I have been wanting to write this blog for a couple of weeks now, and have been milling over it in my mind, but have lacked the time and perhaps the energy to commit to a computer for that long. I returned from Rwanda near the end of April and have been living at home in Pawleys Island with my family. I think the time in Rwanda sans electricity, internet, and telephones has made me remember what it was like to be someone who pays attention. Perhaps exactly what we crave when we are younger- things to occupy our minds- is exactly what stops our minds from being occupied. Let me rephrase that. Perhaps, certain responsibilities that we call luxuries (and are to an extent) occupy our minds in such a way as to put at a receiver's disadvantage. Their is little or no time for searching, and when we do find ourselves needing to search for something to the point of yearning, we resent it. There is a rapidity, there is a noise, there is a hiding from one's self made possible in this. Shyira, Rwanda is stripped of many luxuries, and consequently so was I when I lived there. And I am thankful. My desire in returning was to appreciate these luxuries as such, and not necessities. It was my hope in this way, they would continue to serve as little joys in life, but not distractions. I have to believe that the substance of joy is made of fibers stronger than mere happiness and that joy and luxury have little to do with one another. Sometimes, I think they exist in spite of one another...sometimes not.
On that note, somethings that have caught my attention and brought me joy since being in the United States and specifically in Pawleys Island again:
a. Visiting my Dad at the bakery, watching him as he bakes breads and cakes so enjoyably that sometimes his face gets a look of mischief, very much like a boy finding a way to do something that he knows must be wrong from the amount of happiness it brings him. I love seeing that. I love the creation, the rising, the baking, and the giving away. It is a good thing to see. I believe he loves each piece of bread that he sells, even if it is just a split-second sentiment. That must mean something.
b. I have enjoyed practising the art of running, or jogging, or walking. I like to run to the other Causeway on the island, while listening to a sermon of Sinclair Ferguson. I try to time it just right, so that I can have a specified time of sitting on a bench in front of the creek, and then run/walking back to my house. It serves a two fold purpose....1. it helps me not to concentrate on the fact that nothing about me is athletic, and that I am rebelling against natural instincts. 2. It seems remarkable to me to study God by listening, while looking at what he has created. It is beautiful to have a little explanation on the Lord that brings joy to my heart in understanding, while looking on a beauty that nothing in me comes close to understanding. It almost makes me lose my mind because I am in love with the way the Lord creates and overwhelmed by his intentionality, his plan, his rationality and the way I am unequipped at the time being to fully appreciate it for what it is, apart from its beauty. *Something, I have been thinking about in relation to this, is the detail and intricacy of creation. Little crabs can survive in hole-like tunnels in the creek mud. Fish swim in schools longer than cars that look like looming shadows under the dock until a slit between boards allows enough light to reflect each body. These are glimpses that we can see in the light, or on the surface, or when the water recedes. Amazing things happening that were not meant for my viewing pleasure (but that I do take pleasure in viewing when granted the allowance despite my limited abilities) haunt me into belief.
c. My Mom's cooking and quiet gardening. Her cooking is wonderful, with a very specified taste, that suits my palate -apart from her oatmeal:)- as well, if not better, than anything I've ever had. She uses lots of vegetables and herbs. Along the side of our house in Pawleys, past the outdoor shower, out of view unless searched after or suggested, is my mom's garden. She has not been self-applauding about this garden. In fact, most of the time it goes pretty unacknowledged. Instead, she fills our dishes with its benefits and we enjoy them. I've been interested in gardens since my return, and asked my mom to show me her garden. I had no idea that she had turned a fenced in area previously designated for Beau (our dog) into a beautiful fenced in garden, with vines growing up the sides, birdbaths, a table on stones laid into the ground, and a birdhouse. The inside was beautiful, but we spent the larger part of the time talking about the vegetables lining the outside, mostly peppers- green and banana. She explained to me how to best care for them and what their life and growth process looks like. When teaching me about peppers, she explained that before a pepper sprouts, a flower blooms. I haven't been able to get my mind past this idea. A flower blooms before the fruit. Here was a delicately beautiful flower blooming, and alongside a green pepper- a little lopsided, awkward. The flower was pretty, but the plant was a pepper plant. I thought about my mom's wonderful meals. The flower would not season them, although it would look pretty in a vase. I think my plans usually find their extent in the flower. I am afraid I would be satisfied to live a pretty and delicate life, unharmed, nice to regard, soft to the touch. This is a mistake that the Lord has been kind enough to continually and painfully prevent in his people. It is the pepper that is the fruit of the plant. I think most times, we feel that the ultimate parts of our lives are the beautiful parts, executed in graceful ease. It is just not so. How many parts of our lives have been flowers that come and go, with little to show but fleeting pleasure? I thank God that even as I long for such things, he would have times of seasoning for others in his own way. I am thankful that it is not just the lovely little parts of me that he uses. The parts that season most, I think, are the ones that have very little to offer until they are fully given over. It is used however the cooks sees fit. Not once have I ever eaten a whole pepper. Instead it is chopped so that it flavors the entire dish, not just parts. A flower is not a bad thing. We are made to have our flowers in vases beside our meals, to adorn and draw attention to the seasoned dish. However, it is foolish to think that we are made to feed others from such a distance, where our champion is our own beauty.
These things have been swimming in my mind. They have meant very much to me.
On that note, somethings that have caught my attention and brought me joy since being in the United States and specifically in Pawleys Island again:
a. Visiting my Dad at the bakery, watching him as he bakes breads and cakes so enjoyably that sometimes his face gets a look of mischief, very much like a boy finding a way to do something that he knows must be wrong from the amount of happiness it brings him. I love seeing that. I love the creation, the rising, the baking, and the giving away. It is a good thing to see. I believe he loves each piece of bread that he sells, even if it is just a split-second sentiment. That must mean something.
b. I have enjoyed practising the art of running, or jogging, or walking. I like to run to the other Causeway on the island, while listening to a sermon of Sinclair Ferguson. I try to time it just right, so that I can have a specified time of sitting on a bench in front of the creek, and then run/walking back to my house. It serves a two fold purpose....1. it helps me not to concentrate on the fact that nothing about me is athletic, and that I am rebelling against natural instincts. 2. It seems remarkable to me to study God by listening, while looking at what he has created. It is beautiful to have a little explanation on the Lord that brings joy to my heart in understanding, while looking on a beauty that nothing in me comes close to understanding. It almost makes me lose my mind because I am in love with the way the Lord creates and overwhelmed by his intentionality, his plan, his rationality and the way I am unequipped at the time being to fully appreciate it for what it is, apart from its beauty. *Something, I have been thinking about in relation to this, is the detail and intricacy of creation. Little crabs can survive in hole-like tunnels in the creek mud. Fish swim in schools longer than cars that look like looming shadows under the dock until a slit between boards allows enough light to reflect each body. These are glimpses that we can see in the light, or on the surface, or when the water recedes. Amazing things happening that were not meant for my viewing pleasure (but that I do take pleasure in viewing when granted the allowance despite my limited abilities) haunt me into belief.
c. My Mom's cooking and quiet gardening. Her cooking is wonderful, with a very specified taste, that suits my palate -apart from her oatmeal:)- as well, if not better, than anything I've ever had. She uses lots of vegetables and herbs. Along the side of our house in Pawleys, past the outdoor shower, out of view unless searched after or suggested, is my mom's garden. She has not been self-applauding about this garden. In fact, most of the time it goes pretty unacknowledged. Instead, she fills our dishes with its benefits and we enjoy them. I've been interested in gardens since my return, and asked my mom to show me her garden. I had no idea that she had turned a fenced in area previously designated for Beau (our dog) into a beautiful fenced in garden, with vines growing up the sides, birdbaths, a table on stones laid into the ground, and a birdhouse. The inside was beautiful, but we spent the larger part of the time talking about the vegetables lining the outside, mostly peppers- green and banana. She explained to me how to best care for them and what their life and growth process looks like. When teaching me about peppers, she explained that before a pepper sprouts, a flower blooms. I haven't been able to get my mind past this idea. A flower blooms before the fruit. Here was a delicately beautiful flower blooming, and alongside a green pepper- a little lopsided, awkward. The flower was pretty, but the plant was a pepper plant. I thought about my mom's wonderful meals. The flower would not season them, although it would look pretty in a vase. I think my plans usually find their extent in the flower. I am afraid I would be satisfied to live a pretty and delicate life, unharmed, nice to regard, soft to the touch. This is a mistake that the Lord has been kind enough to continually and painfully prevent in his people. It is the pepper that is the fruit of the plant. I think most times, we feel that the ultimate parts of our lives are the beautiful parts, executed in graceful ease. It is just not so. How many parts of our lives have been flowers that come and go, with little to show but fleeting pleasure? I thank God that even as I long for such things, he would have times of seasoning for others in his own way. I am thankful that it is not just the lovely little parts of me that he uses. The parts that season most, I think, are the ones that have very little to offer until they are fully given over. It is used however the cooks sees fit. Not once have I ever eaten a whole pepper. Instead it is chopped so that it flavors the entire dish, not just parts. A flower is not a bad thing. We are made to have our flowers in vases beside our meals, to adorn and draw attention to the seasoned dish. However, it is foolish to think that we are made to feed others from such a distance, where our champion is our own beauty.
These things have been swimming in my mind. They have meant very much to me.
