Resting in San Ramon

These days the sun seems to linger just as many hours as the short winter days of Northern Norway.  Placing Josiah in his car seat and scurrying to our next destination is certainly getting old.  My complaint however isn’t necessarily for the constant activity, but for the briefness of our visits.  Our last day here in the Bay Area has already come to its close and I can vividly recall landing at the San Francisco airport like it was earlier today.  We fly out tomorrow and the final hours of our arduous respite will be filled with grieving and weeping and that with a new set of family visitors.

Thankfully, we’ve spent today in one location, San Ramon.  It’s the same location we spent the second half of yesterday  as we cheered the Saints on to victory.  Not only have we been able to rest in bliss, we’ve also had moments that were particularly felicitous to exhibit the love of God and to explain what a relationship with Jesus actually looks like.

While here, I’ve observed the loving attention my Josiah has received from doting aunties.  I’ve also learned a little more about the Filipino culture that ironically I didn’t know much about thanks to immigrant parents who wanted to indoctrinate me in nothing but Americana.  Furthermore, I’ve appreciated Amy’s wonderful ability to adapt, learn, and fall in love with my family.

The fam goes to church…

I underwent mucho spiritual attack this morning just trying to get ready for church.  After a wonderful night of ministry, I was excited at getting my family to church.  But it seemed like everything was going against us.  In fact, I was at the brink of canceling the worship experience all together.  But, being that I have a God that has the ability and fortitude to persevere for eternity, unlike myself, He totally hooked it up.  So yes, a whole row of my family members planted their behinds on comfortable, plush seats at the Neighborhood Church in Castro Valley for the first time ever.

I learned a lot about my mother’s side of the family today.  She argued that Josiah’s features are the way they are because of her half Spaniard father and quarter Spaniard mom.  I told her it was because Josiah’s mom is white.  Next year, we’re scheduled to visit the tiny little 300 person town and island that my mom is from.  Along with the crystal clear water and powdery bright sand that she called her back yard, we get to enjoy the festivities of the St. Michael Fiesta.  The only disclaimer:  Abusayef, the Muslim terrorist organization, regularly instills fear and enacts violence upon the weak, helpless and those who proclaim Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior in that region.

As we watch the Superbowl this afternoon, pray that I may have the opportunity to effectively communicate the love of Christ and the Gospel of hope to those I love.  We’re going to the Philippines to bring hope…but my Filipino-American family needs it as well.

Oakland, Karen and Emeryville

Seems to be that our days marked as “vacation” are not synonymous with the glorious inaction of rest.  Trying to fit in as many people as possible before whisking away for God-knows-how-long is like working overtime.  I wish that our moments of bliss weren’t so rushed, but as the story goes, Amy and I are on a mission…literally.  So today, we started off in Oakland.  My brother resides in a beautifully constructed “dog friendly” loft in the heart of Oakland.  Well, he actually tells people that it’s in Jack London Square because the mention of the notorious city usually deters all thoughts of visiting my bro’s extravagant abode.  He has a new pet, Marley (as in Bob Marley and not the “Marley and Me dog”).  She’s a 13 week, 50 pound English Mastiff.  Massive.

For lunch, a dear friend of ours, Karen Anderson sacrificed a two hour drive away from the lusciously green fauna of her college home town of Rocklin to meet us in the busy, hustle and bustle of the city.  Meeting up in Emeryville I forgot how much I missed her.  She used to be an intern of mine…rather, she used to make sure I kept my head on straight two summers in a row.  There were times when I’d literally lose my truck (don’t ask me how) and before I could finish belting out her name she’d be standing next to me, dropping the keys into my hands.  Anyways, she is an amazing servant of the Lord whose story of redemption and discovering hope is a wondrous portrait of just how good God really is.

Then we spent the rest of the day with my aunts.  Oh how I feel for Amy right now.  6 months ago, I received the culture shock of my life living in the Deep South.  Now, she’s getting a crash course of what it means to be part of a boisterous Filipino family.  She fared well…she has to get used to it… I think the two of us make a wonderful cross cultural team.  Thank you God.

And let’s not forget the most exciting news of all.  A visitor to our family gathering decided to surrender his life to Jesus Christ.  That’s a miracle in and of itself, considering that Amy and I were probably the only Christians present.  I love presenting the Gospel because every time I do it…I feel like I’m getting saved all over again myself!  Congratulations Marvin!

Sky and Santa Cruz

We spent the day in Santa Cruz.  A buddy of ours, Sky Forest Colvil (I have to give you his full name because I think it’s the coolest in the world) is finishing up his degree at U.C. Santa Cruz.  He gave us an informal tour of the place with an interesting commentary coming from a thrice deployed military veteran who loves his country and the warriors who protect it.  If you don’t know, UCSC is one of the most liberal universities in the country.

As we ate lunch at an amazing little Sushi place called the Pink Godzilla, we reminisced of times spent in foreign countries with the Marines we took care of as Navy Corpsmen.  We also talked of recent memories forged enjoying the beauty of Southern California.  Amy and I miss it more and more as the days go by.

Sky is one of my closest friends from a past that I’d soon as rather forget, a past filled with arrogance, hate and a desire to reach the top of the career ladder.  He knew me before I fell in love with Jesus Christ and surrendered my soul to His will.  Sky has seen me at my worst and as we sat with our shoes off eating in traditional Japanese fashion, he observed me at my best – with a beautiful wife who is also in love with God and a son who will experience an adventure that only God could orchestrate.

A Day in San Francisco

Today we ventured into downtown San Francisco with the goal of finishing up some paperwork at the Philippine Consulate.  We had to authenticate (an attached official letter and a pasted ribbon signifying it’s officialness to the Philippine Government) Josiah’s birth certificate, my ordination paperwork and our certificate of appointment as World Team missionaries.  Doing such things would help make us look more official and ease our efforts at getting missionary visas once we apply in several months.  So it came as a great disappointment to find out that Josiah’s birth certificate could only be authenticated at the consulate located in Chicago due to jurisdiction regulations!  Man oh man.  Furthermore, they didn’t find it necessary to put authentication ribbons on the rest of my paperwork but rather, decided to make copies and stamp a seal explaining that it had officially been reviewed.  All that for a fee of fifty bucks.  LAME!

Well, the day wasn’t a lost at all.  We spent much needed time with my brother and mother.  The total time they’ll have spent with Josiah during the first four years of his life…5 days.  So battling the concrete jungle of Frisco was quite fun for all of us.  Together, we even fed a needy man scrounging for food.  Then we visited more family near Oakland.  We’ve been eating a variety of foods…and we are stuffed.  How grateful are we for the provisions of our Lord God, faithful and mighty!

On a side note, someone at the Philippine Consulate saw me holding Josiah.  I was with my brother and mom as Amy was handling some business.  In Tagalog he asked me if the baby’s father was white.  All I could do was stare in disbelief as my kindred broke out in laughter.

Josiah’s First Flight

On February 2nd, Josiah boarded his first ever plane ride.  We were headed to San Francisco with a stop in Houston where we would change planes.  This boy has already been to four states and he’s only four months old!  I can’t really say that this is the beginning of the journey because it started when we left California.  Josiah was born in the South and has traveled the U.S.  which has already been an amazing and tumultuous trek by far.  He will undoubtedly have visited a number of foreign countries before his toddler years are up.  So we are thankful that God has not only protected us, but has blessed us with the joy of conquering the world with a little one.

saying goodbye…again

The time has come. Goodbyes have become a part of our lives, but they are never easy. Last night Crosspoint Church gave us a Cajun going away party. (On the topic of cajun, Edwin turned to me while we were eating last night and said, “Josiah is part caucasian, part asian; he’s casian (sounds like “cajun” with more of a z-sounding j).) Anyway, so, there we were last night, with people we’ve truly grown to love, and a sweet spirit about all their smiles toward us.

When we arrived at Crosspoint back in August, me hugely pregnant and still growing, and Edwin still wondering how he would fit in in the South, we had no idea how bonded we would become to this community. I’m so proud of Edwin and how he fell right into Natchez, identifying ways to minister in his quirky and spirited way. In just a few short months the church, including the youth, fell in love with him. One middle school aged kid last night kept repeating stories Edwin had told during youth group. I turned to Edwin and smiled: “See, they do listen to you.”

Walking through the doors of the building last night, the church hollering in welcome and excitement that we were there, I had a moment of flashbacks: the day we entered after a summer of training, the anticipation of who my child would be growing steadily with my belly; trepidatiously bringing my two-week old into the building, secretly hoping no one would touch him in my overprotective new mother state; strolling Josiah through the door, our friends greeting us with smiles and outstretched arms to hold my growing child, the one that by now I handed off to anyone who wanted to “babysit”; and finally, with a four and a half month old in tow, leaving the cold of the winter weather to be embraced by familiar smiles and voices, more friends we’ll be leaving behind.

There’s a great deal of expectation and wonder in this move. I’m ready to settle into a home that is ours, the three of us, and make friends with the notoriously friendly filipinos who will be our neighbors. I look forward to learning my first Tagalog worship song, and singing it at home to, and someday with, Josiah. I look forward to waking up each day and greeting Jesus with the East, the first to rise in the sun of each day. I look forward to finding my niche in the place where we’ll live, and ministering there in the role Jesus gives me. I look forward to us being a family, setting out for the first time as Edwin, Amy, and Josiah Samson. This will be the first thing Edwin and I have done together without ties that one or the other had to adjust to. We’ll be adjusting together. Fresh start.

Saying goodbye isn’t always bad. We’ve had a hard go of the last year and a half. We’ve had trials in our marriage I never dreamed about, areas where we have had to obey Jesus in confessing and forgiving and believing that God’s Word is trustworthy when the going gets tough. We’ve been lower than low. I’m ready to say goodbye to that. I’m prepared to leave that behind in our history, and start a new book with exciting new fresh blank pages ready to be filled, bilingually.

And saying goodbye always reminds me that my home is not really anyplace on earth, anyway. Perhaps that is one of the great lessons the Lord is determined to teach me. No person will ever be a true prince except Jesus, and no home will ever be a true home until I’m dwelling with Jesus in heaven. We need him to help us taste the reality we can’t see, so that we can live more fully satisfied in the temporary that is our current dwelling place (2 Cor 4).

“‘Tis so sweet to trust in Jesus, just to take Him at His Word. Just to rest upon the promise, just to know, ‘Thus sayeth the Lord.’” That sweet trust is the safety blanket that wraps round my goodbyes.

The Call To Missions

The young adult ministry at New Song Community Church called Seven24 asked us to prepare a message concerning our call to missions.  We did it via video since we’re about a thousand miles away.  Disclaimer:  If you are easily offended just remember that this video is geared toward young adults.  Don’t say I didn’t warn you!

Josiah, son of Samson

We are oh so proud of this child, named for a king!

The Night Shift

The Night Shift

Some of the worst things…rather, most embarrassing things that could ever happen to me have happened in my first few days of work.  I, my friends, belong to the endangered jobs list – I am a male nurse’s aid working the night shift (quite humbling, but I’ll get to that later).  Here is a quick job description for those of you who don’t know what they do: 

-       Take Vital Signs

-       Assist nurse’s in doing everything

-       Assist patients in doing everything

Here is a bit of advice based upon my recent experience:

1. Never smile, talk, or otherwise keep your mouth open when disposing of urine.  There is a phenomenon called “splash back” which will leave a bad taste in your mouth…literally
2. Always use two gloves even if you think you can handle a job with just one.  Trust me, poop sneaks up out of nowhere.
3. You MUST knock before entering anyone’s room…especially when a patient’s girlfriend has come to “visit” for the night.
4. Make sure the patient knows you’re in the room when he or she is sound asleep.  If they suddenly wake up and you’re standing over their bed in the dark wearing a surgical mask, gloves, and holding a probe, THEY WILL SCREAM.
5. Don’t feel offended when patient’s stare at you when they first meet you.  You ARE in the Deep South and most people have never seen a Filipino before… oh wait, that last one only pertains to me.

In all seriousness, I am confident that God has placed me in this hospital, not for the sake of bestowing on me a sense of productivity during this hiatus, but for the sake of the lost and hurting.

As I placed the blood pressure cuff onto Mr. Smith’s* right arm, we made eye contact.  He quickly looked away as if he were embarrassed for getting caught staring at me.  By now, I’m used to the stares.  It’s not that I’m a freak of nature (like my brother used to call me) or that I’m especially odd.  It’s because I’m not from around here, and I’m okay with that.  Throughout the night, I took his vital signs, emptied his catheter, fetched him some cold water, and cleaned the clutter in his room.  Eventually we got to talking about spiritual things.  I found out about his deep love for family and his fear of what was going to happen if the disease in his body were to take him prematurely.  Throughout the next few days I frequented his room to do my job.  Eventually, our conversations grew deeper.  One night, Mr. Smith began to cry.  I asked him if I could pray and he allowed me to do so.  After more conversations this sweet old man transitioned from living in fear to jumping for joy at the prospect of experiencing the unfathomable happiness that comes from being with Jesus Christ.

John* had a disease that caused overwhelming pain throughout his body.  It was a pain that could not be pinpointed or explained.  His demeanor was calm and though his physical features tricked me into thinking he was a 28-year-old man, he was actually in his 40’s.  No one had ever asked him to pray before…at least not while he was in a hospital bed.  I promised to come back so that we could have uninterrupted time.  As I came in and out of the room to perform my required tasks, this gentleman would light up at the thought of prayer every time he’d see me.  Finally, I got to pray with him with his family in the room.  It lifted up his spirits and a feeling of relief came upon him.  I wish I could describe the smile on his face and the loving grip of his hand. 

Little Joey* would never look me in the eye.  He was embarrassed at how much care I had to give him.  For a long time, he didn’t even acknowledge my presence.  One night he started to scream in pain.  Another nurse’s aid and myself showed up to find out what was wrong.  Every time this boy coughed, his body trembled with pain.  He was moaning, screaming, coughing and crying all at the same time.  As we waited for the nurse I prayed that he would find comfort.  I prayed hard and I promised that I wouldn’t stop until he got it.  Suddenly, the other aid’s motherly instincts came in and she began to rub his chest.  Within seconds, the boy’s screams went away and he fell asleep.  I came back in later that night and I told him I was praying for him.  He smiled and ever since then we’d been able to talk like we’ve always been friends.

I’ve prayed for every single person I’ve taken care of.  Some patients take me a while to get to the point where I can ask them while others…I’ve outright asked if they wanted to start a relationship with Jesus Christ and receive Him into their heart.  The nurses probably think I’m crazy because during downtimes, I don’t take a break.  I walk up and down the halls.  I pray for every single room and I wait for a call light to come on.

I will see miracles before my time is up in that hospital.  I am confident of that.  The nurses will hear the Gospel in a way that they’ve never heard it before also.  I’m not afraid to share my faith or pray for everyone I meet.  I have nothing to lose.  But if I live in the fear of getting in trouble or getting fired, those people may lose the opportunity to experience what life is like with Jesus Christ.

 

*Names have been changed for obvious reasons