A RESURRECTION MESSAGE FROM PONDOK PALEM

He lives! I know He lives.  He lives within my heart.

A Home Called Pondok Palem

I was all alone in our temporary home in Batu, Malang in Indonesia. The owners of the house named it Pondok Palem in much the same way that we have a well-known residence in the US called Monticello and Scarlet O’Hara in Gone With the Wind had her Tara. It was 1976, the first year of our missionary term in the island of Java. We were temporarily residing in the home of our missionary friends Carl and Grace Fish. The Fish family was home on furlough in the US. This particular week Don was in Jakarta, the country’s capital city, which was a day’s journey by bus from Malang. He was trying to get our shipment of personal goods released. I did not know when he would be back as one never knew how much time the authorities would take to process the documents for the release of the shipment. I was alone in the house except for the young man who kept the grounds. In the evening, the young girl who helped us with house chores would come to keep me company.

John 11:25-26

In the early morning, as was my routine, I went to the study to have my time of Bible reading and prayer. As I read Chapter 11 of the Gospel of John, verses 25-26 stood out. Jesus said unto her, "I am the resurrection, and the life: he that believeth on me, though he die, yet shall he live; and whosoever liveth and believeth on me shall never die. Believest thou this?” I read it and kept reading it over and over.

A Phone Call

The day before Don and I left for Indonesia, I had called my father to say goodbye. It was a difficult conversation. He was in his late 70’s and I had not seen him for awhile. He was in New York and we were in California.

“You take care. This may be the last time you’ll hear my voice,” he said with much emotion. 

We both knew that this was a possibility, but I tried to dismiss it. After all this was not the first time he had melodramatically talked to me this way. When I was nineteen and fresh out of college, I took a teaching position in a Christian school in Southern Cotabato, which was as far away from my home as New York is to California. He never liked the idea of my going so far away, but I was completely convinced that God wanted me to do this. I taught in that school for almost five years and every time I came home, my father would always say those words. However, somewhere in my mind I knew he might be right this time. My sisters had to finally move him to a nursing home to better take care of him. The years had taken their toll.

John 11:25-26 reminded me of that last conversation with my father. Soon tears were rolling down my cheeks. Then I began to sob uncontrollably. Up to that day, I had never experienced the loss of a loved one. I was going through extreme grief for a loss that had not happened. Through my tears, I kept reading the words, “I am the resurrection and the life . . .” Though familiar with these verses, I had never memorized them. I felt that I should commit them to memory. When my father died in December, 1978, I was saddened, but the tears did not even come. God’s wonderful grace had prepared me for this day. And as if this wasn't enough, the following month of January, 1979, our son Matthew (whose name means “gift from God”) was born. We temporarily lost a father, but were gifted with a son.

Resurrection Day means a lot of different things to a believer. But at this particular time, 37 years ago, in the quiet of the study at Pondok Palem in a little town in Central Java, Resurrection Day meant a promise that I would see my father again someday and so, I had no reason to grieve as one who had no hope.

HAVE YOU LOST YOUR UMBRELLA?

Precursor to the umbrella?

How many umbrellas do you have? I have quite a few. Probably because unless I can confirm that rain is coming by looking out our window, I just don’t believe the weathermen. But despite the bad rap they get, sometimes they are right. So I’ve been caught in the rain a few times.  Once I got so wet in my wool coat and no one would sit next to me on the bus!  If I’m lucky, I can run into a store and get me a $4.00 umbrella and be protected while waiting for my bus. This is how umbrellas multiply on me. I even have a checkered £2.50 folding umbrella from London. We just didn’t believe they would have rain in late March, but rain it did for almost the whole week we were there.

In the US umbrellas are what I would call “as needed” accoutrement. If it looks like rain, we think of it; otherwise, it is forgotten. In Asia, it is a necessity because it is used both on rainy and sunny days. Usual sunny days go up to the 90’s F. It is wise to have an umbrella to shade one from the intense rays of the sun. When one is on the equator, as we were in Indonesia, one learns this fast. And, of course, when the rains come, one will not want to get wet. When I was a little girl, my mother always used to remind me that I would catch a cold if I got wet from the rain. She knew I loved to play in the rain. My longtime friend and mentor +Marilee Barker loved walking in the rain sans umbrella. She would say, “In the Philippines rain is a season, not a reason.”

Umbrellas are not only used for protection from sun and rain, they have also been used to show status as in the case of royalty, religion or wealth. Wikipedia says “The umbraculum (better known in the Italian form ombrellino) is a canopy or umbrella (consisting of alternating red and gold stripes, the traditional colours of the city of Rome and so, until 1808, of the papacy) whose original function was quite simply to provide shade. As it was traditionally a royal prerogative to walk beneath a canopy, Pope Alexander VI began using the umbraculum to symbolise the temporal powers of the Papacy; it was formerly carried by a man standing behind the Pope. It featured in the former arms of the Papal States.”

With an umbrella we can walk through the rain or under the intense heat of the sun.  They help us go from point A to point B in fair or foul weather.  They enable us.  They assure us that we will not be burned by the sun nor be drenched by the rain. We can even go singing in the rain as Gene Kelly so beautifully did in that famous movie.  With one I can wear my wool coat on a rainy day and not end up looking and smelling like a doused sheep. There is a lot of comfort in having an umbrella.  

I think of my parents as my umbrellas.  My American husband tells me that I may be off in this.  Probably because in America, an umbrella has just 50% of the function it has in Asia.  To Asians, it is a constant protection. When my parents passed away, I felt I lost that.  Even if as an adult I moved away from their “shade”, the assurance that they were there was very comforting.  When Mom Major passed away recently, Don and I felt a certain vulnerability.  We felt unprotected, the way one walks in the rain without an umbrella.  She was our last umbrella. Though in her last few years a cruel disease started to steal her away from us, we felt that her presence stayed with us.  In our younger years our parents walked with us, shielding and protecting us from hurts and pain, giving us shade from disappointments and failures.  At times when we felt we did not have the strength to go on, they enabled us.  They were with us as we grew into the kind of people we have become.  We grieve over this loss, but amid this grief, we can look up to a higher umbrella, to Him who provides shade for those who dwell in His secret places.  Have you lost your umbrella?  Look up, there is a higher One.

 

He who dwells in the secret places of the Most High, shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty.  (Psalm 91:1 NIV)

  

THE LIFE CHANGER

THE  FRIENDLY OCEAN

“Three scores and seven years ago . . . “an eleven-year old little girl was reciting on the beach.  The white caps broke as they reached the shore.  The ocean winds blew her shoulder-length black hair across her face. The waves quietly swished at her feet.  Addressing the far horizon with all her might, she stood tall, as tall as her less than five-foot figure could.

Many years have passed since she last stood on that beach.  So many sunsets have set on the western horizon; as many sunrises have risen on the eastern sky.  But the ocean has become a friend to her.  It soothed her nerves when they were frayed.  Its vastness reminded her of how she was part of a great whole, that there was a wide world out there, full of possibilities.  Sometimes she would find herself standing on a beach halfway across the world from her childhood hometown, nostalgically remembering that little girl.  Oh, what a character she was! 

THE “RUNT OF THE LITTER”

The youngest of five siblings, she was the “runt of the litter” the old folks teased her, albeit with much affection.  She was not an attractive child, but she had a gift that made up for this lack. Early on she had displayed a gift of language and a stage presence that was unusual for someone her age.  Along the way, teachers took interest in her and helped her hone her skills.  A high school teacher tutored her on voice projection.  “Go to the beach, and speak to the waves.  Climb a tall tree and talk to the clouds,” he would say.  As she did so, she shared her dreams, thoughts, joys and hurts with this great body of creation.  In the late evenings in her room, she would hear the sounds of the ocean and like a friend, it would calm her spirit, exhausted from the activities of the day.

 THE LIFE CHANGER

If she could go back and summon the waves that patiently listened to her young “. . . Four scores and seven years ago . . .” she would say, “Thank you for listening to me and sharing in my dreams.  My life has been blessed with so much, much more than I have ever dreamt.”  And if the waves would ask, “How was that possible?” She would tell them how one day she met the Saviour, the one named Jesus, and how that made all the difference in her life. The discovery that in His great love, the Almighty God in heaven gave His only Son to die on the cross, to suffer the punishment she deserved, was her life changer. And with this gift of grace,  He gave her His promise, “The Lord will keep you from all harm. He will watch over your life.  The Lord will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore." (Psalm 121:7-8 NIV)  And He has kept His word.  By His grace, her life has gained direction.  He has led her into paths that she never dreamed of. Her life has been rich, far richer than her own plans and efforts could ever have made it.

 

Mary's Plant Hospital

The grand stairway that comes down to the rotunda

The late Herb Caen fondly called San Francisco “Baghdad by the Bay,” definitely a fascinating city to live in. And if you are ever in our fair City, a visit to our City Hall is a must. I know, I know.  Some people call it “Silly Hall.” But it really is quite a landmark. I had the privilege of working there for about 10 years and it was a remarkable experience.  The walk up on the majestic staircase was always a grand exercise.  It made me feel like one making a dramatic entrance into the presence of Queen Elizabeth.  A couple of friends who came to see me one day exclaimed, “This is where you work every day? It’s like working in a castle!”

THE PLANT DOCTOR       
 

Joseph Strauss said, “You have in San Francisco this magnificent Civic Center crowned by a City Hall which I have never seen anywhere equaled.”   Indeed, indeed!  And amid this grandeur, this exquisite architectural wonder, one little spot that has touched my heart so warmly was the little room where our team had the copiers and office supplies.    Here, reams and reams of briefs and other documents were copied, collated, stapled and boxed or put in big brown envelopes to be mailed, filed or messengered to some court.  Here, frazzled staff worked frenetically to make deadlines.  But in a corner of this room was a window sill full of orchids in various stages.  Some were in bloom, some in a pathetic state of dehydration, some growing new leaves, but all very gently cared for by Mary Go.  I called this spot “The Plant Hospital.”
                     
 I first met Mary in a satellite office of the City Department we worked in many years ago.  A quiet, gentle, kind person, she was one of those who just did her work day after day, without calling much attention to herself. She used to have little African violets in jars or little planters on the window sill of the ladies bathroom.  Sometimes there were single leaves being rooted.  Sometimes, the violets would be in full bloom. This fascinated me. What soul would take her time to do this in a very busy legal office? Then I met her.  You’ve heard of  ”Bloom where you’re planted.”  Mary makes plants bloom where they are planted. She brings beauty to where she is, quietly, unobtrusively.

 

Mary told me that her first patient in her “Plant Hospital“ in City Hall was an orchid that a lawyer was about to throw out.  It was past its blooming and looked dead.  Mary asked for it and soon it was on the window sill in the copy room.  She nursed the Phalaenopsis back to health. A short time later it bloomed again with beautiful purplish flowers, which lasted and lasted. It gave not only beauty but a sense of calm, quiet presence in that beehive of activity.  And it seemed like the plant was grateful for Mary’s kindness.  It just kept giving flowers all through the year.  Quite a few saw this “miracle” and soon Mary had other patients that her gentle, nurturing care would bring back to life.  Co-workers started saying, “You have a plant problem?  Bring it to Mary, she can make anything bloom.”

 I don’t know much about plants but I love flowers.  As our friendship grew, I got “plant education” from Mary and soon my orchids at home no longer had to die after the blooms were gone.  My friend taught me to put the orchids where they got afternoon sun because it was gentler.  As to watering, she told me that a good dousing once a week is all that was necessary. I should be careful not to get the leaves wet. The pots should have good drainage. There were two kinds of plant food I should use.  And, (you are allowed to smile) I should talk to them gently and kindly every once in a while. Soon my orchids looked a lot better (and I thought, happier).  I even managed to get second and third blooming from my Phalaenopsis each year.  My window sill at home began to look like Mary’s at City Hall. Like Mary I had also “rescued” a terribly abused orchid that a co-worker gave me. For the longest time, though leaves had grown and it looked much healthier, it just would not give me flowers.  I even put it between two beautiful African violets in full bloom and told it, “Aren’t you jealous of these two?  They are so pretty.  You could be, too, you know.”  But it did not work.  For more than half a year I waited then I talked to Mary.  And she said:

“Raquel, plants are like people.  They thrive in a caring, kind environment.  If they had suffered abuse of any kind like this one, neglected for long periods of time because the owner was too busy, then it would take more time to bring it back.  It has to heal from the neglect.  Be patient.  Even if you think nothing’s happening, one day it will respond and will reward your love and care.”
 

Mary was right.  A few weeks later, the orchid grew a stem, then there were buds, and soon there were beautiful, delicate white flowers.  So you see, even in "Silly Hall" (Bill O'Reilly might call it "bastion of craziness") one can get valuable education that can make one a better and more caring person.

                       

LIFE, The Meaning of

My Friend Evelyn, the Accountant .                  Looks at life in an orderly fashion. For sure, like me, you have thought of what life is all about many times. I did as a young girl, teenager, college student, and as I graduated from college, and many times in-between. These days I look back and ask what life has meant for me. What has preoccupied my thoughts? What has shaped my dreams? What has made me do the things I’ve done or doing? Has there been one goal or many goals? What have I accomplished? Where have I failed? What would I do over, if I could? If I had graphs of my life, what would they be like?

Don might be thinking of what his life has meant.

SUCCESS DEFINED

There are many books and there are many writers who have propounded this same question.  John Bunyan writes of people being pilgrims and going through various experiences.  Sometimes “success” is made synonymous to a meaningful life.  Present day “successful” people, who, by the way, become experts on everything, define success in the amount of accumulations – money, material goods, mansions, Rolls Royce’s, PhD’s or good works.  Some define it in the fame they have achieved, or in the notoriety they have gained.  And the list goes on and on.

ECCLESIASTES (THE PREACHER)

I have recently discovered that books come to life when I listen to them. One day I decided to listen to the whole book of Ecclesiastes, not so much for what it said, but for how it was said. Ecclesiastes is one of my favorite poetic books. As I listened to all the twelve chapters in one sitting, I realized that I was listening to the words of someone so very wise, in fact, possibly the wisest man who ever lived. He, too, tried to find the meaning of life in much the same way that 21st century people do. If you want to know what King Solomon’s take is on life, may I suggest listening to or reading his whole book of Ecclesiastes in one sitting. Then you would have sat at the feet of one who had it all and done it all. It will be most interesting to find out his conclusion.

If you wish to know who I listen to and how, drop me a little note in the comment box and I will get it to you. It will be fun to hear from you.