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.

Undeserved

Saturday night Adrian loses hours and hours of writing from his laptop after mum accidentally does a complete factory reset on it, "a semesters worth--lost" he tells me. He asks a tech-savvy friend of his to try and restore what was lost, and after a night of trying, friend says no, just some pictures...

We hear from well meaning people that in Nashville "for just $500" he can get it all back, and it only makes things worse, him knowing it's possible, just not for him...  He usually doesn't show how much things affect him, but with the loss of irreplaceable work he can't help but show that it's hit him hard. And we all feel bad, because there's nothing we can do...

Monday evening comes.

Adrian announces with a hesitant smile that his friend's just then been able to restore the main document, the one where he's been typing out a future book for months, and hadn't recently saved it any place else--and he might be able to get the other papers back too...This happiness we feel for him-with him-, it fills our hearts.

And we think it's the end of our blessings for the day (there have been many). Adrian and mom head off to bed...

At 11:25 pm, after 6 days of being lost, Kitty is found... and although I try to be quiet Adrian hears the commotion just as he's drifting off to sleep. He runs down the stairs and catches sight of us as I carry her into the apartment. I see the excitement in his eyes...and the miracle of this moment, it overwhelms and I just can't keep the emotions in...

                        ...........................................................................

Tuesday evening we're all still trying to let it sink in:

I find Adrian upstairs, and I ask myself, does he feel it too, God's breath of mercy on us? as he's holding kitty and saying "She's so much lighter, Sara...", with face turned away but I don't miss the tears in his eyes, this brother of mine that doesn't cry?Does he see God's gentle embrace in this act of mercy, this man with burdens much heavier than mine, who for the past 4 years has experienced more blows than I could ever imagine bearing in a lifetime, does he see the goodness of God, to have blessed him in such a special way, having restored not just one, but two precious things, in the same day?Does he?... I don't know, but I think so. Pray so.

Undeserved, this is all so undeserved. I know in my heart that He didn't need to do any of this. He didn't have to...But He did? Psalm 8:3,4.

And Kitty, yes, she's thinner and exhausted and has several scratches, and a patch of raw skin, but she is happy, sooo happy...a nonstop purring machine.

Through the experience of Kitty being found, He reminds me of many, many things...but especially on my heart tonight is the reminder to agonize over the lost--most of all for those closest to home, who's hearts are far, far away. Just like with Kitty, they too can be found, even in the darkest of nights...even if it isn't till the midnight of this earths history...He can restore them, too. Even if things look impossible right now. This truth, it fills me with so much hope, so I share this here, because I know I'm not the only who's heart is burdened for certain loved ones...He doesn't grow weary of seeking...how often do we?

And...I think of the words of a stranger who on Monday heard the story of our family from mom, and of the latest "losses". His response grips me and keeps ringing in my ears even now. "...nothing this side of heaven is a loss". To a child of God, he said, nothing this side of heaven is a loss....

And I'm begging God to help me believe that always, and live like that...

Kitty's first night back home

Kitty, tired but happy to sit next to mom, with her beloved ball

James 1:17

Unedited

Nov. 29th:

The smallest concern in our family weighs the heaviest when a beloved kitty disappears early one morning before the sun is even up after an inadvertent letting her out of the door--no one notices at first, as mother and I are the only ones up, me letting kitty into the upstairs as I come up for a quick glass of water before going back to bed in the basement/garage, leaving kitty upstairs with mum, her opening the back door for only moments to let some breeze in after some burnt toast, not knowing curious kitty takes those few seconds to peek outside...

Mum leaves for work and I leave food in kitty's bowl before going back to bed in hopes that she finds it full before waking me up to ask for it. I toss and turn, not accustomed to sleeping days, with one ear tuned to listen for her to start purring next to me, or for when she finds her food bowl, whichever comes first...

When neither comes and I start to hear movement from the floor above me announcing Adrian and Diana are up but I hear no customary greetings from them towards a certain kitty who always gets many words and petting and love, I can't make myself stay in bed anymore and I leave the basement... Daylight greets me upstairs, but no kitty, and I ask Adrian and Diana where she is, and both answer "we thought she was with you down there" Adrian adding that she's probably sleeping in moms room, where she's known to curl up and sleep away the hours, but I just have to be sure, since she usually follows me around wherever I go, so I run up the next flight of stairs quietly to see if she's there. As soon as I see the empty bed I know but want to believe different, so I check Adrian's room, the closet, bathroom, and I try to find calm. I tell siblings eating breakfast in detached tones of my belief that kitty is outside--the same kitty who was a terrified stray kitten barely surviving cold and hunger just shy of 13 months ago, who it took weeks for me to earn her trust, and is still afraid of strangers and noises and sometimes her own shadow, and who hasn't been outside on her own since we first brought her home, her too scared...

Adrian says no. I want to believe him, so we both look again, calling out. In the basement, I check my bed, the sofa, and last of all the food bowl I had left her...It's untouched, and it's been nearly 6 hours since I first went upstairs with her... 

 As the hours pass since her disappearance, the emptiness doesn't, it only grows. And I think of  Jesus the good Shepherd who didn't rest, didn't stop looking, till He found the one lost sheep, and how it must have hurt...and my selfish heart tells Him But I had only one sheep, not 100. I lost everything. 100%, instead of 1%. And doesn't the ache burrow deeper and leave a greater emptiness when all is lost, instead of when just one something of many is lost?...

Darkness settles and so does my sadness. I'm scheduled to work the next three nights but call in asking for the first one off because of a flu I am just getting over, so I have a little extra time to look for her, but three nights prior cold weather finally came, along with heavy rain, so although I want to run out and stay out till I find her, my sickness and the necessity of getting well compels me to not stay out long. I leave the back door open and her food bowl out and every few minutes I stand outside and call out to her, while my soul cries out to God. 

Rain continues to fall outside, hope inside. 

Nov. 30th

It's morning. No more rain. Mom and I bundle up and head outside, determined to look. We walk the 2 mile walkway that's right outside our front door, since on all our other sides we're surrounded by other apartments and we hope to find her hidden in the bushes somewhere, just like when I first laid eyes on her. We see many things, but no kitty...

As time continues to pass since her leaving I remember certain things, not completely sure how they're all connected but knowing it all means something... My mind travels back to the past week, Nov.21st-27th:

At the beginning of the week I read about John the Baptist, who quite possibly supersedes Enoch, Elijah, and Elisha as my all-time favorite Bible hero.The day previous I had asked for courage to conquer and overcome evil, and John the Baptist was His answer. I've read about him many times, but this time was different. I read Matthew 11:11, and I read how the reason for his greatness rested in "when before his own disciples he refrained from seeking honor for himself but pointed all to Jesus as the Promised One." (My Life Today, pg. 329), I read how "His unselfish joy in the ministry of Christ presents the highest type of nobility ever revealed in man.", of how he insisted on less and less of him, and more of Christ, and as I had read about Johns life and recalled certain occurrences that had happened to me that very day, God pointed out in a very clear way how selfish I really am... in that moment the contrast between my life, and that of John's, revealed so much ugliness in my character... John, his very purpose in life was to introduce One to the aching multitudes who was so much greater than himself, that he felt unworthy to even wear His shoes...He didn't consider his own honor or preference along with the honor and glory of God...It was just Jesus...

That day I saw what God has seen all along. Courage is what I need, yes, but not the kind I had thought I needed, not to overcome the outside evil, but the evil inside first.The kind that says less of me;more of you...courage that takes the lowest place always and joys in the opportunity to bring glory to the Name above all names alone...

 The rest of the week brought an unraveling of many things in our family, as well as in the lives of friends. Many uncertainties, many unexpected events and circumstances beyond our control, and many personal struggles found me Thanksgiving eve at the end of myself in every way.For the rest of the weekend I asked God over and over what He was trying to tell me through all that was going on. I hadn't forgotten what I had learned about John the Baptist earlier in the week, but I sensed there was more...

And then the rain began...

In the basement with kitty, three nights in a row, He spoke of one thing to me... 

As the rain poured against the garage door I read of my need of His Spirit to pour into me. He spoke to me of my need of another Comforter, through In Heavenly Places pg's 335-338. The readings for the 24th and 27th especially. The word Comforter jumped out at me, and I knew what He was asking. He was asking if I understood that in order to receive His Spirit, I would have to continually be at the end of myself, just like the disciples were, just like John the Baptist was... Jesus had to leave, their hopes had to be all dashed and broken and poured out before The Comforter could come...Was I willing? He asked. One must need comforting in order for The Comforter to come. Can you make room for Me, and do you realize that if you say yes, there is more, more of the unraveling, more of the unexpected, before I can really, fully Comfort, before I can Come?...

Nov. 27th.

After three nights, I said yes... Yes, I was willing...

Although I still felt even more at the end of myself than before, I chose to believe. I believed His promise. Zech.10:1

As I got ready for bed after specifically asking God to keep me at the end of myself if that's what it takes to receive His Spirit in it's fullness, I thought that was the end of His blessings for the night, but decided to listen to a sermon. That is when I listened to Paul Ratsara's message. And as I listened to his sermon with kitty curled up next to me, I wept all through, just like I did with the first message I ever heard of his back in April. [If ever messages were preached meant by God directly for me, these two are it.]

The next day I continued to absorb what God had shared with me, and He reinforced in my mind the importance of believing--feeling or no feeling-- the truth that "The happiness of man is to know God and Jesus Christ whom He hath sent.". Jesus, to let Jesus be enough, be all... He reminded me that I agreed to be at the end of myself, so that He can fill...

The next morning, Nov. 29th, kitty disappears... 

                                       ...................................................................................

And this is where I'm at now Dec. 3, processing and struggling and realizing that this is nothing, it's just a cat and I can get another and haven't others actually suffered, while I just feel like this is suffering? It's true and I know this is nothing. But sometimes Jesus has to start at the nothing, the nothing that represents so much--the most innocent, fragile something in ones life in order to break one wide open to Him. And I see how gentle He is...The real suffering that I can't begin to imagine lies just ahead for all of us as His sheep, and He wants us to be ready, to be filled with His Spirit. He is preparing me, you, each of us, in our little aches of life, for the night that is about to settle in...

[Through another persons blog this song came to my attention Thanksgiving weekend and since then I have played it over and over...and after the 29th it's even more dear... Enter in... He wants us to enter in, into His fold, into His suffering, like John did...]

And all these thoughts, they're a mess and they've taken up too much space and turned into a post way too long, but it's okay... I want to remember these unedited thoughts, and remember how God has led and restored and given the best kind of courage and although this isn't real suffering, He has never counted a sorrow too shallow or too small to bend low and comfort, and has reminded me of the One who has actually suffered, and all in complete innocence. Isaiah 53.

If our hearts hurt over our one little lost lamb and we find it almost unbearable, how much more must His heart ache, He who has thousands upon thousands of lost sheep, each one just as dear as if they were all He had?...Much more dear than a cat, for these sheep are made in His very image--made by Him...

Fears creep in, old lies once believed that mustn't all good things come to an end after all,and isn't that why I never gave her an official name? and maybe kitty isn't really outside, but stuck somewhere in the basement, buried somewhere in the piles of boxes still needing to be unpacked, and maybe we'll find her one day a little too late? and terror grips, nights are long, but then He reminds me that I must trust with abandon because He is the Good Shepherd. --

(Stumbled on these two quotes online today, don't remember where I found them):

 “Faith never knows where it is being led, but it loves and knows the One who is leading.”--

“If through a broken heart God can bring His purposes to pass in the world, then thank Him for breaking your heart.”  -- Oswald Chambers

And I remember the bigger picture...I remember the example of a true Christian, John the Baptist, and how far I have to go...I'm reminded of the beloved hymn I Love to Tell The Story, of our responsibility as His sheep to tell just one Story...

"Are you using all your powers in an effort to bring the lost sheep back to the fold? There are thousands upon thousands in ignorance who might be warned. Pray as you have never prayed before for the power of Christ. Pray for the inspiration of His Spirit, that you may be filled with a desire to save those who are perishing. Let the prayer ascend to heaven, 'God, be merciful unto us, and bless us; and cause his face to shine upon us; that thy way may be known upon the earth, thy saving health among the nations'."--

In Heavenly Places, pg. 338. emphasis added.