Plugged In

My God is Light and thus in Him

There is no dark

At all.

But what His brightness found in me

Was shadows

On the wall.

He shined Himself 

Upon my heart;

At last I saw the Light

I fell in Love

He turned me on

And sent away the night.

I glowed with glory

Fully His

He loved me, and I knew

That everything He says is right

And all His words 

Are true.

Quite like a lightbulb

Fully lit

Turned on 

Electrified - 

I was plugged into God my Source

My All, He would provide.

But then the darkness 

Of the world

Crept up to my back door

I opened it a crack

And then

My lightbulb shone no more.

Gone was the sparkle

In my eyes

I groped to find my way

I asked, 

Is darkness stronger,

Lasting longer?

Holding greater sway?

But as I groped

I filled my soul

With thoughts about The Light.

I thought of how He 

Speaks one word

And black turns into white.

And how He just said 

“Let there be”

And then, there was - so bright.

And in my dark, confusing room

I asked Him for the Light.

In quiet, gentle steps

He came

And visited my room 

With tender words

He spoke to me;

Hope 

Chased away my gloom.

“Plug into Me!” 

He kindly said,

“This secret’s yours this hour:

If you unplug, 

Your light goes out;

I am the Source of Power.”

And when I plugged

Back into Him

Receiving strength and grace

The light of love

Sourced from Above

Shone brightly on my face.

The darkness of 

The world outside?

It needs a light like mine

So, plugged into the Power Source

God-helping-me,

I’ll shine.

August 15, 2019

Seth's Gift

Did you know that someone who doesn’t have a lot to offer can profoundly change the life of another? Let me tell you about Seth. To be honest, I didn't get to spend very much time with him; but since our brief rendezvous (as it were) my life has truly never been the same. Intriguingly, he was someone whom no one really knew much of anything about, who had never yet made his mark in the world. I think that’s part of what made the two of us so close.

The funny thing about the way he made a difference in my life was that he didn’t say a word. Come to think of it, maybe that was something profound in itself. He was one of God’s paradoxes: though he knew nothing, he taught me. Though he was helpless, he helped me. Through his simply being there, he taught me something new about love. This was his gift.

I didn’t know when he appeared on the stage of my life that I needed someone like him. I blinked several times in awe and then with instinctive tenderness curled on the couch together with him for a little talk. “Baby,” I called him (it seemed like the best nickname for such an unknown and yet unquestionably charming human), “Baby, hi! I love you!” And I laughed and cried, and rubbed my tummy as if I was hungry, but it wasn’t that.

This friend of mine didn’t enter the stage of my life with any fancy prizes or letters of accreditation; however, it was him who gave me a new title that changed me forever and yet testified to how little I actually know. A title of three letters: Mom.

I had so many plans and dreams for my relationship with this young friend of mine. I daydreamed, day after day, the joy of introducing him to the wonder of a rubber ball; the splash that water makes; the intrigue of books. I dreamed of hearing him talk to me, and watching him walk to me. I dreamed of watching him speak words of life and grace to a dark world, dropping rays of heaven-light wherever he went. I dreamed of him being a protector, a strong young man who would defend the helpless. He would use his strength in tender ways to care for the distressed...just like Jesus.

I learned from his presence that to become a mommy is to lose close to everything you used to know (even your own body) in return for a precious Someone Else. In return for the privilege of loving someone the world has never known, and in large has never yet loved.

I have asked myself many times: Why, oh why did I love him so fiercely? Why did I want to do everything in my power to protect him? Why did I think of him every single waking hour of every day? He didn't do anything for me, ever. He didn't choose to be close to me. He didn't do anything at all to try to attain to my love.

I think the answer to my questions is, look: he was mine. I was nourishing him every moment, my body sustaining his life. He was, with my every bite and breath, receiving the life of my body into himself, growing just as fast as a little man his size could grow.

Small though he was, his presence allowed me to learn something new of the love that God has for us as His children. He loves us first. He carries us. He has the heart of a fierce protector when it comes to our care or bad things touching us. He sustains us every moment. He cannot stop thinking about us, dreaming about the plans He has for our lives. He says, “I love you: you are MINE.” (See 1 John 3:1 and Isaiah 43:1) Oh, the tender simplicity of being perfectly helpless and perfectly loved!

One day, right smack in the middle of our delightful adventures together, I forever lost my special friend.
On that day, I started to learn what it’s like to let go. There in my arms, I watched him do just that...his hand open, relaxing. His lips moving like he had something to say as he bid the world farewell. My lips were moving as well, quivering and taut with unutterable heartache that filled me all the way up to the surface.

At the end of the day, pasted numbly under a green quilt, I bawled until my eyes felt like they were exploding. And then, lifting my arms weakly up towards the heights of heaven, I opened the palms of my own hands and willed myself to release my soul into a worship I’d never known before. Peace and anguish sat together, while my broken heart spilled love out of all the cracks.

When your heart has opened to love, and Love has created new living places in your heart, how can you ever be the same again? In an open heart there is ecstasy, and there is risk.

Today, it's three years since I said goodbye to my Seth. I wish that I could give him a gift today to celebrate his birthday. I long to watch him play, or hear him string cute sentences together from his sweet little mind. I long to see courage emerge from his adolescence, to see the beginnings of his mark being made on the world. I wish I could give him a gift that would make his face split into a grin which (unless I miss my guess) would look strikingly similar to the charming wideness of his Daddy’s.

Instead, I'm thinking about the gift that he was to me. Through him I came to understand worship in an entirely new sort of way. He gave me a gift of perspective, love, and beautiful grief.

He gave me the gift of a new understanding about the way God’s Kingdom works. For example; like him, I can do nothing without the sustaining life of my Creator. My Eternal Parent. Like he was, I am in a dark, confining womb-of-a-world. Sometimes it feels warm and cozy and other times it feels suffocating and deadly. He helplessly endured some of the awful pressure and pain of this life; and as I read the news, I feel keenly how helpless I am when faced with evil and darkness and danger. Yet, like he discovered, I will one day find this "womb" being replaced by the wonder of a world bright and new, a world that welcomes me to be at home forever!

Like him, I find that I can be helpless, yet loved. I can let go of whatever I have and have known, to open my arms and receive more than I can imagine. I can allow myself to be led gently in to a life more beautiful than what I dream of for myself.

I find it true that "It is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all". (As said by Alfred Lord Tennyson.)

And someday, I'm expecting to go where he is and hear his voice calling to me, "Mom." Oh, I don't know what I will do then, but perhaps I will scoop him into my arms, or maybe he will scoop me into his; and a whole new adventure in enjoying the gift of our relationship will begin.


Written in memory of Seth Malakai born and went to heaven May 23, 2016.

Dinner, Dishes and Naps

It's dinnertime. I open the fridge door, and pause long enough that my little girl comes running to see if she can find anything exciting for herself in it’s cool depths. As I carry to the counter an armload of veggies and meat with which to craft a wholesome meal, I think about nourishment. Do I have a good balance of colorful veggies and pale starches? Which seasonings should I combine for the most flavorful evening nourishment?

And Lord, as I join the billion mothers in the world who are caring for their families the best they know how, I think of how we reflect Your caring heart for Your children. Lord, thank You for Your delight in caring for my heart, soul and body's nourishment. I need Your care; help my care for my family to reflect Your care for us!

It's 2pm. Dishes wait calmly in a heap on the counter, grimy faces stoically waiting for a nice scrub. I stand at the sink, acknowledging their presence with a sweeping glance, then turn on the hot water and get to work. Rub-a-dub-dub. Wet hands mix with soap suds and bits of leftover food, and as I scrub, the heap on the right slowly moves to a heap on the left. My heart lifts heavenward as shimmering clean plate-faces and cup-grins leaning on each other's shoulders as they wait to dry. A homemade sort of song ascends to my Father...

"Lord, wash me too. My life reflects the things You do. You daily work within my soul. Oh, wash me cleaner than this bowl."

It's nap time. Unlike her mama, who has grown old enough to enjoy having naps, little Girlie is restless. The bookshelf filled with interesting books is calling. The notebook and pen, the baby doll, the ball. But I am not to be deceived. I know the tired signs that my daughter tries to hide (just like I tried years ago). Gently yet firmly, I hold her still beside me, singing songs of peace and rest over her and praying prayers of blessing, hoping that soon she will allow sleep to overtake her tired little self. And I am reminded of my own Eternal Parent, the One who gave me the breath of life, the One who has looked after me since ever I was. He, too, sometimes has needed to hold me firmly when I tried to trick myself into believing that I needed something that I really didn't. He knew that my pursuit of what I thought I needed would shrivel good things in my life, so He held me tight...until I relaxed, and enjoyed His presence, and found rest for my soul.

Lord, help me to relax quickly when You hold me tight, enjoying the embrace rather than resenting the confines of Your arms.


"She's crying, and I don't know why, and she won't stop." Jonathan ever so kindly stops his work for a minute to video call for 45 seconds with our little girl. I watch in anticipation, as the tears exchange places with a grin as she sees the mile-wide-smile of her loving daddy. I marvel at the connection between a girl and her father, and how just one look and sentence of gentle, cheery words has the power to change her little outlook from unutterably miserable to sunshiny.

Father in Heaven, I need a look into Your face! I know I can't see You face to face for real at the moment...but could I at least "see through a glass darkly"? You are good, and You are not overwhelmed at the woes of this old world. I can hardly wait sometimes for the day when You will make all things new. Until then, please, Heavenly Daddy, can You give me glimpses into Your face so I can know that everything will be OK in the End?

Amen.

Wonder Under the Moon

Darkness hugged the car as we buckled into our seats and rolled homeward. Like monarchs at midnight, the conversations of the evening floated through my mind. Joy sat in the back, telling us all sorts of things. From what we could understand and what we could guess, she was likely rehearsing her evening as well. In plain English: “Ate popcorn and cheese. Tried to share a chair with my friend and she pushed me off onto the floor. And off the bed. But she said sorry, and she actually was very nice. Colored with markers. Said bye bye.” 

Not unlike my daughter, my own adult mind buzzed through thoughts of our evening at a rapid speed. “What did they think of us? Are we on track? We said such and such. They said this and that. Do we have what it takes? What if we don’t? What if we do?”

We were already home. Jonathan and I finished a sentence we were working on formulating between the two of us as we exited the car. Together, we opened the back door and unstrapped tired little Joy and swung her out of the car. And then...

“Moon, moon!” Joy’s excitement was contagious. Her sweet little neck tipped upwards eagerly towards the night sky, she pointed her forefinger enthusiastically at the shiny shape in the heavens, drawing our attention Up.

The heavens were a beautiful dark black, with sparkles of stars sprinkled artistically across. Orion the mighty hunter poised directly above us, ready to defend whichever constellation should happen to be most in need. And over to the left, shone the crescent slice of silver moon. 

I paused, feeling indebted to the attentive wonder of my little girl. Hands in my coat pockets, head tipped back, I gazed into the skies, until my heart entered into wonder, too. My whirring brain calmed and took a different lane to travel on. 

“Abraham, the man of faith in a God it seems he barely knew, saw those stars,” I thought. “And David, he sat out at night and saw those stars, too, thinking about God thinking about him. Jesus Himself, my Beloved, prayed lonely nights under those stars, talking with our Father. Apostle Paul hid in a basket, fleeing for his life, under these stars. Come to think of it, men and women have actually given their lives to Christ as well as lost their lives for Christ under these stars. Their luminescence has beheld the unutterable wickedness as well as the noble and heroic deeds of the human race. Somehow under these stars I get reminded that I am not alone, and the things I face are not peculiar and specific to only me.”

Orion winked, as if he knew that all along. Joy hollered in delight, “Moon, moon!” I joined my little family in walking towards the little apartment where we are living. 

Somehow, those faithful stars reminded me that the grand scheme of life is a whole lot bigger than this little nomadic mommy and her troubles. Somehow, standing under their twinkles gave me fresh courage to hold onto faith rather than people’s opinions; to gladly yield myself afresh to Jesus. 

Like the millions of faithful ones who have finished their race ahead of me, I can know my God and fully trust Him to never leave me or forsake me. ‘Til moon and stars shall shine no more!

What’s In Your Baggage?

We were snuggled under blankets in the confines of a Delta aircraft cabin, waiting for the last of the passengers to board. The air conditioner vents were blasting, and there was a general hubbub all around as scores of people hoisted their luggage up into the overhead compartments and found their seats. Joy was reading the safety booklet upside down when an urgent voice called over the loudspeaker: “Someone has lost a passport. Look around your seats please and alert us if you see a lost passport. This is very important. Please let us know if you find a passport laying somewhere around you.” Jonathan and I exchanged horrified glances and checked around our seats. 

We could immediately see that the people in front of us were especially worried about the passport loss. “She was sitting right here,” one flustered woman with a colorful scarf explained. “But they took her off the plane, yeah, they took her off already. She said she had the passport when she got on. She doesn’t know what happened to it. Let’s get her suitcase, where’s her bag?” The group of people most interested in the whereabouts of the passport seemed to be Ghanaians who had been living in America for some time, per their accents. I imagined that they had returned to their parent’s motherland of Ghana to visit their family roots and bring back memories to last a lifetime to America. Our hearts ached with them as they were separated from the now passport-less young girl who was forlornly relegated to the outside of the plane. 

A flight attendant helpfully came along and searched everywhere they had just been searching, mid the scrutiny of Miss Colorful Scarf. Next, two airport handymen appeared in yellow neon jackets with screwdrivers and took apart the seat where the girl had been sitting. All to none avail.

As Joy pulled out the Flight Safety Card for the sixth time to look at the cartoon pictures of people sliding down the exit chute, we watched as concerned travelers appeared from various parts of the plane. Obviously, they had starting to wonder if the frequent loudspeaker announcements about the missing passport were connected to one of their own traveling party. Miss Colorful Scarf made sure everyone knew the latest of The Loss and The Search.

As the minutes ticked by, we could tell that the flight personnel were getting close to deciding to leave without the unfortunate young lady without a passport. Miss Colorful Scarf was getting more and more worked up. She pulled down her friend’s luggage and searched it, then after ten minutes repeated the rummaging process. She explained the whole deal to everyone who came up to see what happened. “She was sitting right here on this seat, and they took her off because she didn’t have her passport, and we can’t find it anywhere! Some men even came and took apart the seat to look for it! They took her off the plane!” 

“Well, we can’t find it. We can’t look forever.” The flight attendant who had been very helpful and kind was now gently firm. “We are going to have to stop looking.” 

Moments later, a voice came over the loudspeaker: “Welcome aboard! Thank you for flying with Delta, we hope you enjoy your flight.” Suddenly, a shout exploded from the seat in front of us. It was none other than the flustered woman with the colorful scarf. Her tone was half elated, half dipped in the most woeful chagrin. “The passport is here, everyone. It’s here. I have the passport. It was right here, in my bag.” A flight attendant hurried up, and sure enough, there was the missing passport. “Must have fallen in somehow,” she tried to explain in utter sheepishness, as the entire cabin clapped and cheered, smiling with eyebrows arched high above their mirthful eyes. When exactly the missing passport hopped into the bag of Miss Colorful Scarf will always be a mystery. That was, hopefully, the closest that one young lady will ever get to losing a passport and a flight back to America.

As we taxied down the runway toward the midnight skies, my adrenaline still high from the excitement of the lost passport, I couldn’t stop thinking about what had just happened. 

Many times in our human nature we can tell that the gigantic, ridiculously painful problems around us are so obviously caused by other people and their issues. What if perhaps instead of only frantically blaming, we would check through our own baggage to see if therein may lie clues to help solve the problems at hand. Sometimes in sorting through our own baggage we make discoveries that can actually help the others with what they face. Sometimes when we do what we can personally instead of simply blaming others we find answers we didn’t imagine existed.

Thankfully though, it’s not often that a cabin full of people clap and cheer when we uncover mistakes we’ve made.

28 Reasons I Love You

Happy Birthday to the love of my life!

1. First of all, I can’t help but like you for the fact that you picked me to be your lifelong companion and friend! I’m overjoyed in how you love to be one with me and work hard to make sure we are living “on the same page”.

2. You mystify me. You contain such a wonderful man-brain that works in awesome ways. Sometimes I think I will never completely understand some parts...and that reminds me of how you are made in the image of God.

3. I admire the way you interact with wood, nails, screw guns, and saws. You have taken the time to create such sturdy and beautiful stools, chairs, and whatever else you can think of to make my life and the lives of others easier.

4. You are a caring man. You take such good care of me! You fill my water bottle. You take care of our finances, which would drive me nuts. You take care of travel plans, booking hotels and flights and making sure it will all work out. 

5. You are humble enough and man enough to say I’M SORRY. 

6. You are brave enough to follow God, daring enough to be under authority, bold enough to share your faith anywhere you are.

7. You are a perfect counterpart for me as we raise the daughter God entrusted to us.

8. I cannot count the times you have selflessly taken Joy for me at 5:30am when I was exhausted from a wakeful night with her and let me have another couple hours of sleep!

9. You have a learner’s heart and are always open to learning new things. You appreciate my love of reading and encourage me in it, buying me books and taking me for reading dates to places like Barnes and Noble! 

10. You trust God in such tangible ways; in finances, in health, in regards to the future. I have learned a lot from you in this regard. A line of yours that I won’t forget is, “If we start to not trust our God, where will we stop? If we are going to trust Him at all, we need to trust Him all the way.”

11. I am so tickled with how you like to wear matching clothes with me. (Speaking of being tickled, you like to do that to me too!😄)

12. I’m so glad for the way that you appreciate beauty and have an attitude of “wow, look at this, it’s amazing!”

13. You are a strong leader. 

14. You surprise me with little treats, like dried mangoes from the store on the other side of town, or fried kiliwili, hot and slightly crunchy  in its little plastic bag. You think of creative ways to express your love to me, which means so much. Like the year you wrote me a note every month on the 28th. Or the times you made treasure hunts for me, leaving notes all over the apartment leading up to something special that you had prepared for me. God knew I needed someone like you...and I don’t deserve it!

15. I like how you love to do special things with our daughter. I like how you invite her into your day and are quick to take your turn caring for her when I need a break.

16. You not only do sweet romantic things, but you also take the time to wash the dishes. Mop the floor. Scrub the tub. Help me wash our laundry, whether we do it standing in the sun by hand, in a mini washer in the bathtub, or in a washing machine in the garage under our apartment. You have allowed God to help you become a faithful man who is willing to plod, willing to do menial, mundane small things, for the sake of a bigger picture that you believe in.

17. You make me see the humor in things that I never thought were funny before I married you. (Let’s keep some of those jokes just between you and me, sound good?😉)

18. You walk steadily in God’s strength in times of high stress, trauma or drama. You don’t tend to go way up and way down, but rather faithfully plod, knowing you will make it through by God’s strength.

19. You have allowed God to make you a deeply caring, tender man. Your heart is touched when you see someone in need, and your first instinct is, “let me help you!”

20. You have a great love for sharing with people. You taste anything I make, from a chicken curry with rice and stir fry to a sweet cup of homemade “Irish Peppermint Delight”, and your predictable first words are, “Wow, this is amazing! We should have ________ over and make it for them!” You have told me that there’s no use in making cupcakes if we don’t take them to somebody...and some of our most enjoyable dates have been times we baked together and then shared the fruit of our hands and hearts with neighbors, family or friends. I love your big giving heart. I love the way you share everything, not minding if it’s the last we have.

21. You are a man who has walked through intensely hard things, and survived, and kept a faith in God and His Word. You have also walked me through intensely hard things and helped me to pull through on the side of faith and trust. That has probably been one of the hardest things for you to walk through...caring for a wife who was an emotional basketcase for a very, very long season. Jonathan, your care and faithfulness to me means more than I can describe. Thank you for being there.

22. I appreciate how you love our children with me. How you enter into my loss when I am missing our Seth, and how you let me enter into yours when you are feeling that pain of separation from him. I am so grateful for how you are there to share in my delight in our daughter and her darling ways.

23. And from the first memories I have of you, your choice to look beyond, into Heaven, is something that has always stood out to me and impressed me. Sometimes I haven’t wanted to look with you up There, because I wanted to enjoy a lowly pity party or because I knew that once I started focusing on Heaven it seemed I would feel too sad about needing to be here for now. But thank you for helping me to cultivate that mindset as well, which looks Up and Beyond the present and anticipates all that God has in store for those who put their entire trust in Him.

24. Here’s another one from the beginning. I like your smile. I remember when I first started “falling in love” with you, your smile was the biggest thing that stood out to me. Covering your entire face, when you flashed that grin at me, it was as though my whole world began to sparkle and glow.

25. I like the way you sing with abandon and worship the Lord with all your heart. I love when you lead me in worship!

26. I love the way you beautiful eyes twinkle and shine when you get a great idea. I love their color and the way they are a window into your heart.

27. I am so blessed with the life goals and dreams God has given you, and that He decided I could get to be your “armor-bearer”.

28. Before we were together, I was talking to a middle aged acquaintance who wanted to know what three things I would put on the request if I could mail order a husband. I told him, “I would request a man full of Humility, Wholeheartedness, and Humor, and if I could add one more it would be someone who pays attention to details.” My friend Bob was not very encouraging. In fact, he gave me little hope such a man exists. But such a man found me. How much more grateful could I be?

Rattlesnakes and Packages

It is dark in here, and Joy is fast asleep in the other half of our room. A string of little lights twinkle through the mosquito net, dangling their legs over the net’s hanging wooden frame. The ceiling fan is laboring above me, and a floor fan is oscillating to the left, like two servants feverishly fanning a dainty princess. (The dainty princess feelings coincide with the electric being on right now.)

It’s a new year.

A new year for doing the same old things. Teeth brushing. Nail clipping. Breakfast making. Floor mopping. Friend forgiving. Grace receiving. Hymn singing.

A new year for doing new things. Meeting new people. Seeing new places. Learning new things. Making new habits. Finding new favorites. Reading new books. Discovering God in new ways. 

{the electric just went out}

A year for new opportunities and filled with days that we have never lived before and will never live again.

Seeing we are finishing January, I am grateful to have already discovered a few precious gems hidden in this year. 

Last week one of my friends sent me a message: I want to send you a package, what’s your address? Now, I can hardly imagine a person who wouldn't want to dance for delight upon hearing words like this. And if you’ve been living overseas even for just a few months, the thought  can be overwhelmingly exciting that someone back home has caringly put together a little pile of goodies for you. 

In the midst of that jittery “let me see how fast I can type out my address!” I began to worry. We will only remain in this location for another month. What if the package doesn’t come? What if my dear friend goes to all the laborious love of buying and writing, paying the costly price for postage, dreaming of my joy ...and then it doesn’t show up in time? The mail here tends to be quite unpredictable. Sometimes it gets here in only two weeks. Other times, it can take a ridiculous six months. How to know? I began to feel a sick feeling in my tummy. What if I have to go home knowing that there is a gloriously special package for me somewhere in the tortoise-style mail system, waiting someone’s whim to send it to where I....was? 

After numerous hours of intermittently staring at this mental Trojan horse I decided I needed to talk to my friend. “It might not get here...it’s risky...I want you to know.” 

Her response picked up the Trojan horse and transformed it into a Statue of Liberty.

“Hi Hannah! I feel like I’m to take the risk. The package should be on its way as of this morning! And I really hope it gets to you in time. But if it doesn’t, we have the happy feeling of knowing that we risked, and we tried.”

I stood stunned as I soaked in the words of my friend. Liberated! Even if the package doesn’t get there in time, she said we actually can have the happy feeling of knowing that we risked, and we tried. I wonder how many times I live imprisoned to fear of failure and loss when I could be liberated to restfully risk and try? Too many times, I’m afraid, I labeled something as a failure instead of celebrating it as something worth risking for.

Esther decided to risk and try. I wish I could hear an audio recording, or better yet, see a video of Queen Esther sitting on, perhaps, a cushion-couch on an expensive Persian rug in the Shushan palace. I can only imagine what must have gone through her head as she processed what she was about to do. “I don’t know what the end result will be. But I do know that I don’t want to live ever after this week with the sad knowledge that I didn’t even try. Fear of failure and dying shall not keep me back from risking my life to save my race. No matter what happens, I will be OK, knowing that at least I risked; at least I tried. If I die, I just die.” Lord, give me the faith of Esther! The faith that enables me to trustingly risk, with YOU.

I remember distinctly one day when we were newly married and hiking in the Smoky Mountains. The rhododendron was bouncing in the slight breeze, and fragrant pine needles covered the incline of the dirt trail. We had only been hiking for fifteen minutes when we rounded the bend and were almost plowed over by a family of hikers who could've played Timorous and Mistrust in Pilgrim's Progress. "Watch out! There's a rattlesnake sitting in the middle of the pathway ahead!" "A big one!" "If I were you I would turn around!" And with that, they continued their hasty retreat back the trail we had just hiked. A shiver of terror flitted across my backbone as I looked up into my hubby's face, glad to be holding his hand. "What should we do?" I wondered breathlessly. Rattlesnake on the trail? Of course we shouldn't proceed! He was probably sitting there, just hideously waiting for someone to walk past so he could strike in pent up anger at who-knows-what. Yes, indeed, what a dangerous rattlesnake he must be! Stalwart man my husband is, he just looked straight ahead and said, "Let's continue our hike." "But Sweetheart, what if there is a rattlesnake and he is all angry and wanting to get someone...and how would you kill it, and what if it would bite one of us?" My husband said a quick prayer and looked at his wife. "I think we should keep hiking. That rattlesnake they saw was just as scared of them as they were of him. He is long gone into the shrubbery. I don't think we will see him. Are you willing to take my hand and let me lead you past the place where they saw the snake? I believe I can handle it if we do see a rattlesnake." Trembling and scared, the girl who had never before seen a real rattlesnake followed the man who grew up in Tennessee. We walked, and I must say, I didn't notice much of the rhododendrons for a while because I was intently searching for scaly coils along the path. Thirty minutes later, we arrived safely back at our little green car. "We didn't see any rattlesnakes!" I exulted. My husband smiled. He knew I had just gained an important experience and learned a big lesson: Trust me. I can lead you straight past something you fear, all the way back to the car. You risked, and you tried. You trusted, and you survived. Ah. Thank God for how my husband teaches me to trust Him. 

We can’t know yet what will happen with that anticipated package. We can't always know when we will be trusted to see the rattlesnakes and when we will be asked to bravely hike past their haunts, overcoming fear with trust. We can’t know yet what all will happen with this year. But I would like to have this mindset: by God’s grace, I will I take up the opportunities that come this year to follow my Lord at the sake of risk. I will risk for worthy causes, in trust. And even if I fail, at least I tried. Even if I see rattlesnakes, the God of the universe is holding my hand.

May this new year be a wonderful mix for you of both new and familiar as you walk with the Lord and seek to know Him more. May the risks you take be steps of faith and obedient trust. May He guide you safely past every rattlesnake. And may you receive many wonderful surprise “packages” of grace and joy along the way!

Mama

My daughter’s vocabulary is not very extensive yet, which may be partly caused by her discovery of one little all-purpose, miracle working word: “Mama”.

The meaning varies with the tone:

“Mama!” (said with an emphatic yet singsong voice, which starts at a high pitch and lowers on the second syllable.) This one can double in meaning as a way of calling the woman she is most attached to in the world, or as a way of saying, “Look at me, so I know I’m still important to you.” Conversely, if the tone rises on the second syllable, she’s likely to be communicating, “I’m so happy with you, dear mommy!”

“Mama.” -said in a matter-of-fact manner as she goes about her play. Can boast a plethora of meanings, including:

“This book is so nice!” 

“I’m making sure I still remember how to say your name.” 

“My sock is wet.” 

“I’m ready for you to find something else for me to do!” 

Usually it is a way of staying connected and sharing her every moment with me. 

“Ma-MA.” This one is said with the all the tonal emphasis a baby can express, which is poured out upon the last syllable. “Ma-MA” means, “I am feeling disturbed/frustrated/annoyed about something, and I’m so glad to know someone I can blame.” 

“Maaama!” This one sounds like the mournful cry of one of the cute tiny goat kids outside our house who got separated from his mother. This one often means “I’m unutterably tired!” It can also mean that she can’t get the zipper open on her little bag of toys, or that she can’t reach something or can’t get down off her chair. This one (and most of the others) are often accompanied by a pitter patter of baby feet on concrete as she hurries towards me with whatever’s on her heart.

I realized one day that it’s quite astonishing how much as a mother I can understand my daughter when all she says is my name. I can often sense whether or not she’s gloriously happy, intensely frustrated, utterly scared, wounded, or tired; all in one little call of my name.

Today I felt distressed. I had dozens of emotions stuck in my heart, and I couldn’t figure out how to get the lid off so they could escape. I wanted to pray, but I felt so stuck. My words seemed garbled and my attempts at communicating with the One Who Is the Answer to my needs seemed as insufficient as the first page of a dictionary. I tried to find better words, deeper words, respectful and proper words...And at the end of it all I saw my daughter running towards me, crying in her little baby voice, “Mama! Mama! Mama!”

With all the emotions of my heart weighing heavily in my eyes, I looked up from the scene before me and released my lips to call, “Papa! Abba! Daaady!”

And somehow...my mother-heart realized that He knew exactly what I meant. He felt my
emotions with me through my tone of voice, the look in my eyes, the tiredness of my heart. He saw right into my soul with that one simple word, and what He did inside me when I cried His name, I cannot explain.

One thing I know: when I cried my Abba Father’s name, He was right there. And I knew that He is all I need.

(I am in no way trying to say that I think it is good if our vocabulary in prayer never goes beyond our Father’s name; however, I think God is showing me how much He understands when His name is all we know how to say in the midst of our neediest moments in life.)

The Life She Dreams Of

It’s Thanksgiving Day, but strangely enough there is no nip in the air, no coats in the hall. There is no roasted turkey and no candlelit meal. There are no neighbors flying cornucopias of abundance on banners outside their front doors. In fact, none of them likely know that “Thanksgiving” is even a day. You see, I’m in Africa.

But midst seeing pictures from my dear friends and family who are enjoying celebrating together without me, my heart is not filled only with sadness at missing out on this holiday.

As I’ve been settling into our little concrete apartment, hanging curtains and unpacking totes, I’ve been thinking about how an ungrateful heart steals the life from me that I really wanted to live. My dream life is always out of reach when my arms are already filled with the cumbersome clutter of ingratitude.

So, irregardless of the fact that it is Thanksgiving Day (in fact, I quite forgot about it when the thoughts on gratitude originated yesterday), I am focusing my heart on thankful wonderings. 

I’m thinking...that no matter what things I am facing and no matter where I am, there is doubtless someone somewhere out there who is dreaming of living the life that I actually live.

Don’t you think? Now, I recognize that you may be thinking, “Okay, so you’re just trying to say the timeless ‘be thankful for your dinner because someone is hungry in Africa’ in different words.” I could be. But irregardless of that, why not stop to do a little imagining with me. 

Someone tonight is dreaming of having a marriage that works and a husband who loves her. 

Someone else is dreaming of having enough food to eat, while sitting in an empty room with an empty cupboard and an empty wallet. 

“She” dreams of having a child to love, just one, matter not if the child is sick or obnoxious. She dreams of having a warm place to sleep just like mine, while huddled under a piece of cardboard, a wet refugee tent, or a bridge. 

She dreams of having a family who supports and cares about her, in the midst of humdrum, crisis, shame or success. She dreams of working a job she enjoys, satisfied as she helps other people live better lives.

She dreams of knowing teamwork in marriage, experiencing the joy of pulsating together with the Spirit of God for a life worth living and dying for. 

She dreams of going to the grocery store and buying eggs, milk, cheese, and bread, and still having money left over for bananas. 

She dreams of having enough leisure time to read a book, or to sit and think without some sadist yelling at her to never stop working. 

She dreams of having just one beautiful, elegant dress to wear for special occasions. 

She dreams of knowing a God who will speak to her and hear her prayers. She dreams of being able to have a family to have devotions with each day. 

She dreams of living in another season which is not filled with so much pain, so much weeping, so much trauma or grief. 

She dreams of the ability to walk, simply stand up and walk, go to the sink and get a drink, go to the bathroom by themselves, go scoop that cute child up and twirl them around the room.

She dreams of the luxury of being able to read and write, a world she can only imagine, as she carries water or stirs pots of steaming food for people whose belief systems have kept her from entering that world of words.

The “she” in those sentences represents the dreams of millions of women just like me living on this same planet.

Most of us are living proof that the life we live does not come without lots of challenges. Yet, how wrong it would be to live the life so many are dreaming of, without cherishing this blessed chance. 

How tragic it would be if I would not spend this life of mine content and delighted, for I am blessed beyond conceivability. And even with its hardships, disappointments and struggles, this is the life I have dreamed of too.

Look around you. Do you see the life of someone’s dreams? Do you have enough food to eat? A place to call “home”? People to love? The ability to sleep at night? A 2018 without any personal tragedies or traumas? The chance to read? The ability to talk to and learn about Jesus Christ? 

Perhaps you do not right now have every last thing on that list, but stop to think of it: if your reality includes even one of them you are living out a life someone else is longing for.

Happy Thanksgiving Day, and may you truly bless the Lord with all that is within your soul today.

Which Risk?

I self-diagnose that I haven’t come down with the “lotto fever” like millions of other Americans, seeing I haven’t bought into its folly with even one hard-earned dollar; however, I still managed to hear about the Mega Millions Jackpot going on in the last month. Like many other people within the perimeters of this country and beyond, I am curious to know what will become of the [un?]-lucky individual from South Carolina who is said to have won the $1,540,000,000 prize a couple weeks ago.

Personally, I am not willing to risk winning millions in exchange for scores or hundreds of my husband’s dollar bills (not to put down those who do play the lottery, but I just don't think it's wise). I have heard and read History’s tale revealing that money gotten in such ways has a truly unearthly propensity of vanishing before the unlucky winner’s eyes, along with relationships and dignity. However, don’t be deceived. I am definitely into big rewards and am not deterred by the fact that the Rewards are generally holding hands with Risk.

I’ve been reliably informed that there are riches to be had in a distant country. They are available to any and all who are willing to attain them. There are equal chances for every soul with a place in the human race. These riches do not have any negative side-effects. They are resistant to every sort of calamity, being simultaneously fireproof, waterproof, and thief-proof. Worms and moths are not able to get a tooth into these treasures; neither can tornados, earthquakes, tsunamis, or other disasters destroy them. Moreover, once they are yours, reliable hands will stash them into a safe place out of reach of greedy thieves. Neither do jealous people have a chance to sneak off with any of your sparkling, dazzling treasures. These treasures are beyond imagination, quite frankly, and beyond compare with the kind of treasures you can find at our country’s sparkling malls and department stores. Incredibly, these treasures will be yours to keep after you’ve gone to the grave. The millions won by the South Carolinian recently will all disappear and be lost to them eventually. However, I’ve been reading about a way to get rich and keep it all forever and ever!

Photo by Ramiro Mendes on Unsplash

If you and I are smart, upon hearing news such as this we will be curious enough to ask, “What do I need to do to put some of this treasure to my name? Stand in a line? Pay some cash? Put my name in a draw? What’s the cost, and what’s the risk?” There is a way to get these treasures, but slow down, good American heart. Your ability to wait is essential in this quest.

Jesus tells us…

“Collect for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys, and where thieves don’t break in and steal.” Matthew 6:20, HCSB

So, the safest place for treasures is clearly in Heaven, and there are actually people with treasures collected in that country.

How do you put treasures Heaven? One way is to give what you have here to the poor. Check it out in not just one but these three places: Matthew 19:21, Mark 10:21, Luke 18:22

“Sell what you possess and give donations to the poor; provide yourselves with purses and handbags that do not grow old, an unfailing and inexhaustible treasure in the heavens, where no thief comes near and no moth destroys.” Luke 12:33 Amplified

In case you’re wondering, we are actually encouraged implored to secure money bags for ourselves that will not wear out, filled with inexhaustible riches, kept in the safest place you could dare to hope for.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately.

There was a man who was digging in a field and found treasure that would exceed all he could earn in several life times. Quietly, he finished his field work, surreptitiously went home, and decided to sell everything he had in order to buy that field. I think there was a bit of time in-between when he decided to do that and actually finished selling everything when he could’ve changed his mind. He could have looked at all his precious household things gathered around him, and become overwhelmed with sadness at his loss. He could have worried that his plan wouldn’t work. Or, perhaps he could’ve “slept over it” for a night and in the dawn of morning sunshine decided that he actually had all he wanted and needed and didn’t want to sell all that he could see around him for something he couldn’t see buried in a field.

However, he flicked all those silly notions from the periphery of his wise mind, as he sold every last thing he owned in order to have enough money to be able to buy that plot of dirt. And the treasure became his.

From time to time I have “seen” heavenly treasure with my eyes of faith, and years ago already I decided to sell all I have to gain so much more. Jesus promises that what we lose for His sake, He will repay one with one hundred, if I get my math right! (See if I’m correct: Mark 10:29-31) That is tremendous. Every so often, God enables my eyes of faith to see more clearly than normal, and every sacrifice I make for Him truly feels paltry and insignificant in light of my promised future. Sometimes, He gives me tiny tastes of the future, as He rewards me here on earth in ways tangible to my dim earthly eyes.

And then there’s that space of time where I haven’t seen the eternal rewards yet, and I’m still in the process of selling all I have, and what I see here and now feels pretty real and desirable. To the physical eyes, there is an immense risk in selling all for an eternal treasure you cannot see.

Here’s what I think: what you’re willing to risk for depends on what and who you believe and what perspective you have.

The other day one of my sisters told me an anecdote from a recent Bible School experience. Sarah Grace was standing at a coffee bar, preparing herself a cup of tea. As she used a miniature ladle to scoop some thick, sweet cream into her tea, a young man getting himself some coffee piped up beside her. “That cream just makes it so good, doesn’t it?” “Sure does,” Sarah Grace replied cheerily.

Photo by Trent Erwin on Unsplash

Then the fellow realized the drink she was dipping cream into was not coffee, but tea. “Oh, no,” he said. “Don’t ruin your tea!” “I’m not ruining it, I love cream in tea!” Sarah Grace rejoined good-naturedly. “No!” The fellow repeated. “I wouldn’t try it. One time, someone told me that honey in coffee is the best. I tried it; what a mistake. Ruined a perfectly good cup of coffee.” Giving his hot drink a stir, he walked off, leaving Sarah Grace with some interesting thoughts. “He didn’t want to take the risk of ruining a cup of tea by trying cream in it; whereas I think he is actually risking never discovering the luxury of cream in tea! It’s funny how what you’re willing to risk depends on which perspective you’re looking at it from.”

I think it’s like that with heavenly treasure. Which risk will we take? Will we risk losing our earthly treasures, our safety, our comfort and security and perhaps even our lives? Or will we risk losing eternal treasure we could’ve had that will never fade, get lost, stolen, or lose its shine?

When I’m thinking straight, it’s clear to see which risk is the more risky risk.

I might never have much money.

I might never have a “permanent” home.

I might spend a lot of time looking (or in the least feeling) like a misfit.

I might never be “in style”.

I might not have some fun things I would really like.

I might invest everything by faith in heavenly “stocks” I cannot see yet.

I might be a loser...in this world.

And I might gain ever so much more than this world has to offer.

In fact, may I take the “might” out of that sentence? Because I have chosen to trust the validity of the One who has earned my heart and my faith throughout His Word and the experiences of my life thus far. I SHALL gain ever so much more than this world has to offer.

What are you willing to risk for? Who are you willing to risk for? Don’t be duped into believing that you are smart enough not to take any crazy risks. You ARE risking something at every choice you make. If you choose to open your heart to love, for example, you take a risk at rejection, loss, and misunderstanding to name a few. However, trying to bypass those risks by shutting your heart to love is to risk loneliness, emptiness, and meaninglessness. You risk by buying into the ideology of the American dream. You risk by letting it all go for something Eternal.

In these days of transition while preparing to move to Ghana for three months, I have been pondering my choices in life and evaluating the things I’m risking for. Jesus said that those who lose their lives for Him will gain them again forever. And in the winding paths of my brain, the question is turning from, “Is it worth the risk?” to “Can it even be called a risk to give my all for a promised heavenly reward worth more than all I have to give?”

Risk makes perfect sense when you believe the character of the person who’s guaranteeing you the gain your risk will bring.