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5.29.2012
5.25.2012
I Don't Pretend to Understand
Sometimes I marvel at the grace of God.
I don't pretend to understand it. It shows up at moments when I least expect it, in ways I never thought possible.
When I was out visiting Missouri last weekend, I don't think I made it through a single serious conversation with a friend without mentioning Jonathan, without talking about his legacy, without missing him tremendously, without crying. And God shows up in this moments, reminding me that it's okay to grieve, okay to cry, okay to miss him.
This grieving thing has been a process, to say the least. Such bittersweet moments have comprised a vast majority of that process. One such instance being on Mother's Day. I had lunch with Jonathan's mom, just the two of us. I'm so grateful for her presence in my life, and not just because she's Jonathan's mom. She's my friend and trusted advisor. We sat talking about life and all that had been happening - jobs, relationships, future dreams, upcoming trips overseas. As we talked about my upcoming trip to Kenya, she mentioned that a friend of their family had just returned from Kenya and Ethiopia.
Before I get to all that, though, I have to back up and give some explanation. At Jonathan's service, his family handed out packets of sunflower seeds. These were to be reminders not only of Jon's life, but how we should all be following the Son, just as sunflowers follow the sun across the sky. It was such beautiful imagery, so fitting for Jon's life.
So, back to the family friend. He goes on this trip to Ethiopia and Kenya and while he's there, he did something I will be forever grateful for:
He scattered those sunflowers seeds across the dust and the dirt of Kenya.
In the moments when the fears most overwhelm me about this trip, when I want to scrap the plans and forget about going, when I want to ask myself if I'm crazy for doing this, when I ask myself why I care so much, when I consider the thought of traveling alone, I remember those sunflower seeds taking root in the plains of Kenya. And somehow the fears give way. Because my friend has gone on before me.
Please don't misunderstand me. I don't mean that in a mystical kind of way. I just mean it in a symbolic kind of way. I know whatever fears I might have, I have to ultimately hand them over to Jesus. But there's something to be said for this peace I find in knowing that in some way, Jon has gone on before me, to make a way. There's something to be said for the fact that not only did Jon commission me to some degree, but there's something to be said for getting to be the hands and feet of somebody I miss terribly, someone who never got to run and play with these precious orphans in Kenya himself. I consider it an awesome privilege to be an ambassador for Jonathan Eades. You can bet there will be little kids in Kenya who will not only hear me speak of the grace of God, which shows up at just the right moment, but they will hear me speak of a man named Jonathan Eades, who spent his life following the Son.
I don't pretend to understand it. It shows up at moments when I least expect it, in ways I never thought possible.
When I was out visiting Missouri last weekend, I don't think I made it through a single serious conversation with a friend without mentioning Jonathan, without talking about his legacy, without missing him tremendously, without crying. And God shows up in this moments, reminding me that it's okay to grieve, okay to cry, okay to miss him.
This grieving thing has been a process, to say the least. Such bittersweet moments have comprised a vast majority of that process. One such instance being on Mother's Day. I had lunch with Jonathan's mom, just the two of us. I'm so grateful for her presence in my life, and not just because she's Jonathan's mom. She's my friend and trusted advisor. We sat talking about life and all that had been happening - jobs, relationships, future dreams, upcoming trips overseas. As we talked about my upcoming trip to Kenya, she mentioned that a friend of their family had just returned from Kenya and Ethiopia.
Before I get to all that, though, I have to back up and give some explanation. At Jonathan's service, his family handed out packets of sunflower seeds. These were to be reminders not only of Jon's life, but how we should all be following the Son, just as sunflowers follow the sun across the sky. It was such beautiful imagery, so fitting for Jon's life.
So, back to the family friend. He goes on this trip to Ethiopia and Kenya and while he's there, he did something I will be forever grateful for:
He scattered those sunflowers seeds across the dust and the dirt of Kenya.
In the moments when the fears most overwhelm me about this trip, when I want to scrap the plans and forget about going, when I want to ask myself if I'm crazy for doing this, when I ask myself why I care so much, when I consider the thought of traveling alone, I remember those sunflower seeds taking root in the plains of Kenya. And somehow the fears give way. Because my friend has gone on before me.
Please don't misunderstand me. I don't mean that in a mystical kind of way. I just mean it in a symbolic kind of way. I know whatever fears I might have, I have to ultimately hand them over to Jesus. But there's something to be said for this peace I find in knowing that in some way, Jon has gone on before me, to make a way. There's something to be said for the fact that not only did Jon commission me to some degree, but there's something to be said for getting to be the hands and feet of somebody I miss terribly, someone who never got to run and play with these precious orphans in Kenya himself. I consider it an awesome privilege to be an ambassador for Jonathan Eades. You can bet there will be little kids in Kenya who will not only hear me speak of the grace of God, which shows up at just the right moment, but they will hear me speak of a man named Jonathan Eades, who spent his life following the Son.
5.21.2012
Precious Moments I Live For
Sometimes my niece gets to giggling so hard I'm afraid she can't breathe. She discovered the joys of hanging upside down and couldn't seem to get enough of it.
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