More pictures of the Medina farm.
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Two distinct musings today, perhaps not related... Last Sunday I listened in Sunday school as we talked about Proverbs. One of the point made is that in the OT times, the heart was not the emotional center, but rather the mental center of the body. So when the proverb states, "guard your heart..." its actually speaking about guarding your mind. Hmph. How many times have we heard this proverb misused, usually in the context of some woman talking about not loving a man too quickly, or vice versa. Perhaps this would be better thought of in this context, "Guard your mind, for it is the wellspring of life." Wow, to me this makes more sense. I was watching some sci fi type show, I think something to do with zombies, and they showed how the brain stem acts when the person is alive. It vibrates with electricity, thousands of connections made per second...when the brain is dead, i.e. has no more activity, we pronounce the person dead, even though the body may continue ...
Today marks one year since my mother-in-law walked through the veil, and joined those saints who have gone before her. She breathed her last sometime in the middle of the night, and all I could think when I saw her earth shell, was, "A new Body." For one earth year, she has enjoyed this new earth body. I wish we could share some cinnamon rolls together, you and me, and her too, and we could talk about these things, but this is of course for the next life. Yes, there will be cinnamon rolls, and they'll be so much more amazing than the ones I'm baking today. This last year a friend convinced me into signing up onto which is a site that sends you a passage of Scripture and a bit of a devotional (sometimes) daily. Sometimes it has all I've been able to chew on and meditate for the day, as I couldn't seem to have the energy to sit and read my Bible. Today, of all days, this passage was sent to my email box. Listen to today's call. Jamie, Here...
Today I received an email from a pastor in Ok. looking for an evangelical church here in Granada. I realized everyone has been directed to an almost four year old blog post I wrote regarding the church my husband and I attend here in Granada. So, I've decided to write a new post and give you all a little more information. We attend a Baptist church here in Granada, one that belongs to the Baptist Union in Spain. It is located in Granada on Calle Angel Barrios and Calle Arabial, right across the street from the Parque Garcia Lorca. Services in the School year are at 12 pm and 6 pm. Sunday school is at 11am. Wednesday evening prayer meeting is at 7 pm, and once monthly there is an English worship service. When I know this years dates, I'll post them here. If you have any questions, please don't hesitate to comment on my blog, or email me at jambilee at gmail. Hope this helps you! If you will email me, I'll send you my phone numbers and we'll chat! Most Sundays...
Andrew and I wandered with my uncle Peter today to a little village outside of Granada. We went with the intent of visiting a family, and when we finished 7 hours later, they had become our family. Antonio and his wife and daughter and brothers and sisters and wifes and husbands and kids and parents all invited us for migas, a traditional Andaluz dish that is flour fried in olive oil with sausage, onions, peppers, garlic, you get the drift. This gypsy family says they make it when it rains, and they can't work the fields of olives, asparagus, almonds or whatever harvest season it is. It takes two full hours to make such a delicacy, and that's why they only do it when it rains. We ate until our bellies burst, and laughed until we cried. Then talk turned to music, and guitars suddenly appeared, the small children were summoned, and summoned and then pulled out from underneath the bed they were hiding, and then they sang for us. And boy did they sing. Rocio, whose name means...
During this moment in my personal history, I have found it incredibly difficult to focus on the Virgin Birth, but rather my focus has been placed on the death of Jesus. Perhaps my own personal suffering has caused me to look further than the birth, and see the death and how painful it really was. Yes, we've all read the doctor's reports on how physically aunguising the death of Christ on the Cross was, but we neglect the emotional and mental aunguish as its too close to home, to hard, to think about Him as He walked up to Jerusalem, as He was betrayed by a kiss that mean friendship, kinship and love. Why? Because we've walked through it all this year, Andrew and I. We've had the kiss of greeting turn into betrayel, we've walked up to Jerusalem with Andrew's family, not physically, but metaphysically, knowing that the painful walk would only turn into a more painful end. We have breathed the words, "It is finished." We too, have watched a loved one ...
Last week we had our monthly English service, and one of our church members, Peter Jones, spoke. His passage from Luke was when Peter encounters Jesus in realife, by the Lake of Galilee and Peter is pretty discouraged. Jesus says, Throw out the the nets, and Peter says, Man, we didn't even get a minnow last night. Its not terribly far from how I feel regarding these last two years. In 2008, Andrew and I did a whirlwind travel of the Eastern US, and we didn't see a whole lot of financial results, even though a lot were promised. Instead,we limped back to Spain on a lot of broken promises, and the news of Penny's cancer in her bones this time, not just her breast. And for a year a half we bumped back and forth from Spain to Atlanta to Atlanta to Spain, with a few brief moments in Chicago, but not as many as I would have liked. If you've read my blogs from last Thanksgiving/Christmas, you saw how I personally wrestled with going back to Atlanta, and not to Chicago or...
Only in Granada..... Last night, we were coming home from the gym after a long day and a good workout. I had taught 4 hourss of English classes,and then drove in from where I teach to meet Andrew at the gym. He had taken the bus into town, gone to prayer meeting and then joined me. After lots of swimming and a few minutes in the spa....we walked out the door about 11 (not late for Spain) and were on our way home dreaming of bread and cheese and yogurt and fruit for dinner, when all the sudden BAM, someone hits us from behind as we waited for our turn on the roundabout. We both turned around and SURPRISE! Its a waiter from a local cafe Andrew and I frequent on Sunday mornings. Fortunately the worst damage was only a broken headlight on his car, and we have scarcely a bump on ours....so alls well that ends well. The waiter was grateful and I won't be surprised if the next coffee we have at the cafe is "on the house".
I can see from my status updates on Facebook that many of my friends have been as excited as I am to see the Chilean miners slowly pulled out one by one from their underground existence. I thought I wasn't going to cry the first time I watched one emerge from the Phoneix, until I read the back of his tshirt. Roughly translated, it says on the front, Thank you Lord, and on the sleeve, Jesus. On the back, it says something like, "Because He holds in His hands, the depths of the earth. And the heights of the mountains are also his. To HIM be the honor and the glory." I cried. What a fitting statement, as they are pulled from the lowest depths of the earth known to man, and as they come out of the little capsule dubbed Phoneix, to these beautiful, but harsh mountains that tower over them. No matter where they go, they are in God's hands. One miner stated how he had seen the Devil and instead, taken God's hand. The commentators over and over kept remarking on t...
Written by a friend. The ache of sorrow in my breast, The hurt that gnaws deep at my chest. I must confess... I feel like nothing is made right Oh where, oh where is the light Here I stand again it seems Taken back to horrors dreams O death you wheeled your power free Yet I look for life found upon the Tree Still my heart will feel the sting And miss our loved ones set free to sing Our lives entwined there too short a duration, I trust, will one day be rejoined in joyous celebration! All tears and fears will be washed away, As we sit together on that happy day. Yet now as I say my last goodbyes I must confess...I still feel.... The ache of sorrow in my breast, The hurt that gnaws deep at my chest. --- Isaac Ring, 2010
A lighter hearted post... Tuesday evening we headed back from the UK to our home in Granada after a few days of wonderful time with friends in the Oxford area. We took the train from Pangbourne to Reading, enjoyed a half hour break with some wonderful enormous coffees and took the hour and half long train to Gatwick airport. After checking in, and walking through security, we saw our plane was delayed a half hour. I had planned that we would arrive mostly on time and have over and hr to pick up bags etc, and then take a cab to the bus station in the South of Madrid, and then the 5 hr overnight bus ride home. Yes, it was the slow boat to China as my aunt Debbie says, but it was cheap, and that saved us over 150 dollars to do it that way. Needless to say,we were delayed out of Gatwick and arrived in Madrid at 12:45 in the morning and we had only 45 minutes to get out of the plane, get our two bags, grab a cab and then make the last overnight bus at 1:30 in the morning. AS we desc...
This week we wandered to Oxford. Strange you say, why Oxford, England? Simply put, its cooler here, we like it here and finally, but most importantly, some Very Dear Friends live here. It has been several months since Andrew's mom slipped into the next life, and this long months have been hard, and difficult and painful and poignant in so many ways. There have been tears and laughter, moments of its so hard to talk you choke up, and lots of moments for me personally, sitting in church, in prayer meeting, in worship practice, in church service, where I soaked it all up like a sponge and squeezed it all dry by the time I came back a few minutes later. Never have I so dreadfully needed my own faith in the Next Life. And so wandering onward to Oxford, we have been with friends, no, really, family, that have reinforced our desire and faith for the next life. We have needed desperately this step away from Granada, even though we love and miss our church family in that incredible, p...
We all want "meaning" to our jobs, all the more so when they seem lacking in meaning. I mean, what in the grand scheme of life can a secretary, or receptionist, or sales clerk, or waitress, or whatever you want to fill in the black, can contribute to the grand and glorious tapestry of life? I've been all of those, secretary, receptionist, sales clerk and waitress. I've been told I can't wear backless shoes because it might hurt me or worse yet, offend a client. I've had trays of food and too many half empty glasses of liquid tumble from my hands. I've answered calls and said, "I'm sorry, Jim...(or Don or whoever) isn't available, would you like his voicemail?" Again and again and again until your toes and brain and knees are numb from your conservative shoes, or stupid clients, or your countless times of traipsing up the stairs in the smoking section of the restaurant. And I've cursed at the copier, made too many trips to the toilet c...
I have a friend that speaks several languages, one heavily accented by the other so that you are sure he's not an American, and I've known him forever. He used to come back to the US armed with a massive map of the tiny town where they live, and would show it to all of us and say, "Please pray for my city." And when Andrew and I wandered to see his part of the world, he took us to the top of the hill overlooking his town and said, "Let's pray". I secretly thought he was nuts. But there's something about what he does, that sticks in your mind and as we crested the hill today, and suddenly Granada was spread out underneath us like a large blanket covering the valley, I thought, "Let's pray." All through our few days away, I unplugged from life as best as possible. I read books watching movies read blogs and all like a drowning woman gasping for her last breath. We had some friends come visit and we watched movies, and swam together and at...
This continues in the theme of important events throughout the last four years. This is in no way in chronological order, but this is just another event that God used in both Andrew and my lives. Two and a half years ago, Andrew and I had been officially voted in by the church to work with the youth, alongside the pastor's wife Esther. One of the young ladies, a doctorate student in the university of Granada, suggested that we attend a youth conference called ContraCorriente, which means, Against the flow. Founded by Pastor Mark Jobe, an American who grew us as a Spanish MK, this youth conference is a sort of mini Urbana or Passion conference, directed at Spanish youth. 2 years ago it was held in a town called Priego de Cordoba, about 2 hours away from Granada in the middle of rolling hills covered in millions of olive trees. We had speakers, music, concerts, workshops and more. We camped that weekend, and our tent and cooking spot because the hang out spot for not only the 5 youth...
In a day and era when fundamentalism is wrong and tolerance is good, Its strange to be who I am. I live in a different country because of who I am and what I believe. I believe God is love and showed us His love in wrapping His Son in space and time. He came, He saw and He sacrificed, so that we could be united together. I live where I live so I can be evidence of God's love, by loving others as much as He loved me. Its a tough act to follow...this taking up the cross of love and walking through the streets every day. Its tough because I have to adapt as fully as I can to a culture that's alien to my own. So, how do I be "100 percent" or as close to it as I can in this culture, but still not be "100 percent" because if I was, that would mean adapting to the sins of this place too. In this place, you use shame and embarrassment as tools to manipulate other people. How do I show Christ's love without falling into their traps? In this place, family is so im...
I called my dad tonight, just to hear his voice for a minute. He was at work, curing cancer. It helps me know that he's still there, even though the phone call got dropped as I heard him talking geeky cancer zapping talk with a co worker. He's a mad scientist, a geek, someone who wears pocket protectors and a lab jacket to work with his name embroidered into the lapel, but he's a wonderful geek, my Dad. He's got a ton of sayings, very quotable, not all of the appropiate, but the longer I live I know the days are longer in the summer cuz its hotter, and I've applied that logic to say, that's why the gas goes up in price, the euro/dollar exchange gets worse, and the food prices go up, cause things expand when they get hot, and since its summer, of course all those things would happen. Somehow Dad and Mom managed to raise us all with massive love and compassion, no matter how much we got spanked, we knew it hurt Dad so much more than it hurt us. I was with my frien...
Oye, hijo mío, el silencio. Es un silencio ondulado, un silencio, donde resbalan valles y ecos y que inclinan las frentes hacia el suelo. Listen, my son, the silence. Is a silence that comes in waves, a silence, where it slips across the valleys, and echoes, and makes all fall fall facedown to the floor. F. Garcia Lorca, My Translation