Life with The King is a journey; a beautiful journey. A daily expression of grace and surrender. A continual chain of growth opportunities and refinement. It is a glorious expression of the splendour of the King. It is also a collage of sorrow and heartache; of smiles in the midst of tears, of ashes being brushed away to reveal rare beauty. It gently nudges us to release our death grip on the things and the people we love, because He has called us to love Him intentionally, above all else. Life with the King is a life of adventure and peace, and I am ever grateful that He has captured me with His grace!
Walking with the King prompts a response to His radical love. It prompts a crucifixion of self, and draws us to deeper levels of fellowship in His presence. It calls us to seek His face and walk in the light that He gives. For me personally, it has come to mean a surrender of "normal life" as it were, and an embracing of the dance He has called me to. It has caused me to say more goodbyes than I ever bargained for, and that is painful. There is something beautiful about those loyal, faithful family members and friends who know you so well and love you unconditionally. It hurts to leave, to commit them to the Father, and to learn to live life without these beautiful relationships.
New life. This dear woman became a mother recently, and it blessed my soul to reconnect with her, and meet the precious little bundle who stole my heart immediately!
This city amazes me. This mosaic of colours and cultures causes me to shake my head in wonder and amazement.
Our weekly custom of experiencing a culture other than our own was showcased in a traditional Bengali meal, complete with floor seating and appropriate dress. Amazing.
I walk and I marvel at life here. The street vendors. The display of colours and styles. The fish markets. The eager salesperson. The slow-moving tourist. The frantic business man. The frazzled mother with a crying child. The love-struck couple. The lonely individual. The horns. The yellow taxis. The constant-ness. But, most of all, the eyes. They captivate me. They pull me in an beg me to see what lies behind them.
She travelled to my city just to see me. :) How wonderful to walk these streets together, talk about life, and drink coffee.
Little Italy. A crazy weekend due to the Feast of San Gennaro. We may have been on the verge of being trampled to the ground due to overly ambitious pedestrians; but nevertheless, we had a lovely time. We observed the celebrations, sampled Italian food, and savoured the moments of joy.
::How beautiful are the feet of them who bring good news::
So the journey continues, with constant reminders of grace. We have entered week 3 of 6 here at the Training Centre. I eagerly anticipate my entrance into the South. Until then, this city is mine, and I love it. So blessed. All is grace.
