Today I missed my island.
I missed her beauty and majesty. You have never known the color green until you look at her hill sides. The blue hue that makes up her waters can never be captured in a box of crayolas. The skies are always clearer when on her shores. I never knew God could place rocks so strategically till I met Saba.
My heart aches for her nature. As my feet hit the tile of the school hallways and the pavement of a busy parking lot, my mind imagines the dampness of the path in the rainforest. I long to feel the salt from her waters on my skin. I close my eyes and the clock ticking on the wall suddenly turns into the whispers of the evergreens at the governor's gazebo.
I miss the pace of island life. I look at the watch on my wrist...it's always set on Saba time. The days go by slower there and the hours seem to be filled with more meaning. I can still hear the bus driver from years ago bellow from the driver side window, "Slow down, teacher. No need to rush on Saba."
The sounds are missed by my ears. I long to hear the laughter echo off the walls of Sacred Heart. I wish to hear Saba Comprehensive students call me by name. The roar of a twin otter and the crashing of the waves ring in my ears as I count the days until my feet are planted firmly on sweet Saba once again.
I miss the Caribbean air in my lungs, the sun in my eyes, and the sea breeze in my hair. I miss the bleating of goats and the rhythm of Socca music. I miss red roofs, white walls, and green shutters. I miss Ting and Johnny Cakes.
The people. This is what I miss most. The comfort of a cup of afternoon coffee with Ms. Lynne. Sitting with Trisha as our children play and explore. Having dinner with Jonathon and Rosa. Playing Twister with a group of little girls on a playground. Listening to the heart of a Caribbean teenage girl. Eating a feast at Jeff and Maricelly's. Taking a break in Principal Diane's office. Pulling Greco out of a garbage can for the millionth time. Finding time to visit with Jessica between classes. Catching up with the ladies at Big Rock. Taking a hike with Peter. Waving and giving a quick toot of the horn as we turn a curve and pass by a friend or two on the road.
These days are hard. But these days will make the next reunion with my island that much sweeter.
I never knew I could feel so at home so far away from home. There are places, there are cultures that welcome strangers and make them their own. There are people out there that see past the stereotypes that the world has placed on us all. Outside our borders there are places that have a lifestyle much wiser than ours. God has created these little spots of oasis to wet our appetites a bit; giving us a small glimpse of heaven. He increases my hope and joy each time I stand on this Unspoiled Queen.
I described Saba once upon a time as a place where one will see rainbows daily. The first day I ever saw a Saban rainbow I was teaching at the white board in the front of a class full of form two students. I turned to explain the material and outside the window was the brightest, most vivid rainbow I had ever seen. It glistened against the clear blue sky and stretched for what seemed like forever before it disappeared into the waters of the sea. One of my students had to bring me back to reality from the almost everyday Saban occurrence, which to me seemed more like a miracle, reminding me of God's unbreakable promises.
What if God allows rainbows to be that prominent everywhere...but some of us just don't slow down enough to notice them. We build tall buildings that obstruct our views. We pollute our air. We drive 75 in a 60 and 85 in a 70. Our calendars look like football play books. Our thumbs scroll on the little screens we have become addicted to, keeping our eyes adverted to the latest tweets and snaps. So many places to be...so many things on our plate...so much to do.
Everything about us, much less our eyes, is so adverted to our own agendas and plans. We get so accustomed to this way of life that we miss out and we forget. We don't see the rainbows.
I use to wonder when I would ever get to the point that I didn't have these days any more. Back years ago, I just assumed that one day I would get to the point that I wouldn't miss Saba so much. I haven't seen that time come yet and I don't think it ever will. But I see purpose in these days now. God gives us rainbows as promises. He gives us places like Saba as reminders of hope. He puts a longing for places of peace in our hearts for a reason. Life isn't about our lists of things to do and schedules we have to keep. It's about breathing in the life that God has given, the anticipation of something better to come, and sharing that with all those that He has you encounter.
I just know there will be afternoon coffee in heaven. There will be laughter and little children. There will be a a big table with good food to share. People will stop and talk on the road and take hikes in lush rainforests. The sounds will delight our ears and the sun will warm our cheeks like never before. And, rainbows...we will see lots of rainbows.
Tuesday, January 23, 2018
Wednesday, January 17, 2018
2018...#2...It Really Is That Simple
Cold weather and snow bring chaos and craziness to the South. People run to get bread and milk, clearing our shelves in grocery stores as fast as the Sunbeam and Purity men can stock them. We shut down our schools. Social media blows up with posts questioning roads and closings. If we dare get out after the snow starts, it's a good chance we may end up in a ditch after sliding our cars off the road. We love the white stuff and then within a week we are complaining that we are ready for summer.
Snow in the South...it's crazy, complex, and difficult.
But another word comes to my mind during the past week of this winter wonderland. Simplicity.
We traveled to the little historic community of Rugby, Tennessee on Friday, just as the snow and ice began to make it's way in to the area. This was the second year of a new tradition...Michael plans a January, after-hectic-holidays retreat for our family of five. He scoped out Rugby himself and the other four of us didn't know much about our destination. As the trip approached, we did a bit of Rugby research on line so we would know a bit about where we are headed. That is a Thomas family rule...educate yourself as to where you are going. The kids crossed their fingers that dad had chosen a decent lodging option, as history has told us this isn't always the case. For this momma, I didn't really care what the accommodations were; I was just excited to get away from the hustle and bustle of real life.
Turns out, Dad did good. We stayed in a quaint and quiet little cottage. By quaint, I mean nothing fancy, but it was clean and it had more than all the necessities we needed. And by quiet I mean no television, no WiFi, no really good cell service, and not a lot of other tourists around. Everything we wanted to do and see was within walking distance.
Simplicity.
We took walks in the snow, looked at old buildings, and met new friends. We played Monopoly, drank hot chocolate, and ate homemade pimento cheese. We laughed, teased, and prayed.
Simplicity.
We looked at antiques and asked questions as to how goat's milk could make the best soap. We visited an old country store, much like the ones my granddaddy use to frequent. We sat in old straight back chairs and waited as the lady behind the counter prepared fresh cut fried bologna sandwiches with rim cheese. We talked with her and ate slowly, no rush to be any where.
Simplicity.
Rugby has some of the sweetest little historic buildings. Nothing extraordinary, just simple and little and old. We found our way into one of the oldest, the local Episcopal church. The two stained glass windows behind the pulpit were beyond beautiful. The pews were old and uncomfortable. The song books and books of common prayer that sat ready for the parishioners to use had crisp pages and had that smell that draws one in to the words found on every page.
Again, I found simplicity.
But I think the greatest simplicity came from the fellow that spoke to us that day. He was a priest of an Episcopal church from Knoxville. He had made the trek over to Rugby to service the congregation for the weekend and care for them. He began to talk about the simplicity that lies within some of the big words that those that carry the name Christian theologian seem to throw around like all of us unversed in deep theology should but don't understand.
You know the ones, right? Trinity, exegesis, epistles, discipleship, the narrative...
That day, he chose to use the word "incarnation". When three kids I know began to have that confused look I am all too familiar with, he politely and kindly said this...
"Oh yes, incarnation. That's another one of those words that us ministers and priests use that we assume are easy to understand, but make us a bit out of touch with the people we are called to teach. You see that's just a big word for God telling us , 'Yeah, I have been there and done that'. That's all it really means."
When you look up the word incarnation, one will find this...
[in-kahr-ney-shuh n]
noun
1. an incarnate being or form
2. living being embodying a deity or spirit
3. assumption of human form or nature
4. the Incarnation (sometimes lowercase) Theology. The doctrine that the second person of the Trinity assumed human form in the person of Jesus Christ and is completely both God and man.
5. a person or thing regarded as embodying or exhibiting some quality, idea, or the like
When asked before by my children, I have briefly described it as "God became flesh". And I have pretty much left it at that, I guess assuming they just get it. After hearing the priest's explanation and focusing on that one clause in the definition, I am going back to clarify the beauty of this with the three kids.
Yes, Jesus did come to earth and put on this clothing we call flesh. He had eyelashes, and fingernails, and teeth. He got dirty and stinky and took a bath. His hair had to be washed and brushed. He had germs, got sick, and ate and drank. I bet he stumped his toe a time or two. He was a fleshly, earthly human. He had his likes and dislikes. He had to learn to read and write. He learned his father's trade...carpentry. He was tasked with respecting and obeying his mother. I bet at times he could be a hand full, just like all other little boys.
But what I think we loose sight of so often is that he had all the other human stuff going on too. His very human side is the part that us mortal humans can't really wrap our heads around. Emotions...he had them and a lot of them...just like we do. He loved to visit with people and get to know them. He enjoyed gathering around a table and sharing conversation over food. He got tired and run down at times. He had pure joy in laughter. He became angry and irritated on occasion. There are times I am sure things gave him chill bumps. His feelings were hurt and he might of felt left out. He was disappointed when folks and friends made the wrong decisions. He knew what it felt like to loose a friend and be the center of gossip.
Jesus was tempted. He knew what the pressure felt like to fit in and belong to the crowd. Satan chased him, taunted him, and threw things in his path to make him stumble. At times, I think if we remember he was human, we can realize he was afraid at times. His heart probably raced with a bit of anxiety.
Sometimes he spoke in metaphors but sometimes he just stated truth or fact. I have sat in a bible class or two in my time and we debate or discuss what Jesus meant when he said this or that. At times this is a necessity but much of the time I think we overthink, Jesus just being Jesus, and we forget he was human. Yes, he was God...100%...but what we tend to forget is that he was also human...100% human.
Yes, I understand and agree he was perfect. He was God after all and he came to save and redeem us. But when we negate the other part of the reason he came, we are missing out on the big picture. He came to understand, to be able to empathize, and to walk where we all have and do walk. He was our Father...and then also became our brother.
He left heaven...came to earth...was born of a natural childbirth, just like the rest of us. And then he lived. He just didn't put on flesh; he lived life. I want my kids to know that yes, Jesus came to save and redeem them...he was perfect...he was God...but he also came to live his life. That way when they are wrestling with the rough stuff of life maybe, just maybe, they can close their eyes and hear him say..."Hey, I have been there and done that. You got this."
Incarnation. It's that simple.
Snow in the South...it's crazy, complex, and difficult.
But another word comes to my mind during the past week of this winter wonderland. Simplicity.
We traveled to the little historic community of Rugby, Tennessee on Friday, just as the snow and ice began to make it's way in to the area. This was the second year of a new tradition...Michael plans a January, after-hectic-holidays retreat for our family of five. He scoped out Rugby himself and the other four of us didn't know much about our destination. As the trip approached, we did a bit of Rugby research on line so we would know a bit about where we are headed. That is a Thomas family rule...educate yourself as to where you are going. The kids crossed their fingers that dad had chosen a decent lodging option, as history has told us this isn't always the case. For this momma, I didn't really care what the accommodations were; I was just excited to get away from the hustle and bustle of real life.
Turns out, Dad did good. We stayed in a quaint and quiet little cottage. By quaint, I mean nothing fancy, but it was clean and it had more than all the necessities we needed. And by quiet I mean no television, no WiFi, no really good cell service, and not a lot of other tourists around. Everything we wanted to do and see was within walking distance.
Simplicity.
We took walks in the snow, looked at old buildings, and met new friends. We played Monopoly, drank hot chocolate, and ate homemade pimento cheese. We laughed, teased, and prayed.
Simplicity.
We looked at antiques and asked questions as to how goat's milk could make the best soap. We visited an old country store, much like the ones my granddaddy use to frequent. We sat in old straight back chairs and waited as the lady behind the counter prepared fresh cut fried bologna sandwiches with rim cheese. We talked with her and ate slowly, no rush to be any where.
Simplicity.
Rugby has some of the sweetest little historic buildings. Nothing extraordinary, just simple and little and old. We found our way into one of the oldest, the local Episcopal church. The two stained glass windows behind the pulpit were beyond beautiful. The pews were old and uncomfortable. The song books and books of common prayer that sat ready for the parishioners to use had crisp pages and had that smell that draws one in to the words found on every page.
Again, I found simplicity.
But I think the greatest simplicity came from the fellow that spoke to us that day. He was a priest of an Episcopal church from Knoxville. He had made the trek over to Rugby to service the congregation for the weekend and care for them. He began to talk about the simplicity that lies within some of the big words that those that carry the name Christian theologian seem to throw around like all of us unversed in deep theology should but don't understand.
You know the ones, right? Trinity, exegesis, epistles, discipleship, the narrative...
That day, he chose to use the word "incarnation". When three kids I know began to have that confused look I am all too familiar with, he politely and kindly said this...
"Oh yes, incarnation. That's another one of those words that us ministers and priests use that we assume are easy to understand, but make us a bit out of touch with the people we are called to teach. You see that's just a big word for God telling us , 'Yeah, I have been there and done that'. That's all it really means."
When you look up the word incarnation, one will find this...
[in-kahr-ney-shuh n]
noun
1. an incarnate being or form
2. living being embodying a deity or spirit
3. assumption of human form or nature
4. the Incarnation (sometimes lowercase) Theology. The doctrine that the second person of the Trinity assumed human form in the person of Jesus Christ and is completely both God and man.
5. a person or thing regarded as embodying or exhibiting some quality, idea, or the like
When asked before by my children, I have briefly described it as "God became flesh". And I have pretty much left it at that, I guess assuming they just get it. After hearing the priest's explanation and focusing on that one clause in the definition, I am going back to clarify the beauty of this with the three kids.
Yes, Jesus did come to earth and put on this clothing we call flesh. He had eyelashes, and fingernails, and teeth. He got dirty and stinky and took a bath. His hair had to be washed and brushed. He had germs, got sick, and ate and drank. I bet he stumped his toe a time or two. He was a fleshly, earthly human. He had his likes and dislikes. He had to learn to read and write. He learned his father's trade...carpentry. He was tasked with respecting and obeying his mother. I bet at times he could be a hand full, just like all other little boys.
But what I think we loose sight of so often is that he had all the other human stuff going on too. His very human side is the part that us mortal humans can't really wrap our heads around. Emotions...he had them and a lot of them...just like we do. He loved to visit with people and get to know them. He enjoyed gathering around a table and sharing conversation over food. He got tired and run down at times. He had pure joy in laughter. He became angry and irritated on occasion. There are times I am sure things gave him chill bumps. His feelings were hurt and he might of felt left out. He was disappointed when folks and friends made the wrong decisions. He knew what it felt like to loose a friend and be the center of gossip.
Jesus was tempted. He knew what the pressure felt like to fit in and belong to the crowd. Satan chased him, taunted him, and threw things in his path to make him stumble. At times, I think if we remember he was human, we can realize he was afraid at times. His heart probably raced with a bit of anxiety.
Sometimes he spoke in metaphors but sometimes he just stated truth or fact. I have sat in a bible class or two in my time and we debate or discuss what Jesus meant when he said this or that. At times this is a necessity but much of the time I think we overthink, Jesus just being Jesus, and we forget he was human. Yes, he was God...100%...but what we tend to forget is that he was also human...100% human.
Yes, I understand and agree he was perfect. He was God after all and he came to save and redeem us. But when we negate the other part of the reason he came, we are missing out on the big picture. He came to understand, to be able to empathize, and to walk where we all have and do walk. He was our Father...and then also became our brother.
He left heaven...came to earth...was born of a natural childbirth, just like the rest of us. And then he lived. He just didn't put on flesh; he lived life. I want my kids to know that yes, Jesus came to save and redeem them...he was perfect...he was God...but he also came to live his life. That way when they are wrestling with the rough stuff of life maybe, just maybe, they can close their eyes and hear him say..."Hey, I have been there and done that. You got this."
Incarnation. It's that simple.
Tuesday, January 9, 2018
2018...#1
Happy New Year!
2017 was over in a blink and as we stand here in the first week of 2018, we are assured it will come and go faster than it's predecessor.
This will be my first full year without a grandparent in the world. I will see my first of three kids leave the comforts of elementary school and head into the terrifying halls of high school. My youngest will spend her last days in the "little hall" (all of you WGS parents know what I am talking about). My 11-year old will continue to resemble a young lady rather than a little girl. I will celebrate with my mom as she retires and enjoys life outside of work. I will have survived seventeen years of marriage in July. The relationship with my island will turn 17 as well. Lord willing, I will run my first half marathon. My family of five will travel. I will turn 40.
40. Life begins at 40. Isn't that what they say?
When I think of 40 my mind usually turns to scripture. The number is used so many times in The Word...146 times if my research is correct. In some cases it denotes a period of testing or trial. In others, the number gives way to rebirth and new generations. In either case, 40 is a big number in so many stories.
Noah heard the rain on the roof of the ark for forty days and forty nights. Moses spent forty years in Egypt, then forty years in the wilderness before God made him the leader He had created him to be. God sent him onto Mt Sinai twice to get the law...forty days each time.
Jonah spent days trying to convince Ninevah to change it's ways. Forty days to be exact. In Ezekiel chapter 4 we read about the prophet lying on his right side for forty days; one day for each year of Judah's sin. Elijah went without food and water for forty days.
In the days of the judges, Deborah and Gideon served forty years each. Goliath taunted the Israelites for forty days until a little shepherd boy took him down. In Deuteronomy the people were told to give 40 lashes and 40 lashes only if someone was sentenced to be flogged.
Jesus fasted for forty days in the wilderness, while satan tempted him numerous times. He was subjected to one of those forty lashes floggings. And when he arose, Jesus waited forty days before he ascended into heaven.
I wonder if Noah thought life truly was going to begin for him when the doors opened back up again on the ark. Imagine the disappointment Moses must have had when he set out of Egypt after forty years, to realize he was only going to wonder around the wilderness for another forty. Elijah had to be so hungry after forty days. I wish I knew what life had in store for Gideon and Deborah after their forty years of judging...did life really begin after that???
I am not buying it. Life began along time ago and there have been new beginnings all along the way.
God did a lot with these folks over forty days, forty nights, and forty years. He molded them, prepared them, redeemed them, and refined their hearts over and over again. He taught them patience, increased their faith, and proved His presence. He made them stronger, wiser, and bolder. None of them were perfect, but God continued to make them better. He was always with them. Whether He was sending them manna, showing up in bush that was on fire, giving them a whisper in their ear, or being silent; He never forgot any of them. And at the end of the 40 lashes given to Jesus, God gave redemption to all of us.
With me, He has done some of the same in my first forty years. He has renewed my heart and opened my eyes to His promises again and again. He has allowed me cross paths with people who have taught me there are many different ways of life other than the one from which I was raised. He has taught me forgiveness. He has allowed me to see and experience the miracle of carrying a child and becoming a mother. I have been so imperfect through it all. I am so thankful that He has taught me about His grace. He has never forgotten me.
In my fortieth year...in 2018...my plans are His plans. My only resolution if you will for the new year is to be more in tune with what He would want me to do, as a mother...as a wife...as a teacher...as a woman...and a child of His. I vow to chronicle this fortieth year here in 40 individual posts. I know what He has done so far. In forty years I have been tested, had a few trials, and have been reborn a time or two. This is the last year of 40 and I am eager to see how He finishes refining and redeeming me for the next 40.
40. Life begins at 40. Isn't that what they say?
When I think of 40 my mind usually turns to scripture. The number is used so many times in The Word...146 times if my research is correct. In some cases it denotes a period of testing or trial. In others, the number gives way to rebirth and new generations. In either case, 40 is a big number in so many stories.
Noah heard the rain on the roof of the ark for forty days and forty nights. Moses spent forty years in Egypt, then forty years in the wilderness before God made him the leader He had created him to be. God sent him onto Mt Sinai twice to get the law...forty days each time.
Jonah spent days trying to convince Ninevah to change it's ways. Forty days to be exact. In Ezekiel chapter 4 we read about the prophet lying on his right side for forty days; one day for each year of Judah's sin. Elijah went without food and water for forty days.
In the days of the judges, Deborah and Gideon served forty years each. Goliath taunted the Israelites for forty days until a little shepherd boy took him down. In Deuteronomy the people were told to give 40 lashes and 40 lashes only if someone was sentenced to be flogged.
Jesus fasted for forty days in the wilderness, while satan tempted him numerous times. He was subjected to one of those forty lashes floggings. And when he arose, Jesus waited forty days before he ascended into heaven.
I wonder if Noah thought life truly was going to begin for him when the doors opened back up again on the ark. Imagine the disappointment Moses must have had when he set out of Egypt after forty years, to realize he was only going to wonder around the wilderness for another forty. Elijah had to be so hungry after forty days. I wish I knew what life had in store for Gideon and Deborah after their forty years of judging...did life really begin after that???
I am not buying it. Life began along time ago and there have been new beginnings all along the way.
God did a lot with these folks over forty days, forty nights, and forty years. He molded them, prepared them, redeemed them, and refined their hearts over and over again. He taught them patience, increased their faith, and proved His presence. He made them stronger, wiser, and bolder. None of them were perfect, but God continued to make them better. He was always with them. Whether He was sending them manna, showing up in bush that was on fire, giving them a whisper in their ear, or being silent; He never forgot any of them. And at the end of the 40 lashes given to Jesus, God gave redemption to all of us.
With me, He has done some of the same in my first forty years. He has renewed my heart and opened my eyes to His promises again and again. He has allowed me cross paths with people who have taught me there are many different ways of life other than the one from which I was raised. He has taught me forgiveness. He has allowed me to see and experience the miracle of carrying a child and becoming a mother. I have been so imperfect through it all. I am so thankful that He has taught me about His grace. He has never forgotten me.
In my fortieth year...in 2018...my plans are His plans. My only resolution if you will for the new year is to be more in tune with what He would want me to do, as a mother...as a wife...as a teacher...as a woman...and a child of His. I vow to chronicle this fortieth year here in 40 individual posts. I know what He has done so far. In forty years I have been tested, had a few trials, and have been reborn a time or two. This is the last year of 40 and I am eager to see how He finishes refining and redeeming me for the next 40.
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