August

A main street in Choix; headed for down town.

A month of newness and different, that is what I should deem August. Just because I left Guadalupe and that specific time for studying has not changed the fact that I am still learning. I'm learning to do laundry, not by hand anymore, but in a wash machine that doesn't have a hose connected to it to automatically fill it up. This causes moments of panic when I realize that I have forgotten it once again and run out to find it filled to over flowing. (or some one kindly asks why there's water gushing seeping out.)
I have also learned to sweep dirt. Each time I grab the broom and start for the back yard, I think of Ma Ingalls when Pa jested about her sweeping the cabin's dirt floor. But now I understand Ma a little better. Even dirt looks better swept.

Loren's house as well as the church (held in the back yard for now).

Living in a house primarily of boys instead of girls is different as the conversation and the topics thereof can vary widely in comparison. Come to think of it, everything about living here is different.
Its different to attend a Bible study or have a children's class more than once a week. Its different to be in charge of the main meal of the day (lunch) five days a week where there might be 6 or 10 people for the meal (you never know sometimes!) Its different to cook in heat that threatens to overwhelm a person. Its different to have different people in and around the house so much.
Its different, but its good. Its in the normalcy and comfortable rhythm of life that apathy can easily set in without me knowing it. The last week or so I have been aware of how the pressure in life causes the "scum" in me rise to the top. And this is a good thing because its a part of the refining fire. As the grace of God empowers me to work out that scum in repentance, I become more formed in the image of Jesus. Ya'll, its hard to live in a learner mentality and attitude when I used to be perfectly capable at life before now. Its hard to still not be able to say sentences correctly in Spanish at times. Some moments are just plain hard.

The back yard (part of it) after a particular hard rain the night before.

One Friday evening, a group of young people from the orphanage (Casa Hogar) and I went to a place outside of Choix where there are some hot springs. We grilled hamburgers. I hadn't seen that much meat in one place in a long time. And we even had bacon to add to it! There was reverence in the air as we ate. :)

At the hot springs.

If you want to rejoice with me here's a few praises:

-the blessing of grace.

-answered prayer for wisdom in building relationships.

-new friends and a wonderful family to live with.

If you would like to pray for me here are a few of those as well:

-diligence in language learning.

-grace to work & live for Jesus with the "scum" rising.

-wisdom and love for reaching out to young girls.

Thank you for your prayers and the many ways you show that you're thinking and care about me. Words can hardly do justice to my thankfulness and they seem almost hollow, but please know that they are appreciated and are making a difference!

July's Newsletter

 *Note: this was an email I sent out and therefore is written like one.

Confession #1: starting emails, or letters for that matter, has always intimidated me. In school I was taught a formal way of beginning one of these things, but I have never done very well with “formal.” I prefer to jump in as if we have already finished the first three minutes of pleasantry. This brings me to Confession #2: when I learned what was expected of me in Mexico, this very aspect (writing a newsletter) made me more afraid than some other frightening things, but here I am. So I will endeavor to type an update about the past month of July here in Mexico.

I left home the morning of the 6th of July and arrived in Choix, Sinaloa the following afternoon. The trip itself taught me several things about trusting God and recognizing how God was answering prayers. My luggage had issues. One handle doesn't pull out, one broke all together, and a wheel busted on one of them in Phoenix. This was all within the first 5 hours! I believed the rest of the trip was doomed for trouble. But actually, the Lord worked out everything just right. We didn't get the bus we wanted, but the bus driver on the one we did get escorted us at midnight to the right place at the border to make sure we got our visas. Once we were off the bus and without pesos to pay for a taxi, I went to find an ATM but there wasn't any there. So a kind gas station attendant exchanged my American money for me. Later, there was a lady who helped us get on the right bus for Choix and directed the bus driver where to drop is off: right in front of Loren's.

I have been living in Guadalupe (a village 15 minutes from Choix) this past month with a family from the church for language and culture study. They are a joy to learn from. They have had quite a number of young people in their home for the same reason I am, and they are incredibly patient and kind and helpful. Interesting flubs with the language and their great sense of humor has produced wonderful eruptions of laughter that leaves our sides aching and the tears rolling. I have more teachers than these though. Everyone helps teach in their own way. From the uncles who drop by for a meal or a break, to the parents down the hill who love a good laugh more than the rest of them, to the children playing in the street. Each one has contributed. The saying goes something like, “it takes a village to raise a child.” In Spanish I am a child, and I guess I'm being raised by the village of Guadalupe.

Besides learning the language, I am learning how to make tortillas over a fire, wash my clothes by hand, and appreciate a cool breeze. :-) Mexico is wonderful.

The plan is that  I will be moving to Choix on the 6th of August and as of now I will be living with Loren's. Their house is the central place for a lot of people flowing in and out, and will be quite different than life in Guadalupe. Its a good thing I like people. I am looking forward to life there.

If you would like to rejoice with me, here's a few praises:

-praise the Lord that heat has not bothered me as much as I was afraid it might.

-praise the Lord for His patience and love in teaching and instructing me.

If you would like to pray for me here's a few request:

-pray for my continual learning of Spanish.

-pray for wisdom in relationships with several young girls here.

-pray for me as I move to Choix.

Thank you so much for your prayers and encouragement and support. I could not do this without people like you praying for me and encouraging me. May the Lord bless you with strength to faithfully follow Him. 

-Linda

P.s. Sorry for not having pictures. I took a few on my ipod and they refuse to be transferred to my computer. Maybe I'll remember to get a few pictures on my camera instead. :)

The Man with the Cane

I've been thinking about Grandpa Hershey the last while more than usual.

It was Grandpa that I first remember teaching me about the stars. Him and Grandma were visiting for the weekend, and I'm fairly certain candy came with them that time as well. Grandpa had a terrible sweet tooth and believed everyone else did too. When we visited them, there was often a bowl of old fashioned candy ribbons on the table. I've loved that kind every since then.

Grandpa was sitting in dad's old brown recliner and I was hanging over the arm looking at a book with him. I don't remember the book, but I remember the question.

“Which is brighter: the sun, the moon, or the stars?” he asked with a twinkle in his eye.

“The sun of course!” I replied, believing it to be a perfectly ridiculous question.

“Nope,” he grinned. “Its the stars.”

I didn't believe him.

“But they're so small!” I stated with big eyes.

“They look small, but that's because they're further away from the sun. If you could travel to a star, you would die before you got there because they're very, very hot.”

“Really?!” I stared at him trying to judge if he was teasing like he sometimes did.

“Yup. They're bigger than the moon or the sun.”

For some reason, right then and there, I believed him. Some time later, I learned in school that he was right. It wasn't a new fact. I read it and shrugged my shoulders because I already knew that.

Living here in Guadalupe where the stars are more alive and more numerous than at home, I stare at them still; amazed that something so fierce can cause such a tranquil feeling when so far away. They probably seem more numerous because they're not competing with the airplanes that constantly flew over our house. (I remember the first time I thought I saw a falling star. Excited, I ran to my sister and pointed it out to her. With three words she crushed me hopes. “That's an airplane.” Now even when I see a falling star, I question it until I know for sure.)

Living here in Mexico is probably the reason I've been thinking about Grandpa more. It was Grandpa that taught me how to pronounce the Spanish “n” and I think of him almost every time I read it. He loved Spanish and he was happy to hear that I was trying to learn it in school when I was less than 10 years old. He was more than helpful with my studies when he visited and enjoyed helping me more than I enjoyed being helped.

Grandpa loved to tell stories from Guatemala and driving through Mexico to get there with his tribe of a family in a bus, a van, or some other vehicle. He loved telling stories in general and he was good at it. When he'd finish an interesting one, he would have the biggest grin on his face as his hand gently slapped the table in front of him and the chuckle that issued forth was enough to make you laugh even if the story didn't. I loved listening to him, but hearing about Mexico and Guatemala were my favorites. He corresponded by letter with a friend in Spanish and the fact that he was able to understand and communicate like this intrigued me.

Grandma told me how one summer a Guatemalan family spent the summer with them in Wisconsin. There were seven children in their family, and Grandma still had at least nine of hers at home yet. She shook her head as if it were yesterday when she told me how much food they prepared every day for one meal. Then she sighed over the lunches they packed for all the men and boys who went to the woods with Grandpa every day.

Grandpa.

His library used to bore me. I avoided the backroom because all those books intimidated me. A year or two before he died, I found myself in his study looking at his books. I soon found one and started reading, but wasn't able to finish before we had to leave. Grandma said I could take it home with me. It was old; the pages were thin, the writing faded in places, and the smell when one put their nose deep into it's depths was intoxicating. It became a favorite of mine. When that book was finished, I couldn't wait to visit again so I could find another. This was the start of borrowing stacks of books from Grandpa for a few months at a time. Once, I found a small little thing that looked sort of new when compared to the rest of the books on the shelves whose titles were so faded on the binding one had to open the book to see what it was about. This particular book was a book of the best writings by A.W. Tozer. I don't know why I grabbed the book to take home. I knew nothing about the author or what was inside because the title didn't explain much, but I'm so glad I chose it that day. That book changed me life. And I enjoy reading anything of Tozer ever since. I've especially enjoyed the books of Tozer found in Grandpa's library as I discovered he had more than one. I particularly like reading them since he died. You see, I discovered that Grandpa didn't just read books. He read them. And he wrote in them whether he agreed, disagreed or thought the text needed to be expounded on a little more. It's like having Grandpa back in a small little way. There is one thing that makes me smile; Grandpa thought Tozer needed to be corrected and challenged some times! (And no, I don't believe Tozer perfect in his writings.)

Grandpa. He's part of the reason I'm here today. I wish I could tell him about it. He took my dad to Mexico and Guatemala who in turn took his children to Mexico as well because he loved it.

My dad learned how to ride bicycle in Guatemala.

I'm learning how to make tortillas. Among other things.

The Take Off

I was never more aware of my heart than that moment on that day.

As the plane taxied away from the gate, I looked our through the rain streaked window. The last few days had been filled with goodbyes that made my heart ache from the weight of each one.

Just thirty minutes prior to this one, my hands had been held my my parents as daddy prayed a farewell blessing over me.

He's always done that, you know. The family would load the luggage and after each one had their turn of forgetting something and running into the house at the last minute, before daddy would put the van in reverse, or at the end of the driveway, he would call us to prayer. When the family stopped traveling all together, daddy would still pray over us. Especially as Sara and I started traveling on our own. He would get up early with us, carrying our suitcases down the stairs, say goodbye, and pray.

This time though at the airport, with my hand in his, tears escaped down my cheeks and dripped off my chin.

I have always loved the feel of my dad's rough, calloused hands. I used to judge other men by their hands because I though only good men had hands like my dad and grandpas. Now I know better and don't judge according to that now, but there are times when I still think of it. Calloused hands will always remind my of daddy.

My left hand was held in my mother's soft hand. I've always wished my small, pudgy hands were more like her slender ones. When I was younger, I would watch her hands in wonder. Her nails were always clean even though they were not afraid of dirt and in fact loved loved it. Her nails were always always nicely trimmed. I would try to trim mine just like hers so maybe they'd look more alike, but I could never find a resemblance. Except in our thumbs. I inherited that part of my mother's hands, and I think of her every time some one exclaims over them.

I turned my face away from the window and the rain. The take off set me back in my seat and adrenaline from the moment and the adventure ahead coursed through my blood.

I smiled and talked my heart into a regular pulse again at the same time choking back the tears again.

I knew tears might flow some time again, but for now, I let the window weep.

I call him Daddy

There's a corner of my heart that warms every time I think of him. That feeling grows as I think about how much I enjoy making him laugh, and how much I have learned from his experience, wisdom, and example. There hasn't been a time in my life where I haven't done something and then, often unintentionally, waited to see or hear his approval.

When I was younger, I was scared of him. He was larger than life. He could accomplish more in one day that anyone else. I often remember the day when he told me his "trick" about how he got so much done. Since then I have have tried to implement this life hack and it has proven its legitimacy. He still uses it himself, I'm sure.

During the summer when our church would have softball games, I loved to watch him play. He would swing that bat and knock the ball into the far right field (he's a lefty) and then tear around the bases like you wouldn't believe. I can count on one hand how many times I have seen him not get a home run (and that is mostly from the last couple years).

Mother often said his brain was like a computers. I dreaded playing Rook (or any card game for that matter) with him because he is always able to tell you what you have in your hand. But it was a joyous day in the household when one of us kids would finally get him at his own game.

There has always been a book on his side table in his room and by his chair. Some of my earliest memories are of him sitting there in the couch with his legs curled under him sipping coffee and reading. The man knows more stuff! His book knowledge has always intimidated me, but I always knew who to ask whenever I needed an answer.

The Lord placed me in a home where he was the dad, and I am so glad He did. The older I get, the more I am thankful for everything he has given me. Lately, I have been especially grateful for the fact that he raised me in a christian home, took me to church every Sunday, and taught me to read the Bible. Although I had to discover the Lord on my own, he provided the perfect place for me to learn Him.

I am a better person because of him.

When the Law is Unknown

As I cruised into the town that I rarely drive through, I noticed the speed limit sign and was aware that I was not obeying it exactly. The temptation to shrug my shoulders and ignore it came, as did the scene where I was explaining to the policeman that I wasn't from around these parts and didn't rightly know the speed limit. Surely he would let me off with a warning and wouldn't give me a ticket for speeding when I didn't "know" I was speeding. As quickly as these thoughts came to me, I dismissed them. After all, I had seen the sign. Even if I hadn't seen it, it was still there. I was held accountable to it.

These thoughts reminded me of God, His law, and the people He creates.

I have often heard people question how God will judge those who have never heard or understood the Gospel; surely God couldn't punish them in their ignorance! How can they believe something they've never heard and understood? God will surely have mercy on them, they say.

But will He?

I have asked questions about this topic on more than one occasion because it just doesn't seem fair to me that innocent people will be punished for not knowing something (and this causes a passion to well up within me for people, myself included, to go to these people to tell them. But that could be another sermon blog post.) but I saw the truth in stark reality at that moment while cruising through town. 

Even though it seems somehow harsh, it is only right. Just like the police officer would not be sympathetic to me just because I did not know the speed limit, God must judge people according to the law; even those who do not know it.

I write this, aware of how cold and hard I may sound to some who do not believe this truth about God. But my heart is far from being cold about this fact. Rather, it is only burdened all the more for those who yet need the Gospel brought to them.

Let us go. Let us tell them. Let us not be held responsible for not telling them before its too late that God has a law, that Jesus saves, and that eternal life is found in Him!

They need to know.

Waiting for my World to Change

These beauties are sitting on my dresser in my room. 

I declare, there is something wonderfully satisfying as three blooms in a vase. 

Their fragrance fills the room and proclaim the start of summer.

Psst...don't let daisy know because I will never tell, but peony is my favorite.

Summer is here and I love it. Every time June rolls around, I remember that I have forgotten already how much I enjoy it. Nothing can compare to green Wisconsin.

The last few days I have been trying to soak it in and enjoy every moment. I gaze at everything around me, trying to put it all into pictures that I can bring back to mind later.

For a few more weeks, this is home.

I try to be brave and remind myself that this is only a part of earth and my real home is where my people are, and ultimately in heaven with my heavenly Father. But i confess that there are moments when there's a small knot in my stomach and a lump in my throat when truth dawns on me: life as I know it, as I have always known it, is about to change. While this truth causes surges of adrenaline and excitement in my blood at times, I cannot help but try to hold on to these fading days as they quickly pass through my hands.

Today, I am thankful for the grace of God that meets me whether I am feeling nostalgic or impatiently expectant from one moment to the next.

You Might Call Me Leah

Growing up, I dreamed of the day when Prince Charming would come and take me away. I couldn't wait until I would finally know his face, feel his embrace, and hear all sorts of kind words from him. I never questioned if he would come; it was always the question of when. I never doubted the fact that when I was old enough he would magically appear and all would be bliss. The thought never once entered my mind that he might not be there in my future when I finally arrived.

The day when I realized that he hadn't appeared like I had planned was bewildering. I wondered why. I looked at myself and asked what was wrong with me; my body, my personality, or my character. After much thought, I decided that if he hadn't made himself known yet, that must mean I wasn't quite ready. I concluded that I needed to grow up some more, to see a little more of the world, and to wait another year or two.

As I waited and trusted, my relationship with the Lord grew as well. I learned more about Him and I started to know Him more personally. There came a time when I realized that I thrived on learning about Him, and there also came a time when I realized how much I actually loved Him and desired to love Him more. It was then that I again noticed that Prince Charming was still not appearing. He hadn't even tried to show his face. There wasn't one word spoken. Again, I questioned why. If he wasn't here, there must be a reason, and the reason must be me. Obviously, I was flawed and I wasn't good enough. My friends were dating, or being pursued at least, and not even a knight in tinfoil had appeared for me. I tried to comfort myself by saying that it was a good thing I didn't tempt the fake ones, but I cringed when I realized that I didn't tempt the good ones either.

The pain was real when it dawned on me the reason that Prince Charming wasn't here.

He didn't want me.

As my peers got boyfriends, then fiances, and finally husbands, I clapped and cheered them on. I loved seeing them so happy. I oohed and awed over their wonderful homes and how they were learning to keep house. But as time passed and it seemed like I would be the very last of my friends to get married, the story of Rachel and Leah kept coming back to mind.

You see, I had always thought that I would be Rachel, waiting for Jacob. What girl wouldn't love to have a man prove his love for her in the way that Jacob did? Seven years before marriage and another seven afterward? That's incredible!

But what I didn't think was that I might be Leah.

Leah, known for her bitterness and lack of joy when compared to Rachel, was the elder daughter living in the shadow of her younger sister. When Jacob first came to Laban about Rachel, I'm sure the sisters rejoiced together. Leah must have been happy for Rachel. After all, they were both young and there was plenty of time yet for Leah's man to show up even if Jacob had come for Rachel first.

The more I think of Leah's story, the more I can see her struggle. The taste of disappointment as time went on must have been bitter. It must have been difficult to see Rachel as the happy bride-to-be. The shame she brought to her family because no man showed interest must have stained her cheeks and twisted her heart. Being married off to her sister's man in a deceitful manner certainly did not make it any easier. Imagine waking up the morning after your wedding and your husband is mad at you because you are not your sister.

Leah never got her dream. She never experienced her “happily ever after.” She never had a husband who loved her. Her place was always ranked second to Rachel.

Except in children.

The Lord saw Leah's state and blessed her with children. After her first son was born, Leah thought that Jacob would love her. She called him Reuben. When the second son was born to her, she named him Simeon because she said she was still unloved. The third son was called Levi because Leah again assumed that Jacob will love her since she gave him three sons. It was only after the fourth son was born that she said, “Now I will praise the Lord.” This son was named Judah.

Leah's heart was crying desperately for love; to be noticed and to be cared for. She did all she could to gain the love she craved. Because she was able to have children and gave Jacob sons (unlike Rachel) she thought she could get Jacob to love her.

But she didn't.

Sometimes, when I start believing the lie that since there is no guy in my picture there must be something wrong with me, the spirit of Leah settles into my mind. Jealousy of other Rachels around me creep in and I start acting out of that lie: I start trying to do things that might gain the attention or win the affection of a man. It was a startling thought when I realized that even spiritual things done in order to gain attention in hopes of attracting a suitor was not pleasing to God. 

I confess that I have been guilty of pursuing a deeper walk with God believing that there is a level of maturity that must be attained before He allows a man to enter my life. Now I understand that pursuing God with any other motive than to know Him more is disgusting and horribly unacceptable in His eyes. How dare I fall on my knees before Him in worship when my thoughts are filled with the idea of how much closer this puts me in gaining the blessing of a boyfriend/husband.

These are words from the Lord to Israel:

“Bring no more futile sacrifices;

incense is an abomination to Me.

The New Moons, the Sabbaths, and the calling of assemblies-

I cannot endure iniquity and the sacred meeting.

Your New Moons and your appointed feast My soul hates;

they are a trouble to Me,

I am weary of bearing them.

When you spread out your hands, I will hide My eyes from you;

even though you make many prayers,

I will not hear.

Your hands are full of blood.”

(Isaiah 1:13-15)

These are strong words! Think of about it. There was nothing wrong with Israel keeping the Sabbath, after all, the Lord commanded them to do so. They kept the feast in remembrance of the Lord. They gave their sacrifices just as He required. Yet the Lord was not pleased and I think it was because they were not worshiping the Lord in their hearts and were not doing these actions out of a genuine desire to know Him as their Lord God.

Just like Israel could not hide behind their good deeds, I cannot hide behind the name of Leah. Leah was without excuse for her behavior and her reaction to circumstances beyond her control and I am no different. I may be given the name Leah because I might have the temptation to hold on to bitterness and anger and the demand to be loved by a man, but I am held accountable to Almighty God.

Leah and I have faced some of the same pain and struggle in life and I continue to learn from her example. Leah was driven my her desire to be loved. It was her priority to be loved by Jacob and she could not rest until this goal was attained. There is no doubt that there was conflict between the two sisters because of this.

When my priority is to be noticed and loved, there is naturally a conflict that flows between me and “Rachel” (every other woman who has the attention and love of a man.) But this is not what God calls me to. I believe that God has called me to have the priority of being loved by Him. When my priority is in line with God, I care not how others think and care for me but only what He thinks and says. What matters is that I can say, “Now I will praise the Lord,” even if Prince Charming isn't here.

It Doesn't Seem Possible

Six weeks in the city learning, growing, and being stretched.
And now its over.

We walked the streets to and from class multiple times a day in a small neighborhood of lots of people. This picture is of the street where the Lodge was (Mama Dee's). The classroom was a 10 or 15 minute walk. The difference in time depended on whether or not you were late, or whether you like strolling versus cantering. :)

This street photo is not a particular street, but a very typical scene.

This is our group picture on the last day with our t-shirts. These people impacted me in ways that cannot be measured and in ways that they, nor I, will ever fully understand. But thanks to them, my life is changed.






I came to New York not knowing what to expect or what I would learn. There were tears and laughter as I saw the Father in new ways each and every single day. I'm still processing things taught and caught in those six weeks. I highly recommend anyone going; it is time well spent. MTC is like a hidden, secret treasure that NYC holds.

All praise to Thee, my Father.

Cacophonous But Gentle

In the midst of all the cacophonous bustle, there's a wonderful sense of peace as the Father gently leads.

on the streets of new york

After the first four days of cold and dreary clouds, these bits of colored sunshine on my walk to and from class two times a day make my steps a little lighter, my smile a little wider, and my praise a little louder.

A Suitcase and An Airplane

A nap should be on the schedule. And if I ever followed a schedule, I'd probably be taking one right now. But, as you can see, I'm not. That's because my nerves have little idea of sleep today. They barely had any for last night either. My first thought this morning was before I even opened my eyes.
 "Tomorrow, right now, I'll be at the airport."
As soon as that thought happened, there was little chance for any more sleep.

The one suitcase is packed up, and I mean the one because that is the only one I'm taking [along with a backpack and oversized purse :)] and I'm all ready except for those bare-minimal-last-minute things.

You see, tomorrow sees me flying off to New York City; the place I'll be living for the next eight week of my life. All that lays in wait for me there will only stretch me and grow me [as intended] and I'm both nervous and excited about that very fact. But I'm also pretty enthused about living in NYC for a few weeks.

Tomorrow is full of the promise of adventure.

Even when one can't sing a bass line...

...its still fun to write one. :)
                      P.s. The alto is done now too. But I'm still working on the tenor.

a change in perspective

My life continues to be surrounded by books. Partly because these lessons are time consuming, partly because for the last week I've turned into an awful procrastinator, and partly because my brain has been thinking of other things, presenting the need to reread the paragraph three times.

Today is the day I shall finish this though. Even if coffee is needed & I must see the midnight hour.

a Little More Each Day

"Faith is the complete confidence 

in the character of God 

whose ways you may not understand at the time." 

-Oswald Chambers

During the past 6 weeks spent at EBI, there was one thing that the teacher drilled every day in class: "Faith's foundation is God Himself." And each day we would start by studying and pondering a different name and attribute of God.

God is Jehovah.
   God is infinite.
God is omnipotent.
   God is good.
God is Jehovah-jireh.
   God is immutable.
God is omniscient.
   God is omnipresent.
God is sovereign.
   God is Jehovah-nissi.
God is El-Shaddai.
   God is Father.
God is Adonai.
   God is Elohim.

       Each evening as I walked the street near the school for quiet time, I prayed about the faith tests that I was encountering. Almost every day there were questions of surrender and consecration God was asking me. When thinking about those questions and how I would answer, the doubts and fears that wished to assail me were quickly shot down by the truth of knowing Who was requiring the sacrifice. These questions that should have provoked a knock out, drug out fight with my flesh and God's desires were rather simply put and simply answered. There were no other answer to those questions that a willing, covenant "yes." The Master called, and the servant answered.

God is Jehovah-jireh and there is no need for fear because He will provide. He is omniscient and omnipresent, therefore I trust His leading because it will not take me out of His protection and care. He is El-Shaddai, all sufficient and all bountiful; my all is found in Him.

This morning I was reading Isaiah 40 and verse 26 caught my attention:

"Lift up your eyes on high,

 and see Who has created these things." 

Faith lifts the eyes off of self and circumstances and earthly things, looking beyond it all and sees Jesus. I dare not trust and rest my faith in faith alone or it will falter and prove unstable. My faith is in God, not in what He will do and what He can do, but in what He is.

"Father, forgive my little faith." 

-Ann Spangler, Women of Faith

Me Against the World

             I'm not sure where it came from or how I got to this place, but I'm seeing something in my mentality that I'm trying to figure out how to get rid of. Inside, deep in my brain, there's the thought that its me....against the world. Weaved into that is the lie that everyone is not here to help or aide me in any way. Achievement is made by me and me alone. My thoughts, my decisions, and my work must be done independent of anyone or anything. I cannot ask for help, and even if I should be tempted to, people would only help me in order to help their own selves in someway. Please understand that I love spending time with people and getting to know them and communicating with them. But they're only allowed to get so close. Why? Because I don't trust them, their motives, or their intentions. Believing that no one is for me, I believe that everyone is against me. When I was younger I would run and hide. Now that I'm older, I see the tendency to stand with my arms crossed daring them to try to hurt me. Even those who love and support me, these very dear people I keep at arms length, never sure when they will turn to hurt me when it is convenient for them.

Its me against the world.

That's the lie.

But I don't want to believe it.
From this mind set stems a host of other problems. Problems like inferiority complexes, issues with authority, and relational understanding to name the top few. In seeing these problems, I prayed for wisdom to know how to deal with them, what to do with them, or how to get rid of them. Its been a journey, but I think God finally revealed the "me against the world" mentality as the root of it all. The next step is digging that root out. But how does one do that? And what tool should be used? Where would I find such a tool? I'm still searching for the answer., but I take courage knowing that I have more understanding. That's half the work, right?
Romans 8:31 comes to mind. "If God is for us, who can be against us?" Even when people are against me (and there will be times when I need to cross my arms and face the world for Jesus' sake), I can stand assured, knowing I am not alone like I once thought. When I stand with God, I am not alone.

In the Pursuit of Health and Safe Keeping

Adventure has always been a long held dream of mine. Adrenaline mixed with fear and a thirst for something crazy. Something to look back on and be able to tell a story. Yet routine and ho hum has often been the feast rather than the famine.

Until the last 24 hours.

Yesterday, as we looked at the weather online and gazed out the window where speckles of snow were still falling on several inches of freshly fallen snow, we had to make a decision. Should we leave now and get halfway to our destination, or should we wait til the morning when the weather was to be clear. We prayed about it, ate lunch, and decided to head out.

The roads were partially clear, and as people passed us there would be mini whiteouts. We made it through okay for the first three hours. Then the roads got worse, the sun set, and the snow covered road became obscure as gusty winds whipped the fluffy stuff around. The ditches that had only seen a few cars and semis earlier became increasingly filled. Every time we passes one, my heart would sink a little as the question came whether that would be us in the next mile or two. It increasingly became wise to consider the possibility of finding a hotel. So we did. The first hotel we came to said they were full. The next said the same. Finally by the third, we booked a room and crashed there; glad to be safe and out of the cold. The storm was to blow over during the night and so we'd set out again in the morning under the warm sun.

Amidst snow drifts and snow covered ice, we set forth again. Twenty miles down the snow covered road we fish tailed, did a few slippery turns, and put our front two tires in the snow bank. Putting the jeep in four wheel drive, we pulled out and faced oncoming traffic until there was an open space to run around.

We got off on the next exit.

Consulting the map, we decided to try an alternate route. We got lost Mendota, asked for directions, still couldn't figure out where we were, and finally found the road. We poked along for ten more miles and came to the interstate. It looked clear, so we jumped back on. But when that interstate took us to 39, we discovered that 39 had not improved and we still felt unsafe to travel with people who still were trying to go 60 miles an hour on ice and snow. We got back off, got turned around, took roads not found on the map. We followed the GPS for a bit until we got our bearings again and made decisions to keep going through the middle of Illinois through town and country that rarely saw a tourist much less a New York license plate.

The roads kept getting better as kept going. We tried to keep our spirits up regardless of the seemingly endless day. The snow certainly was beautiful as it stuck to the trees and bushes. And there was humor to be found as we laughed at the memories already being made.

Three hours from our destination, we finally got back on interstate and the roads were beautiful and clear. Flying along at 70 miles an hour after putzing through the prairie at 25 to 40 miles an hour was exhilarating.

I chomped at the bit inwardly. I had been looking forward to being earlier, settling in, and enjoying seeing people arrive instead of arriving with them all. But this is just another lesson to learn about going with the flow, trusting in the sovereignty of God, and being okay with not being on schedule all the time. Its okay when plans get disrupted. Its okay when things don't go our way. We were safe, we were warm, we were together.

\ After all, life is amazing. Either way.

...today...

Justice, they say, was brought about today. The court heard the witnesses, and a man heard his sentence: five years in prison. He's been convicted; he must pay for what he's done. This, they say, is justice. The man will serve his time, and eventually will be set free. But the consequences of his crime has not been cleared away. The victims have not been given their lives back. The innocent bystanders are still dealing with the emotional scars. A world was broken down because of this man and no prison time is going to make it all right again. But the judge heard the case, swung the gavel, and declared it to be just.
Its hard not to be angry and demand, along with justice, restitution to the wrong that has been done. But full restitution is impossible. Innocence cannot be regained. Trust cannot be restored overnight to its former glory, if at all. Even though justice has been wrought, there are things that will never be recovered. Deep wounds on the heart will take years, maybe even a lifetime, to heal. And even then there will be ugly scars.

Lives were disrupted and destroyed all because of sin. Sin that didn't think of others or the consequences. It only thought of the present and itself. A moment's decision, that choice...it changed the course of many different lives. It would be easier if he was the only one who paid for this. But he's not. His family, his friends, even his church pays for it. His choice affected others. There may be repentance and forgiveness. But there is also hurt and loss. Let them grieve this loss, this death of life as they know it. For that is the price they pay regardless if they had a choice in the matter or not.

Emotions are raw and tears flow readily. Its not easy to love, to see him as God sees him. Fingers itch to hold on to anger and let bitterness grow. The heart is heavy for those who are much closer to the whole thing than I am. And words to express all of this get lodged in my throat.

Today felt like a lifetime.

A Marvelous Day

Yesterday was spent with a very good friend of mine. As in, we've been friends for years. We've been through a lot and continue to go through it all. We don't get to spend that much time together due to my very busy life, but I love getting together with her. And now she has a little guy who has won my heart. (all he did was smile!)
Last summer we promised each other that we'd go out for sushi once Linc was born. He's four and half months old now, and we finally had to set a day to do it before I leave. We also drank coffee, perused old books, prowled through a home stylin' store, and talked about how we felt like impostors acting all grown up and stuff with a baby and everything. And so we made sushi. We got all the ingredients to make sushi. After I got there, we decided to go out for it, and then make some for supper. Sushi twice in one day? Why not?
As we walked briskly (it was cold!) to the coffee shop, we paused for a picture. The first one looked like we didn't like each other so this one quickly followed. She had no idea what I was doing.

By the third one, we look a bit cheesy. But hey. This is us. And it was a fun moment to have captured. Just ignore Linc's non-enthused face. He really did like me, and enjoyed the day filled with sushi and girls.

We're already looking forward and planning the day we can do this again....two years from now.

What About the Open Door?

The other day, I came across a quotable thought in my book. (The context is about world wide evangelism.) Ever have an "aha!" moment? That was me after reading the following.

"It is true that many doors are closed at the moment, but God is able to open closed doors overnight, and God is able to work behind closed doors. My concern is not with closed doors; my concern is with the doors that are open which we do not enter. If God's people were really faithful and were doing everything possible to finish the task, God would see to it that the doors were opened. Our responsibility is the many doors standing wide open which we are not entering."
                          -G. E. Ladd (italics mine)

Our Greatest Strength

           Traffic hums and squeaks. Phones buzz and ring. Music blares, and people bustle. If one doesn't keep up, they can soon feel lost at sea not knowing where they fit in but compelled to add some of their own noise. We sit in church every Sunday a little restless and anxious at the stillness of prayer, and the speaker who pauses between thoughts. Afterward we fill the sanctuary and the foyer with our own words. The place becomes alive with the sound of stampeding children, laughing adults, and wailing infants while we breath a little easier. We leave in the same manner we came to church: the moment we get into the vehicle there's music or a talk show host jibber jabbering. When lunch is done we curl up in a blanket for a nap only to fight a battle of trying to shut down our thoughts long enough to fall asleep. This is our world. A world spun out of busyness.
       What happened to times of reflection? Since when must our lives be filled with chaos in order to have a successful life? What is that sense of awkwardness when there is a moment of quiet in the house? Why is there an urgency to fill it?
      And why am I afraid to be silent? When I wait in silence and feel the presence of the Lord close to me, why am I always tempted to say or do something in order to break that silence?

        "Religion, " says Tozer, "has accepted the monstrous heresy that noise, size, activity, and bluster make a man dear to God. But we may take heart. To a people caught in the tempest of the last great conflict God says, 'be still, and know that I am God.' (Psalm 46:10), and still He says it, as if He means to tell us that our strength and safety lie not in noise but in silence."

There's a learning going on in my life. A learning to be silent; to be okay with silence, to rejoice and be comfortable in it. But not just any silence. A silence that is the acknowledgement of God searching and knowing my heart. A silence that dwells in the thought that He is God. The beginning was uncomfortable as I became more and more aware of Him. This was accompanied with a greater sense of awareness of myself and my shortcomings. Each time it left me shaken. But it left me with a greater desire to know Him more. Truly, silence is golden.