editing myself. i like editing other work, but my own is to personal. i get to attached to every word; even the misplaced ones.

i am more and more convinced that honesty and being real is what connects. its a risk, its difficult, but authentic living is what attracts other people. who attract other people. and perhaps in turn, there will be a world of people not taking themselves to seriously, and believing in others more, and loving more, and judging less. and on and on my dreams go...

there is no point to this besides me committing to write real life. ups & downs, scars & smiles. so love love away on me. or judge me. but i am gonna get better at walking out the freedom i have in Christ.

freedom. to. be. me.

i feel better. now i can have a good weekend.
*grins*

*Jamie says everything i'm thinking on this better than i ever could.
*its the first time i have called my upbringing unusual. but i have never met someone that has a similar upbringing so i think its fair to say it was. most families don't take in other families, other singles, other "homeless" people; other families don't adopt and foster in the ways we did with the number of children we did. its fair to say i loved my growing up years, but they were unusual indeed.

a pointless post about real moments.

its terribly difficult to believe this week is almost to friday.

i ran 6 k's two days ago; i feel the distance today in whispers along my muscles. the doctor lady wasn't lying when she said it would take 2 weeks to a month for me to notice a difference in my eyes. at least its taken two days so far as i woke with red blood eyes that ached and still burned sulfur this morning. when francis dropped off matthew today he exclaimed as he entered the school: "rebekah, here is your boy. he's missed you." which was hilarious as he was screaming not wanting to be with me. i missed matthew. he cried only 5 minutes. it was nice, he must have missed me.

(kelvin and perfect eating supper at kelvin's house. last month)

last night i dropped zulu, perfect and kelvin off at the hospital before church. kelvin and perfect LOVE town. it is a very big deal for those two little men to go into town. i had such joy seeing their little giggles and squeals with each new bend in the road. after music and a rousing impromptu futbal game at church i picked them back up from the hospital. little squeals and they told me what they had for supper. they each had a frog, if you wondered. and he (the frog), is bouncing in their belly's as they tell me all this. this is a childlike lie. they didn't really eat frogs. they just love them and were teasing me. they find humour in these sorts of things. they spend too much time with me.

they tell me marvin is getting better. i hear that today from doc as well. i long for him to be healthy and grow and be in school too. he is an angel baby. something about him is magic in my eyes. i love him. love them all.

i lead worship for the young adults and youth wednesday nights. pieter helps so much. in fact, he truly leads. i'm just the 'name' if anything goes bad so it doesn't fall on him. we both decided on this, its a good fit. like with school, the "band" is all boys. they are big little brothers. we tease incessantly, laugh often, create music too much, pray routinely, cry occasionally (ok, ok, i cry. they sit and wait awkwardly till i'm done!), sing, jump around, slap each other, they wrestle, i chastise we need to practice more play less, as i secretly wish to be a boy so its appropriate to wrestle too as i sit in my dresses and earrings and make-up clad face on the piano bench and watch. i would be an awful boy. i like dresses far to much. last night pieter and anrich both tried at different moments to scare me. sneaking behind me to whisper at my nape. i caught them each and scared them in return. it will never happen again me catching them. it was glorious. wian watched both times. he winked his pride in me for getting them, smiled too, i teeth bared smiled in return.

two little ones have awoken from their nap. they sit and create lego houses. i quietly ask them to sit on my lap for a surprise. we take photos. this one still makes me smile.

this is a pointless post. i intended to write other things. deeper things. but got distracted in the little moments that pass in waves through my mind.

i have half sleeping babes, half wide awake little terrors. i must go and tend the waking ones before the decibel levels rise to an outlandish high and the littlies wake too.

Tempest

Websters defines tempest as a violent storm.

i rather like that.

(edit: i stumbled upon this painting a bit ago. it is by Bridget Beth. one of my favorite etsy finds. link to her shop is HERE)

TEMPEST: a violent storm.

oh, i like that.

for He is a storm to me.
always has been.
sometimes He comes in softly, a gentle tide lapping the shoreline of my heart.
other times i feel He is a might typhoon. and i tremble in terror of the force He is.
sometimes i feel steady, feel secure on the shore.
my feet tip tap the sand and they nestle into little burrows with the shells.

the sea has always had a mystic quality to me. always been full of romance and terror.
both. always both.
terror because i'll forever have a fear of being swept out to sea.
romance because the scents, the spray, the crashing wave crescendo, blues and greens touching on the horizon, browns, tans, whites, mingling under my soles. its not controllable. it sings. its romance.

the Lord continues to speak to me in metaphors. using the sea. using water. using boats, the tide, rafts. He speaks little murmurs to my heart.
whispers of who He is. who i am.

sometimes i have felt fully engulfed in the sea.
waves overtake me and i'm drowning. i reach my hand up, i slip under the water and scream out for help.
but, help has come.
it has come in friends letting me go visit them at work and just rock back and forth on the ground as silent sobs escape from my heart.
it has come in musicals and dramas and students i never intended to know becoming friends.
it came in two sweet girlfriends moving in with me or allowing me to move in with them.
it came in brothers and guy friends who lifted and moved and boxed too many times.
it came in parents who continue to lather love over every inch of me.
it came in siblings. it came in flowers. it came in hand written cards.
help has come from Him. help still comes from Him.

i wrote a song a bit ago. it describes this all perfectly. lania plays it with me. she mirrors on her flute what i do on the piano. i dont even know what i do, i just 'do it.' i love when she plays along. it is heaven music.

i guess what i was thinking tonight and when i see this painting is how He is a tempest.
He is the tempest.
He is the sea. the waves. the crashing.
He is the mighty sea. 
so long i fear i feared him.
and well, i should have.
go for a swim. bask in the expanse of all He is.
He is all terrifying and good.

He is the pillar of fire by night. the cloud of glory by day.
He is all-consuming and small. small enough to see me. and to want to step in and reach me.
He is the one who causes the rain to fall on the clean and unclean...and who is ever clean beside Him?

He is the tempest. He is the storm of raging love and righteous mercy.
He is the steady hand that doesn't allow me to slip and fall off the edge. i will slip and fall, but only on sure footing. He holds me fast.
i am His little one, and He won't allow me to be lost in a sea.
He is my sea.

i think i'm only beginning to realize that i'm not tossed about unprotected. i'm not in a sea of lost circumstances. the sea isn't happening around me.
i am safe. i am in His hands. i am in His sea.


o blessed assurance, Jesus is mine! and i am His.

and He blows about me in a tempest of love and mercy and goodwill and hope and life and joy and holiness...
and i but float in all that He is.

*this book helped form a few of these thoughts. not all, but a few.
..........................................................................
just got done baking birthday cupcakes for dear rubin.
the cookbook was all afrikaans. i did ask banie to double check my translations. but i'm quite elated to announce that i translated it all by myself correctly. perhaps my afrikaans is getting better after all!
bekah 1, afrikaans 0
boo yeah, baby!

a gift of love, thanks, beth and kaleidoscope!

i seriously have 4 posts stored in my cue from this week. it has been too full. in all the best ways possible. i just haven't had time/energy to finalize each of them fully and post. ahhhhh

and it won't happen today!
today, my home church, Kaleidoscope, blessed me.
really, it was beth and jesse zimmerman (dez, you too, right?!?!), and they got the church involved.
i am speechless.
and giddy.
definitely giddy.

i have somehow managed to receive a care package from home every 4 weeks.
i'm not kidding.
even if its just letters or newspapers, something has come in the mail to me.
i can't help but be encouraged.
be reminded i am not alone here.
that i have a host of support and love back home "here" with me.
i am blessed.
oh, if every missionary felt such love and joy!!!

but for real.
this morning roelene tells me that she picked up a package for me.
i then hustled over to her house to get it, the boys in tow (of course), we're in prime school hours.
calvin and i sit on the floor while perfect plays with legos. we go at the duct tape. we giggle and wonder and pull and yank and fall into laughter.
we get it open. we see candy! we all squeal! the boys inform me over and over, "we like it! we like this!" i nod my head and tickle them.

we pull out goods, after goods, after goods. surprises. delights. its all too much to take in. i cry. the boys laugh. we rip open the candy. the boys take a rollo each. i try a trixx. gifts this good can not be kept secret. we grab handfuls and start to walk across the farm. we give candy to everyone we meet. we brighten everyone's day. we smile with satisfaction at each other.

it is such joy to share joy.

i am still full of glee. joy upon joy.
a french press and coffee. did i already say this? i can't remember.
a FRENCH PRESS and COFFEE, people, come on!!
how did they know? i have looked and looked. and leave empty each store.
o my gosh, tomorrow morning i will have REAL COFFEE to drink.
ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

thank you, beth! thank you for the gifts.
thank you for organizing all the letters from church and the kids.
thank you, o thank you, thank you!!
.......................................
SO much has happened today. i wanted to update my fb status 980 billion times. but i tried not to be so obsessive *smile*.

1. guess who's bracket is the best in the family so far?!?! thats right, ME! :-)
2. found out the Nomads moved my school yesterday! WOOT!
3. i just put a down payment on a car! if it passes the AA road test, it is MINE! ahhhhhhhhhh Glory to God!!!
4. the school is moving into a bigger building! i can't believe the mess, chaos, going on right now!
5. my home sending church, Kaleidoscope, just blessed me (and the farm) with easter candy and gifts from home.Bethany Zimmerman thank you for organizing everything and the extra "special bekah" things you included. i am humbled and blessed! wow!!!
6. this sentimental heart never got to say a proper "goodbye" to the old school building. o well, the new building is AMAZING!!!!
7. o my gosh, it is hitting me all over again that i have a french press and coffee. REAL coffee. ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh JOY JOY JOY!
8. the boys are sleeping in the new building. i am organizing. in a few moments we're gonna go see some new zebra's on the farm!
9. wow. just saw 6 spanking new zebra's run out of a truck and call Shikwaru home. i love living here.
10. woo hoo its about to storm hard. bring on the COLD and RAIN! :)
11. its not even 4 pm! hahahahhahaha  my belly hurts from laughing and my cheeks are raw from smiling!
12. gonna watch the bulls play tonight with the african family. i love the family, i love the bulls, i love friday nights.