acclimation

We had a little trouble with Joel exhibiting irrational fears a couple weeks ago, on our arrival in Kenya. A neighbor's little rat dog and ants (seen or otherwise) made him unable to leave his bed without shoes or socks, and the house without adult supervision. But this week we went to an elephant orphanage, and I saw this sight, which makes it look like he's getting along just fine. This is Joel, watching elephants, and holding the hand of a perfect stranger.

Good morning, closet door!

I was recently trying to explain to a friend what transition stress/shock was like, as we've been feeling it in this, our fifth house in the last 17 months. I told him that transition shock was not knowing where to buy milk, or looking at your fridge and having to figure out where to go to get what you need to make a meal.  And I think knowing your "commercial space" in a given locale is part of it.  But there's another space that I've been figuring out, too.  Normally, I deal with transitions from one house to another fairly well.  This house is the first in awhile that I have felt this kind of shock, probably because we were in two (very) short term situations before finding this one.  For the first week, I would wake up in the night, and have no idea where the walls were.  I've heard discussions of "mind maps" that our mind/body has, that tell us where our limbs, etc are -- the part of our psychology that needs to adapt when we loose a limb.  I think it goes further than that.  Our house is not as permanent as our limbs are, which we carry everywhere.  But there is a comfort and a certainty to knowing where the lamp is beside your bed, and not having to feel all over for it, because it has been in that same place forever.  Or where your bed is situated in the room, and what the path is to the bathroom. Being colorblind, I'm told I have better night vision than most people.  But I think the fact that I can normally get up and about without the lights on has at least as much to do with the fact that I know what is there. I'm not talking about a sensory perception, that looks around, or considers and remembers what the facts are.  I'm talking about your body having navigated a particular space so many times, that it becomes habit -- it becomes natural.  You don't have to think about it (much) anymore. And I think this is the stress.  Having to think through every little detail of life (where are the car keys?  Where is my underwear?  Where is the children's medicine? Where is my flashlight? etc., etc., etc.) drains the intellectual and emotional energy to think through the things we would normally think about, when these more basic things are given.  I'm not saying that no one else ever has to look for car keys, or re-evaluate where to buy milk.  The burden is when this all happens at once.
Anyway, I got up this morning, and felt my way to our bedroom door, and whacked my head on the closet door.  If you'd asked me where the closet door was, I could have told you. I never have had this kind of closet door before (they're folded on each side, so they stick out into the room on each side when open), but I know we have them now, and we have for almost four weeks.  But my body still had no idea that its quest for the hallway put it on a collision course with the closet door.

And out comes the sun(glasses)!

This weekend was rather trying for us.  We know there is a reason for the trials we face, and at times we beg God to know what it/they is/are.  But it seems like part of His reason it to get us to trust Him more, without seeing the reason now.  We look back at what Piper calls bygone grace, and we see that, in 2003, when we left for our first term, we left much later than we wanted, and were spared many other hardships we would surely have found, had we followed our original plan.  But we can't see what's up ahead just now.
I went fishing On Saturday, and James and I each caught two fish. We came home, cleaned them up, and did a few other things around the house while everyone else was out.  Part of what I was doing was finishing prep for the two presentations I would make the following day.  Then the call came.  Kim was stranded 22 miles south on I-5 with a dead car (turns out it was only the transmission!), and the leisurely evening I had planned became a road trip, grabbing emergency drive-through on the way to pacify the natives (this was already the dinner hour when it happened). When we got home, we were told yet again how stressful our children are to our (very very gracious) hosts, and we stayed up late talking, realizing it was probably time to find other housing, rather than stress these people too much, and risk hurting our relationship with them.  So Sunday morning I babbled my way through a few stories, and we got home and all got a healthy 45 min nap before hitting the road again, this time an hour north.  More drive-through, and a hasty meal in a church courtyard.  This presentation went a lot more smoothly (though I messed up the instructions to the A/V people!), but it was hard to tell if anyone was touched.  We'll see.
All day Sunday, we're driving a 1982 Volvo we have been graciously loaned, with a car seat and two booster seats in the back, four-window AC, and sun visors that don't really block the sun.  But that's OK, since Kim got me these really cool sunglasses a couple months ago, that fit me well, and that I enjoy wearing.  Only I can't find them.  So I squint and groan, and ask God what His purpose in this is.
I had breakfast with a pastor last week, and we talked about this very question, that God doesn't always (ever?) show his purpose on our timeline, and sometimes God is just asking us to press on with what we know is right.  We don't see the dawn, but it does eventually come.  Plodding through this day, and the night that follows, another day does come.
So this morning, as we're rushing to get everyone out of the house for swimming lessons, Kim digs through the swim bag, and finds my sunglasses.  Apparently I left them there in the chaos of taking the boys on a swim picnic last Friday.  I don't know how to explain the joy I felt, though in putting them on (I didn't care that I was inside the house!)  It was like the dawn had finally come, and the sun was finally starting to shine.  I know it is such a silly thing to let such mundane things affect your outlook on life.  But it seems like our lives are so full of the mundane these days, that we've got to get it organized and put away, or it will kill us. 
So God puts my sunglasses away, and lets me struggle through a whole weekend of squinting, to show me that He is good even then, and that He does bring the sun out again.  Or, as the scriptures say, that His mercies are new every morning.  Even this morning.

Depression in a Bottle

When neither sun nor stars appeared for many days, and no small tempest lay on us, all hope of our being saved was at last abandoned. (Acts 27:1-20 ESV)

I found this verse interesting. I've heard commentary on this passage, that talked about whether the centurion should have listened to the pilot and owner of the ship or to Paul, but not much about how people felt when it was clear they had gone wrong.

We have felt like this much this year, and this is perhaps the first time I see a really good representation of it. Not that I've been to sea much, though I have felt the uncontrollable wrenching of seasickness. What would it be like to not see the sun or stars for days? I think this is something of what we have felt. Praise God, it didn't end there. When we see the sun blotted out, we know that this is not the end of it. Paul did make it to Rome. And, as God promised Noah,

Gen 8: 21b "I will never again curse the ground for man's sake,
although the imagination of man's heart is evil from his youth; nor
will I again destroy every living thing as I have done.
22 "While the earth remains,
Seedtime and harvest,
Cold and heat,
Winter and summer,
And day and night
Shall not cease."

In doing a bit of a word search, I also saw that the sun and stars would give testimony to the power of Jesus when He comes to make all things right:
Luke 21:25"And there will be signs in sun and moon and stars, and on the earth distress of nations in perplexity because of the roaring of the sea and the waves, 26people fainting with fear and with foreboding of what is coming on the world. For the powers of the heavens will be shaken. 27And then they will see the Son of Man coming in a cloud with power and great glory. 28Now when these things begin to take place, straighten up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near."

But those distresses aren't the end, either. Once He has shaken the heavens and the earth, he provides for all our needs, giving us the light we need, and ending our mourning:
Isaiah 60:19 " The sun shall no longer be your light by day,
Nor for brightness shall the moon give light to you;
But the LORD will be to you an everlasting light,
And your God your glory.
20 Your sun shall no longer go down,
Nor shall your moon withdraw itself;
For the LORD will be your everlasting light,
And the days of your mourning shall be ended.

And in the end, we will praise Him, along with the very creation we feared to lose:
ps 148:
3 Praise Him, sun and moon;
Praise Him, all you stars of light!
4 Praise Him, you heavens of heavens,
And you waters above the heavens!

5 Let them praise the name of the LORD,
For He commanded and they were created.
6 He also established them forever and ever;
He made a decree which shall not pass away.

It is His eternal decree we aught to fear, I guess. Because the only way the sun and moon and stars would actually be lost is by command of the One who brought them to us in the first place. So until we lose His favor, we should be OK. And He tells us it will be OK when He does finally remove them, and fulfill our needs directly.

So, we want to feel fulfilled, responsible, loved, in control of our lives, etc. And we don't, which feels like the sun and stars have abandoned us. Can we trust God to fill the need for these affirmations? Can we trust that there will at least come a day, if it isn't already here, where God will fill these needs for us personally and directly, keeping us from needing affirmation in our suave personal relations, our organized dayplanner, our articulate speech, or our cool job? Having been through a shipwreck this last year, I can testify that I see clearly the vision presented in Rev 21:

3And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, "Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God. 4 He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away."