The World As I See It

A Quiet Mind, by Amy Carmichael

2011-11-18T10:46:00.001-06:00

Woke up with this poem on my heart today. Not a whole lot to say about it, it really speaks for itself. It really left me feeling very peaceful.

“A Quiet Mind”
By Amy Carmichael

What room is there for troubled fear?
I know my Lord, and He is near;
And He will light my candle, so
That I may see the way to go.
O Love, O Light, I sing to Thee,
And in my heart make melody.

There need be no bewilderment
To one who goes where he is sent;
The trackless plain by night and day
Is set with signs lest he should stray
O Love, O Light, I sing to Thee,
And in my heart make melody.

My path may cross a waste of sea,
But that need never frighten me;
Or rivers full to very brim,
But they are open ways to Him.
O Love, O Light, I sing to Thee,
And in my heart make melody.

My path may lead through woods at night,
Where neither moon nor any light
Of guilding star or beacon shines;
He will not let me miss my signs.
O Love, O Light, I sing to Thee,
And in my heart make melody.

Lord, grant to me a quiet mind,
That trusting Thee—for Thou art kind—
I may go on without a fear,
For Thou, my Lord, art always near.
O Love, O Light, I sing to Thee,
And in my heart make melody

Why Christians Can Eat Pork

2011-11-08T16:26:00.000-06:00

This isn't my usual subject matter, but I did a little research recently and if you're interested in why I believe it is ok for Christians to eat pork, then read on. If not, it's just a bunch of scripture references really, so that's ok.

I was asked recently that if I am a Christian, why do I think it is ok for me to eat 'swine'? I had never given it much thought, and my answer was a little vague, and my only scriptural reference, that it is what comes out of our hearts, not what goes into our mouths that makes us unclean, (Matt 15:11, my interpretation) was written off based on the context of the verse. I promised to have a scriptural reason why it is ok for me to eat pork the next time I saw that person and went to work finding out.

The first thing I looked for was the command not to eat it. In Leviticus 11, God lists to Moses and Aaron all the clean and unclean animals and swine (pigs) are listed Lev. 11:7 is listed as unclean and therefore unfit to be eaten by God's people. (It's also in Deuteronomy 14:8). It's pretty clear that they were not supposed to eat pork, so why would we eat it now?

Everything I've read has said that the original law was laid down for at least one reason, but I'm sure there are more, and that was to create a standard of righteousness for us to live by--to help us understand the difference between right and wrong. Obviously, left to ourselves, we don't do very well and end up being ruled by our passions and desires. I know that when Jesus came to earth, he fulfilled the laws and called us to live by the Spirit, not just the law. I found that pretty easily in Romans.

Rom. 10:4 states that Christ was the end of the law of righteousness. He fulfilled the law for us because we couldn't do it ourselves. Even with the law stated very clearly for us, we couldn't stick to it on our own. That is all in Romans 8. We as humans were not able to follow the law, so God didn't just get rid of it, He fulfilled it and ended it by sending His Son to do it for us.

I looked through the New Testament for anywhere it mentioned eating meat and this is what I found.

But food does not bring us near to God; we are no worse if we do not eat, and no better if we do. ~ 1 Corinthians 8:8

In context, it was referring to eating food sacrificed to idols. Idols or other gods hold no power over the children of God, and so unless those idols mean something to you, eating the food sacrificed to them means nothing. However, if eating that food creates a problem with your brother or sister, then eating it would be a sin. The sin itself would be creating a stumbling block for your brother, not eating the food.

“Everything is permissible”—but not everything is beneficial. “Everything is permissible”—but not everything is constructive. Nobody should seek his own good, but the good of others.
Eat anything sold in the meat market without raising questions of conscience, for, “The earth is the Lord’s, and everything in it.”
If some unbeliever invites you to a meal and you want to go, eat whatever is put before you without raising questions of conscience. But if anyone says to you, “This has been offered in sacrifice,” then do not eat it, both for the sake of the man who told you and for conscience’ sake—the other man’s conscience, I mean, not yours. For why should my freedom be judged by another’s conscience? If I take part in the meal with thankfulness, why am I denounced because of something I thank God for?
So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God. Do not cause anyone to stumble, whether Jews, Greeks or the church of God— even as I try to please everybody in every way. For I am not seeking my own good but the good of many, so that they may be saved. ~ 1 Corinthians 10:23-33, emphasis mine

Any emphasis on not eating is simply for others' conscience sake.I don't think Paul is the only one that God is ok with eating pork or other foods previously considered "unclean". It is clear that some people will have a problem with it. I'm assuming, based on the context of the scripture I quote next that this is a Jews vs. Gentiles argument.

We who are Jews by birth and not ‘Gentile sinners’ know that a man is not justified by observing the law, but by faith in Jesus Christ. So we, too, have put our faith in Christ Jesus that we may be justified by faith in Christ and not by observing the law, because by observing the law no one will be justified. ~ Galatians 2:15-16

The Spirit clearly says that in later times some will abandon the faith and follow deceiving spirits and things taught by demons. Such teachings come through hypocritical liars, whose consciences have been seared as with a hot iron. They forbid people to marry and order them to abstain from certain foods, which God created to be received with thanksgiving by those who believe and who know the truth. For everything God created is good, and nothing is to be rejected if it is received with thanksgiving, because it is consecrated by the word of God and prayer. ~ 1 Timothy 4:1-5, emphasis mine

About noon the following day as they were on their journey and approaching the city, Peter went up on the roof to pray. He became hungry and wanted something to eat, and while the meal was being prepared, he fell into a trance. He saw heaven opened and something like a large sheet being let down to earth by its four corners. It contained all kinds of four-footed animals, as well as reptiles of the earth and birds of the air. Then a voice told him, “Get up, Peter. Kill and eat.”
“Surely not, Lord!” Peter replied. “I have never eaten anything impure or unclean.”
The voice spoke to him a second time, “Do not call anything impure that God has made clean.”
This happened three times, and immediately the sheet was taken back to heaven. ~ Acts 10:9-16

Immediately following this vision, Paul was summoned by a Gentile and against Jewish law, he went.

So there it is, why I believe that I am permitted to eat pork. The scriptures have enough references to food that I believe what we eat is important to God, but I believe that is because He wants us to be healthy in order to serve Him to the best of our ability and to take care of ourselves and each other.
I'd love to hear your thoughts on this.

If Today Was Your Last Day

2011-10-14T15:13:00.001-05:00

This probably isn't as profound or whatever as my other posts, just a couple random thoughts I had and thought they were interesting.

You see it everywhere. "Live is if today was your last day." "What would you do if you knew you would die tomorrow?" "Live life to the fullest." Etc., etc. Rock bands, pastors, teenagers, artists, all of them have their own way of expressing it, but the sentiment is the same, "Eat, drink, and be merry for tomorrow we die." Isaiah 22:13

The truth is, no one really does. They get up, they go to work, they maybe spend time with their spouses or children or friends, but no one really acts like it will be their last day because deep down, they don't really believe their lives could end that quickly without them getting the chance to actually live. We all put off really living until a later date when we have enough time, money, or whatever.

I started thinking, "If I died tomorrow, what would people say about my last day? Laugh, if you will, but I started playing out conversations between people who are close to me. The great thing about being dead, is that unless you killed millions of people like Hitler did, people tend to forget all the bad stuff about you as soon as you are gone. They only want to remember the good stuff. They even praise Hitler for his leading skills as often as they censure him for his sick regime.

Let's see...if yesterday was my last day, it would go something like this: "She got up early, like most mornings, wishing for at least one more hour of sleep. She really liked those quiet moments before everyone else was up. She used to make fun of the fact that she prayed in the shower. "It's the only time I have peace and quiet!" She left for work a little bit late. She had a cup of coffee, ("of course,"they would say with a smile), she wouldn't consider her day started until she had coffee. Nothing she said counted until she had caffeine. During work, she wrote bible verses out that she'd post on the wall of the office, or sometimes she'd close them in the drawer so that when she opened it to give someone their change, she'd see it and it would remind her why she was doing what she was doing."

"What verses were those?" Someone would probably ask.
"You would have to ask her. All I know, is they made the difference between a good day and bad day for her."
"I guess we'll never know."
"Guess so. Well, after work, she went running. She loved doing it, even though she joked about how slow she was and she could never stick to it. She talked to her brother on the phone for a wile and then she hung out with a couple girls after she went running--some her age, some younger. She really had a heart to make them feel safe talking to her and make them laugh."
"She used to say that laughing is what helped get her through the day. 'You either have to laugh or cry,' she'd say, 'so I laugh!'"

"She was a little bit serious all that day though. She tried not to let it show, but something was on her mind."
"I know she was at odds with a few people, but she didn't want to talk to them because they were tired of her talking whenever something came up."
"She was stubborn about that." And they would laugh because you don't get irritated with dead people. "She didn't like staying mad at people or people staying mad at her."

You get the idea.

Perhaps they'd say, regretfully, that I was never great. So few of us ever really are, however many plan to be. They might be glad to have my writings so they could hang on to a small part of me.

So, my last day was spent doing what I loved: drinking coffee, serving people, investing in a ministry, and hanging out with friends. And what more can you ask out of life? Maybe I never "changed the world" as they say, but I certainly changed a few small worlds and I wouldn't have changed my last day even a little bit.

Faithful God

2011-10-12T17:14:00.000-05:00

I was a little depressed today. A couple things happened, and before I knew what happened, I was taken out. It's that fast I guess. When I got home from work, I didn't want to see anyone, so I decided to go for a walk. I put my headphones in, turned my music up loud enough to not be able to hear anything outside of them and went to the first place I thought of--the pond. It was quiet up there, no one was around, so I walked around it, ending up on the Holy Hill. I can't explain what it was, but something drew me to what I guessed would have been the point that was the center of our gathering up there during the Ingathering. I started praying about the situations that had gotten so out of control.

I read a book once that covered different things about prayer, and one thing that was stressed was that if God allows your mind to wander when you're trying to pray, allow it to do so and see where it leads instead of feeling guilty and trying to force yourself to focus. You'll lose every time anyway. So, when I got distracted, I just got lost in the silence up there, the beauty of the beginnings of fall and the wonderful breeze. I started to think of something that John Bob said to me: "When I get bogged down in my mind, I find that the best way to get out of it is to force myself to praise God."

I wasn't really in the mood for loud praise music, but I think the point of the exercise is to get out of the funk, not indulge it, so I selected the first Christian album on my iPod, selected a favorite song, and started to sing along. Are you surprised to discover that the exercise worked? (Thanks, John!) By the time I left, I had tears in my eyes, but good ones because I was so grateful that whenever I reach out to Him, God always meets me there. I still don't have incredible insight or wisdom, but I know that putting into bigger and better hands is the best thing I could have done with it.

I'm back!

2011-10-06T15:18:00.001-05:00

Hey people,

Yes, it's true, I'm back! I know, it's been about 10 months since I've written anything, and I'm very sorry about that, but I won't waste time with all my excuses, let's just settle with the fact that I'm going to try better to write more often. I feel like I process my thoughts better when I get them out in writing, and even though it makes me nervous to have them out in the open for all to see, maybe something I learn will help someone else someday. I'd like to believe that the struggles in life are for some purpose anyway.

So....I guess it would probably take way too long to catch everyone up on my crazy life over the past year, so I'll just jump right in!

Lately, I've seen a lot of places in my life that I hold back. Whether fear of judgment, or fear of hurting other people, or hurting myself, just downright fear. A sister recently asked me what I had been writing recently, and was completely shocked when I answered, "Nothing."

"God gave you a gift. You need to be writing. I don't care what it is, just do it!" She exhorted me thoroughly, and walked away leaving me standing there, ashamed and determined to get over my fear and write. Later that evening, God led me to read Matthew where I smacked into "The Parable of the Talents". I'll copy it below.

Matthew 25:14-30
American Standard Version (ASV)

¹⁴ For it is as when a man, going into another country, called his own servants, and delivered unto them his goods.
¹⁵ And unto one he gave five talents, to another two, to another one; to each according to his several ability; and he went on his journey.
¹⁶ Straightway he that received the five talents went and traded with them, and made other five talents.
¹⁷ In like manner he also that received the two gained other two.
¹⁸ But he that received the one went away and digged in the earth, and hid his lord's money.
¹⁹ Now after a long time the lord of those servants cometh, and maketh a reckoning with them.
²⁰ And he that received the five talents came and brought other five talents, saying, Lord, thou deliveredst unto me five talents: lo, I have gained other five talents.
²¹ His lord said unto him, Well done, good and faithful servant: thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will set thee over many things; enter thou into the joy of thy lord.
²² And he also that received the two talents came and said, Lord, thou deliveredst unto me two talents: lo, I have gained other two talents.
²³ His lord said unto him, Well done, good and faithful servant: thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will set thee over many things; enter thou into the joy of thy lord.
²⁴ And he also that had received the one talent came and said, Lord, I knew thee that thou art a hard man, reaping where thou didst not sow, and gathering where thou didst not scatter;
²⁵ and I was afraid, and went away and hid thy talent in the earth: lo, thou hast thine own.
²⁶ But his lord answered and said unto him, Thou wicked and slothful servant, thou knewest that I reap where I sowed not, and gather where I did not scatter;
²⁷ thou oughtest therefore to have put my money to the bankers, and at my coming I should have received back mine own with interest.
²⁸ Take ye away therefore the talent from him, and give it unto him that hath the ten talents.
²⁹ For unto every one that hath shall be given, and he shall have abundance: but from him that hath not, even that which he hath shall be taken away.
³⁰ And cast ye out the unprofitable servant into the outer darkness: there shall be the weeping and the gnashing of teeth.

I quite literally felt winded. Where have I been investing my talents? Perhaps it was false humility, perhaps it was fear, probably a good combination of both with a good sprinkling of stubbornness, but for whatever reason, I have been keeping my talents to myself and God is not pleased with me because of it, so this is me trying to change that.

Anyway, maybe that's too quick of an overview, but I actually really don't have time for more and I want to post this as soon as I can before I chicken out. Expect more soon!

My Father

2011-02-10T10:09:00.000-06:00

Right now, I'm simply feeling grateful to my Father who loves me far more than I can even imagine, though I've done nothing to deserve it. He never leaves me, even when I leave Him. He pulls me back when I walk away, and He holds on when I fight Him. He listens when I cry, and He holds me when I'm weak. He smiles when I laugh, and He delights in my joys. He loves when I sing to Him, and He tells me I'm beautiful, even when I don't try. He gave me a clear sky full of stars that we enjoy together. He always has time for me. He makes sure all of my needs are met, even if I didn't know I needed anything at all. He tells me to dream big and then tells me I can follow them. He believes I can do anything and is proud of my accomplishments.

And when the world feels too big, I know I'll never be too old to crawl back into His lap and simply bask in His love.

Jellyfish on the Sand

2011-02-10T10:07:00.000-06:00

I had never felt anything like this before. Heat unlike anything I'd ever felt was scorching my sensitive skin and I felt....dry. Grains of sand dug into my back, scratching like sandpaper and burrowing deep scores in my side. I could hear the ocean crashing into the sand, feel the spray as it smashed into the shore just inches away. My entire being longed to be back in its depths, but I couldn't move myself so much as an inch.

I felt my life slowly ebbing away with each hour that passed, but I clung to it, desperately hoping by some small chance, I might be lifted by the incoming tide. A small child squatted next to me. I prayed by some kindness he would throw me in, but he only poked me once or twice and ran off again. Didn't he see that I needed the ocean? Couldn't the people around me see that I was dying?

I felt it, death was coming. Everything in my cried out for something, anything to end this heat. A shadow crossed over me and I felt a gentle hand lift me from the sand. I was being carried and then I felt the glorious water! The coolness of the ocean washed over me and I was free! I felt my strength come flooding back and I just floated, soaking in the water, tentacles splayed out around me, feeling the power of the ocean, grateful to the hand whose kindness had returned me to where I was alive and free.

I was trying to find something that described how I've felt lately and a beached jellyfish seemed pretty accurate. I have felt dried out and completely drained, but I don't have the power to save myself. But when I call out to Him, He picks me up and carries me in the palm of His hand.

To Know You by Casting Crowns

2011-01-10T11:47:00.000-06:00

There is a song that whenever I hear it, I am totally convicted and spend the next 30 minutes or so after hearing it wondering if I even know God at all. As sure as I am sometimes that I do, There are other times that I'm convinced I don't. Since I just listened to it, now is one of those times.

To Know You
by Casting Crowns

To know you is never worry for my life, and
To know you is to never to give in or compromise
To know you is to want to tell the world about you
Cause I can't live without you

To know you is to hear your voice when you are calling
To know you is to catch my brother when he is falling
To know you is to feel the pain of the broken hearted
Cause they can't live with out you.

More than my next breath
More than life or death
All reaching for, I live my life to know you more
I leave it all behind, you are all that satisfies
To know you is to want to know you more
To know you is to want to know you more

To know you is to ache for more than ordinary
To know you is to look beyond the temporary
To know you is believing that you will be enough
Cause there is no life without you

More than my next breath
More than life or death
All I'm reaching for, I live my life to know you more
I leave it all behind, you are all that satisfies
To know you is to want to know you more
To know you is to want to know you more

All this life could offer me, could not compare to you
Compare to you
And I count it all as lost, compared to knowing you
Knowing you

More than my next breath
More than life or death
All I'm reaching for, I live my life to know you more
I leave it all behind, you are all that satisfies
To know you is to want to know you more
To know you is to want to know you more

Compared to you
Compared to you
And I count it all as lost, compared to knowing you
Knowing you
And I count it all as lost, compared to knowing you
Knowing you

2010-10-11T15:22:00.000-05:00

I feel like poetry and songs express what people feel far better than words every could, so I'm not even going to try and explain this one.

One wild rose-flower, growing alone
Surrounded by weeds, and sticks, and stone
In spite of all danger, no thought for herself
Lifts up her face, displaying her wealth
With all odds against her, she stands straight and true
A blessing to everyone, but mostly to You
Who placed her there, tilting her face to the sky.
If she can trust You, Lord, so can I.

On a soft breeze soars a small bird.
Though many a song from him, never a word.
Small and weak though he is, never a thought
Does he give for his safety. Clothes he has not
The future means nothing, he is simply free
To sing to his God who made him to be
A creature of worship, a jewel in His sky.
If he can praise You, Lord, so can I.

Her life has been nothing but hardships and sorrow
With no hope of change in her every tomorrow.
Alone in a world that cares nothing for her
She's lost all the family and friends that there were.
But on hearing Your name, she lights up with a smile,
Her trouble forgotton, no memory of trial.
She speaks of Your goodness, Your hand in her life.
If she can Love You, Lord, so can I.

One of My Favorite Miracles

2010-09-27T17:05:00.000-05:00

I wanted to take a minute today to talk about one of my favorite miracles that God has done: my brother. At birth, my brother was born with congenital heart defects. A big word which summed up means, "Nothing exciting in your future". One of his valves in his heart was "stuck" and they performed a surgery on him within the first week of his birth. I won't go into all the medical terms that I've taken years to try to understand and can't remember what they're called, but they essentially sent a "balloon" down into his heart and tried to inflate it in order to release the tightness in the valve, and ripped it open, forcing them to perform open heart surgery on him. It didn't entirely fix the problem. The valve, while partially repaired, still leaked blood back into the chamber after pumping once, so his heart pumped a second time to send the rest of the blood on, making his heart beat twice when a normal person's would beat once. This began a series of hospital visits that frustrated Austin to no end.

Easter Photoshoot

When he was younger, the frustrations were hardly noticeable. He got tired before other people and he was not allowed to have any candy, soda, juice or popsicles with blue dye in the because when he stained the outside of his mouth blue, he looked like he didn't have any oxygen. As he got older and his friends were allowed to play sports while he was only allowed to spectate, he started to get angry with my mom and God for not letting him be normal.


Austin and Me!

Doctors and surgeons alike told him he'd never get to play sports or be active and his dream of becoming a pilot was ridiculous. No one in their right mind would let someone with his medical record pilot a plane because of the risk he held of having a sudden heart attack due to altitude. Many people would have given up and found a new dream. He could have chosen to give in and learn computer graphics or become a doctor himself, but Austin didn't. He begged for a chance to play soccer. The doctor was hesitant at first and told my mom a story of someone who had Austin's problem. He too had begged for a chance to play sports and wouldn't listen when they told him he shouldn't. He played football and one day, during a game, his heart literally exploded. (That's what I remember being told. Maybe I was too young to understand the specifics of the story.) This story scared my mom and the rest of us, but Austin was undeterred, and after a lot of discussion, my mom finally decided to let him play soccer on the terms that he could only play goalie and had to sit out if he got tired.

This arrangement worked for a little while, but the exertion was making Austin's heart pump harder than usual and like all muscles, it started to grow with the exercise, sending him to the hospital for another open heart surgery at 15. This surgery, they said, would be the last one. They replaced the valve and it should've last for many years. A major infection discovered the day he would have been released from the hospital put him back in for another week. I remember how angry he was about this. He was so desperate to get out of the hospital and finally be normal.

I think it only took him two years to disintegrate that valve and have to have another emergency replacement. He was 18 this time and there was some question about how to do the surgery. All his previous hospital visits had been with Lebonheur hospital, but they specialize in children's medical care and Austin would normally have had to switch doctors at this point. His case was so complicated though, that my mom was very hesitant to have someone else perform the operation and against expectations, Lebonheur hospital agreed to keep him on.

Just over seven hours of surgery later, Austin was healed, and for good this time. He was not only allowed to play sports, he's receiving his medical records within the week to begin the process of getting his pilot's license. And a few days ago, he ran a half marathon (13.1 miles) in 2 hours, 9 minutes, and 44 seconds. We were asking if he felt all right and everything. His complaint?, "I wanted to do it in under two hours." Isn't that amazing? He will always have a scar on his chest and he will probably never be as bulked as other guys, but he is living proof that God still performs miracles. And I think he's pretty awesome.

What Matters Most

2010-09-17T10:05:00.000-05:00

I got outside of my box last night. It was Phil's birthday, and our house got cookie ingredients and since I had the night off, I volunteered to make them. Before I knew it, I had Vesper on one hip helping me run the mixer, Hopie measuring out dry ingredients, Faith helping with the wet and Sonrise and Caleb by my feet. And surprisingly, I had a blast!! They were adorable. Phil and Zube were there, and Phil said something that reminded me of what I wanted to blog about.

In our ladies meeting about three weeks ago, Jerusha said something that I haven't forgotten. We were talking about making good choices: what to wear, whether or not to eat, etc. What she said was something like we don't think enough of ourselves to make good choices for ourselves. We don't think we're worth it or don't care about ourselves enough. However, as soon as she had children, she had the ability to make better choices.

I am the same way. There is some music that I could listen to that doesn't affect me in the slightest, but some friends of mine struggle with it. There are clothes that I want to wear or I think look good, but if I put them on, my brothers struggle. What it comes down to, is that I don't think highly of myself and don't care enough about myself to listen to better music or wear more modest clothing. If it weren't for my friends and family and God, I'd do all manner of things that I would never do otherwise. But I don't do them. Because I care more about them than I do about me.

I think that if we care more about ourselves, then we can wear what we want, listen to what we want, and do what we want. If we care more about others, we'll do what is best for them and it's a small sacrifice. It only matters as much as you care about someone else.

So last night, we were making jokes about Phil eloping. It was all in jest and we were having fun, until Faith asked me, "Dassi, what's eloping?" I stopped laughing and looked at her. "It's running away and getting married without asking anyone." She looked at Phil and the look of shock and horror on her face stopped me dead in my tracks. She looks up to and respects Phil and could not imagine him doing anything like that. We quickly explained to her that he had done nothing like that and that it was a joke, but I'll never forget the look on her face.

If I ever think of something I want, all I have to do from now on is imagine that look and know that I care more about Faith than I do about myself and even if I don't care enough about myself to make good decisions for myself, I care enough about Faith to make good decisions for her.

Happiness is a Choice

2010-09-13T15:20:00.000-05:00

I just got back from a weekend trip to Jackson, MS to perform with WindDance at a Celticfest.

Friday morning, I worked at the Coffee shop and we were leaving at 1:30, so I packed the night before, staying up until after 1 making sure everything was complete. I got up at 4:45 am Friday, so I was pretty tired all morning at work and actually looking forward to the 5 hour drive, hoping I might be able to sleep since I had been pretty busy all week and hadn't had more than 5 hours of sleep a night for about two weeks. In a crazy whirlwind, we closed early, made it home and grabbed the rest of my stuff and went to the bus.

As soon as I walked to the car, my day started going downhill. I looked in dismay at the backseat of Johnny's tiny backseat. Both side seats were taken and as soon as I climbed in, I felt claustrophobic. I was crammed in between Maranatha and Samantha with my feet on the hump. Worse, I felt a migraine coming on. I scrunched down in the seat, trying to lay my head on the back of the seat and within five minutes my back and neck were aching. I sighed and sat up. So much for sleeping. I thought as we pulled out. This is going to be one miserable drive.

Thunder rumbled and we drove straight into a wall of rain. I put my headphones in and turned my music up as loud as I could handle it so I wouldn't have to talk to anyone and looked out the windshield, keeping my mouth firmly shut to keep the complaints inside. I couldn't believe how bothered I was, but it just kept getting worse and I could not pull out of it. I closed my eyes and tried to pray, but couldn't. I leaned my head back thinking The only thing that could make this worse is if we got into a car accident. Actually, it might be better if we did. At least I'd be out of this car. There was a squeal of tires on the newly wet pavement and then WHAM! The car lurched forward and I felt myself thrown against my seatbelt. Yanking my headphones out, I turned around and saw that Asher's white van had rear-ended Johnny's little black jeep. Completely shaken, we pulled into the Bolivar BP and checked out the damage. The fender was dented and the back door wouldn't open, but the alignment was still ok and there seemed to be no problems. Apparently, the car in front of us stopped a little suddenly, forcing us to stop suddenly and the 15-passenger van, which was pulling the trailer with all of the luggage, couldn't stop fast enough on the wet pavement and had hit us from behind.

We had to pull over and answer questions for some police officers. I couldn't help but feel a little shaken. Literally as soon as I thought it, it happened. We hadn't even made it outside of Bolivar yet. My mom and Amy could tell I was tired and started trying to switch up the vehicles to move me somewhere I could sleep, which made me feel really bad. I didn't deserve it, but I got to switch to another van and sleep, waking up feeling much better.

For the rest of the weekend, though, I guess I forgot what God had gone out of His way to show me and before long, I got into that funk again. I don't know what it was, but everyone and everything started driving me crazy. The girls, who were behaving perfectly normal, seemed to me to be very immature. People were talking way too loud. Everyone felt like they had to walk on eggshells around me, and I could tell. The girls in my room went down to swim, and I, grateful for the opportunity to be alone and try to calm down, stayed behind. I pulled out my book, thinking that reading stories about missionaries would remind me that I had nothing to complain about, and wondering what on earth was the matter with me. As soon as I started reading, the girls came back...and turned on the TV. My black mood, which had drained away briefly, came back full-force and I had to force a half-smile on my face for all the girls who kept asking what was wrong, which I couldn't explain.

The next morning was no better. I woke up angry and on the verge of tears and as thoroughly confused about my mood as I was the day before. After breakfast, I escaped to our room, trying again to spend some time trying to get close to God, but He just seemed so far away, and I finally sent my mom a text when all the girls came back in and I was over it. She came and we talked for a little bit. It helped temporarily.

I'll spare all the details since this is getting much longer than I wanted. My mom had told me to stop thinking about myself and focus on other people. Stop trying to pray, stop trying to "be happy" just, think about the people with me and take care of them. Before long, I was smiling again. I had my friends laughing till they choked and I was happier than I'd been the whole trip.

I tell my friends that the only time I am insecure about my looks or my weight, it is because I was thinking about myself. Now, I will have to add that the times I am unhappy has nothing to do with God, has nothing to do with my circumstances, and even nothing to do with the people around me. It has everything to do with whether I am choosing to think about myself, or someone else, whether that someone is God, the friends I am with, or the person who walks by me.

My happiness is a choice, something I've been told before, and even believed, but never had to experience until this weekend. I had to apologize to a few friends after the weekend I put them through, and we're all fine again. (Thank God for my forgiving friends.)

Anyway, next time you get pulled under, remember that it is nothing to do with your circumstances, it is everything to do with how you see them.

Contentment vs. Complacency

2010-09-01T14:57:00.000-05:00

I've been thinking a lot lately (a dangerous hobby, but necessary). I've been wondering why it is so hard for me to be content where I'm at. Clearly God put me here, and yet I struggle with wanting to be somewhere else, doing something else, being someone else, or whatever. I can't seem to just be where I'm at and be ok with it. I had a bit of insight, not sure where from really, but most likely from God. I think what I'm most afraid of is not being content, it's being complacent. I am afraid to allow myself to take root because I don't want to get stuck in a rut and miss God using the excuse that I'm learning to content myself. But the truth is that I need to be content. I need to be happy where God has me, but I can't allow myself to become complacent to the point that I don't want to move, I don't want to be anything different, I don't want to change.

Well this is much shorter than I had anticipated, but length doesn't determine depth I suppose, and even though this lesson may be blatantly obvious to some, it took me a long time to get there.

If, by Rudyard Kipling

2010-08-12T15:26:00.002-05:00

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too,

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream–and not make dreams your master,
If you can think–and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ‘em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings–nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much,

If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And–which is more–you’ll be a Man, my son!

–Rudyard Kipling

Being Content

2010-08-10T15:24:00.000-05:00

I have reached a point in my life where I feel like I should know what I'm doing next. I want to know "what I want to be when I grow up" and I want to start working towards it now. There's just one problem with that. I don't know. While a lot of my friends already have their lives laid out and have started pursuing their dreams, I am still wondering what on earth I'm supposed to be doing here. Medical work makes me squeamish and I have no desire to be a doctor/nurse. I don't write music, just sing it, and so I don't think I'll be making a career of music.

Frankly, there's just nothing that I've stumbled across that "makes my heart beat faster" or I've dreamed of being since I was little. When I was a kid, I wanted to be a pirate, a naturalist (Steve Erwin was my ultimate hero when I was 12 and 13 before I realized I was actually kind of scared of crocodiles.), and the president of the United States. Since none of those options seem very likely, and I'm not particularly interested in them any more, (except the pirate, that'd be pretty cool) I don't have a lifelong dream.

And I have a confession, I'm not that great with kids. Babies, I can handle. Vesper's age I get along fine with. I tell them what to do, they listen, if they don't, I show them who's in charge and then we have fun together. No problem. Then they get to this age that I become totally clueless. I have no idea what kids think about and even how to talk to them. My friends laugh endlessly about this, but it's true. I honestly cannot remember what I thought about when I was like 5, 6, 7, up until I was about 12. Then I was a total tomboy until I hit puberty. I didn't even brush my hair if I could get away with it. All that to say that I doubt I'd be comfortable in a career with kids like running an orphanage or something.

My brother says I have no hope in a political career. He says I'm too emotional and can't stay calm when people fire me up. Possibly true, though my roommate is correct in saying that I couldn't handle all the arguing with people. I'm already naturally argumentative, she says, and don't need any encouragement in that area. Ouch...but she's right too.

I've been praying for an answer to this. I started feeling restless and discontent and feeling like there was something else. I don't want to spend the rest of my life working and cooking and wondering what else there is for me. It seems to me that I'd already know, despite my mom's indignant response that I am only 18 and have plenty of time to figure it out.

In answer to my prayers...

I was looking through my notebook that I keep with my bible yesterday, and found the notes that I took while I was in Mexico. I found a page that I didn't remember writing, though reading it, I faintly recalled looking up the verses. It was simple; it just said

Jason: Matthew 8:9
Nicole: Phillipians 4:11

Curious, I looked up the verses. Matt 8:9 was "For I myself am a man under authority, with soldiers under me. I tell this one, 'Go,' and he goes; and that one, 'Come,' and he comes. I say to my servant, 'Do this,' and he does it." I remember writing that. I was thinking about the authority Jason has with the men in the village in Mexico. When he speaks, everyone listens. When he suggests something, there's no hesitation, just instant obedience. The men and women there love him and it's clear he has God's authority. I feel like he got that from his own obedience to God and what He had for him and his obedience to God is evident. The greatest leaders are the ones who have followed first.

Nicole's verse, Phillipians 4:11, was the one that hit me. It says simply, "I have learned to be content in whatever circumstances I am in." It goes on to talk about in prosperity and in meager times, but the part I was referring to stops there. That is what I admire about Nicole, and Amy Carmichael and others like them. They have learned to be content in whatever circumstances God places them, even if it requires moving to Mexico away from everyone and everything you know to work, almost entirely alone, for what could very possibly become the rest of your life or being stuck in bed in pain and unable to walk for the remainder of your life.

I admire that because I know that I do not have that. I am unable to be content even though I have everything necessary to live, a job I like and job for income, a family who loves me, and food to eat. I have a roof over my head and clothes on my back. I have far more than most people in this world, and yet I am not content with my lot in life.

Partially, I think this is a good thing. I think it will drive me to serve and give of what I've been given. But the truth is, God put me where I am for a reason. I am here for something and if I spend all my time looking for the next thing, I will totally miss what God has for me here. Somehow, I have to learn to be happy where I am and trust that God is holding my future in His hands and will reveal it to me a step at a time.

One of my favorite songs is Step by Step by Rich Mullins because it's "step by step You'll lead me" not "You'll show me where I'm going." It says nothing about knowing God's plan, simply that "I will follow You all of my days." It doesn't specify "only if You show me where I'm going" just "I will follow."

That was a bit longer than expected. All that to say that I am constantly having to remind myself that the step God has me taking right now is to not step. To sit still and learn to be content here. And when the next step comes, I'll take that one. I don't have to worry about my future, I'm taking it one step at a time.

2010-08-03T14:00:00.000-05:00

Be what you would seem to be -- or, if you'd like it put more simply -- Never imagine yourself not to be otherwise than what it might appear to others that what you were or might have been was not otherwise than what you had been would have appeared to them to be otherwise. ~ Lewis Carroll

The Thoughts of a Teenager

2010-07-27T08:39:00.000-05:00

I've been thinking about what it means to be in this world, but not of this world because of a project some of us young people have been working on. It was a discussion topic we were supposed to think about, research on, and pray about. I talked about it with a few people. How can you be born here, live here, and yet, not be "of" here? These are a series of thoughts that I came up with (with some help).

We Are Missionaries To Earth

For Christians, I think that living on earth is like being a missionary. When you are a missionary, you live in the country, learn their language, dress like them, eat like them, follow some of their customs, and yet, you are different. You are a different race and people can easily see you're not one of them, regardless of the language you speak or the clothes you wear.

We're not natives of earth. We're a different race, a different people. We're only here for a short time and while we're here, we may dress like Americans, speak English, and eat American food. We live in houses like all other Americans, but we are not Americans.The difference should be obvious.

Being A Missionary

When I was in Mexico, everyone could easily see that I was not Mexican. My light skin and hair set me apart, and when I spoke, my language separated me even further. I wore the same clothes as them, and this time when I go back, I'll even somewhat speak the same language as them. I ate what they ate, I followed their customs, even when they didn't make sense to me, and yet I stood out as totally different. In our daily lives, when we come into contact with people, the difference should be obvious. The way we speak, our values, and our behavior should instantly set us apart.

Our Example

When Jesus was on Earth, he attracted people to Him wherever He went. Every city, every house, he had a huge crowd of people who could see He was different. Before He taught, he already had people following Him. When He opened His mouth and spoke, people knew He was different. If we are followers of Christ, should it not be the same for us? If we are patterning our lives after His, shouldn't we be set apart on sight? Shouldn't we be in this world, as He was, and yet make it clear that we are only passing through? We shouldn't have any ties to this world. He told us that He had no place to rest His head. (Matt 8:20) He seriously was just passing through. He didn't allow Himself any ties to this world at all, not even a bed. How much more free would we be if weren't bound by earthly things?

(I'm not saying "Let's all sleep outside on the ground!", but try telling me that if you had to pick up and go right this minute, there wouldn't be several things that you would have to consider first.)

What Do You See?

I cannot remember where I heard or read this, but I remember a story. When Queen Elizabeth I was a little girl, she was misbehaving and her nanny, frustrated beyond measure, dragged her in front of a mirror and made her look inside. "What do you see? I see the future queen of England. Now start acting like it!"

I don't know if this is a true story, but I can imagine this little girl, feeling the weight of her lot in life and living underneath that weight. People will watch every move she makes, every word that comes out of her mouth will be judged and picked apart. Every person she talks to will be a judgment on her character. Every decision she makes as queen will impact an entire country of people. She will be the most liked and disliked person in the country. That's a lot of weight for a little girl to carry.

Take the time to look in the mirror. What do you see? You see a follower of God. Every word that comes of your mouth, everything you do, everywhere you go, you are being watched and judged. If we lived our lives that way, knowing what we are and acting accordingly, there would be a lot less carelessness in our treatment of people.

I used to laugh at those WWJD bracelets and bumper stickers, but in all honesty, we should be asking ourselves that in every situation, "What Would Jesus Do?" If we are patterning our lives after His, wouldn't it be a good idea to ask ourselves what He would do in every situation and with every person we come into contact with? (Or better yet, ask Him what He would do.)

My closing thought is this: living in the world, and not being of it requires a constant reminder of who and what we are. Whether you need to remind yourself every morning when you look in the mirror or whatever, know you're not of this world and act accordingly.

I Love You More...

2010-07-19T16:04:00.001-05:00

I had the most amazing experience. On Friday, Tipharah called me and invited me to come over and listen to her baby's heartbeat. Shiphchah (her midwife while Ari is gone) came over and soon found the heartbeat. As the sound filled the room, the small, very fast beat, I couldn't help but wonder whether it would be a boy or girl, what he or she would be like. Would it play an instrument like Paul? Would he play soccer with Eli? Or would she dance with Tipharah? Or love to sing like I do, or whatever else.

Will he get Paul's curly hair? Tipharah's amazing eyes? Will she be chubby and cute?

It was then that I realized that no matter what this baby did or looked like or acted like, I knew I loved it, no matter what. An undeniable, unconditional, powerful love.

I thought I could imagine God smiling and saying, "Now you finally know how much I love you. No matter what you do, or what you look like, or where you go, I love you even more than you love that unborn baby."

It amazed me. That baby didn't have to do anything to earn my love, and yet, it has it. Likewise, I never had to do anything to earn God's love.

Living in God's Grace

2010-07-10T00:08:00.000-05:00

My life has been very hectic recently. With working at the Coffee shop and HLA, planning two mission trips to Mexico, and all the drama that my family is experiencing, I've been wondering why I put myself through it. Most of the stress in my life is self-inflicted. No one asked me to plan a mission trip and if I felt too stressed, there are a few things I could drop without too much trouble. In spite of that, there are a few more things I'm trying to take up. Go figure.

However, I've found that I enjoy living this way. No, not the stress part of it, not the headaches or lack of sleep that I can't seem to catch up on. The part I enjoy is knowing that I can't do it. Ok, I know that sounds weird, hear me out. I can't do it alone. I am living in God's grace every minute of every day. I know I am living every day asking for His grace and receiving it. There's no way I could live my life in my own strength. I've come to the mindset of, "God, you know I can't do this, so if You want it to happen, You will make it happen." And you know what? He does! Every time I find I'm at the end of myself, He meets me there.

What a wonderful way to live! How crazy and yet wonderful. I love it. It makes God very real and near to me. I wouldn't trade it for a normal schedule, for less to do, or even sleep. I love each crazy minute because I know my God will see me through. I couldn't ask for more than that.

Just a reminder to us all...

2010-07-01T10:23:00.000-05:00

A friend of mine sent me to this verse last night, and I wanted to remind us all that
"...we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose." Romans 8:28

Where My Blogs Come From or...

2010-06-28T09:42:00.002-05:00

Wow...I got on the internet, intending to blog, and it amazes me how much time I put into keeping up with the whole online world. I first had to check my email. I have my email, then my work email, then my HomeLife Academy email (which I still haven't gotten to), then I check the RCV chatroom to see if anyone has answered my question, which they have and I answer back then check all the new topics entered since the last time I was on. I then look up my sister's and friends' picasa albums and see all the new pictures they've put up. After that I read everyone's blogs and all the news from Memphis and other people's lives before I actually get to blogging. And now, after so much time, I don't even remember what it was that drove me to the computer to blog.

Hmm...it's food for thought. I didn't realize I spend so much time on the computer.

Ah...now I remember.

A few months back, I had someone ask me where I get my inspiration to write my blog. I just kind of gave a blank stare. I wasn't sure how to answer. Now I've had time to think about it, I guess I'd have to answer with "Out of the abundance of the heart, [the] mouth speaks."* (Luke 6:45, ESV) I write what I feel. If God shares something good with me, I get excited and want people to know about it. If I'm struggling and being tested, I need to share it. I don't think I'm a gifted writer, and I often forget people actually read what I write. I don't write a blog because I think people should read it or because I think I have something great to say.

I get my inspiration from the way I feel. I get it from the small things God shows me, and from the way I feel. I get it from the people around me, and the things I read and see. If something helps me out, I share it in hopes that it will encourage someone else. These aren't divinely inspired writings, they're the ramblings of a teenage girl trying to find her way.

I don't remember who asked me the question, but since you asked about it, I assume you'll read this, so here's your belated answer.

*Fun Fact: My mom used to quote this to me when I was younger whenever I'd say something harsh or rude, then say that I was kidding, or that I didn't mean it. I didn't quite understand the full meaning and I didn't know it was from the bible until I got a little bit older.

Pastor With Guts

2010-06-22T16:45:00.002-05:00

I actually got this in my work email address. I assumed it was spam, but since it's my work address, I have to check before deleting, so I was scanning through. Somehow it caught my attention, and I ended up reading the whole thing. Ken actually checked it out on Snopes and it is a true story, though the numbers are a little inaccurate. (i.e. it says 5,500 in one place where it was actually 6,500). I thought it was a very brave thing to do. If only more people would not be ashamed of God and would be ashamed of what our country has turned into, stories like this wouldn't be rare or amazing; no one would expect anything less of anyone who claims to be a Christian.

A Pastor with GUTS!

Thought you might enjoy this interesting prayer given in Kansas at the opening session of their House of Representatives. It seems prayer still upsets some people. When Minister Joe Wright was asked to open the new session of the Kansas Senate, everyone was expecting the usual generalities, but this is what they heard:

"Heavenly Father, we come before you today to ask your forgiveness and to seek your direction and guidance. We know Your Word says, 'Woe to those who call evil good,' but that is exactly what we have done.

We have lost our spiritual equilibrium and reversed our values.
We have exploited the poor and called it the lottery.
We have rewarded laziness and called it welfare.
We have killed our unborn and called it choice.
We have shot abortionists and called it justifiable.
We have neglected to discipline our children and called it building self esteem..
We have abused power and called it politics.
We have coveted our neighbor's possessions and called it ambition.
We have polluted the air with profanity and pornography and called it freedom of expression.
We have ridiculed the time-honored values of our forefathers and called it enlightenment.

Search us, Oh, God, and know our hearts today; cleanse us from every sin and set us free.
Amen!"

The response was immediate. A number of legislators walked out during the prayer in protest. In 6 short weeks, Central Christian Church, where Rev. Wright is pastor, logged more than 5,000 phone calls with only 47 of those calls responding negatively. The church is now receiving international requests for copies of this prayer from India , Africa and Korea .

Commentator Paul Harvey aired this prayer on his radio program, 'The Rest of the Story,'and received a larger response to this program than any other he has ever aired.

With the Lord's help, may this prayer sweep over our nation and wholeheartedly become our desire so that we again can be called 'one nation
under God. If possible, please pass this prayer on to
your friends.

'If you don't stand for something, you will fall for everything.'

2010-06-19T15:20:00.000-05:00

I was helping Marlene get pictures of Mexico for the Conference the other day, and ended up on the Mexico blog. I found my notes that I wrote of the ladies meeting we had while we were there and the message Gannah brought, and it touched me as deeply that evening as it did the first time she said it.

She read the story of the man who, when he found the one pearl greater than all the others, sold all of his possessions in order to purchase it. She talked about being willing to make that sacrifice and asked whether we were focusing to much on the cost, instead of the pearl.

I have to be honest, the first time I heard this parable, I thought the man was a fool. Who would sell everything they owned for a pearl, no matter how precious? It made no sense to me at all. I'm the person looking at the cost, and deciding the pearl isn't worth it, and walking away. I have no concept of the worth of the pearl.

It scares me to know that I think that way. If the pearl is the kingdom of God and the sacrifice Christ made for us, I should not only be willing to leave all that I have for that pearl, it should be the only thing that I desire. When it seems hard to give up the small things in our life that I treasure, I need to be reminded that they are dust in the wind in comparison with that pearl. I need to focus on the pearl, not the cost.

Learning to Wait

2010-06-12T10:56:00.000-05:00

Most of the people who will read this know that I've been planning a trip to Mexico for anyone I can drag along with me. There's a lot of history to that statement, though the purpose of this blog post isn't to explain that. Those who know me well will tell you that when asked to describe my character traits, 'patience' usually isn't mentioned, so you can imagine that when obstacles stand in my way, I get easily frustrated and start pushing people to try and keep things moving along. Sometimes that's a good thing, but somehow, I have difficulty finding that fine line until I've long since crossed it. Unsurprisingly, that happened with this Mexico trip.

Thursday night, I wrote an email to several of the leaders, expressing my frustration at the seeming lack of progress on this trip and my concern that I had missed the point where I needed to stop. I know my tendency to be pushy to a fault and so I wondered if I was really seeking God about this, or I was moving from myself at this point. Essentially, I had done that some (big surprise there), but I got vision on the next steps to take; however, there will still be a certain amount of waiting to do.

That was a struggle for me. It helped knowing that there was a next step to take, but knowing there was more waiting was still difficult. God always knows though, and He takes the time to send us small reasurances that He is aware of what we are going through and He has a plan. In all honesty, if I had the money and an ok from the Village, I'd leave for Mexico this afternoon.

Last night, Paul, Tipharah, and I stayed late at the coffee shop preparing for today, which is the Rockabilly Festival. I got in the car at about 11:30, and turned on the radio to K-LOVE. They were just starting this "behind the music" to the song "Power of Your Name" by Lincoln Brewster. That song was played at my passage, so it's kind of special to me, but it was late and I was only half paying attention as Lincoln was talking about the message of his song. I jumped at the words 'coffee shop'. "This song is not just inspiring people to worship, it's about inspiring people to be God's hands and feet." He was saying. "You never know how the things you say and do affect the people around you. The person in front of you in line at the coffee shop could be praying, 'God, somehow I need to know you're real. I need you to show Yourself to me somehow.' and something you say or do could be that answer for them without even realizing it."

I took that to be God's answer to me. "You want to go to Mexico, and I put that desire in you, but I also put you right here, in a coffee shop to touch people and reflect Rose Creek Village and to reflect Me. You have no idea the impact you're making on people just where you are. Until I want you to go to Mexico, You need to be content right where I've put you and stop pushing to be somewhere else."

It was one of those moments where you know clearly that God has been trying to give a message to you and you've been missing it, so he had to make it unmistakably clear. And it helped me to see that what I dislike about waiting is feeling that I'm doing nothing to help anyone, just sitting around and living for myself. But when my time is consumed with obeying God in the small things He's put before me, the waiting doesn't seem so bad.

My Passage--Part 5: Hospitality

2010-06-10T15:29:00.000-05:00

One very important part of being a woman which the value of is often underestimated is hospitality. It doesn't seem like much. In fact, it's kind of boring, tedious work that isn't appreciated very much or noticed by most. But it's one of those things that if done carelessly or half-heartedly, everyone can tell. I'm one of those people that don't think to thank those who take the time to make a house a home, but I am probably the first to notice (and complain) if a room is messy.

Hospitality is more than cleaning. It's taking care of people who may never know what you've done for them. A well-known fact is that Mercy used to do hospitality for visitors. A very little known fact is everything it entailed. Not only did she clean the guest trailer, but she made sure there was food in there and she didn't stop at preparing the house. She took the family under her wing and checked on them while they stayed there and if she couldn't, she made sure someone else did. A small detail that even less people know is that while she was cleaning the rooms and making the beds and cleaning the bathrooms, she prayed for the family that would stay there. She asked God that the family staying there would feel the love that went into preparing a place for them. That is true hospitality.

Mercy is only one outstanding example of hospitality. Each woman in the hospitality group told stories of times they'd been taken care of, and times they'd noticed hospitality was lacking. Something Joy pointed out was that hospitality is the love and care that goes into the preparation.

The ladies then bent down and washed our (Nichole's and my) feet. This was a little hard for me. I can't help but still feel like a child in the presence of these ladies, and as the day went on, I was more and more overwhelmed. (More on that later....) In any case, I didn't feel I deserved to have my feet washed. I had to keep reminding myself that Jesus washed the feet of his disciples and when Peter refused to let Him, he (Peter) was rebuked for it. That thought helped me feel a little less...undeserving, I guess.

They also gave me one of my favorite things I received at my passage. It was a small white shoulder bag with two thin and one wide blue stripes along the flap, just like the Sisters of Charity (Mother Teresa's ministry)'s saris. Mother Teresa is perhaps the most well-known embodiment of hospitality. I now keep my bible in it and seeing that bag hanging by the end of my bed is a constant reminder of her.

We also got to the keep the basin and pitcher, which were beautiful.

I'll post pictures when I get a chance. Internet is too slow right now.

My Passage: Part 4--Sacrifice

2010-06-01T19:34:00.000-05:00

It was brought to my attention this morning that I'm shamefully overdue in writing...I guess it's hard to remember people actually read this, so I get busy and forget to write. I'm sorry. Something I've already begun doing, is copying all the posts about my passage and copying them onto a separate page on my blog. There is a link to it on the bottom of the page.

To take up where I left off with the sacrifice group.

They next told a story about a stick of bamboo. I don't have the exact copy with me, but the general summary is that a gardener has a beautiful garden, and his most favorite plant in it is a tall, strong, beautiful stalk of bamboo. One day, he comes to it with a knife and tells it that he will hurt it. He begins carving into the bamboo. Though it is painful, the bamboo knows that the gardener loves it and wouldn't hurt if for no reason. When the pain is over and the gardener stops to inspect his work, the bamboo sees that the master has carved his name into the bamboo so everyone would know that it and all its beauty belongs to the gardener. The bamboo is filled with pride and joy.

Later, the gardener comes with a hatchet. He cuts the bamboo down and strips it of all its branches and leaves and all its beauty. He then cuts it in half and carves out its heart. He then uses the bamboo for irrigation, bringing water to the fields and bringing water to other people. When the bamboo sees the joy and life that it brings by sacrificing itself, it is glad that the master used it.

It's a beautiful picture of sacrifice. We can never know why God puts us through the pain He asks us to. He asks us to give things up and strips us of all that we hold dear and all that we believe is good and beautiful in us. And then, when we find there is nothing good in us at all, then and only then can he use us to bring life and joy to others.

My Passage: Part 4--Sacrifice

2010-05-01T12:30:00.001-05:00

I have a lot I want to share from the sacrifice group. The first is a letter that Becky read.It's totally awesome and inspiring.

I'm part of the fellowship of the unashamed. I have the Holy Spirit power. The die has been cast. I have stepped over the line. The decision has been made--I'm a disciple of His. I won't look back, let up, slow down, back away, or be still. My past is redeemed, my present makes sense, and my future is secure. I'm finished and done with low living, sight walking, smooth knees, colorless dreams, tame visions, worldly talking, cheap giving, and dwarfed goals.

I no longer need preeminence, prosperity, position, promotions, plaudits, or popularity. I don't have to be right, first, tops, recognized, praised, regarded, or rewarded. I now live by faith, lean in His presence, walk by patience, am uplifted by prayer, and I labor with power.

My face is set, my gait is fast, my goal is heaven, my road is narrow, my way rough, my companions few, my Guide reliable, my mission clear. I cannot be bought, compromised, detoured, lured away, turned back, deluded, or delayed. I will not flinch in the face of of sacrifice, hesitate in the presence of the enemy, pander at the pool of popularity, or meander in the maze of mediocrity.

I won't give up, shut up, let up, until I have stayed up, stored up, prayed up, paid up, preached up for the cause of Christ. I am a disciple of Jesus. I must go till He stops me. And, when He comes for His own, He will have no problem recognizing me...my banner will be clear!

I keep finding conflicting messages about who the author is. A lot of people seem to think the author is Dr. Bob Moorehead and the other popular belief is Henry B. Eyring. Others say that it was found on a scrap of paper in the house of a pastor in Zimbabwe when they were searching his home before or after he was martyred. I honestly don't know, but God does. Regardless of the author, it's totally awesome.

My Passage: Part 3--Service

2010-04-27T10:05:00.002-05:00

This pitcher is overflowing with water, if that isn't evident by the picture, but it started out empty. The ladies who were in the service group set up a big jar of water, and each woman in the room came and put one cupful of water into the pitcher. It filled very slowly, and it took very many scoops to fill it, but by the time each woman had put her portion in, it was not only full, but overflowing. It was a beautful picture of how each woman has to do her part to make the whole.
Each lady had chosen quotes about service that they read that gave a picture that service isn't just work, it's choosing to give yourself, all of yourself, for others and for God.

They also gave us a broom with these words on it:

I will live to carry your compassion, to love a world that's broken, to be Your hands and feet. And I will give with the life that I've been given and go beyond religion to see the world be changed by the power of Your name.

These are the lyrics to a song, and they felt that they embodied their message to us. The broom was to represent the hidden work we do that no one sees, true service. They used sweeping as an example: the floor is swept three times a day, at every cleanup, and yet, because of our lifestyle, it always seems dirty. Sometimes, it doesn't seem worth it to sweep it one more time because no one notices when you do it, but when it isn't done, everyone can tell. It must be done.

I don't have a picture of the broom. Sorry. It will be hanging on my wall whenever I move somewhere with more wall space. :)

Explanation:

2010-04-26T17:10:00.001-05:00

Before I post all about the different groups of ladies, I think I should explain a few things.

The theme of our passage was based on Proverbs 31, among other things. They had divided up the verses, and picked one or two words that they felt defined those verses. Then all the ladies grouped up based on those verses and presented them through dramas, or songs, or pictures. It was truly beautiful.

Anyway, that's what I'm referring to when I say "The service group" or "the strength and dignity group".

Also, part of the theme was the Dawn and the Dusk. She was the dawn: the rising of the sun, the daytime, the bright, happy side. I was the Dusk: the evening star, the nighttime, the setting sun. (I don't think I can safely say the quiet, mysterious side, though the people who didn't know me so well seemed to think that was included.) The point being that each is not what it is without the other, and each gives way to the other to be complete. The day has to give way to the night, and nighttime disappears every morning. They are different, but similar, and each is strong in its own element.

Another aspect was the Conquerer and Defender. I was given a sword (a Joan of Arc replica) to represent the conquerer, attacker and fighter, and she was given a shield (which she was quick to point out, was "sparkly"). She is the defender, the protector. A lot was said about her connection with children. They love her, they follow her around, and she easily bonds with them. She was likened to a character in the Great Divorce by C. S. Lewis, who, when appears, is followed by laughing, dancing children, flowers bloom when she passes birds and butterflies surround her (which is why they did her entrance the way they did). I was likened to Joan of Arc, who led warriors into battle and ended up being burnt at the stake, fighting for her belief, her God, and her country. Both very different, and yet, they can't be who they are without the other. There would be no safe place for the children and people like Nichole without the fighters, and there would be nothing to fight for without them.

Anyway, I'll add the pictures to this when I get to the coffee shop tonight.

Coffee House Prayer

2010-04-26T11:16:00.000-05:00

We interrupt this Passage program to bring you....Coffee House Prayer!

I had a prayer experience that I actually found kind of funny. Last Thursday, the bible study was canceled. This is what actually helps our business on Thursdays since we close early (due to almost all of our workers being in WindDance). Tipharah and I were opening, so on the way in, I was praying that we'd have good business to make up for not having the bible study. God answered by giving us more business than we'd had all for two weeks. It was truly amazing since based on weather, we shouldn't've had much at all.

So Friday night, when the weather reports said we'd have a tornado watch, I wasn't expecting much business at all, and thought, It worked last week, why not today? So I prayed, "God, please help us have good business tonight, in spite of the weather. At least help us break $250." I was thinking, that's not asking too much. In fact, that's pretty reasonable. Not 10 minutes after I had prayed this, Beth and Benayah came in with their kids. I checked the drawer after they left and we were at $260.49...and that's were it stayed for the rest of the day. If Benayah's family hadn't come in, we wouldn't have broken $250. God gave us exactly what I prayed for...no more, and no less. Maybe I'm the only one who finds this funny, but I could totally imagine God doing that on purpose, to strengthen my faith in prayer? Probably. That was the result, but I also can't help but laugh, thinking, So, You do have a sense of humor.

My Passage: Part 2--Sisterhood & Trust

2010-04-23T16:53:00.001-05:00

Anne and April, sisters at heart

"Sisterhood, as we all know, is about what we have in common," April began. She and Anne began listing everything they have in common: their husbands are considerably older than them (and both men have amazing taste in women, of course), their engagement rings are identical, their weddings are the same month. Their oldest children were born the same month, a year after they were born. The next children, 4 days apart. "And of course, it helps when you dress alike and your hair is alike!" Anne adds at the end. "And we like the same cold cereal, eaten dry."

"What are you talking about?" Jenn asked. And they talked about the true meaning of sisterhood, that it's deeper than having things in common, or even being born into the same family. It's about being there for each other and being able to trust each other.

It's a two-sided relationship, where each gives, not just takes. They then each said what they contributed to the sisterhood of the village. Each woman then stood and joined the circle, holding hands each pledging to give what she had to the village. Some said honesty, comfort, faith or life: the word we all think of when we think of them. Love and trust and even magic. (Can you guess who that was?) Some people said the ministry they were part of, like midwifery or being a doula. All together, you could see how the sisterhood would not be complete without each part. Nichole and I had been asked to think about it before the passage so we were ready with our pledges.

"I pledge gentleness," Nichole vowed, and I pledged strength. (I guess a little explanation is necessary here. A few years ago, Amma had been meeting with the Messenger girls, and she gave us a word that she felt was our strength and weakness. Mine was strength and Nichole's was gentleness. On our outing before our passage, the Messenger girls had given us a quote that they felt linked our words together and proved once again, that neither of us would be who we were without the other.

"Nothing is as strong as gentleness, and nothing is so gentle as true strength."

This was repeatedly referred to throughout the day, so I guess we chose well.)

This group also gave us a necklace: a double wired necklace, a glass cross, and several colored beads. Each color represented different traits and personalities, and they said to remember, each time we wear the necklace, to remember we are wearing the sisters around our neck, and also, the necklace isn't complete without all of them.

I feel so blessed to be part of that sisterhood.

My Passage: Part 1--7:00 am to 10:00 am

2010-04-22T10:22:00.003-05:00

I started blogging about my passage and it transformed into something way longer than I expected. I guess I'll post it in segments. Also, some of it is personal, so reading this, you may not get the full story. If you're a lady, you know what happened. If you're a girl, you'll have to wait till your passage to know how it really is. If you're a guy (of any age), you'll just have to wonder I guess. :)

How do I begin to describe the amazing journey my sister and I undertook? Maybe I should begin at the beginning, but this story begins long before Saturday, April 17th at 9:30 AM. It begins months, and even years earlier as we both began to find our place in the body of Christ, how we struggled with our peers and cried over losses when friends were taken out. Several times, we nearly went down ourselves, but somehow, Saturday morning, I awoke ready to take on the next and biggest step so far: Womanhood. We were given lists of tasks to accomplish to help prepare us for this day, and so as I began getting ready to leave, I wasn't very nervous, which is weird because I usually get nervous about much lesser things than a passage. (At my graduation, I was miserable to be around, and when required to give speeches, I'm exceedingly...unpleasant.) This morning however, the only side effects I felt were that I couldn't eat, and I didn't talk much, just watched all my friends and the ladies in my house rush around in a frenzy, hair half-done, speaking cryptically when they noticed that I was in the room.

At about 8:15, I was driven down to Joy's cabin. They had me close my eyes and led me in slowly by the hand. I was seated in a chair and then told, "Ok, open your eyes!" I was skeptical that the delicate, pink dress in front of me was mine. It was beautiful, but my eyes were drawn to the one in front of Nichole. There was so much detail on it; I couldn't believe that someone would put that much time into something for me. It took a little bit to convince them that my stunned silence was overwhelming gratefulness, not that I didn't like it. The next 15 minutes were spent getting my hair twisted up and into a braided wire headband that Rushi had made for me. I couldn't believe it was actually mine, it was so beautiful.

     I then changed into the dress and waited for Nichole's hair to be finished, which took a little longer than mine. Waiting there was the first time I felt a twinge of nervousness. Do you really know what you're getting yourself into?, my mind asked. A little late for doubts, I replied and resolutely walked out the door. It was then I found out I had to enter on horseback. Apparently, I was supposed to have a practice horse ride days before, but it hadn't worked out with my schedule because they couldn't tell me about it. I stood for a moment, trying to figure out how to climb up into a saddle in a full-length dress, and then made a rather undignified scramble up onto the horse. After we arranged my skirts and the other girls climbed up, we waited, hearing snatches of the speeches being made on the stage. I have to admit, that was the most nervous I was the entire day. I heard my name every once in a while, and people laughing, which was the worst thing since you couldn't hear what they were laughing at, I heard, ..."she struggled with that for a while, but..." What did I struggle with? The horse kept trying to sniff my foot, and I kept trying to kick it away without letting Samantha see when I heard the music start. At the last moment, Esther decided she couldn't ride a horse and carry the flag and threw it down.

     As soon as the horse started walking, I was totally fine. I straightened my back and held my head high, and for the strangest moment, I felt like Joan of Arc, riding home after a huge victory. I had worked long and hard to get to this place and time, and I rode in with my head held high. I looked over and saw Nichole being led in on a white horse with ribbons braided into his mane, surrounded by little girls dancing and carrying flowers. Even though I didn't know this was on purpose, the first thought that went through my head was, She looks like a queen. I was dreading trying to climb off the horse and keep my skirt down, but somehow I must have managed it. Nichole slid down gracefully (of course), and the little girls ran to give her the flowers. Those sweet girls noticed that my hands were empty (I was supposed to be carrying the standard) and they remedied that by handing me half of Nichole's flowers.

*note to anyone wondering why we looked like we were at a funeral, these little bugs kept flying into our eyes, and there was nothing we could do except kind of squint and hope they went away. I had someone ask what was wrong.

     The Messenger girls danced then, and then pulled us into the dance and then they whispered, "Walk over to the ladies now." I had been warned they'd ask us rite of passage questions, and I started to worry they'd do that now, but as we walked towards them, they began to sing the Bride song and formed an aisle leading to the door of the Town Hall. I walked through, feeling my nervousness drain away, glad I had managed to make it through without tripping once...thought too soon, I stumbled on the hem of my dress and nearly fell. Couldn't I have got any of the gracefulness in my family? Sigh... I couldn't help but pause on the porch and look back at my family in the field. I didn't feel an overwhelming feeling of leaving my childhood behind, or any momentous, recordable thoughts besides, "It's going to be an AWESOME day." Then pushed open the door and stepped inside.

Waiting to see the dresses

We both instantly know there was a swap. Check out Nichole's adorable expression!

Nathanael, talking about Nichole.

Abba, talking about me.

My grand entrance

My beautiful sister

Little kids are so sweet!

Believe it or not, these flowers are not for a funeral. :)

The Messenger girls!

Walking to the ladies. We look so different...

Me Nichole

Singing the Bride song and walking up the aisle. :)

My Passage

2010-04-10T10:38:00.000-05:00

My passage is in 8 days. A lot of people keep asking me if I'm nervous, and honestly, for the first time in my life before a big event...I'm not. And I think I know why. I have been forced to get out of my box and really spend time with different ladies in the village that really intimidate me. There were eight ladies my mom chose for me to talk to, and I had to meet with them three times each before my passage: a total of 24 talks, each between 30 minutes to an hour. An astounding feat, even if they weren't the 8 busiest ladies she could find. :) They set really high standards that you can't help but try to meet when you're around them. I can't help but try my best to be like them when I see the kind of impact they have on the people around them. Spending time with them has helped me to get closer to them and not feel so intimidated by them. If I hadn't had to do that, I would be terrified. As it is, I feel really excited and honored to spend a day with women I totally admire and love and I'm not scared of it at all.

Those are my thoughts for today. I'm so grateful and overwhelmed by everything that's being put into it. Especially to my mom for working nonstop for days and Amma for sewing my dress. Haven't seen it yet, but everyone tells me that it's a masterpiece...Those are really the only two I see because I live with them, but I know there're others.

My Friends

2010-04-09T14:59:00.000-05:00

I'm feeling totally overwhelmed by my sweet friends. The Messenger girls planned an outing for Nichole and me before our passage, and even though it was a learning experience for all of us (what isn't?) we had a wonderful time together. They gave us letters last night that weren't finished before our outing. I'm speechless. They are so awesome!

I have to admit that I thought that this passage would create a distance between us, but if anything, it's brought us closer together. I love my friends!

Francis Chan

2010-03-29T10:15:00.000-05:00

I am subscribed to get emails from the Rebelution website (Do Hard Things). This was the one I got this morning and it was so convicting, I had to share it. It's by Francis Chan. I don't know much about him now, but I think after this I'm going find out a little bit more.

"I think it’s time we stop asking ourselves the question: “Am I a good Christian?” We live in a time when the term “Christian” has been so diluted that millions of immoral but nice people genuinely consider themselves “good Christians.” We have reduced the idea of a good Christian to someone who believes in Jesus, loves his or her family, and attends church regularly. Others will label you a good Christian even though your life has no semblance to the way Christ spent His days on earth. Perhaps we should start asking the question: “Am I a good Christ?” In other words, do I look anything like Jesus? This question never even entered my mind until a friend of mine made a passing comment to me one day.

"Dan is a long time friend of mine. In fact, he’s the pastor who performed my wedding. He was talking to me about a pastor named Von. Von has been working with youth in the San Diego area for decades. Many of his students have gone on to become amazing missionaries and powerful servants of God. Dan described a trip to Tijuana, Mexico with Pastor Von. (Von has been ministering to the poor in the dumps of Tijuana for years). Dan didn’t speak of the awful living conditions of those who made their homes amidst the rubbish. What impacted Dan the most was the relationship he saw between Von and the people of this community. He spoke of the compassion, sacrifice, and love that he witnessed in Von’s words and actions as he held these malnourished and un-bathed children. Then he made the statement that sent me reeling:

“The day I spent with Von was the closest thing I’ve ever experienced to walking with Jesus.”

"Dan explained that the whole experience was so eerie because he kept thinking to himself: “If Jesus were still walking on earth in the flesh, this is what it would feel like to walk alongside of Him!” After that discussion, I kept wondering if anyone had ever said that about me: “The day I spent with Francis was the closest thing I’ve ever experienced to walking with Jesus.” The answer was an obvious “no.” Would any honest person say that about you?

"What bothered me was not that I hadn’t “arrived,” but that I wasn’t even heading in the right direction. I hadn’t made it my goal to resemble Christ. I wasn’t striving to become the kind of person who could be mistaken for Jesus Christ. Isn’t it ironic that a man can be known as a successful pastor, speaker, and CHRISTian even if his life doesn’t resemble Christ’s?

Francis Chan

Mother Teresa

2010-03-11T11:56:00.000-06:00

I just finished one of the books for my passage: No Greater Love by Mother Teresa. It was really awesome. I love the way she puts everything into a very practical sphere. She doesn't make love a lofty ideal that no one can ever achieve. She sets down simple ways to love people and then while you're sitting marveling at how she did it, she gently closes the back door and leaves you with no option or even desire to do anything else.

It's definitely helped me to re-look at the way I treat people. It's helped me to remember that each person I encounter is Christ. It's very hard to be disrespectful or crabby when your mindset is, "This person in front of me is Jesus."

Anyway, that's just one little thing I learned I wanted to share.

Any Answers?

2010-03-07T16:30:00.001-06:00

I am reading Amy Carmichael of Dohnavur by Frank Houghton as part of my pre-passage list and I just wanted to share something that really affected me.

The author includes a few pages of Amy's journal which I will quote.

"October 10,
....Lord, teach me how to conquer pain to the uttermost henceforth, and grant this my earnest request. When my day's work is done, take me straight Home. Do not let me be ill and a burden or anxiety to anyone...Thou knowest there could be no joy if I knew I were tiring those whom I love best, or taking the from the children.

January 16,

...O forgive me, but I must ask it: take me quickly when my work is finished. Do not, I beseech Thee, let me be disabled by pain or inability and live on a burden to others."

Reading these, I was horrified that God had chosen to end her life with her in bed, unable to walk or do anything for herself, and having her die the one way she would have not wanted. It also brought to mind the way Joan of Arc died. She is quoted as saying that she would rather die a hundred times by the sword before fire, and she was burned at the stake.

Why is it that God so often asks of us the one thing we are afraid to give or the hardest things of us? They both were sent out and never saw home again, though they didn't know that they wouldn't when they left. It was eating away at me and it bothered me that God would ask so much of these people who had given their entire lives to Him. It seems to me that He would have at least granted the one thing they had asked.

As I thought about it more, I remembered also, that Jesus died the one way He didn't want to die. God asked His own Son to do the hardest thing for Him too. And somehow, that helped me to remember that we are supposed to be patterning our lives after His. Maybe that's not the reason God had them live and die the way they did, but I know that their hearts were to be what He needed them to be and that however hard it was, they were both honored God would use them.

I think what it comes down to, is that He sees the whole picture and He knows the fruit of our suffering. The years Amy was in bed produced so many books that have touched thousands of lives. She continued to serve and take care of people even when she was down. And the work Joan of Arc started continued to bring an entire country together even after she was gone.

I'd love to hear your thoughts. Please leave a comment, or better still, come talk to me about it when I get home. I plan on asking a few people what they think when I get home.

Conjoined Twins

2010-02-24T14:42:00.003-06:00

I was talking to Miss Faith today, and my last blog post came up (the one about Nichole). She emailed me the link to this video, and I thought I'd pass it on.

A documentary went around a couple years ago about Abby and Brittany, conjoined twins who had learned to not only function, but live. This was put together around and on their 16th birthday. I think it speaks for itself.

Taking People for Granted

2010-02-16T09:19:00.000-06:00

Sorry it's been a long time. I guess I've just been busy and this wasn't the top of my priority list. I hope I never let that much time go by again.

I've been going through a lot recently...I don't even know where to start or how much I should put here. I want to share what I've learned, but some of it pertains to my friends, so I'll try to leave everyone nameless.

I've always known I had faults and weaknesses, but one thing I always thought I was pretty good at, was making friends. Whenever I've really gone out of my way to pursue someone, putting myself, my time, my effort into it, God has blessed it. Something I've failed to see, is that I'm not a good friend to everyone, only to the people I want to. In my attempts to make someone feel special and loved, I ignore other people.

For example, (And I am going to use a name here, because I think it's important.) I've lived with Nichole, my twin sister, since the day I was born. And since the day I was born (literally) I've bullied her, bossed her, took advantage of her willingness to please, and in short, completely ran over her. I've always had the more dominant personality, the louder voice, the more outgoing talents. I was born screaming my head off, she didn't make a sound. I walked at 9 months, she didn't walk till she was almost 18 months, because I liked to pick her up, and put her on one of our many push toys and push her around. I don't think she ever would have walked if my mom didn't make me stop. My first word was, "No." and I talked for her until she was well over two years old. As we got older, I'd make her ask for things, since she was more likely to get a 'yes' from my mom than I was.

Until recently, I just accepted that was the way of life. I was the one who did public speaking, planned parties, talked to strangers; she was the one who took pictures, baby-sat, created cards and flyers. She remembered all the important dates, everyone's birthdays, and upcoming events. I can't even remember what I wore yesterday without serious thought.

I actually started this intending to write about someone who spoke the truth to me instead of just listening to me talk about this and how I learned it, and ended up confessing my dominating, overbearing personality...I don't know if that's me getting sidetracked, or that I really needed to get this out.

Now that she's moved out, I feel this horrible lack and I don't know what to do with it. I've lived with her literally my whole life. We shared a basinette, a crib, and a bed until we were about 12. We shared a room until last year and this is the first time she hasn't been there. And suddenly I realized just how much she is a part of my life now that I don't see her anymore...and she's only been gone since Saturday!

She's always had the character traits that I want and I have the ones she wants. She is good with people and makes lasting friendships instantly while I stand off and feel totally awkward even looking at strangers. I think I've gotten better, but it's still totally nerve-wracking. I was really good in school and she struggled with it. When something bothers her, she won't really talk about it, but when I'm irritated...the whole world knows and stays out of my way. She's always been really sweet with people, and I have to work to be civil when I'm out of sorts. She gets excited easily and likes to do random outings, dress up weird, and go crazy. I get embarrassed easily, and don't really like doing out-of-the box things. I'm usually pretty good at explaining what I'm feeling and making myself heard in a group, and she gets talked over a lot. We've always been polar opposites, but as much as that's a joke in our family, it's always bothered us because the things we are opposite in are the things we wish we had in common. I don't really know how to explain it to someone who's never had a twin, but there's a constant competition to make your own personality and not be grouped as "the twins". There was always a "my friends, your friends" competition too, though we never could seem to figure out that they were the same people. I don't think I realized that sisters could be friends too.

I think I'm telling all of this just to show that I've had her my whole life, fought with her, cried with her, lived with her, and never realized just how much she was to me.

Anyway, my point is, I don't want to just take people for granted. I didn't start out wanting to write all this, but I guess that's the most important thing I've learned. I take people for granted so often. They say, "We never realize just what we have until we don't have it anymore." I don't want that to be true. If someone means something to you, tell them! I've been working on writing a speech for Africa, and one quote that I use seems to apply very well here, "One good deed is worth more than a thousand good intentions." I actually am using that to tell people that feeling bad for starving children and actually giving to them is a world of difference, but I think it applies to the people around us as well. If you think someone is great, and you never tell them, they'll never know and when they start to get down and wonder if they're making any difference in the lives around them, they won't know.

That's what God showed me these past few weeks. I hope it affects you as much as it did me.

Take Up Our Cross...Daily

2010-01-16T14:53:00.000-06:00

I was reading Luke, one of the bible books I have to read before my passage, and I hit a verse that I've read a couple times and heard before, but never really thought a whole lot about.
9:23--If anyone wants to come with Me, he must deny himself, take up his cross daily, and follow Me.

I was just thinking about how we say that we want to follow Him, and we deny ourselves, but only one time. And then when someone asks us what we've given up to follow Him, we bring up the one big thing we've given up to follow Him, but in our daily lives, there's so many things we hold on to. At least I do. and I know that I'm not the only one.

The word I want to point out is 'daily'. There are days I just don't feel like it and so I make excuses to keep holding on to whatever it is I'm being asked to give up: my time, my money, or whatever. Jesus made a point of using the word 'daily' so that I don't use the excuse, "I did that for you last week." or "Can't they ask someone else? I've been doing that." No, the point is that I keep denying myself daily, not weekly, or taking turns with people or whatever alternatives I come up with.

Anyway, those are my thoughts for today.

Mexico Entry, December 26th, 2009

2010-01-14T11:20:00.001-06:00

I wrote a few things while I was in Mexico, but when we were on the internet, I didn't have time to post them. Here's one of them.

They take everything the Bible says so literally. I'm used to people making excuses for themselves or giving themselves room to make mistakes. These people don't do that. They are either following God to the letter, or in sin. There is no middle ground. There is no "gray area". They live in black or white. If God says, "Confess your sins to the brethren." Then by God, they stand up and confess every deed, every word, every thought. (I'm really basing this off of one of the brothers. He stood up in a service and recited everything he did wrong that week.) Oh, God, give us the courage to stop riding the fence and do exactly as You've asked, without the excuses, without allowing ourselves to reason away our sins but to put it away from ourselves, exactly as I am seeing here.

I feel so convicted here. Even the smallest complaint seems so selfish. People here have it so much worse than I can imagine. There is a girl here who is 19, just a little older than me, who has a baby with brain damage. I don't want to even think about raising kids for several years, and I for sure don't want one who will have something wrong with them, and have to struggle with that for the rest of my life. But she does have to, and yet, I see her loving her baby, and cuddling her and talking to her and it's just brought her closer to her husband, not further apart. It's so sweet to see them all together.

I have no room for complaints. God has blessed me with more than I deserve. How can I continue to find fault in the gifts He's given me? So far, He hasn't asked me to move to another country and give up my whole life like Jason and Nicole, and after two weeks, I will go home to a clean house, hot showers, a warm bed, electricity and a washer and drier, and not be required to give more than a few hours a week to God. I don't want that. I don't know what I'm asking for when I say this, but I don't want to go home and forget what God has taught me while I was here. I don't want to take my blessings for granted, even if that means giving them up. In all honesty, I'm probably not ready to give them up entirely, but I want to be ready when God asks me to. And if He doesn't ask.....well, I'll probably begin to wonder what's wrong with me. I want to be counted worthy to sacrifice my life for Christ's. I have felt complete peace inside like never before.

I've spent a lot of my teenage years very restless and wanting to just get up and do something, anything, to show that I'm willing to follow God. I get the chance here every day to sacrifice myself and serve, and know you're impacting people with everything you do. I think the hard thing will be to go home and do the same thing, because maybe the need isn't going to be right in my face glaringly obvious, but it is still there. I think the struggle at home will be to find the need and meet it. No, there's no glory in that like there is here.

I need to go now, but I intend to write more while I'm here.

My Heroes: Part 4

2010-01-04T14:21:00.001-06:00

I have found a new hero to add to my list, so I'd like to share her with you. She's actually the first living person I've put on here.

Her name is Nicole Fitzpatrick, and she is one of the most inspiring women I’ve not only met, but heard of as well. I don’t know how to describe her to you without telling you what she does, so I am going to take you through one day in the life of Nicole.

Morning begins at 6:00 am when she gets out of bed and reads her bible. This is one of the only times she gets to herself, and it is very short. After maybe 15 minutes, she will go and start hot water for tea and coffee for the men when they get up, waiting until this is finished to brush her teeth and hair. She then begins cooking breakfast for everyone who lives in the Village. The number of people changes frequently, because some people live here on the weekends, some during the week and some permanently, but the number is anywhere between 20 to 40 people. Sometimes the other ladies help her, but they almost all have young children and haven’t all learned yet how to carry burdens like she does and she carries most of the weight.

She does not sit down to eat until the men and children have eaten, and almost as soon as she is finished, she gets up and begins cleaning up after everyone. If there is a sister who needs her attention, she will stop and talk with them or help them with whatever it is that they need before returning to cleanup. There are several sisters with high blood pressure, so she often checks their blood pressure before and after meals, and has to constantly make sure that they are drinking plenty of water and not coffee. (They do not make this easy on her.)

This sounds like a chore, cleaning up for 40 people practically alone, but I haven’t told you under what conditions. There is only cold water, and runs under no pressure whatsoever. It comes out in a drizzle. The floor is packed mud and isn’t smooth, but I don’t know how to describe it to you. It’s lots of little bumps of mud. I’ll try to attach a picture. There are two ducks and one cat that reside in the kitchen and are constantly underfoot. There is always someone in there dirtying dishes you just washed.

When cleanup is done, she begins washing laundry. This isn’t as easy as throwing your clothes in the washer and coming back 30 minutes later. She doesn’t have a washer, and even if she did, there’s no electricity to run it. You have to soak all your clothes in a tote of ice cold water to loosen the mud caked on them first. (It rains 8 out of 10 months here, so everything ends up covered in mud, and the children find it very fun to roll around and play in it.) She then takes each individual piece of clothing and lays them one by one on a washboard. For those who don’t know, it’s a textured board for washing clothes. It’s pretty primitive, but very common here. She sprinkles dry soap all over the item of clothing and begins to scrub it by hand, made no easier by the fact that she has a bad back due to a car accident several years ago that has put her under several back surgeries since. When it’s all sudsy and the mud is gone, she rinses it. There is a barrel of water that stands by the washboard sink and a bowl that sits next to it and she has to rinse the clothes bowlful by bowlful of water. She then tosses it into another bucket of cold water with some fabric softener in it.

She washes everyone’s laundry, so this takes a lot of time. Elena and I together took the better part of a morning and half the afternoon doing it. She then wrings all the clothes out by hand, and hangs it over the clothesline which isn’t stable, and if it falls, all the clothes end up in the mud and have to be washed all over again. This has happened numerous times. Since it rains constantly here, you have to just wait for sun to dry the clothes. If they hang there long enough to mildew before sunlight dries them, they have to be washed again.

She usually isn’t done with laundry before she has to begin making lunch for everyone and this begins again, with her making sure the ladies with high blood pressure don’t drink coffee and making sure all the men are taken care of before she sits down to eat.
Somewhere in there, she finds time to homeschool her kids, and clean her room and office, do the office work for the ministry, keep Jasmine out of the mud (which is a full-time job in itself) and I have no idea what else.

She doesn’t get to see much of Jason, though when she does, it’s with at least 20 other people there, and the ladies and men do not eat at the same table (culture barrier) so she doesn’t even get to sit by him at mealtimes. Almost all the stories I’ve heard her tell about here, she begins with “Jason was on a trip to _____.” He often travels to do what God has asked of him, and she holds down the fort here, practically alone. Though I’ve never heard her complain about this or mention how little she gets to see him, she states it just as a circumstance in a story.

She was telling me a story about how Jason wants to raise their kids just like Mexican children get raised, and she struggled with wanting her kids to be able to drink milk. One Mexican thing (I can’t call it a tradition, but I’m not sure what else to call it) is that when mothers do not have enough milk or don’t have clean water, they put coffee in babies’ bottles. And all the kids here drink coffee. Nicole wanted her kids to drink milk, and Jason didn’t want to show their own kids anything better than the other kids. And when it came up with her and Jason, all she told him was, “If that’s what you want me to do, I’ll submit to that, I just want our kids to be healthy.” It was very awakening for me. I have told my mom that I will never marry because I hate the idea that it’s always the wife who has to submit, and this was a situation that she definitely had good grounds for what she was asking for, yet she was willing to give that up so that they weren’t giving their own kids preferential treatment.

From the moment we got here, all we’ve felt from Nicole was a desire to serve and take care of us and make sure we had an easy time, even though we came down to help her. There has never been any complaining, or anything from her like that.

She is my new hero.

2009-12-16T11:05:00.000-06:00

Well, I've had a lot going on, and no time to blog, nor anything to blog about. God had to teach me a little lesson, I don't remember whether I put it on the Mexico blog or not....I think I did.

With my Mexico trip creeping up on me, the Coffee House opening, and my passage coming up, I've been learning a lot, but it doesn't really feel like it, and when I look back on it, it doesn't even look like much. One thing did touch me though, and while it is kind of personal and it was a little hard, I guess it'll be good for me to share it.

Saturday morning, I offered to stay behind and help Tipharah get Vesper ready to leave for the ladies' meeting. My mom refused to let me and said Nichole would help Tipharah, commenting that I was "one of the Mexico people". I was confused, but didn't think anything of it until I walked into the ladies' meeting, Elena beckoned to me and told me she had saved me a seat...in the front row. When I noticed Samantha sitting one seat down from her, I put two and two together (why does it always take me so long??). Sure enough, after we sang a song or two, Miss Hannah announced that since this was the last ladies meeting before our trip, the ladies wanted to give us encouragement and bless us before we went. I was seriously regretting not bringing a notebook when Ashley crawled up behind my chair and handed me a little notebook and a pen from Miss Hannah. And then it began. It was so sweet! Ladies who had already been overseas gave us small things they'd learned from their trips and other ladies gave us stuff they'd learned about being with other ladies and listening to God and learning to submit.

About halfway through, I began to feel slightly overwhelmed. Why in the world was I going? Surely there was someone else who had much more to give and had more experience or a better relationship with God. There are needs in the Mexico Village (I don't know what they're calling it....) that were matched up perfectly with the other people going, electric needs that Saraph will meet, farming needs that Asher will help with, they got a horse recently and Samantha and Elena have been doing horsemanship for years, and I started to question why I was on this trip.

After the ladies meeting, I couldn't shake the feeling, and for the rest of the day, I struggled with this feeling that I wasn't supposed to be going, and that someone else better equipped should take my place. When I couldn't take it anymore, I went and talked to my mom and shared my fears with her.

God always knows exactly what I need. My mom, far from reassuring me that I had special qualities and gifts that made me irreplaceable, asked me why I was making it about myself. Of course I'm replaceable, she told me. God can always use someone else. But the fact that he offered the opportunity to me should have made me grateful and willing to serve. God knows I don't deserve it. I don't have talents and gifts that no one else has, but God is allowing me to give what little I have to someone else, so I need to get my eyes off of myself and back onto being grateful.

That was my little lesson for the week. It wasn't fun at the time, and I confess I had expected, or rather hoped for something more soft, reassuring, and encouraging. But the truth is, if my mom had sat and comforted me like I wanted, I would still have been thinking about myself.

So I'm back to being extremely grateful that God has trusted me with this opportunity and this experience has me praying that I'll be up to the challenge and willing to serve my guts out. Because that's what He's sending me down there to do. No, I can't train horses, and if I tried to help with electric....I'd probably end up electrocuting myself or something. But I do know how to clean, and cook and take care of children and take care of people because that's what God has had me doing for the past 18 years. He's had a plan all along and every time I've done cleanup and baby sat, or whatever, it's been in preparation to go to Mexico and do the same thing there.

So anyway, that's what God has given me over the last few days.

The Adventure of a Lifetime

2009-12-04T17:57:00.000-06:00

I was in the kitchen yesterday making dinner when my mom handed me a paper. Well, actually 3 pieces of paper. It was a list of all the things I have to accomplish before my passage. Three!!

I won't deny that reading those pages made me feel incredibly behind, even though I have a slight head start. Two things she was going to have me do I've already begun on my own and I have 5 months to complete the rest, but those pages intimidate me as much as they excite me. It will be a lot of fun and a lot of work, but I know my mom wouldn't ask it of me if she didn't believe I could accomplish all of it. At least I hope so. I hope it's not one of those lessons that you're meant to fail so that you can learn that it's okay to fail. I never handled those lessons very well.

I remember being in 6th grade, I think, and Shammah was my math teacher. He wrote us up this test that none of us will ever forget. When he passed it out, I remember thinking it was an unusual math test. For a start, there was nothing to do with math at all on it. I didn't think past that and began. It was a list of about twenty things to do so I started doing everything including standing on my chair and yelling my name backwards, holding my forehead to the back of my chair and jumping up and down three times, and running to the front of the class to shake the teacher's hand and tell him what a wonderful teacher he was. By the time I got to this one, Shammah had a very interesting expression on his face. I attributed it to trying not to laugh at all of us. We did look pretty ridiculous. Then I got to #17. Do nothing on this test.

I couldn't imagine how I'd failed to see this before. I read back through the first few problems, and sure enough, #1. Do everything on the test in order. #2. Read through this whole test before doing anything on it. I have no idea how we all missed it, but we all failed that test. And we all learned to read the directions thoroughly. We didn't like that test much, but we did learn the lesson he was trying to teach.

I don't think my mom would do that to me with this, but this would be a harder fall than just embarrassing myself in math class.

I'm not really as pessimistic as this made it sound. I am actually very excited about the opportunities it's presenting. I get to spend a lot of time with ladies that I really look up to and admire and I'm really looking forward to that. But the story made this post a lot more interesting. :)

Thanksgiving

2009-11-26T10:58:00.000-06:00

Well, today's the day I get to practice what I say.

I talked about not being grateful, and then "thanksgiving" day comes up. So I want to say several things that I am grateful for.

My mom. A common misconception is that a single parent will raise bad kids because they're alone and they get tired. This can be true, but my mom is the perfect example of the opposite. My dad moved to Utah when I was 9, leaving my mom with 5 kids living in a bus. Eleven years later, one of the kids is opening a coffee shop, one is living in a gatehouse, one is going to Mexico, one is learning to express God through art, and one is still in school, but is incredibly smart. Not bad for a single parent. (Not to brag or anything :)....)

My mom never allowed being a single parent to slow her down, or as an excuse for our bad behavior. She never felt sorry for herself or allowed us to run wild because she felt sorry for us. She encouraged us to find God in every situation, and still does, even though two of us have had passages and moved out. We never lacked in love, and even if we couldn't afford all the new styles, we never wanted for necessities.

She always encouraged us to be strong, (which I'm afraid to say that my brother and I may have taken a little too far) but always sent us to talk to other adults when we weren't. And she never assumed she had everything we needed and made us make relationships with other adults.

There were times that couldn't have been easy for her. I was a hard child to raise, and my little brother isn't a piece of cake either. On 9/11 when the airports were closed down, all of us kids were in Utah visiting my dad, and we were scheduled to fly home within days. My mom drove all the way to Utah to bring us home. Such expressions of love never go unnoticed, and I didn't even realize how big a deal it must have been for her. Her kids were all the way on the other side of the states and the country was in chaos.

We've all come crying to her with heartbreaks and hard times, when friends leave and when God's dealing with us. We've all celebrated with her when good things happen and when God moves. She's been faithful in making God the center of her focus, and teaching us to do the same.

Anyway, that's the main thing I'm grateful for this morning. I have to go cook for Thanksgiving dinner, so I'll try to get on and list the rest later.

Lessons learned

2009-11-24T08:28:00.000-06:00

It's never fun to find out your weaknesses, and God decided to reveal a few of mine to me.

Let me start with the fact that since my passage was scheduled, I've been hearing a lot of "It's time for you to behave like a woman.", to which I frequently respond, "But I'm still a kid!" Probably not the most mature response, but there you have it.

My prayers have an addition now. After praying for my grandparents and friend in Africa and friends in Memphis, I ask God to show me what it means to be a woman and give me opportunities to do that. Some are easier than others. For example, he allowed me to go to Memphis and help them move. I considered this a privilege. Esther, Ashelie, and I had a wonderful time together. And though some people might have considered it a work, we had so much fun doing it, I really couldn't.

However, started talking to me one night about how ungrateful I am. I complain a lot, even though I really have nothing to complain about. He has blessed me again and again and given me more than I deserve, and somehow, I still manage to find something wrong with the things He has given me. How can I go from writing a speech asking people to consider the orphans and homeless in Africa, and then stand, walk to fridge and open it, and loudly exclaim, "Why don't we have any food in here?!" Makes no sense whatsoever, and yet there are situations like that all the time.

So that was one thing that God has asked me to remember. Be grateful.

Another was that I can't stand alone. I don't really like to rely on people, and am one of those people who say, "If you want it done, do it yourself." I spout opinions like a fountain, but I don't really like to confide in people. And I don't know how to explain the difference to you, except that one makes you vocal, and the other makes you vulnerable. I do NOT like being vulnerable and I do NOT like feeling weak. But as God would have it, that's a weakness, as much as it feels like being strong.

Things come up sometimes in my house, or with my family, and I just deal with it on my own. Yes, I talk to people for advice, but never to break down and need help. I always told myself, "People need me to be strong." True, but people need me to be real, not just strong. It's hard to talk to someone who looks perfect. I know that from experience. And somehow, I keep trying to look perfect.

Well, I don't know if this is a confession or just a statement of the obvious, but I'm not perfect. I'm not always strong, and I do need people. I make a lot of mistakes.

Well, that's about as emotional as I can handle being on paper...screen, whatever.
If I keep going who knows what I'll say? :)

Overcoming Fear

2009-11-18T11:42:00.000-06:00

As I write this, I'm sitting in total terror. My stomach feels like a particularly violent swarm of butterflies has inhabited it, and my head is spinning. My body temperature keeps spiking and then plummeting. I have to face one of my worst fears tonight.
Public speaking.
Somehow, standing in front of 100 people who all know and love me, and talking to them about stuff they already know is one of the most terrifying things to me.
Let me say that I have good reason to dislike public speaking. Nearly all of my experiences have been bad or humiliating. I develop this embarrassing stutter, and then all sense of reason, logic, and memory abandon me. I start sweating profusely, and my face burns red. Not blushing pink, scarlet stop light/stop sign/autumn leaves red.
If I don't have everything I'm supposed to say right in front of me, I tend to forget whatever I'm supposed to say. I swore I wouldn't do it again several times, and in spite of that, I continue to find myself doing it.
Why?
Because God won't let me have my own way. He continues to make me overcome my weaknesses and my fears.He loves me and doesn't let me settle for doing less than I can.
Because I've seen pictures of these children that I'm speaking for and I've seen Abba's face when he talks about them, and I've seen the conviction on his face when he talks about the gross waste in other countries. I've seen the missionary teams we've sent over changed entirely by just one week with these children. And somehow, that gives me the courage to face a fear that suddenly seems much smaller and insignificant compared to these people's lives. If one person is touched by what I say, and is inspired to help, and steps forward to make a difference, it is totally worth it.

My Heroes: Part 3

2009-11-09T12:13:00.000-06:00

Another hero long gone, but her story is still very much alive.
I doubt anyone who reads this does not know who Queen Esther is. Another hero of mine, not simply because she was raised up from normal girl to a queen, but because she used her position to save millions of lives, putting her own at risk to do so. That's not even my favorite part though. My favorite part, hear me out because this will sound weird at first, was that she hesitated.

When she was first asked to go and risk her life, she was scared. She isn't painted as a fearless saint. She is still a human. She asked to have all the Jews in Susa pray and fast for three days before she would even go before the king. But then she does offer up her life to save her people.

Often, when we read about martyrs and heroes, they are made out to be perfect. They have no flaws, feel no fear, and perform amazing miracles. I always feel I could never measure up to these people and too often just give up trying to. I'm nowhere near perfect and if I ask myself whether I could willingly die for people, I'd like to say "Yes, I would." But in all honesty, I don't know. I wish to God that I would have the courage to sacrifice myself if I every got into a situation like that, but very likely I would hesitate, just like Queen Esther did. Because even the people we look up to are only human.

So all that to say that it's okay to be afraid, and it's okay to make mistakes. What separates the heroes from the cowards is not the way they feel, but the choices they make.

Rock Concerts Worshipping God?

2009-10-26T09:19:00.001-05:00

I've been waiting to post this because I wanted to write something with a friend, but I've had so many people ask about it (courtesy of Abba...) that I have to post it now. I'll see if I can get my friend to write something and post it later.

I went to a Christian concert a few weeks ago. Not my first one, but the first one with a Christian rock band. And it left me with a few questions. Are we worshipping God? Does God feel that Christian rock concerts further his kingdom?

I'm inclined to answer no. I don't think I can say they're "bad", but I don't want to delude myself into believing that I'm worshipping God either. Yes, the words are to God, and I believe the singers meant what they were saying. I heard the lead singer talk before the songs, and I truly believe he was genuine. He meant what he said, and he does follow God. Which is why I left confused.

The songs were good, but in today's music industry, to make any money at all, you have to entertain people. And that's what I believe that a concert is for: entertainment. The people in the audience were worshipping the band as much as they were worshipping God, if they were thinking of God. I personally was a little distracted by the flashing colored lights and the vibrating floor from the bass...and I'll admit to clapping, screaming, and even dancing to the music. Yes, I meant the words I was singing, but I wasn't singing them to worship God. It was fun.

I could totally picture myself on that stage, thousands of people watching me sing and the lights and the drums and the worshipping fans. I don't think that's what God has in mind. He wants us to worship him. I'm not saying the band wasn't worshipping God, but I know for sure that if it were me on the stage, it would be to get glory for myself. I'm only human.

I'm not going to say that I'll stop going to concerts, I just want to be in reality about myself. I loved the adrenaline rush I felt when the bass and drumset exploded and the lights flashed. I nearly lost my voice screaming. But I'm not deluding myself into believing that it was the Holy Spirit that filled me. It was entirely my flesh.

I think music opens doors. It's a tool that God gave us to reach people, but like every tool, it can be used dangerously. I got a whole new picture of why teenagers do stupid things after listening to heavy metal concerts. You get so pumped up and excited, you want to go do something, anything. If the words I'd been listening to had been encouraging stupid behavior instead of godly, I think I'd probably have done something stupid. And I don't make it a habit to do stupid things in case you were wondering.

So my question is, how does God feel about concerts? If it leaves me feeling pumped up and excited, not about anything bad, but not necessarily centered on God either, is it okay? And how does He feel about having His name in there? Is it disrespectful to say we're focused on God and this is all about God when we're really just enjoying the show?

I think like everything else, it's fine in moderation, as long as you know where you stand with God and you're not believing you're going to find God. It's pure entertainment. Like junk food, movies, and games, it's okay to have a little bit. But a steady diet of it will kill you.

Learning From Little Children

2009-10-19T08:20:00.000-05:00

Me and Vesper, in our matching dresses for Quinn and Amy's Wedding

I wanted to take a minute to talk about my niece. I decided to break up the heroes blogs throughout. I can't do them all at once, and when I want to write something else, it feels like it has to wait on the heroes. So, that will be a continuing thing.

My niece, Vesper, is only 8 months old. Actually, as I write this, she is sitting on my lap, attempting to contribute. She is already full of personality, and her least favorite word in the world is "no". Which is funny, because that was my first word to say. She is already testing her limits and trying to figure out how much we will allow her to do. My favorite thing about her though, is how much she loves people. I'm sure she doesn't have a very clear picture of "love" and everything, but she hates being left alone, and loves being held as much as possible. The hardest thing, is when she doesn't understand why I take things away, or tell her no.

It gives me a better picture of how God wants us to be with Him. Too often, we think we know what's best and we go off on our own and want Him to let us do what we want. He always knows what's best for us, the same way I know what's best for Vesper, even when she doesn't believe me and reaches out for a box fan or a small toy someone leaves around. And she gets angry at me for pulling her away or taking the toy so she doesn't choke. But in the end, she always forgives me. She always wants to come back to me and play and reaches for me when someone is holding her that she isn't familiar with. She doesn't hold grudges because I saved her life and she didn't understand. She just tries again the next day to see if I'll let her do it again, and when I stop her again, she realizes it's just something she can't do and stops trying.

I wish I was that way with God. I wish, when He told me, "No." I would realize that it was Him, instead of going, "No, I really do know what's best for me. I know myself better than anyone else, so I know what I need." I never know what's best for me. And as far as knowing myself better than anyone else, that's just an excuse for my behavior. "Well, she said this to me, and I'm just this way so it's my prerogative to react the way I did." It's my excuse to do what I want to do, and behave the way I want to because I'm "just this way".

Now, Vesper can't talk yet. Well, she can say "Whoa", "Mama", "Dada", "No", and something that we think is "Watch out!". Nothing very clearly though. But I hope that when she does, she'll realize the reasons I've been stopping her from doing what she wants. I hope that she realizes that I did it because I love her. The same way I've come to realize that God puts restraints on us, not because He doesn't want us to be happy, but because He loves us, and He wants us to be the best we can be, not get distracted by what we think we want and we think will make us happy.

My Heroes: Part 2

2009-10-08T12:42:00.000-05:00

I have a few minutes. I wasn't paying attention to time and started my lunch break later than I usually do, so I have a few minutes to try to write about my next dead hero.

Joan of Arc

First of all, she did some amazing things in her life. There's debate on whether God told her to or not, and some people go so far as to say that the devil was her advisor. I obviously disagree, but I suppose we're all entitled to our own opinions.

She stated in court that she started hearing voices when she was 12 years old. The way I see it, she was marked out by God as one of His from the day she was born. He started preparing her for His work while she was still a child. At 17, she became the only person to ever be placed General over an entire countries armies under the age of 18. She united a country that had been divided for years. She crowned a spineless king and helped him to become a man, in that order.

How did a girl, who could neither read nor write, was untrained in military knowledge, and had been expected to do no more than farm and raise a family leave behind all that she knew, spend her days with rough and tumble soldiers and speak to people far above her station, and unite the downtrodden people of France and eventually throw England off entirely? She trusted God. He spoke to her, she obeyed without question. She didn't know what she was doing and she knew the kind of ridicule that she would get. Not only did people not expect her to do anything great, it was considered impertinent to step out of her station, and it was virtually impossible for her to have accomplished anything that she did without the help of God. But she trusted that He wouldn't ask her to do anything that she couldn't.

And at the end of her life, after she had been imprisoned and forced through unfair trial and tricked into saying things that would condemn her, God asked one final thing of her. The thing she was most afraid of. She is quoted saying she would rather die one hundred times by the sword than by fire. And yet, that is exactly what she did. Without doubting God, she recanted the words she had been hoodwinked into saying and so condemned herself to the stake. She died before she got to see her work truly finished.

How do we form trust like that with God? For me it comes down to me not believing I know best, because most of the time, I do. I believe that I know better than anyone else. I guess that could be translated to pride. Not being able to admit that I'm wrong. I don't actually hear voices telling me what to do all the time (actually, if I did, I probably wouldn't tell you!), but I do have common sense and a conscience that guide me, as long as I let them.

Time's up. I don't really have time to make that tie together how I wanted to, but I'll just write the questions I asked myself and had to answer. They weren't easy for me. "Where in your life do you trust yourself over God?" and "Why?" and "What are you going to do to change that?"

My Heroes: Part 1

2009-10-06T11:39:00.000-05:00

I've been meaning to catch up on this for weeks, but we've been in the middle of our Ingathering. Hmmm....I wasn't going to use this post to describe the Ingathering, so I'll have to save it for later.

This one I wanted to write about my heroes. See, recently, about 60 of our teenagers went to a Do Hard Things conference in Alabama, and one small morsel of the tons of stuff we got was that we should have heroes: people we look up to, dead or alive, that influence our life, decisions, and way we behave. So I took a little time to think about people who I really admire, why, and what I can do to be more like them.

So I'll start with the dead ones. My first hero is Mary, Jesus' mother. I've always been completely amazed by her story. First of all, that God would choose a poor, illiterate girl to carry His son. That enough would send me reeling, but her reaction, not her position is makes me admire her.

I've never had an angel appear to me and tell me anything, so I can't even imagine what was going through her mind, but I have to say that I would probably be beyond terrified. But from the records we have, she didn't freak out. She merely said, "Let it be as you have said." She knew the ridicule and scorn she would get. She knew people would hate her, she knew the rumors that would go around about her. She knew that her parents and her betrothed would believe she was unfaithful. She knew that she could get stoned to death. And yet, in spite of all of this, she obeyed God. Can you imagine a world where we all just obeyed like that?

It took a lot of thought to come up with what I could do to be like her, but when I finally came to it, it's quite simple. I have to assume that she obeyed like that all the time, to any authority that was put over her. If you don't practice obedience, it won't come naturally to you. (Don't I know it?) So, in order to be like Mary, to be chosen to do great things by God and for God, I have to be obedient in small things, and to people who have authority over me. Even if I feel that they shouldn't have authority over me. Examples of this for me would be my siblings, or people put over me in dance, or school. See, I have this mental block that if I feel someone hasn't done anything to deserve my respect, I don't have to respect them. God has taken a little time to change that opinion. Sometimes it still flares up inside of me, but I think I have gotten a little better at swallowing it and obeying it. If not all the time, then at least sometimes, which is definitely better than not at all.

Well, I'll have to tell about the rest later, my lunch break is nearly up. I guess I'll do this one hero at a time.

Falling in Love with God

2009-09-08T23:46:00.001-05:00

I had a woman I trust talk to me once about what it meant to fall in love with God. It seemed ridiculous at first, almost sacriligious. I mean, God is God. You don't "fall in love" with Him. But recently, I started praying that God would show me what that meant.

The woman told me, "Imagine THE most perfect guy in the world. What would he look like? What kind of things would he do? How would he go about showing you he loved you?" I put a lot of thought into it. And I had a pretty long list of things that this perfect guy would be. He would love me enough not to let me have my own way; he would make beautiful things just for me to enjoy them. He would spend time with me just because he wanted to be with me. These are just a few things, not even the most important ones, just the ones I can think of off the top of my head.

Well, you know that feeling you get when you fall in love? You look forward to every time you see that person. You perk up and pay attention when you hear their name; you find yourself always talking about them and thinking about them unconciously. You dwell on your last conversations. You pay attention to everything they say, and notice little habits and quirks.

When I started praying that God would show me what it meant to fall in love with Him, this is exactly what happened to me. I would walk outside my house early in the morning and see the mist over the grass, the sun peeking over the trees and feel that God had woken me up early just to see what He had made. I got excited when I heard people talking about Him, and would listen in and join their conversations. I noticed Him in everything good that happened, and in all the bad, would feel that He was standing there comforting me. I got curious about reading the bible, which has never really happened to me before, and I found myself reading chapters in my free time, just because I could.

Because He really is THE best guy there ever could be. And I don't really think it's sacriligious anymore. The bible refers to Him as the bridegroom on more than one occasion with the church being His bride. I don't think it's a gross thing, being in love with God. He's like my father, my brother, and my best friend all in one.

I love the little things He does to show me He cares. I love spending time alone with Him. I love talking to Him and feeling that He's listening and answering. I love that He understands me and knows what's best for me.

I love God! And it is the most wonderful thing to me that I get to spend the rest of my life with Him.

2009-08-31T16:49:00.000-05:00

I started this blog in hopes that I could spread my message. I wanted something that a lot of people would read and be touched by. The internet really is an amazing tool, albeit an incredibly abused one.

Who am I?

I am a 17-year-old girl who grew up in Rose Creek Village. My parents moved there when I was only 4 years old. My dad moved away when I was 7. I know some people just aren't cut out to live this life. Believe me, it's no picnic.

We live on a 100-acre piece of land in West Tennessee with about 25 mobile homes--2 to 3 families per home. A lot of people ask why we live several families to a home and other people post suspicions and rumors. The truth is, God asked us to. Plain and simple. We have found this is one of the best ways to fellowship with each other: learning to resolve our differences, and truly come together. We aren't polygamists. We have simply found that it's not enough to see each other once or twice a week at church or Wednesday night service. We wanted to live in each others homes and live right next door to each other.

The reason I named this blog "Spreading the Message" is because my age group is called the Messengers. We are all 16 to 18 years old, and there are currently 13 of us. All the age groups have names that reflect what God was doing with us at the time of our naming, and what we feel that He will do with us. Our name came when we were getting messages from India, Kenya, Uganda, Myanmar (Burma), Rhode Island, South Dakota, and many more places, asking for us to come and speak to them about what God has done with us and wondering whether we could help them start villages. The village felt like we'd get to be part of spreading God's message and so we became the Messengers.

I'm writing all this about the village and the messengers because I feel like it helps describe who I am. I read a Japanese proverb once that said, "If a character of a man isn't clear to you, look at his friends." My friends define me. We are a strong group of people with a lot of talent and potential. Three of the Messengers started a band and played a song that they wrote and it was beautiful. One of them does welding and is taking classes to be certified. Several of the girls are studying to become midwives. Several are interested in photography and video and have already proven themselves to have wonderfully creative minds and an eye for beauty, capturing the beauty in situations that I never would have seen it. A couple are good at writing and several more at public speaking. A lot of us dance, Irish, interpretational, tap, ballet, and more. I haven't found my passion yet. But I suppose I still have a little time. We are all a little intense when we're talking about something we feel strongly about, and some of us are just that way naturally. We used to be very argumentative, but these debates don't usually end in tears anymore. We love to have fun (don't all teenagers?) and especially together. Rarely does a group of people plan something that the rest don't end up being a part of.

Something all of us are heading towards and are looking forward to is a passage. Passages are the celebration that the village puts on the commemorate the passing from childhood to adulthood. When the parents of a teenager or the adults that teen is close to feel like that particular teen shows qualities becoming a woman or man as the case may be, it's time for them to start behaving like a man. Can they make good choices in life? Do they show self-control, discernment, and wisdom? Do they have good relationships with other men/women and with God? Sometimes this is backwards. If someone is past their teen years and still isn't showing signs of maturity, then sometimes they need a passage so that they can feel like, as an adult, I need to grow up and act my age.

I didn't mean to write so much about the Village, I was trying to explain who I am, but I am of the Village, so I suppose that everything I write about me will be about the Village. Some people might be offended if I make this bold statement, but I'm going to anyway. We are the body of Christ on earth. He has chosen to live among us. We obviously aren't the only ones, there are so many people that we haven't even heard of yet that are doing God's will and I only hope that I am privileged to meet them some day, but we could never do the things we do if it weren't for God's constant grace.

That's who I am and what I am a part of.