Traditions

I’ve recently been asked, more than once, what I will do to memorialize the second anniversary of Rick’s death. Yes, I am exactly like one of those sappy people who sentimentalize everything and make a big deal of such traditions. Admittedly, some very good reasons to create such traditions exist.

Nothing. That’s the special tradition I’ll participate in for the second anniversary. I have 94 written pages that attest to the fact that I grieved the first year well. I leaned in hard. I memorialized every tradition, every moment, and every thought throughout that whole year. Here’s a small taste of what I did to remember the first year, and what could become a tradition but won’t:

Hiking the Saugatuck Dunes State Park was the perfect choice for this day – 53 degrees, sunny, and breezy but not windy. The parking lot was full, but only a few people could be seen. I dressed in layers and stuffed my backpack with all the necessities (water and a wind jacket). I thought of all the things Rick would have brought for such a trip: tissues, snacks, first aid, that red plastic thing he has for sitting where the ground is wet, a bear whistle, extra clothes, and his pocket knife. I may be exaggerating a bit but not by much. You would have thought we’d be gone for days when he packed for short hikes. I loved that about him. I never had to worry because he had all that was needed; I was safe in his care.

The dunes were beautiful on this mid-November day. Leaves littered the trail, the trees were naked, and the sand was rolling under the call of the wind. Once I reached the Lake Michigan shoreline, I checked out several spots to find one suitable for listening to the audio recording of the memorial service. I chose a spot just beyond the dune grass that dropped off about three feet to the beach area. The waves were small, the sun was bright, and the breeze was gentle. I plunked myself down in the sand, having chosen clothing that resists the wind and cold. Perhaps all these preparations were a means of delaying the inevitable pain of listening to the service for the first time on this first anniversary.

Pastor Lonnie, in his most solemn voice, read all of Psalm 23. We sang Better is One Day and I’ll Stand – two songs that reminded me of Rick in the sound booth at church with his arms wide open in worship. Later my uncle would comment about how special our memorial service worshipping with lifted hands was…even on such an occasion. While on that beach with the occasional passersby, I stood with my arms open wide, twirled around in that fresh clean air, sang out the words to that song in a voice captured by the wind, and I felt the presence of my Savior wash over me once again.

Having done what I had set out to do, I packed up my gear and returned to the car. I noticed all the families around me and wondered if they had any idea why I came. Of course they wouldn’t, but that struck me as odd. Didn’t they feel the earth tremble on that day like I did?

I invested so much healthy energy into grieving every moment of our lives together that I can say without sharp stabs of pain that I have released any near future urge to traditionalize the anniversary of Rick’s death. This is not to say that I won’t remember, that I won’t be sad, and that I won’t wish things might have been different.

Calvary Chapel, Namulanda

Lauren took a boda boda (motorcycle) to church this morning because of her broken foot. I, on the other hand, had to be all independent and walk there. At one point I started wondering if I’d gone too far. I was paying close attention to the landmarks – kinda hard to miss the big pink building where I was to turn – but I still wondered. I figured if I couldn’t find it I’d go back home and all the worried people could find me on the porch there. The distance wasn’t far, maybe a mile or a little more and half that distance was uphill on a dirt road. I hadn’t accounted properly for the sweat factor, which is pretty high by 9:00 a.m. in Africa in a long skirt.

Special guests Pastor Eddie and Pastor Phillip came from Calvary Chapel in Costa Mesa, California. They’re operating a medical mission this week in Uganda and arrived early just for this occasion. Pastor Eddie installed Pastor Wilson in the Namulanda, Uganda church. I was so blessed to be part of this ceremony for Pastor Wilson and for this church.

Bible Study with Widows

I arrived to the sound of rhythmic clapping and was surprised to find a church full of women waiting to welcome me. The front of the church was set with chairs and a table and the rough benches were packed with women and their babies. Apparently this small Bible study time with widows and mothers would be more formal than I anticipated.

Before stepping into the church, David and the pastor greeted me along with piles of children who rushed out of their classrooms to lay hands on the mzungu. Rebecca, Joanne, and Jessica were also there to greet me – women whom I’d met either in June or earlier on this trip. Something wonderful happens when people make you feel so welcome and wanted.

Following a time of worship, our time together was supported by a Bible study called A Mom’s Ordinary Day: Entering God’s Presence. If I may brag for a moment, my aunt Jean Syswerda edited this Bible study series and she gave me enough copies for all the women…except that the weight exceeded what was allowable in my luggage…so I could only bring a few.

Together the ladies and I discussed the idea of prayer and then we looked at Ephesians 2:1-10. I said, “Get out your Bibles” and then it dawned on me that many of these women did not own a Bible. Sad sigh. We talked about being dead in our sin and alive in Christ because of God’s great love for us. Then we moved to Hebrews 10:19-25 and learned about how we can enter God’s presence through Christ and that because of his death we are no longer separated from God. Tying the study back to prayer we acknowledged that because we can come close to God we should, and that if we try, he will come near to us. Prayer is one way we can be with him. The study time was closed by talking about ways to teach our children to enter God’s presence.

Once I got the proper sense of the level of knowledge most of these ladies had for Scripture and the stories contained within, I was able to adjust the teaching method and content accordingly. Although I cannot answer for these ladies, I believe the study time was helpful. I encouraged the women to work through the remaining five sessions in the book before I return with the next study guide.

Church Service in Malindi

We arrived via tuk tuk – a small golf cart-like contraption on three wheels operating a bit like a taxi service. Aside from riding in the luggage compartment of the Land Rover, this was close to the highlight of my adventures in Kenya. Both experiences were reminiscent of the days when it was legal to ride in the open bed of my dad’s pick-up truck.

Manzi, pastor of All Nations Revival Center and graduate of Bible School in a Briefcase, warmly welcomed us to his cozy office. As the 11:00 hour rolled around, we followed Manzi into the cinder block church and were seated in the front row, each in our own blue plastic chair. All eyes were on us as the simple church was packed and hot.

Worship in the African churches I’ve experienced – all two of them – is a beautiful thing. The sound of their language has a rhythm and flow that I don’t recognize in the English language. Perhaps this is because I don’t understand the words and have only rhythm and flow on which to focus. Whatever the case, I thoroughly enjoy meeting with the Spirit and worshipping in these African churches.

Kathy preached about the life of Peter before and after the indwelling of the Holy Spirit as Manzi translated her English into Swahili. Kathy pointed out that after Pentecost, Peter was bold in his faith and she called the church to have that same boldness. The Holy Spirit joined us in a very tangible way during the call to prayer. We laid hands on several people who knelt at the altar and prayed for a fresh indwelling of the Spirit and for a renewal of faith and boldness. I prayed that same prayer for myself – a direction-giving, life-altering renewal of faith and boldness.

Worship Music

Calvary Chapel in Uganda is a beautiful, spirit-filled place. But there is something about worshipping in my own church that really moves me. Being gone for one or two weeks is generally tolerable, but the idea of being gone for five weeks without the worship music that brings me closer to God…not sitting well. I know there are many ways to be closer to God, but for me there is something spiritually communal about worship time.

While we’re on the subject, what will I do about having a little country music to listen to? I can live without country music…I think. But if I have to solve the problem of worship music why not throw in a little country music too.

Have you ever tried naming the songs you love beyond the first three? Building an iTunes playlist of worship and country music has proven challenging. And then…there are only so many good CDs you can get from the library at the last minute. I did purchase a few songs from iTunes as a last resort (The Stand, Glory to God), but my overall list is pretty sad. What current songs do you love? Help me build my list, please.

And then there is the question of whether iTrip will work in Uganda. I’ve got a few long drives ahead and hoped the music would be agreeable with the rest of the team. Oh the things you never think of when traveling extensively.

Beaverdam Baptist Church

Pastor Phil brought a team of 18 people on the mission trip to Alaska and I wrote about this group in a previous post about Southern Hospitality. When I arrived at church Sunday morning, Big John was waiting for me, all smiles. Inside, all those folks who had been on the mission trip wrapped themselves around me…some of them did so several times. Remember my love language is touch. Yep, I love that kind of welcome!

But then…everyone I met in the church did the same thing. Without even knowing who I was or that I’d been a guest of Pastor Phil, everyone else at the church introduced themselves and gave me a big hug. One dear lady said they don’t do handshakes. I could love a church like this for sure. I could easily see how this church and Pastor Phil fit together perfectly. I dare not guess who came first, but they were certainly all very sweet people.

I attended Sheila’s Sunday school class and was so impressed by how much the people cared for one another. We may have spent a bit of time socializing, but I could hear the content of that socializing as ministry. Pastor Phil taught about Revelation and revival in the morning and evening services. Monday’s prayer night was probably the most moving, there wasn’t a dry eye in the place. So many needs were lifted up to the Lord. I pray that the Holy Spirit would rain down on the people of Laurens County and that they would find their home among the people of Beaverdam Baptist Church.

“Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another” (John 13:34-35).

Glory to God Forever

So let my whole life be
A blazing offering
A life that shouts and sings
The greatness of the King

Take my life and let it be
All for you and for your glory
Take my life and let it be yours

The worship in senior camp is awesome. Each day I sing songs I already know and they touch me in a new way. I want nothing more than for my new life to bring glory to God forever.

The Stand

So I'll stand
With arms high and heart abandoned
In awe of the One who gave it all

So I'll stand
My soul Lord to You surrendered
All I am is Yours

We sang this song in worship tonight before chapel, including a few verses I’d never heard before. This is one song that I can’t help but let the tears flow down my cheeks sometimes. I don’t know if it was Rick’s favorite song, probably not. But it was one of two songs I asked the worship team to sing at his memorial service.

I will never forget what he looked like standing in the sound booth at church with his arms spread wide open as far as they would stretch, his head tilted back, his eyes closed, and the words of the song coming from his lips. He may have even forgotten all about the sound needs of the worship team during this particular song. Total and absolute love and abandon. Sometimes when we sing this song I look back to that sound booth thinking I might get one more glimpse of him there. That picture in my mind. My curly-haired Ricky singing to God with his whole heart. I am so thankful.

Praise and Worship

Praise and worship is my favorite way to be with God. Perhaps I should say that Bible study or prayer or some other discipline is my favorite so that I sound super spiritual. I love those other ways of spending time with God too, but praise and worship – singing and music – are the BEST!

Of course every church conducts praise and worship times differently. On one extreme, some churches sing traditional hymns the numbers of which are posted on a wooden board at both sides of the pulpit - #126, #52, #221. They use an organ to accompany the congregation, only an organ. They don’t clap after the song, and they especially don’t clap during the song.

On the other extreme (as though I’ve been exposed to so many different church worship experiences), some churches sing contemporary songs from the radio. They have a band with electric guitars, drums, and an assortment of other modern musical instruments. They clap and dance and sing according to the moving of the Spirit.

I realize some of the reason for a given approach to praise and worship is related to denominational distinctives. I also realize that everyone connects to God in a different way. I’m just saying the way that I like to commune with God is the latter extreme (or near extreme).

I particularly love songs that talk about touching God in some way – The More I Seek You. I also love songs that make me want to dance – Oh Happy Day. And I love longs that talk about how there is renewal after pain – Your Love Never Fails. What songs do you love?

Calvary Chapel

We attended Calvary Chapel for church on Sunday. The building is a modest brick one on the side of a beautiful hill, there was a nice breeze at the top of that hill. The order of the service was very much like an American service – worship, prayer, message, and more worship. Worship was wonderful, very charismatic and I participated fully and joyfully. Over the course of the week I had been beginning to miss connecting with God in this way.

A tarp was laid on the ground in the back of the room for the children who gathered there to worship with far more enthusiasm than the rest of the group. The boy in this picture had some real pizzazz in his worship style. Regardless of the level of charisma expressed by the variety of people there, God definitely lives in Africa.

The message was given in Lagunda language and translated into English by a student from a ministry school. The pastor talked about being baptized in the Spirit, and the resulting gifts of tongues and prophesy. This message was right down my alley – thanks to my own pastor’s teachings. I almost asked if we could do a firestorm but the pastor said most of the congregation does not yet understand the baptism in the Spirit yet. Rats, my pastor would have been so proud.

Before the service, almost all those attending the service introduced themselves to us when they came in and again when they left. I got all bold and asked several women if I could pray with them and they allowed me to. I expected them to ask for food or jobs but instead they asked for wisdom and knowledge. Made me wanna cry. Such very sweet people.