Waiting…

Waiting in line….for the bus….

Waiting for a reply to a significant e-mail….

Waiting for friends to return from the US….

Being single and longing for the gifts of a husband and children….waiting….

Waiting for precious friends to come to know the Savior….

Waiting for the vision God has called me to bear fruit….

Waiting….. I am not a big fan!

This whole concept of linear time that we live with here on earth is so difficult to navigate through sometimes. I often wish that a day would stretch on and never end and, at the same time, long for it to be six months into the future. I count down the days to a special trip while savoring the joy of an amazing moment. A day can go by so slowly and a week so quickly. Ten minutes can feel like forever while hours can fly by depending on the circumstances. Years seem to be getting shorter and shorter.

Waiting. It fosters anticipation and grows excitement. It offers the opportunity to hope and dream and increase faith. But, it also holds pain and longing and confusion. Proverbs 13.12 states, Hope deferred makes the heart sick. I feel that sickness so poignantly sometimes.

There is also, in the waiting, the tendency to fill it up with something or to fall into a holding pattern. I often spend the few minutes in the line at the grocery store or bank reading a book on my iPod. If it’s something bigger that I’m waiting for, I will usually find a way to distract myself from the difficulty of the waiting, focusing hard on something else so I don’t sense the acute slowness of time. I avoid the stillness and process of waiting, preferring to make the time “productive” by getting something done in the tangible realm. Though filling time is not wrong, I don’t want it to get in the way of what God may want to teach me in the in-between parts of the journey. After all, those in-between, waiting times is the point, not merely means to an end.

I read a book a while back, Carried Home Safely, and it came to mind as I was writing this. The author, Kristin Wong, shares her journey of international adoption. She spends an entire chapter writing vividly of the pain and faith in the process of waiting.

“I feel like a river, actually more like a small stream, still narrow and shallow. The wait for Benjamin digs my bed deeper and wider. It is painful and exhausting, this fight against anxiety and setbacks, this continual need to ask the Lord to give me faith. But, in the end, I will hold more water. This trial digs down into my heart and routs out whatever keeps Christ from flowing freely.” (p. 45, Wong).

Waiting does not diminish us any more than waiting diminishes a pregnant mother. We are enlarged in the waiting. We, of course, don’t see what is enlarging us. But, the longer we wait, the larger we become and the more joyful our expectancy. (Romans 8.24-25, The Message).

“Romans 15.13…Psalm 27…John 6.66-69…Mark 9.21-24…Habakkuk 3.17-18…I have enough for now, with the testimonies of those who have waited for God through bewildering and painful trials. I am encouraged and challenged to love and trust Jesus no matter the outcome, to run to Him even when it feels like I cannot believe. I am glad to follow these men and echo their words. The Lord digs my riverbed deeper. I am enlarged in the waiting.” (p. 49, Wong)

Waiting. Through it, I can shrink and shrivel or I can be enlarged. The enlarging comes in facing and embracing the pain and longing, in running to Jesus. It comes when I choose, instead of avoiding the process, to submit to it and let it change me.

My friend, Lara, shared with me this song. How it resonates deep inside of me!

                                                                             “While I’m Waiting” by John Waller

  

                                                                                       I am waiting

                                                                                     I am waiting on You, Lord

And I am hopeful

I’m waiting on You, Lord

Though it’s painful

But patiently I will wait

I will move ahead, bold and confident

Taking every step in obedience

Chorus:

While I’m waiting, I will serve You

While I’m waiting, I will worship

While I’m waiting, I will not faint

I’ll be running the race, even while I wait

I am waiting

I am waiting on You, Lord

And I am peaceful

I’m waiting on You, Lord

Though it’s not easy

But faithfully I will wait

I will move ahead, bold and confidence

Taking every step in obedience

No avoiding. No holding patterns. No neutral gear. No coasting along. This waiting is part of my journey, too, not just what’s on the other side of it. Help me to embrace it fully, Lord.

It’s hard, but this is the choice I am making today—to pray boldly, but not be slowed by the “not yet,” to walk ahead into what God has called me to do, unhindered by “maybes” and “what-ifs.” But, Lord, I am completely dependent on You for the strength, courage, endurance, and even the will to do this. Walk beside me—no, carry me in this that my steps would be as Yours, that I wouldn’t sway or run off course. Only you. Carry me that I may, often and long, look into Your face and know You—know Your rest, Your love, Your peace, Your comfort, Your joy, Your care, Your heart.

I plan on looking You full in the face. When I get up, I’ll see Your full stature and live heaven on earth. (Psalm 17.15, The Message)

That is exactly what I need—to look at God full in the face. Trust Him. Know Him. Let Him fill and satisfy. Let Him have His way with my heart.

Romans 15.13: May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope.

NOT “may hope fill you” BUT “may the GOD of hope fill you”!!! It is about HIM and about my relationship with Him, about knowing Him ever more deeply, about letting Him fill me with Himself.

That is the answer to all the questions, confusion, pain, and longing that arise in the waiting. To look on God and trust Him fully. Know, depend on, live in His goodness. Let Him fill me with Himself and, in so doing, fill me with hope. Carry me, Abba.

Rainstorms and Gifts

Last weekend was a devastating one for many in China. Reports say that it was Beijing’s worst storm since the 1960s. Many have died.

The strange thing is that I was there. The six of us joined a tour group to do some sightseeing in the capital city before we had to say goodbye to our summer visitors and send them on their way. We were just finishing up our early afternoon tour of the Temple of Heaven when it started to rain. We scrambled back onto the tour bus before we got too wet and headed to the next place on the packed-tight schedule—a pearl “factory” (There are always shopping stops on these tours, keeping the costs down for us while the tour company gets a commission for bringing in eager customers.). While learning about oysters and staring googly-eyed at the gold, black, white and priced-way-beyond-the-limits-of-my-pocketbook pearls, the storm hit with force. Most groaned, but I reveled in the eerily darkened sky, refreshingly cool mist and strangely soothing sounds of thunder and heavy rains.

The rainfall lightened—a little—and our group made it to the bus, most not without wet shoes. Our last stop of the day was the Summer Palace, a summer retreat to emperors long ago. We took a vote and over half of the people on the tour opted to brave the downpour and visit the Summer Palace (much to the chagrin of our tour guide, who was forced by majority to wait for us in the rain with his pink flowery umbrella). Off we went. There were many selling umbrellas and ponchos, taking advantage of the sudden weather change. I found much amusement in confusing the hawkers at my refusal to make a purchase with the silly phrase, “I like being wet!” (I think they thought I was crazy….and they may have been right!). 

We had a blast!  We skipped and laughed and twirled and jumped in puddles (oh, I might have been the only one to do that!) and took silly pictures and got soaking wet. Something that had bound me earlier in the day broke loose….I felt so free, so alive….glorious!

Little did I know that in my unabashed freedom and joy, devastation was being wrought throughout the city. North China, in perpetual drought, desperately needs the rain, but the ground and drainage systems are not used to that much water. When it rains here, it is as the Sunday school song says, “…the rains came down and the floods came up….”

But to me, the rain felt like a gift—a personal gift from God just for me. I even apologized to my friends because God’s special gift for me had to ruin everyone else’s day. Now, knowing the floods that came with it, was it still a gift? It felt like one at the time….and still does in a strange way. That rain brought deep healing to my soul on that emotion-filled day. I am not sure how to reconcile God’s intimate gift to me with the simultaneous loss and grief experienced by so many others….  

 

The next morning was Sunday. I awoke early, made some instant coffee, sat in the window seat of our hotel room, and filled pages in my journal. It was beautiful outside—the white sunlight unfiltered by the usual smog, the azure blue sky, the puffy white clouds, a gentle breeze making the leaves on the seven-story tall tree dance and sparkle. And God spoke deeply to my heart: I am good. Trust Me. See and embrace My gifts to you.  My God. He is powerful. He delights in preparing these things for me. He is faithful. He is pursuing me, wooing me, in the way that I long for. Keep my eyes open, Lord, so I don’t miss it.

More gifts came that day, including a golden sunset that cast faraway mountains into silhouette, dinner on a rooftop, and lots of laughter. Sweet gifts, especially to my heart that hates saying goodbye.

*    *    *    *    *

A gift came for me with a rainstorm a couple of weeks ago, too. It was a Wednesday and I was feeling a bit frustrated with the lack of success of the play group I started. No one had shown up….again. I decided to leave the office early and run some errands on my way home. It started sprinkling as I packed up my things, but I thought I could beat it to the bus stop. Nope. As soon as I stepped off the elevator, the clouds had let loose and water poured out. Ugh! I did not plan for this. No umbrella. There were nearly-blue skies that morning when I left my house. Who could’ve known?

I stood in the lobby of building six with several others who, even though armed with umbrellas and ponchos, were choosing to wait out the heaviest part of the storm. The rain was coming down in sheets, muffling any would-be conversation, and we all stared out, mesmerized by the downpour. The rain lightened a bit, but showed no signs of stopping. It was dark for 11am. I asked the lady next to me if there was anywhere near that I could buy an umbrella. A shop about a ten minute walk away, was her answer. After taking a few minutes to decide, I stepped out into the rain, mentally gearing up to get wet.

But, little did I know what was being prepared for me by my loving, caring God Who Sees.

Not five steps from the building six lobby, I watched amazed as a man, frustrated with his “broken beyond repair” umbrella, tossed it to the ground! Throwing unwanted items, empty bottles and snack wrappers on the ground is a fairly common practice here and I am usually annoyed by it. Not today. I stared at his quickly retreating figure, making sure that he really wasn’t coming back for this “treasure”. Too special and well-timed to be coincidence, I believe this green and blue plaid, albeit quite broken, umbrella was in fact a delivery from heaven just for me. There was no handle and several of the metal bars on the underside were snapped and useless. It was a very strange shape and I had to raise my hand above my head just to hold onto it, but I thought it was perfect. Many stared at me as I made my way to the bus stop, but I didn’t care. I was dry and taking GREAT joy in this marvelous gift from Abba just for me.

 He is amazing, isn’t He??!!

Then, there was Wednesday

Easter resurrection glory…..then the “not-yet-ness” of Monday…..then the grace-rain of Tuesday….

Tuesday night, as I was processing all of this, two songs came to mind and spoke deeply to my heart…..

Steven Curtis Chapman sings of the story of Creation, Fall, and Restoration with God as the Center and Author. It is worshipful. It is “calling to mind” Truth because it IS, not because it feels like it.

All Things New

Steven Curtis Chapman

You spoke and made the sunrise to light up the very first day
You breathed across the water and started the very first wave
It was You
You introduced Your glory to every living creature on earth
And they started singing the first song to ever be heard
They sang for You

You make all things new, You make all things new

Then the world was broken, fallen and battered and scarred
You took the hopeless, the life wasted, ruined and marred

And made it new

You make all things new, You make all things new
You redeem and You transform, You renew and You restore
You make all things new, You make all things new
And forever we will watch and worship You

You turn winter into spring, You take every living thing
And You breathe Your breath of life into it over and over again

You made the sunrise, day after day after day
But there's a morning coming, when old things will all pass away
And everyone will see

You make all things new, You make all things new
Come redeem and come transform, Come renew and come restore
You make all things new, You make all things new
And forever we will watch and worship You

Now and forever You are making all things new
You're making all things new

Hallelujah...You make all things new

Amen! And let it be so! I needed to me reminded of that Truth on Tuesday.  And, God knew, so He reminded me.

The second song He brought to mind has been a favorite of mine for several months. It is the cry of my soul for the hurting world around me. On Tuesday night, it spoke to me of my role in the Restoration process, how I am to live in the not-yet.

Instruments of Peace

Lyrics attributed to Saint Francis

Lord, Make us instruments of Your peace,
Where there is hatred, let Your love increase
Lord, make us instruments of Your peace,
Walls of pride and prejudice shall cease
When we are Your instruments of peace.

Where there is hatred, we will show His love
Where there is injury, we will never judge
Where there is striving, we will speak His peace
To the people crying for release,
We will be His instruments of peace

Where there is blindness, we will pray for sight
where there is darkness, we will shine His light
Where there is sadness, we will bear their grief
To the millions crying for release,
We will be Your instruments of peace.

It amazes me that God chooses to use humans like me in His Plan for making all things new. I tend to think that it would take so long and be done so badly many times over that it wouldn’t be worth it. And yet, He chooses to use us anyway. It takes my breath away. It emboldens me. Yes, I will go. I have no idea how, but I will go.

Wednesday morning, I was late in getting out of the house….again. By the time I got to the bus stop, it was too late to ride my beloved Route 8~~ to the office. Plus, it was rush hour, so a bus ride would have probably taken twice as long as usual and I couldn’t be late for play group. More than slightly frustrated with myself and sad to be missing out on my reading and reflecting time, I decided to take a cab. Even though there was construction on the highway, I still arrived at the building complex where our consulting company’s office is early. And, because I took a cab, I entered through the side gate instead of the main gate that is closer to the bus stop.

Just inside the side gate, sitting on an old piece of cardboard, was a man. In his fifties, perhaps, his left arm and leg were severely paralyzed. He was calling out, “Disabled person! Disabled person. Please help!” hoping that passers-by would add to the short stack of 1 yuan bills kept from fluttering away in the spring wind by a small rock. Without thinking too much (by God’s gracious transformation of my heart), I stopped, looked into his eyes and squatted down to chat. From his plain taqiyah (Arabic for ‘hat’), I knew he was a Hui Muslim, as the majority are in this community, so I changed my vocabulary a bit.

“I believe in the True God, too. Can I pray for you?”

He responded in what I can only assume was Arabic, since I didn’t understand, but I knew from his nod and the gratefulness in his eyes that it meant, “Yes.” I put my hand in his crumpled one and prayed.

“Almighty, all-powerful Lord, we come into Your presence and ask that You bless this man and his household. Extend Your grace and allow him to know Your presence with him and sense Your deep, unending love for him. Show mercy on him and grant him that which his heart and his body needs. Touch his arm and his leg and heal him. Thank You, Lord. Amen.”

I asked his surname, pressed a bill into his hand and spoke the Lord’s blessing before I walked on. I will continue to pray for this man and for the small crowd that gathered as I squatted and prayed. I hope to meet him again, pray for him again, bearing his burdens away to the Son as I have been called.

Later in the day, I was hurrying down the sidewalk, already late to meet a friend for lunch. I heard my name called and there was the older sister of a boy I treated several months ago. She was excited to see me and we chatted for a bit about her schooling and tests and how her family was doing. It has been a year since they lost their dad, suddenly. Strangely, I felt unhurried and calm as we talked. Then, we said goodbye and walked in opposite directions. I hadn’t taken more than five steps, when God spoke almost audibly to my heart, “You need to go back and pray with her.” Like with the paralyzed man earlier, without thinking about it too much, I turned on my heel and ran toward her calling her name. I told her what the Lord just spoke to me. She seemed surprised, but pleasantly so, and I held her hands as I prayed. I asked for the Lord’s blessing for her family, a clear mind for her upcoming exams, and a sense of the Lord’s peace and presence with her. She squeezed my hands tightly and I knew, deep down, that Abba was using that moment to do something in her heart.

Lord, make me an instrument of Your peace….

Where there is blindness, I will pray for sight
where there is darkness, I will shine His light
Where there is sadness, I will bear their grief
To the millions (or even two) crying for release,
I will be Your instrument of peace.

I am so grateful to my mighty, loving God who desires His Truths to be known not only in my head, but in my heart, in my deepest places (Ps 51.6). I am so grateful for this tangible experience of Him using me to “make all things new” today!

Easter Paradox?

He was despised and rejected by men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief; and as one from whom men hide their faces he was despised, and we esteemed him not. Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows; yet we esteemed him stricken, smitten by God, and afflicted. But he was wounded for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with his stripes we are healed. (Is 53.3-5)

And you, who were dead in your trespasses and the uncircumcision of your flesh, God made alive together with him, having forgiven us all our trespasses, by canceling the record of debt that stood against us with its legal demands. This he set aside, nailing it to the cross. He disarmed the rulers and authorities and put them to open shame, by triumphing over them in him. (Col 2.13-15)

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! According to his great mercy, he has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you… (1 Pet 1.3-4)

I arose early on Easter morning, planning to take part in a friend’s sunrise service tradition. I arrived at her house at 5:30am and we all piled into a taxi—me, three “nieces” and her—to be at Peach Blossom Park before the sun peeked its rays above the horizon. We read the Easter story and soaked in the sweet scent of new flowers and morning air, thoroughly enjoying starting the day focusing on the Risen One. We waited. The pink sky finally gave way to the golden ball and lifted it up and up as it sent its bright beams through the trees and onto the blossoms like fingers of light. We sang worship songs and praised our Lord who is ALIVE!

Later, our “extended family” gathered for fellowship, a time of remembering Jesus’ payment and exuberantly celebrating His resurrection. We sang and danced (I did anyway, very thankful to have a toddler in my arms to take away my inhibitions J).

“O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?” The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. (1 Cor 15.55-57)

“Worthy is the Lamb who was slain, to receive power and wealth and wisdom and might and honor and glory and blessing!” (Rev 5.12)

 

We toasted our communion cups, “To the King and to His Kingdom!” in celebration of our risen King of Kings whose kingdom is an everlasting kingdom, and whose dominion endures throughout all generations.

It was a wonderful day!

And then there was Monday…. Monday came crashing into the resurrection celebration, bringing its stark, poignant reminders that all is not yet right in the world. I left my house and started walking to the bus stop. The sky was blue (a small miracle in this typically gray-pollution-sky place), the golden morning sun shining brightly, the breeze warm, an invitation to smile from the inside out, close my eyes and take it all in. It was the promise of a perfect day. Until I looked down. Ashes. Black, flaky, weightless ashes swirling around my feet on that promising warm breeze, threatening to cast a dark shadow over the perfect day. These are the ashes of death and pain and hopelessness, leftover from the previous day’s funeral or a late night ritual of burning paper money for relatives in need of provisions in the afterlife.

Then, an e-mail bringing news of the tragic death of a long-time friend of the family. More news of the lingering cough and increasing frailty of Grandpa followed. A call came that the father of a friend’s co-worker (for whom my small group has been praying for weeks) has just lost his long, painful battle with cancer. A few of us boarded the light rail to take flowers and comfort and Light to the family left behind. Then, an evening of prayer walking, asking for freedom and hope for women trapped in darkness.

We still feel the sting of death. We still see the pain of sin and experience small battles won by the enemy.

It reminds me of a Tim Keller sermon I listened to last year, reflecting on the account of Jacob and the daughters of Laban. Jacob worked hard for seven long years to win his beautiful Rachel. “And in the morning, there was Leah.” Maybe I feel a bit like Jacob, expecting the climactic beauty and fulfillment of the resurrection to be there the next morning. Yet, I awoke to a death-filled Monday instead. Betrayed? No, but certainly confused. I was somber and tired, with possibly a touch of hopelessness. The “not yet” of Jesus’ reign was overwhelming.

But, I must—we must—choose to worship, choose to walk in Jesus’ victory that I know is mine. I must choose to trust in God, whose Word is true and who never changes, whose Plan it is to use me to effect His victory in the hearts, the community, the land around me. With my eyes focused on that which is promised, I am to be His Light in today’s darkness, Life in today’s death, Peace in today’s chaos, Joy and Hope in today’s pain. I am called to re-present Jesus, to release Him, to distribute His blessing (like loaves and fishes) to those that are hungry, to enforce Jesus’ victory and redemption, to mediate for those who have no idea they are enslaved. I choose to push through the weight of “not yet” and cling to who I know God is.

 

Then there was Tuesday…. I awoke to a sky that felt as dreary and gray as my heart, a sky so low it was as if all the building tops were touching it. I rode the bus through the dreariness to the office to set up for my play group. I usually love to look out the window and take in the wide, 14^th floor view of the community. Today, I looked out to see yet another household walking through loss. The tell-tale white linen belts and hats speckled the dark pavement as they made arrangements. More pain. More brokenness. More death. And it does sting.

No one came to play group today and I was thankful for the break, thankful for the time to reflect and write.

The rain came. It was a light, no-real-need-for-an-umbrella kind of rain, but steady through the morning hours. It sprinkled down from the low sky like mercy and grace come down to earth to meet us right in the middle of our day-to-day. Or maybe they are tears from a loving Father, El Roi, who sees the pain and death and brokenness and grieves with us in the not yet. 

Interesting about the rain, though, the longer it fell, the brighter everything became. It was washing the dry winter’s dust off each leaf and branch and blade. It was restoring to original vividness, cleansing from that which had settled and layered on.

I had grown accustomed to the dust, the grayness left in the wake of desert winds. The dust became “normal” to me, part of the expected scenery. Subtly and slowly settling on everything exposed to air, little by little fading colors and dimming the surroundings. I had occasionally rolled my eyes and groaned at the dust, but mostly had just written it off as a part of life here that I just have to deal with.

How often do I do that, too, with the dust of life? The brokenness, shame, bondage, fear, struggle, hopelessness? How often do they subtly, layer by layer become part of the scenery as I let them do their dulling work, accepting them as my portion, as the portion for others? How often, when circumstances are looming gray and low, do I forget about the Grace and Mercy available? He IS making ALL things new!

 Come, let us return to the Lord; for he has torn us, that he may heal us; he has struck us down, and he will bind us up. After two days he will revive us; on the third day he will raise us up, that we may live before him. Let us know; let us press on to know the Lord; his going out is sure as the dawn; he will come to us as the showers, as the spring rains that water the earth. (Hos 6.1-3)

Gratefulness: 69 and counting...

...a few more entries in my gratefulness journal...

45)  a holiday to rest

46) the smooth, worn wooded armrests of my antique chair

47) the ability to nap on Sundays

48) grace abundant to worship in the pain

49) God's extravagant grace to pull two hurting and desperate men to Himself right in the midst of their sin

50) fresh, bright green paint on our garbage shed

51) feather-like, wispy clouds on a background of bright blue

52) an amazingly-timed Coaching Workshop

53) fresh dates in season

54) the camera lens I want at half price

55) a small boy's belly laugh, so intense that he can't get up off the floor!

56) the boy's adoring look at his mom as she patiently teaches him

57) a friend and co-worker that is deeply passionate about helping families

58) fallen, yellowed leaves laying strewn on the sidewalk

59) dancing curly fries star in a McDonald's commercial on the bus make me smile!

60)  the ability to laugh at myself as I try to get on the bus with my umbrella open!

61) evening discounts at the fruit market

62) after really bad allergies all day and a stuffed up nose all night, I awoke feeling great!

63) homemade caramel

64) yummy star-shaped bagels and enough to bless friends with them too :)

65) clean public restrooms and the opportunity to thank the lady that cleaned them

66) great purchases, amazing finds, friendly shop owners

67) planning a Developmental Screening Day!

68) the softness of my green wool sweater

69) the chirping of a pet cricket in the seat behind me on the bus

How I LOVE Autumn!

  

I had been dreaming about having a picnic for months.  It kept getting put off, rescheduled, postponed because of the more urgent things that came up.  But, last weekend, we went. I took Virginia, Brittany and her friend on an hour-long bus ride to the northeast of the city to a park that I had discovered earlier in the year. The more time that went by on the bus (standing room only), the more I wondered if the destination would be worth the long journey. It WAS!!! We all agreed that this park might very well be the most beautiful spots in the whole city!

We had chicken salad sandwiches, veggies and chips for lunch

Virginia

Brittany

 

Then, of course, the day had to end with cotton candy!

Sunday Afternoon Along the River

 One Saturday morning early in October, I spent a couple of hours with treasured friends and their two little ones. Sunday morning they boarded a plane for the States and, when they return to this side of the world after the New Year, they will move to another city. I worked and lived and worshiped together this family for over two years and saying "Good-bye" was really hard. As I left for fellowship on Sunday morning, I almost instinctively packed my camera alongside my Bible and headed out into the warm autumn day. I knew I was in need of more "healing photography." I am so grateful for God's incredible grace to work through this hobby that I love to powerfully and intimately bring joy to the sorrowful places and peace to the restless places in my soul. Praise Him for His steadfast love and deep, Daddy-like care for me!

A beautiful day to wash your bike!

 

I LOVE the way the sunlight is playfully reflecting off the water and lighting up the bridge!

 Where the road along the river ended, I was captivated by music being played in the park. Three older men sat in the shade of a pagoda--one played the erhu, one the pipa, and one sang well-known songs in traditional Peking opera style. Several others sat near the pagoda, reading the newspaper, chatting with friends, and playing chess as they enjoyed the beautiful day and beautiful music. I joined them, sitting on the pagoda's bench for a long time, letting the music relax and warm down deep. What a privilege to be able to live in this place!

Erhu, a traditional 2-stringed Chinese instrument

Pipa, another traditional Chinese instrument

 As I headed away from the river and toward the bus stop, the road that stretch before me was bustling with park-goers and lots of brightly-colored snacks. I celebrated the lovely afternoon and God's goodness with a bag of purple sweet potato chips and some honeydew-flavored cotton candy!

Purple and orange sweet potato chips (and, yes, they ARE naturally this color!)

Canteloupe (bottom) and candied haw fruit (wrapped in rice paper, on the rack) on sticks

LOTS of yummy, colorful flavors available!

I went home with my empty places filled-up.

Thank the LORD for His steadfast love, for His wondrous works to the children of men! For He satisfies the longing soul, and the hungry soul He fills with good things. ~ Ps 107.8-9

He split rocks in the wilderness and gave them drink abundantly as from the deep. ~ Ps 78.15