Comfort Scents

We hear a lot about comfort food, but have you thought about comfort scents? Psychologists would back me up on this one. Getting a whiff of a certain smell propels you back to a familiar time or place, sometimes almost forgotten except for the trigger that aroma provides. Sometimes it's not such a good memory, but I would say most often those smells flood us with a heartwarming break in our life. Coffee most often reminds me of my dad. Evergreens - cutting down Christmas trees with Bill and the kids. Cigarette smoke - Friday night football games in Texas (don't ask me why). Fried potatoes, onions, and bacon - Aunt Lydia's for breakfast. Campfire smoke - camping with my family and campfire nights at summer camps. Now I know I could go on and on, but I don't think you planned on taking this walk down memory lane with me. I realized this week that when I choose a certain perfume to wear I am reminded of the giver. Thanks Erin for Amazing Grace, Lydia for Lavendar Bath Gel, Allison for Lavendar and Vanilla Body Souffle, Ragena for Bathina, Bonnie for Moonlight Path Lotion, and Allan for Organza (which was the first and only perfume he bought for me---and that was only because some sales girl recommended it). As far away as we are, my nose takes me back to you, my friends. That makes scents, doesn't it????

Our Babylon

In our recently completed ladies' Bible study on Daniel, Beth Moore focused on the need for Christians to recognize their "Babylon." In other words, what is it that distracts them from their desire to serve the Lord. She pointed out that a telltale sign of a culture in demise is losing touch with the poor. An ultimate reality of living in Indonesia and Angola has been to see that we [as Americans] have little understanding of the poverty of the rest of the world. We give our clothes or food to the homeless in the U.S., but they often have a place to seek refuge if they want it. We give money to different agencies to buy presents for children but rarely see the faces of those recipients. We choose to live in certain areas of cities so we are not subjected to living near people who don't live up to the same standards we do. In other words, poverty is generally not a firsthand experience for us. It is quite another thing to step out of your doorway and confront poverty wherever you look. Now I must say, we live in a very nice part of Luanda, but we don't have to walk more than a couple blocks to see the other side. Masses of people living in poorly constructed shacks or shanties. Scantily clad children playing in the dirt. Someone drinking out of a muddy gutter or washing clothes in water sewage. Many with missing limbs or gross deformities. Orphanages with no fresh water source. Smells of garbage and urine as we cross the street into church each Sunday.


At Christmastime, the U.S. news reported how difficult it was going to be for parents to tell their children they couldn't wouldn't be getting as much for Christmas this year because of the economic crisis. One lady in our study asked for prayer for our college graduates having to go through such tough economic times and looking for a job. All of these things have put me in mind of my need to assess my response to the poor. Living overseas as an expats, we are certainly enjoying the good life without any concern for being able to afford things we want--even in a city billed at the world's most expensive. In fact, it is this incredible disparity which drives me to consider my Babylon. I have been forever changed by living in a third-world country. I see the richness and ease of life in the U.S., and even those who are experiencing tough times have it ten times better than most here. I have begun looking at the financial crash as a purging of our mindset---of all those things which we have always taken for granted (or depended on) because they have come so easily. How convicted I have felt over my attitude towards people living in such conditions, and how pressed I feel to make a difference in the lives of those around us. However, it seems like an incredibly small drop in a very gigantic barrel.

Am I Stoked?

I'm not so sure the word "stoked" is used much anymore, but it used to be back in the day (just don't ask me which day it was). During our stay in Washington, we had enough cold days to keep a fire going in the house much of the time. However, I never realized how frequently I needed to add more logs and fan the flame. In no time at all the fire would die down, and I'd be back in there stoking it. How true that is of my Christian walk as well. A change of place or pace and I find my daily time with the Lord dwindling to a flicker. You would think that being on vacation with no set schedule would mean I could spend more time with Him than normal, but, no, I managed to fill my time with things much less important. Tending the fire was a vivid reminder that I cannot radiate the warmth of the Spirit or Christ’s love unless I am personally fueling myself with his Word. Am I stoked? Not always, but I sure need to be.