Nana

She threw her head back and chuckled her loud, boisterous laugh.

You would have never guessed that she came from poverty.

And that she tasted the bitterness of homelessness.

She taught me many things that afternoon in Toah Nipi.

I got my blanket stolen right off me while sleeping at the shelter.

Sometimes they take your shoes, so you sleep with them on.

Oh, but that blanket. How I miss that soft blanket.

Of course you can offer your leftovers. 

As long as you ask, I assure you 9 times out of 10 they'll take it.

Just make sure you ask. 

Once we were all in line, baking in the heat, to get a spot at the shelter.

Across the street, a church was cooking hot dogs for us.

My mouth was watering and I wanted it so bad.

But I had to decide whether to give up my spot in line or wait it out.

I decided to wait so I could get a place to sleep that night.

Others couldn't resist and went for the hot dog.

But they didn't get no place to sleep for the night. 

You see, I was mentally ill.

I was hearing voices in my head telling me crazy things.

I needed help. Some of these people are just like that.

They once had a normal life, but something went on inside that head.

But Jesus rescued me.

Oh yes, yes He did.

Thank you Nana.

For patiently answering all my questions.

Jesus is so alive in you, I keep thinking of you.

Thoughts from a Quiet Place

Then, because so many people were coming and going that they did not even have a chance to eat, he said to them, "Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place and get some rest." So they went away by themselves in a boat to a solitary place. -Mark 6:31-32

It was nice to get away. 

To get lost in the woods. To be suspended in the waters.

To see the familiar foliage that decorated my childhood in the east coast.

We chewed on Mark 2 for three days.

The story of four friends bringing Jesus their paralyzed friend.

Four friends who made a hole in the roof so Jesus would heal him.

Some key takeaways from the characters:

Jesus

am I also open to disruption?

how do I give evidence of God's power?

am I a "slave to efficiency" or open to God's radical plans?

Paralyzed man

do I allow myself to be supported by others?

do I obey, no matter the circumstance?

do I accept his unconditional forgiveness?

Friends

am I willing to sacrifice for my friend(s)?

do I believe that my faith can heal my friends?

do I wait for an "agenda" or do I simply bring my friend to Jesus?

Teachers of the law

do I understand that Jesus is "unconventional"?

am I open to change?

do I fully understand that God sees my heart?

Crowd

how do I respond to disruption?

do I make room for those who are hurting?

do I come with expectation?

May I never grow tired of learning.

May I never grow weary of leaning on my God.

When Sisters Visit

Thankful for these beautiful souls.

When Cabell 104 did Boston.

October 14-17.

Nemo needs a wash.

English is Hard

het·er·o·nym

ˈhedərəˌnim/

noun

LINGUISTICS

1. 1.

   each of two or more words that are spelled identically but have different sounds and meanings, such as tear meaning “rip” and tear meaning “liquid from the eye.”
2. 2.

   each of two or more words that are used to refer to the identical thing in different geographical areas of a speech community, such as submarine sandwich, hoagie, and grinder.

May I never forget the challenges and frustrations with learning a second language.

May I never forget what it felt like standing in those lines at the bakery and stumbling over my order in Paris.

May I never forget how her face flushed red when the cashier repeatedly asked her to repeat her request. 

May I never forget the embarrassment when the professor scoffed at my pronunciation of preuve.

May I always remember the deep joy of connecting to someone dans sa langue maternelle.

Forgiveness

"Oh, I'm so sorry."

No hint of judgment. No hint of pity.

Just eyes full of compassion.

My eyes welled up as I took in this stranger's words.

Oh how quickly my hurt, anger, and bitterness dissipated. 

It was a chance meeting. I simply followed a friend who wanted to see a free documentary about a hospice in Scotland that was offering a type of palliative care unlike many we see around here. I didn't think I could relate to the film until a panel took form on stage after the showing. One of the panelists was the chair of Psycho-social Oncology and Palliative Care at the Cancer Institute here. As he spoke on his area of research, which was the ways in which doctors had conversations with patients diagnosed with terminal illnesses, my ears perked up and I sat up in my seat. 

Suddenly I was back in that tiny office in Dallas with my dad. His young oncologist nonchalantly responds that dad's sickness has gone into his bones and that "of course" it was stage 4. My fingers clench the bottom of my seat and I quickly excuse myself from the office to cry silently in the parking lot. I'm angry and hurt--what does this doctor know about this magnificent man sitting before him? I grow embittered by his callous response, leaving no room for forgiveness--for the possibility of his own detachment from patients as a protective measure for his own heart in this field of oncology. 

It would be a year and a half later in Boston where I would finally be able to forgive and let go. I awkwardly stood around the refreshment table waiting for him to appear from the theater doors and grew disheartened when he was quickly approached by several guests, one clearly going on about her own stories. He spots me waiting nervously and eventually politely cuts off the lady to approach me. I had plenty of time to rehearse my questions for this very busy man, but the minute he thanks me for waiting, my words spill out into a messy puddle. My awful visit to the oncologist, my fear of switching doctors, my frustration at the callous insensitivity we received, my tears that afternoon. 

"Oh. I'm so sorry."

At that moment, I knew that God brought me to hear those words for a reason. There was a man I needed to forgive, and I was going to hear the apology from a fellow physician states away. There is no connection between the two men, This man before me had nothing to do with the hurt and frustration that I experienced back in Dallas. And yet, his words would heal me. And it would be more than enough.  

Thank you, Dr. James Tulsky.

Thank you for your research.

Thank you for your kindness. 

Thank you for seeing the hurting person in me. 

Thank you Lord for knowing the deepest depths of my heart and for freeing me each day. Thank you once again for your divine appointments.