Reflection

I will never tire of thanking God for my mother, who's painted through her life-canvass one of the most beautiful pictures of Christ I have ever seen, in spite of experiencing suffering beyond what most people can imagine.

It's been 6 years since she was forced out of her home and marriage. And for years I have wondered how she endured those 25 years with someone so cruel, how she isn't bitter and hardened and angry, how the pain hasn't swallowed her whole. And all I can think is, it's because she's wholly swallowed up in the Shadow of the Almighty.

It's her resilience that sets her apart. Resilience that comes from spending numberless hours of head cradled in tear-soaked pillow and knees knelt in prayer to the only One who can fathom her anguish. Gentle as the dew, our mother has remained steel-resolved in her commitment to serve the One she came to know as a 23 year old.

Her heart was broken countless times by the one she vowed forever to, but not her spirit. Instead of dwelling on her own bleeding heart, she etched into ours the importance of always living out 1Corinthians 13. This mother of mine, who when growing up planned to be a nun, instead ended up in America at seventeen years of age to support her family in Colombia...And 36 years later has 6 children, and no home to call her own-- but she is one of the most cheerful and generous people I know.

Now, twelve years since her last visit to Colombia, she's emailing us from there, thanks to a kind loved one who paid for her trip. And even in her short paragraph, I see in her words that heart that beats for others.

"At home with mom, like a dream...coming here reminds me a little of Romania...poverty and sadness and at the same time beauty and mercy in everyday stuff...praying for wisdom and love as the days go by...love you lots, mami."

I think back to Sunday night, and those words I scribbled and sneaked into her bag as I packed it, that  all-time favorite quote on motherhood, the one I keep writing to her every mothers day, 

 "When the judgment shall sit, and the books shall be opened; when the 'well done' of the great Judge is pronounced, and the crown of immortal glory is placed upon the brow of the victor, many will raise their crowns in sight of the assembled universe and, pointing to their mother, say, 'She made me all I am through the grace of God. Her instruction, her prayers, have been blessed to my eternal salvation.' "

Truly, when by God's grace I enter into eternity, the truth of those words will be echoed from my lips.

And how I wish I could fully express what my mother means to me, but I cannot. As I sit in our room, I find my moms nursing school binder, and tucked inside I find my previous mothers day card, and my poet-brothers' handwritten note to her from Christmas 2007, and as I read his words, I can see why she keeps them with her, them more beautiful than anything I could ever say about our mother.

         Mother

Your heart is a river, so

gently flowing, its love and 

compassion, no end in going.

Your eyes a portal, a mirror,

a reflection, of the One so immortal.

Your hands have labored so 

endlessly, results are producing,

so righteously.

Those who match the love of 

God are few, He gave His life for

me, and so have you.

For reflection, the sun has the 

moon, humankind has itself, and 

God has you. 

This Mothers day, although she will be thousands of miles away, her influence, her spirit, her ocean-heart of love, still reach across the expanse and fill my heart with gratitude, me so blessed beyond expression... And I pray that as she serves her family there, she knows how much she is loved and missed by her little ones here.

...Remember what matters...
...Remember Who matters...
Remember The Eternal Weight of Glory.

Too Old?

Ever felt too old to attempt something new?

Me too.  And for several days I had been telling God just that--and was beginning to think He might be agreeing with me--until He drew very near and made me hush...


It was just yesterday, day five of a really long week, and I was beginning to feel that God must surely agree with my thought that I'm too old to try to memorize 5 verses a day. Not that I didn't think it was a good thing to do. I knew it was. Just for me it was too late in life to try something like that. Maybe I'll just go back to my 2 verses a week, and leave it those still in their formative years and those with really sharp minds, to pursue anything more than that.

The things we tell ourselves!

As I'm having this ongoing conversation with God about me being too old, I head out the door to study my verses and I was impressed to bring along the latest Adventist World that had just arrived in the mail that morning.

And the simple article that my eyes fell to on page 6-7was anything but coincidence. Not only was I incredibly blessed and encouraged by this humble farmers' words, but I was rebuked, in a good way.

Excuses. I make the silliest excuses for not doing something that isn't all that extreme, compared to others who spend 6 hours a day doing what I think I'm too old to do, and what they "...cannot help doing...".

Too old? Think again, Sara. He's exactly 3 times your age, spending 6 hours a day in His Word, and you're trying to convince God that you're presuming on Him by expecting Him to help you with 5 verses a day?...

Ahh, there's nothing like being put in ones place! I feel as if God is not only more than happy to help me in my endeavor to memorize more than 1 verse a day, but it's as if He's also saying Is that it?...Ephesians 3:20.

God is big. So much bigger than what we give Him credit for. No matter how small you may feel your faith to be, purpose in your heart to expect great things from Him.

Big faith, or little faith, God accepts either. And He honors and blesses either.

It's only been a week since I first considered joining this challenge, and already I have been blessed beyond what I expected...way beyond what this hesitant heart of mine deserves, simply from meditating day and night on words that were written just for us.


And it makes me smile deep down inside when I think this, of how much more excited He must be than us, seeing His little children captivated with Him more and more each day as we soak in His words...


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And here I thought God had shown Himself very near yesterday??? Not a second after I wrote the above sentence, my "little" brother Sam, who in a few weeks starts on his 3rd deployment to Afghanistan, and who we haven't seen since New Years, knocked on our door!...This surprise visit is extra special...God knew we really needed it. This week has been a difficult one for us, as our other brother Adrian left for the Marines on Monday, and words fail to express how it's affected our family... But truly God is good. And faithful. And never, ever gives His children more than they can bear...

God's two greatest gifts to our family...please help us keep them in prayer?

"Now unto him that is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that worketh in us, Unto him be glory in the church by Christ Jesus throughout all ages, world without end. Amen."

Surely

Read this Psalm. Slowly. Then follow this link, read it... and tell me, if you aren't soul-nourished.


"The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.

He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.

He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.

Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever." -Psalm 23-


His promise isn't for the valley to be our lot one day, and the next a day of goodness and mercy. The text says "... surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all they days of my life"

If today finds you in a valley, remember, there is goodness and mercy, even (especially?) in the valleys.

...He ever walks with us--what more could we want?...

For Today

We grew up on them, on the storybooks, the cassette tapes, the legends, of heroes who served tirelessly, who counted nothing too costly--not even life itself-- if only they could relieve one suffering child, enlighten one ignorant seeker, feed one hungry mouth, stop one blow of an oppressor ...they were our role models. The daily companions to six starry eyed and energetic children on 30 acres of Illinois farmland.
Surrounded by waving fields; corn on one side, soybeans on the other, we lived and breathed these mission stories. And we each had our own favorite heroes--but they all had one thing in common. They had served the least of the least. 

And some things, if learned in childhood, are never forgotten. And we had learned. Learned that someone, somewhere, had no love. No hope. And we had learned that to have "seeing eyes and willing hands" as our mom would gently sing it to us, to live out the gospel, meant to serve those that had less, that had nothing. We had learned that to love Christ meant to love those that had never heard of Him--and that love acts, it fills the need.

And as the years passed, the cassette tapes wore out and the books fell apart; but not my hopes, my dreams, to one day spend my days in a distant land.

I have longed. For so long.

But although these hopes, these dreams, this longing, it only grows, I am learning some new lessons.

No longer am I surrounded by 5 raven-haired siblings, cornfields high and soybeans low. No longer do cassette tapes lull me quiet on cold winter nights under blankets wool. But I am learning new lessons that make those early lessons all the sweeter, all the more dear.


...

Andrea, the sister I followed overseas 5 years ago, on the last night before she flies back to school, unable to contain herself any longer as we sit quietly on the sofa, brought up that word. Unreached. The unreached. For days there had been a building tension in the air between us both. This expectancy of something important needing to be shared, but we each waited for the other to initiate, us both knowing how deep this longing is, and how hard it is to keep it in check, both sensitive to the reality that to bring up the impossible is painful, and maybe it's best to leave it unsaid, seeing that the other has seemingly found some temporary relief from the near constant restlessness. But she dares, and within minutes we're in tears and talking eager, both in awe at how at the same time, unknown to the other, that longing that we had for a brief time effectively buried just a little deeper out of sight, had again resurfaced with greater and stronger force than ever before. Both in tears of relief that we hadn't caused the other undue pain in bringing up that unfulfilled desire, that instead the other heart too, ached like never before-- the other hadn't forgotten those dreams instilled as stories were read under bunk-bed and tree-house alike those many years past.

And we talk late into the night.

She flies to California.

And still, two weeks later we talk, cry, pray, over the phone day after day, needing each other, needing someone who understands the singular longing, needing to keep fresh that rekindled resolve to not give up on old dreams.

And it helps.

What we at first feared might create more restlessness, instead, in our renewed commitment, although still painful, although we long like never before to just go, together we're learning in a deeper way what it means to be content.
We are learning that the more we love those far away, the more of a burden He gives us for those who have never known His love: the more we see opportunities to serve Him here.

He truly has us in the States for a reason. Her in college, me here. Although in our minds we don't understand why He still says not yet, we are finding it easier and easier to trust. It's on Him. He's placed the burden on our hearts. He's stirred the embers of longing into a flame. Not us. So we can trust His timing. And whether He ever leads us overseas again or not, our love for those who don't know Him? We are finding that it helps us love those right in front of us even more, it helps us serve them more tenderly.

Overseas the needs are more visible. But here, it takes a keener eye. A more sensitive heart. At least for her and I...And He is sharpening our eyesight. Softening our hearts. And suddenly there is so much more. So many more needs to fill. So many more hearts to minister to here, in the moment. And each moment is gold.

I could write for hours. But of the many lessons being learned He's distilling them into one main theme.

That life is short. That each moment counts. That He never makes mistakes on time, and so there's no need to live for tomorrow, to long for something He hasn't given. Instead, to best honor those in far away lands, means to serve those He has placed right in front of us, today. And if we can learn to serve faithfully here, we free Him to better care for those far away, Him so much better able to care for them than us.

And although going overseas anytime soon is more impossible for us right now than it ever has been, we have never been so at peace about it. We have never been so content to serve Him here, right now, and fully--not out of a divided heart, robbing those nearest of our full attention. No. They too deserve our kindest words, our deepest compassion and God has called us to serve them; Him, today.

Today only is ours to minister to His people. Tomorrow isn't. If I truly lived as if today were my last day, it wouldn't matter if I were here or overseas. It would only matter if I loved much the souls He placed in my path for today.

Prov. 3:3-8

I sit here typing on my phone, unable to wait till I have access to a laptop to share... This post from a missionary's blog... It broke my heart. Pray. Pray for them. I've been to Chad. I've seen first hand some of the sacrifices James and Sarah have had to make. But only some... Others we will never know of, until Jesus comes... And o how I long for Him to come. I pray that all we do isn't shed tears over this... May God convict us and not let go of us, until we heed His call on our lives to stop taking the easy way, and join those few who are paying the ultimate price. Wether through financial help, or through physically joining those serving overseas--however God calls-- just obey. Just obey. But most of all, pray. Pray for James and Sarah and all the others who are experiencing unspeakable pain. Pray that the God of peace Himself draws very near to them even now, and heals them and comforts them in the way that only He can... Come Jesus, please come...

Because of Jesus

Just days before Christmas, I finally pull out my little box of lights and string them across our bookshelf, twinkling stars against wood. It's Friday right before sunset, and I know if I don't bring them out now I might not bring them out at all.....

Christmas...My favorite time of the year.
More than any other time of year, during Christmas season you're allowed to be a child again. To enjoy and share the small things. People are sweeter and more thoughtful, more giving.

Most years, my family is nearly weary of December before it arrives. Months ahead of time I start reminding them it's almost time, almost time to pull out the music and the treasured story books and the lights, the wishes for snow and could they please let me drag into our tiny apartment a tree, even if all I find is a scrawny one?

But this year, when December comes, no Christmas music plays. No lights, no scrawny tree, no laughter in the pure happiness of the season. I notice the difference, but it's hard to get out of survival mode. Something inside me has shut off that little door that held within it that childish joy. Something deep down inside has resigned itself to just making it through this year, and maybe next year I'll have it together enough to invest in the season.

Survival mode continues into ten days before Christmas. Teddy and Susan come to visit from California for a few days. And we're happy and it's so good to have nearly everyone together under one roof, and we laugh and talk and breathe December air together, some with our hearts wide open. Others with certain little doors barred shut. And I realize that it's sometimes people that know us the least, that can sense changes in us the quickest when my brother-in-law verbalizes what no one else had... He states from the start of the week that there's something different about me since he saw us last, and he attempts to figure it out, him not afraid to speak his mind,  but me, I find other things to talk about. And so time flies and all too quickly they too have to fly, but his words, Sara you've changed...You've had to grow up too fast. All the responsibility is getting to you, they stay with me and when Susan calls a few days later and says Teddy's worried for me--she's worried for me, I'm ready to listen.  And what she says is not anything I didn't already know. They noticed the shift in me, slight as it may be...the lessening of the child in me. And she gives me some good advice on setting boundaries and delegating and not trying to carry the world on my shoulders. And she's right and I needed her words.
But that wasn't all. It was just the beginning. I hadn't fully listened to what Jesus had to say yet. To what the root of the problem was...

Yes I've grown up this year. Graduating from college last December and starting a new job and learning to make money stretch far and paying bills and making decisions for the family, yes it's responsibility, but it's real life and I know that's not the problem.
It's my brokenness.
--Or I should say, the problem is not accepting my brokenness.

It's the feeling of complete inadequacy in all those areas of responsibility and more that's been wearing me thin and bolting shut those doors. It's the belief that if I don't carry these burdens, no one will. It's the stressing over life's cares. It's the belief that my brokenness is what's making a mess of everything--This is what's ebbed away at the child-heart inside me, this year more than any other, leaving me raw and ready to close as many doors as possible, all hunkered down and thinking what next... 

....The Friday before Christmas I hang lights and notice that half of one set isn't working, and I'm frustrated, this too, broken? What in my life isn't broken, and these lights, they look pitiful! Our neighbors, their lights actually shine--these just feebly flicker...maybe, I should put them away before my family laughs at them... and as I stand weary, trying to decide what to do while my family sits around a laptop watching a video clip, mom notices and her eyes reflect the twinkling bulbs, happy, the others too, their faces brighten, and something in me shifts...splits... spills...

Seconds later my family says there's a video clip about a cracked pot, you should watch it, and I say no I need to do something else, but right then and there I remember hearing in the past the tale of this pot, and I know God is trying to speak to me. I try to ignore the pull, but He's too strong. I finally slide in next to my family as they're watching another little clip, and I ask if it's possible to watch the one about the little pot, and they get excited that I want to join, and we watch.
And we hardly breathe. This simple story, it speaks healing into each one of us so powerfully. Four brief minutes. But no eyes are dry. Each of us, we are all so moved. An ache so deep down is spoken to, and we each process in our own way...

The video clip, it's animated and cheesy and lame, and downright kinda silly. But it moves us just the same. That man, who so gently cared for those pots, he could have cast that one aside, that worthless piece of dust turned hard. But He didn't. Instead he day after day went up that steep hill, him bearing the weight, the burden. The pot, the cracked one? It was still worthless, broken, a burden, but as long as it leaked, it blessed--He blessed. It had no beauty of its own... those flowers, they couldn't thank the pot, the pot didn't do anything. It was that man. No one could thank anything or anyone but that man, who believed and rescued and treasured that worthless pot, and as I watched that man, I thought of Jesus, and isn't He beautiful? He loves us that much, enough to make use of us, even if we're broken, as long as we leak Him and Him only? And isn't the gospel powerful, that in using us, His name is glorified more than if He just set us on a shelf somewhere, us too broken for Him to use?

 ...I forget so quickly, my eyes blind to Him so easily...


So many people are cracked...aren't we all, in our own way, broken, and leaking, like that little pot?
But we aren't cast aside. We are faithfully held and carried and poured out, to bless others, but ultimately, to bless and bring glory to His name.
All He asks us it to trust His heart, even when we can't see what's just beyond the walls of that wooden cart, and not to attempt to lift and bear those heavy burdens that only He can carry.

And yes I feel silly, knowing I sound like a broken record, but I remember chapter 36 in the Desire of Ages, and after listening to it over and over for the past 3 weeks, how can I not praise His name "...in the assembly of all His people", and share what He has taught me, and continues to teach, even if it seems to be the same lesson, over and over, because maybe I'm not the only slow, slow learner, and maybe the lesson of embracing our brokenness is one we must relearn daily, maybe it's when we know we're broken, that we become as a little child, and willingly leak for Him?

This Christmas, it's my wish that in every crack, in every cut, in every break, we would allow His goodness to spill through us, one drop at a time. Isn't that what Jesus did, when He came and became small? From a King's Son to a mere speck of dust on a throne of hay, so inconsequential to everyone that not one house, not one family, found room to welcome Him? With every step of humiliation here on earth He stained the rocky path with His blood, His sweat, His tears, His living water, and left in His wake beauty untold...

Athough we may be rubbed raw this Christmas season, Jesus, the spotless Lamb of God, the Son of God, our sins, we hurt Him raw, so raw He cracked, and mercy spilled, for you, for me.

Merry Christmas.

Because of Jesus.