Find a Quiet Spot and Breathe

I have been complaining too much about the weather.  Today, it was time to look at the situation differently. This morning was a decadently slow Saturday morning. I made myself a homemade latte and oatmeal and actually sat at the kitchen table to eat my breakfast. 

 The colors in this picture soothe me. I love the vibrant green of the plants and my chitangi material, the bright yellow of the lemons. Although the picture doesn't show it, our Saturday snowfall had begun, and fluffy tufts of snow were swirling outside the windows.  

I am undeniably a warm weather woman. A perfect day, in my opinion, is one when the sun is blazing, windows and doors can be thrown open, and shoes are optional. Even in wintertime, I can't help but open the windows sometimes, just to freshen the air. A Swiss friend of mine told me that her family opens the windows for a few minutes every day, regardless of temperature, to bring in fresh air. I like that habit. I read that that we inhale 12,000 liters (that's over 3,000 gallons) of air into our lungs. We inhale and exhale 20,000 times each day. However, 90% of our day is spent inside.

That "90%" must be a cold climate percentage. When I think back to my childhood in Zimbabwe, I'm sure that my time spent outdoors was significantly more than 10%!

My kitchen is a peaceful little place for me. It isn't quite the spacious gardens of southern Africa, but it's a start. It's my little oasis of green in a wintery grey world. 

Did you know that NASA began considering using houseplants for air purification on space stations in the 1980's? I started reading an article about their top ten choices. They include aloe vera, peace lilies, African violets, and spider plants, which are all in my kitchen! :) 

Pinterest is one of my favorite websites for quotes, projects, recipes and ideas for just about anything. I recently came across this "Manifesto for a Simple Life." I don't know the author, Kelly, or anything about her, but I like her words! This Saturday, my part to remember was to find a quiet spot and breathe. It helped to turn my complaining into thankfulness, to remind me to be thankful for green plants, warm coffee, candles, and even pretty snow.

 

Resettlement

Three weeks ago, I was enjoying 95 degree weather and the warmth of Mozambican culture.  I've traded palm trees for pine.  Pennsylvania has experienced its first snow and the weather outside, while not frightful, is definitely chilly.

I love airplanes and flying but I wonder if they have hindered our appreciation for the transition between one place to another.  I've never crossed the Atlantic by any means other than an airplane.

It is a bit surreal.  In January, I would have said, "I live in London."  On the last day of January, I boarded a plane and seven hours later, I was in the USA and I had officially moved.  The trip from Moz took a full day of travel.  The transition is more startling.  It only took a day to go from one place where clean water is scarce to another place where we are focused on buying excess material goods with our excess income.  

A longer journey would not change the differences between locales, but perhaps the time to reflect would change the traveler.   

Planes come equipped with a personalized entertainment system for each seat.  (As a child, I can remember having a TV screen for the entire cabin.  If you didn't like the movie, you listened to music or slept.)  You might watch movies for the duration of a 19 hour flight from South Africa to the USA.  An ocean liner today can cross the Atlantic in a week.  When Henry Hudson crossed from Amsterdam to New York (in 1609), the crossing took two months.  

Imagine a relocation journey taking two months.  Days of ocean and waves and no land in sight.  No entertainment system.  No wi-fi.  No seclusion except in thought.  As an introspective person, I love the idea of having days to just look at the waves and the clouds and simply ponder.  Time to consider where I've been and wonder where I am going.  Time to write in my journal until I run out of words or pages.  

I cannot explain my thankfulness that this past year has included time to consider my options.  Had I needed to go from my last job, which finished in May, to looking for another job immediately, I would have been incredibly frazzled.  Instead, through generosity and grace, I was able to take the time necessary to consider my next steps.  I've been back in Pennsylvania for three weeks.  In those three weeks, I've purchased a vehicle, gotten car insurance (for the first time on my own!), made decisions about where I will live, applied to academic programs, started job applications, took my computer to be fixed (which isn't possible but I am going to attempt some data recovery), and am considering my options in the areas of phones, computers, and more practical things like mattresses and winter coats.  While it is sometimes overwhelming to make all of these decisions, it is possible because I have had time to consider my options, needs, and my Provider.  

The title for this blog, The View from a Thousand Hills, comes from Psalm 50:10.  The Lord says, "For all the animals of the forest are mine, and I own the cattle on a thousand hills."  This verse reminds me that my future is in good hands, and those hands are not my own.  

It has been odd to read about and see pictures of the effects of Hurricane Sandy on the East Coast and yet continue to enjoy the summer heat in Moz.  Our thoughts and prayers have been with and will continue to be with those of you on the East Coast. 

I am gearing up for another transition.  I have less than two weeks remaining here and I'm afraid the return to PA's winter might be a real shock to my body!  My four months in Moz have passed quickly and I have loved my time here.  My memories of Mozambique will be softly colored by sunlight and smell of the ocean. 

This lovely fellow is a Mangrove Kingfisher.  I love his colors!  The other day, he was flitting around the trees in our garden while I enjoyed the breeze and spent my quiet start to the day. 

 

And of course, I'll miss my little gecko friends.  We have spotted a new little one inside the house, but this fellow below is on our walkway between the carpark and the veranda.  

 

I recently came across a comment by Richard Fuller, who was an engineer and architect in the USA.  He said, "There is no such thing as a failed experiment, only experiments with unexpected outcomes.”  I rather liked that observation. 

Lovers Leap in Tennessee

When I returned to the USA, I started to get the idea from a lot of directions that people were concerned about me because I don't have a plan.  If you know me, I like plans.  But at this point, I don't have one.  Actually, if you know me really well, you know I normally have about twenty plans and I just have to pick one!  And  yes, I do have a lot of different plans right now, but I don't know which one to follow yet.  I can't explain it.  I just have a strong sense that I need to wait.  Slow down.  And just take the one little baby step in front of me.

I have probably mentioned this before, but I have often been recalling a line Robert Redford speaks in the film version of Out of Africa.  He says, "God made the world round so we couldn't see too far down the road."  (Actually, that may not be exact, because it has been ages since I watched the film and I have a tendency to switch words around!  Also, I love the story, but have never actually finished the book, so I'm not sure if it is a line from the book originally.)  Back to the quote.  I just love that reminder.  It tugs at my adventurous side when my detail loving side gets anxious.

A few months ago, I started to get a very strong mental picture of my waiting.  I had a friend who frustrated me when she said I seemed "lost."  To me, lost is not at all the right word but I didn't know how to explain what I felt.  I mulled it over for a while, and this is what I've come to see.

I feel like I know exactly where I am.  I feel confident that I am where I should be.  But I do know that this is a temporary situation.  Whether I stay or go, something more permanent has to happen.  This picture in my mind is so clear.  Near Chattanooga, Tennessee, there is a place called Rock City at Lookout Mountain.  At one spot, the caretakers have placed a marker, pointing out that from this vantage point,  you can see landmarks in seven states.

I feel like I'm standing at that marker.  I don't feel lost at all.  I know where I am and it is the right place for me today.  There are so many directions I can see, and the view is amazing.   It is as though God is holding me here.  It is not a punishment or a lack of hearing His voice, but rather a chance to take in the beauty.

There is a waterfall there, 140 feet tall.  It was created when Rock City became a tourist spot.  I have a love of waterfalls, and for some reason, I've always loved this picture, which either Dad or I took in 2003 when our family visited Rock City.

The High Falls of the Lookout Mountain

The High Falls of the Lookout Mountain

Rock City has a legend of a Native American man who fell in love with a woman from another tribe.  When their love was discovered, he was executed by being thrown from the cliffs.  She was forced to watch, but escaped her guardians and jumped over the cliffs herself.  You can read the story for yourself, found on a old Tennessee postcard.  The lookout point is also called Lovers Leap because of this legend.  It is a very tragic story for such a lovely spot.

In my waiting, I have come to a point of having one step more certain.  I have finally bought a plane ticket, which helps to settle my plans for the coming months.  Mid July, I'll be making a ridiculously long 40 hour journey to Mozambique.  My parents are using their connections to find several opportunities for me to keep busy.  The really exciting part is that I will be staying in Mozambique for four months, returning to the USA about a week before Thanksgiving!  

The month until I leave will be pretty busy.  This Friday, I'm driving out to Lake Huron, for a week of retreat and prayer.  I will be taking my camera, but sadly, you'll have to wait to see pictures.  I'm not supposed to be using a computer or phone during the week I'm there!  After that week, I will be back in Pennsylvania, but then going to Massachusetts and perhaps Maine the following week.  Before I know it, it will be July and I'll pack and go to the airport.  Of course, I'll be keeping you posted on my travels!