To Emma With Love

Dear Emma,

Happy Birthday Mi Amor!  Do you remember what that means?  I taught it to you a few weeks ago, when we were together for Labor Day.  It means “My Love.”  This is a fitting nickname for you, Mi Amor.  You are my love, and the love of so many more.

Today is your Sweet Sixteen.  Can you believe it?  I met you when you were eleven.  You welcomed me with open arms.  I was so nervous to meet Kevin’s family and so worried I wouldn’t impress.  But you accepted me from the start.  Before you even met me, you loved me…I think maybe because Kevin loved me, and somehow you seemed to get that.

This is one of your most endearing qualities, Mi Amor.  The way you love from the heart.  You love people for who they are, not what they do, or what they wear or how they look.  These things of the world don’t matter to you.  I wish we could all be more like you in that regard:  We place so much value on passing worldly whims, which are here today and gone tomorrow.  I wish we savored the important things, as you do.  I wish we loved more freely, without expectation or judgment or fear, as you do.

You are a beauty, Mi Amor, in the truest sense of the word.  Your childlike faith and purity of heart radiate a loveliness that few contain.  All the money in the world couldn’t buy these qualities.  I hope you know how beautiful you are, such a rare and precious jewel.

Thank you for teaching me so much about life, about priorities, about eternal perspective.  We don’t know what the future holds for you, but then again, we don’t know what the future holds for any of us.  God knit you together in your mother’s womb, did you know that?  He knows every hair on your head.  You are fearfully and wonderfully made, and God has a great plan for your life.  I’m just so thankful that a part of His plan for you included me.  I can’t imagine my life without you.

I love you, Mi Amor.  Have a Happy Birthday!

Cassidy

Ruffled Feathers and whatnot

Hi Family and Friends!

It’s hard to believe we’re approaching our first-year anniversary of our move to Jamaica.  Time has certainly flown by!  Here’s a peek into some of our morning coffee conversation, as we reflect on the ways the past year has changed us: 

Life in a third world country has grown us into more adaptable people.  We’re reevaluating our wants and needs, and understanding what a difference a culture makes between the two.   For example, I want a second vehicle.  When I lived in Houston, it was a need.  I needed a car…to get to work, to run errands, to be independent of my dear husband and not have to worry about coordinating his schedule with my own.  Now, I realize that a second vehicle does not qualify as a need in most of the world.  Kevin and I share a car.  And we are surviving (gasp!)   We could have survived in Houston.  We would have adapted and figured out how to make it work.  I venture to say that most Americans—particularly our generation – aren’t keen on adapting.  Especially if it means any sort of inconvenience or personal sacrifice.

If anything, the past year has taught us to adapt—to make the most of whatever situation comes our way, even if it’s less than optimal.  We’re realizing how most of our problems are “first world problems.”  We grew up in a high functioning, progressive, first world country where all our needs (and most of our wants) were abundantly met.  Most Jamaicans are not so lucky.  The country is poor, the government corrupt, the economy tanked, and the future bleak.  Yet the people adapt.  They find ways to survive.  They make the most with what they’ve got.  And they take care of each other along the way. 

We have learned a lot from them.  When we count our blessings, the list is twice as long.  So many things we used to need are now merely wants.  So when they appear, we’re so much more aware and so much more grateful.  And when they disappear, for a brief moment or an indefinite period, we adapt and forge ahead.  The list ranges from big to small:  Equal opportunity without regard to race, law-abiding citizens, honest policemen, punctual airport transportation, hot water, air conditioning, fat free creamer, a good steak…all things we’re thankful for, but no longer expect.  Perhaps it’s a matter of reevaluating expectation.  We hope the process is making us more grateful, more patient, more flexible people.

Not that it’s always easy!  But, it’s easier than it was nine months ago.  And I happily pour an ample amount of fat-filled creamer into my coffee each morning, knowing fat free creamer is a first world problem.  All in all, my feathers aren’t as ruffled as they used to be.  I suppose that’s progress, because ruffled feathers do nothing for the body, mind or soul.

With love,

Kevin and Cass

His Heart Goes Out to Us

August announced itself with gusto in the Murphy household.  We returned from Alaska and settled into a semi-normal routine, only to pack our bags and head out again for another week’s travel.  Kevin had business in St. Thomas and San Juan, and thanks to an airline voucher I received a month prior, I joined him for the trip.  We arrived home Thursday with enough time to do a load of laundry and catch a few hours of sleep before Kevin flew out again to Texas, to serve as a groomsman in his best friend’s wedding.  I’m starting to accept the fact that “normal routine” may not be part of this season for us.  An exciting realization on one hand, as there aren’t many times in life you have the opportunities we have here.  On the other hand, the flexibility required to navigate a season like this has been a character builder for a girl who loves the simplicity and predictability of routine! 

Because international flights aren’t exactly budget-friendly, Kevin attended the wedding alone and I stayed in Kingston.  I’ve been home alone all weekend, thoroughly enjoying the silence and lack of agenda.  Silence breeds reflection, and I’ve spent the last two days doing a lot of reading, journaling, thinking and praying.  To be honest, there have been several bumps in our personal lives the past few months that I wanted to hash out with God—grief that’s hit too close to home, ailing loved ones, trying relationships that we never anticipated would be trying.  The simple reality of living in a fallen world and doing life as an imperfect person with other imperfect people can be exhausting.

I was reading my Bible yesterday morning, seeking solace for an overwhelmed heart, when I came across a story that brought great encouragement.  The story is short—just a few paragraphs long told only once in the Bible.  Jesus and his disciples are entering a town called Nain.  As Jesus approaches the town gates, a funeral procession is going out.  The only son of a widow had died, which is basically a death sentence for the widow herself.  Her son was her last means of support, and with him gone, the widow is penniless and alone—a bleak and hopeless future.  The commentary says she would likely be reduced to begging for food.

Luke tells us that when Jesus saw the widow, “His heart went out to her.”  He saw her pain, was filled with compassion and responded.  He touched the coffin, commanded the dead son to get up, and the man sat up and began talking!  (Can you imagine the widow?  In my mind she surely faints.  I’d want to be the one with the smelling salts and witness the look on her face as she realized her son was alive.  Unspeakable joy no doubt.)

I love that Luke tells us nothing of the widow’s spiritual condition.  We don’t know if she was a spiritually devout woman.  We don’t know if she spent hours in prayer, or gave lots of time and money to serving God.  We don’t even know if she believed in Jesus.  For all we know, she was a mean, selfish woman who deserved a hopeless future.  It wasn’t any merits earned by the widow that caused Jesus to respond.  It was the compassion in His heart.    

“His heart went out to her.”  This statement is so beautiful to me.  I picture Jesus taking His heart—full of endless mercy, compassion and love—and handing it the widow.  He turns her tragedy into triumph and her tears of sorrow into tears of joy.  As I read the story, I realized that Jesus does the same for us.  Whatever our circumstances, whatever our pain, His heart goes out to us.  He doesn’t respond with apathy or harsh judgment.  He doesn’t leave us to figure it out on our own.  He responds with compassion and the power to rescue.

God’s heart goes out to us.  Even if our lives our amuck and we’ve played a part in the mess we’re in (as we likely have).  Even if our pain is great and our faith is small. Even if we haven’t prayed for months or more.  Even if we’re not even sure what we think about God.  His heart goes out to us.  What great encouragement for whatever your story and wherever you are.

With love,

C

Jamaica to Juneau

Glacier Bay
Home of 1,375 square miles of glaciers!

Hi Family and Friends!

July has been a crazy month in the Murphy household!  We were blessed to go on a Bucket List adventure: An Alaskan cruise!  Earlier in the year we sat at our kitchen counter and started our Bucket List — something we often talked about but never actually put on paper.  Under “Run a marathon” and “Become fluent in another language” was “Alaskan cruise”.  We had no idea this dream would be fulfilled so soon!

We went with my family the first week of July.  Although cliché, we truly created memories that will last a lifetime.  Never before had Kevin or I experienced beauty in such pure form.  The mountains, glaciers and glassy waters of Alaska made me wonder if heaven might be similar (although hopefully a few degrees warmer!)  The Bible tells us that God’s creation reveals His greatness, and it seemed as though all of Alaska was celebrating God.  The exploding sunsets, jumping whales, curious sea lions and unconquered mountains all seemed to be shouting, “God is magnificent!”  It’s like they were bursting to tell the world of God’s glory.

The trip was the first time in a long time Kevin and I were totally disconnected.  No phone service, no internet, no text messages, no conference calls.  It made me long for simpler days, before e-mail synced with cell phones, when cell phones themselves were a foreign idea, reserved only for the rich and famous.  It was good therapy, and something I think everyone should do at least yearly: Disconnect entirely.  Eat meals and actually converse with the people you’re with, without texting or playing Words with Friends under the table.  Surround yourself with nature—without your iPhone, without Facebook, without ESPN or the Bachelorette or whatever it may be for you.  Reflect on your life and the things you’re grateful for.  Enjoy the moment.  Sit in silence.  Stop planning the next thing.  I think we’ve forgotten how to do this.  And unfortunately, it’s our relationships and our own personal sanity that are suffering.

We’re back in Kingston.  Life picked up where it left off, in such a flourish it’s hard to even think straight.  But our souls are refreshed.  And we’re awestruck by God’s creation and declare along with it the glory of our Father.

With Love,

Kevin & Cass

P.S.  I've included a few pictures from the trip below.  Please enjoy!

Cruising through Glacier Bay

Juneau to Kingston: 4000 miles.  Can't believe we made the sign!

Whale watching
(With patience and perseverance we saw over 30 whales!)

Victoria, BC

Unfading Beauty

Kevin and I spent the weekend on the North Coast of Jamaica.  Kevin had a work function and I went along for the oceanfront view and beachside piña coladas.  We stayed at the Ritz, wined and dined on escargot and other unknown delicacies (you know you’re someplace fancy when you can’t pronounce what you’re eating) and brushed shoulders with some of the biggest names in the Caribbean tourism industry. 

On Saturday night we attended a gala.  Kevin wore his three piece suit from our wedding; complete with handmade cufflinks made out of shoe string, as he forgot his actual cufflinks in Kingston (The ingenuity of that boy still surprises me).  I wore high heels for the first time in years (literally).  I am not a high heel girl…I wore slippers on my wedding day; if that gives you any insight into the priority I place on comfort.  Prior to the gala, I spent an entire day shopping for a comfortable pair of heels, and quickly realized this was an oxymoron.  My feet are still recovering.

The gala was hosted by the Caribbean Hotel and Tourism Association.  They were celebrating fifty years since their inception, and honored the lives that had led and influenced along the way.  The Association’s first president opened the evening.  He was an old man — I’d guess in his late eighties.  His hair was white, his fingers arthritic, and his skin like a prune.  When it became obvious he couldn’t climb the two stairs leading up to the stage on his own, people rushed to his aid and quite literally lifted him up and positioned him in front of the podium.  He was surprisingly articulate and verbose, and his eyes lit up as he relived his golden years.  The sad part was…nobody really cared.  As his speech dragged on far over his allotted time, people simply stopped listening.  There was a low rumble in the crowd, as guests carried on private conversations at their dinner tables, oblivious to this former president’s attempt to prove he had once been someone worth listening to.

As I sat in my chair, wondering if this man realized his years of power and prestige were a thing of the past; I felt a common thread between him and all mankind:  We’re all in the process of fading away.  We may be in different chapters, but the book ends the same for everyone.  And the closer we get to the end, the more we realize how short the book is and how fast the time’s gone.   

One day (sooner than we think) we’ll all be in the final chapter.  Our beauty will fade.  Our strength will fade.  Our power will fade.  Sitting at the gala, I felt an urgency to live for something that will not fade.  To spend my time and energy investing in things that will outlast this life:  A gentle spirit, a kind heart, a generous soul.  I want unfading beauty.  I want treasures that will last forever. 

It’s something I’m working on—or rather, God’s working on in me: Striving for beauty in my inner self, and investing in treasures that can’t be destroyed.  It’s a challenging lesson to master, especially in a culture that embraces the external.  Though beauty and power are fleeting, they are still alluring, and it takes boldness and great faith to resist the world’s charms. 

So here is a toast to the courageous among us who pursue unfading beauty and fix their eyes on unseen treasures they may never receive on this earth.  May I be counted among them.

Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal.  But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal.  For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

Matthew 6: 19-21

A Rescue Mission

Not long ago, Kevin and I were running at the Mona Reservoir, a large lake-like body of water, surrounded by mountains and lush vegetation — a touch of calm in the chaos of Kingston.  In our effort to “shape up” we run a few laps around the reservoir several times a week.  We usually go early — between five and six in the morning — to beat the Jamaican heat and get it out of the way.  (Let’s be honest, no matter how much of a runner you may be, it always feels good to check it off your list for the day!)

This particular morning, we’d been running just a few minutes when movement caught Kevin’s eye.  Stumbling across our path was a panic-stricken bird.  It was covered in thorns, and appeared to have flown into some sort of cocklebur bush.  The bird kept trying to walk, trying to fly and was unsuccessful at both.  Sheathed in thorns, it couldn’t take a step without falling.  This only made matters worse, as every fall further embedded the thorns in its little body.

Kevin and I are both fierce animal lovers.  Every house we live in comes with a stray cat, which we pseudo-adopt, feed, and introduce to the human world.  Living in Jamaica, we have lizards, spiders and roaches galore, but even in my fear I can’t kill them.  Instead of a destiny swirling down the toilet, most are captured and freed by my courageous husband (while I cheer on from the dining room tabletop). 

All that to say, when we saw this little bird’s dilemma, we both melted.  We followed it around a few minutes, trying to devise a rescue mission that wouldn’t involve missing fingers or transmission of the bird flu.  Every few minutes we would timidly snatch away a thorny branch, only to be snapped and squawked at.  We were beginning to feel like the situation was hopeless — that the bird was destined to be the afternoon snack of a badger or snake— when two more animal lovers came walking our way.  These folks were brave.  The man gently picked up the bird, the woman held his beak shut with two fingers, and Kevin and I laboriously picked out all the thorns.  It took at least half an hour, and as we worked the bird went from flailing and fighting to resting calmly in the man’s hands, as if he knew we were trying to help.  When the little bird was finally free, the man set him on the path, and we all watched like proud parents as he took a few steps and flew away. 

As we finished our morning run, I couldn’t help thinking how often we act like that little bird.  We are encased in thorns — the worries that overwhelm us, the burdens that crush us, the sins that entangle us, the lies that blind us.  We desperately try and escape.  We’re determined to figure a way out on our own, but the harder we try the more exhausted we become.  All the while, God is right there waiting, ready to pick us up and gently remove our thorns.  He wants to deliver us from a life of worry and fear.  He wants to teach us how to fly.  But so often we resist, driven by fear instead of by faith, relying on ourselves because it’s too terrifying to relinquish control.  If only we would trust in the goodness of our heavenly Father!  Yes, it might hurt a little.  The first thorn removed may cause a sting.  It might be an arduous and painstaking process, one that leaves us vulnerable and exposed.  But once we’re soaring free, we’ll realize it was worth it.  The Rescuer made us to fly.

Do you not know?  Have you not heard?  The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth.  He will not grow tired or weary, and his understanding no one can fathom.  He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak.  Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength.  They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.

Isaiah 40:28-31

Striving to soar,

Kevin & Cass

On NASCAR and Prayers

Downtown Kingston

Greetings and Happy May!  Hope flowers are abloom wherever you are, and that your heart is also blooming in love, joy and celebration of life!

I’d like to describe to you our experience of driving in Jamaica, as it’s a big part of our daily lives here.  I’m not quite sure how to start, as it seems there are no words to accurately express the pandemonium that ensues when we start the engine and hit the streets. 

I’ve decided the best way to convey the experience is to compare it to a video game: Every man for himself, all the odds against you, may the best craziest driver win.  There are a few loose rules.  Traffic lights and stop signs are options for creating order, but the majority of drivers see them as an inconvenience and waste of time.  Obstacles pop out at any given moment:  Bicyclists carrying shovels, bamboo stalks, and other random objects, stray dogs crossing the street on a whim, barefoot children chasing each other, goats, pushcarts and motorcycles are just a few of many hindrances you may encounter en route.  Public transportation exists in the form of large, sluggish buses that have a mind of their own and make frequent, sporadic stops.  If you get behind one of them the game is over for you.  Not only are you stuck for the indefinite future, but the fumes might kill you on the spot.  Drivers believe in using all lanes, regardless of the traffic flow to get to their destination fastest.  The pot holes are more like large lunar craters, and during rainy season you really need an ark in lieu of a car.  It’s a white knuckled, heart racing, close-your-eyes-until we get there experience.

Interestingly, Kevin THRIVES on the roads here.  A little known fact about Kevin is that he’s certain his life’s calling involves being a NASCAR driver.  He’s never actually been in a racecar, but he “feels it in his bones” that given the chance, he’d take NASCAR to new heights.  The Kingston streets only confirm his calling.  He navigates the chaos with the finesse of a feline and views every obstacle as a chance to channel his inner Jeff Gordon. 

Given my husband’s aspirations, it’s no surprise that when we first arrived in Kingston, I was certain we wouldn’t last more than a week without catastrophe.  Every morning when Kevin left for the office, I literally hit my knees in prayer, begging God to protect him and help him make it in one piece.  The situation was so desperate and so beyond my control that praying seemed the only option.

After a few months, I got used to Jamaican driving, and the threat didn’t seem so big.  We were getting along fine, and I was actually driving around town running errands (without having a panic attack).  As I became more comfortable, I started praying less.  I was kissing Kevin good-bye and starting my day, without giving a thought to asking God for protection.  So often comfort leads to complacency, and as the danger diminished, so did my prayers.

Last week I was driving to the golf course to pick Kevin up after an early morning round.  As I was driving, the Holy Spirit so convicted me of my self-reliance and lack of prayers.  I couldn’t think of the last time I had prayed for protection.  I thanked God for protecting us so far on our journey, asked forgiveness for not making prayer a priority, and prayed that He would keep me safe as I drove to get Kevin.  I picked Kevin up and we headed back to house.  As we were driving, out of nowhere a car pulled out in front of us, totally oblivious to our presence.  Because of our speed and the hill we were descending, there was no way to avoid an accident.  I slammed on the breaks and waited for the “crunch.”  I knew both cars were totaled, and my mind was running a million miles a minute, trying to process the hassle, the damage, and the number of probable broken bones.  It seemed to last forever…I kept waiting, and waiting and waiting for the collision.  But it never came.  Our car stopped inches short of the other vehicle.  I’m talking literal inches.  You couldn’t have fit a paper clip between the two bumpers.   

I can’t prove what happened that afternoon, but I believe in my heart God heard my prayer for safety, graced us with protection and miraculously stopped the collision.  In my mind, I see Him watching the scene unfold, reaching His mighty arm down to Shortwood Road, and stopping our car with the strength of His fingertip.  Then He gives us a gentle smile as we close our eyes in thanks, chuckling to Himself as we drive the rest of the way home sending hi fives to heaven.

So often we wonder if prayer really works, and so often we can’t see tangible results to confirm that it does.  But sometimes God gives us such vivid proof that it can’t be denied.  And those moments keep me praying.

“Surely the arm of the Lord is not too short to save, nor his ear too dull to hear.” 

(Isaiah 59:1)

With Love,

Kevin & Cass