Connecting the Dots

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2009-03-09T08:50:00.000-07:00

Hi everyone:

It's been awhile since I've posted anything here -- two reasons:
* I was overseas without email access for a while. Now I'm catching up.
* I'm no longer at this site. My new blog is located at my website -- www.gracefox.com/blog.

Visit me there and feel free to post your comments!

Blessings on you and yours,
Grace

Is Christianity for Wimps?

2009-01-29T10:04:00.000-08:00

I remember the day an acquaintance told me, "Christianity is for wimps. It's a crutch for weak people." I can't think of a statement that's further from the truth!

Christianity is costly. It demands the courage to walk away from the world's siren call for physical comfort and financial security. It requires the willingness to face persecution for one's faith. It risks the rejection of family and friends.

This morning I read from Matthew 19:16-21 where someone asked Jesus what he must do to inherit eternal life. When Jesus told him he ought to sell his earthly belongings, give the money to the poor, and then follow Him, the man turned away. Following Jesus would have cost him financial insecurity and physical comfort, and he was neither ready nor willing to give those up.

I spent yesterday afternoon and evening with a young missionary couple who work in Romania. Their names are Andy and Tresha McKnight, and they minister to children and teenagers who have HIV/AIDS. They've given the past 10 years of their lives to helping these kids who are considered the lepers of modern society in their own country. The work has been physically and emotionally demanding as they've trusted the Lord for finances month after month, watching the cost of living escalate beyond their budget, being separated from their family for months or even years at a time, living in a land where medical care for their own two wee children is minimal at best.

Are they wimps? Au contraire! They're modern-day heroes in my books. They've counted the cost of following Jesus, and they're not looking back.

Those who are willing to count the cost are noticed by God Himself. He's got good things in store for them. Verse 29 says, "And everyone who has given up houses or brothers or sisters or father or mother or children or property, for my sake, will receive a hundred times as much in return and will have eternal life."

There's no possible way that Christianity is a religion for those who need a crutch. It's for those who are willing to count the cost, pay the price, and demonstrate the courage necessary to follow Jesus wherever He leads. And for those brave souls, a reward awaits!

Shepherd's Staff -- 2

2009-01-28T12:06:00.000-08:00

I just read the comment about yesterday's blog. For anyone not sure about what their "shepherd's staff" might be, I'd say, "Ask the Lord to show you." He wants your active participation in building His kingdom, so He would be delighted to show you how to partner with Him.

For mothers of little ones, their staff might be a child's toy. Their ministry is to their children, to pray for them and raise them as best they can to follow Jesus. Spending time with them, developing relationships with them...that's the task at hand.

For mothers with teenagers, the staff might be a steering wheel. Moms spend a lot of time driving their kids to and from extracurriculars, and some of the best conversations take place in the car. Again, building relationships with the kids is the most important task at hand during that season of life.

This is a great talking point. Send more comments and let's see where it goes!

Rest and Refreshment

2009-01-28T11:39:00.000-08:00

My schedule is ramping up as I prepare for Missions Fest Vancouver, Break Forth in Edmonton, and departure for Eastern Europe -- all happening within the next five days. And so, as I read Psalm 23 this morning, I latched onto verses 2-3. Written just for me, I believe!

"He lets me rest in green meadows; he leads me beside peaceful streams. He renews my strength."

Beautiful! I envision a grassy field dotted with weeping willows. A stream trickles through the scene, its shores lined with wild flowers in blues, yellows, pinks, and reds. And under the shade of one of those magnificent trees lies a lawn recliner. A little round table sits next to it, topped with a glass of ice-cold lemonade. Aaaahhhh...doesn't that just make you wanna take a deep breath and enjoy the moment? Wouldn't it be great to step from your back porch into this scenario every day?

Unfortunately, life's not like that. Things get busy. Kids cry. Husbands need attention. Houses need cleaning. Phones ring and computers bleep. You know how it goes.

When life gets a little crazy and we get tired, we can cling to the promise in these verses. Personally, I think my green meadow is my living room. Spending time with Jesus there each morning is where my soul finds refreshment. It's where I find my strength. The lawn recliner is actually my leather loveseat. I sip coffee rather than lemonade. The trickling stream is replaced by the gurgling fountain in the corner nearby.

There I sit with my Bible, my journal, and my Best Friend. And there I find rest.

A lot of people ask me how we can maintain the pace we have, especially without getting sick. I have no magical answer for that. I can only say that we spend time regularly with Jesus, and He gives us the strength for the tasks He's assigned. He renews our strength morning by morning.

If you're feeling rushed...maybe even frenzied...today, take a moment to breathe deeply. Sit down for five minutes with a cup of tea or coffee in hand. Sip slowly. Envision Jesus sitting beside you. Relish the moment, and let Him refresh your spirit and body.

What's Your Shepherd's Staff?

2009-01-27T07:32:00.000-08:00

It's snowing outside! The ground is already covered with a white blanket, and there's no sign of a let-up. My hubby has to be on the road today -- I'm praying for a safe trip. Roads turn into a sheet of ice quickly here in this type of weather. I'll hunker down and work all day in my office, thankful to be able to stay home.

This morning I read something that I'd read many times before but never really noticed. You know how Moses watched his father-in-law's flocks? His tool for that job was a shepherd's staff (Exod. 4:2). When God gave him the task of leading the Israelites out of Egypt, that staff took on new significance. Verse 20 says Moses took his wife and sons, put them on a donkey and headed back to Egypt. "In his hand he carried the staff of God."
Wow -- the simple shepherd's staff became the staff of God!

What would be the equivalent in my life? A pen, perhaps. For years I used a pen to write missionary newsletters and notes of encouragement to friends. Then one day, God gave me my writing assignment. Suddenly the pen became the very tool He chose to use. for an expanded ministry.

I love how God works. He can use whatever He wishes to accomplish His purposes through us. I have a friend who enjoys baking bread. That's the tool she uses to show love to others. Another friend makes pretty notecards. Someone else crochets dishcloths and gives them away as little gifts.

God wants to use us to build His kingdom, and He wants to use what's already in our hand. The simplest tool becomes "the staff of God" when we're willing to obey Him.

What's your staff?

Fear of Inadequacy

2009-01-26T08:32:00.000-08:00

I was in Dawson Creek, BC, for a women's conference over the weekend. Flew up there on Friday and was greeted with a blast of cold air (minus 39 degrees Celsius), but warm hearts and hospitality. Fifty precious women attended the meetings -- my prayer is that God will continue the good work He's begun in their hearts.

This morning, back in my little living room, I read about Moses' call to lead the Israelites out of Egypt. This is the exact passage from which I taught on Saturday morning in Dawson Creek. It so vividly illustrates the fear of inadequacy -- something many of us struggle with.

God had big plans for Moses and for His people. When He gave Moses his divine assignment, Moses' immediate reaction was, "Who, me? You've gotta be kidding. I can't do that." That was true. He couldn't do it. Imagine feeding and providing everything needed for about 3 1/2 million people!

The good news was -- God didn't expect him to do it on his own. He (God) had all the details already figured out. He just needed a man on the ground to do the job. He just wanted Moses to say 'yes' and He'd look after the rest.

I've struggled with the fear of inadequacy, too. The ironic thing is -- when I sensed God nudging me to write a book about the fears that women face, I argued with him for a year. I told Him that doing so was beyond my abilities...I couldn't possibly pull it off....yada yada. Sometimes I'm a little slow upstairs. It took me awhile to figure out that He was giving me an assignment that was too big for me so that I'd have to lean on Him to get it done. That way, I'd experience His sufficiency in a new and more intimate way.

How about you? Do you have a God-given dream in your heart? Have you sensed Him nudging you towards a specific assignment? How have you responded?

It's okay to admit your fear of inadequacy and your dependency upon Him to get the job done. In fact, that's a very healthy place to be. It's exactly where He wants us. When we are cast on Him to complete the task, we'll do it in His way and strength rather than our own. And that's the best way to get it done, right?

An "Aha" Moment

2009-01-22T15:02:00.000-08:00

Have you ever had an "aha" moment? You know, a time when something suddenly made sense...something that had perhaps puzzled you until then?

This morning I read about Joseph's "aha" moment and it brought tears to my eyes (Genesis 45:3-9). Imagine how he must have felt when he realized that God Himself had ordained his circumstances in order to fulfill His purposes!

About 20 years had passed since his brothers had thrown him into a pit and then sold him into slavery. Twenty years -- that's a long time to brood and plan revenge. Finally his chance comes to get even, but Joseph refuses to stoop so low. Recognizing God's sovereignty frees him from any hint of bitterness. It allows him to embrace his brothers and rejoice at being reunited with them.

I had an "aha" moment a couple years ago when I looked back over difficult circumstances and suddenly saw God's plan in action. When my husband and I were first married, we lived in Nepal where he worked as a civil engineer. We lived in a mud and rock hut with a thatch roof, no electricity, no running water, and no indoor plumbing. I struggled with isolation and loneliness, culture shock, and language learning. We had our first child while living there, and I had no older women to show me how to care for this new baby. When our second child was born with medical issues that required an immediate return to North America, I struggled with reverse culture shock.

Over the years, I often wondered why God asked us to go through what we did, only to bring us back to NA. And then came the "aha" moment.

Now we're the directors of International Messengers Canada, and one of our roles is to provide member care for our missionaries. At the first IM conference we attended, I was sharing this testimony with our missionary women in Eastern Europe when these words came from my mouth: "And so, ladies, when you struggle with language learning, I know how you feel. When you struggle with loneliness, I understand. When you go back to your countries and struggle with reverse culture shock, I get it!" That's when the light came on in my head. Aha!!

God had a plan. He was sovereign over every detail in our lives. He knew exactly what He was doing when He put us into that overseas situation and then took us back to NA. He was preparing us for a ministry that would begin more than 20 years later.

We don't always get to see God's plan -- in some instances, we'll have to wait until we reach heaven. But whether we experience an "aha" moment here on earth or beyond the pearly gates, we can rest in the knowledge that God has a plan and is in control. Let's allow Him to be God -- in that way, we can respond as Joseph did, free of bitterness and anger.

Need Strength?

2009-01-21T07:31:00.000-08:00

Today's reading in Psalms really blessed me. Right now I'm facing a work load that seems 'way too big to complete in the amount of time available before I leave the country again, and frankly, I see my inadequacy. And so, several verses popped off the page this morning.

Psalm 18:29 -- "In your strength I can crush an army; with my God I can scale any wall."
v. 32,33 -- "God arms me with strength; he has made my way safe. He makes me as surefooted as a deer, leading me safely along the mountain heights."
v. 34 -- "He prepares me for battle; he strengthens me to draw a bow of bronze."

When we are weak (and willing to admit it), He is strong. No matter what we're facing -- a heavy workload, the pain of prodigal kids, financial insecurity, health issues, whatever -- God is our strength. He enables us to face the demands of life and battles of the soul with victory. Nothing...nothing is beyond His ability. He is fully capable. And as we rest in Him, we are fully able.

Feeling versus Knowing

2009-01-20T07:46:00.001-08:00

Amen to the comment about yesterday's post! When Joseph was betrayed by his family and then thrown into prison for being lied about, I wonder how he felt. Did he feel like God was with him? Or did he have to choose to believe it?

Therein lies the challenge for real life, eh? Heaven help us from living life based on our feelings. Sheesh, we can get ourselves into a lot of trouble that way. And we can find ourselves in a pit of despair, too. The enemy just loves to mess with our minds, feeding us lies to discourage us when we're going through tough stuff. We have to fight back by filling our minds with God's truth and choosing to believe it.

When we live according to God's truth, we can overcome all the negatives that the enemy throws our way. And we can flourish in the midst of the challenges. Joseph's life proves that this is possible.

This morning I read more about Joseph's story. Genesis 41:52 says this: "Joseph named his second son Ephraim, for he said, 'God has made me fruitful in this land of my suffering.'" This really challenged me to think about my response to difficulties.

Could I say that God makes me fruitful in my suffering? Do good things result from my response to hard times? Or do I tend to curl up in a fetal position and wish the world would go away? Do I harbor bitterness? Do I whine about my circumstances and compare my lot to others who never seem to have problems?

I sure hope it's not the latter. I want to learn to embrace difficulties as opportunities to bear fruit, more fruit, and even MORE fruit!

How about you? If you have a story about how God produced fruit through suffering in your life, I'd love for you to tell us about it here.

The Same Lesson -- Take Two

2009-01-19T11:21:00.000-08:00

It's been a few days since I posted -- I've been out of town for ministry, and when that happens I don't always have internet access. This will be my greatest challenge when I travel throughout the next few weeks. I wish there was an easy answer to this one. Any suggestions out there?

This morning I read Genesis 39 and was blessed to bits by a phrase that popped up over and over. It's a simple phrase, one that was true about Jacob in the last post. Check it out:

v. 2 -- "The Lord was with Joseph..." (after being sold as a slave to Potiphar)
v. 3 -- "The Lord was with Joseph..."
v. 21 -- "But the Lord was with Joseph there, too..." (in prison after being falsely accused of raping his boss' wife)
v. 23 -- "The Lord was with him..."

Joseph's own siblings sold him into slavery. That must have been a little hard for the teenager to process. And being unjustly thrown into prison would have been another blow to the boy. And yet there's no doubt that God was sovereign in Joseph's life, ruling over the circumstances because He ultimately had a purpose far beyond human understanding.

I LOVE this story! Even when life is difficult, God is with us -- what a tremendous truth to remember and apply to our lives!

When the economy waffles and wavers, God is with us. When our kids get sick, God is with us. When our marriage goes through tough times, God is with us. When a phone call comes and brings bad news, God is with us. When God calls us to get involved in a ministry opportunity beyond our comfort zone, He is with us. What more do we need than God's promised presence? In that reality, we find comfort and hope and courage.

The Word "But" Makes All the Difference

2009-01-14T07:28:00.000-08:00

Have you ever noticed how the word but makes a massive difference in how a story ends?

Here are a few fictional examples:
* Megan was going to marry Jim but she changed her mind and married Bob instead.
* Leanna was planning to attend university immediately following high school, but she decided to travel overseas instead.
* Jill felt like spreading a juicy lie about the person who gossiped about her at the office but she chose not to.

This morning I read about Laban's continued deceit towards Jacob. A few chapters ago, he promised his daughter Rachel to Jacob as a wife, but on the wedding night he secretly delivered Leah instead. Later he cheated on a agreement about sheep and goats. He'd not paid fair wages to him even though Jacob had been a faithful employee for 20 years. Jacob had every reason to be ticked off.

One day he tells Rachel and Leah that it's time to leave Laban's territory. He explains his reason for this decision by reminding them of Laban's treachery, and then he says something very insightful: "But the God of my father has been with me" (Gen. 31:5). Even in the midst of being treated so unkindly, Jacob recognizes the sovereignty and presence of God in his life, and he is confident that everything will work out.

This is a great phrase to remember! It makes all the difference in the world. Here's an example:
* "My marriage is falling apart; I don't know what my future holds. But God is with me."
* "I was recently diagnosed with cancer and the thought of chemotherapy terrifies me. But God is with me."
* "My husband just lost his job and our finances are in trouble. But God is with us."

Our circumstances can look grim, but God is with us. The word but changes everything, doesn't it?

"God Moments"

2009-01-13T09:50:00.000-08:00

Have you ever had an experience you recognized as a "God moment?" You know, something extraordinary happens and you realize that only God could have orchestrated it. Or a little voice inside you prompts you to speak to someone behind you in the grocery checkout or seated beside you on a plane or bus, and when you obey, you find out, perhaps, that they've recently lost a loved one and needed your word of encouragement/hope.

I've had a few of those experiences. On a recent plane ride, my husband and I were assigned to the last row. A pretty gal in her early 30s sat by the window and I took the middle seat. She sat quietly, looking out the window as the plane taxied toward the runway and took off. Then she closed her eyes and rested for the hour-long flight.

When we landed, I felt a divine nudge to ask if she was coming home from a trip. "No," she replied. "I live out east. I'm here for my cousin's funeral. She was murdered last week."

My heart nearly stopped. "I'm so sorry," I said. My eyes filled with tears as she continued to tell me about the tragedy. As she spoke, I learned that she was a believer and was praying for an opportunity to share God's love and hope with her grieving aunt and uncle. I was able to speak a few words of encouragement to her before we went our separate ways.

Beyond a doubt, that was a "God moment."

I read this morning about Jacob's "God moment" (Genesis 28). He had a dream -- an extraordinary one, to be sure -- in which he saw a stairway to heaven with angels going up and down, and the Lord standing at the top. During that dream, God made several promises to Jacob. When Jacob woke up, he realized that something supernatural had happened. He said, "Surely the Lord is in this place, and I wasn't even aware of it."

I think Jacob's words reflect one of my greatest fears. Heaven forbid that I wake up to realize I've missed an opportunity to share His love with someone who's hurting, or I've missed hearing His message to me because I was too busy or too preoccupied with other things. May I never say, "Surely the Lord was in this place, and I wasn't even aware of it."

May God plant within us a super-sensitivity to His Spirit so we will be aware of His presence and divine nudges, and be willing to obey.

Rebekah the Cunning

2009-01-12T13:24:00.000-08:00

Rebekah may have been gorgeous on the outside, but her inside could have used a makeover. Genesis 27 reads like a soap opera as it tells the tale of her deceit.

First, she plays favorites with her son Jacob, convincing him to lie to his father to receive his brother's blessing. As if her own deceitfulness wasn't enough, she drags her boy into it, too. No "Mother of the Year" award for her!

When brother Esau discovers what's happened, he plots to kill Jacob. Someone catches wind of the plan and reports it to Rebekah, so she tells Jacob that he'd best leave town in a hurry. Rather than tell her husband Isaac the truth about all the trouble she's caused, she hints at Jacob's need to leave by saying he needs a wife, "I'm sick and tired of these Hittite women," she says. "I'd rather die than see Jacob marry one of them."

Goodness....this woman seems to have an issue with integrity. She has a cunning heart, one that's sly and sneaky. The result? Deceit, division, and disappointment within her family.

What a difference between Rebekah and the woman described in Proverbs 31! The heart of her husband trusts in her, and her children stand and bless her.

Rebekah stands on the left. Proverbs 31 lady stands on the right. Which one do I resemble? I hate to admit it, but without Christ in my life, I'm just like Rebekah -- sly and sneaky, trying to control things so they turn out the way I want them to. Playing favorites. Telling lies.

What's the secret to becoming more like Proverbs 31 lady, whose beauty is more than skin deep? Verse 30 says, "Charm is deceptive, and beauty does not last; but a woman who fears the LORD will be greatly praised."

There it is -- the fear of the Lord. Respecting Him, honoring Him, obeying Him, giving Him the reverence that He's due. Rebekah slipped up in that department, and her entire family paid the price. May God guard our hearts so true beauty -- His beauty -- shines from within and blesses those around us.

Abe's Attitude

2009-01-09T08:00:00.000-08:00

Abraham's life is soooo inspirational to me. He was nowhere near perfect, but his heart, overall, was bent on knowing God.

This morning as I read in Genesis 22, I saw two verses that I've not noticed before. That chapter is about Abraham's infamous test of obedience. He comes through that experience with flying colors. And then he hits a wall. Verse 20 says, "Soon after this, Abraham heard that Milcah, his brother Nahor's wife, had borne Nahor eight sons. Verse 24 says, "In addition to his eight sons from Milcah, Nahor had four other children from his concubine."

Why are these verses included? What's the point anyway? Here's my thought:

Abraham's life had not been an easy one. He'd trusted God when He told him to leave everything familiar and go to a strange country. He'd trusted God for a promised son even though it meant more than 20 years of waiting. He'd taken a detour when he slept with Hagar, and later felt the pain of sending her and Ishmael into the wilderness to keep peace with Sarah. Most recently, Abraham had just come through the most challenging experience of his life, when God asked him to be willing to sacrifice Isaac. His actions had proved his faith in God and marked a huge spiritual victory. And then comes verse 20.

"Soon after this, Abraham heard that Milcah , his brother Nahor's wife, had borne Nahor eight sons." Add the concubine's four kids, and the brother has 12 offspring.

How did Abraham feel when he heard that news? He'd been faithful to God, willing to obey to the nth degree, and yet he had only one son by Sarah. Nahor had eight sons by his his wife. I wonder if Abraham compared his situation with Nahor's and felt a twinge of jealousy. Maybe hearing this news, shortly after his spiritual high, bred some questions: "God, this isn't fair. I've done so much on Your behalf, and yet You've blessed my brother more than me. What's with that?"

It's common to hit a wall after a spiritual victory. Sometimes we hear of someone else's blessings and, with a twinge of jealousy, we compare our situation to theirs. Perhaps our faith journey has been more trying than theirs. It seems as though theirs is a stroll down Easy Street while ours is an ongoing trudge through Deep Valley. One glimpse at their situation tells us that they appear more blessed even though we've gone through tougher stuff. "What's with that? It's not fair, God."

Yes, I wonder how Abraham felt. Scripture doesn't tell us, but I have a hunch that he may have struggled a bit. After all, he was human like me and you. I can identify because I've struggled with comparison, too.

In the end, though, we have to trust that God knows what He's doing. He sees the big picture. He's just and righteous and makes no mistakes.

"God, please keep my (our) eyes on You. Make me aware if I begin comparing my situation with others. Give me a heart that rejoices when others are blessed, and help me trust You for every detail of my life. Amen."

Abe Prayed

2009-01-08T08:08:00.000-08:00

Back to Abraham and his relationship with God. Theirs was an intimate one as evidenced in their conversation about Sodom (Genesis 18) "God, You wouldn't destroy the city if You found 50 righteous men there, would You? After all, You're a just God."

"You're right," said God. "I'd save it for their sakes."

Abraham mustered his courage for round #2. "What if You found 45 righteous men?"

"I'd save the whole place for their sake," said God.

"Forty?"

"If I find 40 righteous men, I'll spare the city." And so went the conversation, back and forth, until God agreed to spare the entire city if He could find 10 righteous men.

Verse 27 contains a word that describes Abraham's approach. It's the word bold. The dictionary says this word means, "without fear; daring." Abraham was indeed daring in his prayers. I'm not convinced that he was without fear, however, because the passage sounds like he had to muster his courage before each request. Perhaps he was a little concerned that God might consider him a smart-alek for his approach. I think it was the opposite -- it looks like God rather enjoyed the banter, otherwise He might have ended the conversation in disgust. Regardless, Abraham conversed with God in a way that's possible only between friends.

This story encourages me in my prayer life. It shows me that God enjoys honest communication. He invites me to be daring in my requests and in my approach. That's reinforced in Hebrews 4:16 -- "Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need."

May we all enjoy such intimate relationship with God that our conversations with Him reflect deep friendship!

Chatter

2009-01-08T07:55:00.001-08:00

I'm back after a day away from my office. Spoke at a MOPS group yesterday morning -- had a great time talking with these younger women about how to face the new year with confidence. On a side note, I felt like I was in Grandma Heaven, with all those nursing babies and toddlers in the room. Then I dashed off to a hair appointment -- took a risk and had a few reddish highlights applied. Hmmm. Do I like the look, or don't I?? I returned home, hunkered down in my office to respond to business emails, and then spent the evening with a family of five that's considering volunteering with International Messengers this summer. It was a profitable day.

BTW, I've submitted two book proposals in the past month. I've spent up to 16 hours a day trying to get these done -- sitting in my lazyboy chair rather than at my desk! I discovered that my neck and upper back can withstand a lot more writing time in the chair with my feet up and my computer on my lap rather than sitting at my desk with feet down and elbows up.

The acquisitions committee will meet next Tuesday at Harvest House to select the projects they want to recommend to the publishing committee. That committee will meet on Thursday. If the Lord prompts you, would you please pray that God will direct their thoughts to align with His? I only want to write these books if that's what He wants me to do. Thanks!

Abe Believed God

2009-01-06T10:28:00.000-08:00

Abraham believed God's promise (Gen. 15:6). Do I demonstrate the same level of trust?

Take finances, for instance. How often have I heard God's promise to provide our needs according to His riches in Christ Jesus? And yet, how often have I felt afraid in money matters? The fear comes from my lack of understanding God's ability to provide, not from His inability to do so. Heaven knows He's more than able.

What about His ability to give me wisdom when I'm faced with decisions about the direction I'm to go? He's promised to direct my steps if I trust in Him (Prov. 3:5,6).

For every issue I face, there's a God-given promise. It's up to me whether or not I choose to believe that promise is true.

Abraham chose to believe, and God was pleased. I want to follow his example. I know it's not always easy, but it's always the best thing to do because God cannot lie. He's faithful. He will fulfill.

How about you? What God-given promise are you choosing to believe even though, humanly, the odds are stacked against you?

A Love Life Like No Other -- part 3

2009-01-05T08:05:00.000-08:00

No matter how busy our lives get, our obedience to God is of utmost importance. When He speaks, we must do what He says. The older I get, the more I realize how critical this is.

This morning I read the story of Abraham's obedience -- getting up and moving from the familiar into the unknown simply because God said so. I'll bet that wasn't easy. Actually, I know that wasn't easy for him....you see, we've done it a couple or three times ourselves. Despite the angst that often accompanies such a move, there's a strange sort of peace that goes with it when we recognize that God is the One giving the marching orders, and He's in control of every detail.

Yes, there are certain times when God demands our obedience in the big things. But He also expects obedience in the little things -- like telling the truth, being honest if the grocery clerk give us too much change, refusing to entertain lustful or critical thoughts, and so on. This kind of obedience is do-able no matter how busy our lives get. And it's critical to our spiritual health.

Any insights out there? How has obedience (or lack thereof) impacted your relationship to God?

A Love Life Like No Other -- part 2

2009-01-05T07:52:00.000-08:00

Back to the question of how to keep relationship with the Lord as top priority in the midst of a busy life...

Yesterday I mentioned being sensitive to the Lord's voice. In my case, I've been learning to listen to the message He's giving me through the praise songs that are in my mind when I wake up. Without fail, the lyrics focus my thoughts on Him and one or more of His attributes.

This morning as I prayed, several songs entered my mind, one after the other. Each one focused on the name of Jesus: "Jesus is the sweetest name I know...," "Jesus, Jesus, Jesus....there's just something about that name...," and "Jesus, name above all names, beautiful Savior, glorious Lord...." It was amazing, really, how one song ended and the next began without me consciously directing my thoughts.

It was such a sweet experience, and it reminded me that relationship with Jesus supersedes all else in importance. Jesus, Jesus, Jesus -- there's no other like Him. When that realtionship is in order, all else falls into place.

A Love Life Like No Other

2009-01-04T08:33:00.000-08:00

I think I'll stretch this topic over a few days because there's so much to it.

My friend Oce commented yesterday about the need to proceed into ministry opportunities with peace. I so agree. It's 'way too easy to assume that we need to accept every op that comes along, when in reality, that's not always the case. Also, we don't have to accept invitations immediately -- rather, we need to take time to listen to God's voice before saying yes. If we can do so with peace, then great! Move ahead. If there's an uneasiness, then say no. Sometimes "doing" ministry can actually get in the way of our relationship with the Lord, and proceeding without Him is a sure-fire way for that to happen.

Here's something that I've found interesting in the past week. I often wake up with a praise song running through my head. It never dawned on me until a few days ago that this could be the Lord Himself speaking to me, using the song as His instrument. Maybe I'm a bit slow to catch on. You see, He's ministered to me many times through music, but those times have always been when I've been awake. This is different - the songs are already playing in my head when I wake up.

This morning I woke to the Newsboys' "Amazing Love" -- aka "You are My King." Rather than brushing it off as simply a nice song, I considered it God's way of speaking to me. I made a cup of tea, took my Bible and journal to my favorite spot in my living room, and spent a few quiet moments savoring the message in the lyrics, "Amazing love, how can it be, that You my King should die for me?" What a great way to start my day, being reminded by God Himself that He loves me and wants relationship with me!

Now that I'm aware of Him speaking through these early morning songs, I make a point of being quiet so I can hear them and understand what He's trying to tell me.

How about you? Have you had a similar experience with a song?

What Matters Most?

2009-01-03T06:53:00.000-08:00

The beginning of a new year is a good time to ponder what really matters. Life gets so busy that it's easy to be distracted and miss the mark. That's not the way I want to live, and you probably feel the same way.

This morning I read about Enoch -- the guy lived to be 365 years old. Genesis 5 gives him more attention than the other fellows listed before him, but still, it says only two things: he had a son named Methuselah when he was 65 years old, and he had a vibrant relationship with God.

It's interesting that the last fact is mentioned not just once, but twice. Enoch had close fellowship with God (v.22) and he enjoyed a close relationship with God all his life (v. 24). Oh yeah, there's one more thing: he suddenly disappeared because God took him.

The Bible could have listed Enoch's accomplishments and adventures, but it doesn't. It simply stresses the fact that he enjoyed a close walk with God.

As I look into the upcoming months, I must admit that I feel a little anxious at times. The life of a writer/speaker isn't as glamorous as it may appear on the surface -- there's lots of behind-the-scenes hard work and sweat. And judging by what's on my plate, I'll be sweating more than a little. But the bottom line is this -- the quality of my walk with God.

That relationship must come first. That means carving out time for Him when I'm fresh and alert, not giving Him the leftovers when I'm too tired to recognize His voice. It means saying no to some activities so I'm available for what He wants me to do. It means being willing to do whatever He asks even if it seems illogical or too time-consuming at the moment. If that relationship is in order, the rest of my life will be in order, too.

I'm not going to live to be 365 years old like Enoch. I'll have 80 or 90 years on earth, maybe. What will people say about me when I'm gone? Will they say, "She had close fellowship with God?" I hope so.

Tomorrow I'll blog about how I maintain fellowship with God in the midst of a very busy ministry. I'd love to hear your thoughts -- struggles and secrets -- on this topic.

A Cover-up

2009-01-02T15:29:00.000-08:00

I read today in Genesis 3, where Adam and Eve sinned against God. Verse 7 stood out to me: "...they strung fig leaves together around their hips to cover themselves" after they'd eaten from the forbidden fruit.

Fig leaves around the hips, eh? I can almost see the couple cowering in an orchard, trying desperately to string the greenery before God shows up for their daily walk in the park. Their hands are shaking and sweat beads are forming on the foreheads. They know they've done wrong, and they know their actions have built a wall between themselves and God. And so they try to cover up, to pretend that everything's okay. Unfortunately, it doesn't work.

God walks onto the scene knowing full well what His kids had been up to. He speaks with them to make sure they understand the seriousness of disobeying Him, He levies the consequences for what they've done, and then...I love this part...He provides a cover-up for them.

Big difference between the first and second cover-ups!

The first is flimsy, inadequate, and manmade. The second is crafted by God's hands and covers the nakedness completely. More importantly, it's made from animal skins, which require a blood sacrifice. This cover-up is sufficient.

How many times do we sin, and then try to set things right on our own? We string fig leaves together -- using flimsy excuses to cover our tracks -- but our feeble attempts don't work. God knows what we've done, and, because He loves us and wants nothing to interfere with our fellowship with Him, He has provided the perfect cover-up for us.

Like the animal skins that covered Adam and Eve, this one covers us. It, too, required a blood sacrifice -- the blood of Jesus Christ. And it's sufficient. Nothing else is needed -- just our willingness to accept the gift of God's cover-up for us.

What an amazing proof of God's love for us!

The Secret to a Fruitful Life

2009-01-01T10:48:00.000-08:00

Thursday, January 1

As the new year dawns, I'm filled with a sense of anticipation about what God wants to do in and through my life in 2009. While I don't know the details, I'm confident that He wants me to enjoy a more intimate relationship with Him and to bear fruit that will last for eternity. And so, as I opened my Bible this morning, I asked God to bring this to pass.

Typically I use the One Year Bible in the New Living Translation for my devotions. This morning, I read Psalm 1, and its words seemed to leap off the page.

"Oh the joys of those who do not follow the advice of the wicked, or stand around with sinners, or join in with scoffers. But they delight in doing everything the Lord wants; day and night they think about his law. They are like trees planted along the riverbank, bearing fruit each season without fail. Their leaves never wither, and in all they do, they prosper." (vv. 2,3)

What's the secret to having a fruitful life? One of the major keys is obedience. When God has a plan and asks me to participate, I need to say yes. And I need to do so with delight.

I think of a teenager being asked by his mom to take out the trash. He can respond in either of two ways. He could whine and moan and complain -- "Aw, Mom, do I have to?" or he could say, "Sure, Mom. No problem. I'll get right to it" and obey cheerfully. Which response brings greatest joy to his mother? The latter, of course.

And so it is with God's children. When He gives us a task, we need to say yes with a cheerful heart -- even if we don't understand why He's asking us to do a certain thing. By doing so, we show Him respect. We demonstrate our love for Him, and He is pleased.

The other key, I believe, is filling our minds with God's Word. When we do that, we begin thinking His thoughts and valuing the same things He values. That will transform our behavior, and that will impact the world around us for Jesus Christ.

The natural result of living life with God's values in mind is fruitful living. It's not something we have strive for, it just happens when we're walking in obedience to His will and thinking His thoughts.

That's the kind of life I want! How about you?

"Lord, grant us hearts that take delight in obeying You even if Your directives seem difficult or hard to understand. Give us the strength to train our minds on You so that we will begin to think as You do. And give us the privilege of bearing fruit without fail. We love you. Amen."

Welcome to my new blog

2009-01-01T10:32:00.001-08:00

Here I sit on New Year's Day. The snow is falling outside -- it's the kind of day that makes me want to hunker inside. And so, that's what I'll do!

A couple of months ago I felt as though the Lord was nudging me to start blogging regularly. Granted, I've done it for my travels, but this one would be for a different purpose. I sensed Him telling me to use it for journaling my spiritual journey. To share what I read in my devotions. To pass along inspirational quotes and nuggets from the books I read. To make it a tool for others to use for encouragement in their own spiritual journey. To use it to help others connect the dots between God's Word and real life.

And so, I agreed. I'll admit I feel a little anxious about blogging regularly. What if I have trouble keeping it up? But I go back to the fact that, if God is nudging me to do this, He'll enable me to get it done.

Join me in this venture! I'll share my heart with you, and I invite you to do the same by sending your comments. I look forward to hearing from you.

The blog will be located at this site for a short while as my website undergoes a facelift. When that task is complete, the blog will move there for easier access. I'll let you know when that happens.

Happy New Year!

Friday, March 28

2008-03-31T14:57:00.000-07:00

Up at 2:30 a.m., in a taxi by 4:00, on a plane by 4:45, and the 26-hour trip home was underway. From Kosice to Vienna was a little more than one hour. Easy. Then came a five hour layover. I found a plug-in behind a pay phone, sat myself down on the granite floor, pulled out my laptop, and wrote our family’s next newsletter. Oh my. Getting up two hours later was a challenge for this stiff old granny. But, hey! I got the newsletter done. Wahoo!!

The next leg of the journey was an 8 ½ hour jaunt across the Atlantic. The airline on which I traveled may as well be nicknamed “Sardine Airlines” for the amount (or lack thereof) of leg room. But guess what? I had no seat partner for this entire trip. That meant I could stretch out a little bit. When that happens on long trips like this, I consider it a real treat.

The plane landed in Toronto and suddenly I was surrounded by English speakers, English signs, English everything. After being away for a month, my brain had a wee bit of readjusting to do. Another three hours passed, but they were quick because I had to claim my suitcases and take them through customs before transferring to my next flight.

By this time, I was running on sheer adrenalin at the thought of getting home. My brain was starting to go into a fog so, when I found another plug-in, I did some work that took no thinking power. With about 9,000 emails in my “delete” box waiting to be permanently deleted, I figured this was a good time to start.

Have your legs ever felt crawly? That’s how mine felt for the 5-hour flight to Vancouver. They’d had enough sitting. They were now ready to get up and get moving, but that’s easier said than done while flying at 40,000 feet. Oh well – thank goodness for pressure socks and the ability to walk an aisle to the bathroom!

My son and his wife picked me up in Vancouver. The best part about coming home was seeing my grandbaby, Anna. She’d turned three months old and had changed a fair bit since I left. Poor little thing – while sitting in the car on the way home, she studied my face for a long time and then burst into tears and a pitiful, scared cry. Do I look that bad after traveling for so many hours? Or has Grandma been gone too long? I’m afraid it’s the latter. Well, maybe not. Maybe it’s the former, too.

“Thank You, Father, for the safe trip. Thank You for all the experiences You gave, and for Your wonderful presence over the past month. Continue the good work You began in women’s lives in Europe through the conferences there. And now, Lord, once again give me words to speak to women in North America. And may they capture the vision of how they can participate in building Your kingdom overseas, too. Amen.”

March 25-27

2008-03-31T13:17:00.000-07:00

Early Tuesday morning we drove 40 minutes to Arad and boarded the train for a Hungarian destination. This would be a break – a welcome reprieve for us after a very busy month. Time to stop. Time to rest and be refreshed. Time to simply “be.”

We stayed at a hotel in the mountains. A quiet village lay below. Its cobblestone streets beckoned us to stroll and we accepted the invitation. The crisp air, spring songbirds, and gurgling stream tickled our senses. We drank cappuccino and Cokes in a tiny restaurant decorated with red-and-white checkered tablecloths. We ate dinner in another local restaurant and shook our heads when we realized that, as foreigners, we’d been ripped off when we paid the bill. Live and learn.

We stayed less than 48 hours, but we left feeling recharged and ready for the next month of ministry commitments. A cab delivered us to the train station, and off we went to Kosice.

Monday, March 24

2008-03-31T13:14:00.000-07:00

Gene and I spent more time with Tresha and Andy today (The Joshua Project). They’re a tremendous couple loaded with passion about the work God has called them to do. It will be a privilege to raise awareness of their work when I return to Canada. Later in the day we met with Laura V., another IM coworker. She’s a Romanian gal whose passion is connecting with people through teaching English as a second language. The evening was spent with Doug and Roberta – the couple who founded River of Life. Wow – God has an amazing array of servants. Each one is so special and uniquely prepared for the work He’s given them.

Shortly after returning to River of Life, I was able to spend time with a couple of the women there. Donna had said very little to me during the previous days, but now she was the only woman in the room and took advantage of it. She motioned for me to sit on the couch beside her, and then, in very broken English, asked why I had to leave. Our conversation was interrupted repeatedly by children wanting one thing or another so it didn’t result in anything deep, but it was a good time of building a relationship with her. It reminded me of the importance of “being” rather than always “doing.”

Lavinia joined us a few minutes into the conversation. She, too, asked why I had to leave. I tried to explain that I have work to do in Canada, and both women accepted that with a slight nod. Before our time together ended, I told the women that I’d be praying for them. Lavinia’s eyes filled with tears and she said, “Pray I change.” She pointed towards her two-year-old daughter who was playing on the floor nearby. I knew what she meant. As a woman who grew up in the infamous orphanage setting, she didn’t receive proper nurturing. Now she’s finding it a huge challenge to parent her daughter in a healthy way. Tears rolled down her cheeks as I explained that God will help her change as she relies on Him for strength.

“Father, embrace these women and impress upon their hearts that You love them deeply. Change them from the inside out. Transform them into women who reflect the character of Jesus Christ and the fruit of the Spirit. In Your name, Amen.”

Sunday, March 23

2008-03-27T14:02:00.000-07:00

Our family is celebrating Easter back home today, but Gene and I will miss it completely this year. Romania is mostly Orthodox, and the Orthodox religion celebrates it a month later than the rest of the world this year. So, although we attended a church service today, it wasn’t Easter.

Last year we were in India for Easter. I wonder where we’ll be next year? Maybe at home, celebrating with our kids and grandbaby??? I can always hope.

Today’s highlight happened immediately after breakfast. Breakfast, by the way, is usually a thinly sliced cold meat (today’s variety was salami), cheese, and bread. We can make an open-faced sandwich with the meat and cheese, or eat the bread with jam. Items such as fruit, yogurt, and eggs are very costly here so they’re not a part of the menu.

Back to today’s highlight…Lavinia washed her hair last night and asked me to curl it again this morning. I encouraged her to try it herself. Her eyes grew wide. “Go ahead,” I said. “You can do it.” She took the curling iron and made an honest attempt. When it didn’t turn out as she’d hoped, she gave it back to me. “You,” she said.
Grace and Lavinia

Lavinia’s hair is very thick so it took about a half hour to get the job done. When I added a touch of hairspray, her eyes grew wide again. “What that?” she asked. She smiled approvingly when I told her that it would help hold the curls.

As I fussed with my new friend’s hair, I thought it would be nice to sing a song about the Lord. I chose “Jesus Loves Me.” Lavinia immediately joined in, singing in English. When we finished that one, I sung “My God is so big, so strong and so mighty, there’s nothing my God cannot do…” Again, she joined me. This time I noticed that her voice was soft and pleasant-sounding. And before I knew it, she was singing in harmony. Beautiful. Sweet. A song of praise coming from a woman who has known extreme hardship such as I’ll never know. A song of joy coming from a new believer dearly loved by Jesus.

Gratitude for this moment suddenly overwhelmed me and choked my words. As I listened to Lavinia finish the song, I sat in wonder at having the opportunity to meet her and the others, to share a few words of encouragement with them yesterday, to hold their children on my lap, to be a part of their lives for a few days. I feel blessed beyond measure to be in this place at this time. And I feel the weight of responsibility, for now it’s my task to communicate the needs to others back in Canada so they, too, might consider God’s call to get involved in caring for the poor.

Gene and adoring fan Andre
“God, in six days my feet will touch North American soil once again. I’ll enjoy reliable hot showers, easy phone and email access, nicely paved roads, electric heat in my house. I’ll fall back into a demanding speaking schedule and the business that goes along with it. I fear forgetting all I’ve seen and experienced on this trip. Please don’t let that happen. Instead, burn these memories deep within my heart and memory and make me an effective mouthpiece for You back in Canada, Lord. Take my words and use them to motivate Your people to wholly follow You regardless of the cost to personal comfort and convenience. In Jesus’ name, I pray. Amen.” Village scenes around River of Life

Village scenes around River of Life

Village scenes around River of Life

Village scenes around River of Life

Saturday, March 22

2008-03-27T13:52:00.000-07:00

River of Life care home

Today I found a way to connect with the Romanian women living at River of Life by offering to either braid or curl their hair. One gal, 23-year-old Lavinia, eagerly agreed so I spent the next 10 or 15 minutes French braiding her shoulder-length hair. Within a few minutes, however, she undid it.
The beauty shop in full swing.

“What’s wrong?” I asked her. “Why did you take out the braid?”

“I no like,” she said in her low, gravelly voice. “I want you curl it.”

“Okay, then,” I said. “But you’ll have to wait your turn.”

“Okay,” she said.

And so I turned my attention and curling iron onto a 12-year-old girl. Lavinia waited patiently, jumping up several times to chase her cute-as-a-button daughter Ema, age 2. Rosie, a pregnant mother with two elementary-age daughters shyly motioned that she wanted a French braid, too. And then her youngest child tiptoed my way wearing a sweet smile and a hopeful expression. And so the beauty shop kicked into full swing. Beside us, three of the youngest children lined up their little chairs and sat in a row playing their own version of beauty shop. It was a fun time for all.

The Saturday afternoon ladies’ meeting.

After lunch the women gathered around a long table for a cup of coffee and a meeting. Several village women, local believers, joined us. I presented a simple version of one of my speaking topics – “Overcoming the Pain and Shame of One’s Past.” When I think of these women’s pasts and the heartache they’ve endured, I wonder how they’ve even lived this long. Sexually and physically abused, homeless, growing up in hell-hole orphanages, these women are testimonies of a human’s ability to survive against incredible odds. Their lives carry scars – one seems skittish at times, as though she expects someone to hit her. Their critical thinking skills are challenged. Their parenting skills need a lot of encouragement.

Quite frankly, I feel as though handing them Scriptural platitudes is like a slap in the face. Christian lingo has neither place nor useful purpose. These gals need practical help and to be loved as Christ would love them. And that’s what they’re finding here. They’re the widows described in Scripture – abandoned and rejected. They’re the widows for whom Christ’s followers are commanded to care. How many more widows are out there? How many people are willing to go and lend a helping hand?
Gene checking Tante Maria’s blood pressure. She’s a Christian neighbor who came for the ladies’ meeting.

The harvest is plentiful but the laborers are few. “God, shake us from our comfy pews and teach us to value what You value. Plant within our hearts a passion for what You say is important.”

Friday, March 21

2008-03-27T13:37:00.000-07:00

Gene and I spent part of today driving to and from a village with two of our IM missionaries. There’s a single middle-aged pastor out there, serving in this village of about 200 people. He invited us into his humble home. It had three rooms – one was quite new and nicely furnished for meetings but unheated and therefore useable only in the summer.

A dedicated pastor in his modest home. This room is his office, his living room, and his bedroom.

It had a kitchen about three feet by five feet with a teeny hot plate and tiny fridge. His oven was about a foot square and made of cast iron. The other room was his bedroom and living room combined, heated by an old woodstove. He had a table, two chairs, a TV on a stand, and a small two-tier bookshelf. His library of pastoral resources consisted of about 15 books. His Bible was open on his desk; I got the immediate sense that he is a very godly and committed man.

Two rows of houses faced each other. A grassy field and a little (unfortunately, polluted) creek separated them. Chickens, turkeys, and horses wandered around. What a beautiful scene!
One view of the village we visited.

There’s a handful of believers out here who meet regularly in a house that’s been converted to a church.

The church in the little Romanian village.

Across the way in visible sight looms a fancy Orthodox church building. Quite a contrast between the two structures, and between the two faiths. One is based on religion; the other is based on relationship.

Transportation in the Village

We’re staying at River of Life – a crisis care home founded and operated by IM missionaries Doug and Roberta Moore. Presently, the home provides shelter for four women and their six children. Two of these women spent their childhood years in orphanages. Their voice boxes are permanently damaged from screaming as babies left unattended in their cribs, sometimes fed intravenously rather than by bottles just because the orphanages were understaffed and overworked. All four have difficulty reading and lack understanding re: how to interact with their children because they had no proper nurturing themselves. Here they perform daily chores and are encouraged to develop work skills and pursue their education so they can someday become self-sufficient. A fulltime Romanian Christian social worker helps them move in that direction.

As North Americans, I don’t know if we fully realize how fortunate we are. Even though our government assistance programs aren’t perfect, they far outshine what’s available here. Without programs like The Joshua Project and River of Life, these teens and women/children would be on the street and doomed to die without a shred of hope or of knowing what it means to be loved and respected.

Thursday, March 21, 2008

2008-03-27T12:31:00.000-07:00

Andy and Tresha, another IM couple, picked us up and drove us nearly three hours to their place of ministry. Together with Claudia and Tony, a Romanian IM couple, they run The Joshua Project – a care center for teens with HIV/AIDS. This ministry enables these young people to enjoy life and introduces them to Christ by loving them as He would. I don’t think my life will ever be the same.

The care center – a remodeled house – operates like a drop-in facility three afternoons each week. Twelve teenagers showed up today. In some cases, they travel up to three hours by bus to spend a few hours at the center. These kids are hungry for love and acceptance.
Our IM coworkers with a few of the teens who participate in The Joshua Project.
Tresha explained that the stigma of HIV/AIDS in Romania is huge, mostly due to a lack of education. People are extremely fearful and uninformed about how it’s transmitted, so they handle those who are ill like modern-day lepers. For example, sometimes parents leave their small sick children on a garbage heap. School-age children are not allowed to attend school or work. Some receive treatment through donations from other countries, but most don’t receive necessary medications because of financial constraints. When they die, the government typically buries them as paupers in unmarked graves. That is, unless they’ve been a part of The Joshua Project. “They’re forgotten in life,” says Tresha. “I won’t allow them to be forgotten in death, too.”

The disease is spreading rapidly in Romania. Years ago, children were vaccinated using the same needles. Some of these kids had been infected with HIV by their mothers at birth, or had received bad blood transfusions in the past, but no one knew they were now carrying the deadly virus. Sometimes women receive infected blood during surgery and they unknowingly spread the virus to their husbands. Men contract it as a result of having sex with prostitutes.

The method of contamination varies, but the result is the same. People become ill and eventually die. But in the meantime, this project is determined to help these teenagers live life to the full. Today, Claudia, a professional counselor, led them in a painting project. Bowls of popcorn, peanuts, and Snickers bars were devoured. Gene shared a devotional about God wanting to be our best friend through life’s ups and downs, rather than being a distant God who sits far off in the heavens oblivious to what’s happening in our lives. Then Tresha and Claudia invited whoever wanted to pray with them or us as we stood at one end of the room. Eleven teens rose to their feet and came to us. What a precious time of prayer and singing together.

As the afternoon passed, the kids warmed up to us. They challenged us to play ping-pong with them, and they enjoyed my taking pictures of them. When five o’clock rolled around and it was time to go home, they stood in line to hug us and have their pictures taken with us. Then they hung around the foyer not wanting to leave. They asked if we will return someday. Our answer was, “Yes. We’ll come to your teen camp in September.” How could we say anything else? These precious young people, rejected by society for a disease they carry due to circumstances beyond their control, need Jesus. The only way they’ll find Him is through His people showing them His love. We want to be a part of this.

Wednesday, March 19

2008-03-27T12:29:00.000-07:00

This was a l-o-n-g day, and one filled with adventure. We caught a city bus bound for the train station in Kosice at 5:30, and boarded a train shortly after 6 o’clock. We arrived a half hour late in Budapest, Hungary, so we missed our connection. That meant waiting another couple hours for the next train. No problem. We just walked down the street, got some cash from a bank machine, and went to a little restaurant for a hot lunch to kill time.

The next ride was about five hours long. Oh my, it was HOT in that berth. There were five people in a six-person berth with luggage at our knees. A college girl sat facing me – we were by the windows, which also is by the heat register, which is controlled by the engineers. She and I were roasting but when we tried to open the window to get some cool air, the lady by the door let us know that she didn’t want that. She had a big sweater that she could have put on to stay warm if she got too chilly but that wasn’t her way of doing things. And so we sweltered until she got off.

An hour later we arrived at the Hungarian border crossing into Romania. Hungarian police officers boarded the train to check everyone’s identification. Apparently there was a problem with Gene’s passport. The police, who spoke no English, motioned for us to take our suitcases and said something like, “Go policia.” We tried to ask a few questions about what was happening but it was no use. They had our passports and were not about to give them back. We finally had to just get off the train and walk to the nearby police station. Seven uniformed officers walked with us. They were all very nice, but I admit that my imagination began to go a little crazy. Were we being led to a small room with a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling? Were we about to be interrogated? Maybe even spend the night in a Hungarian jail?

When we got to the station, they told us to go into a (you guessed it) little room and sit down. And then they started questioning Gene about when he entered the Shenghan (sp?) zone – the term used for a region in Europe where there are no longer border crossings between countries. He kept telling them that he came into Kosice on Monday, two days ago. They were not satisfied. They asked more and more questions about his travels and asked why he didn’t have a stamp in his passport to show when he entered the zone. He said that the customs official in Kosice stamped his passport when he entered Slovakia, but that wasn’t the answer they wanted. Finally they asked for his airline tickets (he had his boarding passes and tickets), and his train tickets for today’s travels. They took both our passports along with the other info and disappeared. They left one officer with us – he spoke English fairly well.

We think he took this opportunity to practice his English. He asked about our children, seemed surprised that we would have a grandchild, asked about our job, etc. Then he asked if we celebrate Easter in Canada. We said yes. I said that that Good Friday celebrates the death of Christ and Easter Sunday celebrates His resurrection. He nodded with enthusiasm and said, “Yes, yes!” I asked him if he has read the Bible and he said that he has one at home. I told him that my father died two weeks ago and that because of what Jesus did, only his body is in the grave. His soul is in heaven with Jesus. He listened quietly and then said, “This is wonderful.”

We spent about two hours with this fellow. During this time he mentioned the Jewish people several times, especially in the context of their suffering in concentration camps. After we get home, we’ll try to find him a copy of Corrie ten Boom’s book The Hiding Place and mail it to him. Before we left, I gave him two granola bars for his children (he’d shown us a photo of his two little ones and his wife). He quickly slipped them into his pants pocket and thanked us.

When our documents were finally returned, he helped carry our bags to the nearby train station where I passed out chocolate to three people who were also waiting. Seeing their pleased reaction to the unexpected treat was more fun than throwing a party. Another hour and a half passed, and suddenly our new friend showed up. “Come with me,” he said. He grabbed one of our suitcases and escorted us outside to the platform. When the train pulled in, he walked us onto it. He shook our hands and asked us to write a postcard when we get home, telling him that we arrived safely.

What in the world was that about??? Only God knows, but I have a feeling it was more about our friend than about a passport. His daughter’s name is Esther – a Jewish name. We talked about how it’s a Bible name for a very brave queen. “She saved an entire nation,” he said. When he told us that his wife’s name is Elizabeth, I explained that she was the mother of John in the Bible. He looked blank. He said that he didn’t know who this John was because he hasn’t read his Bible much.

Perhaps his appetite was stirred to read the Book as a result of our visit with him. At any rate, we have a contact in Hungary in whose heart we believe God is working. Pray that he’ll read the Bible and come to a knowledge of the truth!

Tuesday, March 18

2008-03-27T12:27:00.000-07:00

The whole situation felt surreal as Gene and I sat on the couch in Diane’s living room, watching the video of family and friends celebrating my dad’s life. I think the enormity of what I’d missed suddenly struck me as I watched the pallbearers carry Dad’s casket from the hearse to the gravesite. Four chairs were placed beside the casket – one for Mom, one for my brother, another for my sister, and the fourth for me. Three chairs were filled and one sat empty…until my sister invited Gene to take my place. One by one, each immediately family member stepped to the casket, spoke a few words in Dad’s honor, and placed a carnation on the top. Unfortunately their voices weren’t picked up by the mic, so I wasn’t able to hear what they said.

Thankfully that wasn’t a problem for the memorial service. I could hear every word that was spoken, and they were totally God-honoring. The service paid tribute to Dad and gave glory to the Lord for a life well-lived. While I grieve the loss of my dad, I rejoice in the fact that he’s whole and in heaven. I can only imagine what an Easter celebration must be like there!

The rest of the day was spent with our IM coworkers. I’m so blessed by their concern for me through the loss of my father. And I’m incredibly blessed and excited to see how God uses these people to accomplish His purposes. Their perseverance is to be commended. Working conditions here aren’t what they’d be in North America. Bureaucracy and political red tape can complicate the simplest task. Internet disruptions can cause all kinds of trouble when trying to process overseas government documents. Public transportation glitches can wreak havoc when running late. There are numerous reasons for them to grow discouraged and weary, but these folks have the tough stuff it takes to survive and thrive here. “Bless them, Lord. Grant them strength for their road. Direct their steps. And lead them beside the still waters, restoring their souls when they’re weary.”

Monday, March 17

2008-03-22T09:56:00.000-07:00

This was our last travel day for this speaking tour. I’m amazed at the stamina I’ve had, especially considering the emotional load I’ve had to process at the same time. All I can say is, “God is good.” I’m so thankful for Diane’s companionship over the past 12 days, and for the many people back home who have been praying for me. Therein lies the reason for this trip’s success.

This morning Diane and I took a four-hour train ride to Cracow where our IM friend Iwona met us at the station for our one-hour layover. Bless her heart! “I’m caring for the strangers in my land,” she said with a smile. Then she directed us to a snack shop equipped with small tables and chairs and proceeded to unpack a roast chicken lunch for us. She has been such a source of joy to us on this trip. I look forward to deepening my friendship with her over time, despite the distance.

The most incredible thing happened when we boarded the train to continue our journey to Kosice, Slovakia. Out of nowhere appeared the same little man who’d helped us with our luggage in the Cracow station nine days prior! I didn’t even see him coming. Suddenly, there he was, picking up my suitcases and carrying them onto the train for me. He hoisted them onto the luggage rack overhead, just as he did before. (I’m sure they were nearly half his weight). Diane paid him, and he gently took her hand and kissed the back of it. Then he turned to me. Without even a glance at my face, he gently took my right hand and planted a feather-light kiss on the back of it. And then he was gone.

Amidst numerous platforms and levels in the train station, his finding us a second time was nothing short of miraculous. Diane and I like to think he was an angel sent to help us with our heavy bags, a kindness sent to remind us that our heavenly Father was watching over us.

Gene flew into Kosice this afternoon. After two weeks apart, it was great to see him again. He brought the video of my dad’s funeral, he said. Tomorrow I’ll watch it and enter a new leg of this emotional journey – one I’ve not traveled before.

Sunday, March 16

2008-03-20T20:00:00.000-07:00

Today would have been my dad’s 84^th birthday. I sent him a birthday card early just in case he didn’t reach this day, but Mom told me that he wasn’t opening his eyes anymore by the time it reached him. “Sadness,” my friend Diane would say. He’s not here this year, but he’s enjoying a party that far outshines anything we could have dreamt up.

Today we attended a Polish church service with another IM couple. This city has 80,000 people and only 100 believers between two Protestant congregations. On the way to church, we drove past a massive Catholic cemetery approximately the size of a city block. Grave upon grave upon grave. The majority were covered with marble and decorated with flowers and candles. Across the street was an open market with sellers and their wares – grave candles and floral arrangements. Again, as Diane would say, “Sadness.” One thing I noticed was that no one seems to smile here. There’s a sense of heaviness in this place, as in many other places.

The evening sessions were well received by the women at the sponsoring church. One little lady reminded me of my grandmother. We tried to communicate but it was difficult without my knowing any Polish words and her knowing only a handful of English. What a delightful woman she was, though. More goodbyes, more kisses, and more prayers for God to build His kingdom in this place.

Saturday, March 15

2008-03-20T19:58:00.000-07:00

The Radom conference began at 10 a.m. Four college-age women formed the worship team, singing the Polish version of familiar songs such as “Come, Now is the Time to Worship.” It’s amazing, really, the international family of God. He has adopted children of every culture and language. We might not be able to understand our brothers’ and sisters’ words while on earth but there are no communication barriers when we praise our Father together.

The day consisted of two sessions. After the first ended, one woman approached me and said, “I’m a scientist in the process of writing a book. I know exactly what you mean when you speak of the fear of inadequacy.” She explained that the task of writing this book stands before her like a mountain. She said that after hearing me telling about the fears I faced before writing Moving From Fear to Freedom, she knew she could proceed and trust the Lord to equip her for the job just as He had equipped me. Praise the Lord!

Others spoke to me after the last session, grateful for the perspective they’d received and excited about putting into practice the truths they’d learned. Goodbyes were said. Kisses were exchanged. And once again my heart rejoiced in the privilege of meeting these Polish sisters and being used as a channel of God’s blessings. This city has approximately 300,000 people and only 200 believers. I pray that the Lord will use this afternoon to help build His kingdom in this place.

The conference over, Diane and I hopped on a bus and headed for the next stop.

Friday, March 14

2008-03-20T19:54:00.000-07:00

Another travel day. Jagoda, our Polish bubble, picked us up and delivered us to the train station. “Come back soon,” she said. “We can put you to work for a whole month speaking for our groups in Poland.” The train rolled in, and true to European fashion, stayed for only one minute. We barely had time to say our goodbyes before the whistle blew and we were off.

The instant we climbed on board, we were greeted by Anya, another IM friend. She’d translated for me when I was in Poland last September, and she was to be my translator for the women’s meeting in Radom, our next destination. What a joy to see her again. She’s in her mid 20s, attending university in Warsaw to develop her talent as an artist. Her passion for the Lord runs deep; she has wisdom beyond her years.

Several other IM coworkers met us in Radom and took us to their apartment. The entire day was a feast of getting to know each other better. In the evening we shared a precious time of praying together for the country of Poland. When we said “Amen,” Anya broke into song. “Seek ye first the kingdom of God and His righteousness…” We weren’t exactly a choir ready to go on tour, nevertheless we felt the presence of God fill that tiny apartment and our hearts were blessed. What a privilege to be partners with the Lord in building His kingdom in this country.

Thursday, March 13... Continued

2008-03-20T19:51:00.000-07:00

The evening’s meeting was held in an upscale restaurant, hosted by the International Christian Fellowship church in Warsaw. Evening meetings are not the norm here, so Barbara (the pastor’s wife) wasn’t sure how well it would be attended. She was delighted when 37 women showed up. These gals were mostly Westerners – the wives of American businessmen and embassy employees.

At Barbara’s request, I spoke on the theme “If Teacups Could Talk.” Using an acrostic from the letters for the word friend, I talked about the different aspects of women’s friendships and then shared how Jesus is my best friend. If the attendees had as much fun as I did, then the evening was a success.

This speaking engagement provided me with an “aha” moment. My past experience in Nepal gives me credibility not only with missionary women but also with these Westerners living overseas. I understand homesickness, loneliness, language barriers, and culture shock. I understand what’s involved in moving overseas. I pray that my words encouraged them tonight. And I pray for more opportunities to connect with them and others in the same position.

Thursday, March 13

2008-03-20T19:49:00.001-07:00

We met with a group of about 10 young mothers this morning, led by one of our wonderful IM gals. She has such a passion for these women, her peers. She meets with them on a regular basis to encourage them in their role as mothers and wives. I was delighted when she emailed shortly before I left Canada, asking if I could speak to them when I arrived in Warsaw.

We met in a family-friendly restaurant. A screen on one wall featured cartoons for the children to watch. Kid-sized tables and a bench swing made it a welcoming place for the little ones. This venue made it a very different atmosphere in which to speak. It was busy, busy, busy, and loud. At times I wondered if these moms could even hear me, let alone process what I was saying about the value of their role and how to stay refreshed.

My concern was answered as we ate lunch with them, when several approached Diane and me to ask questions about marriage and parenting. They found encouragement in knowing that I was a stay-at-home mom and was 40 years old when I started my writing career.

We left these lovely ladies after 2 p.m. and connected with Jagoda, the president of Women’s Forum (CCC) for Poland. Diane and I have nicknamed her “our Polish bubble.” She reminds us of the Energizer Bunny –going, going, going. She bought tram tickets for us and took us to tour Old City Warsaw. Trouble was, rain and wind swept in early that morning and blew away all traces of spring. “This is for crazy women!” said Jagoda as we zipped up our coats and braved the elements.

This was no leisurely stroll through the park. Facing time limitations and freezing weather, we hustled through history. “This is our White House,” said Jagoda. The camera pointed and clicked, and we raced on. “This is part of the wall that surrounded the city,” she said, motioning to her left. Point, click. “This candle marks the opening of an underground tunnel where children relayed messages between members of the Resistance,” she said. Point, click. “This symbol was placed on exterior walls to declare that the Polish people were alive and would continue fighting for their freedom against the enemy forces.” Point, click. And so our tour continued. By the time we reached the tram to return to Jagoda’s car, our hair hung limp and we looked like something the family dog might have dragged home. But hey! We made a memory!

Jagoda’s enthusiasm couldn’t be dampened by the rain. “Now I’ll take you to the train station,” she said. “Pray for a parking place nearby.” And off we drove. Sure enough, when we arrived at the station we found a space between two cars. “I don’t know if I can stay here, so I must hurry,” she said. Typical of the European way, she bumped up the curb and parked the car with its right wheels on the sidewalk. “Let’s go!” she said. Half-running, half-walking, we lugged our suitcases down the stairs, arriving at our platform as our train pulled into the station. “Goodbye,” she said. “I’ll see you tomorrow!” Diane and I were on our own, riding the train to the outskirts of Warsaw to meet our next contact person.

Wednesday, March 12

2008-03-20T19:44:00.000-07:00

Today was a long day but extremely fulfilling. The first session was with Campus Crusade for Christ missionary women. Many are struggling with not knowing their niche. They became involved with CCC immediately after university and enjoyed a specific role. But as the years passed, they married and started raising a family. Now their husbands are busy and fulfilled in ministry, but they’re left feeling as though life is passing them by. They’re also facing major financial challenges, especially as the tension continues between the euro and the American dollar.

I can totally understand how they feel on both issues. As the Canadian dollar has strengthened, our family’s missionary financial base has dropped by several hundred dollars per month. I’ve been learning to trust and not be afraid as our expenses increase. I’ve learned to practice praise in the “midnight hour” as Paul and Silas did. God dwells in the praises of His people, and when we praise Him in difficult circumstances, He delights to show His power. And so I thank the Lord that I can speak to them from my heart and not just give them pat answers. The women laughed and loved it when I told them that the shirt I was wearing was from a second-hand store. One gal stood up and indicated with arm gestures that her suit was also from a thrift store. We laughed again, and then someone said to me, “You’re one of us!” To me, that’s a high compliment.

I can also relate to their struggle re: not knowing their niche in ministry. While in Christian camping ministry for 11 years, my husband was the program director but I had no defined role. That was a frustrating place to be, but through it I learned that my family was my first ministry, and I discovered small ways in which I could use my gifts even from my home. My heart totally empathizes with these gals who are well-trained and gifted but wondering if they’ll ever have opportunity to use their education again.

Later that evening we met in the same room. This was an outreach meeting, and the organizers expected 50-60 women. More than 70 showed up! The room was packed full. And what an evening it was. My interpreter was fantastic; I felt she conveyed my heart, not just my words, to the audience. The Gospel was clearly presented but asking for an outward indication of an inward decision is not culturally appropriate. We have no way of knowing whether anyone committed her life to following Christ, but He knows. I have to trust that if someone prayed to receive salvation through Him, He will care for her and provide her with the support she needs to grow in her new-found faith.

As I present these sessions on overcoming fear to these Polish women, I’m realizing that this message is soooo needed. Always, several gals speak with me after the meetings. They say the messages were exactly what they needed to hear. They say these spoken words are giving them courage to face their fears and hope to face the future. And they give me lots of kisses. Left cheek, right cheek, and left again. My heart is becoming more and more entwined with theirs.

Tuesday, March 11, 2008

2008-03-20T19:39:00.000-07:00

Another travel day….back on the train again. We spent about three hours rattling down the tracks toward Warsaw, capital of Poland. Along the tracks approaching the city I saw homes barely bigger than a shoebox, looking broken and abandoned. Apparently these are homes where city dwellers come for weekends. They plant vegetable gardens on these wee plots of land. One Polish university student told us, “These vegetables must taste like iron!”

The moment our train pulled into the downtown station, our contact was there to meet us. She flagged a taxi and we headed for the home where we’d stay for the next three nights. It was 5:15 p.m. – rush hour. Ha! Who came up with that expression? It was anything but a rush; we sat in bumper-to-bumper traffic for more than an hour.

Immediately outside the station stood the Palace of Culture – the largest, fanciest structure I’ve ever seen. Our escort told us that it was built by the Russians after WWII, as a “gift” to the people of Poland. Its height and breadth intentionally stood to remind the Polish people of the Russians’ dominance. Even today, it towers over all other buildings in the downtown core. Its presence stirs mixed emotions among the city’s citizens. Some hate it because it reminds them of Communist rule. These folks want to raze it and build something else in its place. Others argue that it’s a piece of their history and needs to remain as a monument to what’s taken place in the past.

I’m realizing more and more that I need to read about the history of this country. There’s so much to learn. If I’m going to truly understand the needs and thinking of these precious people, I have to gain a better understanding of where they’ve come from.

Monday, March 10 -- Morning

2008-03-20T19:36:00.000-07:00

I wake early this morning knowing this is the day my father’s life will be celebrated, and that I am not able to participate. How does one begin to process these emotions? There’s no easy answer. No answer that satisfies once for all. One thing was for sure – I refuse to sit alone and feel sorry for myself. Rather, I know God had planted me in Poland with several IM sisters for a reason beyond my comprehension, and regardless of the sad circumstances, this is a day that He had made. I choose to rejoice and be glad in it.

As a believer, I have every reason to celebrate and be glad. If my faith in Jesus Christ is true, then it’s only my dad’s earthly shell being lowered into a grave today. Because Jesus died and rose again, Dad is walking those golden streets and singing like he’s never sung before. That knowledge brings me a peace I cannot deny amidst the grief. Tears spring to my eyes at the mere thought of my family back home, gathering around the graveside this morning. I would desperately love to be with them and the multitude of relatives and friends who will attend the memorial service later in the day, but that’s not to be. I’ll spend the day with my IM family instead, thankful that I’m not alone during this time.

Later….

I’m grateful for Skype. Gene and I talked via typing for nearly an hour before anyone stirred in the house where I’m staying now. He told me that God protected him, our kids, and grandbaby Anna last night when the car in which they were driving hit black ice, slid into a concrete barrier on the roadside, and made three complete spins before coming to a stop. Protection on icy winter roads – another reason to celebrate.

I’m grateful for my IM sisters. Bozena (our hostess), Iwona, Diane, Janna, and I visited a modern shopping mall this morning, picked up a few groceries, and went for lunch to a little restaurant that specializes in perogies. I’ve visited Chinese restaurants in which friends order several different dishes and share them. That’s what we did here: meat and cheese perogies, meat only perogies, blueberry perogies, lazy perogies, and the list went on. Add a bowl of beet borscht, and the meal was complete. Then off we went, walking down the main street of Kelice toward Janna’s home.

It was on along this walk that I realized God had given this day to me as a gift. In the midst of my sorrow, He gave me laughter. Wholesome, hearty laughter. At first I wondered if laughing today would be an affront to my family. But then I realized that He was using it to carry me through difficult time. It wasn’t disrespectful to those grieving back in Canada. It was a dose of divine medicine. “Laughter does good like a medicine.”

Here’s one example. Until this point, my PIN number hadn’t worked in a cash machine. When I saw a machine on the outside wall of a corner bank, I decided to try again. Diane leaned in close to protect my privacy. I entered the four digits only to be rejected again as invalid. “Okay, then,” I said. “I have only one other number that might be a possibility.” I entered those four digits and presto! The machine sprang into action. Without giving it a thought, I blurted out something that resembled a loud “Yahoo!” In retrospect, it probably sounded like something a Las Vegas gambler might have hollered if he hit the jackpot.

Diane burst into fits of laughter. Her response sent me into fits of laughter, too. We turned from the machine to see Iwona walk away, pretending not to know us. Passersby gawked with puzzled expressions on their faces as we nearly doubled over. We weren’t meaning to be culturally inept, honestly, but for whatever reason, we simply couldn’t help ourselves. Yes, laughter works good like a medicine.

When we returned to the house later that evening, I’d hoped to watch my dad’s funeral on Skype. Gene and our son had tried to hook up a video camera to a laptop but their efforts didn’t work. Disappointment brought tears to my eyes again, but Diane and I redeemed the situation by spending time in prayer as my family gathered for the memorial service.

Wow – what an emotional journey. I’m so thankful for God’s presence and for His presents – my IM friends. This day was a remarkable gift.

Sunday, March 9

2008-03-09T15:09:00.000-07:00

Bless Iwona’s heart – she showed up at the hostel this morning with smoked cheese and ham to put on our bread for breakfast. “I must care for the strangers in our land,” she said again. “God says so.” She’s doing a good job!

This morning we caught a train to Keilce where several other IM coworkers live. God has a way of sending angels to make sure we get to where we need to be. At the Cracow train station, we climbed three flights of stairs, dragging our luggage behind us, to reach the platform for our train. We’d just reached the platform when an announcement came over the loudspeaker saying that, for today only, this particular train would leave from a different platform. Thank goodness Iwona spoke Polish and understood the announcement. Diane and I would have missed it completely. So we raced (if that’s possible with tons of luggage) down the three flights of stairs and up another three flights. I was exhausted!

Just as we reached the train’s stairs, a man saw us struggling with our bags and stepped up to help. He grabbed our suitcases, climbed aboard the train, and placed them overhead in our compartment. “This is how I earn a living,” he said, so Iwona paid him and gave him a tract and a Bible. Another evidence of God’s caring for us as we travel.

Iwona and Diane on train. Note the tulips!

In a few hours we’ll head to another women’s meeting. And again, we trust the Lord to bless the women through us. I’m trusting Him to accomplish great things again. Tonight is the family visitation at the funeral home and I’m not there. “God, please don’t let this sacrifice be for naught.”

Saturday, March 8

2008-03-09T15:04:00.000-07:00

What a day this turned out to be! The room filled with women of all ages – from mothers with nursing babies to little grannies. Iwona was delighted to see an elderly woman with whom she’d shared Christ a few days ago – a lady who’d given up hope for living. When I got up to speak, I felt as though the women weren’t sure what to expect. They’d come out of curiosity about the theme – “Fearless and Free” – but unsure about me as a North American woman bringing the message and about the message itself. I felt a little unsure, too, speaking through a translator to these women who live in a different culture and wondering about the relevance of my message to the specific needs in their lives.

It didn’t take long to see that the theme was the right one. When I listed various fears that women struggle with and then asked for a show of hands from those who could relate, many hands went up. As the women looked around the room, an expression of surprise went up. It seemed they were pleasantly surprised to see that they weren’t the only ones struggling in this way.

It also didn’t take long to see that the message about facing the storms in our lives was exactly what some needed to hear. Several women had tears running down their cheeks. There was a 15-minute break between session one and two, and during that time a couple of women came to speak with me. One spoke broken English. She handed me a handwritten note, also in broken English, that said, “I in storm for eight years. Divorce. Husband abuse my children.” She turned her back to the women behind her and her eyes filled with tears. She allowed me to give her a big hug and then pray for her. A woman with a broken heart – “God, please embrace her and be her refuge. Be her help in this time of trouble.”

By the time we reached the end of the third session, I knew the women felt comfortable. I presented the Gospel message and invited them to pray with me if they wanted to place their saving faith in Christ. I also asked them to take a piece of blank paper and write out the pain and shame from their past, and to give it to the Lord once for all by ripping it up. Within a couple of minutes, the sound of tearing paper could be heard across the room. What a joy to know that the Lord was working in their hearts. “Thank You, God, for beginning this good work in their lives. Please bring it to perfection. Amen.”

After the conference, Diane and I enjoyed dinner with three IM gals. What a joy to get to know them better. I pray that over time, as I get to know them better, I might bring encouragement to them in their ministries. And after dinner, Iwona took us to see a massive cathedral – it was an amazing structure. How does one describe it? I wish I could post a picture but taking photos was not allowed. Statues of the saints, gold filigree, intricate handpainted design on the ceiling, stained glass windows. Amazing architecture.

People were kneeling and praying. There was an attitude of reverence and quiet and yet, one can’t help but think of the human tradition on which their religion is based. It’s not about relationship. There was no joy on the people’s faces. “Lord, draw them to Yourself. Shine Your light into their hearts.”

And then Iwona took us to yet another restaurant for hot chocolate (thick, like drinking a melted dark chocolate candy bar) and fresh lemon torte. Oh my. There’s no way I can lose weight on this trip! After that, she said, “Come! I’ll show you where Copernicus went to university.” So off we went, down a narrow cobblestone street, to the very door through which Copernicus entered to study.

By the time we reached the hostel, Diane and I were so tired that we could hardly stand up. But that’s when heart-to-heart woman-talk began. She shared with me the details of losing her 26-year-old son to a brain aneurysm 11 years ago. Now I know why she’s responsible for missionary care. Her heart is so tender and caring. I’m in good hands at this time.

Friday, March 7

2008-03-09T14:56:00.000-07:00

The sun beamed into Diane’s kitchen this morning, its smile promising balmy weather for our train ride to Poland later in the day. We were washing breakfast dishes when Karla, one of our Canadian IM partners, showed up for coffee. Ah – sweet fellowship with this dear woman who has spent the majority of her life ministering in Europe. She drove us to the train station, and our speaking tour began.

Diane, Karla, and myself at Kosice, Slovakia train station. Poland – here we come!

Nearly six hours passed as we trained our way through Slovakia and into Poland. Rolling hills, plowed fields, cathedral steeples, and red-roofed homes dotted the countryside. I felt like I was a part of the set for “The Sound of Music.” Julie Andrews and the von Trapp family singers could have waltzed over a hill and I wouldn’t have been surprised.

This trip was a God-given gift. I needed this time to rest and reflect about the circumstances surrounding my being here while my family’s in Canada planning my father’s funeral. The quiet enabled me to write something to Dad’s honor that my husband can read at the service.

Iwona, a Polish IM coworker, was waiting for us when our train arrived in Cracow. What a sweetheart. She flagged a taxi, took us to a hostel where we’d stay for the next two nights, and then unpacked the supper she’d prepared for us – Polish goulash and bread. “I must care for the strangers in our land,” she said. “God says so.” Then we walked about eight city blocks to the church building where women were busy preparing for tomorrow’s conference. They’d expected about 60 women to attend, but 110 have registered! I believe God is up to something big. There’s a huge sacrifice involved in this trip, and I believe with my whole heart that God will honor it with a wonderful eternal harvest.

Another IM coworker, Carol, joined Diane, Iwona, and me for a short walk to a favorite dessert restaurant. “You must try something here,” said Iwona. “There are many wonderful treats from which to choose.” She was right. How these European women can stay thin and trim is beyond me. Vanilla and strawberry ice cream doused topped with fresh strawberries and sauce, and smothered in real whipped cream – how’s that for bedtime snack?

By the time Diane and I walked to the hostel, we were very ready for bed. We prayed for the women who will come to the conference tomorrow and for my family and their needs, and then fell asleep.

Thursday, March 6

2008-03-06T09:48:00.000-08:00

I’m so glad I’m a part of the family of God…..remember that Gaither goldie? Those lyrics describe how I feel right now. Yesterday afternoon my friend and fellow International Messenger, Diane, spent more than four hours riding a train from Slovakia to Hungary where she met me at the Budapest station. She threw her arms around me and gave me a huge hug. “It’s been a bad day,” she said, having received the news already about my dad’s death. Her eyes brimmed with tears. This woman, responsible for IM missionary care, is a God-given gift to me for such a time as this.

We had enough time to eat supper at Burger King before boarding the train for the ride back to Kosice, Slovakia. “Tell me about your dad,” she said. “What was he like before he got sick?” Bless her heart for listening as I told of Dad’s strong work ethic, of his many surgeries, of his attitude of gratitude no matter what. Bless her for listening with empathy, her eyes filling with tears when my voice cracked and chin quivered. I’m so glad I’m a part of the family of God and for the gift of caring sisters.

Thanks to a wonderful overseas phone plan, I was able to contact family members after we arrived at Diane’s home. It was good to speak with my mother and to hear of the funeral plans being made so far away. Oh, I wish I could be part of that, but it’s not to be. It was after 1 a.m. when I finally fell into bed, exhausted and wondering how I could get through the next 10 days.

When I woke this morning, I felt like I’d been run over by a train – a combination of lack of sleep, jet lag, and emotional overload, I think. So I gave myself permission to stay in bed and rest until 8:30. When I finally got up, I discovered gifts from my Christian family – emails that had come during the night. Words of encouragement, sympathy e-cards, prayers written on my behalf. Each one ministered to me in a unique way, and the tears began to flow. I feel like I’m on an emotional journey that I don’t want to take, but one that, prayerfully, will result in God’s purposes being accomplished.

Several weeks ago, Diane and I decided to leave this day as a day of rest. There was no way of knowing how much this would be needed. Another divinely-arranged detail. Tomorrow we’ll catch a train and travel to Cracow, Poland. And then the real work begins. Saturday’s conference had originally expected 60 women, but so far 110 have registered. As I think about doing three sessions with these precious women, I can only think of one thing: “In my weakness He is strong.”

March 2-3, 2008

2008-03-05T16:34:00.000-08:00

Budapest, here I come! The day began when I rolled out of bed at 4:00 a.m. and headed for the Vancouver airport an hour later. My first flight was 4 ½ hours to Toronto, and after a mere 90-minute wait there, I boarded the next flight. This one took eight hours to reach Vienna.

The sun began to rise as we reached Ireland. It was an amazing sight – the entire horizon looked like it was on fire. By far the most breath-taking sunrise I’ve ever seen.

When I boarded in Toronto, there was no room for carry-on bags in the overhead compartments. The flight attendant took my bag, said she’d check it into the cargo hold, and I could pick it up in Budapest with my other suitcases. I felt a little uneasy about it, and for good reason. It didn’t show up in Budapest. My digital camera, my notes for all my speaking sessions, my toiletries…..gone. So, I filed a lost luggage claim at the Budapest airport, whispered a prayer for the bag’s safe return, and met the person who’d come to pick me up and take me to the SHARE conference.

On the way, I saw a park filled with statues of Communist leaders. These statues were salvaged from around Budapest after the wall fell in the late 80s. Now people pay to walk through the park and see them. I would have taken a picture for you, but the camera was in the lost bag. Sigh.

You haven’t lived until you’re the passenger in a car flying down a four-lane highway at 80-85 mph as the driver eats a hamburger. Combine that experience with jetlag, and you’ve got the makings for a few grey hairs.

Wednesday, March 5

2008-03-05T08:29:00.000-08:00

I woke this morning with a thankful heart that my missing suitcase arrived last night! Now I have the notes for this morning’s session on praying Scripture.

When I went to the dining room for breakfast, the president of SHARE and his wife invited me to sit at their table. In the middle of breakfast, the conference organizer’s husband walked up to me with his cell phone in his hand. “It’s your husband,” he said, and handed me the phone.

I knew immediately what this meant. I could scarcely here Gene above the din in the dining room, but I caught him say, “Your dad passed away thirty minutes ago.” It wasn’t unexpected, but the news still carried a blow. I was so thankful that this couple had asked me to sit with them – they immediately offered their support and prayers, and she shed a few tears with me. Within the next hour, the word began to spread about my dad’s passing and people began offering their condolences. I was given the option of not teaching my workshop, but the only other choice would be sitting alone somewhere and feeling low. So, I chose to teach and it turned out okay. At the end, one man said that he wanted to pray for me, and that’s when the tears started to flow again.

I’m so thankful for the time I was able to spend with my dad two weeks ago, when he was still lucid. I was able to tell him that I love him, and he answered, “I love you, too.” I know he’s in heaven – at one point he said that he could see Jesus and it was beautiful “there.” I believe he’s walking and dancing in the Savior’s presence, his body whole again after being paralyzed by strokes eight years ago.

And now – I must process the fact that I’m here and my family is there during this time of grief. I’m on a journey for which I have no compass but the Lord to guide me one step at a time. My loss is great, my pain very real. I want to embrace my mom and other family members but can’t. “This doesn’t feel fair, God. You could have taken him while I was home so I could be a part of what’s happening there now. Why did You wait until two days after I left?”

This afternoon I’ll travel by train to Slovakia with an IM friend, Diane. Her specialty is missionary care. That’s good timing.

Tuesday, March 4

2008-03-05T08:28:00.000-08:00

This conference has about 400 people from nearly 20 countries. The emphasis is on equipping parents to educate their children overseas. The program is like an oasis for these folks as they rekindle friendships with the friends they see only once a year. Blessings on them!

As I sat in the back of the morning’s chapel service, my heart was overwhelmed by the commitment to missions demonstrated here. Some of these folks have been on the mission field for a couple of decades, others for just a few years. All of them know what it means to sacrifice time with their parents and family back home. All of them know what it means to sacrifice financially. My heart just wants to bless them for doing what they do, and I want to help equip them more or just provide a listening ear and sympathetic shoulder.

Tuesday, September 18 (continued)

2007-09-19T13:41:00.000-07:00

Gypsy pastor and his wife – Laco and Anna

Gypsy church

Later in the day, Karla drove us to an unforgettable site. Several familiar concrete apartment blocks stood alone, segregated from the rest of the city. Unlike the other blocks, however, there was no playground for the children. Instead, an abandoned car drew the kids and teens like a magnet. Its doors were ripped off, its windows were smashed out, and a teenage boy was hammering on the dashboard while his buddies looked on. Garbage lay in heaps around the place, and many of the buildings’ windows were shattered. This is where approximately 6,500 gypsies live, sometimes two or three families shoved into one small apartment. Considered society outcasts, no one wants them nearby. The government built a school on the property so they can attend classes with their own kind, and then it put a swimming pool there so they’ll not frequent the city pools. The unemployment rate is 99 per cent, there’s no hot water, no heat in the buildings….not a pretty sight.

The good news is – there’s a church on the property, a fruit of IM ministry. Here we spent 1 ½ hours with a gypsy man who came to know Christ about ten years ago. He’s now a pastor among his people. He shared his testimony with us, telling us how Christ delivered him from alcohol and gambling addictions. His desire is to see his people come to know Jesus as Savior so they, too, can be set free and experience healing in their lives. Now there are two women’s discipleship meetings, a children’s outreach, a teen program, a men’s discipleship meeting, and two church services each week on site. As we spoke, we could hear music – guitars and accordians – down the hall. The midweek service had begun, and the people sang with great enthusiasm. Little kids ran in and out of the building, curious teens stopped by to check things out, and the singing continued.

What a privilege to witness this body of believers worshipping the Lord. Their circumstances are less than desirable, to put it nicely, but their hearts are intent on following Christ. They are our brothers and sisters in the Lord and need our prayers for steadfastness in their faith. Brad estimates that there are 500,000 gypsies in Slovakia; perhaps 500 are believers. The Bible has not yet been translated into their language.

As we ended our meeting, the pastor prayed for the work and for us (how humbling is that??). We prayed for him and for his family, and for the Lord to send more workers to help them carry the load. Karla translated so we could understand each other’s words. His wife shook my hand and kissed me on both cheeks, and I felt blessed beyond belief.

Tuesday, September 18

2007-09-19T13:27:00.000-07:00

Woodworking shop

Sewing classes anyone?

Karla’s husband, Brad, took us to see their work projects. One is called Life Art and is designed to teach work skills to those needing to earn a living. There are several facets to it. First, a woodworking department teaches men to build furniture. There’s a lovely facility equipped with everything necessary to run such a course. Their first class graduated two weeks ago, and a second session will begin in mid-October. One of their students was unemployed for 10 years, living in a one-room apartment with his wife and four kids. Now he’s learned skills, is earning an income, and will stay on as a teacher! What a boost to his ego! Better yet, he’s become a believer. This facet has a major need, however – someone to take over the supervision of it. Is there someone out there with woodworking skills and a desire to use them in this setting on a long-term basis??

Next, there’s a sewing section to teach women life skills. The pilot program will begin in mid-October. This program also has a need, or rather, two: (1) money to buy irons and ironing boards – this would be an easy project for a women’s ministry group to undertake. The needed items can be purchased here, so there’s no shipping involved. Just the funds. (2) Funds to pay the instructor’s wages for this pilot program. She will earn about $7 per hour, with a total of $800 necessary. When the pilot program is complete, the government will pick up the tab for future sessions because it recognizes the value of such skills to its citizens well-being.

Then there’s Word Art. This is a language school in historical downtown Kosice. The business offers classes for 33 languages! Sometimes they’re working with professionals who have been transferred to Kosice; sometimes they’re working with refugees from war-torn countries.

Monday, September 17

2007-09-19T13:26:00.000-07:00

Rolled into Kosice at 4:50 a.m. Karla, one of our Canadian IM missionaries, met us and took us home. Bless her heart, she told us to go to bed and wake up whenever we felt like it. We took her advice and finally got up at noon. Felt good to lie still after the 16-hours of rockin’ and rollin’ on the train.

Later in the afternoon she drove us to her family’s church. What a difference from the little Protestant churches we saw in Poland. This church is new and holds more than 500 people. It has 57 cell groups, a youth group of more than 200 kids, and it’s growing exponentially.

When we drove around the city, we saw several clusters of the familiar grey concrete apartment buildings. These clusters house between 25,000-30,000 people. If you happen to live in the middle of a cluster, you don’t see sky…only more apartments. Karla lived in one such setting many years ago, and she said she had to get outside and walk everyday so she could see the sun and keep from getting depressed. Those of us who don’t live in such a setting would never think of that.

Sunday, September 16

2007-09-19T13:23:00.000-07:00

Catching a good night’s sleep on the train is only wishful thinking!

My hubby was asked to preach in church this morning. Bless his heart, he jumped right in with the help of a Polish translator. Talk about being stretched beyond one’s comfort zone. He challenged the congregation (maybe 50 people) to have courage to believe God for great things, and to not be afraid to say yes when He calls them to a task that’s bigger than they are because obedience will result in opportunities to experience God in new ways.

Prayer, not announcements, moved the service from one section to the next. So, after singing some praise choruses (in Polish), people stood to pray one after the other. Then they sang hymns, after which Gene preached. The pastor recapped Gene’s message, and then someone prayed again. I couldn’t understand a word of what was being said, but I could hear the passion in people’s voices. And I thought about what heaven will be like – people of every race and nation praising God together around His throne. What a thrill that will be someday!

After church we caught a train headed to Slovakia. We shared a six-seater berth with a couple from Poland who chatted between themselves for the entire six-hour trip to Krakow. The train rolled mostly through farmlands. One thing that captured my attention was the brick or concrete apartments standing less than 20 feet from the tracks. How would you like to live beside tracks that carry trains to and fro all day and night? I just can’t imagine it being a quiet place, but I guess the residents get used to it. If they can’t afford their own land or residential house, they might have no other choice. I also saw many abandoned concrete buildings with windows broken or roofs destroyed. Again, I wondered what stories they could tell if they could talk.

When we arrived in Krakow, we got off the train for a two-hour layover. Thankfully an IM missionary met us there and helped us navigate that experience. She took us to a nearby mall where we could eat supper as there was no restaurant car on the train.

My oh my, this was no ordinary mall. If Carol hadn’t met us, we would have stayed in the underground train station without knowing that above us lay a fancy three-storey shopping bonanza that stretched in every direction with no end. On the third floor we found a food court with everything from Kentucky Fried Chicken to Subway to middle eastern cuisine and Polish menus. “When in Rome, do as the Romans do,” I figure. So I enjoyed a meal of boiled potatoes and pork with a hefty side of sauerkraut. Mmmmm, good.

At 10:30 we boarded another train and set out on our overnight ride to Kosice. We’d reserved our tickets too late to get a sleeper car, so we had a six-seater berth again. Thankfully we had the berth to ourselves. In fact, we had the entire car to ourselves. Sleep was nearly impossible, though. I think we made 16 stops along the way, and several times the conductors rapped on our window and asked to see our tickets. When we crossed into Slovakia, the train stopped for about 35 minutes to allow the border guards to check for passports. “Canadian,” one commented with interest in his voice as he showed our passports to two other guards. Then he hustled off to other duties, leaving his cohorts to deal with us. Another guard marched through each car with a German Shepherd dog – sniffing for drugs, possibly. No one spoke English, and we spoke not a word of Slovakian, so we can only guess re: what was going on.

The night was a long one – especially because it was very cold in the berth. Apparently the heat is turned on from a main source only when the train authorities think it’s cold enough to warrant it. And this wasn’t a night that warranted it, in their opinion. Brrrr. I obviously didn’t bring warm enough clothes with me for this trip. If we ever have to travel this way again, I’ll pack lightweight blankets and inflatable travel pillows. Live and learn.

Saturday, September 15

2007-09-19T08:52:00.000-07:00

Dinner party with pastors and wives.

Removing the protein from our mushroom soup

Rather than zipping around town to meet folks and see projects involved with IM work, we stayed home and prepared for a dinner to which the city’s three Protestant pastors and their wives were invited. Marti’s kitchen is about 4 feet wide with precious little counter space so we had to juggle tasks and washing dishes to accommodate all that needed to be done. In the midst of preparing dinner, we cooked homemade soup with the mushrooms we picked yesterday. That meant first examining every mushroom for worms before tossing them (the mushrooms, not the worms) into the pot with chicken broth. The finished product was gourmet fantastic. Move over, Campbell’s!

The dinner party was fun for all. Marti served cold salads, deli meats and cheeses, and roll – a typical Polish meal – and topped the menu with lemon meringue pie and apple crisp. I learned that, when you’re sitting at the table and you want a particular food but can’t reach it, it’s more acceptable to simply stand up and reach across everyone for it rather than interrupt others who are closer but engaged in conversation. Whatever works!

Conversation flowed freely during dinner. A translator had come along for our benefit, and we enjoyed being a part of what was happening. Before long, however, the guests entered a conversation about which everyone felt passionate, and they all spoke at once. The translator threw off his English and jumped back into Polish. Gene and I must have looked like deer staring into a car’s headlights as we tried to catch a familiar word now and then. Reminded me of the ol’ days in Nepal when we couldn’t understand a word at first, and we constantly walked around feeling brain-drained. Nevertheless, the evening ended with prayer for one another’s ministry (3 Protestant pastors in a city of about 120,000). I love praying with others when they speak in their native language – God understands those prayers no matter the language in which they’re spoken, and coming before Him knits our hearts to each other.

Friday, September 14

2007-09-15T00:20:00.001-07:00

local pastor and wife

Lunch at the camp

mushroom picking

Wild mushrooms and grilled Polish kielbasa – the makings for a memorable picnic in the countryside. Bill and Marti drove us to a site where a local pastor oversees summer camps for kids and teens. The pastor and his wife met us there, gave us a tour of the facility, and treated us to grilled Polish sausage – yum! Then came the desserts – pastries, chocolates, and other goodies. (Fitting into the plane seat for the trip home will be a major feat if the sweets keep coming as they have in the past week.)

We three women took a walk around the property and found wild mushrooms growing in the field. Apparently these are a valuable commodity, often sold in the open markets by those who pick them. The pastor’s wife, Danielle, showed us how to peel and cut the mushrooms (watching for wee worms inside), and we prepared them for freezing later.

We had a fascinating conversation over lunch, learning about their experience during the Communist days. They told us that Poland didn’t suffer the same repression that other countries such as Romania did. They talked about their church activities being watched and of having to report every gathering such as baptismal celebrations, but they were never forbidden to meet as believers. In some ways, they feel their religious rights are more restricted now than before – something I wouldn’t have imagined.

Thursday, September 13

2007-09-15T00:14:00.000-07:00

Ania, my translator

Grace and a Polish granny

Marti and I walked through the market today – I much prefer the open markets to the modern department stores. There’s ‘way more character to the little shops, and there seems to be a personal warmth that’s missing in the mega stores. Afterwards we went to a bakery and enjoyed coffee and European treats with a gazillion calories – Marti had a chocolate yummy while I tried a tart filled with whipped cream and topped with kiwis and raspberries.

A 25-year-old Polish IM worker joined us for lunch, which is the big meal of the day. She’d just returned from her first trip to the States where she traveled to raise funds to cover her living and ministry expenses. It’s difficult for national missionaries to raise financial support here because sometimes they’re first-generation Christians and their families and acquaintances don’t understand or appreciate their faith and calling. Again, I have the utmost respect for these folks who are faithfully serving the Lord amidst challenges that might cause others to throw their hands up and walk away.

This Polish gal was my translator later in the afternoon when I spoke at a women’s meeting. The gathering was held in a one-room facility – on Sundays it holds church services and during the week it doubles as the neighborhood food bank. The meeting began at five o’clock – not a normal time for a midweek women’s event in North America but that’s what works here because people don’t like going out at night. Most of the attendees were regulars from that church, but there were several women who heard the Gospel, one possibly for the first time.

My heart warms to these women – from eight-year-old Asha who came with her mom after receiving the invitation at the food bank, to the 20-something gal who told me about her dress designing business, to the nearly toothless 65-year-old Polish grandma who showered me with numerous hugs and kisses – and I long to see them live life as fully as God intends. Each one is created in His image and beautiful in His sight. I pray that my message and response to them will bring hope and an understanding of His great love for them.

Wednesday, September 12

2007-09-13T03:22:00.000-07:00

Gene and his translator

Today’s highlight? Well, there were two. One was driving to the city’s outskirts to see where Bill and Marti and a couple other IM staff had a ministry with women and children. When we arrived at this place (a former military barracks), we saw four concrete apartment blocks. Several walls had graffiti painted on them. A playground with swings and slides sat out back. Children ran past us, one of them pulling a puppy on a leash. Several adults walked by, but none looked happy. Their eyes seemed empty and their faces appeared strained.

The 20-year-old we’d come to visit invited us into her family’s apartment. We entered a wide doorway and found ourselves in a long, dark, concrete hall. About six white doors lined the hall – they reminded me of freezer doors. The area looked more like a food locker than an apartment hallway. When the young woman opened her door, however, we stepped into a teeny apartment that was pleasant to behold – bright white ceiling, blue and yellow tiles on the wall, and coordinated blue tiles on the kitchen cupboards. Once again we were treated to a cup of strong coffee (complete with grounds that settled to the bottom and stayed there) while discussion about the girl’s request for financial assistance was held.

When the visit ended, we walked to a nearby building that bore a sharp contrast to the apartments. Inside we found nearly a dozen children either playing games with adults or on a computer. This is a government-funded program for children in this housing development. No one over the age of 15 is allowed inside in order to provide safe refuge for children whose lives are affected by domestic abuse or alcoholism. These kids can come here anytime for help with their schoolwork, for fun and games, or for a hot meal. It’s here that weekly children’s Bible-based programs have been held in the past. Sadly, a lack of staff means they’re not happening anymore.

We walked past the dismal apartments again when we returned to our car. I couldn’t shake the feeling of darkness and hopelessness in that place. And I wondered how many children leave there to go on to live productive and healthy lives. The odds are stacked against them.

At six o’clock we had to be a local church because Gene had been asked to lead a Bible study. It was his first time speaking through a translator. A small group gathered – perhaps a dozen precious Polish folk. The prayer time that followed was sweet – one after the other, they stood and prayed on behalf of their families and city. There was scarcely a second or two between prayers – it was as though they couldn’t wait to talk with God. What a privilege to worship God with His children on this side of the world.

Tuesday, September 11

2007-09-13T03:01:00.001-07:00

Andrew and Iwona

When it takes three days to dry clothes, one must plan ahead!

It’s strange that in India and Nepal we could understand the language enough to get around and hold friendly conversations. But here, where outwardly we appear to have more in common with these people, we can’t understand a word. Here’s an example of the Polish vocabulary: “platki kukurydziane.” What do you think it means? Read the end of this entry and I’ll tell you the answer!

The day’s highlight was visiting Andrew and Iwona – a local pastor and his wife. They live in a 550-square-foot apartment with their two sons. Andrew made a special coffee for me and Marti, flavored with cinnamon and cardamom. Wow – it was strong! He poured about an inch of his brew into each mug, and we added ¾ cup of hot water to dilute it. We nibbled on rolls stuffed with mincemeat (I think that’s what it was) while learning about Andrew’s ministry, and then we enjoyed a prayer time together. I felt so humbled to be in their presence. These servants of God have an obvious heart for Him and a passion for their city. I wish I could have stayed longer – I know I could learn much from them.

Marti and I washed clothes today using the tiniest washing machine I’ve ever seen. It’s about 15 inches across. The top loading area reminds me of my bread maker at home. There’s no dryer in this apartment, however, so we hung clothes on plastic racks on the outside deck and around the house. By nighttime, nothing was dry yet so we turned on a little heater in the room where we’re sleeping and aimed it at the clothes rack. We certainly take conveniences such as clothes dryers for granted in North America.

What do you think “platki kukurydziane” means? If you guessed “corn flakes,” you’re right!

Monday, September 10

2007-09-13T02:32:00.001-07:00

Roadside shrine – one of many

On the road again. This time, we headed for Poland by car with our other Canadian IM missionaries, Bill and Marti. Twelve hours later we arrived at their home, but enroute we enjoyed beautiful scenery – rolling hills, trees, castles, cattle and goats grazing. In cities we saw huge apartment blocks that looked like towering rectangles sometimes painted yellow and orange or bright green. Other times they were a drab grey. Apparently they’re remnants from the Communist regime. People still occupy them, but they’re insulating them with Styrofoam and painting them bright colors now.

As we drove through countryside and city, I couldn’t stop thinking about the people here and what their history has been. When I saw crumbling farm houses, I wondered what stories they could tell if they could talk. Did they hide army troops? Were their residents expelled or killed by military forces?

My grandfather was born in Russia and later defected from the Russian army by hiding in a haystack. Soldiers went looking for him and actually shoved pitchforks into the very haystack in which he was hiding. Fortunately their aim was off and he escaped. As I looked around the Polish countryside, I thought a lot about Grandpa and others like him who have lived, or died, under Communism.

I shake my head at the suffering caused by selfishness, and I’m reminded of the blessing that’s ours to live in a country that guards its citizens’ freedom.

Saturday, September 8

2007-09-13T02:29:00.000-07:00

New friends – one from the States, one from Poland

The day’s highlight for me was speaking to the women in the morning session. Being over-busy is a common struggle to many women, and this group could relate to my message on that topic because of the additional demands on their schedules due to ministry. I encouraged them to keep their relationship with Jesus as their utmost priority – that abiding in the Vine (John 15) is what matters most, and that doing so will result in a fruitful life.

Today I discovered the answer to a question over which I’ve puzzled for nearly 25 years. When we lived in Nepal, I struggled with culture shock, illness, discouragement, isolation, and homesickness. Over the years since our return to North America, I’ve often wondered what that experience was about. What was the purpose behind our living there for three years, struggling with those issues, having no visible results for our labors, and then returning home to NA? The answer? Maybe, just maybe, it was to give me a heart that understands these missionary women and the issues they deal with on a daily basis. After I’d presented my message, several told me that it was nice to hear from someone who truly understood their situations. All I can say is, “Thank You, Lord, for so beautifully knitting Your design into Your children’s lives.”

Along a lighter note, we were served wieners for breakfast this morning. Three weenies each, with a slice of cucumber and tomato. I love these cultural differences!

Friday, September 7

2007-09-13T02:20:00.000-07:00

IM missionaries – some of our favorite people!

The International Messengers conference began this morning with heartfelt praise and worship music and a message that encouraged us toward personal revival. What an amazing time – the room was filled with missionaries who share the same Lord and purpose but who come from various backgrounds and countries. There were folks from the Ukraine, Germany, Romania, the Czech Republic, Poland, Slovakia, Canada, and the U.S., to name a few.

As we mixed and mingled with various individuals throughout the day, Gene and I realized afresh that our new responsibilities have thrown us onto an ever-increasingly steep learning curve. Being effective means understanding the various projects into which these people have invested their lives, and capturing their vision and passion. It means learning to understand various cultures and why certain evangelistic efforts will or will not work within them. It means carrying our understanding back to North America and sharing it with others with the hope that they will capture the vision and passion, too, and choose to get involved here as kingdom-builders either on a short-term, long-term, or support basis for those on the frontlines.

Personally, I’m challenged by the passion I hear in the missionaries’ voices as they speak about their projects. One gal is running a horseback-riding therapy program for handicapped orphans and she needs someone with wrangler skills to come alongside her.

One couple is holding weekly evangelistic children’s clubs for at-risk kids in the government’s social service program. They’re trying to follow a scouting-type program but have no such manuals in their language. They asked us if we could find something of that nature and mail it to them. They will translate the manual into their own language. They also asked if we could find a team of helpers with scouting experience to help them run a 10-day summer camp for these kids in 2008. The Polish government is aware of their efforts and will pay the children’s way to camp because it recognizes the long term benefits of this couple’s efforts.

Some missionaries are working with kids who literally live in the sewers of Odessa, Ukraine. Others are conducting prison ministries for men and women. Some are caring for homeless women, while others are providing care for children with HIV/AIDS.

I have the highest respect for these missionaries. Some are nationals struggling with limited finances for personal living expenses. Others are North Americans who have said goodbye to family and familiarity and stepped into a foreign culture and language that means facing a daily challenge. They’re dealing with issues such as loneliness, meeting their children’s educational needs as best they can, and trying to establish relationships with nationals who sometimes regard them with suspicion or distrust. I feel so honored to come alongside and encourage them in their work.

Thursday, September 6

2007-09-13T02:16:00.000-07:00

We spent last night with Brad’s family. What a delight to chat and share a meal in their home. After breakfast we hopped into their car and drove about an hour to the hotel where the IM conference would be held. Along the way I noticed numerous roadside shrines – mostly celebrating Mary, the mother of Jesus. I couldn’t help but think of the uncanny similarity between them and the roadside shrines in Nepal and India. Their focus is different but they’re all built to worship someone other than God.

Sad news arrived in the late afternoon. Four Christian young people, all with associations to IM, were driving to a youth conference in Romania earlier in the day. They were traveling with other vehicles headed for the same destination but had fallen behind. In their hurry to catch up, the driver lost control of the car. It crashed into a tree and exploded into flames; everyone died instantly. One of the passengers was a 20-year-old girl – the same age as my youngest daughter. Another was a youth worker – an only child to his parents. His girlfriend also died.

My heart broke when I heard the news. Four young people were ushered into heaven, leaving loved ones behind wondering why God would allow such a tragedy and crying out to Him in their pain. I can’t imagine what they’re feeling.

Wednesday, September 5

2007-09-13T02:10:00.000-07:00

Rolling green fields dotted with farms and villages greeted us as the plane descended into Kosice (ko-SHEETS-sa). As we waited in the customs lineup we watched as a gypsy couple and their teenage daughter handed over their documents to the official behind a plexiglass window. He snapped at them. They didn’t understand his question, so he snapped at them again. And again. And again. I felt sorry for them, but the incident backed up what we’d heard in the past – that gypsies are not well-liked. The official allowed the parents to go to the baggage claim area but he ordered the girl to stay put while he processed our passports. We’re not sure why he kept her back – perhaps he was checking for the possibility of human trafficking.

Brad, one of our Canadian IM missionaries, met us at the airport. He took us to see an abandoned former college facility that IM is hoping to purchase for use as a conference center. It’s in desperate need of TLC, but it would be ideal once remodeled. On the same grounds was another building – a castle of sorts – that’s more than 200 years old and in the process of being restored for ministry use. Walking through the facility made me feel like I’d stepped back into history. I imagined grand parties held by royalty – ladies in poofy ballroom gowns, gents in their fanciest attire, feasts prepared by the servants in the kitchen downstairs. Wouldn’t it be great to see the building useable once again, especially for ministry purposes?

Tuesday, September 4

2007-09-13T01:59:00.003-07:00

My oh my, what a day. Gene and I woke up yesterday morning facing a never-ending to-do list. We were still organizing our household after moving a few days prior, and now we had to run last-minute errands and pack for our trip. The day wore into evening, the evening rolled into nighttime, and still we hadn’t come to the end of our list. At 3 a.m. we decided that whatever tasks hadn’t been completed by then wouldn’t be completed, so we piled our suitcases into the car and headed for the airport.

The early hour meant no crowds so we easily passed through security and found a seat in the waiting area. We’d already been awake for 25 hours when our flight left at 8:20. The flight took us to Toronto, another took us to Vienna, and the last leg took us to Kosice, Slovakia.

Overseas travel sounds glamorous, but glamorous it is not. Imagine the screaming toddler behind us from Toronto to Vienna – three hours of non-stop crying until she fell asleep exhausted. Imagine reaching Vienna after being awake for about 40 hours and then searching for a place to rest during our four-hour layover. We found one waiting area with about 150 other people who looked equally exhausted. I crashed on a bench while Gene guarded our belongings. Then we switched places and he caught a short nap. At this point we felt like total aliens – we couldn’t read a word on the signs, couldn’t understand a word of anything spoken, and had no local currency to buy a snack. We’d entered another part of the world in which nothing was familiar.

Thursday, April 19

2007-04-20T17:54:00.000-07:00

We’ve been home for a few days, busy catching up on business that fell by the wayside in our absence. Plus, we celebrated our youngest child’s 20th birthday on Tuesday!! No more teenagers….I’m getting soooo old!!

Jet lag hit me a little harder than I’d expected. I had an interview with my publisher’s publicity team on Monday afternoon to gear up for my next book (Moving From Fear to Freedom: A Woman’s Guide to Peace in Every Situation – coming in August), and oh my….I struggled to come up with intelligent answers to their questions. I know that book inside and out, but I just couldn’t think clearly enough to give them an overview in a nugget. They were very patient with me. Sigh.

But this morning I’m feeling much better; the achy fatigue is gone. And good thing. I’m flying to Manitoba shortly to do a TV taping for “It’s a New Day” and speak at a Baptist women’s conference this weekend. My bags are packed and I’m ready to go.

But first, I want to say thanks to all who followed my blog over the past few weeks and prayed for our safety and strength. Several of you emailed to assure us of your prayers, and that meant a lot. I’m still processing everything that happened, and I’m sure it will take time.

Gene put together an 8-minute Power Point presentation for me to use this weekend, and tears fill my eyes each time I watch it. It’s hard to believe that less than a week has passed since those pictures were taken, since I hugged the village kids and they giggled in response. Their lives are so very different than ours, so difficult in many ways. I never want to slip back into comfortable North American complacency, content with having my needs met and forgetting about those who struggle to survive.

A quote sits on my desk this morning. It says, “Be as great in your acts as you have been in your thoughts.” My thoughts wander back to those people we mingled with in India and Nepal and they nudge me to pray for them and to support them as I can. It would be so easy to get caught up in my busyness here again, and to let those thoughts dim over time. But this quote encourages me to act upon my thoughts. Don’t just think about praying and giving. Do it. I want to be as great in my acts toward the needy as I have been in my thoughts. As James 1:22 says, “Be ye doers of the word, and not hearers only.”

Friday, April 13

2007-04-16T09:36:00.000-07:00

We’re heading home. I’m writing this at 39,000 feet, somewhere over eastern Canada. We’ve already flown nine hours from New Delhi to London. Another nine hours to Vancouver will put us on the tarmac by six o’clock.

How does one process the past three weeks’ events? While waiting in Heathrow, Gene asked me if the experience has left me emotionally drained or emotionally charged. That’s an easy question. While I’m exhausted physically, the emotions are running on high. . .

I’ve been challenged to re-evaluate priorities and values. I’ve been blessed beyond words by the kindness shown by the World Vision India staff. I’ve been thrilled to meet Ankit and his family and numerous other Indian friends. I’ve been encouraged to see God at work in pockets all across this Asian land. And now the question is: How does God want to use this experience to accomplish His purposes in and through my life? My heart’s desire is that coming home and re-entering the North American culture and life’s busyness will neither erase the memories nor hinder His purposes.

Only four hours left ‘til touchdown…..

Thursday, April 12

2007-04-16T09:34:00.000-07:00

Bless the hearts of the World Vision staff, they arranged for vehicles and drivers to take Gene and me and the two WV Canada staff to New Delhi. As if that wasn’t enough, two of them decided to accompany us. The round trip took them about 12 hours and believe me, the driving conditions are anything but safe. These fellows have such humble, servants’ hearts. They work so hard with no complaints and consider it all joy. “God, pour out Your blessing on these men.”

By mid-afternoon we arrived in New Delhi and booked into a YWCA. With the temperature soaring to about 112 degrees, it was ‘way too hot to sightsee. We walked a few blocks to find a restaurant for supper and that was almost too much.

Strange thing – we ate at a McDonald’s. Imagine – only a day prior we were in rural India where the villagers struggle to survive for lack of water six months each year. Now we sat in an air-conditioned restaurant eating grilled chicken burgers as families celebrated their kid’s birthday parties a few tables away, just like at home. Outside sat vendors selling chewing tobacco to eek out a living. A block away, convention guests and tourists checked into hotels that cost more than $300 per night. To say that India is a land of extreme contrast is an understatement!

Wednesday, April 11

2007-04-16T09:33:00.000-07:00

Our hotel was a 45-minute drive from the WV office and Ankit’s community. We returned around 7:00 p.m., our bodies begging for a shower to wash away the sweat and dust.

We had the evening to write a feedback report for WV, pack, and grab a bite to eat. At midnight, the WV staff returned to pick us up and drive us to the train station. Now THAT experience was another story…

We had to make two trips from the hotel to the train station because the vehicle couldn’t hold everyone and their gear. Gene and I were dropped off first. There we stood in the dark, eyed by curious and perhaps suspicious nationals. I was the only woman in sight; my white skin and short, fair hair drew stares like a magnet. A wee bit unnerving, to say the least. Suddenly, like a guardian angel, a WV Indian staff member appeared. “Hi! I’ve been waiting for you inside the terminal!” Whew. Relief swept over me as he took my suitcases and directed us to a safer place to wait.

The others showed up about 20 minutes later, making us a group of seven. We transferred everything to a waiting area immediately beside the tracks where we stood for the next hour. Now I became the one who stared.

Two police officers with a prisoner between them walked past us and climbed aboard a darkened train car. A rope joining the three at the wrists kept the prisoner from escaping. A man with only one leg hobbled by, using one crutch to steady himself. A family with four small children slept on the bare concrete about five feet from the tracks. An elderly man sat a few feet away, watching the goings-on in silence as his wife slept on the ground beside him. A stray dog scrounged through garbage and then curled up to sleep. A train employee holding an old-fashioned lantern with a light that glowed like a 30-watt bulb stood at the edge of the platform as one engine disconnected from a row of cars and pulled away.

Finally our train arrived. The WV staff directed us to the sleeping car for which we had reservations, but within a few moments we realized we had a problem. Apparently there was a booking mistake and our reservations had been made for the previous night! The train employee in charge of that car simply shook his head and told us that if we could get our tickets changed right away, we could ride. Unfortunately, the train began to move away from the station before we could get to the ticket booth and back. By now it was nearly 2:00 a.m. With only one clean and safe hotel within an hour’s drive or more, I silently prayed that our rooms were still available as we loaded our suitcases back into the Jeep.

The hotel’s security gates were locked when we showed up. I whispered another arrow prayer. Our driver honked and honked the horn while our guardian angel searched for and found an opening in the fence. He roused the night security guard and reception clerk, and they greeted us with unspoken questions written over their faces. Thankfully our rooms hadn’t been claimed by anyone else. It was 3:00 a.m. before everyone had returned to the hotel. Our best laid plans had fallen apart, but we slept with the confidence that, for whatever reason God had allowed this, we were in His care.

Wednesday, April 11

2007-04-16T09:29:00.000-07:00

Today was another forever etched on my heart. The WV team drove us at least an hour into a remote area before parking the vehicles on the roadside. As if on cue, about 18 men, women, and children appeared from around the next bend wearing smiles a mile wide. The women, clad in their finest saris, carried marigold garlands and floral bouquets with which they welcomed us. Then they joined us for a long uphill (and very sweaty) trek to a village that has been greatly impacted by World Vision.

Three-quarters of the way up the hill, another group welcomed us with more marigold leis. They held a banner that declared themselves as the “self-help women’s group” – those benefiting from the economic development program made possible through WV sponsorship.

When we rounded the last corner, we saw the rest of the village waiting for us. They’d planned a welcoming reception for us to say thank-you for the impact that WV has had on their community. Every child (about 35) in the village is sponsored by a Canadian, and WV has supplied each household (7) with a concrete tank that collects 8,000 litres of water during the rainy season to provide the valued resource for six months of the year. Although this doesn’t solve the water supply problem year-round, it has provided immense relief to these precious villagers.

They ushered us into a makeshift outdoor meeting area, shaded from the searing sun by a tarp. They gave us seats of honor and again presented us with marigold leis and floral bouquets. A pre-teen girl sang a song she’d written about the value of education, and a toothless grandma stole the show with a song and dance. We were able to say a few words of thanks and encouragement, and then they served us chia and crackers. I estimate that 70 people were present. Some had walked a long distance from surrounding villages for the event. Doing so in this scorching heat was no small effort on their behalf.

The people’s warmth overwhelmed me. They lack the material possessions that North Americans enjoy, but they’re rich in hospitality and gratitude. They were eager to communicate despite the language barrier, and I enjoyed a good chat with a WV volunteer who helps coordinate the women’s self-help group. She told me that they’ve benefited through the purchase of cows and the subsequent ability to sell the milk for income.

This village’s size and remote location reminded me of our experience in Nepal. It felt like I’d come home to long-lost friends. Again, when departure time came, I found it difficult to say goodbye. In Nepalese I told them the women that they were my “sottees” (friends); the word was close enough to Hindi that they understood. They nodded and smiled and lined up for goodbye hugs. While most stayed on the edge of the village and waved farewell, those from surrounding villages walked the path with us. One by one they eventually veered onto other paths enroute to their own villages, and again we exchanged hugs.

As women, our lives are a universe apart. These gals climb trees to cut leaves as fodder for their livestock. They walk kilometers to collect one or two containers of water for household use. They live miles from the nearest clinic or bazaar where they can buy the simplest staples such as bar soap. They’ll never have a driver’s license, let alone own a car. Despite the differences, we all understand the meaning of friendship. Smiles and hugs transcend language barriers.

A part of my heart remains in rural India.

Tuesday, April 10

2007-04-16T09:21:00.000-07:00

Mid-morning saw us enroute to meet Ankit. First, though, we bumped our way from the congested bazaar to the town’s outskirts where our convoy of WV vehicles stopped. A group of people met us and motioned for us to follow them to a canopied area behind a shop. These folks were the village leaders, the local committee that works closely with WV, and the team of women involved in the self-help group.

They treated us like royalty, directing us to chairs at the front of the meeting area. They placed garlands of orange marigolds around our necks and gave us bouquets of flowers. The chairman made a speech, expressing gratitude for World Vision’s work in their community and thanking us, as sponsors, for coming to visit them. Then they invited us to speak. It was such a pleasure to tell them that the pleasure was ours, and to thank them for their partnership with WV in accomplishing meaningful goals among the poorest of the poor within their community. I truly felt humbled by their gratitude and hospitality. The time with them ended all too soon, but we had to press forward to reach Ankit at school before classes would be dismissed at noon.

Another five minutes’ drive found us at six-year-old Ankit’s school. Twenty-seven children, grades one through four, were sitting on skimpy blankets on a concrete floor in one room. Grades five through eight sat in an adjoining room.

Ankit knew we were coming, but he was obviously unsure of himself and these white-skinned strangers. When the teacher asked him to stand and we approached him, he responded by looking down and avoiding our eyes. We simply smiled and said “Namaste” to him. He then bent down and touched our toes to show respect. I wanted to pick him up and give him a big hug, but I had to restrain myself because that might have been his undoing!

I’d purchased enough foam shapes to do a craft with 30 children, so this class size was perfect. Within minutes we’d pulled out the supplies and shown the kids how to make a picture with the shapes. They eagerly set to work and completed their craft without further instruction. The kids from the adjoining class then filed in, and we gave the teachers some gummy worm candy to distribute to all.

Next on the agenda was a visit to Ankit’s home. We walked about a quarter-mile with him and two of his older brothers down a dusty road and through a wheat field to their two-room home made of mud and rock. Several cows rested in the courtyard near the house where family and friends had already gathered for the event.

World Vision staff introduced us to Ankit’s parents and nine siblings. At first I felt a little awkward – what are the perfect words to say in such a situation, anyway? With cameras clicking and a video camera recording the event, I suddenly felt overwhelmed. How must the family have felt? The entire moment seemed surreal. Thankfully we were able to disappear into the house with just the family. There I gave them the gifts we’d purchased for them – a baseball cap for Dad, a comb and mirror set for Mom, beaded necklaces for Mom and the girls, toy airplanes for the kids, and peanut butter to spread on their “roti” (bread).

When we exited, Ankit showed us a card we’d mailed to him a couple of months ago. I showed him the picture and thank-you note he’d sent to us in return, and gave him a picture of our family. I think something twigged in his mind when he saw the picture he’d drawn.

By now the courtyard had drawn a couple dozen curious villagers of all ages. They smiled and nodded as Gene and Eric, the Canadian WV rep, demonstrated playing with a Frisbee and with a Velcro ball and mitt set. Mothers and big sisters nudged the younger girls my direction when they saw that I’d brought a dozen wee hair ties. What fun!

With everyone now relaxed, Gene and I walked with Ankit and his parents through the back field. Using a translator, we asked questions about how much land they own, the crops they plant, and the challenges they face on a daily basis. One of their greatest challenges is the danger posed by wild elephants! Ankit’s father told us that an elephant had broken through the protective wire fence dividing their property from the jungle nearby only two days prior. He said that they run for safety if they see a beast coming their direction, but if it comes at night, there’s nothing they can do except remain as quiet as possible in their house.

We spent about an hour with the family. During that time, I bonded with Ankit’s mother. We’re from opposite sides of the earth and possess two very different belief systems, but we share the common desire for our kids’ well-being. There’s no way she can provide for her children’s material and physical needs as I can provide for mine, and my heart ached for her. When I offered her a farewell hug, she immediately responded and embraced me in return. I was finally able to give Ankit a hug, too. I’ll always treasure his shy smile and I make a commitment to correspond with him on a more regular basis.

“Dear God, Your Word contains more than 2,000 references to the poor and oppressed and You command Your children to help those who cannot help themselves. Please impress this day’s memories upon my heart and mind forever. Open my eyes, my heart, and my hands so that I might respond in a way that honors You and that makes a difference in the lives of the needy.”

Tuesday, April 10

2007-04-12T04:47:00.000-07:00

Words cannot adequately describe today’s experience. The World Vision India staff here had obviously prepared very well for our visit. We enjoyed morning devotions with them and then they showed us a power point presentation of their work in this project. In all honesty, I learned that my understanding of WV’s work was very limited indeed.
I’d always (mistakenly) thought that our family’s monthly cheque went solely towards our supported child’s education, food, and medical care. I had no idea that our finances went towards community development so the entire village could benefit.

In our child’s situation, he IS receiving education and health care, but there’s more. One of his sisters has received a sewing machine and has learned to sew so she can become economically self-supporting. Two destitute widows and their children have received new homes. (Think of a one room concrete house, maybe eight feet wide and 12 feet long, and imagine sharing that with three kids – it beats the mud and rock house that was destroyed by rain). A third has received a toilet and shower facility. (Think of a concrete outhouse in the backyard and you get the picture. It sure beats having no shower facilities, and using the open fields as a toilet.) Mothers are being taught about the importance of child immunizations and HIV awareness, and kids are receiving regular medical checkups. There’s also a women’s self-help group that meets regularly to help participants become economically independent through the establishment of small business and to inform them of their legal rights (ie: they have a legal right to have sterile instruments used during child delivery and can demand to receive this service rather than risk infection through dirty instruments). Amazing! And I also learned that in this particular project area, there are six communities working together and Canadians sponsor more than 2500 children here.

World Vision’s structure is particularly impressive. The WV India team doesn’t dictate who will or will not receive sponsorship. Rather, it leaves that to the local leaders who know the families and can determine whose need is greatest. There’s a committee comprised of locals who also determine the community’s greatest needs (ie: do they have an adequate water source or could they benefit from having concrete water storage tanks to collect a six-month supply during the monsoon season?). The WV team networks to disperse funds but each member spends at least two days visiting projects to follow up and build strong relationships with the locals.

I was also very impressed with the hearts of the men in the WV office. They’re humble and hard-working. They’re passionate about their work and about seeing transformation take place in the lives of those who are the poorest of the poor.

Monday, April 9

2007-04-12T04:45:00.000-07:00

Travel day. Enroute to the airport by 8:15, accompanied by a couple of OM women who attended the conference on Saturday. They presented me and Gene with hand-embroidered cotton shirts – a specialty item from Lucknow. We enjoyed a good chat as they told me about their involvement with women’s empowerment, especially among the Dalit women.

I’m so impressed with my Indian sisters. They’re on the front lines of service and their task is enormous, but they don’t utter a word of complaint. They simply dig in and get the job done. They display such humble hearts, but they are obviously women of great strength and passion. It’s hard to say goodbye to them – I wish I could stay with them longer and learn from them.

A 45-minute flight took us to New Delhi where three World Vision reps met us. We drove through bustling city streets for at least an hour, stopping and starting as traffic allowed. Two little girls, maybe ages 5-8, came to our car windows to sell red roses and beg for food when we stopped at a red light. I gave them three bananas I had in a bag, but they wanted more. The WV reps pointed at a woman wearing a green sari lingering on a nearby sidewalk and said that she was probably their mother, keeping a watchful eye over her daughters.

It took four hours to reach the region where our sponsored child lives. I’d never seen so many people anywhere. Even the rural bazaars were crawling with men, women, and children. There were lots of Muslim folks, too – women clad in black robes from head to toe (I couldn’t help but feel sorry for them in this heat), men with their white crocheted-looking hats. We saw dozens of farmers taking loads of sugar cane to the local processing mills, their loads stacked at least six feet high on flat wagons pulled by white oxen or black water buffalo. Our driver skillfully wound his way between the sugar cane wagons, men riding bicycles, horse-drawn wagons carrying 8 or 10 family members, motorcycles carrying three or four passengers, buses, and transport trucks. We finally arrived at our hotel around 7:30 p.m. – sweaty and dusty – and were greeted by the Canadian World Vision reps who’d arrived yesterday.

We’re definitely in a region of India where people aren’t accustomed to seeing white women. The female WV rep, Krista, and I garnered more than a few unwelcome stares from the male population. We were both wearing Capri pants – that might have had something to do with it! Tomorrow I’m planning to wear the Indian clothes I had a tailor sew for me while in Gangtok.

Sunday, April 8

2007-04-12T04:44:00.000-07:00

The afternoon rolled on and on….

Yesterday at the conference I met an American woman who invited us to join her family and several others for Easter afternoon. Her hubby picked us up, and we saw more of Lucknow as he drove us to the home where they’d gathered. The moms were homeschoolers and glad for fellowship. It was so hot that we women folk visited in the master bedroom, sitting under the ceiling fan to stay cool.

From there we returned to the hotel and met with Dr. Sanjay Mall of World Vision India. What a joy to meet the man who helped orchestrate our visit to the project in which our sponsored child lives. I began to get an understanding of the incredible amount of coordination it has taken to pull this together. It would never had been possible without him and the India team.

We had a great visit over dinner. Our menu was somewhat turned around – Gene and I ate Indian food while he ate a chocolate ice cream sundae!

Sunday, April 7

2007-04-12T04:40:00.000-07:00

This was an Easter Sunday to be remembered for the rest of my life. A group of about 50 men, women, and children met in the same facility as yesterday’s conference. They sang several English songs that we know from back home, and those were okay, but their enthusiasm rose to a new level when they broke into a Hindi chorus. I couldn’t understand a word but I could understand the joy that flowed from their hearts. With guitars and a bongo-type drum accompanying, they sang for probably five or six minutes. I just closed my eyes and joined them in spirit.

A group of about eight children participated in the program by doing a pantomime to an English song. The lyrics may be familiar to some: “Thank you for giving to the Lord…I am a life that was changed….Thank you for giving to the Lord….I am so glad you came.” The oldest child was perhaps 10 years old; the youngest was only three. It was so touching that I couldn’t hold back my tears.

As the song went on, I was challenged afresh to be faithful to God’s calling on my life. Life is about loving others, not collecting stuff or a bulky bank account or even building an impressive platform. It’s about serving and encouraging and building up. It’s about leaving a legacy that impacts others for eternity.

Minutes later I was given the privilege to encourage through the spoken word. I spoke from Psalm 138 and listed the reasons for why we can celebrate God: His unfailing love, His faithfulness, His answers to our prayers, His care for the humble, and His mighty power. A skilled translator interpreted everything in Hindi for those who spoke no English.

Afterwards we enjoyed an Indian lunch with several OM leaders and their wives. These wonderful, talented men and women are passionate about serving their own people. While Gene spoke with the men, I learned more about the work being done among the women. One of the most effective things they’re doing is called Women Empowerment. They send out teams to rural villages to educate women (especially Dalits) about their legal rights, literacy, health issues such as immunizations, family planning, TB and HIV awareness. They also visit women in prison and have had the opportunity to present Christmas programs to them.

The women in these prisons are there because of the dowry issues. For instance, when a girl marries, her family must pay a demanded sum to the groom’s family. The payment is made, but the groom’s family often returns to ask for more. These demands are not small; they might even include land, a motorbike, or even a new car. If the bride’s family cannot pay, the groom’s family will seek revenge by torturing or killing the girl. That’s what the bride burnings are about – dousing a woman with gasoline and burning her alive to punish her family for not meeting the dowry demands. The prisoners (the bride’s female in-laws) might have been directly involved in the killing, or they might be paying for the crime committed by the male members of the household. In any case, the living conditions consist of an outdoor facility (no protection from the chilly winds in the winter), and a concrete floor to sleep on. Bathing facilities are practically non-existent and the food would be less than sufficient. Whether they committed a crime or not, their hearts are heavy and they’re hungry for someone to show kindness.

Saturday, April 7

2007-04-12T04:36:00.000-07:00

Our flight finally reached Lucknow about three hours late last night. Three Indian women and one of their tenth grade daughters greeted us with two bouquets of gladiolas. Bless their hearts, they still wore big smiles and gave me hugs despite waiting at the airport all evening.

The conference began at 10:30 this morning, and approximately 50 women came from various local churches. Remember how I keep saying that flexibility is the key word? Well, put another tally mark on the wall! I’d prepared to teach in English but when the MC used a translator, I knew I’d best switch mental gears immediately. Two gifted Indian women took turns speaking as my translators. It was a ton of fun to work with them, and I’d do it again in a heartbeat.

The sessions went well, I believe. At the end of the last session, we had an open discussion time with questions focused on each of the three topics covered. I was delighted to see the ladies freely share their thoughts about how they’ve grown in their spiritual journey. I think they could have gone on for at least an hour but we ran out of time.

Harvest House and OM partnered to donate 70 copies of 10-Minute Time Outs for Busy Women to each participant. What a joy to see these women eagerly receive their own copies of the book!

I think I had my most embarrassing moment of my speaking career this afternoon. The heat here is about 105 degrees F. The electricity surged many times throughout the day, knocking out the air conditioning and leaving us sweltering in the meeting room. One lady gave me a cold Coke before the third session. I opened it while the ladies were singing a song a few minutes later. To my chagrin, the soda fizzed and overflowed all over my lap. There I was, desperately digging through my bag to find something…anything….to soak up the puddle of soda. The only thing I could find was a roll of toilet paper (one carries a personal roll of TP here because one never knows what to expect re: toilet facilities). I cleaned up what I could and got up to speak again albeit the huge wet spot across my middle. Oh well! The heat was good for something—it dried up the puddle while I hid behind the podium! The ladies enjoyed a good laugh when I told them what happened.

After the conference we had a few minutes to wander the street and buy bananas and oranges for tomorrow’s breakfast. On the nearby corner, a vendor sold marigold leis and teeny dishes filled oil and a candlewick. These were used by customers in a room across the street for a certain Hindu ritual performed only on Saturdays. We watched as men and women filed into the little room that held a golden idol that stood about three feet tall. They dabbed red powder on the idol’s face and set the burning candlewicks before it. Another idol sat in the room next door, flanked by two friendly Hindu priests – father and son, I learned.

Watching the idol worship reminds me of Scriptures that describe idols fashioned by man’s hand. Why do human hearts worship inanimate objects crafted by human hands? How does one find spiritual fulfillment by performing rituals on a rock? I’m also reminded of Scriptures that declare God as being above all gods. There are millions of false gods across this land but there’s only one true God – the One who loves mankind and invites relationship with anyone willing to believe in Him.

Friday, April 6

2007-04-12T04:33:00.000-07:00

The morning began early with another meeting to learn more about human trafficking. One gal with whom we met has been working with sexually exploited women for several years. She told us that human trafficking is now a bigger international money-maker than the illegal drug industry. The evil and greed of man’s heart is hard to comprehend.

What to do about it? Well, I think I have my homework cut out. I need to do a lot more research and reading to ensure an accurate understanding of the complexity of the problem and to be able to suggest practical solutions.

We noticed something unusual when we left out guesthouse at 7:15 this morning. Hundreds of people had already lined the sidewalk of the nearby main street. The crowd grew as the morning passed. By 10:45, buses and taxis were having a difficult time getting through. We managed to get out and to the airport, but after arriving there, we heard that the riot police had come out and streets were being blockaded. The reason? A cell phone company was featuring a good deal and everyone wanted a piece of it.

Today w flew from Kathmandu to Delhi, arriving in time to find that our connecting flight to Lucknow would be delayed for two hours. So here I sit in the airport, catching up on blogs and working on an article.

I’m looking forward to the conference tomorrow. Seventy women are expected to attend. On Sunday I’ll speak at the Good Shepherd Community Church. We’ll meet with OM leaders for lunch, and with the World Vision Program Manager in the evening. On Monday we’ll fly back to Delhi where we’ll meet World Vision reps who will take us to visit our sponsored child.

I’m not sure what our email access will look like after today, so I’ll blog each day and post when there’s internet availability. Happy Easter weekend to all!

Thursday, April 5

2007-04-12T04:30:00.000-07:00

We started the day by meeting with several men who serve on the Board of Directors for an NGO whose goal is to rescue and rehabilitate women sold as sex slaves into India. They described the means by which these women are sold: Sometimes attractive men visit remote villages, find beautiful young girls as young as age 12, and either marry them there or take them away with the promise to marry them later. They take the girls to large cities such as Bombay. Once there, they take the girls to a brothel, saying that these women in the house are relatives and they’ll (the men) will be back shortly. It doesn’t take long before the girls realize they’ve been lied to and are now enslaved in prostitution. If they refuse to comply, they are tortured and raped.

Sometimes the girls are sold directly into the sex trade by their own parents or even their husbands because of the income potential. Sometimes young girls are lured to the big cities with the promise of a cleaning job in an office or for a wealthy family. They get the job, alright, but they’re also forced to give sexual favors to their employers and then sold by the same into the industry.

Rescuing these girls is risky because so many people appreciate the income earned through this business. The police are often involved, taking bribes to keep their mouths shut if a girl seeks their help. We’ve heard stories of girls going to the police station for assistance and being raped there.

In many cases, these girls contract HIV. If they’re kicked out of the brothel when they’re too sick to function any longer, they often have no place to turn. Their village folk don’t want them back – being ill only makes them a financial burden. If they can’t work, how will they earn a living? They’re left destitute. If they’re still able to function to a degree, they often return to the brothel for lack of other options.

We listened to these men describe the work that’s taking place in their organization and sat in awe of what they’re doing. They own a house where these women and their children live. While there, they receive food, clothing, education, life skills training, and much needed HIV medication. If the girls marry, the organization looks after the details. If they die from AIDS, it takes care of those details. The Board expressed the desire to become self-supported by leasing or purchasing land to run a pig and poultry farm. They’re hoping to raise at least $3000 to help them purchase the above. What’s that to a North American? If 30 people donated $100 each, the farm could be purchased and the work could advance to a whole new level.

This issue of human trafficking looms larger than my imagination can comprehend. How can a little organization like this even make a noticeable dent? By faithfully doing what it can, one life at a time. And I want to help.

Wednesday, April 4

2007-04-04T20:58:00.000-07:00

My friend K. is truly a woman of influence in her culture. The 20 additional children showed up at the orphanage for an initial visit while we were eating lunch in her dining room. Without a word, she slipped outside and made sure their arrival was a smooth one. While we were there, she also checked the previous children’s arms for their TB skin test results. Seven kids showed positive. Now they’ll have to take one pill on an empty stomach every morning for a year – accomplishing that will take nothing short of an act of God.

The facility was spacious but very modest: A three-storey concrete building provides a sitting room, kitchen, bedrooms, shower and tub, a covered deck on which to play during the monsoon rains, and a study room. The eating area is a separate building that holds four wood tables and enough benches for 42 kids. Where the other 20 will eat is anyone’s guess. A third building, a narrow brick structure with a bare concrete floor provides indoor play space. It’s a far cry from anything seen in North America, but it’s more than what some of these kids have come from, and their smiles show that they’re happy to be there. One little fellow, maybe four years old, sidled up to me and slipped his hand in mine – he stole my heart in an instant, and then we had to say goodbye. Sometimes I wonder why life seems to be so unfair, especially to these innocent ones.

We spent the remainder of the day traveling across the city and then visiting a training institute for Nepalese church workers. There are 12 students presently enrolled in the five-month program. Again, talk about a modest facility! The director has to walk through the men’s sleeping quarters (a bare room with four bunk beds) to get to his office. Three female students share sleeping quarters on a different floor. The dining room has one table meant for four people – perhaps the rest spill onto the adjoining outdoor deck. The teaching room has six narrow tables barely long enough to accommodate two students each, and a small whiteboard on one wall.

Nevertheless, good things are happening in and through the lives of these young people who have decided to follow Jesus. Several have overcome drug addiction and are now helping others who are struggling with various issues in their lives. They remain steadfast despite persecution. It’s obvious they’re following the Lord because they love Him, not because of a false notion that He’ll make their lives peachy-keen.

Tuesday, April 3

2007-04-04T06:12:00.000-07:00

An American gal who works in Katmandu told us about a coffee house with wireless internet access. We discovered that it’s only two blocks from where we’re staying! So, this morning, I sifted through my emails while sitting on a comfy sofa and sipping a vanilla latte. Nice!

God fulfilled one of my personal dreams today. Through divine networking, yesterday evening I located the woman who was my language helper when we lived in Boudha in 1982. We saw each other for the last time in January 1984 and have had no contact since then. We spoke by phone this morning and arranged to meet for lunch.

K. is a beautiful, strong woman who has endured much. For instance, she lost her husband five years ago when he was killed by Maoists rebels during a major countrywide political upheaval. Her family's vehicles were burned the same night, and she was forced to flee with only the clothes she was wearing. K’s life flipped upside down, and understandably so. While weaker folk might have thrown up their hands in despair, she has chosen to persevere and try to make life better for others.

K. is now involved with a local orphanage that cares for 42 children. Another 20 will join the facility within the next two weeks. Recently she discovered that most of these kids aren’t really orphans. Some parents lie about their children’s status to the government-run Children’s Welfare Organization in order to secure a guaranteed education for them. Others have one parent who works for 12 hours a day while their child or children sit alone at home or run the streets. The CWO then labels the kids as orphans and places them in facilities such as the one on her property. Granted, the kids are well fed and educated, but under false pretenses. They’re also filling space that should rightfully belong to children who honestly have no one to care for them. What to do when the needs are so great?

K. told us how strangers visit rural villages and tell parents that, for a price (about $300), they will take their children to the big city and place them in a boarding school to receive a good education. The parents believe them, pay the price, and bid their kids farewell. The strangers then deposit the kids at an orphanage and walk away with the money in their pockets. Sometimes those orphanages sell the kids into the sex trade industry or pass them along to another facility. Meanwhile, back home, the parents are thinking that their kids are being well cared for. Only when they try to contact their children do they realize they’ve been duped. Tomorrow we’ll visit the orphanage where K. volunteers and get an up-close-and-personal peek at what’s happening there.

Thanks to technology, K. and I can now stay in touch via email! With all my heart I believe God has reunited us for a reason.

The day ended with dinner with an ex-patriot family we’ve supported for more than a decade. What a joy to hear first-hand of their work and to see that they’re doing well. They spoke about the cause of the political unrest here – simply put, the Maoists want to throw out the existing government and establish their own.

We saw results of that unrest while trying to travel through the city today. Mass traffic jams resulted when Maoists demonstrated their displeasure at the massacre of 29 of their comrades last week.

Monday, April 2

2007-04-02T22:22:00.000-07:00

While in Boudha we visited the famous Buddhist stupa. It’s a white structure several stories tall, topped by a four-sided tower with a set of eyes painted on each side. Prayer flags supposedly send prayers heavenward so long as the breeze keeps them flapping. This afternoon people of all ages and from many nationalities were walking around it, putting their arms through slots in the wall to give the enclosed prayer wheels a spin. Several Tibetan women on the next level above were paying homage to Buddha, too. They’d covered their hands with a type of cymbal which they clapped together before prostrating themselves face down on the concrete floor. Then they stood, took a sideways step, and repeated the process.

I surveyed the scene from a restaurant window above and the song “People Need the Lord” came to mind. These folks are on a spiritual quest to fill their heart’s God-shaped vacuum. Sadly, some have never heard of Jesus, the one who died to give them the free gift of salvation. Others have heard the Good News of salvation but refuse to admit their sinfulness and need of a Savior. They’d rather try to earn salvation through good works and religious deeds. “God, shine Your light into this needy land and dispel the darkness.”

Monday, April 2

2007-04-02T22:21:00.000-07:00

I woke this morning realizing I’d slept better last night than any night so far despite the plywood-type mattress! “Thank You, Lord, for renewed energy!”

Our hotel boasted a garden sprinkled with round wooden tables and chairs where guests could relax in the shade. High walls covered by greenery provided respite from the noise of the nearby bazaar and ceaseless traffic. A waterfall gurgled and splashed in one corner. Two tabby cats meandered from one hotel guest to another. That’s where we were eating breakfast when the Nepalese mother we’d met yesterday arrived, this time bringing her ninth-grade sister to act as her translator…sort of. We ordered chia for them and then we launched into a conversation that required concentration on everyone’s part as we struggled to talk about concepts rather than merely physical things.

For instance, in Nepalese we asked how she felt about giving up her toddler, Shanti, for adoption, especially to a woman in a different country. She responded in Nepalese saying that she had cried for a long time in the days leading to Shanti’s departure, but that she chose to give her up because she wants a good future for her. She said that she’s very happy for Shanti now, and she looks forward to the day when she can see her again. She expressed a question regarding whether or not Shanti will remember her, and we were able to tell her that the doctor speaks of her often at home, referring to her as “Shanti’s tummy mommy.” She smiled.

While it must have been extremely difficult for this woman to do what she did, I’m thankful she didn’t sell her child into the sex-trade industry for a few dollars. I’ve learned that parents will sometimes sell their youngsters into a lifetime of slavery and eventual death by AIDS for a mere meal. “God, show us how we can make a difference in the lives of those who need help desperately.”

We checked out of our hotel at noon and moved into a lovely Nepalese-run guesthouse. Upon arrival, we were delighted to discover that the gal in charge once worked with UMN, the same organization we were with in Nepal from 1982-85. As we spoke further, we discovered that she and her husband were actually working at the Tansen hospital at the same time as we were! Small, small world.

After dropping off our suitcases, we caught a taxi for a district called Boudha, in search of the family with whom we lived for two months while we did language study in 1982. Unfortunately, the entire neighborhood, as we knew it, was gone. We recognized only one building, the home of a crippled man named Kami, who we visited many times back then. Apartment buildings have replaced the simple single family dwellings and rice fields that once dotted the district. We spoke with several older folks, explaining that we’d lived in the area 25 years ago and asking them if they knew our Nepali family, but no one could give us helpful information.

Regardless, we walked the bazaar and chatted with vendors. I had a blast asking men, women, and children for permission to take their pictures, and then showing them their digital image. The faces of Nepal tell a thousand stories, and I want to preserve every word to share with friends back home.

Sunday, April 1

2007-04-02T22:20:00.000-07:00

The testing continued after checking into our hotel. Exhausted, I plopped onto one of the twin beds in our room. I nearly broke my tailbone when the mattress refused to budge. How in the world would I be able to sleep on a bed that felt like plywood? I wondered. Self-pity began settling in. Instantly an image of villagers sleeping on mere straw mats popped into my head, and I had to ask for forgiveness and a thankful heart.

The afternoon took a turn for the better when I began making phone calls to folks living here with whom we’d networked with by email prior to this trip. One call was to a Nepalese woman whose toddler our doctor adopted last year. Our doctor had asked us to deliver an envelope containing cash and pictures, and we’d gladly agreed. Less than two hours later, this Nepalese mother showed up with her first-grader and younger brother who spoke English fairly well. The young mother beamed when we told her that her adoptive mother is caring well for her child. We took pictures of her and her family and promised to give them to the doctor and her precious little one back in Canada. She told us that she’d return tomorrow to bring gifts for her daughter and new family.

We also met with a Nepalese man who I’d interviewed via email several years ago for an American magazine article. We asked about his ministry and he told us about establishing a training institute for Nepalese pastors. The program runs for five months. Alumni have established 40 churches so far, but his vision is to establish 400.

As an independent worker, one of his greatest challenges is dealing with the lack of financial support. He requires about U.S. $500 per month for his family’s living expenses. That doesn’t sound like much to a North American, but it’s huge for the Nepalis. As we spoke further, he told us that his greatest desire is for his children to attend a private school where they can receive a good education and their faith will be encouraged. Presently they’re attending a public school where they are forced to repeat Hindu mantras everyday. He says that enrollment spaces are limited and government officials’ children receive first dibs. The only option is to send his children to a reputable boarding school in India, but that would cost about U.S. $4000 per year, and he simply doesn’t have the funds to do it. He says he’s written letters to search out foundations who will contribute financially towards the education of national missionaries’ children, but he has received no replies. I’d like to present his situation to people back in North America to see if something can be done to assist him and bless his children.

Sunday, April 1

2007-04-02T22:19:00.000-07:00

Our road journey took us to the Indian – Nepal border where we were granted an entrance visa. Until the moment the immigration officer processed our papers and stamped our passports, we were unsure about whether or not we’d get permission to enter Nepal. We’d always assumed that we were flying from India into Nepal and would get our visas at the airport upon our arrival. Last night, however, our travel agent informed us that the airport for departure was in Nepal, not India. His face fell when he learned we had no visas yet. He told us that if immigration turned us back at the border, our only recourse would be to backtrack to an airport in India, fly to New Delhi, and from there into Kathmandu. If I’m learning anything on this trip, it’s to trust the Lord for the details and move forward in faith. We asked the Lord to go before us and assign officers who would be merciful to these uninformed westerners. He answered, and we had our visas within 10 minutes of entering the building.

Another hour’s drive through rural Nepal delivered us to a small airport tucked between farmers’ fields. Security was comprised of two tiny rooms – one for gents, one for ladies – with dingy curtains for doors. When my turn came, the female officer searched my purse and then asked me to unzip my money pouch. That’s when the fun began. When she saw American $50 bills, she immediately asked for one. Well, well, well….that’s called bribery. Using my best Nepalese, I told her no. She asked why not. I told her that she was receiving a salary for her work and that she wasn’t to ask for bribes. Then she launched into a discourse about her country being poor and ours being rich, and that I should hand over my money. Again I told her no, but she refused to let me leave the room. That’s when I remembered the cheap keychains and souvenir pens I’d purchased for impromptu gift-giving. I dug out one of each and offered them to her. Her face lit up and she opened the door so I could finally enter the waiting area. So much for my cross-cultural negotiation skills!

The flight to Kathmandu was on a small plane, maybe 30 passengers. We flew at 12,000 feet – above the clouds but lower in altitude than our sightseeing trip to the lake on Saturday. Interesting! Enroute we enjoyed a view of the magnificent snow-covered Himalayas. Mt. Everest was easily identifiable above the other peaks.

One of my suitcases went missing from the baggage claim area in Kathmandu. It contained my notes for upcoming speaking engagements, my Bible, my laptop’s spare battery and electrical cord, gifts for my kids, and other important belongings. I’d kept these things in my carry-on suitcase for the whole trip so far just so they couldn’t be lost. This time, however, the plane had no overhead bins and airline rules required me to put the bag in the check-in section.

When one suitcase similar to mine was left unclaimed, we realized that someone had probably picked up mine by mistake. Thankfully there was a phone number in that suitcase and an airline employee quickly made the call requesting its return. I must admit that after sleeping only 1 ½ hours the night before and driving for many hours in the heat, I had precious little reserve to count it all joy while wondering if I’d ever see my belongings again. It was as though the Lord said, “Testing. Testing. Do you hear Me, Grace? Can you trust Me with EVERY detail?”

Sunday, April 1

2007-04-02T22:13:00.000-07:00

My, oh my, what a day this was! It began in India when we woke up at 4:00 a.m. and ended nearly 20 hours later in Kathmandu, Nepal. In between, we spent six hours driving in a Jeep again. ‘Round and ‘round those hairpin curves we drove while dodging buses, overloaded taxis, and wild monkeys. Only once did I think we were going to die (no fooling!). A bus approached from the front when the road was extremely narrow and there was a drop-off of several hundred feet on our side. We were so close to the edge that I instinctively covered my head and laid low in the back seat. The adrenalin did a rush!

The scenery was breathtaking – tiered hillsides containing corn and rice plants, white water rapids on fast-flowing rivers, a massive concrete British-built bridge leading to Bhutan, teeny houses made of straws mats and grass roofs. Also enroute we saw an enormous engineering university and an even bigger hydro-electric power project – proof of Sikkim’s progressive forward movement.

Sikkim is heavily forested, but not so with other areas of India. Once out of the mountains, we traveled across plains where the scenery reminded me of photos in a National Geographic magazine. The area was alive with motion, like ants on an anthill. People were everywhere. Some sat in the shade, their eyes void of expression as they stared at nothing in particular. Others repaired bicycle tires. Some shaped raw wood into beautifully handcrafted bookshelves, tables and chairs. Others sold pineapples, bananas, oranges, and eggplant from wee wooden booths or from a blanket on the ground. I saw children picking up fresh cow and water buffalo manure and carrying it in straw baskets on their backs. Further down the road I saw a mother and two children shaping manure into patties and laying the heaps on a concrete bridge to dry. An old one-legged man on crutches hobbled at the road’s edge. A beggar with no hands cast a pleading look at passersby. A little girl, maybe five years old, carried a younger naked child whose skin was so dusty that she appeared grey in color.

It seems almost surreal that parts of the world can be so different. We, as North Americans, have mega surplus and still we often want more. “God forgive us for whining. Grant us contentment and hearts that see the world the way You see it.”

Saturday, March 31, Evening

2007-04-01T22:46:00.000-07:00

The day ended with dinner at our Indian travel agent’s home. The conference women came, too, and we had a delightful time together enjoying a true Nepalese banquet prepared by the agent’s wife and served by their nieces and nephews. Their home was made of concrete, painted pink inside. Shared by extended family members according to custom, it’s much larger than our house. The living room held at least three couches, several loveseats, and a half dozen comfy chairs. At least 20 pink satin cushions adorned the furniture. The hostess was a sweet lady. She reminded me of my mother, encouraging her guests to eat more! When everyone finished the main course, she served a dessert made of banana custard containing small bits of fruit salad. It cooled my palate!

Rather than take taxis back to our hotels, we chose to walk. That gave me an opportunity to talk with one gal in particular, a women’s pastor from Nagaland. As we walked, she told me how her father had been persecuted for his faith during the 1960s and 70s. Tortured and hung upside down, he’d persevered and is still alive today. She told me how pregnant women had been raped and tortured, too. Thankfully there is peace today, but she said that Nagaland is negotiating with the government for freedom from India. The country is so different in culture and religious belief that the people think it’s best to separate from India’s rule. Apparently the Prime Minister spoke with Nagaland’s leaders earlier this week but this sister hadn’t heard the outcome of the talks. She asked me to solicit prayer support for their people. She says their state’s motto is: Nagaland for Christ. Without independence, this will never be achieved.

We reached the women’s hotel and bid farewell to these dear sisters. I absolutely love speaking to women’s groups, but this is the part I find most difficult. Saying goodbye to those whom I’ve grown to love, not knowing whether I’ll see them again this side of heaven, is always a challenge. My prayer is that God will use them in a mighty way to minister to their own women’s groups now. And I’m also praying that my books will somehow be chosen as titles to send to India because these gals want to read them. What an honor it would be to encourage them through my devotionals.

Saturday, March 31

2007-04-01T22:42:00.000-07:00

Today was scheduled as a sight-seeing day for the women. An Indian travel agent arranged for them to visit the Tibet border, about three hours’ drive from Gangtok. As foreigners, we are required to stay at least 20 km from that border, so he arranged a different vehicle, driver, and guide for us. That was a wee disappointing because the ladies were finally feeling open with me and it would have been fun to spend the day with them, but hey, I didn’t relish the thought of being arrested and tossed into a Chinese prison for pushing the law.

We jumped into the Jeep at 8:00 a.m. and began the windy uphill journey. And believe me, it was UPHILL. For two hours we hugged the hillside, more so when a Jeep came from the front. In several places, large rocks or boulders had fallen from above and landed on the road. We crossed several bridges and twisted through numerous military bases where signs told us that photography was strictly prohibited. Fog engulfed us and the road finally snaked above the clouds until we could see nothing in the ravines below. Finally we rounded a bend and, to our delight, were greeted with a colorful bazaar located on a pristine lake. Ahead of us lay a mountain pass that led to the Chinese border. On either side towered rugged mountains, some still covered with snow. A sign welcomed us and told us that the elevation was 12,400 feet.

The moment we stepped from the Jeep, young men towing yaks surrounded us. That’s right – yaks. Black, hairy, shaggy beasts bedecked with saddles and knitted covers for their horns. The men wanted us to ride the yaks but we denied their request at first. I mean, who knows how fast a yak can run if one tears away from his master?? Having had a bad experience with horses, the thought of being bucked off a yak simply didn’t appeal to me. But we watched Indian tourists enjoy the ride and it seemed harmless enough, so we eventually said yes. The yak owners wanted to take us up a mountainside where we could see the Chinese border if the fog lifted, but I took one look at the incline and felt that idea pushed the limit of common sense. Bouncing along on level ground was good enough for me, thank you. Somehow I’ll have to find a way to post a picture to prove that I really did this. Imagine!

Friday, March 30

2007-04-01T22:40:00.000-07:00

This was the last morning of the three-day conference. Again, flexibility was the key word. We completed the first class, and then the women decided they’d like to have a class about keeping their marriages healthy. So, I quickly rearranged my notes and handouts and shifted mental gears.

I believe the change was a good thing. The women obviously felt more comfortable this morning than on the first one, and they laughed several times through the marriage class. It would be fascinating to know how much they really understood. Some spoke fluent English while others spoke a minimal amount; my hope is that those with a better grasp of the language will chat with those who need a little help and explain anything they may have missed. Several times they’ve expressed regret that more women didn’t or couldn’t attend. They’ve also said that they’re going to take the material to their home churches and teach it to their peers. Praise the Lord!

This morning between the two sessions, I laid my carry-on suitcase on the table and opened it to reveal more than three dozen fabric bags stuffed with toiletries. Wendy Hagar, a woman in Ontario whose ministry is to send such gifts overseas, had kindly arranged for me to take these along. Because we’d planned for 70 women originally, I was able to give about 30 to the gal with whom we met in Hyderabad on Sunday. Then I was able to give two bags to each of the women at this conference; they took one for themselves and another for a friend back home. What a delight to bless them in this way!

They used this time to present me with gifts, too. One gal gave me a beautiful pink and teal woven shawl as a thank-you token from the entire group. Then another gave me a black skirt and shawl to match their traditional dress. She wrapped me in them over the clothes I was wearing that day, and the group smiled and nodded their approval.

On the other two afternoons, the women ran off to sightsee in their own groups and I returned to work on the next day’s handouts in my hotel room. But this day, they invited me to join them on a shopping trip. I’m a lousy barterer in this culture, so one woman took it upon herself to do it for me. I bought some Darjeeling tea and a few souvenirs for family back home. We had a ton of fun running from one shop to the next, all over the main bazaar. Hmmm…seems the average woman loves to shop in any culture!

Thursday, March 29

2007-04-01T22:38:00.000-07:00

Like yesterday, the morning’s session began at 8:30. This time, however, we started with singing. My, oh my, these women sounded like an angelic choir as they lifted their voices to God in the Sema language. I sat in silence, humbled by the passion with which they sang. Frankly, I think they could have continued all morning, and I surely could have listened if they’d chosen to do so!

Their singing drew the attention of the hotel keeper’s two sons and one daughter, likely between the ages of five and twelve. They stood in the hall and peeked through the doorway until one lady jumped up and invited them to enter and sit in the front row. They sat perfectly still, wide-eyed and listening to every word that was sung and spoken.

Several times throughout the morning we stopped for prayer. Again, their simultaneous supplications rose heavenward. I listened in awe to their voices and sensed the Lord’s presence in that place in a very real way. These women were obviously here not to be entertained but to do business with God. Again, I cried out to Him to speak through me and minister to these gals in a way that would be culturally relevant.

The first session was meant to reinforce our value as women in God’s eyes. I believe God really spoke to their hearts. I felt so blessed to have this opportunity to remind them of their worth, and to encourage them to use their gifts to impact their nation for Christ.

This morning, we did a craft between sessions. I’d found a great deal at Michael’s craft store, perfect because of its Easter theme and lightweight foam pieces. So, each woman received a palm-sized foam banner with a gold cord to hang it. They decorated their banners with various foam shapes including crosses, flowers, hearts, and their choice of the word Jesus or Faith. Some added extra pizzazz with gold glitter glue. They had a blast! And you should have seen the kids participate. Their banners were covered with shapes from top to bottom.

Like yesterday, Gene and I ate lunch with the women in their hotel. Rice and lentils, fatty pork, and mustard greens filled our plates. I enjoyed chatting with those women sitting at our table. I learned that each participant had paid about $100 for this conference. That included the cost of an overnight train ride to get here, and a couple of sightseeing trips. Most had never been away from their area, and it was like turning a group of kids loose in Disneyland. Spending $100 for such an event was a huge financial sacrifice for their families, but again, it proved their hunger for fellowship and spiritual refreshment.

Wednesday, March 28

2007-04-01T22:35:00.000-07:00

At 8:15 I entered the conference room. How can I best describe it? It was 10 feet wide and 20 feet long, maybe. The inside walls were yellow and paint-chipped. The outside wall had two windows covered with dingy curtains. When I opened the curtains, I saw only the grey concrete wall of the neighboring building about 15 inches away. There was no light bulb. Eighteen or so plastic chairs, some red, some grey, sat in rows. And there was one small table on which I could lay my bag and notes. What a stark contrast to women’s conference venues in North America, with their theme-coordinated centerpieces and decorations!

The women entered the room and smiled shyly at me as they took their seats. Some were wearing blue jeans; others wore traditional dress made of woven fabric with the pattern unique to their tribe. A few moments later, the conference organizer introduced me and suggested opening the meeting in prayer. Then he explained that in their culture, they prayed aloud at the same time. Instantly the women began crying out to the Lord simultaneously. I’d never heard anything like it. Some wept before God, pouring out their hearts to Him in earnest supplication. And I cried out to God to encourage these ladies in a way beyond human expectation or ability.

As the first session ended, I asked the gals to split into three groups and gave them two questions to discuss. They hesitated and seemed unsure of my request. That’s when I realized that small group discussion as we know it might be an unknown in their way of doing things. It took a few minutes, but finally a woman in each group assumed leadership and then quiet but sincere discussion began. I circulated through the groups to get a better understanding of their backgrounds and needs, and one woman said that the session’s key verses were her chosen verses for the new year (John 15). Tears filled her eyes as she spoke. Her words greatly encouraged me; the Lord had obviously been at work by preparing her heart for the message and by giving me the appropriate words. Indeed, He was doing something beyond human ability.

Tuesday, March 27

2007-04-01T22:31:00.000-07:00

Exactly 22 years ago today, I left Nepal after the birth of our second child. Now I’m back in this part of the world and feeling right at home. Certainly there are changes – technology has taken a front seat (internet cafes, public phones, fax machines, etc.), and most people speak English now. It seems strange to see the majority talking on their cell phones as they walk through the crowded bazaar where bartering is still the norm.

Gangtok itself is most unusual. Built on a mountainside, each structure is at least six or seven stories high. Concrete steps connect one block to the next, upper and lower. If you were to fall over the edge of a sidewalk, you’d fall a LONG distance. Gene says it’s a wonder that the city can stay in place.

Gene and I are having a grand time using our Nepalese language again. After more than two decades of not speaking it, the words are coming back with surprising ease. And the look on shopkeepers’ faces is priceless when we strike up a conversation or ask questions.

Because this conference’s organizer didn’t arrive until late afternoon, we had time to hire a taxi and do some sightseeing. We visited a flower show – for Rs 10 each (24 cents) we gained admission to a small hall filled with orchids of every color and description. Many locals were there, snapping photos galore with their digital cameras or cell phone cameras. Afterwards we drove to a scenic waterfall, navigating hairpin curves through a residential area, dodging little children playing in the street for lack of anywhere else to play. The road was so narrow that we passed oncoming vehicles with about two inches to spare. It was so steep that my nerves just about came undone. Talk about white-knuckling in the back seat. I was very thankful to reach the waterfall safely. It was pretty now, but it will be magnificent during the monsoon season. There were huge stone carvings leading to the waterfall – reminded me of idols we’d seen in Nepal years ago.

Gangtok is a potpourri of Buddhism, Hinduism, and Christianity. For instance, I saw a massive Catholic cathedral with stained glass windows. Beside it stood a shrine as large as a house, featuring a statue of Mary in the center. Strings of Buddhist prayer flags decorated the shrine. Go figure.

The conference begins at 8:30 tomorrow. Originally, 70 women were expected to attend and I was to speak through a translator. Because of church political situations, only 17 have come and they all speak English – some more than others. Like I said, flexibility is the key!

Monday, March 26

2007-03-31T04:48:00.000-07:00

A driver fetched us at 5:00 a.m. so we could catch our flight to Delhi. The day’s temperature was already rising. At this hour, traffic was nowhere near as hectic as on Friday afternoon. Still, the air was already thick with beeping horns and the smell of diesel. Enroute we dodged countless Indian “autos” – small open passenger vehicles with three wheels – whose drivers used neither headlights nor tail lights. Needless to say, they were a wee difficult to see in the dark. So were the pedestrians.

At the airport we navigated security and were pointed upstairs toward our departure gate. Within 20 minutes we boarded our plane and I was seated next to a sari-clad Indian woman who appeared to be several years older than me. We made small talk until I told her that I was interested in hearing about the lives of Indian women, specifically the challenges they face. That topic grabbed her interest. She immediately began telling me about her past (“I’m the only one in my family who attended university”), her arranged marriage (“compatibility doesn’t exist”) and how she has financially supported numerous extended family members. Then she told me how her husband grew jealous of her business success and began beating her. “Daily abuse is the greatest challenge Indian women face,” she said.

When she finished telling me her story, I asked her if she had a dream for her life. She smiled. “Oh yes,” she said. “I want to make a difference in the lives of other people.” I smiled in return. “I share your dream,” I said. She extended her right hand toward me and said, “We are friends. If you ever come to Hyderabad again, please visit me.”

Several hours and another flight later, we landed in Bagdogra where a pre-arranged driver met us. Then we began a four-hour Jeep journey to Gangtok, Sikkim. The road wound through tea plantations (the home of Darjeeling tea), and a wildlife sanctuary where homes stood on stilts. “This keeps people safe from elephants,” explained the driver. Eventually it began its upward climb around hairpin curves.

Higher, higher, higher we climbed until we could barely see the bottom of the ravines below. And then darkness fell. And boy, did I pray! “God, there’s no safer place than in the center of Your will. Please…keep us on the road!” We had to stop at a police checkpoint and get special permits to enter this part of India, enjoying a 10-minute respite from the bumps and turns. But a half hour later, poor Gene, physically exhausted from the travel of the past few days, got sick to his stomach.
As the drive continued, we were surprised to find electricity everywhere. Teeny lights twinkled from hillside huts and tiny bazaar shops. And when we finally reached Gangtok, a city built on a mountainside, everything was lit up. Much different from our past experience in rural Nepal, when the brightest lights outside came from fires or flashlights.

March 24 and 25

2007-03-31T04:47:00.000-07:00

As always, God’s strength pulled me through. Fifty Indian women from various backgrounds attended the conference. The audience was comprised of seminary professors, pastors, OM staff, and lay women. Young and old alike from India, the U.S., Australia, and Europe. What a privilege to encourage these women in their spiritual journey! Several asked me to pray individually for their family concerns, and again, I felt blessed. I have much to learn from these humble and loving Indian sisters.

I’d been scheduled to speak for 10 minutes to a congregation of nearly 600 at the Sunday service. At breakfast, one OM staff lady asked me if I’d like to wear a sari for the service. How could I refuse such a sweet offer? Bless her heart, she dressed me in one of her own saris, a purple silk creation. Then she gave me a pearl necklace and earrings, saying that these were a gift by which she wanted me to remember her. Later, when I returned her sari, she insisted that I keep it, too.

The day’s highlight was visiting this Indian sister in her modest apartment. She warmly invited me in and we chatted about the prior day’s conference, which had been her idea. Then she said, “Please pray for me. Pray that God will help me be most effective as I mentor younger women.” With pleasure I honored her request, and then she prayed for me. Our hearts were knit.
Because of the possibility of jeopardizing existing ministry in this part of the country, I’m not free to share everything that we saw and learned over the weekend. Suffice it to say that God is at work in amazing ways. In time, I hope to be able to tell you more about ways that you can participate in one particular area, making a difference in the lives of young women at risk of being sold into the sex-trade industry. I’ll be free to tell you more as the project comes together. Prayer is the key, both now and always.

Friday, March 23

2007-03-31T04:46:00.000-07:00

Flexibility is the keyword, I believe. Within minutes of reaching our destination, we were ushered into a dining room where we were served a meal of rice and lentils – the first of many on this trip. That’s when I learned that I was scheduled to speak at a women’s conference the next day and for 10 minutes in the Sunday church service. Surprise!! By now we’d been awake for nearly 48 hours and our bodies were ready to collapse, but there was no time to rest. A wedding celebration was planned for that evening and we were invited to attend. We had a few minutes to shower (no hot showers here, but then, who’d want a hot shower in this heat??) and don fresh clothes.

The wedding bulletin said the groom was scheduled to arrive at 4:30. Some folks told us the ceremony would begin at 5:00; others told us we could show up at 5:30. When the ceremony actually began, there were about 20 people present. Within a half hour, another 40 or 50 had wandered in. The bride, a converted Hindu, wore a white satin sari with gold embroidery and the groom looked handsome in his black suit. They celebrated their marriage with a western ceremony, complete with signing the register. Midway through the service, however, Gene and I began nodding off.

Rather than embarrass ourselves by snoring through the reception, we excused ourselves and stumbled to our room that was, thankfully, air-conditioned. We bid each other goodnight and collapsed in bed, stared at by a curious five-inch gecko on the wall. If I was to be bright-eyed, or at least coherent, for the next day’s conference, I’d need a good night’s sleep.

Guess what? Even with the help of a sleeping pill, I slept only three or four hours. Jet lag was doing its thing on my body and my brain. Wide awake in the middle of the night, my thoughts flitted from one thing to another. And I began to worry about having enough energy to last the day. Only by God’s strength would I be able to speak for three sessions on Saturday morning.

The Adventure Begins -- Wednesday, Mar. 21, 2007

2007-03-31T04:42:00.000-07:00

What can I say? Two months have passed since I last blogged. Life has been busy…very busy. Besides meeting monthly writing deadlines, preparing and traveling for numerous speaking engagements, coordinating all the necessary details for our India missions trip, revamping my website, and saying farewell to my mother-in-law when Parkinson’s disease claimed her life, I haven’t had a chance to even open my blog. In fact, I even forgot my password and my daughter had to tell me what it was. Sigh.

So here I am, sitting in a hotel room in Gangtok, Sikkim, with some time to spare. And I can hardly wait to tell you about this amazing trip. I’ll add a few entries each day, depending on internet access. Happy reading!

The actual adventure began on March 21 when Gene and I boarded a 747 in Vancouver. B.C. Nine hours later we landed in London, changed flights, and took off for an eight hour flight to New Delhi. After claiming our suitcases and going through a security check, we boarded yet another flight, this time for Hyderabad. We landed two hours later, exhausted but excited to return to Asia after a 22-year absence.

First impressions? HOT. It must have been more than 100 degrees – twice as hot as back home. Sweat trickled down our legs and foreheads as we waited for nearly an hour for our car and driver to arrive. It was also very noisy – taxi horns blasted non-stop, police whistles blew, and Hindi music blared. But that was nothing compared to the cacophony while driving through the city enroute to Operation Mobilization headquarters. Add never-ending bus and motorcycle motors and horns to the symphony, and you can imagine the ruckus.

Our driver appeared a little over-anxious to reach our destination. Or maybe he was an Indy 500 driver in disguise. He dodged vehicles of every size and description, business men wearing suits and carrying briefcases, and women wearing bright-colored saris. At one point, he swerved into the oncoming lane to pass a diesel-spewing bus. Several motorcyclists moved out of his way, but then came a little red car that staked its turf and sped straight toward us with headlights flashing. I swear we avoided a head-on collision by a mere hair. Welcome to India!

A Parent's Influence

2007-01-19T14:37:00.000-08:00

This week's been busy with organizing my marketing materials for 10-Minute Time Outs for You and Your Kids. I've been writing press releases and such, spurred on by an astounding tidbit of info I came across in my research.

Get a load of this: According to Josh McDowell, a parent's influence on his/her child's spiritual development is 300 times greater than that of a youth pastor. Wow! If that's true, we dare not leave our kids' spiritual well-being to the church. Rather, spiritual training begins at home, and church programs are the supplement.

So how can we, as moms, be the best possible influence on our kids' spiritual development? I believe it's by formally and informally teaching them what it means to be a follower of Christ. Formally -- by teaching them what God's Word says about life. Informally -- by modeling what we say we believe. Day by day, moment by moment, we can influence our children in the spiritual department by "walking the talk." That doesn't mean we have to be perfect. If that were the case, we'd all be outta luck.

Rather, we put into practice the things we know to be true. When we mess up, we admit it. When we need to ask for forgiveness, we do so. When it's appropriate, we share honestly about our struggles, our hopes, our joys. We share the lessons we're learning. We let them see us on our knees or reading the Bible on a regular basis, not just when we're facing a big problem. Doing these things helps our kids see that following Christ is an ongoing process, not just a one-time decision. And hopefully (prayerfully!) it encourages them to embrace the faith and persevere in it.

Wanna Be an Influencer for My New Book?

2007-01-12T10:17:00.000-08:00

Hey -- my latest book, 10-Minute Time Outs for You and Your Kids was released by Harvest House earlier this month. If you want to be a woman of influence, now's your chance to jump on board in a practical way.

If you go to my website, you can read a sample from the book, see the cover photo, and read the list of endorsements. If you like what you see, get a copy of the book and use it with your kids. Then tell everyone you know about it -- children's ministry directors, other parents, Christian school principals, homeschool families, and even camp program directors (it's ideal for camp counselors to use for bedtime devotionals with your kids). Write a review for amazon.com or amazon.ca. I would love to have your help in spreading the word about this book as a valuable resource for our kids' spiritual development.

As women, there are lots of ways to influence our families and society for good and for God. This is just one practical way to do so. Let's go to battle for our kids' spiritual growth and well-being!

A Joyful Heart

2007-01-12T09:50:00.000-08:00

On my desk sits a perpetual calendar filled with wonderful quotes. Today's quote is from composer Joseph Haydn. He said, "When I think upon my God, my heart is so full of joy that the notes dance and leap from my pen; and since God has given me a cheerful heart, it will be pardoned me that I serve Him with a cheerful spirit."

Sometimes we allow real-life problems to weigh us down and steal our joy. But Joseph's words remind us that thinking upon God gives us a cheerful heart. I've found that to be true. When I focus on circumstances that are less than desirable, my joy fizzles. My spirit is left feeling like a withered balloon. And what does my countenance reflect? Let's just say it ain't a pretty sight. A woman with a positive influence? Forget it.

But when I think upon my God and His control over my circumstances, my heart is once again filled with joy. It's never a bubbly, giddy feeling. Rather, it's a deep-settled sense that everything's under His control and I can rest. I can know that He's at work in my situation, and I'm at peace. My countenance reflects my heart condition, and a smile is a natural overflow.

The next time we feel empty or discouraged, let's think upon our God. Guaranteed, those thoughts will fill our hearts with cheer and enable us to serve Him with a cheerful heart. Therein lies the secret to being women of influence.

(Maybe this God-talk sounds foreign to you. Perhaps the only reference to God you've known is negative. Let me assure you, that's not the case. If you want to know more about who God is, drop me a note!)

Know you are loved,
Grace

The Power of a Smile

2007-01-10T10:29:00.000-08:00

I recently heard a woman tell about her encounter with a grocery store checkout clerk. As the woman -- Judi -- unloaded her groceries onto the conveyor belt, she noticed the clerk's facial expression and body language. Everything about her screamed "Stress!" When the time came to pay, Judi handed her check to the clerk, smiled, and said, "Thank you for serving me so well this morning."

The clerk stopped short and stared into Judi's face.

Judi's smile broadened and she seized the moment. "I really appreciate how you rang my groceries through your scanner accurately, and how you've taken the time to bag them."

Consternation crossed the clerk's face, and then her expression softened. "No one's ever said that to me," she said. "Thank you -- you just made my day."

We know nothing about the clerk's background or home life. We know nothing about the personal struggles she may have been facing that day. But we know she found encouragement in Judi's smile and comments.

Judi is a woman of influence. That morning she was sensitive to another person's body language and by responding with kindness, she made a difference in the clerk's day. How can we make a difference in someone's life today? Maybe it's by smiling and expressing appreciation to our husbands when they come home from work. Or by speaking positive words to the coworker who doesn't say much and always looks sad. Or by encouraging the widow whose kids and grandkids live far away. Or by telling our kids that we love them. Or by telling the pastor and his wife that we appreciate their ministry. The list is endless.

Smiles and kind words are free. Let's practice giving them away!

Welcome!

2007-01-08T20:17:00.000-08:00

We're a week into the New Year, and I'm determined to fulfill at least one of my resolutions. So here I am, nosediving into the world of blogging. This is yet another learning curve for me, but that's okay. Learning curves make life interesting, right?

As I've thought about my blogging topic, one theme comes to mind. I want this to be a project that encourages women worldwide to discover their giftedness and develop their God-given potential so they can impact the generations to come. I envision including thought-provoking quotes, short interviews, and stories about women whose lives have made/are making a difference. I want to explore the character qualities their lives possess and learn how to emulate them. I want readers to share life lessons that others will find valuable, and for all to be challenged to a deeper faith walk.

Join me in this venture! I'll kick off with a quote from Mother Teresa: "Let's be willing to smile at one another, because a smile is the beginning of love. And once we begin to love one another, the desire to do something for one another more naturally follows."

Imagine that! Sometimes we think we have to do something noteworthy and grand before we're considered a woman of influence. But Mother Teresa's words indicate otherwise. We simply need start with a smile. Sheesh -- that's easy. And it can be life-changing for a child whose home is filled with anger, an isolated senior, a frustrated teenager, or a lonely neighbor.

Whatever our schedule holds, let's be sure to include a smile for those around us. The simple gesture might just lift someone's fallen spirit, and it will fan the flame of love in our hearts.