"And we pray this in order that you may live a life worthy of the Lord and may please Him in every way: bearing fruit in every good work, growing in the knowledge of God, being strengthened with all power according to His glorious might so that you may have great endurance and patience, and joyfully giving thanks to the Father, who has qualified you to share in the inheritance of the saints in the kingdom of light. For He has rescued us from the dominion of darkness and brought us into the kingdom of the Son He loves, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins." Colossians 1: 10-14
If I were a 'Twitterer' (tweeter?) I would be typing in: "Watching the Hope for Haiti Now special. Feeling so small. So insignificant. Though I feel worlds away, my heart reaches out." But I'm not a twitterer so you'll have to indulge me here instead.
What do you do when your entire life is reduced to rubble?
How do you survive being trapped in the darkness?
How do you not fear that the bottom is once again going to fall out everytime the wind rattles the door?
The parallels between the literal and figurative seem to be endless.
I honestly haven't been that tuned into the news this week (the kids are usually tuned into PBS or the t.v. is off) and so I haven't been bombarded by the stories and images as some of you may have been. But one particular snippet of a story did stick with me. It was that of a one-year-old girl being pulled from the ruin after being trapped there for five days.
Miss Peaches is a year old.
As a mother, I can't bear to imagine my baby girl enduring something like that. It breaks my heart.
What struck me the most, though, was thinking of it in terms of, "What if this were my own child?"
What if this were my own child, who I snuggle and cuddle and play with and bicker with daily? What if this were my own child, with her quirks and spirit and sweetness? What if this were my own child, who I know intimately and by name?
The idea of knowing her by name... That stuck with me.
Because we name those we love.
And even though we don't personally know those in Haiti who are suffering, I can tell you one thing: they all have names.
Someone loves them.
Someone loves them who also loves you and me.
So as I sit here, feeling worlds away, I just keep reminding myself that the suffering is not beyond my help, not beyond my compassion, not beyond my capacity to pray.
Because God is there, between you, me and them, and He hears us all.
Though it seems such a small offering, I hope the peope of Haiti feel our prayers and take comfort in knowing that the gates of heaven are wide for all those who love Jesus.
This morning I awoke and asked myself, "To grocery shop or not to grocery shop? Is today the day to go or should I do it tomorrow? Is today the day to tackle the laundry and general cleaning or to go grocery shopping?"
I was perplexed for an hour or so, then I became fully awake, glanced around the house and decided -- oh yes -- today definitely must be the day for laundry. Today MUST be that day.
Besides, I got milk, eggs and budda (butter) so we can survive one more day. The laundry, on the other hand, may soon be piled higher than the snowdrifts outside. It's definitely laundry day. A few weeks ago I bought several tall laundry baskets with aspirations to keep our laundry sorted in an orderly fashion. Today is the day I'm gonna' make it happen.
Yesterday, however, was not laundry day and I was considerably more lax in my housewifely duties. Somehow or another I came across a CD of pictures from 2004 and thought, "Hmmm... I wonder what we did in 2004?"
"Oh, that's right... We got high..."
High on a mountain top, that is.
For our anniversary that year we took a mini vacation to a little town south of Vail, CO. One of the days we spent road tripping from Vail to Aspen to Grand Junction and back to Vail again. Somewhere along the way there was a four-wheeling adventure company and Mr. Blue Eyes insisted that we must do a little four-wheeling.
I wasn't too resistant. Of the many things that I am too chicken to do (water ski, fly, eat worms), four-wheeling is not one of them.
See? Here I am...
("Burn dust! Eat my rubber!" Know what movie that's from?)
Before we knew it we were up above the clouds.
O.k., maybe we weren't quite that high, but we were a whole lot closer to them than we were a few hours before.
This is pure, unadulterated (unedited in Photoshop) Colorado. Remember that line in George Strait's song, Baby Blue... "Baby blue... was the color of her eyes... baby blue... like the Colorado sky..." This is what he was talking about.
I can't believe I ever forgot this view.
A view like this should be seared in your memory forever.
Evidently the altitude must have affected our mental capacity at some point because I came across pictures like these...
I'm sure it was the altitude.
Otherwise we would have never acted so silly.
Yep, I'm sure that was it.
Well, I'm off to tackle more mundane tasks at a significantly colder and lower altitude environment. But don't worry. Once again I shall be...
"Burn dust. Eat my rubber."
(Chevy Chase. Christmas Vacation. Best movie EVER!)