Fairy-tales and far away lands

"God’s love is meteoric, his loyalty astronomic, His purpose titanic, his verdicts oceanic. Yet in his largeness nothing gets lost; Not a man, not a mouse, slips through the cracks."(Psalm 36:5-6 MSG)

Have you ever wondered what world for us, lies beyond this one? 

Does our life now, in this time, on this earth, affect our life-after? Does how we live determine where we go or does who we know get us to where we need to go? But how can that be? For when we die, we die alone. 

Assumably, if there is an after-time there could very likely be a correlation with the now. Wouldn't it be slightly ironic to have two 'opportunities' at life and neither have anything to do with the other? Will one be more significant in the end? Will one seem minute in comparison? Or, is it not a second life or an after life, but rather a continuation of life. Remaining in the now, but in the now here or now there. 

And if there is some sort of accuracy to this way of thinking, why are we not more concerned with finding out the truth? 

Eternity. Is it a place? Like an actual destination. Is it a state of being? Is it a home for our souls to rest? Is it more than a nice idea? Is there life there? 

What does it mean? 

Eternity. Eternal.

It sounds so romantic. Eternity. Forever and ever. A love that lasts forever. They lived happily ever after. Ever after. 

We love the concept. The idea is ideal. Do you know what ideal means? It's defined as a conception of something in its perfection. An ultimate object or aim of endeavour. 

Or... something that exists only in the imagination. 

So which one is it? 

If God is eternal (without beginning or end, always existing, timeless) and His love for us is eternal (without begining or end, always existing, timeless), how does that affect us personally, if at all? Does it mean that our souls do not have an expiration date? Can His love really keep us alive? Is it His love that gave us life in the first place? Because of this, will we enter into an infinite moment? Into eternity, continuing within the most consequential LOVE story ever heard of?  

Well one thing is for sure, they do say true love lasts forever. But could it be different to what we've usually been told happens in fairy-tales? After all, this is not just another romance story between a seriously handsome prince and a hopelessly beautiful servant girl, where a frightful evil old lady tries to ruin their perfect little lives with flowers and fruit. 

Its a deeper more significant love, like how parents love their children kind of love. The kind of love that turns you into a force to be reckoned with when any sort of danger or harm comes near your daughter. The kind of love where you care more about your son than yourself. The kind of love where you'd freely, willingly and desperately give up your life for them if you could. They've come from you, they're part of you, they've relied on you since day one, they even look a bit like you and in some ways they define you. 

It's a sovereign and rightly possessive love between a Great King and his kingdom. Not the usual kind of kingdom, or king for that matter. No it's a kingdom that supersedes but also embraces all cultures, borders and continents. It is far beyond our human limited knowledge of every language ever spoken. It just fits into wherever it is welcomed. It doesn't seem to always make sense at first, it is often misunderstood and sometimes it appears contradictory. It doesn't use force, fear or swords to authenticate power. It grows through love, it responds with love, it answers with love, it depends on love. Kindness is its weapon, forgiveness its great strength and grace is its everlasting promise. For when you are the King and have the perspective of the whole kingdom through all its stages, in front of you, you can see the end and make the promise that assures your people everything is going to be ok... 

It's about the love between God and His creation. This has been talked about and passed on from generation to generation. That's how loyal and committed His love is. It is the ultimate love story. It's also the original one. And the only story that can truely end with, "and they lived happily ever after" without making you want to roll your eyes and gag. 

But we're not at the end yet. There are still many chapters to be written with several plot twists and new characters to be introduced. All the same, sometimes we just need to be reminded of how widespread and detailed the story of our world is and how vast the purposes of our God extend. Far, far, far away into the distance in a land called, Beyond My Understanding. 

"In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind." (John 1:1-4 NIV)

Our Arya

...Truly the most beautiful little girl I have ever known. 

She mesmerises everyone with her clever wit, her contagious joy, her captivating cheeky smile, her adorable darling voice, her bouncy playful hair, her endearing caring nature, her hilarious sense of humour and her sparkly inquisitive eyes. 

She can say or do anything, whether naughty or nice, but she continues to be adored and will forever be liked.  

When she entered our world, she became it. From the moment I heard she was expected to be, I knew she was super duper extraordinarily unique. 

She enlarged and further completed my life simply by letting me be a part of hers. From day one I have been whole heartedly devoted to her everyday and to her great future. I mean, with parents like hers, she is destined to aim far. 

If I but see her picture or hear her sweet voice my heart physically feels like it swells and could very nearly burst! There is no one who can make me smile and cry as quickly as she can; out of joy, pride or even pain (you know it's hard living worlds apart). 

I know that I would do anything and go anywhere for her. I believe they call that love...  the most real kind, the one that grows and grows!

She is all things lovely, wholesome and good. I miss her everyday, every week, every year. I pray she'll deeply search to know the One, who purposefully created her this very special way and in doing so may she always fully embrace her truest, most spectacular, most adventurous, kindest self. 

Happy 3rd Birthday to my favourite pretty girl!

Tante Teebs xoxo

love lent

Why do we love the people we love?

How do we choose whom to love?

Can we love people we don't know?

Do we only love people we really know?

Sometimes we don't have the choice necssarily, like when it comes to the family we grow up in. Or do we automatically love them so much because we know them and we have known them ever since the beginning of our time. They're part of us, we're part of them.

Without them, we wouldn't be.

And on the flip side, why do we often take for granted the people we know and love most? 

As if they are expected to handle any of the dirt that gets thrown at them from our direction.

Like some sort of loyalty test to see how strong their love for us is.

Or is it because we need those certain people who we can crumble and emotionally convulse in front of, that choose to love us just the same, because they know better. They know us. 

We need them, because the only way to stay sane, for the long haul, is by having momentary but completely irrational eruptions around people that will remind us of who we are and help us stay on the right path. 

There are some people we are naturally drawn to and desire to know better.

Like when we just observe someone from a distance and think, "I want to be their friend I think I'd click with them."

Then there are other people we come across where we instinctually think, "move away I don't want to get stuck with them".

I guess, in both cases, that's just our judgmental superficial side. 

Which we all have used at times.

But we can't really be so sure, so quick, unless we go through the process of knowing them.

All these thoughts, lead me to my most significant musing.

In that, if we need to know in order to love,

then the same law of love applies to Jesus. 

Just like we sing every year at Christmas time, "Truly he taught us to love one another, his law is love and his gospel is peace..."

If we don't yet love Him, my conclusion is that we just don't truly know Him.

For to know Him is to know LOVE.

Unknowingly we have all sensed His presence, seeing that everyone has experienced love in some form.

In our friendships, in our families, in our relationships.

But all those loves are a mere reflection of the One who has allowed us to experience this movement that drives our innermost desires. 

If you wish to love your loves better, get to know the One who has granted Love to you. 

It is deemed wise to know the owner of what has been temporarily lent to us on earth. 

For if love is something you wish to eternally hold on to,

the best way is to know the unending source from whom it came. 

But this Great Love that has been lent, 

can certainly be owned, 

by quite simply accepting it and then growing in the know. 

"I have made you known to them, and will continue to make you known in order that the love you have for me may be in them and that I myself may be in them." John 17: 26

the simple things

It's the little things that make us happy,

It's the little things that bring us profound joy.

And yet we strive to achieve the big things, like how we see others do.

But our favourite memories are the ones that pass us by,

too quickly to know, 

it was a moment that would last in our hearts.

The kind we should savour. 

Not wish away, by always looking beyond. 

We try and capture some moments, the ones we think are the ones we'll want to reflect back on.

But the true memories, the ones we carry, the ones that ground us, the ones we miss, are often the ones we forgot to encapsulate on camera. 

Simple things, like waking up on the first day of summer holidays and going downstairs to watch cartoons, knowing that we have weeks of no school. 

Little things, like laughing with friends till it hurts and you cant breathe.

Ordinary things, like having dinner with siblings and talking for hours about "remember when". 

Mundane things, like going to the playground with your children and actually engaging with them.

Normal things, like quietly reading a book next to your husband, while he reads his. 

I'm going to be leaving the 20's later this year, but I have not come to terms with this yet. It is only recently that I am seriously beginning to understand where life's importance truly must lie. Although at once, I am sincerely aware of the absence of these things in my everyday life. Or more so, the people that make life bigger. 

This happens to those of us who have lived in many different places, we have family and friends from all over the world. 

Hardly ever together in the same place. 

It's the people in our lives that are the big things, not the events. Weddings are a big event, but only because of the love between two people. Birthdays are big deals, but only because of the person we celebrate. 

That's what I love about Jesus, He invested time on earth having everyday conversations with people. Eating together, laughing together, telling stories, listening, learning and was never in a rush. 
He is our greatest example. 

I love eavesdropping on other people's uneventful chats. Because from a distance, when you can't hear what they're saying, I always imagine their conversation to be riveting and deep. But usually the conversations we overhear are just silly everyday talk. People just being people. 

Like the other day in the park, I passed two men walking and talking together and the only snippet I got from their accent filled dialogue was, "where do you buy your fish from, is it fresh fish?" 

A few months ago, on a train going from Koln to Utrecht I overheard two european girls chatting with the person they happened to sit across from. They were talking about an older man they had met on one of their travels who had only seen 3 movies in his lifetime and Titanic was one of them. Apparently this is what he said about Titanic "That can't be a realistic movie because I've seen Jack in another movie." 

I love that. 

I love that about cultures, like in many Asian countries. Yes that includes Pakistan. People always make time to just sit around, talking, eating and laughing together. 

That's the only way to share your life with others.

I don't know any statistics, but I'm pretty certain there are more lonely people in fast paced individualistic western societies than there are in countries where people are not as much in a hurry to go and do their own thing. There are frustrating aspects to both sides, but there are also great things to learn. 

Time can have two meanings. You either give it or you're running out of it. On either account, time can feel wasted depending on our understanding of task and people. I agree that there needs to be a balance, but I hope that for the most part, relationships weigh heavier on our radar than the things we need to get done or the places we need to go. 

I sense that, nowadays, we are always in a hurry to go somewhere else, do something else, be someone else. 

Everyone is in a rush. I don't know why. 

Am I missing something, or am I only just getting it? 

One thing I do know is that I don't want to live with a sense of "Sorry I can't stop right now" but rather, "Yes I have time, are you hungry?" 

I suppose this is an age old lesson, we've been hearing it forever.

Yet we always need to be reminded.

Don't we?

we are all wanderers

"The Family - that dear octopus from whose tentacles we never quite escape, nor, in our inmost hearts, ever quite wish to." Dodie Smith

Cultures are some of the greatest treasures in our world: food, clothing, monuments, traditions, history, humour, language and ways of thinking. 

Tis' truly fascinating and gives an enormous sense of belonging and patriotism.

Imagine living in a land of one sort of culture that doesn’t match the merger found in your own home, your school or your friends' homes. If culture plays a part in creating our identity, how frustrating it is to feel like you constantly don’t belong to any. When your home has two opposing cultures that don't blend quite tastefully, when you get driven in a car that passes streets of a culture you can’t fully relate to but still identify by and transport to a school of yet a completely foreign frame of mind to the country it sits in; your inner world can become quite restless and chaotic. All of these experiences become part of the process of forming your identity but may not noticeably hinder you as a young child when all your cares are about watching My Girl, playing dress up, collecting candy, climbing walls and digging in dirt. But when you grow older and enter into adulthood, you begin to formulate your ideas and ways of thinking.  You find yourself yet again trying to fit into a new culture; like those times you tried to fit into a new school or a new city. Suddenly you realise that the foundation you have been standing on is full of cracks. In fact, there is more space than ground.

Suddenly your understanding of “home” and the comfort you found within, is no longer. When your nationality is simply a legal form of identification but says nothing of who you really are and the country you used to call home requires you to have a visa, it affects you more than you’ll ever know. If your identity lies in your nationality, but you don’t feel at home in the place it represents, who are you?

If home is a state of mind rather than an actual physical place, then I have felt homeless for half of my life. Actually, I prefer to think of it as having lived like a gypsy. 

My sense of home was taken away in a whirlwind, without closure, all because of the consequences of my teenage drama. I may have been perceived as rebellious, but in all truthfulness I was just shy and insecure and for some reason I carried this tag of identity for much of my life. From a rushed decision we found ourselves eight hours away from home and then within weeks ended up in a completely different country. From then on, everything we had known that was consistent was gone. It all changed.
Looking back, it was the best thing that happened in a most unfortunate way. Whether it was meant to happen this way or God made it work out for me, I’ll never really know. But I am thankful to be alive, to have love and to have found home again even though there will always be a part of me that will always feel restless and out of place.

That sense of home, the kind we are lucky to have on earth, is now ever present in the man whose name I carry. Wherever he is, I call home. And of course, home is always found amongst family.  
But ultimately my home rests in a place even more unknown, guarded by the One who has captured my soul. 

I suppose we are all wanderers carrying history on our backs. The key is to build upon it and not get trampled underneath.

"All these people were still living by faith when they died. They did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance, admitting that they were foreigners and strangers on earth. People who say such things show that they are looking for a country of their own. If they had been thinking of the country they had left, they would have had opportunity to return. Instead, they were longing for a better country—a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them." - Hebrews 11:13-16

why did we not die?

There was a day not long ago, where life, it changed, forever. It wasn’t a day like any other, however. Monday, the beginning of our second week in our abruptly changed new life: New school, new room, new people, new surroundings, from the dusty crowded city to the quiet star filled skies above the foothills of the Himalayas. Even the altitude was higher. Away from the only school I ever imagined being part of, merely two years shy of graduating. Who else knows high school is tough for teenagers? I got caught being in the wrong place with the wrong people and it cost me an unwanted new life, not to mention my poor sister’s too. Having a driver that tattle-tales when you stop bribing him isn’t ideal either. I’ve held this against him for years, but I know that God used him to get me out of an unhealthy situation. I was at the stage in life where I knew my life wasn’t heading in the right direction, but I had consciously made the decision that I would set my life straight after high school was over. I would be far away from my friends and classmates; none of them would have to know. It was genius.

Yet here I was, first day of my second week in my new school. Boarding School. Somehow we were expected to fit into the lives of all these kids that had grown up together, literally. They were like a close-knit family. And they were predominately white, while I had spent the last years of my life surrounded by Pakistani’s (Months later I would learn that most of them, who had grown up in Pakistan, were more like me than I initially thought). I quickly found out in my first week, that cheating wasn’t on the agenda. Who knew that this didn’t happen in all schools? You mean I’d actually have to study and do my own work? It still baffles me how I managed to graduate in the end. Cheating and lying had been such an important part of my life, until then. 

Coming back to my first day of my second week in my new school. The first week had been really emotionally draining and difficult. I woke up that Monday morning, begging my mother to stay home because I said I didn’t feel well. She was staying with us for a few weeks to help us adjust and the boarding part of school hadn’t officially started yet. The other students were with their own parents for the summer months. My sister and I basically had an entire floor to ourselves, which we needed considering the amount of clothes we brought with us. In the end I had to get up and go to class anyway. Since it rained the night before, I can recall that the air was really cool in the morning. Everything outside was still wet. This saved many of our lives that day. 

August 5, 2002

It was after our morning break, all the students had gone back inside their classrooms. My particular class was generally held outside on the benches just in front of the main school gates. As we were all walking towards the “outdoor” class our teacher motioned for us to go inside because the benches were still too wet. I remember joking around with someone moments before we suddenly heard a strange sound. Everyone stopped talking and looked at each other. “What was that? Oh must be pataka’s (firecrackers)” I can’t remember if this conversation was in our heads or if someone said this out-loud. Then the sound came back again, without hesitation we all knew. Someone yelled “Get down under the desk!” I’ll never understand how I managed to slide under the desk like a slippery slug in the speed of the Flash, I’m sure it was much too narrow. Hearts were racing, fear had gripped us, everything happened so quickly. After a few moments we got out from under the desks and crowded together in the corner of the room. I don't remember why this was a good idea. I squeezed onto someone so hard, I’m sure I was hurting them. All I remember chanting was, “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God” and then I heard someone whisper, “Shhh they’re going to hear you.” In a moment of complete terror, for those first moments all you can think of is your own life and whether you’re still going to have one for much longer. Then as I started getting to grips with what was happening my thoughts wandered towards my sister and my mother. Where were they? What room? Were they shot? What if they’re outside? What if they’re dead? Then we heard someone yelling outside “Help me, I’ve been shot!” It was Mrs V, a mother. 
Within minutes someone came in and directed us to go to another room upstairs. I identified my sister in the line and grabbed hold of her instantly. She was alive, she was safe and she was with me. When we got down on the ground in the other room, I completely engulfed her in a tight embrace and would not let go the entire time. Now all I could fear for was my mother. Some of the students started singing a hymn and this brought a sense of God’s peace into the atmosphere. "H" was comforting "J" who was sitting next to us crying for her mother, Mrs V, who had been shot. She was ok. Miraculously she survived, as we later found out the gunmen had shot directly at her but the bullets just passed through her hair. There was just one bullet that ricochet off a wall and injured her hand. She was not the only one who had been protected or helped by angels. Angels that looked like Pakistani people who suddenly disappeared. Angels who helped someone climb over a wall to safety, angels dressed up as guards who waved and smiled at Mrs. V seconds before she got shot at, angels who prevented flimsy unlocked doors from being kicked open. God’s angels were with us that day in plain sight. In those excruciating minutes that we sat huddled on the ground waiting for the ordeal to end, praying they wouldn’t find us, I made a promise to God in fear of not knowing where I would go if I’d die. I vowed that if I lived I would recommit my life to Him.

From memory the gunmen were on campus for fifteen minutes, which felt like much longer. My mother was safe. Devastatingly there were some who lost their lives, one a mere passer by at the main gates where they entered. The same main gates where we would have been sitting in front of had it not rained the night before. Thankfully no children were injured. The situation could have ended much worse, if I can even say that.

Sure enough, I kept my promise and my life slowly began to change. From a destructive situation, God somehow brought forth good in my own life. But I can only write from my own perspective.

Now twelve years later, pain has struck the hearts in our beloved Pakistan. It makes me think of the experience that we had all those years ago. But this time gunmen came and ruthlessly killed 132 children inside their school. Children just like we were, when they attempted this in our school. I cannot help but wonder,

“Why did we not die?” 

enemies and demons

 "Death and life are in the power of the tongue, and those who love it will eat its fruit."
Proverbs 18: 21

We are our own worst enemy
I am my own demon
At times my self-talk is utterly degrading
Is yours?
But we would never dare speak that way to anyone else.
What no one else can hear, no one will know, right?

Oh but they do!
They can see it in your troubled brow
and in your battered stance.
As your shoulders slump into defeat;
you're tense
and the gaze of your eyes are steep.

Your face speaks.

It whimpers of the self abuse,
as does your whole demeanour.
Your heart is constantly kicked and bruised.

You don't feel like your original self any longer.
You allowed those words to tear your little dark corner into a galaxy
Completely transfixed
Controlling every thought and every move
Hypnotised and mesmerised.

You don't even fight it.

If only they could hear what you could hear
If only you could.

"At least if I were terminally ill, it would give me an excuse to be sitting at home all day"

"I don't talk the right way to have the friends I want"
"I wonder if there is anyone you could pay, to help you go in a nice pain-free way?"
"I'm not handsome enough, so I'll never get the opportunity"

"I know he shouldn't be with me, but I wouldn't survive without him"
"I feel like a waste of space"

"You're still too insecure"

"You literally have no skills"

"There is not one thing you are good at"

"You don't belong here, you will never fit in"

"You're boring"

"People only think you're pretty, but they don't want to talk to you"

"No one finds you interesting"

"When you smile it makes you look weak"

"Your voice is so annoying to listen to"
"I have nothing good to offer anybody"
"I'm never going to change"

(please note: these are not all mine)

I hope that doesn't sound familiar to you, but I fear that it may be an all too commonly conniving voice in our heads.  Like that little devil who sits cynically on your shoulder. 
Is your self talk a bully too sometimes?

Words are influential
They carry so much strength and can completely control a person:
Their behaviour, confidence and worth.
Words can leave you feeling courageous and brave
or they can leave you feeling like a total failure. 
Words are like a remote control.
But instead of simply directing you which way to go,
they push deeper.
Piercing into the root of your soul, right where your delicately framed identity is forming.
There are some words that will convict you wrongly,
yet they can leave you imprisoned within the cages set up in your mind.
Sometimes you don't even remember your own alibi.
Suddenly you find yourself doing time.

Thought-words are the most dangerous, most destructive and the most painful of weapons.
They attack quietly when you least expect it
Not obvious at all
Almost unthreatening.
They grow slowly but their roots travel far below the surface
Unseen for years
Festering until it's uncontainable
Ugly and suffocating

The danger comes worst when you somehow believe that those thoughts and words were not your choice. 
As though they're facts that leave you helpless.
When you are unaware of the chains, you are most at risk.

But there is another way, 

you can live free.

What thoughts will you give authority?

Evil finds its edge through secrecy,

Expose the dark days self-talk

In the light, name it for what it really is, "a cowardly liar"

then just shrug it off and be on His Way...