Dear God of crazy love,
Please give us the courage to be unashamed of our brokenness.
The Grace to see You through the pieces of others
And the transparency to let our shards outline Your face
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Splashing Colors
To my wonderful blessings back home and abroad,
Merry Christmas! The ship has been transformed. Filled with Christmas music and smiles and anticipation. There has never been a hum drum rhythm here, but I am now distinctly aware of the dancing, sparkling cadence of the white lights strung up and down banisters and trees and ceilings.
They had a Christmas sale here, where the families or creative individuals could sell their creations, there was handmade jewelry and stamped cards and cookies and decorations. And there was free apple cider. I couldn't help but think of the winter carnival parade back home and the adventures of handing out free hot cocoa.
The Norwegians held a Santa Lucia celebration. All in white with wreaths of candles on their heads.
And there was star-gazing and Christmas caroling in mid-ships and we even had our very own Santa Clause!
Christmas Eve; we went out to soak up more of the rich Spanish culture in Tenerife. Out to observe the street musicians, the opera house that looks like the one in Sydney and the parks and pools and perfectly manicured flowers that seem to be everywhere. That night the dining room became some great and glorious hall for lords and ladies. Everyone dressed up. And everything was decked out in that glowing way that only comes at Christmas time. And we all were awed by the extravagance and care put into it all. And then we had a worship service and sang "a North American Christmas carol." (Oh Come, oh Come, Emmanuel.) The service was beautiful, and thought provoking and I missed you all.
And it all makes me feel once again like a wide eyed child; drinking in the vitality of every moment. They change, hour to hour, day to day, year to year, lifetime to lifetime. And some make me feel numb and others make me more sensitive. And they are all so acutely felt because they contrast. Like our crazy Creator splashing colors. Using our souls as a canvas in this painting that is so much more insanely beautiful than our saneness can comprehend.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Have you ever gone out having absolutely no idea what the day will bring? Going out, getting out simply to be out? We began yesterday morning like that, simply walking towards the road, having no doubt that we would indeed find something interesting to do. And God blessed that. On our way out, we met a group of people going to the top of the famous volcanic mountain, La Montania Tiede. They had enough spots, so we went. It was so fun and exciting and refreshing. We went 3/4ths of the way up the mountain and waited for the others. The cable cars to the top were rather expensive. Thus we squandered away two perfectly good hours, having heaps of fun and taking lots of crazy roommate pictures. We climbed on top of the Land Rover and posed on rocks and by plants, all the while those jagged Mountains staring down at us...thoroughly and unashamedly being tourists. The landscape was filled with winding roads and cacti and sand and layers of red and yellow rock that reminded me of Arizona.
We sat and chatted in the open cafe, enjoying the sun and the stunning view. The rest of the group came back down, panting and red cheeks and grinning. They dropped us off in town. We wondered around taking in all the sights. And went to a huge shopping center overwhelmed with choices and colors and posing to take crazy hat pictures. It was like a scene from one of those horrendously blond movies with all the giggling girls having fun shopping...except ten times better.
After that we found an open air restaurant and all of us ordered salads. It was such a luxury to have real, fresh, greens and we enjoyed it thoroughly. Each of us are trying to enjoy every moment with each other before, Ellen and Chelsea leave (tomorrow) and Dorothy leaves Tuesday. :(
Today I went to the "La Supermercado de la senora de Africa." They call it the African market, but it is basically like a huge garage sail. There were many Africans and native Americans there, selling jewelry and carvings along side the Spanish natives. It was so fun just to go to be out and wonder around and practice a bit of Spanish with Dorothy.
We got back to the ship around 1pm. I sat on deck 8 to get away from our now sana-like room and did another chapter in Re-entry. I had that amazing "now" feeling. Like I was supposed to be reading it and taking notes and being there at that moment. It made me happy. I'm happy here. I realized that every place in the world is beautiful, in it's own unique way, you just have to find that beauty and hold on to it.
Tonight we had dinner out for Ellen and Chelsea. It was good just to be with them all laughing and talking about our wonderful and crazy families and freezing as the temperature dropped. Tomorrow I work. With a whole new team. So goodbye mis amigos, and God bless!
We sat and chatted in the open cafe, enjoying the sun and the stunning view. The rest of the group came back down, panting and red cheeks and grinning. They dropped us off in town. We wondered around taking in all the sights. And went to a huge shopping center overwhelmed with choices and colors and posing to take crazy hat pictures. It was like a scene from one of those horrendously blond movies with all the giggling girls having fun shopping...except ten times better.
After that we found an open air restaurant and all of us ordered salads. It was such a luxury to have real, fresh, greens and we enjoyed it thoroughly. Each of us are trying to enjoy every moment with each other before, Ellen and Chelsea leave (tomorrow) and Dorothy leaves Tuesday. :(
Today I went to the "La Supermercado de la senora de Africa." They call it the African market, but it is basically like a huge garage sail. There were many Africans and native Americans there, selling jewelry and carvings along side the Spanish natives. It was so fun just to go to be out and wonder around and practice a bit of Spanish with Dorothy.
We got back to the ship around 1pm. I sat on deck 8 to get away from our now sana-like room and did another chapter in Re-entry. I had that amazing "now" feeling. Like I was supposed to be reading it and taking notes and being there at that moment. It made me happy. I'm happy here. I realized that every place in the world is beautiful, in it's own unique way, you just have to find that beauty and hold on to it.
Tonight we had dinner out for Ellen and Chelsea. It was good just to be with them all laughing and talking about our wonderful and crazy families and freezing as the temperature dropped. Tomorrow I work. With a whole new team. So goodbye mis amigos, and God bless!
Friday, December 19, 2008
Ola!
Ola mi amigos. Que tal?
We are currently in "Santa Cruz de Tener Reef." One of the Canary Islands. We reached there at 6am yesterday. The morning we had a crew briefing about how to get transport etc. Our usual port is being occupied by a Spanish naval vessel, so we're currently at a port under some construction and a little farther out of town.
From our still sea-salty windows, the towns look like white snow in valleys of the jagged volcanic rock mountains. But up close you see it's towns perched in between these mountains. The stucco buildings and yellows and browns give it a distinct Spanish feel. I sat up on deck seven and tried to drink it all in; the perfect temperature that felt like fall in New York, the sunlight I had to squint through to see the towns, the silence and stillness of the ship. It gave me a kind of refreshing energy.
Friday night we went out to eat. We caught a bus to the more central part of the island and began wondering looking for el restaurante. We saw several other groups of Mercy Ships people. And stopped at a little restaurant. It is so nice not to have to rely on the ship for bathrooms and food and lighting etc. We found ourselves comparing everything. We got water in blue glass bottles with wine glasses. And the water wasn't brown like on the sail. And they served the food on fancy plates that I wasn't going to wash. We didn't order rice. :) I found myself desperately trying to drink it all in. It seemed impossible to fully enjoy the taste of the food. I was too busy trying to enjoy the soft Spanish music and the glowing white lights decking every tree and the alley filled with red awnings and little corner shops and restaurants. And how every woman looked like she had walked out of a fashion magazine and the little dogs on leashes and the couples strolling up and down and the simple aura of it all. I could have just sat there for hours gazing around. It was exactly how I always imagined Italy to be like, except, of course, Spanish.
It all felt so dreamily extravagant. One part of me wants to embrace this elegant European culture, and another part of me looks at it all with skepticism as I recall the dust and heat and living in Liberia.
We went to have ice cream. I suppose every culture and place has it's own unique way of serving ice cream. In New York we stop by a little ice cream stand called Donelle's before we turn into our road. They serve two flavors of soft ice cream, depending on what day it is. And only in the summer. In Liberia they sell ice cream in metal carts that they wheel around. It is usually yellow and pink and served with little tiny scoops in little tiny cones, but it tastes like the best ice cream in the world. In Tener Reef Spanish men in bow ties sell it in little ice cream shops with the flavors lined up under the glass and big sugar cones.
It's all refreshing and new to me and it's easy to understand why it's a great respite place after an outreach and before the new one in Benin.
We are currently in "Santa Cruz de Tener Reef." One of the Canary Islands. We reached there at 6am yesterday. The morning we had a crew briefing about how to get transport etc. Our usual port is being occupied by a Spanish naval vessel, so we're currently at a port under some construction and a little farther out of town.
From our still sea-salty windows, the towns look like white snow in valleys of the jagged volcanic rock mountains. But up close you see it's towns perched in between these mountains. The stucco buildings and yellows and browns give it a distinct Spanish feel. I sat up on deck seven and tried to drink it all in; the perfect temperature that felt like fall in New York, the sunlight I had to squint through to see the towns, the silence and stillness of the ship. It gave me a kind of refreshing energy.
Friday night we went out to eat. We caught a bus to the more central part of the island and began wondering looking for el restaurante. We saw several other groups of Mercy Ships people. And stopped at a little restaurant. It is so nice not to have to rely on the ship for bathrooms and food and lighting etc. We found ourselves comparing everything. We got water in blue glass bottles with wine glasses. And the water wasn't brown like on the sail. And they served the food on fancy plates that I wasn't going to wash. We didn't order rice. :) I found myself desperately trying to drink it all in. It seemed impossible to fully enjoy the taste of the food. I was too busy trying to enjoy the soft Spanish music and the glowing white lights decking every tree and the alley filled with red awnings and little corner shops and restaurants. And how every woman looked like she had walked out of a fashion magazine and the little dogs on leashes and the couples strolling up and down and the simple aura of it all. I could have just sat there for hours gazing around. It was exactly how I always imagined Italy to be like, except, of course, Spanish.
It all felt so dreamily extravagant. One part of me wants to embrace this elegant European culture, and another part of me looks at it all with skepticism as I recall the dust and heat and living in Liberia.
We went to have ice cream. I suppose every culture and place has it's own unique way of serving ice cream. In New York we stop by a little ice cream stand called Donelle's before we turn into our road. They serve two flavors of soft ice cream, depending on what day it is. And only in the summer. In Liberia they sell ice cream in metal carts that they wheel around. It is usually yellow and pink and served with little tiny scoops in little tiny cones, but it tastes like the best ice cream in the world. In Tener Reef Spanish men in bow ties sell it in little ice cream shops with the flavors lined up under the glass and big sugar cones.
It's all refreshing and new to me and it's easy to understand why it's a great respite place after an outreach and before the new one in Benin.
Monday, December 15, 2008
Sailing
"Sailing, sailing, over the ocean blue..."
We are sailing. It was Friday. 2:00pm The crew waved from deck seven and eight as we made our way out of port. And I realize that I ready. Ready to have a break from the in tenseness of it all. And I will miss it and the children and great expanse of healing and possibilities and dreams stretched before that war-ravished country. But I am ready. And perhaps some day when I am older I will come back to see how it has changed and grown.
It never occurred to me that sailing was anything more than wonderfully romantic. The wind in my hair. I could see myself spending hours on deck eight. And watching the waves. As we headed out of dock and the ship began moving and we faced the seemingly endless ocean I felt this sense of crazy freedom.
However, there is more to sailing. After a few hours, we were all feeling rather drowsy and found ourselves stumbling around. It was hard to focus on my work. I eventually had to go down to our room to lay down. Because my bed is positioned perpendicular to the bow, the rocking gives the impression of a slinky. Up and down, head to toe. Whenever I stood up it felt like an elevator that wouldn't stop moving. One moment you feel weightless and the next you are being brutally ground down into the floor by gravity. It feels like the ocean is in your stomach.
The second day was farely better. It was calmer. But everyone was still drowsy. Sunday was misery once again. Today, although the ship still bounces up and down, I am feeling better. I finally caved and took some kids motion sickness pills. I decided it was better to be high and happy and able to function, than entirely sane and miserable and not able to do anything. It's the best up on one of the open decks. It's super windy, but the sun is warm. I've heard that it's also something with the relationship between your eyes and your inner ear.
At times the sun is blinding on the water. It is a dark blue, but when the sun shines, it looks like molten silver all the way out to that smooth sky. The sky fades white at the very horizon and then darkens to a more sky blue up above. I am surprised at the size of the waves. The white foamy wash sweeping out from the sides of the ship and the cresting whitecaps, like thousands of snowy peaks being covered by this navy blueness.
So goodbye my landlubbers
In snowy landscape
In warm little houses
As cookies you make
Don't you forget
As you carol away
As you decorate trees
Remember to pray
There's a girl on a ship
In oceans so deep
Loving an missing you
Even in sleep
So goodbye my landlubbers
Remember to pray
For that girl far away
Feeling cold ocean spray
We are sailing. It was Friday. 2:00pm The crew waved from deck seven and eight as we made our way out of port. And I realize that I ready. Ready to have a break from the in tenseness of it all. And I will miss it and the children and great expanse of healing and possibilities and dreams stretched before that war-ravished country. But I am ready. And perhaps some day when I am older I will come back to see how it has changed and grown.
It never occurred to me that sailing was anything more than wonderfully romantic. The wind in my hair. I could see myself spending hours on deck eight. And watching the waves. As we headed out of dock and the ship began moving and we faced the seemingly endless ocean I felt this sense of crazy freedom.
However, there is more to sailing. After a few hours, we were all feeling rather drowsy and found ourselves stumbling around. It was hard to focus on my work. I eventually had to go down to our room to lay down. Because my bed is positioned perpendicular to the bow, the rocking gives the impression of a slinky. Up and down, head to toe. Whenever I stood up it felt like an elevator that wouldn't stop moving. One moment you feel weightless and the next you are being brutally ground down into the floor by gravity. It feels like the ocean is in your stomach.
The second day was farely better. It was calmer. But everyone was still drowsy. Sunday was misery once again. Today, although the ship still bounces up and down, I am feeling better. I finally caved and took some kids motion sickness pills. I decided it was better to be high and happy and able to function, than entirely sane and miserable and not able to do anything. It's the best up on one of the open decks. It's super windy, but the sun is warm. I've heard that it's also something with the relationship between your eyes and your inner ear.
At times the sun is blinding on the water. It is a dark blue, but when the sun shines, it looks like molten silver all the way out to that smooth sky. The sky fades white at the very horizon and then darkens to a more sky blue up above. I am surprised at the size of the waves. The white foamy wash sweeping out from the sides of the ship and the cresting whitecaps, like thousands of snowy peaks being covered by this navy blueness.
So goodbye my landlubbers
In snowy landscape
In warm little houses
As cookies you make
Don't you forget
As you carol away
As you decorate trees
Remember to pray
There's a girl on a ship
In oceans so deep
Loving an missing you
Even in sleep
So goodbye my landlubbers
Remember to pray
For that girl far away
Feeling cold ocean spray
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
God....
This world
Filled with beauty
We perverted it
And polluted our souls with it
And You went
Into the searing pain
And beauty
And muck of this mortal life
To wipe off our sin smeared souls
And put together hearts
We had ground under our heals
So in the end
All that is left
Is Your finger prints
"Whatever is true
Whatever is noble
Whatever is right
Whatever is pure
Whatever is lovely
Wahtever is admirable
If anything is excellent or praiseworthy
Think about these things." Philipians 4:8
This world
Filled with beauty
We perverted it
And polluted our souls with it
And You went
Into the searing pain
And beauty
And muck of this mortal life
To wipe off our sin smeared souls
And put together hearts
We had ground under our heals
So in the end
All that is left
Is Your finger prints
"Whatever is true
Whatever is noble
Whatever is right
Whatever is pure
Whatever is lovely
Wahtever is admirable
If anything is excellent or praiseworthy
Think about these things." Philipians 4:8
Monday, December 1, 2008
God and Glue
To my dearest wonderfuls back home who have been a constant joy...I miss you all.
So much has happened since I last wrote to you all. I will try to give a brief glimpse.
Her Excellency the president of Liberia: Ellen Johnson Sirleaf came on board to give an official thank you speech to Mercy Ships for their service to her country. I suppose it all started with the frantic preparation...both teams scrubbing floors, windows, walls, moving highchairs, and in general touching nooks that seemed untouched for years. The whole place looked brighter. And then we left it up the the amazing hospitality people to transform it. And transform it they did. Sparkling glasses and saucers and rows and rows of handmade desert bars and decorations. It was glorious. Ellen ( my roommate ) and I snuck down via the galley and watched wide eyed as all the escorts and guards milled around in the dining room. We listened to her speech in the International lounge. It was beautiful and heartfelt and I was awed and honored. The entire meeting to just a fraction of the preparation time, but it was well worth it and I'll never forget it.
Saturday Costume Party! Our entire cabin seemed to have been sewing for days and planning for many more. We had snow white and a character from a Jane Austen novel, and we had a rose/cupcake. I was Esmerelda, from Hunch back of Notrodame. Each person came up to say what or who they were. I was so impressed with the creativity...There was A little white lie, Sponge Bob, Laura Ingalls, etc etc etc. And then afterwards we all went up to the Queens Lounge to celebrate Jeneen's Birthday. She was Jane Bennet. We had cake and talked and talked and talked. It was the perfect end to a gold-tinged day.
Last Sunday I went to the Pillar of Holy Fire church for the last time. I had gone there faithfully when I first came to Liberia. I had forgotten how serene and beautiful it was. No loud blaring speakers or keyboard or shouting or pews. The front is open and it has three walls woven of reeds. There is space between the between the walls and the ceiling...supported by wooden polls...that lets the sunlight filter in the whole way around the room. And they have wild flowers tied to the walls. The goodbye service was golden. I cried. The music...voices and drums and shakers. And then we had a lunch of oranges and banana chips and cookies afterwards. And I got to hold the beautiful children, carefully stowing away their faces in my memory.
That Tuesday the vice president of Liberia came to the ship. This time they catered the event. I had been flu-ish sick since Monday so I missed it, but they told me all about it. I'm 99%recovered and did Swimmer's Watch with Ellen yesterday from 12-2am. It was also the first day I worked. Swimmers watch was fun-I called it my firefly job.
Today the day workers left. We had the best Liberian lunch ever and anyone that had ever worked on the ship came. We had a big thank you service in the international lounge. It was beautiful. And sad. Last night I went to the prayer room on deck 2 and prayed the God would grant a graceful closure and blessing on their work here as well as abundant blessings on each one's life. Today we prayed for the day workers in the galley and dining room and there were hugs all around. And then May-Ellen left at 5pm. We are down to 6 in our room and 3 on our dining room team. Too many goodbyes. But God is the glue that holds us together in spirit.
And that is why, my dearest wonderfuls, I am constantly reminded of the blessing you all have been to me. And in all this craziness called life, blessings on you to.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)