Big Strong Small Things

It was the last stop of the day, our final minutes in the fields of Northern Malawi. A village waited for us to disembark from the land cruiser. There was singing, dancing, and celebrating.

God had provided and they were glad. We were learning that we have a great extended family.

Tears swell in me and I feel sunlight burrowing into my soul until my cheeks burn. There's just something so beautiful about beings surrounded by miracles.

How often to we walk past each other without taking the time to see the miracle in each person we meet?

We wanted to see their miracle. We wanted to see the farm they had cultivated together with a little bit of help, so we walked away from their homes and their one shady tree into the what seemed like barren land.

It was hot, sandy, beach like, except without the water or the coastal breeze.

Everyone escorted us, children and mothers, farmers, and friends. We walked for what seemed like a mile, to a place where the land opened up to growing fields ready for harvest.

The farmers have worked so hard. But what captured me most on the walk to the field was one insistent woman.

She was a small person, carrying another small person, insisting that she help us.

Lee, our videographer and friend had a 40 pound equipment case he was carrying. If you met him, you'd know he's totally capable of carrying it on his own. In fact, he could probably carry me, the case, and a still shoot some great footage along the way.

But this small woman, full of thanks, insisted on carrying his case.

I walked in awe.

Wondering how it could be possible.

The strength of her resolve burst through any doubts I've built up over time. Doubts about what we can do in God's strength if we allow Him.

As she carried her son, and our large equipment, I had a thought.

She's carrying the story.

She may seem small but she has the power to change the world. I'll never forget her. She's the boss.
She knows what it's like to believe and to serve others.

I want what she's having.

And you "now have this light shining in your hearts, but you yourself are like a fragile clay jar containing this giant treasure. This makes it clear that your great power is from God, not from yourself." 2 Cor. 4:7

You may be small. But you have this light. Let it shine, let it give you miraculous strength and a heart to heart to carry ridiculously, impossibly, big things.

*thank you lee for capturing this moment, your photo is a gracious gift

We held them in our arms.

We held the children in our arms.

And they taught me how to believe.

I've said it before but there really aren't words to describe what I saw in Malawi. The contrast between those who had a little bit of help and those who didn't made an indelible impression on my heart.

The gift of youth ministry is that I get to share the hope of Christ with young people--and I get to watch them, in response, share that same love with others.

I want to say thank you. Thank you to the students. Thank you to the thousands who said yes to helping in a small way.

If you've ever participated in the 30 Hour Famine, you have to realize that for just a little over a day, in your uncomfortableness, you made fruitfulness a possibility.

You are loving God when you walk as Jesus did--hearts full of compassion, humility, and energy to be Kingdom change in your worlds.

"It is God who arms you with strength, and makes your way perfect." Psalm 18:2 NJKV

I watched this video with new eyes today because I've seen the fish in the ponds and the silos filled with corn. I've carried the children and held hands with the women who draw the water. The farmer shook my hand with gratefulness born out of hope. It's real. It's happening. You can give life, in Jesus' name.

Will You Pray With Me?

I am praying for our ministry team and the teams that serve around the world in youth ministry. If you can't tell, I'm excited about our night together getting to know and walking with teenagers. Will you pray with me?

Pray for our parking lots, traffic flow, and the people who see our church from the steering wheel.

Pray for the kids on the curb.

Pray for the leaders who connect relationally.

Pray for gratefulness and humility to make a home in our hearts.

Pray for the Holy Spirit to be able to work freely.

Pray for our hearts to be open to receive forgiveness.

Pray our words would have impact and be seasoned with compassion.

Pray for our teenagers as they think about their friends who don't know of Jesus and his love.

Pray for our high school ministry and our transitions from room to room.

Pray for our middle schoolers who aren't feeling noticed or valued yet.

Pray for our parents who we support as we help to guide their children in their faith.

Pray for our attitudes, for our minds to be open to loving beyond our capabilities and strength.

Pray for us to respond to needs.

Pray for there to be more fun than we can remember having.

Pray for memories to be made.

Pray for the Word of God to rule in our hearts.

Pray for an ability to help hurting kids.

Pray for a passion to ignite catalytic teenagers with an ability to outserve us.

Pray for us to see what we weren't able to see before.

Pray for our lives to be blessed as we partner in ministry.

Pray that we don't give up before we get started.

Thanking God for each of you. It's go time!

Puppies and Rainbows...and Dark Luminous Clouds

The firsts that come with Kindergarten are sweet and tear jerking and get our parental minds thinking about the outcomes twelve years into the future.

The cute pair of shoes, tidy clothes, lunch boxes, new teachers, new rules, and excitement that our children seem to like and even love.

But today, along with the puppies and rainbows of being a mommy to a Kindergartner I experienced the dark luminous cloud of reality.

I say on the phone after one of the most challenging drop-off experiences to date (considering this is only the second day I've rode my bike to school with my daughter it looks like there maybe a 50/50 chance of rain in the forecast), "Coy, do you think it's too much for her to ride her bike to school?"
She thought she was going to fall getting on her bike at the house and from that point I couldn't help her cope. It was like she was paralyzed.

Really I'm asking "Do you think it's too much for me to ride my bike to school with our daughter?"Because I feel like I'm going to lose it, rewinding, wondering if I got it right or all wrong, or if I'm just not cut out for bike riding with a five year old.

He was correct and wise in his response. "She's in Kindergarten, she is learning. It will be ok."

Yep. Nailed it. She's five.

Didn't I just write a book called "Understanding Your Daughter" or something along those lines?
Didn't I just say to parents in our church and all over the nation that it will be ok during the growing pains. To buckle up and be patient, to care for your daughter no matter what place she is in, striving to truly listen and understand?

What happened to those words this morning when my little one forgot how to ride her bicycle? We practiced all summer. She was in charge. She could take me to school and tell me how to get there.
She can even wreck her bike, pop right up with a big smiling "I'm alright!" Get back on her bike and keep going.

But today was different. She didn't have any of that in her. She only had a fear of falling and wherever it came from this morning it effected her ability to pedal and to believe and to have courage.

She got to school with one minute to spare. I took her helmet and looked at her sweet pouty face and said, "I love you Kirra and I hope you have a good day today. We probably need to talk about this when you get home from school."

Was that the right thing to say? After I had already reasoned with her that we probably could have walked faster. I did try to encourage her along the way, cheering through clenched teeth. "You can do this! I believe in you!" But when the cheering didn't work did I give up? Would have it been better to say, "I love you. Don't worry about any of this. You'll do better next time?"

A few different times on our ride I offered her a chance to start over. With as much glee as I could muster I'd say, "Want to start fresh? It's really ok. You didn't fall over and there's no reason to worry." But she just wasn't ready for that.

What I do know is this. We can get through this together. She'll have to forgive me for the bi-polar parenting this morning teetering between the authoritative "get on your bike and go...now...or there will be consequences !" and the "babe, you've got this, I believe in you" mom that is her own.

I love my little girl.
I want to be a great parent.
But it isn't always puppies and rainbows.

I'm thankful during the cloudy parts that we have a Father who loves us know matter what and never gives up on us when we're blinded by this or blinded by that.

How many times, as an adult, have I been paralyzed and fooled into thinking that I just didn't have it it me to continue or to cope or to deal with something on my plate? I think of those times and how people around me loved me through it. I know the power of unconditional love, what it feels like, looks like, and the results of it. It's a beautiful picture when I'm on the receiving end. But to be the giver of unconditional love and acceptance, even through the role of parenting, is one of the hardest things we'll ever do. Because it calls for selflessness and a self-awareness that only comes from God. Following his example is the key in all of this. The Holy Spirit of God has to navigate us through it.

And as we let go, we find that we are never let go of and that gives me courage to keep trying and to never give up.

As Kirra rides to school, the clouds will part and the sun will shine and she'll be so glad we were right there with her as she learned how to do it. And I'll be glad too. I'm glad that we went there together, and I'm thankful that I get to be her mom, and I am grateful that God would trust me with something so valuable.

International Blanket Face

There are really only two scenarios where you'll find me snoring like a lumberjack.

When pregnant, even if only for a day, something happens in me to create an environment where I can saw some serious logs.

The other scenario would be on a flight with the seat in the upright position, no neck pillow.

Add twenty-ish hours in the air to the typical lumberjack concoction and I've got some seriously interesting sounds coming out of me.

After a team mate snapped a picture of me sleeping, mouth gaping open, I realized I needed a plan of action.

And I did what all the smart people do and started sleeping with the blanket over my face.

Call it anti-social. But I'm good with that. Eyes covered with the burnt yellow Ethiopian air eye covers, hoodie up, head phones on, blanket covering my full body and face...no one is getting a picture of this chick.

At the same time, I enjoyed a great cave like sleep experience that burned a good six hours away.

Why didn't I pick up the blanket culture sooner? It works. Try it the next time you have a long flight.

What's your best travel trick?
Blanket or bust baby.

Holding Hands

In Malawi the people are very warm. They are loving to strangers even to the strangest of them (I'd say we're pretty strange, white people riding in a bus through their front yards, stopping to take pictures of their rows of corn and compost piles.)

Every place we have gone, we have been received with love.

What I noticed in every area was that the people treated each other just as lovingly. The children hold hands. They carry each other. They look out for the smallest.

Boys hold boys hands. Dads and sons. Middle school, high school, college, and the youngest.

Girls hold girls hands. Mothers and daughters. Sisters and friends. There doesn't seem to be a cut off age when closeness becomes inappropriate.

I respect and admire this about the Malawi culture. It's rare and wonderful to see.

Really, this week has been about holding hands with each other.

Organizations partnering together, churches partnering with churches, youth ministries with teenagers, teenagers with teenagers, farmers with farmers, communities with communities, putting our differences aside for the cause of Christ.

If we could just forget ourselves long enough to say yes to the way of Jesus.

It's important to be found holding hands in the love that binds us instead of competing and being unable to meet each other at the intersection of human need. Why do we let walls of division creep in muffle the important conversations and work?

22

The number of churches who have come together to meet the needs of the Mutendere area after the World Vision and NCM development program is finished.

They are holding hands.

Inspired. Encouraged. Edified. Ready to share what we've learned...not so much with words, but with an extended hand of love, friendship, understanding, and willingness to set self aside.

I can't wait to hold my daughters' and husbands hand. My friends and my colleagues. I hope that I'll hold hands with our church and community in a way that says, we are also holding hands with Christ.

Yewo

I have so many things I want to write down tonight.

A hundred seeds, stories waiting to be written, but tonight there is only need for a word.

Yewo (Yeh-wo)

Thank you.

More than any other word I heard today from the Mutendere area people, this one was shared with us.

Yewo chomne.

Coming from mouths
and hands
feet
and dances.

Expressed through gifts
of chickens
and roosters
bushels of onions
and hand carved
utensils.

The highest honor anyone can receive when visiting a family is to receive a pot of cooked chicken.

Since we weren't at the farm long enough for cooking chicken, the lead farmers wife, brought a pot to our bus.

We noticed there were legs and wings and feathers under the lid that she held onto as she knelt before us.

A people so grateful.
That they would give their biggest and healthiest bird, to us.

So we traveled for six more hours with a rooster at our feet and later two additional chickens and enough onions to convince me that I needed a shower.

It's hard to express how it feels to be honored in this way.

Yewo they say.

For the dairy cow that was provided.
For the pass on cow that was produced to share with another family.
For the seeds to plant and the net to share for harvesting their fish crops.

Yewo they say as they draw their families near with song and dance.

"All day we parade God's praise--we thank you by name over and over." Psalm 44:8 (MSG)

Yewo.

We say, with our smiles and our eyes,
with our commitment to continue,
with our dedication to tell the stories
of your lives.

"We move slowly, sewn in time
We can shape but can't control
These possibilities to grow
Weeds among the push and pull
Waiting on the wind to take us
We can write with ink and pen
But we will sew with seeds instead
Starting with words we've said
And we will all be changed."
(Seryn "We will all be changed")

We say, with grateful hearts,

Yewo....for the stories you've told us today.



"Look, I am making everything new!" Revelation 21:5

The Significance of 30 Hours

From Seattle to Lilongwe Malawi we spent approximately 30 hours in transit. Waiting in airports, flying in planes, traveling by van, then by bus, we finally arrived to our destination to see how the partnership between churches in the Northern Malawi area, World Vision, and Nazarene Compassionate ministries are working out.

Today's journey into the area development program solidified how significant 30 Hours can be.

30 Hours to see the Kingdom of God.

Silos of secure food say, we didn't abandon you.

Livestock and farming resources say we haven't forgotten.

Beautiful lives and families proclaim that the work is sustainable, that your way of life is valuable, and that the living God is alive in you.

We may wonder about World Vision, Nazarene Compassionate Ministries, the 30 Hour Famine, organizations that support relief programs for the poorest of the poor. There are so many programs to consider and it really is hard to know if it's actually working.

But it is working.

In 1996 the area we visited today was malnourished and suffering.

In 2012, they have secure food and a livelihood that is sustainable. And as of September 1st, they will do so on their own, by their own hard work, prayer, and dedication to the resources they have shared and received.

The significance of going 30 hours without food to raise money for the Malawi programs has meant life to generations.

Today, when we arrived at the village of our brothers and sisters. A brand new church of the Nazarene greeted us.

They were singing before we could step onto the soil. As they received us tears began to well in my soul. I was shaking the hands of the past, the present, and the future.

They were welcoming us into their new temporary church, grown to 36 members!

We gathered in the shade of the hut and they told us of their plans for us.

We were to lay the cornerstone for their new building and light the fires of the brick burning kilns signifying that the work has begun!

What an honor and a privilege. There simply aren't enough words.

I was drawn to a young woman. She handed me her son, Fresha. I carried him with me to the site where the new church would be built as they sang "Hallelujah" around us.

White people like to cry. It means we are happy. And I've never felt this kind of happiness before.

Overwhelmed.

The sun shone bright on our faces as our family welcomed us to holy ground.

They were healthy. They have a beautiful school. They are so thankful for the support that has been provided.

I asked the young mother if she was a teacher in the church. She was the youth leader. She has ten youth in the church...of 36.

Thousands of miles from home, the work is on fire in our hearts and we can't ignore the ripple of giving to one another.

They gave us gifts from the fruits of their labor.

Onions. Corn nuts. Wooden utensils. Smiles. Many thanks.

We offered them hope in our obedience to give to a very important program. And now, they will pass on the gift to others.

When you give to your church missions offering. Don't let cynicism trick you into thinking that it doesn't matter.

When you participate in things like the 30 Hour Famine, don't believe the lie that it's not really making a difference.

Today we met 22 church leaders of different denominations who come together to meet the needs of the community. The put their theological differences aside and do the most important work of love.

It was their gift to us today. A lesson in Jesus culture.

My heart sank into my feet when I realized one small girl in the village didn't have a mother or father. She is an orphan.

Orphans are real.

And thanks be to God that there are places like the place we saw today where they are still able to take care of their own even if their own don't have a parent looking out for their needs.

In one village, there are about 88 orphans, in another 22, in another 12, in another 48...it is our responsibility to care.

We should care about them deeply and see the great importance of their lives. They are longing to be known.

I know you now sweet children. I have seen your face. And I will never forget.

I pray, as we set the cornerstone for a new church today, that this privilege would not be wasted. But that it would serve as a defining moment in our lives that fuels the ministry of Jesus Christ.

Queen

I don't have much time but I have to mention Queen. She is a wife, a tax collector, and one of the most beautiful, wise, intelligent, and soulful people I have ever met.

She commands our attention with wisdom and care.

She explained to us that sharing the love of Jesus is possible if we are careful about our approach.

She knows the many cultures of Malawi. Her husband listens intently as she speaks. She is regal.

I sat next to her at dinner last night thinking....she could run the world.

Speaking of running things, Malawi's president flew into the airport at the same time we did. She is a she.

Women draw the water here. They look for the food. And they lead countries.

Men do many things as well but the most fascinating to me last night was watching Queen's husband acknowledge and listen to the wisdom of his queen.

What a gift Malawi has...the mutual edification of each other.

I hope to journal more on this in the days to come.

There is much more to see and understand.

On a side note: Our team is opening up to each other. Life is returning after the flight where we missed a day somewhere.

I am enjoying the girls who attended NYC who answered the call to participate in the 30Hour Famine last summer with their youth groups and now we are together on this journey.

In Africa.

Surreal...

Shock

Driving through Lilongwe in the World Vision staff bus I saw a beautiful people. Wearing suit jackets and cardigans. Babies on shoulders and wrapped on backs. Bicycles, much like mine at home strapped with supplies and clothing.

They walked through what looked like fields to me. To them, sidewalks leading to their lives, to their homes, to their jobs.

The shock I thought I'd feel didn't come. It was a gratefulness and an opening of vision that came instead.

We are just beginning to see and understand.

The shock I wasn't expecting was in my own soul.

Staring up into the Malaria net that covers my bed in a hotel that is much nicer than I ever expected. I'm doubting.

Why am I here?
My baby girl starts school tomorrow?
Why did I need to do this??
Am I just jet lagged?
Where is the passion I felt two days ago?

Waking up at 2AM...

Startled from a vivid dream, detailed with both joyful and scary moments, I think, "didn't I choose the doxycyclin over the malaria meds that can cause you to hallucinate?" Why am I dreaming like this?

I'm hot. I'm cold. I'm sweating. I need to go to the bathroom. Where is the bathroom? How do I get out of this net?

I pray. I need you God. I need you to help me.

4AM...

Doubt (again?) I'm shocked at my own lack of faith.

Thinking of the time my daughter will be waking up for her first day of school and wondering how I can connect with her before we get on the bus for a four hour road trip to the Mutendere area.

Praying, I trust in you. Help me to sleep one more hour.

7:30 AM...

A new day. And a prayer. Maybe I needed this night Lord? In a place where everything is literally out of my control. To experience what it feels like to trust you. It's a wild feeling. But I think I'm ready. I'm open. I will trust you and I won't forget how good you are.

And...this one is hard Lord. I trust you with my baby girl. As she rides her bike to school thousands of miles away. With her daddy and sister at her side. I know that she is held, not only in their care, but in yours. And I'm not afraid. Tears well up because I know she is beloved. I ask for you to give her courage and joy and understanding. I trust you.

I thought I'd be shocked by what I saw here. Instead, I'm shocked by what I saw in me.

The truly unbelievable part of the aftershock is that there was and is so much grace and mercy for me. Only love. Only encompassing embrace by a Father who knows my heart, when I wake up, and what I need.

The difference between 16.0 and 10.2: The weight of leadership.

His carry on bag weighed 16.0 pounds.

When I put my own bag on the scale it read 10.2.

The difference is 5.8 pounds of leadership.

David Pitts is one of our team leaders. We're traveling with an organization called World Vision. Our group, in just a few minutes will board a plane heading to Malawi, Africa. Together, we'll see how the funds from the Nazarene 30 Hour Famine are working in Mutendere.

Why is the weight of our leader's bag important to me?

Because I'm not carrying it.

Over the past eleven years our youth ministries have traveled locally and abroad on mission trips and I know what's in that extra 5.8 pounds.

There are copies of identification.
Inside you'll find itineraries and back up itineraries. Deep in the pockets are things no lone traveler would store: band-aids, extra hand sanitizer and sunscreen, medications, contact numbers, and gluten-free snacks.
Where others are traveling light with a phone or an iPad, the leader brings the communicative laptop (aka, the backbreaking monster that's also your lifeline).

I know because I've carried that bag. But the weight is so much more than just a few extra pounds.

The weight is in responsibility and focus. The weight is in proactive thinking and trouble shooting. They weight is in flexibility and in tactful communication. The weight is in prayers both spoken and in words no one will ever hear. The weight is a love that can't be measured because it costs something of ourselves. It requires a "suffering with" of it's own that can easily go unnoticed because there is the necessary weight of calm--as the leader is keeping the group in a place of peace.

It matters to me, that today I'm being led.

It matters to me, that today I have the opportunity to follow.

It matters to me, that our church and my family believes that I too, need to participate in a trip that I didn't plan and am not ultimately responsible for.

I've been given a gift.

Three years ago our leadership at our church gave the pastors a goal to participate in a missional trip that had nothing to do with our own leadership.

Now I understand why it's so important.

It leaves me wide open to receive.

Not that I don't receive when I lead our youth group or others. But the receiving is different when there is nothing to distract me from being truly empty.

I'm grateful for our leaders as we head to Africa. I understand at a core place the weight they feel. And I support them.

It gives me courage to think that hundreds and thousands of leaders all over the world take this risk often, to carry the weight of leadership.

I walk with them in solidarity and in joy, knowing the fruits of this ministry.

But today I'm following. For the next eight days, I'm being led.

Expectant hope. I'm wide open.

Ebb and flow.

I can almost hear the ocean through airport sounds and humming of 747's.

Like the tide washing over me, pulling back the layers until the shoreline off my heart is exposed.

My favorite Psalm comes to mind. (131)

My heart isn't proud o sweet Lord.
I'm not trying to concern myself with too much.
I'm still. Quiet my soul.
Like a small child with her mom.
Like a weaned little one, I'm content.

I'm open to the moments. To whatever God wants to say to me, or show me, do through me, or develop in me.

How can I do this? Once every eleven years seems like too long to really unplug and open ourselves to the endless possibilities of grace.

I suppose we do this when we withdraw.

Withdrawing doesn't have to mean a flight around the world. It could just mean a flight to our favorite reading chair.

Breathing in hope. Breathing out peace, in God.

Letting go.

Lord, you know us. When we sit and when we rise. Help us to withdraw wherever we are to places of following and release of the weight of leadership so we can be led by you.And, when it's our time to lead. We'll be ready. Strong and courageous in the power of YOU.

How will you withdraw today? Can you imagine the weight being lifted and your burden getting lighter?

Journey to Africa

One Village - Malawi from Church of the Nazarene on Vimeo.

In just a few days I'll be kissing my girls until they beg me to stop, embracing my husband and thanking him for his confidence in me, and joining hearts with the teenagers and adults of Highland Park, as I head to Malawi....Africa.

Africa.

Still not sure if it's totally sunk in yet.

I was invited by World Vision and Nazarene Compassionate Ministries to participate in a study tour that will help us to see the funds from the 30Hour Famine at work.

We've been doing the 30Hour Famine with teenagers for about 10 years and for the last few years at Highland Park, the funds have gone specifically to the projects developing in Malawi. Words fail me when I try to talk about what this means, to see the people we've helped become healthy again? What a gift. And the residual gift? That I get to bring our friends and their stories home with me. I get to share the journey with our youth group, with the leaders, and tell them thank you with the soil of Malawi still on my shoes.

This journey to Africa, however, started long before the call from World Vision.

It actually started when I was a little girl.

The Waggoner family came into the children's ministry and share about the people of Kenya, about their time spent as missionaries there. It is my most cherished memory of children's ministry (besides Helen Hanby checking me in every week with a smile I trusted and adored).

Then, when my grandparents went to Kenya on a work and witness trip, they returned with photos of a people that I longed to meet. They returned with photos of animals so close it seemed you could reach out and touch them. I felt like there was a part of God that I couldn't possibly understand until I met these beautiful people.

In college, we did our ministry internships in Campinas Brazil. My heart hinges opened further. In seminary, we were exposed to the Latino/ Latina community and took one more step into the heart of God. When we moved to Texas we saw more of Jesus in Mexico and now in Florida we are surrounded by so many more...Turkish, Cuban, Honduran, Columbian, Costa Rican, Puerto Rican, and whole bunch of people from Oklahoma and Ohio.

I've always felt that in every person there is a part of God that only that person can share. As we are made in God's image, uniquely and wonderfully, there is a piece of every individuals DNA that reveals a part of God that only they can. And I really think that meeting and learning from people from different places helps me to know more of the God who we love and serve. I just can't help myself.

I also felt called at a young age, to do whatever I could with whatever I have to help people who need help and to be a voice for people who don't have one.

For years I wrestled with the missionary calling I felt on my heart at such a young age. I wondered why it didn't work out as I thought. I wondered how a calling/ gifting for youth ministry fit into what seemed like an equally specific calling to serve as a missionary.

Now it's really starting to make sense. You see, we've been to Africa numerous times. Not with our physical bodies but with our time and commitment to needs that we are aware of. Every year when we participate in the 30Hour Famine, we travel with the love of Jesus to people around the world and even in our own backyard.

We are missionaries because we are missional.

It's not a buzz word we like to throw around with our copy of "stuff Christians like".
It's a way of life that can't be minimized to a word--it can only be described with an obedient love-filled life rooted in Christ.

If I could, I'd take our teenagers to every continent to see who lives there, to notice their needs, to do small acts of love and kindness to whoever we meet. And I teach them to do it at home. Since I have such a short amount of time with them, some of them just for a season of their lives, I rely on things like the famine to "carry them" to places that are out of reach.

Now, I get to go to the people we have supported over the last few years. I get to hug them and bring greetings from the teenagers who believe that we are the family of God. I get to learn more about God and get to learn from people who have so much to give. And I get to share this journey with our youth group as we participate in the famine again in February.

I can't wait to blog, write, and share these next days with our teens, parents, friends, and our church family.

I've never said this out loud or written it before but--I thank God for making me a missionary in the Carl and Lois' Sunday school class so many years ago. I thank God for the many moments after that when I felt at home in the diversity of the world. And I thank God for using me to share the stories--what a sweet place to be--I...am...so....grateful.

I hope to post a few times while in Africa, depending on our internet connection. If you'd like to keep up with our team. You can read team posts here.

Here's My Number, Call Me Maybe (The gift of listening.)

I'm drawn to books on listening.

I'm not sure if is because I have a deep and insatiable desire to be heard.

Or if it's because I know at my core that I've not been so good at it and would like to be better.

Maybe...probably, it's both.

And I wonder about Adam and Eve? What went wrong? What if, Adam, when presented with the fruit, could have taken Eve's request in at a different level, listening and seeing past her curiosity to an unhealthy desire for autonomy, would he have been able to walk her through the temptation and away from it? I have no idea.

But it's possible.

And I wonder what could change if I was able to listen in a less distracted way.

An essay, written by Brenda Ueland, was placed on the music stand next to my announcement sheet last weekend. There was also a copy placed in no-windows jeep that I noticed after leaving church. My first reaction was, "hmm, someone must think I'm a cruddy listener."

My second reaction was, maybe this was so important to someone that they wanted to make sure we would read it without reading into it. If that makes any sense. Either way, my curiosity was peaked and I read a very moving treatise to humanity on the gifted and great role of listening.

One of my best friends met with me over three years ago at Mitchell's coffee house. We were just getting started in our friendship. She tried to connect over the phone, text, but at the time I hadn't developed many good habits for returning calls and texts. When we sat down I discovered as we talked face to face that I really would like to become better friends with her and that I was afraid of what that might mean. It meant I would have to be a real friend. Someone who listens and is available and willing to invest. I wanted that so badly but it scared me because everywhere I had lived up to that point was less than a three year period of time. Honestly, I felt burned out by finally breaking through to friendship and then having to say goodbye. So I told her to truth.

"I"m a crappy friend. I'm just bad at it."

She looked at me and said, "it's ok, I understand".

And for three years she re-introduced me to friendship. I remember seeing this happen when we lived in Texas. Another good friend began modeling what it meant to love someone and care for them over your own needs, schedule, desires, and ambitions. I was incredibly sad to move away from her and her family. She had started the process, the transformation that I really needed to have, and then we moved. I sort of rolled over and gave in to friendship gravity. Oh well...it is what it is, I stink at life (WRONG!).

My new Florida friend didn't relent. She didn't give up. She taught me how to listen. She is such a good listener. A true listener, like the essay says, is much more beloved and magnetic than the talker. It's the most effective form of friendship and ministry.

Back to the essay.

I read it.

Then re-read it.

Then I tried to listen to every person in my office, at the gym, in my home, with this posture "now, what is happening now, my friend is talking and I am quiet."

I've been working on it.

This morning as I listened to another good friend share some of what's going on in her life I felt that temptation to help, give advice, word picture, strategize, look into the future, encourage...none of these things are bad things, and I know there is a time and a place for all of those things but I really want to listen better. So mid conversation I arrested myself.

Shush.

Listening can work a small miracle.

"For just as the tragedy of parents and children is not listening, so it is of husbands and wives (friends and ministry partners, students and co-workers). If they disagree they begin to shout louder and louder - if not actually, at least inwardly -hanging fiercely and deafly onto their own ideas, instead of listening and becoming quieter and more comprehending."

If only we could all take one small step to becoming quieter and more comprehending.

As I type, a teenager is coming into my office.

Shhhhh...

Listening can work a small miracle.

A co-worker was in my office yesterday. I felt like I had nothing to give, but to listen.

And I feel it did that, worked a small miracle that none of my planning and thinking and talking could have produced.

Shhhh....Listening can work a small miracle.

I want to be a better listener and a better communicator. But I believe that the communicating part hinges on the listening and can't exist without it.

My favorite Psalm, now that I think about it, is this very prayer. For a quiet soul, a quiet soul to receive and give love born out of hope.

Psalm 131

I Have Calmed and Quieted My Soul

1 O Lord, my heart is not lifted up;
my eyes are not raised too high;
I do not occupy myself with things
too great and too marvelous for me.
2 But I have calmed and quieted my soul,
like a weaned child with its mother;
like a weaned child is my soul within me.

3 O Israel, hope in the Lord
from this time forth and forevermore.

As I was finishing up this post I was reading another blog from an old friend of mine from college. She experienced hearing loss at a young age and has been wearing hearing aids her whole life. She's fluent in American Sign Language, can read lips, and can listen better than most hearing people. I used to listen for her in class and type the words the professor was saying so she wouldn't miss anything. I also typed things that he or she wasn't saying (but that's for another post!)

I was thrilled to find out that she was able to get an implant that will make it possible for her to hear.

What a gift! For my friend Heather, it's the most beautiful gift she could receive, to be able to truly hear someone.

How many of us, who pass our hearing tests, are deaf to what people are saying. How many of us take for granted that we have this gift?

I want to listen to you and really hear you. I want people to feel happiness and freedom when they walk away from me know that they were in the presence of someone who truly cares for them.

So here's my number, call me maybe. (I hope to listen better this time.)

Trust Fall Much?

The trust fall has been around as a trust building group game for while. I'm guessing the people of Israel did this with Moses before they stepped into the parted sea?

When I learned how to do a trust fall in college it was advised to communicate to the spotters that the person would be falling. They affirm that yes, it's time to "fall on" and the faller feels safe in their arms as they fall back without trying to catch themselves. (Side note: Where I attended university, they taught ministry students proper trust fall technique...and how to effectively use a finger rocket. Knowledge worth retaining.)

In 2010, Tosh.O. introduced the world to "surprise trust falls" in which a someone approaches a random person in public and says "trust fall" as they start to fall to see if the person will catch them. This is super fun if you're up for laying on the ground...a lot.

Now, we have a brilliant 8th grader trying this at a youth event. Yet another reason by working with teenagers is the best job anyone could have.

I hope by watching this you experience some of the joy that is involved in knowing teenagers. They are wonderfully ridiculous and brilliant and brave.

I'm praying that if someone ever trust fall bombs our youth group, we'll be waiting with open arms.