Super protected

 

Annalise greeted me with a quiet smile. She blinked her eyes, and I was aware of the heavy layer of long lashes she had affixed to her eyelids. She wrote my name into the visitor’s book, and I marvelled at the length of her false fingernails and the complexity of the designs on each.

It was the same with the bank teller. With some of the store clerks. Startling, really.

So many women I’ve met over the last month have exaggerated their eyelashes and their fingernails. They obviously believe these enhancements improve their looks; all I could think of was the amount of time it must take to achieve such results, and the way the nails, anyway, impede practicality. I wonder if the false eyelashes might cause the eyelids to droop over time – a droop which mine are achieving without the aid of any weights on them!

I’m aware that what I am saying might sound rich, coming from an older woman who still colours her hair. We all have our vanities. Or, at least I know that I do.

Often, when I wait on the Lord, my mind’s eye perceives his loving gaze. Just his eyes. No false eyelashes there. Love, pure and simple.

A gaze penetrating from a heart and soul of pure love. Eyes protected by a fan of eyelashes just perfect for their purpose. To keep dust, bugs and other foreign objects from entering this vulnerable opening to the soul.

If your eyes are healthy, your whole body will be full of light, Jesus says. Perhaps he is thinking of the physical protection afforded by the fan of lashes he created to ring these delicate parts of our bodies. I am thinking also, though, of other barriers which are helpful to protecting that light within us: will power to resist reading or watching things which pollute us, for instance.

Feeling a bit jet-lagged still, a bit rambling, but these are my thoughts this morning, for what they’re worth. May we all have clear eyes to perceive what the Lord is up to in our lives and our world today.

 

Pressed down

 

‘Are you at home?’ came the text. Yes, I replied.

Within an hour, my dear friend popped in with a lasagna. She knows what it is to be jet-lagged, worn out with the activities that follow the death of a dear loved one, and still slogging through some of the admin.

As I sat in my prayer window this morning for the first time in several weeks, I did my usual routine and then just waited. The Lord reminded me of Elisha under the broom tree, so exhausted, so spent. The angel came and fed him, twice, so that he was re-energised (and then he ran for forty days!)

I don’t intend such a marathon, but I am so encouraged to know that as I feel rather depleted, the Lord sees me under my broom tree and is sending his angels to feed and refresh me in many ways.

Bible study friends will arrive soon. More refreshment. Thank you, Lord. Pressed down and overflowing is your grace and mercy to me. I love you.

Tears of Joy

 

With some understandable trepidation, I set the satnav for LAX. It’s an easy drive up the coast, until you get there. ‘Stay left,’ she instructed, ‘stay on Airport Way’ – only there weren’t any signs for Airport Way (if that was the name – I can’t remember now!). I stayed left, as far left as I could, which turned out to be too far left.

‘Make a u-turn,’ she said.

What?

I did it and soon was headed in a new direction of concrete flyovers and traffic speeding. I prayed like mad. I had no idea where I was going. Finally I was in the horseshoe: terminals on the right, parking on the left. ‘Turn left,’ she said. I did, but too soon it turned out. Soon I was again headed into unknown territory. Help!

Somehow I found myself back in the horseshoe, this time on the Departures level. Determined to park and walk. Which I did, and it turned out I was very close to the international arrivals, just up two floors. Easy.

I stood with others eagerly awaiting the arrival of their loved ones. I wiped away tears as I heard the sobs of joy as grandparents clasped their grandchildren. I waited. For nearly an hour, a sea of humanity rolled by me, from every corner of the globe.

Finally I saw that familiar, much-loved face. Don is here. I could breathe again.

So many people pouring into LA. And God knows every one. Every one has a story, a joy, a sorrow, a need, an ambition. I continue to be blown away by God’s love and provision. In the midst of a tsunami of need, needs much bigger than any I may have, he continues to hear my cries for help, and guide and protect me.

Gratitude. With my arms held high, I will worship the God who is always there, always available, whatever the need. The God who weeps tears of joy when he sees his children approaching, who weeps tears of sorrow when he sees his children’s heartbreak.

Gearing up for a return trip to LAX this afternoon. This time for Doug from Brisbane. Haven’t seen him for nearly two years. Expecting tears.

Waiting at the Screen Door

 

Bella sprawls in front of the screen door, her nose twitching as she picks up smells, her ears in motion as she strains for intriguing noises. She is ready, willing something to happen, someone to arrive, a passing dog to bark at.

I approach from behind, to exit through the door, and she is up, alive, wiggling a greeting, nosing my toes, barely restraining herself from jumping all over me. I know I am loved.

A year old now, Bella is my cousin’s dog. She is definitely ‘in your face’ when you approach.

Not everyone likes dogs, but there is something so attractive about that unconditional love of a dog. You could be out all day, and still get a warm greeting when you arrive home. No cold shoulder.

All a dog wants is something to eat, some exercise, and some playful interaction with their human. A little bit of time.

God is not in my face. He is much more restrained and polite, ready to respond to my overtures, and probably disappointed but not surprised when I miss his.

May I be attentive today to every whisper of my Saviour, to every whiff of divine fragrance in my day. May I linger in his presence for no reason other than to enjoy his company. May I appreciate the awesomeness of the fact that the omnipotent God bends down and waits, as it were, at the screen door, hoping for a little attention.

I scarce can take it in.

 

Older, but wiser?

 

So. Older but maybe not much wiser.

I’m in a kind of holding pattern, having put into train lots of things that can’t be completed until the death certificates come. Awaiting the arrival of the first of my dear family, Don, who flies in tomorrow afternoon. Yay!!

So a long walk at Redondo again yesterday, but stupidly I went out in the midday sun. I caught a little too much. I’ll wait til later in the afternoon today, and maybe wear a long sleeved shirt despite the temp. Maybe a little wiser.

I have a form to fill in, a long form to be mailed or delivered once the death certificates arrive. But it’s confusing, demanding proofs of things and I kind of feel defeated by it.

Trying to distract myself reading. Picked up Tolkien’s The Fellowship of the Ring at Heathrow because I thought it’s a book I ought to read. I am plowing through it, still seeing it as a book I ought to read. I doubt that I read any more in the series. It’s just not my thing.

So now, I pray that God helps me to bring his wisdom to bear on this form I’m struggling with, and that all the steps I need to take while I am here for another week, I do take.

As James counsels, for any who lack wisdom, we only need ask God and not doubt that he answers that prayer. I’ve asked. So here I go.

Have a great day.

May it be so

 

He was waiting for us out in the hot sun, on the steps into the historic church. We’d asked for a site meeting before Mom’s funeral next week. He explained the history of the wee church. It was the oldest church in San Pedro, and had fallen into disrepair. The homeless had moved in, sheltering there. Something beautiful about that.

But two years ago, whoever owned it decided it was time to give the little church a new lease of life, and so it was sold to the cemetery. They had it moved into its present position, on a green hill overlooking Los Angeles harbor and San Pedro. In moving it, the old, stained-glass windows broke. They were repaired, some technology was installed, air-con put in, and it began to be used as a venue for small celebrations of life.

I was so pleased to find inside such an air of intimacy and reverence. This is a building with history, familiar with deep emotions, with suffering, with sorrow and pain. A place where the word of God can bring solace and comfort. A perfect place in which to celebrate Mom’s extraordinary life.

We went from there to the gravesite. A small, yellow flag, inscribed with Mom’s name, fluttered in the breeze above the headstone bearing Dad’s name, which will soon have her name as well. Preparations for the final resting place for her remains.

It’s a constant tension between the oh, so sad separation death forces upon us, and the oh, so joyful assurance that Mom has moved into real life, light and love. My prayer is that all who come to celebrate her life, and those who might watch the livestream link, will be touched by the presence of the living God and drawn into his kingdom.

That would be a fitting culmination to a life lived trusting in the Lord for everything. Her final act of witness. May it be so.

 

Blast from the Past

 

I stood, staring out at the beautiful blue Pacific, stretching and healing in the hot summer sun. Behind me, a young couple whispered and laughed, enjoying the vibrancy of youth and companionship. It added texture to my experience; the beauty of God’s creation, the beauty of relationship and love.

All of a sudden, I was startled by a ragged line of pelicans swooping west to their nesting places out on the peninsula. Looking like some sort of throw-back to the dinosaur era, they moved in silence and speed, soaring and swooping, not fishing but heading home.

This was once land on which native Americans made their home. Before that, maybe others. I stood still, feeling like I stood still for awhile, but on reflection, recognising that my presence there was but a blink in the history of this place.

A thousand years in your eyes, God, are like a day gone by.

My life is but a flash in the sweep of history, and yet every second of my life has possibility, has meaning, has life.

Small adjustments can result in significant outcomes. Little tweaks to the steering wheel in driving a car result in crashes or clear driving. Little movements to the rudder or the sails of a yacht can have major outcomes to destinations or disasters.

May the nanosecond of my own prayers today help alter the tragic trajectories of the nations. May I have faith and confidence to believe that God himself hears the cries of my little heart, and answers.

Those pelicans. Swooping along the coast as they have for centuries, for eons perhaps. Seen by people I can only imagine.

Designed and orchestrated by the God who is pure love. For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son Jesus so that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.

So grateful that Mom is now blessed in that eternal presence.