"Three favorite things to wear"

The typical woman I am, I like to dress up and feel good about what I wear. Scanning through the cupboard of my heart this morning I know there are three things that really touches on that "feeling good" aspect. I can only smile with sentiment thinking about them, they are not just objects. Each of them have a story to tell of their own, they are "friends". Their texture, the thoughts and memories they bring up and out, and surprising as it might sound the comments, stares, smiles and results I get when wearing them.

My first "friend" is the beautiful string of pearls my friends at home send me for my last birthday. I remember opening the jewelery box ....I was suppose to jump up and down it is a magnificent piece of jewelery all colors and shapes of pearls all mixed up and stringed together, but instead I burst out into tears. I was horribly homesick and just felt out of sorts with an issue my husband and I had the day before. I went upstairs to our room and draped this beautiful and very expensive piece of jewelery on my dresser. My eyes caught the rough cement heart my daughter picked up on the beach last summer also laying there. How different these two are I thought, the one man made and the one created in pain by a sea creature; God influenced. As I stared at them I felt the words forming in my heart...."Karin you can choose to have a heart of stone and stay in unforgiveness or forgive and have a string of pearls in your heart". When I drape this beautiful string around my neck I feel loved by my dear friends and reminded to not walk in bitterness, unforgiveness and have a heart of stone.

My second "friend" I was born with. Being born two months early, and in those days you stayed in hospital for ever, I'm not sure when I smiled the first time. I love wearing a smile! Even if my heart does not feel like smiling I like to smile. A smile says much more than a thousand words can. A lady ones smiled to me across a room filled with people. It was at a moment when my little world was feeling like falling apart. I felt so loved, cheered on and encouraged. Walking down the street I like to smile, off course to the ladies and children I pass. I could get in big trouble smiling to a man here. I like to think it encourages and cheers people on wherever or whenever I share a smile.

My third "friend" and a bit selfishly, is the one that makes me feel good. Living in a country where there are thousands of tourists treading through I can find the most exquisite pasjemas here on my doorstep. I have a few hanging in the faure on a hook. They are made up from different colors, sizes and textures. Nothing feels as good as wrapping it around my shoulders and throwing the loose end around as a wrap. Rounding it off with that slight throwing the head back feeling of "watch out world here I come" . It touches on that part in every womens heart, the desire to feel glamorous some time or another. My bit of glamor comes that moment when I have my pasjema over my shoulders and head out the door striding.

Oh I have many more I love to wear but these three are the three dear "friends". I can not help to mention: jeans, flip flops, a hat, a wrap on the beach, kaki pants and lipstick. Like I said I'm sentimental and love to dress up. :)

I'm not here to be known....but so He will be known

I thoughtfully listened to the familiar sounds in my neighborhood as I bend down to pick up the dead autumn leaves from the gravel floor of our garden. My neighbor playing ball with her grandchild, the sound of a broom sweeping away dry leaves, the tingling sound of a teaspoon being stirred in a little glass teacup. And here next to the fence the crackling sound of the big dog next door chewing on a plastic bottle.

As I drop the handful of dead leafs into the bucket I thought how comforting these familiar sounds are, but at the same time the very real but almost painful question came up in my heart: “Will I ever be fully known and enjoyed by my dear neighbors and the beautiful friendly people of this country?” My heart, my sense of humor, what I love, what I delight in and even what makes me sad. How I feel about events in the world. My love and heart for God. Why I do things in certain ways and then most of all why I am really here.

I have been part of many neighborhood coffees, birthday celebrations, baby showers, unexpected visitors for coffee or tea and the fun of spontaneously meeting with my neighbors in the street for a quick chat. Pushing the leaves even deeper into the bucket my uneasy thoughts raced forth. I have really tried to live out myself in my new culture. Learning the language and culture, making an effort to get to know my neighbors, even cooking and shopping with them. Sweeping my part of the street and kindly sweeping in front of my neighbors gate too. Having the kids in local school has been a big stretch but it has been such a good way to enter into our community here. But still I feel a foreigner, unknown.

I wonder how long it will take me to be comfortable in my local language. At a local school event the other day one of the mothers friendly reached out to me and invited me to come and sit next to her. She was very sweet and we talked about school events and the weather. I told her: “Last winter the lemons on the lemon tree banana, the little plants in my garden banana and even the banana trees banana to the ground.” Yes, I got the word for banana and freeze mixed up. How she managed to keep a straight face I’m not sure.

I know the language is just one area of sharing who I am, but it is a big part of the way my neighbors can get to know me. Being asked very open, provoking and sensitive questions like: “Where do you get your money from? What work does your husband do?” This does not help myself confidence in initiating visits. Trying to answer these questions with integrity has been a challenge. I can sometimes feel the red raising from my neck into my face as I face these true honest but not easy to answer questions.

I do not always want to avoid talking about how much money we get and have or what we really do. Or just pick the weather as a good, safe subject. Or sit in a conversation where my neighbors talk and I honestly have no clue what they are talking about or where the conversation are heading. Or being talked about while I’m sitting there and the conversation going on as if I’m not in the room.

Sadly crouching now next to the bucket of brown dead autumn leaves these words of truth rose up in my heart “Karin, you are not here so you can be known…you are here so I can be known by them.” How clearly these words rang through my heart as it brought all into perspective. Taking these questions and unmet needs and expectations to the foot of the Cross is the best place to get peace and answers. Where I’m known for who I am, where He celebrates my uniqueness. I am here because of Him. I desire to see my neighbors and friends touched and changed by His love and truth. A bread baked with love and wrapped up in a new dish towel, a cake plate filled with cookies, a bunch of flowers dropped off with a smile and hug says more than many words could ever say.

By time I will learn more about the cultural unspoken cues and the language. For now I probably will create many more miles of smiles with my broken attempt so speak in the local language. I will choose to keep my eyes on Him. Knowing when it is a good time to bless my neighbors and wisdom in what to say. Taking my own thoughts of doubt and inadequacy to Him to speak truth and hope into my heart. Praying for my neighbors and being alert to their needs. Living myself out as best as I can for His glory and remembering I’m not firstly here to be known but I’m here so He would be fully known by them.
_____________________

Bloom there where you are Planted

It is middle winter here in the Aegean. Our city is well known for its mild winters, but still flowers mostly bloom in the Spring and Summer. But on my windowsill tall and bright in the cold of winter stands two red tulips in full bloom. I admire their beauty but also strength. There is beauty in hope; "blooming" against all odds. Tulips are known for blooming where the weather is cooler but I can not help think the phrase: "Bloom where you are planted."

Some flower types are known for being strong standing out in snow, ice, desert heat, filthy ponds, dark valleys, cracks in the side walk and even the gutter. They draw attention, make people think and look twice, they are even wondered about and admired.

I can not help but think of God's heart for us humans in this scenario. The world in its self is not the ideal environment for us to "bloom" either. But we were designed by a God of hope to survive and "bloom" to our full potential. It is easier said than done, I know. To survive is one thing but to "bloom" that is another.

We are so uniquely put together with different personalities, cultures, environments etc.
Even the tulips here on my windowsill is not a clone product either. Their colors, size, length of leaves are different. It would be unfair to compare them with one another. Just like us humans too. In their own way each flower are beautiful and unique.

LETS "BLOOM":

KNOWING WHO MY MAKER IS: Standing against all odds on the truth in the Word of God. Reading and studying the Word so I do know who He truly is. Through this knowing and understanding His character. When the storms of life comes I know that I can depend on Him. He will sustain me, I can trust His character.

KNOWING WHO I AM: The way I was designed, my gifttings, my weaknesses, my strengths, my desires etc. To be alive in recognizing and acknowledging myself in who God has made me. To celebrate in who I am.

KNOWING HIS PLANS AND WILL FOR MY LIFE: To make sure that which I am pouring my time and energy for this season, is what is on His heart for me. To be secure, knowing I am at the right place at the right time.

KNOWING WHERE I'M HEADING: Because I know who He is I can step out and dream about the future. By being secure in my gifttings and desires. I can set goals for the future in faith. Often those desires and dreams and goals we want to reach, are there put by Him. I believe that He delights in us discovering these desires.

KNOWING THE PAST IS HISTORY AND THE FUTURE IN HIS HANDS: It is often difficult not to look back and remember past failures and dissapointments. They are like dead branches on a tree reminding us of past events or mistakes. To make peace and bring those things before Him in prayer. Admitting failures, mistakes and sin. Leaving it at the Cross in faith. The future is a clean page in hope in Him.

As we are all from different countries, cultures and backgrounds we all will "bloom" different. Let us not hold back but "bloom" there where we are planted. Lets "bloom" against all odds so God can receive the glory. It is only through His care, love and encouragement that our "blooming" can be a blessing to others...like these Tulips blooming on my windowsill in the cold of winter.

Grieving on the Harvest Field

I did not know which telephone conversation with my dad would be the last. I would not have thought that I would read early one morning on my niece's facebook update that he had passed away during the night. Who would have thought that three months was all he had after we found out that he had cancer of the liver. My mother sounded so lost and hopeless on the telephone after I phoned to hear the news from her.

I sat crying on our bed, almost to shocked to know what to do next. We shared with the kids that grandfather had died during the night. We cuddled up together as we hugged and cried. I phoned my close friends and teammates sharing the news. I was not sure how to share with my local friends and neighbors. How could I explain the dilemma of the visa and that I would not be going to my father's funeral? Especially in this culture where family bonding and relationships are so close.

Oh how we have tried, begged and desperately talked over the telephone to receive a temporary visa after we have been patiently waiting for two years for our residence here to be processed. How could I have known that the visa would not be granted yet, I could not leave the country to attend my dads funeral. It was very hard to process the reality that I would not be able to go and be there for my mother and family during this very trying time.

Our team mates brought me beautiful bunches of flowers and words of encouragement and comfort. How unrealistic it all felt, I could not imagine that he was not there anymore. "How will I work through this? Process his death?" the thoughts crossed my mind.

My facebook friends and family became my soundboard community in this time. I made up a digital photo album of my father. Photos that carried memories and how I remembered him. I posted it on my facebook wall and shared some thoughts and memories of him. I also made some phone calls to family members and just talked about him, what they knew about his death and memories they had. My mother shared that the funeral would be the coming Wednesday as they were waiting for family to arrive. How my heart longed to be there too.

I have always thought what a priveledge it would have been for me to share a word at his funeral. He was such a good father to me. I really hoped that I could tell a story he had shared years before about a God experience he had. He had asked me not to tell anyone of this while he was alive. Now I could not do it. Instead I wrote it all on paper and send it out to family and friends that knew him.

Also after I heard he had cancer I wrote him a letter of love, appreciation and sharing my gratitude towards him. Sadly I did not have an opportunity to give it to him. I posted it among my notes having peace in my heart that I deeply loved him and all was well between us. I was saddened and grieved that he never read it and that I did not tell him more that I loved him.

The morning of his funeral my friends came together at our home to have a memorial service with our family. I baked his favorite cake and decorated a heart shape with wild flowers, he loved the outdoors and it made me think of him walking in the veld with his hat and well weathered outdoor shoes. I lit a candle early that morning and was hoping in quietness and thought that evening I would blow it out in memory of him.

I shared my digital album from the computer at the memorial service an just talked about him. What he loved, his heart and my memories as a child growing up with him as my father. We all cried together as I shared. I was so grateful to my friends for this opportunity. They were willing to listen to my hearts thoughts and grieving cries.

Through the day I kept a watching eye on the clock to make sure I did not miss the time when his funeral would happen at home. My heart and thoughts kept going back to my mother in grieve. He was her only sweetheart and they knew one another since first grade. How I wanted to be there to support her on this sad day.

Later the afternoon I noticed that the fan to guard off the heat of summer has blown out my memorial candle. At first I was dissapointed and then I had to smile. "Maybe it was better, thank you Lord for saving me from that very sad moment." I gradually thought.

My dear aunt and inlaws thoughtfully mailed me some photos of the funeral. There was a photo of my mother lonely standing at his grave. I also was not ready for the photo of him in the coffin. I was shocked seeing it. It was so final, he looked so different from how I remembered him. My heart broke and tears just streamed uncontrollably over my cheeks. "It can't be!" I kept repeating. "He died Karin, he is not there anymore!" I kept telling myself. I stroked my fingers over his face on the computer screen. How I loved him. "How will I ever be able to bring this to a conclusion?" I thought.

What I was not ready for either was the extend of my mother suffering, struggling and grieving, and all I could do was to talk to her on the telephone. How guilty I felt for not fully being there for her. Now months later close to a year, I go through times when I see a photo of him or think about him and feel sad. But I know the fullness of the reality of him not being there will come when I go home. There where I'm use to him walking, smiling, chuckle or even the way he smelled of pipe tobacco and the veld. His side of the double bed will be empty in their room and the sound of his voice quiet. The heap on the red Karroo soil in the farm graveyard that belongs to him would be so foreign....I was not there.....but I will visit there and say goodbye with a bunch of wildflowers.

HELP my Husband has Burnout

"Please pray for me I struggle again with symptoms of burnout..." I listened as my husband share his heart with our team. I sat staring at him unemotionally with my thoughts caught up in my own struggle with this situation. "How again did we get to this point, I wondered?" "Oh God help me, give me hope, strength, patience and grace to walk alongside him through this journey." I found my heart cry out in prayer and desperation.

It has felt the last year and a half that life was on a roll, our team has been growing, the kids are doing good settled into local school, my husband has found a way of living out who he is in the local church group, a leadership roll in our sending organization and has been stepping out into challenges again.

My thoughts wondered back to the incidents leading up to the point two years ago when he was labeled BURNOUT. I was pregnant with our youngest and had problems in my pregnancy, we have just moved to a new house, he has done a year of full time intense language study at the local university, we have just gotten our first team member, we have had very little pastoral support and care during our first year in our new host country, trying the one visa option after the other. We have been kicked out a year before from our beloved country where we lived and worked for nine years....we were grieving and missing the familiar. All of these put together were just too much.

"How do you think you can get through this?" I asked him after he asked the team for prayer recently. "I need to take time out everyday, work office hours and then leave the computer at the office, delegate more and spend time in the presence of the Lord, sleep more and exercise regularly". How great that he does have an office space that he can retrieve to outside our home. We have gone through this before and I have faith to see us walk this path again. Now we know how it looks and can recognize the danger signs and make changes before it is full on burnout.

Walking as a family through recovering from burnout is like walking the extra mile on a daily basis. I know that I can't do it on my own. I do get tired, frustrated and even struggle with resentment at times. How encouraging and comforting to have close friends that I can ask for prayer and share my heart with when I feel overwhelmed with this situation.

Some other things that could be done to help someone walk through burnout:
-To have someone to pray with and share their hearts. But also the family members involved should be able to share their hearts with people and receive prayer.
-There should be open communication with the children and they should have full understanding on what their father or mother is going through.
-Going back to their home country is not always the solution. Support and even medical care could be of great help there but misunderstanding by family and church etc. could add to stress levels.
-More time out is necessary. Like sleeping more. Sleeping in or even afternoon naps could help. If the house is filled with constant noise and people the person should have a place where he or she feels at home and have quiet times.
-Medical care in the form of antidepressants or a wonderful help just to get over the edge.
-Do not judge or have any emotional expectations during this time. The person involved needs to rest and recover.

Our medical doctor had a beautiful way of explaining burnout as a little deposit in the brain filled with chemicals that helps the body to fight stress. When that little deposit runs empty the body, mind and emotions can not cope. To rest and even take medication fills that little pocket again.

I picked the great book from our home school program recently, "Miracles on Maple Hill Farm". It is about a father that has burnout and how his family is effected, and how they walk the road together to recovery. After reading the first two chapters out loud to the children, my eldest daughter turned to me with tears in her eyes: "Do we have to read this book, it is too much like Daddy, it makes me sad?" "Yes honey, it will help us to understand what he is going through and how we can support him. It will give us hope that God will lead us through this. It is not going to be like this always, it will get better. We need to understand what is happening and work together as a family." I answered in faith.

Admitting and recognizing the symptoms and feelings for what it is, is the battle half won. Being open and honest about what is going on to the children, helps us draw together and pray for Daddy in this. "It is not a disease he can die from." Hearing this was such a relieve to the children when we talked about daddy. The book: "Honorably Wounded" by Marjory F.Foyle so beautiful unfolds the pain, mystery, and road to recovery in stress and burnout in service of the King.

With our hands in His, and His grace that is new every morning, we as a family can walk this path with my husband.....to full recovery: "Daddy being Honorably Wounded in the battle to see this nation come to Jesus." Thank you God that through this we have again the opportunity to honor you.

Mrs. Proverbs did you Always have a Clean and Tidy Home?

I feel caught between Mrs. Proverbs standards and my own shortcomings, desires and the reality of my life. I can imagine if Mrs. Proverbs lived in our time her family, friends and neighbors would have been blessed, loving and admiring her. But would her home always have been spotless?

Being a family with three young children living cross culturally overseas means we have a busy life. There is endless guests coming through our home from just popping in to use the toilet to staying for a meal, meetings with coffee and cake and often people staying with us for a week or more at a time. I find myself constantly organizing things, cooking, cleaning, wiping down floors, toilets etc. The worst is me not feeling motivated to clean most of the time, or ever if I have to be honest.

I feel the constant stress between being a wife that serves my husband and family with love and respect. My husband appreciate and enjoys our family wearing ironed clothes. I dream of having a tidy and clean home. I dream of having coffee with friends, learning the language well, having solid relationships with my neighbors. Home School my children with excitement so they can excel and be what God would love them to become one day. Here just here is where I read through the beautiful story of The Woman of Proverbs and wonder where the balance is? A dear friend of mine has a sign at the entrance of her door: "It's either ME or the HOUSE we can't both look good!"

"Karin, how do you keep your house clean?" was a question a mother with young children asked me this week. At first I was embaressed because my house is not clean. Another lady added on: "Your house seems so neat and tidy always." My thoughts went to a week ago when we moved some furniture around and my husband jokingly said after a bed was moved away: "There is a whole person made from dust hiding under this bed!" "Well, I only clean the house ones a week, from top to bottom. It takes about three hours to work through. But everything has a place or box and gets put away after use. I believe totally in the power of wet wipes. Before guests comes over quickly wipe the toilet floor etc. down with wet wipes and flush some nice smelling disinfectant down the drain." I had to add with a smile.

The story in Proverbs about this lovely lady is inspiring, but I think I would love to know how she kept her home clean and tidy. Yes, she probably had multiple servants as we can see from verses in this piece. I had to come to a place in my heart checking into reality that I do not have servants but the dishwasher, washing machine could be added here for a modern perk. I would love to serve and honor my family with a clean home etc. In the heart of this "Woman of Proverbs" how would I do this?

My first stop would be at the foot of the Cross. I want to be honoring, worshiping and serving my Shepherd first. I want to honor Him first in all I do. Not driven but serving in love. How comforting that He knows, He sees and He is God. It is not ultimately in what I do and how clean my house is, but firstly about my heart in this. My prayer for us all walking this tight rope balancing life, may we know His heart for us. May we know when to sit at His feet and when to do what needs to happen.

"So Mrs. Proverbs I like to imagine you might have had "dust bunnies" collecting in the corners of your home at times but your heart had peace. You knew who your Maker was and what it meant to be at rest with life and its demands."

A Heart of Stone or a String of Pearls...

With tears on my cheeks and an ache in my heart... I gently but slowly run my fingers over the smooth, cold, colorful string of pearls. Playing with it through my fingers I think of how precious and beautiful this string of pearls are. Not just the string as such but the thought of my dear friends at home in Africa blessing me with this gift for my Birthday. I felt so blessed but my thoughts came back to my heart. The reason why there is tears at this precious moment.

As wet as the tears felt on my cheeks so dry my heart lays as a barren patch of untoiled ground. Oh how I have struggled the last few days to come to a point of understanding, choosing forgiveness.

How beautiful each pearl shines its colors. With deep dark colors of blue, purple, brown, peach, mother of pearl and even gold colors. How precious each pearl lays. The deep beauty of each pearl is in how it was formed. From a nothing grain of sand entering a shellfish. Through months of pain, rubbing and uncomfortable toleration there it is a beautiful pearl. Perfect, precious and breathtaking.

How true of my own heart I thought. How can I choose not to forgive? How could I have allowed unforgiveness to creep in and steal my joy, love and peace. If I could have just allowed forgiveness to come in immediately, I could have had a beautiful string of pearls draped in my heart. A rememberance of forgiveness, submission, and turning the other cheek. A gift of honor and love to Him.

I wiped my tears with the back of my hands and headed up the stairs to go place this precious, extrafagant piece of jewelery somewhere on my dresser so I can see it and appreciate it daily.

I draped it hanging over the edge of a glass jar spilling onto my dresser. My eye caught the grey, hard, rough beton heart my daughter picked up on the beach this summer. What comparison these two have. The one is soft and silky formed by pain and the other so hard and harsh made by man. I picked up the heart and made it stand in the jar with the pearls.

I felt the words rise in my heart as I stare at the picture in the jar. "Karin, you could walk with unforgiveness and have a heart of stone and beton....or you could choose to forgive and have a string of pearls draped in your heart." I was shocked and in awe of the pain, truth and beauty of these words.

Through yielding, forgiving and often making painful choices God brings forth beauty and life. I choose to rather have a string of pearls honoring Him....choosing to forgive.

WHY WRITE SOMETING?

Sitting outside in the garden on my well weathered chair listening to the raindrops drizzling, tapping on the leaves as it falls... I sit pondering over this question. Actually I have just finished writing an article that was wrapped up in my heart for weeks. It was like something beautiful asking to come out of the dark to be seen, loved and appreciated.

Hidden in the darkness of a cocoon lays the promise of a beautiful butterfly. When it pushes out of the cocoon, that is when the world can appreciate the depth of the colors on its wings and the beauty of its flight. As I write, I come alive touched by the joy of expression, and shocked by the power of a soul in flight with words.

No I'm no famous writer, only a few of my articles have been printed. English is not my first language and to my shame and disappointment I was not interested in grammar or comprehension in school. "So why do I write?" you would ask. Writing has always been like a song in my heart, an echo coming through. A desire that has been there, like a friend knocking on the door of my heart to come in. Ideas for articles will come floating through my mind and get stuck somewhere between my heart and brain. Forever I would sit writing in my head and think, wow that would be great to write about. I start recognizing these impressions and desires as God urging me on to put these impressions in sentences on paper.

Firstly and insecure I wrote about my impressions after visiting a friends grandmother. How amazing it felt to have expressed those deep emotions and experiences running in and out on paper that day. I was so excited and encouraged after reading what I have written.

Then I started writing experiences in my past, things that I thought needed to be expressed, worked through and brought into words. A thought would come into my mind and it would stay, when I have a moment I would sit and play with it. How will I start the article? What would be the first paragraph? What would be the main ideas? Often I would wake up in the middle of the night and lay writing in my head. It would be like a story being written long before it is written in ink on paper.

"It must be a gift." my husband said. For me it is a blend of a gift from God and a canal to let my thoughts run through. Writing has helped me work with and through unresolved issues in my past. Writing about difficult situations has helped me to see clearly, to understand and even gain answers. It is a soundboard for those experiences never uttered. A voice for my emotions. I hope that hearts would be touched, people helped, and God at work in minds through what I write.

Why should you write? Who do you think you are? Why do you think people would even want to read what you write? These are not the important questions but questions that often come into my mind! It is valid questions, but I can not allow it to lead me out of writing.

Do you have a desire to write? Do you dream about writing your heart? Do you feel you have something to tell? These are the questions we should ask.

"Do it for yourself!" Is my expression on starting to write. Start to write your heart, through experience and exercise the skill will come. Do not let fear keep you from writing. There is articles and books that needs to be written. Do not underestimate what God can do through the gifts that He has given you. If you dream about writing, then you have something to say. Start a blog or newsletter. Stretch your legs a bit with small projects. Read blogs of other writers and books written on developing writing skills.

Write, but do not keep silent. The world do need to hear more stories of lives touched and changed by God.

To Love is a Command not a Choice

As I ran the short distance from the car to the Church building the wind blew freezing cold from the snow capped mountains around our city. Our little church is in the Red Light down town district squeezed between two three story apartment blocks housing prostitutes and transfestites. The little building does not look like much but as I pushed the heavy, cold metal door open I was touched by the warm friendly chattering of people mingling and talking inside.

Often during our time of worship and singing in summer time, people in the street walking by will stop and listen through the open windows. Some will take a free Bible from the windowsill, and some will even come in and sit down for a bit. There is a constant flow of people coming and going through the open door of this little building, for prayer or just out of curiosity. A few Sundays ago a man lit his sigarette for a smoke during the sermon, then a person got up and made himself a cup of tea and somebody climbed through the man hole in the Sunday school class and sat smoking his sigarette on the roof. It sounds all strange but these people know where to come and hear about Him and sense His love.

Sunday morning again he came, with his usual dirty worn out clothes. He seemed drunk and had obvious sores on his face and hands which I have not noticed before. I thought it might be from overdose of strong alcohol. The doorman helped him in and as he passed by me I smelled a heavy alcohol stench and also noticed his pants soiled in the back. He was seated next to an elderly lady which has been coming to church regularly.

During the worship he sat quiet, with his eyes open but his head bow down. I wondered if he came in because the streets was bitter cold and the church somewhat warmer, or was he really searching for Jesus and an end to his struggles. I stood praying in the back for him realizing that Jesus can change his life, he could be saved and live a sober Godly life. Nothing is impossible for God.

The lady sitting next to him suddenly jumped up just before communion was served. Obviously disturbed by something, she talked to the doorman pointing to the drunk man. She walked back to her chair, grabbed her handbag and left church. My friend the doorman came and stood next to me with his head down. I could see he was upset by what the lady said about the drunk man being there.

The well known question: "What would Jesus have done?" came up in my heart. I put my hand around my friend the doorman's shoulder and whispered in his ear: "In difficult situations I always ask myself, what Jesus would have done in love, in this situation? I think you have made the right decision to let this man inside."

Standing again looking at this poor, lost, rejected, dirty, smelling, drunk man I knew Jesus saw him different. He saw him as a child of His that needs love and acceptance. I prayed again in my heart that God would help me to love others, and help me to see them as He sees them. That to love others would be seen as a command and not a choice or option.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A Garden of Joy

My little patch of garden at our home will never make it to the "Garden and Home" magazine or some neighborhood garden competition. If you are a gardener you might look at the mish-mash of oddly placed plants and rocks in my yard and not think much of it. Yes I agree there is not much that meets the eye.

Now you know, I'm not really much of a gardener. I wish I had more skill and information on knowing where each plant should come according to its size, type and need for sunlight. I have a very kind, gracious neighbor though that knows about plants and loves to bless me with seeds and little plant starters. Shamefully I have to admit many of these seeds never see the light in my garden or even flourished growing.

But my little patch of odd plants are a sure joy to me. Even the well weathered wooden chair my dear friend found at the local neighborhood dumpster adds to the beauty and pleasure. What a kick to observe each plant go through the different seasons. From summer bloom to winter hiding. As I sit in, yes in and not on my dumpster chair in the quiet bliss of the moment admiring each little plant over a well deserved cup of coffee. Now that is the full joy of having a garden.

It's autumn here now, and that means the end of summer. I have always understood that fruit trees blossom in Spring to carry their fruit in summer. No not the kumkwat tree I have discovered. At first I felt sorry for this beautiful tree and thought global warming must have gotten the better of it. But no its the way it lives. How beautiful it stands now in middle Autumn with its evergreen leaves and white blossoms drawing bees to come and drink nectar. Its little white petals covering the ground like convetti.

My banana trees are my children in the garden. After many months of looking for banana planters we found a pot with four little plants at a plant stall next to the road one day coming home from holiday. I think wanting them in the garden is my heart longing for Africa but being established in Asia. With patience and tender care they were planted. I watched them stay green hoping to see new leaves emerging. Then last winter they froze down to the ground.
Sadly I took the dead leaves off, hoping that they will come out next Spring. And they did. When Spring came the green shoots pushed through the gray gravel except on plant did not make it.

I love the smell, color and appearance of lavender bushes. No, its not a tree, just a bush, wild but beautiful. I use to have quite a few of them that I hauled all the way from the plant seller in the bazaar. They just did not flourish, maybe the soil was not right or not a good place for them. Brushing past them and picking up their scent warms my heart.

Now the lemon tree is my pride and joy. I keep an eye on it all summer to see the first blossoms shining and then forming the little lemon bud. Last winter we had almost no lemons because the kids blessed mommy with a bunch of lemon blossom flowers. I say no more. Now in autumn the lemons are still green but here and there the beautiful yellow treats are hanging heavy on the branches. I love to watch the yellow lemons in middle winter through my lounge window, my winter flowers.

Now my lack of knowledge of plants comes to a total hight with my ignorant name for it "the green bushes", standing on both sides of the garden gate. All summer they grow wild with their long soft branches like arms swinging and growing wildly. Most of my gardening involves chopping away impatiently at these long jumpy reeds with little leaves. Oh but when autumn comes it breaks out in these very happy sunny faced yellow flowers. All then through this cold season it shines. In my flowerless garden and home then this bush hangs out lavishly in a glass vask with its arms hanging low onto the tablecloth.

These are my plant encouragers throughout Autumn and Winter. How we all need a place where we can stop, sit and enjoy the beauty of Creation. As God has made each plant with its own expression of beauty and embracing of each season, so we need to blossom where we are planted. Do not underestimate the beauty you have that others see and appreciate. Even the tiniest considered insignificant plant humbly shines forth beauty.....

Familiar has a Different Meaning

Turning forty last year was a big issue for me. It really felt like the big "four" had arrived. On my birthday as also in the beginning of a new year I asked the Lord for a Word from His heart, a story or a verse from the Bible for the coming year or spiritual season ahead.

You don't have to be a regular Bible reader to know about Psalm 23 where Jesus is portrayed as the Good Shepherd. This beautiful but well known piece in the Bible leaves comforting thoughts behind of the Shepherd leading His sheep in green pastures and besides quiet waters.

You have guess, I felt Psalm 23 as the word in my heart for the new year. At first I thought. "No, this is my own thoughts, there must be a more original, exciting piece of scripture for this Big Day of mine". Psalm 23 just felt to known, plain and trodded through. As I sat and waited feeling in my heart for any other impression, there was nothing more. This Psalm settled in my heart like a letter being dropped of in the post box by the mail man.

So there it was Psalm 23 as my message, story and assigned companion for the next season. At first I felt a bit uncomfortable with this known message. I did not seek or asked anymore questions on this. "I know Psalm 23, the beautiful message of the Shepherd being there for the sheep." Even Psalm 23 portraying the Shepherd as the gentle, kind leader leading His sheep....knowing their hearts, ways and needs. Leading them gently but knowing what He wants for the sheep. Knowing more what they need than what they know or even can perceive themselves.

As we all know and have experienced life has it's green pastures and quiet times. But it does not stay or end there. It has it's deep, dark valleys and His rod and staff....Those are the parts in the Psalm I often do not want to think about too much, pain and suffering is not something I want to invite. As profound as it might sound, if it was not for the dark valleys I would not have known and trusted the Shepherd as I do now. Would I have trusted my all to Him truly if I did not know His voice of love, compassion and kind direction through the dark valleys. He carries me through these desperate and dark times.

What about the "staff that comforts me", those words of truth and correction spoken in love...often by a friend. In those dark valleys it is not easy..but He is always with me....He never said that it would be easy. But He did say that He will be with us.

The different seasons of life, often even the different hours in a day feels like it embraces different verses in this Psalm. When I read this Psalm it feels like I'm on a roller coaster ride. Then up high in the mountains and green pastures and then suddenly down in the valley of suffering and death. Then again climbing the mountain in anticipation of a beautiful view longing for the green pastures of peace and rest.

I think what makes this Psalm so real and alive and for sure a favorite among many people is the promise of the Shepherd being the Comforter. That after the dark valley He always leads us besides quiet waters and restores our soul.

This Psalm is now deeply embedded in my heart. I can not help but smile when I hear it read, sang or quoted, how familiar and comforting. It's words create a picture... but the Shepherd being there makes it beautiful....and special.

No Visa No Way BUT His Way

"The Government has refused renewing our visas!" My husband shocked uttered these words. "What does it mean?" I asked, barely being able to handle the depth of my emotions welling up. "We can not go back!" I feared hearing this answer for many years but knew some day it will come. We can not go back...I repeated these words over and over in my mind like I wanted it to rather change over like a coin. I felt shivers of shock, disbelieve running up and down my body. It made way for disappointment and anger...

It is my home, my life, my house, we live there, my children's hearts will be broken. What about my dear friends there, my neighbors and all I love and know. What and how are we going to tell the children? My dear children, it is the only home they have ever known since they were tiny babies. These questions raced endlessly through my mind.

How can this happen now, while we are not even in the country? How mean can they be? We do not even have the opportunity to say goodbye, pack up our home, our stuff after nine years. The next few weeks following this sad news went by in a blur, on hold..and I played events out over and over in my mind. I had so many questions and my heart felt stripped and was throbbing and aching for my host country, now only a dream.

"Think about your children, you can not take the risk to go back and land up in jail." friends were advising us. Some advice sadly and heart piercing were: "Just leave it all, don't go back. You did not have much anyway!" Yes we did not own the house we lived in and the few pieces of furniture were second hand. The car was not much worth either, the school books we can replace. We can gather up some new dolls and toys where ever we will go again.

BUT how can I tell my heart to not ache and grief for this nation and people, this people group God has called us to lay down our lives for. I can not just give it all up and wave goodbye. These are my people this is my inheritance. I love my neighbors. I suffered, laughed, grieved, rejoiced about new babies being born, danced and weddings. Sat through power failures in the cold winters at candlelight and had no running water for weeks at a time. Cooked many pots of rice with friends on the open fire. My heart can not just wave this off!

As a family we prayed, seeked council and advice. We decided to go back for a period of a week as our visas only expired in a few weeks. We felt encouraged by God to go back, support the church there and say goodbye. How my heart ached to leave the children behind at our parents. Not knowing if all were clear with our visas as we understood.

As the airplane touched down in the capital city we took hands and prayed. I felt the words of this song welled up in my heart. "Jesus great above all." We were somewhat nervous as we handed our passports in at passport control. What if they refused our entry, what if they keep us on the airport for days, what if they put us in jail? It felt like minutes ticking by as the policeman at passport control scanned our photos and typed our information onto the computer. People impatiently behind us started commenting on why were he taking so much time. I left out a soft but deep sigh of relieve as he picked up and stamped our passports. I could not helped it but tears of relieve were streaming uncontrolably as we gathered our one suitcase and headed out for the last police check. The policeman wanted to know why I was crying. With a big smile I said: "Oh I'm so happy to be back!" Little did he really know about the full truth of this.

Dear friends received us at the airport with a big bunch of flowers, many tight hugs and encouragement. "You can not go to the village." They warned us. "Your house helper has been interogated and questioned by the police about your work. There was a Court case against you for being involved in religious activity. It is to dangerous." they warned.

After coming home from the airport I layed my eight big box action packers on the floor and went from room to room and drawer to drawer picking out what I really wanted. Most of the boxes were filled with books and sentimental objects. The hardest was going into the children's room and having to pick through their stuff and make decisions on what is valuable and what not.

Yes, we did decide to go to our friends in the village to support and encourage them. We felt the Lord urging us to do this. One evening after dark a friend drove us in his car to the village we lived and worked for seven years. The gate of the high walled yard were quickly opened and closed as we drove in, not to draw much attention. There they all were our dear local friends, teammates and now closer than family. That evening as my husband likes to say: "There were no cultural boundaries, just friends that loved one another." As we greeted, we cried, laughed and hugged one another with such joy but deep sadness.

I was so proud of my husband as he brought the most important but last message to this dear group of people, we talked and shared till late that night. The next morning before sunrise we left again. As we drove away from this place my heart was breaking. Tears were streaming down my face. I felt the words forming in my heart..."Don't be sad you will come back one day." These words brought such comfort and peace to the ache of having to say goodbye for ever.

Looking back now a few years down the road, we are living in a new host culture. God has carried us through this very difficult time. He was and is faithful in every way. Our dear friends in the village still have a very deep and special part in my heart and life, and I think it will always be like this.

Tweetie-bird Gliding High like an Eagle

HAPPY BIRTHDAY has become more than just, having a great day, feeling special and loved, getting many nice great gifts. It is celebrating a life that was born. Being a unique person loved by God living on this special day. A day to celebrate life and God's goodness in this life.

I have a tradition on my birthday to ask the Lord for a word for the year ahead. Last year was the big 40 and the Lord left the well known but beautiful piece in my heart about ...the Good Shepherd leading his sheep in green pastures. But also challenging through the valley of the shadow of death.

Looking back on my birthday today a year later, it has been a year of persevering. Trusting Him that He would be there to give me the hope, faith and strength to finish well. Yes, looking back I can't say it was a hard year. Rather in the midst of it all there was a Place of knowing and trusting Him.

Being my Birthday again tomorrow I again wanted to come and sit and ponder about the last year but also wanting to ask Him what is on His heart for me in the year ahead.
Waiting for a Word, a thought.....something I can hold on, pray out as a ray of hope in the midst of "whatever" to come.

The words of a popular song came to my heart. "Fly, fly like an eagle, My love will carry you, high...high above the sun.." The song brings tears to my eyes and a big lump to my throat. I honestly can't see myself flying like an eagle...yet... He has hopes and dreams for me ...to see me spread my wings in freedom flying above my own issues, short comings, distorted view of who I am.

I want to believe. He then again sees the real me, the full picture and He dreams about me gliding out and above over what holds me back to who He has made me to be...
What a beautiful picture to hold onto and ponder through for the year ahead. A picture of hope to cling to in those times when I doubt my potential. When I'm not seeing the full picture but sensing the tug on my heart to want more. The full picture is in His hands.

Even if it is not what I have hoped for, He will work it out for my good. Pushing the fear back..stepping out into the light, knowing with His love under my wings I can fly high and free. Not just holding onto a dream but living my dreams. Not watching the hopes unfold in my mind...but living in it with fullness. Feeling the wind under my wings...the wind of His love allowing me to go higher and dream bigger.
Not to live a dream but live a life!

A life where He is glorified through my obedience to Him.

So tomorrow in faith I will trust Him to step with me into the next year of my life. Hoping to look back in a year's time knowing how it feels to fly high like an eagle when I feel like a Tweetie-bird now.

Being a Chameleon on a "Smartie Box"

As a child I was always fascinated and intrigued by the story, if you put a chameleon on a Smartie box it will become confuse and burst open. It does sounds funny, interesting and as I visualize this it makes me smile. But my grace and love for animals have kept me from doing this, but it was tempting as a child.

As interesting and funny as this sounds, so painful and confusing it has felt in my life at times. Living in a different country and culture from what I have grown up in, adjusting to speak and understand a new language, trying to understand why people do the things they do and what are spoken and unspoken expectations of me living in a neighborhood in a different country. This has all added to me often feeling like a Chameleon on a Smartie box. What makes this Chameleon hanging on the edge of the branch with her tail touching the Smartie box, loosing grip ready to fall is: "Who am I in the midst of all of this?"

As I understand the chameleon changes its color as it slowly moves from one object to another. In my life's experience I know it is terribly tiring to be changing who you are all the time because you are insecure in different situations, and what you should do to meet different needs, especially working and living cross culturally.

Coming to live overseas in a different culture and country from what I'm use to has brought much stress to my life. I do not do well with constant change and my life has been in constant change for the last fifteen years. Thanks to God's grace I have been able to stay the Chameleon on the Smartie box. It has been very confusing at times but I have not "burst" open yet!

You see the Chameleon has to pick a color and then stick to that until it moves on and then change color as it moves on. God has been my guide and helper in this. Leading me through impossible situations. Seeing God work miracles in situations has brought such peace and security to my heart. Impossible prayers answered made me trust in Him coming through for me in situations that I could not see being worked out for my good.

Through humanly impossible events I have learned that I can handle more than what I have thought I could handle, because I know He is there and with faith in Him I could face every day moment by moment. Stepping out into friendships that I did not have hope for that it would ever work out. God then would unfold our lives one to another to understand and appreciate.

Through God's grace and love I have discovered who I am in Him. Taking the promises in the Word and writing it on my heart believing it as the truth. Taking it up as my Sword and Shield protecting my heart from the lies that Satan is shooting, to break down my self worth and knowledge of Him. Discovering my giftings, and that I am uniquely put together by God. Looking into the mirror of my being meeting eye to eye knowing God has a purpose for me being where I am. That I am called and uniquely put together like no one else. God has gifted us all different and finding myself there at His feet seeing myself through His eyes knowing myself.

God in His grace allows us to be put into impossible situations like the "chameleon on a smartie box". I think the secret is the Chameleon knowing that he is a chameleon and restfully and peacefully moving forward. So we can step into life's impossible-aties knowing that He is God leading us forward.

WAITING IN THE RIVER

Our years living in the village in Central Asia were not a beautifying experience for me physically. The water was scarce and hard, the weather had no grace. Summers were baking hot and winters freezing cold with very little heating. Life was primitive with not many body products for sale to smooth rough skin and quench dry brittle hair. If you were willing to haul some beauty products in your suitcase from abroad it could come...if you had the weight allowance.

I still smile at my interesting observation. When we ladies living and working there would come back from our trips from our home countries we would have the newest haircuts, cute clothes and shoes. We even put make-up on daily. Then as time passed, our beauty routines would slowly fade. The hairstyles would become a daily ponytail, the make-up lessened and the clothes would fade. It was the more natural look—at times even leaning towards looking somewhat neglected.

One day a dear lady came to our town. She gathered the women together for a time of visiting and sharing. I vividly remember us sitting in a circle around the typical low table with flat mattresses on the floor with green tea being served in round Chinese printed cups on a brightly printed plastic tablecloth.

She shared from her heart about her personal experiences and difficulties. Then she hit our hearts full on with these words; "In twenty years time you ladies are not going to be the beauties in the world. Your skin is going to be telling a story of many hot summers and cold winters. You would have probably suffered diseases and hardships. Life would have taken its toll on your age." We did not need to hear much more than this. I felt the tears welling up in my eyes. The lump in my throat testified to the truth of what she was saying, as I looked across the table, I did not see one person whose eyes were not full of tears. Life felt harsh, I did feel run down and the mirror did not lie. Yes, when last did I have a good haircut?

She continued: ”But God says you are going to be beautiful to Him in your hearts and souls. You would have walked a life of suffering and faith. You would have endured much. You would be strong in Him. You would be the spiritual giants of this world.” Some of us were wailing now. We were touched to the core. What a beautiful opportunity we had to share our hearts and longings that day to understand one another's needs. We prayed together and were comforted by the beautiful truth of this message.

She then played this song by a group called Delirious:

"FIND ME IN THE RIVER...find me in the river find me on my knees. I've walked against the water now I'm waiting if you please. We've long to see the roses but never felt the thorns and bought our pretty crowns but never paid the price.

Find me in the river; find me on my knees with my soul laid bare. Even though you are gone and I'm cracked and dry...

Find me in the river...I'm waiting here.

We didn't count on suffering we didn't count on pain but if the blessing is in the valley then in the river I will wait."

...see sidebar to click on the YouTube screen to hear it.

Looking back, now almost twelve years ago, I fondly but thoughtfully carry this message in my heart. I do think the weather and difficulties of life have taken its toll on my age and physique. But I do hope that one day I can look into the mirror of my heart and see myself as He sees me. It is true: physical beauty fades with time. But I do believe what lasts are those beauties in our hearts: the choice we make to forgive, to turn the other cheek, to walk the extra mile, to do without some things so someone else can have, giving to others from ourselves more than what we hoped or planned.

These things then would be the true jewels in our hearts.

ABOUT FROZEN FLIPFLOPS, CUPPACHINOS AND HOSPITALITY

ABOUT FROZEN FLIPFLOPS, CUPPACHINOS AND HOSPITALITY

This morning after I found my flipflops stiff frozen in the freezer I surprisingly knew I had a few answers on the heart of hospitality! Blessed with cold feet, I enquired from my daughters about this very strange incident. “I thought how nice it would be for you mommy to wear cold flipflops being so hot in summer.” my eight year old kindly said.

Putting mommy’s flip flops in the freezer spoke to me of a heart that wanted to bless, it was showing that she cares, that she was thinking how could she mean something and make it more comfortable for someone. But the best was seeing her contentment in blessing me!

What more than this is the heart of hospitality then? I might give it my best effort to make a great dish of lasagna and top it off with chocolate mousse for dessert. My guests might remember the meal a few years from now but I know they will remember the way I made them feel. Will they remember feeling welcomed, blessed, cared for, listened too, accepted and loved?

I really love people, talking and cooking. Now you would think that makes a good combination to be hospitable. Yes, I have had my moments, good and bad.
As a family we lived in a village in the heart of Central Asia without gas, electricity and even water at times. Now we live in a modern city at the edge of the Aegean Sea in pure comfort. These experiences has brought me along way in living out the gift of hospitality to my family, neighbors, team members and just people passing thru our home and back yard.

I have overdone hospitality and missed the heart of this beautiful gift many times, by being busy or even unwilling. I vividly remember the painful learning experience of a family coming to stay at our home for a weekend of rest. I really wanted to make them feel at home and make it as comfortable as I can. Afterwards they mentioned that they felt so uncomfortable with me “overdoing” it. Ouch! The Lord has used this incident to help me remember that it is a gift of service but also of love. Overdoing it and serving in my own strength is not hospitality, it is dead works. Thru the years I have learned to say no to people wanting to come over or stay at our home when it is not an appropriate time for our family.

I do try to make my guest beds ahead of time with a towel rolled up at the foot of the bed and a chocolate bar of some kind discretely placed to say: “You are special and welcome!” Yes you did read right “discretely” placed. I have caught my two year old with chocolate smeared all over his face and on the guest beds. I do try to make something extra if I know someone is coming for coffee or make sure I have a packet of cookies or a chocolate bar ready to break open into a plate. I have even put out a bowl of peanuts or raisins with a cup of tea.

I love cuppachinos and have found a way to make sky high milk froth ones with a sprinkle of cinnamon and sugar to the delight of my guests. But the best for me is sitting there sipping my cuppachino observing my guests and delighting in the joy of hospitality.

It does bring me great joy seeing my children blessing the street sweeper with a glass of cold Coke or the municipal worker with a glass of cold water. I do find it a challenge bringing my family alongside me getting ready for guests coming. My husband probably will go shopping with my grocery list and the girls often to my horror will be setting the table digging in the garden for rocks, leaves, flowers and sticks to decorate the table. But the satisfaction and excitement it brings to them, helping mommy with hospitality makes up for the few bugs I have caught crawling around on the table after these decorating sessions. . I always hope that my guests are blessed, my family encouraged but most of all God must be honored!

A TIMELY WORD IN SEASON

A TIMELY WORD IN SEASON

When I think of summer I think of roses, tall glasses of iced coffee and the beach. Winter again makes me long for hot soup, lots of rain, hot chocolate and thick wool socks. Walking through memory lane reflecting over the last few years of my life, help me identify different "seasons" of life. These changing "seasons" of life off course are unavoidable. They are not always the most convenient, even wanted or easy to live through but I know “summer” brings beauty and life; it will give way to “autumn” with death and deep warm colors.

The day we flew into our new City my heart was still left in Uzbekistan. I did not have the opportunity to really say goodbye and I was grieving my beloved country and friends. Coming here felt like meeting a new friend and I just did not feel ready for a new friendship! It felt like it was a “season” just too soon! As a family we walked thru the streets day after day in mid summer heat looking for an apartment with rental signs in the windows. After a while the children did not do well with the heat and walking. My husband and I would then take turns going out. I would go in the morning armed with my little paper with phrases in my new language and necessary water bottle. After a week my feet was covered in blisters. But I was determined and time pressed every morning to find a place to stay before we had to be out where we were staying.

In His timing He provided the perfect apartment for our family. It even had a fountain in the court yard! But the owner used this apartment for storage and used it at times when they came to our city. As we arrived at our new apartment the morning we arranged to move in we discovered that our landlord has never moved out as promised. We were desperate to move that day. All their stuff was still in the cupboards and heaps and heaps of things needed to be packed.

I stood in the hallway of the apartment in shock and disbelieve. We had to move in that day we had no choice! All we could do was to pack up their things and arrange with them to move it out that evening. As I walked thru the apartment anger, disappointment and hopelessness overtook me. I just did not have it in me to face this yet another mayor physical challenge. I felt so tired of all the moving around the last year, hauling our stuff thru three continents, the stress of finding a place before we had to be out where we were staying, walking the streets in the heat of summer, trying to understand what people were saying, and just living in a new culture with small children. I faintly excused myself and closed the toilet door behind me. I sat on the closed toilet seat trying to control my upwelling emotions.

I cried and cried, until I felt I could pray. All I could get out was: "Lord please, please tell me this is not Your perfect will for me for today!" I begged. I felt gently, slowly and clearly the words forming in my heart: "Karin this is my perfect will for you for today!" I sat there for a while pondering the truth in my heart.

“The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliver my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge. He is my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.” Psalm 18 verse 2.

It was as if all else fell away, I knew then that I WILL have all the physical, emotional energy I would need to get thru that day and situation. It was as if a fresh breeze of hope swept through my heart and mind, as if strength entered my body. I made a decision, stood up in faith, washed my red puffy eyes and opened the toilet door with new hope and vision.

That evening late the landlord came with a truck to pick up their packed belongings, and only then we could get going to move our stuff into our new apartment. I remember falling into bed late that night dead tired but blessed. I had a place of Refuge in a new “season”. A God that hears our every cry! A personal Friend that speaks words of truth, life and encouragement to our hearts in every “season” we face! A guide that leads us through these different "Seasons" of life and not missing the details and opportunities to teach us to hear His voice and trust in Him!

.....................................................................................

MOM THE UNLIKELY HERO

I'm not known by friends or family as "daring" and I hope not "irresponsible"!!! I look with respect and admiration to other mothers and woman my age doing Bungee Jumping, Sky diving or just doing something totally out of the ordinary, daring. I see myself as a level headed, mother, wife, daughter and neighbor. The most daring I get is with cooking and trying new fun recipes. But under the label "being a good mother", "being my daughters hero”, I found that I might do something unusual, daring and totally out of the ordinary.

I overheard a conversation outside the kitchen window as I was cooking pancakes this morning. "The tortoises make such a mess in the garden" my husband said. "Please Daddy we can not let this little one go that Mommy saved, he is my most special one", my daughter answered.

My thoughts went back to the big forest fire we had last summer. The strong wind, aero planes and helicopters spraying water and the fire brigade sirens sounding. The police shouting over megaphones for people to stand back and evacuate the area as the fire was heading our way and we could hear the crackle of the fire and feel the extreme heat coming closer. We were running up and down the stairs of our home gathering some precious belongings like passports, money and getting ourselves set up to head out of the area. How relieved we were when we came back that night and our home was standing, untouched by the fire but so sad to see the big damage for hundreds of meters in the burned down, black, rubble forest.

The next day I took the children and we walked along the tar road next to the houses and the forest to see the damage. We were amazed at all the people that came to see and look at what had happened. I jokingly called it: "Forest fire tourism!"

My eldest daughter spotted a tiny tortoise at the bottom of a three meter drop into the burned down forest area. My heart went out to this tiny creature that survived the fire and I thought how thirsty he must be and there was nothing to eat.
"Mom, please you can not leave him there, he will die!" my daughters hand pulled on my arm and her words tugged on my heart. I was racing through my mind, looking for something sensible to say. There was nothing more to say! By now there was a bit of a crowd gathering pointing and talking about the poor animal suffering.

You guess right! "Mom please save him!" was her next comment. I looked down at my feet dressed with only flip flops and wondered how I would do it, but I knew this was something I had to do. "Let me do it for her, she will always remember this, this is the stuff memories are made of", went through my mind.

Feeling very daring, with bystanders clicking their tongues in disbelieve and talking about how dangerous it was, I slowly but carefully and somewhat nervous scrambled down the loose rocks, stones and burned black sticks. I was quite relieved when I safely reached the tortoise, and then carefully found my way up again. To my surprise the amazed crowed cheered and clapped as I reached the top with my now black hands, feet and flip flops. But to me, there was only one person standing at the top excitingly and very proud waiting for her mom to make her way up the rocks with the little tortoise.

I will never forget the joy in her eyes, the special hug I got and: "Thank you Mommy, we will call him Moses you saved him from the black burned forest!"

Often when I sit outside in the yard drinking my coffee I see Moses wandering around the grass and the thought of how he became part of our family warms my heart. I am not the most exciting, fit, pretty or athletic Mommy but I am my little girls "Brave" Mommy thanks to Moses!

MORE THAN A CHINESE CUP OF GREEN TEA

As I heard the knock on the door of your typical Central Asian yard, I frustratedly put the pencil down and wondered who it was that was dropping by on this hectic, impossible morning. I was trying to home school, and also entertain a very active and persistent toddler on the side.

I heard my husband opening the door and converse in our host language. I watched him with an unimpressed look on my face walking two traditionally covered and dressed elderly ladies to our kitchen door. He stared at me through the glass of the kitchen door window and as our eyes met we both knew this was the right thing to do. He opened the door and softly explained to me that they came to pray in our home as it was one of these ladies brother's that died in our home before we moved in. He added on that they will not be staying long. "Will not be staying long!" I repeated in my mind. Tea in this case and culture was not just a cup of green tea in printed Chinese cups! When unknown older woman dressed very culturally like this unexpectedly drop in I have to put out bread in the center of the table with nuts, raisins, cookies, candy, fruit, covering the table in little plates and bowls and they could possibly be staying for lunch too.

I remembered us visiting this house the night the kind old man, now the brother of one of these ladies died. I can still see my husband kneeling at his bed praying for him, my husband really liked him and they had good conversations but never had an opportunity to share the gospel with him. He was deeply touched and saddened by this.

I greeted the ladies culturally, respectfully and seated them at the main seats at our kitchen table. They were somber, series and explained who they were and why they came. I got going with making green tea and setting the table as they talked. After pouring the green tea culturally and filling each Chinese little cup I sat myself down. My eyes scanned their sad faces but I kept coming back to the most elderly ladies face. She seemed the most bothered and the lines around her eyes and mouth reminded me of a story of hardship and pain.

As if "lightning struck" my thoughts and heart shocked back to a place of sensing God's heart, I felt the feeling dawning on me that they were there not by mistake and God had an appointment with them. I was so occupied in my own little world that morning with what I needed to do that I never had set my mind on what God wanted to do! I knew then that there was a purpose in their untimely visit! I felt in my heart that this elderly lady was there seeking more than just to visit and pray at her brother's house. I asked my husband to translate this to her. I felt my heart miss a beat when she answered: "Yes, I am ill and in much pain!"

At this moment there was another knock at the gate of our yard as a another lady, a local believing lady came unexpectedly to visit. She sat down at the table and we explained to her who these ladies were and what I felt in my heart. With boldness and courage she explained and shared about Jesus and the Bible.

We prayed together for this elderly lady. It was as if a light got switched on in her heart when we said Amen. Her face changed and she was actually smiling she looked years younger. I can't remember if she was healed that day but I do remember the significant change in her eyes, face and the almost hop in her step as she walked away from our home that day with a Bible in her hand.

How many cups of green tea I poured that morning I can not remember either but I know this dear lady got much more than a "Chinese cup of green tea" that day!

Final draft: A PATH THROUGH HER HEART

Seldom was Orpah (not her real name) waiting outside our home in the afternoons, along with the fifteen-some children wanting to come inside and play with our daughter Melika’s toys. Rather, she would sit in the grassy field across from our home, guarding her family’s cow as it grazed. I would often watch her through the window. Though she seemed uninterested in us foreigners, something about her caught my interest. Was it her neglected look, or her quiet way that sparked my curiosity? I wondered how I could reach out to this young girl.

One day I got an idea. Armed with a needle, material, pattern and bright colored thread, I marched across the field. She immediately touched my heart with her gentle, shy and kind way, but I also sensed her wit and inner strength. Little did I know that day what a beautiful path our friendship would follow, hand-in-hand with Him, through the next few years. She became a delightful part of our family. She saw Melika take her first steps and Talitha, our second daughter, being brought home to Central Asia as a tiny three-month-old baby and … often the best and worst of me.

Through the years—our joys, sicknesses, hardships and sorrows—Orpah was there, a very good friend, daughter, and sister to us all. Etienne, my husband, came down with a really bad case of hepatitis when I was five months pregnant with Talitha. We often feared the worst and battled in prayer for his life. Faithfully Orpah came every afternoon to help me with what she could. Like the time when she chopped wood for our wood stove and misjudged the distance between her thumb and the axe, resulting in the top of her thumb hanging by a piece of skin. Talk about trauma—her fainting on me, with blood all over.

She had a deep love and respect for Etienne. During the worst of his hepatitis, with him in bed deathly ill, she would go and sit on a chair in his room and watch the JESUS film in her language. He watched it for language study, but she was deeply stirred by the story. I stopped counting how many times they watched it. Once tears rolled down her face.



Etienne asked her why she was crying. “I don’t know,” she answered. She ended up praying the sinner’s prayer that afternoon with him. Afterward, her face changed significantly, resembling a soft light beaming. She was changed for God, and ruined for the ordinary, as He formed a path of love through her heart in which to dwell and teach her about Himself.



That night we prayed together and sent her home with a Bible in her own language, concerned for what might await her as she would to tell her family that she had become a Christian.



As new-found friends in faith, we would often pray together for one another and various friends and projects, not realizing then that I was discipling Orpah to be a mother, housekeeper, cook, wife, and someone who would love Jesus and her neighbors—becoming who Jesus made her to be. She did not have an easy life at home with her harsh mother and verbally abusive father. She would often come to our home discouraged and depressed. I became desperate as I felt overwhelmed with my own life’s demands, pressures, and family, besides her walking around with a long face. God knew where He was going with this. I often talked and prayed with her, seeking to instill hope and joy. Then one day we talked about God being our encourager, the One who lifts our depressed souls and strengthens our hearts. The One who speaks life into situations that bring death to our hearts. That inner gentle Voice who whispers words of truth that change our lives for ever.

The next day Orpah burst into the door smiling and talking excitedly. I could hardly keep up with what she was trying to tell me. Normally when her father lashed out at her she would go and sit in the pit toilet, far in the corner of their yard, and cry. The night before, she had gone to hide in the toilet and cry her heart out, but this time it was different. She asked God to speak encouragement to her desperate state of mind and hurting heart. She excitedly told me how she asked Him what He had to say.



“I love you, Orpah,” He said. She felt a soft whisper in her heart. It stripped away all the pain, guilt, depression, and discouragement. I knew then she would be just fine if ever we would move away, and I would lose contact with her. Jesus was now the Lover of her soul and the One who had made a path through her heart.

She now knows His soft, gentle voice that speaks words of life in moments when all else screams death. What more than this would I want one of my own daughters to know?

You know the depth of my heart......

You Know the Depth of my Heart……

I went on the bus down the long hill into the city on a little very needed personal retreat….. Sitting there at the open window with the Spring wind playing through my hair and my face raised like a sunflower bathing in the sunlight…… desperately grabbing in my heart for answers and comfort listening to worship music, seeking God to bring peace to the storm that I experience deep within. I kept reminding myself that: “The Joy of the Lord is my strength!” This morning in school I prayed out loud at a moment of battle with my overwhelming emotions: “Lord I choose to praise you, I choose to see you in the midst of my struggle, I’m asking for wisdom and strength, you are my light and my salvation, I choose to see You as the Anchor in my storm….” When I looked up I caught my seven year old daughter Talitha wide eyed watching me as I wiped the tear rolling down my cheek.

I’m struggling with feelings of desperation, tiredness, weariness and just feeling overwhelmed with demands of life. I went to hide, pray, write and drink coffee at a place that I love, one thing for the cheap coffee and free refills and the other for the atmosphere. I sat there thinking over the last few weeks in my life as it feels the most intense emotionally and wondered what was going on. Do I have deep unresolved issues surfacing, do I have blind spots I’m missing? Is God at work or am I being ignorant? My heart feels like the box of Pandora in the Greek myth when it opened and all these horrible things jumped out!

I sat there running my thoughts through events taking its toll on my emotions and life…the kids going to local school, the pressure of their adjustment not to only school in a different language but culture and mountains of homework in it, supporting my youngest daughter Talitha with learning and doing it in a new language. Keeping my two year old boy Andrew happy during these intense school mornings where he is battling for his time with his mommy. My dad being diagnosed with cancer recently…..and receiving radiation therapy, I’m feeling so helpless knowing my mom needs more support. Wondering and hoping that our visa will come thru after waiting for a year and half now. Etienne my husband is finally over his burnout after struggling for quite a while. The pressure of living in a different culture trying to find our place and way and becoming part of a neighborhood and getting to know my neighbors and really trying to have a grip on the language. Oh and off course keeping up a household and the pressures of being a good mom, wife with cooking and cleaning. Struggling to loose weight going from the one “good idea” in loosing weight to the other with very little results. Wondering about my hormones as I feel like I’m living on the edge of something that does not “feel right”. Looking back at these it feels almost to much to handle.

As I was sitting there drinking coffee thinking and pondering I heard and look over to see a little girl threw this huge tantrum kicking and screaming on the floor. I sat their thinking with a smile, not such a bad idea at all! I just sat there in peace and contentment sipping my coffee thinking how nice and thoughtful it was of Etienne to send me out of the house today to go somewhere and spend some time on my own to reflect and pray. Life is good! Thank you Lord that in the midst of my storm and struggles you are my Anchor and Provider….you have always been there. I can take time somewhere and spend it in your care and comfort.

As I got on the bus to come back home a man behind me did not have enough money on his bus card to pay for the trip. I remembered myself a few months ago falling over the first step of a full bus with my way to heavy grocery bags and food rolling down the ile of the bus and then on top of that not having enough money to pay for my trip. I remembered this kind man picking up my groceries and this sweet old lady paying for my trip. So I swiped my card twice in gratefulness, joy and thanksgiving, knowing Jesus would have done the same!

Sitting on the bus trip climbing the hill back home I listened to Chris Tomlin sang…….”you know the depth of my heart and you love me the same…..you are amazing God!” I marveled in God’s goodness and His understanding of all I’m going through, and as the bus turned the street corner at the local school in our neighborhood, I scanned over the sea of dark haired kids on the playground seeing if I could see my blond hair, blue eyed little girl hopping and playing. I felt grateful, ready and refreshed to come home and be where God has made and prepared a place for me……With my hand in His then I made a new commitment and choice and it was as if in my heart I was touched and strengthened. I don’t have easy answers for issues and emotions I’m working through but I know you are here Lord seeing my desperate state of mind and heart…..BUT YOU LOVE ME THE SAME……YOU ARE AMAZING GOD……

.....The Red Sea....EXPERIENCE......

"What on earth could lead a person at the right state of mind to a place like the edge of the Red Sea?" Not so much about the specific place physically as much as it is the emotional part of being there and the whole event... playing itself out! Like the story of Moses and the Israelites in the Bible with the Egyptians behind them and the sea in front of them. I'm talking about the "place"...when all else falls away and becomes insignificant...when He becomes everything that matters! When death stands there with it's black robe smiling....ready to take it all! Why would I want to face that? Even come to such a place and situation in my life?

Can a God that created me, formed me in my mother's womb with such love and affection bring me in love to such a point as the edge of the Red Sea? When all else are forced away and cut from my heart....When all that matters to me faints away...How can He delight in these moments in my life? Does He not lead me lovingly and tenderly to the edge of the sea....even showing me the way...knowing what is to come....Does He not sustain me there...as I wait in distress? Does he then not speak words of love and encouragement in my darkest hour? Does he not look deep into my soul and bring me comfort there....Is it not a moment when our hearts are tested like pure gold in the furnace burning wildly. Is it not most painful and wonderful at the same time....when we see our hearts for what it really is....what it really loves, believes and trusts....

That moment of looking back at the Egyptians coming and the anguish of facing the sea before me...But did I miss seeing the column of fire keeping me warm by night and the cloud leading me in the day? You are there with me Lord, you led me out of my Egypt you shared your hopes and dreams with me...much higher and more exalted than what I can see or conceive. I'm holding onto your words and promises...really hoping that these words and promises are real and not just what I wanted and hoped for. That it is your words of life and truth! Lord standing at the edge of the Red Sea I need those promises to bring hope, helping me not to look at the Egyptians coming but make a choice in faith to take my stand here at the edge of the sea. I need to know that you are here Lord. I'm recalling your faithfulness even to the edge.. with my feet in the water.....

Can I even come to a moment and conceive... knowing that if you.. do not not part the Red Sea...that I will not cast my heart there and draw my soul away!...But that I will make a choice and hope in you desperately.. calling on you....If not Lord and my soul and heart lay slaughtered at the edge of the Sea....can I then again pick myself up and look to You? Can I then in my disappointment, weakness and pain make peace with You? I know You are my God, there is no other like You! Even though I do not always understand...I know it is a choice I need to make then....it will come I know the choice will be eventually You again....In the darkness of my darkest hour I know Your grace is there and will lead me to You. I know that You will be my strength, hope and God then....

Oh Lord and if you do part the Sea.....will I be surprise? Will I be totally shocked and in awe? Will I be on my knees or will I fall on my face in worship? You are God! You are God! I know you will lead me thru the Red Sea on dry ground....being my companion my God.....as you said You will be....

My heart and desires can be deceiving...but You are steadfast! You are a strong tall pillar in the storm not wavering or swaying in the strength of the wind....but a light in my darkest hour....