Apples of Gold

Yes, I know it's shocking! Karyn is blogging twice in one day after months of neglecting her blog. Don't get too used to that. It may be a little tricky in the future.

I'm taking a break from sorting through all my worldly belongings, an amazing amount of stuff for one "poor" person. There are three piles (and several sub-piles): stuff to get rid of, stuff to store, stuff to take to China. I'm trying to make the first pile the largest. The Karyn Store is officially open in the empty bedroom that was Joy's. Everything is free while supplies last. First come, first serve. After a day, all unclaimed stuff will be heading to Good Will. Joy already has a whole bunch of stuff from The Karyn Store in a layaway pile.

In my attempt to be ruthless in eliminating stuff from my life, I just finished going through an entire box of papers. I mean, who needs a bunch of old letters and cards anyway? After half an hour, it's obvious: I do. What a blessing to skim through that box! It was like the story of my life there in that box: my life as it has been influenced by hundreds of caring people.

What a hodge-podge and what a treasure! There were birthday cards, valentine cards, graduation cards, and cards for no occasion at all. Notes from teachers, school friends, my parents, college friends. Hilarious letters and really sad letters. So many people I can thank for giving of themselves to me.

I had a birthday card in there for every year while I was growing up from Pastor Roth. There wasn't just a signature, either, but a long note encouraging me each year. "I rejoice to see you following God." "Don't be tempted to become bitter about this situation." "God is our refuge." His were always words that were pointing me to Christ and showing me love and concern.

There are countless letters in that box from my mother. A tiny note of thanks from when I was a little girl and had helped her with something. Long letters while I was away at college. "I cry to think of you being so lonely there, but this is part of God's plan for you. Do not give up." "Always follow Him."

A few precious letters show the amazing person that was my grandma. "I try to grow old gracefully, but then my stubbornness just comes through!" My sisters wrote me the times that I was away from them. "We were talking at youth group about people doing funny things and I told them that you snore but you won't admit it." One very special note is from my daddy who wrote how proud he was of me after I sang in church as a young girl. Notes from my cousins and aunts are special. My "cousin" Phil must win some type of hilarious award because the letter from him at age 13 is so funny! "Guess what we're doing today. Picking beans. It is so booooring!" "Remember how Uncle Earl mows?"

Many of the letters are from friends. I've been overwhelming blessed with fantastic friends. There's a birthday card from my first best friend Andy when I turned four. Maybe his mom wrote it. Through elementary school, high school, and college, I had friends that wrote notes to me in good times and in bad times, encouraging me and loving me. Pleasant has written me letters since third grade. "Love your sis." From when she was first married and her car kept breaking down: "I told Joey that I need a new car and also a cell phone for safety and he said he'd get me a gun. I don't know what good that will do unless I want to start hijacking people on the way to work." If I start listing, I'll miss somebody, but it seems we've all come full circle since now I get facebook messages from many of the people whose notes are in that box.

Lots of the letters carry foreign stamps. Missionaries from Brazil wrote to a little five year old who wanted to be a missionary. Friends have written from Romania, Mexico, Japan, Venezuela, Germany, and Belgium.

I'm humbled by finding the letter box. Who am I to have been blessed by God in this way? Who am I that all of these people would reach out to me and love me and point me to Christ? I'm challenged, too. Who is reading my words? The investment of a few moments of my time to write an encouraging note could an eternal reward.

Perhaps someday my children or nephews or niece will look through that box in wonder, cards and letters having been lost in the electronic marvels of IM and facebook and email. Or maybe they'll just be confused as to why I couldn't throw out all my junk but had to save a bunch of words. Those words changed me. They represent people who are a part of me through their involvement in my life. And I am so very thankful.

Singing Along

I'm heading to China in 6 days, and I'm overwhelmed. Probably I'm supposed to be. I'm finding myself needy: emotionally, spiritually, physically. I'm finding myself doubting, trusting, crying, praying. Up and down my emotions go like a see-saw. My heart is aching from leaving my family and church family and yet every day I am longing more for these people that I only know through email and phone calls, these new coworkers and friends.

I'm already insufficient. I'm still so sinful. I thought I was unattached to possessions and yet my heart hurts, almost literally, to leave even a black and white neurotic border collie and a bunch of old books. This morning all I could think as I woke up was, "What a mess!" and I wasn't referring to my room, rather to my heart.

Notice the self-focus that keeps pulling me away. Away from the reason, the focus, the joy, the planner, the Comforter: away from Him. This morning I went out to the Cooks at 6:30 a.m. to feed the cats. What a blessing! Loaded with coffee, ipod, and the Book, I drove away into the country. I sat on their front porch and listened to birds and watched the flowers and talked to, meditated upon, and worshiped Him. And repented. Again. Still.

On the way home I sang along with Caedmon's Call, rejoicing in grace, in mercy, in the cross.

Awake My Soul
Thousand Miles
Mystery of Mercy


Romans 7:18-25