Unfair

Today I learned that my Grandma's health is deteriorating. I went home to BC in November and was able to spend quality time with her, but even though I saw her then, after a lung cancer diagnosis and a stroke, it still comes as a shock to hear that she isn't doing well.

Gram and I at my cousin's wedding in 2011

Today I also learned that a child I knew, a child I held and hugged, a little girl with beautiful bright eyes and a huge joyful smile, died in a tragic motorcycle accident. Rahma was six or seven years old and had a loving and caring foster mother and a foster sister and brother. All three children used to live at Cradle of Love Baby Home, where I volunteered in Tanzania in 2010-2011. Their mother is the nurse at the baby home. And my heart just breaks for her and her family, and their devastating loss.

Rahma playing at Cradle before bed in Oct. 2010

Today I realize anew how unfair life is, and I long for heaven more than ever.

Today Christmas means so much more to me. In just a few days we will celebrate the birth of the King who destroyed evil's grip on this world, and who will one day return here to bring an end, forever, to pain and suffering.

And today I am grateful for His gift, and that I can trust Him in all things.

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Rahma, you will be missed by many. Rest in peace now until that day to come when He will wake you again.

Grandma, my thoughts and prayers are with you every second. I love you so much!

Five Minute Friday: Truth

• Truth: I live in Maine.
• Truth: While a large chunk of my heart - the chunk belonging to my husband - lives here in Maine with me, other pieces are still back in BC with my family, and in Tanzania with my babies.
• Truth: Those three pieces might never again be reunited on this earth.
• Truth: I can't wait for heaven.

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My musings on the prompt 'truth' for Five Minute Friday. Join in next week if you feel inspired!

The power of prayer

This past week and a half I read two blog posts that almost, almost broke my heart. Two families nearly lost an important member. Two sets of parents on two different continents came so, so close to losing a child. I know neither family - at least not in person - but through reading their blogs I feel like I know them both.

The most recent near-misfortune post shocked me when I read it on Saturday night, a day after it was first posted. Alissa writes a blog that I found through another blog I read. She has five children, and when I first read her blog I found her kids so interesting to read about that I went all the way back to her first post and read her blog the whole way through up to the present. I found it full of fun kid-antics (at least fun for me to read, maybe not so fun if you're the parent) and enjoyed Alissa's commentary on life with five kids. She posts sporadically, so when I checked my blog feeds and saw a new post, I was looking forward to reading it. Then I read the first sentence and my heart almost stopped beating. "Today, my son, Lucas, drowned." It resumed nearly-normal beating pace as I quickly read the second sentence, "But he is going to be okay." This morning she posted an update blog explaining the circumstances (it features Florida Hospital, all you SDA folks!)

I don't know Alissa or her family. They live in Florida, I currently live in Maine. But I've felt an interesting connection to her and her family as I've read her blog for the past year. I don't have any Mormon friends or relatives, but from the very few things I've learned or read about Mormonism, it seems to me like their focus on mission and their home and family values are similar to Seventh-day Adventist values. Probably for that reason, I feel some kind of small kinship with the couple of Mormon bloggers I follow.

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I read about the earlier near-tragedy on the evening of June 6. Zane, an almost-two-year-old living with his missionary parents and older brother in Tchad, Africa, suddenly became quite ill within a few hours. His parents started him on IV quinine, the best treatment for malaria. Several hours later Zane started to have a seizure, turned blue, stopped breathing, and all seemed lost. But then he started breathing again, and he lived. Read his father's blog post or another doctor James' blog post for the full story, for all the emotions surrounding Zane's seizure and recovery.

I don't know Zane's family. I don't know James' family. But I do know James' sister. She was one of my housemates for a year at Southern Adventist University. And somewhere during that year I learned that the doctor working at an Adventist hospital in Tchad whose blog I read was her older brother. I had started reading his blog in June 2009 when a little boy named Caleb died while on IV quinine for malaria. A man in my church who worked as an aviation missionary in the Congo years ago knew Caleb's parents who are also aviation missionaries in Tchad at Bere Adventist Hospital. One Sabbath at church when I was home from college for the summer the man got up and told our church family about Caleb's death and burial. At home that afternoon I found James' blog and read the two posts he wrote about the tragedy, and I've been reading his blog ever since. I read about when James and his wife lost their first child before she was even born. And I read about their first-born son Adam's death from malaria in December 2011. I don't know any of these missionaries in Tchad, but I have read their stories, and I have felt - though of course not as deeply as they have - their pain.

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This past week I was reminded yet again how important prayer is, for those around me and for myself as well. Although I read both of those almost-tragic posts hours and days after each took place, I am reminded that prayers for safety are always needed. I need to be faithfully praying for those around me, for my relatives and friends, for those I go to church with, for those I read about in countless blogs, and for those I know who are serving as missionaries, both here on this continent and overseas. I am so glad for the prayers of others who have surely been praying for these two families, and I want to be part of the prayers that get sent up to heaven for them and for others all over the world every day.

Friday melts into Sabbath

The approach of Friday is good news for people all over the world. It means the end of the work week, the start of a relaxing weekend with family and friends, and time to do all the extra things that get put on hold during the week. But for me, Friday means even more. It brings a flurry of activity during the day, but as the sun sinks toward the horizon, the busyness and hurried pace give way to a sense of peace and relaxation. As sunset approaches, I realize that my bustling can stop, that whatever I haven't gotten accomplished by now can wait for another 24 hours, that for one day I can just rest.

So tonight I'm celebrating Fridays in general, but especially Friday evenings. There is nothing sweeter than the start of the Sabbath rest, the relaxed evening to spend with God before the hustle and bustle of getting ready for church the next morning. I truly think Friday nights are my favourite time of the week.

Some things I loved about this Friday were:

...the arrival of a package (even if it wasn't for me)

...spotting this framed printable whenever I was in the kitchen
(oh, and leftover candy canes... :)

...finishing a dish (fresh food is good, but I'm always happy
when a dish gets finished before it goes bad)

...giving a few of my books a new home!

...welcoming the Sabbath with a mug of frothy hot chocolate

...finding a favourite book to re-read

...and letting it speak to me yet again

The Sabbath really is one of God's best gifts! Happy Sabbath to you all!

My spiritual gift

Throughout my life, and especially throughout my teens and 20s, I've been searching for my spiritual gifts, the place that I uniquely fit into God's work in the church and in my community. Many people have told me that my spiritual gift is music. I've been playing violin since I was 4 and started piano when I was 9. My younger sister and brother and I often played for special music in our home church and also in many churches throughout the valley. As we grew and matured, both mentally and in musical ability, we began to appreciate these opportunities more and even enjoyed coming up with fun and interesting arrangements to share. Even so, I never felt like playing music was one of my spiritual gifts. Other people told me that writing was my spiritual gift. That seemed quite possible, since I do really enjoy writing and sharing with others in that way. But was it really a spiritual gift? Did my writing actually help my church? I didn't really know.

Today, though, it finally hit me. I was thinking about a Skype conversation I'd had with my friend Kezia last week. I met Kezia while we were volunteers at a baby home in Tanzania two years ago. I had mentioned to her that I'd had the opportunity to meet another former volunteer at a youth conference over New Year's. The other volunteer had mentioned to me that my comments on her blog had really encouraged her during her time overseas last year. When I relayed that story to Kezia, she told me that on her latest visit to Tanzania this past summer, three of the volunteers who were still there had said similar things about my comments to them on their blogs or on Facebook. I was surprised. It was such a little thing I had done. Just read their blogs - which I did eagerly to find out how the babies and children that I loved were doing - and left comments every once in awhile. Not even on every post, but just every so often, when I had something to say. I've been thinking about this exchange for the past week and today it came to me as I was tidying up the bathroom. My spiritual gift could be, might be, is (?) encouragement to others.

Maybe God has given me the gift of listening to others, empathizing with them or for their situation, and responding in ways that give them encouragement. Could it be this simple? Typing a short note on Facebook, writing a quick e-mail, leaving a comment on somebody's blog, doesn't feel like much to me. But maybe, just maybe, it feels like a lot to them. I pondered this for awhile this afternoon, and right in the middle of my pondering I saw that my mum had posted a few new blog posts on our church blog. The last one shocked me. A message straight into my heart. A message to love, care for, and encourage other people. I don't think for one minute that all these occurrences this past week and month were pure happenstance. I think God's been working, slowly nudging me to realize that maybe my words count, that my words matter, that my words can make a difference for people around me. Maybe my spiritual gift is music, maybe it's writing, maybe it's encouragement. Or maybe it's a combination of all three, a perfect blend that God created and has always intended just for me.