A Professor's Generosity

Hérouville Saint-Clair, Normandy, France (near Caen), August 1999. My study abroad program was going great! I was with a group of students from Seattle Pacific University and Wheaton College, with professors from both schools, in conjunction with the Jacques Lefêvre Institute in France. Our fearless leader was the head of the political science department at SPU, who taught a course in "Modern French Thought." The French classes were split between a teacher from Wheaton and a local teacher who was studying at the Sorbonne in Paris (which has a long history going back to the time of Thomas Aquinas).

Église Saint-Étienne
Caen, France

I was in the advanced French class taught by the excellent Dr. Grosh from Wheaton. This is not about my classes, but that is important.

Partway through my time there, I came down with some serious pain in my feet. It was bad enough that the leaders contacted a doctor who made a house call to the Cité Universitaire (student lodging where we stayed and held classes) for the Université de Caen. We went into a room where the two professors assisted. I was able to describe my situation and symptoms to the doctor in French, and Dr. Grosh helped to translate as needed when the MD asked me questions and gave me the diagnosis, as I wasn't as skilled at medical terminology. Dr. Grosh also assisted when I didn't know a word here or there. The MD prescribed medicine and other things I needed to do. Among those was wearing sandals to allow my feet some air. I hadn't brought any sandals, so we went to the local Carrefour, where I got some very comfortable ones. Carrefour is a chain of shopping malls throughout France, and I believe it's in a few other European countries.

On a boat on the mouth of the Seine
Between Honfleur and Le Havre, France
(I'm on the right)

I give this sculpture in Honfleur
a big thumbs-up!

Due to the issues with my feet, I missed our group's excursion to see the Bayeux Tapestry, but there was still a lot of walking that would be happening, particularly once we got to Mont-Saint-Michel and Paris later in the adventure.

The sandals were a huge help (along with other treatment). As Dr. Grosh and I were talking later, somehow the subject of me not having a lot of money came up. I don't recall how that even came up, and I wasn't asking for anything in mentioning it, but she told me that she and her husband had decided to give me "a small gift" to help with souvenirs in Paris. I was overwhelmed. Their "small gift" involved reimbursing me for the medical expenses and the price of the sandals!

Mont-Saint-Michel
(I need to go back so I can take better pictures)

The trip would have been an amazing adventure and memory whatever happened, but it was so much more amazing that I was able to walk everywhere without so much pain! Mont-Saint-Michel is an absolute must on any visit to France, but it involves a lot of walking, as the streets are narrow and winding, uphill and downhill.

Giverny is another important place to visit. This is me on Claude Monet's bridge that he painted several times.

Paris was very amazing, and it involved a lot of walking. I think the next time I did that much walking around one city was when I went to New York last year.

But it would not have been nearly as enjoyable or inspirational without the unexpected and generous gift from a teacher who continues to inspire me 24 years later.

Next question: How in the world is that 24 years ago this coming August?!

On the towers of Notre Dame
Some nice British tourists took my picture.
It was refreshing to be able to talk to someone in English!
😀

Standing on the Arc de Triomphe
with the Eiffel Tower in the background

The Cactus

I wrote the following poem April 8, 2002 following a difficult event. (Interestingly, I don't even recall what event that was, but my younger self tells me it was seriously trying.) Working through the pain, I realized that holding onto it was just about as absurd as trying to hug a cactus. It would only hurt me further. I also thought of 1 Peter 5:6-7. I've often seen both these verses quoted in different contexts, but rarely together: "Humble yourselves, therefore, under God's mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time. Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you."

I also blogged about 1 Peter 5:7 a few years ago, here. It's one of my favorite verses. The lesson was further reinforced later that year, as I blogged here.

What cactus are you trying to hug? Let it go!

Photo by Cara Tracy
Used with permission

I clung to a cactus

Embraced it in my arms
And the pain ripped through my aching body!

The spines pricked my skin
The pain grew intense;
But the worse the pain, the tighter I clung!

I cried out in agony
I complained and bemoaned the pain
As I fought against the cactus
And I clung
Still tighter

Until God said,
"My child,
Give Me the cactus.
Let go of the cactus
And let Me take your pain."

And I

          let

                    go

And let God take the cactus
He took away the pain
He healed my biting wounds
And in their place, He gave me peace
And joy
My trust in Him grew stronger
All I had to do was let go of my pride
Let go of my pain
And rest in the arms of my loving heavenly Father.

"Have you considered My servant Jerri?"

“Have you considered my servant Job? There is no one on earth like him; he is blameless and upright, a man who fears God and shuns evil.” - God, Job 1:8

The past year and a half, my friend and "adopted" big sister Jerri has gone through more pain than I can imagine, including the collapse of her marriage and sudden death of her husband, who I considered a big brother, in addition to losing her mother to cancer. I have watched her go through so much, raising their teen and pre-teen children by herself and suffering more grief than anyone should have to bear. I have seen her work through her pain, yet still cling to her faith in our amazing God.

During this time, I have come to understand that the number 11 and strings of 1s have special significance to her, and God has often used this to remind me of her. I often "happen" to look at the time at 11:11, and it always reminds me of her. Sometimes I feel moved to pray for her and her family when that happens. Yesterday, I "happened" to look at my watch at 1:11:11 (that exact second), and today I looked at my phone at 11:11. Today, shortly after that happened, a modified version of Job 1:8 came to mind, which I believe was from God: "Have you considered my servant Jerri? There is no one on earth like her; she is blameless and upright, a woman who fears God and shuns evil."

Job also lost so much when Satan put him to the test, but he came out a stronger man for it, and God blessed him more richly at the end of the ordeal than before it. He even replaced everyone that Job lost. May the same blessings be true for Jerri.

Update: On the way home, I saw this:

I rest my case.

Annika

For eleven long years, I was the youngest of my cousins. As a child, this bothered me somewhat, as I looked up to everyone, and had nobody smaller or younger than me. So it was with some excitement that I learned in 1988 that I was going to have a new cousin. We lived in the Philippines at the time, and my aunt called us with the news . She also mentioned that they were coming to the other side of the world to visit us for Christmas. 1988 was a very exciting year.

So it was that my aunt and uncle came to visit us in December. By that time, the baby (I was hoping for a boy) was making his or her presence known, and I remember my aunt sitting on the couch and letting me feel her stomach to feel the baby kicking. While they were visiting, we took them around to the presidential palace and other touristy places, and we took them out to see the beaches and islands, riding bangkas (rowboats with wooden pontoons) and even doing some snorkeling. The Philippines has some amazing coral reefs, and snorkeling is an absolute must while visiting. That month was undoubtedly one of the highlights of my childhood.

But we had no way of knowing about the horrible year that was about to begin.

In March of 1989, our church had a retreat during Holy Week, a week full of traditions and superstition in the Philippines, in which people get their palm branches blessed and put them on their doors to ward off evil spirits. On Good Friday, many people beat themselves mercilessly with whips laced with shards of glass, and others are literally crucified, all in an effort to be forgiven for their sins (completely missing the point of Jesus' sacrifice). Most Philippine Catholics believe that Jesus is literally dead on Black Saturday, the next day, and they don't dare do anything for fear that if anything bad happens, Jesus won't be there to help them. It was that day that the church retreat ended and they carpooled back to church to return home. On the trip home, both tires on one side of one of the vehicles blew, causing it to roll. Most of the passengers were women and children, and it did not have seatbelts. Those who didn't hold on were thrown, and everyone was taken to the nearest hospital, which was on a skeleton crew already because some of the doctors and nurses didn't dare report to work because of Black Saturday. My parents, who had not attended the retreat, hurried to the hospital to be with them, and I went to a friend's house. It was a very anxious time waiting by the telephone to hear news. One of the passengers was pregnant, and she was the main priority at the hospital. I will never forget the pain I felt when our friend hung up the phone and told me, "Cynthia is with the Lord." Neither she nor the baby made it. I still get a lump in my throat thinking about it 22 years later. Fortunately, all the others in the accident recovered.

June 1 (May 31 in the US), we got word that my beloved paternal grandma had lost her battle with multiple myeloma. That was even harder to take. November 6, my maternal grandma, who I knew more and treasured deeply, lost her battle with breast cancer. We also lost another woman from our church that year, also from cancer. Another close friend from our church passed away the following year from a heart attack.

But through the deep pain, God sent two shafts of light at the perfect time, when we needed them most. Annika was born on April 20. Though we were far away, my new cousin - my first younger cousin ever - was truly a Godsend. We celebrated her arrival, and her picture was a bright spot in our house. The picture of my grandma, who was struggling with breast cancer, holding her brand new baby granddaughter was truly a treasure. December 13 brought another treasure in the form of my wonderful cousin Darcy. If it weren't for Annika and Darcy, and my dependence on God, I don't know how I would have coped with all the loss of 1989.

We returned to the US in 1991, just in time to visit my paternal grandpa for the last time before he passed away. Shortly after that visit in California, we continued on to Seattle, where we were greeted by my aunt, who was holding her young daughter Annika. So it was that I finally got to meet my beloved cousin at SeaTac Airport. Over the next week, I got my first taste of babysitting, and I got to know Annika better. She was somewhat strong-willed (my maternal grandpa predicted that she would be a general when she grew up), but she was, and remains, truly precious. I got to meet Darcy later that week, when their family visited, and an 18-month-old Darcy looked up at me like I was some weird stranger.

It has been fun watching Annika grow. One particularly memorable time, my great-aunt and great-uncle in Montana celebrated their 50th anniversary. We had a talent show, and at one point the younger kids sang a song. They all came up to the front in no particular order. As the emcee introduced them, those of us in the audience watched in amusement as Annika moved her cousins and second-cousins around. Pretty soon, everyone was arranged in order of height, much to the emcee's surprise.

In 1993, Andrèa joined the family, and she is another huge blessing. Since then, Annika has been a wonderful big sister as well (to Andrèa, that is). :-)

It seems hard to believe that the time has flown so fast, and today marks Annika's 22nd birthday. I have watched her graduate from high school, and later from Seattle Pacific University with a degree in nursing. I am incredibly proud of my cousin, now officially an RN. She came at a time when she was desperately needed, and she has blossomed into an amazing person that I truly admire.