But I did buy sturdy Travelers Insurance before I left Tucson

Guárdame como a la niña de tus ojos;
escóndeme a la sombra de tus alas. Salmos 17:8

Bien se yo que lo futuro en su mano estaa: con desvelo permanente El me guiara; aunque en mi Camino encuentre pena y dolor, siempre tras de fuertes pruebas veo su favor. Himnos y Canticos del Evangelio

It is well that the future is in Your hand: with permanent vigilance You guide me; although in my Camino I will find sorrow and pain, always after hard tests I see His favor. Gospel Hymns and Chants

Well, this Daily Readings Devotional, produced for 281 years by the Moravian Church, gifted to me by a most delightful Desert parent is sure spot on as I stare at the Facebook post from my good friend and experienced cyclist:  "let the sore butts, aching shoulders, screaming quads, and never ending road begin. But at least you two look marvelous. And it's not raining."

But it certainly dumped rain last night.

And the cautious wise words from Mary Anne, and seconded by my momma, "Christy I have a huge check in my spirit about your biking 50 miles a day I would like to ask you to ask the Lord how much you can do and to think of taking it slow in the beginning, including bus rides through the most arduous places and finishing well.  I have many memories of your accidents back injuries leg injuries and other injuries etc. I think the Lord wants you to use your body well. You are not  Nicole---please please please don't go at Nicole's pace ---go it God's pace."

And tucking this good counsel into my back pocket, I am comforted by their love and His hand. His gentle touch strengthens me, "Have I not proven faithful thus far?"

My quietly sitting reading that frames my view of the narrow, winding streets of Bordeaux, the blasting lightening storm over the cathedral and the square, and the delightful conversations with the CubanAmerican bus tour folks, and the odd little Airbnb couch surfing experience with lovely expresso and a wonderful shower, is a mixed bag of Fr. Richard Rohr, Madame Guyan, and Annie Dillard. We ARE taking way too many books on this journey but Nicole swears she loves weight on the bicycle.

And together their sweet chorus weaves together in joyous harmony, "Come closer, beloved child. Rest in Me. Abide."

Abide.

We sort of did a dumb American thing this afternoon, back and forth across the bridges with our packs that only weighed eight kilos apiece as we hefted into RyanAir yesterday, but in the humid late afternoon sun they weigh so much more.

Back and forth, until at last we found an open bus station, any bus station, and a nice Portuguese woman explained to us that our tickets were for San Sebastián at four this morning. Of course. So she called number after number to all the other bus companies and at last beguiled someone into issuing us transfer tickets for two tomorrow morning in the park, but we must be there an hour early.

And Nicole is wandering looking for internet to tell Ander not to pick us up in half an hour, and I am in some techno bar with a padded bench stacked about with stuff, reading Everything Belongs: The Gift of Contemplative Prayer by Richard Rohr. "When we are nothing, we are in a fine position to receive everything from God," and I am so clearly invisible nothing right now, watching the lithe French sweep past. The most fun is watching the gorgeous bebes being wheeled about seamlessly from stroller to scooter to bicycle. Tossled in the sunlight and quite aware with round Everette eyes. Speaking of whom, I did go to a massive full square block librairie this morning to buy a book, Le Petite Chat, for her, while Nicole wordsmithed the last few bits of her book. Like I said, we have way too many books.


Richard reminds us that Jesus uses the image of a child to teach "beginner's mind."  A child is one without ego identity to prove, project, or protect. They respond to what is, and not what should be or might be.


This moment has a fullness.

Take no thought for tomorrow, for tomorrow will take care of itself

Bendice, alma mía, al Señor,
y no olvides ninguno de sus beneficios.
El es el que perdona todas tus iniquidades,
el que sana todas tus enfermedades;
el que rescata de la fosa tu vida,
el que te corona de bondad y compasión. Salmo 103

El toque tierno de Dios fortalece nuestra fe, nos prepare para amar, aguidiza nuestros sentidos y nos ensena a ver con corazon. Su toque nos permite creer como ninos para que el mensaje del Evangelio puede renacer en nosotros. De Venezuela

Bless the Lord, oh my soul, and may I not forget Your many gifts.

As we wait in the Bologna airport it is really a giant leap over the cliff.

But as I consider the steps day by day that have led to this point, His kindness and compassion have been evident. His soft touch strengthens my faith. And sometimes this touch is the gentle prayer of Matteo as he prays for his girls while we race down the highway in the bright yellow Volkswagon. May this touch refresh a childlike faith in me, "Jump, Christy, jump."

So I squinch up my eyes, swing my arms, and jump.

May the circle be unbroken

A saber, que Dios estaba en Cristo reconciliando al mundo consigo mismo, no tomando en cuenta a los hombres sus transgresiones, y nos ha encomendado a nosotros la palabra de la reconciliación. 2 Corintios 5, 19

Cantad, cristinos por doquier, con dulce melodia: load al Dios de gran poder saltando de alegria; al don precioso que nos dio cuando a gran precio nos compro. A voces celebramos. Martin Lutero

Matteo's violin magically turned into a fiddle last night. Marco conducted one merry band through the construction of 64 artisan pizzas slid into the blazing wood oven and served to a veritable representation of a reconciled world: a Moroccan shopkeeper and a singer from Mexico City, the vibrant politician who moved smoothly through the smiles, and the one who needed crutches to make his way to the chair, the grandparents and the youngster tugging on his poppa's nose, an Italian belly dancer and a traveling fire spinner, the Nigerian seeking medical aid for her niece and the San Franciscan progressive artists, while Matteo led a second band of skilled musicians in joyous song that swelled until the melody overflowed into the moonlit sky.

And we prayed that this God of great power would hold back the rain that poured down on the fields, the plaza and even the neighbors, and not even a drop fell among sparkling lights.

Praise to the God of great power, jumping for joy, for all of His precious gifts, especially The One through Whom we are reconciled.

Round and round up the ancient staircase

4 de junio, 2014

Yo Te alabo, oh Padre, Señor del cielo y de la tierra, Porque escondiste estas cosas de los sabios y entendidos, y las has revelado a los ninos. Lucas 10, 21

So yesterday after mass we scrambled up the bell tower with one of Marco's first grade students. And two things happened.

First, Marco went to the priest and borrowed the key and turned off the bells, because if they started ringing while we were up there, we would probably go crazy or at very least, deaf with the racket. He then opened the door and let the little guy head up the shadowy adventure first. But he was just behind him in the dark in case he slipped.




Second, this little guy received this gift with absolute joy. He is one of those sort of kids that the moment he sets foot in a classroom, the teachers and administrators run for their battery of tests because he is one wild and crazy guy. But Marco says he is just extra brilliant and not created for the mundane.

Of course the little guy noticed everything and chatted endlessly about all the details, and looked to Marco continuously for guidance and shared delight. He got it, the purpose. And as we peeked our head through the last trapdoor, to look at the glorious gold light shimmering over the tiled roofs and cobbled streets in every directions until they reached the dark green cypress framing the edges of the variegated fields, it was clear who had wisdom and who was busy with last minute errands preparing 

for dinner, texting one more time, heads down and hurried, far below in the streets of Lugo.

Do not cage the Holy Spirit

Soy yo Dios de cerca solamente, dice Jehovah, y no Dios desde muy lejos? Jeremias 23, 23

Oh profundidad de las riquezas de la sabiduria y de la ciencia de Dios! Cuan insondables son sus juicios, e inscrutables sus caminos! Romans 11, 33

Hacia Ti deseo dirigir mis pasos, mi camino y mi paz, justicia y gracia, ambos eres Tu y eternamente Tu.

Indeed God is deeper and wider and beyond imagination.

Yesterday.

Yesterday found me wandering the streets of Assisi. And the big story of Francis is that he reminded the people that Jehovah God is now at work, and not simply a theoretical concept of the distant and dusty past or reserved for the equally distant streets of gold. Even now we can know Him and experience His power and grace and love. The joy and unity is for now, and this truth was cold refreshing water to thirsty souls.

And this truth is for now as well. Just yesterday, Francis the Pope spoke to 50,000 in Rome , and reminded thirsty souls of the need for “conversion to the love of Jesus” that is life-changing and turns a Christian into “a witness to God’s love.”

“I hope that you will share with all in the Church the grace of baptism in the Holy Spirit,” Pope Francis said. “I expect from you an evangelization with the Word of God that proclaims that Jesus lives and loves all humankind.” He said he hopes that they will witness to “spiritual ecumenism” with all Christians of other Churches and communities.

He is alive. We serve a living Lord.

At work to will and to work His good purpose.

And yesterday, Nicole gave a little back rub and blessing to a friend of Marcos, as we sat under the trees and watched the children and parents cavort across the park next to the Basilica of Saint Clair with their strips of red and yellow fabrics and the building boxes painted with pictures of Assisi and the world. And she wept tears of joy.

And somehow we ended up as her guest at, how shall I describe it, a political party potluck in which all the important doctors and lawyers and socialites of Lugo served served pasta and shrimp and steak and gelato while a politician proclaimed that if we voted for him, he would bring us twenty years into the future, but if we voted for the other guy, we would go thirty years into the past, all with a very loud rock and roll band cranking out American tunes of the seventies?

And afterwards we climbed up to the garden restaurant on top of the 14th century castle in the central plaza of town, and she served us a platter of the ten most, well, the adjective they used was "precious," cheeses imaginable and breads and yet one last bottle of wine. And we spoke of many things, but ended up once again sharing the surprising interventions of God into the lives of man, inexplicable and beyond tracing out.

But these are only interventions from my perspective. In His view, He holds this all in the palm of His hand, from beginning unto everlasting.

For from Him and through Him and for Him are all things. To Him be the glory and honor forever. Amen.

Both unlettered and uncultured

Cristo dice: y yo, si fuere levantado de la tierra, a todos atrarere a mi mismo. Juan 12, 32

Viendo el denuedo de Pedro y de Juan, y sabiendo que eran hombres sin letras y del vulgo, se maravillaban; y les reconocian que habian estado con Jesus. Hechos 4,13

Mam oh man, I am without words and ignorant. All day long. Very much stumbling over the simplest grazie and molto bella and buona giorno. Drats.

And yesterday was a heaping and overflowing basket of goodness, poured into my lap.

First up to cappuccino and homemade bread and out the door. Marco is trying to develop a relationship with the Muslim community and they had a meeting to gather and figure out how to integrate into the Italian community but not really, so the only non-Muslim they had invited to their meeting was Marco and they had at first asked him to help plan the meeting, and then they changed it to just speaking at the meeting, but then they changed that, and asked to just attend, and he ended up with little "reserved" signs on four seats, but when they saw that two of the guests were women, we were asked, very gently, if we would rather sit in back with the other women. And we draped Nicole's prayer flags around our heads and prayed for this community, while they sangprayed and through the long boring man talks and then for the articulate, passionate woman who spoke afterwards even though it seemed like no one was listening to her except us, and especially for Marco, that he would remain under with patience and grace even when it was difficult.

Then to mass. And as I knelt and prayed and listened to the Scriptures and the sermon about the Ascension of Christ and His command to "go into all the world and preach the Gospel and make disciples, teaching them," while I looked up at the massive marble Christ on the cross, I marveled at this great love, Who would stop at nothing to bring all to Himself.   And Matteo's violin sang over us while we shared the Eucharist.

We then drove out for at least ten minutes into the countryside, to the grandparents' farm for a Sunday dinner of roast chicken and rabbit livers and risotto and bread and salad and marinara sauce and homemade wine and cherries and we admired the chickens and rabbits and the vineyard and fields, and Nicole wrapped her arms around this beloved grandmother and Paulo did the dishes.

Quick quick, we zipped home and then off to Ravenna, the beach town where Dante finished up El Paradiso, and we swam out to the long pile of rocks way out there with some clever friends who then lay on the beach with me and discussed Fahrenheit 451 and the Screwtape Letters that they were reading. And now I am going to have to read the Missingman by Chesterton because reading this book that I never heard of changed the direction of his life. We looked up on his iPhone if he wasn't talking about The Everlasting Man, so there is a Chesterton book that don't know. The lifeguard had to row out on his skiff to ask Nicole not to go out past the buoys.

One has to remember that all of this driving is past field after field of grapes and peaches and corn and sunflowers and poppies and massive tiled stone-and-plastered farmhouses covered with rose bushes and jasmine vines under pointy cypress and flowering fig trees, and that it rained all last week but now the skies are very bright blue. Lest I grow immune to my surroundings.

So Marco has gathered together a community of about thirty people, and sometimes there are fifteen and sometimes just two, but they meet every two weeks at different homes to discuss and plan for justice in the city, so we met at this girl's beautiful villa for warm-from-the-oven pound cake and fruit juice and tangy fruits full of brown shiny seeds that I saved for Alan.

Then the just-stop-by, ten-minute planning meeting at the church stretched on and on, which is what happens when you have six strong, bright, passionate men planning for a day-long excursion to Assisi to learn about St. Francis for two hundred kids. And Marco is all about Inquiry-based learning and open-ended questions, and the priest not so much, and yes, things do sound a little complicated reenacting the battles against the Moors and the conversion moment and the building of the chapel of Assisi, but at long last they agree to release control to Marco, sort of, since I did not exactly understand the specifics, but certainly the dynamics were clear.

Chiara had prepared a beautiful ravioli dinner for all of us, which was a good thing, since it was going to be a long night. And as we took one last spoonful before returning to the tasks at hand, one of the young men asked if we had ever met a truly actualized person who did not know Christ. Marco went with "define your terms," and Nicole told Burning Man stories of sincere and dedicated seekers who saw a light around her Prayer and Blessing umbrella, a Light different than everything else in the clutter of man-seeking-truth.

Matteo Number One built a fire in the fireplace because I had taught him that you don't have to be in winter or cold to have a fire in the fireplace when he visited us in Tucson. Matteo Number Two and I cut strips and strips of yellow and red fabric for wristbands and flags for the game and told stories while Nicole painted paper-covered boxes with scenes of the chapels of Assisi and Lugo to use as huge building blocks, Matteo Number One and Luca planned the music, Matteo Number Three who is about to take his priest vows and still has a lot of preparation after he leaves tonight helped out in the kitchen, while Marco cut holes in long sheets of fabric for a game where the kids wear medieval helmets created out of newspaper mâché and poke their heads up through holes like ground squirrels and people throw things at them that I don't really understand; like I said I am an ignorant person who cut four hundred strips of fabric with a young man asking, "How can I know that God really loves me?"
 
Towards the end, Marco asked if anyone wanted a little liquor and as we sipped out of small glasses, he told us how he happened to have such fancy stuff in his home, having rescued a hysterical woman from a huge rat with bared teeth, and her grateful husband gifted him from his rich storehouse. Well, once again, that is what I figured out, I think.

And at the end, as midnight of this gift of a day from the very rich storehouses of My Father, I asked the priest-to-be if he would like to offer up a prayer for tomorrow and the children, and he asked me to do it, and Nicole suggested that we all hold hands and we did, and I thanked God for each of these lovely servants and may each of the children know the love of God and what it is to follow Him.

And even though I am unlettered and uncultured, may they know that I have been with Jesus.

Speak Lord; may I be listening

31 de mayo, 2014

David oro: Todas estas grandezas has hecho por tu palabra y conformed a tu corazon. 2 Samuel 7, 21

Y muchos, oyendo a Jesus, se admiraban, y decian: De donde tiene este estas cosas? Y que sabidurdia es esta que le es dada, y estos milagros que por sus manos son hechos? Marcos 6, 2

One of the confidence-building exercises in Do What Jesus Did is called "Treasure Hunt," in which the participants pray before stepping out, asking God for some specific details about those whom God has prepared for them to serve and encourage in prayer. We gave it a shot today. Nicole was told to look for someone wearing a top hat who has back problems, while mine seemed to be the more mundane "red shirt." Difficult as it may seem to believe, people in Istanbul simply do not wear top hats, at least in sultry summer days around the ancient wonders of Haga Sophia and the cisterns built by Emperor Justine during the fifth century. But we set off for an entire day of wandering.

It was pretty much a tourist checklist day, starting with a Turkish breakfast of olives, cheese, meats, eggs, jam and bread, leading into long lines, shoving crowds, admiring more beautiful rugs and jewelry than I could wrap my brain around, and traversing dripping underground brick-domed caverns held up by leftover columns from all over the Roman Empire.

Eventually I hit some invisible but rock-hard wall; I was done. We headed off to find some beautiful brightly-colored picturesqueness that deniz (which is a crazy popular name in Turkey, meaning water) and Nicole had discovered on some running tour through the streets. As we tried to slide unnoticed past the rows of restaurants which had the ubiquitous welcomers out front, creatively trying to woo passersby into enjoying a little refreshment at their place, we saw him. The guy with the top hat. Absolutely no doubts about this one, and he certainly was not difficult to engage in conversation; it was his job to chat up obvious tourists such as ourselves.

And Nicole had a word picture for him: he was on a train, on a long journey, but he got off early, at an unplanned stop, before he arrived to his destination, his destiny. And God wanted him to be encouraged; this wasn't the end of the way, it wasn't over.

And the guy in the top hat looked startled, "What are you, a psychic? Can I buy you some tea? Please come over here and sit. I want to talk to you. He had ridden the trains for eight years, busy and productive years, as a photographer. Then one afternoon, he got off the train in a small village, d it was all over. He was hustling people pushing down the sidewalk, with a top hat. He spoke with longing about the joys of snatching moments with a camera, almost stealing them, before they disappeared.

Then Nicole asked if his back hurt. "I broke my back in two and that is when all this shit happened." He was still working the busy lunchtime crowd, and the conversation about following Jesus was broken up into chunks like so many loaves wrapped up in blue towels, with no clear resolution, but it was clearly His word and His heart speaking to this man.

And then there was the man on the beach with red shoes and a red shirt. And we spoke with him about his heart for God and he really really tries to please Him and pray five times a day, but sometimes he doesn't, and he did Ramadan for three years, but not last year because he has stomach problems and needs to eat small meals throughout the day, and, well, sometimes, sometimes he drinks a little alcohol. But he has a heart for God. And we spoke of God's great love shown to us through Jesus, and that it is not what we do that causes God to love us, but because of who He is. And he said an Indian man and an African man tried to explain Jesus to him but he didn't quite understand, and would we please come over to his restaurant and speak of Him? 

And we did not. Somehow it felt awkward to follow this man across the highway although clearly he was kind and gentle and lost. And now it is clear that this fear was not from God. Fear is never from the LORD God who is seeking to save the lost. I pray that in the future this regret will fill me with a humble courage to boldly proclaim the name of Jesus.

And the day stepped forward. Into more questions and more prayers and more stories of Jesus. How to do what Jesus did? And surely he ate fish and bread by the side of the road. And blessed a man's cafe because life is hard work and sometimes we are anxious. And sat with a beautiful friend long into the night and talked about life. Perhaps He would have played Spades in a cafe until three in the morning?

I am a Christ-bearer wherever I go and whatever I do.

May I be filled with the wisdom from above.

May He be glorified.