How Much are You Willing to Lose?

The other day my friend sent me an sms (text message). In it she said (and I'm sure she was quoting someone, but unfortuately I don't know who, so I can't give credit), "You can wake up today only to find that the one thing you held dear has been taken away - even your name. With this truth I am more determined to see my worth in terms of the price Christ paid for me. Not in the position I hold, not in what I have, not in the way I look, not in the people I know. I walk tall because of who I am in Him."

That really got me thinking. I think I'd be fairly okay if I lost my possessions, I'm not too hung up on my looks, I don't usually name-drop, I don't find my identity in my job, but to lose my name? To have my reputation unjustly tarnished or to have people incorrectly think ill of me? THAT would bother me. Yet are we not called to forsake everything to follow Christ? And if I am not willing to lose everything for His sake - even my good name - then I have not completely surrendered my will to Him.

Someone once said that the problem with being a living sacrifice is that you can crawl off the altar.

Some Inspiration to Start Off the Month

A friend of mine sent me this excerpt from an article in WIRED magazine. I never thought I'd say this, but.... I was actually inspired by an article in a tech magazine! Here's the excerpt:

You're Looking at a Box
by Scott Dadich, Creative Director, WIRED

...But for all that we can't do in this static medium [print media], we find enlightenment and wonder in its possibilities. This is a belief most designers share. In fact, the worst thing a designer can hear is an offhand "Just do whatever you want." That's because designers understand the power of limits. Constraint offers an unparalleled opportunity for growth and innovation.

Think of a young tree, a sapling. With water and sunshine, it can grow tall and strong. But include some careful pruning early in its development - removing low-hanging branches - and the tree will grow taller, stronger, faster. It won't waste precious resources on growth that doesn't serve its ultimate purpose. The same principle applies to design. Given fewer resources you have to make better decisions...

The idea of operating within constraints - of making more with less - is especially relevant these days. From Wall Street to Detroit to Washington, the lack of limits has proven to be a false freedom. With all the economic gloom, you might not be blamed for feeling that the boundless American frontier seems a little less expansive. But design teaches us that this is our hour of opportunity...

The imposition of limits doesn't stifle creativity, it enables it.

Don't Hog the Warthog!

A friend of ours gave us some kudu droëwors and warthog kabernossi. Droëwors is dried sausage and a South African delicacy (well, it's dried sausage and fat, to be more precise, but the point is, it's GOOD).

I know my husband. I know that he will sneak pieces of droëwors when I'm not looking. You might be thinking, "And? What's wrong with that?" What is wrong is that I want there to be a few pieces left for me.

Tonight I got after him for eating some droëwors "for dessert." "Don't hog it all!", I admonished him. He looked at me with an amused expression that, after 14 years of marriage, I have recognised to mean: You've lost the argument because you inadvertently said something funny.

He then went skipping around the house singing, "Don't hog the warthog!" "Don't hog the warthog!"

That's it. I'm hiding the rest of the droëwors.

Necessity is the Mother of...

... invention, I think the saying goes, but I am here to tell you that necessity is also the mother of fashion faux pas. It's winter here in South Africa, you see, and while it doesn't snow here or get much colder than 0 degrees (32 F), there are no heating systems for homes here, or fireplaces, so the inside of my house hovers between 9 and 10 degrees (48 - 50 F).

I don't mean to complain - I really love South Africa -but it's COLD! Getting dressed in the morning is truly an assault to the senses after spending several hours under a warm duvet (and I won't even tell you what sitting on the toilet is like, except to say that my bum feels like an ice lolly!). Sitting at a computer becomes a teeth-chattering, finger-numbing event. So...

Back to the fashion faux pas. I don't care what I look like anymore. I wear my coat indoors, as well as my scarf, my hat and two pairs of socks. I don't care about fashion, I don't care if my friends think I'm being a sissy... as long as my nose can warm up!

I am thinking about cutting armholes in my duvet and wearing that each day, but I think the feathers might leak out... On the other hand, there is a fine line between fashion faux pas and cutting edge...

Thoughts on Praise, Sacrifices, and Getting Warm

"Through Jesus, therefore, let us continually offer to God a sacrifice of praise - the fruit of lips that confess His name." - Hebrews 13:15

Sometimes I don't feel like praising God. I guess that's where this verse comes in... God is worthy to be praised no matter what, and how I feel is irrelevant. It might very well be a sacrifice on my part to praise Him, but I would be a fool not to give honour where honour is due.

I have this picture in my head of people from every tribe and tongue and nation worshiping around the Throne, but it isn't the normal picture of people standing victoriously. It's a picture of wounded people from every tribe and tongue and nation - crawling, limping, bloodied and bruised, having just come in from a fierce battle to offer God their praise. Some can barely muster the strength to speak, but what strength they have left they give in worship to their King.

Jesus walks around, touching each one, lifting a chin here, helping another to their feet, and as they worship they begin to stand in a strength that is not theirs. Their voices become healthy and clear as their wounds begin to heal. Joy and peace replace the worry and cares. Oh, they still bear the scars of battle, but they have been restored, redeemed, refreshed.

Tonight as I prepare to go to bed, it is winter here in the Highveld - the house is about 48 degrees (9 Celcius) inside, and my nose is perpetually cold. But I will fall asleep thinking about my Jesus and find warmth in the following verse:

"He will cover you with His feathers, and under His wings you will find refuge; His faithfulness will be your shield and rampart." - Psalm 91:4

Getting Used to Anomalies

When we first moved to South Africa, I compared everything to the U.S. If something didn't make sense to me or seemed "wrong", I would comment on how they should do it like they did "back home." And while this is probably normal for those who move cross-culturally, I am slightly embarrassed to admit to such thoughts.

Today, however, I realised that I am doing this far less often. Hopefully that's a sign which means I'm adjusting to life here. Case in point: we pulled into a petrol station to fill up our car, and two guys were smoking. I said, "Isn't that rather dangerous?" Dan replied, "That's nothing. Sometimes even the employees smoke." We both looked at each other, shrugged, and giggled.

(but if we blow up, Dan, I just want to tell you that I love you!)

Never say Never

Somehow, a vuvuzela made its way into our house. A vuvuzela, for those of you who aren't involved in the world of South African soccer (football), is a plastic trumpet-y horn thing that sounds rather like an elephant giving birth.

FIFA wants to ban it, South African fans adore it, and me? I've taken to blowing it to call my children to the dinner table. Whether they're upstairs, outside, or hiding in the storage closet under the stairs, they can hear the vuvuzela and come running to the table. It's great, and it saves me the trouble of having to yell or play "wegkruipertjie" when it's time to eat.

I never thought I'd have any affection for the vuvuzela, having once thought it to be an assault on my ears, but then, it's generally not a good idea to use words like "never" and "always."