"We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair;" -- 2 Corinthians 4:8
"Be careful what you pray for," the old adage goes, "you just might get it."
For the last month we have desperately prayed that we could just get home. With heavy hearts, we were deferred flight after flight to the point we wondered if we would ever make it back home to Hungary. We literally wandered from Airbase to Airbase up and down the east coast desperately seeking a flight. Finally, a week ago today, the girls and I boarded American Airlines flight 70 and made it to Germany where Russ and Levi (who had flown in earlier that week) picked us up and after a little rest we embarked on the 13 hour drive home.
Ahhh, we breathed a sigh of relief to be back in our village. But the sigh was short lived. Not only did we return to a dead dog (which, thankfully, a neighbor had buried), within the first few days we were barraged with all the irritations we had forgotten about life in Hungary.
1. Our car's registration had expired so we cannot drive it and are waiting to go pay the fine (an undisclosed amount). Keep in mind they send no notification to car owners about this. Each car owner must remember to re-register his car every two years or so. We await our day in court.
2. The gas company tried to turn off our gas two days AFTER we had paid all the late bills. It took a special trip with a translator to the gas company's main office (payment receipts in hand) to defer the looming shut down.
3. After buying curricula and preparing to homeschool Niki, we arrived at school to learn they had set up a new special ed program in the Mikepercsi school. Niki was expected to go to her new special, smaller class and stay all day at school. Upon visiting the class, I discovered that the school does not differentiate between learning problems and behavior problems, so now Niki is stuck in a class, the only girl, with the 10 biggest trouble makers in the 1st-4th grade. There will be more to come as I work out these issues with the school.
All this while fighting jetlag and trying to remember Hungarian.
So this is what we prayed so hard to come to?
Even though our hearts sink when the dogs run to greet us and Blacky is all to obviously absent... And even though the station wagon sits undriveable until we navigate the bureaucracy, reregister the car and pay the fine ... and even though we have many agonizing meetings ahead as we sort out how Niki should be schooled, we can still somehow be thankful because after two and a half months away, the Chuns are home. Indeed "we are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair."
It's not the "welcome home" that I'd hoped for. I thought we had already done the "overcoming" of great obstacles, and now we were poised for our "happily ever after." But real life does not work out as neatly as Disney movies. In real life, it seems overcoming one set of obstacles only prepares us for the next.
But there is a joy in the journey.
And so when I look out our back window and see crimson sunset blaze the sky, silhouetting the quaint village rooftops, it reminds me of the opening of Fiddler on the Roof, and I can genuinely say, "It's good to be home."
Showing posts with label disappointment. Show all posts
Showing posts with label disappointment. Show all posts
Friday, October 7, 2011
Monday, August 9, 2010
HeartSick
"Hope deferred makes the heart sick,
but a dream fulfilled is a tree of life.``
but a dream fulfilled is a tree of life.``
--Proverbs 13:12
Under our roof, we watched as the quiet, unassuming child blossomed into outgoing comic wrapped up in little boyhood, and we emerged as a new kind of a Chun family -- one with five faces instead of four, melded into a kind of clan any human imagination would never dare to assemble. We embraced it as God's better plan, and prayed and hoped that God would grant us supernatural favor within the bureaucracy and Levi would be truly ours by summer's end, able to start school in the fall with us.
It was all a beautiful dream -- until hope was deferred.
The last major step in the process, the psychological evaluation, which we expected to be a cordial meeting, spiraled into a nightmare of hostility, prejudice, and accusation. We emerged perplexed and the follow up meeting with our daughters, Andi and Niki, (fully six weeks later) left me wishing I'd never allowed the psychologist time alone with my children.
The psychologist seemed dead set against us from square one. And now we wait for her official evaluation with sick hearts as so many hopes have been deferred.
But ours is not a unique plight. Hope deferred has become a standard state in this fallen world.
Many such hopes and dreams are good and righteous and God-seeded in the hearts of people -- still hope is deferred and the heart grows sick. For some it is the child they've hope for, fought for, yet miscarried again and again. For others it's the spouse they've longed for, waited for, trusted God for and still the years pass by and no one comes. For others still, and perhaps most tragically, they've held that longed-for child, or kissed that beloved spouse, only to have him ripped from their arms and torn for their souls by the cruel blade of death's grim reaper.
And so hope is deferred. And hearts reel in the agony of it all.
We respond to this heart sickness in many different ways. Russ avoids breakfast, because Levi and he always shared a special early breakfast together. He naps in Levi's room, so it does not feel so empty. But as I clean that tiny room and it remains clean far too long, we all face that profound void in the absence of what should be.
On August 15, we hope to learn the official result of our psychological evaluation. We have low expectations, knowing there could be long road ahead of us as we fight for our Levi. He may not be our child on paper, but he is already the son of our hearts.
And so for the moment hope has been deferred and our hearts are sick. But we believe there will come a day when this dream will be fulfilled and it will be a tree of life to us and others who witness it.
Not everyone gets to experience their righteous dreams fulfilled in this lifetime. May it be enough to know that our Lord, Jesus Christ is the fulfiller of our dreams for all eternity. For all our hopes are never extinguished, they are only deferred for a season -- until we embrace Him face to face.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
In the Shadow of the Limelight
It's Olympic season again and while athletes from around the world converge in Canada with gold-plated dreams, the rest of the world watches in awe at the strength of the the human body and spirit.
To tell you the truth, I've missed everything. With no working TV and American video blocked from foreign viewing on the internet, I've missed watching all my favorite winter events. But news still eaks through and this past week, no one could miss the drama when Canadian figure skater Joannie Rochette took to the ice.
Only two days earlier, her mother died of a massive heart attack. Still, even in the deepest of grief, Joannie would not let that stop her from realizing the dream she and her mother shared. She dedicated her tango-inspired routine to her mother and skated the performance of her life. The Canadian crowds roared in pride and sympathy as she took her bow and tears poured from her eyes onto the ice. And hers were not the only tears shed. So moved by her strength and poise in the face of such tragic loss, the coliseum swelled with emotion and tears welled up in eyes around the globe as the world watched. It was a true Olympic moment, the kind the binds all peoples together regardless of nationality of cultural background, as we share the wonder and magic, the joy and grief of the human experience.
That soul-stirring performance catapulted Joannie to third place in the standings. Bittersweet, as full of grief as joy, Joannie Rochette captured her magical moment, her limelight.
And as we each well up with emotion for her and perhaps even release a sigh and smile, we forget that immediately following this amazing Olympic moment, another skater had to perform.
While onlookers still wiped their reddened eyes, Julia Sebestyen, representing her homeland of Hungary with pride, skated out on the ice, still stained by Joannie's tears. Like all the others she had come to fulfill her Olympic dream and maybe capture her own Olympic moment. By the luck of the draw, she found herself in perhaps one of the most difficult places -- in the shadow of the limelight.
While the world will remember the name Joannie Rochette, no one will remember Julia.
Do you ever feel like Julia?
You've finally reached that high point in your life. You are doing exactly what you were created to do and in your finest moment you find yourself eclipsed by circumstances beyond your control. You think you've reached your time in the spotlight, but end up only in the shadows.
We don't have to look far to find biblical characters who faced a similar situations. Jonathon and Saul both found themselves eclipsed by David. Each responded to their plight differently. Leah found herself overshadowed by Rachael. Esau was eclipsed by Jacob.
Even John the Baptist could have felt eclipsed by Christ, but realizing what was really going on, he said, "He must increase, but I must decrease." (John 3:30)
John the Baptist was okay with operating in someone's shadow.
While most of us will not face a situation as clear cut as John the Baptist's or as dramatic as Julia's, we will likely face situations in life where we get shafted out of our "moment."
The question is not whether it will happen, but rather, how do we respond? We can fill our hearts with viperous bitterness, ever agitated that we'd been robbed of our right for acclaim and appreciation. Or we can be willing to decrease that others may increase.
It would be not fair for anyone to have to skate at the Olympics after Joannie's moment, but life is not fair. And even though life is not fair, God is still in control and still good. Julia skated and has joined the annuls of figure skating history full of forgotten names who accomplished so much -- in the shadows of the great Olympic moments.
Perhaps the greatest call in the Christian life is not the call to the limelight, but the call to the shadow, for this is the way of humility, the way of sacrifice. It's the road that says "Yes, Lord," regardless what He calls us to walk through.
"The Lord has told you what is good,
and this is what he requires of you:
to do what is right, to love mercy,
and to walk humbly with your God. " --Micah 6:8
Let's embrace the shadow of the limelight.
.
To tell you the truth, I've missed everything. With no working TV and American video blocked from foreign viewing on the internet, I've missed watching all my favorite winter events. But news still eaks through and this past week, no one could miss the drama when Canadian figure skater Joannie Rochette took to the ice.
Only two days earlier, her mother died of a massive heart attack. Still, even in the deepest of grief, Joannie would not let that stop her from realizing the dream she and her mother shared. She dedicated her tango-inspired routine to her mother and skated the performance of her life. The Canadian crowds roared in pride and sympathy as she took her bow and tears poured from her eyes onto the ice. And hers were not the only tears shed. So moved by her strength and poise in the face of such tragic loss, the coliseum swelled with emotion and tears welled up in eyes around the globe as the world watched. It was a true Olympic moment, the kind the binds all peoples together regardless of nationality of cultural background, as we share the wonder and magic, the joy and grief of the human experience.
That soul-stirring performance catapulted Joannie to third place in the standings. Bittersweet, as full of grief as joy, Joannie Rochette captured her magical moment, her limelight.
And as we each well up with emotion for her and perhaps even release a sigh and smile, we forget that immediately following this amazing Olympic moment, another skater had to perform.
While onlookers still wiped their reddened eyes, Julia Sebestyen, representing her homeland of Hungary with pride, skated out on the ice, still stained by Joannie's tears. Like all the others she had come to fulfill her Olympic dream and maybe capture her own Olympic moment. By the luck of the draw, she found herself in perhaps one of the most difficult places -- in the shadow of the limelight.
While the world will remember the name Joannie Rochette, no one will remember Julia.
Do you ever feel like Julia?
You've finally reached that high point in your life. You are doing exactly what you were created to do and in your finest moment you find yourself eclipsed by circumstances beyond your control. You think you've reached your time in the spotlight, but end up only in the shadows.
We don't have to look far to find biblical characters who faced a similar situations. Jonathon and Saul both found themselves eclipsed by David. Each responded to their plight differently. Leah found herself overshadowed by Rachael. Esau was eclipsed by Jacob.
Even John the Baptist could have felt eclipsed by Christ, but realizing what was really going on, he said, "He must increase, but I must decrease." (John 3:30)
John the Baptist was okay with operating in someone's shadow.
While most of us will not face a situation as clear cut as John the Baptist's or as dramatic as Julia's, we will likely face situations in life where we get shafted out of our "moment."
The question is not whether it will happen, but rather, how do we respond? We can fill our hearts with viperous bitterness, ever agitated that we'd been robbed of our right for acclaim and appreciation. Or we can be willing to decrease that others may increase.
It would be not fair for anyone to have to skate at the Olympics after Joannie's moment, but life is not fair. And even though life is not fair, God is still in control and still good. Julia skated and has joined the annuls of figure skating history full of forgotten names who accomplished so much -- in the shadows of the great Olympic moments.
Perhaps the greatest call in the Christian life is not the call to the limelight, but the call to the shadow, for this is the way of humility, the way of sacrifice. It's the road that says "Yes, Lord," regardless what He calls us to walk through.
"The Lord has told you what is good,
and this is what he requires of you:
to do what is right, to love mercy,
and to walk humbly with your God. " --Micah 6:8
Let's embrace the shadow of the limelight.
.
Monday, May 26, 2008
When "Doing Good" Goes Awry
"Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up," -- Galations 6:9
My seven year old screamed at the top of her voice and her Dad came running. A baby bird's ill-fated first flight landed it squarely in the jaws of our dog.
"Blacky! Drop it!" Russell commanded. Surprisingly, the dog obeyed and Niki, who holds a deep love for every living thing, scrambled in to rescue the injured creature. Russell and Niki placed the tiny bird, wet from both the recent rain and canine druel, in a box to ensure its safety. And seeking an appropriate place for avian convolescence, they placed the box in the warm coziness of the laundry room. A good deed done, right?
The next morning, just before the girls left for school, Russell decided it was time to put the baby bird outside. Unfortunately, the creature had again made an ill-fated attempt at flight. This time landing behind the washing machine. Russ grabbed a broom to encourage it to scurry the correct direction, but instead it ran under the hot water heater. He swiped again, hit a pipe and hot water began spraying everywhere.
By now we had a lost bird, a burst pipe, and the girls were late for school.
Russell placed the bird in the box, on a fence post outside -- far from the reach of our carnivarous canines as we waited for the plumber to come.
That afternoon, the tiny creature made one last attempt at flight, equally ill-fated. The bird failed to master the necessary aerodynamics and crashed into a bucket of vinegar water which, I regret to announce, became its watery grave.
Our efforts at a good deed left us with two girls tardy for school, a burst pipe resulting in a sizeable plumbing bill, and in the end, the bird died anyway.
Ever feel that your attempts at doing good go awry? You try to reach out to others, only to have them pull away. You think that if you only do what is right and good, then things will eventually turn out okay. And then they don't. In fact, you find yourself penalized for the effort.
And so we cry out to God like inexperienced children, screaming, "It's not fair!"
But God's economy is not one of instant gratification. It is all about endurance and pressing on. And so He urges us not to "grow weary in doing good." It is an important exhortation in an era of microwave ovens and instant coffee. We want our just rewards NOW! We want the satisfaction of quick results.
But what if the time of reaping what we have sown does not occur in our lifetime? What if we never get to see with physical eyes the fruits of our labor? Are we still willing to press on, purely because of faith?
It is when we do not see the results of our good deeds that our motives are most poignantly tested. Why do we do what we do? To make ourselves feel good? To make ourselves look good? Or is it an act of obedience born out of love -- not primarily for others, but rather for God himself?
God has told us that obedience is better than sacrifice (1Sam 15:22). But often there is sacrifice in the obedience. Sometimes the sacrifice is in the giving up our "results orientated" natures and saying, "I will obey and do good, simply because I believe."
We have been given a promise -- that sooner or later, in this life or the next, a day of reaping will come. Let us be faithful enough to rest in that promise and not lose heart in doing good.
My seven year old screamed at the top of her voice and her Dad came running. A baby bird's ill-fated first flight landed it squarely in the jaws of our dog.
"Blacky! Drop it!" Russell commanded. Surprisingly, the dog obeyed and Niki, who holds a deep love for every living thing, scrambled in to rescue the injured creature. Russell and Niki placed the tiny bird, wet from both the recent rain and canine druel, in a box to ensure its safety. And seeking an appropriate place for avian convolescence, they placed the box in the warm coziness of the laundry room. A good deed done, right?
The next morning, just before the girls left for school, Russell decided it was time to put the baby bird outside. Unfortunately, the creature had again made an ill-fated attempt at flight. This time landing behind the washing machine. Russ grabbed a broom to encourage it to scurry the correct direction, but instead it ran under the hot water heater. He swiped again, hit a pipe and hot water began spraying everywhere.
By now we had a lost bird, a burst pipe, and the girls were late for school.
Russell placed the bird in the box, on a fence post outside -- far from the reach of our carnivarous canines as we waited for the plumber to come.
That afternoon, the tiny creature made one last attempt at flight, equally ill-fated. The bird failed to master the necessary aerodynamics and crashed into a bucket of vinegar water which, I regret to announce, became its watery grave.
Our efforts at a good deed left us with two girls tardy for school, a burst pipe resulting in a sizeable plumbing bill, and in the end, the bird died anyway.
Ever feel that your attempts at doing good go awry? You try to reach out to others, only to have them pull away. You think that if you only do what is right and good, then things will eventually turn out okay. And then they don't. In fact, you find yourself penalized for the effort.
And so we cry out to God like inexperienced children, screaming, "It's not fair!"
But God's economy is not one of instant gratification. It is all about endurance and pressing on. And so He urges us not to "grow weary in doing good." It is an important exhortation in an era of microwave ovens and instant coffee. We want our just rewards NOW! We want the satisfaction of quick results.
But what if the time of reaping what we have sown does not occur in our lifetime? What if we never get to see with physical eyes the fruits of our labor? Are we still willing to press on, purely because of faith?
It is when we do not see the results of our good deeds that our motives are most poignantly tested. Why do we do what we do? To make ourselves feel good? To make ourselves look good? Or is it an act of obedience born out of love -- not primarily for others, but rather for God himself?
God has told us that obedience is better than sacrifice (1Sam 15:22). But often there is sacrifice in the obedience. Sometimes the sacrifice is in the giving up our "results orientated" natures and saying, "I will obey and do good, simply because I believe."
We have been given a promise -- that sooner or later, in this life or the next, a day of reaping will come. Let us be faithful enough to rest in that promise and not lose heart in doing good.
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