The
crew galley: a place where crew can cook for themselves.
The
pros: a great meeting place where rich conversations happen and even richer
food is prepared; a place of laughter, singing, whistling (that is correct) and
entertaining banter.
The
cons: it's noisy, you can't always find the tools or space you need; you burn
your food because the oven you chose wasn't working quite right.
I
normally try to avoid the crew galley because of my glass-half-empty view, as
outlined in the 'cons' above. Also, I'm an introvert, by which I mean I
get re-energized being alone and preferably in a quiet place, so times in the
crew galley when there are a lot of people in a relatively small place, all
talking at once can leave me feeling drained and in need of a dark room with
nothing but whale noises.
I
have found myself there a lot of late (the crew galley, not the room with whale sounds). I’m sitting there now, typing
this! Alongside are a class of
children making paper-mache masks.
The extraordinary thing is each visit has been enriching and fulfilling
for me and, perhaps, for others with whom I've engaged. I've had more
than a few, what I think of as, God ordained meetings.
God
specializes in the ordinary. Jesus himself said that people in fine
clothes belong in palaces. In the bible, we are not lead to believe Jesus
wore fine clothes. You didn't have
to go to a palace to find him. He hung out with the ordinary, the common
people – sinners, tax collectors, fishermen, and the like. The Creator becomes the created. The extraordinary becomes the ordinary.
Even today, Jesus will meet us in the most humble of places. Several
years ago, after the birth of our first child (ok, a little more than several
years ago) Jesus met me in a very un-grand place. We lived in a flat
above a shop in a low socio-economic part of town. We rented the property
as partially furnished, or perhaps we misread and it said poorly furnished –
paintings circa 1970, nick-nacks from seaside resorts, and basic
kitchenware. Someone had given us
sun loungers to use as easy chairs, because the flat had none. Its main room was located in the centre
of the building, which meant no windows.
This in itself dinted my pride, but it was all we could afford having
just returned from 2+ years on a Mercy Ship with no savings, moderate-income
jobs, and a new baby in tow. I was still reeling from a touch of
postnatal depression and although delighted, on one level, with my new bouncing
bubba, I was living in a dark place, situationally, emotionally and weather
wise. It was a dark December, in a
few respects.
I
awoke one chilly morning to discover a dead mouse on our kitchen floor. Whether it was frozen or early onset
rigor mortis, I couldn't tell. It could have been either because the
place was so cold. That was the
proverbial last straw. I crumpled onto the floor and wept. Hard. After
a few minutes, of this, I gradually became aware of a warm, affective
presence in the room with me, and though I couldn't see him with my physical
eyes, I had the feeling that the high King of Heaven reached down and sat on
that cold, mouse bearing floor with me and he comforted me. Actually, at
first I cried all the harder at the thought of him meeting me there in that
awful state, but after I got over feeling unworthy, I then felt comforted. Humbled,
I also felt for the first time in a while that I could go on and things would
get better, brighter. We'd be ok. That following summer was the
sunniest and longest for years before or since. God's gift to me and our
new daughter, whom I pushed in her beat-up Silver Cross pram for miles each
day, simply for the joy of being out doors, in bright places, feeling the
warmth of the Son.
Back
to the crew galley, another ordinary place that I have recently found to be
infused with the presence and warmth and flavour of someone extraordinary. The
same presence which met me on that kitchen floor, on the rough edge of town, 16
plus years ago, has been meeting me here, in this place and he's been bringing
his friends who need a special word, or encouragement or direction. The
wonderful thing is, he has given me the words to speak. (Believe me, I've only
to read the book of proverbs to know I don't have the sort of wisdom that's
been coming out of my mouth of late). I feel like I'm a spectator, of
sorts, seeing the young woman, anxious about her future, shed tears of relief
in response to a word picture of hope. An older woman getting
confirmation that the thing she's headed for next may actually be a
stepping-stone to God's plan for her life. A girl, who often seems to sit on the fringes of our
community, draw close and enter into conversation. Who'd have thought
such a pedestrian place could also be one of such heart-warming ministry? Even today, as my chicken finished
cooking, I got into conversation with a young married woman who was asking
about how we raised our 3 kids so well (answers on a post-card, please!). I had a feeling there was more to it
than what was on the surface.
Perhaps
next time you find yourself feeling too ordinary and in too ordinary a place, you
might pause, and internally posture yourself expectantly of who might give to
you and receive from you. And you
may find your soul satisfied as with the richest of fare.
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