Stop in the Name of Motion
In life we always hear “cherish these moments because it goes by so fast”, although this is a very true statement, I tend to not even stop to ponder on these words. I am not sure who this quote is by but I found it on pinterest and loved it “I hope I never get tired of the night sky, of thunderstorms, of watching cream make galaxies in my coffee. I hope I never grow to be someone who can no longer see the small beautiful things.”
It’s the little things…
Stop Motion animation is described as animation captured one frame at a time, using physical objects that are moved between frames. When you play back the sequence of images rapidly, it creates the illusion of movement. You may be thinking the same as me, why would a new mom of a 10-month old child decide to take on a project where you have to stop and take a picture each time you make a movement? Simply, to really slow down and appreciate the little things.
Having a baby makes life more chaotic and with that, tiredness comes days blurring together. Deciding to do this project and focusing on each frame really opened my eyes that I was going through the motions, loving my routine a little too much. Routines are good for babies, so you get into that habit and don’t even realize how your days can run together and well, you have separated yourself from the outside world. Thinking about this my mind kept going back to one person, Corrie Ten Boom.
The Ten Boom Family
Corrie Ten Boom, her sister Betsie, and other family members were Christians, who hid Jews in their home in Holland during WWII and were imprisoned by the Nazis in concentration camps. “Four ten Booms gave their lives for this family's commitment, but Corrie came home from the death camp.” –tenboom.org Corrie used her life to share her and Betsie’s story to bring people to Christ.
“There is no pit so deep that
God's love is not deeper still”
God has used both Corrie and Betsie Ten Boom to bring me closer to God but to also challenge me to love others and make my life count for Christ. So, the little things do matter, a smile, a prayer, a text, and fleas. Go back, read that again, that is not a mistake, God can use the little things, so I need to find them important too.
Thank God for the Fleas
Excerpt from The Hiding Place
"The move to permanent quarters came the second week in October. We were marched, ten abreast, along the wide cinder avenue...Several times the column halted while numbers were read out--names were never used at Ravensbruck. At last Betsie's and mine were called...We stepped out of line with a dozen or so others and stared at the long gray front of Barracks 28.
"Betsie and I followed a prisoner-guide through the door at the right. Because of the broken windows, the vast room was in semi-twilight. Our noses told us, first, that the place was filthy: somewhere, plumbing had backed up, the bedding was soiled and rancid.
"Then as our eyes adjusted to the gloom we saw that there were no individual beds at all, but great square tiers stacked three high, and wedged side by side and end to end with only an occasional narrow aisle slicing through.
"We followed our guide single file--the aisle was not wide enough for two--fighting back the claustrophobia of these platforms rising everywhere above us...At last she pointed to a second tier in the center of a large block.
"To reach it, we had to stand on the bottom level, haul ourselves up, and then crawl across three other straw-covered platforms to reach the one that we would share with--how many?
"The deck above us was too close to let us sit up. We lay back, struggling against the nausea that swept over us from the reeking straw...Suddenly I sat up, striking my head on the cross-slats above. Something had pinched my leg.
"'Fleas!' I cried. 'Betsie, the place is swarming with them!'
"We scrambled across the intervening platforms, heads low to avoid another bump, dropped down to the aisle and hedged our way to a patch of light.
"'Here! And here another one!' I wailed. 'Betsie, how can we live in such a place!'
"'Show us. Show us how.' It was said so matter of factly it took me a second to realize she was praying. More and more the distinction between prayer and the rest of life seemed to be vanishing for Betsie.
"'Corrie!' she said excitedly. 'He's given us the answer! Before we asked, as He always does! In the Bible this morning. Where was it? Read that part again!'
"I glanced down the long dim aisle to make sure no guard was in sight, then drew the Bible from its pouch. 'It was in First Thessalonians,' I said. We were on our third complete reading of the New Testament since leaving Scheveningen.
"In the feeble light I turned the pages. 'Here it is: "Comfort the frightened, help the weak, be patient with everyone. See that none of you repays evil for evil, but always seek to do good to one another and to all...'" It seemed written expressly to Ravensbruck.
"'Go on,' said Betsie. 'That wasn't all.'
"'Oh yes:'..."Rejoice always, pray constantly, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus.'"
"'That's it, Corrie! That's His answer. "Give thanks in all circumstances!" That's what we can do. We can start right now to thank God for every single thing about this new barracks!' I stared at her; then around me at the dark, foul-aired room.
"'Such as?' I said.
"'Such as being assigned here together.'
"I bit my lip. 'Oh yes, Lord Jesus!'
"'Such as what you're holding in your hands.' I looked down at the Bible.
"'Yes! Thank You, dear Lord, that there was no inspection when we entered here! Thank You for all these women, here in this room, who will meet You in these pages.'
"'Yes,' said Betsie, 'Thank You for the very crowding here. Since we're packed so close, that many more will hear!' She looked at me expectantly. 'Corrie!' she prodded.
"'Oh, all right. Thank You for the jammed, crammed, stuffed, packed suffocating crowds.'
"'Thank You,' Betsie went on serenely, 'for the fleas and for--'
"The fleas! This was too much. 'Betsie, there's no way even God can make me grateful for a flea.'
"'Give thanks in all circumstances,' she quoted. It doesn't say, 'in pleasant circumstances.' Fleas are part of this place where God has put us.
"And so we stood between tiers of bunks and gave thanks for fleas. But this time I was sure Betsie was wrong."
"They started arriving soon after 6:00 o'clock, the women of Barracks 28, tired, sweat-stained, and dirty from the long forced-labor details. The building, we learned from one of our platform mates, had been designed to hold four hundred. There were now fourteen hundred quartered here with more arriving weekly as concentration camps in Poland, France, Belgium, Austria, as well as Holland were evacuated toward the center of Germany.
"There were nine of us sharing our particular square, designed for four, and some grumbling as the others discovered they would have to make room for Betsie and me. Eight acrid and overflowing toilets served the entire room; to reach them we had to crawl not only over our own bedmates but over those on the other platforms between us and the closest aisle, always at the risk of adding too much weight to the already sagging slats and crashing down on the people beneath.
"Even when the slats held, the least movement on the upper platforms sent a shower of dust and straw over the sleepers below--followed by a volley of curses. In Barracks 8 most of us had been Dutch. Here there was not even a common language and among exhausted, ill-fed people quarrels erupted constantly.
"There was one raging now as the women sleeping nearest the windows slammed them shut against the cold. At once scores of voices demanded that they be raised again. Brawls were starting all up and down that side of the room; we heard scuffling, slaps, sobs.
"In the dark, I felt Betsie's hand clasp mine. 'Lord Jesus,' she said aloud, 'send Your peace into this room. There has been too little praying here. The very walls know it. But where You come, Lord, the spirit of strife cannot exist...'
"The change was gradual, but distinct. One by one the angry sounds let up.
"'I'll make you a deal!' The voice spoke German with a strong Scandinavian accent. 'You can sleep in here where its warmer and I'll take your place by the window!'
"'And add your lice to my own!' But there was a chuckle in the answer. 'No thanks.'
"'I'll tell you what!' The third voice had a French burr. 'We'll open them halfway. That way we'll be only half-frozen and you'll be only half-smothered.'
"A ripple of laughter widened around the room at this. I lay back on the sour straw and knew there was one more circumstance for which I could give thanks. Betsie had come to Barracks 28.
"Roll call came at 4:40 a.m. here as it had in quarantine. A whistle roused us at 4:00 when, without even shaking the straw from clothes and hair, the stampede began for the ration of bread and coffee in the center room. Lastcomers found none.
"After roll call, work crews were called out. For weeks Betsie and I were assigned to the Siemens factory. This huge complex of mills and railroad terminals was a mile and a half from the camp. The "Siemens Brigade," several thousand of us, marched out the iron gate beneath the charged wires into a world of trees and grass and horizons. The sun rose as we skirted the little lake; the gold of the late fall fields lifted our hearts.
"The work at Siemens, however, was sheer misery. Betsie and I had to push a heavy handcart to a railroad siding where we unloaded large metal plates from a boxcar and wheeled them to a receiving gate at the factory. The grueling workday lasted eleven hours. At least, at noontime we were given a boiled potato and some thin soup; those who worked inside the camp had no midday meal.
"Returning to camp we could barely lift our swollen and aching legs. The soldiers patrolling us bellowed and cursed, but we could only shuffle forward inches at a step.
"Back at the barracks we formed yet another line--would there never be an end to columns and waits?--to receive our ladle of turnip soup in the center room. Then, as quickly as we could for the press of people, Betsie and I made our way to the rear of the dormitory room where we held our worship "service." Around our own platform area there was not enough light to read the Bible, but back here a small light bulb cast a wan yellow circle on the wall, and here an ever larger group of women gathered.
"They were services like no others, these times in Barracks 28.
"At first Betsie and I called these meetings with great timidity. But as night after night went by and no guard ever came near us, we grew bolder. So many now wanted to join us that we held a second service after evening roll call. There on the Lagerstrasse we were under rigid surveillance, guards in their warm wool capes marching constantly up and down. It was the same in the center room of the barracks: half a dozen guards or camp police always present. Yet in the large dormitory room there was almost no supervision at all. We did not understand it.
"One evening I got back to the barracks late from a wood-gathering foray outside the walls. A light snow lay on the ground and it was hard to find the sticks and twigs with which a small stove was kept going in each room. Betsie was waiting for me, as always, so that we could wait through the food line together. Her eyes were twinkling.
"'You're looking extraordinarily pleased with yourself,' I told her.
"'You know, we've never understood why we had so much freedom in the big room,' she said. 'Well--I've found out.'
"That afternoon, she said, there'd been confusion in her knitting group about sock sizes and they'd asked the supervisor to come and settle it.
"But she wouldn't. She wouldn't step through the door and neither would the guards. And you know why?"
"Betsie could not keep the triumph from her voice: 'Because of the fleas! That's what she said, "That place is crawling with fleas!'"
"My mind rushed back to our first hour in this place. I remembered Betsie's bowed head, remembered her thanks to God for creatures I could see no use for."
During the services, the Bible was read in Dutch, but translations were passed on in German, French, Polish, Russian, Czech, etc.
After a while, the yelling, slapping, crying, and words of anger changed to "Sorry!", "Excuse me," and "No harm done."
“Every experience God gives us every person he puts into our lives is the perfect preparation for a future only He can see.”
–Corrie Ten Boom
