Generating Gratitude

Thanksgiving is this month… unless you live in Canada (like I do now). If you do, Thanksgiving was last month.

Traditionally, Fall- or harvest-time in western cultures - includes a specified time of celebration, family and giving thanks. But that doesn't mean western cultures have the corner on this sort of celebration.

Have you already guessed? Our monthly theme for November is thankfulness... and we hope to spark a conversation about how Thanksgiving (or Action de Grâce as we say in French) is celebrated around the world. 

To start things off, I'd like to revisit something I wrote a few years back... while I was still living in West Africa... all about gratitude!

...I feel a bit stupid starting out like this – 

I REALLY can’t stand listening to a generator.

I know. You’re wondering, “What’s the big deal?”

First, I’ve listened to them an awful lot lately.

Additionally, generators are noisy, they stink, there’s usually a big puff of black smoke as they start up, I’m quite sure they can’t be good for the environment and they consume a whole lot of diesel fuel. That gets expensive. 

And while that list of five might actually be considered valid reasons for my churlishness, they aren’t the real ones behind my stronger than ambivalent dislike.

My antipathy towards those monstrosities which authorize electricity for some while everyone else has plunged into darkness is nothing short of sinful.

I detest them because I don’t have one… everyone else around me does… which repeatedly jogs my memory of something I’d rather ignore.

When the power goes out

• I’m stuck sitting in the dark trying to mark papers until I get frustrated and my head aches (candlelight is hard on these getting-older eyes of mine).
• I’m finishing looking up the Zarma words with unfamiliar symbols for Saturday’s Bible study.
• I’m washing dishes hoping they’ll look as clean in the daylight as they do under that dreamy, flickery glow. 
• I’m praying that the little ones don’t wake up because the difficulty of rejoining Mr. Sandman increases exponentially when the air seems deader than the inside of a tomb. 
• Last, but not least, I sweat literal buckets at 11:00 at night when working near even the tiniest flame.

I used to begrudge those who experienced nothing more than a blip when the current sagged or disappeared altogether. I think I’ve gotten past that. I don’t wish they didn’t have one because I don’t, and I certainly understand why they use their generators. If I had one, I’d be using it, too.

EACH time, however, I hear a generator roar into life I’m vehemently reminded of something I’d rather ignore….

I balk at the instruction to give thanks in all circumstances. 

I'm reminded of that reality in slow motion replay each time I hear those machines jolt into life and I begin to growl and complain. 

My father-in-law served for some years in Haiti and tells of visiting a local electric company. Night had fallen, the plant was elevated, located on a small mountain outside of town, and from the plant, he could see the entire lighted city. An employee began pointing out different neighborhoods and then with a sly grin told my father-in-law to watch.

Click!­

He switched a button, an entire neighborhood went dark... and the employee laughed. Out loud. 

It is easy to joke that something similar takes place each time our power goes out. But reality is that I can live and still function adequately, even with this particular frustration that is so common to the expat experience of life in an impoverished, still-developing locality.

I can also willingly choose to refuse to give thanks.

We’ve had a smattering of power outages in recent days and weeks. More than normal. Each time I hear the neighboring generators roar into life, a still small voice whispers: “I don’t want to thank the Lord that the local powers that be have once again denied me any power.” That voice doesn’t stop there, however. It continues, whispering: 

“It isn’t the electric company denying you power. You’ve done it to yourself, by not choosing gratitude.”

Not only am I stumbling and sweating it out without electricity, I’m also self-rendered powerless, spiritually, choosing to be a victim of circumstances when God offers me practice at building a practice of joy and contentment, regardless.

Just like that dude at the electric plant in Haiti, by refusing gratitude, I’m flipping a switch, laughing… and plunging myself (and sometimes those around me) into darkness.

Choosing gratitude, however?

Choosing gratitude siphons out any clout out of darkness. It leaves opportunity for vibrating voltage, exhilarating energy, and contagious current.

An electrical stream of thankfulness pulsating powerfully can provide perspective and light for me and maybe for those nearby as well.

William Faulkner noted:

“Gratitude is a quality similar to electricity: it must be produced and discharged and used up in order to exist at all.”

Faulkner was absolutely right…

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What, in your life, reminds you of those times you reject a thankful spirit?

How can you celebrate Thanksgiving throughout the year - intentionally producing, discharging and using up gratitude?

This article, original form, first posted here.

A Prayer for "After..."

This is isn't the blog post I've been planning to write... the one I've been working on.

But as we face another imminent transition in upcoming months... this IS where my heart has been resting, where my mind has been dwelling much... 

The story starts with an evening years ago, 

hanging out around a campfire with family and friends in one of our favorite Niger spots, 

watching the sun set from a West African sand dune...

Three gals, traipsed over the sand dunes - probably heading home before dark. I captured them with my telephoto lens in not the best of light. Their picture intrigued me then. Perhaps more accurately, it haunts me, now.

I wonder about their stories.

They could be sisters. That isn't hard for me to imagine... 

I can easily picture my four oldest girls walking along through the sand~ wrapped in wild African print, draped in light weight, flowing scarves, scuffing $1 cheap flip-flops along the sand and munching on a piece of fruit. They'd chatter and meander, enjoying a reprieve from the unrelenting sun that now ducked behind the horizon. Immersed in each other's company just like these girls, mine would be mostly oblivious to any and everything else going on around them. 

Then a thought crossed my mind: I wondered if two could be keeping the third company as she'd been sent to a nearby market to buy millet which she'll then pound before preparing her family's meal. 

That second scenario isn't so much like my girls' story... 

...and not because my girls never run to a nearby shack, 

buy then bring something home, and 

prepare it for the rest of the family.

They, in fact, have often been asked to do something just like that.

They are, several times every day in fact, still asked to do something similar - something that contributes not to their fun and amusement but to the well-being of our family.

But other times they lay on their bed and watch YouTube or Fairytail videos on a Kindle... read books they've checked out from the library... walk back over to the school next door just to work, earning money they then deposit in the bank and use to fund many of the fun or frivolous things teenage girls love to do... dream of another wedding in Southern California... picture seeing friends from Niger soon... look forward to celebrating a might-as-well-be-a-brother's wedding... imagine a high school graduation and all that comes next... share war stories about working on earning that drivers' license and having to drive with Mama clutching the door and trying to appear calm just to do so...  encouraging one another for yet another round of imminent upcoming goodbyes... 

My girls loved and miss their life in Niger and are so thankful for the opportunity they have had to spend so much of their growing up time in that place, even knowing all of the things they've "missed" in the States. Now, barely shy of two years back in America, they miss Africa and their friends there something awful, but have come to terms with that because "after Niger" has always existed for them... They've always had something farther off and more away just over the metaphorical horizon.

It is not the same for those three girls growing up in a village in Niger, which, according to the 2013 United Nations Human Development report, is still ranked low... 187 out of 187... Niger is a land whose people are - particularly women, girls and children - almost ALL vulnerable.

The girls in this photo? They probably do not know how to read, even if they were permitted to attend school for 2-3 years. They may have never seen a television, much less surfed the internet. They may already be married and have children waiting for them back by their huts. Their husbands or fathers may have a cell phone... however it is unlikely that they would carry one. For them, their "after" is Niger... and mostly just as they know it.

I hope my girls never forget just how blessed they've been, how much lavish grace they've been gifted. I hope that, in my concerns and sometimes anxieties for their future, I never forget.

I pray that after Niger and that even as we transition from home assignment to a place that couldn't be more different, they never forget... and begin to feel entitled. 

I can see that danger nipping at their heels, at my heels, already. 

I hope they fight hard against their own entitlement and a culture that increasingly encourages narcissism, and that each time they start to believe and presume desires (even the worthy ones) to be needs or rights, they consciously recall and fix in their minds images like the one above... and then really remember how amazingly gifted their lives have already been...

I hope they remember that their "afters" are ALWAYS gifts to be shared, sacrificed, spent and well-stewarded... for the benefit of others and the glory of God...

...for the rest of their lives.

May it ever be so... for each one of us.

Rewrite/rework of an original post entitled

A Prayer for "After"

and published on Our Wright-ing Pad

April 5, 2013.

Longevity in Ministry ~ Trusting in the Sufficiency and Sovereignty of God ~

Two weeks ago, I started a series that I'm hoping will be both a challenge and encouragement to you, based off of a sermon by the senior pastor at my sending church. Before delving into my notes, however, I'd like to share a story of one of our scariest moments overseas... one of those times when our only hope was to trust in God, His sovereignty and particularly?  In His sufficiency.

The story centers around our precious Anna...

She was six years old, in her first full year of school at a local French language school, still young enough that we called her by her baby nickname (Anna-lu) and that she still cried when we dropped her off at school - before bravely trudging on in through the gate. Elsie Mae had recently joined the family... she was only a few weeks old... 

One afternoon, Anna came home from school's morning session telling us she didn't feel well. Over the course of our sieste that day, she continued to wilt. I was pretty sure she was running a fever and so we took her to the recording studio where Tim was working (and the air conditioner was running) to see if we could cool her down. She only ended up chilled and uncomfortable, curled up by her daddy's feet under the production desk, as far away from the AC as she could be.

I decided to take her to the doctor.

Once there, she promptly threw up all over the waiting room... which sent us to the front of the line. A blood test confirmed that she had malaria and our doctor immediately prescribed medication. I think it took three pharmacies to find it. Three days later, her prescription had run its course, but Anna wasn't acting as if she felt any better. It was so evident as we sat poolside, trying to entice her to drink a strawberry milkshake, that her treatment hadn't worked. I took her back to the doctor, where they agreed that she was clearly worse. They wanted to admit her to the clinic and start her on IV medications.

This was one of the better clinics, but it was still a far cry from medical care in a developed country. 

• Mosquitoes (the bugs that carry malaria) buzzed around the room, 
• paint on the walls was chipped and stained, 
• doctor bedside manner did not feel gentle or compassionate, 
• everyone rattled along in rapid fire French and my exhausted-caring-for-a-newborn brain struggled to keep up while catching and making sense of all the technical vocabulary, and 
• the only place for me to sit was the stained and very worn-out mattress on the other cot in the room. 

The nurse did move in a TV... and we brought our own DVD player... We knew they cared and were doing the best they could for our little girl, yet she wasn't improving. In fact, she was lethargic, pale, and had lost 15 pounds - 25% of her body weight - in just a few days. Her doctors concluded we were not only dealing with a resistant strain of malaria, but also a resistant form of amoebic dysentery. 

The two most common causes of death for young children in W. Africa. 

Our little girl was sick with both of them. Yes, our Anna was one very sick little girl.

My hormone-befuddled brain did't quite grasp that reality of just how sick, however. I really felt we were doing the very best we could for our daughter... until our supervisors asked if we wanted them to begin arranging a medical evacuation.

It hit me like a ton of bricks that maybe we weren't... we had other alternatives... and that if we didn't make the "right" decision, we just might lose our Anna-lu... 

I think that is a very common way to look at choices and decisions. 

Either the decisions we make are right. Or they are wrong. If they are right, the results are what we wanted and hoped for. If we make a wrong choice or decision, however, there will be consequences to bear. That mentality neglects to consider that we serve a sovereign and sufficient God.

"Trusting [in] the sufficiency and sovereignty of God [means knowing and believing that] every day is a gift from God, Who IS the source of faithfulness." Remember that cliché often heard in church circles?  Pray like everything depends on God; work like everything depends on you. For me, at least, it is easier to work like a mad-woman... and forget to pray. Especially as a mama. Especially as a mama who is also a missionary. Even especially more as a mama who is also a missionary and who lives off of the support and gracious gifts of others. In that sense, I live my life as a "practical atheist," a term my husband coined almost 20 years ago.

With that mentality, it is easy for me to work myself into nothing less than a frenzy.

It's a pretty quick and surefire recipe for a burnout disaster. I know. I've been there.

It's also easy to slip into the trap that if (and when) I remember to pray, God will work everything out just the way I'm asking Him to... and that if He doesn't, my prayers (i.e. my work) weren't sufficient.

But what does God say? God's Word teaches us that our responsibility is to trust in both His sovereignty and sufficiency.

Psalm 127 (from the EasyEnglish Bible) is pretty clear:

If the LORD does not build the house, the workers cannot do anything.

  There are men who watch (for danger).

  But if the LORD does not guard the city, they will be useless.

If you work all day for food, from early morning to late at night, you will get nothing.

  It is God who gives sleep. He gives it to the people that he loves.

Children are something that God gives.

  The fruit of your body is a gift (from him).

The sons of a young man are like arrows in the hand of a soldier.

The man with many of them will be very happy.

  He will not be ashamed when he meets his enemies in the city gates.

In these verses, the Psalmist instructs His people to remember that it was God Who saves, God Who preserves and protects, God Who provides, God Who presents us with anything and everything that is important and/or worthwhile: homes, food, family, well-being, safety, peace. In this Psalm, the name/title of "Lord" is used to refer to God. That is His covenant name, a covenant cut in sacrificial blood. The people promised to love and worship God alone. They agreed to obey Him. God promised to help those He calls His. Put simply, God's providence provides whatever it is that He knows that His people need. Even when we don't like His provision, it is still what He sovereignly knows to be best.

How can that be true?

Why trust in His sufficiency and sovereignty?

1. We should trust because even pagan kings recognize His sovereignty. Daniel 4 contains an amazing account of Nebuchadnezzar, one of the most powerful men to ever live. He concludes: "At the end of the days I, Nebuchadnezzar, lifted my eyes to heaven, and my reason returned to me, and I blessed the Most High, and praised and honored him who lives forever, for his dominion is an everlasting dominion,and his kingdom endures from generation to generation; all the inhabitants of the earth are accounted as nothing, and he does according to his will among the host of heaven and among the inhabitants of the earth... Now I, Nebuchadnezzar, praise and extol and honor the King of heaven, for all his works are right and his ways are just; and those who walk in pride he is able to humble."
2. We should trust God because He is faithful. He proves Himself every day, every moment, every breath and every heartbeat. "Your steadfast love, O LORD, extends to the heavens, your faithfulness to the clouds."(Psalm 36.5) "Your steadfast love, O LORD, extends to the heavens, your faithfulness to the clouds." (Psalm 119.90) "The LORD'S lovingkindnesses indeed never cease, For His compassions never fail. They are new every morning; Great is Your faithfulness. 'The LORD is my portion,' says my soul, 'Therefore I have hope in Him.;" ( Lamentations 3.22-24)
3. We should trust because God does give faith to live and to die [and sometimes to watch those we love die] for His glory. This is such a hard thing. I love that God gives us faith to live. I love living. I love this life He's given. So what about those times when His choice as sovereign is that this life will be no longer? Does that mean He's no longer sovereign? Does that mean He's no longer sufficient? No. It means I -and those I call mine- are His to do with as He sees fit. I have the opportunity to choose trusting Him, regardless of what I feel or perceive.
4. We should trust because Christ is building his church and we are privileged to join Him in His work. Jesus said to Peter, "And I tell you, you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it. (Matthew 16.18)" Jesus builds His church. Jesus' literal words are "I will build..." The Greek word translated build literally means to erect or construct upon a foundation a home or other edifice; figuratively, it means to edify by literally building someone up and helping them to stand firm... to be strong and sturdy. One of the key ideas as we approach ministry is to recognize that it isn't "MY" work... but rather it is God's work and He gives us opportunities to join with Him in what He is already doing. Thus, success depends on Him. Our job is obedience without worrying about results or effectiveness. That takes a huge burden off of our shoulders, a load the Lord never intended for those He has placed in international missions to carry. But, the other neat side of this idea is that God is also the One Who has uniquely equipped and prepared us to do the work He has set before us. He has "built us up" to be just the person He wants for such a time as the one before you.

Are you curious about "the rest of Anna's story?"

We didn't lose her. After nearly a week in the clinic, consistent IV treatment - lots of pokes, lots of liquids and lots of prayer, she slowly began to perk up and was clearly on the road to a full recovery. A month later, she'd regained all of that lost weight and it was easy to forget she'd been so sick.

I hope I never forget, though, the things God taught me during that time.

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How are you seeing God's sovereignty at work where you are currently ministering?

How are you currently experiencing God's sufficiency where you are currently ministering?

Can you share a testimony of how God has grown your trust in His sovereignty and/or sufficiency?

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Series: Longevity in Ministry

1. Just Think About a Horseshoe, 26/07/2014

Please note: 

Italicized words are from my notes or from the guided notes in the church bulletin

and are, to the best of my recall, actual content from the sermon.

The rest comes from my continued study and meditation prompted by that sermon.

To listen to the actual sermon "Start, Run and Finish Well," click here.

Found to Follow

For almost two years, now, I've been studying my way very slowly, very methodically, through the Gospel of John... I'm finally somewhere in chapter 9. As I literally crawl my way through this book of the Bible, the Holy Spirit is challenging me on what it means to be not just a wife, mom, missionary... but first and foremost a disciple of Jesus.

I'd like to share with you one of those "challenges."

The next day Jesus decided to leave for Galilee. Finding Philip, he said to him, “Follow me.”

Philip, like Andrew and Peter, was from the town of Bethsaida. (John 1.43-44)

Before looking too closely at these verses, I dove into a quick "crash course" entitled "Who was Philip, disciple of Jesus?" Where is he mentioned in the Biblical account, other than as the guy usually listed fifth in any recording of the disciples?  Some speculate (based on church tradition) Philip was the one who asked to "bury his father" before following Jesus. The text doesn't specifically identify which disciple, however. In John 6, Jesus tests Philip, specifically asking him how they could provide a meal for the 5000 plus crowd listening to Jesus teach. Shortly after the Lord raises Lazarus, Philip helps some Greeks visiting Jerusalem for the purpose of celebrating the Passover Feast "encounter" Jesus. Philip is Greek name so possibly he spoke Greek and could function as a bridge for those foreigners desiring to interact with the Lord. Finally, Philip doubted the unity of Jesus and the Father, struggling to believe that in seeing Jesus, he had already seen God. This gave the Lord a beautiful opportunity to teach His disciples about the amazing-beyond-human-comprehension unity He shares with His Father. 

I was surprised at how many times Philip actually came to the forefront of the Gospels. Apparently he was a more prominent disciple than I'd ever noted before.

Once I moved on to actually studying the verses above, I noticed immediately that the other three men (Andrew, an unnamed disciple - possibly John, and Peter) all sought Jesus. They had been looking and waiting for Him, finally finding Him and recognizing that He was the One for Whom they'd been searching, waiting, hoping... 

Not so with Philip. 

Jesus had made up His mind that it was time to return to Galilee, so He would be leaving Bethsaida and her environs - but before He did, He found Philip. 

I was curious because you can find something - as in stumble across it... or you can find something - as in search extensively and locate it... 

According to Strong's, in the Greek either meaning could be inferred by the use of this particular word. However, those really smart people who write concordances and know all about Greek think that this isn't a search, discover, find scenario. Rather, it is more like Jesus was on His way and in the process fell in with... started walking alongside, if you will, Philip. That bothered me at first. A lot, in fact.

I hoped... wanted actually, to dig deep and discover that from the text, I could infer that Jesus had actively, persistently, sought Him out. (Which is, by the way, a dangerous Bible study habit - because then I can tend to try and make the Bible say what I want to say, informing the Lord what I think He should be teaching... rather than letting Him teach and lead me.)

And I couldn't. And so I had to stop there and think and pray for a bit - actually for more than a bit. The "box" I had pre-constructed for the Lord, at least in this particular scenario, limited Jesus to actively, unceasingly seeking out those He wants to follow Him. That may be the case other times, but it doesn't appear to be so here. Instead, Jesus was going about doing what His Father had Him going about to do and "fell in with" Philip.

To fall in with someone means to become involved with that individual, to concur with or harmonize with. Jesus was on His way elsewhere, but He took the time to walk alongside and join with Philip for those moments. And after those moments, He offered Philip an alternative to his present path. He invited Philip to follow Him. 

I pondered the implications of that thought.

Jesus walked along with Philip - perhaps only He and Philip know for how long - experienced Philip's path and direction and then with no criticism, He offered Philip a different possibility. He asked Philip to take a new road and to begin following Him. And when He offers Philip the opportunity to follow, Jesus offers Philip the path of steadfastly clinging to Him, conforming to and seeking His example in both living and in dying. 

What a powerful model for evangelism! 

What an incredible missionary strategy because it isn't one. (How's that for an oxymoron?!) 

It is entering into community, falling in with, learning about, investigating new cultures, opening your heart and mind to new thoughts, investing in lives and conversation... becoming a part of - and then offering the opportunity to follow a different path.

Possibly, God will direct me to "fall in with" someone for a time, understand their life, their world... travel their road together for a bit BEFORE inviting him/her to join me walking the "Jesus road" as a fellow disciple of the Lamb of God. 

I call myself a missionary. This idea certainly bears further contemplation and discernment for application! 

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What do you think?

How do you see this idea of "falling in with" prior to inviting others to "follow" Jesus playing out in your life?

repost from the archives of

Our Wright-ing Pad

"You are... You will be..."

Jesus looked at him and said, “You are Simon son of John. You will be called Cephas” (which, when translated, is Peter). (John 1:43)

Is it just me, or does this seems like an anti-climatic "confirmation of/or call" to ministry? 

After all, this is Peter we're talking about.

You know... the guy who would

• walk on water...
• only to then sink dismally;
• recognize Jesus as the Son of God...
• only to turn around and tempt Him to walk a different path;
• be chosen to keep watch and pray
• only to repeatedly end up snoring instead;
• bravely and loyally step forward with sword to defend Jesus
• only to deny even knowing him when confronted later;
• give up on himself and go back to fishing fish
• only to become an impassioned preacher, gifted with words and a heart for souls that could only come from one mightily forgiven.

...Paul's conversion and call to ministry was nothing short of miraculous and amazing. I guess, if I didn't already know the story, I would have expected something similar for Peter. Fireworks exploding or the like!

That just isn't the case. 

Sometimes only the one called knows something is going on... sometimes the one called only knows that God has quietly given a new name... a new identity... as His ambassador. 

That means something to me as a missionary, as one convinced He'd called me to serve on the mission field at the tender age of five (no kidding!).

There really isn't much to this part of Peter's story. His brother Andrew comes home after meeting the Lord. He tells Peter he'd found the Messiah and then takes him to meet Jesus. Once there, Jesus identifies who he is: "You are Simon..." and then gives him a new identity: "You will be called Cephas."

This wasn't the first time that God gave a new identity when He placed His hand on a life. Think of Abraham... Sarah... Jacob... Joseph... Daniel... 

God doesn't always clearly give His reasons, although we can certainly make some inferences and guesses from what we read in the biblical text. I believe it is possible that He's showing each one of them they are now embarking on THE mission, the one for which He created them, the one for which He had been preparing them. That new name clues the receiver in on God's divine plan while reassuring them that He still orchestrates all. 

Those name changes seem to correspond to life changes resulting in very different people, each time. Only thing? The change didn't always happen immediately. Sometimes it took time. Sometimes it happened very quietly and unnoticeably. Abraham didn't immediately become a father of multitudes... Simon still had much growing to do before he became recognizable as Cephas, a... if not the... key leader and preacher in God's newly established church.

I find that so encouraging. 

God recognizes me TODAY for who I will become SOMEDAY... by His grace. 

Who are you, today?

Who do you pray you will be someday, by God's grace?

Can you show God's grace to a specific someone who is today... but by God's grace will be, someday? How?

(Edited post and much needed-for-me reminder from the archives of Our Wright-ing Pad.) 

Ever seen a baby lizard dressed in Polly Pocket clothing?

I have. I wish I had a picture… But I don’t. All I have is the memory.

And that memory often gets me thinking about this fact.

Sometimes, we missionary types take ourselves a little too seriously. We want to

• be effective,
• impact lives,
• not just do what we do well but very well – if not perfectly,
• look good while doing it,
• maybe garner a few more ministry partners, and
• have at least a few great stories to share.

We sometimes forget we’re just ordinary folks serving an extraordinary God, often in not-your-run-of-the-mill locations.

My son is off for his freshman year of college. One of the things that so impressed us about the university he is attending was their rather extensive program and system of support in place to help international students and TCKs transition to this new phase of life. During his most recent trip home, I was asking him about his friends, and in particular, if he spent much time hanging out with his fellow TCK-types. His comment went something along the lines of, “Yeah, I do hang out with them sometimes. But sometimes I get tired of being part of a group of people that thinks they are more special and unique than everyone else. Sometimes, I think they’d be more fun if they’d just get over it.”

Ouch!

But back to my lizard story…

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I don't just write for Missionary Mom's Companion... and today I've ended up scheduled to post both places on the same day! So...

Pop on over to a life overseas: the missions conversation... to read the rest

of this lizard story as well as my thoughts about ordinary missionaries and tcks.

I'd love for you to jump on in, join the conversation - here or there, wherever you are most comfortable; I so appreciate your input!

Who's your hero?

One of the things I love about home assignment years is watching my kids try some things that are totally new to them... and then seeing how they grow through those new experiences.

Choir/Drama Tour, both a learning and a ministry opportunity for students attending the Baptist academy they attend while living in the States, is one of them. Tonight, the tour opened with the first performance, at our home...or sending... or commissioning church. Tour consists of the school's choir and drama class collaborating for a performance - and traveling around the State over the course of three days to perform eight or nine times in different Christian schools.

My girls, although part of the drama class, do not have parts or stage roles in the drama. They do sing in the choir, though, and so they will be gone the first half of this week, on tour!

The play that is being performed this year is based off of the lives of John and Betty Stamm. The Stamms were a young missionary couple who gave the ultimate sacrifice while serving in China with China Inland Mission.

Are you familiar with their story?

I wasn't - until some years ago one of my son's math teachers at the international school for expats and missionary kids where my children attend while we are overseas, with the last name of Stamm, mentioned that he was a part of THAT Stamm family.

The Stamms' story is tragic; yet it also inspires. And until just few years ago, it was unknown to me. Their story did motivate many to missions service and continues (if the response at church tonight was any indication) to encourage others to selfless service.

Looking at the past, remembering historical examples of ministry, service, passion for the Lord, bravery, devotion and sacrifice? Sometimes I find this a good way to re-stoke the wholehearted commitment to the call God placed in my heart years ago. It encourages me to persevere and to refocus my attention and intentions. But then again, so can looking all around me, at the amazing people God has placed right beside me and with whom I'm working and ministering. Or I consider the ministries of amazing people scattered all over the globe, right now.

What about you? Who is your missionary hero... or heroes?

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Can you please share about someone... historical or present day... that inspires you? A flesh and blood someone whose story as a Jesus-follower motivates you to hold fast to hope and to continue pursuit of that purpose for which you are serving?

Benefits of Living in a Pressure Cooker

I've been whining again.  Yes, again.  We are a few days from a trip to the U.S. (first one in three years) where we'll travel like crazy and visit as many churches and friends and family as we can pack into these short two months.  This is a catch-all trip, to touch base and reconnect but also to raise funds for opening a youth center in the city where we live.  I should be giddy, and I am quite excited, but I'm finding a whole lot of ways to whine.

Why do we only get one suitcase this time?  How will I bring back homeschooling books and underwear and socks and supplies for two or three more years in ONE suitcase?  Are we ever going to get everything packed up and ready to roll?  Why can't I settle on some perfect "partnership" trinket to take back for those who've stuck with us?  How will we fit everyone in? Why can't we afford to take longer furloughs like the cool missionaries?  Can't you kids just get along and let me think straight?  

And I realize that my mouth is speaking from the abundance of my heart.

I have said a trillion times how uncomfortable it is to live in the pressure cooker here, where the goal is just survival at times.  To acutely feel the lack of extended family and friends and a support system to fall back on when the going gets rough.  But tonight as I listened to myself whine, I realized that life in the pressure cooker has its benefits.

In the US, I found it much easier to camouflage my flaws, those places inside that weren't quite lovely.  It was so easy to take on another responsibility at church and feel justified in my ugliness, or take a trip to the thrift store and fill my emptiness with a giant bag full of cheap but fashionable finds.  I could call up a girlfriend and "express my righteous indignation" to have her back me up in my position and then share what made her mad that day.  It was easy to hide what I didn't want to see.

Here, it seems what's inside is just gonna come out.  No way around it, it's coming out.  I remember reading a warning to that effect on some missionary-prep website way back when, and thinking how tough that would be for "certain other people" I know and happen to live with.  I was still living in Delusional World and sure that I was the person I had convinced everyone I was.

And for a long time on the field, I blamed my impatience in traffic or my frustration with my husband or my overwhelming urge to scream at those guys who insist on washing my windshield at stoplights and casing the contents of my front seat as they do, on being stressed to the breaking point.  I was sure that the offender just happened to be the straw that broke this camel's back.  Okay, maybe there is a bit of truth to that sometimes, but I'm coming to realize that I'm just not as adept at hiding.  The world is simpler here on the other side of the border.  So simple that what you see is what you get, without the candy-coating.  And I don't always like what I see.

I'm learning, still, that instead of taking my burdens to whomever might listen, I have to take them to the One who should have been my first choice all along.  That makes it sweeter to deal with the lack of an intimate friend or relative here.  

I'm learning, still, that instead of hiding behind my to-do list and accomplishments as the self-appointed Sister Do-It-All, I have to take a genuine look at my motivations and reactions.  That makes it a bit easier to swallow not having a church community that feels more like family here.

I'm learning, still, that instead of running for food or shopping or a movie or whatever my latest cure-all is, I have to dig in and let God refresh me, let Him inspire me, let Him heal me.  I'd like to tell you that makes it easier to live without Goodwill or Krispy Kreme, but I'm not there yet.

I do at least have a clearer picture of who I really am and who God really is, and I guess that's a start.

Do you know yourself better as a result of being a missionary?  Have you found that the ugly things you recognize within you are products of this lifestyle, or were they there all along and are only easier to see now?   Do you whine?

photo credit: mr.donb

Staring Into The Flames

Stop. Be Still. Take a deep breath. Just relax.

It’s easier said than done especially when I feel the urgency of the needs around me, or can’t escape the calendar filled with church and ministry activities, work, kids’ appointments, fundraising, homework, and on and on and on…

Lately I feel crushed as each day seems to step over me in its rush to get to the next. Thankfulness is always the first thing that goes because I simply run out of time to savor the moments, drink them in, and thank the God who gave them to me.  It’s never one big thing but the addition of one little thing after another little thing that leaves me so tired. Frustration creeps in as I think of where I want to be and feel that I just can’t muster the strength to get there.

I didn’t notice how worn out I really was until a few weeks ago. My parents came to visit for a week and we enjoyed every minute with them. A highlight was an overnight trip to the coast. We built a bonfire on the beach and I realized how much my head was longing to feel empty.

On any given day my head is filled with questions, self-evaluations, and suggestions for improvement...not to mention dozens of tiny details. Maybe it’s the curse of the analytical, but regardless, I was long overdue for a good head-emptying. I needed to just sit and stare at the flames, and listen to the ocean, and watch the stars reach down.

Rest is a discipline…I am learning this. There is a discipline in sitting still and just letting things be for an hour or two. God Himself calls us to rest, to reflect, and lay it all down. We need the perspective, and we need to remember it’s not about us after all. We are just small players in a big story…one that spans ages, and nations, and all people.

When I focus on my own little storyline, my own little part, it’s hard to just stop and relax. When I refuse to be still, I am the one who loses. But, when I reflect on God’s greater story I have the opportunity to give thanks, to feel small, and to simply stare into the flames.

How do you find moments of rest and reflection? Are you the kind of person who needs to make this a discipline in your life or does it just come naturally for you?

Not Measuring Up

Sometimes it is blatantly obvious that I don't fit in here.  I clearly don't have the skin or hair of my neighbors, but neither do I have their habits.

A few days ago, we took a Skype call in the wee hours of the morning.  It wasn't the wee hour in California, where they were making the call, but here, we were pretty zonked waiting for 2 AM to roll around.  Needless to say, it was really late by the time we went to bed.

An early morning visitor at the gate seemed to come just a few minutes after I'd closed my eyes.  I'd normally ignore it, thinking it was just a door-to-door salesman, but their persistence made me think it was an emergency.

I grabbed my robe and unlocked the front door, hair all crazy, eyes puffy, all the while freaking out that I'd been "caught" sleeping in.  Women rise before the sun here, and I could already imagine the thoughts in their minds before I even opened the door.  "Lazy foreigner.  Does she just sleep all day?"

It turned out to be a couple of government agency gals sent out to poison any standing water in our community because of a dengue outbreak.  They wanted to inspect the inside of my house and our back yard.  WHAT?!?!  For real?

I almost had a panic attack at the thought of not being able to prepare before letting them inside.  Paraguayan women have a very high standard when it comes to floors. If they live in a home with a concrete or tiled floor, it WILL be mopped and shined at least once a day.  If their living area is a dirt floor or simply the yard, then they will have swept that yard so clean that no grass grows and the dirt is packed tight like concrete.

As these girls were looking around our home, taking notes on that official clipboard then tilting it slightly so I couldn't read it, I was just sure it said, "No standing water.  Adequate drainage.  Dirty floor.  Unkempt yard.  Lazy.  Sleeps too late."

Truth is, I've never had to live off the land, so I don't rise when the sun does, nor do I sleep when it goes down.  In fact, my body rebels against this heat so badly that I reserve most of my manual labor until the sun is long gone.  And homeschooling two high schoolers doesn't leave much time for daily floor scrubbing, which, considering our dog, would have to be done several times a day to keep a Paraguayan-style shine.  Nor do I have much skill in whipping up a totally-from-scratch meal several times per day.

So I can either let this drive me crazy, exhaust me from trying to "do it all," or go for option 3.  I'll take door #3, Monty. I laugh about the areas I don't measure up and let them poke fun at what they consider my laziness.  I ask for their advice on recipes and housecleaning.  I let them see my embarrassment as I humbly reveal my inadequacies.   I defer to them and choose to be teachable, so that they understand we are on level ground.

And do you know what I've found?  That these shy, closed people who see themselves as inferior to neighboring countries, who have had not-so-positive experiences with foreigners in the past, view me as a peer rather than an authority. Someone they can let in to their circle. Someone who needs help and isn't afraid to admit it.  Someone who came to teach and to learn.

They let down their guard, that protective stance that expects me to tell them that what they're doing is all wrong.  And the door opens to friendships that give access to more important things than cooking and cleaning and what time I wake up.

Most gladly, therefore, I will rather boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in  me.  1 Cor 12:9b

Do you ever struggle with living up to the expectations of your neighbors?  Folks "back home"?  Other missionaries?  How could God use your weaknesses for His glory?