Status Update on Love

I was sick this past week. The couch and the iPad became two of my best friends. I spent more time than I would care to admit surfing social media. Pictures of friends brought lots of smiles to my face. Updates on the wide world of Woodbury kept me abreast as to what was going on outside my doors. I read things I laughed about, prayed over, and learned from.

During my stint of exile and quarantine, I did run upon one or two posts that provoked the reason for this post. They went a little something like this...

"I am so in love with Said Person! You are my everything! I adore you! You make the sun to shine and the winds to blow! You are beautiful! You are amazing! My world is complete with you! I just saw you, in fact you are sitting next to me, but I just had to tell you how much I LOVE YOU!"#Loveofmylife @Said Person

At one point in my life, I would have thought declarations like this were great, beautiful, and moving. Shoot, in times passed I probably have been known to type a few things like this. But this week, out of no where, the posts I read like this made me reflect on what love is, what it looks like.

Words of Affirmation definitely is a true love language for lots of folks as Gary Chapman would have us know. I believe that when you love someone or something, you find those people and things very easy to talk about and fill your conversations.  The ones you love need not only assume your affections, but be told how you feel about them.

I love Michael, my husband, very much. He can hopefully say that I tell him that daily. But married love has taught me an entirely different lesson on love and how to show it than I ever imagined it would. It doesn't lie in lots of words...sometimes it is completely silent.

Growing up I looked at my mom and dad as the perfect fairytale. It is my opinion there has never been a greater earthly example of how a man should love his wife, or of how a woman should respect and care for the man she chose to be her husband.  They made marriage look dreamy, fun filled, happy, and of all things, easy.  I remember only one time with the remote thought that they were in an argument.  I can say that as I entered adulthood I came to the conclusion that Christian marriage...a marriage between a believing, God-fearing man and woman...would be easy, perfect, and something of which I would be assured success.

I laugh at myself now. I also cringe.  Laughter comes from realizing I by no means knew anything about marriage the day I said "I do".  I cringe with knowing we have only been at this for just shy of 13 years...we still have a lot to learn.

My thanksgiving is full in the fact that God created an incredible example in the marriage I have been given the opportunity to observe my parents commit to and live out. But I give the Creator even greater thanks that He has put me in a marriage with Michael. I give thanks in learning that it has not and will not be easy, or perfect.  And I will admit at times, we have not even been successful at our go at this thing some term wedded bliss.

Yes, for me love has become more than the words spoken.  It is following someone to somewhere, leaving all others behind, even though there isn't a clue as to what to expect.  It is listening to someone read medical textbooks, even though you won't hold the degree.  It's helping grade papers when you are not the teacher. It is taking joy as you watch the figure of your wife disappear as life grows inside her. It is finding beauty in salt and pepper hair. Love is patient over and over again when your spouse stinks at balancing a check book and keeping up with receipts.  It is in cleaning up messes...whether you had a hand in creating them or not. Love is giving advice. Even greater love is being able to take advice. Love is in the ability to learn how to manage through disagreements. Love brings the greatest of joys and beautiful laughter. It can be the most devastating hurt which can result in a world of tears. Married love becomes gracious. Married love forgives...even for the biggest offenses.

That last part...the part about grace and forgiveness...I think that is what it should be all about. God has forgiven me of the most horrible act...crucifying His son over and over again with my own sin. He has a forgiving love for me. Not only a little forgiving, but ALOT. He forgives and when I come back to say I am sorry for it a second time, it is as if it never happened. He wipes it clean. And when I mess up again and again, and ask for forgiveness again and again, He forgives again and again. You know how it reads, 70 times 7.  If I have been extended this type of love, how can I not love others, especially my spouse, with the same type of forgiving love?  How can I not leave space for grace in our marriage?

God's love for us is patient, kind, and it doesn't envy. It isn't boastful or proud. God's love for us doesn't keep up with all the wrongs and it isn't easily angered. God's love for us rejoices in truth. It protects, trusts, and hopes. It will never fail. (taken from I Corinthians 13).

So even though I do appreciate the lovey dovey cards, emails and talk of the first few years of our time together, this is how a post dedicated to my love would read today...

"I do love you, but I pray I can love you better. I pray I can love you like God loves me. You are not my everything...you are not suppose to be. I am thankful that the Creator that makes the sun to shine and the winds to blow, is first in your life. I strive each day to make Him the first in my own. Thanks for being imperfect and I am glad it hasn't always been easy. I actually thank the Father for it all. I am glad you are laying right beside me. Roll over you are snoring. And can you please wake up so you can proof read this blog post?" #forgiveness #grace @MichaelThomas

Earthquake

Saba experienced an earthquake today.

When I opened Facebook this afternoon, I scrolled through the newsfeed and read status after status as to where friends had been, what they had felt, and their concerns of their neighboring island friends.

It feels odd to say so, but even in events like this, I long to be there.

As I went about my evening motherly activities, my mind swirled with thoughts of earthquakes. Ones like the 5.5 that shook the Unspoiled Queen today. I thought of the quakes that are strong enough to result in the destruction and terror of a tsunami. My memory brought about news stories of earthquakes in California when I was child. I can still see the television screen display a freeway completely cracked in half, swallowing up cars.

These acts of nature shake communities, islands, and cultures to their very core.

There are some folks in my life that are experiencing their own personal earthquakes tonight.  Some stronger than others.

A sweet, joyous young lady that I had a privilege of serving with on Saba last month was shaken Thursday by the news of her mother's passing.  She was the only one of three siblings home here in middle Tennessee. One sister was abroad in mission work.  I can't imagine this pain.

I have been following a friend's journey the last few days on social media. A gentle, good and humble soul...a mother of two beautiful children...a wife to a funny, energetic man of God...a kindergarten teacher. She has beaten cancer, and now she is staring in it's nasty face again. I pray for her healing.

There is a sweet young girl that is very special to me. Teenagers have enough to deal with...pressures to conform, the need to fit in somewhere, rumors and gossip, growing up. All this is drenched with the stench of addiction of a loved one in this beautiful girl's life. When I think of her story I hurt.

Other friends come to my mind. A family  away from home in a new country immersed in a new culture, following the Father's call.  Family friends back in Carthage who are mourning the passing of a great Christian matriarch.  Multiple friends in marriages that are struggling.  A young man who I love dearly, just trying to find his place in the world.

We all have our earthquakes. We all can be, have been, will be shaken.

"Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery trial when it comes upon you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you." - I Peter 4:12

The question is, "What are we going to do in the midst of the tremors and quakes?"

"Count it all joy, my brothers and sisters, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing." -James 1:2-6

The ones I spoke of above have been wonderful examples of this passage. In the loss of her mother, my friend wrote, "I am so broken, yet so happy to tell the world that my sweet sweet mama went to be with Jesus yesterday morning. We aren't quite sure what happened, but we do know that The Lord is good and His plans are perfect." My friend battling cancer continues to praise God daily. Her trust in Him is evident.  My young teenage friend talks of praying daily for her faith to increase and asks for strength in surrendering all to Him.

Sometimes I have asked how in the midst of horrible, hard, and challenging times can we actually have joy. Last night, I had a chance to hear an amazing young lady speak to a small group of fellow believers. She urged us to not ask "Why?", but ask ourselves, "Where is God in this?".

"When the righteous cry for help, The Lord hears and delivers them out of their troubles. The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit." - Psalm 34:17-18

He is near. We are not alone.

I couldn't help but let my mind go to the cross on this Easter weekend, as I have been typing.  Our Lord cried out and breathed his last. The son of God had been crucified. The temple curtain tore, the sky became dark, and...the earth shook.  Every inch of creation...all of humanity...every believer and non-believer...all of it was shaken.  Where was God in all this?

He was alive! He rose!

That is the only place we can find the joy in our trials of which James speaks. We can believe the Psalmist when he writes that God is near. He isn't dead, He is very much alive.

Thoughts on Uncomfort on a Comfortable Sunday

My Sunday was filled with beautiful faces.

Some expected ones. The three little ones that wake me each morning began my day with excitement. Shortly after, my husband's handsome face graced my door, home from a 24-hour shift. The Thomas 5 is better when we are together and complete.

The day continued with Myron, my Saban son. He was followed by many that have shared Saba with us. Drew...a newcomer to Saba this past March. The entire Fincher family...our dear friends and partners in the work on Saba for years.  Then there was Thomas Rhett...a friend that has brought me and Michael lots of laughs and joy, and one that we have missed.  An afternoon trip to the zoo brought the sweet Ficken family into my day. My heart is happy to be able to visit with a little lady who bears my middle name. Jennaleigh Hope and her mommy and daddy and baby sister were a highlight of the day.  As we dropped Myron back off at campus, more LU students that have become a big part of our lives were there...Braden, Evan, and Trey (even though he had not a clue who was watching him from the sidelines of his intramural soccer game).

Then it was back home. My mind and heart found peace, as the same three faces that began my day ended it with sleepy kisses and the sounds of good night prayers.

Smack in the middle of this beautiful Sunday, a face made its appearance in my mind. One that I have yet to actually see for myself, even though I do long for the day that I can rest my eyes on it.  The face of Jesus.

During the morning worship we were a part of, the minister lead us in an extended period of communion apart from the norm. Each member held onto their piece of bread and cup. We were asked to focus on it as he read scripture. The reading was that of the cross.

"When they came to the place called the Skull, there they crucified him.."

They crucified Him.

During the reading of this part of the Story, I close my eyes. I visualize the scene. I hear the sounds. I can see the clouds roll in with darkness. The hammering of nails pierce my ears. Mary's cry stops my heart. The smirks I can imagine on the soldiers faces anger me.  The rip of the temple curtain is heard loud. The Lord cries out...

"Into Your hands I commit my spirit!"

Then in my imagination, things become quiet. At least for a few hours.

Most of the time my time of communion ends with those sounds and sights. But yesterday the minister continued. I will admit that I do not recall what he read or the thoughts he continued with while I had my eyes closed. But I was left with where my thoughts and imagination took me.

There I was thinking of the pain that Jesus suffered. The thorns, the whipping, the nails. But not only the physical pain, but the embarrassment of nakedness and the burn of insults and slurs.  The thought of these things bring full tears. Then some words are inserted into my thoughts...

"By His wounds we are healed."

Those words bring a vision into my mind and imagination that I had never experienced so clear before.  I imagine the face of my Savior turning toward me. Not with a sadness...not with pain and agony...but with a smile.

"By my wounds you are healed, Aletha."

We go through this life wanting comfort.  When I was child I remember telling my mother I didn't want to go visit the nursing home.  The situation made me uncomfortable. I just bought better pillows for our beds in our house. Why? Because the others were not comfortable anymore.  I run around wanting the right clothes, the right make up, the right hairstyle...and for what? So I will feel comfortable in my own skin.  At night I settle into my comfy couch, with my warm coffee, and usually never give a thought to how blessed I am by the comforts of my shelter, warm blankets, and food.

The things that bring me the most shame...I find excuses to keep me away from hospital rooms where death may lurk because I don't know what to say...I am uncomfortable. I fight back the Spirit-filled urge inside me to say, "Hey, do you know about Jesus?".  Such conversations may make friendships or new relationships uncomfortable.  I will do this and that, but that one thing that I could do in the name of Jesus...that's pushing it a little too far...too far outside of my comfort zone.

When and where in scripture were we ever called to be comfortable?! Never! Not once!

And look at our greatest example. That smile I see on the face of the Christ...it came from being not only uncomfortable, but it came from pain. How can I be so obsessed with my comforts of this world, when I serve a Lord who was born in a stable and placed in a hay filled manger for His crib. He walked in sandals with dirty feet, dripping with sweat for hours to heal the sick and feed the hungry.  He went without food and water to make sure others quenched their thirst with the Living Water.  He was constantly questioned and doubted, but He continued to teach. He never seemed to have a moments silence.  This man had people grabbing at His clothes and lowering themselves into houses from the roof to see Him. His friends betrayed and denied Him. Jesus was mocked, scourged, and beaten.

Then they crucified Him.

He did not worry about being outside His comfort zone. He did worry with being about His Father's business, no matter the situation, no matter the price, no matter the discomfort.  He chose to be uncomfortable. Not only that, He chose pain and death, for a much greater plan than anyone around could fathom. Death and pain did not win, however. There is hope in the fact that He rose and completed His Father's plan.

And that smile...that smile tells me He took joy in providing a way for me to be free. Free of the sin that entangles all of us. The sin of our own selfish comforts.

The Island

So as one can tell, I am giving this blog thing another go. Third time is a charm, as they say.

As I look back through the very few posts I wrote a few years ago , I smile as I think of and see the changes in my three kiddos. What indescribable blessings they are! I also, think of all the changes we have gone through and how all of us in this home have grown.  Things have been unbelievably hard at times, unbelievably happy at times, and just plain unbelievable at times. But it is with joy and faith that it has all worked for good, just as we are promised in Romans 8:28…

“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose.”

The other thing I notice looking through these writings is that I still have yet to talk about the island. Saba, the Unspoiled Queen.

Where do I begin? How do I describe it?

I find this hard at times. First off, as my mother has said, one has to see this 5 square mile island to believe it.  A dormant, volcanic rock in the middle of the Caribbean Sea…home to somewhere around 1500 folks…it isn’t on many maps…the road winds into switch backs and curves…goats and iguanas roam free…there is desert, black sand beaches, and lush rainforest all within minutes of each other.  Inadequately said, it is beyond amazing.

Secondly, most can relate to the love between a parent and a child, or the love a wife has for her husband.  But many find it odd for a person to love a place, or a culture, especially when it isn’t the culture or place in which you were born and raised. Lots of people enjoy “going on vacation” or “going to the beach”. Very few feel an ache to go somewhere and never look back on things familiar.

So at times I fumble my words and leave conversations thinking I by no means explained why or how I love my little island the way I do.  My desire to be walking on the road there with the cool Caribbean breeze blowing on my face drifts through my days and fills my dreams at night. The sounds of the familiar Dutch island lingo play over and over in my head. Saba…she is on my lips, in mind, and on my heart.  I love her people. I love them with the love of my Lord.

It is my intent to share Saba as best I can in my writings on this blog. Today I have decided to share a writing that I did years ago for one of the mission teams that traveled to Saba with us. We share written devotionals with our team to promote quiet, daily reflection time.  Many of the team members end up asking how the trip began or how we came to know about Saba. So this has been my way of answering that and sharing a bit of God’s story of Michael and Aletha and Saba with our teams.

This is how my life with Saba began…

A Clean House, Good Friends, and A Red Car

Some of you may already know the ins and outs of how Michael and I ended up living on this beautiful little island in the middle of the Caribbean Sea.  To make a long story short for those of you that do not…

Michael proposed to me in November of 2000.  Well not really…we just came to the conclusion we were going to get married the following July, but that is another story in and of its self.  With that agreement and decision, I knew that I had also decided to follow him to where ever he chose to go to medical school.  He had heard of some schools scattered on various Caribbean islands, including St. Martin.  He found five schools he was interested in, got accepted to four, and began weighing the pros and cons of each.  Together we chose SABA University School of Medicine by March 2001. We got married as planned in July, and a month later landed on the tiniest commercial runway in the world.

To say the least we were scared as we prepared to go to Saba.  We knew all we were going to have was each other and God. Through out those months we prayed like we had never prayed before, turning to God with our concerns and requests.  Our continuous prayers included these main requests…

1. A job for me to supply an income and success for Michael in school.
2. A safe and nice place to live.
3. Lots of new friends.
4. An affordable car.
5. An answer to how we were going to continue our walk with Him through worship and service.

God showed us the power of prayer and His blessings one by one.  Just before we moved I called the Saba Comprehensive School, with doubt that I would find anything they were willing to let a “home ec” teacher do.  Within a week I was hired over an email to become the schools’ food preparation and care teacher. 

About a month before we made the trip we began calling a list of possible landlords.  We finally found an American man that we could understand over the phone.  He had a small apartment for rent that sounded great, so with faith we took it.  The week before we were to fly out, we got a call from a Freed-Hardeman University graduate.  Scott Wilson and his wife, Kimberly, both enrolled in Michael’s class, wanted to know if we would like to worship as a home church with them, and let us know that they were renting from the same American man on the island, making our apartments with a couple hundred feet from each other.

We arrived on Saba safely on a wet and rainy Wednesday afternoon as two passengers of the only WinAir flight that made the trip that day.  Our apartment was clean and perfect for us newlyweds.  I began teaching the next morning.  Michael began classes a few days later and found med school to be challenging but rewarding.  As the next few days went on, our circle of friends grew with people with similar backgrounds that we began to depend on and love.  The times of Bible study and worship were wonderful and our numbers grew there as well, with believers and non-believers. 

One more answered prayer to go, you might think…the car.  Michael searched for a few weeks and we began to tire from hitching to town from Lower Hell’s Gate.  Nothing had fit our budget as of yet.  Then the call came.  An upper class student offered us a beat up red Hyundai Excel with a few problems under the hood…a typical island car.  The price was almost too good to be true…FREE, plus the repairs it may have to have.  We repaired the muffler, replaced a hose which we got at no charge, changed the oil a couple of times, gave it a paint job with five cans of red spray paint just for kicks, and drove it to the airport the day we left the island for good.  “The Red Flame”, as we called it, is a story that we will one day tell our grandkids about.

God is good to those that seek His guidance. We are told in Hebrews 4:16 to come boldly before His throne with what is on our hearts and minds.  In Philippians 4 we are told to not be anxious but just ask God for everything and then be thankful for His blessings.  The smallest things in human eyes, like a clean place to live and a car to drive, matter to Him because they matter to us. I am thankful I serve a God who listens, cares, provides, and teaches through it all.