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.”

The Roses

I was recently driving to work one morning. It was one of those mornings that many of you can relate to. I didn’t sleep well the night before, and was dropping things all morning. When I got to work, my bottle of water rolled underneath the car when the bag I was carrying it in broke. My heels sunk into the mud when I walked around the car to retrieve it. When I bent over, my jaw hurt from what I can assume was a night of grinding my teeth in one of the nightmares I endured. It felt like everything I touched, either broke or was hurting….including my attitude, it seems. It just wasn’t my morning.

I juggled, what seemed like, all my worldly possessions in my arms and pried the front door of work open. As I fumbled my way in, I saw a long box in the entry way. It had my name on it. Much to my surprise, inside were two beautiful bouquets of roses. My wonderful boyfriend, Phil had sent me flowers and had a touching note attached to accompany them. Not only were some major boyfriend points gained by him with the flowers, my spirits perked up and my heart filled with joy, I also had a moment of pure thanksgiving for what beautiful creations the Lord gives us.

They sat on my desk at work and filled the room with a sweet aroma. They were petite roses and there were many of them. I studied them. Wow. How absolutely beautiful roses are. After I got them into some water, the buds began to open up. Each petal was unique from the rest. Each layer of petals came alive and jumped out at me with a vision of artistic splendor. Some were tall and some were short. Some were dark and some were light. Some had more petals than others. Some were big and some were small. None of them looked exactly the same. However, each one was perfect.

I marveled at how the Lord created each one of these buds. He hand crafted them with the purpose of being enjoyed…and enjoyed they were. It reminded me of the giraffes and zebras I have seen in Africa. Each spot and stripe hand painted on the animal. Each mark on their bodies was placed there by Him, therefore creating a masterpiece in each one.

In a world of Botox, plastic surgery trends, and a world obsessed with image, we tend to get caught up in not appreciating the time and perfection in our own personal creation. I am as guilty as anyone at times. I tend to not even make the short two block journey to the post office without make up on. Reality is that the One who takes time to perfect each petal on every rose and each spot on the animals living in the wild, took even more time to perfect us in our creation. Some of us are tall and some are short. Some of us are dark and some are light. Some of us are big and some are small. None of us are exactly alike in all ways. However, each of us was made perfect in His eyes and with His hands.

It’s amazing how taking the time to observe His creations, can change your day. Each time I glanced over at the roses, I not only thought of the one who sent them to me, but the One who created them to be enjoyed….and enjoyed they were.

Backpacks

During the month of August, our radio station partnered with the ministry Orphan Outreach, to host a backpack drive for children in need. This was our first backpack drive ever. I naively set a mental goal of 200 backpacks for our event. I thought if we received that many, we would have done great for our first time at this type of event. As of today, our total of backpacks has reached 678. Amazing.

It was a great experience to watch the pile of backpacks grow each week. One listener donated two hundred backpacks. She went to the local Wal-Mart stores and literally cleaned them out of the backpacks left on the shelf. Half of the backpacks collected will go overseas with mission teams and be given to orphan children. The other half are going to the children in our community that are in need. It is always so humbling and wonderful to see the giving hearts of so many in our area.

I would often look at the piles of bags in our conference room. From a distance, they just look like a pile of bags. Material and padding sewn together to carry a load of supplies needed for an education. Those bags represent so much more though. Each bag will not only carry supplies for that education, but also represent a chance and an opportunity in life. In some countries of our world, children are not allowed to attend school unless they have a backpack. These backpacks represent a ticket to something so many only dream of…an education. They are desperate for it and they don’t take it for granted.

As I was packing some of the bags in boxes, I couldn’t help but notice the padded straps on the backpacks. They are to cushion the weight of the load that is being carried. If you have ever carried a heavy load, you know how important that cushion is. But what about the heavy load these children carry in other ways? The weight of imaginable circumstances are on the shoulders of so many of those children. It’s a weight that many of us have never known and will never know. They have a God that offers a cushion for that heavy load they carry as well as shelter, protection, and Salvation. One that tells us all that His yoke is easy and His burden is light (Matthew 11:30). However, many of them aren’t aware of this offer. Many don’t know who He is or have even been introduced to the One that made them in His image. And so, they carry that load alone.

If you look up the definition of yoke, you will find many different descriptions. Many are of the bar strapped across oxen used to carry a load. Here is one that I found particularly interesting in the way it relates to the backpacks. “A frame fitted to a person's shoulders to carry a load in two equal portions.”

The backpacks going overseas have something crucial for these children in need, and it isn’t just a padded device to carry the load of school supplies. A Bible in the language of that child, will be placed inside. Can you imagine what it would be like to be a child receiving that back pack? To receive an opportunity for an education, and an offer of the weight to be lightened off those tiny little shoulders in more ways than one?

Their stories of need don’t stop there though. It continues as the children wait to see Him in action through each of us. The bags are a start, but our work is not nearly done. Whether it is the child down the street, or a child overseas, they need to see Him in action, and it is our job to show them.

Grace Upon Grace

Several years ago, my precious Grandmother went home to the Lord. As I celebrated her life, I mourned the loss of not only a family member, but a great friend. I wish you all could have met her. She had a way of deeply touching the lives of each person she met. She was truly a spectacular woman that had a huge impact on the person I am today.

During her funeral, the Pastor gave a eulogy that was titled, “Grace Upon Grace.” The pastor knew her well, and it was a perfect way to describe who she was and the legacy she left behind. I remember the second the Pastor spoke those words, “Grace Upon Grace.” The strangest thing happened to me in that moment. Grace…Grace. The word echoed in my head. Grace…Grace. I didn’t think much about it at the time. However, much to my surprise, that echo would reoccur in my head for years to come.

For years following that day, whenever I would hear the word “Grace,” (whether it was in a conversation song, etc) it would echo in my mind. Hard to explain. I have always felt the Lord has been trying to tell me something but hasn’t yet revealed what that is. It continues to happen. Until the answer to the question, “Why does that happen?” comes to surface, I take pleasure in the reminder to take a moment and remember the Grace He offers to each of us and shows us in our everyday life.

This past Sunday, a friend of mine spoke at my church. Anita Anderson, pictured with me above, is the mother of a friend of mine. She is an amazing woman that embodies what it means to be bold, kind, gentle, loving, endearing, inspirational, Christ-like, and graceful. She spoke about her recent mission trip to Liberia. As she spoke, I reminisced on how just two years ago, she traveled with me on a mission trip to Romania. She was still recovering from knee surgery then, but of course she wasn’t going to let that slow her down. I remembered sitting next to her on the long plane ride home. Her mannerisms, her laugh, and her gentleness, reminded me so much of my dearly missed grandmother. I can’t tell you how I not only enjoyed serving with her on the mission field, but also just sitting next to her on that ride home.

Yesterday she stood before me in a traditional African dress. It was a bright lime green color and was so symbolic of her bold “Go Get’em” attitude. As she told the stories of her trip to Africa, I admired the love she has for so many and the grace that flows out of her. Yes, the word Grace was echoing in my head again. I imagined “Well done Good and Faithful Servant” being said to her one day. What a legacy she too is leaving here with us.

Anita is a mother, a daughter, a wife, a leader, a missionary, prayer warrior, and of course, a Grace upon Grace example. It is my honor to add one more word to that list by calling her a personal “friend.” Thinking about the legacy she is creating, prompted me to think about not only my grandmother’s legacy but mine as well. What am I leaving behind me on my own life’s path? What are you leaving behind? Would “Grace Upon Grace” fit my life? Would it fit yours? Grace. How will I be an example of it today? How will you? Grace …Grace….

Open the Eyes of My Heart

This Sunday in church, I found myself singing, with the congregation, the worship song “Open the Eyes of My Heart.” I have always liked that song. However, like many, we find ourselves singing familiar songs in more of a rote than meaningful way. As I was singing, I was reminded of a specific time in my car that I sang that song. It was a few years ago. Seems like a lifetime ago because my life has changed so much since then. It was one of those dark, cold, mornings, where no matter how hard you try, the windshield keeps clouding up whenever you get the temp just right in the car. It was frustrating. I wasn’t just frustrated with the car though, I was frustrated with lots of things. I remember singing that song with an urgent longing. A longing to pursue Him, to see Him, to serve Him. It was a particularly difficult time in my life, but one that I see now was so necessary to bring me to where I am today and closer to Him.

I was having dinner with a friend recently. The two of us were having a conversation about how we have changed in the last few years. We talked not only about how our lives had changed, but the unexpected and undeserved blessings that have come along with the change. I was recalling how, just a few years ago, I had no idea what God had in store for me. I had no idea I would have a passion for Christian Radio, for plugging others into areas of service, for reaching out to the needy, and for serving in orphan ministry. I had no idea that He would give me incredible experiences and insight in and about life. I had no idea that I would meet an amazing man through it all, and fall in love. I had no idea the Lord had so many gifts in store for me.

I have learned so much the past few years. I remember a time when I prayed so hard for Him to help me see people the way He sees them. I thought this was just a brilliant plan. I was feeling like I was going through a phase where I didn’t have the patience with people like I wished to. So, I figured if I saw people the way God did, I would have all the patience in the world and love everyone. The Lord was so gracious to answer my prayer. However, I didn’t exactly get what I had in mind. Yes, I did grow in patience. Yes, I did love more. However, something I received that I wasn’t expecting was hurt. I hurt when I saw people with evil motives. I saw more so than ever, the deceptive ways of so many. I hurt more than ever when I saw people suffering. It didn’t just frustrate me, but hurt deep within me and made me realize how He must feel. It still does. I guess I got more than I bargained for, as they say. Through it all, it opened the eyes of my own heart as well.

As I sang that song in church, I thought back to that rainy day in the car. I thought back to how I was desperate to see Him. I was desperate to hear of His will. It saddened me to realize I don’t live everyday with that same urgent plea. I finished singing the song differently than I had started on Sunday. I finished with a heartfelt request. Open the eyes of my heart, Lord. I want to see You. I want to see You…..

Gifts from the Heart

The other day I heard a clanging sound as I transferred clothes from the washer to the dryer. I peered over the edge of the washer and looked into the dark washing basin. Hoping it wasn’t a metal button or snap that had come off of a pair of pants that would have to be sewn back on, my eyes spotted a shining coin. It was a Shilling coin from Kenya.

The coin’s value is about equal to thirty cents here in the US. Without thinking much about it, I picked it up and tossed it on the shelf of soaps and cleaners in the closet. I knew fully well that it would get lost and probably never be found once placed on the shelf where things are almost guaranteed to disappear. I guess I didn’t think it was worth the hassle of finding the container with the foreign money that I have for travels. After all, it was just thirty cents.

Have you ever seen a quarter on the ground and just left it there and kept walking? Why bother with the effort of bending over to pick it up, right? It’s just a quarter. It’s amazing for me to think about those in our world who work from sunrise to set with a quarter being just half of their day’s wage. I was told in Ethiopia, the average income is $180 a year for a family. Men, women, and children are working hard and sometimes they are working while they are sick and dying, just to make fifty cents a day for their families.

For some reason the memory of finding that coin keeps popping up in my head. Why? I don’t know. Maybe it is the Lord’s way of reminding me that we should be thankful for every little coin He provides. Maybe it is a conviction to repent from taking money for granted in general…even if it is only thirty cents. Maybe it is to remember the lame girl in Ethiopia that I saw scooting on the ground and begging for money. The one that broke my heart into pieces. Thirty cents would mean much to her. It would mean so much to the boys shinning shoes on the street. Thirty cents may not be much to us, but is to them. Maybe God reminded me of that so I could pray for them today.

In Mark 12:41-44 we are told of the widow, who in the midst of the wealthy giving their large donations, walked up and gave two copper mites. Two meager coins, and we are told they were all she had. I was thinking today of that poverty stricken widow and her offering. Her gift meant so much more than those around her who gave large sums from their pockets and little form their hearts. Her offering was a gift from the heart and a faith in God’s provision for the future.

I thought about that coin I found in my washing machine again. You know, the one I took for granted. It’s really the same coin that you and I have stepped over and didn’t bother picking up because we didn’t want to stop or interrupt our walk’s stride. What we walk over, step on, toss aside, and ignore, is all that some people have. Yet we do it without even thinking about it. We act like it just isn’t worth our time.

I was recently given a bag of coins by a kind and generous man. He had been collecting them for some time. The Lord happened to prompt him into putting those coins in his truck the night our paths crossed. He didn’t know why until he heard of the children I met in Africa. He told me he needed to run out to his truck and suddenly realized why he had brought those coins on that night. He gave me the coins and told me to feed hungry children with them. One coin + one coin + one coin. They all added up. The total was more than what many in the world will make in one year. His coins were from the heart, and a gift that the Lord will use to do great things.

We live in a world where children are starving to death. We live in a world where prayers, gifts from the heart, and gifts of service are the ways to save them. We aren’t alone in the battle. The Lord stands by waiting to multiply anything we give back to Him to use. Meanwhile, the children wait. They wait on us. They wait on us to do something…anything.