When Pruning Must Wait

There are times in life when we're busy. Then there are times in life when we are unrealistically busy. I'm at the 'unrealistically busy' juncture. In our Ladies' Bible Study we were studying having a purpose statement for our lives so that we don't, by default, live by the greatest screaming demand in our life instead of for what counts for eternity.

A visual word picture was given, viewing our lives as a tree. The trunk represents our relationship to God, the limbs represent our major God-given responsibilities, and the smaller branches represent the activities and opportunities of life. It went on to conjure up the picture in our minds of our main purpose in life becoming obscured by an overabundance of activity branches. Taking time to prune back the activity branches in our lives was deemed a good thing to do on a regular basis.

I thought that was a great idea. The incessant planner in me started running over the possibilities as I drove back and forth from work. I even drew a rough picture of a tree with labels on the trunk, the supporting branches and on the activity branches (NOT while I was driving!). The problem was when it came to pruning there just wasn't anything that I could realistically prune away at the present time. The only things I could prune were those that I thought would be great ideas to do, but hadn't even made it onto paper because I knew I lacked time to do them! The activities on my tree weren't frivolous, but essential to the health of the supporting branches. To prune them at this time would damage the tree, and by default the large branch would crash into the other trees in the forest of my life damaging those as well.

I had a moment of panic.

"But God, if I'm to prune my tree and there's nothing to prune, how do I do this? You know I'm feeling wiped out. You know I can't keep this up forever... ."

Hmm.... He knows I can't keep this up forever? Am I know telling HIM what HE knows? What He knows is my frame, exactly what I am and am not capable of doing as I allow Him to be the trunk of my tree of life, as I allow my purpose in life to be wrapped up in Him first and foremost. He knows what is best for me at every stage of my life. He knows what will grow strong roots in my life, how to make my life most effective in reaching out to others in the 'forest' around me. He knows my frame better than I know it! Am I really trying to tell Him that He knows what? That He's making a mistake by giving me this load?

The moment of panic passed.

"Okay, God, maybe I can't do this alone, but with YOU all things are possible. I will trust YOU for the timing of when and if my major branches can be carefully removed, or when some of those lowly activity branches will have lived out their purpose or be capable of being delegated elsewhere. In the meantime, I'll remember that YOU are the master architect. You know my frame, my structure. You know exactly how much stress my frame can bear. I will trust You."

Our Responsibility Vs. God's Responsibility

Where He leads me, I will follow... .

These lyrics from a song express our hearts' desire to follow God wherever He leads us. And lead us He has. He led us to Venezuela, ultimately to serve for many years in a remote jungle village under primitive living conditions, reaching out to a branch of the Maquiritare tribal nation that stood strong against Christianity. The villagers were clear in stating, "We're glad you came. We'll accept all the benefits of having a missionary in our village, but when you're ready to preach we will not listen."

Daunting? Of course! Those aren't the words a missionary wants to hear soon after settling in. But it was okay. We were convinced that God had led us there. Our responsibility was to be faithful. The people's hearts were God's responsibility.

Ten years later God led us away from the jungle village of Parupa, leaving few believers, but many friends. Sadly, for the most part they remained true to their word, accepting all the benefits, but refusing to listen to God's Word. Though recognizing the advantages gained in culture and language by living in such a remote village steeped in the old, traditional ways; we can't say we comprehended why God would have us there and so few come to know Him. We only knew we'd been faithful to His leading.

His leading continued, taking us back to the heart of the Maquiritare nation where churches were in abundance but stagnant and crippled by unresolved sin. Dealing with sin and then aiding in the healing process took time. God gave us the time necessary to see the Maquiritare church heal and become spiritually mature before the doors to that region of Venezuela were closed. We needed each of those years for the healing to be complete and God provided those years by moving us out of Parupa. Still our hearts yearned for the still largely unsaved village of Parupa.

With the region soon to be closed, God led us back to the US. It was with mixed feelings that we boarded the jet heading stateside, away from a lifetime of ministry. There was joy at the thriving Maquiritare church as a whole, yet sadness and sorrow that many of our friends in Parupa still faced a Christ-less eternity. There was sadness in leaving a ministry we loved, yet a strange excitement and joy in knowing it was God, not us, moving us onward. There was uncertainty regarding our future mixed with the calm assurance that God knew where He was leading us. It was a time of conflicting emotions.

It would be several more years before we would learn of the Maquiritare believers reaching out to the largely unsaved village of Parupa. We had planted and watered the seed. Others received the increase. And we all rejoiced.

God leading us to leave NTM after twenty years of service took some getting used to. We moved to central New York to work with the migrant Hispanics in the area, a ministry my husband had begun during our times of leave from Venezuela, but that now he was able to expand upon. We bought a house in the area, we settled down, and we figured we'd be there forever.

Several years into the Hispanic ministry various circumstances made it apparent that the Lord was moving us on once again, asking us leave our home and take a pastorate. The church was small and struggling, but with a great desire to see growth and revival in their midst. The logistical nightmares to overcome to make the move a reality were great.

Daunting? Of course! It seemed an impossibility! But God.... God gave us the definite directive to move forward despite the obstacles, then He opened doors where doors shouldn't have been. God made it possible.

God has given us a love for these people, this church, and this community. We move forward anticipating what miracles God will perform in these people's lives, in this church, and in this community. Our responsibility is to be faithful; His is the increase. Is there not a theme here?

This Generation's Nightmare

Cartoon by Dave Walker. Find more cartoons you can freely re-use on your blog at We Blog Cartoons.

The Joys of Modern Technology

Cartoon by Dave Walker. Find more cartoons you can freely re-use on your blog at We Blog Cartoons.

How Would Your Rate Your Week?

Cartoon by Dave Walker. Find more cartoons you can freely re-use on your blog at We Blog Cartoons.

The Joys of Paperwork

      My Venezuelan identification, called a cedula had expired. Multiple trips to town to try to remedy the problem had been without positive results. The entire country had been without the ability to make the identification cards for longer than one could dream possible. But now, they were ready to make identification cards. Stations were set up throughout the city to process the masses --- and masses there were. Arriving at one such location, I prepared for a long wait in a long line. I was not disappointed.
      After hours under the hot tropical sun, I finally entered the building. I sat at the foldout table across from the woman filling out the forms, answering all the pertinent questions. Next was the wait in line to have my picture was taken, followed by another wait to have my fingerprints taken. The final step before printing the card was to verify the information. The end was in sight...or so I thought.
      As I read the information that was to go on the card, my heart sank. They had me down as an American that was born in Canada. I didn't want to deal with it, but I knew if they printed it as such it would come back to haunt me. I admitted the error in the paperwork and was sent back to the woman at the table, the one with all the forms. I could understand why the woman had become confused.
      "I was born in Wales, Great Britain --- not Canada," I explained to the woman.
      "But when you became a Resident of Venezuela you were a Canadian?"
      "Correct," I answered, pleased we were getting this sorted out.
      "But now you're an American as well?"
      "Yes, that's correct." Whew! This was going better than I'd expected.
      "But that can't be," she then insisted, dashing my hopes of a quick resolution.
      "But it is true," I patiently insisted.
      We went back and forth for a while, but she didn't get it --- and I couldn't get why she couldn't get it. She would agree with every statement --- then say it couldn't be.
      We gave up. She sent me several levels up the chain to the women in charge.
      "So let me see if I understand this correctly," she told me. "You were born in Great Britain but moved to Canada and became a Canadian. You then entered Venezuela as a Canadian, but now you're an American as well."
      "Yes." She'd got it!
      "That can't be," she said next, echoing the other woman's sentiments and blowing my bubble of hope. "You can't be a citizen of both countries."
      We went round and round going nowhere.
      God, I need a way to explain this that also allows her not to lose face, I prayed. God gave me the answer.
      "Let me explain it this way," I began. "My three youngest sons were born in Venezuela. Being that their father is an American, he had the right to petition for 'Birth Abroad' status for them, making them Americans through him. When we were at the American embassy doing that, the Venezuelan woman working there urged us to be sure to also get their Venezuelan paperwork in line also, getting their Venezuelan passports as well. We smiled and let her know we had already done that. See, Venezuela doesn't say you lose your Venezuelan citizenship just because you become a citizen of another country. Likewise, Great Britain and Canada do not say you lose your citizenship there just because you become a citizen of the United States. Therefore, I do have three citizenships."
      Before I explain what happened next, please understand that being a foreigner, and American at that, in a country that wasn't very friendly to Americans at the time, my general goal was to try to be as invisible as my glaring white skin would allow me to be. But invisibility was not an option... .
      The light went on. I could see it in her eyes. She got it and admitted it, not just to me, not just to the women across the room that had been working on my paperwork, but to all in-between.
      "She was born in Great Britain," she yelled across the room as all eyes turned on me.
      "She then moved to Canada and became a Canadian," she yelled in the same loud voice as more eyes turned to study the pale foreigner.
      "And then she married an American and became an American citizen," she concluded, saying what I had been saying for a long while now, but that suddenly made sense. And as long as it made sense to her, the other woman was willing to accept it.
      I felt anything but invisible at that moment as I walked back across the crowded room to finish up the paperwork. All eyes were on the strange foreigner who seemed to have the exceptionally strange hobby of collecting citizenships. But I didn't care. I was going to walk out of there with a valid identification card! Mission accomplished!

How Do We Handle Our Emotions?

Cartoon by Dave Walker. Find more cartoons you can freely re-use on your blog at We Blog Cartoons.

How Do You Eat an Ant?

There's not always a good escape route. I might have had one to avoid eating slimy worms, but on another occasion my plan was not quite so foolproof.

The conference was nearing an end. By being quite adept at finding the more "civilized" Maquiritares to sit with during meals, I had avoided all unsavory morsels. My escape routes had worked. Or so I thought....

On this day I was earlier to the dining hall than normal. I seated myself by a group of women (men and women ate separately). I was feeling quite pleased with myself. What I failed to consider was the fact that the seats to my left were empty. A group of very backwoodsy women arrived, chattering happily, so pleased to find the seats next to me vacant. Seating themselves, they began to offer me some of their delicacies. There was no escape. There was no where to run, no where to hide --- at least not without being offensive, and that, I did not want to be.

Large ants floated on the surface of the water in the plastic dish that was set before me. And then they weren't floating --- they were swimming! They were trying to escape! I was ready to help them, but restrained myself.

Upon my admission that I'd never ate ants before, they were eager to guide me in how to do so without getting my tongue bit in the process. It was getting more interesting by the minute!

You bite the head off first, killing the ant and preventing the possibility of being bit. Then you pop the remaining body of the ant in ... and down it goes!

Think cod liver oil capsule. That's about the right size. The juice oozing out of the body and down my throat definitely had an oily feel to it. Juice. I had to name it something besides "ant guts" to manage to let it glide down my throat without any embarrassing regurgitation!

I survived, the women were thrilled, and the realization came that it's not always best to have an escape route. Some things in life just have to be experienced.

Check Out the Sequel to "Betrayed!"

Can one hide forever under witness protection? What if there's a leak? What happens then? These thoughts have tormented Alyssa. She's about to find out what happens when her nightmares become reality. She's about to find out if her God is real enough to carry her through.

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The Mystery of Old Houses

Old houses are like mysteries. You're always wondering what you'll find when you pull back another layer. We pulled back some layers in the entryway recently as the preliminary step to laying tile. Beneath the drab brown carpet was ugly green linoleum.

Peeking beneath the edges where the carpet led to the family room revealed an old oak floor beneath. That led to the scraping away of the ugly green linoleum to discover if an oak floor lay beneath there as well. You can imagine my amazement mixed with total confusion at why someone would glue linoleum on top of a once beautiful oak floor!

But the mystery did not stop there. A place in the middle of the entryway turned out not to be part of the oak floor, but plywood nailed over where a trap door used to be. Knowing the older part of the house was held up by hewn logs, the bark still on in places, it made me wonder how the house used to be laid out. Had the trap door always been by the front door. What if it were open as someone came dashing through the front door? Not a pretty picture.

We've given up on the idea of tiling the entryway. The oak floor throughout the lower level is a much more appealing idea. For now new plywood has replaced the old battered plywood covering the trapdoor. Eventually we hope to replace it with oak, blending it to the rest of the entryway floor. In the meantime I'll be shopping for an entry rug to disguise the unfinished area. Now we're ready for the final sanding of the entryway followed by a coat of varnish. And then? It's off to discover what other mysteries are waiting to be uncovered in our old house.

Are You a Reader? Check out "Betrayed!"

While on an assignment to uncover the details of an assassination plot, Jeremi Grant sustains a gunshot wound that grazes his skull, leaving him with no memory, with no explanation for why he is at the scene of a murder. An undercover FBI agent is dead. His fellow agents want the man who did it. All evidence points to Jeremi. He resisted arrest at the scene of the crime, his fingerprints were on the murder weapon, and the bullet that grazed his skull came from the dead agent's gun!

Under arrest for murder, Jeremi has no explanation for the FBI. Worse yet, he has no explanation for himself. He struggles to reconcile between the evidence laid before him and the man he feels he is inside. Meanwhile, an assassination is going to take place and the details needed to prevent it are locked in Jeremi's mind. Escaping from the FBI, Jeremi is determined to find out who he really is. The joy of remembering that he is a Christian is dampened by questions over his many dubious talents. Who and what was he?

The pieces slowly begin to fall into place, but will Jeremi remember enough in time to prevent the assassination?

To Purchase a Copy of "Betrayed":

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What Happens to Undelivered E-mails?

I would tend to agree with how the cartoonist views it in the cartoon below!

Cartoon by Dave Walker. Find more cartoons you can freely re-use on your blog at We Blog Cartoons.

The Best Laid Plans of Men and Mice...and Pregnant Women.

The night before should have forewarned me. Cars were scarce amongst us new missionaries there in Venezuela and an insistent offer came to drive to me the Bible study that evening. I'd been riding on the back of our motorbike since day one of the pregnancy. I had no problem climbing aboard again that evening. Yet appreciating their concern -- and with rainclouds looming on the horizon -- I obliged.

Labor began in the wee hours of the morning, light and inconsistent compared to the birth of our first son. When the doctor said he would meet us at the hospital at 7 a.m. it sounded like a reasonable plan -- that is until my water burst. The pain that followed was caused by a child suddenly plummeting down the birth canal. Matt walked in as I sat panting to keep from pushing.

"We're not going to make it to the hospital. The baby is coming," I told him between pants.

"Should I go get Cubie?" Matt asked, referring to our friend who was a nurse.

My mind said, "No! Why would I ever want you to leave me when I'm ready to deliver your child?" I think it was the image flashing through my mind of my husband passed out on the floor while attempting to assist that made very different words come out. "Yes, that would a good idea," I heard myself say.

Matt was out the door in record time. I could hear him one story below our window rattling at the lock on the cage where our motorbike was stored. The head was crowning. To tell or not to tell?

Part of me wanted to call out to Matt, telling him of the progress; the other part realized the indecision that would create. If complications arose we would need a nurse. It was best if he continued on for help. I could always pant. There was no 911 number to call.

I heard Matt revving up the motorbike, the sound of its engine disappearing in the distance. Childbirth continued. Our child was born without any complications, slipping into my waiting hands in a surprisingly natural and amazing moment.

Matt arrived less than ten minutes later with Cubie. If only I'd had a camera to capture the look on their faces when they entered the room. I don't know what they expected to find, but they definitely weren't expecting to find me with a baby in my arms.

"It's...it's...a baby!" The words came out in a stutter from a man who never stutters.

Cubie's shock was combined with sheer disappointment that she was too late to deliver the child herself. "I know you're in shock...," she began.

I could only smile back. "No, I'm not in shock. I think it's you two that are in shock right now!"

And no one disagreed.

Tagged By Another Blogger...

I was tagged by Jungle Mom from The Jungle Hut to list 8 random facts about me---so here goes!

1. I hold citizenship in three countries, four including my Heavenly home where one day I will go! Can you guess which ones---and why?
   
   
2. "Jungle Mom" said she must wear mascara and eyebrow powder EVERYDAY! No matter where she may be, or what else she must do without, these two items were not optional!!! For me it is mascara and eyebrow liner. Without these people will ask in hushed tones if I put makeup on one eye and not the other! There's this blond streak through that side of my head!
   
   
3. I married young and have no regrets! I look forward to growing old with my hubby---meaning I don't think I'm old yet even if I kids would dare to differ!
   
   
4. I graduated from High School early and was a freshman at NTBI at the age of 17. (A whole year older than Jungle Mom!)
   
   
5. I'm a mother of twins. That makes me a survivor!
   
   
6. I delivered our second child all by myself---while my husband was off trying to get a nurse to the house a.s.a.p.!
   
   
7. I don't have a middle name.
   
   
8. I've never had a speeding ticket (or any ticket for that matter!). Hmm... . Do I dare admit it?!
   

So, consider yourself tagged! If you do this on your blog make sure to let me know!

Spider Stories

I can't say I have a phobia of spiders. I barely notice the ones Stateside. They are so little! Tarantulas on the other hand are not so tiny. In our early days in the village of Parupa we lived in a palm-roofed hut with dirt floors. Spiders running on the ceiling, the walls or floor was not an oddity. I remember lying in bed convincing myself that I was safe on the bed.

One night I looked up to see a large tarantula lowering itself from the ceiling towards me. See, they can get on the bed! my mind practically screamed at me.

I awoke with a start, only able to convince myself it had been a dream because of the logical fact that a moment before I could clearly see the spider ... but now I was staring into pitch blackness.

It had been a dream. There was no tarantula lowering itself to my face. But the truth of the matter stood firm. Spiders can lower themselves by spider webs. Spiders could get on my bed. My rational mind had to accept the fact---but how to deal with it?

I lay in bed staring into the pitch blackness knowing a spider could be there. God would protect me, I reassured myself. That sounded good. It sounded solid. It sounded spiritual. God wouldn't want me to be bit by a spider so He would prevent it.

Hmm... I was convinced He could prevent it. I was not so convinced there was any scriptural basis for God having to prevent it. God could also give me a million dollars, but that didn't mean He was going to.

What did ring true was the scriptural truth about fear---about fear not being of God. This wasn't really about whether or not a spider would get on my bed. It was about accepting God's will, not my will, for my life. If that meant I would fall asleep to be awakened by a tarantula reaching out to touch my face with its hairy legs, could I accept that? Could I accept whatever circumstances God was to allow in my life for whatever reason He permitted it?

I took a deep breath. I knew God loved me more than I could ever comprehend. I knew I could trust HIS best will for my life---even if that meant a possible tarantula in my bed. I closed my eyes and slept like a baby.

Jungle Walks

My co-worker and I used to take long walks along sometimes barely visible jungle trails, machetes in hand. I remember her asking about the various scurrying noises we heard along the way. The airstrip may have been a safer environment, but the jungle was definitely cooler. The jungle also had the mysterious element of "where would this trail lead us?"

One such day the trail we explored led to the river's edge. Looking down at the cool river water my co-worker asked, "Should we take a swim?" She wasn't ready for my negative response.

Laughing, I had to explain that the text I'd been transcribing for language study that week had been two true stories from the lives of the villagers. The first was about a mountain lion that had terrorized the village, keeping people locked behind the doors of their houses for safety. That having been a true story, I was impressed that I was out in the jungle that day at all.

But the second story, it was about an anaconda wrapping itself around one of the Maquiritare men. Being a strong man of sturdy build, he had managed to chop the anaconda with sufficient strength with his machete to deter the attack. I didn't figure I would have such luck. I lacked the sturdy build and the strength! I also had to admit that being squeezed to death and then swallowed by an anaconda hit near the top of my most non-desirable methods of dying!

We didn't swim that day, but we did continue our walk in the jungle.

Worms...

How you ever stepped outside of your comfort zone to be a friend? One day in the Maquiritare village of Parupa I did just that. The women of the village invited me to go "worm collecting." That doesn't sound too bad, right? With the mud squishing up between my toes and my fingers digging deep into the mud along the riverbank, I felt like a kid again. I had decided if I was going worm collecting then I would collect a lot of worms!

Hours later we were back in the dugout canoe slowly motoring back to the village. We had our worms, but the work wasn't over. The women were rinsing their buckets of worms over and over again. I set myself to the task, rinsing my worms over and over again.

You might be wondering why they would bother to rinse worms that were going to be used for bait. The truth of the matter was, these worms weren't intended for bait. Some would be boiled, while others would be slowly smoked into jerky. This was supper we'd gone digging for!

I had known the intent, though didn't bother dwelling on it. My stomach did much better without envisioning these slimy creatures getting stuck half way down my throat. Anyways, I had my escape route all planned. Each women would take her private stash of worms home at the end of the day. My goal was to not take my private stash home but to stop by the house of one of the little old gramma's in the village on my way home and bless her with a wonderful bucketful of worms! And this was one of those times my escape route actually worked!

Snakebite

She was reaching to harvest more of the yucca plant when the snake bit her on the hand, its venomous poison entering her bloodstream. She was a wife, a sister and a mother. Her children ranged in age from young to some already looking for husbands of their own. But right now she was just a woman in trouble.

Hurrying back to the village, she headed down to the river's edge to bathe. She took the time to dress herself in clean clothes before heading to the missionaries' house for help. She figured she'd probably be flown out to town for medical help and wanted to look her best. She didn't figure on the fact that all her activity was pumping the venomous poison throughout her body, closer and closer to her heart, closer and closer to death.

The missionaries did all they could, but the venom had already taken hold. Her time was too short. Town was too far away. She hadn't been preparing herself for a trip to town. She had been preparing herself for her death.

She hadn't awoken that morning expecting to face death, but death came nonetheless. A husband stood stoic but looking forlorn without his wife. A sister wailed the death of her best friend. Children mourned the loss of their mother.

We don't awaken each morning expecting to face death, but one day, maybe when least expected, we will face death. How are we preparing ourselves?

If You're Tempted To Complain....

We had bad news. Jamie was in an accident -- again. He says he's fine. He thinks the car is fixable but we have yet to know all the details on both counts. Matt called me with this news as I unlocked my office door this morning. What a beginning to a Monday morning! Oh, he was driving Matt's new car ... with Matt's permission. Matt's headed out to pick Jamie up now.

I sat down at my desk feeling overwhelmed and not ready for all this would entail. And yes, feeling rather ready to complain. Hadn't we just paid out for another accident? Hadn't we just cleared up all the paperwork? Did this really have to happen now? I just didn't feel like I had the energy for it.

I reached to tear off the weekend's verse and words from my daily calendar to reveal what verse and words of encouragement the Lord would give me this morning -- praying as I did so.

Here's what the Lord gave me this morning:

May 11 -

"I complained, and my spirit was overwhelmed." Psalms 77:3

Today I resolve not to complain even once.

Hmm... . I had to chuckle. No words of "I'll uphold you." No words of "I'm your solid rock." Just straight to the point. "You don't want to be overwhelmed? Then don't complain."

"Yes, I'll strengthen you---but resolve not to complain."

"Yes, I'm the same today as I was yesterday--but resolve not to complain."

Okay, I thought, maybe I should see what He was going to tell me tomorrow. I lifted the small square page and read...

May 12 -

"I complained, and my spirit was overwhelmed." Psalms 77:3

What? The same verse? Did I not flip the page right??!!! (I checked it and I had!) So what words went with the verse for tomorrow?

Again today, I RESOLVE not to complain even once.

By now I'm laughing. Do I dare check what May 13th holds for me? Of course!

May 13 -

"The earth trembled and shook." Psalms 77:18

Whew! Not the same verse. I was beginning to wonder what challenges the Lord was going to use to grow me this week! And then I read...

This is what I'll record the day I actually cease complaining. (But I'm getting closer!)

I leaned back in my chair and laughed and didn't bother checking May 14th. This week, I'm definitely resolving not to complain!

Of course, all prayers to that end are appreciated! :-)

Back to Sourpuss Carlos

Remember the post on the salvation of Sourpuss Carlos? The story didn't end there. Carlos became a regular at our house. He became my husband's translator checker for the chronological Bible lessons Matt was writing in the Maquiritare tribal language, and as such, Carlos received his own personal discipleship class from the Word of God.

The Bible speaks of those who read God's Word but go away unchanged. That was not the case in the life of Carlos. He was a dry sponge soaking up the truths from God's Word. He was a dry sponge turned sopping wet to overflowing with the truths of God's Word.

Carlos did not pick and choose from the many truths. He didn't say, "Well, I don't like what that truth would mean in my life so I'll ignore it." No, he took each truth, he applied each truth, and we had the privilege of watching our strangely odd looking SourPuss Carlos turn into a joyful caring man of God whose testimony shone as a bright beacon to the unsaved in the village.

His life should be a testimony to us all. We have so much truth before us. Are we picking and choosing which truths to obey or are we applying each truth as it is revealed to us and allowing it to change us from the inward out?

Doesn't Everyone Speak Spanish?

On my husband's recent trip to Guatemala he was welcomed with open arms into the homes of men he knew. There were humorous moments as well. The partner and manager of the farm closest to where we live had traveled down with Matt.

Doug was dependent on Matt since he does not speak Spanish. One of the young girls found this non-Spanish speaking white man to be quite fascinating.

She just had to ask my husband, “He really doesn’t speak any Spanish?”

"No, he doesn’t,” Matt responded.

“And he doesn’t understand it at all? Like, if I talk to him he really doesn’t know what I’m saying?” She just had to confirm that this could really be true.

“That’s right,” Matt told the girl.

She thought it was unbelievable. It didn't fit any norm in her young mind. Everyone understands Spanish. Everyone speaks Spanish---at least in her world view!

She wasn't the only one in awe of these foreign visitors. All the children were pleased to have such strangely different white men in their homes. They were quite disappointed when they found out Matt and Doug were leaving Monday morning. They had been hoping to take them to school for “show and tell”! These white men were quite the novelty!

Did We Choose Our Place of Birth?

Did we choose our place of birth? What would our lives be like if we'd been born to different parents in a different culture in a different country?

We could have just as easily been born into a poor Maquiritare tribal family as we could have been born into a comfortable American family.

We could be eking out of living in the jungle. We could be walking ten minutes to the river to scrub our clothes on a rock at the river’s edge. We could be carrying all our water in a bucket on our head from the river to our palm roofed hut and sweeping our dusty dirt floors.

We could be working long hours in the hot sun to grow all our food. We could be dependent on whether our husband is a good hunter or not for meat.

We could be living in fear that our child will die from malaria or hepatitis or a simple cut that became infected just because medicine is unavailable.

We could be consumed with simply living our lives to exist. with none of the conveniences we take for granted. No ice for our soda. No refrigeration at all. No telephones, no internet, no blogging, no facebook.

We did not choose our place of birth and yet we so often take our relative luxurious life for granted. Sometimes we’re even downright ungrateful and discontented.

If we could have chosen where we were to be born, would we have chosen to be born into poverty? Probably not.

What if we knew that by living an impoverished life we could impact others lives? Would we have chosen to have been born to live an impoverished life? Probably not.

Yet that is exactly what Jesus did. Jesus could have stayed in heaven and lived in heavenly glory. Instead He chose to leave heaven.

He chose to come even though he knew that after spending three years teaching His disciples and others, that in the end one of His disciples would sell Him out—and the world at large would reject Him.

He chose to live this life even knowing they would mock Him, beat Him and ultimately hang Him on a cross to suffer an unimaginably painful death.

He chose to be born into this impoverished life in order that He might give up HIS life to make a way possible for us to be reconciled with His Heavenly Father, to make His Heavenly Father our Heavenly Father.

Jesus was man, but He was God. As God He was omniscient. He knew all this was going to happen. He knew, but He still came.

He knew, but He still submitted to the will of His Heavenly Father.

Jesus was God, but He was man. He agonized in prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane before being arrested, praying that "if it be possible, let this cup pass from Me; nevertheless, not My will but Thine be done!"

"If it be possible, please don't make me suffer this way! If it be possible, please don't make me have to be rejected and crucified! If it is possible... ."

"Nevertheless, not MY WILL but THINE be done!"

Total acceptance and total submission to the will of His Father even knowing what it would cost Him.

As we’ve just celebrated Easter and have been dwelling on all Christ did for us, are we ready to say as Jesus said, “Not my will, but Thine be done!”

Are we ready to submit OUR will to GOD’S will? Are we ready to die to self that Christ may live in and through us? Are we ready for total acceptance of whatever God's will for our lives is? Are we ready for total acceptance and total submission?

We may not have been able to choose where we are born, but we can choose whom we will serve.

It's All Because He Lives

It's all BECAUSE HE LIVES!

The difference between Christianity and other religions is that you can't find Jesus in the grave
BECAUSE HE LIVES.

We are not saved just because He died for our sins, but because He rose again triumphant over the grave...
BECAUSE HE LIVES.

We were saved by grace and we live by grace
BECAUSE HE LIVES.

We can do all things through Christ who strengthens us
BECAUSE HE LIVES.

We do not mourn but instead we rejoice
BECAUSE HE LIVES.

We are motivated to serve Him
BECAUSE HE LIVES.

We need to be telling others the good news
BECAUSE HE LIVES.

The list could go on and on. Add some in your own mind and take time today to remember that....

...it's all BECAUSE HE LIVES!

GAP Insurance

Have you ever heard of GAP insurance? It's an insurance that pays the difference between what the regular insurance company will pay for the totaled car based on their arbitrary numbers---and what you still owe on your car loan. It's a lifesaver that generally, or so I'm told, is an easy process.

Of course, life isn't always easy. There are so often complications....

In this case, the biggest complication was that neither the bank nor the car dealership where we signed the GAP insurance contract (and received a receipt for paying for it!) accepted responsibility for the GAP insurance. Both kept sending me back to the other saying it was their responsibility. Neither could tell give me contact information for the illusive GAP insurance company on the contract.

"But you sold it to me," was part of my argument. Did it not seem reasonable to presume they could locate the company?

Obviously not. After making multiple phone calls for over an hour in the parking lot of the car dealership, I was finally able to track down the illusive GAP insurance, determine what the process really was, and find a person that agreed that I really did have GAP insurance with them!

In retrospect, I think the complications arose due to the fact that when we bought the car our loan was drawn up with one bank, who later sold out to another bank. The new bank didn't have the connections to the GAP insurance we had purchased. Understandable, but not impressive from a business point of view.

As I write this I can only presume it all went well. Once all were in the loop and we settled with the insurance company, the GAP insurance told us they would settle with the bank and we needed to do nothing further. Sounds good. It's been a lifesaver, even if in our case it wasn't the easiest of processes!

We bought a replacement car, an '07 Ford Fusion that was owned by an 81 year old woman and had low mileage. And yes, we bought GAP insurance. Hassle or no hassle, I'm a believer in GAP insurance!

International Calls

My husband and I were enjoying a weekend away in Canada at my parents' place when the call came. Realizing Jamie was making an international call from his cell phone, I began to scold him a bit when he interrupted me, "But Mom, I have to talk to you. I've been in a crash."

Suddenly the charges incurred from an international call made on his cell phone were irrelevant.

As the story unfolded we quickly surmised that the boys, though bumped around and achy, appeared to be fine. There had been no ambulance rushing them off to the hospital. For that we were most grateful.

The car on the other hand was not so fine. Being sideswiped by a pickup truck failing to stop at a four-way stop doesn't leave the prettiest looking of cars!

Choosing between the two? I'm very grateful it's our car that's sitting in the garage in need of major repairs rather than our boys lying in the hospital in need of the same!

Sourpuss Carlos

Carlos was a strangely odd looking man with a sour disposition and a frown on his face. He wasn't high on the list of prospective believers-to-be. Not that we did not wish to see him saved. It just didn't look very hopeful. He didn't like us. He didn't want to listen.

I remember the day his wife left him for a younger, better looking man with all the flash. Having only seen the sour disposition side of Carlos, I found it interesting to listen to the men in our visiting room discussing what a fool his wife was for leaving him. In their minds, she was leaving a good provider, a great hunter and woodsman...for some flash. It made me sit up and reconsider who this Carlos was.

The upside to the problems in Carlos' life was that, without a family, he began to spend more time with my father-in-law learning to read. Of course, Dad used the Bible to teach him. Admittedly, for the most part, he still maintained his sour disposition.

Months passed. The language barrier was definitely a big issue---but God is bigger than all things. Through Dad's lifestyle testimony and the truths Carlos could not ignore through the reading of the Bible, Carlos leaped from the list of "not hopeful prospective believers-to-be" to having his name written in the Lamb's Book of Life!

Solutions for the Insanely Busy

I've started another blog. It is called "Solutions for the Insanely Busy." I'm posting the introduction entry from there right here so you can decide if it's a blog you'd be interested in reading. If you are, you can find it at:

www.insanelybusy.blogspot.com

If the need to keep sane with an insane schedule describes you, join me in my continuing journey of keeping my sanity in the midst of an insane schedule.

There was a time I would have described myself as organized. I would have said that for the most part I could tell you where what was in my house. I could quickly retrieve whatever document you needed from my organized files. I knew what my schedule was for the next month, probably the next year. I could honestly say I didn't remember being late on a payment.

I loved organization. I loved to organize more than I loved to clean, yet still, my house was clean and tidy. And I kept it so with my busy schedule. At least I thought I was busy. Granted, I was busy--but sanely busy.

The challenge came when I moved from what I call being sanely busy to being insanely busy. Maintaining the same level of organization with a time crunch became a monumental challenge.

The challenge was to find a way to streamline my organizational style in such a manner that I could turn an insanely busy schedule into a sanely busy schedule.

In the days that follow I will be writing of the many aspects of organization. Your input is always welcome!

The Wise Man Built His House Upon the Rock

I've always loved this picture. I can't look at it without thinking of the song, "The wise man built his house upon the rock...."

This was an actual house built upon a rock in the frontier town of Puerto Ayacucho, Venezuela. The rock was definitely a norm for the area, but the only one with a house balanced at the top! I'd never seen anything like it before--and I've definitely not seen anything like it since!

Anybody got any unique house shots to share with me?

Three Men & Three Wild Cats

There were three wild cats taking out the chicken population by night. Losing their fear they became emboldened and started to raid the chickens by day. During this time I found myself having coffee with my husband, our co-workers and our visiting Pastor and his wife when a tribal man came hurrying into the house to let us know the wild cats were back.

It was at this point that I had to shake my head as three men ran out of the house after three wild cats with one shotgun---and one shell. Turning to Elaine, our Pastor's wife, I had to ask if this made any sense.

Several minutes later Pastor Ron arrived back at the house. His bad knee had slowed him down. Finding himself alone in the jungle with no gun he also came to the conclusion that three men chasing three wild cats with one shotgun and one shell didn't quite add up---especially when you're nowhere near the one man with the one shotgun and one shell!

I was thankful to later find out the wild cats were of the smaller version, still vicious and capable of inflicting harm, but not like having jaguars or cougars roaming the village! Oh, and yes, the other two men came home safely as well.

Feeling Relaxed

Imagine five days with no real responsibilities. No laundry, no planning of meals, no work schedule--for that matter, no schedule!

Imagine five days of chatting with your best friend (who just happens to be your sister) during which time you don't solve all of life's problems, but come to the calm assurance that you can't--but that it really doesn't matter. God is in control.

Imagine five days to get to know your great-niece and nephew for the adorable little people they are!

Imagine five days that includes multiple walks on the beach with the magnificence of God's creation awing you.

There's nothing like five days as described above to leave you feeling refreshed and relaxed.

That's where I'm at this morning. Relaxed though back to the world of responsibility.