Naomi Reed's Blog, page 5

August 2012… winter

There are times when I feel like I can’t write anything new. It goes like this. I sit down at my desk and open a document and stare at the white screen and nothing comes out, at all. Then I look out the window and wonder if I’ll ever have a new thought, ever again. Maybe I won’t. Maybe they’ve all gone into hiding, somewhere beyond that distant ridge or that screen of gum trees, in a place that is too deserted for me to access.

Today is one of those days. Actually, today is one of those months. I’ve been sitting here feeling empty and sad since the funeral of one of our close friends in June. It feels like there’s nothing new in my head. Before that, I used to get out of bed with my ideas already running around inside my head, frantically trying to find their way out before the sounds of the morning diluted them. But now it’s quiet. I can hear the sounds of the water in the sink and the traffic on the highway, but I can’t hear my ideas.

So this morning I got up early, said goodbye to the boys on their way to school and I ran down to the lagoon near our house. It was quiet as well. I walked around the edges, with our dog. She smelled the trees and she stopped to leave her own smell. I waited for her and noticed the mist on the water and the wild birds taking their turns to feed on the shores. I slowed down and thought about the way their wings are folded while they feed. They’re still present, but they’re folded. Then I walked past a clump of bare winter trees and I prayed.

‘Lord thank you… for Winter, for quiet, for space, for folded wings and the time we need to fill up again. Help us to use it… and to not wish for Spring, too early. ’

 

July 2012… a launch, three houses and a buffalo

We launched ‘Heading Home’ in Sydney! It was a wonderful night – the rain came down, the band played and we raised $3,957.00 (through donations and book sales) – for INF – which was exactly the right amount for three houses and a buffalo. I have ALWAYS wanted to buy someone a buffalo… because the milk from a buffalo can provide a whole family (in Nepal) with food and schooling (see www.inf.org). But as well as that, I enjoyed seeing everyone and speaking about home – that place with the leaky tap and the smell of last night’s dinner, where we can feel comfortable and take off our shoes and belong and have a purpose… and that place that can exist in any country because wherever we are, we belong to Christ and look forward to the day when we’ll be with him forever.

Unbelievably sadly, three days after the launch, one of our dearest friends (who had shared all of our homes and stories) died of a brain tumour… and went home. I am still feeling numb and sad as I write this. And I’m hurting for his wife and daughters. It’s so hard to hold in tension the hope of where he is now with the pain of living here without him. But I cling on, somehow, to the knowledge that God sees more than I do, (and knows more than I do) and cares more than I do… and more than anything, wants to fill up his empty rooms, in the house He is so lovingly preparing for us.

May 2012… Heading Home

‘Heading Home’ is at the printers! And that means I’m nervous! Funnily enough, ‘My Seventh Monsoon’ was at the printers exactly five years ago – I remember because the leaves were falling off our trees in exactly the same way as they are today… and I also remember because my prayer was much the same as it is today, ‘Lord, have your way amongst us… (and despite me)…and please use our manky bits of bread and yesterday’s fish… for your glory, somehow.”

But I’m also excited… and keen to celebrate. We’re having a launch at Wycliffe Christian School Hall on Saturday night 16th June, 7.30pm. You’re all invited! It will actually be a really good night – lots of stories from the book interspersed with music on the theme of home. Come along! All the money from the book sales as well as a free-will offering will go towards INF – to provide homes for those with leprosy and other disabilities. www.inf.org

Wonderful!

April 2012… dirty feet

Our boys are bigger now but I still regularly sit down with the youngest one and cut his dirty (often ingrown) toenails… and then I try and clean the dead skin from his heels. It’s not overly pleasant and for some reason the foot moment always occurs after he’s spent four hours at gymnastics… which doesn’t add very much to the appeal of his feet.

And then this morning (after a grumbly beginning) I sat here and read John 13:1-17. And it struck me again. Jesus washed the feet of his disciples. He could have chosen not to. He could have washed their hands, or their fingernails, or even their handkerchiefs. Or he could have just spoken eloquently about humble service. But he didn’t. He bent down low and washed their dirty feet, one by one, until the grime came out from beneath their toenails. And Peter was horrified. “No!” he said. “You shall never wash my feet” (v8).

But Jesus’ point was deliberate and enduring. He, being the Son of God, washed their feet to show them the full extent of his love (v1b). If his greatest commandment was to, “Love each other as I have loved you.” (John 15:12), then they needed to know how to do that. They needed an image to remember it. In the days ahead, when their feet would take them to all the wrong places and the curtain would be ripped in two, they needed to know that Jesus had not only washed their feet, and made them clean, but he had also asked them to respond… to ‘go and do likewise’ (v15).    

Lord, I thank you that Jesus didn’t just speak words to his disciples. Thank you for his actions –for the way he bent  down low and washed their feet, until the grime came out from between their toes. And I pray today that the image of the basin and the dirty water would be vivid enough to interrupt my relentless preoccupation with myself… and go and do likewise… in ways beyond what I expect. Amen  

 

March 2012… thousands of raindrops

 

I’m writing this to the tune of the rain, which is falling on our tin roof, and has been doing so for weeks. For the first time in years, Sydney-siders are getting persistent rain, which has caused wonderful growth, but also flooding and other damage. I was just in Cooma last weekend, and now 900 homes have been evacuated. Today, the weather experts are predicting that Warragamba Dam (in Sydney) will reach capacity and spill, sometime this afternoon. Let’s keep praying for the families who are and may be affected.

But it’s interesting that in the end, it’s not one really big storm that causes a dam to spill, it’s thousands (and thousands) of quiet, steady, persistent raindrops, over a very long period of time. And I think the analogy is helpful in lots of ways – especially for me as I think about love and marriage and prayer and parenting…

O Lord help us this week (and this year) to be quiet, steady and unrelenting – in our love for you, and in our love for the people (and children) around us… remembering that lots of little raindrops add up to something very big – and in this case, (when we honour you), something very good.