The
day before two amazing women came to church for the first time, with their
little ones, we went out to cut, bundle and air in the sun, the full grown rice
we planted last spring. The harvest is plentiful, he said to them . . .
.
 |
| Hard working playmates |
We harvested with just one other family, a sweet, intimate time,
and we marveled: our kids have grown so since we did this last! Three years ago
they were squeamish about a toe in the muddy field, now they march in and
carefully cut bundles alongside! And three years ago, our fledgling group of
women knelt behind church pews and on playgrounds, getting in a prayer or two.
Now our group has grown, and the Spirit is palpable; those around peer in - why
are you such good friends? Why are you able to help each other out so much? Does
prayer really help you that much? How can you smile in the face of this
diagnosis?
 |
| Sunday school - Happy 6th birthday! |
Please
stand in awe and praise with us: women came with their kids to church for
the first time. It's really just about friendship, about being together and
walking each other home.
Meanwhile,
late one night - that inevitable, magical time, long after he was supposed to
be home - the student, with one lingering, stalling question after another,
asks, finally, what should I do about my friend who is self-harming? And they
sit down at the dusty tables, settling in to conversation, while sawing the
lock of the bike with the key lost in the shuffle of the day's activities.
Unlocking the bike to go safely home, unlocking the heart holding so much hurt
and stress inside.
And
it's all a bit overwhelming, these moments. But then I came to this (in my
grandfather’s well-scribbled devotional book, a Christmas present from my
mother):
"Have
you ever noticed the 'wondering-ness' (if I may coin a word) of the people who
go on with God? They never seem to be over-anxious or over-concerned, and they
always seem to be getting younger." (Chambers, If ye shall ask . . . 44-45)
