The Move

"Oh certainly....we'll be out by Tuesday! No problem at all. We've basically moved out now."

"Wednesday by the latest. Just basically stuff in the garage now."

"Thursday noon for sure. Just a couple truck loads."

"All done by Friday! Not a problem."

I felt used and frustrated. I'd moved down to California with the thought that I'd have a house and a job and everything would be great. But God knew that even a year in the Philippines wasn't enough time to teach me complete trust in Him. So, He sent....well.....I guess I won't mention names :)

As it turns out, I had neither house nor job for the first week of my life in California. Now that may not seem long to you, but for someone who thrives on lists and planning and getting organized, it was a near eternity.

My car was a disaster with miscellaneous household items, sleeping bags, and suitcases, all my things were in boxes stored in the shed, and I had no where to sleep.

For some moments I felt nearly frantic!

Allie does not live like this - disorganized meandering with things strewn hither and thither throughout the land! I like things to work according to schedule and to be done in a timely fashion.

And I thought I had learned to let God do things in His own time while I was in the Philippines!

But, apparently.....not.

Again the words of my favorite hymn played throughout the days of apparent chaos and uncertainty:

"Father, lead me day by day

Ever in Thine Own sweet way.

Teach me to be pure and True;

Show me what I ought to do!"

~Hymn 482

And so I wait, asking God each day for complete trust in Him - and that the restful, calm, and pliant spirit of a humble servant might be developed in me.

White as Snow

“Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean: wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.” Psalm 51:7

I looked out of the window and down 20,000 feet. The sharp edges of mountains, softened by a blanket of snow, slowly slipped beneath me. Where normally there would be the texture of streams and trees to define the landscape, now there were only hazy outlines, sometimes only flat snow miles with nothing visible to break the smoothness. All was covered. 

What does God see when He looks at me? I know what scars the landscape: unsightly tangles where I’ve tried to work it out on my own, deep gorges with things hidden in the depths, sharp edges that I am too weak to soften. 

Purge me! Oh wash me, Lord! I cannot be clean, I cannot stand in your presence!

And then the Father steps forward.

“No child, you cannot. But I am not looking at you, I am looking at my Son. He is spotless, and white, and perfect and He wants to give it to you. He has prayed for you, He has given you my word, He has claimed you as not of the world. And He’s asked that when I look at you, I look at you through Him.

So I do not see these things of which you speak. I see only my Son because you have claimed Him.”

And as we look, the gorges fill, the sharp edges are covered, and the tangles smooth under the blood of Christ. No longer can we see the disfigured landscape. Its white and smooth. 

Amen

God's Will

“Father, what now?” I asked quietly in the quiet of my bedroom. 

Silence.

No voice, no clap of thunder, no inspirational Bible text.

I waited.

That evening, talking to my mother, I reflected as I had many times before of the blessing of having godly parents. I firmly believe that God has spoken through them more times than I can count. “Move forward with prayer,” she said, “and know that God will open and close doors as He sees fit.”

At some points during my life, I’ve believed that God had only one specific plan for your life and that if you missed that plan it was too bad for you. I still believe that, but with a different twist. 

You see, I thought that God had one occupation, one place to live, one church you were supposed to go to, one outreach opportunity in which you should flourish. (I am not sure where I got this idea because it wasn’t necessarily from my parents!) 

When people talked about “knowing God’s will” it was vaguely unnerving. What if I missed it? What then? Was I rushing down God’s emergency back-up plan for people-who-fail-to-figure-it-out?

I sat in my bedroom a few weeks after returning from my year overseas and contemplated my next steps. Opportunities swirled dizzily around me. Which one is God’s will?

“Move forward with prayer and know that God will open and close doors as He sees fit.”

No voice, no clap of thunder, no inspirational Bible text. Yet now I know. God does only have one specific plan for your life:

It is to reflect Him.

If we miss this, we will have missed God’s will.

Its not where you live, your church, your occupation but who you are as a reflection of Him. If we wholly desire to be a reflection of Him our church, our occupation, and where we live will reflect Him as well.And that is God’s will for your life. 

“Delight thyself also in the Lord, and He shall give thee the desires of thine heart. Commit thy way unto the Lord, trust also in Him; and he shall bring it to pass. And He shall bring forth they righteousness as the light.” Psalm 37:4-6

Thank you

I slithered down the last section of rail and came to a stumbling halt. Turning around, I gazed back up at the jagged green of the jungle mountains. The sun slanted through vines and branches and mists floated lazily between the peaks. Though the sun bean down mercilessly where I was in the valley, I knew up in the mountains a balmy breeze carried the earthy scent of leaves and damp stream beds passed my house, the clinic, and the school where I'd spent the last nine months.

Saying goodbye is never easy, but the bonds created by joy, pain, love, and friendship seemed to bind me deeper to the Palawano people than I could have ever imagined was possible in such a short time.

As I continued to gaze at the mountains for the last time, I thought of the countless miles I'd walked down steep trails and the many streams that had been splashed across. I thought of the smiles of my friends, the tears of a new orphan, and the giggles of the school children. I thought of the countless patients, the many injuries, ailments, and diseases, and the joy of a body made well through the healing power of God. And I thought of you, without whom none of this most eye-opening experience of my life would have been possible. How can I thank you for the prayers , the letters, the support, and the phone calls; all the many ways you gave of yourselves to help this dream come true. I know the sacrifice of time, effort, and funds that each of you have given and I thank you. I thank you not only for myself, but for each baby that is now living because it received medical treatment in time; for each child set free from the chilling grips of malaria, and for each mother who no longer has to look at the open sores covered with flies on the legs of her child.

Thank you for this unforgettable experience that you have made possible! May the God who holds each of His children in His hands bless you and draw you ever closer to Him!

~Allie

Fire Ants

I sat up in the dark and looked around and the lumpy outlines of sleeping children surrounding me. Half standing, I stepped over several sleeping forms before bumping my head on the roof as I made my way to the side of the hut where I’d left my shoes (cleats used by missionaries for navigating the almost impossibly slippery trails during the rainy season).

Slipping my feet into their cold and clammy depth (they rarely dry out in the damp weather), I stumbled a short distance from the hut and crouched next to a banana tree to answer the call of nature. As I proceeded with business, I began almost imperceptibly at first, to notice a strange crawling sensation on my legs. Almost at the same instant that I recognized what the crawling sensation was, they bit me in one accord: hundreds of karamiring (a sort of red fire-ant)!

I let out a squeak of pain into the darkness and frantically brushed my legs to try and rid myself of the clinging insects. Finishing what I was doing in great haste, I trotted back to the hut and quickly took off my shoes and began to rub my feet vigorously to remove the clinging ants. After several minutes of rubbing, I felt that they must be gone and settled down on my mat on the floor, wedge between two girls. Sleep wouldn’t come for several minutes as the few ants that I had missed made their presence known at various intervals!

After about the millionth time I rolled over trying to get comfortable, I opened my eyes and to my delight discovered it was morning! Enough of writhing on the floor in the dark pulling of biting ants! Thanking my hosts for the ‘lovely’ night on the floor of their hut, I prepared to leave. Gathering my things, I prepared to put on my shoes for my early morning hike home.

As I peered in the early morning light at my shoes, I noticed that the left one seemed to be moving – heaving and writhing. Grabbing my flashlight, I pointed it into the depths of the shoe and peered in after the flickering beam. Yikes! I yanked my foot back from the edge of the shoe and huddled on the edge of the hut. The shoe was full of fire ants – busy building a nest in the sole of my shoe!

Every moment of my night in the village had been eventful, I reflected as I hiked down the trail, holding one shoe at arm’s length and stepping precariously through the mud and rivulets of water with my unshod foot. Since it was impossible to wear that shoe until the ants were removed, it would have to wait for a bleach-water soak down at our house.

At the request of many of my small friends, I slept in their house in a village about 20 minutes away from ours by foot. Because they loved to sing, I took my guitar and we sang hymns in the darkness and smoke of their hut before settling down for the night. They excitedly lay down next to me, seeing who could sleep the closest to me…..I lay flat on my back, feeling like a hotdog in a bun. How claustrophobic those poor hotdogs must feel!

I thank the Lord for the chance to be able to experience the lives of these people and to be continually made more aware of the different lives we lead and the unity we can experience in Christ. 

Moth

I sat, chin in hand, mesmerized by the candle flickering in front of me. The flame, dancing and swaying to the soft tune of the breeze, cast a soft light about the room. I watched it waver and flare.

As I continued gazing at the flame, I slowly became aware that someone else in the room was also being drawn to the light. For a few minutes it floated in and out of my line of vision, then centered on the wavering wick. At each passing flight it drew closer and closer to the flame.

As the moth continued circling, I became concerned for its safety. Those delicate wings of his were dangerously close to being scorched. As he continued to flutter around the light, I watched with fascination the perilous dance between moth and flame.

Suddenly, so fast that I was hardly able the catch what happened, the flame sputtered and the moth disappeared, becoming one with the object of his fascination. His irresistible desire to be near what he perceived to be the ultimate goal met in the ending of his own life.

“I sure wouldn’t want to be that moth….or would I?”

Now before you become worried lest I have suicidal thoughts in the middle of the jungle in the Philippines, rest assured. I have no such intentions! J But I was struck with two different object lessons quite opposite from one another.

My first thought was that the flame represented the things of the world – by all outward appearances shining and beckoning one to come nearer and partake in the shimmering dance. Fascinated and enthralled by the beauty we fail to notice the dangerous associated with drawing near and many do not escape without being scorched.

Following the first idea not a moment later, however, was the thought of Christ: the Light of the World. “…I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never live in darkness. They will have the light that gives life.” (John 8:12) As I watched the moth consumed by the flame, I feared the fire. It burned and scorched and took away all that the moth previously knew, changing it from what it was before into being one with the flame – a mere burst of light added to the greater light of the blaze.  

“I will be in them and You will be in Me. So they will be completely one. Then the world will know that You sent Me and that You loved them just as you loved Me.” John 17:23

To be one with Christ, to be consumed by His brightness, to be so completely hidden in Him that all an outside observer can see is the luminous, glowing, perfect fire of Christ’s love – that would be worth dying for.

That is what I learned from the moth and candle.

Shama

I look at the calendar with a sense of dread. In just two weeks, Shama will be leaving. Her unexpected early departure being due to a serious illness of her father, I do not begrudge her in the least an early departure, but the thought of being the only medical person here in the mountains does add a great deal of responsibility.

Not only am I losing a valuable nurse, I am also losing the only person in the world who can relate step-by-step what it has been like to be transplanted into the middle of the jungle where no one understands you, where you take cold showers every day, eat weevils, and trust God implicitly for every next step. 

I’ve been so blessed to spend the last five months with Shama and I am going to miss her sorely during the remainder of my stay here (until mid-November)! Just a few things we’ve experienced together:

• -          Arriving in the middle of the night in Puerto and experiencing our first drive in a trike at night
• -          A wild and speedy ride from Puerto to Brooks Point (where I became thoroughly car-sick)
• -          Our first hike into the mountains
• -          Sitting awkwardly around a smoky fire near someone’s hut, trying desperately to learn the language
• -          Our first hike up to Emrang
• -          Our first day of teaching in Palawano (oh my, how scary!)
• -          Frying geckos
• -          Running the clinic, getting up with inpatients in the middle of the night, being woken up for emergencies
• -          Making friends
• -          Laughing and arguing about how to dig weeds
• -          Sleeping on bamboo floors

These and many other things I’ll miss reminiscing about and experiencing with Shama. But as I’ve learned over the past five months, God doesn’t allow anything to happen that wasn’t for the best all along.

Although we don’t understand all the reasons now for the meanwhile she’ll go home and I’ll stay here; but when we look back at the end of our time here on earth, (perhaps just as we are lifting off with the cloud of angels) we’ll see why. And then we’ll sing with all the others, but maybe Shama and I will sing in Palawano, “My God, how great Thou Art!” (Ama’ Empu, mebasag Ke!)