Poetry & Words

She’s outside of time. We’re in it.

One week and three days. That’s how long it’s been since Holly left this earth. Thirty years she lived on this side of eternal life.

“We are not alone / We are more than flesh and bone / What is seen will pass away / What is not is going home…” –Andrew Peterson

Donations to Ethopian school  Ziway Adami Tulu in memory of Holly Lutterman[Donate in Holly’s memory to the The Ziway + Adami Tulu Project]

And now, she’s home.

She’s dancing in the pure Light, healed. 

She’s outside of time. We’re in it. She’s free, and we’re trapped, feeling deeply the ebb and flow of new grief, constantly aware of life’s frailty.

The thing about death, you know, is that the living keep on living.

“The living can’t quit living,” Wendell Berry writes. “They can’t because they don’t. The light that shines into darkness and never goes out calls them on into life. It calls them back again into the great room. It calls them into their bodies and into the world, into whatever the world will require. It calls them into work and pleasure, goodness and beauty, and the company of other loved ones.”

And so we can’t quit. We don’t. We keep on, changed. Our perspectives shift, our priorities shift, our vision is altered. But we don’t quit.

We mourn, but not without hope. We grieve, but not without hope.

Hope is the anchor.

Hope points me to the “holy shores of uncreated light“, and the One who lights the way.

“‘Praise, Praise!’ I croak. Praise God for all that’s holy, cold, and dark. Praise him for all we lose, for all the river of the years bears off. Praise him for stillness in the wake of pain. Praise him for emptiness. And as you race to spill into the sea, praise him yourself, old Wear. Praise him for dying and the peace of death.

…Now that I can hardly walk, I crawl to meet him there. He takes me in his chilly lap to wash me of my sins. Or I kneel down beside him till within his depths I see a star.

Sometimes this star is still. Sometimes she dances. She is [Holly]’s star. Within that little pool of Wear she winks at me. I wink at her. The secret that we share I cannot tell in full. But this much I will tell. What’s lost is nothing to what’s found, and all the death that ever was, set next to life, would scarcely fill a cup.” -Frederick Buechner

Handmade, Humanitarian, Inspiration

HANDMADE :: The Adami Tulu Project, or, How I’m Sponsoring a Child in Ethiopia with One Etsy Sale Per Month

I first heard about the Adami Tulu Project through friends who volunteer for the organization, and who had recently traveled to Ethiopia to work with Adami Tulu school. I hadn’t checked out the website, though, until this afternoon.

Children at the Adami Tulu School

As I was browsing through the pages of children awaiting sponsorship, I read the following:

…Your sponsorship cost is only $19 per month – some 37% less expensive than most programs – and 100% of that money (after PayPal fees) goes into the field, spent on the costs of Adami Tulu School. 0% goes to US administration.

And I thought to myself, “Nineteen dollars. That’s less than what I charge for ONE hat in my Etsy shop. I’d only have to sell ONE hat each month to sponsor an Ethiopian child.”

All afternoon and into the evening, I couldn’t get it out of my mind. I kept talking to God about it, and kept thinking about it. (Anytime I think too hard about orphans, and little kids needing love and food and blankets, I have a hard time not crying. But I was with Josiah and Aveline, in the middle of the grocery store, where crying just won’t do.)

I checked my email when I got home, and lo and behold — someone bought a hat while we were out running errands.

And I knew exactly what I needed to do.

So, meet little Yeabsira. He’s 4 years old, an orphan, and lives with his grandmother.
Yeabsira - The Adami Tulu Project - Sponsor a Child

Thank you, dear God, for reminding me today what is really important. Thank you for reminding me that You are the Giver of all good things. For what do you require of me but to do justly, love mercy, and walk humbly before You? (paraphrase of Micah 6:8)

[All images via The Adami Tulu Project]