- Feb 2, 2016
It is the surprising nature of grace that I forget. Quick to correctly define grace as being God’s gift, a blessing, undeserved, I look past other aspects. Grace is amazing and it is sobering, but it is also surprising.
Last week Eric and I went on a little excursion to downtown Charleston. We realized that we needed a day out and that we had not taken many pictures since moving here. While I am thankful that my husband enjoys looking at me from behind a camera lens, most days I am a reluctant model. This day was different. We pranced around the “Holy City” full of alluring charm. Reluctant to yet call it ours, we enjoyed being hopeful strangers.
After sharing biscuits at HLB (Hot Little Biscuits) and nearly dying from deliciousness, we walked to the corner of Ann and King Street where Eric hesitated and asked if I wanted to pose again. As I attempted to ‘work it’ without feeling like a weirdo, out of nowhere, I mean nowhere, this woman appeared and charged towards me. I thought she was angry. And then the most amazing thing happened. She popped her hip, looked at the camera, and taught me how to ‘do diva’ Charleston-style.
It was a surprise, and it made me laugh the laugh of letting go. That burst of something within, something unknown that extends to joy–it was like grace. Usually we view the upshot of grace as tears of thanksgiving, as knees bowed in humility. But some days, grace is the catalyst of laughter. Some days, grace is an explosion of your presuppositions, and it throws you into tremendous, tremendous joy. Throw your head back, grab your stomach, and feel the tremors of His love. Let them move you.
Our Father is a steady one, but He is also full of surprise parties.
Keep the Faith,
Audrey Ann When the Lord restored the fortunes of Zion, we were like those who dream.
Then our mouth was filled with laughter, and our tongue with shouts of joy; then they said among the nations, “The Lord has done great things for them.”
The Lord has done great things for us; we are glad. (Psalm 126:1-3)
- Jan 17, 2016
It happens nearly every night as I lay my head on the pillow. Images of our Guam kiddos, images of our sweet boonie dog, and thoughts of what if we never see them again fill my mind. I fight them: No, let me sleep.
Sometimes Eric and I talk of what we miss about Guam. We crank out our accents, and he mocks mine like always. This missing, I see it in the quiet grief in his eyes, in the pained smile when people say (with eyebrows raised), “Guam–for twelve years?!” This and that and most everything we miss about our darling Mariana island. If it is not on our lips, it is a thought lingering. But we must be careful.
In all this missing, may we not miss the beauty around us.
When missing my sweet toddlers, may I not miss the little children at my new church. When missing the Pacific, may I not miss the Atlantic and the lovely homes that make Charleston such a gem. When missing the feeling of home, may I not miss the ever stronger sense that Jesus, that Jesus and Eric are my home.
Missing is only profitable if it encourages me to take in today, to love those I meet today—even if they can’t speak Tagalog, even if they don’t know about Haputo beach or what the word ‘chod’ means.
I am learning new things here—about God, His Word, about the history of Charleston. The culture is rich, full of rustic European beauty, as well as heaviness from the evils of the former slave trade. We talk at church about how to all come together, no matter our amounts of melanin, no matter our backgrounds. Pride and prejudice may have made a good title for a book, but it does not make a good reality.
Wherever you are, do not miss what is going on around you. For if you love Jesus, your purpose is the same, your joy is in Him, and your hope is never-ending. Reminiscing about a former season of your life is good and natural, but still breathe in today. Notice the gifts of today. They may look different, but they are there.
We will not miss the beauty, even in the missing.
- Dec 3, 2015
There’s a lot going on right now–wars and rumors of wars, not to mention the churning in my gut and the straining of my nerves. Our reality is shifting, sliding, changing. We are in the process of moving from our sweet island home. And while I am so blessed to spend this transitional time with my darling great aunt and uncle in South Carolina, I am still struggling to grapple with it all; I am straining to waltz rather than wrestle with all the newness.
The holiday sparkle is different this year, not gone, just different. All my ornaments are packed away in who-knows-which box. A bunch of them are lying on a Salvation Army store floor for 25 cents or so.
But even in the dull numbness of my heart, even in this white noise not yet pierced by Bing’s “White Christmas,” even in a world crumbling and shaking, afraid, pretending that it matters what a random celebrity did today–pretending it is all okay, Christmas matters.
It matters, perhaps, more than it ever did.
Decorating, baking, giving, these simple rituals when done for the King remind us that He came. This season of Advent causes us to remember yearning, that already-not-yet tension in which we live.
This year on Thanksgiving I watched the Macy’s parade for the first time in years. It did not disappoint. One of the Broadway acts was from “Fiddler on the Roof,” and we watched as they sang and danced to the music in a minor key.
The Jewish people are known for their music being in minor keys. It has been said that the minor key is the key of nature, such as the wind rustling the leaves or the trickling of springs, all the earth is singing to our Creator in a tone of soft groaning, of anticipation, of hopeful waiting.
So this Christmas and Advent season, as we wait with songs of joy, not for a baby, but a glorified King, let us remember that this celebration matters. Do not lose heart, my friends. Make some hot cocoa, turn on some tunes, and throw a party! Our Guest of Honor is coming back.
