A Fit Like Knucklebones

We spent a night out with friends this last week, introducing them to a little French restaurant in the western suburb of Lombard, Illinois. We love this little restaurant, which has eight tables at the most. It is a creperie with buckwheat savory crepes for the main course and wondrous sweet crepes for dessert. Then because the evening that we dined out was also lovely summer evening, and to continue our celebration of things French, we invited our friends to come home and watch the great French comedic caper The Dinner Game (with subtitles, of course) that David and I enjoy viewing from time to time. Read More: http://goo.gl/efNv8

The Table Is Always Set at Our House

“Don’t your dishes get dusty?” asked a friend as she watched me put the just-washed dishes back on the table.

“Probably,” I replied. “But if they do, we just swipe them. And actually David and I just eat around the table, so the settings get washed a couple times a week. However, I am always ready for company. I think a set table says, “Welcome.” It says, “We are waiting for you.” It says, “We are ready.” Read More: http://goo.gl/xHvBj

Cirilo Trenched the Back-Garden Beds

Having returned home from Africa in April, then having returned home from another trip to California the first part of June, I was behind on my spring gardening chores. So I diligently worked early every morning and in the gloaming light of early evening to catch up, concentrating on the front gardens. This has been a miracle spring—beautiful days, cool weather, NO MOSQUITOES, and long days as the earth moves on its axis toward the summer solstice. Read More: http://goo.gl/PzOkp

Sometimes We Lose Our Way

Ideally, a pilgrim (anyone who goes on a journey—across the world or just across the threshold of the front door) should prepare for the fact that when traveling, sometimes we lose our way.

The car stalls or breaks down; the GPS gives us confusing directions; a missing street-sign allows us to pass the intersection where we should have turned left. We generally have one of two reactions when we get lost—we can become confused or we can become infuriated. Frontiersman Daniel Boone was once asked if he had ever been lost. “No,” he replied slyly. “But I was bewildered once for three days.”

Read more: http://goo.gl/aFNRd

Global Bag Project

If you would like to think ahead and order document bags for your next special event, please think of our Global Bag Project seamstresses. Read More: http://goo.gl/tdSqT

Praises for a God Who Is Beyond Time Zones

Have you ever gone on a God Hunt? A God Hunt begins when you teach yourself to look for God’s hand at work in the everyday occurrences of your life. Here’s one of my personal God Hunt Sightings:



 

Most of us have agreed that going west across time zones requires minimal adjustment. Coming home, however, flying east, is a whole different matter. I have come to the conclusion that it is just going to be a full two weeks before am I really back.

The first night at home after 21 days in Africa, I kept waking up thinking I was still moving through the streets of Nairobi. In a few days, I began to catch seven to eight hours of sleep. Five days home, I didn’t need an afternoon nap, but I was still not wanting to be around ANYONE but my family. There was a displacement of my inner time zones; morning hours took forever to live through. It felt like two in the afternoon, as though I had been awake that long since morning, when it was still only 10:00 A.M.

How comforting to know that God is a God who is above all time zones and not limited by any of them. I wrote out in my prayer journal:

I praise you God of all Time Zones:

• that you neither slumber nor sleep

• that you are never jet-lagged

• that you are always here and always there

• that you are present in all the longitudes and latitudes

• that your love stretches from the North Pole to the South Pole; and that your grace tracks through the equator and the meridians.

You are my Place before all others.

This is a solace for the jet-lagged travelers.

I spy God!

Flowers for Mother’s Day

Have you ever gone on a God Hunt? A God Hunt begins when you teach yourself to look for God’s hand at work in the everyday occurrences of your life. Here’s one of my personal God Hunt Sightings:



Cirilo Leon, from Oaxaca, Mexico lives with us in the gardening season. Cirilo used to be my brother-in-law’s gardener for eleven years, and after the estate was sold and still needing to make money to support his wife and children, he picked up other clients along the estates up our road. Cirilo eventually came to live with us. After all, he was practically one of the family.

In Mexico, Mother’s Day is a big day for honoring the matriarch. Any daughters throw a big fiesta, the family gathers, gifts are given and mother is highly honored. Cirilo has concluded that my family—and since I only have one daughter, so particularly Melissa—do not do enough to make me feel special. “Why you not have fiesta?” he asked Melissa once. “Your mother a good lady.”

Actually, Melissa is a wonderful and generous (overly-generous) daughter. I have no complaints about any of my children. I figure three out of four (cards, phone calls, Hi, Moms!) each year is pretty good. Generally, one of the four forgets that it is Mother’s Day, but the rest always manage to fit something in.

So when I came downstairs early in the morning last Sunday (Mother’s Day) there was a pitcher of flowers for me on the coffee table in the living room. Cirilo had bought me flowers for Mother’s Day. I was surprised by how touched I was by this small token of remembrance. “Cirilo,” I said when he came up from his room in the basement. “You bought me flowers! How lovely of you!”

I did make a point of telling Cirilo that we had celebrated Mother’s Day the evening before by going to see The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel with my daughter and son-in-law (if you haven’t seen this film with Judy Dench, Maggie Smith, Tom Wilkinson and Dev Patel of Slumdog Millionaire fame, do fit it in). Then I told him that the family was gathering in the evening, but I don’t think it all quite fit the standard of a Mexican fiesta Mother’s Day. I could tell he was thinking, Well at least they are doing something for this nice lady.

I’ve passed the flowers on the dining room table several times a day since Sunday, and I always think, “Oh how lovely. Cirilo gave those to me for Mother’s Day.” It is a reminder of his kindness, a marker of a kind of goodness.

This reminds me of the Scripture verse from Psalm 103:1-2:

“Bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me, bless his holy Name. Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits.”

The world this May spring is like passing Cirilo’s Mother’s Day flowers on the dining room table. Every green thing, every bee buzzing around the bee hive, the rabbit eyeing my just-planted garden, the robins waiting to bathe in the fountain when it bubbles up are a reminder of all his benefits. Bless the Lord, O my soul.

I spy God!