Something Beautiful

I am not wired to see life through rose colored glasses. If anything I would say my lenses tend to be pretty gray by nature. That said, as someone who has struggled with depression and anxiety in my 20's and 30's, one of my acquired and learned disciplines has been focus. When we look at something, whether it be concrete or abstract, we look at it through a unique paradigm that is influenced by our own experiences, fears, beliefs and worldview. Our default is to interpret things much like a camera on auto focus through our own uniquely programmed set of lenses. When we allow ourselves to be conscious, curious and cautious of  how our default affects our perspective, we are able to switch out of auto mode, and learn to see a whole new world of depth and color in manual mode.

Some years ago, the word I chose for my year was "beauty". I wanted to make a concentrated effort that year to be acutely aware of the beautiful. It was an amazing and life altering exercise for me. I threw away my gray lensed glasses that year and disciplined my eyes to observe more closely, appreciate more fully the beauty in the mundane. I am a different, happier, pleasanter person because of it.

Today as I curled up to read to my fourth grader I found myself basking in the warmth of this reality as expressed so powerfully in this passage;

'Michele started toward the painting, but Lord Derby stopped him. "Wait a minute. If you like the picture I'll give it to you. But you must tell the truth."
Michele looked around him. How wonderful it would be to take this place home with him- the sea, and the sky and the cliffs! He walked to the front of the easel, looked at the canvas and then looked again.
There was no sea, no sky, no cliffs.
"The steps," he gasped. "You painted a picture of the steps to Anacapri."
Lord Derby nodded, well pleased with himself. "Do you like my picture?"
Michele nodded, slowly. "Yes. Only-"
"Only what?"
"The steps are so beautiful."
"Have I made them too beautiful? More beautiful than they really are?"
"I never thought they were beautiful at all. I thought they were ugly."
"Perhaps you have never looked at them before."
"Looked at them? I have looked at them a thousand times!"
"Sometimes we never look at the things we see most often."
Michele continued to stare at the picture. "Those colors in the rocks-are they really there?"
"I saw them there."
"And the steps- do they loop and turn like that?"
"Exactly like that."
"You have made them look like a stairway to heaven!"
"Have I? Good..."
But as they walked toward home Michele was still puzzled. "Lord Derby."
"Yes, Michele?"
"Why did you go to the most beautiful spot on Capri and then paint something else?"
..."You don't need an artist to show you the beauty of a place like that. But your ugly steps- if I have made you see a bit of beauty in them, Michele, I am very happy."

Oh how this fills my chest with a warm rush of wonder. The world has its share of ugliness. As I look out my window the scene is littered with abandoned, mildew and graffiti tainted edifices with gaping dark mouths of former windows and doors; streets strewn with garbage, whole bags of it, ripped open and spread far and wide by wild mangy dogs. But my focus elicits a feeling of wonder and joy. I see the soft depth of the green pine forest against the backdrop of the ever azure Mediterranean sky. I see the bobbing yellow orbs on the lemon tree in the abandoned yard behind us drooping under the weight of its bounty, the explosion of purple petals on the bougainvillea climbing the corner of the dilapidated house, the two perfect roses suspended against the backdrop of rough bamboo that shields us from the street.

Like the mess outside my window, the news and the realities of life in a fallen world are ugly and regretful. But the world is still such a wonderful place. We have been given the gift of sight and senses and the power to exercise them. In the midst of the ordinary, the ugly and mundane we can always find something beautiful.

 a few of the 921 steps (only access) to the hilltop town of Anacapri (Capri, Italy)

The Crate of Christmas Oranges

When I suspected my last post for "Stones by the Road" I didn't mean the blog in general, but the theme that I had chosen for 2015. I felt the focus would shift in 2016 and was waiting to see where the road would lead. In the end, the road goes on and the stones remain, they will just take on broader hues of remembering rather than solely God's acts of faithfulness. They will also come to represent people, stories, and moments that bear epigraph.

So here I stand, with a stone in my hand and a story to tell.

When I was a kid, we lived for some years in a refurbished shed with no power and no running water. We drove a mint green 1960's Plymouth Valiant station wagon (when it ran) and I remember wanting to be dropped off a block away from school so noone would see me pulling up in "Betsy".

Our shack had a refurbished steel barrel for a wood heating stove, oil lamps, propane fridge and stove. In winter (mountain winter, I remember the cold blowing in through the cracks in the chinking, frozen senseless feet on clapboard floors, frosty breath like smoke in the morning) we melted snow to wash dishes and ourselves in an iron basin. In summer a black barrel on a stand outside warmed water for us to shower in the great outdoors. So I know a little bit about roughing it, but I remember it more with fondness than despair. Life was simple; complicated, but simple.  I had a swing under the big old evergreens growing on the slope that would swing me way out over the bank until I felt I was suspended between sky and land.

We got food hampers at Christmas back then, and I vaguely remember my step dad bringing home a tub of hand me down toys and a crate of Christmas oranges from the local community center. We were the have nots.

Flash forward to today, and here we are, suspended somewhere in the space between the haves and the have nots.

We knew before we came to Naples that God was giving us a huge home of great value for little more than the rent many pay for a large apartment. We also knew we were coming to a very poor neighborhood that houses (and I use the term loosely as many of them are squatters) more Africans than Italians. In reality, driving down our streets there is little to indicate you are not in Africa.

Since we came to the field we live on substantially less monthly income and have slightly higher monthly expenses than we used to. We don't know how this works, but so far it seems to be like the lady with the oil in the jar. It never runs out.

All that said, I look around and I just can't fathom how my neighbors are doing it. We have money for groceries, for insurance for our vehicle, gas for the same, and pellets for our stove (heating source). This Sunday at Il Faro our family helped with handing out our monthly food hampers to 24 families from or with connections to our church who don't have money for any of those things. They live in houses that are mostly unheated except for a wood stove or a fireplace in their kitchen. They go out near daily to hunt for fallen wood in the pine forest (which is illegal) because they can't afford firewood. The temperature here goes down to plus 5 at night and even though it may get to plus 16 during the day, it never takes the humid chill out of a concrete building.

But they would give you the shirt off their back. Watching them, living among them, we are learning so much about God's economy and living beyond one's means.

Don't get me wrong, I don't use that term with the North American connotation of living beyond one's means by buying more house, bigger cars, faster toys and maxing out our credit cards. On the contrary, I use the term to refer to giving when you have not.

You see, we have these neighbors. All they have is each other, the eggs their chickens lay and what goodwill provides them.  She comes over a few times every week with eggs for me, and the other day we returned home to find a crate of Christmas oranges on our dining room table. A Christmas present from them. They don't have money to buy themselves meat for their table, but they bought a crate of Christmas oranges for us.

The oranges have taken on a deep symbolism for me. They represent the couple back home who have struggled financially and made sacrifices as a family of 8 due to lack of work and yet continue to support us faithfully with four times our average monthly support. They represent our missionary friends on the field with us here in Italy who live by faith and give monthly towards our support by faith as well. They represent another beautiful couple who have struggled with unemployment and financial hardship and yet choose to give to make it possible for us to go. They represent the church in Texas who know nothing about us except except for the short bio and family photo they saw in the MSC Canada missionary handbook and yet sent money for us to buy Christmas presents for our kids.

Lastly, they represent our own unfolding story. Freely you have been given, freely give. I may not have money to buy presents for my own kids, I may not have money to put my kids in activities, but you can bet your bottom dollar our family is giving the gift of firewood to a number of special people this week. And our hearts are warmed and our spirits are happy as we learn to live by God's rich upside down economy that it truly is better to give than to receive.

Ordinary Miracles

I get the feeling this will be my last post for Stones by the Road. Not a dead end, but a bend in the road. A friend prayed for me today  that the “extraordinary” provisions of God would become “ordinary” to me. That I would know Him so well, trust Him so deeply, that I would cease to be surprised but would graciously expect and accept His divine provision. I think she articulated something that has already been taking place in me.

At the end of this year of “gratitude (and trust)”, my opportunities to exercise both have been legion. I will continue to carry the rich lessons and memories of this year with me as God’s story for us unfolds and I know that God will continue to provide more opportunities to continue to thank and trust Him. As He does, I come to know more and more who my Father is, and how deeply He loves and cares for us.

I think the final stone for my little roadside cairn is fitting for two reasons. One, it has to do with Christmas, and the close of this year. Two, because in a way it also ties in with the word that God has given me for 2016.

Lighting has been on my mind the past few days. Our new house has those kind of lightbulb candelabras everywhere that use anywhere from 5-8 light bulbs per fixture. Most of the lightbulbs are burned out, leaving anywhere from 0-3 lightbulbs working per room.  Because Europeans are very conscious of energy consumption may I just add, that these let off nowhere NEAR the light we are used to living under in Canada. This is not a bad thing, unless you are trying to read aloud to your kids after dark.

The second lighting I have been thinking about is Christmas lighting. For the tree. Which I hope we get to put up during the course of this next week.

So today we went to the grocery store and I stopped short in the lighting aisle. I was aghast when I saw the prices of the little bulbs we need for the candelabras. Thinking of the Christmas lights (priorities people!), I cringed a little and walked away.

When we got home I was working on the last of my unpacking in our bedrooms, transferring summer clothes from moving boxes into trunks we had been given after an American woman moved away. When I got to the last trunk, I was surprised to find it had stuff in it. My heart kind of skipped a beat as I anticipated what was coming. I don’t know how I knew, all I can say is that I am getting to know God…. And yes, there were 5 boxes of unopened Christmas tree lights (white of course, my favorite) in the bottom of the trunk.

And what I love about it is that the word God has placed on my heart for 2016 is “Shine”.

I think that is what Sarah Maclachlan would call “just another ordinary miracle today….”