Route: India/Nepal/Cambodia/Thailand/Malaysia/Botswana/Swaziland/South Africa/Dominican Republic/Haiti/Jamaica
CHAIRS! …to a table for TWO
“As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another.” Proverbs 27:17
Taking up residence on my refrigerator a note…not too long ago, she wrote,
“This is my favorite
poetry maybe ever.
Because you love words,
and because I love you,
Hope it brings as much warmth & whimsy
to you as it did to me!”
Every photographer knows the value of quality editing software programs. Study the picture above and it will appear as if you could reach out your hand and grab this curious little book. The chair in the distance growing strangely dim, not without purpose. BUT you can’t have it. I treasure this precious poetry book, more than I have words for. And if you know me, you know I am a lover of words. It sits upon a miniature chair in my living room, reminding me of seasons past. I bought it for a friend. I remembered a favorite tea and paid a visit to Goodwill to deliver it in style. … and it was returned to me. A love misunderstood. A gift that keeps on giving as I reflect on and celebrate the chairs in my life. Do you ever ponder the PURPOSE of the chairs in yours? Or are your eyes, like mine at times, fixed on the absence of the PERSON? Seasonal is still a blessing, ya know.
If you close your eyes and travel back to elementary school, you’ll remember her name. That teacher who believed in you, and fought when you lost your fight. You’ll visit the coach who pushed you to your limits…only to find the rearview mirror telling a different story. You’ll see those who leaned in to listen to your heart in your teenage years. A category…a people group, later invented. You’ll remember the pastor who spoke words that stuck, and you may even recall the first time you unashamedly prayed out loud because you grew to trust those pouring into you. So many names come to mind. On the short list there’s Em, Tiff, Amy, Jona, Meghan, Al, Lidia, Jess, and a duplicate of one name. The last I still fight for in prayer. Tin cans strung together indeed. To tell our story, she wrote me a poem, that remains only hers to share. My MHS friends, my UNI sisters, 12Stone singles, and my Revolution family. Fort Daniel, Mckendree, Piedmont, Dunleith, and Compassion. Pastor Tim Boettger, Pastor Kevin Meyers, Pastor Dan Self, Pastor Kevin Queen, Pastor Jason Gerdes, and Pastor O. Church volunteers, prison ministry team, travel companions, and accountability partners. The young women I poured into, and the ones I now speak to behind glass. Diana and Danielle among many making memories one meal and one cup at a time. All chairs filled with PURPOSE, calling me to the more He had in mind. Do you remember the chairs in your life?
BUT you mustn’t lose sight of the chairs, filled for a season, in your head, empty without reason. The ones filled only for a minute, as they say in the south, that left you hurt and wondering their purpose as you cry out. That man or woman dropping by to strengthen you in character, a lasting tattoo you’d like to wash away. The friends who never were, pretending to your dismay. Friend-zoned, fan-zoned, “It’s not you, it’s me.” Male cheerleaders…cheering you on in your lane, unable to challenge you or love and lead you well. Rumors spread, gossip started, a fire only your character in Christ could snuff out. They forget what they’re building, and neglect to extend the lyrics they sing. Once again a reminder, 100% human present and accounted for. Loving no less, gumption grown and character strengthened. The things of Earth growing strangely dim, the deeper my roots in Him. These and several others, passing through His fingers with PURPOSE…calling me to the more He has in mind. Do you remember the chairs in your life?
Jesus, too, had chairs. Do you remember who sat down? One at his feet, taught a lesson. A sin stained woman giving all that she had. Twelve took their place at his table, breaking bread in the face of betrayal. He sat with one inside of a whale, and yet another he met at a well. He wrestled with one, and challenged another. All chairs, PURPOSELY calling him to MORE.
While preparing for World Race, I find myself traveling back, zooming in on all that elevated me to something greater. Chairs filled with PURPOSE…the things of Earth growing strangely dim, the deeper my roots in Him. My mom strategically placed, to give me a daily glimpse at compassion and grace. Mr. Scott’s discovery in junior high that this little girl couldn’t sit with a window to her side, unable, this writer, to shut down her mind. Ms. Nadonally helping me uncover a long awaited love of reading and writing through poetry and studying the Holocaust. The first time ever having choice…a taste of student directed learning. My Resident Advisor (RA) in Haggeman Hall who invited me to more than B.A.S.I.C. that Thursday night, but instead a relationship with Christ. Pastor Dan Self, to this day, believing in me. At the request for a World Race reference he writes, “ANYTIME! I got your back sister and will brag on you to whomever needs to hear it. Proud of your work and your heart. Change the life of a person and their entire world is different…and you, are a world changer.” ‘Who am I?”once again, I say. That young woman I led in small group, the leader I saw in her, later realized in due time. She writes, ” Every time I am around Brooke I cannot help but be inspired, and she encourages me to pursue my relationship with God even more. Brooke does not need to tell you how much she loves to serve others and how strong her faith is; her mere actions are a reflection of Jesus.” Oh, how I love my Sara. My seventh grader now in her twenties. I am blessed far more than I am a blessing. At 25 my exboyfriend Preston comes to mind…like a key to loving on those chained inside. Prison ministry would come about no other way. Oh, and that Sunshine Fest where I fell in love with a packet set aside for me…later becoming a voice for the least of these. And the precious three, the first of these unnamed… inviting me to a trust without borders. She came to my table, he came into my life, and I poured into her. Without that unnamed girl in her 20’s, my friend Paul Iwanaga, and my sister in Christ, Courtney Cohen…not one day sooner would I say, “YES.” Alas that little book, let us pause on that priceless gift. For her presence in my story, flipping pages with my hands, brought me to the place I now stand. A writer who stopped writing empowered to return…rediscovering her gift with words. Like a gift with a bow, each chair an irreplaceable role…sending me out to the nations. That night teaching me lessons with His rain I wrote…for THIS chair there is no trade.
Nameless Visitor
Distant gazing
Lovers Do
Wicker weaving
Peering still
One and one again
Two
Splattered painting
Eyes to see
Whisper
Fog
Arise
Silent company
Echo loud
Read me
Know me
Stay
Turn away not
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