Learning together: The "How-tos"

When I first moved to "Little Burma," part of my responsibility was to teach my housemates (newcomer refugees) how to do things in America, like using appliances, sanitation, etc. I must admit that I pretty much failed at this task. I was incredibly nervous and intimidated. These women were older than me, had families of their own, had much more life experience than I did, and had survival skills out the wha-zoo. (Not to mention, I didn't have a great knowledge of appliances beyond a microwave - which they absolutely never used). I had no clue how to teach them without coming across as bossy and superior. And I was confused about what was essential to teach them and what to let go of. I learned a lot during those years - I have Brenda Neuenschwander, Becky Adams, and others like them to thank for the wisdom I am about to share.

You do not need to be bossy. Be humble, patient, and loving. If you are teaching essentials, explain why they are essentials. If you are teaching non-essentials, explain why we prefer to do it this way, and let them know it's optional. Whatever you teach, demonstrate it in real time, at their house or your own. Do it yourself a couple times, and then guide them in doing it while you watch and give feedback. Make sure they feel very comfortable with it - even if it takes a few visits - before you let them do it independently. And make each lesson an opportunity to build mutual trust - bridges in your friendship.

1. Explain things that could get them in legal trouble. There are social services/government protocols in place in America that are not in place in other countries. We had supplied mattresses and beds for each person in the family, but more often than not, the families preferred to put the mattresses on the floor and have everyone sleep close together. We could understand why they would do this, given their background and the hardships they faced. But some families get into a lot of trouble with child protective services because this is seen as a neglect of basic needs. Do some research and be aware of the things social services would consider neglect, abuse or dependency, and explain these things to your friends, to protect them.

2. Explain things that could be physically harmful. Internationals who are used to getting fresh eggs probably need you to tell them that eggs we buy in stores must be refrigerated. Don't overload electrical outlets, don't leave the gas in a gas stove on, and don't mix water and electricity. And there's the all-too-common issue of bed bugs... a good reason to wash clothes regularly and not leave them in a pile on the floor. The bathroom routine - using toilet paper, flushing, and washing hands - should be something you take time to go over, and not assume. When you talk about these things, make sure to explain why so they don't dismiss them as just silly American ways of doing things.

3. Explain things that could make life easier for them. They may be used to washing their clothes by hand, or sweeping the whole house with a broom, or walking for miles to get places. There's nothing wrong with these things, so make sure not to push too hard for them to let go of their familiar ways... but ask if you can show them your way. Demonstrate how to do laundry with a washer and dryer, how to use a vacuum or Swiffer mop, and how to navigate the public transportation systems in your town. You might find that these things amuse, please, and relieve your friends of a lot of extra time and energy.

4. Learn new things together. Don't always be the know-it-all... ask them about things you don't recognize in their kitchen, or how to do things you see them do. I was amazed at the skillful way Burmese mamas sling their babies on their backs! And I'd never seen someone use a pressure cooker before I lived in Little Burma. Make sure that for every new thing you teach, you are learning something new, too.

"You are Tea Time"

"Who is Connie Chandler?" my friend Joyce asked me over our traditional Japanese luncheon together. We try to get together for lunch whenever I come home, and she always finds good ways to challenge and encourage me. This time it was with a seemingly simple question with seemingly profound implications. I think I frowned a little and sipped my tea to avoid answering right away. I knew she was asking what makes me unique, what is my special "ingredient." Well, I'm a teacher, a writer, a mentor, an encourager, a listener, a researcher, a collector of stories, an organizer, a puzzle solver, an adventurer, a dreamer, a romantic, an international at heart... none of these are particularly unique things to me, nor do they really encompass who I am entirely, and I'm not sure anything ever could, but I was trying to think of a shorter, more succinct, more holistic response. Joyce doesn't ask questions without hoping for a meaningful, thoughtful answer.

After a couple minutes of thinking out loud with her, she said, "I think Connie Chandler is Tea Time." I thought about it, and slowly nodded and smiled as I understood what she was saying. I wrote a book a few years ago, a collection of short stories and poems that I called Tea Time (a link to buy it is in the right side panel of my blog!). It isn't so much about tea, as it is about taking time to deepen relationships and live fully in the smaller, quieter moments.

Of course, as much as I love my book, I am not my book. What Joyce meant in her simple but resonating statement is that the way I view and interact with the world is the way I expressed it in my book, and how I live out "tea time." See, when I have tea with someone, it is a process... We have to wait for the kettle to whistle, then wait for the tea to steep, then add in cream or milk and sugar or lemon or honey, then wait for it to cool as we warm our hands on it. And we can't gulp down hot tea - it is meant to be drunk slowly, savoring the flavor.

And some people think I'm a "tea snob" because I have and consume a LOT of tea, but actually, I don't pay that much attention to the number of minutes it steeps or the exact amount of sweetener we add, or even the distinguishing quality of different teas. That's because I'm letting the steam of the cup relax my muscles and melt my tension, I'm letting the time slow me down and allow me to be still and listen and just know, I'm pausing to give my attention to small, secretly beautiful details... I'm letting fellowship happen: heart-to-heart conversations, face-to-face encounters, story telling in real time and with pure authenticity.

So yeah, I'd love to be able to say that I am Tea Time... that this is what my life is about, or at least what I strive for and what I thrive on...

"To Him Who is Our Life"

Today my mom called me on the phone, in the middle of my usual Thursday craziness - juggling transportation plans for youth night, giving my home aid instructions for my laundry, getting ready for a meeting - to tell me that Charlie had passed away. She was definitely emotional about it, and I could imagine that Kevan and my dad were too - he was a dear family friend, but I just blinked, not able to absorb the news at all. When I got off the phone, I felt weird, like I should cry or cancel my meeting or something, but I just mechanically checked my email and straightened my glasses on my nose. 

After my home aid left, I bundled up and decided to go for a walk. I rode down the alley for two blocks, then came back on the sidewalk, the tears in my eyes caused only by the cold wind blowing in my face. "Charlie's gone... he's passed... he's dead..." I tried telling myself, but it wouldn't stick. I've only known Charlie as a very old man with a very young spirit. Kevan once said he is like Caleb in Joshua 14, taking possession of new land and powerfully fighting the enemy. Clear-minded and sharp, adventurous and feisty, determined and driven, Charlie has seemed sort of immortal to me. At least, I thought he would out-live me. I visited him in his home in Charleston in 2009, and have been looking forward to another visit soon. The thought of not seeing him again on this earth has never occurred to me. So I couldn't mourn, because it just doesn't seem real. Charlie is more full of life than most people I've met. 

Tonight when I got home, it finally set in. I thought of all the scribbled letters I've received from him, and more recently the emails. I re-read some emails we've shared in the past year. This is an excerpt from one of the last notes I received from him: 

 Connie, when your life continues to be firmly rooted in our Lord Jesus, then things work. You say that you do not know what your story will be like in the end. The secret to that question fits into two scriptures:

 Phil.4:12b.(NIV) I have learned the secret to be content in any and every situation . And Col: 3:23 & 24.Whatsoever you do, work at it with all your heart as working for the Lord, not for men, for you know your reward comes from the Lord not men. So Connie, seek to please only your Lord, for that is a winner.  

Charlie always signed off his notes with the phrase, "To Him Who is Our Life." It is a reflection of how much his life was focused on Jesus - giving glory to Him, pointing others to Him. Even whenever he was bedridden in the hospital, he was inviting his visitors to sit and listen to stories of Jesus and his amazing work in the life of an old man named Charles Luce. Maybe that's why it doesn't feel like he is dead - because Jesus is completely and thoroughly his life, and He is eternal and His love will continue on...

A Hobbit's Tale, by Constance Baggins

Looking back at our tracks through the sandy clay loam earth of Oregon...
and at the unwavering faithfulness of God.

Three hobbits sit together around their favorite spot - the dinner table - enjoying some of their favorite past times - feasting and telling stories, reminiscing on grand adventures gone by.

Constance Baggins licks her sticky fingers and watches her friends on either side of her, trying to imagine how she could have ever gotten this far without them. She is tired and a little weary of the unexpected journey that is long and difficult, but also feels stronger and braver because of her companions. Hannah (Bangses) Gamgee - the faithful, gentle, quietly heroic one - twiddls her fork in her Carolina salad, a symbol of the faraway home and garden that she left behind to help and support Constance. Brie(henihenihooeyha) Took - the most adventurous, delightfully unpredictable, and magical one - grins at her giant hamburger with sparkling eyes for only a moment before taking a huge bite and closing her eyes in satisfaction.

"What has been our 'ring'?" Brie asks after many stories have been remembered. "Our ring of power, which calls to us, and tries to overpower us... that we carry and bear for one another with the intent to overcome and destroy?"

"Security," Constance says solemnly. "We think we want it, need it, but we really don't. And when we become content enough to cast it aside, something happens to us to make us desperately grasp for it again."

The three hobbits quietly chew their food in thought, each one recalling the physical, emotional, relational, financial, and spiritual battles they have fought over the past couple years.

"We think we can control it, and use it against our enemy..." Brie says.

"Thinking, 'If only I had...' then I could be stronger and more effective," Constance interjects.

"...But all that really happens is that it binds us and pulls us into darkness..." Brie continues.

"It doesn't bind us, but it calls to us," Hannah corrected. "The only power it has is what we give to it. We are attracted to it, and we choose to put it on - to view the world through that haze... and when we do, it seems so much more necessary, so much more vital and important... we forget we don't need it."

"And God has told us all that this ring - this security that the world makes us believe that we need - is really what would hold us back from the best and biggest adventures he has in store for us."

Interesting, to think of Tolkien's ring of power - so evil and destructive - as being something in our lives as neatly verbalized and highly esteemed as "worldly security." But the ring was beautiful and precious, wasn't it? And in our culture, we spend so much money, make so many plans, and put so much stock in our security... And yet, in walking with Jesus, everything gets flipped upside-down, and we find that worldly security is a destructive lie, and our only hope for security is in clinging to and chasing after the Lord. We hobbits are learning to release our desire for a safe and secure life, and charge head-first into the wild, dangerous, wonderful will of God, learning that he is the only Rock we need.

"For who is God besides the Lord? And who is the Rock except our God?

32 

It is God who arms me with strength and keeps my way secure." - Psalm 18-31-32

**There is, of course, a fourth hobbit, not to be forgotten, for she is powerful, a little odd, and much loved. On this particular night, Emilee "Castle" Brandybuck was working late, serving drinks and locking up shop. But there will be more stories with her!

Pseudo-roomies and colliding stories

You know those moments when different pieces of your story collide? Like, when your parents visit your apartment, or your neighbors meet your co-workers for the first time... or when your roommates meet your childhood best friend... How about when two current roommates finally meet each other...? 

You know about the "Women of the Hobbit Hole" - Emilee, Brie, Hannah and I - but there are actually two more official pseudo-roommates in our lives now - Mary and Beth. They are both kindred spirits (I keep finding more of those around here), funny, kind, quirky, authentic, and easy to be with. They both grew up on farms with multiple incredible brothers and strong Christian roots. They both love to sing and soak up meaningful relationship, and while one sports cowgirl boots and the other rocks red lipstick, you can tell they have the same Father, by their love. 

They are "pseudo" because they only live with us part-time, a couple nights a week, a few meals scattered throughout, cuddle sessions, movies, and deep, late-night talks. We shuffle beds and make up couches to fit everyone in (the Hobbit Hole has a massive pantry but limited sleeping space), so we don't really have room for them to live here full-time. But until recently, they had never actually crossed paths... Mary leaves on Wednesday mornings, Beth arrives on Wednesday afternoons, and thus they pass each other like those elusive ships in the night. 

Last Saturday, Mary invited us to the Bluffton Free Street Fair (which is very much like Autumn Leaves Festival in Mt. Airy, for those of you in NC), so Hannah, Brie, Beth and I decided to go together... and thus, Mary and Beth met. Aren't they cute?!

Mary and Beth

 Actually, the whole weekend was a beautiful traffic jam of colliding stories.

Bluffton is Mary's hometown, so we got to meet some of her friends at the fair and got a bit of a "tour" of her story... homesteads, fields, her school, all with sweet Mary-memories attached. The next day Hannah and I went to Defiance, Ohio, to have lunch with Emilee's family... which was awesome, and getting to know her kind and generous and hilarious parents explained a lot about our Em. :) That night Brie's brother came to visit, which is always a treat for us, and he got to mingle with our local friends and family for a couple days.

I love when stories collide... like when the teens and ladies from NC came to visit, when Anna joined Hannah and I on our adventure, and when my friends here go home to NC with me. It means so much to me to share the different parts of my life with people I love, because I feel like it is a way for them to know me deeper. And whether it's in British Columbia, Oregon, Florida, North Carolina, Bluffton, Defiance, Fort Wayne or anywhere else in the world, it's fun to dive into other stories too, to know people I love even more.

a few new kindred spirits

I got to hang out with some pretty cool kids the other night. Four siblings, whom I had actually never spent real time with before - just a couple brief encounters - but I have had a feeling for a while that we would be good friends, if ever we had the chance. They just have these smiles and eyes that twinkle in a way that say, "I have a wonderful story," and I just wanted to be a part of it for a little while.

So for a few brief hours, we talked, and played, and read books, and sang songs, and colored, and ate ice cream and brownies, and went to the park and back again. And by the end of the night, it felt like we'd been dear friends forever. They are so sweet and gentle and fun... and you know, they were also really natural and comfortable around my chair, without the fear or awkwardness that a lot of kids have. They asked about different buttons, and leaned on the armrests to talk to me, and the boy ran ahead to warn me of bumps in the sidewalk and watched out for his baby sister when she wandered behind me. It was really quite encouraging and blessed me a lot.

One of my favorite moments was on our way home from the park, when I had one of the little girls bundled in a blanket on my lap, and halfway home, she said, "I want-" and I said, "Do you want to get down?" and she said, "No, I want to rest..." and she leaned back and laid her head on my chest and patted her little hands on my legs. Then she sighed and dreamily said, "I really liked this - tonight was a lot of fun." Talk about melting my heart!

I don't know how often our stories will cross in the future, but I'm so thankful for the time I got to spend with these precious little ones, these kindred spirits.

Our Richard

Taking a break today from road-trip reflections to mention our dearly departed Richard. No, he is not dead. On the contrary, he is very much alive - more alive, I think, than the average Richard.

But he had to leave us Monday to return to his home in NC, after spending six weeks with us on the Homestead. Yep, he's been a part of our family, served with us, learned with us, played with us, prayed with us, ate with us, and most definitely consumed large amounts of ice cream with us.

Richard spent the summer learning how to teach an adult Somali man to speak English, working with the youth program at I-House, tutoring a family of international boys, and... frankly, I don't really know the extent of all he did. I just know he stayed busy and did what needed to be done with a smile. Oh yeah, and he fixed our lawn mower and mowed our yard!

Please pray for him! He is starting his senior year of high school and finishing up his Eagle Scouts work and returning to (help lead??) the youth group at my home church. He has grown a lot spiritually this summer, and has a lot to offer - faith, grace, love, and strength to give to those in his community in NC. Pray that God will continue to teach him and use him mightily, and that He will guide him in his daily work and decisions about the future.

This kid is amazing - he has a light in him that we all love and will really miss. Richard (Rick/Richard Parker/Lil' Richard), remember that your family in IN love, support and pray for you! And we hope you'll return to us soon!

The last two days

Waking up in the Badlands again did something to my emotional stability. While Hannah and Anna checked us out of the motel and worked on a plan for the day, I sat in the desert field and stared at the sand castles, and cried. Couldn't really pinpoint at the time what was going on, but now as I think back I just realize I was so homesick. 

I thought about Brie and Emilee and Todd and Brandon and the others back home... and how I wanted so much to share all of this with them. And so much had happened in my heart during the week of camp that I really hadn't been able to process through yet, and I wanted desperately to return to my ministry team and talk for hours with them about it all. And being there in the Badlands, I was keenly aware that I was still 1,000 miles from home. I felt like Dorothy at the end of The Wizard of Oz... I didn't want the adventure to end, but I felt like the rest of the adventure was back in Fort Wayne. 

I don't remember much that happened that day or the next, and I don't think I was much fun... but Hannah and Anna bravely kept morale up and we got to see some more cool things before the end of the road. 

The girls climbed a sand castle... 

 We went to see Sioux Falls in SD...

The prettiest thing we saw in Minnesota were the clouds... 

And we spent the night in Madison, Wisconsin. The fact that we have no pictures of the last day of our trip is a testimony to the urgency we had in getting home. We drove through Illinois and into Indiana. Our plan was to get a Chicago-style pizza and eat it on the beach at the Indiana Dunes by Lake Michigan. But the pizza place we found did not make Chicago-style, and by the time it was ready, we were in the middle of a huge rainstorm... so we ate regular style Hawaiian pizza in a swanky pub and then drove two more hours in the rain. We got home and put on a pot of tea and just wandered through the empty rooms, wondering if anyone would come over to see us.

We were not disappointed! A knock on the door, and our dear Richard came in and welcomed us back. He started filling us in on the adventures he had had since we left, and his smiling face was the best sight I'd seen all day. Then we heard the familiar lumber of Brandon charging up the ramp and he burst into our kitchen, dripping wet and shrieking his joy at seeing us. Giant hugs and exclamations assured me that he missed us as much as I missed him. Then came Todd, just to give a hug and hear a quick story and offer us some ice cream before he had to run to work.Then Bethany and Rachel popped in, and we told the Glacier Park story for the third time in an hour - Richard was still there grinning and could probably have told the story better than us by then. Brie came home shortly after and my joy-and-love tank nearly burst. We were back in our Hobbit Hole, surrounded by friends and family.

Now that I've caught you up on the day-by-day adventure, I'll spend the next few days working through my reflections and all the things God's taught me.So stay tuned! The adventure isn't over... it's just beginning...

Photo blog: Last day of Camp

Just some special faces I will never forget and always treasure. Not gonna lie, I left the camp Saturday morning with a few tears in my eyes. Camp Imadene is a beautiful place, my new friends are amazing. I'm thankful that our stories have intersected for this one week, and I can't wait to see you all again someday! Prayers, blessings, and love to "ya'll"... :)

New friend, Kirsten! Bead Tent Lady/Fireside Host/Discipleship Crash-Course Co-Leader!

New friend, Ronya! Camp Dean/Devotional Lady/Dinner Buddy!

The epically dramatic Cabin Jubilee!

Enthusiastic Cabin Mt. Hebron!

Crazy gymnastic Cabin Elim!

A Hannah Sandwich on the speed boat!

Friday night chapel - PJ party!

Everett

Mile Log: 525

This morning at Dunkin' Donuts, while enjoying my warm croissant and hot coffee and getting into Brennan Manning's memoir, I met Everett.

I like to casually people-watch when I am out in public alone. So I observed this skinny older man with no teeth and dirty, worn-out clothes order two large coffees - one "doctored up" and the other black with a side of "diabetic sugar," as he called it. When the cashier told him his total was $3, he loudly sighed and commented on its unexpected pricey-ness. The cashier showed him the size of the large coffee cup and asked if he wanted to change his order. He gratefully took her up on this offer and downsized to two smalls.

While his drinks were being prepared, he wandered over to my table and said hello. I looked up, smiled, said hello, and went back to my book. "My name's Everett. Can I buy you a donut?" Again I smiled and said, "Nice to meet you, Everett. I don't need a donut right now, but thank you." Back to my boo- "Are you sure? I'd like to buy you something. You need to eat - you're too little."

That is the third  time this week I've been told how little I am, and I can feel a complex developing. I really just want to read my book, and I don't think I should point out that I just witnessed him spend his last dime on a small coffee. Who was the second coffee for, anyway, and how exactly did he plan to pay for my donut? I held up my wadded wrapper as evidence. "Just had my breakfast, so I'm good."

"Well you know," he continued before I could bury my nose in my book again, "I got a 3.9 GPA at Indiana University. I didn't turn in two papers on time, otherwise I would have had a 4.0. But my brain... you know, they want my brain, cuz I'm really very smart." And what does this have to do with the price of donuts? I smile, nod, and sip my coffee to mask my severe skepticism. "And you know I'm working on a cure for cancer. And I'm close - really close - on the edge of something big. They want to buy my ideas - buy them! You can't buy my brain!"

I wanted to ask who "they" were, but the plots from A Beautiful Mind and  The Soloist were screaming in my head. I wanted to know his story - his real story - but I don't think he would have been able to tell me, if I had asked. It would have been funny if it wasn't so heartbreaking. He went on for a few more minutes about genes and chromosomes and if "they" gave him the chance he could find a cure for me, so I could use my legs again. "But they don't want me to live... but I can't die, because there is too much in my brain that could help people."

I had nothing to say. I finally closed my book and looked - really looked at Everett. This man looked like he was homeless, probably sleeps under the bridge a couple blocks away - the one my friend Ben visits sometimes because he follows Jesus there. Maybe Ben knows Everett. This man most likely has schizophrenia or some other form of mental illness that he no doubt has battled for years. Maybe he has a history of addictions or bad luck or an ugly combination of both. Part of me wanted desperately to just label, stereotype, and dismiss him. It would have been easy, except that he was so human... it would have been so easy, except-

"What's your name, baby girl?" Strictly for the purpose of not being called "baby girl" again, I told him my first name. "Connie, glad to know you," he said, and then became suddenly self-conscious. "Can I- I mean, is it alright if I... shake your hand?" I said yes, and he leaned over my table and gently took one of my hands in both of his for a moment. "Connie, you know you are my friend. You won't forget ol' Everett now, will you?"

I smiled again, this time a little wobbly, trying not to get too emotional. I wondered how many people have shaken his hand, listened to his conspiracy theories, and called him by his name. I don't think I did anything exceptional for him, but I wondered if that is all it takes to become his friend, and how many friends he has. "I won't forget, Everett." We said good-bye and he was gone.

I looked back down at the cover of my book, at the title: All is Grace. I stared and sipped my cold coffee and thought about my new friend, and about grace.  I wonder how Everett would respond to the grace of God... has he already experienced it, or will he soon? What will he be like if it touches him? I thought about how Jesus extended grace to so many people - touching the untouchable, listening to the crazies, speaking with those society would sooner ignore, giving names to the hopeless. I know He reaches anywhere and everywhere to rescue and heal and offer hope and breathe life... he did it for so many in the Bible, he did it for Brennan Manning, he did it for me... and I know he can do it for my new friend, Everett, too.

Kevan

Dear Kevan,

Thanks for being my friend. When I want to despair and give up, you won't let me. When I don't believe I'm doing anything good or helpful or useful in the world, you tell me that I am. When I think I'm awkward and clumsy and lumpy and crippled, you make me feel beautiful. When I am shy and insecure, you introduce me to all sorts of cool new friends. When I freak out over things that don't matter, you help me gain perspective. When I am amazed and confounded by how creative and wise you are, you say that I played some part in it. I'm challenged by you, encouraged and comforted and inspired by you. I love when we get to talk, and I love when we just sit in our wheelchairs next to each other without saying a word. I'm almost 30 years old, and I know I would not have made it this far without your strength and joy and hope. So again, thanks for being my friend... for seeing the best and worst of me, and loving me just the same.

Love,
your sis

The Women of the Hobbit Hole

Brie, Connie, Emilee, and Hannah

Meet the women of the Hobbit Hole.

This month, Brie and Emilee joined our community in a big way by moving in with Hannah and I. And now, I cannot imagine my life here without them.  We have so many good times together, watching movies, talking about Jesus, hosting spontaneous parties, cooking gourmet food...

Our most recent adventure together was designing our own live Clue game dinner party last night for some of our most dramatic friends. SO. MUCH. FUN. These girls made a culinary masterpiece for dinner, and we decorated the house and made all the cards, game pieces, invitations, secrets and clue notebooks. No one could imagine all the work that went into it to make it amazing in every way.

A casual spectator might think we are quite ordinary. We all have our "day jobs" - Brie takes pictures and works at the Red Cross, Emilee serves coffee, Hannah makes sandwiches, and I teach English. But look a little closer, and you'll find that our REAL identities are much more exciting - we are here to love and serve, to shake salt and shine light, to proclaim freedom for the captives, to restore sight to the blind, to bind up broken hearts, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor, and announce the coming Kingdom that will be good and right and will never end. We are creative, hilarious, passionate, dedicated, loving, gutsy, REAL women. Each one is gorgeous and unique, and brings elements - gifts, talents, strengths, delights - to the house that add life and beauty, and compliment the rest of us. And when we are together, we are more powerful - possibly even magical...? - and more incredible.

That is what happens when women let the Spirit of the resurrected and living God change and fill and move them. So pray for us, because we want to keep doing that, and holding on to Jesus as the reason and motivation for all that we do.

Matthew, Mark, Luke, John... and Emilee

"So what do you think John the Baptist was doing while all of this went down?" I asked, after Emilee and I had discussed in length the odd Baptizer's camel hair clothing, wilderness dwelling, and locust eating habits, and then watched the baptism of Jesus unfold - heavens rent, dove-like Spirit, God's voice. We had just started our adventurous study together through the book of Mark... with a bang.

She giggled and put her hand to her face in amusement. "I can just see him sitting in the river with a tub of fried locust, eating them like pop corn." And she imitated him, hunched over, eyes wide open, and hand moving frantically from bowl to mouth, like she was watching an intense movie. I cracked up with her, and thanked God again for throwing this crazy girl into my life.

She definitely took some poetic liberty in her response, but it shows that she's relating to these people who knew Jesus personally, that they are real-life people to her, not just two-dimensional characters in a story... and she thinks they are awesome. I have never thought of John as being so engaged, enthralled, dumbfounded by the experience before, but it makes total sense, I'm sure I'd react the same way, and I will forever think of John with his bucket of fried locusts.

Chaotic cooking

"There is nothing to eeeeeat!" Brie wailed dramatically the other night as we both leaned in to the refrigerator. I saw lettuce, cheese, eggs, and an assortment of salad dressings. Then she opened the freezer and it was packed full of kosher meats and ice cream.

Braving the wrath of my exceptionally-emotional Brie, I said, "Well, it looks like there is a lot to eat-"

"Noooo there's noooot!" she cried and slammed the door. She spun around a couple times and sighed deeply, and I decided it was best to be quiet and still. Clearly her soul was in tumult, but I also know that cooking is very good therapy for her.

She gathered some of her wits and said, "I do have an eggplant roasting in the oven."

? ? ? Really? Who does that?

"Ok, well that's... something," I tried to be positive. "What do you put with eggpl-"

"I don't knoooooow!"

"...How about you just make me an egg?"

"NO! You can eat eggs and eggplant together because that's like planting an egg and that would just be wrong!"

I'm not following her logic... Ok, ok, quiet and calm. I noticed a cutting board on the counter. "Did you chop up a sweet potato?"

"Yes, it's also roasting."

"Well then! Eggplant and sweet potatoes are roasting! Sounds like a good start." I do not feel like I am being helpful at all, but trying to stay encouraging.

We started to talk about our day, and as Brie processed her crazy life and got things off her chest, she began to flit around the kitchen in magical fairy fashion, chopping vegetables, boiling couscous, and adding this and that to the concoction. I love watching Brie in this mode. Pretty soon, what started as "nothing to eat" became a brilliant gourmet meal, artistically combined colors and flavors. It was like Brie was able to take all the chaos in her heart and translate it into something beautiful and delicious to bless others and bring healing to herself.

And I think that is something that Jesus loves to do too... When we are too crazy to be able to look at our lives and see anything of worth or value, he takes the chaos and creates something beautiful out of it that can make a difference in the world and bring us closer to Him.

Love is magic

"Love is magic - it's a beautiful, wonderful, marvelous, mysterious thing.
Love is magic - makes you wanna dance, wanna laugh, jump around and makes you sing."

Kelsey and Gabe got married a couple weeks ago, on March 30. They are one of my favorite couples to spend time with, and I will try to explain why. They are each great people individually - they both love the Lord, they are both super-creative and talented, they are very authentic in their relationship with each other and other people, and they are both passionate about the things God has given them to do. But together... together their potential sky-rockets. Together, they are so much more powerful. Their ministry, compassion, and light just explodes. And that is exciting to see. It's exciting to watch, to experience, to be a part of. It was exciting to stand (sit) with them on their wedding day, to hear them exchange vows and promises, to see them kiss and dance and laugh and hug and start their life together. It is good - very good - to see true love in action, in the beautiful way God means it to be. It gives me hope.

Last night, Hannah and I went on a long walk and talked about love and marriage. "What would you say," she asked, "to people who think marriage is obsolete, overrated, or unnecessary... people who think just living together is enough and divorce is completely normal? I know it is fundamentally wrong, but emotionally how would you handle it?" I thought about it for a few minutes, as we passed Jared and Shannon's little apartment, and then up a block to the future home of our Joe and Lisa. I thought about Gabe and Kelsey, who I think are still on their honeymoon, and I thought of my parents who just went away for their 36th anniversary, and I thought of my grandparents who are still in love and faithfully care for each other. I thought about Westley and Buttercup in the Fire Swamp, and how true love really is never meant to die.

And it breaks my heart to think of people believing that it isn't possible. What would the world be like if promises meant nothing? if commitment wasn't valued? if love was just a watered down hormonal response that could bloom and fade away? There is fear, apathy, and weakness in that sort of life. But there is power in love that lasts forever. There is inspiration and truth and hope in swearing "til death do you part" and meaning it. I've seen it, so I know it's real and it's possible. And I hope one day it will be my story too.

A general message

I haven't written in a while. Sometimes that means there is nothing to say, nothing worth writing down. But lately there has just been too much. Every day for the past month has been packed - truth, beauty, love, power, joy, hope, pain, comfort, peace, faith... little moments in God's Word, with a friend in the car, with my roommates late at night, with my neighbors in the kitchen, listening to music, watching movies, reading books aloud, writing poetry, eating food, singing loudly, speaking softly, laughing until we cry... There's been no fluff, no wasted space - even rest has been intentional. It hasn't been busy-ness, it's just been fullness, and it's overwhelming. There was a wedding I got to be a part of, and a tiny new baby I got to hold, a visiting pastor from Burma I got to pray with, and a college group I got to train; and so many conversations, so rich and powerful.

I realized this week that it has been a year since I was in the hospital. And I realized today that it has been a year since that beautiful Easter morning of hope that I wrote about. I opened an old journal that I haven't used in a while, and the first page was my thoughts in the hospital about the day I thought I would die - I wanted to die. They are dark thoughts, thoughts of fear and anger and hopelessness. It alarmed me to re-read such things in my own handwriting, but I am so thankful for it, because it reminds me of where I was and how much God has healed me since then. I am so grateful that he has given me a whole year in his mercy, and he has swept me away in his grace. 

I'm making a list of all the posts I need to catch up on, so you can enjoy some of the details too. But this broader, more general message is to let you know that by God's grace I am still here - still breathing, still living, still smiling, still hanging on to hope - and He is still doing marvelous things in this little "bowl of cherries."

Hold on.

I've had some dear Christian friends over the years who have gone through crucial periods of time in their faith, when they have doubted and questioned the love, care, goodness, and even the existence of God.

In some cases, I've been excited about this struggle that finally surfaces, after a person has spent years in apathy and the shallow kiddie-pool of religion - it is a chance for them to dig deep and find a solid foundation to stand on and build a strong faith. In other cases, it's been painful to watch the struggle, because I've seen God do amazing things through these people in the past, and they get tired of digging deep and swimming in the ocean, and forget the beauty and blessings of it.

I praise the Lord for the friends who have bravely wrestled with tough questions and sought wisdom and truth in the purest form, and have come out on the other side with powerful faith and solid assurance and remarkable trust and inexpressible peace. It reminds me that God is not afraid of or intimidated by our questions and doubts - like in Job, he can face them head-on, speak for himself, and prove himself time and time again.

I am heartbroken over the friends who have gone through this season and chosen to walk away from the Lord. I've gone through anger at them for giving up, but also anger at God for not showing up in their lives the way they needed him to. He knew their hearts and what they needed to hear, so why did he stay silent? Like Martha and Mary mourning Lazarus' death, I cry because I know God did have the power to restore and redeem, and I wonder why he didn't.

So when a friend tells me that she is questioning if God is really there, something in my heart tightens up with anxiety because I know how high the risk is in this process. How do I pray for her?  How do I walk through this with her?

I know there is no formula for these situations, but I have noticed a pattern which has actually helped to strengthen my own faith in some ways. I find that sometimes, we tell God to do something to help us believe that he is there - a Gideon's fleece sort of thing. Only, Gideon was trying to make decisions about leadership, not trying to prove God existed. Elijah asked God to bring fire from heaven to prove his glory, but it wasn't for Elijah's sake - it was for people who had never encountered God before, who didn't know him yet. Sometimes in the Bible, people asked God for a sign to validate his promises, and sometimes God volunteered proof that he was faithful and his covenant was true.

But I think it is very dangerous for us to demand a sign from God to prove his existence, goodness, or love. It's not that He isn't able to do anything we ask, but if He did, He wouldn't be God - He'd be a genie. We are meant to serve and obey Him, not the other way around. If we need evidence, then by all means, let us ask questions and research and look back through the history of the world and our lives to see the patterns and know his faithfulness, his goodness, and his personal concern for us. But we are not meant to fully understand His ways, simplify his character, or fit him into the box of our limited perspective and expectations. And if we think we can and he should, then we are very far indeed from really knowing our Father's heart. He is, after all, not a tame Lion.

God isn't so concerned about our belief in his existence, so much as he yearns for us to exist with him - forgiven, redeemed, and in rich communion with him. So chase after that... spend your time, energy, and passions on that... wrestle with him for his blessings like Jacob, allow yourself to be broken and changed by him, and receive a lasting inheritance. That way, when you go through times when he is silent and invisible and makes no sense, you can cling to his promises and trust his heart and know without doubt that he is there and his love endures forever.

Rich community

I live in a very rich community.

I mean, we all rent duplexes in an inner city neighborhood where we have no yards and share a gravel, pot-hole riddled alley that frequently is cruised by some shady characters and garbage-divers. We live simply, shop at yard sales and Goodwill and Aldi, share the stuff we have with each other, including food, technology, and office supplies. So we don't really have much in the way of material things, but the closer we get to each other and to the Lord, the less we feel the need for stuff. We brew tea, bake cookies, fix broken things, watch movies, play games, pray, take communion, read books, sing songs, have themed parties, study Scripture, and go on adventures. 

These friends of mine are creative, hilarious, intentional, authentic, passionate, and... beautiful, absolutely beautiful. Their minds, their hearts, their spirits, the way they allow Christ to shine through their eyes and smiles and laughs, is so beautiful. They live so fully and largely and deeply and intensely, that sometimes I am breathless and speechless - they challenge me and encourage me and compel me to live - really live - in unlimited hope, reckless joy, radical love, and mind-boggling peace. Jesus-Life.

My community is rich. But richness has nothing to do with money or wealth or financial stability... and everything to do with the moments we Live and pour Life into each other.

2 Corinthians 6:9-10: "We are unknown to others, but well known to you. We seem to be dying, and yet we are still alive... we are always happy, even in times of suffering. Although we are poor, we have made many people rich. And though we own nothing, everything is ours."

Thoughts of communion, Dreams of adventure

He who was seated on the throne said, “I am making everything new!” Then he said, “Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true.” - Revelation 21:5

Yesterday, I had the honor of sharing communion with Hannah, Brie, and Joe at the dining room table of our Hobbit Hole. Per Brie's delicate stomach, the bread was gluten-free, and per the cold icy weather, the drink was a hot brewed, deep red berry-flower tea, appropriately strong and bitter. Our little family is becoming more and more comfortable with our "unorthodox orthodoxy," as we value more and more the significance and deep truths behind the sacraments and traditions and legacies that have shaped our faith.

The Scripture we studied together was Revelation 21:1-6, and it was pretty awesome to remember the sacrifice of Jesus while looking ahead to the hope that awaits us. We were each reminded of other passages or lessons that we've learned, and shared them to enrich our study and encourage each other. Then we served communion to each other and prayed.

But communion continued, because we sat around the table, talking about what life might be like when the Lord makes everything new: We will be ourselves in a purer and more powerful way than we ever could  be now, without the restraints of such burdens as guilt and insecurity. We will be able to do the things our hearts long to do without the bonds of pain and weakness. We will know each other in a deeper and clearer way, without the barriers of selfishness and envy. None of our thoughts will be clouded with worry, our actions won't be hindered by fear. We will climb mountains, swim seas, race ostriches, without getting weary. We will roll in snow and bake in sunshine and dance in rain without our bodies reacting in protest. We will walk and laugh, and I think we might even do some work side by side with our Lord! Can you just imagine, tending a garden with Jesus? What if we get to be a part of his "making everything new"? What if he gives us quests to go out and plant, cultivate, bless, and refresh all of creation?

We looked at each other with huge smiles on our faces as our imaginations started getting a bit out of control. "OK girls," Joe said, "I think we need to resolve right now... to go on an adventure together, when we are all there." Yes! Absolutely! Let's do it! Unanimous resolution regarding eternity, made eagerly and without hesitation. Who would turn down an adventure in which you are guaranteed not to die or suffer loss, but only victory?!

But how would we remember our resolve? At best, our memories of this life will probably be shadows - hence, the "no more tears" promise. And we can't possibly plan it out, since we really don't know what to expect. But Joe was thinking ahead: "What if the King plans the adventure, specially designed for us, and sends us out on it?" Of course! He is already preparing a place for us, so it would make sense for him to prepare adventures for us to have there too. He knows us perfectly, so he would know the events and places and encounters that would thrill our hearts the most. And whatever he does is to his own glory, so we could be certain that whatever he plans, it will be beautiful and exhilarating and powerful and beyond our wildest imaginations....

So Father, we look forward to the day we will truly be with you, and all things will be made new. We trust that you are planning incredible adventures for us to live out in your eternal kingdom, and we can't wait to be in your presence and experience the joy of knowing you fully. Come quickly, Lord Jesus! And until that day, give us grace to seek out the adventures you have for us in this world, and to discover the beauty of your love and grace even in the brokenness around us, as we learn what it means to live out of the kingdom of heaven that is here and now. (Matt. 10:7-8)

The Organic Life: Family (aka, Everlasting Father)

Next Isaiah 9:6 question: How has God shown himself to be your Everlasting Father this year?

You've read about the Sisterhood... and you know about my kids... but guess what - the family is even bigger...

Family is a big deal to me. I have a pretty incredible family - a mom and dad who love God, love each other, and love me; two brothers who are insanely gifted, loving, godly, (and good-looking!); a sister-in-law who I am constantly challenged and blessed by; and three nephews who are being raised as mighty warriors for Jesus. I have a rich heritage from my grandparents and great-grandparents, incredible support and encouragement from my aunts and uncles, and my cousins are some of the coolest people I am privileged to know. But my family, though emotionally close, is geographically spread out all over - from South Florida to Vancouver Island; from Ontario to L.A.; from Vernon, British Columbia, to Buenas Aires, Argentina, to Australia. And then there's little ol' me, lost somewhere in the middle, in the flatlands of Indiana. I'm thankful for Skype, Facebook, and email, but there is nothing like being present with family.

So what does a lone Chandler do in the Midwest? She remembers that she is grafted in to a bigger family, adopted and promised an inheritance from her Everlasting Father, and she looks around to see who else has her Father's eyes, smile, and heart.

Once a week, Hannah and I get together with some friends to share good news and pray together. Among them are our Uncle Steve and Aunt Sheila, Uncle Eldon and Aunt Jan, and Auntie Cathy. We've christened them with these names when we talk about them and pray for them together, and it just seems natural and right, because they do "uncle and aunt" types of things - they give us hugs and snacks, they ask how things are going and really listen to us and remember what we've told them before, they offer counsel and assistence, and they pray for us. I trust them, learn from them, and want to be more like them. Other "aunts and uncles" in my Fort Wayne life right now include Brenda and Ron, Linda and Juan, Ciin Nuam and Pau Kai, Reyna and Pedro, Meng Pu, Lian, Margie, Becky, and Coleen.

Then there is my beautiful bunch of cousins from Gospel Community. We're just now really starting to get to know each other well, but I love the times we've had together lately - especially with Ben and Kayla, doing ministry, drinking coffee, and obsessing over fairytales together. It's fun to do life with people close to my age, who like doing the things I enjoy too. I think of them more as cousins, because we come from such diverse backgrounds and are all a bit weird in our own right; we don't look much alike or act very much the same or have the same gifts, but there is definitely a family resemblence that testifies to the Grace that binds us together.

Of course, the brothers are pretty exceptional, too. God has taught me so much through them this year, and their strength and wisdom has helped me through some difficult times. They have been so faithful to redirect my focus back to the Lord over and over again, whether I've needed prayer, loving affirmation, or a reality check that I was being too rediculous (which is more often than you might think!). They make us food, do repair jobs, and tend to our yard, among other things. They've taken care of me like my real brothers have, and I'm so thankful for their presence in my life.

So even though I'm the lone Chandler of Indiana, my Everlasting Father has surrounded me and blessed me with family in such rich community that I never feel lonely or unloved. It is so good to be a part of the family of God.