Year End Review

As I look back on this year, I shake my head. Much has happened. I am in disbelief. Where did the time go? It seems just like yesterday I was posing for the camera with my nieces on Christmas Eve 2007. In what seems like a blink of an eye, one year has pasted.

Little did I know what the Lord had in store for me. I had no idea that I would become the fiancé of an amazing man this year. I would have never guessed I’d be making plans to move to the grand state of Texas. How did it all happen?

Phil and I often ask each other the question, “How did we get here,” in an awe like tone of how the Lord has worked in our lives this year. How did we get here? One day at a time, I guess. During those one day at a time moments in life, I laughed, I cried, I learned, and walked away with a cup overflowing more than ever before.

Here are some random things (in random order) that I learned in those one day at a time moments this year:

-Palm Trees in February cure the winter blues.
-There is ACTUALLY a Cubs player named, Fukudome. It’s not a joke or something inappropriate the crowd is yelling at the other team.
-Falling in Love when you least expect it, is out of control and well worth it
-Falling on ice can be prevented by wearing shoes without heels
-Falling while wearing tennis shoes can be prevented by watching where you walk
-Orange Julius Milkshakes can be used to change your life in an instant
-God hears our prayers…especially the ones we have prayed year after year.
-Phil’s movie nights are the best nights
-“Hot Cross Buns” has nothing to do with hot dogs (It took me 28 years to realize this)
-True friends are not something I take for granted
-Jail time in Ethiopia isn’t really all that bad. (Mom & Dad..it’s ok to laugh at this one)
-Dinner of Pepto Bismol and white rice was one of the best meals this year.
-Opportunities to serve are opportunities of a lifetime
-Surprise birthday brownies with a candle are the sweetest thing
-Black Currant Fanta is by far the best kind of soft drink ever
-Family is one of the greatest gifts in life
-Africa is a part of who I am
-The feeling of being right where I am supposed to be is one of the greatest feelings ever
-Roses…and lots of them…really make me smile
-Hearing the question, “Will you Marry Me?” from the most wonderful man alive is something I will never forget
-Seeing and Hearing The Lord in so many ways has once again changed me forever

I could go on and on. There seems to be a never ending list in my head that unravels scroll upon scroll of memories, lessons, and blessings.

The Lord has answered so many of my prayers this year. Some were the kind that were softly spoken as I drifted off to sleep. Some were about simple things. Some were those things heavy on my heart. Some where prayers that had been uttered, whispered, and even pleaded for in the years that led up to this one. Some were through tears as my knees hit the floor with my head bowed. Answered. Every one of them was answered. Some didn’t get answered the way I had hoped for. Some were answered in such a magnificent way, I hadn’t even imagined of asking for. However, all of them were heard, and all of them were answered in a way that was better than I knew to request.

My year end review is that I think this was the best year of my life ever. It went by fast though, just as time is known to do. Maybe time really does fly by when you are having fun. God is good.

Merry Christmas!!

Walking the Path Before Us

In one 5th grade class in Rock Island, the students were given an assignment. What was it? It was an assignment to write about the person they thought was the “nicest person” they have met. Would you believe that one of those students wrote about me? Crazy, I know!

The cool thing, and the reason I am blogging about it, is that one morning I was feeling a bit down. You know those days where you are just feeling like everything you touch falls apart, and you just can’t do anything right? That was the morning I got a call from a precious, soft spoken, sweet voiced, 5th grader named Taylor.

I have spoken at Taylor’s school a few times about mission work and orphan ministry. As I listened to her on the phone that day, I realized something. God knew I was going to have a bad day in the days that led up to that phone call. Did he prompt her to write about me because he knew I would need to hear that just days later? Maybe so!

He works in amazing ways and this just reminding me that He really does walk our path before us. He sees what is coming and sets it up to care for us long before we get there. Taylor’s paper brought such a smile to my face that day. The reminder that God is always taking care of things on the road before we get there, completely warmed my heart on that cold winter day.

Who Do You Worship?

I just received a computer program that organizes my finances. It has a feature in which you categorize each check you write. That way, at any given time, you can tell where you are spending the most of your money. I’ll admit, I was reluctant to install it at first. I was afraid what I might see.

My fiancé and I were just talking recently about finances and money. We were talking about how as a society, it really is so easy to get wrapped up into “things”. Phil said just that day a speaker he heard made a statement such as, “I have more things in my kitchen than many people will own in their life.” I think most of us would qualify as being able to say that statement truthfully as well. The picture above is one of a typical home in the slums of Kenya. This puts things into perspective for me.

Billy Graham once said, “A Checkbook is a theological document, it will tell you who and what you worship.”

Take a look at your checkbook today. Is it telling you who or what you worship? Something to think about.

WWJD?

With the Christmas holiday approaching, we are all trying to figure out when to have celebrations, dinners, parties, etc. There are many decisions to be made. What kind of food will be served? Which social circles and family members will be invited to each gathering? Christmas is special, and time where we all tend to spend with those closest to us.

It is the most celebrated holiday of the year. The birth of Jesus is a pretty big event to be celebrating! Each year, my family has Christmas Eve dinner and then goes to our church’s candlelight service. I really enjoy the service. It is a time where I reflect how blessed I am and am filled with thankfulness.

However, each year Christmas Eve, more than any day of the year, is the hardest for me. I am a bundle of mixed emotions. I find myself standing in the candlelight overwhelmed with thanksgiving for the gift of the Savior’s birth and all the blessings I have been given that year. There is also an overwhelming weight on my shoulders as well though. I can’t stop thinking about all the children I have met that are in orphanages. There are so many. Their faces flash before me. They are alone…cold…and sad. It feels like a knife in the heart.

Why am I here and they are there? Why do I get the blessing of a warm home and loving family and they don’t? Why do I stand and celebrate with a full stomach and gifts under the tree? They have nothing. As I light my candle this year, I will do it in honor of all those blessings I have received: Good Health, Provision, Family, Friends, loved ones, and salvation. I will also light it in honor of and in prayer for those precious children who sit and wait all year for a family. Those ones who on Christmas morning will be looking out a frosty window pain longing for a loving mother to wrap their arms around them so tightly the love just pours from her heart to theirs. That is what they want for Christmas. Instead, they will wake up on Christmas morning and realize it’s just another ordinary day. A day of waiting, dreaming, and begging for food.

What will they do at Christmas? What will the least of these in our own backyard do? What would Jesus do?

In Luke (14 12-14) we are told that Jesus said, “When you give a luncheon or dinner, do not invite your friends, your brothers or relatives, or your rich neighbors; if you do, they may invite you back and so you will be repaid. But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind, and you will be blessed. Although they cannot repay you, you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous."

I have found this to be very convicting when it comes to our celebrations for the holidays. Let’s face it, how often do any of us invite the least of these to our sacred celebrations. We ARE celebrating the birth of Christ, right? Who else do you think He would want us to celebrate with? He DID tell us when we care for the least of these, we are caring for Him. So why just invite our friends and family to our celebrations?? He came here to show us how to live, how to love, and how to get to heaven. What better way to honor Him on his birthday than to celebrate with those closest to His heart..the least of these.

After learning of the large population of African Refugees in the Quad City area, we decided to invite a Refugee family to our Christmas Eve celebration. These refugees, many who came here with only the clothes on their backs, have been through so much. They are so thankful to be here and to be safe. They have so little and are in such need for basic things. One young man from the Congo told me that he is so thankful to be here because when he walks down the street, he no longer fears being shot to death. Some have watched their entire villages and families be shot and killed in tribal violence. One woman came here with bullets embedded in her legs from running from the rebel attackers. Instead of complaining, they give thanks for just being here and being alive.

And to think, some have nowhere to go for Christmas. Some have no food in the cupboards to feed their families. They are here, and are in need of family…brothers and sisters in Christ. So, my family is going to do something a little different this year. We are inviting one of those families into our home to celebrate together. I encourage you to do the same. If you are interested, let me know and I can get you some information. If you aren’t from the QC area, I encourage you to do something similar wherever you live. Maybe you have a neighbor who will be alone at Christmas. Maybe you know of a family in your community that could use a little light in their world this holiday. I encourage you to re-read that verse above. Pray about it and see how the Lord prompts you to respond. Try something new this year, and do exactly what He tells us to do in the message found in Luke.

Try it, enjoy, and let me know how it goes.

What Will Your Answer Be?

Cowardice asks the question, “Is it safe?” Expedience asks the question, “Is it popular?” But conscience asks the question, “Is it right?” And there comes a time when one must take a position, neither safe nor popular, but one must take it because it is right. -Martin Luther King


Have you ever been in one of those situations? Having a gut feeling about what you should do, but feeling the pressure of giving in because it isn’t the popular or safest thing to do? It’s not an easy place to be in life. We have probably all been there. Maybe you didn’t take that certain job offer because you didn’t think they offered you enough money. You thought it wouldn’t be safe for your financial well-being. Maybe you felt like you should serve in missions overseas, but didn’t think it was safe to fly over the ocean. Maybe you laughed a racist joke at work because not laughing would have been unpopular. Maybe you picked a career that was acceptable to others instead of doing what you felt called to.

Doing what’s right can be a difficult place to be in. It can be uncomfortable, awkward, and even feel lonely at times. Thinking back, I realize, I have never regretted going with the gut feeling He has given me about things. I can also recall times I was a coward or did what was popular and chickened out when it came to listening to my conscience. Then there are those times, when we just don’t know what direction to go in. Maybe the fog is so thick you can’t even see what direction is the right way to go.


I believe intuition is a gift from God, and I believe that is one way He speaks to us. He tells us what is right and many times speaks to our souls to give us guidance. He speaks to us in many ways. He speaks to us through others. He speaks through His word. He speaks through dreams and visions. He speaks to us while we pray. Amazing isn’t it? The catch is…we have to be listening. We have to be watching. We have to be reading His word. Sometimes we have to ask for it…and yes, we have to be praying.

Brace yourself. A Loaded question is about to come…..

What is your purpose in life?

(I’m going to ask that question again, because someone reading this right now needs to hear it again.)

What is your purpose in life?

Have you thought about that? Why were you put here? Are you living your life to the potential the Lord has for you? Are you fulfilling your purpose in this life on earth? Are you doing what He placed you here to do? If the answer is no or you aren’t sure..go back up to the quote above. Are those obstacles standing in your way?

We all have a purpose here. We do. That part is simple. However, finding that purpose can be a bit more tricky. Know this…The Lord is standing by ready to show you. He is waiting for you to ask. He is waiting for you to go for it and to see how amazing life can be once you find it. Listen and watch for Him. He has amazing and extraordinary things for us ordinary people to do and will even give you all the skills to do them. Are you willing to say yes? Are you willing to do what is right? He won’t let you down. He is in control, has your best interest at heart, and stands waiting for you to respond. Will you say yes or will you say no? What will your answer be?


There is no time for ease and comfort. It is time to dare and endure. -Winston Churchill

Sojourn

While away for the Thanksgiving holiday, I was told of a tragedy that happened just down the street from where I live. A woman was shot by her husband just before he turned the gun on himself and committed suicide. Her lifeless body was found in a pool of her own blood. “Shot? What do you mean? Did she die?” I asked. The very breath in my lungs was robbed as the answer echoed through the phone and into my ear. “Yes, she died.” This news was shocking. What came next stopped me in my tracks. The murder victim…I knew her.

Her name was Dana. I didn’t know her well, but did know of her. I went to high school with her. She is gone now. Dead. Her temporary life here on earth is now over. As I think of her now, I see her smiling. It’s the familiar memory that plays in my mind of her. That smile is comforting. However, there is a sadness there as well. It may seem strange, but I mourn the loss of someone I hardly knew. My mind is consumed as to if she knew about the gift of Salvation.

A few days after receiving the news of this woman’s death. I learned of another seemingly untimely death. This one was that of a child. Eugine Wandera, at the tender age of 14, is dead. The small city of Busia, Kenya, suffered a great loss this week. This child, took his last breath just a few short days ago. He drowned while swimming in the Sio river. Two young boys out for a swim. One walked back home, the other came back in a coffin.

Eugine’s death broke my heart. Life. It is so short. It is here one second, and gone the next. As an orphan, what had he endured in life? It seemed so unfair. Who would purchase his coffin? Who would mourn this loss? I couldn’t shake the thought of how he never had the chance to live the life he deserved. Life as an orphan is tough. It’s unfair, and it nothing short of breaks my heart. There are so many just like him out there. They wait. They wait for a life most only dream of. A life with a forever family.

As always, I have questions. How many missed opportunities to be used in sharing the ultimate Gift, will be complied in my earthly sojourn. How many children will die today..children that you or I could have sponsored, adopted, prayed for, or whispered “Jesus Loves You” in their ear? Why is it so easy for us to look to the Lord with a perplexed and sometimes even angry expression as if to second guess or question His plan in things? He tells us to go out and spread the Good News. Yet, we don’t. When will we learn?

I remember not many years ago while in college, a young man committed suicide just a hundred yards from me. I was held in the building for hours before he pulled the trigger. I was trapped there. Told that I couldn’t leave because a gunman was in the parking lot. There were many of us. We were told to not walk by the windows and to remain low. Scared at first, but after hours past, we began to think about other things. About the time I was complaining to someone about my weekend plans. *Pop* Just like that. In an instant, he was dead. That moment changed my life. I realized then more than ever, how precious life was. That surreal moment was embodied with me superficially complaining about life, while a man so close by decided life wasn’t worth living anymore and ended his. I remember seeing his mother fall to her knees as the policeman told her that her son was dead. Something in me changed in that moment. Life never seemed so short.

Our sojourn. It’s packed full of opportunities to serve Him and to do it well. We don’t know how much time we have, so we best live life doing as much as possible right now. Reach out. Take a step. Share Christ’s love. Do it now. Do it tomorrow. Do it often. Make the difference in the life of someone else. Reach out your hand and just do it. Do something…do anything…time is short.

Passion

Recently, I have been asked the questions, “What is it that you like to do?” and “What is it that you are passionate about?” Seems like an easy question, right? Seems like something easy to respond to. For some reason I have not been able to answer that question in the simple, clear, or concise way I was once able to years ago.

When you ask most people that question, “What is it in life that you like to do,” you most likely get answers that are similar to the following: I like to play tennis. I like to sew, I love skiing. I like to paint. I love to travel, etc. Those “It” things are the passions in that person’s life. Those are the things (besides the general answers of spending time with family, etc) that if they had to pick one thing they personally enjoy doing most, that is “It.”

My amazingly talented and athletic fiancé has a love for the outdoors. He reintroduced me to an old friend of mine from childhood….the bike. Phil isn’t just good at cycling. He is REALLY good. Me, on the other hand..well, let’s just say that the bicycle helmet was invented for people like me. I enjoy riding with him, and I appreciate the joy he has for it. We recently went for a short hike through the woods. I think I could really get into hiking. I liked it. It was fun, and I really enjoyed my time with him doing it and sharing those moments with him. It has been good for me to do these things because I have somehow, the past few years drifted away from being outdoors and enjoying what it has to offer.

There are lots of things I enjoy doing. However, they just don’t seem like the fitting answer to that question about what I am personally truley passionate about. There was a time in my life, not so long ago, that I was a different person. Sadly enough, I wasn’t exactly “getting it” when it came to a few things in my relationship with the Lord. I was a Christian then. However, I wasn’t living life in a way that was encompassed by the Lord’s will. Back then, I would have answered the question above much differently than I am about to attempt now.

I remember the moment so clearly. I was standing in the midst of poor in Romania. They were all around me sobbing. Some crying out for joy and thankfulness to the Lord (even though they had so little by society’s standards). Some were crying out in desperation and pain. Although they seemed to have nothing, they had so much. They were “getting it” more than I was in life. I stood amongst them as if hit by a truck. It was then the Lord hit me and hit me hard. I suddenly “Got It” and had a silent and very intimate moment with the Lord. Up until that point, I was living my life for me and asking for His help and wisdom along the way. In that moment, He revealed to me the importance of living life for HIM. It was there in that little church in the Gypsy village that I felt Him and made a promise to live my life for Him instead of for me.

From that point forward, my passion in life has been to serve Him. The joy and blessings that have been bestowed upon me are not worthy of words to describe. I cannot explain the pure joy I feel when I am intentionally and actively serving Him. The taste of it is sweeter than any other I have had. The feeling was once something I heard people talk about but never knew what it felt like to be a part of. The feeling of being in His will and serving Him while feeling His presence, is one that cannot be replicated. It’s something that once you get a true taste of it, you can’t help but want more and more.

A passion for serving, helping those in need, caring for an orphan child, lending a hand to one of the least of these in different capacities. I suppose to many, it seems strange to have this as a passion. However, that is my answer. My passion is actively serving the Lord. There are many things I enjoy doing in life, but none even come close enough to compare. I long to base my life around it.

We know that in the Bible, when Moses saw the glory of the Lord, he was changed. He was changed so much so that his physical appearance changed. I used to often speak to others in presentations and messages about this transformation and was reminded of it recently in a message at church. When someone gets that close to Him, they change… period. I saw the Lord that morning in the small church in Romania. He met me there, and I was changed.

I enjoy many things in life. However, what is “IT” that I enjoy doing most in life? Serving Him. What is my favorite thing to do? Serve Him. This revelation didn’t come to me just by being raised in or attending church. It didn’t come to me by occasionally volunteering time and talents or giving to worthy causes. It didn’t even come to me by way of being a Christian. It came to me when I was seeking. It came to me when I was longing to see Him. It came to me when I said yes to serving and got up and did it. That passion is intense and I only taste it when I am actively serving. Hard to explain, but it is amazing. I find that my answer isn’t the most popular response to the posed question at times. It isn’t the answer that all understand, are looking for, can relate to, or are expecting. Maybe that is why I seem to have a hard time explaining it or answering. However, it is what it is, and I pray that I never lose it. Of all the things He has given to us to enjoy, to savor, to appreciate, and to love doing….that is my personal “IT.” Servanthood.


Each one should use whatever gift he has received to serve others, faithfully administering God's grace in its various forms. If anyone serves, he should do it with the strength God provides, so that in all things God may be praised through Jesus Christ. To Him be the glory and the power forever and ever. Peter 4:10-11

One Man's Trash...

I heard a comedian do a bit on drinking straws once. He talked about how a straw tries to embarrass you in important moments. When you go to take a sip, sometimes it forces you to chase it with your mouth and refuses to cooperate, making you look foolish. He ended the bit pretending like he was talking to a straw and said, “I don’t need you! You are a luxury item.”

Carpet. It’s a luxury item isn’t it? Don’t get me wrong. I am not trying to make anyone feel bad for having carpet. I had carpet in my apartment that was the ugliest color ever created. It was about 20-30 years old. When it was finally changed, not only did my environment brighten up, but I my attitude did too each morning when I put my feet down. It is soft on my feet and I most definitely enjoy and am thankful for it.

I was recently helping to remodel a dinning room of someone’s house. It struck me, as I watched the carpet be slashed and pulled up, that we must seem very wasteful to those who can’t afford it. Here we were, ripping up carpet and throwing it in the dump. Yes, the carpet was very old and worn. However, I couldn’t help but think of the homes I have seen in Romania, Kenya, and Ethiopia. Some of the people I have met there, would have loved to have what we were throwing it away. No doubt there are people down the street from each of us that would have loved that carpet too.

Carpet- A luxury item. It’s an expensive piece of fibers intricately woven together so we cushion our feet, keep them warm, and will make our rooms look socially acceptable. We work hard to make money and spend a good amount of it on this item of fibers and glue. Carpet is an interesting thing to think about. I am known to analyze things too much, and I realize that. In fact, I analyze that statement too, I suppose. However, I think carpet is one of those things that is definitely a luxury item. I guess it proves that old saying true, “One man’s trash is another man’s treasure.”

In the Korogocho slum in Kenya, people ravage through the city dump site, for things..anything. They often hope to find bags. I’m referring to the plastic bags that grocery stores give us for free to carry our food. They find these bags and clean them off in the creek nearby. Then they sell those bags for food for their families. Recently I threw away an empty plastic soap bottle. I thought about how much that would mean to those living in the dump in Kenya. It would be such a rare find, a blessing, a way to buy some food. Something I considered garbage would mean so much to someone who had nothing. One man’s trash….another man’s treasure.

Thinking Back and Being Thankful

The following article was written after my first mission trip experience in Nov of 2005. The pictures above are of children I met on that trip and whose faces haunted me upon my return.


With the Thanksgiving holiday on its way, the question “What are you thankful for?” seems to come up more often than other times during the year. Somehow we tend to all have the same general answers- Family, Friends, Health, Opportunity……….. I’d like to challenge you all to dig a bit deeper.

The other day, I spent some time with my sister and 4 year old, niece, Delainey. Delainey was telling us what she had done that day at her preschool. She said the teacher went around to each child and asked them what they were thankful for. My sister and I were expecting Delainey to have said she was thankful for her Barbie dolls or for her pet. She surprised us when she said, “I told my teacher I am thankful for soup.” “Soup? “ Emily asked. “You don’t like soup. In fact, I can’t get you to even eat 1 spoonful of soup when we have it for dinner. Why did you say you were thankful for soup?” By this point Emily and I were smiling and chuckling at the thought of how strange it was to be thankful for something disliked so much. In a quiet voice Delainey responded, “I don’t like soup Mommy, but I’m still thankful for it.”

Isn’t it amazing how God uses children to teach us? What Delainey said really made me think. I know many of you can relate to this: When I think about those children I met in Romania, I have many emotions. Those feelings run deep. They are the kind that you can actually feel in the pit of your stomach. Love is one, and Hurt is another. It’s a hurting feeling that I get when I think about the orphans. I have often thought about how I disliked the hurt that my heart has felt since I left Romania. It took a four year old little girl to make me realize- You know what? I may not like the hurt, but I am thankful for it. God has put that hurt there so that I won’t forget them. I am truly blessed that God has given us the gift of loving and hurting for those children. What an awesome gift! For that alone, I am thankful. Sometimes the dislikes in our lives are the blessings we should be thankful for.

I personally am thankful for many blessings I have received this past year. Friends, family, health, and opportunity are only a few. I am so thankful for God meeting me in Romania in response to be being faithful to His call to go and serve.

So, I leave you with a challenge. I challenge you to really ponder the question: “What are you thankful for.”

Psalm 107 1:1 Thank the Lord because he is good. His love continues forever.

Sunday Night Suffering

Somewhere between the phone ringing and that distinct hospital smell, my feet moved one in front of the other and I travelled on adrenaline and instinct. Last night, as I answered the phone, I heard “Beth, can you come over? I fell” from my very injured Grandmother. Yes, my dear Grandmother had fallen and was in need of help and medical attention.

As I sat with her in a FULL hospital emergency room, I looked around. “Everyone here has a story,” I thought to myself. I had spent the morning speaking at a church, on the plight of orphans and telling stories of pain and suffering around the world. Now, I sat and was face to face with suffering of those in my own backyard. Suffering of children, elderly, and everyone in between.

A child sat in the corner vomiting. In between his episodes of misery, he would sit on his loving mother’s lap, playing with her hair as he breathed right in her face. Nearby a man sat in a wheelchair with ice on his leg. He didn’t look so bad, but of course I imagined what happened to him to be in the ER there with me that night. Yes, everyone here had a story.

A fragile looking immigrant family came in with a panicked way about them. Their little girl was hallucinating, vomiting, not making sense, and had a racing heart beat. In the most blatant display of unprofessionalism I have seen in some time, the male nurse came out to the room and very aggressively questioned them in front of everyone. He asked them what happened. The father spoke and said they had given their daughter medicine but they didn’t know what it was. They had gotten it in Mexico but it wasn’t medicine prescribed to this specific little girl. He said his daughter had worms and someone gave him this medicine to give to her. He kept saying they thought it was “Vitamins or something” but really had no idea what exactly the pink substance in the bottle was. After the nurse embarrassed this family in front of the crowd, he walked them back to a room as he rudely called for a translator to help him communicate with the family. The little girl looked lost, scared, and so vulnerable.

In between adjustments of the icepack on my grandmother’s head wound, more people walked in to the ER. A large drunk man came in. He had a deep laceration above his eye. I assumed he had been in a fight, but I really don’t know. I wondered if he would be in another fight before he left the waiting room. After what seemed like an eternity of his obnoxious outbursts, wandering around, yelling, and his displays of profanity, many in that waiting room were probably more than willing to take a swing at him to just get him quiet. About that time, I overhead nurses discussing a quickly approaching ambulance.

A young man came in alone with what looked like an obvious broken hand. As he made his way to an empty seat, he winced in pain. He took his seat amongst others who would frequently make their way to the bathroom from their illness. One woman waited so long with her young child, she just gave up and walked out. So much suffering and pain.

Soon a young woman walked in that broke my heart. Her face was so very broken and swollen. Her eyes looked empty. Her neck had marks around it and a knot, that no doubt pulsated as it bulged from her swollen body, told a story in itself. She looked like she had clothes on that were not her own, but just thrown on. She was in pain and was humiliated. Her mother or friend followed behind with a small infant that seemed to be this broken spirit’s child. Soon the sheriff came and (once again…no privacy) I overheard enough details to know this was a domestic violence case. I thought about her all night. She looked broken in so many ways. I wanted to cry for her as I sat in that room. As this was all going through my head, my sister leaned towards my ear and whispered, “I just want to cry for her…she is humiliated.” If you think of that woman and her child, please pray for them. For whatever reason, our paths crossed in an ER waiting room, maybe it is so you can pray for her today. She looked crushed both physically and emotionally.

After a few hours of tests, stitches, and moans of pain later, Grandma was released. My sister and I left when we heard she was given the okay to leave and my mom was taking her home. I stopped for gas on the way home. It was about 10:00 PM or so and it was probably 30 degrees outside. Cold and windy. I pumped the gas and looked at a nearby McDonalds restaurant across the street. My heart once again sank.

A young homeless woman, carrying a sleeping bag and backpack with a light jacket on, was scoping out the area trying to see if anyone was watching her. She didn’t see us looking at her across the street. When she thought it was safe, she made her way into the dumpster.

That night, I couldn’t help but give thanks for the many blessings I received that day. I had a lot to be thankful for. I had a lot to lift up as well. I had seen so many in pain. So many suffering. So many lost. I thought about how Jesus cares for and loves each one just as much as the other, just as much as you and me. I wondered how many didn’t even know about this love. I thought about how a part of me, while in that waiting room, wanted to put my coat over my head to escape the noise, the smell, the germs, and the sights that seemed to threaten me in a way at the same time they depressed me. I thought about how this was just a sliver of what the Lord sees everyday.

I have no idea why He allowed the circumstances that led me to the hospital that day. I do know there is an underlying purpose in it though. The lost, the hurting, the cold, and the lonely are all out there, and they need our prayers today. I tell you their stories because I believe somehow that is crucial to His purpose in it all. If you are open to it, maybe their stories will encourage you to take action, say a prayer, or speak to you in some way.

Winnie

It was an ordinary day, on a Shoes for Orphan Souls trip in Kenya. That is what I thought anyway. What happened that day would change my vision, my heart, and my life. A place simply known as, “Busia” wouldn’t seem so simple after that day. That was the day I met her. Her name was Winnie.

The memory of that day seems so surreal. We stepped off the bus and were surrounded by children looking for a hand to hold, a face that would lend a smile, and someone to show them love. The feeling of stepping off the bus at a new location is always so similar to the feeling you get as a child right before you open your Christmas presents on Christmas morning. In fact, I think the feeling of meeting orphan children for the first time is better than that of being a child on Christmas morning. Well, that Christmas like morning in Busia is where I met a motherless child.

I found myself singing the “Welcome to Kenya” song with a small group of children. They were teaching me how to sing the song in Swahili. That was when I suddenly noticed the flies in our group were swarming and almost driving me crazy. I was shooing them away, as the children seem oblivious to the presence of flies at all. It was then that I noticed why the flies were with us.

I looked down and saw a young girl in a blue, torn, dirty sundress. I had met her a couple minutes earlier. Her name was Winnie. She had an open wound on her knee. The size of the wound concerned me to some degree. However, my concern was more consumed by the fact so many flies were feeding off that wound on her body. The flies were deep into the wound of her leg, and she didn’t even notice they were there. Either that, or she didn’t care. It was a privilege to shoo the flies away from her that day. That probably sounds strange or grotesque to most. However, the Lord blessed me with the honor of caring for her and swatting the bugs away from her body. For that blessing, I am so thankful.

We continued to sing songs, and I could tell Winnie wanted to say something to me. She had that look of a child trying to muster up the courage to say something really important but was very scared to do so. I smiled at her and raised my eyebrows as if to say, “What is, it, Winnie?” She slowly took a deep breath and moved in close to my ear. “I want to go home with you,” she pleaded. She sat back and gave a coy smile. She was looking deep into my eyes and heart, and waiting for my response. I felt like someone had kicked me in the stomach. I had no breath. I prayed God would give me the words to loving explain why I couldn’t take her home.

“I want to go home with you.” Those words, her voice, and her big dark eyes, haunted me for weeks after I returned from Kenya. “I want to go home with you.” I couldn’t stop thinking about her. What kind of life does she lead? How bad does it have to be to beg a complete stranger to take you home, for her to be willing to give up everything that she called home, the friends she had, the family (if any) she had left? Did she see a kind stranger that was willing to smile and hold her hand, and she thought, “I would be willing to give up all that I know and have if this woman would be my mother. Maybe if I ask, she will take me home and love me?” My heart ached so badly for her.


I struggled for some time after returning home. I finally just asked God, “Why?” “Why did you send me to this child?” “What did I do to help her?” “She desperately wanted to come home, and I failed her. I failed You. I didn’t bring her home and give her what she wanted, what she needed.” God very clearly spoke to me in that moment. He spoke these words, “Yes, you did. You DID bring her home. You brought her home in your heart.” I realized I hadn’t brought her home to my house like Winnie and I both wanted, but I DID bring her home in my heart, and home in my prayers. Her picture sits in my living room, on my computer, stamped on my heart, and in my eyes. Maybe my ache for her was God’s purpose in me bringing her home in that way. One day I hope and pray to physically bring home a child just like Winnie. However, Winnie will always be my long distance God appointed daughter in the heart.

We can’t bring each child we meet, home with us. However we can bring them home in other ways. We can bring them home in our hearts and prayers. We can bring their voice home and share it in our world. God’s love for her brought her into my life and home with me forever. I will never forget Winnie. She changed my life, and I hope my prayers and love for her, will change her life too.

Winnie and so many others are hurting, searching, crying, and even screaming out for help. The world isn’t hearing or seeing them. Where is their voice here in the Untied States? It is you, and it is me. We are their voice, and with the Lord’s help we can make those cries heard. We can make them be seen. We can go, serve, and give them what they have been searching for, Him. It is Him, Jesus Christ. He is the answer to it all, and He is calling us all to “Do Something.”

The Teacher

As I walked down the hall, I heard the most startling sound possible in an infant home…silence. I was told “They don’t cry anymore…they have learned..if they cry, no one comes to them. Now, they just don’t cry.” In this infant home in Romania, there was one caregiver per 20+ children, and the sound of silence was killing me.

I was led to a room with 3 small children in cribs. One foot in front of the other, I made my way to the child in the blue onesie in the crib. This child, whom I would later name as “my teacher,” would change my life and teach me more about servanthood in just a few minutes, than I had learned in twenty some years before.

As I approached him, the stench of his soiled diaper ascended from the crib. I looked down at him. What a fragile little body, marked with vomit, dirt, and blood coming from his nose. My heart broke. After figuring out how to lower the ancient metal style crib gate, I reached in and picked him up. I was determined to achieve what we all do while holding a baby..a smile.

I sang, I made goofy faces, I danced, you name it. Nothing. No smile. No giggle. Nothing. This child seemed emotionless. I looked around the room. I was overwhelmed. This day marked one of the first days of my very first mission trip. What was I doing? I wasn’t the right person for this job. I couldn’t even make this child smile. My heart sank at this defeat, I had that feeling I was in way over my head.

You know how when you walk into a small room, you automatically feel big? It just happens. When you are in a small room, you just feel bigger. The strange thing about this small room in the infant home was that the longer I was in it, the smaller and smaller I felt. I looked around the room. What I saw confirmed my feelings of inadequacy. I saw a bath tub that was filthy. This is where they bathed. I saw a child in a crib that was way too old to be caged like an animal. He was drinking from a bottle that had been propped up to his mouth. He looked like he should be in third or fourth grade. I felt myself getting smaller and smaller.

I wondered if this was a fraction of how David felt standing before Goliath. Feeling so small and like he were up against the impossible. Without a clue of what to do next, I sat on the edge of a bed in that room. I had the child still in my arms, and bowed my head to pray. How can I make a difference here, Lord? What am I supposed to do? I can’t even do something as simple as make this child smile. I have no idea where to start, and I feel so small. Tell me what to do.

After my heart spoke those words, I opened my eyes. As I looked down in my arms to that small precious child, I saw something that spoke a message that was if it were written on the wall. My new emotionless friend was smiling from ear to ear. In that moment the Lord spoke to me. “You start right here. You start by loving these children.” You know, that smile in itself was worth every penny I had raised for my first mission trip. It was worth every mile traveled and every sleepless night afterwards. I would do everything all over again, just to see that smile for two more seconds.

It’s pretty simple really. You start by loving the children. It doesn’t take a Billy Graham type evangelist. It doesn’t take a person who even has a clue on what to do on a mission trip. You start by loving the children. That is how you start making a difference in their lives. Can you hold a child’s hand? Can you sit them on your lap and squeeze them tight? Can you pray for them? That’s all it takes…people like you and people like me…loving them. It’s pretty easy really.

I call that child, my teacher. He taught me so much. He taught me that it starts by praying for and loving the children. And that, will change their lives AND your life in more blessed ways than you could ever imagine.

Post Election Day

November 4th, 2008, what a day. A new president was elected, history was made, and as John McCain so eloquently put it, “The American people have spoken, and they have spoken clearly.” Whether you voted for Barack Obama or not, he is going to be president. “Change” is on its way whether you wanted it or not.

Wow. What a day. No matter what political party you identify yourself with or support, realize we were all a part of a special day in history. Never before has an African-American been elected as President of the United States of America. Never before have I ever seen a crowd so large cheer for a president or president-elect, with that look in their eyes. That look…it somehow touched my heart at the very same time as my heart sank in a spooky way.

I saw some with a sparkle in their eye that spoke volumes. It was a look of a tearful realization that not only did an African American make it to the top of the highest position in our government, but that the majority of the American people actually voted him in and wanted him there. I could tell they were thinking back to the days of slavery and the days when those whose names hang above them on the family tree, were not seen as worthy to even vote. They were thinking about the numerous generations on that tree that have endured abuse, discrimination, and humiliation because of the color of their skin. Now, this man that represents such hope to them, sits in one of the most powerful seats in the world. I will probably never know exactly what that feels like, but will always appreciate their pure joy in it.

What concerned me about some looks was that of people who appeared to be idolizing Obama. It was as if they worshiped him, as if they were placing all their faith in this man, as if (as one person said this morning to me) they looked at him as their savior. He’s not their Savior. There is only one Savior, and that is Jesus Christ. I wondered how many of those in the crowd who were missing that important point. That truly saddened me.

Again, whether you like him or not, you must admit, Obama has a lot on his shoulders. He has a huge need for prayer. This man, our newly elected president, has a young family and no doubt countless enemies that would love nothing more than to destroy it and him. He is in fact, going to be the leader of our country. I personally, don’t agree with everything he has stood for in the past or present. However, I recognize that for such as time as this he has been placed in office and could greatly impact our world. The opportunity is tremendous, as for any president in the past and future. I pray that God will give him the wisdom, the guidance, the compassion, strength, humbleness, and the heart that will lead our country well and into the will of the Lord. I pray the Lord will reveal Himself in ways to our newly elected president, that will be so clear and evident that He longs to grow closer and closer to the One that has our best interest in mind.

Am I proud to be an American? Of course. I had the awesome opportunity to stand up, vote, and to exercise my right to be heard yesterday. The privilege, that so many in the world are not blessed with, is something I do not take lightly. I pray that I never hear the National Anthem and forget to be thankful for all those who lost their lives for my freedom and for how the Lord has blessed us in so many ways. I pray that I spend more time lifting up our government in prayer than I do complaining about it. May this transition in leadership and talk of “change” encourage us all to look within. May we be faithful to what the Lord is calling us to change in our own lives and how to work together as the Body towards His will. God Bless America.

Speak And Be Heard

It was a cool day in November. He woke up early, and kissed his wife goodbye before heading off for his grueling day ahead. She gently took his dark and scarred hand in hers and squeezed it, knowing this day would not be easy for him. It was a big day. The buzz was everywhere. Their future would be impacted greatly by this day. Anxiousness set in. What would the outcome be? Would this be a turning point in his children’s future? The God-given feeling of hope pulsated in his heart. As he went to work, he watched as his boss and others smiled proudly. They had been a part of it. They had made a difference. They had a voice and say in what would change the world. That hope in his heart, although still there, slowly began to dissipate. He suddenly felt embarrassed, and worthless. He wasn’t seen as good enough to take part. His opinion didn’t matter. Oh, how he longed to be seen as important enough to speak, and to be heard.

Across town, a woman cooked breakfast for her husband. She too kissed him goodbye and scooted the children out the door for school. The house was empty. A long day of work ahead of her. Her tired legs moved her about, doing every job imaginable that needed to be done. She thought of her husband. Although they didn’t see eye to eye on all things, she loved him with her whole heart. His voice is what mattered today not hers. He would take part, and she would remain silent. She would silently wait. Maybe she would hear something on the radio. As she listened to the reports, she was consumed with happiness for her husband’s opportunity. However, there was a part of her that longed for it as well…longed to be seen as important enough to speak and to be heard.

On the same day, a man an ocean away sat with his family at the table for dinner. Today was not a special day, nor will it be tomorrow. Each day seems like the one before. He has no idea what it is like to stand up and share what he desires for the future. He never will and neither will his children. He can hardly get beyond hoping there will be enough food for each of the mouths that appear around the table before him. Deep within him, he feels that same longing though…to be seen as important enough to speak and to be heard.

It wasn’t until 1870 that the man who watched his boss come back from the voting booth, would be given the right to vote in an election himself. That was the year African Americans were allowed to speak and to be heard in the blessing of casting a vote in America.

It wasn’t until 1920 that women would be allowed to step into an election booth to exercise the opportunity that many of us take for granted today. 1920. It wasn’t that long ago.

For the man that sat with his family, with only the dream that there is a life out there for his children where they aren’t dictated to and have no rights, life never changed. Life in their country is different than ours. There is not a care or value placed on what the citizens think. Decisions are made for them. They are not to be heard from. Life for his family remains the same today as it did back then. They have no right to vote, to speak, or to be heard.

No matter what political party you support, no matter what your opinions are about the hot topics or the candidates, take time to be thankful for the right to vote and exercise it. We live in a country that gives us that opportunity and blessing. We live in a country that has recognized that we all equally have the right to speak, to be heard, and to matter. Don’t take that for granted. Get out, vote, and be thankful. Speak and be heard.

Change

While finishing a prayer recently about change, underneath my closed my eyes I saw an image Christ. There He was, with children standing around him. He was waving his hands back and forth. As He did, water in the sea nearby morphed gigantic waves that reached the sky. The wind picked up and lighting lit up the sky all over. As I looked at the children, they were not scared. The hair on their heads didn’t even move in the storm. How could that be? It was so windy. In that moment, the Lord reminded me, “I am in control. I command the wind and the rain. Even in a storm, I protect my children.” With that, my body jerked and I seemed to wake up from the experience.

Am I the only one that feels the word “Change” repeatedly getting pounded into my head lately? Change. As I held a yard sale last weekend, I thought about how my life is changing. I am preparing to get married to a wonderful man, moving a long distance from where I live, and how my life is about to change in many aspects in other ways…good ways. The weather outside is getting cooler. I pulled out and put on a warm coat this week to wear out in the cold. I cranked up the space heater at work and even marveled at the sight of frost melting from my windshield on a brisk cool morning. Quite a change from the summer clothes and A/C we lived in not so long ago. Outside my window, I see leaves on the ground. In a matter of weeks, they changed colors and fell from the branches. Change, it's everywhere.

The last few weeks, I think we all feel like we have been riding on the economic roller coaster. Unfortunately, they don’t make Dramamine for is type of motion sickness. One second we are up, and then we are down. Why, we even have a presidential candidate promising and basing his entire campaign on what else?? Change.

I’ll admit, when I see change coming or hear that word, sometimes my initial reaction is anxiousness. Sometimes, it is excitement, but usually there is always a longing of wanting and feeling a need to know what is next. Those question marks about the future tend to drive me crazy. Is it because I am a planner? Because I am a control freak? Because I allow myself to forget He is in control?? I am guessing, it is all of the above!

Sometimes we get into situations of changed being forced upon us. Maybe we don’t understand why or even agree with it. Maybe we can’t see what is beyond that cloud of question marks when trying to look ahead to the future, and we feel anxious. It isn’t a comfortable feeling. Change seems to be impacting so many that I love. I think of a man that is nearing his final days on earth. I think of those who feel uncertain about the outcome of our presidential election. I thought about how I wished I could somehow fix or change certain things myself that I can see causing pain to others.

I think about the change going on in my personal life and give thanks for the peace that I feel about it. Change is an easier thing to accept when you realize it is His will. Sometimes, it takes a while to get to that point though. Recently, the Lord met me in some self-reflecting moments reminding me that although change is hard at times, if He is allowing it, there is a reason. He can see our future, and He always knows what is best.

The Spirit spoke within me about trust. I may not know why things happen the way they do, but I do trust Him. Why are people suffering? Why does it feel like the nice guys always come in last? Why can’t people do the right thing? What gives me the right to feel like I should know why about everything He allows and does? We must trust and obey.

In a world of change, our confidence comes from what He promises to us:

Malachi 3:6 I the Lord do not change.

Hebrews 13:8 Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever.


In a world of change, some things do stay the same. He is the same. His plan is Sovereign, and He is in control. No matter who is elected president, no matter what the weather is, no matter what changes go on around you that you don’t understand, He remains solid. He will remain the same in His great all-knowing majesty, and no matter what…He always protects His children and is in control.

The Tree Man

I watched in what was a state of confusion between horror and fascination. I had seen the commercial on TV for this. That’s what prompted me to watch. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. How could this be? The title of the show was, “Half Man Half Tree.” No! That just can’t be.

It wasn’t. No, the man above named, DeDe is not half tree. He just looks like it. He has a rare condition where his immune system cannot stop his body from producing wart like growths. The warts grow and grow. They become hard….as hard as tree branches. When cut off, they just grow back and even faster than before. They have covered his hands and forearms. They have covered his feet and part of his legs. The warts, they are all over.

This man absolutely fascinated me. My heart just broke for him. I could tell in his eyes, that this condition has robbed him of so much in life. His self esteem, his feelings of self worth, the joy of having peace in life…gone. The only job he could find in Indonesia, was to join a circus like group of others that had deformities. They travel to perform freak show type acts for crowds of laughing on-lookers. His friends seemed so sweet, but were just as shocking to look at. I wondered what all they have endured in life. I can’t imagine.

If you have an opportunity to hear his story, do so. There are a few more out there in the world with similar rare conditions. I couldn’t help but feel called to pray for him. As I went to sleep that night, I was haunted by the images I saw on the television. I had dreams in my sleep about tree branches and roots taking over my home and even popping out the windows. He doesn’t dream those types of images…he lives them.

His courage, his perseverance, his will to go on, is inspiring. The uniqueness of his condition and the images might just leave you speechless. He is absolutely fascinating. Check it out. The man in Indonesia. They call him, The Tree Man.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eJLG85gn0bc

Wedding Update

Well, after lots of phone calls, visits, reading, discussion, comparison, and prayer…a few things have been accomplished for the wedding!

The church has been selected and reserved (my home church was too small for the crowd that we anticipate to attend the wedding).
The Reception Hall has been booked.
The wedding dress has been found and ordered along with the veil!
Photographer has been booked!

It was a productive week. Now…onto selection of wedding colors, invitations, florist, and Music. There is much more to do, but we are all thankful for a productive week.

The best part…imagining what it will all look like on that day. It’s an easy thing to do when you are looking in the mirror and wearing an all white dress and veil. All the details are small when I think about the end result though. The announcement of Mr. and Mrs. Brinkmeyer isn’t too far away!

Thoughts While Fighting a Cold

It was the night before I was to give a message at two church services, and all through the house, not a creature was stirring…not even me. I was knocked out from my cold medicine. After a night of trying to convince myself that what I was going through was only allergies, I had to admit defeat in the morning. I woke up and didn’t feel nearly as well as I had hoped and prayed for. As hard as it is for someone as stubborn as myself, I admitted, I had a dreaded cold.

The first line of attack….Daytime cough, cold, and flu medicine. After downing that, I was out the door and on my way. As I drove to the church, I glanced down at the, oh so neatly folded, tissues in my purse. Would that be enough? Probably not…and of course, it wasn’t. How was I going to talk for 30 minutes, for two different services, while coughing, sneezing, and sniffling my way through? I wasn’t about to let the enemy win though. I started in with my usual, simple yet powerful, prayer before I speak, “Less of me and more of You, Lord. Less of me and more of You.”

We started with the praise songs and other Sunday morning traditions. I, sitting in the front pew, sheepishly wiped my running nose and cherished every candy coated layer of my cough drop. I shook my head as I silently thought about the odds of not disgusting the audience with my oh so unattractive and distracting flu like symptoms. Those odds, weren’t exactly looking in my favor.

Next, I was up. Amazingly enough, not one coughing episode or sneezing fit attacked while I spoke. Both services, went by without any problems. Another prayer, answered. The realist part of me says my adrenaline was pumping enough to get me through. My heart knows better to attribute this to the Lord pulling out all the stops that could have hindered His message from leaving my mouth. I’m so thankful He is my speech writer, my image consultant, and my damage control specialist.

Afterwards, I went home and crashed on the couch. I just wanted to crawl underneath a blanket and get warm. My throat hurt, my head hurt, my nose burned and caused a kinds of symptoms you can only imagine and relate to. I realized that I wouldn’t be getting anything done on my to-do list that day, and I would probably be forced to rest a bit. Oh well, there is always work I could do on the computer. There is a wedding to plan, research to do, and emails to respond to. At least I could do that from the couch.

Much to my dismay, frustration, and work to fix the issue, my internet connection wouldn’t show anything but failure. What?! No internet? No email? What would I do? I suddently realized I was forced to rest. In the midst of my pity party, I chuckled. God really does have things under control. I know He has been telling me to rest lately, but I haven’t been listening. He wins again and rest I did. He always knows best, and has a way of handling every part of our lives even when we know the odds are against us, and we are too stubborn to listen.

I Had a Dream

Last night I had dream…or maybe it was a vision…I’m not sure which. I saw a young boy in a blue and white striped baseball uniform. He was crying. Not sure exactly why he had a baseball uniform on. He was crying because he didn’t know the answers to the questions before him on his homework assignment. I briefly flashed back to similar moments in my own childhood. This boy, he walked up to his father. He looked so defeated. He looked up and said, “I don’t know how to do this. Just tell me the answers.” The father gestured to the desk and motioned for the child to sit back down. The young boy didn’t follow the suggestion. “Just tell me the answer. I can’t do this. Why can’t you just tell me how to do it or give me the answers?!” His tone this time was less than respectful and to be honest, was down right annoying. The father, once again did not verbally respond, but gently again pointed back to the desk.

At first I thought this gentle man, whom I could only see the back of his head, was guiding him back to the desk as to encourage the child to work through the problem and figure it out on his own. I was impressed by his restraint to not scold the child for his choice of such a disrespectful display of communication. I then looked over at the desk and saw there was a book just to the right of where the child was sitting. It was an answer key to the child’s homework. I wanted to jump in and tell the child to just open the book with all the answers. Why doesn’t he just look at the book? I wondered why the father didn’t just take the book and hand it to the child.

In that moment, I heard a message. “He knows the book is there, and I have told him many times that it holds the answers. He CHOOSES not to look at the book.” I suddenly realized this dream had such a profound message. With that, my dream abruptly ended. I felt myself sinking down into the mattress of the bed. This dream was not about a frustrated little league baseball playing child. It was about me.

How many times have I prayed for God to show me the answer to a problem? How many times have I pleaded with Him to give me the wisdom to equip me for a situation? Do I think He answers those requests without me doing any work to get there? Sometimes. However, I wonder if in the majority of the time, if He feels slapped in the face. He tells us that the Bible is there for us and holds so many of the answers. He has told us that it will give us the wisdom and guidance for what we face. However, we choose not to read it as much as we should. Instead, we expect Him to give the answers to us in our way. The simple way, without having to do anything to get it….you know, like pick up the Book and just read it. I wonder how many times I have asked, worried, pleaded, and have begged without going to the Book of all the answers. I wondered how many times I have prayed for an answer and just sat and waited. How many times have I asked for an answer and gotten frustrated when I didn’t see the writing on the wall or some kind of sign that He was willing to help me? It has to be so insulting that we don’t listen to Him and open that Book of answers.

After this experience, I thought about how my daily devotionals have not been a priority lately with the chaos in life. I thought about how if I was more disciplined in my readings, maybe I would spend less time in that anxious state of wondering how things will come out, or wondering what the answer is to so many things. I realized I am not so far off from that whining child at times. As you can imagine, when I abruptly woke up from that dream, I turned on the light, picked up the devotional, and read some scripture.


The Book sits next to us all, and our Father is constantly pointing us back to it…..

Sense of Humor

If you have ever wondered if God has a sense of humor, I am here to tell you that He does. Trust me in the fact that I have seen His sense of humor a work in so many ways in my life. I often find myself in situations where I can imagine Him chuckling at me. Sometimes, I find myself in situations where I hope He is chuckling because that would mean something good came out of my somewhat awkward moments in life. Here are a couple that happened on the mission field.

I was recently waiting for a flight from Ethiopia to Kenya. I was with two others and we had plenty of time before our flight was to board. We were at the gate area and we were so thirsty. I offered to get us some drinks and bring them back. When I returned with the 3 cans of Coke, I noticed the room had emptied of the Kenya bound passengers. Panic set in as an airline employee said they were about to shut the door to the shuttle leading to the plane. He told me to run. As I got to the door, I fumbled to find my passport, and I looked up. I saw a bus full of angry passengers who, by watching me run towards them, realized I was the reason they were stuck waiting. At this point, those three lovely cans of Coke broke through the bag and rolled across the airport basement in three different directions. A collective sigh came from the passengers as if to say in unison, “Oh great, now we have to wait for her to pick up those cans!” Heat grew up my face from deep within. I was laughing, nervously of course at first, but had to run across that room to pick up the dented cans. I boarded with the other passengers and clumsily juggled the dented cans, bags, boarding pass, etc. I knew God was laughing with me. No one else was.

Once while speaking at a church about missions, I stood up to the podium, and stepped on the bottom of my long skirt. Yes, my skirt fell down. Thankfully, I was close enough to the podium so I could pull it back up quickly, no one saw it but Him and I. I think He was laughing that time.

Once in Romania, I leaned over to a homeless person to say, “God Loves You.” Only after this person followed me and kept giving me looks as if to have a crush on me, I realized in my efforts to speak that phrase in Romanian, I had actually said, “I Love You.” I think He was laughing that time too.

There are many, too many actually, other instances of times He has proven He has a sense of humor. Why else would these things be allowed to happen, other than for the distinct reason to make us smile and laugh? I love how He fills our hearts with joy, even if it does make us blush at times.

The Engagement

On March 29th 2008, a man I had known for a few months, walked into the office where I was working. I had known him for about 6 months and seen him a couple of times before. However, this time seeing him seemed different for some reason. I remember it so well. He had on a brown shirt, faded jeans, and leather jacket. He was holding and drinking an Orange Julius milk shake. Little did I know that day would change my life forever. That was the day that started a 6 month relationship where I would learn what it truly meant to fall in love and want to spend the rest of your life with someone. I would learn what it meant to have a relationship that had the Lord in the middle. I would learn what it was like to receive a gift of a best friend, companion, and the love of my life.

The next 6 months of my life were filled with a joy and love I had never experienced before. Phil often asked me when it was when I knew I fell in love with him. I would always tell him it was somewhere between that Orange Julius and now. I would then tease him about how when he was in the office that day in March, I thought it was disappointing that he didn’t even offer me a drink of that Orange Julius.

October 2nd 2008. I was supposed to pick Phil up at the airport. He had called and texted me several times to inform me that his plane had been delayed from the airport in Dallas. Since I knew he was going to be a bit delayed, I went home to change and put the 2 bouquets of roses he sent me that day, in some fresh water and a pretty vase. As I was scurrying around my apartment, Phil called again. He called to say he was still in Dallas and his plane hadn’t taken off yet. He also told me that he had just received a call from a delivery man saying he had been knocking on my door but I wasn’t answering.

With confusion (I hadn’t heard any knocking) and anticipation (thinking about what else he could possibly be having delivered to me) I opened the door. There standing in the front yard, was my so very handsome and magnificent boyfriend. Phil was there standing with a single rose in one hand and an Orange Julius milkshake in the other.

I was so bewildered and confused. All I could do is laugh. I yelled, “Get Out!” (In a how could you trick me.. I can’t believe it way.) Then I told him to come in, but he wouldn’t. He just stood there smiling and said, “Beth, I love you.” I was still laughing. I couldn’t figure out how he got to my apartment when I was supposed to pick him up. He explained that he had flown in early that day to Moline and rented a car. His plane had not been delayed. At this point, I had no idea what was about to happen. I just thought this was my clever and sweet boyfriend’s way of surprising me and making me smile that day.

He came to the door and stood in the doorway. He looked at me and asked, “Beth Bateman, would you share this Orange Julius with me?” “Yes, now get in here” I replied as I motioned for him to come inside the apartment. He just looked at me, tilted his head and smiled. “Beth, would you share this Orange Julius with me for the rest of my life?” He asked. “Yes,” I replied and chuckled at such a strange request. “Okay then,” he said as he took a ring off of his pinky finger and dropped down to one knee. At the sight of this, my hands covered my mouth, my eyes welled up with tears, and my legs started shaking and gliding me backward moving me back into my apartment as I stood in disbelief. “Beth, will you marry me?” He asked.

Wow. I stood there for a brief second and then just tried to soak it in. I didn’t have to think about what my answer would be. I had dreamed of this moment for some time. I didn’t even look at the ring when he asked. I was looking in his eyes. “Yes!” I answered and wrapped my arms around him. After a few kisses and a long embrace, I looked at the ring. It was the most perfect ring he could have given me. How did he know it would look just right on my finger? Did he know the mere sight of its beauty and perfection would make me weak in the knees? The ring was so amazing, but not nearly as amazing as him.

My answer was yes. Yes, I choose him to spend the rest of my life with. Yes, I choose him to love and cherish for the rest of our lives. Who knew that on October 2nd 2008 at 3:15 PM, I would be gently lifted onto cloud nine? You know, it is pretty wonderful up there. There is one down side to that location though. Your cheeks hurt from smiling so much! I think that cloud is the place that God puts us so we can realize that all the prayers we have prayed are heard and answered. He puts us there to allow us to realize how much He loves us. He put me there to realize He loves me so much, that He had this gift in planning for Phil and I from the beginning. I am so very blessed and so incredibly thankful. Thankful to Him for bringing Phil into my life and answering so many of those prayers I have prayed for many years. Thankful for the gift of fully understanding the verses in 1 Corinthians 14: 4-13. Thankful to Phil for loving me, being the amazing man that he is, and being all that I could ask for and more. Again, I am so very blessed.

Answered Prayer

I received an email a few days ago from an orphan I met nearly three years ago. I met her in a Romanian orphanage and she forever changed my life. She had lived in one of the hardest orphanages in the country. She had been through so much. 12 years, she lived there in unspeakable conditions. I remember tearfully saying goodbye to her on that fall day in Romania. The goodbye and the sadness and innocence in her eyes, left me with a heart broken in a way that I had never experienced before.

I remember while in Romania that year, we heard word that the White Sox’s 88 year wait had come to an end. They had won the world series. I didn’t care. Nothing else seemed to matter. For the first time in a long time, I didn’t care about what everyone was talking a bout at the water cooler. I didn’t care about what was on the news back home. All I could think about was that young girl’s image that disappeared in the distance and fog on the bus window. I wondered if I would ever see her again. I diligently prayed for her everyday after that meeting. I prayed she would not become a lost child statistic of Romania.

The Lord granted the two of us a friendship that would stretch not only across the miles, but over an ocean. One year after our first meeting, I saw her again. This time she was sitting on a bench next to me in a park. We were catching up and she was telling me about living in a transitional home and high school. She had finally gotten out of the hole that she lived in. That orphanage was a place of abuse, neglect, and a darkness that I cannot describe, but can only see in my mind’s eye. There was an evilness there that literally sent chills up your spine while walking through the halls of what many of those children called home. I was so thankful she was doing well. She sat next to me with an entire year’s worth of printed out emails, that I had sent her, in her backpack. She had kept each and every email.

One year after that, in 2007, I met her again while in Romania. This time she had dinner with our mission team group that was staying at a nearby hotel. I think the coolest thing about that meeting was not just seeing her look good, safe, and pursuing an education, but was that she was just like one of us. We weren’t having dinner with an “orphan” we were having dinner with a friend. She was one of us and I so enjoyed seeing her in that light and watching others treat her as such. She was going to school then during the day and working at night. She also had her very first apartment.

This is the first year I won’t see her since that meeting in 2005. It’s hard. I miss Romania and I miss her. When I opened that email from her, I not only learned that she is now a college student, I was abruptly reminded how the Lord answers our prayers. For three years, He has answered my prayers for her. That morning of the email, I was so proud of her, and so thankful that Creator of the universe takes time out each day to listen to my plea for her. God is good.

Black Birds

Matthew 6:25-
"Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?”

I have never been much of a bird fan. Some that know me well might find it ironic that I have written this blog as a tribute to them. Yes, I have been abnormally frightened of them, shooed them away, wished they would leave me alone, and have been dive bombed on my head by them too many times. What can I say? I’m just not their biggest fan.

I was leaving work the other day and looked out over the nearby corn field. The black birds were flying in what seemed like a synchronized routine. There were hundreds of them. My first thought was of that terrifying movie about the black birds attacking. About the time the hair on the back of my neck returned to a relaxed state, I was reminded of the scripture above.

The birds…they seemed so happy. How could they be happy? Don’t they know we are in the midst of war, economic fallout, increasing gas prices, increases in costs of food, and incurable diseases? How could they fly about without a care? They dipped down so low and then back up again. The patterns they made were incredible. I stopped, before turning out on the road, and just watched. Amazing.

No, the birds aren’t worried about the economy, the war, the diseases, or even how much gas is selling for at the present time. These birds were just flying and enjoying life. We have a lot to learn from those birds. I looked at them closely wondering how they manage to all stay together and create such peculiar yet magnificent formations in the sky. One bird was leading the group. The rest of the birds followed the lead with a faith that wherever that leading bird led them, it was ok.

Christ came down to our level and as one of us to do just that. He led us and continues to do so today. He came to show us how to live and offered us the most precious gift we will ever be graced with. He also left very clear instructions…do not worry. Right, so we have a lot to learn from those birds.

The Simple Life with Cold Water

Cold water on a hot day can feel and taste so good. Ironically enough, that same temperature of water on a mild fall day for a shower, can be nothing but painful! As I was washing dishes recently, I noticed the water just wasn’t getting hot. After putting on my P.I. hat and investigating all the other water sources in the apartment, I discovered there was no hot water to be found. After a call to have it checked out, I received disappointing news that the water heater needed to be replaced. No hot water for a while. Bummer.

I wonder why I couldn’t have fixed something that was easy to clean up. Something like a cold cut sandwich and chips would have been great. Nope. No chance. I had just fixed tacos. Did you know that trying to get hamburger grease washed out of a skillet with cold water is almost as hard as rubbing white off rice? If you didn’t know that, now you do.

In the morning, that cold water (notice I didn’t say cool water...it was COLD) hit my face and hair like a thousand pins. I wondered why I had a head ache as I was getting ready. Maybe it was brain freeze that started from the outside and worked its way in? With all that cold water, I couldn’t help but thinking of Africa again. I have traveled on a few trips to Africa where hot water for a shower was a rarity. The picture above is a classic sight in Kenya. It is the shower head in so many showers across the land. Just having a shower is a luxury. This is really nice, because this is kind that provides heated water.

Notice the wires dangling down from the water pipe? Oh yes, those are wires and are providing electricity to the box for shower’s inhabitant standing in water. Why not, right?! The wires go to a little box located on the shower head. This box heats the water right before it comes out. This is the most cost effective way to provide warm water to shower in. To be honest, I have had the pleasure of showering dozens of times with one of these contraptions hanging from above. Out of all of those shower head heaters, I think maybe one actually had heat. That was only after I jumped up and hit the box a few times to convince it into cooperating.

I think the water heater blowout is really interesting. Less than 24 hours before I lost my beloved hot water heater, I had muttered the words to someone that sounded something like this, “I miss Africa so much. I miss the people, the children, and the land, but I also miss something big…living more of a simple life.” I guess I didn’t realize God was listening to me in that moment. You want to know something really strange? I miss those shower heads in Kenya. They may not provide the most comfortable water in the world, but the simplicity of the life they represent is something I do miss.

Maybe He timed the water heater’s bucket kick to remind me of all those who don’t have what many of us take for granted. He works like that, you know. Interesting.

Faith and Economy

After a visit to the beach, it's hard to believe that we live in a material world. ~Pam Shaw


With all the discussions about our economy, watching the news can send you into a panic. I must admit, I recently fell into that trap. With words like, “Great Depression” “Economic Bailouts” and “Crashing Stock Markets” being a part of our daily conversations, it is easy to be discouraged. It makes us realize how weak we are and how much we need to lean on our God who is in control of it all.

Just the other day, I was letting the “What If” scenarios get the best of me when it came to these economy issues. The more I thought about things, the more I found myself taking huge breaths. You know, they were the kind of breaths that you take to calm yourself down a bit. All of the sudden, I realized how frustrating it must be for Him. I pictured Him looking down at me saying, “I have taken good care of you and provided for you for 28 years! How dare you consider Me not doing so in the future when I told you I would.” I felt bad. I realized how ungrateful I must seem at times. I have been provided with more than I needed.

I thought about my friends in other countries. What would they say to me if I told them what I was so anxious about? I thought about how many times, I have seen the faith they live out and how it is so much greater than mine. I was reminded that there are people hiding from the rebel armies in the bush in Africa. There are orphans wandering the streets of Romania, longing for a reprieve from their plight. There are so many hurting here in the US that are praying each night for protection from the abuse they endure. The troubles in my material world seem minor to others who are in greater need.

I realized how ungrateful I had been. One late night after a heartfelt prayer, the Lord spoke to me. It was almost midnight, and I felt a prompting to go and pick up the devotional book that was sitting nearby. It was a book where the last finger print I left on its pages was at least one month old. The page I flipped to that night gave a message that was like writing on the wall. The devotion was on faith and how we hurt God when we don’t have faith that He will take care of us. We worry so much on the “what ifs” in life. Doubting that He will take care of us is “Disobedient” it said. We complain about not having enough and don’t give thanks for how He provides. It gave the advice on how if we thankfully receive all that He gives us, we will have an easier time trusting Him. Wow. How’s that for perfect timing?! I was humbled that He took time to point me in the direction of that devotion to send me such a clear message.

I saw a beautiful sunset the other day. With all the brouhaha about the economy, I wonder if anyone noticed it. I challenge you to give thanks today for His provision, for the glorious sunrises and sunsets that He paints in the sky just for us, and for His promise to us that He is in control of everything.

The Kissing Hand

I was thinking about a particular child, I met during my first trip to Kenya years ago, today. Thought I would share a story with you all and hope it touches your heart as much as it did mine. The story takes place during mid week of a camp during my very first trip to Africa. It is a story about how no matter how tough we think a child is, the fact is, they need to know that someone loves them, and they aren’t alone. They long for it.

I was the leader of the youngest children at camp. Early morning, I packed my back pack of supplies I might need that day. For whatever reason, I felt prompted to throw in a few books. One of those books was “The Kissing Hand.” I used to read this book as a teacher to my class. I taught classes of children, many of which didn’t know the parental love in this book, until they came to school and received it from us.

The story is about a young raccoon who has reached the age to attend school. He is frightened to leave his mother and looks to her for comfort. She sees his fear and takes his hand in hers. She opens his paw and ever so gently kisses the middle of his hand and closes it tight. She then tells him that she has placed a kiss in his hand. This kiss will go everywhere with him, and he can use it at any time. If he is feeling lonely, he can place it on his cheek or just hold it tight in his paw and feel the love inside.

Midweek of the camp with the children, I found myself in the afternoon not with my group of youngsters, but rather with a group of older boys on a set of stairs. We were talking and somehow the conversation went to wondering what was in my bag. I opened the bag and showed them the books, fully expecting them to not be interested. After all, they were a little too old for books of this kind. I was pleasantly surprised when they all scooted in around me and asked me to read to them. The first book I read was “The Kissing Hand.” When I finished the story, they all sat in silence. I wasn’t sure if they thought it was childish, they were sad because none of them had a mother, or something else. I moved on to another book. After almost three or four story books later, I thought they would be tired and ready to enjoy the sun like most of their friends playing soccer. I looked at them and said, “What do you want to do next?” With the most innocent faces looking up to me I heard the faint request, “Can you read it again?”

They wanted me to read the “Kissing Hand" again. I did, but this time when I finished, I took each one of their hands and kissed their palms. I told them that when they felt lonely, or sad, or just needed to know someone loved them, to press that palm against their cheek, and I would be giving them a kiss and loving them. I wondered if they thought what I had done was something for children much younger than them, the tough guys. It was a book for little ones. However, I couldn’t ignore the Lord prompting me to kiss each one’s hands. With that, they were off and playing on the soccer field playing with the rest of the boys.

At the end of the week, we took a group picture of our team with all the children. After that, it was the goodbyes that we all were dreading. I saw one of the tough boys that was with me on the steps that day. Michael came up and gave me a hug goodbye. I leaned down to his level and told him I loved him and would be praying for him. I went to shake his hand and to remind him about something we had learned that week in VBS. As I did, I said “Do you remember what I told you Michael?” He quickly jerked his hand away. It threw me off guard. I thought I had made him uncomfortable for some reason. However, I noticed that tough guy face slowly melt away. He took his hand and placed it on his cheek. “I remember, Beth,” he said as he smiled and gave me a hug. I watched him walk away with his fingers closed in around that palm. Michael…I prayed he would always know he is loved. He is just one of the millions who is longing for it.

The Whole World in His Hands

I have a stress ball that sits on my desk at work. You know, those soft foam shapes that are supposed to help with that uninvited guest in our daily lives at times. It’s that pesky visitor that carries the name of “Stress.” I actually have two of them on my desk. One I received at a conference. The other, someone gave me recently. I’m not sure why they felt I needed two on my desk. Maybe I should consider analyzing that further at some point. If I had to pick a favorite of the two, it would definitely be the one that looks like a globe.

I don’t particularly find myself picking it up when stressed. However, I do find myself tossing it in the air or giving it a squeeze when I am brainstorming an idea. I recently tossed it into the air and clumsily missed the catch. It spun out of control, under the desk and into a dark corner I couldn’t reach. I guess I could have gotten down on the floor and crawled under to retrieve it. Instead, I took off one shoe and pulled it close to me with my foot.

For whatever reason, I chuckled at how this looked. It seemed silly. Here was a representation of earth on the floor, being crunched by the toes of my foot. It seemed so small there. I picked it up with my hand and squeezed it with my fingers. Then, I switched and squeezed it with the opposite hand. For obvious reasons, I didn’t want the muscles on one arm to be bulging more than the other. I had to make sure both sides were equally exercised! I set it back on the desk and looked down at it. I thought for a brief second about how small the earth looked from my level in this moment, even though it was just a smaller scale replica of the real thing.

Every time I fly in an airplane and look down at the land, I think about what we look like to God. It’s interesting how we tend to feel so big and think our personal problems are so important in the world. However, when you look down from an airplane, it puts things into perspective. There are so many of us out there. Each of us have our own issues, problems, and complex dilemmas we need His help with. How does He do it? How does He manage it all? It’s hard to fathom for me.

I thought of how just seconds before, I was tossing that globe up into the air so carelessly. It struck me at how fragile we all are, but yet how He holds us in His hands so gently. He has the power and right to toss us around and let us spin out of control. However, He instead holds us so close to Him and never lets things go out of His control. He does this for each and every one of us. In the big picture of it all, staring down from an airplane, you can see that we aren’t all that big. We take up a pretty small fraction of this place we inhabit. There are so many of us, each with our own set of needs. Yet His provision is more than enough and more than we deserve. His attention to us is so individualized, and He even knows every hair on our heads!

I remind myself of that when I start to worry about the many children I have met on the mission field. He knows every hair on their heads as well. His eye is on the sparrow and He holds us all in His hands. This moment concluded with a familiar tune playing in the back of my mind. It was one from childhood and a good reminder for us all. “He’s Got the Whole World in His Hands.”