life and wealth

"When anyone hears the message about the kingdom and does not understand it, the evil one comes and snatches away what was sown in their heart. This is the seed sown along the path. 

The seed falling on rocky ground refers to someone who hears the word and at once receives it with joy. But since they have no root, they last only a short time. When trouble or persecution comes because of the word, they quickly fall away.

The seed falling among the thorns refers to someone who hears the word, but the worries of this life and the deceitfulness of wealth choke the word, making it unfruitful. 

But the seed falling on good soil refers to someone who hears the word and understands it. This is the one who produces a crop, yielding a hundred, sixty or thirty times what was sown.”


- Matthew 13:19-23

i'm thinking about this today... wondering where the seed of the word has landed in my own life. i guess i never thought about how the 2 things that make the seed unfruitful when it falls among the thorns are the worries of this life, and the deceitfulness of wealth. those 2 things can come off as harmless. like small, petty, unnoticeable sins. those 2 things are rampant everywhere in this culture... and in my heart. i worry a lot (especially lately) about my future, about my life (what i will eat, what i will drink, what i will wear... hmm, sound familiar?) and i lose trust in God's ability to be my provision.

that leads to the false security of wealth. i think to myself, if we get in a financially good state, if we can own this or that, then we'll be set. this is a dangerous and exhausting way to live. and yet, it's everywhere. it's ingrained in our society, in our "american dreams." in our big house and our 3 car garages and our well-kept children. it's so hard to get away from it. but this reminds me today that i need to be diligent in turning away from these weeds that choke. i want God's light to burst forth like the dawn in my life, but in order for that to happen, i need to become consumed with the things that consume the heart of God.

A Walk in the Woods by Bill Bryson

this was such a fun read. it's bryson at his best and most self-deprecating. i always enjoy his writing style and the ways he weaves history and science into his own personal narrative. he knows his stuff, and his research is extensive - so when i read him, i feel like i'm learning (and enjoying it) in spite of myself. i'd give this book a 4/5. i found myself yearning for a little more of the redeeming human story that lingered in the shadows - more characters and development - but i realize that may have been part of his artistic choice as he tried to paint the overwhelming and neverending scenery around him.

Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte

i've wanted to read this book for a long time, lumping it in with Pride & Prejudice and Great Expectations. but, woah, this is different. it's darker, more sinister, more violent, less forgiving. the characters aren't exactly likable, and they're stuck in a cyclical, malicious existence. the third-person narration style was jumpy and the reader kept having a sneaking suspicion that the narrator is offering a subjective view of the whole thing. and yet, all that is not to say that i hated it. it sort of got under my skin after a while. i just had to see how it would all end. i'd give it a 4.5/5. it's one of those books that lingers with you, with it's beautiful descriptions of the moors, the fog, and the rain. it's haunting.

Little Bee by Chris Cleave

oh man, i am behind on my books reflections (as if i'm some sort of student). i'll give this book a 3.5/5. it was a quick read and an interesting story with slightly outrageous twists and turns. while not entirely believable or advanced, it was entertaining, and i loved the perspective of the refugee girl from nigeria. i know there are hundreds of thousands of children living with similar haunting memories and broken pasts.  i wouldn't go out of my way to recommend it, but i enjoyed it.

it doesn't do any good

to sit on the kitchen floor and cry. i know this, because i tried it tonight. big, fat tears rolled down my cheeks. i wiped snot on my t-shirt sleeve like a little kid. i admit it, i'm an ugly crier, and i prefer to do it alone. by way of explanation, i'd just stubbed my toe wickedly. it hurt so ungodly much that i inadvertently crushed the sprite can in my hand as i spit "dammit" through clenched teeth. and that, ladies and gentlemen, was the last straw in my stack. i slumped down in our little kitchen and cried.

i would classify today as a sort of sad day, overall. i went to a funeral this morning of a woman who was part of my mexico mission team last november. she was spunky and fun, engaged to be married, and planned to come to south africa this summer. she was 61, and was diagnosed with cancer. less than six months later, she's gone. it's sobering, to say the least, to sit at her memorial service and watch her fiancee and kids and parents and siblings choke up repeatedly. some things don't make any sense.

the day ebbed into a bleh sort of evening, where the tv hypnotizes you and steadily sucks minute after minute from your marrow until you realize your whole night is gone. i hate television, and yet even i fall prey to it's alluring images. i was grumpy that i didn't do productive things tonight. i have dozens of thank yous to write to all the selfless individuals who have been generous enough to support david and me on a mission trip. i have stacks of papers to wade through and attempt to organize. a job hinges on my ability to get everything done right. or so i feel.

so then, i did the typical wife thing and snapped at david, because i feel like i'm the one taking initiative the whole way. i feel like i'm the one in charge, for some reason. i feel like if i don't push and pull and drag, then nothing will ever get done. whether that's true or not, i don't wait around to find out. i jump the gun, i read and reread everything, and then i get mad that i've had to do it all alone.

but really, look at me, crying so so quietly on the dirty rug in the kitchen. why am i crying so quietly? because i want to be alone. i am so fiercely independent, i sometimes don't even give david a chance. i don't want attention, in fact i run from it, but sometimes we have to be vulnerable. i have to admit that, quite frankly, i don't know why i'm crying. i'm just sort of scared, and feeling sad about everything tonight. life can be grand and beautiful, and we like to show off the good parts to everyone around us, a convincing display unto ourselves that we have it all together.

but sometimes, people cry. and they don't look good while they do it.

sometimes, life can be a little heavy. but we ought to ask for a hand. i think that's how He wanted it to be.

writing as a distraction

i'm sitting at our little chrome-rimmed kitchen table, listening to my hubby talk about teaching in the other room. he's got a tie on, for a skype interview at 9:00 on a thursday night. he's talking to the same woman i just finished talking to, and, man, she grilled me. i feel a little deflated, a little unsure of myself. but i do hear david in the other room talking about all his experience and knowledge and i think, how can they not hire the guy (and then let me tag along with)?

the interview has been on our minds these past few days. today, after work, we drove out to lynnville, iowa, to pick up a craigslist chair (10 bucks!) and we fake-interviewed ourselves on the drive back. we ate dinner at saint's - a new bar and grill in beaverdale. it has one wall made up of garage doors that open up when the weather is nice. we sat outside and felt the breeze and ate our american food, lost in thought over our korean interviews.

we got home and rushed around the apartment in a flurry, printing off resumes and applications, getting skype set up, finding professional clothes (my first selection was deemed too frumpy by my husband) and clearing our throats. but now i sit here and wonder, do we have a clue what we're getting ourselves into? what if, next year at this time, we have no craigslist to peruse, no car to drive, no american food to eat, no friends to text and beg for prayers?

but i think there's one guarantee: at the end of all of this, we'll have a great story. whether it all falls apart, or goes according to plan, whether i'm a great or horrible teacher... we'll get home and we'll have something to tell. we will have tried to make the most, living on the least, using what we've been given. we will have an adventure, and it will shape us for the better. stories are all we've got.