Typhoons and Other Thoughts
Tomorrow marks the end of my first week here. Seven days. It feels much longer. I feel settled, at peace within myself, my heart beginning to bloom again, in a way it hasn't in a long time, with worship for the Creator whose love is always reaching out. Life lived outdoors is healthy. Except for my time in bed at night, I have lived mostly outdoors this week. Fresh air, continuously breathed in and out, in and out, strengthens the lungs. Sunshine on skin strengthens the body. Interaction with nature strengthens emotional ties to God. Worship is the inevitable result.
An open-air, covered porch runs the length of the house. The porch is our church. It is also where we eat, visit, and live when at home during daylight hours every day.
Today is Tuesday, and tonight a visiting missionary flies in to spend a week here leading our women's retreat on Saturday and the youth retreat Sunday-Tuesday. I will be helping with the cooking and wherever else is needed. Tuesday, when the youth retreat ends, Pastor Dave and Helen Ann fly home to spend their vacation near to their grandchildren, and won't be back until the middle of August.
I think I am ready to fill in for them while they are away. But are you ever really ready for your first real assignment? I am reflecting on Psalm 18:
This morning I read a book put out by Kagman High School (Pastor Dave teaches science there) of essays students wrote for their scholarship applications in 2016. Saipan had just been hit by Typhoon Soudelor (So' de lore), a Cat 4 storm that knocked out power and water for two months for most of the island. Then, in October 2018, Typhoon Yutu hit the island again at Cat 5 strength. While evidence of the physical destruction remains, the real impact seems to be more internal than external from these two storms. People here define life in pre or post typhoon terminology.
"Their father died."
"That was before Soudelor, right, or was it after?"
"That roof is gone...was it Soudelor or Yutu?"
"Yutu.
"Is that the ocean I see in that gap in the trees?"
"Yes. Yutu knocked over so many trees we can now see the ocean from here."
References to the typhoons come up in daily conversations. Typhoons dominated the speeches at the High School graduation ceremony I attended last week. Typhoons dominate the reflective essays students wrote for their scholarship applications.
"Since the typhoon, we have to line up for everything," writes Jessa Camacho. "We waited for four hours to fill up the car. We waited at five in the morning to get a bag of ice because we are just desperate for a cold drink. We wait still for a new shipment of roofing tin to arrive. We wait for some sort of financial assistance from anyone but we get none because FEMA is for citizens and my parents are from the Philippines."
Elizabeth Basa writes, "Typhoons don't stop in an instant, they wear out and wander off like a bully with your milk money. But when you are in the eye of a typhoon it is like taking the needle off a record, everything comes to an immediate halt. As soon as the eye settled on us, the air vacuumed out of the house and we all grabbed our ears. The pressure was physical and disquieting - somehow Soudelor had even gotten into our heads."
The physical circumstances of life will get into your head, be they good or bad. I have experienced that truth in my own life, but not so well described as in storm stories I have heard here this week. After this first week hearing the stories of good, gentle people who were caught in two nightmare storms, the physical damage, although it is pervasive and not quickly recovering, is not the primary damage wrought on the lives of the people who endured the storms. The typhoons scarred time, creating a benchmark of fear they are understandably having a difficult time getting over.
But isn't that true for all of us? Don't we tend to define life by the scars that benchmark time? In my family it is "death year" the period from 2016 to 2017 when 2/3 of the elders in my children's family died. Memories in our family are now phrased as "before or after" death year. Has an event, good or bad, benchmarked time for you? An illness? A loss? A relocation? A marriage?
The benchmarks are so powerful because of uncertainty for the future. Bad benchmarks are particularly potent because of the fear that scarred your perception of that horrendous time in your life. Psalm 18 calls us to think of God as the true benchmark of our lives. God invites us to cry out to him for help, and to believe he is on our side, no matter what your eyes see, your ears hear, or your heart fears.
It's Tuesday morning and I am in church like every day since I arrived. Ministry starts in earnest at the end of the week. But I am in church today.
Am I ready? Who knows! Yet in preparation, I am trusting God in advance, and today, I am rejoicing because peace and eagerness for the future fills my soul after my time of prayer and reflection on Psalm 18 this morning as I sat with the dogs in the sun. Because God is my strength, I am able to stand upright in my outdoor church and smile at the plan God has for this church, and my part in it, simply because he delights in us. He rescues us. He leads us to a place of safety, a place whose name is Jesus.
I know I am safe and that God has a plan and purpose for my being in Saipan. I am eager for the women's and youth retreats at the end of the week. Today I am choosing to rest in the Lord's care the way these two are resting on the floor of the sanctuary. They are always here, just like the widow Anna, who, at age 87, never left the temple, day or night, worshiping the Lord, and talking about Jesus to everyone who would listen (Luke 2:36-38). Eighty seven minus sixty two? I have a good 35 years of ministry ahead of me, if I take Anna as my Psalm 18 model!
Which I hope to do as the Lord gives me strength.
Have a great day in the Lord!
Amy
Today is Tuesday, and tonight a visiting missionary flies in to spend a week here leading our women's retreat on Saturday and the youth retreat Sunday-Tuesday. I will be helping with the cooking and wherever else is needed. Tuesday, when the youth retreat ends, Pastor Dave and Helen Ann fly home to spend their vacation near to their grandchildren, and won't be back until the middle of August.
I think I am ready to fill in for them while they are away. But are you ever really ready for your first real assignment? I am reflecting on Psalm 18:
I love you, Lord; you are my strength. The Lord is my rock, my fortress, and my savior; my God is my rock, in whom I find protection.
This morning I read a book put out by Kagman High School (Pastor Dave teaches science there) of essays students wrote for their scholarship applications in 2016. Saipan had just been hit by Typhoon Soudelor (So' de lore), a Cat 4 storm that knocked out power and water for two months for most of the island. Then, in October 2018, Typhoon Yutu hit the island again at Cat 5 strength. While evidence of the physical destruction remains, the real impact seems to be more internal than external from these two storms. People here define life in pre or post typhoon terminology.
"Their father died."
"That was before Soudelor, right, or was it after?"
"That roof is gone...was it Soudelor or Yutu?"
"Yutu.
"Is that the ocean I see in that gap in the trees?"
"Yes. Yutu knocked over so many trees we can now see the ocean from here."
References to the typhoons come up in daily conversations. Typhoons dominated the speeches at the High School graduation ceremony I attended last week. Typhoons dominate the reflective essays students wrote for their scholarship applications.
"Since the typhoon, we have to line up for everything," writes Jessa Camacho. "We waited for four hours to fill up the car. We waited at five in the morning to get a bag of ice because we are just desperate for a cold drink. We wait still for a new shipment of roofing tin to arrive. We wait for some sort of financial assistance from anyone but we get none because FEMA is for citizens and my parents are from the Philippines."
Elizabeth Basa writes, "Typhoons don't stop in an instant, they wear out and wander off like a bully with your milk money. But when you are in the eye of a typhoon it is like taking the needle off a record, everything comes to an immediate halt. As soon as the eye settled on us, the air vacuumed out of the house and we all grabbed our ears. The pressure was physical and disquieting - somehow Soudelor had even gotten into our heads."
The physical circumstances of life will get into your head, be they good or bad. I have experienced that truth in my own life, but not so well described as in storm stories I have heard here this week. After this first week hearing the stories of good, gentle people who were caught in two nightmare storms, the physical damage, although it is pervasive and not quickly recovering, is not the primary damage wrought on the lives of the people who endured the storms. The typhoons scarred time, creating a benchmark of fear they are understandably having a difficult time getting over.
But isn't that true for all of us? Don't we tend to define life by the scars that benchmark time? In my family it is "death year" the period from 2016 to 2017 when 2/3 of the elders in my children's family died. Memories in our family are now phrased as "before or after" death year. Has an event, good or bad, benchmarked time for you? An illness? A loss? A relocation? A marriage?
The benchmarks are so powerful because of uncertainty for the future. Bad benchmarks are particularly potent because of the fear that scarred your perception of that horrendous time in your life. Psalm 18 calls us to think of God as the true benchmark of our lives. God invites us to cry out to him for help, and to believe he is on our side, no matter what your eyes see, your ears hear, or your heart fears.
He led me to a place of safety; he rescued me because he delights in me.
It's Tuesday morning and I am in church like every day since I arrived. Ministry starts in earnest at the end of the week. But I am in church today.
Am I ready? Who knows! Yet in preparation, I am trusting God in advance, and today, I am rejoicing because peace and eagerness for the future fills my soul after my time of prayer and reflection on Psalm 18 this morning as I sat with the dogs in the sun. Because God is my strength, I am able to stand upright in my outdoor church and smile at the plan God has for this church, and my part in it, simply because he delights in us. He rescues us. He leads us to a place of safety, a place whose name is Jesus.
I know I am safe and that God has a plan and purpose for my being in Saipan. I am eager for the women's and youth retreats at the end of the week. Today I am choosing to rest in the Lord's care the way these two are resting on the floor of the sanctuary. They are always here, just like the widow Anna, who, at age 87, never left the temple, day or night, worshiping the Lord, and talking about Jesus to everyone who would listen (Luke 2:36-38). Eighty seven minus sixty two? I have a good 35 years of ministry ahead of me, if I take Anna as my Psalm 18 model!
Which I hope to do as the Lord gives me strength.
Have a great day in the Lord!
Amy
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