TMI - Honesty in all its ugliness - the not-conclusion.

I’ve been pondering how to wrap up this little mini-series I started a couple of weeks ago. I’m starting to realize that “conclusion coming soon” was a lie. Because the conclusion isn’t here yet, and I’m not really sure when it’s coming. 

I’ve realized that just realizing where you’ve been doesn’t get you out of where you’ve been. I think realizing it is half the battle. But then there’s that other half….  And I’m not sure how to get out of where I’ve been. 

You know that story in John chapter 5 about the man Jesus encountered at the Pool of Bethesda? 

“Some time later, Jesus went up to Jerusalem for one of the Jewish festivals. Now there is in Jerusalem near the Sheep Gate a pool, which in Aramaic is called Bethesda, and which is surrounded by five covered colonnades. Here a great number of disabled people used to lie—the blind, the lame, the paralyzed. One who was there had been an invalid for thirty-eight years. When Jesus saw him lying there and learned that he had been in this condition for a long time, he asked him, ‘Do you want to get well?’” John 5:1-6 

Why do you think Jesus asked him if he wanted to get well? Doesn’t that seem like a silly question? We think, “Of course he wanted to get well!” But you know what? It’s not a silly question. Some people don’t want to get well. Sometimes it’s so much easier just to stay where we are – even if it’s hard and painful. Sometimes familiar pain is easier than change. 

Well, I want to get well. 

I’m not sure exactly what happened last summer. I think something in my heart just snapped from the overwhelming-ness of coming back from Africa a second time, and when I just couldn’t take it anymore, Jesus offered me a reprieve from the weight of it all. Except I took that reprieve as being enough and decided I could just live there. Except I don’t want to anymore. 

So now here I am. Not sure where I’m going, but knowing where I’ve been living the past year, and knowing I don’t want to stay there. I want to be well. Does anyone remember those old cassette tape players – the kind that when you pressed the “pause” button, it would stay down? And then when you pressed the button again, it would pop back up and the tape would continue playing. It’s kind of like I pushed the pause button on my life, and it’s been stuck in the “down” position for a year, and now I’m ready to press the button again for it to pop back up and life to continue. I know I won’t be picking up right where I left off like a cassette tape would, but I’m ready to pick up and move on, nonetheless. I’ll let you know how it goes. 

Yes, Jesus, I want to get well.

TMI: Honesty in all its ugliness - part 2.

Once I was finally able to come up for air, I think my thoughts were something along the lines of, "Whew! Man, that was a rough season! Thank You, Jesus, for rescuing me out of that. Glad that’s over." But my eyes were still full of sand, and my clothes were still wet and ragged, and I was so relieved at not drowning, that I didn't even realize I was still a mess. I just continued stumbling around in the dark for....oh, I don't know....the last year.

Because you say, “I am rich, and have become wealthy, and have need of nothing,” and you do not know that you are wretched, miserable, poor, blind, and naked. Rev. 3:17

Added on top of all the emotional mess I was in, watching so many of my friends and former teammates move on into lives of service and purpose and passion – adopting, raising money to support ministries, traveling on and leading mission trips – while I was still struggling to catch my breath, well, it left me a little….ok, jealous.

And jealousy is an enemy to your soul. It hold its hands over the eyes of your heart and leaves you walking along in darkness when you don't even know it.  It was blindness on top of blindness.

Then sometime this past spring, I began to notice a few things. Things like....we hadn't taken the kids on kid dates in forever and I hadn't even realized it. Like, we hadn't done family nights in months and I didn't even have the energy to care. Like, I had lost contact with many of my friends except for an occasional text every couple of months or so.

Slowly, slowly I began to realize I’d been living life in a daze.  At first I wasn’t sure what had happened or why.  What was it that had caused me to be sleepwalking through my life?  I actually don't think it was until I started working on this post that I finally started to see what had happened.  

The nearest I can figure is that I never let Jesus completely heal my heart from the wreckage that happened last summer when I left Uganda.

A couple of weeks ago, I read this on Shaun Groves’ blog.  Shaun is the leader – director? developer? – of Compassion Bloggers. Two to three times a year, he leads a group of bloggers on trips with Compassion International to raise awareness about what Compassion does.

"On the last night of every Compassion Bloggers trip we sit around a table together and talk about how to go back home. Because re-entry is a peculiar and scary thing. We talk about the myriad responses we may have when we get there. There’s no telling what’s going to happen when a person goes from slum to Super Target.

Some people are numb, unable to feel anything.
Some are battered by guilt and embarrassment over how easy their life is.
Some feel inexplicably sad, over nothing…or everything.
Some lose their drive and ambition entirely and quit blogging.
Some get angry.

And, I tell the bloggers, some people experience all of this in one afternoon!
No matter what you feel, I tell them, it’s normal. You’re not the only one."

Ahh….finally, there it was! THIS is what had been wrong with me!  Not only had I experienced pretty much "all of this in one afternoon", I had continued to experience all of it for an ENTIRE YEAR.  And I didn't know what to do with all of it.  I didn't know how to process it.  So instead of working through it with Jesus the way I should have, sub-consciously I just pulled myself into a cocoon, and I hid as best I could.

I distinctly remember, when the waves of sadness would start to engulf me, I would say to myself, "It's ok.  It's ok.  I can do this." - meaning "It's ok that I feel this way.  It's normal, and I'll be fine."  Umm, yes, it's ok to feel that way.  It's not ok to stay that way.  And the only way I could be fine was to let Jesus heal me.

“It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not LET yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery.” Gal. 5:1

When Jesus reached down and rescued me from that oppressive weight that I thought was going to suffocate me, I didn’t realize that I needed to continue pressing hard into Him in order to not LET myself continue to be burdened by the YOKE OF SLAVERY that still had its clutches around me.

Did you know you can LET yourself be burdened by a yoke of slavery?  Caught in a stronghold?  Even after Jesus died to set you free?  Yep.  Jesus has provided us the victory, but just like salvation, it's up to us to choose it.

"Finally, be strong in the Lord and in the power of His might.  {YOU} Put on the full armor of God, so that you will be able to stand firm against the schemes of the devil." Eph. 6:10-11

Sheesh, y'all.  I know this stuff.  I've done Beth's Moore's Breaking Free.  I've done Believing God.  Twice.  I've filled one index card spiral after another after another with scripture.  I've quoted it and prayed it and memorized it.  I KNOW how to stand firm against the yoke of slavery, against strongholds, against the schemes of the devil.  I KNOW how to put on the full armor of God....His truth, His righteousness, the shield of faith, and the sword of the Spirit (His WORD).  

But man, Satan is so devious.  I totally expected the struggle of coming back from Africa.  I expected the sadness, the guilt, the anger and frustration.  And because I expected it, I accepted it.  I just laid right down and LET that yoke wrap itself right around my heart and mind.

*sigh*

....conclusion coming soon

TMI: Honesty in all its ugliness - part 1.

I didn't actually mean to stop blogging. Not really.

I kept meaning to get back to it, and every couple of weeks or so I'd think, "Man, I really need to catch up on my blog." But then somehow I just never did.

So much life has happened during the past year that I never got around to documenting (or only did so minimally). Our sweet Kloe turned 12. Her last year as a pre-teen. And I was mentally absent for much of it (more about that later).

I resigned from PTA – a big change for me after 5½ years (I’ve actually accepted a new position for this coming school year, though). We got a new (used) minivan. I miss the Expedition terribly, but you know, we have to eat. :)

Our sweet Annie died last August, and we brought home a new puppy in January. Also in January, I was asked to speak during a local Christian schools’ chapel time about my mission trips. Wow, that was an amazing experience!

February was a big month. Jacob turned 10. Double digits. Did I even post a blog about that? I don’t think so. I started having some issues with my hip that still aren’t resolved. I got my braces off (yay!), had a minor procedure done on my foot that left me hobbling around in a “shoe” (you know the kind) for two weeks, and we had TWO school snow days in a row! I also went to Nashville for leadership training with Visiting Orphans, the organization I have traveled to Africa with the past two summers.

Other things I missed? Kloe’s first overnight band trip (I actually went on the trip as a chaperone, but you know….mentally absent), her first band UIL contest, her first major ballet production, Passover, my mom’s birthday, Jacob’s school field trip….and the list goes on.

It's been such a strange season for me this past year. If anybody's still hanging around here who was with me back when I came home from Uganda last summer, you may remember what a hard time I had transitioning back into "normal" life. I really thought I was gonna go under there for a while. And then one day, through God's abundant mercy and kindness, He pulled me up out of the pit and set my feet back on some semi-solid ground. After weeks of feeling like I was suffocating to death, at last I could finally breathe again.

The Nile River

Funny thing, though. I came up out of the pit....but I never really came out of the fog. I felt such relief at finally being able to just get through my day without breaking down in tears....at being able to take a breath without feeling like there was an elephant sitting on my chest - on my heart - that I didn't realize I was still wandering around in the dark.

It was kind of like Jesus, in all of His great mercy, reached down into the raging waters that were threatening to drown me, grabbed my hand, and pulled me up onto a sand bar. As I lay there gasping for air, so grateful that I wasn't having to struggle for every breath, so thankful for some solid ground under my hands and knees, I never bothered to look around me and realize that I was still standing in the middle of the ocean, surrounded on every side by waves and emptiness.

I was still LOST, but I didn't know it. So I didn't bother trying to get found.

...to be continued

Hello? Is this thing on? (the story of me and where I'm at)

So, it's been pretty quiet here around the ol' blog lately. For quite a while actually. Not much going on. Not much to say about what's going on. Kinda been in my own little world for these past few months. Ruminating. Pondering. Waiting....

and waiting....


and waiting....


I've spent a lot of time in prayer. Not nearly as much as I should have probably, but a lot.

Lots of time reading. Getting the message loud and clear -- Wait.

And pray.

And then....keep waiting.

In case you're wondering exactly what it is I've been waiting ON, well, I'm kind of wondering that myself.

You see, a few years ago God began telling me to DO SOMETHING, do something, do something - and it took me the longest time to figure out what it was I was supposed to be DOING. And finally, after much wailing and gnashing of teeth, I went on a mission trip to Uganda. Two trips, actually.

When I came home from my first trip two summers ago, I immediately turned right around and signed up to go back again the next summer (which is now last summer). But when I got home from that second trip, I wasn't sure what I was supposed to DO next. My heart was both broken for and in love with the country of Uganda and its people, and I fully expected to come home to some huge revelation from God about what was next on the agenda for me and Uganda.

And there was nothing. Crickets.

I was more burdened and confused than I think I may ever have been before in my life, and I didn't know what to do about it.

And when I asked God what to DO, He said, "Wait."

And I said, "Ok, what do I DO while I'm waiting?"

And He said, "Pray."

Um. Ok. What exactly am I waiting and praying FOR?

And so while I waited to hear what God wanted me to DO, I prayed. I prayed that I would be willing to WAIT (are you seeing the vicious circle here?) I prayed that my heart would be changed. I prayed that I would learn to totally and completely surrender to God's plan. I prayed for the nation of Uganda, and for Christopher, and for George, and for all the friends I had made while I was there. I prayed for their ministries, and I prayed that God would let me go back there again someday. And then I prayed some more that I would be willing to surrender to God's plan. :) I prayed for my heart and my husband's heart and my children's hearts. I prayed. And I waited.  And I prayed some more.

While I waited I made some wooden letters, and I sold some jewelry, and I had an auction, all to raise money for one of the ministries I love in Uganda. Just to have something to DO. I wrote letters pouring out my love to my sweet Christopher. I kept up with Ugandan friends on Facebook and tried oh so hard not to be envious of former teammates who were already back there or planning their returns.....while I waited.

And then at last, in February - something to DO!

After much PRAYER, I felt like God was giving me the go-ahead to go to Team Leader Training with Visiting Orphans - the organization I've been to Uganda with both times. And so I spent a weekend in Nashville learning how to lead a mission team! I was SO, SO excited about the training, and I told the Mister before I left, "You know I'm coming home with a trip on the calendar, right?"

V.O. staff and brand new leaders

The weekend was fabulous and amazing and exciting and fun and.....and.....and I came home with no trip scheduled. You see, all the 2013 trips already have leaders, and they aren't scheduling trips for 2014 yet. And so, I got to come back home and.....wait.

And finally - finally - I gave up. That was it. That was the straw that broke....well....me. I gave in. And through tears, I surrendered my heart to God's plan. Through tears, I told Him, "I lay it all down. Whatever You want, I choose You. Fill my heart with a desire for nothing else other than to follow You and obey You."

I made a list. "God, I am laying down:
-Uganda
-going there with my family
-Canaan's
-leading a trip
-seeing Christopher again
-Ebenezer
-Sixty Feet
....and even if I never get to go back to Uganda again, I choose You."

To be continued....

A new season.

This is not at all the blog post I sat down to write today. I fully intended to just pop in, say hi, give a little update about what's been going on around here lately, tell you how I almost killed Jacob's fish today when I DROPPED IT DOWN THE GARBAGE DISPOSAL, and maybe post a picture or two (not of the fish). But, well, this is what came flowing out of my fingertips....

It's been quiet here around the ol' blog lately. Not a lot going on. I've been laying low, taking some time off to think, reflect, contemplate, pray.

Coming home from Africa nearly did me in this year. Last year was hard. But this year? Just about ate my lunch. And dinner. I was overwhelmed in a way I’ve never experienced before and didn't know how to process.... wanting to be back there, missing Christopher until my heart ached, insanely homesick for a place that is not my home. I was going through the motions of everyday life, but my heart was not functioning. I felt horribly, horribly sad every waking moment of the day. And I didn't know what to do about it.

Uganda was the first thought on my mind every morning and the last thought on my mind every night. I was obsessed, I tell you. I prayed constantly, feverishly - for George, for Christopher, for Pastor Samuel. I cried and pleaded with the Lord over and over, "What am I supposed to do now? Show me what to DO. I don't know what to DO." After more than two years of hearing God say to me, "Do Something," the sheer panic of not knowing what to DO with all those emotions was really about to make me crazy.

What do I DO?

And then one day we all decided to go get ice cream. (Nice segue, huh? The next sentence should be “The End”.)

I was standing at the counter waiting for the lady to process my debit card, and I looked over to my left, and there taped to the ice cream case was a post card. On the post card was this verse:

Seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you...

and pray to the Lord on its behalf,

for in its welfare you will have welfare. Jer. 29:7

Um.  Wow.

That was it. I heard God saying, “This is your something to do. Pray.” Do you know how hard it is to pray when you want to DO? I’m not very good at it.

And because I’m not very good at it, although I kept on praying, I also kept on asking, “But what am I supposed to DO?” Sheesh, I’m slow.

I was so desperate to hear something from God that I started asking Him to please speak to me through someone else. I said, “I know You speak through Your word, and I know You whisper in my heart, but I could totally make up either one of those things. Would You please speak to me through someone else?”

Truth be told, I only 1/2 expected Him to answer. Maybe 1/3.

Fast forward to church this past Sunday. In our Sunday School class we’re doing a video series right now, and after the video we always break up into groups of 2 or 3 to pray. I got paired up with an amazing woman named Moray. (I don’t know how to spell her name, but when she introduced herself she said, “I’m Moray – like the eel.” :) )

I was wearing this beauty, which I wear almost every day:

…and Moray said, “Tell me about Africa.” Ha! She didn’t know what she was getting herself into! ;)

As I began to share my (condensed) story, she seemed enraptured and kept saying things like, “Oh, Valerie! That’s amazing! Wow!” All the things a story-teller wants to hear. :)

When I finished my story, I said, “And so….I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do now!”

And she said (dramatic pause for effect).....

“Well. That’s all the more reason to be in the Word. This is a time of learning, a time of studying and growing, a time of stretching so that you will be ready when God reveals His plan to you.”

Now, I know to you those just seem like sound words of wisdom. But to me, they sounded like the voice of God granting my request for Him to speak to me through someone else. A reconfirming that what I'm supposed to be DOing right now is waiting....and praying.  Being still and knowing that He is God.  I’ve felt so much more at peace since then. Not completely – but much more than before.

This is uncharted territory for me. A new season. Never before can I remember ever being in a time of purposeful, intentional waiting before the Lord. Before now, “waiting” has always consisted of me impatiently standing around, tapping my foot, waiting for God to “do His thang.” Like a kid waiting for you to finish doing the dishes so you can take him to the park. “Is it time yet? Now? Now is it time? Are you done yet? Can we go now?”

For the first time (ever?), I’m choosing to sit, and be quiet, and be still, and listen, and learn…..and wait.

And it’s hard.

Because instead of, “I’m listening, Lord,” what I really want to say is, “Can we go now?”

Christopher

I've fallen in love.

My husband knows all about it.  And what's more, he's fine with it.

So I thought it was time I get it out in the open.

He's an amazing, handsome, younger man with a beautiful smile and beautiful brown eyes.  And he's stolen my heart.

Meet Christopher.

I met Christopher last year on my first trip to Uganda.  He lives at one of the orphanges we visited - in fact, the one we lived at for four days - Canaan Children's Home.

At Canaan, when a mission team drives through the gate, the children SWARM the bus, screaming and jumping up and down - it totally makes you feel like a rock star!  :)  And all the while as the bus is creeping along, trying to avoid running over any small bodies, the kids are scanning the windows, staking out who will be "their" friend from this team.  Before you even make it off the bus, they're grabbing your hand, pulling you away from the other kids.  And let me tell you - no other kid better make a move on you, lest they face the wrath of the first one who picked you!

Well, last year Christopher picked me. :)

[See the pic below on the left?  Look at the girl who's just stepping off the bus, then look just above her left forearm - that's Christopher looking for me!]

Every time I would come out of our dorm, Christopher would be there waiting for me.  When we came back from working at other ministries every afternoon, it wouldn't take him long to find me.  When we came out of the dining hall after dinner - there he would be.  Somehow he could always find me in the dark, unlit courtyard.  He held my hand and played with my camera and went with me everywhere.  We talked and talked and talked.

And on our second day there he gave me a letter he had written to me - addressed "Dear Mama" and signed "From Your Son."

And my heart was gone.

It is an amazing thing how God almost instantaneously melds your heart together with this little person that you just met - who "randomly" picked you out of a lineup through a bus window.  It happened almost without fail to nearly every person on my team - both last year and this year.

Throughout the year my family and I wrote letters to Christopher and sent him pictures (gifts aren't allowed).  He wrote to me only once, and oh how I cherished that letter!  I thought of him so, so often - wondering how he was, how school was going, if he was lonely or hungry or sick. 

One day a couple of months after I came home last year I got a TEXT from him!!  He had asked me for my phone number, and I thought, "What harm can it do?  He doesn't have any way to call me."  But a boy at school had a phone, and he let Chris use it to text me!  I was in shock!  In the text Christopher said that he was very sick, but he didn't want me to tell anyone because he was afraid if they found out they would keep him out of school.  Wow, how unlike kids in America.  It's very likely he had malaria.  I can't imagine how he managed to go to school every day and keep up appearances enough so that no one would know.  :(

I never told Chris I was coming back to Canaan.  I refused to be another source of disappointment to him if something were to happen and I wasn't able to go.  And so he didn't know I was coming.  This time as the bus pulled through the gates, I was the one scanning the crowd of kids looking for Chris.  And I saw him through the window.  I was about half-way back on the bus, and Chris was near the door, scanning the faces of those getting off the bus.  I wonder now if he had already picked out someone else on the team to be "his". :)

When I called to him through the window, he turned and started looking around to see who had called his name.  I called him again, and this time he saw me.

I have never. ever. in my life. ever before received a greeting like the one I got from Christopher that day.  Imagine an athlete who has just won the national championship.  He started JUMPING and SCREAMING and FIST PUMPING and climbing over the throng of kids to get to me!  Oh my gosh, it was the most wonderful thing EVER!  I have no pictures, because I was just trying to get off the bus and get to him! :)

Christopher hugged me and hugged me and smiled from ear to ear.  He kept saying, "I didn't think you were coming back!"  Oh, what a happy, happy day. 

He has grown so much over the past year!  Here's a picture of us together last year:

And here we are this year:

This is a ridiculously horrid picture of me, but I'm willing to brave putting it on my blog so you all can see what a handsome young man Christopher is becoming.  This is my absolute favorite of him!

Chris is an amazing young man.  His just turned 15 this past Monday (July 16th).  He is SO smart, polite, kind, and articulate.  He is a role model and big brother to the younger kids at Canaan, and is so patient and helpful with them.  Not all of the older kids are like that - a lot of them see the younger kids as a nuisance.  The first year I was there, Chris acted as the interpreteer for us during Sunday School.  God has clearly gifted him as a leader, and he is well-liked and respected by his peers as well as the adults.  He also sings in the church choir!

Last year I was too scared to ask Chris anything about his past - or even his plans for the future - not knowing how sensitive that subject might be.  This year I found out from the director of Canaan, an incredible man named George (who I hope to blog more about soon), that Christopher's father died when Chris was very young. His mom is alive, but she was very young herself when her husband died, and she had no way to provide for her two - TWO - young children.  Christopher went to live at Canaan when he was only five years old. Oh my heart.

One night Chris and I were talking about my family, and I told him that my daughter will be turning twelve (!) in August.  He said, "She's the same age as my sister."

WHAT?

I never knew he had a sister!  And guess what her name is?  Not Valerie. :)  It's Christine - which is my middle name.  Such a sweet surprise.  Christine still lives with Christopher's mom and his grandmother.  I'm not sure why it was that she got to stay while Chris had to leave.  It breaks my heart and makes me so sad.  But our God causes all things to work together for our good, and who knows what Chris's life would've been like if he had stayed with his mom.  As it is, he is well cared for, loved, provided meals and medical care (even though both are pretty limited), and gets to go to school.  And he still gets to see his mom, grandmother, and sister on a pretty regular basis.

When I asked Chris about his plans for the future, he told me he wants to go to "university" in America!  He wants to become a pastor and return to Uganda to start his own church.  What amazing dreams God has planted in this young man's heart!  I pray with all my heart that God will bring them to pass.

Our time at Canaan was way too short this year.  We got there pretty late on a Saturday afternoon, then on Sunday we had church - which in Uganda is reeeeeeally long. :)  That afternoon all of the children performed songs and dances for us, and then it was time to leave for our boat tour of the Nile River.  Honestly, I would have rather just stayed with Chris, but I didn't think it would've been appropriate for me to ask. :)

On Monday, of course, the kids had school, and the older kids like Chris don't get home until about 6:00 so we just had a few hours to spend with them....and then on Tuesday morning we left. :(  We stopped by the school before we left town, and I got to hug Christopher one (or ten) more time(s) and remind him how much I love him.  As I left his classroom I broke down in uncontrollable tears.  My heart was broken as I truly felt like I was leaving one of my own children behind, not knowing when I will see him again.

I've been home a month today.  And every day since I've been back, my thoughts have never been far from Uganda, and especially from Christopher.  For the first couple of weeks, he was the first thought on my mind every morning, and the last thought at night.  I would look at the clock a dozen times during the day, mentally calculating what time it was in Uganda and what Chris would be doing right about then. 

Thoughts of him don't consume my every waking moment anymore, but almost. :)  My heart still feels like I left my son on the other side of the world, and I can't see him, talk to him, email him - or even text him! ;)  My only means of communicating with him is through the very slow mail system.  I am constantly praying for him, asking God to protect him, keep him in good health, and grow him into a wise, godly man of faith and integrity.

I'm asking God to fulfill the dreams he's planted in Christopher's heart.  And to allow my family to be a part of that, if He's willing.

And I'm asking Him to please let me go back to see Chris again.  Very soon.

I just know there's more.

I'm sitting here staring at the blinking curser on my screen, knowing that there is so much more to write about my time in Africa, and not even knowing where to begin.  I went back and read my posts from last year, and now I know why I never finished writing about that trip.  I just. don't. know. what to say.

It's next to impossible (for a non-writer like me) to put into words the things you do and see and experience and feel when you visit a third-world country like Ethiopia or Uganda (or any other).  I sit and I ponder, and I pray, and I wonder what in the world I'm supposed to do now.  And putting it all into words?  I just don't know how.


Chuko Weyama, Ethiopia



(through the bus window :))

I've read several blog posts over the past few days, written by my fellow teammates about their experiences during our trip, and they are all so eloquent!  Perfectly describing not just the facts, but their thoughts, feelings, and impressions about all that we saw.  Me?  Eloquent isn't on my resume.

This beautiful little girl was asking for money as we were loading the bus. :(

And this precious little boy's grandmother asked me
to take him back to America with me. :(

I can do the facts pretty well - after all, I'm a detail girl - but I think last year I over-explained every little FACT because I just couldn't express the emotions that went along with them.  I can't even explain what I'm feeling to my own self.  How can I possibly write it out here?

But here's the thing I do know.  Uganda is huge....HUGE....gigantic....in my heart.  I've known that for a year now, but it kinda tends to fade with the passing of time, you know?  You get busy with life - work, school, PTA, soccer, ballet, church, boy scouts, bills, laundry, grocery shopping, blah blah blah - and somehow the passions of your heart, when you're distracted with the cares of day-to-day life, get pushed to the back burner and start to fade a little.

We were so honored to get to help serve lunch to the beautiful children at Return Ministries!

So after spending the first week of our trip in Ethiopia, I was not in ANY way expecting the tidal wave of emotion that swept over me when our plane landed in Uganda.  Before we even touched down the tears started flowing, and I cried until I had to pull myself together to get off the plane.  What in the world?  What was that all about? 

It was overwhelming, unexpected love.  A love that could only come straight from the heart and plan of God.  A love for this amazing country and its beautiful people.  A love I can't begin to explain, didn't expect or seek out, and don't know what to do with now that I'm home.

Children living near Kampala, Uganda.

Actually, my heart is swimming in a battery of different emotions, and really, I don't know what to do with ANY of them.  I'm....
sad - because I'm not there and I don't know when I'll get to go back. 
homesick - for a place that's not my home. 
longing - to know what's going on in the lives of the people I came to love there. 
confused - about where I go from here and what I'm supposed to do now. 
anxious - for my family to share this love and passion.
frustrated - over all of the above.

My sweet friend Ashley (thank you, friend) told me, "As hard as it is, I know Jesus is speaking to you through your passion, pain and ache for Uganda.  Listen to the ache and you will hear Him."  Oh, how I love that!  It's so hard - and so counterintuitive - and so RIGHT.  Because to "listen to the ache" you have to sit in it for a while.  And be still.  And wait.  And listen.  And who wants to do that?  Not this girl!

I want ANSWERS!

I want DIRECTION!

I want a PURPOSE!

But....listening to the ache?  On one hand, it sounds so depressing.  But on this other hand over here, I just know that it's right. 

"Be still and know that I am God."  Ps. 46:10

"The Lord said, “Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by."  Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire came a still small voice." 1 Kings 19:11-12

And oddly enough, it feels right, too.  Because what else am I gonna do with this ache in my heart?  Wallow in it?  Pretend it's not there?  Ignore it until it fades away like last year's passion?  No.  I want to be still, and wait, and listen to the ache until I hear Him tell me what it means.
 
Because I just know there's more.
 

SixtyFeet came. And then they left.

Oh, what an amazing....and at the same time un-amazing....time it was!  I was giddy all week getting ready for the guys from SixtyFeet to come.  I wore my SixtyFeet t-shirt so they could recognize me at the airport, and when I walked by Judd, he was talking on the phone and motioned to me like "You're here for me."  I was GIDDY I tell you!  I felt like my junior high celebrity crush had just given me the finger-gun-wink. ;)  I could hardly concentrate on the road as I chauffeured them around all day.  Not because of them - I barely knew who Judd and Jonathan were before that day - but because of ALL of them - everyone involved with SixtyFeet and what they do.  I.  Love.  Them.  And I had worked SO long and SO hard and had SO much frustration trying to get them here.  And now here they were!  It was fantastic!

I asked the guys if they wanted to go set up the film before or after dinner, and they emphatically, eagerly agreed that we needed to go immediately after I picked them up from the airport at 2:00.  And ohhhh, how right they were.  We got to the church about 3:00, and at 4:30 we left the pastor there by himself STILL trying to get the video to work.  We went to eat dinner, and when we got back at 6:30 he was still working on it. 

The event was supposed to start at 7:00. 

At 7:15, they finally got the video working. 

Phew!  Thank You, Jesus!

The video and the presentation were awesome.  I hadn't seen the video before, and it was so incredible to see "first hand" the huge difference SixtyFeet is making in the lives of the children in Ugandan prisons.  And Judd and Jonathan were awesome.  Truly, truly, it felt like we had known them forever, and that they were close friends we were being reunited with after not seeing each other for years.  It was amazing.  We had so much fun!  And finally being able to have them here in person and see the fruit of all my efforts was just awesome. [yes, I did use all those "awesomes" on purpose ;)]


SixtyFeet board member extraordinaire, Judd Harper. :)

Not so awesome?  Hardly anybody was there!  Y'all.  I was so. sad.  As far as I know, only one donation was made, and that was from one of my sweet friends.  And as far as I know, only two purchases of their merchandise were made - one by another of my sweet friends, and one by us.

My beautiful friends Bethany and Michelle who came to share my love. :)

And that was it.

No one asked them questions.  No one engaged them in conversation.  The audience seemed completely uninvolved and unmoved and interested only in the cupcakes at the end. :(



Because of the Cupcake Kids.



Sweet Kloe served lemonade.

And now.....well, now what?

Um, I totally don't get it.  Nine months of planning and scheduling and emailing and rescheduling and looking for a place and trying, trying, trying to give up and feeling like I really just wasn't supposed to....and why?  I told God that even if this one thing was all He had for me to do with SixtyFeet, I was so thankful.  And really, I am.  But I kind of thought there would be more.  Even if not more for me, I was so sure there would be more of a response.  More people wanting to get involved.  More...I don't know...just more that would come from it.

And maybe there has been and I just don't know it.  Maybe people went to the website and decided to get involved.  Maybe people made donations or bought merchandise online.  Maybe God planted seeds in people's hearts that will sprout sometime in the future.  I don't know.

I told one of my friends it was like having a wedding without a marriage. :)  You plan and plan and plan, and then the big day comes, and then it's over and you just go on with life.

So there you have it.  My SixtyFeet adventure in a nutshell.  I don't know if anything more will ever come of it.  I don't know what the purpose was for all of it.  I don't know if God has anything else for me to do with SixtyFeet.  I don't know if we'll ever see our long-lost friends Judd and Jonathan again. 

But I know SixtyFeet and the imprisoned children of Uganda are still in my heart.  And at this point, that's about all I know. 

The end.

Jonathan, Jacob, me, Kloe, The Mister, and Judd.

On Friday.

I had planned to write a light-hearted Five for Friday post today.  I was going about my morning, emptying the dishwasher, watering the tulips, planning the five things for my post (because I'm actually off work today, gloria and hallelujah!), and then I sat down at my computer with my cup of coffee, opened my email, and read this post from Lara at To Overflowing.  And there went Five for Friday.

By God's divine non-coincidence, the kids and I have been reading Exodus chapters 11-13 this week in our morning devotions.  We started at Genesis 1:1 way back when and have been reading straight through, and this is where we are this week. :)

You friends who hang out around here know I'm not a great deep thinker.  I wish I were.  I pretend to be - ha!  But in fact, I'm not.  Not a deep thinker, not a deep, spiritual teacher, grasping or creating profound teaching moments for my kids.  And so I have to work with what I've got.  And one thing I've got is a great love for ceremony and ritual and tradition.  It sounds grand doesn't it? :)  Like I orchestrate great, moving traditions for our family.  Ha - not hardly!  But small, familiar traditions, yes.

So...Lara's post....Exodus chapters 11-13....and tradition.  Hmm.  Do those 3 things have anything in common at all?  Well, a little.  If you think creatively. :)

Because I love tradition, and because I tend to rely on rituals and ceremony to create those teachable  moments for my kids, we've been trying in our own little way to get ready for this Resurrection weekend by preparing our hearts and focusing on what it's all really about.  Not bunnies (though cute), not eggs (though so much fun - and YES, we will be coloring some tomorrow!), but Jesus.  Jesus who died.....died.....DIED so we - so I - wouldn't have to.  Because He loves me.  Because He longed for His creation to be redeemed. 

And so to try to remember that, we've been reading this week from Max Lucado's book, This is Love, and we've been reading the scripture passages that tell about what happened in Jesus' life between Palm Sunday and Good Friday (I've always thought it was so weird that that whole week usually gets left out of the story).

And tonight we will celebrate Passover.  Oh, how I love this tradition!  I love the symbolism and the reading of the scriptures, and knowing that for thousands of years, God's people have celebrated this same festival in exactly the same a similar way.  And I love beyond words how every. single. part. of the Passover seder points to JESUS!!  It is absolutely amazing how all those thousands of years before Jesus was even born, God was writing His story into the celebration of Passover.

I love how the matzah (the bread - Jesus is our bread of life) is striped and pierced like Jesus was.  I love how there are 3 pieces of bread (representing the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit), how the second piece of matzah is broken (as Jesus' body was broken) and hidden (as Jesus was laid in the tomb).  I LOVE that Jesus was celebrating the Passover meal with His disciples when He broke the bread (did you ever wonder why He broke it?  It's part of the Passover seder ceremony) and said, "This bread is my body, which is broken for you." 

I love that the Israelites sacrificed a lamb (ok, I don't love it for the lamb, but you know....), and that as they placed the blood of the lamb over their doorposts, they were saved.  And it's the blood Jesus, our sacrificial Lamb, that now saves us.  I love that the 4 cups of wine at Passover all represent Jesus - the cup of sanctification, the cup of deliverance, the cup of redemption (this 3rd cup  - the cup of redemption - is the cup of which Jesus said, "This cup is the new covenant in My blood - ooooooh, I love this!!) , and the cup of hope, which isn't drunk at the meal - it's the cup we will partake of in heaven!

This is what Beth Moore wrote about the cup of redemption in her study Jesus the One and Only:

I am convinced this cup (the 3rd cup of Passover) is also the symbolic cup to which Christ referred only an hour or so later in the garden of Gethsemane when He asked God to "take this cup from me" (Luke 22:42).  This was a cup He could partake only with outstretched arms upon the cross.
The imminent fulfillment of the cup of redemption signaled the release of the new covenant that would be written in blood.  We know Christ did not literally drink this third cup because He stated in Luke 22:18 that He would not drink of another cup until the coming of the kingdom of God.  Instead of drinking the cup, He would do something of sin-shattering significance.  He would, in essence, become the cup and pour out His life the the redemption of man.

Love.

And that's why my family celebrates Passover.

Not because we're Jewish (we're obviously not).  Not because we're under the Law (we're obviously not).  But because the Passover screams of Jesus and what He did for us on this most holy of weekends.

My kids often ask me why we call it "good" Friday if it's the day Jesus died.  It is good because Jesus is the Lamb who was slain for our sins before the foundation of the world.

How does your family celebrate Good Friday?

Katie

Last summer when I was in Uganda, one of the ministries we had the privilege of working with was Amazima, a ministry started in 2008 by Katie Davis, who was 19 years old at the time. I had been introduced to Katie's blog a number of years ago and was so excited that we would have a chance to work with her ministry and possibly even meet her!

Our day at Amazima was "the day" for me.

Let me back up. A few days before - in fact, I think it was the day before - several of my teammates suddenly started to seem tired, overwhelmed...."done". I remember Mike, one of our team leaders, saying that the time would come for each of us. The time when everything we were seeing and experiencing would start to overwhelm us and we would have to pull back a bit, spend some time alone in prayer and introspection, and sort-of regroup before we could move on.

The day we spent at Amazima Ministries was that day for me. I remember sitting on the playground, holding a little boy who was probably about 2 years old. He had been standing in the middle of the playground crying….just standing there….occasionally fighting off older kids as they tried to steal an unripened mango out of his hand....and I felt so helpless because I didn't know why he was crying or how to help him. He didn't understand English and was skeptical of this strange white person speaking strange words to him. Finally I just picked him up and he laid his little head on my shoulder and fell asleep. Poor sweet baby. I think he just wanted someone to hold him. He was LITTLE, and he was tired and hungry, and just wanted to be held, like any baby wants his mama when he's tired and hungry.

And so I picked him up and held him while he slept.......while HUNDREDS of children swarmed around us, playing on the playground, gnawing on green, unripe mangos that they knocked out of the trees with giant, long sticks.

I sat rocking that sweet baby, and when he stopped crying, that's when I started.

The enormity of the need in that place - the hundreds and hundreds of children, many without families, or some who had families that lived in poverty more unimaginable than anything you've ever seen - suddenly it became more than I could handle. The apparent hopelessness of their situation overcame me, and I couldn't stop crying. I sat on that playground thinking, "Why are we here, God? What's the point? We can't help these children - we can't help ANY of them! There's no point in us being here. Their lives will be exactly the same when we leave here as they were before we came. We’re not making any difference. Why are we even here? What are we doing?"

And I'm not sure that I was completely wrong. I'm not sure that their lives WERE any different because of our being there. But I do know that one little boy (actually, many little boys and girls) had someone to hold him that day. He had a soft, warm, safe place to close his exhausted little eyes and sleep for just a few minutes, without having to worry that his beautiful, prized, life-giving mango would be stolen if he closed his eyes for a minute.

And here's what else I know. Katie Davis is that soft, warm, safe place for these kids (and many of their families) every single day. She didn't quit when the enormity of it all overwhelmed her. She didn't give up and turn back. She's there, serving these precious people every single day, being the hands and feet of Jesus to them, doing all that she can and more to make their lives a little less hopeless.

I did get to meet Katie that day. Just briefly. Just long enough to say "thank you for letting us come" and "I'm so inspired by you" (which she would hate :) ) and have my picture taken with her. It was sort of surreal to meet someone on the other side of the world who you've been reading about for so many years.

And then not long after I came home I heard that Katie was about to publish a book. And something weird happened. I didn't want to read it. I don't know why, I just didn't.

And so I sort of avoided it. For months. I clicked away from blogs that raved about it. I think maybe I looked it up on Amazon and read the blurb about it, but then I clicked away from that too. I didn’t chime in on Facebook when all my teammates were excitedly discussing it, saying “I met Katie and she’s awesome!”

But then one Wednesday night I dropped my kids off at church, planning to go to Barnes and Noble, find a quiet table in a corner, and work on my Bible study homework. Well, it turned out all the tables were full, and so what else is a girl to do with an hour to kill in Barnes and Noble and nowhere to sit? I started browsing. And don’t you know, there was Katie’s book. Hmm.

I picked it up, read the first page or two, and put it back. I browsed around for a while, looking at other books that caught my attention, but it was like Katie’s book was calling to me the whole time. I wasn’t even really paying attention to the other books I looked at. My mind was really on her book. So finally I went back and picked it up, found a place to sit down (at the table in the kids’ section because everything else was taken), and started reading. Half way through the first chapter I was crying. Because Katie loves Uganda. And now I love Uganda too.

Well, all the sudden it was time to go pick up the kids, and of course I HAD to have her book now (wishy-washy is what I am), so I quickly paid, zoomed off to pick up the kids, and couldn’t wait to get home to pick up where I’d left off.

*
*
*

No, I didn’t.

Even though I couldn’t WAIT to read more, I also couldn’t bear to pay $25 for that book at Barnes & Noble. I’m cheap like that. Actually, I would have waited for the paperback that’s coming out in a couple of months, but after crying my way through the first chapter, I didn’t think I could wait that long.

But I did wait until the next week when my 33% off coupon at Lifeway was good. :) And then I spent every spare moment reading about Katie’s life of surrender to God’s call, nodding and smiling when she talked about the ubiquitous red dirt and the terrible roads and the crazy drivers….like being there for 2 weeks somehow made me a local.

Wow. I so wish I was an eloquent writer and could aptly explain how much I loved this book. I sucked it in like breathing air. You all know that God has somehow – for some reason that I COMPLETELY don’t understand – put an inexplicable love in my heart for Uganda and its people. And reading Katie’s book was like reading about that one special place – that one certain thing – that you just love with your whole heart and can’t get enough of (not talking about spiritual things here….just, you know, quilting, or cooking, or Ireland, or history….or whatever that thing is for you).

I would so love for every single one of you to read her book and tell me what you thought. I know that’s not going to happen, but I wish it would. :) You know how it is when you want your passion to be everyone’s passion? And you want everyone to love the same things you love? Of course life would be incredibly boring if we all only loved what everyone else loved, but if you ever have the inclination, I would love for you to read Kisses from Katie and get a glimpse of this one little corner of my heart.

And not only to read about Uganda, but to read the true-life, happening-right-now story of a young(!) woman who has totally, thoroughly, and completely surrendered her life to God’s plan for her – a plan that looked totally, thoroughly, and completely different than anything she had ever imagined – and has found her ultimate joy in laying down her life for the One who laid down His life for her.

Please, watch this to hear a little more about Katie, from Katie.



It’s an awesome read, y’all. If you decide to read it, please let me know. I'd love to hear what you think.

I’m a girl who loves a good New Year’s resolution. Why, I don’t know exactly, because I almost never keep them. I guess they let me feel like I have a chance to start over and do all the things I WISH I would do every day, but never do. *sigh*

Last year I decided I would skip the resolutions and instead jump on the “one word” band wagon, where you choose one word to focus on and center life around for the year. (hahaha - laughing because last year I said I hate New Year's resolutions. :) Apparently I can't make up my mind.)

Well.

After praying and thinking and praying and pondering....I never really came up with a word. Oh, I had a couple that swam around in my head for a while, but nothing ever really stuck. So in the end I wound up with no resolutions (which I probably wouldn’t have kept anyway) and no word. Boo.

So now I’m back at it again. At least I can say I keep trying, huh? :)

But this year, the word (or words, as the case may be) sort of found me. Remember, oh, about 3-ish years ago or so when I started seeing and hearing the phrase “Do Something” everywhere I turned? DoSomethingDoSomethingDoSomething. (Anyone besides me old enough to remember the old Mervyn’s Black Friday commercials where the lady was standing with her face and hands pressed up against the window at Mervyn’s going, “Open. Open. Open.”? I digress.)  It's sorta been like that again.

For the past few months, my constant heart’s cry to God has been, “I want to be different!” I want my home to be different (better organized, filled with peace, a sanctuary for my family); I want my family to be different (more focused on loving God and His Word, more focused on giving and serving others); I want my marriage to be different (nuff said); I want my SELF to be different – oh, let me count the ways. I just want to BE DIFFERENT.

Finally, one day a couple of weeks ago, it dawned on me that I had been repeating this mantra to God over and over for weeks, “I want THIS to be different and I want THAT to be different and I want THIS OTHER THING to be different….I just want to BE DIFFERENT!” And – dingdingding! – there’s my word (phrase) for the year.

BE DIFFERENT.

Now, there’s being discontent, and then there’s being discontent. I don’t think this is the bad kind of being discontent. Paul said, “I have learned in all things to BE CONTENT…”, but I don’t think that means being stagnant. Sometimes (a lot of times) we need to change. And sometimes (a lot of times) we (I) need a kick in the pants to get us moving. I think this discontentment I’ve been having is the kind I need to spur me on to make some changes.

And here’s the thing. I’ve wanted to make most of these changes – be different in these ways – for a long time. But just like my New Year’s resolutions, they never “took”. Either I never did anything about them in the first place, or if I did try, I never stuck with it.

I'm not saying that this is going to be the year when I will somehow magically be able to keep a resolution to Be Different. *grin* What I am saying, is that this is my prayer. It’s been my prayer for weeks, and now it will be my prayer throughout the year.

I want to be different.

What does that mean exactly? Not sure. But here’s what I do know.

• I want to seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness.

• I want to love the Lord my God with all my heart, soul, mind, and strength and love my neighbor as myself.

• I want to “Learn to do right; seek justice. Defend the oppressed. Take up the cause of the fatherless; plead the case of the widow.” Isaiah 1:17.

• I want to do a better job of teaching my children to love God…to KNOW Him, not just ABOUT Him. To talk about Him when we sit at home and when we walk along the road, when we lie down and when we get up. To tie His word on our hands and bind them on our foreheads. To write them on the doorframes of our house and on our gates (and on the tablets of our hearts). Deut. 6:7-9

• I want to “Do away with the yoke of oppression, with the pointing finger and malicious talk,” and to “spend [myself] in behalf of the hungry and satisfy the needs of the oppressed,” so that “[my] light will rise in the darkness, and [my] night will become like the noonday.” Then "the LORD will guide [us] always; He will satisfy [our] needs in a sun-scorched land and will strengthen [our] frame. [We] will be like a well-watered garden, like a spring whose waters never fail."  Is. 58:9b-11

• I want to GO and SERVE and GIVE and teach my children to do the same.

• I want our family to love God, serve Him with all our hearts, and bring honor to Him in all we do.

Last year I loved loved loved this post by Missy over at It’s Almost Naptime. She reposted it this week, and I loved it even more.

And since reading it again, I’ve expanded my prayer to Be Different with this prayer: “God, I want to do something this year that will make people think I’m crazy!”

I can't wait to see what God has in store.  Let the craziness begin!

Dear Diary....

This post is nothing other than a bunch of rambling.  What has been mulling through my head in a constant stream for the past few weeks.  What I would write in my journal if I kept one.  But since I don't, it all gets to go here.  Let the ramblings begin....

Dear Diary,

I am still in shock that SixtyFeet is coming here.  Stunned.  I couldn't be more excited if it were the leadership from World Vision or Compassion International or Samaritan's Purse who was coming.  I don't know why.  I don't understand it. 

All I know is that the burden in my heart for SixtyFeet - the heart connection with their ministry and what they do - began long before I ever set foot in Uganda.  I distinctly remember the night in April when our mission team had our second conference call.  That night we learned that we would be the first "outside" mission team to ever work with a fairly new ministry called SixtyFeet.

As soon as the conference call was over and the kids were in bed, I went straight to the website and sat for hours poring over blog posts, videos, and pages about their story, the team, and what they're doing in Uganda.  Hours.  Something struck in me the minute I saw the first picture of M1. I think I read every. single. word. on their website that night.  Twice. 

Our first night in Uganda, Moses, the in-country director of SixtyFeet, came to the boarding house where we were staying to talk to us about what we would be doing at the prisons.  I was mesmerized by his every word, captivated by his testimony and his story of how he came to work with SixtyFeet.  I couldn't get enough. 

The next day it took us about an hour to travel to M1 by bus.  As my teammates and I visited and laughed and made small talk, the back of my mind never strayed far from thoughts about where we were going and what it would be like there.  When we turned off the highway onto the long dirt road that leads to M1, it became more quiet, subdued on the bus, and I think I probably didn't say anything at all for the rest of the ride.
 

And when we came up over the hill....and there in front of us was the exact same building I had looked at over and over again on the SixtyFeet website....my eyes instantly filled with tears.  Such a place of desolation, hopelessness, abandonment.  And the tears weren't far from my eyes for the rest of our time there.

When we left M1 that day, part of my heart stayed there.  I don't know why.  For the rest of the trip, they were never far from my thoughts.  I was so excited when Moses came back to visit with us on our last night in Uganda.  We were able to pray for him and bless him and SixtyFeet with some extra donations.  It was the best.

And then came the day when I read on their blog that they were having a contest to determine what three cities they would visit on their Awareness Tour.  Oh my goodness, did I want to win that contest!  I wanted them to come here so badly!  Just to have a chance to get to know the people who started this ministry that had become so huge in my heart, and to become more involved in what they are doing.  I didn't think there was any possibility whatsoever that we could win, but WE DID!!

It has been quite an ordeal making arrangements for a place for them to show the film and do their presentation.  In fact, we're still in limbo even now.  There are times when I wonder if it really is going to work out at all.  There have been times when I thought they surely would get tired of waiting on me and change their minds about coming (we were #4 in the contest, after all).

Just when I thought we had the place and time confirmed, something came up and SixtyFeet had to reschedule.  So far we haven't been able to find another time that will work with our church.  *sigh*  I'm not a naturally optimistic person, so I'm really having to fight my inclination to just say, "See?  I knew it wouldn't work.  That's it."  I'm trying.  I'm praying.  I'm hoping...  And hopefully, I'm learning.  Learning to leave things in God's hands and trust Him to accomplish His plan - whether that's what I want it to look like or not.

I don't know if God really has anything planned for me to do with this ministry at all.  I've read story after story of people who went on mission trips and then came home and joined a ministry they had visited...or started a ministry of their own...or became involved in with missions in some other way.  I so want that to be me.  But I don't know.

Maybe all of this is only about spreading the message of SixtyFeet to the people of West Texas.  Maybe there will be someone there that night - when we finally DO get it scheduled :) - whose heart will be moved to join the work of SixtyFeet in a huge way.  Maybe after they come and show their film, my part in the plan will be complete.

But then again...maybe not.