Letter From Camp

Dear Mom,

I miss you so much I can't wait to see you. I love you Mom. I am haveing fun at camep. I no allmost evre one in the caben. Mom, Dad loves you more then eney one and I hope I can love you just as much.

Love,
Abigail

Letter to 14 year old Elizabeth

My Dearest Elizabeth,

I will start by simply saying that this may not be the kind of letter your mom had in mind when she asked me to write to you and encourage you in your walk and maturity with God. In this season in my life I’m not the motivational Christian older woman…I’m afraid churches wouldn’t ask me to come and speak at their women’s retreats for every thing I have to say is laced with tears. As I write this tears are falling on my already weathered face.

My heart is heavy dear child and your mom may not want you to read this until you are ready to understand this pilgrimage we are all on. It is not an easy road Elizabeth. The Word tells me that His burden is light and His yoke is easy. Well, I’m here to tell you it’s not true. You may think that I’m contradicting the infallible Word of God but I’m not. He doesn’t promise an easy road, free from pain and grief, in fact He does promise that we are called to partake in His suffering. This road may be easier and lighter than the road of the world, the deprived, unsaved world, maybe, for I do remember that even David asked God how the wicked prosper. I have asked those same questions and He tells me that the rain falls on the wicked as well as the righteous. But I think a little less rain falls on some of us. Few are called to walk in the desert and because the road we travel is deprived of water when we come upon a small puddle it seems like an oasis. I don’t begin to know how He decides who will walk in the land of plenty and who will walk in this arid dry harsh environment. But I have been chosen for such a road. Friends have told me what a privilege it is to be chosen to partake in His suffering and that I should rejoice that I could understand better the words of Paul, for he too suffered much. That may be all good and true but the reality of the hurting heart is that it sucks! I don’t want to suffer; I don’t want to walk this way. I want my feet to point to the lush green valleys of life. Yet here I sit broken, hurting, submitting to His will and purpose for me and I have a responsibility to keep on walking in this harsh dry land.

The last time I had thirst quenching water was a lifetime ago and it didn’t come from a puddle, but from a deep, cool pool and I was able not only to dip my hand for a drink but to cool my body as well. The memory of such luxury is all but faded now and all that remains is what I tell my heart to be true. He is aware of my thirst and pain, but my troubled soul cannot comprehend such truth. I can see how Thomas felt, if only my faith was greater and my flesh would not war with my heart. I know God’s hand is in all…

In all nature,
In all circumstances,
In all my past,
In all my present,
In all my future.

I find myself rethinking and recalling memories of the past and wondering about moments to come and the miles that I have yet to tread, and I lose heart and feel tired and burdened.

Elizabeth I have lived and loved and given birth and put to rest flesh of my flesh, my three year old daughter Naomi. I have also laid to rest next to her small body the body of my husband of 22 years, of the man whose life pointed to Christ, who loved me like Christ loves the church, who un-raped me, whose gentleness tamed my wild heart and my bitter soul. The only man I have ever loved, whose love was so near to the love I have for Christ.

I sit here alone and broken telling myself “Not as I will, but as Thou wilt…”even in my sorrow…”not what I but what Thou.” This shall hallow my hopes, this shall hush my fears, this shall ward off disquiet, this shall calm all my anxieties, this shall soothe my heart-aches, this shall give rest to my weariness and when my sadness reaches the desert of my heart, it shall be the deeper for-taste of everlasting peace and rest…not what I in my misery, and ignorance, and blindness and sin, but “what Thou,” in His mercy and holiness, and wisdom and love.

Sometimes I feel like I’m caught in between darkness and light in a world of shadows, my visibility is limited and I am trusting that though I cannot see, I have a very safe and secure guide but I’m still a bit scared. I do have one word to give you child, trust. Trust that is what He keeps telling me. I trust him but it is me I don’t trust. Death and sorrow are powerful emotions that strip the heart of all defenses, of all common sense, of any protection. Elizabeth my mind speaks logic but my heart has no ears….

I pray my dear one that the road you travel will be lush, abundant, lacking nothing and then you can just toss this aside and ask your mom what this crazy lady is talking about.

Trust, trust that He will give you what is best for what you think is better, and learn to receive His best, to humbly submit with open arms, to weep as well as rejoice that He is your King and to have the assurance even in your darkest hour when the heart is heaviest that you are under His everlasting arms.

In love, in sorrow, in darkness,

Maritza Ray

Trust

By now I should be so trusting of Him that I would not fret over situations yet to be experienced, my mind plays with my heart often making me feel less stronger than I am. He keeps reminding me that "I am better than I thought and stronger than I believed." Last night was to be my first night alone in the house, after dropping the girls at summer camp for a week. Leaving the girls at camp was very emotional. Abigail rubbed my arm and held on to me 'till the very last minute before I got in the car. I quietly cried part of the way home. I missed them terribly but was also unprepared to be alone, I realize that the Lord is dealing with me in that area of my life. I need to be comfortable with aloneness, I love the quiet house but was dreading sleeping in it. I thought of bringing in my big red dog and let him climb on the couch with me, I didn't think I was "emotionally prepared" for an empty bed last night. Silly? but what can I do, one more thing to get use to, one more fear to surrender. I'm so glad He's very gracious with me and only exposes one weakness at a time, lately I've felt He's on a very intense mission to cleanse me. I wonder what's next?!

After all that worry, I actually slept in my bed alone, well with the menagerie of pets around me ;-) The dogs on the floor at the side and foot of the bed, the bird in her cage quietly cooing before settling for the night and the cat purring at my side nestle between my arm and ribs. I slept soundly, without fear and woke to dawn gently breaking into the room from the skylight above my bed. I cried with relief and thankfulness, "Lord you are so patient with me." I ended up laughing at the silliness of my heart. I should have learned this lesson from my Abigail. Yesterday they had to do a swimming test at camp, and here at home since they swim on the lake and she's never had swimming lessons she has to wear a life vest. She's never gotten in the water without it. I sat and watched from the top bench and wondered if she was going to tell her camp counselor that she can't swim, but to my surprised she jumped in the deep water of the lake without hesitation and swam across as instructed, I stood watching her, surprised that she had so much confidence and no fear when she probably didn't know if she could swim. When she came out of the water and walked to the benches to get her towel I ran to her and hugged her and told her how proud of her I was. She was as surprised as I was that she could swim, I asked her if she was scared and she said no, "I knew that if I began to sink they would pull me out." Isn't that what God does for us? I should have known that if I began to sink from fear He would pull me out!

California

I just got back from sunny California and I saw and smelled the ocean. How vast, how deep and blue, so much feeling in just one long look...I felt Him present at my side silently talking in the hushing sound of air and sky. Nature heals me, touches me deeply and seeing the endless waters meet endless sky reminded me of His endless love for me. How can I feel so lonely when He so quietly stand closely by? I ran like an energetic child just let out from school, finding trails in my old neighborhood I didn't know existed, running from inland to ocean, logging countless miles under my feet and still feeling like it was not enough. The air was wet and salty, I could taste it with every breath. I laughed at the sound of sea gulls and cried with joy as I heard and saw dolphins playing close to shore. It was only me and nature, too early even for surfers who were still walking down with their gear and eying the swelling waves reluctant to get into the cold water. Why did we leave this place? Then I remembered the old life and how this new life wouldn't fit here. A single mom with five children in Southern California? No, it just wouldn't work no matter how blue and vast the ocean is.

His Song of Affection

Today I got a little card of encouragement from my daughter's pastor with a simple sentence that left me overwhelmed with His grace, "May the Spirit of Christ draw near to you and sing His song of affection to your heart." That is what I have been craving "His song of affection." I have spent over twenty years with a very affectionate man and now I seldom hear that I'm loved or feel the warm touch of affection. My children tell me so but that is not the love I'm referring to nor am I referring to sex. I thrive on proximity, and often now I find myself alone. The dogs get near me and I no longer push them away, but always let the big red dog lick my hand or face and I go looking for my girls to touch, a little rub on the back or just to run my hands thru their silky long hair. But it is always me doing the touching, seeking out with my rough hands for warmth. I miss his gentle attention to my body, the way he would reach out for me when I was doing the most ordinary and mundane little task of the day. He never passed by me without reaching for me as if to assure himself that I was there. Ron's song of affection came to me not as a melody but with touch or written words. He knew how words were the language of my heart and would leave little cards or notes for me to find under my pillow or inside my coat pocket, these were as sweet and gentle as his touch. He knew that growing up my mother never touched me or held me and the only touch I received as a child was perverted so he made an effort to grace me with little tidbits of affectionate touch so frequent as to make up for the many years I lacked them. His words were always loving and affirming, knowing too that all I had received before meeting him was cruel criticism spoken in anger, words that destroyed the little innocent child in me. Now I look at the Living Word for encouragement but I miss warm touch. If only I could feel His arms around me...I would sleep better and would be a little less cold. He sings over me, I can hear it now, but its His affection that I crave.

Last Weekend

Here I am sitting in Ron's office procrastinating again...not wanting to do the bills and finances. Why is it so hard to do our duty? I have had a good dose of caffeine and a great breakfast and even shed some tears as I looked over the lake and listened to Cat Stevens...he reminds me of my growing years, when my friends and I sat in the front of our house in Nicaragua in the darkness listening to gun fire in the distance, wondering what our future would be like, would we make it past the war, past the famine and suffering that guns and hate bring? Never did I imagined that 26 years later I would be sipping coffee, safe, surrounded by nature and looking forward to the blessings of spending time with my daughter Amaris. I sit here musing and thinking of the past, consumed by memories of a life that was. How many lives have I already lived and how many more remain? The past is the past, untouchable, unattainable, the essence of what makes us who we are. We are molded by it, it expands us or restrict us. It guides us into the future and we must surrender to it willingly or we remain stuck in it. It amazes me that God teaches us thru our past experiences, reveals Himself thru its deliverance. He so graciously gives and gently takes away. I sit here thanking Him for His kindness, who am I to have deserved so much? How can I not fall at His feet and thank Him, not only for my past but my present and my future. As Spurgeon once wrote, "We need clouds and darkness to exercise our faith--to cut off self dependence and make us put more faith in Christ and less in evidence, less in experience, less in feeling. The best of God's children's...have their nights..." I am waiting patiently for morning.

The peaks of the Blue Ridge Mountains remind me of a little poem by Ruth Bell Graham...

Those splendid,

soaring jagged peaks,

stripped of trees

of grass and sod

whose snow

the sunlight lingers

are but the braille letters,

where we mortals

blind and fragile

trace our finger

to spell the name

God.

I am now that blind and fragile mortal that in moments of infinite vulnerability can only trace the outline of His name. Nature does have a healing effect on me and I'm glad I'm surrounded by it, but I also need the confusion of the city, the noise, the concrete and steel...to be one among the many and be swallowed up by its fast pace.

Last weekend I was in Atlanta staying with friends and it felt good to have stepped out of life. To surrender to the business of the mall on a Saturday morning. To sip wine at a tavern after seeing a movie not made by Walt Disney and talk late into the night about everything and nothing with a girlfriend. Walking to Starbucks to get a latte alone felt like I was this carefree woman with nothing on my mind but the insignificant stuff of the day. I have needed this...can one really step out of life? Yes! My grief was on hold for just a couple of days and when I came home it was there patiently waiting for me. The heaviness of it swallowed me up and it welcomed me home. How long had I been gone? A life time?...Two days ?...enough to clear my mind, to strengthen my frame, to pretend I was somebody else in another time in another place. When I walked in the house I was surprise to realized that I had missed this sadness that defines and sustains me. It made me more sad to learn that I have come to see this as part of my construct, as part of my being. I will never be able to run away from it, grief will have to be the one to leave me, to gently walk away from me. I wonder if I will just wake up one morning and the world will be in color...now I only see black and white, my eyes have adjusted and often I forget what it was like to be surrounded by light, music and laughter...I miss the old and pray that the new will be brighter, for now I am satisfied to walk in this in between place of darkness and light, in a world of shadows undecided as to where to go. The past pulls me back and the future tugs me forward. Both scare me a bit, one because I know will stagnate my life and the other because I only have very limited visibility. I'm trusting that though I cannot see, I have a very safe and secure Guide. I feel like a blind woman walking down a crowed street afraid that the noise of life around me will cause harm. I'm very vulnerable right. Grief and sorrow are powerful emotions, that strip the heart of all defenses, of all common sense, of all protection. I should be happy to have stepped out of so much sadness...my mind speaks logic but my heart has no ears.

Thanksgiving.

Sunday, November 26, 2006

Thanksgiving.

So here I am, the Thanksgiving day of 2006 come and gone, listening to my mother's futile attempts to vacuum the house that was recently ransacked by many very-Hispanic family members; my very-American father typing away in his "mobile command center," happy that he no longer has to worry about language barriers at the dinner table; my sisters scampering in and out of the house, enjoying the very un-November-like weather; my brother playing guitar in his upstairs bedroom, putting off doing his laundry so we can drive back to school; and my anxious little cockatiel whistling away the afternoon, happy that she can be heard instead of the loud Spanish noises that have been the music of my household for the past several days. Thanksgiving is quite a to-do in this little house of mine.

I greatly enjoy Thanksgiving, if only for the pumpkin pie. I really do like seeing the family we only get to see once a year, and having them tell me how much I've grown (I stopped growing in 7th grade, I promise) and how beautiful I'm becoming. Hispanic women are dreadfully loving and sweet. No matter how much they tell me I'm not eating enough at the "Georgia Institute of Technology University," I still love having them in my house, asking them about the countless other relatives who couldn't come this year, because they always seem to know what's happening in their family, and they always seem to have the best stories. They group together and speak in hushed whispers about what will become of us, the young ones, pretending I can't understand what they're saying. I love how they refuse to speak to me in English and refuse to accept an answer from me in English--making sure I don't forget the language that's supposedly in my blood.

But, now that that family has left, returning to their own very-Hispanic homes, I can breathe and actually think about the past few days and the meaning of this hectic holiday. Gratitude and thankfulness for one's life only comes one day out of the year? I beg to differ... I would hope that it comes more often than that... however, I am glad that there's actually a time of year that basically forces me to view my life as a whole to grasp how much there is to appreciate. While I'm a big fan of lists, the list of things I'm thankful for has no foreseeable end. There’s simply entirely too much that I love. I think it’s taking me a while to fully grasp how much I’ve been blessed with… And, sadly, I don’t think I’m adept enough to express all my comprehension troubles with words. I hope it’s enough to simply state that I’m quite grateful right now, here, today, in this small cyber space.