One of the things I miss living in Prague is fall. Not that fall doesn't happen, but that I feel the lack of typical fall activities: campfires, barn parties, autumn camping, pumpkins and pumpkin desserts (pumpkin here is more a soup than sweet, though there are lots of apples and apple strudel!)... So I was really happy to be invited to the cottage of my friends Jason and Anna where they have their fall harvest - walnuts, apples, a few remaining vegetables in the garden... and more walnuts and more apples. Most of all, they make mošt (fresh apple juice/apple cider) fresh from their apples. It felt like a fall day to be able to help with the process. And I learned that Czechs have a verb for "to make apple cider": mošt'ovat.
Lovely cottage and garden in a tiny Czech village.
First, the apples need a bath
And then chopped to bits (we had a clever little machine that did this)
Juicing
And straining
Fruit of our labor!
And Anna's mom made us a delicious Plzen gulaš (apparently the egg, onion and cheese make this a specific regional specialty). Yum!!!
I also had a spiritual reminder from the day for those of you who appreciate more depth :) ... as we gathered walnuts in the morning, Jason had a leaf blower he was using to blow away all the leaves so we could actually FIND the walnuts. And as he did so, he was pointing out those laying around for me to pick up. But I found myself getting a little offended by his direction. My thoughts went something like, "Do you not think I'm capable of seeing them? Am I not good enough for this, or so inexperienced that you think I need help?" I found myself trying harder to find them quickly so I could "prove" that I'm a capable and sufficient walnut-picker-upper. And then I stopped myself and refocused: in all reality, I think Jason was trying to helpful. It had nothing to do with my ability or anything he thought. And even if it did, what's the point of being the best walnut-picker-upper??? How ridiculous to let a silly, unimportant (in the grand scheme of things) activity define me. More importantly, how ridiculous to let ANY event, ability or lack of, or other person's thoughts define me. I am so much more than that. And so are you. Period.
I've been fascinated by the evening primrose in our backyard this week. These blossoms open every evening at dusk, and they burst open suddenly, in a matter of seconds. I thought it might be interesting to video it or try to watch a time lapse of it, not remembering what the transformation process of the bud looked like. So I turned on the video and stood there, bent over to capture the process, and I waited.
And waited.
And waited.
My hamstrings started to burn from the position I was standing in.
My hands started to shake from holding my phone in one position (watching the time lapse afterward made me feel quite dizzy).
More seconds and then minutes dragged by and all I saw were the slits in the outer green shell becoming a bit longer, making more visible the bright yellow petals underneath, and a very slight thickening of the bud and as it stretched its shell until its petals were prepared to burst forth. But overall very little indication of progress.
And yet I waited longer, because I knew at any moment the shell would burst open, the yellow petals would escape and the beauty of the blossom would be revealed. Knew it could happen in the blink of an eye and I could miss it.
Waited in anticipation. As the seconds dragged into minutes, waited with impatience. Every moment was a battle of, "Give up, it's still going to be forever. Find a new bud with better hopes of a quick blossoming" vs. "You've persevered so long, you can't give up on the eternity (minutes) you've spent because the miracle is going to happen at any moment. Your energy will have been wasted."
Any moment, any moment... and yet not yet...
And as I waited I pondered how long and how patiently I wait for the blooming in my own life. When I know God is stirring something, sometimes aware of what it is and sometimes not. In the process of waiting, wrestling with "that thing" I don't want to lay down, "that lie" to overcome, "that truth" to sink deep, "that habit" to die, "that transformation" to take place... waiting for God to bring forth something new and freeing and glorious.
It's an active waiting; realizing that at points I've done what I can, fought what I know, surrendered to the point that I am able. And in the current waiting with God have the active expectation that he is doing a transformation internally that I can't do on my own. But I'm often impatient in the waiting, the seeming lack of progress. My body grows weary, my perseverance and hope runs thin, my mind struggles to remain steadfast. But I have to press on, stand steadfast in the midst of weary physical and mental muscles, realizing that in the "being" he changes me. And at some point, whether it's a transformational moment like the evening primrose or a more gradual process, there is going to be a blossoming. In the meantime there's a preparation happening - an expanding and solidifying of a base that will allow this flower to blossom fully into its glory, made beautiful in its time.
What do I do in the waiting? I listen. I commune. I worship. I wait longing for the glorious transformation to happen. I wait with the hope of something beautiful. I wait in trust, knowing I can't force it prematurely. I wait with anticipation of the joy in the moment when the blossom will burst forth. I'm persistent in the waiting, in the faith that it will happen, in not giving up.
Not living in the US for several years, I sometimes forget what it's like. I enjoy Czech life, but these are a few of the things I've experienced the past 2 weeks that I do miss...
produce fresh out of the garden
having physical work to do (at least I miss it to an extent!)
wearing flip-flops (not so practical on European cobble stoned streets or for walking in general)
having a yard to rest in
the view from the backyard
camping and campfires and mountain pies
warm clothes out of the dryer
worshiping in community in my native language
hymns
driving
this little one
snacks that aren't available in the Czech, like peppermint patties (not that I miss them terribly, but it's giving me joy right now!)
apple butter and cottage cheese
having a friend to run with
fields of fireflies
being able to see the sunset every night
... and don't miss....
dogs straining at leashes and barking at me (Czech dogs are very well-behaved, even off of leashes. At least these were on leashes... even more in the US I don't miss those that aren't!)
added tax
US money - it's really not attractive
over-attentive waiters and waitresses (I'm really ok eating my meal in peace... )
insane humidity
traffic
living on a busy road
overwhelming amount of choices in the store
feeling like a foreigner when I don't know the process to try on clothes in a store or how to order/receive food in places like Panera or where to find things in stores I used to know
"How are you?" asked by every cashier
supersize everything (food, cars, fridges, stores ... it feels like it takes so long to get in and out of a store for one thing!)
so much commercialism
... and undecided
engaging in conversation with strangers (Czechs don't really talk to each other... it's unusual to interact with someone you don't know in public. So this one just feels strange right now.)
In February I posted this: A month ago a friend wrote this for me.
When she gave it to me, she said she hoped it didn't sound bad (she wasn't wishing trials for me), but focusing on the crown of life for those who love and desire God. But it may have been a bit prophetic - since then I've experienced one of the most emotionally and spiritually difficult fights of my life... But then one day as I was running (physically) and pushing myself, I sensed him cheering me on, running alongside me. Pleased that I'm running after him and ready to place a victor's crown on my head. Not because I'm the best or run perfectly, but simply because I keep putting one foot in front of the other and don't give up. And in the end he is waiting for me to fall completely drained and exhausted into the security of his arms. The race isn't over, and too many days I feel unable to go on well - or at all. But he's beside me, fighting for me to finish strong, and he has LIFE for me - and for you - at the end.
This image and verse has stuck with me. And apparently God had for me in this season a lot of running imagery. A month ago I ran a 10k, and as I reviewed the event photos online, I found this one:
Definitely not the most flattering picture, but for me, it was a reminder of this desire to keep running hard after God, after that Crown of Life, and that he gives me the strength to do it. The encouragement to not give up even when the wrestling and intense seasons of hardship seem never-ending.
I had a goal for this race: to see if a could run it in an hour. I didn't train very specifically for the goal (for the race, yes, but I'm terrible about training for goals), so I wasn't really sure if it was possible. But I wanted to give it my all and see what happened. I felt like I was running at a decent pace, but by km 6 or 7 definitely had to encourage myself to keep the pace. I was feeling it. And yet this goal hung was in front of me and kept me going. That last km was rough. I was pushing hard, but still with my thoughts on the time goal, knowing that if I relaxes, I'd for sure never make it. And the last couple hundred meters I gave it all I had left, sprinting (as much as possible) to the finish despite the exhaustion and weakness in my legs. I was in striving. Gasping for breath. In pain. Thus, the picture.
A number of years ago my organization was teaching on resilience and the importance of finding your own symbol of resilience to remind you of what you've made it through and what you're capable of. This picture has become such a symbol for me.
Let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. (Heb. 12:1)
Run in such a way as to get the prize... I do not run like a man running aimlessly...I beat my body and make it my slave so that I will not be disqualified for the prize. (1 Cor. 9: 24-27)
I press on toward the goal to win the prize... (Phil 3:14)
I'm not always super disciplined, but I do know that I want to know God fully and completely, and have him know me. I want the best God has for me. I don't want to muddle along complacently. I want to be the woman he created me to be, created in his glory to reflect that his love and grace and courage to others. I want to live in abandonment to his perfect love. I want the Crown of Life. I want to hear, "Well Done." It's a journey, but this picture reminds me that there are good things waiting at the other end of pain and that I am given the grace day by day to run after it.
But I also need rest. Balancing the hard striving and wrestling with the moments when the Shepherd leads me to still waters. It goes in seasons. Sometimes weeks, sometimes day by day or even hour by hour. Funny how this other picture crossing the finish line shows the relief in arriving and knowing that rest is coming.
Not that I ever completely arrive in the spiritual life, but he does give rest along the journey, times when I am simply filled and prepared for the next run. Even in the midst of difficult seasons, there are moments of rest when I am reminded that He is God, He is Sovereign, He has me in his hands and I am safe there.
P.S. By the way, I didn't make my goal. I was disappointed, but it doesn't mean the race wasn't worth it. (I got great imagery out of it, anyway!) And I believe God is always pleased in the running. For him, the goal IS the running with perseverance. Whether or not I ever achieve my spiritual goals, he is proud of me giving all I have and full of grace when I feel like I can't. And my earthly goals I always have the opportunity to try and try again. 10k this summer, anyone? 😄
Bank holidays the first 2 Tuesdays in May are a huge blessing. It's a needed break in the middle of spring and since the weather has been so beautiful, great to be outside. So these holidays and another Sunday I loved being able to be out with friends. A benefit to Czech life is that Czechs are so outdoorsy, have great parks and incredibly well-marked hiking trails. These days gave me great joy. Here are a few glimpses:
Průhonický Park (my favorite park right outside of Prague) with my lovely friend, Jo
April 29
10 km walked
Divoká Šarka with Stacy
May 1
16 km walked
(not so many pictures this day, but a lovely day to be out)
Town of Ořech to Karlštejn with Stacy
May 8
22 km walked (and this one I'm rather proud of... it's the kind of hike that prompts Czechs to say, "You're not American, you're Czech!" 😁)
not quite halfway into the hike... 11.5 to Karlštejn!
Made it! Quite tired, but accomplished. I'm happy to report that my feet did quite well in my Chacos. 😄
forgot to keep tracking at a point in the middle, so it's this plus another 2 km or so
Do you know the story of the Ragman? I know it from our Easter sunrise service - every so many years it's one we do as a drama and I was reminded of it as my parents shared that they'll be doing it again this Easter. Basically, a man walks through the streets of a city, calling out that he'll give new rags for old ones. He comes across a woman sobbing with heartbreak, gives her a clean handkerchief for her used one, and he walks away sobbing as she sits there in peace. He takes a child's blood-soaked bandage from her head, which then becomes a bleeding wound on is own head while she now has not even a scar. He takes a jacket from a one-armed man and as he gives the new jacket, the man's arm is restored while the Ragman now is missing an arm. And he takes the blanket of a drunk, offering new clothes while he himself staggering away, now the drunk. He hobbles outside the city, crying, bleeding, staggering, where he finally lays down and dies. And yet the teller of the story is awakened 2 days later to find the Ragman alive and without any of the sorrow that he carried, and he invites the Ragman to dress him in new clothes (for the actual story, you can read here).
I'm deeply touched by this story this week. Over the past months, I've carried much pain, sorrow and heaviness from my own weaknesses and failures and the battle against lies and evil in the world around me. My brokenness is ever present. And yet our Beautiful Savior willingly took on all of this, not so that it disappears completely, but so that I don't have to carry the burden of it. Out of his love he chose. He chose to take it on himself. He choose to endure for ME.
Yet it was our weaknesses he carried; it was our sorrows that weighed him down... He was pierced for our rebellion, crushed for our sins. He was beaten so we could be whole. He was whipped so we could be healed. (Isaiah 53:4-5)
I'm profoundly humbled and grateful. I'm completely undeserving of such grace and mercy, unworthy of such infinite love that suffered so horrifically so that....
So that I could be free of the burden of sin.
So that I can be redeemed and don't need to live under heaviness.
So that he can offer beauty for ashes, joy for mourning and praise for despair.
So that I could be restored to him as pure and faultless and worthy.
So that he can enjoy unencumbered intimacy with me and delight in me, and I in him.
So that I can live in the freedom of the glory that He designed me for.
I really can't even fathom this. But this year I've been given a whole new awareness of this amazing sacrifice. I'm eternally grateful.
So I'll stand with arms high and heart abandoned In awe of the One who gave it all I'll stand, my soul, Lord, to you surrendered All I am is Yours
One of the most meaningful songs I've experienced in this season.
