A Flip Flop Kind of Walk?

How many pairs of flip flops do you have?

This is the time of year when we tuck away our sweaters, heavy coats, and gloves, and trade our boots and wool socks for lightweight fabrics, short sleeves, canvas flats, and FLIP FLOPS!

Did you know that flip flop style shoes have been en vogue since at least 4,000 B.C.? They've been worn across the globe and throughout history. Egyptians constructed their flip flops from papyrus and palm leaves. In India, they used wood. Rice straw was used in China and Japan. Tribes in Africa wore rawhide flip flops. The British Museum displays a pair dating back to 1,500 B.C.* This is about the same time Moses discovered the burning bush, and God told him to take off his sandals because he was standing on holy ground.

It appears the flip flop is the definition of timeless fashion for men, women, and children!

But there's a problem. Flip flops don't offer much foot support. A google search revealed that wearing them too much can cause overpronation, flat feet, blisters, ankle sprains, and even broken bones. We like the way our feet look in them, but sometimes our feet aren't too happy. And the older we get, the truer this statement is.


If we're going on a walk or a run, common sense tells us to opt for footwear with more support: the stable, sensible, dependable sneaker!

This reminds me of the New Testament phrase, "We walk by faith, not by sight." The Amplified Bible says it this way, "We regulate our lives and conduct ourselves" by faith.

The walk of faith is not a flip flop kind of walk! It's an intentional, courageous, conviction or belief in God's truth when we see His faithfulness in our lives and when we can't see Him working. That's what faith is: to believe without seeing.

Sometimes, on our walk of faith, we're in a good rhythm. We're making progress. We enjoy many bright and beautiful blessings along the way. Maybe we have a walking buddy to encourage us along. The course is going well.

In other seasons, the path winds uphill and then plunges down. We trip over our own shoe laces. We're out of breath. The ache in our side and pain in our legs feels overwhelming. We fall so far behind, we wonder if it's worth it to keep going. Or maybe it's all we can do to put one foot in front of the other. Or we even find ourselves crawling forward inch by painful inch.

Can you relate?

As many of you know, God has given me the opportunity to write our story down. I'll always remember the day I received Penned Without Ink in the mail and showed it to my writing critique group. As we sat around the table, one of them said, "And look, they even put a cross on the cover." 

A Cross? Where? The rest of us studied that cover for several minutes, and not one of us could see it until Jo Ann pointed it out. Now it's the first thing I see. (Can you find it?) The design artist did a masterful job communicating that in the midst of trauma and crisis, even when we don't see it, we are surrounded by grace. God's grace.

Let's take courage today and lace up our sneakers. We have a God who sees us in our walk of faith. He hears our cries. He surrounds us with His love and care. Even when we can't see Him, He promises never to leave us or forsake us (Hebrews 13:5-6).  

*https://www.panamajack.com/blog/6-things-you-never-knew-about-flip-flops/

**Photos from bing.com/images/free to use

 

A Hard Time Saying Good-bye

I don't know about you, but I have a hard time saying good-bye.

Maybe it all began when, as a young college freshman, I hugged my parents good-bye with that churning in the pit of my stomach and an ache in my throat. For Christmas break, the much-anticipated plane ride home came with a return ticket. I thought I'd die as my hometown grew smaller and smaller and soon slipped out of sight.

Then my sister and her family became missionaries to Africa. Africa! Every three or four years, we said good-bye, knowing it would be a long time before we saw each other again. At the end of our annual family reunions, I've always needed Kleenex. One by one, our two oldest daughters moved away. A good friend recently relocated half way across the country.

So maybe this all adds up to how I felt when I said good-bye to my oldest daughter this morning. Hard times brought her back home six months ago - with her little son and Cairn Terrier. We adjusted rather well to having a two year old in the house again! We enjoyed his antics and played Hide and Seek over and over. Everyday he learned a new word or skill. "Gampa," "Gamma," and Aunt "B'lee" quickly became part of his daily routines.

Our daughter and I worked together in the kitchen, researching and trying new recipes. She became our IT expert when we ran into computer glitches. She helped out over and above when my mom passed away and when my dad underwent open heart surgery. I'll always remember these months as a sweet time.

This morning, loaded to the hilt with belongings, the dog, and our grandson, she headed south (not too far from her sister. Maybe we'll see them both more often!). My husband accompanied her with a u-haul van. A good job for our son-in-law will bring the threesome together again. Better times ahead. I'm grateful. But, oh, I will miss them.

I will miss her smile and laughter, her researched health wisdom, and our shopping trips to Wegman's. I will miss a little boy's running footsteps first thing in the morning, a little hand leading me to see his latest discovery, and our post-supper song fests after finding his way onto my lap as his mom washed up the dishes. The house will seem quiet once again.

Maybe quiet has its place . . .  time to refocus, reorganize, reflect . . .

I'm grateful for lots of wonderful memories and the promise to keep in touch. But the good-bye part of the story? Predictably tearful!

How do you feel about saying "good-bye"?

White Lights on a Thorn Bush

I

Africa's darkness

Pushed aside

As foreign hands

Take a simple manger

From hut to hut.

Passing seasons bring 

Transformed drumbeats

And fearless smiles of freedom

As Emmanuel Himself

Shines in forgiven hearts.

II

Little children's memories reach

Past empty stockings and their mother's quiet tears

Across the ocean

To scenes of family gatherings and roast beef dinners

Where snowflakes and tinsel dance and sparkle.

And in the African night

Their foreign voices sing

The old familiar carols

With a string of white lights on a thorn bush

To celebrate the arrival of the Light of the World.

 

This poem is dedicated to my sister and her family who went to Tanzania, East Africa to share the gospel with the Datoog people in June 1997. That first December 25th, they took a small nativity of Christ from hut to hut and read the Christmas narrative prepared with their language helper. For the first time, this village heard the story of Jesus. Over the years, a church and school were established.

I also want to dedicate these words to missionaries all over the world who feel a little homesick over the holidays. May God give you His grace as you faithfully serve the "Light of the World."

A Memorable Monday

Monday began at thirty thousand feet above the midnight outline of Africa, heading due north.

At fifteen years old, our daughter, Elisabeth, found herself leaving behind a rich experience with precious children she would always hold close to her heart. She spent four weeks at Dayspring Children's Village near Mageliesburg, South Africa, a school for disadvantaged children. She worked with first graders during most the school day, listening to them read and guiding them through their paces. She taught piano basics to all who showed an interest and helped the older students with their writing skills. She assisted teachers by making charts, accompanying the little ones on a field trip, and playing the piano for music classes. Every day found her busy and involved.

Her world expanded to include first-hand connections with hurting kids: orphans, those with abusive home situations, those who would have little hope without the influence of a school like Dayspring. She took a close-up look at the many faces of Africa. She saw poverty manifested in tin shacks, small crowded homes, and those selling their wares on street corners. She experienced bustling highways and an upscale shopping mall. She enjoyed two game parks, offering opportunities to see zebras, lions, hippos, giraffes, and more. She observed three separate church settings with vastly different worship styles, all directed to the same great God. She felt the support of the entire Dayspring family as they gathered in a circle to thank her for coming and to pray for her - out loud all at once for quite a long time.

 A memorable story!
As Monday's dawn began to break, the plane pointed its nose toward Paris. Here Elisabeth (and one of her former teachers who has made the trip to Dayspring many times) decided to take advantage of an all-day layover. They took a double decker tour bus to see the sights: the Eiffel Tower, the Arc of Triumph, Notre Dame, etc.

In the late afternoon, they boarded the plane once more, this time headed for Philadelphia. Somewhere, as they flew west, night fell behind them and six hours added themselves to this memorable Monday. By 8:15 p.m. EST, we had our very-much-missed daughter with us again, heading north on the PA Turnpike and hearing stories all the way home!

A day with lots of shared memories, gratefulness for God's safe-keeping, and an appreciation for our brothers and sisters in Christ all over the world, especially at a little school among the dry waving grasses of South Africa: Dayspring Children's Village!