Embracing the Heat

 

In January, Ken and I spent a week in Thailand. Since Ken is a board member for IGo, (Institute for Global Opportunities), we were invited to attend the IGo Board & Staff Retreat held "on-site" this year. (after two years of planning and cancellation) It was our privilege to attend the several-day meeting in a gorgeous setting: a resort called Horizon Village, located near Chiang Mai. 

Since it was our third visit to Thailand, we knew a little more what to expect this time upon our arrival. We welcomed the sight of the country's abundant foliage and brilliant flowers, heard the friendly sah-wah-dee greetings singsonged to friends and strangers alike, and savored the taste of fruit that seemed to have been picked from its natural habitat mere minutes before landing on the buffet line or our serving plates.

We also expected to encounter some heat - both in the outdoor temperature and in the spiciness of the food. The degree of warmth in the air was perfect. I could easily tolerate - yes, even revel in - the lovely sunny weather we experienced. The times that I stood out in direct sunshine at midday got a little sweatin' warm, I'll admit, but that situation was easily remedied by simply moving into the shade. 

The spicy heat of some Thai food dishes still took me by surprise, though. I found myself needing to implement something my son had taught me long ago - a practice he had learned from an uncle who grew up in El Salvador. The correct way to enjoy spicy foods, my son told me, is to embrace the heat in the moment of encounter. My understanding of the term "embrace the heat" is that one should not resist or merely tolerate the level of zing, but actually allow the heat to accentuate the flavors of the food and heighten the meal experience as a whole. 

Since our trip, I've been thinking some more about the phrase "embrace the heat", and wondering if it can apply to one's circumstances in life, as well. If "heat" describes the hard experiences I face, the difficult and painful things that happen to me, is there a way that my life can be enriched by embracing those times? 

This seems counterintuitive to me. I know that it's possible for me to look back after coming through a season of heat, (although maybe I'm still panting at the mouth and wiping watery eyes and sweating brow) and see that the experience has brought about some good, but how can I embrace it (get close enough to the pain to take it in) while still in the midst of the trial? Is it even possible for someone like me, who comes with a propensity for wanting out of unpleasant things as soon as I detect them? 

After arriving at the resort in Thailand, for instance, how was I supposed to graciously accept the annoyances of jet lag, let alone embrace them? And how could I have enriched my restless hours on a very unyielding mattress by getting up close and cozy with anxiety (that sinister grey beast invading the room upon my reading a 3:00am phone message that one of our preemie twin granddaughters was very sick with a lung infection)? I can only tell you that it does not come naturally for me to embrace the heat when I encounter it on my plate. 

And I certainly was not thinking enrichment or heightening of experience when I got sick on the first leg of our journey home from Thailand. The fatigue and "kinda weird" feeling I noticed coming over me while we waited in line at the Chiang Mai airport culminated in definite illness on the 6-hour flight to Seoul, South Korea. 

Sitting on the plane several hours into the flight, I woke up from the sleep of exhaustion feeling extremely weak and fainty. The lightheadedness (I don't know why it's called that, when really, it is dark and heavy) kept pulling me down and back into oblivion and releasing me out again to consciousness and then - - horrors of helplessness, I saw actual barf dribbled down the front of my dress! Immediately I knew the stuff was mine, and that it had gotten there without my conscious knowledge or permission. Sometimes life's circumstances are just plain nasty and in that moment, I had not the frame of mind and body to call any such thing enriching or flavorful. 

In the minutes that followed, a kind stewardess brought me some wet wipes, my stomach settled down enough that I could start to get more sleep, and my fainty feeling subsided considerably. A few hours later, I was able to walk off the plane unaided, which surely was answer to a prayer that I really hadn't had much umph to put into words. 

It was several days later until I felt completely well from my bout of food poisoning or whatever it was. At around the same time, our tiny granddaughter's situation with her infected lungs began to improve considerably, bringing great relief to all of us. Exactly how the episodes of "heat" enriched our Thailand trip was hard to say in the moments they were happening, and I'm not sure I know even now. 

Maybe they were meant to highlight the blessings of community. The interest and concern of our IGo Board and Staff friends for our preemie grandchildren meant so much to us as we shared updates/prayer requests with them. And finding out that others in our group were smitten with the same sudden illness on their way home evoked my sympathy for them and somehow made my recovering a little more bearable. 

Maybe the times of heat made the cooler, more ordinary and comfortable times more noticeable and appreciated. Perhaps embracing the total experience, a blending of the great and the not so great, is what allows me to look back on the trip and say what a rich gift it was. 

I agree with Sarah Breathnach, who says in her "Simple Abundance" book, "Usually we don't know why something has occurred and we won't until there's enough distance to take a backward glance...blessing whatever vexes us is the spiritual surrender that can change even troublesome situations for the better...writing it down (acknowledging our blessings) focuses our attention on the abundance already within our grasp and makes it real."

Embracing the heat in my life - instead of bracing against it - means I don't try to convince myself things are not hot when they are. It means I acknowledge that sometimes circumstances do pack some heat and I would benefit from paying attention to the blend of flavors and how this hard thing can heighten the taste of the life experiences that it graces.

I feel like I speak of this glibly, though, when I look around and see the fiery seasons others are encountering currently. One friend nurses her husband while slowly losing him to Lewy Body dementia, another is undergoing chemo treatments for cancer, still others suffer conditions of body and mind that are debilitating and chronic. Someone else is grieving choices made by a daughter who recently left her spouse. A month ago, my own sister-in-law lost her husband to sudden death from a heart attack, following his dealing with a malignant brain tumor. I can almost see these friends' plates sizzling, and I wonder if they feel like someone who has unsuspectingly bitten into a pepper hot enough to make them altogether lose their appetite for the rest of the meal.

Maybe that's how Paul felt, too, when he prayed three times for his thorny difficulty (whatever it was) to be removed. When it wasn't, it seems like he accepted (embraced?) the infirmity and received the grace of Jesus, realizing that glory could come from the blending of his own weakness and the strength of Christ. 

I like the way the Amplified Bible expands the story: "But He said to me, 'My grace (My favor and loving-kindness and mercy) is enough for you [sufficient against any danger and enables you to bear the trouble manfully]; for My strength and power are made perfect (fulfilled and completed) and show themselves most effective in [your] weakness.' Therefore I will all the more gladly glory in my weaknesses and infirmities, that the strength and power of Christ (the Messiah) may rest (yes, may pitch a tent over and dwell) upon me!" 2 Corinthians 12:9

Jesus is our greatest example to follow in embracing the heat. On the cross, He acknowledged excruciation in body, soul, and spirit. Under the weight of our sin, He endured the cross, treated its shame as nothing, and accepted death because of the joy that was in the life beyond it. No one can understand us as intimately as this God who became one of us so that we may become one of His. What better Companion is there for us in embracing all of life? 

The words from a song* resonate with me as they depict us on a journey, like the unsuspecting disciples with Jesus on the road to Emmaus, walking "doubtful and dreading, blinded by sadness" and experiencing "slowness of heart". The song goes on to remind us that "yet Christ walks with us, ever awaiting our invitation: Stay, do not part."

In the heat, I want to embrace Him. 

* "Day of Arising", by Susan Palo Cherwien

A sampling of the fresh and flavorful fruit of Thailand. 

Hibiscus showing off its brilliance in January.

This friendly vendor makes the best smoothies in the market, so we were told, 

and so we now believe after tasting them for ourselves.

Gorgeous views at Horizon Village, where the IGo Board and Staff Retreat was held.

IGo Board members and their spouses, L to R: Merle & Edith Burkholder, 

Dayton & Judy Skrivseth, Val & Barb Yoder, Carl & Grace Heatwole, 

Lowell & Judy Miller, Dave & Ellie Yoder, Justin & Laura Zimmerman, 

Ryan & Amy Huber, Ken & Danette Martin, Josh Wagler (missing: Hannah) 

[📷- Clinton Weaver]

Women's share-and-get-acquainted time during one of the sessions.

A shopping trip included browsing several fabric stores in Chiang Mai.

Sometimes the best discussions happened on the back of the songtow.

We enjoyed informal times of visiting with IGo staff members, 

such as the evening spent in Tim & Linda Stoltzfus's home.

I'm so grateful to God that Ken & I were able to go on the Thailand trip together. 

I certainly had times of doubt beforehand that everything would work out, 

especially with the early arrivals of the preemie grandbabies, 

but the timing ended up being very workable. Thank you, Jesus!

Our very sick granddaughter Eva, as she was when we were over in Thailand.

Eva, as she is now. (Isn't Jesus amazing?)

Eva's twin Eleanor, showing how she can manage breathing 

completely on her own - at least for a little while. 

Both girls are making great strides in their progress 

toward the goal of going home from the hospital. 

Hopefully in the next week or two, they'll be released. 

The twins side by side for the first time since their birth two months prior. 

I wonder what they thought of this special treat. 

And while we're talking babies, here's a most precious lapful of them. 

The triplets [L to R: Jude, Piper, Quinn] are growing chubby 

and are delighting us with their responsiveness. 

No chuckles or coos that I've heard yet, but certainly winning smiles!

[📷- Joy Martin]

Jetting and Lagging

We've been home from Thailand for over a week now and I am here to say that jet lag, the oxymoron of journeying, is a very real thing. It is not just in my head; it is in my trunk and limbs, too - in my whole body, really, from my bones to my breathing to my brain. Maybe especially my brain.

The jetting aspect of jet lag is the oxy- part of oxymoron, in which the jetlagee is keen and sharp, bursting with high energy propelled by the rush of exciting travel experiences. The lagging aspect of jet lag is where, sorry to say, the moron part comes in. I've had both, over the last nine days.

We hadn't been landed long when the lagging showed up. Rolin picked us up at the Toronto airport after 10:00pm one evening last week, which was at least 24 hours past the start of our journey home from Chiang Mai. During the hour-long ride from the airport to our house, I think Ken and I amazed Rolin with some of our statements/questions. Finally, laughing in probably both amusement and concern, he said, "You guys are definitely jet lagged!"

We had barely touched down on home turf again, it seemed, until we were taking off again into Christmas activities. So it was very handy to have the jetting phase available. The day after we got back I got right into unpacking the suitcases and doing a big laundry and shopping so that the next day I could concentrate on preparations for our church's Christmas Banquet. We're on the Social Committee, and some of the responsibilities we'd signed up for were decorating and setting up.

During the day, I had bright energy for a walk in the woods, foraging for evergreens and red twigs to use in table decorations. As well, I tackled the fun project of peeling designs into oranges to line with rows of whole cloves. And since we'd also signed up to plan a group activity for the social, I prepared a version of Christmas Outburst to play after the meal that evening.

The whole event came off splendidly, in my estimation. I stayed wakeful enough throughout the evening to taste the good food, engage in conversation at the table, applaud the quartet who tackled difficult Christmas hymns with such valiant effort, laugh at the amusing inn stable animal conversationalists in a skit, and keep score in the Outburst game.

But on the way home from the Banquet is when the lag hit. I say hit, because that is exactly what it does. The tiredness slams into me like a giant wave, and I can't stand upright against it. Ricky and Jasmine came to our place for the night, and I couldn't even be hospitable and stay up to talk with them a bit. Feeling almost sick with fatigue, I crashed into bed.

Only to wake up in the wee hours of the morning. That's how jet lag affects me. The wall of exhaustion hits me in the early evening and I can hardly keep my eyes open. I zonk out as soon as I hit the pillow, but then I wake up at 4:21am, (or at 3:21am, or 2:21am ☹) and can't sleep a wink more until time to get up or at least for several hours.

I'm wide awake and my brain is soon in high gear, planning what I need to take to FB for the girls, arranging my clove-studded oranges into Christmas centerpieces and, of all things, trying to figure out how puns work. How can two unrelated objects or ideas come together in a sentence and create such a satisfying click with their joining? And just how are those connections made at such lightning quick speed?

A considerable chunk of time passes while I lie there and picture possibilities. In one, there is a lithe little pixie named PunDit who sprints across the convoluted ridges of a brain pulling tiny strings and making connections from one side to the other. Panting, but gleeful, he announces to anyone who will listen, "I PunDit!"

I love puns. Especially fascinating are the unintended ones. Here are four puns I've heard lately:

1. Someone, who was impressed with his dining experience at a recently-renovated restaurant called Pebbles, asked: "Have you ever been to Pebbles? It rocks!"
2. One of the planners for a Christmas Banquet gave a suggestion regarding using disposable plates and cutlery, saying of her idea that she'd "just throw that out there".
3. In describing one of my musically-talented cousins, I said he was instrumental in helping someone purchase a hammered dulcimer.
4. A few young ladies were leaving their house to come to ours for a gathering planned by our daughter Kerra. It was a dark and cold evening and one of them remarked how it felt like a perfect night to go Christmas caroling, but they weren't. "Oh, but we are," contradicted her sister. "We're going Kerra-ling!"

People say that a returned traveler should expect jet lag to last awhile. Figure one day for every hour of time zone difference, they advise. Well, that is good news for us - only three more days to go!

People also say that there are measures travelers can take to combat jet lag. Get back into the current time schedule as soon as possible. Exercise. Take melatonin. Drink lots of water. I suppose I could add that it's not the best idea to go hear Messiah only three nights after you get home. But it's our annual Christmas tradition, so we bought the tickets anyway.

It was a meaningful performance again this year. I only wish I could have been with it for every note and nuance. I'm sad that I fought sleep through a number of those beautiful pieces. I willed myself to stay awake, but the weariness descended anyway and took my eyelids with it. Against the backdrop of the choir, the soloists and the orchestra sometimes swam in blurriness before me, and then exited altogether, briefly. Moments later they were back again, bright and clear. (It was almost worrisome!)

If I were a coffee drinker like Ken, I would've gotten a cup to drink at intermission, and like him, would've been kept from lagging in the second half of the Messiah program. But then, very likely that amount of caffeine would've also jetted me awake for hours in bed that night, like it did him.

In the end, this is what I think about jet lag: After a long flight, it's going to happen. Be kind to yourself while it does. After a long jet lag, it will pass. Rejoice when it does.

And someone might ask me, in view of all this jetting and lagging aftermath, if the trip to the other side of the world was really worth it.

To which I'd respond, "Absolutely!"

This Post's Quote:

"Starve your distractions; feed your focus." 

~ as seen in Clinton Weaver's Nepal Times newsletter

This Post's Childhood Memory:

At Christmas time, Mom often bought us Fanny Farmer's Flavor-ettes hard candy for a treat. I remember the round tin with the red lid, and the pictures of colorful candy around the outside of the container. There were many shapes, colors and tastes of candy inside - the bone-shaped red and white striped pieces, the berry-shaped, fruit-flavored gems, the red and green little "pillows" and most fascinating of all, the wavy ribbon pieces.

What are your favorite Christmas candy memories from your childhood?