Diana

With the Russian children coming, the main thrust these past few weeks was to find host families for them. They cannot come unless matched with a family about two months prior to their arrival. Plane tickets must be bought; visas must be obtained. We set up an information table in our church lobby but because tables are often set up for all kinds of events and ministries, people tend to just walk by. We had to use stronger tactics to get attention. When someone passed that I knew even casually, I grabbed them by the arm and drew them to our table. It was amazing to see the response. It's one thing to ask people to take some unnamed orphan into their homes and quite another for them to flip through a photo album with the faces of real children. Many people volunteered to help with humanitarian aid that will be sent back, to participate in the Vacation Bible School we have planned, or to talk to friends who might be considering adoption. We also found some host families.

As for our family personally, Fred and I also looked at the pictures. The coordinator of the program wanted families with a serious interest in adoption. We don't have the means for that. And our ages! We wanted to step aside and let other couples with more resources and more years left to volunteer. Two sisters caught my eye though. They were the same ages as our girls. But they disappeared from the album. This project is going on simultaneously in other states and pictures are shared. Children's photos would come and go and be replaced with other faces. There were many boys, several sibling groups, and only older girls. We waited, memorized their faces, prayed for them, and pondered where God was leading us.

One day our coordinator e-mailed me with a picture of an 11-year-old boy named Misha. Would we host him? She hadn't asked us about any other child. Why him? He was an impish boy with a cute smile. We can't take a boy--no room in our small house. On a whim, I sent his picture to a good friend of mine. She never mentioned adopting again, but somehow this boy seemed right for her family. To our delight and surprise, this family decided to host him. Through their example, we considered the children who were left as time was running out.

Finally I asked the coordinator if any single girls (not in sibling groups) were left. Only one, she said. An almost 13-year-old named Oksana. I remembered her from the photos. A plain, blonde girl with glasses. She reminded me of me at that age. Fred and I said yes, we will take her. We met at our friend's house one evening to see videos of the children and to sign paperwork. It turned out Misha was taken! But our friends were interested in another adorable boy named Sergei. The coordinator showed us Oksana's video and I was very drawn to this child and her unfortunate circumstances that brought her to the orphanage. We were also shown another girl's video. I thought only one girl was left. But supposedly this girl had been chosen by another couple who later changed their minds. However, we were committed to Oksana.

The next morning the coordinator called me. Oksana was gone! She was going to Texas to stay with a family that wanted to adopt her. We bond so quickly with a photo. Ask anyone who has adopted from China about how we cling to those tiny photos. I couldn't believe how this news about Oksana struck me. "Our" girl was gone. I was thrilled she would have a home but I thought it might be with us. There was still the other girl. Time was running out for these kids. We said yes again. Is this the child God intended for us all along? Her name is Diana. She is 10-years old and has big blue, sad eyes.

Please pray for her and for all these children. Negotiating over children, choosing children. The whole process makes me uneasy. But these are real kids with real lives, children without homes or families. Children loved by the same God who loves and cares for us. They will be turned out of the orphanages around age 15 when their government ceases to provide for them any longer. There are statistics on what happens to these orphans as they grow to be adults. It is horrifying.
Friends and family--we need your urgent prayers. Pray that we can discern where God is leading. Pray for Diana and for this program and all the other children.

Russia!

We've had major upheavals in our lives the past month, some good and some bad. So many things are swirling around in my head I can't think straight and despite these events, daily life goes on. It's time I organized my thoughts and what better forum than this blog? Besides, I want to let all you friends and family members know so you can pray for us!

As I've written about previously, these past few months I've been impressed to "prepare with prayer" for whatever God wants to do with our lives. Fred and I want to be "useful to the Master, prepared to do any good work." We want our life work to be permanent. "Give permanence to the work of our hands." I was in awe of the North Carolina woman who opened her home and her life to two boys from Liberia. Our church was offered an opportunity to host orphan children from Columbia and we saw that as a way to get our whole Bible study involved, to work together toward a common goal, some contributing financially, some with time, one with the physical care of the child. That program fizzled out. So we have been waiting. Then along came the Lighthouse Project.

When it didn't look like the Columbian program would work out, our church was given the opportunity to work with an organization that brings Russian orphans to stay with host families for 10 days. The hope is that the host family will adopt the child or else be an advocate for that child and try to find him or her permanent home. We decided we would take a girl between the ages of our girls, or younger, if one was available. With excitement we waited for the children who were selected to come. Finally we saw their pictures. Disappointment. No boys, only older girls. The only young children were in a sibling group. We decided we would not host but I offered to help promote the program and to coordinate a Vacation Bible School for the children when they are here. So how did it come about that we are now hosting an older child and considering adopting again? That can only be explained by the work of the Holy Spirit.

My window of writing time is gone, so this will have to wait. But I have much more to tell you!
Russia was not anywhere on our radar screen and yet now we are reading and preparing and submersing our lives in a new culture and a new people group, just like we did preparing for our Chinese children. Interestingly, our "theme" in our Bible study this year was the verse in Isaiah 54, "Enlarge the place of your tent, stretch your tent curtains wide, do not hold back..." God is surely enlarging our tent!

Winter is over!

I used to hate winter. I plodded through with a cold gloom over my soul. But life becomes more wondrous the older I get, and through my daughters' eyes, every season is magical. After the hustle of Christmas, we longed for the time to hibernate. We played marathon board games and sorted through scrapbook pictures and sewed doll clothes. I loved opening the heavy iron doors of our woodstove and piling another log on the red coals. We roasted marshmallows and hot dogs and the girls cheered in delight anytime a flake of snow fell from the sky. Then we shoveled that snow until our hands and feet were numb and we built wobbly snowmen. I watched the girls disappear into the woods when Fred took them on hiking adventures and made hot chocolate for their return. These cold months Liana learned to read and Arielle studied adverbs and decimals in our cozy cave of a classroom.

The birds came back from wherever they winter to roost again in the bamboo grove, pests that they are. Spring was late in coming, but even during an unexpected ice storm we heard the birds chattering among themselves and knew warm days were coming soon. We burned the last log and celebrated our first bowl of ice cream out on the deck. The pussywillow swelled and dropped its fuzzy bundles. We carried the furniture from the shed, and the balls and bikes came out. The girls now sit high up in their fort on top of the swingset for hours, or they play hopscotch on the chalk drawings in the driveway. School is now a chore to endure until they are released to run through the grassy yard.

In comforting predictability the seasons of the year cycle around. Not so the seasons of our lives. These days will never come again. In regret, I think of years not fully lived, discounted or dismissed. Years with my little boys that passed so quickly, never to be recaptured. Fred jokingly told our ancient cat, "This may be your last summer!" Some summer will be my last--and yours. Each season, each day, is a gift. Enjoy!

"So teach us to number our days, that we may present to you a heart of wisdom...let the favor of the Lord be upon us; and give permanence to the work of our hands." Psalm 90:12, 17.

Unnamed Saturday

In the frantic pace of life, it's all too easy to push ahead, never finding time for reflection or connection, much less actual communion with God. I so much wanted to touch Jesus this week, but I seem to be in an elliptical orbit around the Son, too often at the far end.

We planned to go to church the Thursday before Easter, but it didn't work out. That whole cold, windy, snowy day, I felt as if a black cloud had descended. Maybe we would do our own little remembrance at home, to at least make the occasion meaningful to the girls. So we read scripture by candlelight, improvised communion with a rice cracker and pomegranate juice and even washed each other's feet. We tried singing a hymn, Fred and I terribly off-key. Arielle loved this particular song but had never heard it before, so she wondered what it would sound like if sung properly. She told me her brother Dominic knew how to play songs on the internet, so couldn't we try to find it?

We searched and couldn't find a good version of this song, but we found many others. For the next hour we watched youtube and joined with others in singing songs of worship. A far cry from the reverent setting of the church? Not at all. As we sat in front of the computer and I heard my daughters' lovely, sweet voices raised in praise to God, I don't think even the angels in heaven could sound more beautiful. Then it happened--peace. Quiet and gentle as a whisper, peace beyond comprehension dispersed the dark cloud. Jesus came close, like a shooting star piercing through human experience, and we all caught a glimpse of him.

Arielle earlier pointed out that we have names for particular days of this season--Palm Sunday, Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, Easter. She said, "What about Saturday? What's that day called?" The nameless Saturday, wedged between the sorrow of death and the joy of resurrection. We live between what Jesus accomplished on the cross and the hope of heaven one day. We see the suffering in the world, the violence, wars, devastating disease and rampant evil. Like Jesus' disciples after he died, we run and hide, lock our doors and hope that evil will not find us. We long for Sunday.

Jesus could have conquered the world the day he rode into Jerusalem on a donkey, but instead he chose to die. The Father watched as his son was arrested, beaten and murdered. God's restraint in such a tragic world doesn't make sense at times. Why doesn't he intervene more in this mess we humans have made? Is Jesus the kind of King we want? Wouldn't a magic genie-type be more desirable?

"We live on Saturday, the day with no name. What the disciples experienced in small scale--three days, in grief over one man who had died on a cross--we now live through on a cosmic scale. Human history grinds on, between the time of promise and fulfillment...It's Saturday on planet earth; will Sunday ever come? That dark, Golgothan Friday can only be called Good because of what happened on Easter Sunday, day which gives a tantalizing clue to the riddle of the universe. Easter opened up a crack in a universe winding down toward entropy and decay, sealing the promise that someday God will enlarge the miracle of Easter to cosmic scale." (Philip Yancey in The Jesus I Never Knew.)

In the meantime, I rejoice to know Jesus is close enough to reach out and touch. It's enough for now. I wait with unshakeable faith for the day all mysteries will be solved.

Texas night

Our family was invited to a fundraiser at a small, old church attended by one of Fred's co-workers. The co-worker plays in a band that would be performing, and we would get to enjoy an all-you-can-eat chili cook-off. Admittedly, I rode to the church with Fred and the girls with an attitude of, "I can tolerate this for a few hours." I was far from excited or even interested.

We drove out of our suburban neighborhood into a much more rural area so I wasn't surprised to find country folk staring curiously at our little family when we walked into their church. The fellowship hall was decorated in a wild west theme and we lined up to accept our bowls of chili, nacho chips, and home-baked desserts, and then sat down with Fred's friends. The chili was surprisingly good, but I settled in for what I thought would be mindless small talk and amateurish entertainment. God forgive me.

The band members, about eight men and women in their fifties and sixties with a couple of younger ones thrown in the mix, gave a disclaimer at the start of their show. They normally do not play country-western or rock music but had practiced for several weeks for this event. The money raised from their Texas Night would support a youth mission trip. This musical group normally plays contemporary worship music on Sunday mornings. I gave them credit for their efforts in working hard to bring this event together. I decided to sit back, listen, and learn from these kind people.

The band started with "Long Tall Texan" to get everyone in the mood. It reminded me of our time in Mustang, Oklahoma and the Bean Suppers cooked by the local firemen on the 4th of July. We would listen to live music broadcast over loud speakers so all the people in the park could enjoy it while they ate their beans and and waited for the fireworks. I could have stayed forever in Oklahoma. That simple life suited me perfectly. As the music played, I thought back to those days when my boys were little, days as wide and endless as the rim of the earth that you can see in every direction under the vast, cloudless sky.

Next the band played "Proud Mary." I was transported back to 1969 and the Mississippi River Festivals of my teenage days, lying in the grass with thousands of other kids, listening to the classic rock bands belting out the cries of our generation. I noticed these band members here tonight seemed to really get into this music. They rattled and rolled and sang with enthusiasm and maybe even with a faraway look in their eyes. As they continued to play, each song evoked old memories that began a slide show in my mind. Amazingly, I was having fun, sharing a moment with these fellow old-timers.

Toward the end of the set the gray-haired lead guitarist came down from the stage and churned his arms in time to "Locomotion." Yes, he was inviting us to follow. Old folks, little ones, parents and teens, linked arms to waists and strutted around the fellowship hall in time to the music, laughing all the time. Our train wove in and out of corridors, into the kitchen, back and forth and around again to the hall. The girls were delighted to see Mom and Dad acting so silly. They were equally thrilled to see us slow dance to Eric Clapton's "You Look Wonderful Tonight." All my years have culminated in this place, secure in the arms of my one true love.

I watched the band the rest of the night with new respect. Each of us has traveled a long journey. Life has been good, sad, tragic and wonderful. It doesn't matter where we've been. It's where we are now that counts. But in part, the past made us who we are today. The old rockers now sing praise songs. The secrets of life, hidden from view when I was younger, have been unveiled. Relationships fail, children grow up, parents die, and God is always there to pull us up out of the muck and mire of foolish choices. The journey begins slow and steady but as we near the end it gains momentum until we are racing at breakneck speed, all the while trying desperately to slow down. All along the way, God surprises us with gifts of joy. Life is rich and full and precious because of its brevity.

"There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven, a time to be born and a time to die...God has made everything beautiful in its time. Ecclesiastes 3.

Touching the mountain

I read a story about people with dying brains. Painters can paint spectacular pictures and writers can write with unusual clarity. Not that my brain is necessarily dying, but my memories are becoming sharper the older I get. They haunt me in the dark, sleepless hours as I try to make sense of them.

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My dad said, "I bet you can't touch that mountain." Of course I could. The massive rock jutted up vertically from the flat desert floor. I ran fast toward it, arms outstretched to touch its stone face warmed by the hot sun. But it seemed I was running in place. The mountain loomed huge in front of me, yet it stayed just inches away, taunting me. I ran faster and faster and then looked back at my dad, tiny now so far away. But the mountain got no closer. I didn't understand, and my dad was laughing at me.

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It must have been a trick of light and landscape I still don't understand, but some mountains in southern Arizona do look close enough to touch. Still, they are so far away a child by herself could never run to reach them. I often think of that incident. Images of my childhood surface at unexpected times. The wildness of the desert was always frightening to me. Cactus threatened every step. Rattlesnakes lurked under every rock. The scorching sun itself could kill you. Once my dad left me alone in a sandy gully while he tracked some javelinas. I heard the furtive scurrying of the creatures that surrounded me and I waited fearfully for his return. Was the desert really so scary and uncertain, or was it life itself?

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I think I remember trying to run to the mountain because I had been tricked. Over a lifetime my dad showed me I would never touch the mountain--not any mountain. He made me know I was a foolish, useless child. My dad has been gone for 20 years now. I've forgiven him, I think. But how do you really know when memories come unbidden and startling, as you re-live events from the long ago?

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Healing has come in slow measures because of another Father who has never left me alone. Because of Him, I've touched many mountains, even His holy mountain. "...forgetting what lies behind and reaching forward to what lies ahead, I press on..." (Philippians 3:13, 14.) Maybe forgetting once and for all means wrestling with the memories and finding purpose in the past.

A small start

We made a quick run to the library because Arielle had ordered a book we needed to pick up. Liana immediately ran off to find all her favorite stories that we've already read a dozen times. Arielle searched the shelves for more Nancy Drew mysteries as I debated with the librarians about whether the upcoming storm would leave us with a foot of snow. (Actually, the storm brought ice that left people stranded in their cars on major highways for 24 hours.)

We checked out our books and started out the door. One of the librarians called out to me, "You homeschool, don't you?" She led me to a woman who just moved here and was looking for a homeschooling group. This woman, Gretchen, had just driven from Colorado with her four small children in order to join her husband who is working a temporary job in the area. We discussed homeschooling stuff--the lack of a local social group to join but the co-op at our church where children take P.E., art, and music. Her children gathered around, two of the girls the ages of mine and two little ones.

We talked a few minutes more and then I knew what I should do. But I hesitated. My house was a mess. We'd just finished school and had no time yet for chores. Fred was working late and I had a stress-free afternoon and evening planned--a bit of cleaning, piano practice for the girls, an easy dinner, and maybe even time to work on my quilt. It was tempting to ignore the still, small voice. My closest friends know that hospitality is very difficult for me. And what about these four kids? Were they going to run rampant through my house destroying what little order I have left?

But I followed through. "Do you want to come back to my house so we can talk more?" Gretchen did and she followed me home. We had tea and a nice conversation. She lives at the foot of the Rocky Mountains and her father-in-law hunts javelinas in southern Arizona where I was raised. She is looking for a church and activities for her children. She's eager to explore the historical sites in Philadelphia, the Art Museum, and Valley Forge. She said she and her children prayed that very morning that they would find new friends.

The children were all surprising quiet. No one was running wild. When I checked on them, Liana and the two younger girls were playing, laughing, and talking. Arielle and the oldest girl sat on Arielle's bed, all smiles, chatting away. The sweet little boy played contently with trains on the living room carpet. As they left, one of the girls, named Eliana and who also just turned 7, hugged Liana tightly with promises of future playdates. We said good-bye and I was reminded of my continuing prayer for Arielle that she would find a new friend. My obedience in that small moment answered my own prayer.

No, this was nothing as big as changing the face of a North Carolina town, just an opportunity taken, a door opened, prayers answered, friendships begun. I'm learning to listen.

True life example

Mid-winter frenzy has filled every corner of my life. It happens every year. I blame it on homeschooling. We're in the thick of things right now. It's the new semester scramble to make sure we're on target with everything we're doing. Arielle just took CATs. I'm taking a new teaching approach with Liana. The girls (and mom) are busy with their activities--practicing for the spring musical and for Arielle's piano exam in Princeton. Five months of surface-only cleaning of the house has taken its toll. Even so, I hold to my New Year resolution and try to keep focused and work diligently for what's really important.

A couple of weeks ago I turned on the TV to distract me while I folded a mountain of laundry. Have you heard of the Hallelujah Chorus, a group of twelve orphan boys from war-torn Liberia who had been touring in North Carolina? What an incredible story!

A woman named Lysa from the Charlotte area took her Brownie troop to see this concert. The boys were performing to raise money for their orphanage and the other 400 children who remained in Liberia. As Lysa watched the boys, she said she heard God speak to her heart and tell her, "Two of those boys are yours." This was an outrageous idea and made no sense. But after the concert two boys approached her and she spoke with them. She called her husband on his cell phone to tell him the news. The family prayed about this decision, and despite having three small daughters, decided to adopt these adolescent boys. How amazing!

The story doesn't end here. Her friends thought she was crazy, but they too attended a concert and met the boys. The results? One friend who already had two adopted children took one of the boys. Two other friends each adopted one boy. Another friend with two sons in college who was looking forward to a different stage of life ended up adopting SIX children because she found out the boys had other siblings in Liberia. In total, from this one North Carolina town, 14 families adopted 31 children from this orphanage!

What if Lysa wasn't listening when God called her to an important task? What if she'd been too caught up in her own world? What if she'd listened to all the "rational" arguments going on in her head and forgot about the boys? Her new sons wouldn't have a family and most likely those other 31 children wouldn't either. What a mighty work of God was done because of one woman's faith and obedience. She was prepared and she responded when the opportunity arose.

My own brother from Atlanta was on a business trip in New Jersey when he attended a local church and ended up ministering to a troubled boy. Our Bible study teacher, Francis, traveling for his job, noticed the man on the plane next to him in tears. Instead of averting his eyes with his face in a book, Francis responded and shared the hope of the gospel with this man. It was not a chance meeting. A couple of weeks later Francis was in the airport mid-week waiting for an entirely different flight when he heard someone call out to him. It was the same man, this time joyful and thankful. We are all called to be missionaries all the time. Where will you be and what will be your response when you hear the nudging of the Holy Spirit? I hope to be "an intrument for noble purposes, made holy, useful to the Master and prepared to do any good work." II Timothy 2:21.

Our church is considering taking on a monumental project. A local adoption agency is bringing orphans from Columbia to spent 6 weeks with host families. With the time spent preparing plus the time spent with the children, this will take up a whole summer! The hope is that most, if not all, the children will find families. This project will be at a great financial cost and a great cost of time and emotional resources. Our family signed on to do whatever is required, according to our abilities. We have a "Lysa" at our church. She is diligently researching all the options and doing one woman's best to find families for some of the children of the world. It will be a privilege to partner with her this summer.

New Year plans

Did you make any New Year resolutions? How will your life be different when January 2008 comes around--all too quickly? What plans do you have for the New Year?

We have plans--to see the newest show in Lancaster and also the King Tut exhibit. We want to visit my mom in North Carolina and to make our yearly trek to Ocean City. I hope to be a better wife, mom and friend as the fruit of the Spirit become more evident in my life. I want to fulfill whatever purposes God has for me this year, maybe hosting a child who has no home. In our small group we are all realizing our purpose is more than just friendship. We need to move out into the larger community and serve where God leads.

In my vast experience with plans that go awry, I tend to take the "wait and see" approach. If we can't do this or that, or go here or there, I take it in stride and just move on. Maybe I should take planning more seriously and be better prepared. I don't mean buying tickets or marking the calendar. This is the year I hope to PREPARE WITH PRAYER.

Last week we were reading Acts 1 in our study. Jesus had died and was resurrected and for the last forty days had spoken to many people and told them what they were to do after he left. He said to wait for the promise. "Do not leave Jerusalem, but wait for the gift my Father promised, which you have heard me speak about. For John baptized with water, but in a few days you will be baptized with the Holy Spirit." Acts 1:4,5

In obedience, one hundred and twenty of Jesus' faithful followers, including his own mother, gathered in an upper room in Jerusalem and waited. I was struck by the thought of Mary, an older woman, grieving the loss of her son, but sticking close with the disciples, ready for whatever was happening. It is likely neither she nor the disciples had any clue as to what this promise might mean even though Jesus had earlier said, "I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Counselor to be with you forever, the Spirit of truth...he lives with you and will be in you. I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you...But the Counselor, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you all things and remind you of everything I have said to you." John 14: 16-18, 26.

While they were waiting for something to happen, "They all joined together constantly in prayer." Acts 1:14. Then they realized the task at hand was to appoint a replacement for Judas. So they prayed about that and chose one. Then they waited some more. Finally, the day of Pentecost arrived and the Holy Spirit came like a violent, rushing wind and turned the whole world upside-down. As Jesus foretold, his followers received power to spread the gospel to the remotest parts of the earth and have been testifying about him ever since. Acts 1:8, John 15:26.

So what does that mean to all of us? We too have access to the same Holy Spirit that filled the first believers--the Spirit that empowers us to be bold witnesses, the Spirit that purifies and changes us, the Spirit that brings the presence of God in our lives. We access this Holy Spirit (God himself) through prayer. We are to prepare with prayer when we don't know what comes next or when we make new plans. Like Jesus' parable of the Ten Virgins, how sad if we run out of oil. We can go back for more but we might miss our chance for something wonderful God has in store for us. Or we might run in a dim light and trip and fall. That's when we do things in our own strength and get into projects and plans that God never intended for us.

"To be filled with the Holy Spirit is to be filled with the immediate presence of God himself--feeling what God feels, desiring what God desires, doing what God wants, speaking by God's power, praying and ministering in God's strength and knowing with the knowledge God gives." (Wayne Grudem from Systematic Theology)

My New Year plan is to be vigilant, attentive, focused, and Spirit-directed. I plan to make time to pray as if my life depends on it. It does.

Unprepared

The other day Fred was reading aloud from Matthew 25, a familiar passage, but Jesus' words struck me in a new way. I said to Fred, "We're foolish virgins!"

Now that sounds ridiculous, so let me explain. Jesus was telling the parable of the ten virgins to warn us to be ready for his return. But this story is very applicable to me and to you right now where we are.

Ten virgins take their lamps and go to meet the bridegroom. Five were foolish because they took lamps but no oil, and five were wise because they took oil in jars along with their lamps. "The bridegroom was a long time in coming, and they all became drowsy and fell asleep. At midnight the cry rang out: 'Here's the bridegroom! Come out to meet him!'

Then all the virgins woke up and trimmed their lamps. The foolish ones said to the wise, 'Give us some of your oil; our lamps are going out.'

'No,' they replied, 'there may not be enough for both us and you. Instead, go to those who sell oil and buy some for yourselves.' But while they were on their way to buy the oil, the bridegroom arrived. The virgins who were ready went in with him to the wedding banquet. And the door was shut." Matthew 25:1-13.

We're all waiting for the Lord. His return on one level, but usually we are more focused on our daily lives. Each day we're waiting for God's leading, his presence, and his answers to prayer. Every day we go here and there, make plans and decisions, interact with others. When we start our business every morning, do we take lamps with no oil?

Think of our lamps as our history with God, our knowledge of the Word, our faith built from past experiences. How far will the past carry us without refueling? All the virgins had faith. All were waiting expectantly--and all got tired and fell asleep. We're human, after all. But then something happened. He came! The opportunity arose! They needed to wake up and move quickly. Five were not prepared because they had no oil. They had nothing more to keep them going. On their way, the light began to dim as the oil burned out and then it was dark and they couldn't find their way.

When Fred was a chiropractor, he went to the office at 5:30 a.m. I used to get up then and read the Bible, work on my lessons when I was teaching, and spend time in prayer. Those precious times are gone. We are on a new schedule and I'm finding it so hard to get up early. I've been starting each day low on oil. It's not enough to get me through and my light starts to go out. Then I'm discouraged, irritable, overwhelmed, fearful and envious of others whose life is more orderly. But I can't get my oil from other people. It can't be borrowed. I have my lamp with me--my unwavering faith. But the fruit of the Spirit have withered and dropped to the ground. Running out of oil can ruin the engine of a car, and it's damaging to us and our loved ones too. But there is an even greater risk. Francis is the one who helped me see the bigger picture. I will write more on this next time. I need to head to the source of oil now.

Bike adventures

I learned to ride a bike when I was seven. My parents gave me a small, beaten boy's bike and I rode like the wind on the sidewalks of our sleepy desert town. I got another bike when I was twelve after we moved to the Midwest. It was bigger, a girl's bike, also old, but I loved it! My sister and I rode the streets of suburbia long after dusk on summer nights. Leaving childhood behind, we zipped around with excitement at our newfound freedom. My mother would sometimes ride with us, but only in the dark. She thought the neighbors would think she was silly. This bike went into semi-retirement during my high school years when it wasn't cool to ride a bike. But I brought it to my first apartment, and having no car, rode it miles back and forth to work through dark and quiet neighborhoods. I pedaled hard and traveled far. I was free, living on my own.

When my boys were school-age with bikes of their own, I found another used bike at a yard sale for $5. It was big and clunky and red. No handbreaks, no speeds. Sturdy. We lived in an area perfect for biking and the boys and I rode many evenings after dinner. Unlike my mother, I didn't worry about the neighbors. But as the boys got a little older, they were embarrassed to be seen with me on my old red bike and I often rode alone with my thoughts, escaping from unfulfilled dreams. I don't know whatever happened to that bike, but I've thought of it many times through the years, looking for one similar and never finding it. At the Jersey shore every year I admire the basic, no-frill bikes and wait for the day we will rent them instead of the surreys.

This Christmas, Fred and I agreed on no gifts for each other, but he didn't follow through on his promise. He told me he ordered me "a little something for your health." No big deal. I didn't give it much thought. But then he said he needed to pick it up--in the van. What in the world? Of course, you guessed it, since I'm writing about bikes, but I had no idea. I heard the door chime announcing he was home. The girls ran to the basement as he came in and I heard their delighted squeals. Still confused I went downstairs. I admit, I shrieked with joy too! Such a childish gift for this old woman! A beautiful, brand-new, girlie-pink bike! It is shiny and flashy, with a wide white, padded seat and a thick frame. The handlebars are set far apart, safe and solid, and there are no fancy, shifting gears. Written on the frame is "Beach Cruzer" and "Classic." It has my name written all over it. My first new bike! What a dear husband who bought it for me.

It is night but I take it out to the driveway for a spin. Biking is impossible on our steep hill, but I couldn't resist crossing the street and trying it out in the church parking lot. Wow! My bike is like an old, familiar friend. The cold air whips past my ears and I still ride like the wind. But this time I'm not running away or breaking free from anything. I'm traveling eagerly, expectantly, into the new year. Oh, the adventures we will have!

I recently read Psalm 103 again, the passage my son Dominic read at our wedding. It was so fitting then, as it is now. "Praise the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits--who forgives all your sins and heals all your diseases, who redeems your life from the pit and crowns you with love and compassion, who satisfies your desires with good things so that your youth is renewed like the eagle's." Vs. 2-5.

Unexpected gifts

On their 30th wedding anniversary, my friend's husband took her to a beautifully restored historical stone house and told her it was hers if she wanted it. It is her dream house. She is overwhelmed by her husband's generosity and love for her. She's experiencing God's love as well, as she said Ephesians 3:20 came to mind. "...to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine." What a wonderful gift for my friend right at Christmas! Since Fred is their realtor,what a Christmas gift for us too.

We attended an interactive Christmas program at this same couple's church. Children were invited to participate in re-creating the nativity story, and volunteers were requested for the various roles. My girls were a little too shy to participate in a new church, but my friend's daughter very much wanted to be Mary in the play and waved her hand enthusiastically. But she was not chosen. In tears, she ran to her mother's arms, hid her face and withdrew from the action around her.

After being dressed in her costume, one of the chosen girls decided she didn't want to do it anymore and pulled the gown over her head and sat down. Another angel was needed! "Who wants to be the angel?"

My friend tried to get her daughter to turn around. "Look, they need an angel! Raise your hand!" But her daughter was too upset and too disappointed to see the chance to join in. Another child took the part.

How often do we miss God's gifts or fail to recognize opportunities God holds out to us because we are looking inward, focused on losses of the past, bitter over not getting exactly what we had hoped for? Our church service often ends with the pastor saying, "Look up and receive your blessing!" Jesus said, "It is the Father's pleasure to give you the kingdom." Luke 12.32.

Sometimes, though, his gifts are not so obvious as a new house. They might come disguised in plain paper or come in a box that doesn't seem the right size for what you really wanted. But our Father knows us better than anyone and he chooses the very best gifts. Look up! What has he given you for Christmas?

The deed is done

As promised, Fred took Liana to the mall. Without any hesitation she chose her earrings and climbed into the chair. A kind and careful woman marked the spot, and zap! Liana didn't even flinch. She sat stoically as her other ear was pierced, climbed down, and accepted her lollypop. Then we saw a small, satisfied smile. The rest of the day she would suddenly turn her beaming face upward, waiting for a response from us. She's a changed woman.

I sense disapproval from some of my friends. Well, maybe not that exactly, just moms who have decided to do things differently with their own children. I say no to so many things, but in this case I couldn't think of a good reason to deny her wishes. (And of course, her dad gave permission.) Does this mean I'm a wishy-washy mom, easily influenced by the whines of my children? Just ask my grown boys. I'm usually much too harsh and negative, a side of myself I don't like. It felt good to say yes for a change!

In this small incident I saw confirmed a character trait of my little daughter. She is decisive and unwavering in her decisions. Those qualities will serve her well in the future. She does not waffle back and forth between options and then second guess her choice. She is also courageous, willing to face possible pain to achieve her goal. I wish I were more like her.

My baby

Liana has been hounding me for weeks and I keep putting her off. It's not a definite "no," just not now. Weary of her questions, last night I finally said, "Ask your dad." I was sure he would understand my concerns. After all, she's my baby, even if she is almost 7.

Liana was just getting out of the tub, her hair in a little bun, her tiny hands with the shiny pink nail polish gripping the towel wrapped around her. She found Dad busy with his trains under the Christmas tree. I wanted to hear the conversation, so I hid behind the wall.

"Daddy, I need to ask you a question."

He doesn't look up. "Go ahead."

"Okay...um...I'm scared! I'm afraid of what you might say. Guess what it is."

"I don't know, just tell me."

"You'll say no, I know it!"

"Try me. Don't I give you just about anything you want?" (Except a kitten, I'm thinking.)

Liana is bouncing in her excitement. "Well...I can't say it! Mommy said it wasn't a good decision."

"What is it? You can ask me." Dad is so patient with her.

"Maybe Mommy should ask for me."

"No, you can ask me yourself."

"Well..." Deep breath. "Well...well..." Then her words rush out, "CAN I GET MY EARS PIERCED?"

Dad is calm, examining a train. "Okay."

Liana shrieks with delight and runs to look for me, towel whipping around her. "Daddy said yes!" Her big dimpled smile can melt any heart. Then she races back to Dad. "When, Daddy, when?"

"Tomorrow?"

Oh, Fred, you were supposed to agree with me. Those Romans are to blame for this. We've been studying ancient Rome and Liana learned the women wore their earrings looped over their whole ear. Awhile back Fred helped her make a few sets, beads on threads hooked on her ears. She's been wearing them ever since. Silly, but she loves them.

I thought 13 was a good age for ear piercing. Is there a spiritual lesson here?

The big idea

It's about time I explain the vision I wrote about before. Time has passed and the initial thrill has subsided due to reality setting in. Or are these just doubts to discourage me? Maybe I'm crazy. Let me know if you think this is an impossible dream.

I need to give you the background on how all this came about. Our whole church is reading a book by Rick Warren called Better Together. The book shows us how to deepen our fellowship in the church and then how to reach out in love to our surrounding community. He says participation in a small group is essential. We can't do this alone and we can't do it in the large congregation. He says, "You can attend church services your entire life and still feel lonely and disconnected." This shouldn't be.

We've always had small groups within our church, but now there was a major push for everyone to be involved with one. Many new groups formed until the number was over 140. The book confirmed to us all that the small group can be a warm, nurturing place to encourage, support and care for each other, and a good place for deeper Bible study and worship. But we learned that the small group should go beyond these confines and serve the community. Our own small group has discussed this before but somehow we never moved forward with it. But Rick Warren's book gave me the first glimpse of a bigger picture.

Not too long ago I attended an international dinner at a nearby church. The room was filled with people from all over the world, mostly immigrants who came to our country to work or to study. In touching and humorous stories, many shared their testimonies of struggles they had in a new country. Here I am, the mother of two immigrants, and sitting next to me are good friends who came from three different countries at different stages in their lives. I've heard their personal stories. This is where my heart is.

Another piece of the vision came through an e-mail. We have an adoption ministry at our church. Some of its goals are to encourage people to adopt, to help finance those who want to adopt but cannot due to income, to locate and share resources for adoptive and foster parents, and to support the children left behind in orphanages who will never be adopted. Also each year the ministry participates in the Welcome Home program for Russian orphans. These children come to the U.S. for three weeks in the summer and stay with host families with the goal that either the host family or someone who meets them during that time will adopt them.

I have been only marginally involved in this ministry due to other commitments. Fred and I did speak at a Family Life seminar in the spring so we are on an e-mail list to keep us updated on what is happening. I learned the Welcome Home program is expanding to include children from the Philippines and Guatemala. I read it with interest, but so far Fred has never expressed any desire to host a child in our home. I never mentioned this bit of news to him.

Now came the final piece of the picture that culminated with an explosion in my heart and set this idea on fire. I walked into the bedroom and heard Arielle asking her dad why we can't adopt another child since she wants another sister. So far, we have not entertained the notion of adopting again since I was sick three years ago. We realized then we were too old and we regret we don't have more years to share with more children.

So Saturday night when I heard Arielle ask this question, the whole Philippine/Guatemala project just burst from my lips. To my surprise and delight I heard Fred say, "We could host a child here and try to find her a home." Then I thought, why can't our small group sponsor a child, each of us networking with our own friends and family and acquaintances with the supreme goal of finding parents for this child? Each of us would use our own gifts and talents to minister to this child. Of course, the child would stay in one home (ours!) but we would all be involved. Then, what if each small group in our church (140 of them) took in a child and found him or her a family? The idea is huge! Homes for many, many children! Right now our church sponsors a whole village in Africa. What is every church supported one poor village? What if every small group in churches across America found a home for a child? God could move in mighty ways if only we each did a small part!

I know, I know. Orphans are not everyone's calling and ministry. (Should they be?) The small groups in our church are reaching out to the community in many other ways, all good, all needed. But what if some of them focused on the parent-less and homeless?

Sunday morning I was lit up with this idea. We sat right in front of my friend who coordinates the Welcome Home program for Russia. I rattled on and on about my plan. She is not quite so excitable, but she listened. She said that even as we spoke someone from a participating adoption agency was in Guatemala choosing children to bring to the U.S. in the spring. She then added, "You know, at our age we might not be eligible to adopt again." True. But who said anything about our family adopting? We want to host.

The first thing I did when I got home was go on-line and find out the parent qualifications for adopting from Guatemala. Guess what? There is no age limit. Parents only have to prove they are physically able to care for a small child. Well, we already have two!

"Find the intersection of God's will and your gifts." (Rick Warren)

"Each of you has been blessed with one of God's many wonderful gifts to be used in the service of others. So use your gift well." I Peter 4:10

A sad day

We Americans have a strange tradition when someone dies. The family gathers around the deceased and stands for hours greeting people, smiling, and saying, "Thank you for coming." Why do we choose to do this? It seems like torture to me. That was my first thought this day.

We attended the viewing and funeral service of an acquaintance, a 38-year old woman who died in childbirth. She left behind her husband, small son and newborn daughter, as well as many others who loved her. The casket was closed and covered with a white cloth, so it was not the prominent feature in the front of the church. As people walked down the center aisle, they were drawn to the family instead, who welcomed them warmly. Then the husband pointed out the pictures of his baby girl arranged on the top of the casket. What do you say? "Congratulations?" How can such profound joy and sorrow be contained in the same moment of time? The husband seemed so frail and vulnerable when I hugged him, like an empty shell that could easily be broken if squeezed too hard. An older woman, the mother I guessed, stood next to him. I didn't know her, but she pulled me to her, clutching me hard to to her chest. More hugs for the sister and assorted strangers as we moved down the line saying over and over, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

We had come early so we sat in a pew and watched the friends come and go. The family standing up front reminded me of a receiving line after a wedding. Except the guests were in tears. During a lull the husband fingered the baby pictures and gazed with empty eyes into the distance. Sometimes as people passed through the line the mother broke into a wail that filled the church, her agonizing sobs ripping at us all. How can a mother survive losing a daughter? The thought is terrifying to me. My mind cannot go there. Yet, here is one living this nightmare. This mom would grab her friends passing by like a drowning person reaching for a life ring. The sister tried to be brave all morning, sometimes wiping the tears streaming down her cheeks with the palms of her hands and focusing hard to keep control. How can she endure this? Later in her eulogy she called her sister her best friend.

At one point the wind howled and rain clattered noisily on the roof of the church. I'm sure some wanted to shout up to God and ask, "Why?" As people walked back down to find a seat they shook their heads in disbelief. This shouldn't be. It's not the natural course of things. Where are you, Jesus? If only you'd done something... I thought of two sisters long ago, accusing Jesus when their brother died. Jesus hadn't come in time to be of help. But when he saw the mourning crowd, he also wept. What a miserable plight we humans have here on earth. Jesus knew the outcome--he knew Lazarus would live again. Jesus knew his own death and resurrection would bring eternal life to us all. Yet still he cried along with everyone else. Are you crying here with us today, Jesus?

Maybe it isn't such a strange custom after all. Maybe the family is comforted by the long line of people who come to show their compassion. Maybe they long to be held in the arms of other humans, to share pools of tears, and to hear the promises of help and friendship. After all, we all share this same earthly fate. If we haven't known it yet, we will surely travel this same road of pain and fear.

When the service ended and the family left their front row pew to walk back down the aisle, I couldn't help but think that not so very long ago there was a wedding, probably with many of these same people in attendance. They saw the happy couple, glowing with joy, turn to face the congregation as new husband and wife, then walking down the aisle to new life. Now, instead, an old woman staggers with grief on the arm of her son-in-law. The sister who was once a bridesmaid sobs openly, her courage spent.

I think Jesus understands grief so deep and overpowering that it cannot grasp the promises of God. Yet scripture says God does not want us to grieve like those who have no hope. Like Martha, we say to Jesus, "I know that even now God will give you whatever you ask." Jesus responded, "Your brother will rise again." John 11:21-25. We encourage one another (and ourselves) with those thoughts. I Thessalonians 4:13-18.

Before we had left for the service, Liana noted my dark clothing. "Black for death, right, Mom?" I said yes. She picked up the small topaz on my necklace. "But gold for heaven."

Please pray for this family.

What now?

After many years attending and four years teaching, last spring I left women's Bible study. With homeschooling two children, it was just too much. As the summer passed and with fall coming again, I was wondering, "What now?"

In the Christian life, there is no such thing as, "now I have time for ME." As Rick Warren says, "You were put on earth to make a contribution...not just to consume resources." We are called to serve. One Sunday I read with interest that our church was hosting Alpha. Help was needed. A good friend of mine attended Alpha years ago and I knew how meaningful it was to her, so I got the "spark." You know what I mean--that nudge, that voice within that says, "Yes!"

In case you don't know what Alpha is, here is what the introduction to the course reads, "Alpha is an opportunity for anyone to explore the Christian faith in a relaxed, non-threatening setting over ten thought-provoking weekly sessions...It is low-key, friendly and fun--and is supported by all the main Christian denominations." Now if I'd just read that, I don't think I would be "sparked" but my friend showed me how life-changing this course is.

From my past experience, I thought my skills could be used as a table discussion leader. But no, what was needed was a cook, as the program offers a free meal to all attendees. Now how's that for using my gifts and talents? I've been cooking for a crowd for over 30 years! As a bonus, Fred and I could do this together. We volunteered.

The behind-the-scenes church work was new and refreshing, yet also challenging. There was the stress of keeping to a tight schedule--dinner at 6:00 sharp, the mess of large quantity meal preparation, and the mental focus needed for ordering supplies and planning the food. (The latter is not my natural talent.) But I enjoy the fact that our work is important to God. For the most part, he is the only one who sees the labor behind the food. I'm learning to find contentment and joy in that kind of service, not seeking the praise of people.

God had unexpected surprises for us. My step-daughter, who has avoided church for years, happened to call right before we left for the very first night. Instead of coming to our house for a free meal, she came to Alpha and has continued ever since. Two friends I've missed lately also came with their children. And my girls! While Fred and I work, they have the time of their lives with the children's choir preparing a musical for Christmas and then Awanas.

God is always up to something. We miss out when we confine ourselves to our own little world. Alpha will be ending soon and again I'm asking, "What now?" I'll probably continue cooking for the next session, but I believe God revealed to me another vision for our family. It's big! It's exciting! But we can't do it alone. I will need the help of friends near and far. More on this later.

A verse to keep in mind: "Therefore, I urge you, brothers, in view of God's mercy, to offer your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God--this is your spiritual act of worship." Romans 12:1.

Kitten love

My oldest son, Nick, has a litter of 4-week-old kittens at his house. The girls saw them for the first time over the weekend. They have never seen kittens or puppies this young. Actually, they haven't ever seen a litter of any kind of baby animals. Liana was absolutely smitten.

I'm not sure how many kittens there were because little fluffy bodies of grays and blacks and whites, striped and solid, were crawling all over the girls. Arielle was a little leery of their sharp, gripping claws but Liana was awe-struck. She picked up one, then another, holding them gently, petting them, looking into their eyes. She was drawn to a multi-colored one, black and white with streaks of gray. It had a little black dot on its nose and cried piteously. She held it against her chest until it fell asleep. She played with the kittens for a long time. I enjoyed seeing her so kind and nurturing. "Mom, I like this one. Isn't he cute?" She showed me her favorite one, as if this small kitten was the greatest treasure on earth. "Mom, I REALLY like this one," she said again.

Nick said the kittens were hungry and needed to go back to their mama. They were carried out two by two to the other room. Liana's worried eyes kept darting to mine. Did she have to give up the kitten? Finally, she let it go.

On the way home I realized there was some kind of big misunderstanding. Liana, for some reason, thought she might keep that kitten. Dad soundly said no. All the drive home Liana gave her reasons why she would be the best mother ever to that kitty, tears rolling down her cheeks. Dad was patient for awhile. But he is adamant about no more cats. Our ancient outdoor cat is on his way out and Fred is looking forward to a pet-less house.

By the time we got home, Liana's silent tears became sobs. Her heart was broken. She realized she would probably never see the kitten again and couldn't bear the thought. Dad telling her she could have all the cats she wanted when she was grown up didn't matter. "But then that kitten will be grown up too!" she protested. Inside the house, the sobs became wails of grief; this was more grief than her little heart has ever known in all her six years. Now Liana can certainly be whiny and manipulative at times to get her own way, but I sensed something more.

First of all, she's never wanted anything so much. She's never before cried for toys or pleaded her case so convincingly for anything else. But she was also heartbroken because she saw a new side of her dad she didn't know existed. Before he was a dad who never denied her anything. She reminded him of that. "You always promised to give me anything I needed!" I know it hurt Fred to tell her no. He would like to be the kind of father to grant anything his beloved daughter might wish. But he knew this was not the right time to do that.

Liana fought hard but did not get her kitten. In the end she trusted her dad and accepted his decision. She didn't understand, but she knows he loves her. Was her bargaining and arguing and persistence wrong?

Coincidentally, the very same night I read an excerpt from Philip Yancey's new book, Prayer: Does It Make Any Difference? Yancey suggests God invites engagement with him in the kind of prayer that struggles and argues. God desires us to appeal to his grace and compassion and promises. Sometimes God comforts and calms us as we pour out our grievances. We see his wisdom and accept his final answer. Other times we wrestle, and like Jacob, we say, "I will not let you go unless you bless me." Genesis 32:26. Sometimes God changes his mind.

October

"Earth's crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God;
But only he who sees, takes off his shoes--
The rest sit around it, and pluck blackberries."
E.B. Browning

Autumn in Pennsylvania. What could be more beautiful? My favorite month has passed by in a rush but we did have a couple of days to enjoy a glimpse of heaven here on earth. Two weeks ago the girls had a science class at a rustic camp and in the afternoon enjoyed a boat ride on this creek and a long hayride through the colorful woods.

Last weekend was no less enjoyable and all we did was work. Dad wants the garden cleaned up, I told the girls. They enthusiastically put on shoes and jackets and ran outside. As always, it is sad to put the garden to rest for the winter. How did summer go by so quickly? It was hard work gathering up the dead pumpkin vines still gripping the soil and dragging the huge dry sunflower stalks from the ground. The fragrance of the basil lingered in the air as we loaded the wheelbarrow. I pulled up the zinnias, still blooming, and marveled at how sturdy and thick their stems were, remembering the delicate seedlings we gently planted in the spring, wondering if they could possibly survive unpredictable storms.

I looked over at my daughter--Arielle, solid and strong, collecting the last of the green tomatoes and yanking up the withered remains. The frail little baby we brought home from China not so very long ago is as hardy and resolute as her peasant ancestors. The earth draws her, and she is truly joyful when her hands are touching plants and rocks and dirt. She was less than two years old when I noticed her unusual fascination with the moon, with flowers, with butterflies and praying mantises. She used to walk behind me in the rows of green beans, quietly studying the art of picking. Now she can harvest as well as anyone. She liked to hide among the corn stalks, listening to the slippery sounds of the long leaves in the breeze, pollen from the tassles dusting her black hair. My daughter-- she is no ordinary child. The hands that roughly shake off the dirt from a clump of roots right now can glide so smoothly across the piano keys. Her heart still hears the distant voices from her past, but she dances with enthusiasm to the music of her life with us.

After the garden is cleared, the girls want to play in the leaves. Arielle has already raked a huge pile. The two sisters jump over and over, squealing with abandon. I want to keep these moments forever, to treasure them always. But all I can do is grab a camera and a pen and preserve what fragments I can. Autumn, soon to be gone. The girls eagerly anticipate the Christmas season. They CAN'T WAIT! But let me linger here awhile longer.

Now the wind has turned cold and it has stripped the beautiful leaves from the trees. A vase of faded flowers that the girls salvaged from the dying plants is all that's left of October.

A living example

A family I know is living out what Jesus taught about riches. The man and his wife are both doctors. Early on, the wife left her career. She spends her time with her many children, homeschooling some, and serving in various ministries in and out of church. She was my Bible study teacher for a couple of years and I watched her carefully because she seemed to have unusual wisdom. She was zealous for the word and for prayer. She was what I wanted to be.

Arielle was invited to their home for a birthday party. I was very curious to see where this family lived. Our church has many wealthy members so I'd often visited palatial homes owned by generous, giving people. Even so, I wanted to know how this particular family lived. Maybe I suspected their home would be different. This family could have had everything our privileged American culture has to offer--fancy cars and houses, dream vacations and every luxury thought up by mankind. I already knew their vacations were always either visiting family members across the country or going on short-term mission trips. But what about their home?

The house was big and old. It was simple, plain, sparse. Nothing fancy anywhere. But it was also warm and welcoming. The birthday party itself was old-fashioned fun. Their children were boisterous and joyful, but had few "things." I never forgot this home. A family who understood real riches lived here.

Not surprising, this family left their home several years ago and are full-time missionaries in a remote country. If their hearts clutched worldly goods, they would never have been able to detach from them when God called them to leave everything behind and go out to serve him at the ends of the earth. Without ever saying a word, their lives spoke loudly and clearly where their true priorities were. I am troubled by the American lifestyle. It's bad enough I'm living it, but I can't promote it or ask God for more. My family already has too much, and I am too attached to what I have. At this point, I don't think I could walk out and leave it all behind. I like my "stuff" and I like comfort. I don't want to go to a hot and humid place or a place where people don't speak English and eat weird food, or a place with strange insects and snakes. Or a place where Christians are persecuted. My heart is far from where it should be.

Some questions:

1. If we are seeking financial blessing, will we still be content in whatever our circumstances?

2. How much is too much? When is enough, enough, and we don't ask for more?

3. When do our lifestyle and possessions become offensive to God when the money spent could be spent on others instead?

4. When does our wanting "stuff" venture into the realm of covetousness?

5. When does God become a means to an end, and not the end in himself?

Kenneth Hagin has a whole chapter in his book based on I Timothy 4:8. "...godliness has value for all things, holding promise for both the present life and the life to come." The King James version says "godliness is profitable..." Curiously, the book of the Bible he ran with also has some sobering thoughts for us about riches. I'll end this topic with these words from scripture.

This passage begins talking about false doctrine and "men of corrupt mind, who have been robbed of the truth and who think that godliness is a means to financial gain. But godliness with contentment is great gain. For we brought nothing into this world, and we can take nothing out of it. But if we have food and clothing, we will be content with that. People who want to get rich fall into temptation and a trap and into many foolish and harmful desires that plunge men into ruin and destruction. For the love of money is the root of all kinds of evil. Some people, eager for money, have wandered from the faith and pierced themselves with many griefs." I Timothy 6:5-10.

"Command those who are rich in this present world not to be arrogant nor to put their hope in wealth, which is so uncertain, but to put their hope in God, who richly provides us with everything for our enjoyment. Command them to do good, to be rich in good deeds, and to be generous and willing to share. In this way they will lay up treasure for themselves as a firm foundation for the coming age, so that they may take hold of the life that is truly life." I Timothy 6:17-19

Still more...

The gospels are full of encounters with people where Jesus addressed money issues. It seems money was a problem then as it is now. Think back on these familiar passages.

The rich young man in Matthew 19 asked Jesus what good thing he must do to inherit eternal life. After a short discussion, with this man affirming that he's kept all the commandments, Jesus concludes, "If you want to be perfect, go, sell your possessions and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me." After this, scripture records, "When the young man heard this, he went away sad, because he had great wealth." Matthew 19:16-30.

Consider also the widow's offering in Mark 12. What's interesting is what Jesus is doing. "Jesus sat down opposite the place where the offerings were put and watched the crowd putting their money into the temple treasury. Many rich people threw in large amounts, but a poor widow came and put in two very small copper coins, worth only a fraction of a penny." Mark 12:41, 42.

Jesus responds to this by saying, "I tell you the truth, this poor widow has put more into the treasury than all the others. They all gave out of their wealth; but she, out of her poverty, put in everything--all she had to live on." Mark 12:43, 44. These are hard sayings! The rich man had much to give but couldn't part with it, yet the poor widow gave it all. Jesus directs us back to the heart issues.

Luke 16 begins with Jesus telling the parable of the shrewd manager to a group of Pharisees. Verse 14 says, "The Pharisees, who loved money, heard all this and were sneering at Jesus." Jesus responds, "You are the ones who justify yourselves in the eyes of men, but God knows your hearts. What is highly valued among men is detestable in God's sight." Luke 16:15.

In one of the seven "woes" of Matthew 23 Jesus says, "Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You give a tenth of your spices--mint, dill and cummin. But you have neglected the more important matters of the law--justice, mercy and faithfulness." Verse 23. Do we do what is "required" but forget the suffering world? Jesus said the Pharisees were "full of greed and self-indulgence." Matthew 23:25. This sounds like an average American. (Myself included.)

In Luke 12 Jesus says, "Watch out! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; a man's life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions." Then he goes on to tell the parable of the rich man with no place to store all his crops. So the man decides to build bigger barns. The man says to himself, "You have plenty of good things laid up for many years. Take life easy; eat, drink and be merry." But God said, "You fool! This very night your life will be demanded from you. Then who will get what you have prepared for yourself?" Jesus concludes the story by saying, "This is how it will be with anyone who stores up things for himself but is not rich toward God." Luke 12:13-21.

In Luke 19 Jesus meets Zacchaeus, the rich tax collector. We all remember Zacchaeus as the "wee little man" who climbs the tree to see Jesus pass by. But do we remember his attitude? "Zacchaeus stood up and said to the Lord, 'Look, Lord! Here and now I give half of my possessions to the poor, and if I have cheated anybody out of anything, I will pay back four times the amount!" Luke 19:1-10. As the crowds are listening to this, Jesus goes into the parable of the ten talents about the two men who invest their master's money and the one who hoards it.

So "name it and claim it"? It just doesn't fit. Yes, Jesus does say in Matthew 7, "Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you...if you then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!" Verses 7-12. But the Word also says, "This is the confidence we have in approaching God: that if we ask anything according to his will, he hears us. And if we know that he hears us--whatever we ask--we know that we have what we asked of him." I John 5:14. "According to his will" is key here. What is his will for us when it comes to wealth? Our heavenly Father is extravagant and generous, showering us with gifts we never deserve. But we also need to be mindful that as any good parent, God gives us what is good for us and sometimes says no.

As for the pastor who says it is unbiblical not to own land? Jesus says, "Foxes have holes and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head." Luke 9:58. Do we deserve better than Jesus?

Prosperity 2

I consider myself one of the richest people in the world. God has lavished me with gifts and has never withheld any human joy from me. I lack nothing. All these riches are totally undeserved. I didn't name and claim anything but my generous heavenly Father has showered me with blessings. My heart is full of gratitude.

Yet, my husband is out of work on a disability and we're learning to be very creative in paying our bills. If you knew my life story, you would know that material wealth (as seen through American eyes) never entered the picture. But these facts don't diminish my view of my riches. We have more than enough "things". My children have food and clothing and we live in a comfortable home and drive reliable cars. But this isn't where my true wealth is.

As I searched the scriptures for Jesus' words on money, I found he has plenty to say on the subject. The Pharisees were rich and Jesus was always at odds with them, so many of his comments were directed at them. (Or maybe us?)

First of all, let's put to rest the passage from John 10:10, "I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full." Or "more abundantly" as the King James Version says. This chapter is not about material wealth at all. It is about Jesus being the true shepherd who lays down his life for his sheep. We live life to the full when we follow him, but promises of having "stuff"--no.

Let's look at Jesus' life. First of all, he was born into a poor family. Did Jesus use his miraculous powers to give his parents a mansion to live in? Did Mary and Joseph expect material gain due to their "rights" as God's chosen people? Many of Jesus' followers were poor too. Are there any miracles recorded where Jesus zapped them with riches? Or that they even asked for them?

Jesus was more concerned with heart issues. "Do not store up for yourselves treasure on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also...No one can serve two masters, either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and money." Matthew 6:19-24. Our wealth (and our time and concern) must lie in what is eternal--God, and our relationship with him, and the souls of people.

It's not wrong to have money. It's how we feel about it, how we pursue it, and what we do with it that matters. If you have it, thank God for it, and use it for his kingdom and to serve others. If you don't have it, right after this teaching Jesus says, "Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes?..." He ends with, "Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own." Matthew 6:25-34. A key verse in this passage is: "But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things (food, clothing, things God knows we need) will be given to you." Vs. 33. We are to seek God, not for the goods he supposedly wants to hand over to us, but for him to fill our thoughts with his desires for our lives. He promised to provide for us. Don't "worry". He says it six times in this passage.

Prosperity

The past few days I have been wrestling with a big theological issue. I never knew it was a controversial topic in the church until I read an article in Time magazine and until a good friend of mine took an opposing side from what I believe to be true. So when confronted with a new idea, I took it to prayer, study of the Word, and research. Please weigh in and let me know your thoughts.

The article is from the September 18th issue and is titled, "Does God Want You to Be Rich?" I discovered there are several huge churches in this country that proclaim that one of God's top priorities is to shower blessings on believers, and we should not accept anything less than what we are entitled to as God's children. This message is called Word of Faith, Health and Wealth, Name It and Claim It, or the new term--Prosperity Lite. The emphasis is on personal financial gain that supposedly our heavenly Father is more than willing to bestow upon us if we would only ask. Opponents describe it as "materialism framed in a kind of Tony Robbins positivism." The premise is that Jesus promised an abundant life and "abundant" is interpreted to include money and possessions. One pastor even says, "God wants you to own land. ..Land represents that God is with you and God has blessed you." The article says this is peculiarly an American theology but I was told it is popular in Singapore too, another wealthy, materialistic society.

A now deceased pastor was one of the granddaddies of this teaching. He wrote a book on financial prosperity and I read enough of it to get the gist of his ideas. He says poverty and sickness are a curse while prosperity and good health are indications of God's blessings. He believes people are poor because they have dishonored God in their way of living. He said his ideas came by way of revelation from God to claim whatever he wanted and speak it out in faith. (Name it and claim it.) The last chapter is "Godliness is Profitable for All Things." He says godliness ensures protection (tell that to the Amish families), godliness ensures promotion, godliness ensures perpetuity (long life), and godliness ensures prosperity. He lists why some don't prosper financially--laziness, extravagance and excesses, and poor management. The back cover states, "God wants His people to prosper financially...many Christians have never entered into the dimension of prosperity that God intended for them." Highlights in bullets say: How to eat the good of the land, Your authority in Christ concerning finances, How to release your faith for finances and The role of honoring your pastor so you can walk in prosperity. (You can guess what that section is about.) As with any false doctrine, there is always an element of truth to bring a measure of confusion.

Is this liberating news for the poor, or is it offensive and exploitive? What does the Word say? Specifically, what does Jesus say?

Rescued

Even as we look back with longing at summer, we find autumn has its own joys. I love fall for many reasons, and browsing through church bazaars is one of them. We live across the street from a church, so it's a September tradition to walk over and look for treasures.

This past Saturday the girls and I found nearly new jeans for $2, "Little Women" and "Swiss Family Robinson" videos for $1, and Liana got a big, bright, fluffy, yellow duck for only $1. (Family members know the significance of the duck.) Excited about our finds, we headed over to the junk room. Everything from toys, bedding, lamps, dishes, to old phonograph records, typewriters and food processors were crammed into a small room. The girls began sorting through a table jumbled high with rejected old toys in no particular order and without prices.

Arielle pulled a doll from the heap. In wonderment she asked, "Is this an American Girl doll?" The doll was filthy, her hair tangled and scissored carelessly and her vinyl body marked up. But the big round eyes and the cute smile revealing two little teeth were unmistakable. It was an American Girl doll. I saw Arielle's hesitation. Even if it was, did she want it? She was thoughtful as she looked into the brown eyes of the doll. I told her we could clean it up. Arielle looked doubtful as she studied the doll. "Do you want to take her home?" Finally deciding, she firmly answered yes.

We did need to check the price. New dolls like this sell for $87, but I wasn't prepared to pay too much for this old thing. The woman said, "All dolls are one dollar." As I paid, I reminded her that this was a great bargain. She shrugged. "It's all beat up."

We took the doll home and washed and trimmed her hair. We scrubbed her body with a soapy toothbrush. As she was drying, I sewed her new clothes. Arielle was thrilled with the result. "I just love her!" she proclaimed.

As we worked, I told Arielle that some people are like this doll. Maybe they don't look so good. Maybe just living has beat them up. Maybe no one notices them and no one thinks they are worth much. But to God, each person is precious and valuable. He rescues us and redeems us and adopts us into his family where we are forever loved. See the picture at the top? They are Arielle's two "daughters." Which is which? No one cares. They are both home, cozy and safe, snuggling under great-Grandma's quilt.

After thumbing through a baby name book, Arielle chose the name Francesca for her new doll. It means "free." Free from the past, free to have a new life.

"Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come!" II Corinthians 5:17.

A mom's work

In the last post we saw that Jesus brought glory to his father by completing the work God gave him to do. We're all working hard, but are we doing the work God wants us to do?

My role and my work became more clear to me the other day as I was reading through II Timothy. Glorious summer passed by in a flash and now the girls and I descend the stairs to our classroom at 9:00 sharp. At first we were excited about our new school year, but it's five weeks in and they are balking. "It's too hard." "I don't want to." "Why do we have to?" Or they are fighting. "She's looking at me." "She touched me." And then it gets me going too, and the joy of homeschooling seeps out like the air from a stale balloon.

I was reading through II Timothy after a particularly difficult week. This is the last letter Paul wrote before his death. He is reminding Timothy of what is truly important. I had just begun reading and took notice of 1:11. "And of this gospel I was appointed a herald and an apostle and a teacher." Yes, I'm a teacher--of reading, math, science, and history, but God has also called me to teach the gospel. I am a herald of the good news! (Aren't we all?) Does the importance of this task sustain us in our daily frustrations? In 2:2 it says we are to entrust this gospel to reliable men (women and children) who will teach others. "God's solid foundation stands firm, sealed with this inscription: The Lord knows those who are his." 2:19. My daughters came into this family by no accident. They belong to God. They have also been appointed heralds and teachers of the gospel. I have the privilege and obligation to pass the baton to them before I'm gone. It should be my primary concern.

In verses 2:3-7 we're told this job is like a war--it's hard and we need to listen to orders from our commanding officer. It's like a race--it takes training. It's like farming--we'll reap a harvest. "Therefore I endure everything for the sake of the elect, that they too may obtain the salvation that is in Christ Jesus, with eternal glory." 2:10. Endure everything. In light of the early church Paul was speaking to, my problems seem miniscule. I think about how lost I would be without the comfort, the peace, and the security I have in Jesus to face life in this world. I want that for my daughters. Without the hope of the gospel, the alternative is also a possibility: "People will be lovers of themselves, lovers of money, boastful, proud, abusive to parents, ungrateful, unholy, without love, unforgiving, slanderous, without self-control, brutal, not lovers of the good, treacherous, rash, conceited, lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of God--having a form of godliness but denying its power." 3:2-5.

But what does that have to do with our day-to-day plodding along? Teaching, laundry, cooking, cleaning, over and over again, no time for much of anything else. (Even this blog!) Do you collapse into bed at the end of the day wondering if anyone appreciates anything you do? Do my children and husband care that I give every hour of my day to them? As I was feeling sorry for myself I was reminded I'm to be "an instrument for noble purposes, useful to the Master and prepared to do any good work." 2:21. Am I useful to God?

The rest of the book has instructions for mothers. We are to teach and practice these things: "Flee the evil desires of youth, and pursue righteousness, faith, love and peace, along with those who call on the Lord out of a pure heart. Don't have anything to do with foolish and stupid arguments, because you know they produce quarrels. And the Lord's servant must not quarrel; instead she must be kind to everyone, able to teach, NOT RESENTFUL. Those who oppose her (and they do) she must GENTLY instruct, in the hope that God will grant them repentance leading them to a knowledge of the truth..." 2:22-25. (Emphasis mine.)

As Paul told Timothy, I say to my daughters, "Continue in what you have learned and have become convinced of, because you know those from whom you learned it, and how from infancy you have known the holy Scriptures, which are able to make you wise for salvation through faith in Christ Jesus." 3:14, 15.

A final word: "Preach the Word; be prepared in season and out of season; correct, rebuke and encourage--with great patience and careful instruction." 4:2. Great patience! Careful instruction! My example and my attitude says so much more than my words. Is this hard? Yes! If only I can say with Paul, "I am already being poured out like a drink offering..." 4:6. That's the way its supposed to be.

A friend of mine said she wanted to be running when she passes the baton, not having her children look around in the dirt for it after she's dead. Keep running--finish the race! But remember it's a RELAY.

For Dominic

Disturb us, Lord when
We are too well pleased with ourselves,
When our dreams have come true
Because we have dreamed too little,
When we arrived safely
Because we sailed too close to the shore.

Disturb us, Lord, when
With the abundance of things we possess
We have lost our thirst
For the waters of life;
Having fallen in love with life,
We have ceased to dream of eternity
And in our efforts to build a new earth,
We have allowed our vision
Of the new Heaven to dim.

Disturb us, Lord, to dare more boldly,
To venture on wider seas
Where storms will show your mastery;
Where losing sight of land,
We shall find the stars.

We ask you to push back
The horizons of our hopes;
And to push into the future
In strength, courage, hope, and love.

--Sir Francis Drake, 1577

I thought of my son Dominic when I heard this. He has big, bold dreams and he's never sailed close to shore. The picture at the top is the view from his doorstep of his home (for now) in Wales. How fitting!

May God disturb us all and never let us be complacent when there is so much to be done in this world. In John 17:4 Jesus prayed to his father, "I have brought you glory on earth by completing the work you gave me to do." What did God give you to do?

Dominic, my prayers are with you as you ventures on ever wider seas.

Reflections at the shore

I'll continue our topic next time, but first a few thoughts about our family trip last week.

We have a yearly ritual that would devastate the girls if we discontinued it. We go to the Jersey shore every September. Maybe Fred and I look forward to it as much as they do. But why? We do exactly the same things every single time we go.

We stay at the same hotel, usually on the exact same floor. Every morning with Dad, the girls run down the hall in their pajamas to get coffee to bring back to the room. After breakfast we rent a surrey and ride up and down the boardwalk for an hour. We always go past the place where the sign says "No Surreys Past This Point", but we go anyway because we were told it's okay after Labor Day. Then some bossy person always feels the need to reprimand us. But that's part of the fun. We have to go to this forbidden spot to get the homemade doughnuts. The rest of the day is filled with endless walking up and down the boards and endless hours in the sand collecting shells and splashing in the waves until the sun spreads its golden evening light over our faces. Dad always helps construct a sand castle and the girls are fascinated to watch it slowly flood and wash away with the incoming tide, like some ancient civilization. In the evenings after dinner, the amusement park awaits. The girls pile into the wagon, the wheels clackety-clacking across the boards as we pull them for miles. We always buy caramel corn, uncovered and overflowing, of course, to eat while we journey back to the hotel.

Every trip really is a bit different though. On one of our first trips Liana was a baby and some adjustments had to be made for her. She slept on the beach in the wagon, a huge striped towel wrapped around her. As she grew, she first ventured into the sea in the safety of my arms, her legs velcroed to my waist. Then in no time it seems, she learned to jump the waves with me holding both her hands until my arms ached. This year, she refused to hold my hand at all, jumping all on her own with her sister. Arielle used to enjoy special time with Dad playing miniature golf while the baby napped, but those days are gone now that Liana is older and wants to join them.

What will change next year? We figure this is the last year for the wagon. Surely Arielle won't ride in it when she is nearly 10! I probably won't ride the carousel again. Next year Liana will be tall enough to go alone. I think now of my first ride at this shore, holding tightly to a tiny Arielle high on the painted horse. A rush of memories had filled my mind and I was once again riding with my own baby sister in Balboa Park in San Diego, my grandmother carefully keeping her eye on us. Oh, what wonderful times...

When the girls are teenagers, will they still walk the boardwalk with us, their old parents? A day will come when our daughters can't come to the shore at all. They will be in college, or married, or living far away. Then Fred and I will be one of the elderly couples on the benches, watching the young families stroll by, lost in our memories. But it's really all about the girls' memories.

Will they one day hear a snippet of the song, "The Lion Sleeps Tonight," and remember their dad doing a little dance in front of their favorite golf place that continuously played that song on a loud speaker? Will the smell of burnt sugar make them think of that caramel corn they ate in the wagon, shivering in the chill night air? When they sit on a bench, teaching their own children how to eat an ice cream cone, will they remember how patient Dad was when their ice cream dripped all over their hands? Maybe they won't remember details, but hopefully they will remember how very much they were LOVED. That's really why we continue our family rituals, isn't it?

Each trip I thank God for one more year we're all together, because these times really aren't endless at all. For generations the waves have deposited their treasures on the sand and children have delighted in them. But our time here on earth is short. "Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes." James 4:14.

On our last night on the boards, instead of my arms aching from holding my babies, my heart was aching for my little girls growing up too quickly. I looked out over the ocean and noticed a full moon, the surface of the water shimmering in its light. Beautiful, powerful, mysterious. It's a gift, a sign of God's presence and his endless love for us. I'm reminded to put my hope in him, who "richly provides us with everything for our enjoyment." I Timothy 6:17. Just like we do with our children.

Encounters with God

After lifting their faces to the sun all summer, my sunflowers are now bowing their heads. I searched the internet for pictures of people prostrate before God and found only a few--and they were all pictures of Muslims. It was Liana who reminded me of the flowers bowing down.

What happens when people are aware they are in the presence of God? I've been looking back through scripture and found some interesting encounters. See how they compare with your own.

In the very beginning, after Adam and Eve chose to please themselves rather than God, they heard the sound of the Lord walking in the garden. Their reaction? "They hid themselves from the Lord God among the trees of the garden." Genesis 3:8. Why was that? Adam answered, "I was afraid..." vs. 10. Then, when confronted with sin, he blamed his wife. (Some things never change.) Have you ever hidden from God out of fear or shame?

Jacob hadn't seen his brother, Esau, in years. He'd deceived Esau and cheated him out of his inheritance and Esau held a grudge and wanted to kill him. Years later, Jacob found out Esau was on his way for a reunion and Jacob was terrified. All through the night before their meeting, Jacob wrestled with God and was even injured in the struggle. At daybreak Jacob said, "I will not let you go unless you bless me." Genesis 32:26. Can we relate to wrestling with God in prayer? Are we as persistent? Maybe, like Jacob, we'll never be the same after this kind of encounter. By the way, Jacob and Esau were reconciled. God answered.

Moses' dramatic meeting with God is famous, thanks to the movie, "The Ten Commandments." From a flaming shrub, God called out to Moses and Moses listened. " 'Do not come any closer,' God said. 'Take off your sandals, for the place where you are standing is holy ground.' " Exodus 3:5. Removing shoes was a sign of reverence and humility, and we assume Moses did as God said. Then Moses "hid his face, because he was afraid to look at God." vs. 6. God commissioned him to lead the Israelites out of Egypt, and Moses was obedient to fulfill God purpose. Later on, after Moses was given the Ten Commandments for the second time and descended from Mount Sinai, we read that, "he was not aware that his face was radiant because he had spoken with the Lord." Exodus 34:29. He was so changed that he scared people. Have our encounters with God changed us? Do people notice?

When Samuel was just a boy, the Lord called his name, and once he recognized that voice, he lay still and said, "Speak, for your servant is listening." I Samuel 3:10. Do we find the time to quiet our hearts and listen?

Isaiah had a vision and saw the Lord seated on a throne in heaven in all his glory. This is what Isaiah said, "Woe to me! I am ruined! For I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips, and my eyes have seen the King, the Lord Almighty." Isaiah 6:5. God's righteousness next to ours is a frightening thing to behold. But Isaiah was assured that his guilt was taken away and his sin atoned for. Then when the Lord asked him, "Whom shall I send?" he answered, "Here I am. Send me!" Isaiah 6:7, 8.

Everything changes when we know we're redeemed, loved, his. Next time we will see how people responded to meeting up with Jesus. What happened when you first encountered him?