If A Day...

... is like one thousand years with Jesus, then she's going on 4,748,000 years...

I wrote the following three years ago, on this anniversary.



Glancing Back While Facing Forward

On that day, as a crumpled heap of sorrow on the floor, I didn't think my shattered heart would make it to the next day... much less ten years.

And yet, here I stand, on a day when I allow myself to look back as well as forward.

The stages of grief that I was so clueless about, but had to experience... ready or not... have formed me into who I am today.

What was unimaginable has become a part of the tapestry that is my life.

The raw pain, wrenching sobs, and throwing up that turned to bittersweet tenderness when her name dances across my mind
The weird guilt of "am I even allowed to hurt this badly if she was just my friend, not my sister?" that turned to "I loved her - that is enough to warrant sorrow"
The solace found in lyrics and poems that turned into precious gems that I carry in my heart
The angry glares at the stars that turned into understanding glances as I speak words I want only her to hear
The ready tears as each new memory surfaced that turned to secret smiles as the years have made them worn out and indescribably dear
The panic as I began to forget little things about her that turned to joy when I remembered new ones
The purple balloons released on each birthday that turn into spots of soaring happiness as they get further from me and closer to her
The refuge found in the arms of someone who whispered "I know" that turned into my arms holding others and my mouth whispering comfort

It still sometimes makes me sick to my stomach when I am reminded that we wont have any new memories until Heaven.
Or when I see a picture of her when I'm not expecting it.
Or hear a story that I hadn't remembered... that isn't safely in my mind's box of "I have mulled these over for enough years that they are now sweet and not painful."

I tend to think "I owe a lot to you, Mindy Dawn," and then I realize that while I do owe you a lot, I owe so much more to the One who has faithfully guided me on this journey... the One who has allowed me to learn of ridiculously powerful emotions through losing you. The One who you are currently adoring face to face.

And so I'm quiet on this day... remembering... loving... and praying for those who miss you so deeply.

Taking some consolation in the fact that perhaps these beautiful words by Antoine de Saint-Exupery were penned especially for us:

"You – you alone – will have the stars as no one else has them.
In one of the stars I shall be living.
In one of them I shall be laughing.
And so it will be as if all the stars were laughing, when you look at the sky at night…
You — only you — will have stars that can laugh!”

My Favorite Day!

When December 26th comes each year, I spend the entire day relishing the fact that I am truly loved...

It's not because of the after-Christmas glow that most think of.

It's because on December 26, 1979 God gave me not one, but BOTH of my best friends. My precious "A's."

Our three-fold friendship has seen laughing, crying, and growing up together. We've huddled in grief at gravesides, and we've celebrated with abandon at weddings. We've vacationed together, and kept the phone lines busy and email networks hopping.

All three of us are hard-core NH girls... But due to life's twists and turns, are all living outside of our beloved state right now.

There have been the times that Drewey and I have met half way between NH & RI to drink coffee and sit in the car, talking for hours in the pouring rain. The times that I've driven to Amy's house and cried on her couch, because my broken heart was too much to bear alone.

And this year... they sent me off to a foreign country with their love and their blessing.

 

 

Happy birthday, my two best girls... Love you both so much it hurts!

"Real Christmas" by Default

How often have I heard "Christmas is about family?" Christmas movies proclaim it. Hallmark markets it. And I truly believed it.

Presents are fun, but I could really take them or leave them, as long as my family is near by. Same with our traditions. It's comfortable and happy to have Chinese food featuring Dad's egg rolls every Christmas Eve, and to have Dad pray before we open our gifts around the lit tree, saving stockings for the morning. But if there weren't many presents, or we didn't eat the traditional food, Christmas wouldn't be that different for me, because it's about having those I love close by. It really means family to me.

So, being in another country, having family stripped away and Christmas still approaching, is making me think... and think hard. About the real meaning.

The Christmas that involved...

Mary, most likely terrified, yet courageous... having maternal hopes and dreams for her human son, even though she knew that she had no control over the future of this God Son.
Joseph, betrayed, yet not bitter... willingly stepping into the role of step-father to a child that he had to take on faith was not some other man's.
Innkeepers all over Bethlehem, missing out on the greatest night in history.
Shepherds, ordinary lives interrupted by something beyond imagination, running to see if the angels had spoken truth.
And -
Jesus, coming to earth for me. ME.

We sing cutesy songs about how He left heaven for us... but I've made myself think about that in ways I never have before. Dwelling on what it would mean to go from resplendent glory, having the adoration and respect of all creation, to a smelly stable... Going from omniscient God to an infant who was incapable of doing or thinking anything. And as He got older the human longing of any little boy to grow up into a man, yet knowing that when that happened His purpose here on earth would have to be fulfilled... painfully. Brutally. With finality.

Mom sent me a message the other day, talking about how different this Christmas season is for her as well... first one since Darren was born that none of us kids have been home. And what she wrote has been ringing in my head and heart:

"One thing I'm finding about this Christmas season is that because I'm not focused on getting ready for Family or getting ready to go see Family...

I ask more, "What would YOU have me do today to bless others?"
 

It's like Real Christmas by default or something."

And though I'm still a weepy mess every time I hear "I'll Be Home for Christmas," I'm trying with every ounce in me to have a "Real Christmas by Default."

Because Christmas IS so much bigger than family.

Christmas is about a Baby. Who grew up to be a Sacrifice. And will come in the clouds as King.

We're Not in Kansas Anymore...

"WATCH OUT!!!"

Les slammed on the brakes and we narrowly missed a partially confused, fully terrified monkey as he ran across the road in front of us.

We got finished exclaiming about him, when... "WATCH OUT!!!!"

There, less than fifty feet down the road, the brakes were slammed again, and we sat for several minutes as these dudes (and dudettes) surrounded our car and went lazily on their way.

And we talked. We talked about how frequently during our days we say in our heads, "We're not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy."

Not even a little bit.

The Mission of Massage

"Too often we under estimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around."

- Leo Buscaglia

 

In my life before I moved to Costa Rica, massages meant welcoming a client into my peaceful studio... walls a warm chocolate brown, candles lit, peaceful music and incense burning. Massages meant bringing someone to a state of relaxation that their bodies and minds desperately needed. Massages meant monitoring breathing to see that my client was relaxed, and offering up silent prayers for what life was currently throwing their way. Massages meant listening... to either snores, sobs or stories.

 

Massage last month in Nicaragua held no peacefully painted studios, no candles or incense, and certainly no calming music. A concrete slab floor beneath me, and corrugated tin roof above me. Chickens to my right, children dancing to wild music to my left.

 

And yet, half a world away from NH, the need was the same. People longing for safe touch, a brief respite from life, and relaxation.

 

There were the people that I can't forget, because they were so excited and so thankful. The adorable little old lady who came, still wet from bathing, dressed in her very best dress, replete with frilly apron, and doused in perfume. Because getting the first massage of her life was An Event. One that required the very best her wardrobe had to offer.

 

And there are the people that I can't forget, because my heart still hurts whenever I think of them. The woman whose reply to where she'd like me to focus the massage, was her shoulder because her husband hit her with a baseball bat... ten years ago, and it still hurts every single day. The same woman started crying on my table, gentle touch helping her release the mourning of losing a son who was hit by a car several months ago.

 

Many of my clients in NH were prenatal, and they became my absolute favorite massages to give. I love seeing mom rest peacefully for the first time in months. I love feeling baby move, first an excited "someone is playing with me" and then an "ahhhh" as they relax and accept the loving touch. And I miss that. I miss it so much.

 

So I prayed hard that day in Nicaragua... "Jesus, please bring me a pregnant belly. Just one. I miss it so." And in walked this beautiful woman, radiant, with a very swollen belly. Seven months along, knowing it was a little girl. And willing to have this stranger give her the first massage she'd ever gotten.

 

She started the massage with her hands gripping the side of the table, but by the time we were done, there was a peaceful smile on her face, and her hands hung limply off the sides.

 

Karli, a PT major who had recently taken some classes on massage, was working with me. I had her ask mom if it was ok to use her amazing body as a teaching moment. Mom graciously said that was fine, so I was allowed to share this sacred moment with Karli. To see her eyes go wide with wonder as she first felt the baby move, and then saw the ripples of movement on mom's belly, reminded me of the joy of working on my first pre-natal client. The joy I still feel with each new person.

 

It was loud. It was dirty. There were ants, flies, fleas and lice. But it was a day full of holy moments.

 

A day where I had to wipe away tears, because I truly felt like the luckiest girl alive. Being Jesus-with-skin-on. Bringing touch to people who were in desperate need.

 

 

Headaches and Healing

There are things that are big deals, things that are Big Deals, and things that are BIG DEALS.

 

Headaches have been a big part of my adult life. I've tried chiropractic, acupuncture, supplements, seeing an oral surgeon, massage, drinking copious amounts of water, and asking for prayer over and over. Some of those things have helped for short periods of time, but it had gotten to the point where before I moved to Costa Rica, I was dealing with upwards of five headaches a week, often times toeing the line on migraines and painful enough to factor into whether I could function normally (or happily) or not.

 

Dad told me several months before I moved that he had taken it seriously to begin praying that headaches would not be something I dealt with in Costa Rica. And when I spoke at various churches about coming down, one of the biggest prayer requests I had was about headaches.

 

At one of the churches where I spoke, a precious woman came up to me after, who also has frequent headaches and told me that she was going to use hers as a reminder to pray for mine.

 

To be honest my faith was very little, because they've been a huge part of my life for so many years.

 

However, my faith has increased by gigantic proportions, as in a huge answer to all the prayers that have gone up on my account, I can count on one hand the bad headaches I've had in the nine weeks that I've been here.

 

Consider this post my way of being the one out of the ten lepers who chooses to be thankful. (Luke 17:11-19)

 

 

Stars

Besides family and friends, the thing I've discovered I miss the most here in Los Anonos, is seeing the stars.

 

Growing up on Chestnut Hill, the stars were a constant. Being that far out in the country, with no light pollution, going outside at night was like walking into a very low-ceilinged planetarium. As if, being granted longer arms, I could touch thousands of them. Between the years I spent there as a little girl, sitting on the roof over our front door, and the ten where I lived in my own apartment there, I have no idea how many thousands of nights I spent outside, staring up at the stars.

 

There were times that I'd look up and feel at peace, because if God could put all those in place, He certainly had my little life under control. And then there were times when I had a hard time seeing the stars, because I had too many tears in my eyes. I remember looking up and saying, "God - just let me know You're there," and having the words of a song by Carolyn Arends come rushing at me... "I was wishing You would write to me a message in the stars, as if the stars themselves were not enough."

 

Stars. They were always there. And they were a special thing between my Jesus and me.

 

Before I moved down, I called Julie in a panic. "Can you see the stars in Anonos??" "Not really," was her reply. And it's true. In Anonos, where it is loud and bright all the time, it's almost impossible to see the stars. I've gone out at night, desperate to catch a glimpse of a starry sky that would feel like home, and counted four stars... and a plane.

 

On our trip to Nicaragua, I was in a really intense conversation with a friend about deep pain, how we can really KNOW that God loves us, and how fully vested He is in our every day lives. I was mid-sentence, when I realized that as we had been talking, it had gotten dark. My eyes shot upward, and there they were.

 

Sparkling. Beautiful. Familiar.

 

The tears starting streaming down my face, as I said, "THIS is how I know that God loves me. I have missed stars SO much, and as we sit here discussing where He is in painful life experiences, He shows up. In the stars."

 

The next night we pulled chairs out, and just at for over an hour feasting on the stars. And that's when God decided to send me back to Anonos with a full love tank, as He sent a huge shooting star full-length across the sky.

 

The next part of that song by Carolyn?

 

"There You are - loving me like crazy
There You are - though I am unaware
There You are - when my heart is doubting
Even there You are."

Of Mission Trips and Mosquito Nets

Until the morning that we left for Nicaragua, I had been really dreading this trip. And because I was dreading it, I (maturely) ignored the fact that it was about to happen. Mom asked me a few days before we left how I was feeling, and what God was saying to me about it. My reply was that I hadn't talked to Him about it, so I hadn't heard Him say anything. And that's when I realized I needed to get my head and heart right before we left. So God and I talked. And I came away with Ephesians 3:20... "Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us..."

 

It was up to me to ask. And when I asked, God was saying He has the ability to answer with more than I could put into words or imagination. So I asked. I asked for joy. And grace. And a vision. And for Him to do amazing work in our team, and through our team. So, in faith I crawled into the van at four o'clock that Thursday morning, wondering what God was going to do.

The trip was l-o-n-g, but the views were stunning. If possible, Nicaragua is even more beautiful than Costa Rica. We arrived at a small camp for missionaries in Tipitapa... It was like Fairwood, but Nicaragua-style. (By that I mean that there were more hammocks, monkeys and mosquito nets than in Dublin) There were three buildings - a long dorm (big rooms with 11-15 bunk beds each), a kitchen/dining hall, and a church. The acoustics in the church were incredible, and the worship times we had each night were truly a foretaste of Heaven.

 

(I discovered that mosquito netting makes me very claustrophobic... trying to imagine I was a princess did not work)

The first two days we were there, we split into two teams... one team did eye glass clinics each day, and the other team did a construction project. Doing eye glass clinics makes me really happy! We have vision testing kits, so each person who comes gets tested, and (if needed) a prescription written on a piece of paper. They then go through a fitting session. We have thousands of pairs of glasses, sorted out by prescription and various people on our team work with each individual, trying on pair after pair, to find one that helps.

 

(Testing the vision of this 97 year old treasure)

 

(Bags of glasses)

 

And then each person who gets glasses, gets prayer. I was lucky enough to be on the prayer teams both days, so along with my little translator, I was allowed to bring these precious people to the Throne of Grace. It struck me this time how almost each person we asked "how can we pray for you" started with "mi familia." It was only with more prodding that they would ask for something for themselves. And even, that was rare. We were able to lift up needs of mothers who had breaking hearts over children in prison, fathers who wanted to lead their families in a God-honoring way, women who wanted restoration of relationships, and men who needed physical healing. There were kids running around every day, and sometimes we'd corral them into helping us pray. It never gets old to see a little tiny hand laid on a great big shoulder - seeing the faith of a little child in action.

(Love transcends language)

 

(Faith of a child)

 

The rest of the time was filled with piñatas (watching an 80 year old woman get in on the action amidst almost 100 children is a sight that wont be readily forgotten), church, prayer walks, eating the best fried plantains you can imagine, building relationships with the team and Nicos, worship, and taking hundreds of pictures.

 

(Filling my own love tank, while filling hers)

 

(Keeping the troops entertained with my iPhone)

On Sunday we offered massages to the people of the community. And that was such an incredibly special time for me, that it's going to have it's own post... coming soon.

I came home feeling like the luckiest girl around -- and realizing that God had indeed answered with more than I had asked for... and more than I had imagined. He consistently gave grace and strength when it was needed. Rivers of unconditional love for people who desperately needed it. Endless faith to bring each person's needs to Him. Energy to persevere in the ridiculous heat. (No joke, it was about 800° each day)

 

(Sunset on our last night... San Juan del Sur)

 

So blessed. And so grateful.