Naphtali: Free Words of Grace

New Start with a New Blog

2010-10-06T07:28:00.000-07:00

Yah - I've moved/renamed/renovated my blog. I like this new format and look better, find it easier. And, I feel like with the advent of a blog series, this is a good time make the switch. While we're talking about moving, if anyone knows how to easily move my stuff from here to wordpress, I'd appreciate the help.

So, hope on over and check it out: Beautiful Broken

I'll post the first in the Israel series later this afternoon.

The Rules Have Changed

2010-09-29T04:19:00.000-07:00

‘As we consider all the options we are trying to change our language from "is that possible?" (because of course with God it is!!!) to "what is the next step God wants us to take?"’

A friend said this to me in an email the other day. For her, this comes from the context of walking with the Lord in a monumental change in geography that will affect her entire family. While we’re talking about that, let me take this opportunity to say how much I admire she and her husband for the voracity with which they are pursuing this next step in the Lord’s design for them. It is both encouraging and inspiring. I want to be like them when I grow up - which begs the question, at what point to I stop looking ahead to being grown up and just exist there?

I digress.

As I celebrated the good news in other parts of the email and thanked the Lord for putting these people in my path, I kept coming back to this statement; wondering what that would look like fleshed out as reality in my own life.

It caught me off guard a couple hours later that this sentiment, this very statement really, is exactly where I’ve been living since Israel. She said, in a far more eloquent way, what I could only express as, “I’m ready to trust God for big things” - which is admirable, but vague.

In contemplating these things, I came to another conclusion. I’ve been living my life according to a certain set of rules. My family loves to play the game Mexican Train, and we particularly love it when someone is visiting and we can play with new people. The problem is, sometimes they have played Mexican Train for years...but they play by a different set of rules. I’ve been living my life according to a rule book written by this world.

The reality is, my rule book is the watered down, adventure-less version. I’ve discovered a rule book written by a God who is able to do exceeding abundantly beyond anything I can imagine. Do you know how much more fun and free that is?

According to this new (well, new to me) rule book, I don’t have to wait and work for another year until my debt is paid off...I can ask and trust God to pay it now.

I don’t have to wonder and plan for the day that I won’t be able to walk anymore - which, according to the chiropractor, is a mere decade away. I can ask and trust God to heal my inoperable spinal birth defect.

This new rule book lets a girl who lives paycheck to paycheck give away a year’s worth of savings that had been set aside for a dream journey...only to have it returned four days before her planed departure date - and then grants her the joy of watching that story transform lives, her own and others.

It lets that same girl travel again, just five months later on yet another epic expedition.

I should give fair warning: I’ve changed rule books - traded in the old, boring empty one for one filled with life, adventure and wonder. I like this new, higher one better. It’s certainly more fun. It lets me hope and dream instead of work and wait. It lets me be who I am instead of who people want me to be.

It lets me tell my best friend that she is the man at the pool of Bethesda and doesn’t really want to be healed, because I now know she’ll love me anyway. And, let’s be honest, I didn’t really care if she’d love me anyway. These new rules let me love her enough to want her whole, regardless of what it cost me.

The good news is that she does love me anyway. The Good News is how remarkably easy its been to make this change. In fact, the change over happened without me even realizing it. A revolution begins in a moment.

I’m in a process of changing my language - much like my friend said, ‘ from "is that possible?"...to "what is the next step God wants us to take?"’ But also from, “I CAN’T move overseas until next year” to “God, pay off my debt so I can go sooner.” And from “the doctor says I won’t be able to walk when I’m 40” to “the doctor said I wouldn’t be able to walk by the time I was 40...but my God is bigger than a prognosis.”

That’s where I am right now with trusting God for big things. I’m there, but I’m also in a land of looking for more big things to trust God for, like hope and peace in Palestine, like healing and wholeness in the lives of my friends, like really, actually living and sustaining myself on my art. Trusting God to make dreams a reality.

For now, that’s what I have to say about what my trip to Israel did to me. There are many, many more stories of things the Lord did there, things we saw and experienced - and they are coming. I’m writing those now in the hopes of starting a weekly blog series just about the trip. But, this is where my heart is now, after the trip. So, if I seem a little wide-eyed, crazy and excited...it’s because I am. I want to see God do big things; and the reality is, He is doing them every day. We just need to ask Him for the eyes to see them, and then play by the rule book that allows them to be a reality.

Blog Plans

2010-08-23T14:22:00.000-07:00

Is it possible to go from a hardly-ever blogger to a hyperactive one in the span of about 3 days?

I think I've done just that.

I have three "series" in my head that I'd like to work on. I want to share about my trip to Jordan from this past April, my trip to Israel next month, and this other thing. I love words. I love to read and write...even if I don't do enough of either. And I am absolutely fascinated by song lyrics, particularly worship songs and hymns. So often we learn the words to a song and just sing them without giving thought to what we're singing, proclaiming or promising. I would really like to write a book exploring common songs and hymns and what those things really mean. Since I don't really know how to go about writing a book, I think I'll begin here with essays about such things.

I'm thinking I'll come up with a schedule...like, a day for each series and post to each series once a week. Gosh, that's ambitious...that's three posts a week.

Thus, my opening statement.

We shall see.

Confessions of a Terrible Blogger

2010-08-19T11:54:00.000-07:00

I am a terrible blogger.

There. I've said it. Admitted it.

That's the first step to healing and change, right? Admission?

So, I hardly ever blog...mostly because I don't think anyone really cares to read what I have to say...although, my friend Amy has disputed that on numerous occasions.

It seems that, as of late (and, by "of late" I mean my most recent few posts, not an actual time frame), I have had quite a lot to say. The posts have been long. See, the simple fact is, I have a lot in my brain. Not really a lot of useful information most of the time, but a lot of thoughts at least. And, I do like to write. And, I do, desperately want to be intentional about writing more.

So, here I am, in public committing to blog more. (Question: If you make a commitment in public and no one is there to hear it, is it a real commitment?) Really, my hope in blogging the things I'm thinking these days is to spur discussion. Outside of the Bible and what it clearly defines, there isn't a whole lot that I am dogmatic about...at least, I don't think there is...I guess we'll find out should this here blog actually spur discussion. I love debate and discussion - within the boundaries of respect and honor - and I have some people in my life these days who exhort me to greater depths of thought on the things of the Lord...and I couldn't be more grateful for them.

The other main impetus in my new drive to blog more is my upcoming trip to Israel.

I am a journal-er when I travel...not so much when I'm at home. I will write like mad while I'm gone...and plan to turn at least some of those pages into blog posts. I'll even post some in the next 3 weeks or so until I leave.

On the same topic as this trip to Israel, about five months ago, I had an amazing opportunity to spend two weeks in Jordan. I learned so much in the weeks leading up to that trip that I was afraid I'd need a couple weeks to recover before experiencing all that God had for me on the actual trip. Really, amazing doesn't even begin to cover it. BUT, I journaled all of that as well and will be working on making some of that story blog-able as well. So many people walked that journey with me, or just heard bits and pieces of it in the last few days. It is a ridiculous story of God's provision that left me completely unable to ever again wonder if God loves me. Clearly, He does.

So, here is my new commitment to being a better blogger...Amy, hold me accountable. :)

Some Thoughts

2010-08-18T08:19:00.000-07:00

Disclaimer: I don't claim to know a whole lot about much of anything. Particularly politics. Or, really, religion. I don't claim to be well-read. (I wish I was, but I'm not.) What I do know, however, is that Jesus calls us (His body, His church, His followers) to love...to love without limits...to love without consideration for political or religious affiliation. To forgive. To turn the other cheek. And, perhaps the most difficult of all, to NOT defend ourselves with words, but to let the way we live our lives be our defense.

Now, with all of that disclaimed (is that a word? See? Not well-read.), just a few thoughts on this whole discussion of building a mosque/Islamic cultural center "at" Ground Zero.

A: The proposed site of the mosque is not AT Ground Zero...or on the grounds of the former World Trade Center. It's down the street. They are not asking to build a worship center on top of the hallowed graves of our fallen heroes, of the ordinary, every day American who went to work one morning and didn't come home that night. It's down the street.*

B: We (Christians) are outraged when rumors fly about people not being legally allowed to have church meetings in their homes. We go crazy with email chain letters and petitions. We champion freedom of religion and separation of church and state when we feel threatened. We need to remember, this was land was NOT colonized and this country was NOT founded to be a Christian nation, but one of religious freedom. The first men and women who landed here fled the forced church allegiance and religious persecution of England to find a place where they had the right and freedom to choose what they believed and how they worshipped. It is rather bigoted of us to claim these rights only for ourselves; to say that we are only free to worship when/where/how we choose IF we are "Christian." This is a country of equality (do I really need to quote the Declaration?).

C: All of the above said, I do agree that it is in poor taste to build a mosque - particularly such a large one - in such close proximity to Ground Zero. Poor taste, not unconstitutional. Quite frankly, if they own the land and hold the right permits, I don't think there is a legal leg to stand on to stop the construction.

D: Moving on to our response as Christians. We have only one option: Love. Really, think back to a time before you were a Christian. If someone came to you in the name of the their god, ridiculed you for what you believed, shouted about how evil you were simply for what you believed...how willing would you be to listen to what they believed? Why is that our first course of action when Jesus simply loved? Across the board, He loved.

When Jesus met the woman at the well He knew her culture, He knew her story...and by knowing these, He knew her need. And He answered her need...her specific need, with Himself. My question to you is this: when we meet someone on the street, how can we possibly know her need if all we do is shout about who she is without Christ? None of us, Christian, Buddhist, Hindu...none of us are any better than she is simply because she is Muslim. I am no more worthy of Jesus because I was born in America than she is because she was born in an Arab country**. God doesn't make mistakes. He doesn't view her as a lost cause for the Gospel because she was born to an Arab family. We'd be wise to remember that it was the zealots who yelled the loudest in the New Testament, not the One who was right. The One simply invested in lives.

We simply cannot change the religious or political climate in this country by kicking, screaming and attacking the government. Change happens in the roots. We need to learn to love; to teach our children to love. Love is every bit as passionate as anger and can spread with the same epidemic force. We live in a culture (or, at least, I do) where loving our neighbor quite literally means loving the nations. We don't have to go overseas anymore to encounter someone with a vastly different religious and cultural outlook. She is right down the street, maybe even literally, next door. Love her enough to know her story, know where she comes from, know her need. And meet that need with Jesus. We are His hands and feet, we can very practically show her who He is and how He loves.

No, I don't know a whole lot about politics, but I know Jesus...and He is a whole lot bigger than America's political system. I know His voice, and what His prodding feels like. I just wonder, if Elijah heard God's still small voice in a gentle wind, why do we feel like we need to be loud on God's behalf?

*Just for the record, given the metropolitan nature of NYC and the sheer number of people who died, there is no doubt in my mind that there were ordinary, every day American MUSLIMS who had nothing to do with the group responsible for 9/11 who were killed as well. They were American.
**From my very limited research, it appears that only 15% of the world's Muslims are Arab - however, we tend to assume the two are synonymous.

2010-03-15T07:24:00.000-07:00

Our beloved Father

Please come down and meet us

We are waiting on Your touch

Open up the heavens

Shower down Your presence

We respond to Your great love

We won’t be satisfied

With anything ordinary

We won’t be satisfied at all

Open up the sky

Fall down the like rain

We don’t want blessings

We want You

Fall down like fire

We don’t want anything but You

Our beloved Jesus

We just want to see You

In the glory of Your light

Earthly things don’t matter

They just fade and shatter

When we’re touched by Love Divine

Here we go, let’s go to the Throne

The place that we belong

Right into His arms

I first heard this song in February of 2009. Right away, from the first chorus, it rang true with my heart. I was in the midst of a difficult, dark season. The Lord had stripped from me some things, activities, positions that I had thought were essential to my very being. As in every move He makes, He was very right and I was very wrong. He took those things from me in order to force me - it was a tender and loving force, but it was, most certainly, forceable - to force me to find my identity in Him rather than the things I did.

Ouch.

“We won’t be satisfied with anything ordinary, we won’t be satisfied at all.”

The very first time I read those lyrics I understood why I was willingly walking through that time with the Lord, instead of pushing through life as it had been. I don’t want life. I want LIFE - life abundant, life adventurous, life loud and life joyful. And, even if I didn’t understand what was going on at the time, I trusted the God who promised me these things.

That said, the Lord blessed my struggling, bumbling faithfulness to follow and let go of the things I loved - the things I had previously thought identified me - and returned them in ways I can’t even express. God is good, my friends, He is good.

As 2009 came to a close, I knew deep down that 2010 was going to be a big year for me and the Lord. Bigger even, if it was possible, than the early months of 2009. This fact was clear to me in the part of my heart that I now know is where the Lord speaks to me, then it was just a settled truth in my spirit. And I knew it with more resolution every time I sang this song.

Now, for as much as I knew that things were going to change in 2010, that the Lord would be new and real to me, I could never have expected it to happen so quickly or so profoundly. It’s only March, and the beginning of March at that. But, already, I know that my relationship with the Lord will never be what it was - there’s no going back.

You see, this year I have embarked on a journey of prayer that I merely flirted with last summer - a journey of prayer, communion and community with the Lord that can’t be adequately explained without personal experience.

Listening prayer is just that - asking the Lord and...are you ready for this? - actually listening for the answer.

Whoa.

Earth-shattering, I know.

God speaks, my friends. He does. He speaks to us each in different ways. For me, it’s in pictures. I see things - I hesitate to call them visions, but pictures. Even if the Lord is just giving me a word, which He often does for me, I see it in some sort of calligraphy. And, I love it.

I love how so often, when I inquire of the Lord, He so very quickly answers me...almost as if He’s actually eager to talk to me. Oh, but wait, He is! (Proverbs 1:23) Why - why!? - was I never taught this before? Most times, He is answering before I can even get the question out. It both calms and excites my heart to know that He is waiting...no...longing for me to be quiet and still enough for Him to answer.

Listening prayer is every bit as simple as it is complex. There is beauty in the expression and peace in the revelation. God is good - He loves - and He gives what we need and what we can handle in the moment and never yet have I discovered something I had expected.

Freedom. Power. Beauty. Art. Boldness. Truth. All things I’ve found in listening prayer. Not things I’ve received or been given. I already had them. And, the Lord has so graciously and gently shown me that they were already there, I just needed to access them, live in them, walk in them. All of these have changed the way I think, the way I speak and, most amazingly, the way I pray.

“Here we go, let’s go to the throne, the place where we belong, right into His arms.”

Prayer now, for me, isn’t just an act of attempting to defy gravity. I’m not tossing my concerns up to the sky and hoping they break through the atmosphere and make it to the ear of the Lord. No. Now, I walk into the throne room of the King of Kings, crawl in His lap and have a chat with my Dad. Because I’ve heard Him answer, I know that He cares for the concerns of my heart. He wants to hear, and He longs to answer.

.”Our beloved Jesus, we just want to see You, in the glory of Your light.”

I heard this song today for the first time in a while. It has become my anthem for 2010, and I do think of it often, but I hadn’t listened to it in it’s entirety for a few weeks. It serves as such a sweet reminder of where I was a year ago and where the Lord has brought me since. I’ve learned obedience and patience. I’ve learned to sit and to listen. To really listen. To listen to what He says to me and about me - not just to what I want to hear or think He says.

In learning to sit and to listen I’ve learned that He loves ME. That He loves me for me - for who I am and who He created me to be. I’ve learned that, if I am willing to sit and listen and act on what I hear, that I will become more of who He created me to be than I ever have been - or ever will be by fighting and pushing on my own.

This lesson of listening and knowing and curling up in His lap, this will go with me forever. This isn’t one of those lessons that I learn and remember for a while and then need to be reminded of again and again. No, this one is resolute. The more I hear from Him, the more I long to hear from Him. The more I hear His voice, the more excited I am for the next time I can sit and listen.

He speaks, my friends. He speaks. Just listen. You’ll be blown away. And, I assure you, you won’t find anything ordinary.

It's Been a While, But...

2009-12-09T11:44:00.000-08:00

Yes, it's been, like, 6 months since I've blogged...hey, I've been busy...cut me some slack! :)

For all 2 people who actually look at my blog, this might make up for my extended absence:

http://mckgiveaways.blogspot.com/2009/12/hp-touchsmart-giveaway.html

Go there. And then, enter to win a TOUCH SCREEN COMPUTER.

On second thought, just go there...don't actually enter...that'll reduce my chances to win. Although, since only 2 people read this, I don't know that 2 more entries will hurt my chances THAT much.

:)

We All Have Our Hamans to Bear

2009-05-30T14:53:00.000-07:00

Here's the setting: Ancient Persia. The Jews had been taken captive, removed from their homes and carried, in exile, to Babylon. We're talking Daniel and his buddies. Eventually, Cyrus (a Medo-Persian king) conquers Babylon and issues a decree allowing the Jews to return home to Jerusalem and rebuild their temple. I'm not exactly sure the measurement of time, but at this point, the Jews had been in Persia long enough that some were comfortable enough to not take Cyrus up on his offer to return home, choosing instead to stay in Persia. Several decades later...long enough that the Jews have so assimilated into the Persian culture that nobody even knows Esther is Jewish. The people of God were no longer living a set-apart life.

So, here we are. In Persia, decades after Cyrus allowed the Jews to return to Jerusalem. Xerxes has been humiliated several times over, not only on the battlefield, but in his own home. Vashti has been banished (probably, ultimately, to her own benefit) and Esther has been chosen as her replacement.

Esther's beloved cousin, Mordecai, who really acted more as a father, paces the city gates daily to ensure her safety. He saves the king's life by reporting a murder threat and, in turn, is required to bow to the son of a family that has been an enemy to his own family for generations. Think Hatfields and McCoys. Mordecai refuses to bow to Haman, or to pay him honor. I find it interesting that, in hindsight, already knowing how the Lord will work this story out, that I just assume his refusal to bow is similar to that of Daniel and his pals, that he will not bow before anyone but the Lord. Without actually researching this point, I have to say it appears that isn't really the case. Mordecai has raised Esther from (apparently) a very young age. If he is such a devout Jew that he would bow to no one but the Lord, wouldn't he have raised Esther to be a more devout Jew? Or, at the very least, Jewish enough that people in their community, the other girls she was in the harem with would know of her heritage? It looks like his refusal to bow is based not in commitment to the Lord, but old family grudges...all be they understandable grudges.

So, as a result of Mordecai's refusal, Haman takes the opportunity to wipe out the Jewish presence from the Persian empire. The edict goes forth from Haman to destroy anyone or anything of Jewish decent on the very day the Jews would celebrate Passover and remember what had been, up to that point, the most blatant portrayal of oppression, deliverance and redemption.

A quick recap: the Jews were living in a land that wasn't their own; a place they didn't belong. Persia was not where God had intended for them to live. He sent them there to get their attention. They had been provided a means of escape. Cyrus had let them go...they could have gone home, back to the place the Lord had promised them from the days early on. And, they chose not to go. And, as a result, they now faced a mortal enemy and certain death.

So, let's import this circumstance to our own time. We, as believers, live in a land that isn't our own, a place where we don't belong. This world is not what God intended for us. It is not what He created us for. He created us for a place so much better...and place of uninhibited relationship, communion and worship with and of Himself. And we face an enemy that is entirely impossible for us to overcome or defeat without the intervention of God. We face an enemy who is trying, desperately, to kill us, to wipe our presence from the face of the earth. This enemy knows he can't win...that he has already lost.

Unfortunately, we're the ones who remain unconvinced of that truth.

God has worked miracles in our past...both corporately and personally, not the least of which (can you even qualify a miracle as 'greatest' or 'least'???) is our own salvation. I can look at my own past, my own life, and see the miracles, but they're mine. Look for your own. If the Lord worked those, will He not work others? He doesn't run out. He doesn't have a limit to the number of cancer patients He can heal before that element of His power is gone. He can't only save so many families and businesses from bankruptcy before the money runs out. He owns the cattle on a thousand hills to keep us fed...and the hills the cattle stand on, as well.

And, His timing is perfection.

I think Beth Moore hit the nail on the head when she said that sometimes the Lord's timing in sending a new threat, a new Haman, serves to remind us of the ones He's delivered us from in the past. This is the exact reason I have a tattoo on my foot. (Click here for that story.) So, the next time a Haman shows up in our own lives, maybe our response shouldn't be 'Why now, Lord?' But, rather, 'Lord, help me remember Your faithfulness.' He's been faithful to provide, protect and rescue for the last, oh, six thousand years or so...He's not going to forget us tomorrow.

A True Conversation

2009-05-27T10:00:00.000-07:00

My friend: I like your belt.

Me: Thanks. I got in the Caribbean in January.

Her: Cool...and your necklace is beautiful...

Me: Oh, thank you...it was a gift when I was in Lebanon last month.

At this point we looked at each other and laughed at how ridiculous this conversation was.

Her: And, your earrings?

Me: Oh, those are from Kohls...50% off!

I love my life.

Yah...it's a long one...

2009-05-12T20:01:00.000-07:00

Whoa...I think I just had my world blown open a little bit.

Whoa.

I’ve been talking about my past a lot lately, with a couple different people...just sharing. And, when one talks about his or her life, he or she tends to think about his or her life as well. (Now, I know it’s grammatically correct to do all the he/she, his/her stuff...but that takes to long...let’s face it...I’m talking about me.)

I tend to be very competitive. I don’t like to lose. At anything. Even just life challenges...I don’t want to be beat. When I run, as I run that last 1/8th of a mile and I feel like my chest might explode or my legs completely give out, what I am telling myself, sometimes audibly, is “don’t let this 8th beat you...push it out...you can beat this.” Often, in life challenges and hard times, I look at what I’m facing and make the choice to trust God, to find joy and to continue walking. For me, one of Buddy’s most powerful sermons was when he said that faith and fear are the same emotion, we just make the choice.

All of that said, looking back at my life, I wouldn’t change any of it. I’m thankful for it...even the really hard, crappy parts when my life pretty much fell apart. Why? Because I know, I know...beyond the shadow of a doubt, that this is the story God wrote for me. And, if He wrote it, He has a purpose for it. And just recently (like, this past week) I’ve come to realize that, because of this knowledge, I would rather walk through the hard stuff...earn that faith, than have an easier life. Seriously. Because with all of that comes the knowledge that the Lord is using me. That He has chosen me for a situation that can bring Him glory. And that presents a challenge to me...will I choose the faith to bring Him glory, or will I choose the fear that could make someone question the size of my God? I surely don’t want to lose in that competition!

Yeah...this is gonna’ be long...

So, in the midst of all of this self-discovery or whatever you want to call it, I’ve started Beth Moore’s Esther study. No lie, Day 1 of Week 1...mind blown. She makes the comment that the book of Esther begins with the phrase “This is what happened...” Biblically speaking, this is a rather rare statement; it is the equivalent of a biblical “Once upon a time...”

The Hebrew for “this is what happened,” wayhi bime appears five times in the Bible. All five times they lead into a story of catastrophe and doom. (I can’t find a list of the five, but I’m pretty sure Beth is right.)

But...

But, each of those five stories end happily, after much grief. I’m sure Job is one of those five. Everyone knows the terror of his life...but keep in mind the ending. The Lord blessed the second part of Job’s life more than the first. He had children in numbers equal to the ones he lost and livestock double what he’d originally had. But, not until after the hard-fought battle.

Beth wraps up the day’s study with this quote: “When we trust our lives to the hand and pen of an unseen but ever-present God, He will write our lives into His story and every last one of them will turn out to be a great read.”

I feel like that’s the life I’ve been living...a lot of it without even realizing it.

That’s certainly the life I want to live.

Good Heavens...this is, literally, just the first day. It’s gonna’ be a good study.

Shiloh, Elkanah, Hannah and Efrain

2009-03-04T18:39:00.000-08:00

This:

is my tattoo...not that anyone really asked...but I figured now is just as good a time as any to explain what it means.

Sorry it's such a terrible picture.

It's on the inside of my left ankle.

Here's the thing...I know there are plenty of people who don't like tattoos, find them evil or dirty or sinful or whatever. Clearly, I am not one of those people.

Let me first explain why I got a tattoo. I didn't it just because I wanted to, or because my friends all have them...quite the contrary, actually. My tattoo is, for me, a reminder of God's faithfulness and His promises. I didn't want a tattoo, so this is what I got. I wanted to remember the Lord's faithfulness and His promises and this is how I chose to do that.

Now, on to what it means...

The big shape is the outline of Peru. I've been there three times since December of 2003 and every time, the Lord has done big things for me. The second time (April 2005), He made me a promise. That if South America (meaning, a life there) is what I want, I needed to wait. Just wait. That I wasn't ready...I needed to trust Him and wait.

A lot has happened since then.

Ok, that's the shape.

The lettering to the right is the Hebrew word for Shiloh...specifically, for Shiloh, the place mentioned in 1 Samuel 1. Basically, Shiloh is where the Lord took Hannah when He promised her what her heart most desired. Later, she received the answer to that promise in Ramah.

Peru is my Shiloh. It was where the Lord took promised me what my heart most desires. Prayerfully, Ecuador is my Ramah.

And, just to make the whole thing a little cooler, some extra info about the word Shiloh...
-'Shiloh' as a name means 'His Gift.' Clearly, Peru was a gift for me.
-Hannah's husband, Elkanah, was from the tribe of Ephraim. For me, there are two cool things about this: 1.) Efrain (the Spanish form of Ephraim) is the son of my closest friend in Ecuador. And 2.) Ephraim, as in the son of Jacob and the tribe of Israel, means 'the Lord has made me fruitful in my barrenness.' The Lord most definitely took me to Peru in a time of barrenness.

And, so, that is the story of my tattoo...and why I love it.

Red and Yellow, Black and White

2008-12-31T18:10:00.000-08:00

"Since you are precious in My sight,
Since you are honored and I love you,
I will give other men in your place and other peoples in exchange for your life."
Isaiah 43:4

This is how I know God loves us:

Color.

I was struck by this once in Peru about five years ago...and it changed the way I viewed a lot of things. God could have created this world in one color. Everything could be just blah. It could all be beige. Or olive green. Olive green was always the least used color in my Crayola box. I always hated olive green.

He could have.

But He didn’t.

Instead He gave us color. Stunning, breathtaking, awe-inspiring color. As I write this, i am sitting outside, looking over the Caribbean Ocean. It is a blue words couldn’t even begin to describe and the sun reflects off it’s surface in a million sparkles. The sky is currently several ridiculous shades of blue and white. Off to my left is the southern end of the island painted in limitless shades of green from the jungly mountaintops to the grassy rolling hills. Just beyond the end of this island is the mass of rock that is Nevis, the next island. Usually, it’s hidden under cloud cover and you can’t see much from here...but today is clear. The part of Nevis visible from here is a large mountain covered in a beautiful deep emerald green...much prettier than olive green.

Yesterday we spent hours out on the boat, out in a cove. I think I love that cove because of the range of creation you can see there. Sit on the boat and look out toward the horizon and see forever blue ocean. There aren’t many waves here...it’s smooth as far as you can see. Turn around and look toward land and see, down where the water meets the land, huge rocks and a high, rocky cliff. Even the rocks here are pretty...so many variations of grays and whites and silvers...and the shapes on the cliff. They look like God, Himself, stretched out His hand and carved them with His own finger. Look up higher on the cliff, though, and the vegetation begins and you find a whole new world of greens.

But, then, my favorite part...put on your mask and snorkle and look down. If you just kind of float on the top and breath...don’t splash too much...it’s like they forget you’re there and they all come out. The fish. They are unbelievable. Too many colors and variations on colors to even begin to describe.

This underwater world isn’t a world we were meant to live in...and yet He put those colors there for us to find. Just to say, ‘Hey, I put this here just for you to enjoy. Look at these and know how much I love you.’

Everything could be tan and khaki and blah...but it isn’t. Color is a gift from God above to remind us how very much He loves us. He doesn’t need these things to be so many incredible colors. They aren’t necessary for Him to accomplish His tasks. They are there because He loves us, because we are precious in His sight.

I think the people in our lives are colors, too.

The people who bring joy and laughter to our lives...they are our pinks and reds and bright blues. They are the Caribbean Oceans in our daily lives.

And your earth tones: solid, deep oranges and greens...like the top of Nevis right now. They are the relationships of stability and longevity. The ones who never move, who are always right where you need them to be.

Life without the silvers and grays of the cliff would be so difficult. They are the relationships that bring highlights to the dark, sorrowful moments of our lives.

Yellows, like the sun that beats on me right now, the treasured ones who bring a reminder that tomorrow is a new day. That the sun will rise and you can begin again.

A few relationships have been such key factors in the way God has chosen to reveal Himself and His love for me. Without even thinking, I can list people who are each of these colors to me...without them, my life would be painted in plain tans and khakis.

I am so thankful for the Lord’s love and the so very many ways He reveals that to us!

Can anyone else not wrap their brain around this:

2008-12-16T08:36:00.000-08:00

But now, thus says the LORD, your Creator, O Jacob,
And He who formed you, O Israel,
"Do not fear, for I have redeemed you;
I have called you by name; you are Mine!
"When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;
And through the rivers, they will not overflow you
When you walk through the fire, you will not be scorched,
Nor will the flame burn you.
"For I am the LORD your God,
The Holy One of Israel, your Savior;
I have given Egypt as your ransom,
Cush and Seba in your place.
"Since you are precious in My sight,
Since you are honored and I love you,
I will give other men in your place and other peoples in exchange for your life.
"Do not fear, for I am with you"

Isaiah 43.1-5

Not Me! Monday

2008-11-04T15:14:00.000-08:00

So, over on the right side of my blog is a button about praying for sweet baby Stellan that also serves as a link to MckMama's blog. Stellan's story is beyond amazing and his life outside MckMama's belly hasn't even begun yet! Seriously...it's worth reading. I warn you, though, once you start you won't be able to stop.

So, about Not Me! Monday...go here to see what it's all about and then do one yourself!

I have not, not at all, pulled up MckMama's blog just to look at her new header with a for real live picture of Stellan instead of the sonogram...that would be stalkerish.

I did not attempt to read MckMama's post about Stellan's birth at work one day...only to give up because I was crying and didn't want to have to explain to my co-workers that I was crying over a blog. And then I didn't try to read it again later that afternoon and cry like a baby all over again. Over a blog. A blog belonging to someone I've never met in for real life. Does that make me an official stalker???

I did not just see my first Christmas commercial...seriously, folks? It's barely November! At least there's no more political commercials!!! :)

I did not have to try FIVE different registers at Target before they could find one where both the computer and the debit card machine would work. And if I had, I certainly wouldn't have left my wallet sitting at one of those registers.

I did not miss a day and a half of work last week because of migraine issues.

I did not attempt to get out of a flu shot at church yesterday by saying that I'm afraid of needles...if I had it surely would have worked because all of those ladies didn't surely see my brand spanking new tattoo just a couple weeks ago. I also didn't run out of excuses and go ahead and get the shot. And I won't be super mad if I get the flu this year.

Sometimes God just blows my mind...

2008-10-29T10:10:00.000-07:00

Read this:

STELLAN Update!

Happy Birthday, Sweet Stellan!!!

2008-10-29T06:46:00.001-07:00

We're so excited to "meet" you!

I just checked my past posts and I can't believe I haven't posted about this sweet boy before! I mean, I kinda' have with my Not Me! Monday posts...but not just about he and his family.

Back in July when his sweet mama (affectionately known around the world as MckMama) was 24 weeks pregnant (some of my details may not be entirely correct...I am not medical), Stellan's heart went crazy...he had severe heart blockage and some pretty crazy tachycardia. MckMama was told that Stellan's only chance of surviving outside of the womb would be feasible if he made it to 31 weeks...but with the state of his heart, he wouldn't survive another 24 hours even in the womb.

And thus began the prayer vigil...and the phenomena known as Stellan-mania.

Actually, I just made that up...but it's pretty ridiculous how many people, literally, around the world "know" MckMama, Stellan and the rest of her brood and are praying for her faithfully.

All of that to say, in about 35 minutes-ish, MckMama is headed in to the OR for a c-section to deliver sweet Stellan at 39 weeks (I think). He has been doing SO well! They even took her off the medication she was taking for his heart.

Three months ago, Stellan had irreversible heart blockage.

Now there is no evidence of it.

Three months ago, Stellan's doctors said he wouldn't live another 24 hours.

Three freaking months ago.

And he'll be here among us in a little more than half an hour.

And there is a good chance he won't need medical intervention.

Un-freaking believeable. That's how stinking cool our God is.

So, pray for Stellan and MckMama.

(Oh, and for all the accurate details, read MckMama's blog: My Charming Kids. You will be blessed, encouraged and entertained.)

Not Me! Monday

2008-10-27T06:40:00.001-07:00

South Gwinnett Prayer Walk

2008-10-14T15:53:00.001-07:00

It was a great night! Just posted pictures: Shiloh Photography.

Not Me! Monday

2008-10-12T18:53:00.000-07:00

So, over on the right side of my blog is a button about praying for sweet baby Stellan that also serves as a link to MckMama's blog. Stellan's story is beyond amazing and his life outside MckMama's belly hasn't even begun yet! Seriously...it's worth reading. I warn you, though, once you start you won't be able to stop.

So, about Not Me! Monday...go here to see what it's all about and then do one yourself!

I did not get ridiculously excited that I had two comments on last week's Not Me! Monday post within minutes of posting it...AND because one of them was from MckMama.

When telling others the amazing story of wee Stellan, I do not refer to MckMama as "this girl I know" or "my friend" even though I have never met her in real life and have only emailed a few times. That would be a little obsessive and slightly stalker-ish. Sure am glad I don't do that.

Since I do not start my new Not Me! Monday post shortly after posting the previous one, I am not hoping that the events of this week give me more to blog about since my last three consecutive posts have been Not Me! Monday posts. But I don't start my Not Me! Monday posts (and I definitely don't repeatedly hit "save as draft") early enough to do that.

I did not get REALLY excited when I saw that people from THREE different countries have visited my blog over the last 36 hours...that's SO cool...I mean...that is SO not-cool!

This past week I was not asked (and definitely did not accept) an offer to coordinate a mock wedding for a pretty huge bridal show. Of course, if I had been asked and accepted, I would have had to create a 'company' name and blog to have a professional looking listing on the vendor list, but I did not. And, if I had created a 'company' and a blog it most certainly would not be called Shiloh Fusion Events...and that wouldn't be a link to said blog. Oh, and I wouldn't have high plans to spend a number of my 40 work hours this week creating posts for that blog from the weddings I've done in the past...I'm far to diligent and disciplined for that.

Shiloh.Fusion Events

2008-10-11T22:41:00.000-07:00

So, when I was working on my Not Me! Monday post for last week, I was hoping that I would have a little something more interesting happen this week so there would actually be a post or two in between my Not Me! Monday posts...'cause, really, how lame is it to have three Not Me! Monday posts in a row???

And, it did! My amazing, talented and beautiful friend Callie emailed me a few weeks back and said she had a new project she wanted to talk to me about. Callie is a year or so ahead of me in the whole "start your own photography business thing" and we've done some stuff together. She's taught me A TON about photography...we've done a couple weddings, and a couple shoots together. But, after that email, we didn't really talk for a while.

Last weekend, though, she had a going away party for my new Real American Hero, her husband, David. He left this past Monday for Navy training. Really, he and Callie both are my heroes these days...I cannot even begin to express my appreciation for them!

So, at the party, she threw out a new project idea...and it's almost as incredible as she is! Callie is hosting (or would it be hostessing? Does Callie even care??? I think not.)...she's putting together a bridal show...but not your traditional bridal show...a mock wedding. She's calling it the NotWedding. It's a whole big wedding with a bride and groom and bridesmaids and invitations and music and a reception with food and cake...and it's going to be flippin amazing!

And, I get to coordinate/direct the ceremony portion of the program! Again I say, so flippin exciting!!!

And, I'll be on the vendor list as coordinator.

Because of that, I needed a blog or website or something. So, I created Shiloh.Fusion Events...and the Shiloh.Fusion blog. I've only put up a post or two in case anybody runs across it before I get it put together...but, as I find the stuff I need, I'll be creating a post for each of the weddings I've done in the past. Check back if you're interested.

The name Shiloh.Fusion...

Over on the right side of my blog, where the links are, you'll see a link to Shiloh Photography. That's my photography company. I LOVE the word Shiloh and all that it means and stands for. The name Shiloh (like, for a person) means "His gift" and that is precisely what photography is for me...a gift from the Lord. So, it was a perfect name.

Shiloh is also the place in 1 Samuel where the Lord to Hannah when He promised her her heart's desire. It's not where He fulfilled it, but where He gave her the promise.

in naming my events planning efforts i wanted something that coordinated. In other places in the Old Testament, Shiloh refers to a place of rest, as well as a reference to Jesus as the "peaceful one." The town of Shiloh was a fairly nondescript place...a blank landscape to be filled by the new residents. Isn't that what marriage is all about??? A place of safety for the bride and groom...and blank canvas to be decorated by the bride and groom...and most of all, a reflection of Jesus?

So, Shiloh.

The definition of fusion:
the process or result of joining two or more things together to form a single entity

So, Fusion.

Shiloh.Fusion Events...two people becoming one to be a peaceful representation of Jesus...my prayer for the weddings I coordinate.

Not Me! Monday

2008-09-30T03:31:00.000-07:00

Not Me! Monday

2008-09-29T05:23:00.000-07:00

Not Me! Monday

2008-09-21T19:19:00.000-07:00

Ecuador 2006 - Part XVII

2008-09-15T07:43:00.001-07:00

This trip was, probably, the best I’ve ever been on, while at the same time being the most difficult, physically and emotionally. I learned a lot on this trip about myself and about what the Lord is calling me to. I feel now, more than ever, the call to South America. Suddenly, I find myself thinking about South America not in terms of going for a year and seeing what the Lord says at the end, but thinking of simply going and doing and being until the Lord moves otherwise. He has captivated my heart with South America and the lives of the people there and I can do nothing but go.

I learned a lot on this trip, too, about the power of prayer. The things that I had specifically asked for prayer for were the things I received. My Spanish amazed me. I say that not in a proud way but in the way that the Lord touched my mouth and my brain to speak the language clearly and effectively. Before we left I asked Kitti to pray that I would be able to write everyday and that I would come home with a renewed energy to write. I did write everyday, and on the plane on the way home, realized again how much I love the English language and the depth and beauty of words and what you are reading now is the product of those prayers.

I started writing this, not with the intention of having a 25-page narrative of the trip, but to have something tangible to remind me and my new friends of our time in Ecuador, of this time that I hope changed all of our lives. What I have, now, is more than just twenty-five pages of words. Writing this has forced me to take the time to go back through my journal and, therefore, back through the trip, through everything I experienced and we experienced together. I walked, again, through amazing moments like the resplendence of the waterfall and very low moments of discouragement and frustration. And in retaking that journey, I found again, and maybe for the first time, all of the absolutely incredible things the Lord did to display to us His amazing hand. I hope everyone from our team finds this an accurate description of our trip. It is written from my experience and from my heart.

Ecuador 2006 - Part XVI

2008-09-13T03:51:00.000-07:00

Saturday morning it was time for us to depart from Ambato and head back to Quito. We would be catching a flight back to Miami early the next morning to head home. We said goodbye to Ester and the girls and Jonhattan and Ivonne that morning. When I hugged Ivonne goodbye, I promised her that I would be praying for their son and she said she would be praying for the decisions I had to make. When we left the hacienda for the last time that morning, Ben was still not well. He pretty much had to be carried to the bus and helped to a seat.

Ava and I sat together near the back of the bus for the ride back to Quito. We talked a lot and cried some. The week in Ecuador and the time with Jenni made me appreciate the presence of an Ava in my life; and that Ava was there with me, made me thankful again that she is the one the Lord chose to use in my life.

We dropped Ben off back at the HCJB guesthouse where we had stayed the previous weekend. We left him there to sleep and went to a Chinese restaurant in Quito. Josh’s camera was stolen while we were there, taken off the back of his chair. We were all disappointed for him because all of his pictures were lost, but we prayed for the guy who stole it, that his heart would be convicted by the pictures of the beautiful faces he would see.

From there, we went to an outdoor market in Ambato. I walked around with Ava, Lana and Dan; when it began raining, we picked a booth, bought some stuff and made our way back to the bus. While we were there, though, I was able to buy a beautiful tapestry for the Tree House. Danny was so pleased with what Ava and I found for them.

That evening, we picked up Ben from the guesthouse and went to the Koenig’s home for dinner and a time of debriefing. Ben seemed to be doing really well; he was sitting up and talking, but still shivering from the fever. We started the debrief and, of course, I had my journal and wrote down what just about everyone said. The debrief was going well, until Ben got up to go to the bathroom. He was really ill and dehydrated again so Jen, Lance and Chance took him to the emergency room at the HCJB hospital. We stopped and prayed for Ben before continuing the debrief. It was not long before Jen called from the hospital and said that they had given Ben an IV and he had begun to perk up right away, but that the doctors wanted to run some tests and make sure there wasn’t a major problem. He got back to the guesthouse for the night not long after us.

We awoke early Sunday morning so that we could leave in time to get to the airport for our early morning flight. Ben had spent the night with us, but before we left it was decided that he was too ill to travel so he and Danny would stay behind for a few more days. It was beyond difficult to say goodbye to Dan and Danny. I felt like I had connected with Dan in a way I never had with a missionary on a trip before; and leaving behind our team leader was heart breaking. It almost felt like we were abandoning a part of our team, especially watching Danny say goodbye to his teenage daughters who would be returning with us. It reminded me of the first time Ava and I had been in Peru when we left Rob and Lisa Grose there to take care of Laura Lins who had been diagnosed with cancer. The reality, though, was that Ben was not healthy enough to travel. There was a lot of walking through the airports in Quito, Miami and Atlanta and it would have been too much for him.

Ecuador 2006 - Part XV

2008-08-28T07:07:00.000-07:00

That afternoon, we returned to Jonhattan’s church where someone had set up a projector and screen so we could watch the Ecuador-Poland World Cup game. This was only the second time the Ecuador team had ever played in the World Cup so the whole country stopped to watch. In fact, earlier in the week, an Ecuadorian congressman had decided to go to Germany to watch the game. The people of Ecuador got mad because he would be skipping out on a vote. There were almost small riots in Quito as the congressman battled with the people. The outcome: shut the country down at noon so the people can watch the game and the congressman can go to Germany. And that’s what happened.

Because the country was closed, the school was as well; Jonhattan opened up the church for the students to come watch the game and to give us another opportunity to build relationships with them. There were a few kids there at the very beginning of the game, but they ended up leaving so it was most of our group and the group of people from Jonhattan’s church who had worked with us all week at the Montalvo school. It was fun to have time just to hang out with them. The day before the game, Jonhattan had bought us all knock-off Ecuador jerseys that are bright yellow with blue and red accents. The church, the afternoon of the game, was full of gringos and Ecuadorians alike proudly wearing their brand new soccer jerseys. Ecuador beat Poland 2-0. It was their first World Cup victory ever so the country, and the church, was in a celebratory uproar.

We left the church right after the game and drove over to the coffee house run by Ivan, a Campus Crusade missionary we had met earlier in the week. At the coffee house we left a team of eight to turn the room into an inviting place for high school and college aged kids to just hang out and hear the gospel. The rest of the team walked down the street to the mall. Because we were a group of gringos wearing Ecuador jerseys, people were hanging out of their car windows to yell to us and cheer for their home team’s win.

I was so frustrated then. I enjoyed the game, but I didn’t want to have left the Montalvo school to watch a soccer game and go to the mall. My attitude was bad, and I knew it. One of the blessings of having Ava on the trip was that that was all I had to tell her and I knew she would be praying. Danny and I walked to the mall together and talked about how we would shop together with the intention of finding something Ecuador-ish to take back as a thank you gift for the Tree House and to remind them to continue praying for the kids at the school in Montalvo. We didn’t find anything for the Tree House, but we did find a coffee shop with real coffee. What Terecita had for us every morning was very, very welcomed, but it was also instant. When Danny and I stopped at the coffee shop, I knew that I couldn’t return to the coffee house where Ava was working without some for her. She made me laugh when I handed her the cup and her whole face lit up.

When the whole team met back at the coffee house, the painting team wasn’t done yet so we left them there and returned to Jonhattan’s church for dinner and a prayer meeting. The meeting was, again, up in the sanctuary of the church. Every church we worked at during the week sent a representative so Fernando and Angelica were there with Diego and Maria. Hernan and Jenni came, too. Diego and Maria sat with Ava and I as Jonhattan preached. When he finished, the leaders of the churches had us again stand at the front of the church as the women presented us with gifts. Our guys were given a mug and piece of pottery and our women were given a plate from Hernan’s church and a piece of pottery.

When we were again seated, we were given bracelets made by Miriam, a seventeen-year-old girl from the Montalvo church. The bracelets are spiral wire with red, yellow and blue beads, in honor of Ecuador winning the game. I’m not sure at what point I started crying. I think maybe it was when Danny cried while hugging Miriam. At any rate, I was crying when Hernan got to our pew to give bracelets to Ava and I. Because I was crying, he put my bracelet on, hugged me, and then sat through the rest of the service with one arm around my shoulders and held my hand.

Danny, then, stood and said a few words of thanks for their hospitality and the gifts before we were again called to the front so the nationals could pray for us. They had never seen a group of believers circle around someone to pray for him or her before that week and were eager to practice this new element of prayer. I knew this was the last opportunity I would have to be with Jenni so I again made my way across the room to be near her.

Jonhattan and Angelica prayed that night as I stood holding Jenni’s hand. During the prayer, she took off her scarf and put it around my neck. She held me then, and wept as she prayed for my team and I. My heart broke for this woman with whom it had so connected. After the prayer, I removed the necklace I had worn all week. I gave her the simple silver chain and explained that the charm was the Hebrew letter for life from John 14:6 and that I wanted her to have it because the life of Jesus radiates through her smile. We both cried a lot then. We talked some and I got her email address so that we could keep in touch and I could continue to pray for her.

As I said goodbye to her that last time, it was difficult to let go and walk away. We were both crying when I told her that I didn’t want to leave her there without a mentor. Her response was to ask if I would mentor her. Wow. I’m not equipped for that. It struck me again how blessed I am to have Ava and it hurt to know that this amazing, godly woman longed for this relationship that I have that is so precious to me. My life is different because the Lord blessed me with Ava and on that last night in Ambato, I again prayed that He would give Jenni an Ava.

We spent some time after the service saying goodbye to our friends and exchanging gifts. Terecita, the sweet lady who cooked for us, gave each of the ladies a little blue bracelet and some of her old friends little ceramic chefs to take home. I noticed that Chance was standing over by himself so I walked over and hugged him. We cried together and decided that this saying goodbye and leaving part is terrible. Ben was sitting alone to so I went to check on him. He was sitting alone because he was feeling less than stellar. He said he would be fine so I left him alone.

We left the church soon after and returned to the hacienda. For the first time that week, all the amenities of the hacienda were open. There were people in the pool, sauna and the hot tub. A few of the girls from the church had asked if they could come over and have a real American sleepover so Ester, Maribel and a couple younger girls were there, too. Jonhattan and Ivonne came over to spend time with us on our last night.

I was able to sit and talk with Ivonne for a while that night. It was, really, the first time I had had an opportunity to talk with her since I had sat with her family at dinner earlier in the week. During that Monday night dinner she and I had gone through all the cursory questions that you answer when meeting someone in South America: “Is this your first time in Ecuador?” and “Do you like it here?” I explained to her that night that I had been to Peru twice in the last few years and Brazil when I was a teenager. She remembered that first conversation and as she and I sat alone on the floor of the hacienda, her first statement to me was, “Peru has your heart, doesn’t it?” It was encouraging to me that she could see my love for Peru and South America just from that short conversation.

We talked about the differences I had seen in Peru and Ecuador and the ministries there. And we talked of the decision that I now had to make. We talked some, too, of me finishing school and how her recommendation is that I do finish school, but only if I go to the seminary in Texas that Jonhattan had attended or Word of Life Argentina. I enjoyed the conversation, too, because we are both bilingual enough that most of the conversation was in Spanish, but when I got confused she could switch to English. I left that conversation realizing how much I had thoroughly enjoyed the people in Ecuador and very much appreciating the heart and smile of Ivonne Constante.

Later on that evening, I was sitting on the couch talking with Ava, Dan and some other people when someone came out and said that Ben was really sick. Dan went to check on him, then came back out and said we needed to pray for him. Ava and I waited up for a while to see if he was getting any better. Apparently at one point, he was so ill that he passed out in the bathroom and fell on the floor. Dan and the guys in Ben’s room prayed with him and then and Dan had Ester prepare a hydration drink for him. He was able to keep that down and went to sleep so Ava and I went to bed praying that he would be healthy again in the morning.

Ecuador 2006 - Part XIV

2008-08-25T12:29:00.001-07:00

We awoke Friday knowing it was our last day in Ambato, our last day at the school in Montalvo and our last day with our new friends from Jonhattan’s church. We were all eager to get to the school and spend time with the kids, but nobody wanted the day to rush by. Friday was a great and hard and amazing day that I want to remember every day for the rest of my life and yet never think of again.

That morning when we arrived at Jonhattan’s church to pick up the teachers as we had every morning, we were informed that there were leftover Samaritan’s Purse boxes for us to take to the school in Montalvo. When we finished all the events we had planned for the kids that morning, the puppet show, lesson and craft, we sat them down in the biggest of the classrooms and Jonhattan shared the gospel with them. Then we gave them the boxes. I was able to give boxes to Maria, Luisa and Juanito and help them open them. They were so excited! Maria’s box contained one of those 25¢-pack of gum with five pieces and put every piece in her mouth at once. It was so amazing to have shared the gospel with her one day and give her a Samaritan’s Purse box the next.

The school had a surprise for us, too. They had prepared for us a lunch of cuy, the South American delicacy which we in the US call guinea pig. That particular morning, neither Ava nor I were feeling so much spectacular so we were a little concerned about eating the cuy. As soon as we knew what was coming we both began praying. God is good. We both were given very small pieces of cuy. Ava began singing ‘How Great is Our God.’ Each plate held a piece of cuy and three potatoes. Unfortunately, I’m pretty sure my potatoes must have held some sort of world record for size. Earlier in the week, when I wasn’t feeling so well at Muchigrande, it was as a result of the potatoes; my body doesn’t digest them well in South America. The people of the Montalvo community had sacrificed so much to thank us and I wanted to receive well so I ate two of my potatoes. I think there were a few members of our team staking out the school grounds for a safe place to leave our cuy behind.

After the cuy, we were able to hang out with the kids for just a little while longer. Then we had to say goodbye. It was so difficult! As we were hugging the kids, saying goodbye and climbing on the bus, I couldn’t find any of my three new friends. I held back as long as I could; I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye to them. Before I boarded the bus, I took one last look around the field and saw Luisa. She was running across the schoolyard with the new doll from her Samaritan’s Purse box. When she got close enough, she jumped on me. I hugged her for a moment and we both cried as we said goodbye and I told her I would do my best to come back next year. As the bus pulled away, the kids stood in the schoolyard and waved to us for the last time.

Luisa, Me and Juanito

Ecuador 2006 - Part XIII

2008-08-24T13:13:00.000-07:00

We, again, returned to the school the next morning. As with the first few days, we started by singing songs with the kids in front of the school. My back hurt so bad, though, that I couldn’t participate. I had woken up numerous times the night before in pain and was never quite able to get comfortable so by the time we were at the school, I was in pain and I was tired. I was frustrated because I couldn’t participate so I sat on the sidewalk along the front of the school building by myself, hoping that the pain would be gone in time to interact with the kids during the lesson and the craft. Danny came over and sat with me to find out what was in wrong. In truth, I hadn’t wanted him to know the day before, or even that morning, how badly my back hurt or how I felt it was affecting what I was there to do. I didn’t want to be different and I didn’t want to need to be taken care of. Danny sat with me and listened and prayed with me and made me cry. He encouraged me to take the time I needed to lay down on the bus or stay back at the hacienda for the afternoon, but I refused to give up any time while I was in Ecuador. I only had ten days there; I wasn’t going to spend any of them in bed.

Our group took the students inside for the puppet show and lesson and I stood outside holding a sweet little baby named Leslie so her mom could hear the lesson and the gospel. The craft for the day was a picture frame made of Popsicle sticks. We had stickers for them to decorate the frames and then took a Polaroid picture of each child to go in the frame. Once their picture was taken, they could go and play soccer in front of the school. Most of the kids went out to the soccer field, but there was one little girl, named Maria, who wanted to sit in my life.

Maria is a member of a family that I fell in love with. She is nine years old with a seven-year-old sister, Luisa, and a five-year-old brother, Juanito. Juanito was my buddy. We spent three days with them before Juanito would smile but he always gave me big hugs and offered to share whatever snack he was munching on that day. Luisa is beautiful, too. I noticed her the very first day, even before I knew her name. Luisa has a smile that consumes her entire face.

On that particular afternoon, all Maria wanted to do was sit in my lap. So, we sat outside of the school, both of us just enjoying being loved on. As we sat there, I prayed for her. I prayed that she would find Jesus and that He would send her an Ava to disciple her and teach her how to live a life that glorifies Him. I prayed that in the future the Lord would give me an opportunity to return to Montalvo and see her again. We talked a little and I asked if she would let me pray for her in English and she agreed so I prayed for her again, this time out loud. She didn’t know what I was saying, but the Lord did and He heard. After I prayed with her, we began talking some more and the Lord set my mouth on fire with the Spanish language. This time as we talked, I was able to share the gospel with her. I didn’t struggle with the words or the translation which, even in the moment, blew my mind because those are words I don’t know in Spanish. I asked her if she understood what I said and she said yes so we prayed again. Later, when she was again sitting in my lap, Dan came by and said hi to her so I told him about our conversation and asked him if he would make sure she did understand. So, he talked with her and as he looked back up to me, his eyes were filled with tears. He held Maria’s face in his hands, looked in my eyes and informed me that she had said that she has Jesus in her heart now.

I’m glad I didn’t go lay down on the bus. That is why I wouldn’t go lay down on the bus. That might have been the most incredible experience of my life. I had prayed that I would get to see her again someday and I will. It may not be in Ecuador, but that’s ok. Well have all of eternity to catch up.

For lunch that day, we went to the Jesus Loves You Church in Montalvo. Jenni and her friends had made us soup and chicken and a dessert. After we ate, the ladies who had cooked for us, did a traditional Ecuadorian dance for us as well. Eventually, they had us all up and dancing with them. It was so fun…until Sarah, Jenni’s daughter, pulled me into the middle of the circle and the Ecuadorians pushed a guy named David out to dance with me. I have no rhythm. I have come to accept that. I’m ok with it…until people make me dance in the middle of a circle. But David was so sweet and he taught me how to do the dance the ladies had started with.

Before we left the church, our team took some time to circle around Hernan and Jenni to pray for them, their church and community. I had made a point every day to spend some time with Jenni, to tell her how special she was and how much I appreciated her. So, during this time of prayer for her, I wanted to be with her and made my way through the circle. She stood with one arm around her husband and one around me and as we prayed for them, both Jenni and I cried, a lot. After the prayer, she clung to me and wept and told me how much she missed her friends from the year before, Prasad and LeeAnn. In that moment, I knew that I was in no way prepared to say goodbye to her for good the next day.

That night we went back to the school at Jonhattan’s church and hung out with the students for a little while. Some of our guys played soccer and basketball with some of the students while we watched with some of the girl students. They took us inside, into the sanctuary with the stunning new floor, for an assembly that the students planned, prepared and executed. I was so tired, but the assembly was so cool, except for when I fell out of my chair and the girls in my row laughed at me. Just as on Sunday morning, Danny had wanted us to spread ourselves around the room and among the students. I was able to find a seat next to Ebony, Nora and the other girls I had painted with at Muchigrande with Ava directly in front of me and Lana behind me.

The assembly was loaded with performances the students had prepared for us. A group of girls, including Maribel and Pati (one of the other girls who taught for us at the school) did an interpretive dance to the Darlene Czech version of “My Jesus, My Savior.” They had a choir that sang a couple of songs in English for us. A group of boys did a dance with flags. After the students performed, Dan and Lance spoke to the students. Lance shared his story again, this time asking the students to write down their answer to the question of whether or not they knew where they would go if they died that night. Ebony and Anna both wrote “no” on their paper. I had spent time with them earlier in the week and it scared me that they had no clue about Jesus. I leaned forward and whispered their names to Ava to pray for them while Dan and Lance were speaking.

When Lance was finished, Dan had our entire group of gringos stand in the front and look at the students. He told them that he wanted them to know that we were there because we loved them and wanted them to know that the Lord loves them. He prayed for them and then, if they had made a decision for the Lord that night, he had them look at him while he spoke. Ebony and Nora never took their eyes off Dan as he spoke. Again, I cried.

After the assembly, the students had one last surprise for us. They had taken a collection and provided dinner for us…a rotisserie pig! We made our way through the line down to dinner. The line snaked its way down the back stairs of the sanctuary and through the downstairs kitchen, which included an opening with a counter through which food could be passed. The pig, the whole rotisserie pig, complete with head and tail, lay on the table. The mid-section of the pig was sliced open and the women from the church were scooping meat out of the pig and putting it on our plates. Wow. I had never seen anything like that before. I’m kind of hoping I never see it again. The meat was pretty good, but what I learned from that experience is that I have a difficult time eating meat when I’ve looked at the face of the animal it came from. I guess, too, I learned that I have a difficult time eating meat when the guy next to me has four of the animal’s vertebrae on his plate.

We got to hang out at the school for a while after dinner and I met one of the coolest kids ever, Omar. Danny has seen Omar every year now for three years. He took Ava and I on a tour of the church building and introduced us to the school secretary. When we were there, he was just finishing his first year of what we would consider high school so he has five more years to go in that school. Omar actually lives out in Montalvo behind the church. He, as an eleven-year-old boy, takes a public bus 30 minutes each way, to and from school. Combine that with the walk to where he meets the bus and it takes him about 45 minutes to get to and from school each day. He’s a sharp kid; it will be cool to go back to Ambato and Montalvo and watch him grow up.

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In this part of the story, I very briefly mention Patty. In 2006 she was one of the teachers at the kids club we helped with in Montalvo. When i returned in 2007, I went to the school at Jonhattan's church every day...each day there was a different group of people with me, but I was the only one who went every day. Patty was our interpreter at the school so I spent 4 to 5 hours a day with her and her sweet kids and, usually, we had a lot of time to just talk and get to know each other. We spoke Spanish as much as I could, and then we'd switch to English. Patty was my interpreter when I taught the 4th-6th graders at the school about the Bible...she was the one next to me when I didn't even realize I had begun speaking in Spanish and went on to share the gospel with 60+ kids in their own language. Since that week in 2007, Patty has become one of my dearest friends...I treasure her, her commitment to the Lord and her deeply abiding love for her children.

Her daughter, Keila, is 7 and was diagnosed about a year and half ago with Aspberger's Syndrome - a form of autism. Patty and her husband, Fabian, are working very hard right now to raise money for Keila to get the schooling she needs. Pray for them! Her son, Efraim...my sweet Epi! That child stole my heart...and he knew it. He owns it! The day we left Ambato he told his mama that he wanted to marry me so I wouldn't leave him. It's been over a year and that still makes me cry! I miss these sweet friends of mine SO much!!!

My dear friend and I:

My sweet Epi - how I love this boy!!!

Ecuador 2006 - Part XII

2008-08-22T11:00:00.000-07:00

On Wednesday, the morning after we refinished the floor, I awoke in pain. My back was aching. And that morning I was so frustrated, not only with the pain in my back but with the difficulty I have in being confident and comfortable in the body the Lord created me to live in. I spent some time in Psalm 139 that morning reminding myself that the Lord knew precisely what He was doing when He created me and I prayed that I would remember that throughout the day.

I was able to ignore the pain while we were at the school that morning. Dan, Danny, Ava and Lisa were able to present the thirteen kids with their brand new school uniforms. Ava said the kids and teachers were so grateful and so sweet. She said she cried through the whole thing, which to me is such a portrait of where her heart is. After the presentation, Dan was able to spend some time with a couple of the teachers and a few parents, sharing the gospel and praying with them.

With Dan taking time with the adults, the rest of the team was given extra time to play with the kids. Aves and I had stepped aside to take a moment and pray for Dan’s words and the people’s hearts and then decided to see what was going on in one of the classrooms. As we approached the door, a little boy was walking out. He looked up into both of our faces and said, in Spanish, “God is big,” and kept walking. Ava and I looked at each other before I turned back to him and said, “And He is good, right?” The boy agreed and ran off to play with his friends. It was a beautiful moment, an assurance from the Lord that these kids were hearing the voice of the Almighty through us. We both cried.

We entered the classroom and it was like walking into a war zone. The craft that day had involved making things out of clay. By the time the kids were allowed to go out and play, they had figured out that they could make big bouncy balls out of the clay. The classroom was almost dangerous with all the balls of clay bouncing off the walls. Kids were throwing them at the wall and then diving out of the way of one coming toward them. We sat on the floor to play and talk with a few kids and I got nailed in the head with a ball of clay. That was when I decided to go back outside. Eventually, we got on the bus to leave the school for our afternoon activities and Dan shared the outcome of his conversation with the adults. Two of the teachers accepted the Lord that afternoon!

My prayer before I went to Ecuador was that the Lord would allow me to see lives commissioned to His service. That afternoon it happened. Beautiful.

Rogelio took us from the school to the Jesus Loves You Church where Hernan, Jenni and their friends were making a snack for us: empanadas, yum! I think I ate three. I’m pretty sure Ben ate about fifteen. They were so good! We couldn’t stay there for very long, though. Because Dan had spent the time with the people at the school, we were a little off schedule and had to get to the Quadrangular Church for lunch.

After lunch, “Team Dot,” eight members of our team led by Todd, headed out to finish the El Shaddai church while the rest of us stayed to paint the sanctuary at Quadrangular. My back was hurting so I was anxious to get started on the painting and be distracted so when Danny asked for someone to start cutting in at the back of the room, I jumped at the chance. The group of youth that arrived to help us that day consisted entirely of girls so the decision was made that the females from our team would just hang out with those girls, share testimonies and show them Jesus. Because I had already begun painting, I missed that directive and spent most of the afternoon cutting in a stairwell with Andy and Josh Rowan. As much as I love the Spanish language, it was so pleasant to just paint and work and not have to translate.

Later that evening, when it was dark, I went outside to clean some rollers and brushes so they would be available for the next day. The church, as with most buildings in the area, was surrounded by a cement wall with a big gate so I was safe outside by myself. When I first went outside, there was a group of people talking and working on stuff. As I cleaned, they wandered away until I was out there alone with one high school guy who was scraping old paint of a wall. Just as I realized it was just the two of us out there, he began to whistle at me. That made me nervous. I wasn’t afraid of him, but I was less than comfortable. So, I went inside and got Ben and Chance to come outside with me. With the two strong guys outside, the painter didn’t say another word to me.

We got back to the hacienda for dinner that night and I went to lie down; my back hurt so badly. I ended up skipping our team meeting that night, preferring to be alone than with the group. I spent most of the meeting praying and studying Psalm 139. I even cried some, too, more out of frustration than anything else. At that point, my back hurt to move and it hurt to be still and I was not prepared to deal with it that week. The reality is that I have a spinal birth defect called spina bifida. It is a very minor case of a very serious defect. Something like 90% of people with spina bifida never walk and most have surgery in the first few days after birth. I wasn’t diagnosed until I was 22. Really, I can do more than most people with the same defect, but when it hurts, it hurts badly and there isn’t much that helps but a couple days in bed…and I wasn’t going to do that while I was in Ecuador. I had come to Ecuador to work and hang out with some really great kids. I wasn’t prepared to loose that to back pain.

Ecuador 2006 - Part XI

2008-08-21T14:49:00.000-07:00

Early the next morning, we returned to the school in Montalvo and it was incredible! The morning, pretty much, followed the same format as the day before: the Ecuadorians performed a puppet show and we helped with a craft. On this day we made the salvation bracelets with a colored bead to represent each part of redemption and growth. The most fun part of my day began after the craft when we had time to take the kids outside and play. Three of the girls, Susana, Maria and Marta, were outside playing with a Chinese Jump Rope, which was my favorite game when I was a child. Unfortunately, I hadn’t played since I lived in England about eighteen years ago, and it was evident when I played with the girls. The Chinese Jump Rope is, basically, a long string with the two ends tied together to make a loop. As with a traditional jump rope, two people stand opposite and facing one another. The string loop goes around their ankles with feet shoulder width apart creating a circle. Again, as with traditional jump roping, there is a pattern of jumps inside, outside and on top of the string circle. Each time you successfully complete the pattern the string is moved, either up the legs of the people holding the string, or they will each pull a leg out so the width of the circle is only as wide as their legs making it extremely difficult to jump inside the circle without touching the string. It was so much fun! It was great to just chill out, be goofy and just live in front of the kids.

While at the school that day, someone discovered that a few of the students had not been wearing uniforms since we had been there. The uniform for the school would be familiar to just about any private school student in the States; it consisted of navy blue pants (skirts for girls), a white button-down shirt and a red knit sweater. In that community, a student without a uniform would not be unable to attend school, but would be looked down on and seen as less than adequate in their poverty. After a brief investigation Danny discovered that there were thirteen students at the school who could not afford uniforms. We simply could not leave the situation unattended.

The Sunday before we departed the States our team was asked if we could send a representative group to the Tree House (the fourth and fifth grade Sunday School) in order to be given a gift the students had collected. They had been challenged to collect “Quarters for Quito” in order to raise money to send to our project. We were amazed that morning when we were presented with almost $500! What a blessing it was to see these kids being exposed to missions and taught how very important it is to be conscious of the spiritual state of other countries. It seemed only natural that we spend some of that money to purchase uniforms for kids the same age as those who gave the money.

We left the school that day and went to the El Shaddai church for lunch, during which, Lana and I decided that Ben carries an undeniable resemblance to Gaston from Beauty and the Beast. After the meal, our team again split into two groups and set off to paint the same two churches. This time, though, we had a large group of girls helping us paint the church at Muchigrande. Dan sent me into a classroom with four girls, Ebony, Nora, Anna and Marta. A couple of them were the older girls who had livened up the group at the church on Sunday. It was so much fun to hang out with them, teach them how to paint and talk to them about Jesus. We taught each other our native languages and tried to communicate with one another and laughed a lot. The only tense moment with the girls came when they wanted me to teach them bad words. Instead of bad words, I taught them a little Georgia-speak; they loved learning how to say, “What’s up, ya’ll?”

Tuesday was our last day at Muchigrande. Angelica and her kids were there again so I had spent some time playing with them. I had enjoyed that family over the two days I’d been with them and it was hard to say goodbye. We left them, however, with a church vastly different in appearance and, hopefully, an example of how to serve the Lord in serving others.

We had dinner at the hacienda that night and left again to refinish the floor in the sanctuary at Jonhattan’s church. It was a big room and lot of work, but there were a lot people on our team so the work got done and it didn’t take too long. The guys moved all of the pews onto the stage and the girls grabbed steal wool and scrubbed the old finish off the floor. After we swept up the dust, some of our team went into a classroom downstairs and had a time of worship while the rest re-waxed the floor.

During the worship time, I realized how discouraged and frustrated I had felt all day, and even a little threatened. I’ve already explained, or at least tried to explain, how vital my relationship with Ava is. Because Satan only attacks what threatens him, he attacked that relationship, in my mind, that evening. I knew that I had been blessed to have Ava in my life; and I knew that there were other people who need to be loved the way she loves. My own self-consciousness led me to think I could and would be replaced in Ava’s life and that she was going to find someone else on this trip to disciple and I wouldn’t be special anymore. And then I began to feel guilty; I knew that I was being selfish and stupid. Ava knew during the worship time that I was struggling and hadn’t talked to her about it so she pulled me to the back of the bus to talk and pray. And I cried. When I climbed off the bus, back at the hacienda that night, I carried more clarity over the situation. Over the last year, Ava was the only person who never left me; if she hadn’t left yet, she wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

It was such a blessing to me that night to find time to write. Before we left on our trip, I had asked Kitti to pray that I would be able to find time to write everyday while we were gone. I don’t know if I really believed it would happen, but I knew I desperately wanted it to. As I sat on my bed that night and wrote out the events of the day, I realized that the Lord had given me that time every day because journaling is my prayer. Writing is the way I best communicate with the Lord and it is in my journal that I can most clearly see what He is saying in response. My journal is my giving over to the Lord what is in my heart and mind.

Ecuador 2006 - Part X

2008-08-19T16:54:00.000-07:00

Monday morning we set off on our first real day of real ministry. The general mood on the bus that morning was one of anticipation mixed with the grogginess of an early morning after a late night. Rogelio took us that morning from the hacienda to a small town called Montalvo. Montalvo is a town of very little economy and even less awareness of the Lord. It is this town that Hernan, Jenni and their church, the Jesus Loves You Church, call home. Many of the families of the church have children that attend the local school, La Luz de America, and Hernan had arranged for our group to participate in a children’s club that would be taught by women from Jonhattan’s church. As we rode through Montalvo for the first time that morning, even though I had visited the poor parts of Peru and Brazil, I was struck by how very little the people of the town had. A lot of the homes were not completed in their construction. Unreal.

We pulled into the school and as we exited the bus, the students—there weren’t very many of them--lined up outside the school to welcome us. Under the direction of the school administrator, the students sang a couple songs for us while the group from Jonhattan’s church set up a makeshift stage. We sat the kids on mats around the stage and the Ambato group did a puppet show for the kids to introduce them to the plan for the week and who we were.

After the puppet show, the kids divided into their classrooms and we split into three groups to hang out with them. I went into the room where Maribel was teaching about the wise man building his house on the rock. She taught the lesson and we sang some songs and did a craft with the kids. Dan came in after the lesson and began teaching the kids some words in English. They loved learning how to say, “Hey…what’s up?” We taught them a few more phrases in English and then took them outside to play. Most of the kids, particularly the older boys, began playing soccer and a game developed between the students and the gringos. The competition extended throughout the week.

We went from the school to another church in Muchigrande for lunch. The church had never served a meal to a group as big as ours so we barely fit in the room they had set up to feed us. They had hung balloons and streamers to make the room festive for their new friends. The decorations were left over from a baby shower. It was so touching that they would use whatever they had in an effort to make us feel welcomed.

After lunch, half of our team went to another church, Covenant Church El Shaddai, where Ivonne’s father is the pastor. Each team of gringos was joined by a group of high school boys who attend class at the school that meets in Jonhattan’s church. At Muchigrande, we painted the big central area and a couple of the smaller classrooms a bright green and white while the other group painted the El Shaddai sanctuary the same color. Lunch, for me, was not an altogether enjoyable affair and I was not feeling very well afterwards so on that particular day I spent most of the afternoon with the pastor’s wife, Angelica and her kids whom she was home-schooling upstairs in the kitchen.

Diego and Maria, Angelica’s children, are about six and eight years old and already can tell time in English better than my seven year old brother who grew up in the States. I was so impressed with the amount of English those kids possessed. While Angelica worked with Maria, I helped Diego with his telling of time, his English and his handwriting. It surprised me how much I enjoyed teaching him.

Eventually, the bus picked us up at Muchigrande and took us to meet the others at the El Shaddai church where we all gathered with the youths for a time where we could share who we were, why we were there and, ultimately, who Jesus was. We had two main topics we wanted to cover with the youth: sexual purity and drug and alcohol use. Because God is in the business of showing how great His plans are, we had people on our team who had made mistakes in each area and they each had an amazing story of how God had not only forgiven them but also used their stories to bring glory to Himself. On this particular afternoon, Lance and Kenny both shared their stories of mistakes and forgiveness, of falling and redemption.

After Lance and Kenny spoke, Dan shared the gospel with the youth and while he did not extend an invitation for them to come forward, it did appear that many of them heard his words and went home that afternoon to consider them. We parted ways with the youth after the meeting and returned to the hacienda for dinner where we were to be joined by the pastors of each church we would be working at during the week and their families.

That night at dinner I made a point to sit with Jonhattan, Ivonne and Humberto, another pastor, with the intention of working on my Spanish and just to get to know some of the nationals. Danny sat with us also and it was so encouraging to see the patience with which Jonhattan approaches people. For most of the meal, Danny and Humberto were talking about discipleship and implementing such programs into the local church while I got to know Jonhattan and Ivonne. Throughout the entire encounter, Jonhattan was aware of both conversations and was constantly and easily correcting both Humberto’s English and my Spanish so that we could both communicate more effectively. And, of course, we all tried to teach Danny some Spanish. Jonhattan is a patient man.

After dinner, each pastor had an opportunity to share their ministry with us along with prayer requests for their ministries and their families. For me, this time of learning of the ministries was a blessing and encouragement for the rest of the week. I was so much more excited, on a personal level, to be working in and with these churches and pastors when I knew something of their ministries and communities. I, of course, ran into our room and grabbed my journal so I could record what each pastor asked us to pray for. I laugh now when I look at that page in my journal. Because I was writing the prayer requests as they were being spoken initially rather than waiting for the translation, half of the words on the paper are in Spanish and half in English.

When it came his time to speak, Jonhattan shared the story of the struggle he and Ivonne faced in the adoption of their daughter, Sarita, and how they were finally able to visit her after a group from Grace had circled around and prayed with them. He shared this, I think, for a number of reasons. One reason was for our benefit. There were a number of people on our team who did not know the story and he wanted to convey his gratitude for the prayers. Another reason, the benefit of the other pastors. Many of them, I think, knew the story without knowing that our group was from that same church that had prayed with him. What followed the story was a request for more prayer. Jonhattan and Ivonne are again pursuing adoption, this time for a son.

As Jonhattan shared their desire for another child, for a brother for Sarita, I began to cry. I have, at home, a brother and sister who are both adopted and they bring so much joy and life to our family. They both came from orphanages that are probably not much different from where Sarita was or where their son will come from. I committed then to pray for this family and their new son.

Jonhattan was the last pastor to speak and when he was done, Danny had us split up with groups around each pastor and pray for them. I, thankfully, was still sitting by the table with Jonhattan and Ivonne so I moved around to pray with them. It was amazing! I got to pray with them for the adoption of their son, that their kids would come to know the Lord early, that they would be discipled and that they would be a powerful force for the Lord in Ecuador and wherever else He called them. Scotty prayed after me and I think, no, I know, it was the most beautiful prayer I’ve ever heard. I wept. Scotty’s prayer was such a clear expression of his heart to see marriages thrive for the glory of the Lord. I walked away from that experience with a whole new respect for Scotty, who has taken his passion and turned it into a ministry and a career and has done it all with great humility. I also came away encouraged and excited; encouraged that maybe I could do the same and excited to find new ways to use my words to bring glory to Jesus.

Ecuador 2006 - Part IX

2008-08-18T09:04:00.001-07:00

Just an update before I post the next section of my Ecuador story...in the last section was the story of Jenni. I just wanted to add what a blessing she still is to my life...how excited I was to see her again last year...and how much it still blesses my heart and brings tears to my eyes when I get emails from her about how she prays for me. Wow. And, how very, very much I miss her and wish I could have seen her this year. Somewhere, there is a picture of she and I from last year...right after we had seen each other again for the first time. It's my very favorite picture of me ever. If I can find it, I'll post it.

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I found the picture:

and I love it.

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Our sightseeing adventure began after lunch. We again boarded the bus and drove to a town called Baños. The town is known, in certain circles, for its hot springs. To us, it is known for the amazing waterfall in contains. Baños is located on the edges of the jungle territory of Ecuador, only a thirty-minute bus ride from Shell Mera and the MAF base of Nate Saint. When we climbed off the bus in Baños, we stood amidst several stands, almost like a very small flea market, with people selling their wares, jewelry and such. From there, we looked up at mountains that commanded our attention with their splendor and looked down into a valley that held a river amazing in its beauty and obvious power.

From the center of the market area, we began to walk down a path that led through the trees. We hiked about 15 or 20 minutes down the trail until we came upon a suspension bridge. At our end of the bridge a man was posted to only allow five people on the bridge at a time. That made me nervous. I hate bridges. I particularly hate bridges that cross rivers that run with an unrivaled fury. But, I wasn’t willing to let my fear keep me from what I had been promised would be a view I would never forget, so, I waited my turn and walked to the center of the bridge. Chance and I walked out there together. Once in the center, we did as we had been instructed and turned around to look up-river. We stood in silence for a moment and marveled at the sheer majesty and resplendent beauty of the waterfall that fed the river raging beneath us.

I had heard about the waterfall from Ava and Dan and others, but their descriptions hadn’t done justice to what I stood before that day. Their descriptions couldn’t have done justice. I’m not sure the words exist to accurately express what the waterfall proclaimed about God’s beautiful creativity. We walked back to the start of the bridge and continued further down the path to a series of steps that would take us close to the bottom of the waterfall. It was one of the most incredible things I have ever seen. The power of the cascade so mightily portrayed the hand of God. Beauty in power. The picture of the waterfall that I carry in my mind stands as a testimony to the beauty and grace in the power of the hand of God. It serves as a reminder that He is ever powerful and if He can contain such a force, He can handle the chaos of my life.

We circled around and took the path back to the top and the market area. Along the way back, for the most part, Ava and I walked along together, alone. We stopped, at one point, and looked down the river and across mountain after mountain and talked about Lord as His reality. We both stood in awe of His hand and how He works. And we stood in a stunned sadness wondering how anyone could take in such a landscape and not know intrinsically that there is a sovereign, all-knowing and all-powerful God. He gives great gifts when He uses such beauty to display how good and how real He is.

After experiencing the waterfall, we took the bus into the town of Baños for dinner at a cool little restaurant. Our group, along with Hernan and Jenni’s family and, I think, a few others from Jonhattan’s church, filled the entire restaurant. I was so excited to again be able to share a meal with Jenni and Alejandro. Ava, Lance and Ben ate with us also and we all laughed, a lot, as Jenni taught us the Spanish words for the different items on the table.

This meal was the first of many at which Dan would have us go around the room and introduce ourselves so the gringos and the nationals could get to know each other. At this particular meal, he explained that in the Spanish language adding the suffix of “-ita” or “-ito” to a name indicates familiarity or that a person is precious to you. When it became my turn to introduce myself, I stood and said that my name was Kerry, or Ana and sat down. When I was again seated, Alejandro caught my eye, gave me a definitive look and said, “No. No, Anacita.” Jenni nodded her agreement and patted my leg.

How sweet that family is. I already liked that family, but that night I loved them.

On the way “home” that night, I was so frustrated. It had happened again, for the fourth consecutive time. I was in South America and I was sick. By the time I got off the bus at the hacienda, I couldn’t breathe. I was congested and coughing and feeling downright miserable.

The difficulty for me in getting sick on this trip was more mental than physical. I’ve known for a few years now that the Lord’s plan for me is to live in South America, at least for a little while. However, when I got sick this time and realized that it was happening every time I was in South America it made me begin to question everything I had previously thought about my future. And that was scary. I started praying then, really praying, that the Lord would give me some clarity over the week and show me if my respiratory problems were His message that I wasn’t walking toward the future He wanted. I prayed, afraid of the answer, and waited knowing the Lord would be faithful.

Ecuador 2006 - Part VIII

2008-08-15T07:22:00.000-07:00

In all the preparations for this year's Peru trip...and the getting sick before-hand...and the being really, really sick when I got home...I got away from posting these pieces about my 2006 Ecuador trip. And I don't think anyone really cares...but I'm picking up where I left off. :)

******************************

I have found that with every missions trip, there is one person the Lord has for me to meet. There is always one person who comes home with me as part of my heart and yet keeps a part of me with them. I met that person at lunch after the church service and, even now, it is difficult for me to write about Jenni without crying. Her tenderness broke my heart with our first conversation.

After the service at their own church in Montalvo, Pastor Hernan, his wife Jenni and their children Sarita, Carlos and Alejandro, met us at Primera Bautista for lunch and an afternoon sightseeing excursion. We were already seated for lunch when they arrived and because Dan knew I spoke Spanish, he intentionally had Jenni sit in the empty seat next to me. I was excited when she sat down simply for the chance to speak Spanish and to help her communicate with my friends.

We, of course, did the initial introductions among the people sitting in our area and moved from there into explaining who was related to whom on our trip and who was related to people who had come before us on previous trips. Ava and Lana were seated across from Jenni and I, and it soon became apparent that there was a relationship between the three of us. That, in conjunction with Ava and I having the same hair color at the time, led Jenni to ask if Ava was my mom. Jenni had already proven herself patient with my poor Spanish so I opted to give the full explanation rather than a simple “no.” I told her that Ava has been my mentor for two years and that she was like my mom because my mom doesn’t know Jesus. Jenni looked at me, with tears in her eyes and said, “She is your spiritual mom.” When I nodded and agreed to such a very appropriate title for Ava, Jenni began to cry. She told me, then, of the struggles she and her husband had faced in their church and community over the past year. At the end of her story, she said that her heart longs for a mentor, for someone to disciple her and for a godly woman-friend she could confide in and pray with; that she loves her husband but that it isn’t the same as having a close female friend. My heart broke for her then and I realized how very much I take Ava for granted. I also realized how blessed I am to have, not only Ava, but also several other godly women in my life who advise me and pray with and for me. Yet I was sitting next to a tender and faithful woman who wanted to live for the Lord in her community and had to do it alone.

That conversation was only the beginning of the relationship between Jenni and I. The more time I spent talking with her, watching her minister to us, and praying for her, the more the Lord burdened my heart for her. I consider it one of the best blessings of the trip to have been able to get to know her as I did

"Enjoy your gas!"

2008-08-15T07:01:00.000-07:00

Umm...yeah.

File that under 'Phrases I Never Thought I'd Hear.'

I stopped at my friendly neighborhood QuickTrip for gas yesterday. I had cash on my so I went in and paid that way and the phrase above is what I heard as I walked away from the counter.

Enjoy my gas. Right...I really enjoy paying $3.68 a gallon which, granted, is better than the $4.05 I paid not too terribly long ago.

Stuff I've been thinking about...

2008-07-30T11:34:00.000-07:00

I have NO idea where this one came from...it literally hit me out of the blue in the car this afternoon. I’ve traveled A LOT...I’ve traveled a lot this year, alone. I’ve left the country three times already this year and I already have another trip planned. So, I’ve seen a lot...I’ve seen some really beautiful places...places that will take your breath away. Look at my photo blog to see some of the pictures: Shiloh Photography. Three years ago I sat on a rooftop in Peru listening to a godly man speak about Ephesians 1.4: just as we were chosen in Him before the foundation of the world. I looked at the beauty of the mountains around me in the waning sunlight and realized that my life was written before the foundation around me...all that magnificence was made of God’s leftovers.

So, today in the car, it occurred to me that all of the beauty of Peru and Ecuador and St. Kitts and all of the places that I love, all of that was created with just a breath in seven days. Such glory in seven days. And, here’s where Heaven comes in...Jesus said, “I go to prepare a place for you...” (John 14.2). He said that 2,000 years ago.

How far beyond our wildest imaginations must Heaven’s beauty be??? If the colors of the Caribbean ocean and the topography of the Peruvian country-side took a mere seven days, how ridiculously, unbelievably amazing is Heaven going to be??? I can’t even wrap my brain around the words to think about it.

And I stinking can’t wait to see it!!!

This is where I am today...

2008-07-07T10:01:00.001-07:00

It may be a phone call
That comes without warning
And suddenly my heart is breaking
It may be a headline
I wake to one morning
And suddenly my world is shaken
But every now and then
When life falls apart
There's a truth I trust
That calms my ehart

Nothing takes You by surprise
Here beneath these troubled skies
There's a comfort just to realize
Nothing takes You by surprise

Sometimes the hard times seem
Senseless and random
Like life's just a series of chances
But come what may You've never
Left us abandoned
You're God over all circumstances
And nothing on earth
Can stop Your plans
You're in control
We're in Your hands

Nothing takes You by surprise
Here beneath these troubled skies
There's a comfort just to realize
Nothing takes You by surprise

Though bitter winds blow
This truth is sweet
Things out of our hands
Are still under Your feet

And

Nothing takes You by surprise
Here beneath these troubled skies
There's a comfort just to realize
Nothing takes You by surprise

Nothing takes You by surprise
Whatever crisis may arise
Jesus, You're Lord of our lives
Nothing takes You by surprise

Mark Harris/Tony Wood

I love you, Andrea...and I'm praying for you and your family!

Tomorrow!

2008-06-12T13:09:00.000-07:00

Gosh...I leave tomorrow! That's insane!!!

I'm sort of pretty much ready. And by that I mean, I know what I'm taking. :) Most of my clothes are in the washer/dryer...most of the rest of what I need is laid out, ready to be packed. I just have to grab a few more things and put it all in a suitcase!

When Heather calls, we'll go to Old Navy and I'll look for a couple more shirts. I'm hoping they still have winter-ish stuff marked way, way down. I could use another pair of pants, too...but that's not necessary.

And then Heather and I are going to Chili's for dinner...Yum! Not bad for a last real meal for 10 days. :) I love Chili's. I love Old Navy. And, I love Heather. All in all, a pretty rocking Thursday night.

And tomorrow...I'll be at the church at 1230, board a bus and head on out to the airport!

It's been three years since I've been to Peru. Crazy. So much happened last time I was there. Of course, so much happens every time I go to South America.

Sooo...ummm...I guess...I'll catch ya' on the flip side.

See ya' in 10 days!!!

Ha ha ha...

2008-06-11T07:00:00.000-07:00

I just checked the weather in Andahuaylas again...next Friday, the low is supposed to be 19!!!

Check here and pray for us!!!

Praise God for Cold Medicine and Good Friends

2008-06-11T06:50:00.000-07:00

I feel much, MUCH better today. Still not 100%, but so much better than the last few days.

I've been taking Tylenol Cold consistently since Monday night and using my blessed Vicks Vapo Inhaler...and it seems to be working. :)

Yay! Now, to start thinking about my Peru trip!

So, I found out this week how cold it's going to be up there in the mountains. I guess I didn't really realize how high up we were going to be. I guess it's higher than I've been before. I mean, I've seen some cool weather in South America, but nothing like this. We're talking lows of 23 and highs of 68...in the SAME DAY!!!

And, in finding out how cold it's going to be, I also discovered that I need to make some clothing purchases for the trip. The next logical question, then, is how in the world am I going to pay for them??? (This is where the 'praise God for good friends part comes in.')

I was given a check yesterday for my trip from a good friend. (One whom I appreciated greatly before this event.) A few hours later I looked at it and it was written to me, not to the church...which would mean said friend would not get the tax receipt. I brought this to Great Friend's attention...and Great Friend's reply was that the money was for me for my trip...the extra expenses, not just what the trip cost.

What a blessing!!! And encouragement!!! In all honesty, I think this gift is part of what has me feeling better just for it's stress relief. :) Of course, it could also have something to do with the lecture I received from Good Friend about how I haven't been drinking enough water...and the subsequent texts to drink water...and the five bottles of water I drank yesterday afternoon/evening after talking with Good Friend. :)

So...today is my last day of work before Peru. That means, tomorrow is consumed with shopping and packing...Friday morning is set aside for some chill time and just a little heart preparation...and prayer with another very dear friend.

The excitement is starting to come!!! :)

Ugh...

2008-06-09T06:29:00.000-07:00

So, I leave for Peru in 5 days.

And I'm sick.

Ugh...

I had some allergy/sinus ick all weekend, but I woke up this morning in full-fledged (and gross) cold mode. Congestion, drainage, man-voice and all.

Gross.

And, I have to get on a plane in 5 days.

Traveling sick and being in Peru sick doesn't really bother me all that much...I've done both, actually. What concerns me is that the travelling is on a plane.

Three years ago, the last time I was in Peru, I picked up a nasty head-cold...and by nasty, I mean NASTY. In the midst of the nastiness, we took a plane ride that lasted just a couple hours. I really, honestly thought my head would explode. My head has never hurt that bad in all my life. I cried on the plane 'cause it hurt so bad.

That's the part about being sick and leaving for Peru in 5 days that concerns me.

Well, that and the fact that I haven't even begun to shop or pack or anything...and with being sick, by the evening when I have time to do that, I'm just flat-out exhausted.

This will be an interesting week.

Pray!

Ecuador 2006 - Part VII

2008-06-06T04:46:00.001-07:00

I woke up Sunday morning with a single line of a song running, repeatedly, through my head.

“And what was said to the rose to make it unfold, was said here in my chest.”

Beautiful words to my heart and such evidence of the inexplicable rightness I had felt since we stepped off the plane.

We arose Sunday morning to beautiful skies and a breakfast cooked by our new friend, Teresita. Teresita lives in Ambato, attends Jonhattan’s church and cooks for the American teams Dan brings to the area. Teresita was faithful in her commitment to our team. She always had hot water for coffee first thing in the early morning and hot meals when we pulled into the hacienda in the evening. What a blessing it was to be ministered to in such a way!

We were privileged that morning to attend the service at Jonhattan’s church. Rogelio delivered us to the Primera Bautista during their Sunday school hour. Because Dan wanted us to have an opportunity to interact with the youth of the church, he took Lana and I downstairs and pulled the youth girls out of their class for us to hang out with. It was so awkward! We spent some time with a few fourteen-year-olds who would not talk to us at all. They answered all of our questions with one-word answers and looked at us as if we were crazy. Eventually, a couple of older girls joined us and they livened up the conversation. The older girls had questions for us about life in the United States, our families and, of course, if we had boyfriends.

When it was time for the service to start, we moved up to the sanctuary and found places to sit. Because Danny had encouraged us that morning to spread ourselves around the church and sit among the congregation rather than in a big gringo group so that we could meet people and be a part of the congregation, Lana and I sat in a pew near the front…but nobody would sit with us. Eventually, though, the church began to fill and people sat in our pew…but they wouldn’t talk to us, choosing rather to stare at the two of us, one with beautiful blonde hair and one, an obvious out-of-a-bottle redhead.

The service began and Fabian led worship in both Spanish and English. He sang “Open the Eyes of My Heart” in Spanish, which had quickly become one of my favorite songs after I learned the Spanish version in Peru last year. I rarely sing it in English anymore, even in the U.S. When Fabian began to sing the same song in English without putting the words on the screen, I realized that I had sung it Spanish so often I didn’t know the words in English anymore. That made me laugh at myself. After a time of worship, Danny preached a message about the liberty and freedom we have in Christ and Dan translated for the Spanish-speaking congregation. Danny did a great job but the fun began when he sat down.

Jonhattan had received a number of boxes from Samaritan’s Purse and wanted us to help pass them out. Samaritan’s Purse is a ministry in the US and the UK, spearheaded by Franklin Graham. Throughout the year, Samaritan’s Purse encourages people to save shoe-boxes and, in the weeks before Christmas, fill them with items for children: small toys, dolls, toothpaste, toothbrushes, things children in privileged countries take for granted. Just before Christmas, Samaritan’s Purse collects the boxes and ships them around the world to areas with children whose parents are unable to provide them with much of the fun, or even health-conscious, parts of life. I was in a wedding last summer where the bride, rather than spending money on wedding favors and excessive decorations, instead purchased enough supplies (and collected enough shoeboxes) for each guest to put together a box before entering the reception. I also have friends who spend November and December in a warehouse in Atlanta every year helping with the receiving and shipping of Samaritan’s Purse shoeboxes so to have the opportunity to hand out the shoeboxes was amazing.

The kids were so excited to get their boxes and play with their new toys. It was such a privilege and a blessing to be a part of putting smiles on those little faces, even if it was such a small part. This was also the first opportunity I had to really use my Spanish. I talked with some of the parents and a few of the kids and came away so encouraged both with their patience with me and with how much of the language I had retained. And, of course, the experience left me so ready to meet the people we would be working with all week and to begin building relationships with them.

It's Official

2008-06-03T08:55:00.000-07:00

Check it out:

Shiloh Photography

I'm a photographer!

That's crazy!

Ecuador 2006 - Part VI

2008-06-02T04:41:00.000-07:00

We awoke the next morning not feeling entirely rested, but completely charged and ready to tackle whatever the Lord had for us in Quito, Ambato and along the road in between. Dan came to the guesthouse and walked us down the street, around the corner and through the big metal gate in the big cement wall around the HCJB headquarters. He took us into his office or, at least, into meeting room outside his office, which was more accommodating to a group that numbered about 30 people once we added Dan, Jen and their boys Brady and Keagan.

From there Jen took us on a tour of the facility and explained what is the ministry and heart of HCJB, which stands for, in English, Heralding Christ Jesus Broadcast. The passion of HCJB World Radio is making disciples of Jesus all over the world through mass media and healthcare. The ministry began with a radio broadcast in Ecuador in 1931. Over the last 75 years, the ministry has grown worldwide. Today they have ministries in 100 countries and radio broadcasts in 120 languages and dialects.

If I am not paying enough attention to her, my four-year-old sister will, at times, grab my face in her fat little hands and turn my head so that I can see nothing but her. The Lord did that to me during the tour. I had spent three months before the trip trying to figure out how my love of writing and my heart for South America could be tied into one another. At the same time, I was contemplating whether or not I should return to school and finish my degree and if I did, in what field should I get my degree? The tour that began at Dan’s office continued outside where we could look up a mountain and see the towers HCJB uses to transmit their radio programs all over South America. We walked around a corner of the building containing Dan’s office and stood facing another bigger, longer building with the letters “CCC” hanging on the outside.

It turns out the C.C.C. is a college on the HCJB property that focuses on mass communications—print journalism, broadcasting, etc. It is a three-year program accredited by a school in the US. It is not yet considered a bachelor’s program, but surely my associates degree in Spanish would transfer and I have fifteen additional credit hours that didn’t apply to my AA…surely I could get a BA out of this program that would combine everything I loved. I started to cry, then, and Ava gave me “the glare” that is her way of wordlessly asking if I too see what the Lord is saying. If I remember correctly, I told her to shut up and start praying.

The tour ended across the street at La Hospital Voz Andes, the hospital maintained by HCJB. While there, several of our team members were able to visit and pray with William, a boy who is part of Dawn and Jerry Carnhill’s ministry at the Quito dump. The week before, William had lost his arm in a trash baler at the dump. He was in poor spirits and poor health. I wasn’t one of the group who visited him, but I heard that they were asked by the family of the man sharing a room with William if they would pray for their loved one also. Awesome. The Lord draws people to Himself when we simply obey His command to love those who are hurting and bear one another’s burdens.

Back outside the guesthouse we, along with our luggage, piled onto the bus that was to be our source of transportation for the week and had our first daylight encounter with Rogelio. The members of our team who had been to Ecuador before adored Rogelio and assured the rest of us that we would, too, by the end of our trip. Rogelio’s name, to me, suits him. The name speaks of a jolly little man who loves to smile and lives to serve and that is the very essence of Rogelio’s nature. Our team members were right. We all loved Rogelio as one of our own by the end of the trip.

Rogelio’s bus took us that afternoon from Quito, Ecuador’s capital city, through the mountains and past volcanoes both active and dormant, to the city of Ambato. We stopped along the way in a place called Leather Town. I’m not sure if that is a name known only to the numerous groups from Grace who have passed through or the town’s actual name but it is, nonetheless, an apt description. Leather Town is a community whose main source of economy is, well, leather products of all kinds: shoes, wallets, belts, bags, hats; they have it all. And we bought a lot of it.

From Leather Town, we continued our journey to Ambato and to the hacienda where we would stay for the week. I don’t think any of us really expected what the hacienda had to offer with its indoor pool, handball court, sauna and complete kitchen. It was nice and well kept. It was big enough for us to spread out, to eat and even to find some alone time, but it also offered a few couches and a couple of nooks for pleasant and quiet conversation. It was enough to be our home for the week and more than we had anticipated.

That night our group of misplaced gringos descended upon Jonhattan and Ivonne Constante’s home for dinner. Jonhattan is the pastor of La Primera Iglesia Bautista de Ambato, the First Baptist Church of Ambato and he is the main pastor through which Dan coordinates most of his work in the Ambato area. From the States, Danny communicated with Dan in Quito, who communicated with Jonhattan in Ambato who communicated with the other national pastors in the area. Jonhattan’s heart is clearly for the people of Ecuador. You can see it in his interaction with youth and adult alike. He loves people well and the Lord passionately.

As our first day ended, our beds were a welcomed relief. Well, after we got the mouse poop off the sheets. I lay in bed that night thinking back over my first day in this country I would come to love. It had been a beautiful day full of exploration, travel, sightseeing and getting to know my teammates. As I drifted to sleep, I looked toward the morning with anticipation…and a slight groan as I realized how late it was and how very soon 6:30 would come and our alarm would go off and another adventure would begin.

Ecuador 2006 - Part V

2008-05-28T06:27:00.000-07:00

Walking out of the airport and being, again, in South America, I was overcome with an incomprehensible sense of…rightness. I didn’t understand it at the time, and I don’t now. It just felt right to be there, back in South America. It felt like everything in my life was right; it may not all have been good at that moment, but being there was right and was, in no way, running away from my problems at home. I’m still not really sure why, but I started to cry then. And I pretty much didn’t stop until we got to the guesthouse.

Because I didn’t really understand why I was crying, I spent most of that bus ride either with my head down or looking out the window in an effort to not make eye contact with anyone. While trying to calm myself, I had my head on my bag, which was again bringing me security while sitting in my lap. Ava, who was sitting on the seat next to me, put her hand on my shoulder. When I looked up, she said, with tears in her eyes, “I am so glad I’m here for your first time.” We both cried then. Perhaps that touched me in such a way because it resonated so deeply with how I felt about the fact that she was sitting next to me on a bus in Ecuador. Perhaps it was simply because it meant enough to her to show me the place she loved to bring her to tears. I don’t know, but that simple statement reached my heart.

When we arrived at the HCJB guesthouse a short time later, we met as a team in one of the common areas and Dan Koenig, the missionary we were there to work with, went over the logistics of the week and a tentative schedule. The operative word in his statement was ‘tentative.’ Danny had been telling us for weeks that in order for this trip to be successful, we needed to remain fluid and flexible. Dan, in words pleasant but definitive, reiterated everything Danny had said leading up to the trip.

One of the reasons it was so easy for me to agree to be a part of this trip to Ecuador was the high regard in which Dan and Jen Koenig are held by the Bentleys. This was not, however, the first time I had met the Koenig’s. Our first meeting was, for me, so traumatic that I debated whether or not I should remind them of the encounter. Allow me to explain. Last summer, a family came into the store by which I am employed. At the time, I was sitting on the floor, not far from the registers, putting together a display and from where I was sitting, I couldn’t quite see the face of the lady who was paying for her purchases. I could, however, hear the conversation between her and my coworker. The lady was saying how they are missionaries in Ecuador with HCJB. So, I stuck my head around the display and said, “Oh, do you know the Koenig’s?” Her reply was equal parts polite and nervous: “Uh, we are the Koenig’s.” My only defense was to blurt out, “I go to Grace. I know the Bentleys,” and to retreat behind my display. Yeah, I was pretty much humiliated.

I think it is a testament, though, to the acceptance and love that exude from both Dan and Jen that by the time we had unloaded the bus as the guesthouse, I was comfortable enough to admit to Jen that I was “that girl from the Christian bookstore.”

After being given Dan’s announcements and being told where to sleep, we settled into our rooms and met again, this time in the downstairs common area. We were seated, mostly, at small round tables with just enough room to be cozy and build a little team-togetherness but not so much so that we felt our personal space violated. Nate brought his guitar and began to play some worship songs.

Now, there are times when the Lord gives us a “moment” where He is more evident and more real to us than the sum of the rest of the moments of our lives. I had one of those moments that night.

Nate began to play that song by Third Day, “You Are So Good to Me.” We got to the part where the lyrics are

“You are so good to me / You heal my broken heart,”

And, maybe for the first time, I really contemplated those words. It was, at least, the first time I had considered those words in the context of the last year of my life. Fifteen months before that night, in March of 2005, I had pretty much given up any hope of what I would consider success in my life. It was too hard to fight for who I wanted to be and, although it hurt and felt as though I was being untrue to myself, it was so much easier to give in and make my greatest attempts to be who my parents thought I should be.

That April, I stood on the top of a mountain in Peru looking out over one of the deepest gorges in the world. On that mountaintop it was as though the Lord was saying to my heart

“Do you really want this? If you do, wait. Wait and let Me work in your life.”

In May, my world blew up. He tore my life apart and took away almost everything, almost everything, that was dear to me. He broke me. Three months later, one night in August, I found myself facedown on the floor, weeping, empty and broken and, for the first time, ready to learn how to forgive. That night began a period of time where the Lord rebuilt me and made me into a new person. And that first night in Ecuador, in that moment, I found myself again facedown and weeping. This time they were tears of joy and peace. That night, in that moment, He closed the circle. For the first time I really felt like all the hurt and ugliness of the past year, was over. For the first time I felt free.

That night, in that moment, a new phase of my life began. This was, and is, my time…my time to seek the Lord and find Him waiting and to walk in confidence and faith.

I wasn’t expecting my deeply emotional, encounter-with-the-living-God moment to occur so early in the trip. And I couldn’t wait to see what else He would do over the next week.

Ecuador 2006 - Part IV

2008-05-19T04:29:00.000-07:00

After a layover in Miami that involved us walking what seemed like the entire airport…twice…we boarded another plane and took off, bound for Quito. This time, I had a middle seat near the back of the plane with Andy Hall to my left, by the window, and Kenny to my right. Butch and Lisa were behind me. Lisa asked a lot of questions about Spanish and how to say certain words and phrases. It was a challenge to my memory, and desired mastery, of the language.

At the end of the flight, as we were rushing to wait to get off the plane, I met the girl who had sat in front of me for the previous four or so hours. Her name was Rachel and she was on her way to Shell Mera to work at the hospital there for about forty days. Shell Mera was the base where Nate Saint and his family lived in the 1950s when he was an MAF pilot. It was from Shell Mera that Nate, Jim Elliot and three other men flew into the jungle to meet, and hopefully minister to, the Waorani Indians, who were known at that time as the Aucas. When the men landed in Waorani territory in 1957, they were brutally speared to death by the Indians they had come to serve. As a result of that incident and follow-up contact made by Nate’s sister, Rachel, and some of the men’s wives, many of the Waorani have come to know the Lord. The whole story is told in one of my favorite movies (and books), The End of the Spear. It was amazing to watch and read that story and then be so close to where it had all happened.

Rachel had a working knowledge of Spanish but was not altogether comfortable with her command of the language. For that reason and because she was traveling alone, we absorbed her as part of our group for the journey through customs. She had been told that she would be spending that night at the HCJB guesthouse in Quito. That was where we were staying that night so as we helped her find her contact at the airport, we hoped we would see her when we got the house.

Wherever she stayed that night, it wasn’t at the same HCJB guesthouse that we stayed in. I have thought of her often since then and wondered how her trip has gone. I hope all is well with her.

Gwyneth Rose Lawrenson

2008-05-17T07:13:00.000-07:00

If you've prayed, at all, for Nathan, Tricia and Gwyneth...you need to watch this video. I promise you will be blessed.

Just a recap...Tricia is 26...she's had cystic fibrosis her whole life. In September, the day before she was to begin physical therapy on the road to a double lung transplant, she found out she was pregnant. In January, Baby Gwyneth was born 15+ weeks early. She's three months old now and has had no major complications (not really any minor ones). Tricia got her new lungs on April 3 (Nathan's birthday) and has had no complications since. She was discharged from the hospital 20 days later. Gwyneth was discharged this past Wednesday...they're ALL HOME!!! Sort of. They were in the hospital a few hours from their home, so they're "living" in a hotel suite in Durham.

You can read the whole story here: Nate's Blog. (At the top, on the right, is a link to "the whole story.")

This makes me laugh out loud...

2008-05-16T11:39:00.000-07:00

Ecuador 2006 - Part III

2008-05-16T05:08:00.000-07:00

The trip didn’t start well. Because we had to leave for the airport so early in the morning (we had to be at the church at 6:00am), we met the night before to drop off our luggage and pack some of the extra supplies we would need to take. When we arrived at the church that evening, we were given the news that one of our team-members, Mike, would not be able to go with us. That afternoon his wife had broken her knee jumping into a pool to get her young son.

I woke up June 2, 2006, the morning of our trip, with a sore throat, a low-grade fever and sinus congestion. That, combined with the early hour, made me a not very fun person to be around. One of the men’s Bible studies at Grace had arrived at the church that morning even earlier than us to prepare a pancake breakfast for the team and our families. It was a beautiful way to leave, having shared a meal with our team and our families being able to fellowship together.

It was an interesting scene to watch that morning. Gary sat with his wife and two youngest daughters, Allie and Lindsey. Gary and Allie would be going on the trip with us; Lindsey would leave for six weeks in Peru a couple days after our departure. I found it a beautiful commitment to the Lord’s will and ministry for Gary to travel with us rather than see his youngest daughter off.

In another corner, Beth cried as she said goodbye to Daniel. She, too, showed her commitment to the Lord in leaving her husband for ten days, and in leaving on their fifth anniversary.

Soon, we moved toward the bus to head to the airport. It meant the world to me that Kay Brown was there to see us off. I didn’t have any family there, so just to have a friend to hug and say goodbye to and to know there was someone there praying for us was such an encouragement. Outside the bus, Scotty said goodbye to his wife and son. As he hugged Kyle, Scotty reminded him that in going on this trip he was doing what the Lord wanted him to do.

We climbed on the bus and I sat with Kara, my prayer partner in front of Ava and Lana. Throughout the bus there was an air of excitement and wonder mixed with an element of nervous tension. Leaving the country, leaving families and businesses, was a new adventure for most of the team. My carry-on bag for the trip was huge and took up more space on the seat than I should have allowed when I held it on my lap. I think maybe, in some way, there was some security tucked inside next to my Bible and journal.

During the bus ride, Danny passed out an information pack to everyone on the team. As Danny explained the contents, each team member looked over a list of words in English and Spanish that we would be teaching to the children in Ecuador. The last item we discussed was a sheet that split our team into five potential small groups in case we were able to separate with the teenage students into discussion groups. The magic number five came from the number of translators available: Lana, Nate, Dan, Jonhattan and me. That was the moment I became nervous.

It had been over a year since I had been in a Spanish class and just as long since I had attempted to communicate in the language. I love the Spanish language; it represents for me the people group the Lord has called me to minister to. But it had been a long time since I had used my knowledge of the language regularly and the responsibility of facilitating and translating a group discussion, in truth, terrified me. In front of the group, Danny asked if I could handle that. I answered with a yes, and promptly began praying.

We arrived at the airport, unloaded our baggage and then passed through check-in without incident. We arrived at our gate, number nine in the American Airlines terminal, and settled in. Now, settling in is quite a feat when you consider that we were a group of 26. Nevertheless we settled in, just in time for our gate to be changed to the next one down, number ten. So we moved and again, settled in. At Gate Ten, we split up. Ava, Beth and I walked down to the Starbucks, got our supply—the last good cup of coffee any of us would have before we returned to Georgia—and made our way back to the gate. We got back just in time to move again. They changed us back to gate nine. By the time we got there, again, there wasn’t time to even attempt to settle 26 people in. We stood as a group, for just a few minutes, until our flight boarded.

My large bag and I made our way down the aisle, doing our best not to injure anyone already sitting, and found my seat near the back of the plane. My seat was on the right side of the plane, on the aisle. Todd sat to my right, in the middle seat, and Andy Hall was across the aisle from me. I was excited because I knew neither of these men and was eager to get to know the people on my team.

The flight to Miami passed without event. I journaled some, talked with Todd and Andy and laughed at Nate who had fallen asleep before the plane even began moving. In my journal, I wrote about church the Sunday before we left. We had sung the song, ‘You Said,’ which always makes me cry. I plead with the Lord that morning for Him to allow me to see Ecuador turned over to Him and lives commissioned to His service. As I sat on the plane that morning, I believed, confidently, that He would honor that request. I knew it not just because I know it is His desire that none should perish but because in my heart I had a peace that the Lord would give me Ecuador and hearts there to pursue for Him.

One down...99 to go

2008-05-15T05:59:00.000-07:00

So, in this post I mentioned reading through this list of Great Novels.

An ambitious goal.

1. Remembrance of Things Past Marcel Proust
2. The Brothers Karamozov Fyodor Dostoevsky
3. The Magic Mountain Thomas Mann
4. The Ambassadors Henry James
5. Don Quixote Miguel de Cervantes
6. Moby Dick Herman Melville
7. Absalom, Absalom! Wililam Faulkner
8. War and Peace Leo Tolstoy
9. Tom Jones Henry Fielding
10. The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn Mark Twain
11. One Hundred Years of Solitude Gabriel Garcia Marquez
12. The Wings of the Dove Henry James
13. Crime and Punishment Fyodor Dostoevsky
14. Great Expectations Charles Dickens
15. Les Miserables Victor Hugo
16. Pride and Prejudice Jane Austen
17. The Idiot Fyodor Dostoevsky
18. The Sun Also Rises Ernest Hemingway
19. The Sleepwalkers Hermann Broch
20. The Trial Franz Kafka
21. Ulysses James Joyce
22. Madame Bovary Gustave Flaubert
23. The Great Gatsby F. Scott Fitzgerald
24. The Sound and the Fury William Faulkner
25. Middlemarch George Eliot
26. Invisible Man Ralph Ellison
27. The Golden Bowl Henry James
28. The Red and the Black Stendhal
29. The Portrait of a Lady Henry James
30. Anna Karenina Leo Tolstoy
31. Heart of Darkness Joseph Conrad
32. To the Lighthouse Virginia Woolf
33. Vanity Fair William Thackeray
34. Fathers and Sons Ivan Turgenev
35. Pale Fire Vladimir Nabokov
36. The Adventures of Augie March Saul Bellow
37. Bleak House Charles Dickens
38. Atonement Ian McEwan
39. Silas Marner George Eliot
40. The Gambler Fyodor Dostoevsky
41. Le Pere Goriot Honore de Balzac
42. The Grapes of Wrath John Steinbeck
43. The Catcher in the Rye J.D. Salinger
44. Emma Jane Austen
45. Jane Eyre Charlotte Bronte
46. Wuthering Heights Emily Bronte
47. Nostromo Joseph Conrad
48. One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest Ken Kesey
49. In Cold Blood Truman Capote
50. The American Henry James
51. Oliver Twist Charles Dickens
52. Miss Lonelyhearts Nathanael West
53. The French Lieutenant's Woman John Fowles
54. The Corrections Jonathan Franzen
55. Tristam Shandy Laurence Sterne
56. The Day of the Locust Nathanael West
57. Of Mice and Men John Steinbeck
58. Lord Jim Joseph Conrad
59. 1984 George Orwell
60. The Narrative of Arthur Gordom Pym of Nantucket Edgar Allen Poe
61. Brideshead Revisited Evelyn Waugh
62. The Charterhouse of Parma Stendhal
63. Death Comes for the Archbishop Willa Cather
64. Animal Farm George Orwell
65. The Last of the Mohicans James Fenimore Cooper
66. The Power and the Glory Graham Greene
67. Lucky Jim Kingsley Amis
68. The Big Sleep Raymond Chandler
69. The Lord of the Flies William Golding
70. The Hound of Baskervilles Arthur Conan Doyle
71. On the Road Jack Kerouac
72. Kim Rudyard Kipling
73. Tess of the d'Urbervilles Thomas Hardy
74. A Tale of Two Cities Charles Dickens
75. American Pastoral Philip Roth
76. The Moon is a Harsh Mistress Robert Heinlein
77. Frankenstein Mary Shelley
78. The Fortress of Solitude Jonathan Lethem
79. Riders of the Purple Sage Zane Grey
80. Neuromancer William Gibson
81. Money Martin Amis
82. The Scarlet Letter Nathaniel Hawthorne
83. The Murder of Roger Ackroyd Agatha Christie
84. As I Lay Dying William Fuulkner
85. Daisy Miller Henry James
86. The Return of the Native Thomas Hardy
87. The Black Swan Thomas Mann
88. For Whom the Bell Tolls Ernest Hemingway
89. The Possessed Fyodor Dostoevsky
90. The Death of Ivan Ilych Leo Tolstoy
91. Buddenbrooks Thomas Mann
92. The Kreutzer Sonata Leo Tolstoy
93. Mrs. Dalloway Virginia Woolf
94. David Copperfield Charles Dickens
95. The Spoils of Poynton Henry James
96. A Bend in the River V.S. Naipaul
97. Dune Frank Herbert
98. Jude the Obscure Thomas Hardy
99. Valis Philip K. Dick
100. Gravity's Rainbow Thomas Pynchon
**Books I've completed are bold.

So, the very first book selected by the random generator was Of Mice and Men...very short...105 pages. I see that as the Lord's encouragement...start me out with a nice short book so I don't get discouraged and quit too early. :)

Next up: #9...Tom Jones by Henry Fielding

Reading List

2008-05-14T13:28:00.000-07:00

So, in this post I mentioned reading through this list of Great Novels.

An ambitious goal.

In an effort to, well, not lose the list...and find some accountability, I decided to post the list here...and read away.

1. Remembrance of Things Past Marcel Proust
2. The Brothers Karamozov Fyodor Dostoevsky
3. The Magic Mountain Thomas Mann
4. The Ambassadors Henry James
5. Don Quixote Miguel de Cervantes
6. Moby Dick Herman Melville
7. Absalom, Absalom! Wililam Faulkner
8. War and Peace Leo Tolstoy
9. Tom Jones Henry Fielding
10. The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn Mark Twain
11. One Hundred Years of Solitude Gabriel Garcia Marquez
12. The Wings of the Dove Henry James
13. Crime and Punishment Fyodor Dostoevsky
14. Great Expectations Charles Dickens
15. Les Miserables Victor Hugo
16. Pride and Prejudice Jane Austen
17. The Idiot Fyodor Dostoevsky
18. The Sun Also Rises Ernest Hemingway
19. The Sleepwalkers Hermann Broch
20. The Trial Franz Kafka
21. Ulysses James Joyce
22. Madame Bovary Gustave Flaubert
23. The Great Gatsby F. Scott Fitzgerald
24. The Sound and the Fury William Faulkner
25. Middlemarch George Eliot
26. Invisible Man Ralph Ellison
27. The Golden Bowl Henry James
28. The Red and the Black Stendhal
29. The Portrait of a Lady Henry James
30. Anna Karenina Leo Tolstoy
31. Heart of Darkness Joseph Conrad
32. To the Lighthouse Virginia Woolf
33. Vanity Fair William Thackeray
34. Fathers and Sons Ivan Turgenev
35. Pale Fire Vladimir Nabokov
36. The Adventures of Augie March Saul Bellow
37. Bleak House Charles Dickens
38. Atonement Ian McEwan
39. Silas Marner George Eliot
40. The Gambler Fyodor Dostoevsky
41. Le Pere Goriot Honore de Balzac
42. The Grapes of Wrath John Steinbeck
43. The Catcher in the Rye J.D. Salinger
44. Emma Jane Austen
45. Jane Eyre Charlotte Bronte
46. Wuthering Heights Emily Bronte
47. Nostromo Joseph Conrad
48. One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest Ken Kesey
49. In Cold Blood Truman Capote
50. The American Henry James
51. Oliver Twist Charles Dickens
52. Miss Lonelyhearts Nathanael West
53. The French Lieutenant's Woman John Fowles
54. The Corrections Jonathan Franzen
55. Tristam Shandy Laurence Sterne
56. The Day of the Locust Nathanael West
57. Of Mice and Men John Steinbeck
58. Lord Jim Joseph Conrad
59. 1984 George Orwell
60. The Narrative of Arthur Gordom Pym of Nantucket Edgar Allen Poe
61. Brideshead Revisited Evelyn Waugh
62. The Charterhouse of Parma Stendhal
63. Death Comes for the Archbishop Willa Cather
64. Animal Farm George Orwell
65. The Last of the Mohicans James Fenimore Cooper
66. The Power and the Glory Graham Greene
67. Lucky Jim Kingsley Amis
68. The Big Sleep Raymond Chandler
69. The Lord of the Flies William Golding
70. The Hound of Baskervilles Arthur Conan Doyle
71. On the Road Jack Kerouac
72. Kim Rudyard Kipling
73. Tess of the d'Urbervilles Thomas Hardy
74. A Tale of Two Cities Charles Dickens
75. American Pastoral Philip Roth
76. The Moon is a Harsh Mistress Robert Heinlein
77. Frankenstein Mary Shelley
78. The Fortress of Solitude Jonathan Lethem
79. Riders of the Purple Sage Zane Grey
80. Neuromancer William Gibson
81. Money Martin Amis
82. The Scarlet Letter Nathaniel Hawthorne
83. The Murder of Roger Ackroyd Agatha Christie
84. As I Lay Dying William Fuulkner
85. Daisy Miller Henry James
86. The Return of the Native Thomas Hardy
87. The Black Swan Thomas Mann
88. For Whom the Bell Tolls Ernest Hemingway
89. The Possessed Fyodor Dostoevsky
90. The Death of Ivan Ilych Leo Tolstoy
91. Buddenbrooks Thomas Mann
92. The Kreutzer Sonata Leo Tolstoy
93. Mrs. Dalloway Virginia Woolf
94. David Copperfield Charles Dickens
95. The Spoils of Poynton Henry James
96. A Bend in the River V.S. Naipaul
97. Dune Frank Herbert
98. Jude the Obscure Thomas Hardy
99. Valis Philip K. Dick
100. Gravity's Rainbow Thomas Pynchon

First up--as selected by the Random Integer Generator--is...

...drumroll, please...

#57 - Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck.

Hmmm...

2008-05-14T12:23:00.001-07:00

Hmmm...I stole this from another blog, but I just closed the window and can't remember where it came from to accurately cite it. Ooops. Sorry.

"What we have here is the top 106 books most often marked as "unread" by LibraryThing’s users. As in, they sit on the shelf to make you look smart or well-rounded. Bold the ones you've read, italicize the ones you read for school, bold and italicize the ones you started but didn't finish (or are on the shelf waiting for a free week)."
Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell
Anna Karenina
Crime and Punishment
Catch-22
One Hundred Years of Solitude
Wuthering Heights
The Silmarillion
Life of Pi : a novel
The Name of the Rose
Don Quixote
Moby Dick
Ulysses
Madame Bovary
The Odyssey
Pride and Prejudice
Jane Eyre
The Tale of Two Cities
The Brothers Karamazov
Guns, Germs, and Steel
War and Peace
Vanity Fair
The Time Traveler’s Wife
The Iliad
Emma
The Blind Assassin
The Kite Runner
Mrs. Dalloway
Great Expectations
American Gods
A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius
Atlas Shrugged
Reading Lolita in Tehran : a memoir in books
Memoirs of a Geisha
Middlesex
Quicksilver
Wicked : the life and times of the wicked witch of the West
The Canterbury Tales
The Historian : a novel
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man
Love in the Time of Cholera
Brave New World
The Fountainhead
Foucault’s Pendulum
Middlemarch
Frankenstein
The Count of Monte Cristo
Dracula
A Clockwork Orange
Anansi Boys
The Once and Future King
The Grapes of Wrath
The Poisonwood Bible : a novel
1984
Angels & Demons
Inferno
The Satanic Verses
Sense and Sensibility
The Picture of Dorian Gray
Mansfield Park
One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest
To the Lighthouse
Tess of the D'Urbervilles
Oliver Twist
Gulliver’s Travels
Les Misérables
The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay
The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time
Dune
The Prince
The Sound and the Fury
Angela’s Ashes : a memoir
The God of Small Things
A People’s History of the United States : 1492-present
Cryptonomicon
Neverwhere
A Confederacy of Dunces
A Short History of Nearly Everything
Dubliners
The Unbearable Lightness of Being
Beloved
Slaughterhouse-five
The Scarlet Letter
Eats, Shoots & Leaves
The Mists of Avalon
Oryx and Crake
Collapse : how societies choose to fail or succeed
Cloud Atlas
The Confusion
Lolita
Persuasion
Northanger Abbey
The Catcher in the Rye
On the Road
The Hunchback of Notre Dame
Freakonomics : a rogue economist explores the hidden side of everything
Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance : an inquiry into values
The Aeneid
Watership Down
Gravity’s Rainbow
The Hobbit
In Cold Blood : a true account of a multiple murder and its consequences
White Teeth
Treasure Island
David Copperfield

Ahem...notice, there is only one bold.

Know, also, that the italicized books...yeah, we only read excerpts...just because we read them in school doesn't mean we read the whole thing. And, truth be told, chances are a more accurate description of the italicized books would be "those I was tested on in school, but didn't actually crack the spine of."

I'm a little embarrassed by the looks of my list...especially considering how much I do read. I am however going to start reading my way through this list:

The One Hundred Greatest Novels of All Time

Ecuador 2006 - Part II

2008-05-13T11:06:00.000-07:00

Ever since that first trip to Peru in December of 2003, I have heard about how amazing Ecuador is. Danny once said that if I ever went to Ecuador, the country and I would fall madly in love with each other; and Ava said that if we got to visit “that camp on the mountain” my heart would be forever captured. As I wrote letters, watched the Lord build my support team and prepared for my trip, I was so excited. I was excited about returning to South America, seeing a new ministry and getting to communicate and worship in Spanish. Our team grew to include mostly people I didn’t know. I knew the three Bentleys of course and Danny; I had met Josh and Carrie Anne and Lance, but didn’t really know them. Ben and I had gone to Biloxi on a hurricane relief weekend six months before but hadn’t talked much since then. I was excited to get to know new people, especially in the context of South American missions and I love the way the Lord binds hearts on trips like these.

For a month before the trip, I was stressed. Really, more overwhelmed than stressed. I felt like I had so much to do in very little time with loose ends to tie up at work, along with laundry and packing and just the details of the trip. About ten days before we left, however, I realized that I had been trying desperately to prepare myself for the trip. I had been so busy with work, family and life that I had been missing God. I hadn’t been avoiding Him, but I hadn’t made time for Him either and I definitely hadn’t sought Him or His peace regarding the trip.

When I did intentionally make time for the Lord and to allow Him to prepare my heart, I came to a realization that scared me. I wasn’t excited about the trip. My lack of excitement even made me feel guilty. I always wanted to go to Ecuador, that wasn’t in question. I couldn’t wait to see what the Lord was doing there and how I could be a part of it, but the reality of traveling and going to South America was of no consequence to me. Two days before we left, I sat down with Pam Williams. We talked over what I was thinking and she prayed with me. It made all the difference. The time with Pam didn’t make me excited about the trip, but gave me the freedom to not be excited. She made the point that, maybe, the reason I hadn’t been excited about the trip was because there was nothing new in it for me. I had done the South America thing so many times before and having Ava and Danny on the trip raised my comfort level significantly.

My feelings over the trip were further explained the next night as I re-read some letters from the year before. In April of 2005, Ava and I were adult leaders on the high school spring break trip to Peru. Early in the trip I purchased a journal in which I wrote letters home to a friend. I got the journal back from her the night before Ecuador so I could write to her from Ambato. Before packing the journal, I read over the letters I had written a year earlier. Parts of that journal brought me to tears as I discovered that so many of the God-things that had blown my mind in Peru are now common-place, daily things in my walk with Lord; commonplace in the sense that they are evidence of the maturity in my walk with Jesus and how I’ve grown closer to Him. It was so precious to me to look back and see those things.

I had written to her, also, that I was glad she hadn’t come to Peru with us. Early in the planning of that trip, there had been the possibility of her being a part of that team, but it didn’t work out. I was glad she hadn’t come because she hadn’t traveled much and had never been out of the country. I wanted her to come when she was, in her words, a more seasoned traveler and when flying wasn’t novel for her anymore because I wanted her to see the beauty of the ministry and to see ministry for ministry’s sake and not be distracted by the travel.

Reading that was one of those moments where it seems like the Lord has knocked me in the head to make sure I’ve caught His point. That was precisely where I was with Ecuador. I had come to a point in my traveling experience where Ecuador was about the Lord and ministry and people and not at all about the travel or the flight. I was going and doing ministry for ministry’s sake. It was a beautiful moment to see that progression in my own life.

Ecuador 2006 - Part I

2008-05-12T19:10:00.000-07:00

It is a humbling awareness when God calls you to be Jesus in the lives of people in another culture, in another country, on another continent. It is a humbling awareness to be called to be Jesus in anyone’s life, but there is so much more to be aware of when you cross cultural borders. Although there is little newness for me in traveling, even in traveling to South America, I could little have expected what ten days in Ecuador would do to me and through me. In the words of a little boy at a little school in a little town in Ecuador, “Dios es grande,” that is, God is big.

The only place to start this narrative is, well, at the beginning. The difficulty is that I don’t really know where the beginning of this story is for me. It could be the day in, I guess, January, when Danny, our team leader, approached me about the trip and the possibility of me going as a Spanish speaker. Danny was there when the Lord set aside my heart for South America and people of the Spanish language and he knows of my passion for such things. So, I guess, then maybe the story starts in Peru in 2003 when Danny and I both first saw the beauty of South American missions. Or, maybe, back farther to my days as a Bible school student when I heard stories of missionaries in Panama loosing their husbands to Columbian guerillas and my heart desperately wanted to go to the places the wives were not permitted to return to. For me, though, I think the beginning of the story is in my childhood. The first 21 years of my life were spent with two amazing, godly people who loved the Lord passionately and spent countless hours telling me stories of their travels around the world and of sharing Jesus with all they encountered. I was blessed with grandparents whose first priority was ministry and the greatest legacy I have inherited from them is a passion to see Jesus spread around the world.

The beginning of this trip in places outside of my heart lies, then, in January. Danny shared with me that he would be leading this trip and, although the trip was not yet being publicized, he would like me to be praying about going as someone who speaks Spanish and could translate and facilitate the forming of relationships. Danny knows me well. Later at a team meeting, I joked that there are two ways to get me to do something, offer me free food, or tell me I can speak Spanish. My heart’s response to that conversation with Danny was not really to pray about whether or not the Lord wanted me to go, but rather to simply agree to go and ask the Lord to close the door if anything else was His desire. It was a simple choice for me. A week later, Danny said that the Bentleys were praying about going, too. Beautiful. I hadn’t talked to Ava at all about going to Ecuador. That this family wanted to go also was simply further confirmation for me.

My story with the Bentleys goes back to that same Peru trip with Danny in 2003. The short story is that I had been praying for six months for a mentor and Ava had been praying for someone to mentor. We clicked in Peru and have been together now for two and a half years. Through every part of the last two years, all the ugliness and hurt and shame, she stood with me and fought the lies until I could see the truth…and then rejoiced with me when I found it. She has been, in so many ways, what my mom is unable to be. And, because God is ridiculous and amazing, He has not let me leave the US without her since that first trip. So, the prospect of the whole Bentley family going to Ecuador thrilled my heart.

From here, I tell my story of ten days in Ecuador, the weeks leading up to the trip and the days there. My journal was my constant companion, always in my bag, always nearby. I recorded everything. The reality of who I am is that I am not a good thinker. I don’t follow a train of thought very well if the words are confined to my head. I need them on paper. And so, I write. In the same vein, I don’t tell stories well, not verbally. And so, my desire is to share my journal. However, the deep parts of my heart are written there as well; parts of my heart that are not available to the general public. And so, I write this in a more legible and formal fashion, from my journal to words intended to share. And I hope, deeply, that these words convey accurately what are my true feelings about Ecuador and that week and those people. Somewhere in this, too, I hope to find at least a part of what the Lord did in and to me that week.

Ecuador 2006 - Intro

2008-05-12T19:00:00.000-07:00

So, two years ago next month, I went to Ecuador for the first time. It was nothing less than life-changing...in ways I'm not sure I could even begin to explain. But...being a big fan of words, I certainly attempted to. I am a journaler, a writer...I love to record things in words, on paper. So, of course, I took my journal to Ecuador with me. :) After the trip, I put myself to the task of making my journal more...ummm...available to the general public. I mean, of course, there are things written in my journal that others don't need to read; stuff between me and Jesus. Actually, now that I think about it, the reason I decided to prepare it more is that...well...it's the story, you can read it in order. I put myself to the task...and, 26 pages later, I completed said task.

And, I feel that this is the time to share it. Several people have read it, but now I'm going to make it available to the general public. So, I'll post a "section" at a time.

Read...enjoy...and I hope you see Jesus in the events of Ecuador 0606. :)

Big News

2008-05-09T12:56:00.000-07:00

It's not actually my big news to share...it's Nathan and Tricia's. So, read this post on Nate's blog and continue to pray for them!!!

Slideshow

2008-05-08T13:00:00.000-07:00

At the bottom of my blog, I added this:

Tricia Update

2008-04-21T10:11:00.000-07:00

20 days post-transplant and this happens.

Unbelievable.

Wordless Wednesday...

2008-04-16T06:59:00.000-07:00

Or, Four Days in Puerto Rico, in Pictures

I guess I had a lot to say...

2008-04-03T08:39:00.000-07:00

Read this and then this. And then consider Organ Donation.

Before I didn't meet Tricia and Nate...here's the thing, I've never met Tricia or Nate. I've met people that know them...several years ago who certainly don't remember meeting me. And, I know well people who know well other people who know Tricia and Nate. But, the extent of my relationship with them is a couple comments on Nate's blog along with, literally, thousands of other people...an email here and there...and a couple comments from Nate on my blog. That's it. So, I say, before I didn't meet Tricia and Nate, I think I had a bit of a messed up opinion on organ donation. I mean, I am deeply grateful for the technology and the skill of the doctor's who were able to perform a kidney transplant on Andrea which enabled her to (much later) become my college roommate and really awesome friend who's presence in my life I have missed dearly over the almost six years (dang!) since we graduated. But, she got a kidney from her dad...it's not like she had to sit on a waiting list or anything...and all that happened a few years before I met her.

To me, organ donation was a nice thing to do...but not really a part of my life. No big deal.

But the last few days, cyber-watching the roller coaster of a tx call, a no-go, a collapsed lung, another tx call and an 8-hour surgery, I find myself thinking a lot of Tricia's parents. In 1982, they adopted a one-week old baby girl...six months later, she was diagnosed with Cystic Fibrosis. For 26 years they have watched her struggle to breathe, go through countless hospital visits, procedures and much, much physical and emotional pain. For 26 years, they've known that eventually the day would come that the only way to (potentially) keep her around for a few more years would be a double-lung transplant...for someone else to loose their husband, wife, child, cousin, best friend. The only way to keep their daughter would be through someone else's tragedy.

I mean, I don't have any kids...but, there are six really amazing kids, the loss of any of whom would rip my heart out. I think that if I was in Tricia's mom position, I would have been a puddle on the floor after receiving that call. Not many people have seen my ugly cry...maybe three people...but I feel like anyone with hearing capabilities within a several mile radius would hear my wailing of relief, gratefulness, and praise of God Almighty for providing this new chance for my child.

(Ok, so that paragraph in no way means I could ever understand where Tricia's mom is right now...or is in anyway a snide remark on the way she handled the news...I don't even know how she handled the news...it's just what I think I would do.)

Nathan doesn't appear to hide much on his blog. I don't know them. I haven't watched them live...I've only read his blog. He could have us all snowed...but I don't think so. I tend to have a bit of a discerning spirit about people and Nathan's story hits me at the heart. He has introduced us to his wife, his daughter, even his dog and cat...and by extension, his dad and sister-in-law. They have all shown so vividly what being an organ donor means. Nathan has used his blog to debunk a number of myths about organ donation.

Is it weird that I see Nathan and Tricia as friends? I've cried both times they got "the call" as well as when she didn't get the lungs, when she did, and when they said she had come out of the surgery well.

I say all of this to come all the way around and say that, now, I see...not really the importance of organ donation, but the gift. It's not just about helping someone else live (although, that is a valiant thing) but about preserving the hearts of so many people who care about the person who needs the transplant. Receiving a donor organ doesn't just impact the life of the body that receieves it...but so many people who care about that person. The donor of Tricia's new lungs has impacted, literally, thousands of people who have been praying, wishing and dreaming for this to happen.

And so, so many of those people have prayed and are praying for the family of the donor...a family who may never know how many people were affected by the donation.

So, I say, become an organ donor. And, let your loved ones know it's your desire. Being an organ donor is more than just a sticker on your license. Even with the sticker on your license and the mention of organ donation in a living will or power of attorney document, the final decision comes down to the next of kin or holder of the power of attorney.

I didn't intend for this to be so long...disjointed...or a speech about organ donation...but it is what it is and I leave it at that.

For Tricia's story, in her words, check out her website. Read her story and her blog.

For Nate and Tricia's journey in Nate's words, check out his blog. He labels all his posts so you can learn more about organ donation through those posts and his links.

Nate's dad, Rick, and Tricia's sister, Megan, have both also blogged about this journey and there's great stuff there, too.

Nathan, Tricia and Gwyneth

It's a Go...

2008-04-02T16:43:00.001-07:00

...so far.

At 545 this afternoon, Nate posted that they were going ahead with the transplant and had taken Tricia back to prep her for surgery. It's still possible that they could get her on the operating table and decide she's not a good match, but this is farther than they got last time...AND ON NATHAN'S BIRTHDAY!!!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, NATE!!! LOOKS LIKE YOU'RE GETTING THE GREATEST BIRTHDAY GIFT EVER...GOD IS GOOD!!!

But keep praying for Nathan, Tricia and Gwyneth!!!

Keep Praying!!!

2008-04-02T11:49:00.000-07:00

Hey, friends!

I think I emailed you all awhile back about Nathan and Tricia. Tricia has had Cystic Fibrosis her whole life (she's 24). Back in the fall, the day before she was to start physical therapy to prepare for a double lung transplant, she found out she was pregnant. Baby Gwyneth was born in January...more than 15 weeks early. Gwyneth hasn't had any major complications...certainly nothing more than your average micro-preemie. (Is there really such thing as an average micro-preemie???)

Anyway, Tricia has been in the hospital for over three months now and won't leave until she gets her new lungs. Over the weekend, they got the call that there was a potential match...and a few hours later found out the lungs were no good for Tricia. (Nate is still asking for prayer for the family of the donor...even though Tricia didn't get the lungs, someone still lost a loved one.) Yesterday, Tricia had to have a procedure involving a chest tube to relieve pressure on a collapsed lung...she's been in pain and was having trouble breathing (more than normal).

Today, they got another call...and it sounds like these lungs are more promising than the first pair. Pray that Tricia's body can take these lungs so she can be a part of Baby Gwyneth's life! And, pray for the grieving family, as well.

You can read about their whole story here: Confessions of a CF Husband

Oh, and just a side note...today is Nathan's birthday...wouldn't that be the greatest birthday gift, ever!? :)

Transplant Call #2

2008-04-02T09:24:00.000-07:00

#1. Read this: TX CALL #2!!!

#2. Pray!!! Today is Nathan's birthday...pray that he gets the greatest birthday present ever...a wife who can breathe!

Love you, friends!

No Go

2008-03-31T06:38:00.000-07:00

The lungs weren't right for Tricia.

Nathan always says that even as we pray for Tricia to get new lungs, we need to pray for the family that had to lose someone for that to happen. Even though Tricia didn't get these lungs, a family is grieving...pray for them, too!

Pray for Tricia!

2008-03-30T16:54:00.000-07:00

Tricia got THE CALL!!! Pray for them!!!

Recent Stuff

2008-03-24T09:12:00.000-07:00

I love my Young Life girls!!!

Nicole and I (still YL):

The South Gwinnett YL family:

Dustin, PJ, Me, Rachael, Cat

I LOVE Easter baptisms...maybe 'cause I got baptised on Easter seven years ago (seven!?) or maybe 'cause it's such a beautiful time to align ourselves with what Jesus did.

Ryan about to get his 'junk dunked' (to quote Douglas Cox):

Sweet Emma getting dunked by her daddy...such a sweet moment!

Buddy speaking from the baptismal:

The EMPTY cross on the stage yesterday...what a beautiful sight!

Perfection

2008-03-17T11:07:00.000-07:00

I don't know that I've ever taken an online quiz that labeled me quite as perfectly as this one...and I take pride in my Baltimore-ness.

What American accent do you have? Your Result: Philadelphia Your accent is as Philadelphian as a cheesesteak! If you're not from Philadelphia, then you're from someplace near there like south Jersey, Baltimore, or Wilmington. if you've ever journeyed to some far off place where people don't know that Philly has an accent, someone may have thought you talked a little weird even though they didn't have a clue what accent it was they heard.
The Midland
The South
The Inland North
The Northeast
Boston
The West
North Central
What American accent do you have? Quiz Created on GoToQuiz

Read This and Pray!

2008-03-14T15:16:00.000-07:00

Friends!

I’m going back to Peru! It’s been three years since the last time I was there in April of 2005. It is such a blessing to me that so many people who were a part of my team then are still a part of my life now. And, I am so thankful for the amazing people the Lord has brought into my life in the last three years! I love you all so much!

This trip is completely different from anything I’ve done before. This June (June 13-23), I’ll be translating for doctors, nurses and dentists on a medical/dental trip in Talavera, Peru. We will be working with local Peruvians as well as Quechua Indians.

I desperately need your prayers for a few things about this trip. First, my Spanish. I don’t know a whole lot of medical words in Spanish. I am committed, though, to spending the next three months working on that area of the language. Pray for the hearts of the people we will be working with. Pray that as they see our desire to help them physically, they will know it comes from what Jesus has done for us and that we long for them to know Him too. Lastly, pray for the finances of the trip. My portion is $1750, which covers airfare, housing, food and project expenses. I know that the God who called me to this team is the same God who owns the cattle on a thousand hills - and the hills they stand on - and that He will provide the money. Pray that those the Lord calls to give financially toward the trip will follow His lead. I ask you, too, to pray about the Lord’s leading in this area for you, also. If He has called you to give, make checks payable to Grace Fellowship Church, write “Hetherington Peru 0806” in the memo line and mail it to me.

Thank you so much for your prayers. I know from so many past trips that there are moments, hours and complete days where your prayers are felt physically. I know I said it before, but I do love and appreciate you so much!

Lawrenson Update

2008-03-05T08:06:00.000-08:00

Hey, friends! A while back I posted this.

Watch this amazing video for an update.

Gwyneth was born 15+ weeks prematurely. Because both she and Tricia (her momma) are so susceptible to infection, this is the first time Tricia has been able to hold her little girl. Gwyneth will be 2 months old on the 8th and she's doing remarkably well...I don't think she's had any major complications. Tricia is still waiting for her new lungs, but she's on the list and ready to go...they could get the call at, literally, any moment.

Pray for them!

Just because we all need to be reminded...

2008-02-28T06:39:00.000-08:00

You are not defined by anything that happened to you or anything you ahve done. You are defined by who you are in Christ. You are God's beloved child. He has seen any wrong done to you, and He will uphold your cause. Beth Moore

You are a child of God.
You are clean.
You are forgiven.
You are redeemed.

You are an arrow in the quiver of the warrior with the most perfect aim. (Psalm 127.3-4)

You are dearly loved.

More Pics from my Trip

2008-02-16T16:17:00.000-08:00

The Misadventures of In Sane Kids

2008-02-16T15:38:00.000-08:00

Last summer when my folks were getting ready to move to St. Kitts, my 5-year-old sister, Ruthie, ask a lot of questions. The great part about it was that she didn't understand the name of this great place so she'd say things like, "When we're in Sane Kids will we..." So, when my family moved here and purchased a boat the only appropriate name for the vessel was In Sane Kids.

I got here Thursday night. Yesterday, we went out on the boat. We went snorkeling and saw some pretty incredible fish and sea urchins. It was great. I fell off the roof of this:

It's a dive platform in a cove for the scuba divers. My brother and his friends climb onto the roof and jump off...they love it. I climbed up there with my brother. As I was about to jump, I slipped and fell. Fortunately (read: praise God!), I didn't hit anything but the water. I did, however, manage to jack myself in the nose...I think I was trying to hold my nose, but I ended up punching myself. I have a pretty sizable bruise on my leg from hitting the water...and I jacked up my shoulder...not really sure how that happened, but it's a result of the fall.

We went back out in the boat today with some friends of my family. Dale is the mom and she runs the school my brothers go to. Regina and Ashton are her kids. We, pretty much, did the same stuff today just with more people. After the snorkeling and jumping, we went tubing and Daniel rode the wakeboard. This is him on his wakeboard:

Daniel was in the water with Ashton giving him tips on how to ride the wakeboard when the engine started making some weird (read: really not good) noises so we decided just to head back to the marina and call it a day. On the way back to the marina, the engine quit entirely. Well, not entirely...the transmission gave out. We were stuck, literally, on a boat in the Caribbean ocean. The most comical part of the experience was that, from where we were, we could see our house. We were, probably, a mile out from the coast. Oh, did I mention that a couple weeks ago the VHF radio (the communication tool for just such an occasion) was stolen off the boat a couple weeks ago? Yeah, we were stuck. Fortunately (also read: praise God!) my dad has made friends with this Irish guy, Seamus, at the marina. He called Seamus, who was not far from the marina. (At this point, I must say, nothing on this island is far from anything else on the island...it doesn't take more than 10 minutes to get anywhere, from anywhere.) Seamus was not far from the marina so he and his buddy, Bob, went straight there and grabbed Wayne (I have another story about Wayne, ask later) and came straight out on Seamus' boat, the Flying Lady. Wayne works at the marina...he's amazing with boats. They came out and towed us back into the marina.

So, that was our adventure for the day. :) It was fun...I definitely got some sun today.

Tomorrow morning, my mom and I are flying to St. Martin until Tuesday. We plan to eat a lot of French food, buy jewelry and get some more sun. :)

A Few Pics

2008-02-16T03:58:00.001-08:00

The view from my family's house.

My brother, Jack. He's 8.

My sister, Ruthie...I think she looks like Mowgli from Jungle Book. And, no, she doesn't have a shirt on. She rarely does. This is going to be a problem in too few years.

Mr. X's Wiggidy Wac, Shiggidy Shack

2008-02-14T18:15:00.000-08:00

So, here I am in St. Kitts. It's absolutely, beyond words beautiful here. Tomorrow, I'll look at something other than my sister's face and tell you about the scenery. :) I'm so excited to be here with my family! To be more accurate, I'm so excited to be with my family and I'm so happy to be here! :)

My day today started out at 430 this morning. So early. I flew to Miami on a flight of about a million children, most of whom cried through take-off and landing. Got to Miami with just enough time to walk off my plane, down a hall to the next concourse, and right onto my next plane.

A story about my flight from Miami to St. Kitts: when I got on the plane, there was an older lady in the seat behind me. She was wearing a sleeveless, red sweater-shirt. And by red, I mean, RED. And she was letting everybody know how hot she was going to be sitting by the window (where the sun would come in) on a flight to the Caribbean. During the flight, she hit/kicked/pushed my seat so many times in rapid succession, I actually turned around to see if she was have a seizure. She wasn't. She was just crabby. Anyway, we landed in St. Kitts, I stood up, turned around and watch her put on a sweater that matches the shirt. A sweater. So, it's time to get off the plane and I'm stuck behind this woman going down the steps to the tarmac. She takes about four steps away from the bottom of the stairway, stops, puts down her carryon and takes off the sweater she had been wearing for approximately 3.7 minutes.

I'm not sure why I'm so fascinated with that lady.

So, I got to see my family and we went to dinner at this restaurant called Ciao's. Fantastic. Fantastic. Lobster Thermador. Spiny tailed lobster...lots of cheese...mushrooms. Mmmmmmm...might have to do that again while I'm here. After dinner, my mom and I went to the Marriott for coffee and desert. Again I say: Mmmmmmmm...

Right now, I'm sitting on the couch watching MythBusters with my brother. To my right, the French doors are open to the (gorgeous) deck complete with pool and really great chairs. It's actually raining right now, but it's a great, relaxing rain.

On tap for tomorrow: sleeping in, going out on the boat, eating more seafood. I'm hoping that the going out on the boat part also involves a little tubing and wakeboarding. :)

Oh! After dessert at the Marriott, my mom decided to drive along the beach area. Along the beach area, there are two "must-go" beach bars...even if you don't drink, these are two places you have to visit just because they are "famous," and, I think, they are significantly less bar-ish during the day. One of them is called 'Mr. X's Shiggidy Shack.' I want to go there just because its called the Shiggidy Shack. I'm hoping they have t-shirts.

Heather: I told my mom that when you come down with me, we would have to go there b/c you'd love it just 'cause it has the word 'shiggidy' in the name. :)

Love you, friends!

Seattle...

2008-02-06T06:50:00.000-08:00

I went to Seattle last month (hence the name of the last post) and used my new camera for the first time. I still don't really know how to use it, but I love some of the shots I got and I thought I'd share.

A store front at the market...just down the street from the original Starbucks. I have a friend who works at a Starbucks here in Snell-vegas and she says that everyone she knows who goes to Seattle always sends her pics of themselves at the first Starbucks...just for her, I purposefully did NOT take a picture of the first. :)

On the far left: Mt. Ranier...we think.

'Those who dwell in the ends of the earth stand in awe of Your signs; You make the dawn and the sunset shout for joy.' Psalm 65.8

Driving up to the market...I was in the middle row of van seats...I leaned over and took this through the front windshield while we were at a stoplight. Love it!

Along with Starbucks, this is the other obligatory Seattle shot. :)

In other news, the rumors are true, ladies and gentlemen...I did indeed cut my hair. Fourteen inches of it, to be precise. I did it for Jesse...donated it to Locks of Love in his name. If you don't know Jesse or what his story means to my life, ask...it's cool. :)

Love you, friends!

Bored in Seattle :)

2008-01-25T11:42:00.000-08:00

1) Answer the questions below
2) Take each answer and type it into Photobucket
3) Pick a picture from the first page of results, copy the html code to the bulletin and post

1. Your name:

2. A place you'd like to travel to:

3. Your Favorite Place:

4. Your Favorite Object:

5.Your Favorite Food:

6. Your Favorite Animal:

7. Your Favorite Color:

8. Town in Which You Were Born:

9.Town In Which You Live:

10. Favorite Movie:

11. Favorite Celebrity:

12. Your name/ nickname/ screen name:

13. Favorite Band/Musician:

14. Your Middle Name:

15. Your Last Name:

16. Your First Job:

17. Favorite Season:

18. Dream Car:

19. Dream Job:

What a week...

2008-01-17T07:23:00.000-08:00

I found out about Ruth Gustafson (see 'In Shock') on Monday as I was getting some last minute stuff together at work so that I could leave for Orlando to attend the memorial service of sweet and beautiful little Ellie.

I don't think I've even begun to really process all of this. Tuesday morning, I watched a mommy and daddy grieve and hurt for the little girl they will never have the opportunity to see or hold again. And they had no choice in the matter. And, I thought of a woman who had every choice...and chose the option that will never allow her children to be held by their own mommy ever again.

Quite the...yeah, I don't even know the word. But it is surely a perversion of the way the Lord intended us to experience life and relationships.

Anyway, I know this news about Ruth would have shocked me at any time. It's mind-boggling. I can't wrap my brain around it. But, I think maybe the reason it is messing me up so badly is the timing with sweet Ellie's service and all that it meant to my heart to be there...which was so, so much more than just celebrating her life.

My life...the direction of my life was profoundly changed by Ellie's amazing grandmother. Jesus has asked so much of Nancy and Nancy has given what Jesus asked (her husband 15 years ago and now her oldest grandchild) with grace and humility and gentleness and all those other things listed in Galatians 5. So, having been so impacted by her and having watched her grieve this sweet, sweet girl...I have very little emotion left for Ruth but anger.

I hope that doesn't sound heartless.

Actually, I don't, really. It's the truth.

And, it's why I'm headed back to Florida tomorrow for her funeral. I know that if I don't go...if I don't take the time to work through whatever I feel about her or toward her, I will hate her for the rest of my life. And I don't want that. I want closure on this now. And, I pray that the Lord will grant me that this weekend.

My heart breaks for the people I know who loved her: Joe and the kids...Pastor and Miss Dana...Becky.

So, after this crazy week of mourning and loss and grief and celebration and rejoicing...

It blesses my heart every day to be able to check in on Nate, Tricia and Gwyneth and see how both beautiful girls are progressing and that the Lord is blessing them all with more and more days together. Continue to pray for them. And, read this post and join them in praying for others who are waiting on transplants.

And pray for me on these journeys this weekend. Really, I'm making two journeys, one of geography of the earth, and one of geography of the heart.

Love you friends!

In shock

2008-01-14T08:23:00.000-08:00

I went to a really small Christian high school in Florida. Graduated in 1998 in a class of 14...small. The school is connected to a small Baptist church. Pastor and Mrs. Gustafson started the school 30-something years ago (I think this is the 33rd year) so that their three girls could go to a Christian school.

Pastor (we all called him that...even when he was head-coach of the baseball team, I think they called him 'Pastor' rather than 'Coach.')...anyway, Pastor pastored the church and the school and Miss Dana (his wife) was the school administrator.

Pastor and Miss Dana's youngest daughter, Ruth, graduated a year ahead of me, but because our school was so small, we all knew each other and were friends. Ruth and I played both volleyball and softball together and where in NHS and a few classes together. A couple years (I guess) after she graduated, Ruth married Joe Tyndale, a guy she had graduated with and with whom I was also friends.

Last week, Ruth had her third child and some intense post-partum. I think she and Joe and the kids live in South Carolina. Yesterday, Joe found Ruth out by a lake with a gun...he begged her not to do it...and she shot herself, in front of him.

She's left three kids, a husband, two sisters and 4 or 5 nieces and nephews, not to mention her parents. Pastor and Miss Dana are still running the school/church, but I hear that Pastor has taken this really hard (understandably) and has gone into some sort of shock.

I'm a little shocked and numb myself. I think with going to Ellie's service and all, my brain is setting Ruth aside until I can deal with Ellie. I mean, really? Ruth really was that girl in school. A star on the volleyball and basketball courts, softball field, in the NHS and high school ensemble, Homecoming Queen...I don't remember but probably Senior class President, and she dated the cute guy...her Junior year, the cute guy changed schools for his Senior year so he could go to school with her.

Wow.

On the Road Again...

2008-01-14T06:50:00.000-08:00

Sort of...

In 2008, this is the 12th day the store has been open. I've worked 10 of those days...but I've only been in the store for 5 of them. I worked a book table at a conference near the airport for four days, and was at the Mart for 2 days. I stayed at the hotel during the conference since I was working 8am-11pm (straight) each day...we, obviously, came home from the Mart...but I feel like I've been gone. So, even thought I haven't really been on the road, I feel like I have.

And I'm leaving again today.

Remember sweet Ellie? She went to Jesus on December 19th. She lived most of her life in Orlando, but had moved to Montana for a while for treatment. When she first passed, they had a memorial service for her up there. Tomorrow morning is the service in Orlando. A friend and I are leaving this afternoon to be at the service.

Pray for us. It's going to be a rough trip. We're making the same long drive twice in 24 hours...not to mention going to a service celebrating a life cut way too short...well, in our perception it was too short.

The Lawrensons

2008-01-08T10:39:00.000-08:00

Hey, friends! Pray for this family...Tricia has had cystic fibrosis all her life. This fall, just as she was beginning therapy for the double-lung transplant she desperately needs, she became pregnant. Right now, the goal is to keep Baby Gwyneth Rose inside until Jan 18th when her chances of survival double...but that puts Tricia's life in further danger. Today they are putting Tricia on a ventilator in the hopes that her lungs will clear out some and she can hang on to Gwyneth for a few more days. Read Nate's Blog for the whole story. And, pray for this family.

Personally, I feel particularly compelled to pray for Nate's dad. (He has a blog, too.) Rick is not only experiencing this as a father, father-in-law and grandfather...he is also Nate and Tricia's pastor which brings with it the aspect of counseling this couple through the most difficult decisions they will ever have to make.

Also, a book review

2007-12-27T14:31:00.000-08:00

A Thousand Splendid Suns
by: Khalid Housseini

I just finished reading this the other day...I read it because I read his first book, The Kite Runner, and thought it was great.

This one, not so much. Mostly, I thought it was boring. I feel like I would read and read and read about nothing...and finally I'd come to a part that was riveting and the riveting-ness would last for a page, and then it was a lot of monotony again. Some of it was hard to follow, too. At times it jumped around and the sequence was hard to follow.

Really, though, the reason I didn't like the book was...well, there isn't a word for it so let me explain. The things that happened to Mariam and Laila were atrocious. Absolutely horrible. If it isn't/wasn't that bad in Afghanistan, then it was over the top. If life in Afghanistan is/was that awful, then it shouldn't be fictionalized. The more I read, the more I felt like I was being desensitized to the plight of Afghanistan's women. I mean, we all know living conditions aren't great for women there. If we are reading fictional accounts of how bad it is, we aren't going to believe true accounts of how awful it is. Just as they say children are becoming desensitized to violence because of TV, we will become desensitized to the horrors of Middle Eastern culture if we continue to read fiction. If life really is that atrocious there and Housseini wants the world to know about it, he needs to write non-fiction, truth and engage the world in the plight of women and children in Afghanistan...not half-truth so that nobody really knows what is true and what isn't.

And, this book just wasn't as well written as the first.

Oh, dear...I believe I turned my ankle stepping off yet another soapbox.

I'm a climber...

2007-12-27T14:15:00.000-08:00

I don't mean to climb up on soapboxes all the time...but I find myself up there so very often. I'm afraid that is a sign of being judgmental. I don't want to be judgmental...I prefer passionate, sure, or some other adjective that means that I firmly believe what I say (sorry...I'm tired).

One of my most often summited soapboxes has to do with Christian t-shirts. I'm ok with Christian t-shirts...if they are original. But, the ones where we have stolen the logos of non-Jesus products and turned them around to be all Jesus-y. Really, folks? We were created in the image of God...of a creative God. Why can't we come up with something pithy and catchy ourselves? Ok, so the contents of this soapbox, for me, might come from the artist in me. I love watching people create the art that they love...musicians, writers, painters.

Anyway, my current soapbox has to do with the whole "Jesus is the reason for the season" and "keeping Christ in Christmas" thing. And, I know, I'm not going to win any friends by saying what I'm about to say...but its what I think and if you have a rebuttal, bring it...I'd sort of like to be wrong about this.

The reality is, Jesus isn't the reason for this season...He's the reason for any season, the reason for any good thing. Why are we making such a stinking big deal about Him being the reason for celebration now and not the rest of the year? And, keeping Christ in Christmas...Christmas is a tradition started to counteract a pagan holiday, not to celebrate Jesus. If Jesus is the reason for the season and we're working so dad-gum hard to keep in Christmas, why are we, Christians, spending so much on Christmas gifts. Why do we put ourselves in debt...willingly putting ourselves into something that enslaves us and makes us less available to ministry to celebrate Jesus? I may be wrong, but I'm pretty sure that's not what He intends for us.

I definitely bought/made Christmas presents this year...but I didn't give them as a way to celebrate Jesus. I didn't give them out of love for Jesus...I gave them out of love and appreciation for the people they were for. Granted, yes, the things I love about the people I gave gifts to are a direct result of the work Jesus has done in their lives. But, I find it ridiculous and frustrating when people say Christmas is all about Jesus and act another way...and these same people won't talk to people about Jesus the rest of the year...or worse, caution me not to talk to people about Jesus.

Ok...enough soapbox.

That said...Jesus did some pretty amazing things for me this Christmas. I learned a lot. I'll share that stuff later. :)

Love you, friends!

She's All Better Now

2007-12-19T20:17:00.000-08:00

From Sarah's Blog tonight:

The Angels are Singing Tonight!

As of 7:45 p.m. Mountain Time, Ellie has been dancing in Heaven! She stayed asleep until 15 minutes before and then it wasn't exactly peaceful, but true to form, Ellie was fighting to the end. John and I were both with her at the end. I silently begged God to take her, and then said "run to Jesus, Ellie... run!" and it was over. I will have more to write later, but for now, please know that your prayers have been answered - it was unbelievably fast. Thank you all for your love!

As I've prayed for Ellie, Sarah & John and especially Nancy tonight, this song has been running through my head:

If You Could See Me Now
(Kim Noblitt)

Our prayers have all been answered. I finally arrived.
The healing that had been delayed has now been realized.
No one's in a hurry. There's no schedule to keep.
We're all enjoying Jesus, just sitting at His feet.

If you could see me now, I'm walking streets of gold.
If you could see me now, I'm standing strong and whole.
If you could see me now, you'd know I've seen His face.
If you could see me now, you'd know the pain is erased.
You wouldn't want me to ever leave this place,
If you could only see me now.

My light and temporary trials have worked out for my good,
To know it brought Him glory when I misunderstood.
Though we've had our sorrows, they can never compare.
What Jesus has in store for us, no language can share.

You wouldn't want me to ever leave this perfect place
If you could only see me now
If you could see me now
If you could only see me now

The Coffee Family Story

2007-12-19T12:35:00.001-08:00

I know this is long, but it's so great...such a story of God's provision. The Ruth in this story is my amazing sister. She was adopted from China in 2003. Her adoption, I think, is something my parents were able to afford through the inheritance my mom received when her mother passed away in 2001. As incredible painful as my grandmother's death was, stories like this make it so ok. It's amazing to me that 6 years after she died, the Lord is still using her to change lives.

Read, particularly, the parts I've italicized. :)

The Coffee Family Story

My story begins with the devastating diagnosis of infertility and ends with two miraculous events…an adoption and the birth of a biological child.

I married my college sweetheart, Brad. We got married soon after I graduated from college in 1990. Brad and I spent our twenties completing graduate school and starting our careers. We began trying to have children in our early thirties. After several years without success, we sought treatment from a reproductive endocrinologist.

In an attempt to make a long and painful story short, I received the diagnosis of diminished ovarian reserve from a reproductive endocrinology intern. The intern said that if I really wanted children, I would need to consider adoption and/or the use of donor eggs. Prior to this phone call, the last conversation I had with my reproductive endocrinologist was that I should be able to get pregnant. Needless to say, my immediate reaction was that of shock. I cried hysterically while driving myself home after that phone call. Brad left work and met me at home. He and I cried all day. It was a day I will never forget.

Soon after receiving this devastating news, Brad and I went to another fertility clinic to get a second opinion. Unfortunately, failed in-vitro fertilization confirmed the diagnosis of diminished ovarian reserve. One reproductive endocrinologist sat at his desk and said to me, “Not all fertility problems are black and white, but yours are. You need to consider alternative ways to having children.” This all happened in the spring of 2004.

I continued to grieve the loss of a biological child. Brad did, too. I was terribly depressed, but never sought professional counseling for it. Instead, I looked to my friends for strength. I also looked to Brad, but found that my close friends provided the most comfort and support.

What I got from Brad was his unconditional love. The guilt I had of not being able to give him a biological child was overwhelming. I performed my daily routines and I’m sure most people didn’t realize I was hurting. I was sad, though, and felt empty.

I’m a pediatric speech-language pathologist. One of my former clients, Ruth, was adopted from China at age 11 months. I started working with her in July, 2004 when she was 13 months old. I quickly fell in love with Ruthie. I also quickly became friends with her mother, Sharon. Sharon watched as a bond developed between Ruthie and me over the course of several months. She eventually told me (yes, “told” me) that Brad and I needed to make the decision to adopt…and that we needed to adopt a little girl from China. As hard as it was for me to hear Sharon sometimes (after all, she also had two biological children so how could she possibly understand the pain I was feeling), I really did listen to her. Other friends also encouraged us to adopt. After much consideration Brad and I eventually looked into adoption; although, we were both hesitant about adopting.

In the summer of 2004, I joined a national infertility group called RESOLVE. I learned of an adoption workshop in February, 2005 which was sponsored by this group. Thankfully, Brad and I attended this one day workshop. At this workshop, we went to a session on Chinese adoptions. The presenter for this session was a representative from Chinese Children Adoption International, CCAI. Her presentation was well organized. She, herself, had adopted from China and spoke positively of her experience. We also attended sessions on Russian adoptions and American adoptions, neither of which appealed to us for various reasons. Brad and I left the workshop leaning toward adopting from China. After weighing the pros and cons of all of our adoption options, we finally made the life altering decision to adopt from China and to use CCAI as our agency.

We sent in our application in March, 2005. The paper chase began in May, 2005. Our dossier was logged in at the China Center of Adoption affairs, CCAA, on September 12, 2005. Brad and I anticipated receiving a referral for an infant in the spring of 2006. Soon after our log-in date, the referrals started to slow down. The wait for our daughter became increasingly longer. Brad and I began to feel as if we were NEVER going to be parents. I needed to find others who were in our situation. I needed a support group for waiting parents.

I also started experiencing severe hip pain during this time. In the spring of 2006 (when Brad and I initially thought we would be getting our daughter from China), I had surgery for endometriosis in an attempt to alleviate the pain. During the surgery, my doctor discovered that my left ovary was engulfed by endometriosis. After the surgery, my doctor said that I had a chance of getting pregnant since he had cleared my left ovary of the endometriosis. He also said that research has shown that women who get pregnant after having surgery for endometriosis usually do so within six months post surgery. My response to him was that I didn’t have the surgery in an attempt to get pregnant. It was only to relieve my hip pain and that at least seven reproductive endocrinologists had said that conception with my own eggs would be a “miracle.” Well, the endometriosis wasn’t the cause of my hip pain (that’s another story in itself), but it was apparently the cause of my infertility. I got pregnant in October of 2006…exactly six months after my surgery!!!!!

I found out I was pregnant on November 2, 2006. At that time, Brad and I thought we might get our referral from China in December, 2006. As excited as we were about the pregnancy, we were equally excited about the adoption…but, my pregnancy was considered a high risk one because of my age and two large uterine fibroids. Brad and I didn’t know what to do. I was terrified of losing our biological baby through a miscarriage. I was also terrified of losing our Chinese baby by informing the folks at CCAI and CCAA about the pregnancy. Brad and I desperately wanted both children. We chose only to tell our family and close friends about the pregnancy until our adoption was completed. Brad and I never intended to be deceptive, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

On January 4, 2007, we got our referral from China. We were referred a 19 month old little girl named Fu Li Wan. We were expecting a baby, not a toddler. CCAI referred to this as a “mistake” and said we could wait until the next batch of referrals so we could get an infant. I didn’t have time to wait for the next batch of referrals. I had medical clearance from my obstetrician to travel to and return from China prior to my 28th week of pregnancy (of course, CCAI wasn’t aware of this since I still hadn’t told them I was pregnant). If we waited until the next batch of referrals, I couldn’t travel to China.

Brad and I read the developmental and medical history on Fu Li Wan. We sat in our living room trying to decide if we were mentally and physically prepared to have a newborn and a two year old. Brad and I had already prepared ourselves for adopting a baby. We knew there would be more significant bonding and attachment issues with an older child. Brad wanted to make the decision to accept or decline the referral solely on Fu Li Wan’s medical and developmental information. He didn’t want to be influenced by her picture. I refused to make the decision without seeing her face. I needed to see Fu Li Wan’s face. We eventually opened the email with her referral picture. There were two additional snapshots of her for a total of three photographs. Brad looked at me and with tears in his eyes said, “You know what we have to do.” Our decision was made. Brad and I immediately fell in love with Fu Li Wan. She was the most beautiful child we had ever seen. Fu Li Wan looked as healthy in the photographs as she read on paper. Our wait was over. This was our daughter and as we would soon learn, the most perfect child for us. The referral was never a “mistake.”

Brad, my mother, and I traveled to China at the end February. Our Fu Li Wan (Allison Marie) was placed in my arms on February 26, 2007. We arrived home in the United States on March 11, 2007 at which time Allison became a U.S. Citizen. Shannon Elizabeth, our other daughter, was born on July 2, 2007.

Brad and I have created a beautiful family. I’ve chosen not to share some of the struggles we’ve had with adopting an older child. I would be lying if I said it wasn’t tough at times. It was especially hard during the first month after Allison’s adoption and during the first couple of months after Shannon’s birth. Despite the challenges, Brad and I are incredibly happy and finally have what we’ve wanted for so long!!!! He and I feel a love toward our girls that we’ve never felt. It’s the most precious love imaginable.

During our journey to creating a family, my faith in God has been tested. I’m not one who has ever believed in fate. And, I’ve certainly never been able to accept that God has a plan and that I should surrender to this plan. Religion, for me, is very personal. I don’t share my feelings about God and religion too often; however, I do feel it is now necessary to say that I could be wrong about fate and God’s plan. I often hear people say that everything happens according to God’s timing. If that really is true, then I thank Him with all of my heart for His perfect timing. Without the fertility issues, the expanded delays in China, and my hip problems, Allison may have never been referred to us and Shannon may have never been born. These girls are true blessings and nothing less than miracles.

Pray for Ellie!!!

2007-12-19T07:35:00.000-08:00

Read this blog and pray for Ellie!!!

PN2K7

2007-12-15T13:42:00.000-08:00

One of my very first posts about a year ago was about Princess Night 2006. A couple weeks ago, we had Princess Night 2007.

Princess Night has very quickly become one of my favorite Young Life events of the year. (I mean, Mall Hunt will ALWAYS be my absolute favorite...but I do love PN.) For those who don't know, Princess Night...well, really Princess Night defies explanation. It involves crazy dresses (think Prom circa 1987), crazy make-up (think Tammy Faye, circa 1987), and 100 screaming high school girls all over southern Gwinnett County. This year, we met the girls at the movie theater and took them to the D-house at the church where we all got dressed in our smokin' hot dresses and did each other's make-up. From there, each team (broken up by school) set off on a digital camera scavenger hunt.

The first item on our list: a pic of our entire team in a bathtub...

Our team: Angela, Rachael (another leader), Me, Nicole

We took a picture of our team at the girls' school sign:

That involved climbing a small wooden fence, climbing a small wall and going through some bushes...oh, and abandoning Angela on the sign. :)

The list said we would get bonus points for a picture of members of our team in jail:

Technically, the camera was in a grocery cart and we were on the outside...but I love this picture. :)

The event officially ended with a Bad Dance-off back at the church at 11...but about 10 girls (students and leaders) spent the night at my house after. It was great...at about 3am a few of the girls decided they were hungry...so I took 3 of them to Waffle House. While we were there, we saw a guy get arrested for having a bag of cocaine in his car. All in all, by the time we got back and I got to sleep, it was about 530am...and some of the girls had to get up at 7 to get to church on time. Yeah...I was exhausted! I ended up calling in sick to work the next day so I could chill out and get some sleep.

I had such a great time with the girls, though! And the evening definetely went a long way toward building relationships with them. Rachael and I are going to start a Bible study with some of them after the first of the year...I can't wait!!!

On a completely unrelated note, my mom called me about 17 times yesterday...she had won a bid on ebay. It turns out, if you have a PayPal account in the US, you can't charge to it from another country so she needed me to go into her account and charge it. Turns out, it was my Christmas present.

I CAN'T WAIT for it to get here!!! :) I'm so into art and creating right now...I'm really excited about this opportunity to really expand one of my favorite methods of creating!!!

I feel accomplished...

2007-11-26T20:56:00.000-08:00

I love, love, love to paint. Love it. I like most things crafty...but I really love to paint a room. And, while I have painted a grand total of one scenic oil paintings, my favorite is painting walls...like, in a room. I understand that this qualifies me as weird and, really, I'm ok with that. So, when my family left the country for a year and my mother not only gave me permission to paint various rooms in her house, but actually asked me to do it I was pretty excited. I know this doesn't thrill anybody else, but I'm going to share the before and afters anyway. :)

THE FAMILY ROOM:
Before:

After:

I don't know if you can really tell the color difference in those pics. The room was kind of an eggshell color, very plain...its now a soft green:

I'm almost done with the kitchen which was...well, once upon a time it was a soft yellow, but it had faded to look like the same cream as the old family room. Now it's a robust pumpkin/dark orange color...I love it!

Can the world handle 3 of me???

2007-11-15T07:14:00.001-08:00

HowManyOfMe.com

There are
3
people with my name
in the U.S.A.

How many have your name?

The whole story...

2007-11-14T13:09:00.000-08:00

This, really, is more a story of how absolutely amazing and persistent God is than anything really having to do with Ellie. But I find it noteworthy to look at how many times the Lord has brought this family across my path.

So...

In 1998, right after I graduated from high school, we had a family reunion at Lancaster Bible College in Lancaster, PA, just as we had every year since 1980. Since my uncle was on staff at the school, we were able to stay in one of the dorms and use the kitchen and cafeteria. In the dorm we stayed in, in the bathroom, on the door of the stall was a poster asking people to pray for three families. They were three American missionary families living abroad and the husbands had been kidnapped. Although that really all I remember from the poster, for the next few years, even when I wasn't walking with the Lord, I would remember the poster and those families and ask the Lord to comfort them wherever they were at the time.

In January of 2002, I was away at Word of Life and we were participating in the annual Missions Conference. A lady named Nancy Mankins shared her story. In 1989 (I think) she, her husband Dave, and their two kids Sarah and Chad, went to Pucuro, Panama as New Tribes Missionaries. There village was just 7 miles (I think) from the border with the always volatile Columbia. In 1993, Columbian guerillas came into the village and kidnapped Dave along with two other American men who were in the village with New Tribes. That was January 31, 1993...Nancy never saw her husband again. In October of 2001 New Tribes finally received credible information/evidence that men had been killed in 1996. The men had been dead for five years before their families knew.

In April of 2002, Word of Life held a women's conference and Nancy again came to speak. This time she had copies of her brand new book. That weekend was my 22nd birthday...my first birthday without my grandmother and the one year anniversary of the last time I had talked with her. I was dealing with some pretty serious hurt. I figured Nancy would be a good person to talk to about healing after losing someone you love. She invited me to come up to her room after dinner that night. To this day, I don't know what happened. I went up, knocked on the door...knocked some more. She was there the whole night...but nobody answered when I knocked. So, I left a note for her at the front desk with the extension to my room if she happened to be staying through the next day. The next morning, I was feeling pretty antisocial so I went to the early service at church and skipped Sunday school so I could get back to my dorm early and have some alone time. And Nancy called!!! I would have missed her call if I'd gone to Sunday school (which was a WOL requirement for students). We talked for over an hour.

Over the next year or so, Nancy and I emailed often. She really discipled me through a lot of the hard, hurt stuff and I appreciated her so much! My roommate had bought her book and since I knew the lady, I figured I'd read it. At that time, New Tribes wouldn't let Nancy go back to the village, even to visit. By the end of the book, I knew I HAD to go to Pucuro. I had to. It was a passion...I had to go to Panama with New Tribes. That was the very beginning of my heart for South America. I can't tell the story of my journey to Ecuador without including Nancy. But, as things happen, we lost touch. I haven't talked to her in years.

About a year ago Judy, one of the ladies at work, began telling me about this missionary couple she knew. Their 8-year-old grand-daughter had been diagnosed with a particularly bad form of cancer and had, literally overnight, lost the vision in one eye because of a mass behind her eye. The girl's mom had started a blog. Every once in a while, Judy will pull up the blog and read me something about her, keep me updated on her progress. Last weekend, these friends of Judy's were in town and stayed at her house for a couple days. Their grand-daughter is doing particularly poorly now...she may not even live until Christmas.

A couple days after the people left Judy's house, I thought about Nancy and her book and that I should try and get a copy before it goes out of print...but I couldn't remember what it was callled. So, I went to the New Tribes website and searched under her name. I ran across the web page of another New Tribes missionary who was asking for prayer for her friend Nancy (Mankins) Hamm...Nancy's grand-daughter was diagnosed last year with cancer, she wasn't doing well, and that her mother had started a blog...I clicked the link to the blog and it was the one Judy had shown me so many times!!!

For just a moment I couldn't breathe. How ridiculous would it be if Judy knew Nancy??? She doesn't. She actually knows the other grandparents.

It amazes me all the ways the Lord has tied these people into my life!!!

Keep praying for Ellie!!!

Please pray for sweet Ellie and her family!

2007-11-13T11:23:00.001-08:00

I don't really have time to tell the whole story of how the Lord keeps bringing this sweet girl and her family into my life...its amazing, really.

Her grandmother, in a way, discipled me when I was in college. It was her (Nancy's) story that the Lord first used to really turn my heart toward missions and South America. To this day, I would give anything to be a missionary in Panama, in the villages where Nancy and her husband served...but, that isn't what the Lord has for me.

Anyway, the short story is that Ellie was diagnosed with cancer the day before she turned 8...just over a year ago. Today, on her blog, her mother (Sarah, Nancy's daughter) asked those who have read and prayed for Ellie for so long to let her go. They know she is dying...it sounds like, maybe, a matter of days.

So, I ask you to pray for this family...Nancy, her husband Gary. Ellie. Ellie's parents, John and Sarah and Ellie's brother, Ethan who, I think, is only 5 years old.

I'll tell you more of the story later...

Oh...for Ellie's more complete story, read their blog: Ellie Skees

I'm in love

2007-11-13T06:50:00.000-08:00

He is a beautiful, sweet boy...dark skin, black hair and light eyes. As I type he is turning exactly 24hours old.

And, I am claiming partial nephew rights and dibs on any non-family babysitting needs.

By the way, his name is Nathan Eapen Abraham and he tapped in at 9:52am, November 12, 2007...7lbs 13oz (smaller than they expected, I think) and 21 inches long.

Seven and half years ago, when I first moved to Georgia, Nathan's daddy, Prasad, had just moved here as well. (Side note: it's a little odd to refer to Prasad as a dad.) He and I and a few other folks became fast friends. He was like my brother. I remember thinking, years ago, about how hard it would be to watch him get married because nobody would ever be good enough for him. Ever. Nobody.

A few years ago...2004, I guess...I met Mary. She's pretty great. I don't really remember becoming friends with her or her family...just being friends. And, at one point, thinking how hard it would be to watch Mary fall in love and get married because nobody would ever be good enough for her. Ever.

And then I found out she and Prasad were dating.

Mary and Prasad set a high standard for how to do dating, engagement, wedding and marriage well. It has been and is such a blessing to watch them and know them and learn from them.

And, now they have a sweet boy!!!

P-fro and Mary D...I love you guys...I'm so proud of you and I can't wait to watch your little guy grow up!!!

(I'll post pictures later...I spent some time at the hospital yesterday, but nurses/people were in and out and then it was time for Nathan to eat so I really only took one picture. I'll get more. :))

Missionaries to Peru...

2007-11-06T07:32:00.000-08:00

A good friend who is a student at UGA is writing a paper on the effectiveness of missionaries to Peru. She asked me the following questions, and what follows those is my response. (I am blocking out a couple of names of people that I specifically mentioned.)

-How do you feel about missionaries, and how do you think the presence of missionaries has affected the Peruvian culture and religion?
-Do you think missionaries are effective in their efforts in Peru?
-What do you think Peruvians think about missionaries?

I think missionaries of Jesus in Peru are desperately needed. The economy in Peru is in bad, bad shape. Four years ago, there was enough gold in the decorations of the main cathedral in Lima to pay thePeruano national debt four times over…but the overwhelmingly vast majority of the population live on so little income, Americans couldn’t comprehend. Four years ago, there were 300,000 kids a year on the streets in Lima alone…that doesn’t even count the country areas that even Peruanos consider poor. The hearts, consciences and memories of the Peruano people have yet to heal from the Shinning Path destruction of the 1980s and 90s. These people need to see the love of Jesus lived in front of them in ways we could never understand as we sit in our comfortable homes. But, I’m afraid that too often American missionaries go to Peru with American culture rather than Jesus. We think we need to fix their economy and their culture before they will listen to Jesus. The reality is that they need to see and experience the love of Jesus before they will take to heart our desire to help them with everything else.

I think, in a lot of ways, our American mentality gets in the way of our ability to effectively share what we have come to share, especially in the outer areas that are still very much Indian and tribal. We know what works in our communities and cultures at home and we try to manifest those same programs into ministry in Peru. They don’t work, missionaries get frustrated or lose support because of a lack of definitive change in the people and they leave which results in the communities and villages having a culture of religion that is an amalgam of things they have been taught over the years. In the polytheistic cultures of the Indian tribal villages, the God the missionaries brought becomes just another God in a list of deities the villagers must appease, rather than the villagers understanding that He is the one, true God who is the giver of all they have.

Are missionaries effective? I don’t know that my answer to this is suitable for a research paper. The Bible says that God’s Word never returns void, so if we are teaching God’s Word, yes we are effective because God will use it. Also, I have to say that I have seen so many times in my own life…in Peru and Ecuador and even here at home, that God works through us, uses us, in spite of ourselves. That is one of the great mysteries of God, that He desires to use us when it would be so much more profitable and easy to do it Himself. Are missionaries effective? Yes, but it is not the missionaries themselves, but the Holy Spirit using what the missionaries are doing and saying to convict and draw the nationals to Himself.

My experience in Peru is that the Peruanos think of American missionaries as rock stars sent from God above to impart great programs. And I think maybe they get as frustrated as we do when those programs don’t work. I don’t think I’ve spent enough time there (all at one time) to really know the answer to that. I know how excited they have been to see me as part of a missions team, but would we not do the same if a group ofPeruanos came to our small community to build us a new church building. (That is, of course, if we could put our arrogance aside long enough to think they might could help us.) But, I have seen how they look at *missionary #1* as though he was Gabriel himself sent with a message of the great spiritual prosperity to come if you simply became a brother or sister in Christ. I’ve also seen how *missionary #1* accepts and perpetuates such adoration from the nationals. (Sorry if that’s ugly, but that’s what I’ve seen of how he treats and talks about the nationals in *the city he works in*.) I’ve also watched how the nationals respond to *missionary #2* who, although not Peruano, is from a neighboring country (one Peru has sparred with in the past, but neighboring all the same). Granted, *missionary #2* is a different man altogether from *missionary #1*, but I think the evidence is clear. The New Tribes Missions philosophy of missions is genius. Take Jesus to the people. When they know Him, teach them to know Him more. Teach the nationals to be pastors and missionaries to their own people. And get the heck out of the way so God can work incredible things in the lives of the people. A national knows best how things work in their own country and community.

Do these people need missionaries? Yes. But, not forever-missionaries. They need missionaries who will teach the people to be missionaries themselves and take Jesus to their own people.

The Barren Woman...Really???

2007-10-19T05:56:00.000-07:00

I feel like a lot has happened in the last couple of weeks that have caused me to think, "I should blog that..." but, of course, now that I sit here at the keyboard, I can remember very few of those things.

Let's start with, I broke up with Eric last week. And, I must question the validity of that statement...which leads to two questions:
1. Can one question the validity of one's own statement? And,
2. Do you really break up with someone who isn't your boyfriend?
Ok, three questions:
3. What is the correct terminology for when you tell someone you don't want to date them anymore? (I mean, I guess that is the correct terminology...I'd just like for it to be less wordy.)

Anyway, Eric and I are no longer dating.

I am so, so excited about where I am right now. A couple days after it all went down (really, telling the person who introduced us was way worse than actually doing the deed) a friend from church stopped in the store and here, pretty much, is the run-down of the conversation we had:
Lisa: I was reading Scripture yesterday and I read something that made me think of you.
Me: Really? [See, at this point, I was excited...I love when God does stuff like that.]
Lisa: Yeah...I can't remember the passage...but, you know...it was about the barren woman...
Me: Uhhh...thank you?

I mean, really...what do you say when someone tells you the barren woman reminds her of you??? Unless you actually are barren and need encouragement in that area, what is the appropriate response???

What she said after that, though, had me thinking for a couple of days. She said that even if I never marry and never have physical children, the Lord will give me spiritual children through discipleship and ministry and Ecuador and that there is blessing in being single at my age because I am so free to chase the Lord and to follow without having to consider anyone else. So, I thought about that for a couple of days. And, although the initial conversation was awkward, I am so grateful
for it. Here's where I am now:

I am so, so excited about being single right now. I am so, so excited about where my walk with the Lord is right now. This is the first time, ever, that I my walk isn't in crisis mode...that I don't feel like the tail end of a marathon, just trying to keep up the crowd. My walk right now is a casual stroll in the park...it's the casual get-to-know-each-other dating. I have time right now to do nothing other than get to know Jesus...I'm not pleading for rescue right now. And, I'm excited about being single because it affords me the time and opportunity to do just that...to chase Jesus to find Him, and know Him, and just chill with Jesus.

A couple months ago the thought crossed my mind and a feeling sort of settled that maybe the Lord really doesn't have someone for me. It just sort of settled...like, this is how its going to be. It didn't really upset me...no singleness related depression...just acceptance. Now, though, I'm very ok with that thought...maybe even excited. I don't know. If that's the case, I'm so excited about the time I'll have to
know Jesus better and love people more.

I wish I could remember the other things I was going to write about.

Hmmmm...

K-E-R-R-Y

2007-10-01T06:11:00.000-07:00

Ok...Lisa tagged me, so here goes...

An adjective for each letter of my name...

K - Known. "O LORD, You have searched me and known me. You know when I sit down and when I rise up; You understand my thought from afar." I've always hated this game as an ice-breaker because the only "K" I could come up with was kind...but for some reason, this time I thought of this...I like it.

E - Encouraged. The Lord has put some really amazing people in my life for just this time to encourage me and love me...it's working! :)

R - Redeemed. 'Nuff said.

R - Redeemed. I figure that one is worth mentioning twice. If you find that lame (deep down, I do too), how about Real. It's an important word to me...being involved in Young Life teaches you to be real with kids and not hide the hard stuff.

Y - Yearning. For Ecuador, for Heaven, for the world the way the Lord wants it.

Now, four people...I think only four people read this and two of them have already been tagged so I'll go with Stephanie and Morgan...you're it! (Oh! Steph and Morgan, you're husbands can do it, too...that makes four!) :)

One down...51 more to go...

2007-09-30T17:48:00.001-07:00

My family left a week ago today.

I miss them.

A lot.

My New Anthem

2007-09-27T21:28:00.000-07:00

When clouds veil sun
And disaster comes
Oh my soul, oh my soul

When waters rise
And hope takes flight
O my soul, o my soul

O my soul

Ever faithful, ever true
You are known
You never let go

You never let go
You never let go
You never let go
You never let go
You never let go
You never let go

When clouds brought rain
And disaster came
Oh my soul, oh my soul

When waters rose
And hope had flown
Oh my soul, oh my soul

Oh my soul

Ever faithful, ever true
You are known
You never let go

You never let go
You never let go
You never let go
You never let go
You never let go
You never let go

Oh my soul overflows
Oh what love
Oh what love

Oh my soul fills with hope
Perfect love that never lets go

You never let go
You never let go
You never let go
You never let go
You never let go
You never let go

You never let go
You never let go
You never let go

Oh what love
Oh what love
Oh what love

Oh what love
Oh what love
Oh what love

In joy and pain
In sun and rain
You're the same
Oh You never let go

In joy and pain
In sun and rain
You're the same
Oh You never let go

Never let go
You never let go

*****

This song is on David Crowder's newest CD ('Remedy', it came out on Tuesday) and I can't help but wonder if he wrote it during the time he came off the road after his pastor's tragic death. From my understanding, Crowder and his pastor were best buds and had started this church together before David Crowder was a name people recognized. Last spring, the pastor was struck by lightning and killed while baptising a member of the church. Crowder chose to postpone his next CD ('B Collision') and fall tour so that he could be home with his church family so that they could all heal together. To me, that makes the song even more poignant...it was written when he and his entire church family needed to know they were being held with both a tenderness and fierce passion they could never understand.

How good God is to never let go...when we are so quick to forsake His grasp.

My new vacation home

2007-09-24T09:14:00.000-07:00

So, after much packing and moving of very, very heavy boxes, foot lockers and suitcases, my family left yesterday. I doubt anyone really cares about this, but I feel it humorous to note just how much stuff my mother took to St. Kitts with her. Let's see...there were the 18 boxes (seriously) of stuff picked up by the shipping company. They are being driving by truck to Miami where they will arrive in St. Kitts in about two weeks via ship. And then, there were four of them traveling and each could check two pieces of luggage. She took 5 of the big foot locker type trunks, each loaded, plus a large suitcase and two more boxes.

She emailed me yesterday and they did indeed arrive safely...no word on whether all the luggage arrived. I guess no news is good news. I'm sure she would have called if anything didn't make it. Anyway, their trip consisted three flights: Atlanta to Miami, Miami to Puerto Rico, and Puerto Rico to St. Kitts. (I am very entertained by the thought of my mother and her three children on a lay-over in Puerto Rico.)

The pilot on their flight from Atlanta to Miami was a friend of my mom's! For a few years in a row, my family stayed in the same house in Indian Rocks Beach, Florida when they were on vacation and became friends with the lady who owned the house next door...I don't think my family has been back there in 2 or 3 years, but that lady's husband was their pilot. He bumped them up to first class, gave my brothers a tour of the cockpit and let my bigger brother sit in the captains seat. Not a bad start to what could have been a very long journey.

Anyway, I did indeed find the pictures of their house down there, so here you go...

The view from their back porch.

The above referenced back porch.

The neighborhood pool...its one of those ones with a false side so when you look out it looks like you're in the Caribbean.

My family's humble abode...sort of...

2007-09-20T17:52:00.000-07:00

I feel like I didn't post for a really long time because nothing was going on...and now I'm posting twice a day. Not sure what that's about.

So, I posted a couple days ago about the email I sent out asking for prayer for my family because they are moving abroad. (See: Pray for My Family) In said post, I mentioned that I would post pictures later.

Now, my mother has a cd *somewhere* with pictures of the island and the house and the view and all that...however, in the midst of packing and shipping and getting ready for the big move, nobody knows where it is. So, being the tech-savy little girl that I am (not) I googled St. Kitts and came up with these pics.

On a side note, I would like to invent a thing, a noun, that is so widely used and recognized that it becomes a verb...ie: Google.

Pack to the pics...

This is the view of the Marriott...its where my dad has stayed all the times he's gone down to prepare for the move. Actually, it's where he's been living since Labor Day. And, if the house isn't ready when my fam gets there next week, they will stay at the Marriott until the house is ready.

The coast of St. Kitts...and can I just say, Shut up! My family gets to live there!?! And, I have a free place to stay on that very island??? So, pretty much, while you guys are freezing in February and lamenting the fact that you live in Georgia where cold is pointless because it doesn't snow...I'll be on this very island. :)

According to Google Images, they play a lot of Cricket in St. Kitts, which I'm pretty excited about. I've always wanted to see a cricket match...even though I hear its pretty boring.

St. George's Anglican church...I can't wait to see and photograph the architecture.

People keep asking where St. Kitts is...now I know how to answer.

If I ever find the cd, I'll post pictures of the actual house...or, I'll just go there myself after the first of the year and take my own pictures.

Thoughts I've Been Thinking

2007-09-20T07:11:00.001-07:00

I want to be a Lydia.

A woman named Lydia, from the city of Thyatira,
a seller of purple fabrics, a worshiper of God, was listening; and the Lord opened her heart to respond to the things spoken by Paul.
Acts 16:14

I hope that if people are talking about me 2,000 years from now, they will be able to say the same things of me that are said of Lydia...that I was a worshipper of God, that I listened and that I allowed the Lord to open my heart and respond to what I see around me.

Also what struck me about this verse is the sequence.
Lydia
1. Worshipped
2. Listened
3. Let the Lord move her heart
AND THEN
4. Responded.

How often do we--and by we, I mean, I--respond first and listen later? How
much less would we say the words "I'm sorry" if we listened before
responding? And, not only listen...but she worshipped. Her first action
was not about filling her own needs, but praising the God she knew to
be real even before she really knew who He was.

I want the patience of Lydia that took the time to worship, listen and let the
Lord move before I respond to the things in my life.

Also thinking about...

You are our letter, written in our hearts, known and read by all men; being
manifested that you are a letter of Christ, cared for by us, written
not with ink but with the Spirit of the living God, not on tablets of
stone but on tablets of human hearts.
1 Corinthians 3:2-3

The more I think about this, the more it gets me.

Think about the last time you wrote a letter (ok, or a long email...even a blog)...to let someone know what you are doing, what is
going on in your mind, where you are. You wrote with a purpose.

Well, folks, the very same hand that hung the stars and penned the very Scriptures we treasure has written the story of your life and mine. That thought alone is mind-blowing.

Not only did He write it, He wrote it with a purpose, with a goal, with an end in mind. He wrote our lives as a letter. He wrote your story and mine to let others,
those in our lives, those who watch us live...to let them know what He is doing, what He thinks, where He is and, most importantly, how very much He loves them.

Think about the stories of the people who drew you to Jesus...their stories are a letter to you from the Creator of the universe so that you would know where to find Him.

I hope that we will all know where the Lord is...and will act in patience as we worship, listen and respond to the places and circumstances He opens our hearts to.

Not bad, not bad at all...

2007-09-20T06:57:00.000-07:00

I found this on Lisa's blog...I wish it would tell which questions I got wrong.

Am-I-Dumb.com - Are you dumb?

Grammar Quiz

2007-09-18T20:15:00.000-07:00

Ha ha ha...this is so me!!! :)

You Scored an A

You got 10/10 questions correct.

It's pretty obvious that you don't make basic grammatical errors.
If anything, you're annoyed when people make simple mistakes on their blogs.
As far as people with bad grammar go, you know they're only human.
And it's humanity and its current condition that truly disturb you sometimes.

The It's Its There Their They're Quiz