Curdie and the Princess

This is just an update and explanation of my absence. My mom is here visiting (and taking care of me). She has been here for a week, and will be here for another week. I doubt I will be posting until after my mother has returned to Canada. Needless to say, I am grateful  that my mother is here.
One part of her visit that I have really enjoyed is "Curdie and the Princess". This is a phenomenally written fantasy, one of George Macdonald's best. If you enjoy quick reads, fantasy, adventure, principles and values, this is a great book. Mom found this treasure at the thrift store, and it can be found online too. It's written for kids, but it has so many underlying themes and is so well written, that it kept my mom and I looking forward to our afternoon reading rests.

The Heart of the Storm

It's raining here, and it's not the light spattering that seems to be common down here. No. Tonight has been a night of thunder and lightning and pouring rain. Despite these conditions, until recently I was fast asleep. Granted, I woke up to the window shaking crash of thunder that sounded at the same time as the light flashing through the windows, but, knowing I had nothing to fear, I went right back to sleep.
On getting up to help a labouring mom, I was greeted by the exclamations of "We were hit! We were hit!"
It seems as that coinciding lightning flash and thunder crash was the moment when one of my coworkers, working downstairs by the window, looked out to see a corner of our clinic's roof get hit by branches of lightning.
In the heart of the storm, pounded by rain and hit by lightning, I felt safe in this rickety old house. Just like that, in the eye of the proverbial storm of life, I can take rest in the knowledge that I am hidden away in the safety of my Refuge.

A Matter of Perspective

After a long night of work, I grabbed the garbage and headed out to the dumpster as an excuse to get a bit of fresh air. I felt tired and sapped of energy after having spent the night caring for a woman and her newest son. As I tossed the bags in with the rest of the trash, I swept a glance over the surroundings and caught sight of a man sleeping at the entrance of the alley. I had seen this man before, often waking him as I maneuvered around his sleeping form in my journey to the clinic and I had never quite known how to respond to his presence. Some days I have looked at the empty bottles surrounding him and have ached for the difficult experiences he must have gone through in his lifetime. Other times I want to have the guts and the time to sit down with him and hear some of what must be thousands of stories packed away in his memory. At times I have wondered how much of his lifestyle is supported by taxpayers. And I have to admit that there are some days when I hardly even take note of his presence.
This morning, as I was surveying the scene, I saw a part of his life that no amount of privilege or money could buy, a part of his life that is because of his 'lack' of these things. He was waking up slowly, stretching his aching muscles and taking in deep drafts of fresh morning air, all the while, in front, above, and all around him was playing out a most beautiful dance of colours and clouds welcoming the rising sun. Imagine waking up to the sunrise and being able to watch it, all of it, just by opening your eyes.
I was watching this, and thinking to myself how I wished that I didn't have to be at work, how I wished that I could be out in the morning air watching with him the whole sunrise from beginning to end. How marvelous! Yet, in the same thought I was reminded of the blessing and opportunity that I had had that night, the chance to see a new life enter the world, the privilege of being entrusted to care for this child and his mother in the first hours of their life together, and I was reminded again of beauty and miracles I have opportunity to experience daily as well. It was a reminder that beauty, blessing, and privilege is in the eye of the beholder.

Random Discription

Words. They can be used for so many things. They can convey action. They can represent objects. They can communicate thoughts and ideas. They can provide description. 

Now as far as descriptions go, I'm sure each of us have been described by others in many ways that have been interpreted both as positive or negative. Hard-working. Lazy. Punctual. Late. Rich. Poor. Messy. Perfectionist. Conservative. Manipulative. Pretty. Slow. Fat. Socially adept. Quiet. Tall. Amazing. Different. Popular. Wise. Funny. Accepting. Stupid. Quick. Selfish. Introverted. Faker. Joyful. Thoughtful ...I could go on, but you get the idea. These words are all words that have been used to describe me. I have heard them used about me in the past 9 months. In thinking about and actually writing them down, I come to realize how much power I tend to give words. The ones that I see as negative especially stand out as personal failures, as ways in which I have not met expectations. On the other hand, the ones I think of as positive are on a level a normalcy, descriptions which I tend to impossibly expect myself to live up to without fail. 

Yet in looking at these words I can see just how many of the words I interpret as negative also have their opposite in the list of descriptive words. Seeing so many of these words in one place causes me to realize just how much these words depend on perspective. How the speaker of the word sees me will influence what words they choose to describe me. How I'm thinking and interpreting will influence how I interpret those words said about me. These words rely on perspective. And the influence that these words can have on me is determined by how much weight I give them. 

Thinking logically, I knowing how easily my own view of others can be greatly influenced by my own attitude/mental state at the time of interaction, so that should be taken into account when I hear others describe me. Thinking of it that way, the only descriptions I can rely on to be fully true of me would have to come from somebody who knows me in every way and in every situation. The only one I know who knows me in this way is God, and according to Him, I am chosen by Him, alive in Him, free through Him, and I am His. 

Now....getting back to what I was going to share when I first wrote the title of this blog. Yesterday I was described in a way I had never imagined would happen. Ever. One of the ladies from the clinic invited her Mexican boyfriend to visit her at work (and to bring us all supper), and throughout the course of the evening I noticed that, though his first language was obviously not English, he would speak to everyone in English, but when he was talking to me he'd switch to Spanish. Finally, out of curiosity, the question came up as to why he was doing that, and he turns to me with a look of confusion, which was soon met with a look of astonishment when he asked, "You're not Mexicana?" 

Power!

Guess what! I've got no power. Seriously. The power got shut off at my place in the middle of this week due to a roommate moving out, and with the 4th of July and the back-up of being the beginning of the month, I won't be able to get it back on till Monday. What a downer...

Just kidding! I have to say that I am quite enjoying it! It has been exciting to see how it changes the way life runs. I can no longer stay up late reading or studying. I get out more because I can only buy so much without having a refrigerator. I'm not distracted as much by being entertained. I've had excuse to totally clean out my fridge. I've had reason to write some more snail mail. I've had excuse to hit the hay earlier. I could definitely get used to this (especially when I live close to so many places where I can go to have air conditioning or internet...).

Housing

I'm sure a lot of you have lived through the experience of looking for a place to rent. Some of you have even lived though trying to find a place to buy. And I think most of us would say that it is not something we'd want to do frequently. 

That's what I was thinking at the end of last month when one of my roommates said she was moving out. Then another one followed her shortly after, leaving the rest of us scrambling. This month has been a whir of working, school, homework, and house-hunting; not exactly the combination I would have asked for. Though there were countless moments in which I felt discouraged and wanted to throw in the towel on this whole ordeal, in the middle of it all God would remind me that He is the one who provides for all my needs. So I kept praying, I kept looking, and I kept waiting. 

And, just as He promises, God totally took care of the whole situation in His timing (which to me seemed really last minute, but that's because I couldn't see what He had planned). It was a back and forth issue for the whole month of June. I was under the understanding that as long as the three of us roommates stayed in our place and kept paying, it was ok if we stayed, even without the fourth roommate. But my roommates kept waffling between saying they were moving out and saying they wanted to stay. I was doing my best to just wait it out and keep my cool until they came to a final decision. 

Finally on Monday evening my roommate came home glowing! She had found a place, and as she described it to me, I could see that it was a perfect fit for her. That night I did my best to sleep, seeing as there was nothing I could do till morning, but my mind kept racing around trying to figure out what I would do, where I would live, what I should pack, what I could leave. The next morning, after prolonging the inevitable till lunchtime, I finally called the landlord and let him know that my roommates were moving out. I was about to ask him what date he wanted the house empty, when instead I asked what he was hoping for the house. He let me know that he was glad for the empty house since he was hoping to do some renovations, but then he asked if I'd be willing to stay in the house so it wouldn't be empty. So there you have it! For the next two months I get the whole house to myself for the price of one room! This'll give me the chance to organize and clean up the things left here by previous renters, and also will give me a place to rest and enjoy the quiet. 

In the end, I'd like to think that I have a relatively creative imagination, yet God worked this out in a way that had never crossed my mind. His thoughts are not my thoughts, and He does work all things out for good. 

Hope

If you know one thing about where I live, it's that I live in a desert. And if I were to tell you one fact about what deserts are like, it's that deserts are dry. Very dry. 

It takes a while for the body to adjust to life in a desert when you first get here. Your hair gets really greasy because your body is trying to compensate. Your nose becomes a mucous factory, yet still manages to get cracked and irritated. Your skin starts flaking every time you scratch it. It's quiet the ordeal. 

It might seem like moving to a desert would be the last thing on everyone's list because of the inconveniences: flaking skin, dust that gets into every crack and corner, temperatures so hot your pores expel all the water in your body the second you step out the door, winds that blow hard enough to give you miniature welts from the sand it throws against your body, and the list goes on. Yet there is one thing that makes living in a desert worth it: desert rain. 

For those of you who living in a place that has a rainy season and you get drenched, flooded, and all out sick of this water-falling-from-the-sky phenomenon, you might not understand. But when you live every day under the beating hot sun, day in and day out, there is a certain sense of excitement when there are rain clouds on the horizon. Even though most of the time the rain detours around us, there is a spark of anticipation when the dark clouds start looming. But what really stirs up hope is the smell. Though few and far between, clouds come and go. But when you can smell the scent of rain, hope blossoms. 

When it smells of rain, it hardly matters what you had been in the middle of doing, it draws you outside. The other day I had planned to go to bed early, but when I smelt the rain I ran outside and sat on the fence to watch the clouds darken the sky and wait for the rain. There is always the possibility that the rain won't come, and here in El Paso, the possibility that it won't rain is a lot higher than the opposite. But probability is of little consequence. When there is the smell of rain, hope is in the air. Even if rain doesn't fall, we are reminded once again that there is something other than dryness. We are reminded of the possibility of something different. We are reminded that dust isn't the end all and be all of life. There is hope. 

O God, You are my God; I earnestly seek You.

I thirst for You, my whole being longs for You

                   in a dry and weary land where there is no water. ~Psalm 63