Unfailingly Loved

Memories Flash as Tulips Droop White

2012-01-26T10:14:00.001-06:00

Tulipsdroop white.

Yesterday,my friend gives them to me. She reaches out remembrance. She has not forgotten thatthey are my favorite.

Iplace them on my kitchen windowsill.

Gentlesnowflakes fall outside. Tears fall down my face.

Memoriesflash.

Eighteenyears past. A hospital room with tulipswhite on a sill. Alone I rest upon the bed, waiting for what is next – thearrival of my first born. He is coming early.I am scared.

Today,I pull a picture from the past, off the shelf.

Today,is his birthday.

Ifeel my heart full, swollen. I rememberhim inside. Safe. Secure. Near to my heart, nestled under my rib cage warm and then he was born.Out of me, but not far from me.

Underduress, he entered the world. My heartyearned then. It yearns now.

“It’sokay, Andrea, cry.” I feel His Spirit speak to me.

“Whydid it have to be this way, Lord?” I whisper back.

TheLord knows, it is not only the early birth, it is my son’s special needs that Ithink hard upon.

Iask for reassurance that all will be well.

Myheart droops down, too.

Iam overwhelmed with what is next for my dear son.

Icannot speak; words within fall short, too. God knows. He does not need mywords.

Andthen a Voice of Hope heralds itself in to my heart: nothing slips through the handof God. Do not be afraid.

Nothing. I don’t understand. I wish it were different,but my different is not what God deemed.

Andso I go back to what I know is true – God is sovereign and God is good.

Ilie down limp, on the pillow of these truths.

AsI rest, I thank God for my boy, now becoming a man. I am proud of him.

Thankfulnesshelps me see. The Lord helps me believe.

We Paint Pottery Together

2012-01-16T13:24:00.000-06:00

She is theartistic one.

We paint potterytogether. It is her birthday choice.

It is a special outing for us. We celebratethe middle one – tenderhearted, merciful, insightful, almost ethereal. She is lovely.

They choosedifferent pieces. We are different. The athlete. The artist. The musician. Their mother. We come together to celebrate life, live life, love each other.

One a bowl, one acontainer, and two of us pick plates. Squirting paint on round palates, we envisionour design. We dip brushes and begin. Weaim to create.

I watch thebirthday girl and her sisters. They lookin to their project, past the plain outside in to what it will be. I wonder what theyare thinking about, how God is is moving in them as they create; how He ismoving in them as He creates their lives.

I wonder at theirabilities – His abilities. It is peaceful. We talk occasionally, about memories, questions they have, silly things,some serious things, too.

With eyes squinted and licking lips, one stands over her piece of work, intent. The other perches on the end of her chair -- closer, closer -- drawing herself in to her masterpiece. The third sits quietly, in her teen years.

Where did the time go?

I want to reach out and catchtime in my hands and not let it go. I linger in this moment.

We finish and walkout together, comfortable with each other, comfortable with ourselves. We talkabout our dishes, what they will look like once they are fired, how the colorswill emerge, deep and yet bright.

I marvel again athow God created them – the athlete, the artist and the musician – the sisters –deep and yet bright -- and I sigh.

What I See in Her is a Piece of Me

2012-01-13T09:34:00.001-06:00

We pull out a puzzle, dumping the pieces on to the cool,hard concrete porch at the Villages of Hope Orphanage in Zambia, Africa.

Her fingers fiddled with the fragments, trying to figure outwhat to do next.

“Do you know how to start this, Mary?”

“No, Auntie. I do not, ” she shares quietly.

“We start with the pieces that have a straight side. They look like this. We’ll put them together,they are the outside, and then we’ll fill in the frame.”

We work silently. Sheconcentrates on the puzzle. I concentrate on her.

Her face serene reveals trust, not turmoil.

I marvel at her willingness to attach to me, a stranger. Shesees me as her friend. I am her friend.

Her tender spirit reveals a gentle soul, not contaminated bythe world, and yet, having endured trials and tears unknown to me.

Her strength sturdy and yet fragile is evident.

I wonder about her life, her past, her future.

I eventually break the silence and ask her questions aboutherself.

She likes the color yellow, her favorite thing to do is playhide and seek and to learn at school. Shehopes to be a nurse some day. Her favorite thing about God, “He saves me.”

It dawns on me.

What I see in her is a piece of me.

A daughter of the king, fiddling with the pieces of life thatGod gives me, trying to figure out what is next, trusting Him for each day.

My heart connects to her. God does that work, drawing ustogether.

We finish the puzzle and admire it. She is content. I am blessed to know her.

I Feel a Gentle Nudge

2012-01-05T12:15:00.001-06:00

I slip my faux-fur coat on, falling in to the usual morningroutine of getting the kids to school. The thermometer reads 19 degrees F. The sun is just starting to peek over the horizon. It is winter inWisconsin.

Grabbing my purse and coffee, I head out the door.

“Mom! Don’t forgetme!” the littlest dear yells from the other room, gathering her own things andthoughts together.

“I won’t” I respond, reassuringly, I think.

I climb in to the car, start the engine and back out of thegarage. I shiver. The seat sits coldunder my legs. The steering squeaks as Islowly back the car out of the garage. Plumes of smoke hover and then dissipate on this frigid day.

My desire is to warm the car for the sake of mychildren. I care for them.

I scurry out of the car and head back in to the house.

Simultaneously the littlest one rushes out the door, backpack flung over her shoulder, coat half on. Anxiety casts a shadow across her hurried face.

“Mom! I thought you left without me!” she fears.

“No dear, I was just warming up the car for you. I am right here. You’re fine. No need to hurry or worry.”

I walk back in to the house to double check all systemsbefore take off.

I feel a gentle nudge.

It is from the Lord.

“Remember, Andrea. When I go before you to prepare a way for you, it does not mean I’veleft you behind, either. I’m righthere.”

I need to hear this, because I am prone to forgetting.

I know better, but I wander near the woods of doubting Hispresence.

I pause, aware of Him now, and choose to believe that Hegoes before me and at the same time, walks alongside of me.

I turn out the lights and grab my gloves, making my wayoutside to the car, thinking of the things I have to face in this day, thinkingof Him, thanking Him.

The little one rests, now reassured in the warmth of the car.

I rest, too, in the warmth of His love.

“The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; hewill never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.” Deuteronomy 31:8.

Season 3: Change 4 Change 4 Jesus -- A Tradition

2011-12-23T11:06:00.002-06:00

Feet run up and down, here and there. Hands search. Heartsyearn.

A tradition for our family, three seasons running, we aim togather the random change around the house, and the change that we’ve beencollecting in a old glass milk bottle.

The children (now getting older and wiser) made record timein digging through every pocket, swim bag, piggy bank, car seat and the bottomof my purse. Now that we’ve done it afew years, there are not as many surprises, but we are still astonished at whatwe find. (Click here for Season 1 and here for Season 2).

$ 88.12 is the total this year.

Change 4 Change 4 Jesus … for the children, this year – forthe children at the Villages of Hope Orphanage, Zambia, Africa.

Our hearts are definitely connected here, after spending 2weeks with them this past August.

Take Nelson, for instance. This is a letter we received from him this past month.

Nelson with my middle son during our visit.

Dear Aunty Andrea and Uncle Todd and family:

I have loved being with you at the Village of Hope. I thankGod that you brought me to a nice place where there is good health and goodeducation. I am looking forward to seeyou again in Zambia. I thank you for theletters that were so wonderful to me. Iam missing your voices and smiles that you gave unto me. I am praying that you come back in Zambia. Iam praying that one day I will come to America to study my cause ofDoctor. I am praying that God will makea way for me to see you in the future. Remember that I love you. I will never forget you in my life. God bless you. Always in my mind.

Truly, God is at work! There are more kids likeNelson, trusting the Lord to provide, they openly, willingly, place their wholelives in His hands. I have a lot to learn from them.

Join us in our family tradition and gather and give up yourchange. It's not the only way we'll give, but it's one way that we're trying to do that adds to our Christmas traditions!

We all know that thereare many needs, near and far. Pray about whom the Lord may be asking you tohelp – a neighbor, a church member in need, an organization or a friend.

And as you pray, would you please also consider giving it tothe kids at the Villages of Hope? You can learn more about them at www.akcli.blogspot.com and how you can donate yourchange 4 Change 4 Jesus at www.akcli.org .

Merry Christmas!

(P.S. -- if you join in on the fun, we'd love to hear your story!)

Today, I Wore My Grandma's Pin

2011-12-20T18:13:00.001-06:00

My fingers fiddle with the clasp, on the back of mygrandma’s pin. I admire the rhinestonesin a perfect circle. I remember the pinon her lapel, almost magical, it glistened star flecks on her face.

Today, I pin it to my vest and wear it with fondness.

I recall her face, perfectly round. I hear her voice, although it’s grown moreand more distant as the years pass. Ican barely make out the way she said my name, and sometimes called me ‘Dolly’.

I reach out to remember the feel of her hands aged. I desire to lay my head upon her chest again,and hear her reassure me that ‘whatever’ it was for the moment, it would be allright.

Tears turn on easily.

I search for her ornaments on my tree. Angels once hers with sweet, serene faces, hang from branches green, playing instruments.

I remember Christmas’s past with her presence, my greatest gift.

I pull out the scrapbook album my mother made and find thepicture of my grandma and me, many years ago.

Snow flakesfrozen in the photo, rest on us. Wehuddle close, not because of the cold, but because we love.

We bake strudel. She makes me laugh. I am safe with her. She loves me for who I am.

It’s been fourteen years since she passed. Memories of her stir sweetly in my hearttoday.

Yes, I miss my grandma this Christmas.

Do You Have a Minute?

2011-12-19T09:38:00.001-06:00

I had a killer headache, the kindthat feels like your head is being wrenched between 2 semi-trucks, with theirengines rumbling loud, but I had a lot to do.

Hair wrapped around my head like amessy birds nest, I pushed past the 2 sets of double doors in to the churchoffice, rushing in to church, intending to rush out.

I just needed to drop something offquickly.

“Hi Patti! Just dropping of a few things!” I chattered to our church receptionist,not even pausing to ask her how she was.

She responded differently.

“How are you today, Andrea?”

“Okay,” I said, less than convincingly and hesitating to behonest.

“I do have a headache.”

And then, amidst my long to-do listand weakness and fatigue, I saw Jesus.

Looking at me kindly, Patti slowly stoodup from her chair.

“Do you have a minute?”

“Sure,” I said, while an old tapepopped in to play in my mind causing me to think, -- oh, no, I wonder what she wants to talk to me about. What did I do wrong now?

“Come sit down in my chair for aminute. Let me help you.”

And so, I curiously sat down in the middle ofthe church reception area.

And Patti began to massage my head.

People came, people went. People wondered if they could get inline. I sat there, and soaked it all up. It was wonderful.

The thing is, I wasn’t expectingthe Lord to minister to me in such a way on that day. I wasn’t looking forJesus.

But Jesus, He was looking at me, and His servant Patti, out of aheart that cares about people, was His willing vehicle of love.

She took a chance. She offered hercare. She gave of herself.

She’s a good reminder to me that wejust never know what a ‘minute of care’ will do for someone else. The Lord calls us to be aware of opportunities that He gives us to love one another.

Her offering herself made my whole day. My headache gradually subsided after that. Myshoulders hung a little looser. My heart a lot lighter.

Thank you,Patti. Thank you, Jesus.

The Children I LOVE on the Other Side of the World

2011-12-16T11:53:00.005-06:00

Amidst the hustle and bustle of Christmas, I find myself stopping and remembering the days of this summer, when my family and I walked with these precious children.

Undoubtably, God is at work, across the world. If you have a moment, come join me in seeing what He is doing at the Villages of Hope, Zambia. These are the children than we now count as part of our family. I'm crazy about them!

More next week on how you could possibly help make a difference in their lives.

God Pulled the Corner of the Curtain Back Just a Bit for Me to See

2011-12-13T11:00:00.000-06:00

This post is not about me. Oh, sure, I’m in the story, butplease know that what I really saw was God pulling the corner of the curtainback just enough for me to see a bit of Him.

A month ago, the little girls and I rummaged through theirdressers and closets. It was clean out day for them. I do not like thejob. Checking sizes, trying on clothes,determining what fits, what doesn’t and what is out of season.

Seems like there was a lot this year. With the baby (AKA little sister) growing(and having things passed down from 2 sisters), the bushel basket over-flowed.

I put the items in my laundry room, vowing to bring them toa local thrift store ASAP.

For weeks, I climbed around the unneeded clothes. They fell out of the basket. I would put themback in. I even washed a couple of things that seemed to dirty as they satthere.

“Ugh! I have got to get these out of here,” I murmured tomyself time and time again.

But I never got around to it.

Here’s the cool part.

Out of the blue, I received an e-mail from a friend. A family had fallen on hard times, and was inneed of little girl clothes in the sizes of – yes, you guessed it – the sizesthat were overflowing in my laundry room.

Yes! I had clothes … I had lots of clothes.

Like I said, this story is not about me. I didn’t doanything (other than procrastinate, which is not admirable at all). God dideverything. He knew their need. He knewwhat I had, and He had a plan.

What makes this story so special to me is that lately, I’vebeen feeling discouraged. I hate the feeling. Like a thick ooze of slime it weighs heavy onmy shoulders. I can not wipe it off, rinse it off or pick it off. It justsettles and it sticks.

It says to me, “Is God really out there? Is He reallywatching out for me, aware of my every need?”

But this Christmas, God gave me a gift – a reminder of Histender, hand-crafted care.

The trick for me now is to accept His gift of truth, thatHis provision for me, although different, is non-the-less faithful.

That’s whatI’m working on this week, remembering the truths.

Donot be afraid or discouraged, for the Lord will personally go ahead of you. Hewill be with you; He will neither fail you nor abandon you.” (NLT Deuteronomy31:8)

Keeping Courage Close

2011-12-02T09:37:00.001-06:00

Be strong and let your heart take courage, all you who hopein the LORD. (NASB 31:24).

The thermometer read 22 degrees Fahrenheit, outside -- achilly morning, indeed, for a run.

I bundled up from head to toe and decided to take thedog. Maybe the distraction would help meto get through the run. I was only going to go a short 3 miles, so he couldhandle it.

Of course, he handled it well, and I fought him the wholeway.

He’s not used to running with me.

We need to work on this, I thought, as he continually triedto pull on me, stretching my left arm out like Elasta-girl.

“Courage! (that’s his name) Stay!” I said with my firmmother voice.

And, over and over again, I said it -- “Courage! Stay!”

I thought back to several years ago when I was working onteaching the dog to heel – a time when I was in need of major healing. I evenwrote a post about it (click here). Apparently, he and I had not made much progress.

This time, though, instead of thinking of healing, I wasthinking of courage.

It’s true, isn’t it? We are in a constant need of keeping courage close.

The analogy of the dog and my run with him falls aparthere.

Truth is, unlike the dog, courage doesn’t keep trying to getaway from me. I keep on wandering fromit.

I need to keep courage close.

I need it for the mundane and for the massive moments oflife.

I need it to slow down.

I need it to get up and move.

I need it to teach, to mother, to be a wise wife, to be acompassionate friend, and to look for the opportunities that God brings a crossmy path for today.

I need it to wait.

I need it to fight.

I need it to let go.

I need it to hold on.

I need it to believe that His promises are true.

I need it to be sure that what He has planned for me isgood.

God gives us courage and He gives us strength to grab hold of it. When we walk with Him, He is faithfulto give it. We can be fearless with Him.

I need courage and I need to keep it close.

One more thing … this is what I noticed about this perkyhound. On the way home, when we gotclose to our neighborhood, he picked upthe pace, and pulled me right along with him. It’s like he knew that we were almost there, and he was going to sprintto the finish.

And I wondered, “As we near Home, will we need more courage?Will God give us more courage to help to pull us on?”

I suspect that we will need more and I’m asking the Lord to pleaseassure me that He will give it, and that it will help to bring me Home.

Very Random Thoughts about Spices and Friends ...

2011-11-29T12:27:00.001-06:00

I’m thinking ofcoordinating a spice exchange.

I know it soundsstrange. My kids would probably say, “That’s really random, Mom.”They’re right.

Here’s the thing ... yesterday,I was cleaning out my herb and spice cupboards. Totally not on my list ofthings to do, but there I was, doing it anyway.

And here’s what Inoticed -- my spices replicate.

It seems likely,although it remains a mystery as to how they do it. Do they germinate? Divide by mitosis? Expand like Amish Friendship Starter Dough?

I’m not sure.

All I know is thatI have a lot of some things. It verges on ridiculous and pathetic.

2 containers of:

· driedonion

· ginger

· chilipowder

· groundcayenne pepper

· basilleaves

· paprika

3 containers of:

· driedparsley

· poultryseasoning (I could season a whole farm)

· crushedred pepper

And sadly, 4containers of:

· thyme(seriously?)

· vanillaextracts

· ground cinnamon

I’ve got extra of‘this’ … maybe you have extra of ‘that?’

We could share. Perhaps, I have something you could use, and I’m pretty sure there is somethingI’m out of, and will need at a most inopportune, unexpected time.

As I sorted andcleaned, my mind synapsed (again, randomly – is it being pre-menopausal?) overto thoughts of friendship.

I think it’s a bitlike the friendships the Lord gives us. We all have different gifts. At times, we may have an abundanceof something. These things are not ridiculous or pathetic, but rather, rich andimportant -- rich and important to share.

When I needlaughter, I call the ones who seem to have overflowing silliness.

When I need hope,I know the girl to call. I’ve seen her hold on to hope in Jesus, when lifelooked pretty hopeless.

When I need to bestrengthened in my faith, I call the friend whom I’ve seen measure out a lot ofit. She’s the one I know will give mesome of hers, so that I can continue to move on.

When I need to seethe truth clearly, I call the one who will be honest with me and direct me tothe Truth. She’s got plenty to share, and she does it lovingly, gently.

We all havesomething extra, something extra that the Lord gives us to share with oneanother.

Let me know if Ican help. Happy to give of my time or my – err – Thyme.

(Tee-hee – now I’mlaughing at my own jokes? Time to sign off …)

Giving Thanks for Grace

2011-11-21T20:05:00.001-06:00

“Who would like tosay grace?”

Perhaps thisquestion will be asked around a million tables this Thanksgiving.

When my daughterwas younger, she would pray, “God is grace, God is good. Let us thank Him forour food.”

The originalprayer is “God is great …” but, I cherish this rendition.

Maybe it’s becauseGod’s grace is so precious to me.

Seems like theLord hand-tailored this focus on grace for me this week. I taught on Rahab last Wednesday – “God’sgrace knows no barriers,” and saw LesMiserable night where I watched the theme of God’s grace dance upon the stage.

And then there’smy own life. Flashbacks roll in front ofmy mind, like scenes on a stage, reminding me of what God’s grace has beenduring times of great sorrow, loneliness, fear and uncertainty. And even in today, I see what it is tobe for me.

God’s grace fillsme with peace when chaos swirls around me.

God’s gracerescues me when I am lost.

God’s grace washesme with strength when I am weak.

God’s grace fillsme up with His truth when I am bombarded with lies.

God’s grace drawsme close and wraps around me when I am scared and cold.

God’s grace stillsmy anxious heart.

God’s grace showsme that forgiveness is possible and it sets me free.

God’s grace leadsme on when I am hesitant (or forget) to follow Him.

God’s grace coversme when I sleep.

God’s graceforgets my wrong-doings and does not hold them against me.

God’s gracerefreshes me like falling rain when I am weary.

I am humbled byHis grace.

Indeed, God’sgrace is precious to me.

And thisThanksgiving, I am keenly aware of it and thankful for it – thankful for God's grace, Jesus.

The Time a Snake Dropped in for Lunch ...

2011-11-17T11:31:00.001-06:00

I was looking for them -- long, sleek, footless, fanged creatures– but not that day.

On this particular day in Africa, I was unaware, distractedby a powerful worship service with the children at the orphanage and a lovelylunch to follow.

We sat back in our chairs and relaxed under the large tree,out on the veranda at a local resort restaurant. White table clothes waved inthe breeze. Our team members gathered for a special lunch after church. Weshared stories about our experiences in Africa, what we were learning and whatGod was revealing to us.

It was a beautiful day and we were basking in what God wasdoing.

Unexpectedly over the laughter and jovial talk, I heard myson William (now my hero) shout …

“LOOK! A SNAKE!”

Ten feet from our table, a four foot (or was it twentyfoot?) long, dark gray snake lifted the front part of its body off of the tilefloor, bobbing up and down as he slithered forward, attacking in ourdirection.

It did not look friendly. It looked evil.

Truth is, any snake in Africa is considered unfriendly. No garden variety gardener snakesthere. One can always assume they arepoisonous, perhaps even deadly.

I’m not a big fan of snakes, and certainly, not unknown,aggressive, venomous, “sure-to-seek and kill” African snakes.

We all jumped to our feet and backed off. Our host, Benedict threw achair at the snake to slow it down and yelled for the workers to “do something!” We scattered away while the snake sped underour table, making it’s way in and out of our friend Adrienne’s bag, andcontinuing on … crazed.

The workers finally came running with sticks and killed thebeast.

No one knows where it came from. We think from the treeover-head. It dropped in for lunch, nearly scared the britches off of us andthen it was a goner. I’m just glad that none of us were.

We all walked a little more cautiously for the rest of ourtrip. Well, at least I did. I looked up in trees, in tall brush and under mybed. Thankfully, no more sightings.

God used this encounter of a 'snakely' kind to remind me thatsometimes, evil does drop in for lunch or in life. Seems like the old adage stands true. When you least expect it, expect it. So ... Beaware. Be wise. Be ready.

Defining Faith Moments

2011-11-15T09:05:00.001-06:00

A defining moment -- that’s what my friend calls it.

I called her out of the blue last week, regarding a totallyunrelated subject. One thing led to another, and she relayed a story to meabout how years ago, she found her self, although a Christian for along time,face to face with whether she was going to trust God or not, during a difficulttime.

“I would begin to worry about the situation, but each time,I said, 'NO! – I am going to stop worrying and trust God.' It took time and itwas work, but little by little I learned more of what it meant to trust the Lord andI began to see Him work, in ways I never thought possible. It was a definingmoment for me.”

Defining moments. Iget that. I can think of a few over the years. Sometimes, they are really big and other times, they are smaller, butnone-the-less, defining.

Last week, unexpectedly, I found myself glaring at one ofthese faith defining moments.

I’m not totallysurprised. In the back of my head, I figured something would happen, as Iprepare to speak on Rahab this week, with a focus on Who God is and what faithis.

I’ve been rolling the idea of “faith” over and over again inmy head. What is it? What is it not? What does it all mean?

Whenever I teach it seems that I find myself asking morequestions than finding answers.

And almost always, I get the test.

I study. I learn. I pray. I write.

And then somehow, someway in the most unusual ways somethinghappens, and I feel the Lord push in to my seeking heart and say, “Now, my dearloved one, let’s see how you are doing with this lesson that you are learningand perched to teach about.”

And so this past week, I find myself asking, “Where is your faith, Andrea?”

I sigh.

I come up dry, after I wipe the tears of my disappointing unbeliefaway. I pour my heart out to the Lordand ask Him to help me with this unbelief. I shrink back at the fact thatperhaps my faith is more frail, more fragile than I thought.

I listen to my friend. She knows. The Lord uses her.

I take a deep breath and ask Him to show me. I feel His hand of comfort on the small of myback. I am directed by Him. I choose to trust His Word. He ushers mein to the great Hall of Faith, Hebrews 11, points to verse 1 and reminds me ofthis:

Faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of whatwe do not see.

I sigh, again.

Faith defining moments – as hard as they are, either overminutes or hours or days or years, they keep me focused on the One who Loves meand strengthen me.

And I find myself in a familiar place clinging to what Iknow is true, regardless of what things may look like, now or in the future, sureof Him and certain of His love for me.

Sharing a Note from a Reader ...

2011-11-10T10:26:00.001-06:00

I almost missed it! A yellow floral note card peeked outfrom between catalogs and credit card offers, in my mail 2 weeks ago. It’s notevery day I get a handwritten note in the mail. I was so excited. I pulled up a chair, and sank in to it as Isank in to her words.

(I got her permission to share with you all. She asked toremain anonymous).

Dear Andrea,

I want to thank you for the entry I read today, Friday,October 21. It met me exactly where I am. For the last ten years, each fall, my heart and mind do a “march” thattakes me back to past events beginning in the end of October retracing my stepsto find me standing at the sight of an open grave of my son, at the end of November.

God has sustained me, grown me, helped me these past 10years. His Mercy and Grace support me, hold me up and lead me on. His great love gives me Hope andStrength. Yet, here again, another fall,and I find myself on that “march” again. Like you, in hope and in trusting, Isee each year God exchanging beauty for ashes.

This journey, this “march” as painful as it is, does remindof where I was , but more powerful yet, I see in hindsight the victory andovercoming power of Jesus Christ, my Lord and Savior. He loves us and does not leave us where weonce were. This “march” may continueevery fall, for all my life, but I can ‘see’ from where I stand today thatdefeat and despair have been replaced with rejoicing and praise. This trial has been a ‘tool’ for mytransformation in the refiner’s fire. ToHim all praise is due.

So, I will keep on “marching” to “see” His glory – all forHis glory. For it is not about me, it is all about Him.

Thank you, dear one, for sharing your faith, your hope.Thank you for your transparency and honesty. I continue to be a faithfulreader. Keep on sharing your heart.

And thank you, friend, for taking the time to write and shareyour story with me -- with us. It is atreasure. You are a treasure. May the Lord continue to strengthen you. Your “march” is not in vain. He is using you for good.

Helping Matilda

2011-11-01T11:29:00.000-05:00

Her name means “mighty or strong in battle.” I’m not sureher parents knew that when they named her, but it fits her. God knew that.

Before the age of five, Matilda was a little girl mostlikely doing what most little girls do in African villages. They run and playand help their families with chores.

And then … she developed spinal tuberculosis, and lost movement of her legs.

At age 7,Kathleen Schwartz, of the Villages of Hope, Zambia (click here to learn more about VOH on their blog), met Matilda. She was sitting outside of herhut, unable to walk. God began to unfolda series of events through His placement of Kathleen in Matilda's live, and she was eventually treated with antibiotics andsurgery to help her spine. Now she lives at the Villages of Hope, where wevisited this past summer and where we met this remarkable little girl.

Yes, she is mighty and strong. This little girl is an inspiration to all whomeet her. She perseveres with her peers, keeping up as she swings her halfparalyzed legs along with the use of a walker. She is ever smiling and bringingjoy. She does not hesitate to be involved and try her best. She loves life and she loves the Lord.

But, she needs some more help. God has ongoing plans for Matilda. She will betravelling to the United States for surgery, where a team of doctors and health care professionals agreed to treat her forfree!

Procedures are underway to secure a visa, passport, etc…and, although $10,000 has been raised to help pay for airfare and otherexpenses, a bit more would help.

It’s true, isn’t it? God uses His people to love His people.

Would you consider being a part of His story for this littlegirl?

1. Please pray for her and all the details thatneed to come together RIGHT NOW. If it’sthe only thing you do, it will make a difference!

2. Consider following her story and praying for Matilda on anongoing basis. You can find more about her story at www.matildaspath.wordpress.com.

3. Consider make a financial contribution to helpwith expenses while she is in the United States. You can do this through pay-pal, located at the above e-mail address.

Thank you. We justnever know what God is doing. It is a privilege to be a part of His work,loving people, drawing them to Himself, giving them a hope.

May you be blessed because of your love.

Running the Race -- Urbanathlon Chicago 2011

2011-10-28T09:27:00.000-05:00

"Therefore… let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easilyentangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.”(Hebrews 12:1).

I fannedopen my bible to Hebrews 12 and read the verse. It is a familiar one to me. I’ve read it, leanedon it and had often done so.

Rightbefore the race (Urbanathlon Chicago 2011) (click to see the course -- 10 miles and 7 urban obstacles through the city of Chicago) I tucked it away in my in my mind.The thing is, I knew that I needed it.

Therace set before me that day was a physical one. I trained. I ran. I appliedBioFreeze to my sore muscles and foam rolled tight muscles frequently. I was ready, physically, but it was thenegative self-talk that was weighing me down.

Ihave issues with this problem, not just when I run a race, butin life. Like cockroaches in the dark,words of negativity about myself scurry around, creeping me out and keeping meback.

Wordslike …

You’llnever finish.

You’renot strong enough.

Whodo you think you are?

Whydo you even bother trying?

You’rejust going to disappoint yourself – and worse, yet, others.

Idon’t know where they come from or how they get in, but suddenly, there theyare. Like I said, creepy.

So,as I worked up to and stepped up to the starting line a couple of weeks ago, Iclung to this verse.

Throwoff everything that hinders – all the NEGATIVE SELF TALK – and run the racemarked out for you.

I’mstill reliving some of the moments of the race, and still smiling.

Mygoal was to finish the race – finish the race with a smile on my face for mykids – and I did.

That's me in the middle, getting a boost from below, over the last obstacle -- the 8 foot wall.

Ididn’t do it perfectly. I needed a boost over a few of the obstacles (the gianttractor tire and the eight foot wall at the end). I tripped once along the way(and felt sorry for the guy behind me. I think I almost gave him a heartattack as I flew forward, catching myself before the ground caught me). I hadto take the “penalty push-ups” when I couldn’t get over the marine hurdles, butI made it across the monkey bars without falling (and did a little victorydance when I got through them).

Over a police barricade near the beginning of the race. I was still feeling fresh ...

That's me in the lime green, getting ready to crawl over the bus.

I'm making my way through the mud, and over a taxi ...

ANDI had fun. I ran with courage and strength, determined to do my best. I perseveredand stepped on a few cockroaches of negative self-talk along the way (can youhear the crunch? I know – gross!), as I climbed over police barricades, slopped through mud and made my way over a city bus and taxi cabs. I enjoyed the scenery and I enjoyed thepeople that I chatted with along the way.

It was good. God is good forcontinually teaching me, transforming me in all things.

I finished, and I’m proud of myself for taking on the challenge and conquering therace, but maybe even more so, overcoming the obstacle of my negative self-talk and facing my fears.

Memories Know No Time

2011-10-21T09:44:00.003-05:00

It’sthe way the rainy mist hits the glass and is quickly swept away be thewindshield wipers and the way that trees glow bold. The way the leaves smell and crinkle red and orange andyellow and brown. It’s the temperature outside – achilly, damp 38 degrees.

It’sthe gentle heat that blows out of the vent, across my feet as I do dishes. It’s the look of the half dead impatiens inthe window box outside of my kitchen window, yellowed, weak, but trying to lookbrave. It’s the few leaves that cling tonearly empty branches, holding on for dear life.

It’s my feet in my clogs instead of myflip-flops. It’s my black fleece jacket I slip on soft because I am chilled. The tender way a close friend says my name. The words to a song.

Theyall – together, not one on its own -- bring back memories for me this month, memoriesof difficult times, and I will admit -- it is hard. I love fall, but it also carries along withit sorrow.

Iheard it said recently that memories know no time.

Ithink it’s true.

Inan unexpected moment we remember something from our past, not begrudgingly, buthonestly, regardless of whether it has been days, weeks, months or years.

Memoriesare enigmas to me.

Theyare so incredibly tangible and yet mysteriously untouchable. Present in thepresent, and yet from the past.

Itry to reach out and grab hold of them, either to embrace them or push themaway.

AndI cannot do either.

Theyslip away, like the fine mist outside, and yet, they are all around me,touching my skin, striking my heart.

Andalthough they can sometimes be difficult to face, I think in a very hope-filled,God graced way, they can be valuable.

Atleast that’s how I’m trying to look at them this month.

I’mtrying to face them, lean in to them, and take them to the Lord.

AndI’m asking Him to remind me of –

WhoHe is --

WhatHe taught me --

How He provided for me --

The ways in which He loved me, loves me --

Andwhere He has brought me -- today.

Hoping,trusting, that somehow – He is still bringing beauty.

And God Reminded Me, "I'm Aware, and I Care"

2011-10-11T13:37:00.000-05:00

Acouple of days ago, if you were to ask me how I was doing, I would have respondedDEPLETED.

Bonedry. Rung out. Deflated. I felt like amere shell of a woman. And I didn't see relief in sight.

Butlike most women, I kept on going. I asked the Lord, for help. I just wasn’t expecting it in this way.

Godis so creative and cool.

Afriend of mine was in town from Dallas. We've been friends for a long time. We met for a couple of hours for coffee and enjoyed catching up on life –hashing over the good, the bad and the ugly, but encouraging each other in the Truths.

Ifelt my cup fill up.

Butit wasn’t just that.

Laterthat day, I was telling my kids about how this friend definitely has thespiritual gift of giving. She’s given mesome pretty interesting gifts over the years, including sending coconut ice creamto my house, wrapped in Styrofoam and dry ice, shortly after I gave birth toour 4^th child.

Anyway,she stopped by the house a few hours later, carrying a red bag, wrapped around2 packages of Ho-Ho’s and a card, with her handwritten words, “Here’s tofinding the beautiful beneath the dirt, dust and sin. Your friendship is such a blessing. Take care of yourself – which means, ofcourse, eating Ho-Ho’s! Keep praying. Keep writing. Keep going. God will not let you fall. I love you soul sister!”

Mycup filled up some more.

Thenext morning, I went out to my car to get my sun glasses, opened the door andto my surprise, on the front seat of my car rested a framed set of photographs.The day before, when we were together, we browsed through an art gallery and Iadmired it. It is three photographs of old fashioned typewriter keys. She bought it, I thought for her.

She’s sneaky that way.

Thething is, I’m still smiling about it. It’s really not about the gifts. I didn’t NEED the Ho-Ho’s or the picture, butGod used her giving them to me to remind me of Him. It was about Him filling me up, through the truth that He was at work.

Beyond the fact that she was generous and kind, it’s that God cared enough about me to prompther in her gifting. She was the willing vehicle of His grace to me. It was as if He was saying to me, “I’m aware,and I care.”

Yes,I’m still smiling about the visit, the card, the Ho-Ho’s (and I’m happy toreport that they only have 80 calories each – who would have known?) and thepicture (which I hung in my kitchen, still adorned with the bow that it camewith).

ButI’m also touched by the truth that when we live out the spiritual gifting that God hasgiven us (giving, teaching, encouraging, etc...), in His timing and in His way, then we are giving God’s love.

Wemay never know who He may be reaching at any given moment. It’s not like I waswearing a neon sign that flashed DEPLETED. She didn’t know that. God did.

Lord,help me to be your willing servant, to bless others through the gifting thatyou’ve given me. Help me to believe thatyou are at work. Remind me of this, so that I can in turn, bravely, generously,give to others, in whatever way you ask me to, for that day. In Jesus Name I pray, Amen.

Africa Through the Eyes of Our Children -- The "Little Sister" Reports

2011-10-07T09:21:00.001-05:00

(Todayis the fifth and final post, in the series sharing our children’s thoughts about our missiontrip to Villages of Hope, Zambia. The “LittleSister” reports today. She is anoutgoing child, confident in who she is and in the Lord. She loves people. She ran and ran all day with the kids, holdinghands, giving piggy-back rides, making sure that no one was left out, always availableto do whatever the children were interested in doing. It was very special to see how God, already, is making her in to Hisservant, bringing hope and delight to others around her. For eight years old, she was amazing!)

It’shard for me to say what I liked best – I liked it all! My favorite part wasplaying with the kids. I jumped rope alot, too, and they are really good at it. I even taught them a jump rope song. I liked playing soccer. They’re really good and that makes it fun forme. I liked walking to school with thechildren and playing on the merry-go-round that helps pump water for theschool. I liked working with the team, sorting shoes from the big container, togive to the kids.

Ilearned a lot about God, too. He reallyhelps these children. I learned thatthese kids don't have anything, and they still believe in God. I think I’m not going to ask for so muchstuff anymore. I don’t need things to behappy, I just need love and Jesus in my heart.

Africa Through the Eyes of Our Children -- The "Middle Daughter" Reports

2011-10-06T10:46:00.002-05:00

(Thisis the fourth entry in the series sharing our children’s insight in to theirmission trip to Africa. Our “middle daughter” is artistic and insightful. Shetaught the children how to make bracelets out of embroidery floss, knitted withthem, enjoyed working on jigsaw puzzles and jumping rope. Her tender heart wasalways aware of their needs. She loved the children and they loved her. Thechildren were fascinated with her glasses. Shortly after meeting her, some ofthe children asked one of our team members, “Was she born with this glasses ordid she get them when she was older?” So sweet! J).

Ihad a lot of fun on my mission trip to Africa. My favorite part was playingwith the kids at the Villages of Hope. God really showed me how powerful He isand how He brought these kids to this orphanage. I am glad God helps us to goon this mission trip. I hope to go back some day and see the kids and how theyhave grown. I think this is the best experience I have ever had.

WhileI was there, God showed me that:

· Before,I always wanted more. I don’t want so much anymore.

· Ican make friends quickly.

· It’sokay to make mistakes and people will forgive you.

· God’slove is amazing and so HUGE!

· Godmade beautiful animals.

· Kidslove making ankle bracelets.

· Thekids at the orphanage really love God.

· Thekids at the orphanage are good at cooking.

· Somekids just like having people around.

· Putothers before yourself.

· Noone is perfect.

· Ireally can get attached to people and it is always hard to say goodbye.

· Godis always watching over us and taking care of us.

Africa Through the Eyes of Our Children -- "Mr. Middle Child" Reports

2011-10-05T08:58:00.002-05:00

(Thisis the third post in a series, sharing our children’s view point of the missiontrip to the Villages of Hope in Zambia, in their own words. Our middle child is full of life, a “peopleperson” and MY hero for spotting a poisonous snake before it got too close tous! He spent a lot of time playingsoccer and roaming the grounds, telling stories. He loves to laugh.I could hear his joy filled voice bouncing around the village, mixed in withthe laughter of the boys his age. They seemed to always be laughing aboutsomething. The boys showed him how theymake catapults (slingshots) to shoot birds. He taught the boys how to playbaseball – something they had never learned before! It was very special to seeGod use his gifts of caring for people and making them feel special, inAfrica).

I am so happy that God let me go on themission trip to the Villages of Hope in Zambia. He taught me so many things!

Oneof the things that I realized is that before I went to the VOH I was notcontent. The kids at the orphanage were happy with the few things they had anddidn’t want more things. One of my new friends, Roman, created a car out ofwire that he found. He also added littletoys to it that he found. He wants to bea mechanic when he grows up. He also made a course for the car, around a tree,with a gas pump, a gate, a road with dirt and concrete edges. He is very creative and content. When I returned from Africa, I noticed that Iwas beginning to be more content with what God gave me, too.

Learning how to make a catapult out of rubber found lying around, a "Y shaped stick" and leather from an old shoe.

Africa Through the Eyes of Our Children -- The "Oldest Daughter" Reports

2011-10-04T13:59:00.000-05:00

(This is the second entry in the series this week,showcasing each of our children and their view of Africa and the Lord, in theirown words. Today, the "Oldest Daughter”shares. It was a delight to see her lovethe little children, enter in to their games, care for their needs, and realizemore of how God provides and protects. Some of their favorite things to do were playing with her hair and snuggling with her).

Their smiles. Their singing. Their eyes. Their love for one another. Their love for God. These are some of the memories I will neverforget. Last year in school, when I wasa freshman, I learned two songs in choir called “Bonse Aba” and“Siyahamba”. These songs were written ina Zambian language and I remember thinking to myself, “How cool would it be ifthe children I will be meeting know these songs.”

Well, sure enough, while sitting under some treesone day with some little girls I sang a little bit of the songs for them. Right away, the girls faces lit up and theyhad huge smiles on their faces.

“Yes Auntie! We know those songs!” said thegirls.

They then went on to sing the songs also and thenkept talking about it the rest of the day. I then knew that this was God at work. How amazing that I would learn these Zambian songs at school in Americaand then actually be able to go to Zambia knowing them. I think God was planning a special bondingmoment for me and the little girls when I was learning these songs. Only a Great God could do that.

Africa Through the Eyes of Our Children -- The "Eldest's" Report

2011-10-03T09:33:00.000-05:00

(Thisis the first entry, giving a glimpse of how our children viewed the missiontrip to Africa, written intheir own words. It was a moving experienceto watch our eldest, who has Cerebral Palsy, spend time with the children at the village,but as so often happens, he was blessed in return. He spent hours telling them stories, andlistening to theirs. He loved the children and they loved him in return. There were no barriers, despite his disability, in their eyes).

Being on the mission trip to the Villages ofHope and spending time with the kids really strengthened my faith in that thesekids had to have a lot of faith to get through their day. I realized that I need that kind of faith toget through my day even though my special needs are different. They were willing to leave whatever came up,in God's hands. When they found out thatI couldn't walk, they asked if they could pray for me. They asked God to help me with my legs and thatthey would get better. This evenstrengthened my faith. Also, they lovedto serve. They always wanted to help me,push me around, even when I ran out of things for them to do -- they still wantedto do something to help!

Manna Walk

2011-09-26T07:18:00.001-05:00

Taken from Google Images

We sataround the large table in the dining area of the home of our hosts, Benedictand Kathleen Schwartz, at the Villages of Hope in Zambia, talking about thehistory of the orphanage and learning about their life story.
“It’s been aManna Walk for me,” Benedict, thefounder and director of the orphanage, smiled.

“Over theyears I’ve had to trust the Lord to provide of all things at all times, just asthe Israelites depended on God for food -- manna -- given by God each day.” (Exodus 16)

I was intrigued(read: perhaps even convicted) as I continued to listen to more of their story.

The term “Manna Walk” rolled over and over in mymind all night, ruminating until morning.

I wanted to hear more. I wanted to understand.

The nextmorning, I approached Benedict.

“Why do you think it is so hard for us, as Americans, to walk in thisway of trusting the Lord?”

And hisreply still has me thinking.

“In ourculture (American culture) we are diseased with comfort, consumption andconvenience.”

Diseased? Perhaps it’s true.

We areinfected with these viral like illnesses, and sometimes we don’t even know it. They come from the outside, work on the inside, destroying our trust of the Lord.

These things(amongst others, I am sure) really do keep me from fully trusting the Lord forall things at all times, trusting Him to provide what I need, quite frankly,trusting Him that He will be everything I need.

The thingis, I know that He provides, but I don’t always act like it. Worse yet, I doubt it.

When I am comfortable, indulgent and haveaccess to anything I want – then I forget to want Him, and when I do not desireHim, I find my dependence on Him evaporating.

When we arein need, we seek Him, and yet we do notsee what we truly need, because (for the most part) we either have what we wantor we spend our time wanting more of what we do not need – wanting things morethan we want Him.

I want to trust the Lord better, deeper, more openly, starting today, one foot in frontof the other. I want to walk the Manna Walk.

I want to doit for the Lord, because, truth is, it’s for my good, but even more importantly– for His glory.

Light Was There -- Far More Than I Expected

2011-09-22T13:21:00.000-05:00

I guess it’snot what I expected. In my narrow American view of the world, I picturedorphanages as, well … as sad places, where children grieved and mourned forwhat was not and despairingly, longingly looked in to the future.

But this isnot the case at the Villages of Hope. True to its name – a village of hope. Thechildren here ARE amazing grace personified, and God has granted them great favor.They are fully alive, confident, caring, compassionate, joy-filled and content.I could go on and on.

I sat downnext to Mary B (one of the 42 children at the Villages of Hope), as she snuggledin next to me, eager to be together, talk and be “interviewed.” Spending time with each of the children, oneon one, before my departure was one of my desires. I wanted to hear theirstories and write down their thoughts, word for word.

I asked Marya few questions about herself. She hesitated not to share.

She is 12years old, likes the color blue and her favorite thing to do? Read. She came from another orphanage that closed. The children fought a lot there.She does not remember her mother, only her father. She has one sister. She doesnot see her.

Her favoritething about the Villages of Hope? “They keep us well,give us food and care for us.”

Her favoritething about God? “He keeps us alive, He cares for us and He brought us herewhere we can learn and know of Him.”

Her favoritething about how God made her? “I help people and I care for myself. I amresponsible for myself.”

What shegrows up she wants to be a teacher or a musician. She’s learning how to playthe guitar and loves to sing.

If she couldask God for anything, it would be – Wisdom.

She is astrong young woman, with leadership skill. We worked together at a carnivalstation, when we did an outreach event at a neighboring village. Watching herorganize and keep a group of “spirited” children in line, with authority,determination and kindness, was a pleasure to observe. She is wise. God hasgranted her prayer.

I love thischild, and I do not say that lightly. I love them all.

One of thethings that strikes me the most about these children is their lack ofbitterness. They have endured much (loss of one or both parents, poverty,sometimes abuse, loneliness, reasons to be afraid beyond what we can evenimagine), and yet they do not radiate bitterness, they radiate joy.

Time withthe children has left me asking myself lots of questions, questions that willlikely take many years to answer. Questions like …

How can Ilove Jesus better?

What will itlook like for me to trust Him more?

In what waysdo I need to depend less on myself and more on Him?

In whichways can I let go of the world and hold more firmly to Him?

You know, Iwent to Africa asking the Lord to help me be a light, and when I arrived Irealized that truly, the Light is there, in the children, far brighter than Icould have ever imagined.

More storiesof the children to follow. Thank you for taking time to hear their stories andpray for them. You can read more about the Village on their blog here.

Out of Africa -- Back to Writing

2011-09-19T14:18:00.001-05:00

The children tumble out of the houses singing, at the Villages of Hope orphanage, and tumbletheir way in to my heart. They gather together in the meeting place, beforewalking to school.

Mouths and hearts open, voices raised. No instruments necessary. Making music in the key note of gratitude andjoy. Prayer follows.

“Father, thank you for bringing me here to this place,” onechild calls out to the One Who Saves.
There is no shadow of sorrow in the faces of these childrenat the Villages of Hope, only joy and confidence in the provision of theirFather in Heaven.

I pause long before walking with my teammates and thechildren to school, taking a deep breath in, I try to gather a response.

I question myself.

Or is it the Spirit speaking?

“Am I truly content or am I discontent where God has placedme, in my every day? Is my faith this strong? Do I project gratitude and joy?When was the last time I thought of His Saving Grace?”

I feel a small presence next to me. Soft, brown, beautiful,gentle fingers knit their way through mine. She sandwiches a handwritten notebetween her palm and mine. I read it.

“Dear Auntie, I love you so, so much. I am happy that you came. From Mary J toyou.”

I look down into deepcocoa colored eyes. She smiles. She doesnot hesitate to love. She walks quietly alongside me on the dirt road to school,holding tight. We talk a little wherelanguage allows, but mostly, we enjoy each other’s company.

I miss Africa. I miss the children at the Villages of Hope, Zambia.

I am back now -- out of Africa and back in to life inWisconsin and writing.

Please join me once again, as I hope to encourage you inlife and the Lord, through my stories of Africa and more.

Will Return -- Please Wait

2011-06-22T10:27:00.003-05:00

I have a flock of thoughts about it, but they really all come down to one thing …

I’m (pretty sure) the Lord is asking me to (momentarily) take a big step back and step away from posting on my blog.

Over the past few months, I’ve been thinking about Paul and his travels. At one point, Paul was headed in one direction, towards Asia, but God had other plans.

“…having been kept by the Holy Spirit …” Paul and his colleagues did not enter Asia. Later, they tried to enter Bythynia, and again, “…but the Spirit of Jesus would not allow them to enter.” (Acts 16:6-10)

We don’t know how Paul knew what to do (or not to do), we just know that he went with how the Lord was leading. Was it a vision? Was it a Word in the middle of the night? Was it a “gut” feeling? A sensitivity to the Spirit’s calling? All we know is that Paul knew and he obeyed.

I’m almost positive it wasn’t easy, and I’m sure he had no idea what the Lord had in store for him, right around the corner.

And so it is for us, sometimes – for me, this time.

I get the feeling that God is calling me to something different – at least for a short time. I don’t understand it, but I can feel it deep down within my soul.

I’m tempted to resist. I love to write. I love to encourage people with His truths. It’s one of the things I think God has called me to. I'm even a bit sad to step back and let go.

And yet, I’ve learned that I’m better off going with what God says, then trying to wrangle out my own ideas.

So, dear readers, I’m taking a break.

I’m hanging the “will return -- please wait" sign on the door of my blog – for now.

I plan on returning at some point, when I get the thumbs up, from the Lord. In the meanwhile, I do believe that God is doing something new, I’m just not sure what it is. Perhaps I’ll come back with new ideas, new ways of seeing Him, seeing the world, seeing myself. Or maybe just more energy. J Or … who knows what?

Have a blessed summer and thank you for your camaraderie.

Love …

New Places to Grow?

2011-06-13T07:56:00.000-05:00

It’s gardening week for me … first weeding, now planting.

I wiggled the pink ivy geranium out of the pot. The roots held tight to the sides of the plastic, but I eventually freed it. I squeezed the densely compacted roots, loosening them from the previous shape, and placed the plant in a new space.

It was for the good of the plant.

I debated, earlier, as to whether I should just place the geranium – in its original pot – in to my planters near my front door.

It would be easier. No one would ever know. And, after all, wasn't it growing just fine in the current container?

But I thought again.

Perhaps it was growing “fine” but I knew that if I put it in new soil, in a more spacious container, full of new nutrients, the roots would likely grow deeper and wider and the plant would thrive better.

What once was a place of growth for the plant, was now constraining it from further growth.

It needed new soil and new space ...

I feel a bit like that ivy geranium.

I’ve been growing (or at least I hope I have) in a certain place. It’s been a good place for me.

However, I feel the Hand of the Gardener taking hold of me and loosening me out of this place.

I’m hesitant.

I try to hold on to what I know – what is familiar.

I’m even scared.

But, I know He knows that there are other spaces and places for me to grow – places where my roots can grow deeper and wider and where I need to grow in new ways for Him.

I can’t be sure if this is happening or not, but something feels different.

Could it be that this place that I’ve been growing in is now holding me back from being all He wants me to be?

Am I ready for new soil and a new space?

And, exactly what will that space be? What new circumstances will He choose for my growth? Will they be challenging? Difficult? What new places of trusting Him may He be planting me in?

I don't know, but I am trying to surrender. It’s not easy now. I know it may not be easy then.

I’m trying to loosen my hold on what I have grown accustomed to and allow the Great Gardener to place me where He wants, and trust Him in the process, for this I know for sure, He knows the plans He has for me. In this promise, I rest.

How about you, dear reader? Do you know of times when God has transplanted you and you have grown in new ways there?

I've Got to Get to Weeding ...

2011-06-06T08:28:00.000-05:00

The gardens in my yard are overgrown.

I look at them through my back window and sigh.

I’ve got so much work to do today – so much weeding.

Oh, sure, some of the good plants are thriving after a Spring splattered with more days of rain than not, but it’s not those healthy, thriving, green plants that I am focused on.

It’s all the things in between, that should not be there – AKA weeds – that my eyes are drawn to. They are towering over and trying to choke out my pretty plants. They are competitive, persistent and sneaking. They try to vie for a place in my yard.

I’ve got to work on weeding.

I’ll do it today. The kids will help me. We’ll all probably grunt and grown about it, but we’ll feel pleased – accomplished – when we are done. Well, at least I will.

As I sat down this morning, facing (literally, at my desk) in the opposite direction of the weeds, so I would not get distracted by the work I had to do, I opened God’s Word for time with Him.

And as I read His truths, I’m convicted of my worry.

My worries – they are just like my weeds.

They come in and try to choke out the good things.

They take up space, grow faster than I would like, and often tower over the other things that are trying to grow.

They get in the way of me seeing the truth, remembering the promises, resting in the comfort of the One who loves me.

I don’t know where the always come from, but they sure do spring up -- little weeds, big weeds, ugly weeds.

Ugh.

Jesus talks about the worries of this world getting in and choking out the Word (Matthew 13) – the Word of truth, the Word of hope, the Word of comfort. I can see how it happens, and it’s not what I desire.

Weeds -- and worries -- they get in the way, but they do not have to stay.

Looks like today, I have some work ahead of me. I’m working on weeding out weeds and weeding out worries. Good thing I have the Gardener. With His help, I’m getting down on my knees and rooting them out.

How about you?

A Time for Good-byes ...

2011-06-02T08:39:00.001-05:00

It’s not that I can’t wait for summer. I love summer and I love summer with my family.

It’s just that there is something about this time of year that produces in me a surge of sentimentality.

I’m all choked up.

Tears are close to the surface, occasionally breaking through and slowing rolling down on to the pillow of my heart.

Today is the last day of school for my little ones. Shortly, I will head over to sit back and relax and watch the “Learning Celebration,” where each child will be given a “Christ-like characteristic” that their teacher has witnessed in them this year.

It’s a beautiful time to sit back and relax and enjoy – but, invariably, my heart will also sit back and be heavy.

I think it’s the “good-byes.”

It’s the change.

It’s the moving from the familiar into the unknown of the future.

Before I know it, my mind is flooded with vignettes from my past of “good-byes.” Good-bye’s to dreams. Good-bye’s to friends. Good-bye’s to love ones. Good-bye’s to …

I can’t quite put my finger on it, but maybe these “good-byes” are milestones marking time.

Perhaps, they mark time of what – was, was not, is and is yet to be.

It’s confusing, like so many things in life – a swirl of excitement and sorrow.

“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven:

A time to be born and a time to die,

A time to plant and a time to uproot,

A time to kill and a time to heal,

A time to tear down and a time to build,

A time to weep and a time to laugh,

A time to mourn and time to dance,

A time to scatter stones and time to gather them,

A time to embrace and a time to refrain,

A time to search and a time to give up,

A time to keep and a time to throw away,

A time to tear and a time to mend,

A time to be silent and time to speak,

A time to love and time to hate,

A time for war and time for peace.”

Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

Dear Lord,

Thank you for your faithfulness. Please help those of us who may be standing on the precipice of change, having to say good-bye to things we have, people we love, dreams we’ve pursued, to give thanks and rest in Your love for us. Help us to remember that You are in control of all things and that You are good.

Amen

Growing Up Girl -- in the 70's

2011-05-31T10:34:00.001-05:00

This weekend I sat back and watched my girls – ages 15, 10 and 7 – BE girls.

Unique in every way, they only seem to have the fact that they are sisters, in common.

As I watched them BE, I thought about me, too. I thought back to when I was a girl, at each of their ages, and I did alittle bit of remembering ...

Remembering what it was like growing up girl.

So, today I present to you – 10 things about growing up girl (for me) in the 1970’s.

1. Like many little girls, I loved pink. When I was in fourth grade, I had a pink room, with a pink gingham bedspread and a pink beaded chandelier that hung over my bed. I was nuts about pink.

2. I always wanted a horse. I never had a horse – but I had a very large dog. His name was Mister. Mister and I would snuggle in and I would reach Richie Rich comic books to him. He was a captive audience. I loved that.

3. When I was in seventh grade, I tried out for our community theater performance. I – much to my overwhelming surprise – was casted for the role of Snow White. It was my first and last acting opportunity. Perhaps it was my fair skin and dark hair. I don’t know, but it was a lot of fun.

4. I grew up in a family that liked to fish. Seemed like I was often the luckiest family member at catching fish. Problem was, I didn’t like to fish. So, I would throw my line in to the lake with no bait. When my father discovered that I did so, he was not happy. Someone had to catch the fish, I guess?

5. When I was in third grade, I was on a float in the Apple Valley Parade in Winchester, VA. Yes, that’s me with the cute red checked shirt and the overalls on the right. I thought I was pretty special waiving to the little kids and throwing candy. I love a parade to this day (although I never had the privilege of riding a float again).

6. I loved concession stands. Give me a dollar and I was happy to make multiple trips back and forth. Sweet-tarts, Junior Mints, and Necco’s, were amongst my top favorites. Hard for me to pass a concession stand today without making a purchase.

7. I loved to run and until middle school, I was the fastest kid in my class. The boys passed me up after that, but until then – it was awfully fun to beat them. Did I say I was a bit competitive at times – in a healthy way, of course …

8. I thought astronaut food was cool. Dehydrated ice cream and tubes of “nutritious” food to sustain on a long journey. It fueled my desire to be an astronaut – like most kids in the 70’s, I’m sure. When I discovered I get motion sickness, it pretty much put a kabosh on that dream.

9. I once read a book, (I think the title was “Sunshine,” although I’m not sure) about a young mother who died of cancer. I curled up in my pink fuzzy rocking chair and cried, page after page. It still makes me tear up, when I think about it.

10. I was determined to become a professional football player for the Minnesota Vikings. I played football with the boys and was a great receiver. Now, being a Packer Fan, I don’t know what I was thinking. J I should have been a Green Bay Packer.

Growing up girl, there were good days (years) and hard ones. Watching my girls and remembering myself as one, reminds me of how God makes each one of us unique.

How about you? What did you like about growing up girl?

I love hearing people's stories. If you would like to share some memories of your "growing up girl" send me an e-mail at andreak54me@gmail.com with your favorites, and some pictures, too.

Noise Pollution!

2011-05-24T11:39:00.001-05:00

I woke up to the screech of a high pitched siren sound piercing through my bedroom window. It was not varied, like that of a tornado siren that intensifies and quiets as it rotates round and round, but rather, constant and persistent.

It made my shoulders tighten and my eyes squint.

It did not go away -- has not gone away.

I would liken it to fingernails scratching down a chalk board.

Anyone else reeling from the mere thought of it?

The kids woke up, noticing the same sound and wondered what it was.

The dog even laid in his kennel whimpering.

Noise pollution. I don't know what the source is, but that’s what I am calling it. I looked it up in the dictionary.

noise pollution

Environmental noise that is annoying, distracting, or physically harmful.

And I thought to myself -- barely over the noise that was driving me crazy -- life is full of noise pollution

and I don’t want to add to it.

I don’t want to add to the noise of sarcasm.

I don’t want to add to the noise of unbelief.

I don’t want to add to the noise of criticism.

I don’t want to add to the noise of lies.

I don’t want to add to the noise of complaining.

I don’t want to add to the noise of gossip.

I don’t want to add to the noise of busyness.

I don’t want to add to the noise of negative self talk.

You must admit –there’s a lot of noise out there – environmental noise, emotional noise, exasperating noise.

There are noises that both come out of our mouths and echo around in our hearts and minds – noises that are annoying, distracting and perhaps most often -- harmful.

They creep in, even when we try not to listen to them and agitate the soul.

I’m convicted. I may not be able to do anything about the high-pitched noise that is in the air today, but I can do something about the noise I make.

I don’t want to add to the noise and pollute the air and hearts around me.

I want to add to the peace.

I want the sounds that I make to be edifying, encouraging and filled with hope.

Oh, Jesus, I need your grace to not add to the noise, but to bring peace.