How did I get here?

...and as we say goodbye to 2016.  I'm asking - How in the world did I get here?
  
Actually, I've had many moments in my short life when I've asked - How in the world did I get here? 

I was terribly homesick.
The assignments for the next 6 weeks had been handed out, I was completely overwhelmed and I wanted to go home.   Everyone around me seemed to be having a good time.  And they were really good at Volley Ball too.   I had to be the shyest kid on the Bible school campus.  Could I really survive 6 weeks of this?  I was only moderately OK at Volley Ball and didn't even really like playing Rook at all.

"How in the world did I get here?"

I stayed 12 weeks.

A few months later: 

Homesick again.   Seriously, you'd think I'd either learn to stay home or not be homesick but there it was.  I cried - really I did.  I tried to hide it but...
I was surrounded by Beachys and I didn't know anything about the Beachys except that my brother had told me "to be a Beachy, all you have to do is grow a beard and like to party." I wasn't really interested in growing a beard so did I have any chance of fitting in?
Somehow I had to learn to take care of the elderly.   I knew more about chickens than the elderly at the time.  I, coming from a chicken farm in West Virginia had to deal with Beachys from Ohio, and Indiana, who had completely missed out on the fine culture of West Virginia.  This became apparent by the thrill they seemed to get in telling West Virginia jokes, they thought for my benefit, but I already knew about the fine people who made up my state.
After the homesickness wore off I learned to love the elderly  and made friends with the youth.  One of these youth eventually declared about the West Virginia in me - "It wouldn't be so bad if you weren't so proud about it".  The way I see it, when you came from somewhere so amazing what is there not to be proud of?

But again I ask - "How in the world did I get here?"

From there...
I got a night shift job.  Still caring for the elderly doing things that at one point in my life I thought I could never do.   Now I was wondering - how in the world do you learn to stay up all night?

And then it was the Machine Shop.   

• Stocking shelves
• placing orders 
• helping customers
• making bills  
• I learned a bit about u-bolts and spring leaves - that had nothing to do with the season of spring or the leaves on trees.
• I learned important things like a Grade 8 bolt is better than a Grade 5 and I could identify which of the two grades it was.   If I was uncertain about whether it was metric I had my ways of figuring it out without looking like a fool.   (I'd probably just look like a fool now). 
•  I learned to to make bills for customers that they could understand from cards that said things like - "Grease Elwood" and "2-1/4-20 angels".   I never asked Elwood how he liked the grease but it's always good to have angels around.  

And some days when my hands were black and greasy (I was supposed to work in the office)  I'd ask myself "How in the world did I get here?"

The stories could go on and on...

Eastern WV Community College
Caring for Grandma
Believers Mennonite School 

And then came Asia...
It started fairly young.   I wanted to go to China.  Hudson Taylor went to China so why shouldn't I?  Then later I was given a book about Gladys Alward and told to report on it at church.  She became one of my Hero's.  If Gladys Alward could go to China why couldn't I?

But then - vision lost.  West Virginia was good.  I'm doing alright.  I'm fairly comfortable and I kinda like comfort.  If God wants me in missions maybe I can just go to the city.  Language learning just isn't for me!

Enter Vision trip - 2006.  (was it really 10 years ago?)
The vision trip did just that.  It gave me back my vision. 

China - I'm going back.  Actually, I think I'll try for Tibet.  Or at least the Tibetan people.  (I seemed to have forgotten, I'm a shy kid from a chicken farm in West Virginia who can't speak Mandarin much less the Tibetan language! I seem to have forgotten that I'm not interested in learning a language just so I can communicate with my next door neighbors)  At this point I think my dreams were more down the line of living in a yak skin tent and drinking yak butter tea. Oh, the confidence of youth!
But alas, I did not go back to live in China.  Or Tibet.  In fact I never so much as tasted yak butter tea.

I went to Laos.
I learned a language.
I taught English (I don't even really like English).
And I remember sitting in staff meetings thinking, "what in the world am I doing here?"  Seriously, shy kid from West Virginia - of all the people in the world who could be here how can it be that it's me?

I remember being in a little village.   I arrive at my friends house, the only white person around, neighbors hanging in the windows.  Chatting with my friends. Sharing a rice mat for the night.   When washing my hair became a village project...I remember thinking "How in the world is it me that's here?"

Now... today...

I wasn't going to live in Virginia.   Not anything permanent.  Of course all I knew of Virginia consisted of the Shenandoah Valley which is actually really pretty if you look above the buildings.   Nope, not Virginia.
So why in the world do I have a Va address, phone number, and drivers license? 

"How in the world did I get here?"  

The Songs that I Sing (bind my wandering heart to thee)

Today is Sunday.  
Today I was reminded that I seem to have developed a habit of paying very little attention to the words of the songs that we sing in church.  I suppose that when one does not really know what one is singing it quite possibly is not considered worship. 

Several months ago a friend of mine who had just returned to the USA after spending a number of  years in Asia pointed out that the home churches are still singing the same songs that were being sung years ago.   She also pointed out how when the number is called everyone dutifully picks up a songbook, turns to the correct page, and studies their book while singing.  She wondered why after all these years we don't have these songs committed to memory.  Why do we even need the song books?  

Today after the aforementioned reminder that I've developed this bad habit of paying no attention to the words I am singing I begin to wonder if this could possibly be one reason that I still need a song book.  (In my defense let me also add that  in the current church I attend they do tend to sing different songs than the church I grew up in, so in the last couple of years I have encountered quite a few songs that have been unfamiliar to me)  I also am not going to point to others and question whether they have a heart of worship when singing in Church, nor am I going to question why they need a song book.   Maybe songbooks helps one to sing with confidence, maybe some people need the book for reading the music, maybe songbooks give a sense of security.  These questions really hold no value in the grand scheme of life.  

I like to sing.  Actually I LOVE to sing.   Generally my love for singing comes when no one else is around.  And somehow those times feel more like worship than the times in church when I don't really pay attention to what I'm singing.      
Ok, I'm rambling really badly and you are quite possibly wondering where I'm going with this.   (I'm beginning to wonder myself)  

But here is something I've noticed, if a song means enough to me I memorize it.  At least enough of it that I can sing it very loudly while driving down the road or when I'm home alone.  I remember from the time I was pretty young that if I didn't know all the words to a song I either learned them or made some up.   (also from a pretty young age I broadcasted my singing while driving four-wheeler up mountains and down, through fields and around the neighborhood at a pretty high volume. That is until I realized that the sound of the four-wheeler didn't actually drown out my voice but only made me sing louder to the enjoyment of anyone within hearing distance) Anyway I learned that one of the annoying things in life is not being able to remember all the words to a good song.

I've heard debates, lectures, etc. on what types of music should be listened to and what types of songs should be sung.  I am not completely sold on the ancient hymns (although I think they have great value for their time and place) and I'm totally for the writing of new songs.  I am also realizing that sometimes my solid arguments for or against something may fail me and I might actually change my mind.  

Here's an example:   I have harped about some of the popular hymns from church.  Songs that use words we'd never use in every day life and sometimes words that mean absolutely nothing to me.   In the past one of my favorite songs to harp about was the one which included the words "here I raise my Ebenezer".  Now quite honestly I had no idea what an Ebenezer was, so I was never quite sure what I was raising.  Therefore I decided that I would just discredit that song from having any personal meaning to me, and I would continue to use it in my arguments for newer songs with personal meaning to me

Now move ahead to this summer - when I decided to to do a little Pintrest project.  The words "bind my wandering heart to thee", made perfect sense to add to my project because I'm well aware of the fact that my heart does seem to wander.  It wasn't until I was nearly finished with the project that I realized that the words I had chosen came from the very same song that called me to raise my Ebenezer.   Maybe this song is worth learning after all? 

Recently I've been thinking about this binding of my heart to my Saviour and again realizing how prone my heart is to wander away.  And this morning as I was driving to church I found myself singing the words to the hymn and I'm realizing - I really need to commit all the words to this song to memory because I really need it! (and because it's annoying to try to sing a song when I don't know all the words)

Now what I am going to do about my bad habit of letting my mind wander during the church services?  I don't know.   But this I do know - I'm going to keep on asking Jesus to bind my wandering heart to Him. 

 

Ebenezer - One definition I found says "stone of help".  

For further information read 1 Samuel 7.