Blessings in Disguise

"In everything give thanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you."  I Thess. 5:18

The miles passed quickly as we made our way in the car from Mercedes, in Corrientes, Argentina to Concordia, where we were going to cross the bridge into Salto, Uruguay.  As we approached the bridge, orange cones blocked the access and a police woman stood on the side of the road.

“What is going on?” Anibal asked.  “We’re going to Salto.”

“I am sorry, sir,” she said.  “The bridge is closed for repair.  It will open again in the evening.”

“But these two have to get to Montevideo,” Anibal explained.  “They have a flight out tomorrow.”

The policewoman kindly offered the available choices: 

• Wait until the bridge re-opened and go across then.  We knew that was not a good option because we would miss the afternoon buses to Montevideo.
• Go down to the next bridge which was more than 60 miles away.  That was not a good option for Anibal because it would take him further out of his way and delay his return home.
• Go into the next town to the Navy base where we could catch a boat across the river.

The third option was obviously the best one, so Anibal turned the car around and drove down the road.  After meandering through the town, we eventually found the Navy base where we got out and asked about the schedule.

"The boat just left and the next one is not until 3:00 p.m."

Oh well, there was nothing to do except wait for the next one.  We had plenty of time, so we left the car at the Navy base and headed out on foot to find lunch.  It was not even noon yet and many of the restaurants were just opening.  We walked along the sidewalk and saw one restaurateur setting tables outside.  

"Are you open?" we asked.  

"If you wait just a moment while I finish setting up," the owner replied.

We ordered burgers.  The typical Argentine burger comes with a fried egg on top and lettuce and tomato.  Charlie asked for mustard, but since it is not a normal condiment, we were charged for the entire bottle.  At the end of the meal, I asked about a tip.

"We do not usually do that," Anibal told us.  "Besides, you are leaving behind the bottle of mustard.  Let that be your tip."

Getting to experience a typical Argentine burger was a blessing.  It was a blessing in disguise because it came with a delay in our schedule.  If we had gone across on the bridge or if the boat had not just left, we would not have been able to experience that.

We headed back to the base.  We said our goodbyes to Anibal and continued to wait.  At 3:00 we boarded the boat and headed across the river to Salto.

In Salto, we got a taxi to take us to the bus station.  The taxi driver said to us, “I was born in Salto.  I have lived here all of my life, but I have never taken the boat across to Argentina.”  Without even realizing it, we had experienced what he thought was a novelty.  It was, to be sure, another blessing in disguise.

Days before, when we left Montevideo, we made arrangements with our missionaries there to stay at a hotel near to their home so that we could spend time with them.  Now we were very delayed and had no idea when we would arrive.  We contacted them to let them know they should not expect us.  At this point, we had no idea when we would actually arrive in Montevideo.  Of course, that meant that we had no idea where we would stay that night.

We arrived at the bus station and saw a Days Inn across the street.  An unexpected blessing.  We would not have to worry about having enough money for a taxi.  We could just walk there.  And yes, they had a room available.

In the morning, Charlie and I joined other hotel guests on the tenth floor for a typical Uruguayan breakfast of fruit, pastries and coffee.  After breakfast, I sat at one of the tables with my Bible and notebook in hand and marveled at this blessing in disguise.  Little did we know the night before as we pulled into the city that I would be able to sit on the tenth floor of a high-rise, enjoying my quiet time with the Lord with such a beautiful view around me.

The following day we boarded our plane to return to the U.S.  A few minutes after our scheduled departure, a deep voice came over the intercom.  “This is your captain speaking.  We are sorry for the delay.  There was a problem with a seal.  It is not something that will interfere with our flying, but we need to have the maintenance book signed off before we can fly.  Thank you for your patience.”

A half hour later we were still waiting.  Once again we heard the captain.  “Thank you so much for your patience.  I really thought we would be flying tonight, but because of some very bad weather over the Amazon, we have been informed that we cannot fly the plane with the problem with the seal.  I am so sorry.  This is a surprise to me.  I really thought we would be leaving tonight.”

So we all got off the plane and re-entered Uruguay.  The agent crossed off our exit stamps from a few hours earlier.  We reclaimed our luggage and headed for a hotel for the night.  As we drove through streets that were starting to become familiar, I realized we were heading for a different part of the city.  Now we would receive a night in a beautiful hotel with my loving husband, and even our meals were mostly covered. This was definitely another blessing in disguise.  

Traveling the world has helped us to understand that we can expect changes to our plans.  Yet even so, sometimes our reaction to the change shows that we do not appreciate the change.  We can chafe at the sudden change instead of finding the treasure in the adventure.  Instead of looking for the blessing, we focus on what was lost instead of what we gained.  No wonder we need to be reminded that we are to rejoice in everything.

Thank you, Lord, for your blessings, especially those that come disguised.
  

Joy in Maine, More Joy in Georgia, and Sorrow in Florida

“Rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with them that weep.”  Romans 12:15

Unlike many American families, my siblings are spread across the country and my extended family as well.  We can go months and even years before a family gathering happens.  So the past month has been unusual.  For the past three weekends, I have been with extended family.  

 

Joy. 

Three weekends ago, my brother got married in her church in Maine.  Many people came from nearby and a few from far away.  I had the privilege of traveling with my parents back to Maine, where my heart still is.  My dad officiated. 

 

It was a day of great joy as Steven, who has been looking for his match for many years, found it in a beautiful woman in Maine.  She is tall, athletic, intelligent, and a woman of great character who loves the Lord deeply.  

Many of her friends and relatives were there to celebrate with her and her family.  Several of my siblings were there as well as one cousin who drove in from New Hampshire. Some of my friends are also Tara’s friends, so I was able to reconnect with them as well.

More joy.  

The following weekend our family gathered in Georgia to celebrate my parents’ 90^th birthdays.  Dad is six days older than Mom, so both of their birthdays happen later this month.  In order to make it easier for people to attend, we decided to hold the celebration on the Saturday before Labor Day.  Invitations were sent out a while ago.  Their church offered to provide the meeting space, the food, and the flowers.  

All of us took part in making it a success.  My older sister decorated.  My younger sister provided the desserts.  The brothers sang.  (My youngest brother, who is a missionary in Japan, was unable to make it, so Charlie provided the fourth voice in the quartet.)  

We also read through a timeline of each of their lives.  For each of them, it was a demonstration of God's grace and their faith in that great God.

More than one hundred people attended.  Two of Dad’s siblings came up from Florida.  Some of their nieces and nephews came from as far as California.  A granddaughter came from Kuwait and a grandson from England.  Many of their church came as well as former colleagues from AMG.  It was a great day for us to celebrate lives that have been lived by faith in a great God.

 

The following day, Steven and Tara held a reception for those who were not able to attend the wedding.  They played a video of the ceremony and we ate lunch together.  Steven shared some precious words about his bride.  Again, it was a day of great joy.

Sorrow.   

This weekend my parents and I traveled to Florida to spend some time with my dad’s family.  My youngest uncle, Uncle David, was dying of cancer, and we wanted to see him before he died while he could still talk with us.  We drove down on Saturday and spent the night with another uncle.  On Sunday we went to church where my cousin’s husband pastors and they invited us to their house for lunch along with a bunch of others.

It was after 2:00 when we left my cousin’s home.   I called Aunt Edna to ask if it was a good time to come.  She warned us that he was now sleeping a lot.  When we walked in, we hugged her and began talking with her in quiet voices, while Uncle David lay in a hospital bed there in the living room.  I hoped that he would awaken so that we could at least talk with him a little, but he continued to lie there.  After a while I got up to stand by his bed.  He was quiet, almost too quiet.  We asked her about that.  

“He’s been like that for a couple days now,” she said.  "He wakes up long enough to drink a little and then goes back to sleep."

After a while Dad said it was time to leave.  Mom and I got up and went to the hospital bed once more and stood on either side.  He had not moved at all since we had arrived.  I reached out and touched him.  He was cold to the touch.  Mom and I both looked for a pulse.  There was none.  Aunt Edna came over and touched him too and agreed.  He was gone.  He had evidently slipped quietly away while we were there.

Joy in glory for him.  Sorrow for us who remain.  Dad came over and prayed.  Tears fell.  We will miss this great man who touched all of our lives in great ways.  

Thank you, Lord, for the privilege of knowing and loving him.

Road Blocks and Detours

We rounded a corner and saw it - a tree lying across the road.  A crew had just arrived and was beginning to start their chain saws to go to work to remove it.  One by one the cars turned around to find another route.

Road blocks.  We have occasionally encountered them on our journeys.  On this trip, however, we have had many more than usual.  They were not trees in the road but changes in plans.  One thing after another seemed to go wrong, and we had to readjust our plans.  Every time a change in plans was necessary, we wondered why it was happening.

Detour!  It was no surprise after all the road blocks we had encountered on our trip, that a detour arose.  Less than two weeks before we were supposed to leave for Peru, the home office called.  "Can you stay in Peru longer?" Matt inquired. After all the road blocks that had already forced detours in our schedule throughout the past few weeks, the question was not a surprise and our answer was easy.  "Of course!" we replied.  Suddenly we understood.  All of those road blocks that had forced us into new paths were simply God's way of preparing us for this detour.

Then began the frantic preparations for the new schedule.  Coordinate with our Latin American director to meet us in Lima.  Cancel the original plane reservations and make new reservations.  Cancel the overnight stay in Panama and reserve an overnight in Lima, Peru.  Add an additional week to the trip to go to Iquitos, Peru, and rearrange meetings that were planned for that time in Maine.  Find out from the LA director what we should teach while in Iquitos.  Look for additional materials needed for teaching those classes.  On and on the list goes.

I wonder what other road blocks and detours still await us.  No matter how many there are, I know that God has gone ahead of us to prepare the way.

Too Wise to Be Mistaken and Too Good to Be Unkind

Years ago a dear friend gave me a copy of Gadsby's Hymns.  Since it was #7 in this book, it did not take me long to find this hymn by Samuel Medley.  Medley was led to saving faith in Jesus Christ when his grandfather read him a sermon by Isaac Watts.  After that, his life was radically changed and he became a prolific songwriter, writing over 200 hymns.  Unfortunately, most of them are no longer being sung in our churches even though many contain doctrine we would want to sing.  More modern songs and hymns have replaced them.

Although I do not know the tune it was sung to then, I find myself singing it to "Jesus, the Very Thought of Thee."

    1   God shall alone the refuge be,

            And comfort of my mind;

        Too wise to be mistaken, He,

            Too good to be unkind.

    2    In all his holy, sovereign will,

            He is, I daily find,

        Too wise to be mistaken, still

            Too good to be unkind.

    3    When I the tempter’s rage endure,

            ’Tis God supports my mind;

        Too wise to be mistaken, sure,

            Too good to be unkind.

    4    When sore afflictions on me lie,

            He is (though I am blind)

        Too wise to be mistaken, yea,

            Too good to be unkind.

    5    What though I can’t his goings see,

            Nor all his footsteps find?

        Too wise to be mistaken, He,

            Too good to be unkind.

    6    Hereafter he will make me know,

            And I shall surely find,

        He was too wise to err, and O,

            Too good to be unkind.

When I Grow Up . . . .

 I still remember the childhood dreams, the convoluted streams of desire to be someone important and someone loved.  They usually revolved around people I admired.

“When I grow up, I want to be a nurse like Aunt Pat,” I’d announce with doll in hand, tenderly wrapping a 'broken' leg or applying a bandage.  Aunt Pat was a single woman who lived alone and worked in the highlands of Irian Jaya (now called Papua), the island where I grew up.  I saw her only occasionally, but I was enthralled.  I watched her clean and treat wounds with the caring efficiency of a nurse who loved her patients.  I saw her gather children around her and teach them songs about Jesus.  I’d seen her sit in a circle of native highlanders, talking about the day and eating roasted sweet potatoes.  She let me help her write down weather data, checking the rain gauge and thermometer and carefully recording them in her weather book. Yes, I thought, I want to be a nurse like Aunt Pat and work with people who don’t have doctors and hospitals.

“When I grow up, I want to be a pilot like Miss Greene,” I said later when I saw her touch the Cessna seaplane down on the water and climb from the cockpit onto the floats of the plane and nimbly jump onto the pier.  She was the only woman pilot I had ever seen.  I had heard the stories of her flying planes over the Burmese pass during the war.  I learned much later that she had helped start Missionary Aviation Fellowship, the group that flew all of us missionaries around the country.  Yes, I thought, it would be great to be able to take missionaries from their remote stations to mission conferences, just like Miss Betty Greene.

Most of the time, though, my main thought was, “When I grow up, I want to be just like Mom.”  Missionary, home-school teacher, Bible storyteller extraordinaire, devoted mother to me and my siblings, and loving wife to my dad.  With a song on her lips and tenderness in her touch, she made my ever-changing world a secure place to live.  She had five (and then six) children, so I would have five or six children.^*  She sang while she worked, so I sang while I played.  She worked hard from morning till night, so I learned that adulthood meant hard work. I ‘helped’ make bread, and she gave me permission to try out my own cooking skills by making ‘mixtures’.  (These were usually never baked since they tasted so good as a mixture of ingredients.)  She let my little brothers and I draw chalk roads on the concrete floors as we drove our toy cars from room to room.  She even warned us when floor washing day was coming up so that we knew that all the roads would disappear.  She taught me to set a correct table and how to properly clean the kitchen.  She taught me the basics of running a household – how to cook, bake bread, clean, manage money, and sew, skills I knew I would need to be the very best mother I could be.

I learned much about appreciating beauty from her.  “Come look at the sky!” she called on many evenings when afternoon sun lengthened the shadows and transformed the sky into dazzling colors.  It was as though the earth had draped a bright Mexican blanket around herself before the cool night air whispered through the trees.  Together we’d talk about the varying shades of pink, orange and purple and the amazing God we serve who was not only powerful but who loved beauty.  Or we’d drive down the road and turn the corner and she would exclaim, “Oh, how beautiful!” as we caught a glimpse of the swiftly changing vista before us.
One day while they were on furlough in New York, after years of working in the crowded, grey cement jungles of metro Manila, I found her sitting on the back porch of my uncle’s house. 

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“I’m drinking in the beauty,” she replied as she stared at the expanse of green yard dipping down to the trickling creek.  I sat down beside her and let my eyes relax with the view of bright green fading into the dark green of the trees and listened to the birds calling to each other.  I don’t know how long we sat there, but our spirits were revived by the beauty around us.  “I feel like my soul is starved for beauty,” she told me.  At the time, I didn't understand it, until I too began years of working in a grey cement jungle.

Most importantly, she taught me what it was to follow the Savior.  One morning very early, I was the first to rise, or so I thought.  I found her kneeling at the rattan couch in our little living room.  I walked up next to her and knelt beside her.  She wrapped her arm around me, finished her prayer time and gave me a kiss and a squeeze. “Let’s go get breakfast on the table, shall we?” she said, as we arose together and headed into the kitchen where I set the table while she cooked.

I learned from her that following Jesus was a life of peace and joy.  Even during the hard times, when tears cruised their way down her soft cheeks, the peace was still there.  After the tears were gone, a smile broke forth and once again she started singing songs of praise to the Savior.  When Dad was suddenly taken from us and accused of being a CIA spy and thrown into an Indonesian prison cell, everyone around her remarked on her peacefulness.  I still saw her smile.  I still heard her sing.  I still saw her pray and praise God for His faithfulness.

The years have passed.  Time has a way of compressing the passing years into important memories.  For me, some of the sweetest memories of my life are those of my mom.  She has continued, throughout the years, to be an example to me.  So even though I’m pushing 60 now, I still look at my mother and say, “Mom, when I grow up, I want to be just like you.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
*Child #7 was adopted after I became an adult, so that number did not enter into my childhood dreams.

Decorating for Easter

One of the fun things about having a home again is being able to decorate.  After Christmas, Easter is my favorite time of the year.  I can’t imagine my life without the momentous events that happened that day so long ago – when the Lord and Creator of the Universe took my sin upon Himself, paid for it with his life, and then conquered death.  What a day to celebrate!  Yet the things available for decorating at Easter time are spring decorations rather than Easter ones.  Stores are full of spring flowers, chicks, bunnies, and pastel-colored eggs.

There is one suitable decoration that I can sometimes find.  It is not as easy to find as chicks and bunnies, but I do occasionally run across one.  Over the years, I have managed to collect a number of them.  Some are soft and cuddly stuffed animals, and some are quite realistic.  These lambs and sheep serve as a reminder to me of several wonderful things during this time of year.  I remember what Isaiah says:  “All we like sheep have gone astray.  We have turned everyone to his own way.” I think of Jesus, the Passover Lamb who gave Himself for our sins so that death would pass over us.  I remember that not only is He is the Passover Lamb, but He is also our great and wonderful Good Shepherd. 

So about six week before Easter, the lambs and sheep make their appearance – on the bed, dresser, coffee table, and anywhere else I can find that is appropriate.  When I head for bed at night and I move this one from its place, I remember, “The the good shepherd giveth his life for the sheep.”  As I drift off to sleep I can remind myself that He said, “I am the good shepherd, and know my sheep, and am known of mine. . . .I lay down my life for the sheep.”

In the morning when I get up and I settle down to read my Bible, this one sitting on the coffee table in the living room reminds me, “As a sheep before her shearers is dumb, so he openeth not his mouth.”  I think of Jesus’ quiet resolve before Pilate and his refusal to fight back when his beard was torn from his face and his back was ripped in shreds by the soldiers whips.  I think of his quiet agony as he was nailed to the cross.  The others being hung that day must have railed against the soldiers who crucified them.  But not Jesus.  He faced it in quiet agony.

When I walk through the dining room, this cute one watches me from atop the china cabinet.  When I see him, I remember: “He is brought as a lamb to the slaughter.”  Our dear Passover Lamb with no blemish whatsoever was assassinated for my sins.

Throughout these weeks leading up to Easter, I want to be reminded of the cost of redemption.  It goes beyond what I can fathom.  These little lambs and sheep serve as a continual reminder to me of the magnitude and magnificence of God.  Bound as He was by His own justice and holiness, He still found a way – a very costly way – to show us mercy and love by redeeming us.

On Easter morning  I will add some happy, joyful decorations to celebrate His victory over death.  For now, though, I want to be caught up again in the wonder of His amazing love.

Dancing with a Hurricane

On October 29 my wife and I drove from York, ME to Winchester, VA; right into the face of "Superstorm" Sandy. You may ask what urgent need would compel me to drive nearly 600 miles through "the storm of the century".

What could be placed on the scales to overcome the possible damage to our car, my safety, and my dear wife's safety?

I did have a few counters to start with:

Modern weather forecasting is very accurate, and Sandy was following the predictions closely.

Cell phone technology allowed me to access these forecasts as we traveled.

My time in the Navy gave me a good understanding of how hurricanes work over water, especially the dangerous and less dangerous halves of the hurricane. (NY City was in the dangerous half!)

My car is faster than a hurricane, I could turn and run!

So I had a plan: I would race the storm to get far enough inland and through the dangerous semi-circle to get to the less dangerous semi-circle, based on the predicted track, and hunker down with our generous hosts.

But why risk it at all? Why not stay in Maine where there was little danger and good fellowship?

The answer - A Missions Revival, call it a missions conference, if you will. But still you may say "Certainly the love offering was not worth the risk!" That would be true, I would never risk my wife's safety, and possibly life, for mere money. There is something more important at work here. The will of the Lord!

God made a divine appointment for Joan and me when Pastor Martin invited us. We claim to follow God's will in our ministry. Should I not trust God to give us the resources to do His will? He had already given us many resources. Some are listed above, others are more mundane. The car, our driving record, the Interstate Highway system, hotels all along the way in case of emergency, a robust emergency services system.

The most important resource however, is trust in Him. We have faith He is worthy of our trust. If God assigns us a task, He will provide the means to accomplish that task. We have but to trust and do. If we cannot trust the Lord to get us 600 miles through some of the easiest and safest roads on earth, how can we trust Him for thousands of miles in a dozen countries?

The overall story of our trip is not very exciting. Maine to Massachusetts was light rain and little wind, Connecticut to NY was a little windy and little or no rain. Pennsylvania to Virginia was interesting, quite windy and moderate rain. But it was never worse than a good summer rainstorm. The whole way we saw evidence of only three accidents; a spin out in West Hartford, CT that was a "normal" rush hour event; a car with a badly damaged front end and no sign of what was hit, likely a deer; and a tractor trailer under tow that appeared to have jackknifed. Not an unusual accident count for a 600 mile trip through some of the busier roads in the US.

Other than crossing the Susquehanna River, where the winds were strong and the construction narrowed the lanes, I never felt in any real danger. I drove from Scranton, PA to Winchester, VA at 50-60 MPH because of the rain, but that was overly cautious to be honest.

After we arrived and had eaten a sumptuous dinner we retired with our hosts to watch The Weather Channel. Sandy had merged with the winter front to become a "Post-Tropical Storm". TWC and the sensationalist media insist on calling her a "Superstorm". The storm rapidly dissipated and the prediction models collapsed. There was no history for the computer programmers to model on. Sandy was truly a "storm of the century", actually two centuries. But Joan and I were safe in a stout house in Winchester, VA where the Lord wanted us!