(Ashes and Indians, Epilogue) Eagles soar...but they also rest their wings.

After the many days of activity surrounding the "Ashes and Indians" events, after numerous family adventures here, reminiscing about our childhood, seeing old places through nostalgic eyes...not recognizing some of them because so much time has passed...after all this, with spirit both dreamy and drained, both growing and groaning...

...I love hearing Jesus say to His disciples, "Come with Me by yourselves to a quiet place and get some rest." (Mark 6:31)   It will take a while for body and spirit to recuperate.  Instead of considering it an inconvenience, since much less will be accomplished of daily tasks and planned projects, it should be looked forward to as an invitation by a loving Lord who Himself designed us with the need for rest.

   
                   Little Eagle

Come, rise up and gaze towards the heavens, amazed,
as God's workings and wonders are birthed.
Be awed as you must, little eagle, but just
don't forget to look back down to Earth.


             Go, aim for the sky, for the Son-light so high.
             Spread your wings out and up from the nest.
             Yes, soar as you must, little eagle, but just
             don't forget to come back down to rest.

                   You've dreams to fulfill.  Touch the stars if you will!

                    Keep your energies ready to spend.
                    Reach out as you must, little eagle, but just
                    don't forget to "be still" now and then.
               
          **************************-Becky Rhon******

Our time-driven society can make us feel pushed to "DO" things, to not waste time, to be "productive"...(until we burn out?).  I was impressed with the Tsáchila's evaluation of time.  During the ceremonies, time stood still.  Everyone who wanted to was allowed to talk...even encouraged to...with no looking at watches, no discreet coughs to speed things along...no pressure to hurry .  And it felt so free, so relaxing and so right. They knew that some things are more important than Time.

The Psalmist said, "Be at rest once more, O my soul, for the Lord has been good to you."  (Ps. 116:7)  A fitting verse for the culmination of the Final Journey, with our parents' ashes and the Tsáchila believers.  He has indeed been good to us!  We can be at rest once more.
 

Ashes and Indians; a Final Journey, Part 3

Two things happened during the time we were in Cóngoma for the memorial for our parents that I want to tell you about. One was great.  One would have been if I had been able to finish it.

I thought of a young Tsachi woman who had married when we still lived there (so I was 10 or younger).  She was probably about 13 or 14 at the time.  All I could picture was her cute, sweet face as I had last seen it and her nickname (Pelá, which means "spider"). I wondered if she might be present, though knowing that I probably wouldn't recognize her. Then my sister called me over to talk to Carán (not sure of the spelling). This Tsachi sister remembered so much about us years ago, and we spent some time talking and reminiscing together.  I asked Germán to take a picture of us.

Here we're posing with my sister Carol (to my left), sister-in-law Princene and niece NaevEnya.

The building in the background is the church, where we held the service before going to the cemetery. There the first thing happened.

In the sharing-time of the service, I accompanied Germán up to the front and told a short story of something that had happened over 50 years ago, wondering if any of the Tsáchila there remembered.  But though the story was complete in itself, it didn't "gel" in my mind right then that I hadn't really finished it, and -maybe even more importantly - hadn't told them the beautiful allegory it made.

Here's what I told them:  when we lived there years ago, I was down by the river alone one day and saw, off in the underbrush, what I thought was a turtle. I stepped carefully towards it and started reaching my hand out to touch it.  Suddenly several little Tsachi boys arrived, then ran over and started yelling "piní! piní" which means "snake"! Coiled up. A venomous "equis" (fer-de-lance).  The boys had saved my life.

The audience in the church reacted audibly as I acted out the story!  But the rest of it wouldn't shape itself in my mind, so I sat down and Germán spoke what was on his heart.  Later everything fell into place in my mind...but by then there wasn't an opportunity to continue the story.  How I regretted that!  I am praying that I can find the contact information for someone there to whom I can send the rest of my story so that they can share it with my Tsachi brothers and sisters.  (Will you pray, too?)

Here's what I will add:  Once I had backed out of range of the snake, we called my dad down, and  he killed it, killed the thing that could have killed his daughter.  God works like this often. We see something we think is wonderful and are attracted to it, and reach to check it out.  But as beautiful as it may seem, if it's harmful, God will send someone to warn us: what you admire is deadly!  He did that for me...literally!  But He does it in all areas of life.  Then,  just as my father came down and put himself between me and my danger, so our Father comes down and puts Himself between us and our danger, to shield and protect us.

This is exactly what God did for the Tsáchila, too. He loved them so much that, knowing that they didn't have His Word, and followed after things that were not good for them and would lead them to great harm, He sent someone to warn them...to give them the Word so that they could learn to listen to Him and distinguish between what is harmful and what is good.  He sent my parents...who also loved them so much that they persevered in translating His message to them.  Now the heavenly Father also shields and protects them.
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The other thing that happened?  This was a real treat. I had mentioned to my sister that Carán looked sort of like the friend I was looking for, so maybe she was a relative and could tell me about her. After the ceremony at the cemetery, I asked the Tsachi leader about the friend I remembered, telling him that I only knew her nickname, but that she had married...(I gave the name of her husband).  "Sure", said Primitivo, "I just saw her over here."  He looked around and called out, "Carán!"  Oh my goodness!  The lovely woman I had talked to and posed with!  No wonder she had looked familiar! She had been there with us the whole time, showing how pleased she was that we were there.
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God, You are more than awesome!  Thank You for caring so much for us that You warn us, shield us, protect us through life.  And for giving us little surprises like Carán to cheer us as we go!

Ashes and Indians: A Final Journey, Part 2

The memorial service for my parents took place in the Tsáchila's own church.  It was a moving, God-honoring occasion, and there were tears and testimonies, people getting up to speak in more than one language.  Most of them know at least some Spanish, but the reason my parents went to this area in the first place was to give them the Scriptures in their own language, the very best way for them to truly understand with heart and soul what God had done for them. 

After the service, and a little snack to keep everybody on their feet, we posed with all those who wanted their picture taken with Bruce and Joyce's children.  Many of the older ones remembered us well from the time, so many years ago, when as kids we lived among them.  Of course, we look very different now!  In the picture, left-to-right (back row) are my sister Carol, then my brother Steve, my other brother Paul, and I'm at the end. 

When we found out what the Indians had decided they wanted to do with my parents' ashes, we all thought it was a marvelous idea.  We had thought to scatter their ashes where we had lived.  But the Tsáchila's desire was for them to rest in their own cemetery! Isn't that awesome? 

They decided to bury the ashes between the grave of the man who had been Dad's first language helper, and that of his wife.  Their son was present, and was so pleased!  So we all watched as they dug a small hole, and then, with lovely simplicity and deep emotion, we took turns pouring the ashes in, inviting everyone who wanted to to come and participate.  Then we took turns again, each putting a shovelful of earth back in place over them.  The photo right below shows Primitivo, the spiritual leader of this branch; and then I'm in the bottom photo.

We were delighted with the concept of what the Tsáchila themselves had desired.  The couple who had gone to live with them so many years ago with the purpose of making God's Word accessible to them in their own language, who had learned to love them and were loved in return...now had a physical place in their land, besides the emtional and spiritual place they already had in their hearts.  Though knowing that they themselves are in Heaven now, having their ashes buried close by feels like...they finally came home! And it's a physical tribute to the fact that Mom anbd Dad loved them so much that their own wish was to "come home"...to complete the circle.
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I will be sharing some of the things that were said, stories that were told, and other touching details very soon.  But for now...I need to stop and dry my tears.

Ashes and Indians: a Final Journey, Part 1

Not so much for them.  For us. 

This is how we used to travel out to Cóngoma,  the area in the coastal jungle of Ecuador where we lived long ago.  In this picture, Dad holds my younger brother Paul, Mom holds me, and Steve gets the pack-horse.  (Carol didn't exist yet.)

The closest town was Santo Domingo, then a small, end-of-the-line town about a seven-hour drive from the capital.  No major roads led on from there to other parts of the coast.  At first, it would take us two days on horseback from Santo Domingo to our house.  Later we could go by bus for 45 minutes, and then walk in a couple of hours.  Now, it takes less than 45 minutes by car.  (And Santo Domingo is a city, a vital hub, with highways to just about everywhere!)

My parents gave several decades of their lives to the Tsáchila, the indigenous group still sometimes called "Colorado" Indians in Spanish.  After learning their language, Dad worked on translating the New Testament into it, and Mom worked with literacy.  They grew to love the people, and their affection was returned.  We eventually moved out to Santo Domingo, where they would have better access to other groups of Tsáchila.  By the time they left the area many years later, Dad had trained several of them in some translation basics, and helped them translate parts of the Old Testament.  With that training, they could go on to translate other literature into their own language.
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Two years ago, my father passed away at the age of 84, and I'm sure he had a joyful reunion with some of the Tsáchila  who had learned of Jesus through his ministry, and followed Him.  A year ago, my mother went to join him in Heaven, at almost 84.  For both of them, their specific request had been for their bodies to be cremated.  And their ashes? Take them back out to Cóngoma, back to the place where they began their journey of service so many, many years ago, and scatter them over the place where they had lived and loved, wept and laughed...with their children and with the Indians.

In a few days, my siblings (and spouses) will be arriving here in Quito from the U.S.  The following day we will all leave for Santo Domingo (on a paved road that takes about three hours, rather than seven), and the day after that, drive out to Cóngoma, where the Tsachi believers will join us in a simple ceremony honoring Mom and Dad.  This will give them the opportunity to "say goodbye", and us to have a final journey home with them (well, with their ashes!), a final tribute to these two incredible people and the legacy they left...a closing of the circle.


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I will be writing about this event, and hopefully have pictures to show you in the next posts.  
                       

We have the comfort of God's words when He said, " I will be a Father to you, and you will be my sons and my daughters, says the Lord Almighty."  (II Corinthians 6:18)

If we honor our earthly parents, how much more our heavenly Father?  "Now to the King eternal, immortal, invisible, the only God, be honor and glory for ever and ever.  Amen."  (I Timothy 1:17)  
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P.S.  If you want to see the Tsáchila's native dress, go to our Facebook page and see our cover photo.

You feel you can't keep holding on? Then HE'll do it for you.

 Sometimes this is the only way we can keep holding on...and it's a request that God will never fail to answer.                              

              Hold Them, Please
                                      

        Lord, here are some things
        I would have You to keep,
        for in my own hands
        they're more likely to seep
        out slowly through fingers
        that aren't always strong,
        and make it much harder
        to keep holding on.  

                                          Lord, let not my JOY
                                          flow out wide but not deep;
                                          and let not my LOVE for You
                                          die in its sleep.
                                          My PEACE hold in place
                                          when my pain makes me weep,
                                          then bind up the harvest
                                          my HOPE fights to reap.
                                          My FAITH  hold together
                                          when facing a "leap",
                                          when what I must do is
                                          neither easy nor cheap.

                                          Please...gather me up;
                                          Lord, your Hands are so strong!
                                          If You have me,
                                          I know I can keep holding on.

            *********************************************-Becky Rhon*********

"The good hand of God is on everyone who looks to Him."  (Ezra 8:22)

"Into your hands I commit my spirit; redeem me, Oh Lord, the God of truth."  (Psalm 31:5)

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Why struggle through on our own?  He's ready...longing...to hold us...and be our Help!



                             

Hand-in-hand...a sweet and timeless analogy

                                                                                                                                               Noe stood quietly beside her Abuelito,  her small hand trustingly holding his big hand...his big grandfather-hand lovingly engulfing her small hand.

.  She was about 16 months old then, and this is one of our favorite pictures.  They are on the top of a mountain from where one can look down and see the city of Quito spread out far below.  Beautiful scenery.  And for me, this photo gleams with a beautiful analogy.

How often do we stand quietly beside our Father...our small hands trustingly in His, His large hand lovingly engulfing ours?

What better place to put ourselves?  I Chronicles 29:12 says, "In your hands are strength and power to exalt and give strength to all."  Noe sensed that she was safe with Abuelito, so she went with him willingly.

Germán and Noe were on a mountain, but the psalmist wrote that wherever we might be, even in the very depths of the sea (even the sea of despair), "Even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast." (Psalm 139:10)

And the awesome promise in John 10:28 assures us that we will always be able to find strength, power, refuge, love, trust, safety...in His hand! Jesus Himself said, "I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish, so no one can snatch them out of my hand."
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If you are His child, then when you see His hand reaching out to you, just before it closes warmly over your hand, look at His palm...and remember that you're engraved there.  (Isaiah 49:16)

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"If you're not allowed to laugh in Heaven, I don't want to go there."

Martin Luther said that, and he had a point.  Believers should let their joy express itself in smiles, in laughter, in cheerfulness.  I bet Jesus had some real belly-laughs when He was here!  I bet He told jokes and laughed at others' jokes (clean ones, of course).  God has a sense of humor, and He's the One who invented laughter!

St. Teresa of Avila prayed, "From somber, serious, sullen saints, save us, oh Lord."  And I've read that in some part of Nigeria, God's name is "Father of Laughter".  Augustine said, "The Christian should be an alleluia from head to foot."

Joy and laughter are mentioned numerous times in the Bible.  Like it says in Proverbs, "A merry heart doeth good like a medicine...", and Jesus promised us "that my joy may be in you, and your joy may be full".  (John 15:11)  (And He said this when He was about to be tortured and crucified!) It's true that there are times of tears and pain, but they are things that come and go.  True joy stays and adds a special dimension to Life. True joy doesn't allow things (trivial or serious) to paralyze it.   

I just read this amusing hypothetical conversation of Jesus and His disciples. It's light-hearted, yet holds up a mirror in which we might see ourselves.**

             Then Jesus took his disciples up the mountain...he taught them, saying:
                  "Blessed are the poor.
                  "Blessed are the hungry.
                  "Blessed are those who mourn.
                  "Blessed are the oppressed..."
           Then Simon Peter said, "Do we have to write this down?"
           And Andrew said, "Are we supposed to know this?"
           And James said, "I don't have papyrus with me."
           And Philip said, "Will we have a test on this?"
           And Bartholomew said, "Do we have to turn this in?"
           And John said, "The other disciples didn't have to learn this."
           And Matthew said, "Can I be excused?"
           And Judas said, "What does this have to do with the real world?"
      Then one of the Pharisees who was present asked to see Jesus' lesson plan and inquired, "Where is your anticipatory set?  Where are your objectives in the cognitive domain?"
                             And Jesus wept.
                         ***********************

Sometimes we get distracted by little details that seem so important, and we miss the point Jesus wants to get across to us.  In some versions, He says, "Happy are the poor...happy are the hungry...happy are those who mourn..."  And the disciples in this story seemed to be anything but happy!  Too worried about things that, in the long run, weren't that important. Too preoccupied to hear the beauty and joy in what He was saying.

We tend to explain (or justify) ourselves by saying, "Well, under the circumstances..." But true joy doesn't depend on the state of our circumstances.  One of my favorite sayings is:  "You don't have to live 'under the circumstances'. They may never change...but you can  'live above the circumstances.'"  And that's what true joy and faith should help us do. One of their fruits is healthy laughter, a gift from God, which should never be absent from our lives.

I like what St. Francis of Assisi said, "The devil is most happy when he can snatch from a servant of God true joy of the spirit...But if the joy of the spirit fills the heart, the serpent shoots his deadly venom in vain."

Thomas More, in the 1400's, wrote: "Give me, Lord, a soul that knows nothing of boredom, groans and sighs...Lord, give me a sense of humor so that I may take some happiness from this life and share it with others."
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Let's trust Him and know that...

"He will yet fill your mouth with laughter and your lips with shouts of joy." (Job 8:21)

            ...so we don't end up being "somber, serious, sullen saints"...
           too preoccupied to hear the beauty and joy in what He says to us!
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**Taken from Holy Humor , edited by Cal and Rose Samra.