Dancing at Christmas inside my shoe

As I sat in the dining hall of an assisted living center last week, two ideas came to light.  First, the Lord does give rest to the restless.  Second, we never know exactly how our connections will connect.  Last Thursday, in the midst of a Christmas dinner that hosted all ages and all makes and models of dress, hairstyle, and humor, my role was simply to play oboe.  I had been invited by some friends who play violin and guitar, and every moment of the evening proved to be blessing.  We saw a little girl in a red velvety dress and white ruffly socks and chuckled over her constant voice that wouldn’t relent on seeing Santa.  I met a resident there who retold with fondness the story of her daughter playing oboe decades ago.  We smiled to reminisce with a man who wanted to talk '70s music and Jethro Tull and all his flute-playing.  And from across the room, I fell in love with a lady who paused from some scrumptious-looking potatoes on her plate in order to gladly give the singing of “Auld Lang Syne” her full cooperation.  Indeed it was a privilege to serve.  And though many thanked us for playing, I in turn was thanking the Lord.  The blessings were especially sweet because lately I’ve been a bit puzzled regarding some issues of music.  Bunches of ideas have bounced around in my head.  Yet in the midst of playing these Christmas carols, my heart held no room for anxiety.  No room for “Why this?” or “Why that?”  No room for question or doubt or any of those negatives that creep in and tilt us off-center.  Simply it was a fullness of heart that felt pure and right and of God.  And I was reassured and blessed.  And then came that second idea.  When recounting the steps that led up to my playing that night, I was humbled.  I first met my violinist friend more than 5 years ago through our previous Sunday congregation.  I met our guitarist friend a couple of years later while playing a Christmas Eve service.  Since then, we’ve played and sung a variety of weddings, receptions, and coffeehouses.  Yet in the beginning I didn't know we would ever connect beyond church.  It’s a reminder to take great care in the way we relate to people.  Don’t overlook anyone.  Could the new person I meet at the dentist office become a wonderful friend?  Could the Wal-Mart cashier become a ministry co-worker?  What about the lady at the bus stop?  The man on the street?  This whole evening, my heart brimmed with joy for having gained a fresh glimpse of the Lord’s larger view.  To ponder how intricately He orchestrates our comings and goings, my heart was content.  And though I stayed seated to finish playing the carols, a party of streamers and confetti was showering down inside my heart, and my big toe danced one of those quiet celebrations inside my shoe.

Calico teardrops

This week I have cried to the Lord.  Our cat has gone from apparently healthy last Friday, to having a runny nose on Saturday, then proceeding through days without eating or drinking, except for whatever water or broth we managed to feed her through a syringe.  She’s little but not young, and I’ve wondered if this fourteenth year of her little calico life would be her last.  Yet mid-week brought some unusual happenings.  First, a friend called.  This is a new friend with whom I’ve studied just this semester, and this being our first phone conversation, my ears were perked especially alert.  I told my friend about our cat situation, and she offered some words of direction.  What exactly she said, I don’t remember, but a calming sensation accompanied her words.  As she talked of how people relate to animals, all the while my worry for our cat was seeming to subside a bit.  It was simple conversation that the Lord used to bring peace.  Secondly, the veterinary office that had been so wonderfully caring on Monday didn’t call me back on Tuesday.  They were helpful to afford us an appointment in their office and twice later answered our phone calls with remarkable caring.  The third call, though, they never returned.  And whereas ordinarily I might be frustrated by that, actually this time I was relieved.  I considered it an answer to prayer.  Fearing this week that we might have to decide for the vet to end the life of this little cat that had become so frail, I had asked the Lord to take that decision from me.  Now it seemed He was doing just that.  The unreturned call was uncharacteristic for this office.  No matter their reason, my husband and I had done what we could, and it was time to sit still.  I soon found the tension in my shoulders starting to melt away.  The swirl of emotions began to slow.  We sat with this little cat and hoped to soothe her troubles, and she did survive the night, though her body was fragile.  I kept praying for the Lord to save her from pain.  With each new syringe of broth, she tried to turn her head in avoidance, her innards audibly groaning the digestion.  In amazement yesterday morning, my husband awoke to find Toni actually purring.  Last night we found her lying in a favorite cardboard box that she'd gained enough energy to hop into.  This morning she takes a nap underneath the Christmas tree, finding contentment in her own silent way, just like old times.  She’s taking more and more sips of water and even some crunchy bites of catfood.  And while this has been a story about a cat, on a broader scale it's about how God comforts the cries of His children.  He knows, He sees, and He hears and touches.  And I love Him for speaking into these straits that have felt especially dire to me this week.

As the Video Turns

Is it dangerous to tell a story without having finished the book?  Yes, maybe. Could the plot change toward the end? Certainly yes. Yet today I attest to the thrill of knowing the Lord in the moment. However the story pans out, I account here for the joy He gives along the way. Last week, a couple of things happened that caught my attention. First, I sensed the Lord shedding some light on a video idea. On Tuesday it seemed the video text was starting to take form, at least enough to begin a Windows Movie Maker file. On Wednesday, as I played a new tune on the piano, I realized with a giddy glee that this tune would fit nicely as background for the video.  These were two occasions I considered answers to prayer, for as this video idea had recurred for months, I had wondered and prayed about the particulars of it.  All the more intriguing is the fact that I had found this tune called “Hungarian Song” at a library book sale just last month.  The tune sits on page 26 of a little book by John W. Schaum, which was probably unsuspecting to many, given an absence of bright colors on the cover that dons a mere 25-cent price sticker from Half Price Books.  Still this plain little book held such immense thrill for me.  Put together the developing video text and the fun piano piece, add the family Christmas video I’d made the previous day that set me in the mode for producing videos again, add my husband into the picture for the Lord nudging him to delve into the software for recording the piano part, and suddenly this video that had been nondescript for months was now taking shape.  And I don’t pretend to know how the video will finish, yet I hereby testify with great excitement as to how the Lord leads us along a path and fills in the blanks for what He calls into being.  Really the lineage of all this reaches even further back into the summer when the Lord connected me with a young friend whose love for classical music was my reason for looking for music books at the library sale in the first place.  Also the Lord used my family to suggest we drive to the book sale, and He used an occasion with church one year ago to prompt me into teaching piano at home, which thereby caused me to realize my lack of classical piano music, as most of my classical pieces had been for oboe.  On an even larger scale, actually our whole lives the Lord is connecting people and events all around us.  And I pray we always find thrill in knowing His presence.  

            

A trio of piano questions

Question #1:  A friend asked me, “Do you want to play piano accompaniments for some band students?”  Answer:  “Yes.”  And in fact, playing piano that first year led to playing multiple years.  In the process, I was blessed to find friendship with the band director and have fun interacting with the students and encouraging them.  Question #2:  Years later, this same band director asked me, “Do you want to substitute for my piano classes at the college?”  Answer:  “Yes.”  This was my first occasion to teach group piano, and it acquainted me with the community college’s children’s program that I hadn’t known existed.  Question #3:  One year later, this same band director asked, “Would you be interested in teaching the piano classes permanently?”  Answer:  “Wow.”  A flash of amazement led me to pause.  I retraced how one set of piano accompaniments had put this whole scenario in motion.  I remember praying with each step for the Lord to show whether I should accept or decline.  What I knew as joy for single events in single years had now multiplied for seeing how He had been orchestrating the larger picture all along.  Jeremiah 10:23 says, “…a man’s life is not his own; it is not for man to direct his steps.”  And now having finished the quite lengthy application process and formal interview, I look forward to January and the families I'll meet and the next step the Lord will direct for me.

A dragon of gruesome proportions

Revelation 12 reads differently now.  Last week I asked the Lord to prepare me to teach on Sunday, and soon He set my eyes on this chapter.  The verses describe some signs appearing in heaven, speaking of a child, a woman wearing a crown, and an enormous red dragon.  My best understanding is that the woman represents Israel, the child represents Jesus, and verse 9 tells plainly that the dragon is Satan.  It’s a fierce and bloody fight, with Satan waiting in front of the woman in order to devour her child upon the very moment of his birth.  The task I’d been given for Sunday was to update on pro-life issues, and as I stared at verse 4 particularly, my heart sank upon realizing a direct parallel with a gruesome current-day scenario.  Today’s abortion centers employ abortionists who wait in front of women to destroy their children, in the same way Satan waits in front of the woman in Revelation.  It’s as if Satan has been sitting at the end of generations of examination tables.  And in fact the detailed picture has been in the Bible the whole time!  The good part is that the Lord ultimately wins, as in Revelation we see God’s angels fighting and casting the dragon out of heaven.  God nourishes Israel, having carefully prepared a place for her, and in loud voice the power of Christ prevails.  We have suffered deep wounds in the fight, yet a battleground covered by the blood of the Lamb yields forgiveness and fresh soil to sustain a proliferating hope.

Weighing in

I knew not one soul.  I came this day because I hadn’t handled the issue on my own.  All these 20 other people have my same problem, and therein lies a comforting thought.  I'm not alone. I need help, and so do they.  Embarrassment wasn’t necessary, for I would find encouragement here.  And upon that point, I pondered.  Not only to WeightWatchers have I gone when I need help.  I go to the Lord.  In the house, on the bus, at work, on the street—we can find Him anywhere.  Many times He has spoken to me from within the church.  In fact, church is really just one big WeightWatchers meeting.  We’re there because when we’re honest, we all need help.  At some point, we’ve felt like we’re drowning, and we’re exhausted and without the capacity to save ourselves.  And actually anytime it seems we’ve saved ourselves, really it’s only a temporary fix.  I haven’t yet seen a WeightWatchers scale in the church building, but in reality we do all weigh in.  Some sort of weighty issue lands in our lap, and we're checking our pride at the door once again.  So glad the Lord welcomes us to His table.

Asian Mission

I opened the door cautiously, as it was a few minutes past 10:45.  On the right-hand side was a row of open seats, and I ambled across quietly.  To my surprise, I soon heard a young voice speaking in English.  “Welcome,” she said, and her smile addressed the whole congregation.  I had realized years ago that our church building hosted congregations in 3 different languages, among which only the English and the Spanish I was familiar.  The Laotian-Thai congregation was the one with which I’d never attended, and in recent months, my interest had renewed.  The previous Sunday, in fact, upon visiting the women’s restroom on the far side of our building, my ears perked up to the sound of a new language.  Quite possibly my heart leaped into a cartwheel, and being curious as to whether the Lord was orchestrating once again, I asked the girls there, “What congregation do you attend?”  And there we stood . . . with my heart all aflutter and my eyes probably bouncing up and down in excitement . . . in the women’s restroom, of all possible places!  I talked with one of the girls a little more at length, and it clearly seemed the Lord had provided me a personal escort for next Sunday’s Laotian-Thai worship service.  Next week came, and happy I was to see my new friend again.  More English was spoken than I expected, and I learned that Amen and Hallelujah translate straight across.  They sang “Just As I Am” in their language, and I sang it in mine, and we worshiped the same Jesus.  They opened to Deuteronomy, and so did I.  When they read from Proverbs, I was right there with them.  To hear the different voice sounds and to encounter a new taste of how Jesus' love reaches around the world was wonderfully enlightening and invigorating altogether.  What does the Lord have in store here?  I don’t know, but I love when He walks and when He turns left and turns right and takes me with Him. 

Tachikawa

The smallest of details, even possibly the least remembered ones, He knows how to use.  One such occasion came recently when I met a man in the hospital.  Dealing with bad news from his doctor, this man couldn’t help but spill his guts.  He paused a moment to gather his words, and then his voice shook to tell of his hospital stay being lengthened.  His eyes brimming with teardrops, he began to recount yesterday’s agony.  It was heartbreaking, and I soon realized a layer of anger buried inside his agony and underneath.  Our conversation resisted veering too far from his subject of health.  But then suddenly his eyes lifted, as hope seemed to have spoken.  I had mentioned being born at Tachikawa Air Force Base, and upon that comment, a new-found energy almost leaped him out of the wheelchair.  Practically in disbelief, he double-checked my words, “You were at Tachi?”  I smiled, “Yes.”  He added with vigor, “I used to play ball there!  I was a photographer most of my days, but then we played ball!”  From there, his countenance moved only forward, as he was entirely elated to revisit these fond memories.  I spoke simply some facts, particularly a detail of my life that doesn't even make conversation regularly, yet the Lord blessed the words that their purpose would soar far higher than fact.  With His touch, they lifted a man’s spirit, and we did acknowledge the Lord’s presence before parting ways.  I look now with different eyes at the childhood kimono hanging in my closet, considering how we pray for the Lord to guide our steps and our words, and indeed He does.

The blue car & the idle one

On Tuesday, I asked the Lord to bring people.  That afternoon, a blue car drove into the parking lot and pulled up near the sidewalk.  The driver asked if I worked in the building there.  No, I was simply ambling the public sidewalk in front.  She was in the area to visit doctors’ offices regarding home healthcare and, upon seeing me, was curious.  I explained that I was praying.  I posed, “Are you aware of what happens inside this building?”  She answered, “Yes . . . and I agree with you.”  We talked for a few minutes, and I wondered if the whole scenario was intriguing to her as well, seeming almost that she found herself in the parking lot without having planned to be there.  After she left, a car that had been sitting idle for maybe a half-hour pulled out of its parking space.  First I thought the driver was leaving the premises, but actually he moved closer to the sidewalk to wait, apparently for someone still inside the building.  As he was now within earshot, my sidewalk companion called, “We’re here for you, Sir, if you’d like to talk.”  She waved a brochure in the air, and he inched his car still closer, eventually stepping out to receive her brochure.  I floated high on excitement because I’d been praying for this young man, and I had prayed earlier too for the Lord to bring people to the sidewalk to talk.  Though I’d envisioned bringing people who walked in and out of the abortion center, the Lord brought people in their cars.  Right then and there, I loved the Lord's creativity!  He brought people beyond my scope, beyond my thinking.  I loved the fact that He is bigger than me and that He works many things together at once.  Hey, everybody, put on your pointy party hats!

Up by the bootstraps

On Friday I worked an estate sale.  People came, and they browsed and bought, and I loved being available to help my friend.  Yet something else was happening at the sale.  As customers came and went, there was opportunity to speak Spanish.  I hadn’t anticipated it, yet I found a few Spanish words rolling off my tongue.  Then a few more here and there, and the spontaneity of it was great fun.  It’s not as if I spoke for hours or told long stories or anything, but my friend had never heard me speak Spanish, and she got a kick out of it, and we laughed for a good while.  Some of the customers seemed quite surprised too at my joining in their conversations.  The wonderful blessing overall was that the laughter eased my shoulders, which had been aching with anxiety over an ever-changing list of things, both good and bad, including issues carrying over from weeks before.  Psalm 40 talks about the Lord lifting us up out of the mud and mire, and certainly I sensed the Lord lifting me.  Upon returning home that night, I mowed grass and worked outside with the radio on, soon realizing the Lord was still at work.  Air 1 Radio played “Lift Me Up” by the Afters.  Then came NeedToBreathe’s “Keep Your Eyes Open,” followed by the lyrics of Jamie Grace, saying “Lord, I love the way You hold me.”  Such common things the Lord was using to lift me, as if re-dressing me with new boots that would reset my stance and provide cushion all the way up to my shoulders.  The anxiety seemed to extract from my bones, pulling away from my shoulders and massaging at the same time.  So readily He entered my circumstances, weaving ordinary things to become extraordinary blessing.