Inspired by Robert Louis Stevenson

Everything in its place--in the puzzle we just completed and in (most of) our condo!

                                                                                                                                     Inspired by a Poet's Mother                                                                          

At the birth of our first child, I received a classic book from an old friend:  A Child’s Garden of Verses by Robert Louis Stevenson.  As I pored over those beloved poems, like “The Land of Nod” and “My Little Shadow,” I discovered a sweet poem that reminded me of myself.   The title of the poem escapes me now, but not its substance.  Stevenson was ill as a child and often bed-bound.  No doubt that was the catalyst for much of his imaginative journeys.  But he wrote about his mother quietly moving about in the evening time, straightening things that were out of line, and re-setting order each night. 

That’s what I want to be about.  That first-born son is now 14. As a mom on the go raising kids on the mission field, I want to be that person who sets things in order.  In our house back on the mainland, that would have been loading the dishwasher and starting it each night.  In our small condo in Hawaii, that would mean washing a few dishes by hand and re-ordering our glass table.   When we lived in Tonga it meant reading the favorite chapter book to our boys each night, keeping an element of consistency despite natural disasters and crowded bus rides to different villages. 

(Reading to Evan on the bus in Tonga,
en route to a village for outreach)

But there’s something else about that nightly ordering.  Today as I softly step about our small condo, I pray.  My mind runs through a check-list of loose ends.  I make notes for the next day, and I pray for things left undone.  Concerns that push their way to the front of my mind I gently push up toward heaven.  Like pieces of laundry that I shake out and carefully fold, I present each request—hopefully with thanksgiving—to my Father who sees all and knows the end from the beginning.  That’s more truly what I want to be about.  If I can faithfully remember to pray at the end of my day, I can go to bed knowing He who never sleeps will perfect that which concerns me. 

My sons can awaken each morning to see a home—and our lives—in order.

These pictures are infrequent glimpses  of our condo looking very much neat and in order.  

Evan's Easter Essay: Peter's Perspective

Peter’s Perspective

4/19/14

            Anxiety hung in the air like criminals on the cross. No one spoke. No one moved. Peter was leaning in the corner, blending with the shadows. The ten other disciples along with a handful of Jesus’ followers, were scattered around the dimly-lit room as the lone candle flickered back and forth, casting eerie shadows throughout the windowless room.

          Each loomed silently, contemplating, and comprehending the horrific series of tragedies that had occurred in the past few days. Peter mentally recalled the arrest of Jesus and slicing the soldier’s ear. He recalled the words he spoke denying the Son of God, followed by the rooster’s crow and Jesus’ countenance as he stumbled by, shrouded in disappointment and splattered with blood. And he thought of the Lord’s limp body maimed and lacerated, dripping with warm crimson as he hung in agony on the  cross, along with the blood- stained wrappings on his body as he was gracefully placed into the tomb. He realized that he wanted revenge on the Romans, on the Pharisees, on anyone for what they did to his teacher. But he thought of what Jesus would say, to “forgive and bless them who have wounded us.”

           Suddenly they were all jolted out of their self- brooding sessions by a hurried pound on the wooden door. John stood and cautiously opened the door. Half a dozen frantic women came bustling into the room, chattering and crying out in a hurried confusion. They were shouting and crying something about the tomb being empty and Jesus being gone, and men in white robes appearing out of nowhere. But it was hard to tell in all the confusion and chatter.

          Yet, a thought flashed through Peter’s mind while everyone was arguing that the women were hallucinating. Peter spoke up, “I will go and see the fabled empty tomb,” And go he did. Before anyone could argue he leapt out into the dusty, crowded streets and sprinted to the tomb. Leaping over carts and dodging crowds, scenarios, ideas, and memories rushed through his mind faster than he ran. The crowded streets whizzed by and became the near-deserted country roads.

          Then the elated Peter finally arrived, winded, yet excited near the mouth of the tomb. He slowed his pace as the mammoth boulder which was covering the entrance of the cave came into view. He noted that the large stone was off to the side; the tomb was gaping open like the mouth of a waiting lion.

          Peter slowly stepped out of the already warm morning sun into the cool, musty interior of the cave. He rushed to the spot where Jesus was left lying when they entombed him, only to find nothing but stained burial shrouds.

          His first thought was grave robbers. But then something clicked in the back of Peter’s mind and he remembered Jesus saying that he would be killed but rise in three days’ time. Now Peter understood it! Jesus had risen, and is alive. He leapt from the tomb and sprinted to his fellow followers of Christ to spread the good news.

          He jogged back through the dusty country roads, to the crowded city, then back into the house where his fellow disciples were waiting. He bounded into the house and told his story to his companions. Some believed him and others didn’t; but they would all believe soon enough…

By Evan Richards