And she was the only one who ever called me "Christine," printed neatly across the top of my paper

Enséñanos a contar de tal modo nuestros días,
que traigamos al corazón sabiduría. Salmo 90,12

So teach us to number our days that we may apply our hearts to wisdom. Psalm 90:12

So today Andres sent me an article that he read that kind of sums up his new life gifted to him by a loving God on his birthday. And the leg that is steadily healing is not the big thing in his life. The big thing is the wisdom that came from repentance, from receiving a new mind, or wisdom.

And the story is about a man who died early… leaving a wife and two children and the remnants of the business that eventually killed him from stress. His brain exploded. And this dead man, much like the rich man in the story of Jesus, longed to tell the truth to his family and friends: Only three of these will remain hope, faith and love. And the greatest of these is love.

And sometimes, like way too often, I succumb to the melodious middle tones of NPR in the background, and the black and white crinkle of the newspaper that Jack leaves on the dining room table each morning because we now share a subscription, and the clever little posts on Facebook by friends and almost-friends alike, and I start to think that all of this is important. And falling apart and worthy of anger, fear and despair.

But that is a lie, created by the Evil One to give himself more honor than he is due, and produced and broadcast by those hoping to make a filthy lucre or two off my angst.

And the One saw all of history laid out from end to end from the very first word to the very last wiping every tear from their eyes, when the former things will have passes away, still had time to pause and look up in that sycamore tree and go to Lazarus’ house for tea. And He had time to gather the little children about Him for such are the kingdom of God. He even took naps while the winds and waves crashed. 

Wisdom.

And yesterday I could have rushed to a side table and written my 1000 word reflection on the day’s large group meeting, the small group meeting and the 591 classroom discussion, but I didn’t.

I hitched myself up on a tall stool next to four of the high school students. And we talked about fear and writing and what books they were reading this summer and isn’t it crazy to think that is some very big ways these three weeks could change the rest of our lives. And they asked if I was going on the Mall Crawl Tour in the hot Tucson sun and I said, “Yep,” and they were glad.

And yesterday somehow an old devotional from last year was at the top of my page… and it reminded me about my first and second and third grade teacher Mrs. Hahn with the golden hair twisted up into a bun who read Call of the Wild with me, just the two of us, and I never have forgotten it.

And dear LORD, Let Your lovingkindness be my comfort, as You have promised to your servant. Let Your compassion come to me, that I may live, for Your law is my delight.

That I may truly live.

and it rains on the just and the unjust alike

Therefore, as one trespass led to condemnation for all men, so one act of righteousness leads to justification and life for all men. For as by the one man's disobedience the many were made sinners, so by the one man's obedience the many will be made righteous. Romans 4:17

Righteousness isn’t about being perfect. We just aren’t. Romans two and three and four make that perfectly clear.

But Blessed are those whose lawless deeds are forgiven,
    and whose sins are covered;
blessed is the man against whom the Lord will not count his sin.

God gives life to the dead and calls into existence the things that do not exist. That is the whole marvel of creation. He speaks, and life appears.  In an empty void without form.

The early morning clouds are different here, as I watch from my bright orange couch eleven stories up, settled with a cup of coffee overlooking the Hudson River. A siren and a few truck rumbles squeeze into the silence and then dissipate, leaving it unaffected. Outside the blustery greyness batters an American flag above a Greek-revivalist POW memorial. I read a real-live rustling New York Times this morning rather than my two-minute tradition of scanning the electronic headlines. It certainly adds more heft-in-my-hands weight to the world’s activities.

The thing about traveling is that it is a blessed reminder about my smallness. More heft to the written Word and the expanse which He addresses. The world is so very much bigger than my daily up and down Speedway dashes. Jincheng and the two cats and I flew to Kennedy airport by way of LAX, so that is a lot of perspective. But it all ties together. Oddly enough Fluffy and Henry in the carry-on bags were a conversation magnet. We chatted with a family from Pakistan, a salesman from Berlin and a woman whose cat died seven years ago and she still grieves. And as we waited at baggage claim, Fluffy and Henry introduced us to an NGO staff member and a Nepalese water engineer stacking up boxes of water purification machines and I was so very happy to get their names and card because I just assigned John and William Nepal yesterday for their biome research project which includes the requirement of interviewing a local water expert and/or NGO. Cha-ching. And I gave them my two United Airlines lounge passes because they have six hours at JFK before another 14-hour trip. With seven boxes.

And the world is not so big. It is all bound together by His work and His purpose and His beauty out of nothing.

Hope beats eternal.