christmas

Crunching sparkling snow.

Morning red that drifts across the sky.

My boys having a “foot race” on the way home from Watertown.

Evenings snuggled on the couch in front of the woodstove with my husband.

Laughter with friends that seems to linger long after they’ve gone.

Christmas…

Matchless Grace

Depression Meets Grace

The morning sun rises

Soft and slow upon the eastern sky

Another day has come and my heart whispers

“Why?”

I want more than anything

To hide my face again

But God in his patience

Love and firmness

Pulls me from my self-consumed

Depression

To say…

Why are you hiding, O, Daughter of mine?

Why are you wishing

To escape this life?

I created you to face what is before

To walk, not alone, but with me guiding

To be a witness

Not of perfection

But of my infinite, matchless

Grace.

The Door of Hope

My new life verse.

"Therefore I am now going to allure her;

I will lead her into the desert

and speak tenderly to her.

There I will give her back her vineyards,

and will make the Valley of Achor a door of hope.

There she will sing as in the days of her youth...

The Echo of His Voice

The nights slip by and morning comes so early. The whistle of my phone alarm draws my attention and makes me roll over to wake my husband. With my duty out of the way, I slip back into dream land for an extra fifteen minutes before my phone whistles again. Morning!

The trip out the barn is usually more like a stumble. Thankfully, the five o'clock traffic is pretty much nonexistent. My arrival in the barn is met by my husband's "Morning, Love!" as he carries the milking units out to hang on the pipeline.

By the fifth cow I am wide awake and usually talking to them. "Oh, Miss Crooked Feet, you stink. Bow-Legs, what is wrong with your udder? Twin's Mom, you're such a good cow. Ugh. Black Heifer, why did you lay down in manure?" My husband laughs at me as he sits with "Dirty White Cow" who has trouble milking and needs to be babysat.

By the time I have finished milking, I am singing as I carry milk to the calves. My singing stops as I take time to scold the dirty little creatures. "Isabella! Why won't you stay in your stall and out of the manger? Thunder, get up, boy! Gracie, if you would just eat your grain like a good calf you wouldn't be so hungry. Arie! Don't suck on the bucket, silly, drink the milk!"

Then, as I collect my buckets and walk toward the milk house, I'll stop and chat with my "Pet", our little brown Jersey cow. She's such a dear.

Usually I'll meet Amos coming out of the milk house and he will swing me around in a hug and say something sweet... "I love farming with you." Or "Aren't you just the cutest little farm girl that I've ever seen." Or, "Can I kiss you, farmer-girl?"

I'll get a pitcher of milk and head inside to shower and start the laundry. Soon Amos will appear, wink at me and sweetly put his dirty clothes directly into the washer just like I've asked him to.

Breakfast will come (or not if people show up to talk to him) and then I'll become busy with the daily chores...

And even though there was no point in that morning routine where God said anything or did anything profound, in my heart and mind, the whole thing is simply the echo of his voice in my life. Making every day beautiful and precious and sweet.

The Will of God

Ever felt like life is fluttering away and you can not stop it?

There wasn't enough help for my husband to get the barn ready for our milk cows (although a few unexpected people showed up which helped tremendously!) so I have spent the past two weeks in the barn. Scraping. Hauling. Lifting. Load after load after load. My body aches.

My husband said to me today, "I'm sorry you have to work like a man, Honey. I wish I could do it all so you didn't have to."

I was beginning to think that I'm a wimp- the men work like that all the time! But his statement reminded me- no, I'm just a girl. And I'm so happy to be one!

The good part is that I'm pretty sure milking 2x a day will be RELAXING after these past two weeks.

I only have to go to the barn twice a day?! Praise the Lord!

At times I wonder about this venture of ours... Then I think about the man who sat at our table with us today saying, "God is so good. A miracle worker!" And he cried with us that God had somehow managed to get our farm paid off when we thought going to Haiti would ruin us financially.

And the man who sat there a few days ago and listened while Amos told him the gospel message from start to finish.

And the man who stood in our barn and asked questions about why we would be choosing what we were choosing. "God's leading." Seemed vague to him, so he asked more questions and we told him more about how God leads and guides his children...

I could go on. These are but a few of the dozens. It seems that every time I turn around I hear my husband sharing his faith with someone. I married an evangelist. Not a Billy Graham type- but a farmer type. And I am so proud. So very proud to be his wife.

Even if it means that I fall into bed bone tired every night. Or if I have to "work like a man" in the barn. Because beside him, I know that I'm in the will of God. And that is a glorious place to be.

Glories of Divine Love.

Death has been swallowed up by life.

Thank you, my wonderful, glorious Redeemer!

Taking Thoughts Captive.

Why can't I manage to control my thoughts?

I can think of so many bitter, unlovely things.

Why can't the beautiful sweet things come as naturally?

I want my thoughts to be swirls of loveliness. I want the unkind things of my past, my present and my future to be lost in the sweetness of them.

Why can't the ugliness be lost in the beauty? Why is it the other way around?

Oh, my God, Redeemer and friend. Heal me. I can be so bitter and empty. I don't want to be. I want to be full and beautiful. Have I lost all of my beauty in the midst of this? Am I wasting away into nothing? Or am I just realizing that I have always been nothing?

Pascal once referred to mankind as "licking the earth". I feel like that tonight. I lick the earth.

Nothing. Empty. Earth licker. Raw. Undesirable.

Remind me, God, of your unfailing love. Remind me why you picked me to be your child. How do you see me? Am I empty to you?

Annulment

In my devotions this morning I was reading in Isaiah 28 and found a verse that struck me...

Your covenant with death will be annulled; your agreement with the grave will not stand.

How many times in my life have I chosen death? My choice to sin is a "covenant" with death; an "agreement" with the grave.

But what does God do?

He annulls my covenant and crushes my agreement! That, my dear friends, is the crux of salvation.

Have I mentioned lately that I'm so happy that I'm God's? Because I am.

Rushing Waters.

I know that I've said this before... but I love the sound of rushing waters. In any form really. The trickle of a creek. The rush of a stream. The gentle lap of a pond. The crash of a waterfall. The spray of an ocean wave.

The Bible says that God's voice sounds like rushing waters. (Rev. 1)

Today I went down by a stream to pick a big bouquet of Lily of the Valley for my dear friend, Delite. She is getting married in just a few short weeks. Time is flying! There was a point, not too very long ago, when we both lived in a little house by a stream. We would go out sometimes and sit and listen to the water together. After awhile we would turn to each other and share what God had been saying. It was a lovely time. A time of longing (we were single and longing for husbands) and a time of rejoicing (we were single and enjoying the freedoms!) and most of all, a time of ministry (our every-day existance was to minister to the children on our street).

And now, just four years later, we're both moving on to different places in life. What seemed like it could be forever, was in actuality, a few short months.

Lord, remind me often to enjoy the place that I am at. I loved that time in life but I don't think that I fully appreciated the gift you were giving me through it. I would never go back- I am fully content. But just the fact that I can not ever go back is a reminder that I need to be treasuring today.

homemaking as art.

God has been speaking quietly to me again. Tasha, keep your heart at home.

Each place I've gone, (Above Rubies Retreat, Bible Study, friends house for dinner...) I have seen, heard or felt a call to creatively and diligently run my home.

Don't get me wrong: I would have said this before! But now I am seeing it more a "calling" from my King.

I've come to love the little things around the house. Washing dishes has become a task of diligence. It's my chance to work hard! Creating meals that are balanced and attractive has become an art form. Making a menu has been my art class, as I try out new designs to decorate the pages that will be pinned to the fridge.

And my garden. I realized, after talking to my husband, that through all my medical things, I'd become lazy! I tried to tell him about the gardens I had done in the past. His comment was, "I just don't know if we can be disciplined enough..." *gasp* Lord, forgive me! This used to be my strength and now my husband doesn't even know that I possess it! So, I've gotten to work. And I can tell! I'm stronger and have a lovely tan. And I've remembered the feeling of dirt under my nails and calluses on my hands.

It's an adventure. And I've loved every minute of it. It's great fun to fall asleep on the couch because I'm so exhausted.

Not to mention, I still have plenty of time for the things that I love. I read a book yesterday. I've been writing pages and pages on my next book. I've painted pictures, started sewing cloth napkins, visited friends and made bread. (My bread making is kind of a chance to do art... Never is a loaf the same at our house!)

It's been beautiful! God has blessed me. And, I've fallen more in love with my husband. (that was just a little added plus!) Working together is the best thing any couple can do, I believe.

The Joys of Motherhood.

This morning, as my husband and I walked through the parking lot at church- we discussed the fact that unlike many women in my situation (battling infertility) I still have so much joy on mothers day.

Then, as if to confirm the thought, two young men who spent time with us in Haiti stopped and leaned out the window to say "Happy Mother's Day, Mom!"

It really doesn't matter if I ever bear my own children. I wouldn't trade a single one of my "adopted" kids for anything in the world. I honestly could not imagine a natural child bringing me any more joy than those boys who were my "sons" for two weeks.

We were soon talking about how as Christians, when we learn to die to ourselves, to offer our own dreams and desires to God that we might be used for him, he always fills us with so much more than we could have imagined!

I do a lot of things wrong in life. The list could fill books... But I am so thankful that out of all the lessons I could have learned early in life- the ability to rejoice with others, even when I didn't receive the gift, was one that was driven home in my heart.

Some women without babies can't handle being around babies. I continually tell my friends that since I can't have kids, I'm requiring them to keep a steady supply of babies for me to snuggle and kiss. (They're doing pretty good so far) and I am SO glad that I can enjoy their children the way I can.

Thank you, Lord. Thank you, Thank you, Thank you! I know there is no power in myself that can bring about this heart. You did it in me. Your truths chase out the lies that could be snatching joy from my life. And thank you, Jesus, for giving me my "boys". And thank you, more than anything, that you put it in their hearts to call me Mom. You knew that was just what my heart needed. You are SO faithful!

pieces of beauty.

Right now, I feel as if I am in a place of "storing up" and "treasuring things in my heart". God's promises have been pouring out... giving me little pieces of beauty that lay in my hands like priceless works of art.

Hopefully, I will be writing a testimony on here very soon about the fulfillment of those promises. Yet, for now, the instructions are clear: God says, Write. and he says, Listen.

So, I'm off to write and my ears are tuned to his voice.

The Blush of Spring.

For the first time this year, I am sitting on the deck to write this entry. Although we don't have internet at home, my parents are still living in town and I use it as an excuse to come and visit often. (Not that I need one but I love the reason to stop in almost every day to see my Grandmother as well.)

It was my dear friend, Keturah's birthday today and I spent some time visiting with her this afternoon. She has two little ones, less than a year apart, so our lives haven't coincided much over the past year or so. (Seeing as I was out of the country and have not always had a vehicle since being home.)

This morning, though, after devotions, writing another dear friend, Rebekah, and running for a half hour, I went to interview a lovely woman named Peggy. (I do interviews for the Women of Promise website)

What an encouragement! She shared some beautiful things that God was teaching her, along with giving me some personal encouragement about my medical condition. I can't tell you how blessed I was to spend time with her!

All of that put together, I was overwhelmed today with the beauty and grace of spring. The budding of new life! The thought that I, too, can become new.

In my devotions I felt God saying... Look, my child, at what I am doing! In your life and in lives around you. You are loved. And through you I want to love others!

Musings over a Cafe au Lait

I've been trying so hard to be "purposeful" in my relationships. The outcome? I love it. I really, honestly, simply love it.

I've also been working at trying to actually speak if I have an opinion. Not in a know-it-all way; in a caring, loving, "Oh, well, this is kind of what I think..." sort of way. (The reason for this was that I realized that people were assuming my opinions anyway and they weren't always right! In fact, often they were assigning opinions that I would never have thought of having!)

The over-all conclusion: Why didn't I do this years ago?

God is so faithful. Teaching, leading, guideing.

And now, after two years of struggling and fighting and crying over my relationships- I am now sitting at a little coffee shop, sipping a creamy, foamy cafe au lait thinking, I know that I screw up quite often and I know that I still hurt people and am still being hurt at times but I love this! Thank you, Jesus! Thank you for molding me and changing me.

realization.

I'm not very good at life.

Seriously. There are days that I get to thinking, "Okay, I can handle this." And then I realize... Nope. I royally stink at it.

Lord, it's a good thing you're there. Otherwise there would be no point. Thank you.

AMAZING!

Hold onto your hats, everyone!
I finished my novel.
It's not editted yet, mind you, but it's finished.

Lord, thank you. I ask that whatever happens with this book... it will all be for your glory and honor. You know I just want to speak your truth, show your ways, and hopefully, allow people to see a glimpse of your face.

Making things New.

A bride prepared
Her Lover calling
And from the throne
You can hear Him say...

My dwelling place
Will be with you
For I am yours
And you are mine
Every tear you cry,
I will wipe away.
No more death, mourning, crying or pain
For these have passed
And I my Love,
Am making things new.,

In Christ.

We just started a new Bible Study. The first meeting, we were handed out a paper "Who I am in Christ". I've seen those lists before... lots of times. Always thought "sure, sure". I believed it all.

I was reading over this one today. I don't believe most of it.

God, teach me. I want to know who I am in you.

Failures and Dreams.

Seeking the King above all.

That's my goal. My hope. My dream.
Oh, how I fail...

Trusting Jesus with everything.

That's my goal. My hope. My dream.
Oh, how I fail...

Right now, today, I feel as if I will always follow. Always give all. Always trust. But tomorrow. Tomorrow all my ideals may collapse.

The most wonderful part? He is faithful. Even through all my failures. All my brokeness.

My husband and I are working (at times it seems so slowly!) at becoming foster parents. Even to write the words, I feel my heart begin to beat faster. My mind screams this is what I'm suppose to do! I know that God put this inside me.

He also told me, oh, so clearly, "walk slowly, following my steps."

I lose trust so quickly! My mind says, "NOW!" God says, "Wait."
I want what I want. Right this minute.
God is more concerned with my heart than my status or paperwork.

Oh, Jesus, I want to follow your lead.

There is a little boy, right now, who I want to raise. I want him in my home. I want to be telling him stories about Jesus and kissing him goodnight. He's all ready two. I don't want to wait until he is three. But I might have to.

I cry out to God... "Please, Jesus, please let him come to me!"
And God says, "Please, daughter, please, trust me."

Am I willing? Can I surrender? Again. And again. And again.

My knees are sore from praying. But is this but a lesson for the future? For I know that if this child comes to me then I will be on my knees praying for the next fifty years or so... Am I willing to begin now?

Sugaring.

I have this strange compulsion. Well, it's not THAT strange but most people don't seem to have it. Simply put: If it can be produced on my land, I want to utilize it.

So, when my husband mentioned wanting to make Maple Syrup again (He used to when he was a teenager) I jumped at the idea!

Since we're incredibly short on money right now (farming isn't doing so great nor is electricity, the two things we're invested in!) my amazing brilliant husband built his own evaporator. (i.e. pan to boil down the sap in)

It IS possible to just boil it down on the stove but it's incredibly... uhm... sticky. And it's a long process because it takes 40 gallons of sap to make 1 gallon of syrup. (But I'd probably do it if we didn't have an evaporator. Because I'm crazy like that.)

For those of you who don't know how Maple Syrup is made... a hole is drilled in the side of the tree and a small spout is hammered in. You then place some kind of container under the spout (using hanging on the tree with a little hook that is connected to the spout) to catch the sap that will run.

Although the "typical" is to use buckets... anything really can work. As my husband shows...



Sugaring takes place when it's still freezing at night but warm during the day. (i.e. spring) Ideal is 20's at night and 40's during the day.

The sap is then collected and boiled in a stainless steel pan (to prevent darkening).

A long long time later you have syrup!

Being an Aunt to Foster Kids.

I love my nieces and nephews. Adore them, actually.
There is nothing more I'd rather do than curl up on the floor with ten kids crawling all over me, reading Moo-Baa-LaLaLa.

I especially love being an Aunt to all my siblings Foster children. I love it that I can tell them stories about Jesus. I love it that I can settle them down when they're aggitated, kiss them when they're hurting and hold them when they're naughty and need be surrounded.

Thank you, Jesus, for allowing me to be a part of these children's lives. Thank you for providing me with all the children that my heart longs for.

Wedding plans and Remembering.

I've been busy this week helping my dear friend, Delite, plan for her wedding this summer. As a girl who made it to her mid-twenties without dating and used her time to minister to people rather than bemoan the fact that she didn't have a guy, she is walking into her marriage with a literal ARMY of supporters. Which, in turn, translates into a huge wedding party.

And I do mean huge. As in, there are 8 Maids/Matrons of Honor. When she first said that, I was a little shocked but then I looked at the list and realized that I wouldn't know who to cut either. She really has that many close intimate friends who have shared her journey.

We each have a "job" that we've taken under our wing so that Delite can relax and enjoy her enourmous wedding (500+ people) and mine, as everyone knew I would claim, is the children.

Following in my pattern, Delite has all her little girl cousins (who are more like nieces to her) and all her close friend's little girls (also like nieces to her) in her wedding. The grand total is 18.



The wedding is going to be BEAUTIFUL.




I am so excited... I love all the little ones. It makes a wedding so precious.

Losing it.

Yes, I'm joining! 10 weeks. For more information go here.

These are my plans:

1) Drink 1/2 gallon of water a day (Which is just two of my water-bottles full. Not unreasonable)

2) Do some type of excersise 6 days a week. Even if I only do 15 minutes. Just SOMETHING.

3) Juicing for 1 meal a day.

4) Drink unsweetened tea instead of coffee.


The goal is 20 pounds in 10 weeks. Very attainable. (And it will help me fit into my dress for Delite's wedding this summer!)

fears.

In preparing for our "Set-Apart Retreat" through Women of Promise I've been going through some harsh soul-searching. It's been... at the very mildest, excruciatingly painful.

I hate to admit it but it’s true. I’m afraid of being different. I’m afraid of not being loved. I’d almost be willing to trade my relationship with my God for the approval of my friends. I want them to want to be with me more than I want to be with my King.

Oh, Jesus! Forgive me. Forgive my selfishness. Forgive my agonizing failings that haunt me. Cleanse me. Wash away these desires for the approval of man and turn my gaze again to your throne. I need you. Far more than I need them.

I am willing, Lord. I am willing to be set-apart. I am willing to be separate from those I love. I will not love my family or friends more than I love you. I will not. I choose you. Again. I choose you.

splashes of color.

In all the battles of life there are moments when God suddenly appears with a splash of color, the arrival of fresh troups, and the cry of victory.

One of my "mentors" in the faith has been Amy Carmichael. She was my hero. The woman I wanted my life to resemble. God has used her and her writings over and over in my life.

I ended up living and working among the "shawlies" of my town because of her. (To read the story go here.)

My journals are filled with quotes from her.

"It is a safe thing to trust Him to fulfill the desires which He creates"

"I wish thy way.
And when in me myself should rise,
and long for something otherwise,
Then Lord, take sword and spear
And slay."

"Can we follow the Savior far, who have no wound or scar?"

And for all my life, I had dreamed of someday being called "Amma" (Mother) by a child who was not my own, as she was by the hundreds she cared for in India. Not just that but a child who was empty and lost but found when I was able to speak the name of Jesus into their lives.

Light in darkness.

When I got married, I knew without a doubt that God had led me. I had been busy with mission work and had told God that if it was his desire for me to marry then he needed to drop a husband in my lap. Instead he gave me a prophetic dream. One that he later fulfilled through a man that I had apparently met several times but never remembered. (He says that I was elusive. I say that God was leading me. He laughs and agrees. Then we both thank God for his divine intervention!)

I thought for a long time that in God giving me marriage, I would be giving up other dreams.

Then it happened. Not in Haiti where my husband and I lived for most of our second year of marriage. Not with the kids that I used to work with. Instead with a boy that follows my husband around like a puppy dog. One who thinks that my husband is great. A fourteen year old boy who breaks things, is extra hyper, wouldn't look me in the eye for the first fifty times I saw him... this boy who talks trash but begs to be loved... this boy who calls me "Ma". He was joking when he said it. I joked with him. And the name stuck. And I cried myself to sleep.

"You can trust him to fulfill the desire which he creates." Amy said.

Splashes of color. Glimpses of Jesus in every day life.

life-altering moments

In life there are moments that define you. At times they are simple little things that perhaps, to an outsider, look irrelevant, unimportant, dismissive; but to you, they are live-altering.

I had one of those recently. It was a sentence that I saw. I doubt that I was supposed to have seen it. It wasn’t something that was written to me, nor was it something that necessarily regarded me. At least, no one pushed it toward me, offered it to me or even desired my eyes to touch it. Still, as my gaze flicked over the words, I knew they were about me and my heart died a little inside.

One short sentence placed me face to face with the selfish evilness in my heart. Not because it was directed at me but because it fit me. I knew it. No one had to tell me. It simply was. And my initial reaction was to crumble on my living room floor and cry my eyes out.

Not because I was hurt. Not because I was angry. Because I was sad. A deep abiding sadness that welled up and spilled out.

Oh, God, how did I get here?

My mind filtered back and the whole sordid tale came spilling to the surface in a combination of words and actions that flashed sporadically through my mind like a bad movie.

Why would anyone want to be friends with her?
She thinks she’s perfect but I know she’s not.
You hurt people all the time.
You never admit if you do something wrong.
When you talk about your life you just sound like you’ve got it all figured out.
I’m done. I don’t want to do this anymore. I don’t want to try anymore.

Still, this time, as the words swirled with the sighs of frustration, the tears and anger that I had faced, this time the effect was different. Possibly it was the last sentence that had entered the memories. No, not possibly. It was. That sentence over powered everything else.

Lord, I don’t feel safe with her.

My mind stopped at the words. Nothing else mattered any more. It didn’t mattered how hurt I had been. It didn’t matter how desperate I was for love. It didn’t matter how empty I felt all the time. Nor did it matter how many demons I faced day after day, longing for someone to help me fight them.

All that mattered is that I realized that I had been given the chance to be to someone else the person I was always longing to have… and I hadn’t even recognized the opportunity. And in not recognizing it, I had failed.

Words from all the books that I’ve read, and started to write, began to fill the memories.
She was the one we just enveloped. Loved her even though she ran away.
In her I found the friendship that filled the loneliness.
She took my hand and drew into the Father’s embrace.
Remembering my pain and not her own.

In my heart, my selfish evil heart, I had been longing someone to be all those things to me. I wanted to be enveloped with love. I wanted someone’s friendship to fill the loneliness in me. I wanted someone to take my hand and draw me into the embrace of the father. I wanted someone to remember my pain.
If the cry of my heart could have been put into words it would have sounded something like this…
Don’t forget me! Don’t forget that I have pain. I hurt! I hurt! Remember my pain! Someone, please, please… remember my pain.

The problem with this is simple. Well, there are two problems. The first, that all of those sentences begin with me. I want, I want, I want… The second problem was that I was desiring for someone else to do those things for me.

In that one split second of my gaze filtering across those words, I finally saw clearly. I was finally set free. I am not here to have someone be those things to me. I am here to be that to others.
My responses changed in that second.

Why would anyone want to be friends with her?
My response had been: I don’t know. I don’t know. Why would they? And then I crumbled into a hole of self-loathing and pain. And dreamed of someone coming to my rescue and saying, “You’re sweet and lovely and I want to be friends with you.” But that never happened and the words always hurt.
Now my response was: I’m not sure but I know why I want to be friends with you… I love listening to your thoughts and hearing your dreams. I love walking down the road with you walking beside me. I love laughing with you and sharing joys with you. So, even if you won’t want me around, I love being with you and you’re stuck with me.

She thinks she’s perfect but I know she’s not.
My response had been: I don’t think that! Why would I think that? You want me to list my faults to you? I know them better than anyone! I’ll list them for you. I’ll write a long list. Would it make you happy if I just dwelt on them? Whined about them? Wallowed in them?

Now my response was: Oh, no. I’m so sorry that I wasn’t able to communicate my struggles in a way that you understood. I struggle so often but I feel a need to keep them bound up inside. Forgive me, please, please, forgive me.

You hurt people all the time.
My response had been: I know! I know! Do you feel a need to rub it in? Do you think that I don’t go home and replay every conversation that I’ve ever had and cry myself to sleep over them? Don’t you realize that I abhor myself most of the time? Can’t you see that I just need a little grace? Just give me a little grace!

Now my response was: Oh, my dear. My sweet, sweet friend. Forgive me for hurting you. I can tell that my actions and words have left scars. Please, find it in your heart to forgive me. Together, perhaps we can put enough oil onto the scars to make them fade.

You never admit if you do something wrong.
My response had been: Of course I do! The only thought in my mind is there I screwed up again. I’m consumed by it, filled with it! Look a little deeper if you can’t figure it out! Honestly, I do everything wrong.
Now my response was: I hate to. I really hate to. And I’m sorry for that. I see it inside and I hate to say it aloud. It’s my protective instinct trying to cover myself. I’m working on that but in the meantime, don’t doubt for a minute that I see my faults. And forgive me for the wrong things that I’ve done that have touched you.

When you talk about your life you just sound like you’ve got it all figured out.
My response had been: I hate this. If I talk I’m in trouble for sounding like a “know it all” and if I’m silent I’m accused of “not sharing about life”. I can’t win. Maybe this one isn’t me. Maybe this is your own problem.

Now my response was: Help me. I don’t feel that way and I don’t want to sound that way. If there are certain things I am doing that cause that, help me see them. Pray with me. Seek God with me. Listen with me for his guidance of when to speak and when to be silent.

I’m done. I don’t want to do this anymore. I don’t want to try anymore.
My response had been: Overflowing pain. Hurt. Betrayal. And accusations inside- I would never do that to you. I would never ever just walk away from you. How dare you do this to me!
Now my response was: I’ll try. I’ll do it. Just please, don’t walk away. Hold on. I’m begging you to hold on for just a little while longer. I’ll figure it out for us. I’ll fight for us. I’ll find my sword. I’ll spend hours on my knees. Whatever I need to do. I’ll do it but please, please don’t give up yet. I’m coming, my darling, my friend, I’m coming…

And now, there was the newest one. The latest memory to be faced. I couldn’t go back and change my reaction to the old ones but now I had a chance to respond right the first time.

Lord, I don’t feel safe with her.

How was I going to respond? This time I started it right- on my knees. Jesus, change me from the inside out. Fix this miserable heart of mine and give me something new.

And His words came. Just like he promised they would. Envelope her. Love her even if she runs away. Give her your friendship. No matter what. Take her hand and lead her into my embrace. Remember her pain and not your own.

Jesus, keep working on me. Thank you for never giving up on me. Enveloping me in your love even when I was running away. Giving me your friendship to fill the loneliness inside me. For taking my hand and leading me into the Father’s embrace. For remembering my pain and not your own. For being to me everything that you are asking me to be to others.

Then, as I finished praying, I remembered the sentence from the book Redeeming Love. The sentence that caused my heart to catch when I read it. The greatest desire of my heart.

“They were so beautiful. It hurt to look at them. Light shining in darkness.”

Make me like this, Jesus. Make me like this.

And I realized that it is in these little life-altering moments that define me that I’m able to become the person that God intends me to be.

About Haiti.

To those who have questioned me: As far as we know La Colline sustained no significant damage. They felt the earthquake but the buildings all held.

We received many phone calls once the lines were working again and all said the same thing, they're all good but lots of their cousins/aunts/friends in Port au Prince are dead.

The mission truck did get in an accident as they were on the way to Port to pick up missionaries who were supposed to be landing that day. However, the driver was unhurt and the truck is still driveable.

Felix, the assistant administrator at the hospital, still has heard no work from or about his fiance who was attending school in Port au Prince. Keep her in your prayers!

Amos and I are ready and willing to go to Haiti but feel it best to wait until we know exactly what we would do there. It seems right now that greatest need is food and water-- and we can help more from here than from there. However, Amos's cousin has been in contact with YWAM and we've talked to CFM, out of Florida, and we are praying that if God wishes us to go, he'll just send us a phone call that says we're needed!

Guess that's about all the update I have for now. Oh! Except one piece of happiness in the midst of this...
Friends of our who have been trying to adopt 2 little girls from Haiti for the past 3 years just contacted us with the news that he is in Port au Prince with refugee visas for the girls! They should be flying home within a day or two. This has been a matter of much prayer for us and we are amazed at God's faithfulness!

Tarnished Silver.

There is a series of articles being published at Women of Promise that tells about my first year on the mission field.

Tarnished Silver.