the rain-holding place

by Alanna

On Tuesday night, God gifted me with a canoe trip, 2 miles up and 2 miles back down the Highline canal. With two guys to do the hard work, as well as the steering and directing and shouting out "branch!" at the right moments, it was a smooth and dry trip. The dark of night, water flowing under, small white roses, praises sung through tunnels. So many gifts all jumbled into one night, it was hard to even keep track and I couldn't thank God enough- just for those 2 1/2 hours. Praise God, the Giver.

The canal was really full that night. Water, held after the rain in that rut. Held for so long. It had rained on Monday, and by Wednesday it hadn't left a trace on the ground around. The earth might have looked greener, but still you had to remember the last time it rained. Remember back to Monday? The beautiful drenching goodness, all day long. God poured it out from the sky for us. And it is so easy to forget. Because the day after the rain, I look around and things can look the same to me. Situations unchanged; an earth with no lasting rain imprint. For that, I have to look in the canal. Even today, water still flowed there. A reminder of God's goodness and His gifts poured out for us. It is so easy to forget the rain, and yet it is held there for us all along. I want to live there, by the canal. To have a long and lasting memory of the rain. This is the rut I want to be stuck in- the one where my eyes are opened to His good things and I let Him take me where the current goes.

hoping

by Alanna

I have wanted to write this for a while now, but can never quite find the right words. Maybe that doesn't matter so much though. I have been doing a lot of hoping lately. A whole lot of that is centered around Johannesburg, South Africa, and the children I left behind. Some of them have been reunited with their family, some adopted into new families, and many still where I left them. I hope for all of them. I hope that the Lord saves them, that He adopts them into His family. I hope that they grow up to know His redemption and that they understand even now His heart for them and His desire for them. I hope he gives them families on earth to show them that love. These are all things I pray for them, but praying always leads me into hope. And hope is scary to me because it admits for the possibility of hopes delayed, hopes disappointed.

I hope for a lot of things here too. I hope for prayers to be answered, for direction for my life and the lives of my friends. I hope for God to be clear about what He wants us all to do. I hope that He will be glorified by our lives.

I also cling to hope that someday I'll adopt precious little one. That God would, in that way, bring to fruition these past 21 months of loving and seeking and asking for this. Hope is such a scary thing to have, because it involves heart involvement and in a deeper way than just asking or wondering about the future. Once I thought I had no more hope left, and then I noticed that I was still waiting, expecting something to change. When God puts something on your heart, it just doesn't go away and so hope seems to become engrained in you. I can tell when after the tears on the car ride home from work, my feet still hurry to the computer and I hold my breath while I check. I can tell when I take out the baby blanket again and work the blue yarn through.

And I pray and will myself to keep on hoping. In some ways, hoping for God to do this "impossible thing", reminds me what I am actually hoping in. Yes I want God to answer, to restore, to save. But I hope for this, not in this. What I hope in is the character of God. A God who listens, who is compassionate and gracious and gives good gifts. An all-powerful Father. One who knows what it is like to sacrifice His only Son, and who did it anyway to purchase our redemption. Because of Him, we are right to keep on hoping.

In Christ alone

My hope is found

He is my light my strength my song

This cornestone

This solid ground

Firm through the fiercest draughts and storms

What heights of love

What depths of peace

When fears are stilled

When striving cease

My comforter, my all in all

here in the love of Christ

I stand

moving

By Mary

The past couple of weeks have been busy getting everything in order for my third move in the past year. I'm thankful that everything finally seems to be falling into place--and extremely thankful that when the government sends you somewhere, you can also arrange to have them move you. So this move involves minimum packing on my part (thank the Lord)

By the end of the month we'll be in Maryland (which I've always said I should visit since my name is in the title)

We'll be trying out hotel living for the first couple weeks before our apartment is ready and we can move all our stuff in. I'm not looking forward to that part very much...and the whole process has been frustrating to me, not being my favorite thing to arrange in the first place, and having to deal with five different changes in schedule and plans.

I was outside with Allie the other day, thinking about not being able to visit home this month after all, about giving up our large, though still rather grassless backyard, about church hunting and renting out our house. And I thought too, of lessons I could learn if I would cultivate a heart for learning them. Like contentment in every situation. Being still while life swirls around and knowing that He is God. Knowing Him as my Strong Tower and my Rock, always with me. No matter who else I can or cannot be around at the time.

He gives grace for every moment...and of course I'm also thankful for certain things like real airports, wholesale grocery stores and fabric shops that don't require hours of driving to get to them. Oh the little things.

learning together

By Mary

Alanna and I started blogging together partially to keep connected as we were moving apart, partially to update others on our lives and the courses they were taking and mostly because our God is awesome. He has done marvelous things in our small, simple lives and how can we not talk about it?

We may not have amazing things to say, or write them in the most amazing way, but at least we'll be two more people talking about the most amazing God.

That's our passion, our heart. But how easy to lose sight of it, to lose the passion and the drive, the focus. When it's not cultivated, when you stop for a moment and look to something else. When you let some other good thing take the place of what is greatest. When you ask only for the gifts, not to know the heart of the One Who gives.

It happens quicker than you think and really before you realize it and you can't seem to find the joy of the Lord people talk about...because you're looking for the joy in other things, without even noticing it.

I talked to Alanna about all of this last week and I'm amazed at the way God seems to teach us similar lessons at similar times, even now when things have changed so much and we can't
talk all the time or practically live at each other's houses.

A lot of people who don't know us well look at our trip to Africa together as the definition of our friendship and I love that it's so much more than that. It wasn't the beginning or the ending but a stop along the way that changed us forever and brought us even closer.

And even in those moments when I get so lonely here, in a state I never thought about visiting, much less living in, I'm so thankful to have true friends to share my heart, to listen and love and understand and point me in the right direction, to tell me true things, even tough things. To pray and grieve and rejoice.

Today I'm thankful for lessons learned, lessons shared. And mostly, that I have a patient Teacher.

(updates on moving to Maryland coming later...)

reminders

by Alanna

I've been trying to look for gifts lately. I feel like it has been so long since I rejoiced to be alive. I don't like this path I see myself headed down- bitterness, cynicism, hopelessness. Those aren't things that the redeemed are known for. I want to mourn without a trace of depression, to be angry at the state of the world, without any hate. I want my heart to break for the orphans, but I want to live worthy of caring for them. And I guess this is a part of it. Practicing being thankful, asking God for joy. Anyway, in that spirit, I reluctantly agreed to a trip to the mountains on Thursday. Don't get me wrong- I love the mountains. But I'd gathered that this was to be more of a work trip, and construction isn't one of my interests. I hadn't been to the mountains in a long time though, and I didn't have much better to do that day. So I headed up with my dad and three of the brothers, and watched God's blessings, in awe, all day long.

The mountains in themselves are a gift. I can tell when we are really getting into them because they tower around and I feel so sheltered, protected there. Even just winding up and down steep roads, I can't stop looking at the cliffs on either side, and straining to see the blue sky above. It is such a crazy feeling to be surrounded by those giants. At what feels like the top of the world, I and the brothers went exploring old mining warehouses, and I felt like a little kid again. Feeling for handrails in the dark, climbing ladders and finding cannonballs. Then the snow, and the way it felt between my fingers. I hadn't felt snow in a long time- more than a year. With the sun shining, it was piled high along the sides of the dirt roads. Then we shot guns into a snowbank, and I sat in the open back of the jeep. Its something incredible to just be in these mountains. Everything is so beautiful, and for some reason its there that I feel closest, in a way, to South Africa. Maybe its the country, or the long road through valleys. Maybe its just that my eyes are so open- palm held out to receive God's gifts, like a little kid. Those mountains make me feel that way. They make me feel so small. God was big enough to speak them into existence, and I believe that He hears little insignificant me, standing in the valley and pouring out my heart to Him. But my fears feel not so daunting, my doubts not so logical, when I stand in the valley between these peaks. God IS still big enough to speak these mountains into existence. And He is still big enough to move mountains too. More beautiful still, He clearly loves me enough to place me there- in the midst of all that beauty, where He knew I'd find some sort of calm for my frantic heart. The mountains remind me that God hasn't forgotten us. On the drive out, I made a remark about how the sky looks so big once you get back into the foothills. And my brother said that the sky is always beautiful, we just take it for granted. Maybe it is that way with all of God's blessings. Thanking Him, tonight, for these.

for my little one

by Alanna

dear little one,
Happy Birthday. For some reason this special day finds you and I an ocean apart. It's one of the many things I don't understand about this world- why a mother can't be with her son on his birthday. It feels so wrong to me. Maybe that's why the tears come more freely these days. Somewhere on the other side of the world, you are just getting ready for breakfast. I hope that someone kissed you when they got you up this morning. I hope they remembered. That this day is not an ordinary one, because today you get to celebrate 2 years of life. I hope that many have told you "happy birthday!" by now. I hope you get to have a beautiful breakfast- maybe even something less ordinary than baby cereal. I hope that you get to have a birthday cake, and hopefully ice cream. Maybe someone will remember that you like chocolate best. I hope that you don't miss me much. There's a sullen ache in my heart, a gaping space in me where you've taken my heart and left a cavern. I pray everyday that you don't feel even a taste of that sadness. I hope you don't look for me at lunchtime when I used to come back from preschool and scoop you into my arms. I hope you don't keep saying my name and looking for me, because I am oh so far away now. In some small way though, I hope that you remember me. I hope you remember that to someone, you are the most beautiful person in the world. I hope you remember in your soul what it is to be loved, and that somehow you know that that love has never left you. I hope my love has made your heart tender. I want you to see someday, even half of the things that I see in you. The gifts that God has given you. The breathtaking way He formed you into being, brought you through death itself, and sustains you every moment. When I look into your eyes, I see beauty there. The beauty of God's plans. They've not yet come to fruition, but I want you to know the plans God has for you. Plans for you to glorify His name, to love Him and run hard after Him. You are a precious gift Teboho. I want you to know that not an hour goes by that I don't think of you. I plead with God to save you, to reveal Himself to you. I can't help but thank Him for you, and I pray that He nurtures and builds you up every moment. I love you with all my heart. I am so proud of you. You won't remember, and few others will, but it has been quite a battle for you to reach this birthday. Despite your rough start though, you were always so full of joy and laughter. I pray that you never stop being a fighter, and at the same time, that you always let God fight for you. I pray that today you will be blessed with joy and love from those around you. And most of all, that God would pour His love and grace especially into your heart. I love you my dear one.
with all my heart,
your mommy

all about life

By Mary

I have little motivation to write these days. My mind is busy thinking about accomplishing, more than about sharing its thoughts. I've been slow with emails, bad with letters and even preoccupied in person. And I guess now is as good a time as any to write all about my life.

I'm beginning to go through lasts when I still feel like I have so many firsts to experience. Our time in North Carolina went quicker than I imagined--and by that I mean a job offer in Maryland became an order which requires a move in three weeks. We'll be giving up small town life for the city again which in my mind has huge benefits and only a few drawbacks, though if we could find a place to live before we move, I'd feel much better.

We had our last night of Awana (our last one ever here) I cooked my last meal for the Senior Saints group at little Community Baptist church (successful, apart from the disastrous lemon meringue pie incident) and the days our ticking down as our last in our new house.

I've had plenty of firsts with the paperwork for things like renting out our house and setting up a government move. I had my first Mothers Day that I couldn't be with my mom...and also my first Mothers Day as a mommy myself. The newest thing in Parises will be debuting in January. So now there's the firsts of doctors appointments.

And today I gave Allie the first successful bath I've managed by myself and of which I'm quite proud.

My sister-in-law and I spent a couple days painting their house this week--including their nursery. The church out here has a full of pastor appreciation, with a big kick-off this Sunday. The ladies of the church provide meals for the week for the pastors' families and I'm trying hard not to forget that I'm making something next Tuesday.

Today is another day full of looking for rentals, cleaning and cooking and missing good friends.

This morning I shared a prayer request with Alanna, that I would depend on God and turn to Him not only when I'm broken or needing something from Him. And I this afternoon God gave me a little reminder to do just that http://littlepinkhouse.net/2011/05/deep-breath/

He is good.