be.love.d

Wedding Pinterest Day!

2011-10-30T22:39:00.004-05:00

This is my favorite!!!!!! Chalkboard middle, with burlap and wire for pics!

My dear friend and Crafty Wedding Coordinator, Meg "Ms. Egg" Mattingly, made a special trip up to stay with me for the sole purpose of helping me craft, sand, paint, staple, dance, and craft more!

The plan is to use these things for wedding decor and then put them up in our new home, but that may not go as planned. I am not sure what I will actually get to use for the wedding, just because of practical things like we're not allowed to hang things on the wall of our reception center. .. and I'm sure our home will not be big enough to put all of this in there. But all of it WILL be put to good use!

Yes, many of these ideas are from Pinterest, but some are from Ms. Egg herself and some are from other people I picked up along the way. Pretty sure NONE of these were creative ideas of my own. =) My special gift is that I'm good at discovering others' creative ideas and finding people to help me make the ideas happen. =)

Check it out!!

One of Adam and I's favorite songs ever. =)

The crafty genius herself!

Workin hard with all her burlap!

This has wires across it to hang pics. Love the worn look. =)

Yay chalkboard!

Meg did an incredible job with these doors!! Incredible I say!

Chicken wire inside to hang pictures on!

This one is not complete but at least its painted fun!

Burlap frame with wire across to hang pictures!!
Probably my second favorite!
This was totally Meg's awesome idea!

This Man

2011-10-24T22:56:00.000-05:00

This is the man I am marrying on January 21st, 2012.

This man is a man's man.

This man loves me deeply.

This man is a taaaaaalker.

This man is goofy and hilarious.

This man is a farmer at heart.

This man has pursued me well.

This man came out of no-where in my life.

This man is very analytical and he is deeper than the ocean.

This man digs into my emotions, my intellect, and my spirit.

This man likes to teach me how to dance. =)

This man fights for me. Really fights for me.

This man shares his thoughts and emotions with me reaaaally well.

This man just straight up communicates really well.

This man knows how to be fun, silly, and crazy.

This man knows how to be deep, thoughtful, and serious.

This man loves Jesus a lot.

This man loves me a lot.

This man is perfect for me and I simply can not wait to spend the rest of my life with him!

I've just had the urge to write this all down and share it with the world. . . .

Cups

2011-09-07T07:22:00.001-05:00

(This was just a "thought/vision" that came to my mind yesterday)

I'm in a large, large room filled with tables
On these tables are many, many cups.

Its a room
filled
with
cups.

And the cups are filled with liquid.
Completely full to the brim.
I'm surrounded by these cups.

Most of these cups are filled with Anxiety and Stress.
I'm searching desperately for the cup of Peace.

It has to be in here.
I just know it.
In a room FILLED with cups, there has to be at least one cup of peace!
I'm frantically searching. But only with my eyes.
I'm not moving around much in fear that I may hit one of the tables and make all those cups of anxiety spill. It would take just ONE little nudge for that to happen.

I'm trying not to be frantic as I search for the cup of Peace, as that seems contradictory.
How will I find the cup of peace if I am anxious?

But how can I NOT be filled with anxiety when I am literally surrounded by millions of cups, brimming full, of Anxiety and it seems nearly impossible to spot the cup of Peace, especially when I've never been good at puzzles or any games that require you to spot something that is hidden amidst lots of craziness???

But I spot it.
It actually wasn't across the room from me.
It was at a table very near to me!
I didn't have to take but one step to reach it--right in the middle of a table surrounded by Anxiety.
I pick it up with shaking hands being as careful as possible NOT to nudge the others.
The thought of Anxiety spilling over in this room is overwhelmingly frightening.

I put the cup to my lips and begin to drink the cup of Peace with eyes closed.
Oh how refreshing.
How sweet!
How fulfilling.

My body relaxes.
My eyes are gently closed.

And then it happens.

An earthquake.

The room trembles.
The ground shakes.

My eyes pop open to see the planks of liquid across the tops of the cups ripple out to the edges.
A room full of cups of Anxiety--trembling.

I keep the cup of Peace to my lips.
Continuing to drink deeply.
I know I mustn't put it down for an instant.

The earthquake gets stronger.
A few cups spill over the edge.
A few more cups are actually knocked over!

My body begins to tense up, but I do not put down the cup at my lips.
And as I gulp, my body eases and I remember what I am drinking.
The cups are spilling over--a room full of Anxiety spilling over--and my body remains relaxed.
My breathes remain deep.
My eyes gently shut again.

As long as that cup is against my lips and the liquid continues to flow into my mouth and down into my body, I am safe.

I am secure.

I am relaxed.
I am filled with Peace.
And it is sweet.

And the cup never runs empty.
No matter how much I tilt it up.
It continues to flow.

I must only keep it to my lips and never put it back down.
And no matter how much anxiety spills around me, washes my feet, fills the room, tries to drown me--it will not succeed as long as the cup of Peace is held to my lips, flowing into my body.

I must cling to the cup of Peace.

Broken and Faithful

2011-06-26T15:23:00.000-05:00

Tuxedo in the closet, gold band in a box
Two days from the altar she went and called the whole thing off
What he thought he wanted, what he got instead
Leaves him broken and grateful

I passed understanding a long, long time ago
And the simple home of systems and answers we all know

I keep wanting you to be fair
But that's not what you said
I want certain answers to these prayers
But that's not what you said

When I get to heaven I'm gonna go find Job
I want to ask a few hard questions, I want to know what he knows
About what it is he wanted and what he got instead
How to be broken and faithful

Staring in the water like Esops foolish dog
I can't help but reflect on what it was I almost lost
What I thought I wanted
And what I got instead

I want to be broken, peaceful, faithful, grateful

These are lyrics from quite possibly my favorite song writer ever, Sara Groves.

How true these words are. How they are the cry, the anthem of my heart!

I truly have "passed understanding" a long time ago. I still have the instinct in me that tries so desperately to understand why things happen the way they do. I still want things to make sense in their neat little boxes. I want explanations. I want a+b=c.

But in my short life, it has become quite apparent to me--that search will be in vain.

We are in a teaching series at church right now about this whole idea.
Believing in a God who is "in the space after the question marks."

About how we tell God, "Fix this! Fix this! But if you're not gonna fix it, at least make sense of it."
And so often, he simply does make sense of it.

What if learned to be more like this song implies?
Broken, yet faithful.
Broken, yet grateful.
Broken, yet peaceful.

Our brokenness does not have to go away.
We do not have to fake it.
I am broken.

The truth is, when we don't get what we wanted and when we don't get what we thought was really good and we really thought it was from God-- well then, we are broken.

But is there a way to be faithful, grateful, and peaceful inside that brokenness?

Is there a way to look at "what we got instead" of what we wanted and be grateful with that? Be peaceful about that?

I believe there is a way.

Reteach a Thing its Loveliness

2011-06-20T00:29:00.000-05:00

The bud
stands for all things,
even for those things that don't flower,
for everything flowers, from within, of self-blessing;
though sometimes it is necessary
to reteach a thing its loveliness,
to put a hand on its brow
of the flower
and retell it in words and in touch
it is lovely
until it flowers again from within, of self-blessing;
as Saint Francis
put his hand on the creased forehead
of the sow, and told her in words and in touch
blessings of earth on the sow,
and the sow began remembering all down her thick length,
from the earthen snout all the way
through the fodder and slops to the spiritual curl of the tail,
from the hard spininess spiked out from the spine
down through the great broken heart
to the sheer blue milken dreaminess spurting and shuddering
from the fourteen teats into the fourteen mouths sucking and blowing beneath them:
the long, perfect loveliness of sow.

--Galway Kinnell
"Saint Francis and the Sow"

Lemonade

2011-06-16T09:57:00.002-05:00

I've been attempting to "make lemonade" recently.

It's really quite strange how that cliche line has been playing through my head so frequently these days.

I found myself telling people, or telling myself, "Oh you know, just trying to make lemonade out of the lemons."

Foolish. Silly. Cliche. Lame.

That's what I think after I say that, whether audibly or inaudibly.

Nonetheless, it is true.

I am making lemonade.

Some days it is sweeter than others.

Some days its plain sour as heck.

Some days it has that perfect taste of sweetness with a touch of sour at the end that leaves no doubt that this lemonade was made from fresh, REAL lemons.

And is there a better kind of lemonade than the one made with fresh, real lemons?

I think not.

If there is one thing I have learned in my short existence on this earth, it's that we can always, always make lemonade out of lemons.

In fact, there is nothing else we can do with those lemons except make lemonade.

Well, there is the option of squeezing it on your salmon, brocoli, salad dressing, or a plethora of other delicious uses for lemons in cooking that simply makes your food 100 times more incredible.

Point is: lemons by themselves--not so good. Lemons mixed with other things--DELICIOUS.

Sometimes, you get really hard lemons.

They are incredibly difficult to squeeze.

It takes two hands.

It takes rolling it around on the counter for a while.

It takes a lot of work.

But does that dismiss the fact that lemonade is still possible?

I think not.

Sometimes--ok, many times-- I don't want to make lemonade.

Many times, I just want to suck on the lemon itself.

Screw lemonade.

Forget the sugar.

Give me the frickin lemon and watch me make faces.
I don't want sweet.
I'm mad and I just want a lemon!

Sometimes that's okay.

But after a couple of days, your mouth can only take so much and you just need to bite the bullet and make some frickin lemonade.

And you enjoy it.

And you savor it.

And it is splendid.

"Seperation"

2011-06-14T06:58:00.002-05:00

Your absence goes through me
Like thread through a needle.
Everything I do is stitched with its color.

--W.S. Merwin,
"Separation"

As I read
these words pierced my heart
again and again
as I read and reread
again and again.

How humorous it is when we stumble upon the most apropos of words at certain moments that have never before been brought to our eyes.

Redemption?

2011-06-07T13:51:00.003-05:00

This is what I'm meant for.

This is abundant life.

Going to sick, dark people, places, and situations and bringing life to where there seems to be little of it.

I have no power over a person's eternal state. Whether they go to heaven or hell.
That is only is God's hands and I am naive and prideful to think that I determine where they go.

Plus, who knows when that time will arise for them. Today or 50 years from now?

But, not only can I, but I am MEANT TO BE Jesus' hands and feet in the current hells that people are living in. Right now.
Today.
This moment that you are reading this.
Literal hells.

Take everything you've learned about hell and try to wrap your head around the fact that people are living in that right now--some physically, some mentally, some emotionally, some spiritually.
And for many of these people, they have all of those kinds of hells at once.
Right now. Not only when they die.

And Jesus said to be his hands and feet and be apart of bringing them redemption and salvation.

Salvation: being apart of saving people from their current hells and trusting their eternal states with the Powerful One because you've done all you can by sharing your time, resources, comfort, and love with them. (I think that this is all Jesus said to do, really. He didn't say you have the power and judgment to send people to heaven or hell eternally, right?)

Redemption: Find the darkness. Open your eyes and look for the horrible people, places, and situations. And figure out what would be light to that darkness. Figure out what would be just a piece of making that messed up stuff a little more whole. What could bring a little beauty to that rubbish? (that is why I posted that picture above: there is a tiny beautiful flower amongst the rubbish we were about to burn in Uganda. I couldn't pass up that image. I pasted it to my journal because it is the image of my own life: a tiny piece of something beautiful amidst ashes.)

Maybe this is a little more easier (and biblical): figure out what you would want someone to do for you if you were_________. (Fill in the blank with any of these: being forced to have sex with people; being beaten every day; enslaved to an addiction that you hated and wanted out of; had no opportunity to an education; forced to sell drugs for your mom since the age of 9 and now "that life" is all you know; forced & brainwashed to kill people at the age of 10; had no idea what a mother or a father was; were just released from prison for a terrible crime you regret but now no one will accept you back into society; had a deadly disease that ate away your organs so you couldn't help anyone or take care of your family; had no water whatsoever, etc.)

Figure out what you would want people to do for you in those situations. (this shouldn't be too hard, its not a trick.)
Take some time to research what the Body of Christ around the world and right around your town is already doing.
Ask the Lord what he wants you to sacrifice (not just financially) to be apart of the Kingdom of Salvation and Redemption.

Simple. (ha)
No rules.
No boxes to fit yourself into.
No boxes to fit Jesus in.
No right answers.

Just ask Him.

Take some valuable time. Be open.
Sacrifice.
BE about salvation and redemption.
Those 2 words that have lost meaning because we throw them around so much.
(so redefine them for yourself if you need to. I had to.)

You want abundant/full/intoxicating life?
What if we stopped trying to figure out what seems natural and comfortable and figure out what Jesus talked most about and did the most?
It seems that will fill you.
And intoxicate you.

Do whatever you need to do to figure it out.

Go through the Bible.

Look at Jesus' life from different perspectives.

Pray pray pray.

Ask the Lord to show us in ways we've never known before.

Research what's going on already.

Pray.

I simply can not think about the undeserved, unconditional love that my Daddy has poured out on me;
I can't think about the people he's used in my life to show me that;
I can't think about the fact that I continually spit in his face and turn from him and yet he POURS out grace on me and blesses me and gives me immense joy anyways;
I can't think about the redemption/transformation of the way I think, the way I love people, the way i do life, the way I struggle through deep, dark things---I can not think about all of that stuff and not feel a beautiful, deep, joyful compulsion to share those same things with people who HAVE NO IDEA they can experience this too!

I'll close with this:

politics or love
can make you blind or make you see
make you a slave or make you free
but only one does it all

and it’s giving up your life
for the ones you hate the most
it’s giving them your gown
when they’ve taken your clothes

it’s learning to admit
when you’ve had a hand in setting them up
in knocking them down

love is not against the law
love is not against the law

are we defending life
when we just pick and choose
lives acceptable to lose
and which ones to defend

‘cause you cannot choose your friends
but you choose your enemies
and what if they were one
one and the same

could you find a way
to love them both the same
to give them your name?

-good ol D. Webb


(this post was originally written 3 years ago but I stumbled upon it 
and it stirred my heart again so I tweaked it and reposted it as encouragement
for myself. Writing things down is good for the soul to look back on.)

Stones of Remembrance

2011-06-02T22:49:00.002-05:00

I am thankful for a heart that remembers.

I am thankful for the truths the Lord has etched upon my heart.

You do not know what you truly believe until you test it through the flame.

As I walk through another valley with my eyes melted closed, wobbling and shaking, how peaceful and merciful it is to reach out and feel the sensation of my hands upon a rock, grasping a staff, clutching pillars.

A sigh of relief ensues.

I hang for dear life.

Ah, I need not take on step further unless clasping these pillars!

The eyes of my emotions and flesh may feel sewed shut, full of darkness and unknown, but the hands of my spirit grasp onto the rocks of the foundation my faithful Father has laid all around me through 24 years.

I know not where I am stepping.
I know not why I ended up on this path, nor what happened to the well-lit, comforting one I was one. (How did it just disappear right out from under me and then I landed on this one?)
I know not where this path leads.

But as I wobble along,
with eyes locked shut,
I can trust.

For I have the rocks, the pillars to cling to.
The rocks and pillars of remembrance.

Just as the Jewish fathers and mothers before us set up as God commanded.
What a sweet, necessary command of the Lord.

Etched into my own stones are words like:
"Remember: He took you through the black hole in your soul 3 years ago."
"Remember: He took you through deep death and loss."
"Remember: He took you through a tremendously broken heart."
"Remember: He took you through a foreign country completely alone."
"Remember: He took you through lost and scattered dreams, plans, and hopes."
"Remember: He is faithful. Every time, He is faithful."
"Remember: He takes ashes and turns them into something beautiful. All. The. Time."

And though my eyes can not read the stones, my spirit feels the words of Remembrance down into my heart.

And I wobble along.

Holding tight to the pillars that continue all the way down the path. . . .

These two posts are Pillars of Remembrance that I can look at and hold fast to:
A Hope and A Good Future
A River of Blessing

Regret Nothing

2011-04-30T15:24:00.003-05:00

"But this I know: you will regret nothing when you look back, except lack of faith or fortitude or love.

You will never regret having thrown all to the winds in order to follow your Master and Lord.

Nothing will seem too much to have done or suffered, when, in the end, we see Him and the marks of His wounds;

nothing will ever seem enough.

Even the weariness of deferred hope will be forgotten, in the joy that is not of earth. . .

I shall not fear difficulties for you, for I know "it is the very work of grace to transform difficulties into opportunities."
But I shall ask that the greater the difficulty, the more abundant the supply of love may be."

--Amy Carmichael

Amen, Amen, again I say Amen!

I read this passage about a month ago and it dug straight into my heart, causing my soul to scream in inaudible, gut-wrenching words, "Hallelujah, yes, yes yes!"

"nothing will ever be enough."

I may suffer.
Things may not go as I think is best.
I may sacrifice, again, and again, and again.
My good, God-given desires may not come to fruition.
I may lose the people that I love more than anything in the world, by death. By distance. By sin.
I may suffer great physical pain.
I may live in complete discomfort.
I may live fearing for my physical life, daily.
I may feel as though I have a deep, dark hole in my soul and live in emotional pain.

And none of it will ever, ever be enough.
None of it will compare with what He has done for me.

When I read that passage, I just imagined myself kneeling before God himself, Christ himself, in all his glory and splendor and majesty.
Kneeling because my knees have given out.
Kneeling in awe.
And not glory, splendor, and majesty in a far off Queen-of-England-sort-of-way but the glory, splendor, and majesty that my soul will be encapsulated by simply by being in His presence.

The splendor that comes from feeling completely known and at home.
At home.
Having the hole inside me that has cried, since I was a little girl, "to go home," quenched.
Completely loved and adored.
Basking in splendor and majesty.

And then I imagine thinking to myself. . .laughing to myself, actually. . . ."Ha! That was nothing! That life I lived--nothing! I want to give more and more and more!"

So I will keep striving
for more.

JuJu is going crAAzy!!

2011-04-19T21:57:00.001-05:00

It's official--I've reached a new stage of life.

The stage where you start to go crazy about kitchen utensils, appliances, and gadgets.

The stage where you can't leave the kitchen area of Bed, Bath, and Beyond, even when the kids are complaining.

The stage where it is literally like Christmas day when you bring home your salad spinner and test it out.

The stage where Aiden cries out several times, during this Christmas-day-experience, "Juju is going crazy!!"

Because it is true--Juju IS going crazy. About a salad spinner with a built in grater and mandolin chopper. And an olive oil mister to top it off.

If you know me, you know how many salads I eat.
And not just any salad, but huge, colorful, time-consuming-to-make salads.
So this was a big day.

AND, the plans are to be getting fresh lettuce right off the farm most of the time now, so this salad spinner is NEEDED without a doubt.
So this was a big day.

When the kids started to say, while at Bed Bath and Beyond, "Ahh Juju is looking at EVERYthing. When are we going to leave???"
I had flashbacks to my childhood with my mother.

What has happened?

The fun gadgets. =)
In process.
The finished work of art.
oh and this is the other stuff Juju was going crazy about!
We made home made cleaners, shampoo, conditioner, face wash!
Next is home made stock, yoghurt, whey, soaking nuts!
Its just beginning!

8 year old Innoncence

2011-04-09T12:44:00.003-05:00

We were driving to dance the other day and, out of no where, Aiden decided to break the silence with:

"Why didn't Bush just ask were the weapons were?"

10 second pause.

for Juju to figure out what the heck he's talking about.

Ah yes, the Iraq war that I had just tried to teach the kids about earlier in the day.
The war that I really do not know many details about.
The war that I am not a very big supporter of and never have been.
Off-the-cuff lessons by Juju for 8 year olds are always the best. =)

Once I figured out that Aiden was thinking about the conversation we had had 4 hours earlier and was so innocently and rationally wondering, "If Bush wanted to get rid of the weapons of mass destruction that Saddam Hussein had, why didn't he just ask where they were?". . . .once I realized this, I said naturally answered, "They did ask, Aiden, but Hussein kept saying he didn't have any. . . .but Bush was convinced that he did have them, but he was hiding them. . . so we had to go look for them."

"Oh ok."

Done.

For now.

Then, the best part was a few minutes later. . .

We passed an apartment complex that is one of those new, rich-college student apartments. Its the one that has that big pool right off of 2818. . . Well there were tons of college kids out there in their bathing suits, standing around the pool. And there was a big tent.

Obviously some pool party that a radio station was putting on or something for a bunch of college kids to stand around and mingle in their bathing suits.

I commented out loud, "Wow, look at all those people! They must be having a party."

Aiden: "Yeah maybe, but no body is in the pool. They are all standing around it. . . maybe they are doing a baptism. "

Of course. Yes. Maybe that's exactly what they were doing, Young Innocent Little Child Whom I Love So Dearly!

I love that when he sees a bunch of people standing around a pool, his mind automatically goes to a baptism.

I love that when he thinks about countries fighting one another, he thinks such simple, rational thoughts.

A Glimpse Into Motherhood

2011-03-13T22:19:00.004-05:00

I've found myself in a very unique season of life right now-- a "pretend mom", "au-pair," "live-in nanny," what-have-you.

Words cannot describe how thankful I am for this season.

There is absolutely no way I could learn the things I'm learning right now any other way, except of course to have jumped right into mothering my own children with my own husband.

But what a blessing to get practice! What a blessing to get to learn from two amazing parents!
What a blessing to get to spend my days with an incredible wife & mother, interact with her continuously, and learn from what she has already established SO beautifully!

What I am most grateful for, and perhaps was a bit surprising to me, is that I am getting glimpses into my own weaknesses regarding "running a home and raising children."

I say glimpses because I know this is but a taste. I know that I am not doing the full deal right now. They are not MY children and I am not doing it alone. at. all.
AND I'm just jumping right into a season of their life, into a home that is already established and running a certain way.

So I say: glimpses.

Everyone who knows me knows I struggle with needing to have control.
Needing a plan.
Plan.
Plan.
Plan.
I am task-oriented.
I prefer things to go a certain way at a certain time in a certain manner.
I like organization.

Thankfully, I am "apprenticing" a woman who is extremely organized and is great at planning as well. I do not know how this season would be if she were not like that!

I have not fully processed this out, because I have only gotten a glimpse of it, but I am noticing that I have become much more compulsive about cleaning clutter, planning things in my head or on paper, cleaning of any sort actually, organizing, organizing, organizing, planning, planning and basically always doing something with my body, since I have been in this season.

Sometimes I will just look around my, non-messy room, and feel the compulsion to clean and organize it in a way that I've NEVER felt before.

Is it because three young children are pretty much the opposite of organization, things going a certain way at a certain time/ things going as planned? And perhaps this is my first time to be put in a situation where I am surrounded by toys, books, colors, clothes everywhere all. the. time. and dirtiness accumulating so much faster than with only adults. . .so perhaps my psyche is over-reacting and longing for what I've been used to for 23 years? And perhaps it just needs time to adjust? And perhaps this is exactly what every mom has to go through?

Is it because they are not my OWN children and it is not MY household so I don't have full authority over what they do, learn, how they behave. . .and how everything should be organized. . . and how the whole "plan" is supposed to go? But perhaps my mind/psyche/instinct feels like it needs that. But because I do not get it, it is over-compensating in other ways?

Is it because I've always been hyper-vigilant since a child and always felt like I needed to be an adult and be in-control and so now that I am put a little more fully into that "mother-esque" role, that thing inside me that i've had since childhood is coming out in full force? And when I actually do become a mother of my own children and home, it will come out 10 times more than it is now?

Who knows.

I do not think this is necessarily a bad thing.
But it can be bad, for sure.

So, I am grateful that I can begin to process through this right now.

Is this stemming from anything unhealthy inside of me?
How can I balance it with spontaneity, rest & relaxation, peace admist chaos, patience with achieving organization and cleanliness?
Can I begin to practice even now how to have fun, bond, rest and relax with children AND be productive and organized right now with the Norvell's, or is that something I won't really be able to practice till I have my own children?

In the end, I want my kids & husband to know that yes, instinctually I am a "Martha," but I want them to see often and truly know that I can be a "Mary" as well. And maybe one day, they will see my instincts change. Maybe.

So that is probably the biggest surprise glimpse I've gotten. And I have just begun to process it.

The not so surprising educational glimpses I am getting are, of course:
-different methods of disciplining and training children
-different learning styles
-how to relate to different children with different personalities
-that i will have a very hard time with that line above
-communication within marriage
-how much my temperament will affect my children and my husband
-how much there is to do as a "stay home" mom
-ways to teach my children about the Lord
-how the heck to answer, or don't answer, theological questions from 8 year olds

and that's just the beginning!

Defaults.

2011-01-30T00:00:00.001-06:00

(I just felt like continuing this theme of reminiscing on old posts. Here’s one more.)

This may be hard to communicate what I'm actually thinking, but I must try anyways.

Something that has kind of been on my mind/bothering me is:

As Christians, what are our defaults?

For instance:
Is our default to be rich/middle class and minister to that group of people OR be poor and minister to that group of people?

Take the birth control pill OR natural family planning OR condoms OR absolutely nothing?

Live in a nice, safe neighborhood OR not (aka. inner city, in a rural area, the ghetto, etc)?

Send kids to public school OR home school?

Vote republican OR not (aka. democratic, third party, not vote, etc)?

Stay in America because that is where you are and it makes sense OR go somewhere else?

Make money or just don't (just enough to live)?

Buy stuff from the grocery store or make my own food, clothing, etc?

Have al biological babies or adopt?

Go to college or don’t?

I am not saying what is the right choice in ANY of these. In fact, I think all of these options can be the right choice at any given time.

My question is about our default.

There are certain options we choose automatically as our "default.”
It’s our gut instinct. We automatically go there. Every single person as defaults. It is human nature.

After we go to our default, THEN we stop, question, pray, and say, should we be doing something different?

And I am just wondering if our default options look a whole lot more like our society's defaults rather than Jesus' teachings.

I wonder if we can make our defaults look more like a culture of Jesus followers, and THEN we stop, question, pray about if we should do something more like our society.

I’m not saying our society’s defaults are somehow always wrong. But I just wonder if we could flip our defaults and the way we function. Just a little flip. Nothing crazy.

Just some examples I’ve thought about.... which can all be debated about whether or not they should be defaults. But i guess it is how I see it, as of now....

Birth control:
Obviously, I've come to no affirmative conclusion on this given that I am nowhere near making that decision. My thought: Why does it seem to be default that Christian couples just take the pill? Why isn't the thought process more like, 'we're getting married, knowing that we are to fill the earth. That children are a gift from God. And we trust Him to give us that gift whenever--even if we think we're not ready. We trust Him more than our own plans. He knows us better than we know ourselves so let’s let him decide the timing....Okay maybe we have extreme circumstances, so we can't have babies right now and God has made that clear, but we're not going to take something that could possibly abort a baby and/or can mess up my body....Okay we have extreme circumstances, and we've really prayed about it. And we've done a lot of research and we think it works for us to take the pill...."

I'm not saying that 'taking the pill' means you’re not trusting God. Please don't hear me say that. But I just wonder why our default seems to be “just to take it.” Why isn't our default to trust God more and His ways in family, in children, and just in our own personal relationship with him? I guess I just don't think we should be so quick to do things that "everyone else" just does.

Home schooling:
Why is our default just to send our kids away to public school system that raises our kids instead of thinking about how we can train up our kids ourselves in a more full way? How do we think that parents will be able to influence their kids more than the world if the world gets to spend waaaaay more time with them than the parents?
Again, not saying home schooling is for everyone. But I wonder if our default should be for parents to raise and teach their children as much as possible and THEN if it’s just not gonna work for the parents to do that, through lots of praying and thinking, then of course whatever the Lord says goes.

Adopting:
Okay it’s just straight up a command from God to take care of the orphans. I don't know how much more "default"ish you can get from that. Sure, have you own children. But why not follow God's very direct command to take care of the orphans. Not saying everyone is suppose to adopt, but I am saying WAY more Christians should be doing so than they are now. Adopting should be a default, unless God makes it very clear that you shouldn't--through LOTS of prayer and community counsel.

How we consume:
I probably could go off on this one way too long. So I'll just say: we put very, VERY little thought into what we buy, where it came from, what soul made it, how they were treated, how much they were paid, what it took to get that item here, how that item will affect our lives, what that item portrays us as. I think the way Christians buy things and the food they eat should look way different than the rest of society. And that is far from true right now it seems. Maybe our default should be to just consume less unless we know where all our stuff is coming from. Crazy. I know.

Where we live:
What if our default was to practically live like Jesus did (with very little, with the poor, with the outcasts, with the sinners)?
Should my default be to live in a nice, safe neighborhood with people who are just like me? Or should our default be to live with the poor or with the outcasts? Like should we just automatically do that? AND THEN, through lots of prayer and community counsel, if God makes it clear to us to live somewhere else and minister to another group, THEN we go there.
I’m not saying we SHOULD just automatically do it like that. But I really, really contemplate it.
Why not???

I think I want that to be default for my kids. I don't want them to think their default is to live in a perfect, safe, surburbia ministering to upper-middle class white folks. That is totally wonderful if that's what God calls them to. Really, I promise. But I don't want that to be their default.

This does not come as a surprise to any of you that know me, so I don’t feel like I need to clarify too much. I’ll just end it now. =)

Just some thoughts.

Letter from a Birmingham Jail

2011-01-18T00:17:00.001-06:00

(the least we can do to remember such an incredible man of God is read this. . . if even over a period of a few days)

16 April 1963

My Dear Fellow Clergymen:

While confined here in the Birmingham city jail, I came across your recent statement calling my present activities “unwise and untimely.” Seldom do I pause to answer criticism of my work and ideas. If I sought to answer all the criticisms that cross my desk, my secretaries would have little time for anything other than such correspondence in the course of the day, and I would have no time for constructive work. But since I feel that you are men of genuine good will and that your criticisms are sincerely set forth, I want to try to answer your statement in what I hope will be patient and reasonable terms.

I think I should indicate why I am here in Birmingham, since you have been influenced by the view which argues against “outsiders coming in.” I have the honor of serving as president of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference, an organization operating in every southern state, with headquarters in Atlanta, Georgia. We have some eighty five affiliated organizations across the South, and one of them is the Alabama Christian Movement for Human Rights. Frequently we share staff, educational and financial resources with our affiliates. Several months ago the affiliate here in Birmingham asked us to be on call to engage in a nonviolent direct action program if such were deemed necessary. We readily consented, and when the hour came we lived up to our promise. So I, along with several members of my staff, am here because I was invited here. I am here because I have organizational ties here.

But more basically, I am in Birmingham because injustice is here. Just as the prophets of the eighth century B.C. left their villages and carried their “thus saith the Lord” far beyond the boundaries of their home towns, and just as the Apostle Paul left his village of Tarsus and carried the gospel of Jesus Christ to the far corners of the Greco Roman world, so am I compelled to carry the gospel of freedom beyond my own home town. Like Paul, I must constantly respond to the Macedonian call for aid.

Moreover, I am cognizant of the interrelatedness of all communities and states. I cannot sit idly by in Atlanta and not be concerned about what happens in Birmingham. Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly. Never again can we afford to live with the narrow, provincial “outside agitator” idea. Anyone who lives inside the United States can never be considered an outsider anywhere within its bounds.

You deplore the demonstrations taking place in Birmingham. But your statement, I am sorry to say, fails to express a similar concern for the conditions that brought about the demonstrations. I am sure that none of you would want to rest content with the superficial kind of social analysis that deals merely with effects and does not grapple with underlying causes. It is unfortunate that demonstrations are taking place in Birmingham, but it is even more unfortunate that the city’s white power structure left the Negro community with no alternative.

In any nonviolent campaign there are four basic steps: collection of the facts to determine whether injustices exist; negotiation; self purification; and direct action. We have gone through all these steps in Birmingham. There can be no gainsaying the fact that racial injustice engulfs this community. Birmingham is probably the most thoroughly segregated city in the United States. Its ugly record of brutality is widely known. Negroes have experienced grossly unjust treatment in the courts. There have been more unsolved bombings of Negro homes and churches in Birmingham than in any other city in the nation. These are the hard, brutal facts of the case. On the basis of these conditions, Negro leaders sought to negotiate with the city fathers. But the latter consistently refused to engage in good faith negotiation.

Then, last September, came the opportunity to talk with leaders of Birmingham’s economic community. In the course of the negotiations, certain promises were made by the merchants–for example, to remove the stores’ humiliating racial signs. On the basis of these promises, the Reverend Fred Shuttlesworth and the leaders of the Alabama Christian Movement for Human Rights agreed to a moratorium on all demonstrations. As the weeks and months went by, we realized that we were the victims of a broken promise. A few signs, briefly removed, returned; the others remained. As in so many past experiences, our hopes had been blasted, and the shadow of deep disappointment settled upon us. We had no alternative except to prepare for direct action, whereby we would present our very bodies as a means of laying our case before the conscience of the local and the national community. Mindful of the difficulties involved, we decided to undertake a process of self purification. We began a series of workshops on nonviolence, and we repeatedly asked ourselves: “Are you able to accept blows without retaliating?” “Are you able to endure the ordeal of jail?” We decided to schedule our direct action program for the Easter season, realizing that except for Christmas, this is the main shopping period of the year. Knowing that a strong economic-withdrawal program would be the by product of direct action, we felt that this would be the best time to bring pressure to bear on the merchants for the needed change.

Then it occurred to us that Birmingham’s mayoral election was coming up in March, and we speedily decided to postpone action until after election day. When we discovered that the Commissioner of Public Safety, Eugene “Bull” Connor, had piled up enough votes to be in the run off, we decided again to postpone action until the day after the run off so that the demonstrations could not be used to cloud the issues. Like many others, we waited to see Mr. Connor defeated, and to this end we endured postponement after postponement. Having aided in this community need, we felt that our direct action program could be delayed no longer.

You may well ask: “Why direct action? Why sit ins, marches and so forth? Isn’t negotiation a better path?” You are quite right in calling for negotiation. Indeed, this is the very purpose of direct action. Nonviolent direct action seeks to create such a crisis and foster such a tension that a community which has constantly refused to negotiate is forced to confront the issue. It seeks so to dramatize the issue that it can no longer be ignored. My citing the creation of tension as part of the work of the nonviolent resister may sound rather shocking. But I must confess that I am not afraid of the word “tension.” I have earnestly opposed violent tension, but there is a type of constructive, nonviolent tension which is necessary for growth. Just as Socrates felt that it was necessary to create a tension in the mind so that individuals could rise from the bondage of myths and half truths to the unfettered realm of creative analysis and objective appraisal, so must we see the need for nonviolent gadflies to create the kind of tension in society that will help men rise from the dark depths of prejudice and racism to the majestic heights of understanding and brotherhood. The purpose of our direct action program is to create a situation so crisis packed that it will inevitably open the door to negotiation. I therefore concur with you in your call for negotiation. Too long has our beloved Southland been bogged down in a tragic effort to live in monologue rather than dialogue.

One of the basic points in your statement is that the action that I and my associates have taken in Birmingham is untimely. Some have asked: “Why didn’t you give the new city administration time to act?” The only answer that I can give to this query is that the new Birmingham administration must be prodded about as much as the outgoing one, before it will act. We are sadly mistaken if we feel that the election of Albert Boutwell as mayor will bring the millennium to Birmingham. While Mr. Boutwell is a much more gentle person than Mr. Connor, they are both segregationists, dedicated to maintenance of the status quo. I have hope that Mr. Boutwell will be reasonable enough to see the futility of massive resistance to desegregation. But he will not see this without pressure from devotees of civil rights. My friends, I must say to you that we have not made a single gain in civil rights without determined legal and nonviolent pressure. Lamentably, it is an historical fact that privileged groups seldom give up their privileges voluntarily. Individuals may see the moral light and voluntarily give up their unjust posture; but, as Reinhold Niebuhr has reminded us, groups tend to be more immoral than individuals.

We know through painful experience that freedom is never voluntarily given by the oppressor; it must be demanded by the oppressed. Frankly, I have yet to engage in a direct action campaign that was “well timed” in the view of those who have not suffered unduly from the disease of segregation. For years now I have heard the word “Wait!” It rings in the ear of every Negro with piercing familiarity. This “Wait” has almost always meant “Never.” We must come to see, with one of our distinguished jurists, that “justice too long delayed is justice denied.”

We have waited for more than 340 years for our constitutional and God given rights. The nations of Asia and Africa are moving with jetlike speed toward gaining political independence, but we still creep at horse and buggy pace toward gaining a cup of coffee at a lunch counter. Perhaps it is easy for those who have never felt the stinging darts of segregation to say, “Wait.” But when you have seen vicious mobs lynch your mothers and fathers at will and drown your sisters and brothers at whim; when you have seen hate filled policemen curse, kick and even kill your black brothers and sisters; when you see the vast majority of your twenty million Negro brothers smothering in an airtight cage of poverty in the midst of an affluent society; when you suddenly find your tongue twisted and your speech stammering as you seek to explain to your six year old daughter why she can’t go to the public amusement park that has just been advertised on television, and see tears welling up in her eyes when she is told that Funtown is closed to colored children, and see ominous clouds of inferiority beginning to form in her little mental sky, and see her beginning to distort her personality by developing an unconscious bitterness toward white people; when you have to concoct an answer for a five year old son who is asking: “Daddy, why do white people treat colored people so mean?”; when you take a cross county drive and find it necessary to sleep night after night in the uncomfortable corners of your automobile because no motel will accept you; when you are humiliated day in and day out by nagging signs reading “white” and “colored”; when your first name becomes “nigger,” your middle name becomes “boy” (however old you are) and your last name becomes “John,” and your wife and mother are never given the respected title “Mrs.”; when you are harried by day and haunted by night by the fact that you are a Negro, living constantly at tiptoe stance, never quite knowing what to expect next, and are plagued with inner fears and outer resentments; when you are forever fighting a degenerating sense of “nobodiness”–then you will understand why we find it difficult to wait. There comes a time when the cup of endurance runs over, and men are no longer willing to be plunged into the abyss of despair. I hope, sirs, you can understand our legitimate and unavoidable impatience. You express a great deal of anxiety over our willingness to break laws. This is certainly a legitimate concern. Since we so diligently urge people to obey the Supreme Court’s decision of 1954 outlawing segregation in the public schools, at first glance it may seem rather paradoxical for us consciously to break laws. One may well ask: “How can you advocate breaking some laws and obeying others?” The answer lies in the fact that there are two types of laws: just and unjust. I would be the first to advocate obeying just laws. One has not only a legal but a moral responsibility to obey just laws. Conversely, one has a moral responsibility to disobey unjust laws. I would agree with St. Augustine that “an unjust law is no law at all.”

Now, what is the difference between the two? How does one determine whether a law is just or unjust? A just law is a man made code that squares with the moral law or the law of God. An unjust law is a code that is out of harmony with the moral law. To put it in the terms of St. Thomas Aquinas: An unjust law is a human law that is not rooted in eternal law and natural law. Any law that uplifts human personality is just. Any law that degrades human personality is unjust. All segregation statutes are unjust because segregation distorts the soul and damages the personality. It gives the segregator a false sense of superiority and the segregated a false sense of inferiority. Segregation, to use the terminology of the Jewish philosopher Martin Buber, substitutes an “I it” relationship for an “I thou” relationship and ends up relegating persons to the status of things. Hence segregation is not only politically, economically and sociologically unsound, it is morally wrong and sinful. Paul Tillich has said that sin is separation. Is not segregation an existential expression of man’s tragic separation, his awful estrangement, his terrible sinfulness? Thus it is that I can urge men to obey the 1954 decision of the Supreme Court, for it is morally right; and I can urge them to disobey segregation ordinances, for they are morally wrong.

Let us consider a more concrete example of just and unjust laws. An unjust law is a code that a numerical or power majority group compels a minority group to obey but does not make binding on itself. This is difference made legal. By the same token, a just law is a code that a majority compels a minority to follow and that it is willing to follow itself. This is sameness made legal. Let me give another explanation. A law is unjust if it is inflicted on a minority that, as a result of being denied the right to vote, had no part in enacting or devising the law. Who can say that the legislature of Alabama which set up that state’s segregation laws was democratically elected? Throughout Alabama all sorts of devious methods are used to prevent Negroes from becoming registered voters, and there are some counties in which, even though Negroes constitute a majority of the population, not a single Negro is registered. Can any law enacted under such circumstances be considered democratically structured?

Sometimes a law is just on its face and unjust in its application. For instance, I have been arrested on a charge of parading without a permit. Now, there is nothing wrong in having an ordinance which requires a permit for a parade. But such an ordinance becomes unjust when it is used to maintain segregation and to deny citizens the First-Amendment privilege of peaceful assembly and protest.

I hope you are able to see the distinction I am trying to point out. In no sense do I advocate evading or defying the law, as would the rabid segregationist. That would lead to anarchy. One who breaks an unjust law must do so openly, lovingly, and with a willingness to accept the penalty. I submit that an individual who breaks a law that conscience tells him is unjust, and who willingly accepts the penalty of imprisonment in order to arouse the conscience of the community over its injustice, is in reality expressing the highest respect for law.

Of course, there is nothing new about this kind of civil disobedience. It was evidenced sublimely in the refusal of Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego to obey the laws of Nebuchadnezzar, on the ground that a higher moral law was at stake. It was practiced superbly by the early Christians, who were willing to face hungry lions and the excruciating pain of chopping blocks rather than submit to certain unjust laws of the Roman Empire. To a degree, academic freedom is a reality today because Socrates practiced civil disobedience. In our own nation, the Boston Tea Party represented a massive act of civil disobedience.

We should never forget that everything Adolf Hitler did in Germany was “legal” and everything the Hungarian freedom fighters did in Hungary was “illegal.” It was “illegal” to aid and comfort a Jew in Hitler’s Germany. Even so, I am sure that, had I lived in Germany at the time, I would have aided and comforted my Jewish brothers. If today I lived in a Communist country where certain principles dear to the Christian faith are suppressed, I would openly advocate disobeying that country’s antireligious laws.

I must make two honest confessions to you, my Christian and Jewish brothers. First, I must confess that over the past few years I have been gravely disappointed with the white moderate. I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that the Negro’s great stumbling block in his stride toward freedom is not the White Citizen’s Counciler or the Ku Klux Klanner, but the white moderate, who is more devoted to “order” than to justice; who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice; who constantly says: “I agree with you in the goal you seek, but I cannot agree with your methods of direct action”; who paternalistically believes he can set the timetable for another man’s freedom; who lives by a mythical concept of time and who constantly advises the Negro to wait for a “more convenient season.” Shallow understanding from people of good will is more frustrating than absolute misunderstanding from people of ill will. Lukewarm acceptance is much more bewildering than outright rejection.

I had hoped that the white moderate would understand that law and order exist for the purpose of establishing justice and that when they fail in this purpose they become the dangerously structured dams that block the flow of social progress. I had hoped that the white moderate would understand that the present tension in the South is a necessary phase of the transition from an obnoxious negative peace, in which the Negro passively accepted his unjust plight, to a substantive and positive peace, in which all men will respect the dignity and worth of human personality. Actually, we who engage in nonviolent direct action are not the creators of tension. We merely bring to the surface the hidden tension that is already alive. We bring it out in the open, where it can be seen and dealt with. Like a boil that can never be cured so long as it is covered up but must be opened with all its ugliness to the natural medicines of air and light, injustice must be exposed, with all the tension its exposure creates, to the light of human conscience and the air of national opinion before it can be cured.

In your statement you assert that our actions, even though peaceful, must be condemned because they precipitate violence. But is this a logical assertion? Isn’t this like condemning a robbed man because his possession of money precipitated the evil act of robbery? Isn’t this like condemning Socrates because his unswerving commitment to truth and his philosophical inquiries precipitated the act by the misguided populace in which they made him drink hemlock? Isn’t this like condemning Jesus because his unique God consciousness and never ceasing devotion to God’s will precipitated the evil act of crucifixion? We must come to see that, as the federal courts have consistently affirmed, it is wrong to urge an individual to cease his efforts to gain his basic constitutional rights because the quest may precipitate violence. Society must protect the robbed and punish the robber. I had also hoped that the white moderate would reject the myth concerning time in relation to the struggle for freedom. I have just received a letter from a white brother in Texas. He writes: “All Christians know that the colored people will receive equal rights eventually, but it is possible that you are in too great a religious hurry. It has taken Christianity almost two thousand years to accomplish what it has. The teachings of Christ take time to come to earth.” Such an attitude stems from a tragic misconception of time, from the strangely irrational notion that there is something in the very flow of time that will inevitably cure all ills. Actually, time itself is neutral; it can be used either destructively or constructively. More and more I feel that the people of ill will have used time much more effectively than have the people of good will. We will have to repent in this generation not merely for the hateful words and actions of the bad people but for the appalling silence of the good people. Human progress never rolls in on wheels of inevitability; it comes through the tireless efforts of men willing to be co workers with God, and without this hard work, time itself becomes an ally of the forces of social stagnation. We must use time creatively, in the knowledge that the time is always ripe to do right. Now is the time to make real the promise of democracy and transform our pending national elegy into a creative psalm of brotherhood. Now is the time to lift our national policy from the quicksand of racial injustice to the solid rock of human dignity.

You speak of our activity in Birmingham as extreme. At first I was rather disappointed that fellow clergymen would see my nonviolent efforts as those of an extremist. I began thinking about the fact that I stand in the middle of two opposing forces in the Negro community. One is a force of complacency, made up in part of Negroes who, as a result of long years of oppression, are so drained of self respect and a sense of “somebodiness” that they have adjusted to segregation; and in part of a few middle-class Negroes who, because of a degree of academic and economic security and because in some ways they profit by segregation, have become insensitive to the problems of the masses. The other force is one of bitterness and hatred, and it comes perilously close to advocating violence. It is expressed in the various black nationalist groups that are springing up across the nation, the largest and best known being Elijah Muhammad’s Muslim movement. Nourished by the Negro’s frustration over the continued existence of racial discrimination, this movement is made up of people who have lost faith in America, who have absolutely repudiated Christianity, and who have concluded that the white man is an incorrigible “devil.”

I have tried to stand between these two forces, saying that we need emulate neither the “do nothingism” of the complacent nor the hatred and despair of the black nationalist. For there is the more excellent way of love and nonviolent protest. I am grateful to God that, through the influence of the Negro church, the way of nonviolence became an integral part of our struggle. If this philosophy had not emerged, by now many streets of the South would, I am convinced, be flowing with blood. And I am further convinced that if our white brothers dismiss as “rabble rousers” and “outside agitators” those of us who employ nonviolent direct action, and if they refuse to support our nonviolent efforts, millions of Negroes will, out of frustration and despair, seek solace and security in black nationalist ideologies–a development that would inevitably lead to a frightening racial nightmare.

Oppressed people cannot remain oppressed forever. The yearning for freedom eventually manifests itself, and that is what has happened to the American Negro. Something within has reminded him of his birthright of freedom, and something without has reminded him that it can be gained. Consciously or unconsciously, he has been caught up by the Zeitgeist, and with his black brothers of Africa and his brown and yellow brothers of Asia, South America and the Caribbean, the United States Negro is moving with a sense of great urgency toward the promised land of racial justice. If one recognizes this vital urge that has engulfed the Negro community, one should readily understand why public demonstrations are taking place. The Negro has many pent up resentments and latent frustrations, and he must release them. So let him march; let him make prayer pilgrimages to the city hall; let him go on freedom rides -and try to understand why he must do so. If his repressed emotions are not released in nonviolent ways, they will seek expression through violence; this is not a threat but a fact of history. So I have not said to my people: “Get rid of your discontent.” Rather, I have tried to say that this normal and healthy discontent can be channeled into the creative outlet of nonviolent direct action. And now this approach is being termed extremist. But though I was initially disappointed at being categorized as an extremist, as I continued to think about the matter I gradually gained a measure of satisfaction from the label. Was not Jesus an extremist for love: “Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you.” Was not Amos an extremist for justice: “Let justice roll down like waters and righteousness like an ever flowing stream.” Was not Paul an extremist for the Christian gospel: “I bear in my body the marks of the Lord Jesus.” Was not Martin Luther an extremist: “Here I stand; I cannot do otherwise, so help me God.” And John Bunyan: “I will stay in jail to the end of my days before I make a butchery of my conscience.” And Abraham Lincoln: “This nation cannot survive half slave and half free.” And Thomas Jefferson: “We hold these truths to be self evident, that all men are created equal . . .” So the question is not whether we will be extremists, but what kind of extremists we will be. Will we be extremists for hate or for love? Will we be extremists for the preservation of injustice or for the extension of justice? In that dramatic scene on Calvary’s hill three men were crucified. We must never forget that all three were crucified for the same crime–the crime of extremism. Two were extremists for immorality, and thus fell below their environment. The other, Jesus Christ, was an extremist for love, truth and goodness, and thereby rose above his environment. Perhaps the South, the nation and the world are in dire need of creative extremists.

I had hoped that the white moderate would see this need. Perhaps I was too optimistic; perhaps I expected too much. I suppose I should have realized that few members of the oppressor race can understand the deep groans and passionate yearnings of the oppressed race, and still fewer have the vision to see that injustice must be rooted out by strong, persistent and determined action. I am thankful, however, that some of our white brothers in the South have grasped the meaning of this social revolution and committed themselves to it. They are still all too few in quantity, but they are big in quality. Some -such as Ralph McGill, Lillian Smith, Harry Golden, James McBride Dabbs, Ann Braden and Sarah Patton Boyle–have written about our struggle in eloquent and prophetic terms. Others have marched with us down nameless streets of the South. They have languished in filthy, roach infested jails, suffering the abuse and brutality of policemen who view them as “dirty nigger-lovers.” Unlike so many of their moderate brothers and sisters, they have recognized the urgency of the moment and sensed the need for powerful “action” antidotes to combat the disease of segregation. Let me take note of my other major disappointment. I have been so greatly disappointed with the white church and its leadership. Of course, there are some notable exceptions. I am not unmindful of the fact that each of you has taken some significant stands on this issue. I commend you, Reverend Stallings, for your Christian stand on this past Sunday, in welcoming Negroes to your worship service on a nonsegregated basis. I commend the Catholic leaders of this state for integrating Spring Hill College several years ago.

But despite these notable exceptions, I must honestly reiterate that I have been disappointed with the church. I do not say this as one of those negative critics who can always find something wrong with the church. I say this as a minister of the gospel, who loves the church; who was nurtured in its bosom; who has been sustained by its spiritual blessings and who will remain true to it as long as the cord of life shall lengthen.

When I was suddenly catapulted into the leadership of the bus protest in Montgomery, Alabama, a few years ago, I felt we would be supported by the white church. I felt that the white ministers, priests and rabbis of the South would be among our strongest allies. Instead, some have been outright opponents, refusing to understand the freedom movement and misrepresenting its leaders; all too many others have been more cautious than courageous and have remained silent behind the anesthetizing security of stained glass windows.

In spite of my shattered dreams, I came to Birmingham with the hope that the white religious leadership of this community would see the justice of our cause and, with deep moral concern, would serve as the channel through which our just grievances could reach the power structure. I had hoped that each of you would understand. But again I have been disappointed.

I have heard numerous southern religious leaders admonish their worshipers to comply with a desegregation decision because it is the law, but I have longed to hear white ministers declare: “Follow this decree because integration is morally right and because the Negro is your brother.” In the midst of blatant injustices inflicted upon the Negro, I have watched white churchmen stand on the sideline and mouth pious irrelevancies and sanctimonious trivialities. In the midst of a mighty struggle to rid our nation of racial and economic injustice, I have heard many ministers say: “Those are social issues, with which the gospel has no real concern.” And I have watched many churches commit themselves to a completely other worldly religion which makes a strange, un-Biblical distinction between body and soul, between the sacred and the secular.

I have traveled the length and breadth of Alabama, Mississippi and all the other southern states. On sweltering summer days and crisp autumn mornings I have looked at the South’s beautiful churches with their lofty spires pointing heavenward. I have beheld the impressive outlines of her massive religious education buildings. Over and over I have found myself asking: “What kind of people worship here? Who is their God? Where were their voices when the lips of Governor Barnett dripped with words of interposition and nullification? Where were they when Governor Wallace gave a clarion call for defiance and hatred? Where were their voices of support when bruised and weary Negro men and women decided to rise from the dark dungeons of complacency to the bright hills of creative protest?”

Yes, these questions are still in my mind. In deep disappointment I have wept over the laxity of the church. But be assured that my tears have been tears of love. There can be no deep disappointment where there is not deep love. Yes, I love the church. How could I do otherwise? I am in the rather unique position of being the son, the grandson and the great grandson of preachers. Yes, I see the church as the body of Christ. But, oh! How we have blemished and scarred that body through social neglect and through fear of being nonconformists.

There was a time when the church was very powerful–in the time when the early Christians rejoiced at being deemed worthy to suffer for what they believed. In those days the church was not merely a thermometer that recorded the ideas and principles of popular opinion; it was a thermostat that transformed the mores of society. Whenever the early Christians entered a town, the people in power became disturbed and immediately sought to convict the Christians for being “disturbers of the peace” and “outside agitators.”‘ But the Christians pressed on, in the conviction that they were “a colony of heaven,” called to obey God rather than man. Small in number, they were big in commitment. They were too God-intoxicated to be “astronomically intimidated.” By their effort and example they brought an end to such ancient evils as infanticide and gladiatorial contests. Things are different now. So often the contemporary church is a weak, ineffectual voice with an uncertain sound. So often it is an archdefender of the status quo. Far from being disturbed by the presence of the church, the power structure of the average community is consoled by the church’s silent–and often even vocal–sanction of things as they are.

But the judgment of God is upon the church as never before. If today’s church does not recapture the sacrificial spirit of the early church, it will lose its authenticity, forfeit the loyalty of millions, and be dismissed as an irrelevant social club with no meaning for the twentieth century. Every day I meet young people whose disappointment with the church has turned into outright disgust.

Perhaps I have once again been too optimistic. Is organized religion too inextricably bound to the status quo to save our nation and the world? Perhaps I must turn my faith to the inner spiritual church, the church within the church, as the true ekklesia and the hope of the world. But again I am thankful to God that some noble souls from the ranks of organized religion have broken loose from the paralyzing chains of conformity and joined us as active partners in the struggle for freedom. They have left their secure congregations and walked the streets of Albany, Georgia, with us. They have gone down the highways of the South on tortuous rides for freedom. Yes, they have gone to jail with us. Some have been dismissed from their churches, have lost the support of their bishops and fellow ministers. But they have acted in the faith that right defeated is stronger than evil triumphant. Their witness has been the spiritual salt that has preserved the true meaning of the gospel in these troubled times. They have carved a tunnel of hope through the dark mountain of disappointment. I hope the church as a whole will meet the challenge of this decisive hour. But even if the church does not come to the aid of justice, I have no despair about the future. I have no fear about the outcome of our struggle in Birmingham, even if our motives are at present misunderstood. We will reach the goal of freedom in Birmingham and all over the nation, because the goal of America is freedom. Abused and scorned though we may be, our destiny is tied up with America’s destiny. Before the pilgrims landed at Plymouth, we were here. Before the pen of Jefferson etched the majestic words of the Declaration of Independence across the pages of history, we were here. For more than two centuries our forebears labored in this country without wages; they made cotton king; they built the homes of their masters while suffering gross injustice and shameful humiliation -and yet out of a bottomless vitality they continued to thrive and develop. If the inexpressible cruelties of slavery could not stop us, the opposition we now face will surely fail. We will win our freedom because the sacred heritage of our nation and the eternal will of God are embodied in our echoing demands. Before closing I feel impelled to mention one other point in your statement that has troubled me profoundly. You warmly commended the Birmingham police force for keeping “order” and “preventing violence.” I doubt that you would have so warmly commended the police force if you had seen its dogs sinking their teeth into unarmed, nonviolent Negroes. I doubt that you would so quickly commend the policemen if you were to observe their ugly and inhumane treatment of Negroes here in the city jail; if you were to watch them push and curse old Negro women and young Negro girls; if you were to see them slap and kick old Negro men and young boys; if you were to observe them, as they did on two occasions, refuse to give us food because we wanted to sing our grace together. I cannot join you in your praise of the Birmingham police department.

It is true that the police have exercised a degree of discipline in handling the demonstrators. In this sense they have conducted themselves rather “nonviolently” in public. But for what purpose? To preserve the evil system of segregation. Over the past few years I have consistently preached that nonviolence demands that the means we use must be as pure as the ends we seek. I have tried to make clear that it is wrong to use immoral means to attain moral ends. But now I must affirm that it is just as wrong, or perhaps even more so, to use moral means to preserve immoral ends. Perhaps Mr. Connor and his policemen have been rather nonviolent in public, as was Chief Pritchett in Albany, Georgia, but they have used the moral means of nonviolence to maintain the immoral end of racial injustice. As T. S. Eliot has said: “The last temptation is the greatest treason: To do the right deed for the wrong reason.”

I wish you had commended the Negro sit inners and demonstrators of Birmingham for their sublime courage, their willingness to suffer and their amazing discipline in the midst of great provocation. One day the South will recognize its real heroes. They will be the James Merediths, with the noble sense of purpose that enables them to face jeering and hostile mobs, and with the agonizing loneliness that characterizes the life of the pioneer. They will be old, oppressed, battered Negro women, symbolized in a seventy two year old woman in Montgomery, Alabama, who rose up with a sense of dignity and with her people decided not to ride segregated buses, and who responded with ungrammatical profundity to one who inquired about her weariness: “My feets is tired, but my soul is at rest.” They will be the young high school and college students, the young ministers of the gospel and a host of their elders, courageously and nonviolently sitting in at lunch counters and willingly going to jail for conscience’ sake. One day the South will know that when these disinherited children of God sat down at lunch counters, they were in reality standing up for what is best in the American dream and for the most sacred values in our Judaeo Christian heritage, thereby bringing our nation back to those great wells of democracy which were dug deep by the founding fathers in their formulation of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence.

Never before have I written so long a letter. I’m afraid it is much too long to take your precious time. I can assure you that it would have been much shorter if I had been writing from a comfortable desk, but what else can one do when he is alone in a narrow jail cell, other than write long letters, think long thoughts and pray long prayers?

If I have said anything in this letter that overstates the truth and indicates an unreasonable impatience, I beg you to forgive me. If I have said anything that understates the truth and indicates my having a patience that allows me to settle for anything less than brotherhood, I beg God to forgive me.

I hope this letter finds you strong in the faith. I also hope that circumstances will soon make it possible for me to meet each of you, not as an integrationist or a civil-rights leader but as a fellow clergyman and a Christian brother. Let us all hope that the dark clouds of racial prejudice will soon pass away and the deep fog of misunderstanding will be lifted from our fear drenched communities, and in some not too distant tomorrow the radiant stars of love and brotherhood will shine over our great nation with all their scintillating beauty.

Yours for the cause of Peace and Brotherhood,

Martin Luther King, Jr.

Lachrymation

2010-12-21T14:46:00.002-06:00

(this is a post from a long time ago but I still find it fascinating)

This might possibly be my most random post. ever.

I have been contemplating the phenomenon of crying. (lachrymation)
So strange isn't it?

So strange how our physical body and our emotions are so connected without our mind even being aware of it sometimes?

We can be sitting there, doing or saying something that we think is completely safe, and boom, the tears come. Something was happening in our emotions that our mind was not aware of, but our tear ducts certainly were.

(and keep in mind, our "emotions" are part of our "minds." It’s all so weird.)

And then, even when we put all of our mental and physical power into holding back the tears, sometimes the emotions are so powerful, there is nothing we can do. They just flow. It’s actually a chemical reaction. Man, how I'd like to see those chemicals in action. I want to see the trigger, then another trigger, then the build up, then the mix, then the reaction. And all the while, my mind is doing everything it can to try to stop it....but its too late, the chemicals have been released.
Those emotions are sneaky.

And then, the tear ducts connect to your nose (how does this happen?? or actually, why does it happen??? why the nose??), and it starts flowing.

And then your voice--you know the tremble. Why??

And then, if the emotions are feeling extra confident that day, you feel it in your whole body. A little crunch in the back.

The face contorts. (why so oddly?? why?)

You become weaker.

Your whole body is involved in the process, its harder to breath.

Actually, the loss of breath can happen at any part in the process.

Maybe from shock at what your body is doing? Maybe from overflow of emotions?

Maybe from your nose being stopped up?

Maybe from the fact that your body is focused on the whole crying process that it forgets to do the other functions?

And check this out: "Tears produced during emotional crying have a chemical composition which differs from other types of tears: they contain significantly greater quantities of hormones."

This is interesting because I've heard a proposed theory for why we "feel better" after crying is because of the elimination of hormones associated with stress.

"Crying is a mechanism developed in humans to dispose of this stress hormone when levels grow too high."

We truly are releasing things that NEED to be released!

Isn't is strange, overwhelming, sometimes beautiful, and sometimes really hard, to be in that moment when someone is talking to you, completely normal, and then boom, it hits.
Sometimes we are warned and we can see it building up....but sometimes....sometimes it just comes out and no one, not even the crier herself, is prepared!

And then the tears change everything. Changes the whole conversation. And you know it changes the weight of the words. The minute the tears come--everyone starts listening closer.
How does it have that effect??

And then, for people like me, if you’re listening to someone speak (like an official Speaker I am not conversing with) and they start crying--boom, it triggers something in me and you know the tears are coming for me too. why??? Why do tears have that effect on us?

But then other times, if I'm in conversation with someone, and they start crying, there's no way I'm going to cry--even if I tried. It is like my mind is just too focused on trying to figure out why they are crying, how I can make it better, and how I can be the rock for them at that moment.

Oh lachrymation...you perplex me, yet you are beautiful.
You are your own beast.
You have your own mind.
You mark many moments in our lives.
You communicate great things in our lives.
You bring about immense healing.
You release the negative toxins that need to be released.
You bring light into the darkness.
What an interesting part of the human experience.

YOU ARE NAMED

2010-12-17T22:34:00.002-06:00

(this was one of my first real posts ever. I was re-reading it and felt like it was worth reposting just for fun)

-"You memorized the names of the all the stars—how many are there?”

-“What difference does that make? I know their names. I don’t know how many there are. It’s their names that matter.”

“A Namer has to know who people are, and who they are meant to be.”

--A Wind in the Door, by Madeleine L'Engle

One of the truths that I have learned through Madeleine L'Engle is that we, as image bearers of God, have the capacity to Name people; to convey to them who they are, who they are meant to be; to call out the true creation inside of them. To tell them for the first time, or to remind them, that they have been named; that they are known (truly, deeply and intimately); that they are worthy of love, and that they are loved.

And that is precisely how we name them: we love them.

And we all know that we love in many ways.

Sometimes naming them (aka. showing them who they really are) means we use audible words, sometimes we even have to scream it at them;

many times it means forgetting the wrong that they've done and pouring out grace to them, no matter how much it hurts and goes against what we feel is just;

sometimes it means searching inside them to find the good, the lovable (and this can be very hard sometimes) and only thinking about THAT when you think about that person. And only talking about that when we Name that person to others, a.k.a. talk about that person.

sometimes (most times) it means fighting for their identity in intense warfare called prayer.

Most times you can do it in subtle ways-- with the tone of voice you use to talk to that person,

by consistently encouraging their uniqueness indirectly (even when that uniqueness is not you're favorite)

There are many more ways that will come to mind if you stop and think about it.

Our society is in the middle of a tragic identity crises (yes, you could argue that it always has been).

There are "forces" out there that are telling people that they are nothing;

that it doesn't matter what they do or think or feel--just do whatever feels good.

We see some of this is disorders like schizophrenia and depression and bi-poler disorder and many others.

You also see it in the way people TALK about being honest, being fair, loving, etc, YET they dont PRACTICE it themselves--in the corporate world, the political world, the day to day world, in their relationships.

We have different realities of work Bob, bar Bob, internet Bob, family Bob.

And this, I think everyone can relate to-->

We have the person that everyone knows

and then

the "real" self with all her hidden sins, sad thoughts, confusion, and all the other darkness that we hold inside.

So we have to pretend.

Pretend that everything is ok.

Pretend that you are great; that you're not sad, that you didn't do anything wrong, that everything makes sense to you, that you have everything together, that you're not broken.

Pretending implies two realities.

And we get tired of pretending, don't we?

So we choose which one is real to us.

Pretend world vs. Real world.

Real World: Knowing who you are with all the crap that comes along with you

(because you're broken, lets face it, everyone is broken.

Everyone has something dark and ugly.

EV.ERY.ONE.

promise.)

Pretend World: you think that everything is okay;

you think that actually working through the hard stuff inside you is pointless and stupid and painful, so why not just seek ease and pleasure;

you think that you are not connected to anyone else;

you think that you are not connected to the whole world, the whole universe;

you think that you're thoughts and actions do not affect anyone else.

You think that it just doesn't matter.

(this is where, we, as Namers come in. We tell each other and show each other how we really do matter. We remind each other that we were KNOWN before we were conceived. We are KNOWN right now. That we are CONNECTED. That every little thing we do matters. We, as Namers, tell each other what is a lie/what is not real. And we tell each other the real things about our life, about who we are. We tell each other the Truth.)

We can believe "nothing really matters so therefore, I am the only one that matters in this moment."

Or, we can accept what is real.

Take the crap , forfeit the pleasure, but know that the crap is REAL and it can be worked through, because IT IS REAL.

Nothing in pretend world can be worked through. And we know that. . .

No growth = no beauty.

No brokenness= no beauty.

Expose the dark = the light shines through = we see the beauty.

"Reality in its essence is unified; is one.

God is one.

God's work is to unite things that were created to be ONE, but have fallen apart."

-rob bell

Do you live in two realities?

Living in the internal truth AND the external person who's trying to be what you think everyone expects of you.

We sometimes live in that external "reality" to protect us from what is really true.

"The work of the cross is to unite those realities,

so that you don't have to say 'I'm tired of pretending.'"

Because you don't have to pretend.

You can be united, whole, complete.

And that is His beautiful work--He invites people to become one.

To unite you're two realities.

You are known.

"You are created matter. You are part of the great plan, an indispensable part. You are needed; you have your own unique share in the freedom of creation.”

You are fully and completely known by your creator.

And you're creator wants to make you known to everyone you know. Truly known. With all the crap.

If he knows every name of every single batrillionjillon star in our galaxy, don't you think he knows you're name and what that name represents--who. you. truly. are.

When I let that sink in, it is pretty intense.

Let's let him unite our realities.
Let's let him make us one.

Inside and out.

Brokenness to beauty.
Let's let ourselves be known to the universe (aka. other people)

Let's Name each other for who we really are.

Guiltless Shopping!

2010-12-15T11:39:00.005-06:00

I sincerely meant to post this before Christmas, as suggestions for Christmas shopping.

I managed to do almost all of my Christmas shopping in a way that I legitimately feel proud of. I may have spent more than if I purchased more easily attainable gifts at Target, World Market, and the Mall, but every single penny was worth it. I planned ahead, shopped on fair-trade online stores, and have been receiving packages every day in the mail!

So fun!

I'm sorry I did not share the wealth with all of you, but this is for the future! Not just for Christmas a whole year from now, but ANY other shopping you need to do throughout the year. You could do all your gift shopping here! And you could do much of your shopping for yourself here!

Wonderful site with a WIDE variety:

http://www.globalexchangestore.org/

Another wonderful site with a WIDE variety:
http://tradeasone.com/

Friends who live in Haiti work with these women:
http://www.haitiancreations.com/

https://www.globalgirlfriend.com/

http://www.uncommongoods.com/

(I do not know if everything on this site is necessarily "fair trade" but most of it is hand made by creative folks in the U.S. and much of it is crafted with recyled products. It is such a fun site for random items!)

This store is wonderful and there are many shops you can actually go into like in Austin, Houston, Dallas
http://www.tenthousandvillages.com/

Great Coffee! You can get set up on a monthly plan to get all your coffee here, or just buy one at a time!

http://www.groundsforchange.com/

Perfect, cute, fun, sandals! And I can tell you all about my friend who works for them in Uganda!
http://www.ssekodesigns.com/

Those above are all sites that I have purchased from myself so they definitely have my stamp of approval. The below sites just came up when I googled "fair trade shopping." They look wonderful and will look into them in the future.

It's that simple!!!

http://www.thehungersite.com/

http://www.shopthecause.org/

http://www.globalgoodspartners.org/

Ev. ery. thing.

2010-09-21T23:14:00.002-05:00

I have had many conversations recently about this crazy drive, or urgency, inside of me to “give up everything” and follow Jesus.

Yes, I have been following Jesus for a while now.

But there has been this sense in me from the first day I ever got a glimpse of Jesus that I would one day, really give up everything to follow Him, not just 99%.

Of course that begs the question that everyone asks "What is everything?"

And the answer is different for everyone.

I'll try to give a brief, though not extensive, recap of what I'm referring to for myself. For me it means not being very comfortable. Not living in a "very nice" home. Might not be very "safe." Might not be look very cute and put-together.

Not spending so much time with the people that are just like me, are easy to be around, make me feel really good, and already know the Beautiful Life-giver.

Giving up my dreams and desires.

For me it means going to the "least of these."

It means surrounding myself by the ones that society labels as "not worthy." The ones that are rude. Awkward. Mean. Cracked-out. Stupid. Ignorant. Labeled as dirty, slut, whore, greedy, fat, too-late, annoying, etc.

There are lots of ways the Lord can surround me by these people. I have no specific way in mind that this needs to happen. Just ideas for that I'm trying to live out for today.

But my point of this post is to share an answer a question. . .

The reason why I want to "give up" more and more

is not to get more love from Jesus, but to love the way Jesus loved.

To be more like Jesus.

To follow in his foot steps.

To love in the best way I’ve seen done.

Giving up my self, my desires, my possessions, my time, my everything in order to love others.

Just like Jesus did.

Jesus left the perfect, richest, most comfortable home in existence.

To come to mean, rude, poor, ignorant, greedy, arrogant, selfish human beings.

He left a place where he was completely known, at home, and comfortable to come to the low-income, poor earth where people treated him like crap and he felt very unknown and uncomfortable.

He gave up EVERYTHING

to come and show us love

to shine light into the dark, sad, painful parts of our lives

to meet us in our ignorance and selfishness

to sit and be with us

to hold us

to counsel us

to teach us

to love us

So is it so weird for me to want to do the same thing as the Love of my Life and my Reason for Living?

I just want to follow in his footsteps.

He gave us such a perfect example. Why do we look elsewhere and try to come up with different ideas?

And the second part of my answer to a question. . . .

The bottom line is—I think if I was living in a not-so-great, low-income-area apartment or abandoned house, sharing a room with a friend (or poor country), I would

a) be saving money to give away

b) not living in SO much comfort and therefore not be SO different from the people I’m "ministering" to.

We would be more alike because we would have a more similar lifestyle.

We would share discomforts.

I wouldn’t be so stinkin separated from them as I already am in my color, education, friends, family, and up-bringing.

Living a lifestyle where I give up my material possessions doesn’t make me holier or make God love me more.

All it does is allow me to be better yoked to the “least of these.”

To understand them more.

To break down walls.

To have shared experiences.

To be all things to all people.

To BE more with them and like them.

Just like Jesus did for us when he left heaven and came to this not-so-great, low-income earth.

The house-mom and kids I lived with in Uganda could not have proved this idea more to me.

They drove it home in my heart and no one can convince me otherwise.

They were simply in awe that I "gave up everything" to come and live with them.

They know what I could have been having and doing in America.

As I was washing my clothes and dishes by hand, just like they do, she would stand next to me and stare.

She would say, "The Lord will bless you greatly. You are just like him. You gave up everything--your family, your friends, your washing machines, to come here and live like us. You have shown us great love by this."

Just by being there with them.

And living life like them.

Love.

I couldn't speak their language. They already knew Jesus so its not like I was preaching "the gospel" at them. I wasn't giving them material things.

I just gave up what I had

to live like them and with them.

I must now direct your attention to a woman that expresses some things much better than I.

I could write a whole post about this woman and her blog.

Basically, her family of 6 just moved to Haiti about 6 weeks ago. They were the last people you would expect to do something like this. Really. It was really, really hard for her. And it still is.

Here's some things she wrote on her blog that points to yet another reason I feel so strongly about "giving up everything". . . .

“I am well aware that I'm used to living in absolute luxury. In my old life, if I needed something done, I did it or Aaron did it. He can fix anything. He knows how to do everything. If there's a leak under a sink it will be fixed promptly. If I saw a bug, I had our exterminator's number in my cell phone. We were operating in a world that made sense to us. We could drive. We could buy things. We knew our way around and spoke the same language as everyone else around us.

It was very easy to fool myself in America. America made it easy to hide my shortcomings and sin. When you land on this island it is as if Haiti strips your clothes off. Leaves you standing there naked...all your flaws, cellulite and skin exposed. Every pimple. Every large pore. Every mole. Every weird, why-is-that-there hair...visible. You can't ignore any of it or pretend it's not there.

In some ways I hate it. I hate feeling this eat up with sin. I hate seeing myself for who I really am.

And yet...

I know it's good. I know it's needed. I'm sure one day (not today, but one day) I will look back and thank Haiti and the God who brought us here for giving me the opportunity to see the person behind the layers and layers of falsity...the pounds and pounds of Tammy Faye Baker style makeup I found myself wearing as an American resident.”

I don't want to hide.

I want to do whatever I have to do or go wherever I have to go for the Lord to strip me of my crap.

I want him to dig in.

I don't want to half-ass the stripping down process. I don't want to do it slowly.

I do not want to 'languish behind the prison of the picked fence.

Or wallow in the dead-end of the col-de-sac.'

A little more from Mrs. Hendrick. . .

"All that to say...I don't want to be American in the way I think about following Jesus. I want our family to live for God's Kingdom...to seek it first. I want to wake up every morning aware that this earth is not going to last forever. I want us to imitate Jesus in the way He loved and lived. I don't want to run from suffering and danger. If we have to suffer and we have to live in danger to share the gospel, to feed the poor, to love the orphan and give a voice to the voiceless and the oppressed...then bring it I guess. I say that sheepishly, but I truly want to be able to say it boldly.”

And she says the following after talking about how terrifying it is to not have seat belts in Haiti with her 4 young boys. How hard it is for her to be okay with her boys riding in the back of a pick up truck in such a dangerous country with little to no medical structure.. . .

“See what I mean? In the US driving in a car rarely made me think of Jesus and faith and how much I really believe God is who He says He is. Every moment in Haiti is an adventure that causes a crisis of faith at every turn. Sometimes it's exciting to see what I really believe. My actions always prove what's in my heart. Sometimes seeing what you really believe, instead of just hearing yourself say what you believe is hard and difficult and sad.”

I want to know what's inside of me, Lord.

I want to live in reality--not in what I want to be true.

I don't want there to be doubts and questions.

I just want You to have all of me. No questions about it.

And only because-- You gave me all of you.

And for no other reason.

Jehovah-Jireh

2010-09-06T09:11:00.003-05:00

THANK YOU!!!!--From Mama Jane

There simply can not be doubt in my eyes ever again. (If I ever express doubt about the Lord providing, please call it out, because it is absurd)

Ask and you shall receive.

Every. Single. Time.

Thank you to all of you that responded to my request to help Mama Jane and her family.

I received MORE THAN ENOUGH TO COVER ALL OF THEIR EDUCATION!

One family from my church community decided to sponsor Joy through out the rest of her education! All 4 semesters of high school, and probably more! Isn't that incredible?

Raymond got all he needed to finish college.

And then I had $228 extra to send to Alma house to cover their monthly needs!

AND I had even more people wanting to give, but I told them just to wait till next time.

HOLY COW, God is The Provider!

Uncle Francis sent me an email saying, "I told Mama Jane today and she was overwhelmed with joy, she started with smiling so big to laughing to crying and giving thanks to the Lord to you and Adrienne & me. Juliette please let everyone know that Mama Jane is so grateful."

Again, I seriously wish I had videoed her reaction when I gave her money for one semester of Raymond's college--it was unbelievable. These words that Francis sent simply can not do justice to what she must be like right now.

Jesus' provision doesn't REALLY surprise me anymore, but I think there will always be some sort of surprise when seemingly impossible things are made possible right before your eyes.

When I had to raise $4000 to go to Papau New Guinea for a summer, that was impossible to me--the Lord provided in miraculous ways.
When I was extremely stressed about how I would pay off all my school debt and still live a life of freedom and abandonment to Jesus--the Lord provided in an unfortunate way, yet he still provided for all my debt, and then some.
When I was a little doubtful about if I could raise $2000 for Uganda in 6 weeks--the Lord provided in 4 weeks.
When need after need arose before me in Uganda for Alma house and Mama Jane--the Lord provided financially through you and me.

Jehovah-Jireh -- The Lord Will Provide/ God, Our Provider

That was one of the names the Jews referred to God as.

I can tell you that I personally know this Jehovah-Jireh. We have met countless times and I have a feeling this is just the beginning of our relationship.

FOR THOSE OF YOU THAT HELPED SPONSOR: Please email me or mail me a couple of photos of your family. Please write a letter to Joy or Raymond or Alma house or Mama Jane. And if you have kids, they can draw pictures or something. I think this would be a cool way of forming more than a financial relationship. I'm going to ask Uncle Francis to get photos of them, as well as letters, and send to us. If you can do that this week, that would be great!

Education for Ugandans

2010-08-22T22:48:00.002-05:00

Friends,

I hesitate to write this, but I guess I just feel like this is what I am supposed to do.

For those of you that read my blog while I was in Uganda, you know the story about Mama Jane and her son Raymond--how the Lord provided money for Raymond to go to college through the excess funds I had raised to go to Uganda.

Well Uncle Francis just sent me an email with an update on Mama Jane. (I have asked him to keep me updated on what is happening with Alma house) He tells me that she is very distraught right now because she has one college student and 2 high school students (her biological children) and she can not afford to pay for, really, any of them to attend school this term (if ever). I believe she is, at least, hoping to be able to afford Bridget's fees, but she is stressing out greatly because of the other two. I believe a lot of her trouble is from having to choose which child's education to support.

As you may already know, education in Uganda is very expensive and highly unattainable for most. Mama Jane desires an education for her children so much--equally, if not more than all of us here. She is doing all she can--giving up her life to live in a remote village to be a non-biological mother for 12 children--to provide for them.

Anyways, Uncle Francis was asking me if I know of anyone that would want to sponsor her children's education. For better or for worse, the means by which most Ugandans get through the educational system is having a Western "sponsor." I told him I would "see what I can do."
I absolutely plan on sending Mama Jane some money as soon as possible, but I am unsure of how much I can commit throughout the rest of the rest for both of her young adults.

I asked Francis for more details and this is what he gave me:

Raymond:
--2 terms of university left which go through June
--each semester is $180
--a total of $360
--i have never actually met him, but I feel connected to him for obvious reasons

Joy:
--4 terms of high school left at $128 each
--This young woman is absolutely amazing. One of the most humble, servant-hearted spirit's I've ever met. She has beautiful dreams and I believe the Lord is going to do great things with her. I truly want to support her future in any way I can. The picture above is f Joy.

Anyways, I'm not necessarily asking any of you for money. Really. I just feel like part of my role in being in between the worlds of Uganda and America is to share the struggles of my people 'over there' with my people here. Of course in hopes that the Lord will do His thing with the details.

Coincidentally, I was going to send over a check to Alma house next month that I've been saving up. My hope is to send money directly for Alma house every 3 months. (Maybe more frequently, if Francis says so)
I'm just letting you know this because some people have expressed interest in wanting to support Alma house in the future over this past year. So, feel free to join in at any time! I suppose I could use that money for Raymond and Joy, but I feel strongly about it going to Alma house, and then just helping the other two in addition.

If there is anyone else you think may be interested, pass this on

What Is It About 20-somethings?

2010-08-19T22:30:00.003-05:00

Emily sent me this email/article. I find this topic extremely interesting.
I would love to hear your thoughts on this.
So you should read the whole article--even though its long.

The article listed below articulates a lot about our (20 something) culture, and in my opinion it could not be more right on in a lot areas. Here are just a few quotes.

...

We've entered a new stage, "Arnett says, between the age of 18 and the late 20s. Among the cultural changes he points to that have led to “emerging adulthood” are the need for more education to survive in an information-based economy; fewer entry-level jobs even after all that schooling; young people feeling less rush to marry because of the general acceptance of premarital sex, cohabitation and birth control; and young women feeling less rush to have babies given their wide range of career options and their access to assisted reproductive technology if they delay pregnancy beyond their most fertile years."

"...Just as adolescence has its particular psychological profile, Arnett says, so does emerging adulthood: identity exploration, instability, self-focus, feeling in-between and a rather poetic characteristic he calls “a sense of possibilities.” A few of these, especially identity exploration, are part of adolescence too, but they take on new depth and urgency in the 20s. The stakes are higher when people are approaching the age when options tend to close off and lifelong commitments must be made. Arnett calls it “the age 30 deadline.”

...and the question we are all asking...

"... is it better for young people to experiment in their 20s before making choices they’ll have to live with for more than half a century? Or is adulthood now so malleable, with marriage and employment options constantly being reassessed, that young people would be better off just getting started on something, or else they’ll never catch up, consigned to remain always a few steps behind the early bloomers? Is emerging adulthood a rich and varied period for self-discovery, as Arnett says it is? Or is it just another term for self-indulgence?"

“It’s somewhat terrifying,” writes a 25-year-old named Jennifer, “to think about all the things I’m supposed to be doing in order to ‘get somewhere’ successful: ‘Follow your passions, live your dreams, take risks, network with the right people, find mentors, be financially responsible, volunteer, work, think about or go to grad school, fall in love and maintain personal well-being, mental health and nutrition.’ When is there time to just be and enjoy?” Adds a 24-year-old from Virginia: “There is pressure to make decisions that will form the foundation for the rest of your life in your 20s. It’s almost as if having a range of limited options would be easier.”

This dependence on Mom and Dad also means that during the 20s the rift between rich and poor becomes entrenched. According to data gathered by the Network on Transitions to Adulthood, a research consortium supported by the John D. and Catherine T. MacArthur Foundation, American parents give an average of 10 percent of their income to their 18- to 21-year-old children. This percentage is basically the same no matter the family’s total income, meaning that upper-class kids tend to get more than working-class ones. And wealthier kids have other, less obvious, advantages. When they go to four-year colleges or universities, they get supervised dormitory housing, health care and alumni networks not available at community colleges. And they often get a leg up on their careers by using parents’ contacts to help land an entry-level job — or by using parents as a financial backup when they want to take an interesting internship that doesn’t pay.

“You get on a pathway, and pathways have momentum,” Jennifer Lynn Tanner of Rutgers told me. “In emerging adulthood, if you spend this time exploring and you get yourself on a pathway that really fits you, then there’s going to be this snowball effect of finding the right fit, the right partner, the right job, the right place to live. The less you have at first, the less you’re going to get this positive effect compounded over time. You’re not going to have the same acceleration.”

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/08/22/magazine/22Adulthood-t.html?_r=2&pagewanted=1

I might write more thoughts soon, but personally, I think we need to grow up.
And I think parents need to truly parent children well so that they CAN grow up when they're supposed to.

Going Home

2010-06-05T16:51:00.005-05:00

This is apparently a good form of therapy for me. . . .

I sent these pictures to Alma house. . . .

The "Going Home" is one of my most favorite songs by Sara Groves

These lyrics above are from a wonderful song by Aaron Ivey called "Amos Song"
Every time i hear it, I feel compelled to pray these particular words for Sharif

That means "I love you so much, my family!"

My friend Becca is leaving for Uganda today to see all my Ugandan family members!
For those of you that don't know, I decided not to go to Uganda right now, mainly cause I would have only been able to actually stay for 7 days. If the Lord keeps it on my heart for a while, I could possibly go in a few months for like 2 weeks or something. Let me know if you're interested in coming! I would love to take a group of people on a shorter trip some time within the year.
I don't know if that would mean through my church or just a few friends or something.

Last I've heard, Sharif is doing good. He was having a little trouble at school, but things seems to have worked out. Everyone is just moving on with life. They say that's just how it goes in that culture. They grieve hard, then they move on. I suppose that is all you can do.
I am sending a framed picture of Eva for Alma house to put up and I hear they are excited about that.

Also, for all those interested, Uncle Francis and his wife will be at Community church and staying in College Station the night of July 18th--come if you can!

A Beautiful Dress for Eva

2010-05-22T22:02:00.003-05:00

Adrienne, Uncle Francis' wife, replied to my question about whether or not I should think about coming to Uganda.

In her response, she thought that before I make a decision, she could give me all the information she has about the situation and that i should try to skype with the kids.

We set up a skype date tomorrow!

She gave me a very detailed play-by-play of this last week which blessed me more than she will know.

I just thought I would highlight some things she shared for those of you that are walking through this with me so that you can know what happened. There is some pretty interesting and beautiful stuff here:

"On Monday night around 8 pm the Alma House kids were all playing and then two of the girls, Naka (Eva) & Irene began teasing Sherif that so&so loves him and that he loves so&so until the point where he picked up a rock and threw it at Naka, hitting her head. It must have been a sharp rock with a lot of force because it opened the scalp pushing all of the skin up, and caused a LOT of bleeding. Mama Jane was around and after trying to figure out what was going on went up to the clinic, calling Justine to come. They also brought Sherif so he could understand the severity of the situation, although he really did, or would have, regardless of this step (in hindsite).

Justine couldn't handle the wound so called Milly. They tried to get her blood pressure and vitals stable then Milly started stitching but it was very difficult because of the amount of blood. She seemed stable so they had her stay at home in Mama Jane's room overnight. She was on a drip and slept throughout the night. In the morning her blood pressure was falling and they realized she had to go to the hospital right away.

Once at Mulago (big hospital) the fight for proper treatment continued. Uncle Willy said there are people everywhere and the doctors and nurses are just desensitized. One man died on the floor while he was waiting to be seen. Naka got admitted but didn't really get much else that day and even getting the medicines was hard.

That night Milly and I had devotions with Alma House and we talked to them about trying to be compassionate towards each other during this emotional time – that some will be feeling sad or scared or happy all at different times, so they should be sensitive to each other and also remember to treat each other as they would like to be treated. Then we also talked about forgiveness, encouraging them to think about how they would feel if they had been the one to throw the rock and remembering the things they have also done either intentionally or by accident that they have regretted. We talked of how God it is that God doesn't remember them anymore – that He chooses to not hold them against us. Then we had a good prayer time praying for Naka, asking God to forgive us of anything we remembered we'd done, etc.

Tuesday morning first thing we called the hospital and Naka was much improved. She was able to walk assisted and could talk. She talked to Francis on the phone and he told her that Sherif was so sorry and asked her if she forgave him and she said that she did. Then Francis prayed with her and for her on the phone. All day long her condition fluctuated being fine then bad. The doctors said that she didn't need the surgery after all and we all thought it was an answer to prayer that she was healed but it turns out it was probably negligence of some kind (not caring or being lazy or something). It was also a fight all day to get her the proper care. They transfered her to the neurological ward but there didn't seem to be any surgeons and the nurses said they didn't have the right needles for the medication and Mama Jane couldn't leave Naka to go get any other meds. We sent Mama Ssanyu to be with them and also take some stuff for them and this was a huge encouragement to Mama Jane. As the evening went on things got worse and worse.

As Naka was dying she saw children coming to get her....it seems the Lord had sent other little ones to escort her into His presence. She told the children that she was coming but her mother is keeping her back then she started telling Mama Jane to let her go. She wanted to go and she kept telling them to let her go, that they've (the children) come for her. She also said she was going to put on a beautiful dress. So she left this earth with the anticipation of being clothed in beauty and of being with other children in the presence of the Lord. It was God who took her home to be with Him.

Eventually Francis & Willy came to the house and all/most of the Bethany kids were gathered in the front yard as Francis then addressed them to let them know what had happened (they knew but to get the facts straight so there would be no rumours or mis information). Then he talked about it being an accident and that we as Bethany forgive Sherif. He talked to the children for some time. The children all said in union that “we forgive”and we also sang a song together at which point I went and got Sherif from his bedroom to join us on the front porch. He just knelt beside Francis and was held by him as he cried.

This afternoon we went to Alma and the kids were all busy with various things and we were told that they were doing much better. They'd all slept in the house last night. The girls have even taken some of Naka's clothes that fit them so they're more comfortable now. Mama Jane said that Sherif is even more close to her heart now."

My Sweet Eva

2010-05-20T19:05:00.013-05:00

This is difficult to write, but it is needed, at the least, for myself.

Nakakande Eva is this beautiful girl you see above.

Eva, Sharif (the boy below), and the other Alma house kids were playing outside on Monday.
Sharif threw a stone, just playing around.

That stone hit Eva right in the head.
It created a deep wound.
She was taken to the local hospital, then referred to large state hospital where she received some CAT scans.
The doctors said there was a crack, but it was nothing serious, though Eva was in a tremendous amount of pain.

Sharif has been extremely depressed.
He is one of the most sensitive, tender-hearted boys I've ever met. He never played rough. He loves to dance and sing. He is a beautiful care-giver and 'mother hen' for the other children. They call him "little girl" as a nic name. He is a born evangelist and does not understand why anyone could not be in-love with Jesus. Seriously, he asked me many times. He loves Jesus more than life.

So he has been feeling much guilt and shame about hurting her.

Uncle Francis and his wife have been talking to the Alma house about forgiveness.
He asked Eva yesterday if she was still upset with Sharif and she said yes.
So he talked to her about forgiveness and asked her to forgive him.
It sounded like she did.

Last night, Eva died.

She was still at the hospital and complaining of a lot of pain. The doctors misjudged the situation as she should have received an operation urgently, according to Uncle Francis.

I can not even describe what I have been feeling today.

Except of course: broken.

I was very close to all of my girls in Alma house, but Eva and I had a special connection, especially the last few weeks. She just started openning up to me more. We laughed and joked around so much towards the end. She was one of the older ones so we could communicate pretty well. She was not very confident, but she should have been because she was SO smart! And a wonderful dancer! Oh, and boy was she witty. Even in her last letter to me, she was cracking me up with her jokes. She was the best at keeping a straight face when she was being funny. Yet, she was shy and pretended she was no good.

But towards the end, she 'let go' so much with me.
You can see some of this in the videos below.

And then, on the day I left Uganda, she was the hardest one to say goodbye to.
Everyone was very sad, acted so depressed, and many tears were shed--
but Eva literally sobbed in my arms.

That moment broke deep into the core of me.

The only way I was able to leave Bethany Village without completely falling apart is because I knew that I would be back some day. I didn't know when or how, but I just knew this was not the last time I would see them.

And its true, its not the last time I will see Eva.

I will see her dancing and cracking up with our wonderful Papa in our true home--one day.
And for that, I am comforted.

But honestly, I want to see her again here on earth.
At Alma house.
Where I left her.

But I won't.

And for that, I am broken.

As usual with this death thing--it seems so surreal.

I have dealt with death intensely recently, but never the death of a child.
This is a whole new ball game.
And not the death of one of my precious 12 children from Alma house whom I am just waiting to see again.
And not the one that I had such a unique, dear connection with.

Don't get me wrong, though. This girl was ready to be with her King. She loved Him dearly. When we joked around about what happened if you were dying, her answer was always, "Ok. I am ready. I will die." As if to say, "who cares if something happens to me? I know this place is not my home."

And then there's Sharif. . . .
Oh how my heart breaks for this sweet boy who loves to garden, cook, learn, dance, and sing.

Any one of us in America would feel awful about such a thing happening to us, and then you place this situation in Ugandan culture and it just intensifies matters.

Guilt and shame are heavily embedded within it.
If you do something bad, you are a bad person.
If something like this happens to you, you are cursed.

Now, the children at Bethany Village are seeking to follow Jesus so they do not believe and act in the ways the culture in general does, like the things stated above, but nonetheless, these battles will be intense for someone like Sharif.

Please join me in praying against the lies the enemy is going to use on him.
Pray the enemy does not steal
the joy that exudes from him.
the confidence that attracts all who encounter him.
the love that embraces every soul he meets
and the belief he has that he is dearly loved by His Father and that his Father has good, good things in store for his life.

My first instinctual emotion was "I need to be there. I need to be with Alma house."
But being the rationale that I am, I quickly dismissed such a thought and told myself "that's just emotions talking. You're here. Grieve here." And I moved on.

But later that day, as I was praying and thinking about all of it, I stepped out of my usual mindset, and tried to be more open to the Spirit.

I should never just dismiss any idea, simply out of habit.

Well how would I get the money to go?
I have money I could use on this, if the Lord is clear with me about that.
Check.
When would I go?
Well I have very serious obligations this weekend and June 10-12.
So could I go May 30-June 10th????
I start a new job June 1st.
Do I say, "forget that job. I'm not that excited about it anyway. If I'm really suppose to have it, they will wait for me. The main reason I want the job is to make money for Alma house. Maybe I'm just suppose to go to Alma house during this horrible time?"
Or do I try to go for 2 weeks in July?
Or do I stay?
This is irrational and impractical.
I don't do those kind of things.

Please pray with me in this decision.
I do not want to make this decision alone.
Input is welcome.

Now I must share some things that capture the beauty of Eva that stole my heart. . . .

Yeah, don't ask about this last one.
Just laugh.
And enjoy Eva's excitement and moves.

Lose two gain one

2010-05-05T14:07:00.004-05:00

Check this quick, but powerful story out!!
http://jmchoul.spaces.live.com/Blog/cns!F04579021E6249A3!1260.entry#comment

This just made my day

Less than 10%

2010-05-03T22:04:00.003-05:00

I just read a quote that Americans spend less than 10% of their income on food, less than the citizens of any other nation.

Isn't that incredibly interesting?

We are the richest in the world, but we spend only 10% of our richness on food?

So what does that mean?

For one, it means we are spending lots of money on non-necessities. Abundance. Things we think we need but we just want. Better known as, crap.

For two, we are buying cheap food. Cheap food means it has bad quality. Bad quality means it was grown or produced in ways that are lethal to our body, the ground it came from, the animal it came from, the air it grew in, the world system we live in. We're buying lots of cheap, crappy food.

For three, we spend less than any other citizens of any other country spend on food. Other people are either too poor to spend money on anything but the basic necessities or they are wise enough to spend more money on good quality food. (and by good quality, i mean, not processed)

For four, we complain about spending so much money on health care and get all roweled up about it, yet we ignore one of the major causes of our health problems that leads us to need so much health care--> bad, processed, not real, food. Let's spend more money and time on good food and not so much on health care issues. Let's change the food industry and maybe we won't need to worry about health care quite as much.

Basically we do not know how to spend money, nor how to eat well.

This makes me sad.

Real Food

2010-04-06T21:35:00.000-05:00

I highly recommend this book to anyone who is ever so slightly interested in food, health, or the present day food industry, etc.

If you want to be more connected to food--this is a great tool.

Its not one of those that you walk away thinking, "Uhg why did I read that, now I will have images of all this gross stuff from the food industry."

Its really easy to read.

Its crammed with back-up information and evidence to support her ideas.

Its extremely insightful, and rather revolutionary for some.

Its inspirational.

I feel like I understand food so much more. I understand what is good and bad for my body. (and its not what you think, so get prepared)

I feel closer to how God intended the world to work in relation to our bodies and the earth and nutrition.

I am in awe of how God created the world and designed it for us to live in, find joy in, and see Him in everything.

Food is live-giving! Food is a gift! We were meant to be connected to our food--to grow it, to understand it, to love it, to be nourished by it, to share it, to have our fair share of it, and to eat it as God created it!

Baby steps, my friend, that's what its all about! (and the hokie pokie)

And speaking of which. . . .our garden is growing!!!!

I got this making stuff for you

2010-04-02T22:22:00.001-05:00

I heard a story about some followers of Jesus recently who attended a rally against overseas sweatshops.

They had not invited the typical rally speakers—lawyers, activists, and academics.

Instead, they brought the kids themselves from the sweatshops to speak.

The people listened as a child from Indonesia pointed to the giant scar on his face.

“I got this scar when my master lashed me for not working hard enough. When it began to bleed, he did not want me to stop working or to ruin the cloth in front of me, so he took a lighter and burned it shut.

I got this making stuff for you.”

The people were suddenly consumed by the overwhelming reality of the suffering body of Christ.

Jesus now bore not just the marks from the nails and scars from the thorns but a gnash down his face, for when we have done it to the ‘least of these,’ we have done it to Christ himself.

They wondered, ‘How could we possibly follow Jesus and buy anything from that master?’

The statistics had a face. Poverty became personal. And that messes with you.

Notices that they didn't say they were 'consumed by overwhelming guilt.'

They were consumed by the reality of the suffering body of Christ. HE bears their scars. HE suffers with the sweatshop workers. HE bears the sin that we've all participated in, in one way or another.

Not guilt, just reality.

Early Christians in the Roman empire faced many similar issues that we do when it comes to economically supporting a global empire that works in a way that we don’t agree with.

It wasn’t easy to resist the empire of Rome and all its dazzle, luxuries to spend money on, and entire economic system that did not reflect the nature of Jesus.

Well, I read a book that dives into some of the things John was saying in the book of Revelation. I'm not going to go into a Bible study or even quote verses . . .its Revelations, who knows. And I don't have them memorized. One thing he brings up is that perhaps John was basically calling them out of dependence, infatuation, and support of that empire and that system.

The question he was posing to them is one I think is worth posing to us today.

Do we think there is no other way except the "filthy rotten system" we have today?

Is it possible we can’t see the destructiveness of our economy not because we don’t know it’s terrible but because deep down we feel that it’s necessary and that therefore it’s hopeless to criticize it?”

I'll end with this quote:

"Jesus is ready to set us free from the heavy yoke of an oppressive way of life.

Plenty of wealthy Christians are suffocating from the weight of the American dream, heavily burdened by the lifeless toil and consumption we embrace.

This is the yoke from which we are being set free!

And as we are liberated from the yoke of global capitalism, our sisters and brothers in Guatemala, Liberia, Iraq, and Sri Lanka will also be liberated.

Our family overseas, who are making our clothes, growing our food, pumping our oil, and assembling our electronics—they too need to be liberated from the empire’s yoke of slavery.

Their liberation is tangled up with our own.

The new yoke isn’t easy. (it’s a cross for heaven’s sake)

But we carry it together, and it is good and leads us to rest, especially for the weariest traveler."

Healer

2010-03-29T09:02:00.003-05:00

I was given "a word," sort of, by good 'ol Jesus the other day.

First it started with just the idea of "Healer."

The Lord is the healer of all my friends who are hurting, who are broken, who have experienced painful situations, who have broken relationships.

He is the healer of me. And I have seen and experienced it first hand.

Well, all these people started coming to mind and I was just speaking "healing" over them. Praying for that healing.

Then, all of the conversations about ethical shopping and how we spend our money that I've been having with different people lately came to mind. And the same thing was "spoken over it."

"Healer."
Jesus is the healer of our broken economic system.
His new and perfect kingdom doesn't have a place for a broken, fragmented, disconnected economic system.
So he wants to make what we have whole.
He wants to connect it all. Meaning, connecting us to "it."
He wants to heal the system.

Because, remember, Jesus has inaugurated a new Kingdom. A Kingdom that is vastly different then the one of this world. And we do not have to wait till we die to see glimpses of this kingdom. It has begun. We may not see it in full right now, but if you know this man, Jesus, you are certainly part of this new Kingdom and can see it even now.

And in case you're wondering, yes, I believe the economic system is broken--according to where the Spirit has led me in my own research . . which is dependent on lots of other people's research, both Jesus Kingdom followers and non.

Note: when I refer to 'economic system' I am, in the simplest form, referring to every monetary transaction we make and everything that goes into that transaction. You could say, 'the thoughts, motivations, concerns (or lack there of), and actions that go into purchasing something.'

Or you could say, as Wikipedia does:
An economic system is the system of production, distribution and consumption of goods and services of an economy. Alternatively, it is the set of principles and techniques by which problems of economics are addressed, such as the economic problem of scarcity through allocation of finite productive resources.The economic system is composed of people and institutions, including their relationships to productive resources.

Think of all of that when you hear "economic system."

So I got this thought-image of Jesus healing the fragmentation we experience from the things we buy; the disconnect.
The whole system is broken--from food, to clothing, to cleaning supplies, to pens.
And that simply does not have a place in His Kingdom.
Things are whole in His kingdom.
People are connected to the things they purchase in His Kingdom.
"Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also."
That is not just a poetic, spiritual little line to quote.
It is truth.
It is truth whether you know Jesus or not. Whether you've read the bible or not.

And when Kingdom people are really connected to the things they buy, unethical items/production simply will not be bought.
And the system will begin to be restored.

When Jesus looks at us and sees the way we spend our money, every single transaction we make, it is not ignored.
It is very significant to Him; it is significant to who he wants us to be; to who he is forming us into.

And just like everything else we do, he does not look at our unloving transactions and hate us for it or hang guilt over our heads. He never does that.
He looks at it and wants something more for us; for His world.
I think he looks at it and thinks, "This does not have a place in my kingdom. I will root this out from the bottom-up."
As always. With everything.

Just like the Lord gave the Israelites a long lists of guidelines to set them apart from the world in the way their economic transactions took place (as well as their sexual, legal, sanitary, etc. relations)--He has the same heart with us today!

He wants us to be a people set apart in everything--and one of those things is our economic transactions.
We don't have Numbers and Leviticus to give us guidelines today, but we have the Holy Spirit to do that. And we have Scripture to tell us about the character and heart of God, and what he cares about.

Jesus said the Holy Spirit is coming to us and it is even better than having him. I don't fully get that most of the time, but maybe one meaning is that, in complicated times like these, when it is so stickin' hard to figure out how to spend our money in Kingdom-glorifying ways, we actually don't have to worry or feel burdensome.
We have the Spirit to guide us.
We have the Spirit to weave us through the complicated, corrupt system.
We have the Spirit to help us restore the system. To help us be Jesus' light to shine on ALL the darkness in the system.
We have the Spirit to help us be God's hands and feet in a broken system that needs to be put back together; that needs only Spirit-filled hands and feet to connect the dots that have been disconnected.

Without the Spirit, how will we know what dots to connect?
Once you start getting into the murky waters, its easy to see that its broken. Trust me. But its not so easy to see how to reconnect it.
Only with the Spirit will we know which dots need to come back together and how.

And what I have found is that, as I start connecting dots with really small lines, I can already see that what we're actually doing is not just putting back together a broken system, but creating a completely new, whole, Kingdom-system.
Just like what ends up happening to us as people.
It starts out as if He is just repairing whats broken in us, but pretty soon we see that he is actually making us into a whole new creation.

And that's what I've seen in the economic system--He wants to make a whole new creation. But it doesn't have to be overwhelming and burdensome to us because its actually not us doing it. Its His Spirit moving us and guiding us. The huge change is not on us. We are responsible for seeking Him and His Spirit in our day to day economic transactions. But the sweeping change of a new system is His work, not ours.

The God of the Israelites is our same God. He cares about every aspect of our life and he has ways that work best in each micro system of our life. They work best for everyone and everything involved. Not just the "top" one, or the most powerful one, or the majority. The only way we will know what these ways are is if we are seeking His Spirit, learning what He cares about in Scripture, and seeking out what's really happening in our transactions by opening our eyes to the evidence that is out there.

In Texas?????

2010-03-23T22:22:00.001-05:00

As most of you know, I've been involved with the organization International Justice Mission for a couple years now. Therefore I'm pretty aware of what is going on in the "sex trafficking" industry.

When I read stories about the thievery of girls' souls in Cambodia, I am sobered, disgusted, and pained instantly. But sadly, I am not surprised.

Well of course I have also "heard" that human and sex trafficking occurs here in the U.S.
But when I "hear" about it, what goes through my mind is something a long the lines of: "They must be referring to the instances when people pick up Mexicans, throw them in vans, bring them over to Texas and other border states, give them illegal work, and treat them horribly."

Well that is definitely happening. But the thing is, there's much more.

First off, my dear friend Emily (whom I should just write a whole other post about soon), has opened my eyes to the very "third world" type sex trafficking that is going on in Washington D.C. . . .and of course in many other parts of the U.S. I say "third world" simply because you don't expect things kinds of things to be happening in incredible cities like Washington D.C. or our very own Houston, Texas. You expect to hear about these things in Cambodia and the like but. . .here? Where we prize human dignity so much?? Here? Land of the free?? Here? Where sex sells and sex controls way more than we can imagine? Oh right.
Here.

Well anyways, check this article out. Right here in Houston. Straight from the Texas Monthly magazine. (yes it is long, but even someone like me who has read many articles about this stuff, found this extremely compelling and insightful, yet simple to understand.)

I really like how it captures what is happening in the heads of these women:

"While you are in this state—dizzy, disoriented—your boss takes you to a place that isn’t a restaurant or a factory and tells you to unpack your few belongings in a dingy back room. He tells you that this is where you will work to pay off your debt. You will be a prostitute, he explains, and by the way, you will be charged for room and board while you are paying off that $30,000. When you protest, he beats you, starves you, or keeps you awake for days on end. Then, just to make himself clear, he holds up a picture of your son or your parents or your sister and tears it in half. Or maybe he just says, “We hear your father has a bad heart.”

At that point, your predicament becomes very clear. You do not speak or read the language. You do not have a cent to your name. You have no idea where you are in this vast country, and you have no way of finding out because no one lets you go anywhere alone. What do you do? Most likely, you do what you are told."

Well shoot. What do you do when you find out this stuff is happening in our wealthy cities who "prize" the dignity of people. . .right here under our noses. . . .down our streets. . . .a whole new world juxtaposed against our country of equality, freedom, law, order, dignity.

It's not easy, but it's wonderful. . . .

2010-02-20T11:25:00.004-06:00

Due to the fact that my heart, mind, and soul is overwhelmed with emotion, thoughts, and experiences just in one week, I'm going to use someone else's words, thoughts, and emotions to give you a glimpse into what is happening in me and I want to share with the world but am unable to articulate it. At all.

These following words have deeply affected me beyond belief.

It would help to perhaps know that this girl who wrote these words is living in Uganda, 2 hours from where I was, is 20 years old, and is mothering 14 orphans she stumbled upon.

"A few days ago an American woman who had spent about three days of her life in a third world country looked at me and said, “I would SO love to do what you do. I would do it in a heartbeat. Oh, I would take 14 kids in a second!” It is a good thing that I was having a graceful day, because I said, “Aw that’s nice.” But my not so graceful heart was angry. And the not so graceful voice in my head wanted to say to her, “Ok then, do it. I can have you 14 orphaned, abandoned, uncared for children tomorrow. So here is what you have to do: Quit school. Quit your job. Sell your stuff. Disobey and disappoint your parents. Break your little brother’s heart. Lose all but about a handful of friends because the rest of them think you have gone off the deep end. Break up with the love of your life. Move to a country where you know one person and none of the language. And when you are finished, I will be here waiting with your 14 children!” I wanted to ask her what was stopping her, knowing that the answer would be her comfort. I wanted to look at her and tell her that my life was full and joyful and WONDERFUL, but I also wanted to tell her to COUNT THE COST. Because my life IS full and joyful and wonderful, but it is NOT easy. My life is NOT glamorous. I do not expect it to be. I do not think that anything about carrying a cross was easy or glamorous either. Which brings me to my point. I am not actually that angry about what that woman said, it was just an offhanded comment. But it got me to thinking… How many times to we grieve our sweet Savior’s heart because we refuse to COUNT THE COST? How many times do we choose comfort instead of the cross? In my NIV Bible, the header above Luke 9:57-62 says, “The Cost of Following Jesus.” Here it is, plain and simple, laid out for us by the Lord. “As they were walking along the road, a man said to Jesus, “I will follow you wherever you go.” Jesus replied, “Foxes have holes and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay His head.” He said to another man, “Follow me.” But the man replied, “Lord, first let me go and bury my Father.” Jesus said to Him, “Let the dead bury their own dead, but you go and proclaim the kingdom of God.” Still another said, “I will follow you Lord, but first let me go back and say goodbye to my family.” Jesus replied, “No one who puts His hand to the plow and looks back will be fit to enter the Kingdom of God.” THIS IS SERIOUS STUFF. A little later in Luke 14:25, “The Cost of Being a Disciple,” Jesus tells the crowds gathered around Him, “If anyone comes to me and does not hate his father and mother, his wife and children, his brothers and sisters – yes even his own life – he cannot be my disciple. And anyone who does not carry His cross and follow me cannot be my disciple. Suppose one of you wants to build a tower. Will he not first sit down and estimate the cost to see if he has enough money to complete it? For if he lays the foundation and is not able to complete it; everyone who sees it will ridicule him saying, ‘This fellow began to build and was not able to finish.’ Or suppose a king is about to go to war against another king. Will he not first consider if he is able with ten thousand men to oppose the one coming against him with twenty thousand? If he is not able he will send a delegation while the other is still a long way off and ask for terms of peace. In the same way any of you who does not give up everything he has cannot be my disciple.” In Luke, in the days of Jesus, He expected EVERYTHING of his disciples. Do we believe that He requires the same today? We sure don’t act like it. If you ever read my blog or have heard me speak then you have heard me reference Matthew 25, the parable of the sheep and the goats. Jesus basically looks straight at the crowd and tells them that when He comes back, those who have seen the needy and met their needs will come with Him to heaven. He also says that those who have seen the needy and done nothing will be sent away to “eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels.” Right, hell. This is heavy, I know, but I believe that it is TRUE. I believe that the words of Jesus are timeless and therefore still apply to anyone desiring to be His follower today. (Oh, and in case you think you can get away with saying that you have not seen Jesus naked or hungry or thirsty or in need and therefore you are off the hook, let me help you. 30,000 children will die today because of hunger or preventable disease. There. Now you know. Now you are responsible too.) Faith without good deads is DEAD, my friends. Yes, I believe fully in salvation by His grace alone. I do not believe that anything we do or work for will save us. I also believe that if we are indeed saved, meaning that He lives inside of us, we will desire to do what is pleasing to Him. That if we really love Him with all our hearts and all our strength, NOTHING will feel like sacrifice in light of the promise that one day we will get to be with Him forever. Automatically, we will help those in need, we will give our all, we will love our neighbor as our self, because our heart is aligned with His. But so many don’t. This then begs the question: If we are not walking in the words of Jesus, do we truly know Him? Do we really know and believe in the Jesus of the Bible. Because if we do, if we believe what He says is true, our lives will be powerfully, unimaginable, radically different than the lives of those around us. He requires EVERYTHING. I wonder today if I had been one of the people listening to Jesus as He spoke in Luke 9 and 14, if Jesus would have convinced me to follow Him or if I would have walked away. I believe I would have really really wanted to say goodbye to my family. I wonder about “Christians” today. We wear Jesus on our T-shirts, we wear His cross around our neck and a bumper sticker with His name on it on our car. Have we just laid the foundation without being able to build the building? Does Jesus feel like I did when a woman I didn’t know told me she would love to do what I do but I knew that she never would? Do we claim the precious name of Jesus Christ without counting the cost? Without being willing to REALLY give it all? And does Jesus, in His infinite grace, look at us and say, “Aw, that’s nice,” but really with the furry that he flipped over the tables in the temple want to spit our lukewarm selves out of His mouth? This is heavy on my heart. I have spent hours typing it to get the words out right and still I feel like I am rambling. If you would like more references on God’s heart for the poor, try Isaiah 56-58, Proverbs 14:31, 21:13, 28:27, Matthew 19:16- 30, Luke 6:20-25, 18:18, James 5:1… Please feel free to add more in your comments! If we believe that these words are true, the way we are living is not tolerable. How can we live in willful disobedience and claim to know Jesus Christ? I do not claim to have the answers. I do not claim to be doing it right. I do claim to believe that the words of Jesus are absolutely true and apply to me, right now today. I want to give EVERYTHING, no matter the cost. NO MATTER THE COST. Because I believe that nothing is sacrifice in light of eternity with Christ. Please take an hour of your time to listen to this sermon my David Platt of Birmingham, Alabama. I pray that it would drastically change your life: www.brookhills.org/media/series/radical"

It would benefit you greatly to check this frequently. (her blog)

Why did I go to Uganda, you ask?

2010-01-17T15:31:00.005-06:00

Here is the list I kept while I was in Uganda and I would discover another purpose of why I was there. . . .

--to depend on the Lord physically, emotionally, mentally

--to see Him through their eyes

--to learn about ARM and tell others about it

--to assist and encourage teacher Eve & Francis

--to gain direction for my future

--to gain wisdom from Francis about parenting, ministry, Africa, orphans

--to share some of God through my eyes with them

--to see ways in which I want to raise my own children

--to learn some practical skills like taking care of babies

--to give love and attention and care to babies who need it as well as the children

--to help get Raymond to university

--to communicate the Father’s love to the Alma house simply by BEING here and given them

attention

--to teach me how to become a person who savors and appreciates fully everything I do & I have

--to take Africa off its pedestal and make it real

--to be humbled and learn about my self

--to help sponsor the Alma house

Ultimately, to form relationships with some incredible children and be their "Auntie."

I'm Back!

2009-12-24T13:21:00.003-06:00

(receiving their Ugandan knives and stabbing me with them)

For those of you that do not know, I'm back in the states!

I did not post it on here cause I was surprising part of my family. And I must say, it was QUITE the surprise.
You would have thought I came back from the dead for sure.

Priceless.

I just couldn't NOT be with my family over Christmas. Especially after the year we had last year.

Thank you to everyone who has kept up with my blog. You have been a huge encouragement to me.
I will continue to post things on here, they just won't be written while in Africa and they won't be as frequent.

I will probably be posting more pictures and follow-up thoughts about Uganda on here very soon so check back for that.

Mukono

2009-12-12T12:51:00.007-06:00

A couple weeks ago, The Kisslings, Emily and I went to visit Jake (texas guy) in Mukono. About an hour from us. Their church just got a new building so we went for that and to give Jake some muzungu encouragement. It was a fun adventure in the awesome Ugandan taxis, good fellowship, and beautiful scenary!

You see this everywhere here. Everything is carried on your head. I've been wanting to get a picture of it but i always feel pretty awkward taking a picture of a random person walking. I just got over myself this time and did it!

I just thought this was crazy. This was the school is like in Mukono. Can you imagine?

Just hangin

2009-12-12T12:33:00.006-06:00

Oh this precious girl, Eva. She has stolen my heart. Ask me about her please.

Looking good. ;)

We just sit on the side of the house a lot and hang out. Its the cool place to be.

We got sugar cane! Ah how i love this. Takes me back to when we used to live next to the sugar cane fields in Breaux Bridge!

yum!

Harvest time!

2009-12-11T09:05:00.002-06:00

This precious child fell asleep on me at Speak day. I have no idea who she is or anything. But she sat on my lap, took her shirt off, and promptly fell asleep. And then sweated all over me. Awesome. =) it was worth it.

Time to harvest beans!!!

Aren't they beautiful?! I've been eating fresh beans for the past few weeks! mmmm!

A few more

2009-12-11T06:25:00.003-06:00

This was from Speak day when the whole school performed! SOOO wonderful! and my Top class graduated!
e
h

A few at a time. ..

2009-12-11T06:24:00.002-06:00

My baby graduated!!!

Hollow Eyes

2009-12-03T22:36:00.000-06:00

The intensity of these children’s emotions is quite startling and overwhelming.

But that sentence does not really mean what it sounds like. I just have not figured out the best way to word it.

When they smile and laugh it is as if a bright light has just lit up a pitch black room. It must be because they are usually so stoic.
So serious.

So when that smile bursts through, it is different than the normal, smiley, Western children I’m around. It really does make your heart jump a step—as if the light switch just got flicked on.

On the other hand, when they are sad or in pain—hold on to your heart because it might just break into a thousand pieces. That normally stoic face turns into a hollow well. You may think, “how can a normally stoic person show much pain or sadness?” Very easily, I tell you.

It is as if their eyes hollow out.
It is as if they are staring right through you, as if you do not exist.

Because there’s no way you can help them.
No one can ever help them.
They are so accustomed to the pain or sadness, they’ve realized there’s no hope that this current situation of pain could get better.

So they look into your eyes.
But there is nothing you can do to break through the stoic wall, like you can usually do when they are happy yet stoic.
The stoic wall of hopelessness, or deep sadness or pain, is a metal wall that surrounds them.

And their eyes have a way of cutting into you, even though it seems as if they are looking right through you.
Cutting through you with pain, hopelessness, indifference to anything joyful.

And then when they cry. . .

Oh the pain, the deep pain inflicted upon the hearer of the silent cry. The quiet cry.

They either stare at you with those hollow eyes, tears lightly streaming down their face

Or they hide their face and you can hear the slight whimper; the quick in-take of air. And it tells you that they are crying but they do not want you to know. You do not see much open, blatant crying here for children that are older than toddler age, unless from a serious injury or beating.
So they hide themselves.
And you can just hear the cry-breathing.

And what can you do?

Jinja Vaca AND IJM #2

2009-12-02T09:31:00.004-06:00

So as mentioned in the previous post, Coryn, Jamesdon, Randy, Emily, Jake, and I went to Jinja. We used this really sweet van where we could turn the seats around to face each other like we were having a conference. And there were sunroofs and microphones from front to back! I got to see some more beautiful countryside of Uganda. It truly is the pearl of Africa!

Roadtrip excitement!
Coryn likes to play it cool but Em knows how to have fun!

Here's our cute little tent we stayed in that overlooked the Nile rapids!

We went to Bujagali falls and paid some Ugandans to go down the falls holding only an empty bucket. (This is just something you do here apparently) It was quite interesting.

Totally got to watch people bungee jump over the Nile!

We went to Amani Baby Home to get some insight for our Baby home. It was really cool for us who volunteer at the home to see a well-functioning and established home with 52 babies and toddlers! This kid is showing Coryn the photo album of the family that is adopting him from the States! Precious! Another place to adopt from if you're interested!!

It was extremely relaxing, incredible beautiful, and perfectly delicious. =)

Then Emily, Nathan (emily’s friend from Nashville), and I ventured over to the International Justice Mission office in Kampala. As all of you know, I have been pretty involved with IJM for some time so this was a really cool experience for me. The staff there was incredibly friendly, of course, and we talked for a good while. Turns out, the area where they do all their work is in Mukono—where Jake lives and we got to visit. Talking to these people and hearing about their work really stirred my heart again for the work IJM is doing. And sort of in a different way this time, because I am actually living in Uganda. It was the first time I had the thought of, “I could totally live here in Uganda and work for this organization.” Who knows what will come of that, but it was there!

The week prior to this was almost as eventful as the weekend, so expect another post with more wonderful pictures very soon!

Jinja Vaca #1

2009-12-01T12:47:00.006-06:00

I got to go to Jinja this past weekend. Someone had once described it to me as the "austin" of Uganda. I would definitely agree based on the places we went. I got one photo of this cool austin-like coffee shop we went to below. Above is the beautiful Nile River behind me. Don't I look cropped in? Jamesdon, Coryn, Radny (a friend of theirs), Emily, and I picked up Jake along the way and took a SWEET van along the countryside. It was exactly what I have been hoping for! Good friends, good food, cheap, BEAUTIFUL sights!

(more pics to come in the next post)
This was the place we stayed, below. And the beatiful view we had every morning, night, and dinner time! Emily and I stayed in this really nice tent, with beds and everything we needed, overlooking the Nile, where we could hear the rapids all night! Beautiful!

This was the amazing chipati we had right next door. Nutella and banana. Or egg, avocado and other great stuff!

Good eats!

This is Jamesdon and Coryn. They are the american couple that has taken such good care of me while in Gaba. I don't know what I would have done with out them this whole time. Seriously.

Yes, we got to feed monkeys!! They were great and came and got bananas out of our hands!

Jinja Beauty

2009-12-01T04:32:00.003-06:00

Refer to the blog above for more information on my wonderful Jinja trip!
This is Bujagali Falls and the crazy awesome people rafting down them!

The view from the place we stayed.. . .

The view from where we fed the monkeys

The view from where we ate.

Incredible sunsets every day.
Just walking around the Nile!

Confessions of Prejudices

2009-11-28T07:52:00.000-06:00

I found myself having trouble trusting Ugandans knowledge on certain things. (not trusting them as a person, just their knowledge on certain things)It was not like I consciously was thinking, "These people are stupid, I can not trust them." It was more like, I noticed after a few minutes that I was kind of disregarding what they were saying.

This has only really happened a few times, but I still would like to get rid of it. For instance:

I had a wound on my my knee that seemed to be infected. Esther is one of the Ugandan volunteer mothers at the baby home who has training as a nurse. (she is not a RN, but she is somewhere in the process of that) One day, a Western nurse, along with some other western women, came to visit the baby home and saw my knee. She, and the other women, started telling me some things I should do for it. I listened to them as if they were doctors themselves. Registering every word. And then I promptly followed their advice.

Later that day, Esther saw my knee and started telling me something I should do also. I noticed that, though I heard what she was saying, I was pretty much throwing it aside. I had already gotten my advice from a qualified Western nurse, who speaks my same language, so it was very easy to understand exactly what she was telling me to do. I don't need any Ugandan remedies from a somewhat qualified Ugandan. That is not what I was consciously thinking, but somewhere in the subconscious I'm pretty sure that is what was happening. A little later, after trying the Westerner's advice and not seeing any immediate results (which was not expected anyways), and after realizing my prejudice, I went back to Esther and asked again what I should do. This time I followed her advice, got the oinment she swears by, put it on my knee, and sure enough--healing occurred. I continued to follow her advice the next few days and my knee was all but healed.

I noticed I did this with other Ugandans that were telling me what to do for my wound. They were basically telling me the same at the Westerner, but I totally put their words in a different category. Now some of that is justified because 1. It is hard to understand their English sometimes, so to follow medical advice that you can not complete understand is a little unnerving and 2. I do think, if given the option of listening to an "expert" or "professional" in a certain area and a person who only has limited knowledge on something, I think most of us would choose the expert (most of the time).

But I do not want to just dismiss what people are saying because I can not COMPLETELY understand them, therefore they sound less smart; or because I simply do not deem them worthy to give advice on a certain subject. I want to hear people out. All people. Weigh their advice. Give it a chance. Try it out.

As I've mentioned in a previous blog, we can not really help that we have prejudices. All of us have them whether we admit it or not. Everyone.

The test comes when we decide 1. to try to be aware of our prejudcies rather them be ignorant and ignore them and 2. what we do with the prejudices once we have recognized them.

I'll be the first to admit i am prejudice about some things. And i'm always discovering another prejudice that disgusts me and brings me to my knees in humility. I will also admit that it is hard not to act on them. They seem so justified.

I simply continue to pray that the Lord will have grace on me so that I may have grace on others and continued to be humbled, and continue to turn from my hurtful human ways.

Confessions of Comfort

2009-11-24T06:45:00.001-06:00

I have another confession.

This one really surprised me.

My first day at the baby home, it was hard for me to really embrace the babies.

Their skin and hair was greasy. Some of their skin had weird things on it. They were not clean and groomed perfectly like the rich, white babies I was used to.

I was weirded-out and upset about the way I felt so distant from them.

Simply because—its not what I was used to. These babies were different. They were not what I was used to cuddling with, touching, rubbing my face against, etc. So I couldn’t just jump right in and embrace them as my own.

I don’t like this about me (most of us, as humans). I don’t like that because something/someone is so different than me and what I’m used to, I do not love/like them as much. I cannot embrace them like I would someone/something that I am simply “used to.”

This is a sad thing about us as humans. It contributes to so much hate, animosity, war, and pain in the world. Just because something is different. Just because we are not used to it. We run away. We jump to conclusions. We act distant and cold.

Sure, we cannot really help our natural reactions. Its just the way it is. BUT we can fight it. We can react naturally, but then quickly become aware of it and change it. We can fight that instinct. We can force ourselves to be around the “different” until it does not become “different” anymore.

I will be the first to admit that it is REALLY hard.

I really experienced this with the Momen kids I’ve hung out with for a few years. They are a family of inner-city, low-income, “ghetto” black kids. There are many things that made them so “different” than me and made me want to run away cause I just didn’t know what to do with it. I also experienced this by going to the “homeless potlucks,” where a bunch of homeless and/or poor people came to the park and a bunch of us non-homeless/poor people brought food and we all just hung out and talked for a while, every weekend. There were SO many times that I just wanted to run away. Not because they were mean, not because they hurt me. Simply because they were SO different and I just didn’t know how to handle it. I felt like I couldn’t relate. I just felt so distant.

But in both these situations, I forced myself to stick around until they became, “not so different.” Until I became used to them. Sure, I wouldn’t say that we are exactly the same now—but they did become “not so different.” I did become used to them.

And it was beautiful.

The same thing happened with the babies. But it only took about 2 days with them. Hah.

Really, after 2 days it was as if I was black or something. I completely got used to them and now I just can’t let go of them. Now I’m like—bring on all the black babies! I’ll embrace all their differences!

(this probably is not true. There are probably still lots of differences ill need to get used to with each individual, but you know what I mean.)

Fun All Around

2009-11-22T22:34:00.000-06:00

The kids love when I make silly faces. . .and when you don't speak the same language, you have to revert back to the language all kids speak = Silly-Face language. And this is how they communicate back to you. . .

Yes, laugh it up. But if you have never played the "raspberry picture" game, then you are missing out on much laughter the Lord wants to bless you with. For those of you who have played it before, you've seen this face already. But for those of you who have not, stop laughing at me, get some friends, and take pictures of each other blowing raspberries. Its the best thing since sliced-bread.

This is Mary by the way.

And this is Irene.

There's my girl. =)

Christine and Olga playing. It's just so funny to see little 5 year olds, carrying around big 2 year olds on their backs all the time.

Mexican food in Uganda! What?! And it was pretty good! We had a fun night out!

They had "salsa lessons" so of course we were all over that. The instructor was this little, old Ugandan guy. He was hilarious. The room was filled with Ugandans. It wasn't intense salsa-ing at all. And some of it wasn't even salsa to begin with. But the point is--it was fun! And I can't dance well, so I was glad it wasn't hardcore!

The cute little guy in front is the instructor!

Emily saying, "Juliette, why are you taking a picture of me when I don't know what the heck i'm doing?"

Cheesing it up!

So apparently our commitment to ARMs does not allow us to drink alcohol. So we lived it up with a wonderful Virgin strawberry margarita! And I've already told Emily she's gotta take me out in Nashville!

Having fun with my new favorite: Aiden. I'm taking him home with me, I've decided.

Family photos! Aren't they precious??? You can imagine how much fun it was trying to take a group picture of 4 infants!!!

Confessions of Inexperience

2009-11-21T09:43:00.002-06:00

I have come to the conclusion that I (we) really don’t know anything about anything until we have experienced it.

I would have agreed with that statement even before this experience, I think, but now I am proclaiming it loudly.

We can say, “Oh in that situation I KNOW I will do this. Or be that. Or choose this action.”

But we really do not know until we are in the situation. At most, we can HOPE we will do a certain thing.

This fact has been proven to me over the past few years when I have acted in ways that I thought for sure I would not have acted if I was to be in that situation.

And then being here in Uganda, in a completely different culture, with no one who truly knows me, with nothing I am used to—I have definitely been humbled to the point of being able to admit that we really do not know things for sure until we have experienced them.

I think we can know some objective truths about certain things outside of ourselves, but the self, the psyche, the human mind/heart—it is just so complex; ever-changing; ever more to be discovered.

Do not think you know yourself so well until you’ve REALLY explored your mind, your heart, your emotions, your motivations, your fears, and then experienced each thing you think you could predict about yourself—and even then, know that you still do not know all there is to know about yourself.

I am only more affirmed in our finite, limited knowledge, and our Creator’s deep, deep, all-inclusive, infinite knowledge. He knows every single thing about my heart, my mind, my motivations, and how I will be/act in any given situation.

We know very little and can, at best, hope that we are/will be certain ways.

But He knows it ALL.
It’s a little overwhelming to think about.
But it is also very comforting to know that I know Him. So therefore I do not need to worry about trying to predict what I would be like if this happened. Or what I should do in this situation. I can trust Him. I can trust the One that knows me SO much better than I know myself. I can rest in the fact that he will put me in the exact situation I need to be in and he will give me everything I need to do what I need to do.

So Juliette, just be ready to say ‘I don’t know’ to lots of things.
Be okay with saying “I think I will do this.” “I think God is saying this.” “I think I will be like this in that situation.” “I think this is the best thing to be done.”

I’ve tried to think and act with that kind of humility already, but I hope I will be doing it much more now.

Over the past few years I have thought a lot of different things about how I would be when I would be inside other cultures, especially African ones. There haven’t been many surprises about the African Culture itself, now that I am experiencing it. I did my research and it paid off.

I even did my research about what it would be like for me personally to be there. . .and I’m sure it paid off in some ways. But I don’t know how many times I have said to myself since I’ve been here, “Wow, this is humbling.”

Like I said, there haven’t been too many ‘surprises,’ like I haven’t said or thought, “I’ve just never seen or heard of such a thing before.”

But the unexpected comes when I think things like, “I can’t believe I’m feeling like this right now. I can’t believe I’m thinking this.”

I really am grateful for this experience. I hope the Lord continues to provide more and more experiences of humility very often in my life.

I have come to realize how much I love and respect the characteristic of humility when I see it lived out in others.

It might just be my favorite.

(And I do not mean the self-deprecating, “I’m so awful. You’re so wonderful. I can’t do anything” type of humility. I hate that. Cause it is not true humility. I’m talking about humility that is aware of the truths about themselves and the world.)

Pastors, Prophets, and MUZUNGUS!

2009-11-18T02:13:00.006-06:00

This past week Bethany Village hosted a conference for pastors around Uganda. The 3 main speakers were preachers from the States and they were great.

Two of the pastors brought a team with them—that means there were lots of muzungus around Bethany village for a whole week! I didn’t know what to do with myself! One was an older group and one was a younger group. Perfect combo!

Also, I had a Texan friend! Jake is from the Dallas area and is living in a village nearby for many months. Our best friends are dating but we had not met until he came to Uganda! How crazy! So it was nice to have another Texan here. For those of you that know Otha, Justin, and all those guys, you know they are like all pretty much the same person. So it was like I was hanging out with Otha and them all week!

This week was so encouraging for me for many reasons:

--Emily (the girl from Nashville) had been here for a week so we were good ol buds. She has been an enormous blessing for me!!

--Cassy, a girl from Montana, was also a huge blessing for me. She is very much the same as some of my best friends back home so we connected instantly. Cassy, Emily, and I laughed a ton (which I haven’t done much of so that was so refreshing) and we had deep, analytical conversations (another thing that is at the core of who I am but have not been able to do much of).

--Learned much more about prophesy and how it really isn’t weird or scary!

--Received prophetic ministry and was SO encouraged by it!

--heard some GOOD English preaching

I must admit, when all the muzungus left on the boat and I was the only white person left in the eerily quiet village—it was a little depressing.

BUT I was really looking forward to time to process everything the Lord had taught me and to just really BE with my family in the Alma house again. They had made many comments about how “the muzungus stole my love for them,” because I hadn’t spent much time at home all week. And I really did miss them.

I just felt so encouraged in my work here and more confident in what I’m doing.
Its funny what happens to you when you’re not the new kid on the block anymore. Everyone was asking ME questions! And the kids would act all shy around all the white people, but then, when it was just me and Emily at the house—the sillyness would come out! I love that they are so comfortable with me now! Its beautiful!

But then the next day, Uncle Francis’ fiancé came! You would seriously have thought the President of Uganda was here. The kids were going crazy! The mothers were going crazy! At church on Sunday, it was a true celebration! Everyone wore their best clothes! Everyone acted their best! It was insane! So I’ll have another muzungu around for a little while (and people will stop asking if I’m “the one” every time I’m with Uncle Francis).

Here’s some highlights of the week . . . .

This is Emily, from Nashville.

Above is me, Emily, Amy, and Coryn. Amy and Coryn are married and have been my American friends since i got here. We had a girls day in Kampala and ate at a wonderful place called New York Kitchen.

The picture above and below are from the conference. This little "amplitheater" over looks the lake. Its absolutely beautiful to sit, listen, and worship here. But the seats are not too comfortable. =)

This is me, Cassy, and Emily. Good friends.

Good times laying on the dock at night, looking at the stars, talking in British accents. Being silly girls and laughing. Mmmm how I needed that!

Laying in the grass, in the sun, listening to a sermon. Do you know how happy i was then?

Sunset walk! How beautiful! I haven't ventured out too much because I'm not really suppose to alone, but I had friends! Since then, I have ventured out much more =)

Another adventure with 2 boys, so I was really safe. Another beautiful view.

My escorts. Of course Jake was trying to find a cliff to jump off of, but he had to settle for this.

If you know Justin or Otha, you know this face. This is their classic face. And he is making it in response to the personality test which he refused to take. Of course. But I won, because I totally got him to take it. =) Becca, he is an Artisan. Who called it? Me!

This is how destraught he was while taking it. Boys. . .

The Texans!

This was Adrienne being introduced as Francis' fiance in front of the whole church. All of the house mothers went up with her because they are her new best friends! Francis' many wives! hah

Me and the happy couple.

Mary had a little. . . goat. . .

2009-11-15T07:47:00.002-06:00

You know the little mother-goose rhyme “Mary had a little lamb, little lamb, little lamb. . .it followed her to school way day, though it was against the rules.. . .it made the children laugh and play to see a lamb at school.”

That rhyme was playing through my head one day as a goat just walked right into the class room as we were working. It walked around the room, then walked out. But the thing is—it did not make the children laugh and play. That acted as if it was just another student walking in the room. No big deal, just another day in a Ugandan village school.

Another interesting difference. . .All of the school children use these little paperback notebooks for every subject. Very simple and cheap. Well they also all cover their little notebooks in newspaper. This is their way of taking care of their books.
That’s wonderful.

The interesting part is the newspaper articles that are covering these kindergartener’s books.

Spread across the front of book after book are bold-face titles such as these:

“Your sexual behavior can seal your fate.”
“The truth about homosexuality.”
“Should couples spend all their time together?”
“What is sex?”

Not to mention the wonderful pictures of people dirty-dancing and ginormous boobs hanging out of scantily-clad women.

It catches me off guard every time I have to look at these covers and then look at the face of a 5 year old as I hand it to them. Fortunately, they have no idea what they are looking at. . . . at least I’m assuming so. . . .

Another interesting thing is what the children use for “counters.” You know, in elementary school we would use brightly colored cubes, blocks, plastic coins, etc. during math lessons to learn how to count?

Well one day the kids all came to school with a hand full of a sticks.

Some small. Some big. Some dirty. Some clean.

Sticks they picked up around the house.

And this is what they used for counters.
How simple.

And it works!

Being “the missionary”

2009-11-14T23:15:00.000-06:00

Oh how strange it is to be on the other side.

On all of my short-term mission trips, I was wondered what it was like to be the long-term missionaries that I met there, and I longed to be them.

I couldn’t wait for that day where I would go home after a week, but I would actually live there.

I couldn’t wait for the day when the cute little kids that attacked me with hugs would not just be cute little kids I played with for a week, but would be my friends, my children, who’s personalities I know so well.

I couldn’t wait to not just be one of the hundreds of westerners who come over and are so excited about anything and everything and just think “everything is so great,” but to truly know what is great and what isn’t so great and to experience more than just excitement with the national people.

I couldn’t wait to be the one that didn’t just come to bring lots of nice things, but the one who stayed.

Well that day has come. At least I’m staying for longer than the typical 2 weeks. (I can’t say that I’m “the one who lived the rest of her life there,” which would be quite a goal.)

What made me think about all this was a team that came from North Carolina one day. They came to Bethany one day just to get a tour and see some of the kids—and to give them lots of stickers and take lots of pictures of course. And then the next day they did a Vacation Bible School with the kids.

They were really nice and it was great to have some muzungus to talk to, if only briefly!
(And almost all of them have internationally adopted children of their own so that was also really cool)

But it was so weird for me to be on the other side. . . .

it was so weird for them to ask ME questions about how things work.. . . .

it was so weird for the lady who was a nurse to tell ME how to take care of Christine because her leg was sprained. . . .

it was so weird to watch them take picture after picture and be in awe of these precious children and for me to sit there and just watch—because I’m with these children every day .. . . ..

it was so weird to watch them tour around the village, with their backpacks and matching t-shirts, while I washed dishes outside my house. . . .

it was so weird for me to watch them leave, while I stayed.

My favorite part about that group was that there was only one college age girl. All the rest were 25 and up—people with careers, people with families, people with children at home.

But their vacation time this year was spent coming to Uganda for a week to see how they can further help orphans.

Food

2009-11-07T14:53:00.005-06:00

Here are the "ants" they eat that I wrote about before. I just found out these are actually termites. Awesome.
This is some other insect they eat. Not really sure what it is... . .

Are these locusts? Or what? They eat this too....

The normal meal. Huge plate. Tiny kid.

This has become my new best friend. Butter. Its pretty much all i have to eat pasta with. And bread. I've eatin too much of it for sure.

Typical "sauce" with my rice or posho. Beef or pork in there.

The cake we had one night for some girl's birthday in Gaba. Not the greatest cake ever, but it wasn't bad! Check out the sweet horse on there. Pretty funny.

Where I cook my few meals. I got Zucchini and onions one night! So delicious!

Eat a lot of Irish potatoes. They are just sitting in the ground right now. Getting ready to plant them.

Chopped up mango the kids made for our "party" at the Alma house.

MMmmm mango. These are EVERYWHER. And they eat them all the time. But they eat them when they are not ripe. They give me the ripe ones like this because they know that's all we muzungus like.

Mama Jane came home with all this one day and wanted me to take a picture of it so she arranged it all beautifully like this. Funny. And declicious! Fresh produce!

HUGE avocados!!!

Jack Fruit!! These are HUGE fruit that they love to eat.

Learning to make chipati!!

I can't wait to make this when i get back!

What if he was your child?

2009-11-06T13:56:00.004-06:00

I don’t know how he does it but this boy has a way of making every single person who walks through Loving Hearts Baby Home truly fall in love with him. . . if they stay for more than 10 minutes. I did not understand it at first. . . .and it did not really set in until the second day. . . but there is something about this boy. . .

If you were to look up "best baby ever" in the dictionary, there might be this picture next to it.

He is just SO good. Up until about a week ago, he really only cried when he was hungry. And even then, it wasn’t an intense cry.

He's also the BEST cuddle buddy ever. He wraps himself around you like a little monkey. He will just sit there with you. Just laying against you. The more he grows and develops, the more active he is getting while sitting with you, but still, he's so loving.
Perhaps this is part of what makes people fall in love with him.

Oh and the fact that he just has the sweetest spirit ever.

I can’t even explain it. You just never have to worry about Daniel. He does his own thing. He occupies himself.
He scoots around the house, army-crawl style. He lays in the rays of sunshine he can find. He bangs his feet and head on the ground for fun. He claps his hands. He touches your face so gently. He comes straight to any new person who walks in the room, especially his white friends.

To think that this boy was abandoned when just a couple of months old simply boggles my mind and breaks my heart.

I cannot help but wonder allllll the time:

Does his gentle, humble, quiet spirit come from the fact that for the first half year of his life no one cared about him? No one gave him love?

Is the reason he doesn’t cry very much because he learned that no one will come when you cry—or perhaps crying will only be met with pain inflicted upon him?

Has he learned to find his own contentment and fun because there is no one there to do it for him?
Has he learned to be satisfied with any food, attention, or affection he gets because its better than nothing?

I don’t know the answer to these questions, but I cannot help but wonder about it every time I hold him.

Because you see, he has learned to cry more now. I noticed it when I came back from being gone a week—after he had been there for 3 months. Now, when someone who gives him lots of tender love and affection puts him down after holding him, he cries. Now, he cries when he doesn’t get attention sometimes.

Perhaps he has learned from living with 3 infants that when THEY cry, THEY get held and get attention. So maybe he’s trying out that strategy.
Or maybe he’s realized how much he enjoys the love and affection he gets from us and it really does pain him when he does not get it.

Then there’s the other questions that come from his physical issues . . .

Something is wrong with Daniel's eyes in case you didn't notice in the pictures.
He had surgery to remove cataracts (from birth) so now he sees fine, but his eyes are always rolling around.

Its actually quite funny and precious. He is developing really well though. And he’s getting glasses, which should help.

He also has something wrong with his "private" area. Like, he doesn't urinate like a regular boy, but more like a girl. . .he's not fully developed down there. . .so we have to get that checked out. . .

So was he abandoned because he looked “retarted”/”disabled”?
That is a VERY common occurrence here.

Or was he going to be abandoned either way?

The doctor says his eye condition COULD be due to a brain injury.
So did the injury come when he was an infant due to maltreatment from the parents?
Or was it something that happened in the womb due to a careless mother?
Or was it completely out of the parents hands?

It is overwhelming to think about the life he would have if he was not in this home.
Children with "issues" like the ones he has are easily taken cared of in America, but here--they are tossed aside or locked in the back bedroom.

If he were YOUR child, what a different life Daniel would have.
If he were your child, these issues would be nothing. They may already be fixed.

I cannot wait to see the family who adopts this little boy and how well he develops! Any family that gets him will be extremely blessed.

Here are a few more from the Baby Home. . .

Yes, this is a very small stroller. With a very fat baby seated in the sitting part. And another baby scrunched up in the carrying pouch that reads, "Warning: never place more than 3 lbs in here." One of the mothers put Aiden in there because both of them would not stop crying. . . only in Uganda. . .

I just love when I have 2 or 3 at a time!

Thoughts on parenting from a 22 year old. . .

2009-11-06T10:59:00.000-06:00

Is it crazy to expect my children to do a lot of house-work in America?

To wake up every morning and have a couple of chores they know they have to do?

Is it crazy to expect my 8 yr old to wash dishes?
My 7 yr old to take out the trash?
For my 8/9 yr old to vacuum and mop or wash clothes?
For my 7 yr old to make simple meals and my 10 year old to make more complex meals?
For my 7 yr old to start mowing the lawn?
For my 7/8 yr old to clean the bathrooms?

I don’t want to be a slave-driver. . . and I am definitely not a clean freak, so I don’t expect them to clean the same things every day. . . . and we can rest on the weekends. . . and I still want them to play a lot. . . and I don’t expect them to do ALL the house work. . . but where did we get this idea that children shouldn’t work/do chores and should only play?

From my observations, kids instinctively know how to play and have fun. We do not need to work very hard to give them opportunities for that. They can have fun while working, especially if they have siblings or friends working with them.

But if they are taught that chores are not fun at all and it is something that everyone hates—then of course they’ll hate doing it!

At the very least, I want my children to know that work/chores are a part of life.
They are necessary.

You cannot make it through the day without it.
And they not just for mom and dad and the housekeep to do.
YOU, personally, cannot make it through the day without it.

In my sociological studies, I learned about how, in our American society today, people are becoming adults at a later and later age. Meaning we are maturing later.

We are acting like kids for a longer period of time.

It seems like, today, many people are not starting to become "adults" until they are in their mid to late 30’s.
The stage of "figuring yourself out" is lasting much longer. The stage of "play over work" is lasting much, much longer (and some never come out of it).

Meaning, it is taking so much longer to figure out the fact that part of life is working hard.
I wonder if that has anything to do with the fact that we are not trained to work very much as children. And many times, if we do work, it is ONLY be to be paid a sum of money by our own parents.

Is this strange to anyone else?

I realize that there was a period of history where children were probably worked too hard and were not allowed to really "be kids," or play, or use their imagination. And so we began to go in the other direction.

But why must we, as the human race, always go SO FAR in the opposite direction?

(I hope the title of this post reveals my humility and my awareness of the lack of first-hand experience I actually have as I write this)

Here's just a few more pictures of life these past few weeks:

Wasswa and Peter taught me how to make Chipati!! I can not wait to make this when I get back home!

Just cookin some dinner with Mama Jane

Planting some Irish potatoes!

Fresh fish just sitting outside. . .mmm. . . I just cant bring myself to eat it. . .

Finally got rid of the bat! He started crawling onto the board inside my room and I just couldn't handle that. So peter got up there and clogged the hole for me! Yay for peaceful nights!

Its' officially the rainy season!

2009-11-04T02:08:00.002-06:00

And I’ve officially had one of my best experiences so far:

Playing in the pouring down rain with my kids in Uganda!

November is the wettest month. . .but it started getting ready for November at the end of October. No more of the nice, quick little showers that cooled things down then brought the sunshine out again—like I’ve been experiencing.

Now when it rains, it RAINS. For most of the day sometimes. For sure every day. I must admit that I love it because it sounds so wonderful on these tin roofs. Of course you cannot speak to anyone because you can’t hear anything—but I can hardly understand anyone anyways, so it’s a nice excuse. =) And of course it is a wonderful excuse to sleep or read! Two of my favorite things!

I had been wanting to play in the rain, but there just hadn’t been a good opportunity, but the day came! It was wonderful! I think Mama Jane thought I was crazy, but the kids sure enjoyed it! They seemed to be a little apprehensive at first—like, is this okay? But after about a minute, they were going crazy!

If you do not already know, playing in the rain is one of my favorite things to do!

Side stories:
You would think after 2 months the children would be used to my white skin. You would think the gawking would have ceased by now. Not so—for the little ones. (2-4 yrs) They still have it like it was the first time. At church on Sunday a 2/3 yr old got the guts to hold my hand for half the service—and not just hold it, but rub my skin as if, by rubbing, it might turn into what she knows at normal-black skin. Then she moved to the other arm and did the same thing. It’s like I’m an alien.

Just last week, I thought to myself “wow, if I make it through this all trip without seeing one snake, I will literally praise the Lord about that. He has totally protected me so far and its crazy to me! Well of course, I saw one on Sunday. Luckily it was in the lake, very far away from me and I did not have to see too much of it. I would have felt much better if the kids would have been successful at killing it, but alas, it swam away. Not good for my psyche, but as long as they stay in the lake, I should be fine. (I have a phobia of snakes thanks to all the wonderful women in my family)

Want to help?

2009-10-30T09:21:00.004-05:00

(if you haven't already, i strongly recommend reading the post titled "A Beacon of Hope" which is just previous to this one, either before or after reading this post.)

I have some visions.

First off, as I’ve mentioned in an earlier blog, I’ve been praying every single day for the Lord to provide ceilings, a water tank, and a safer kitchen for the Alma house, in which I reside.

Somewhere along the way, I began to add to my prayer, “Lord if you want to use me and the people in my life to be the answer to these prayers, will you show me how?”

After praying for a while, I think I am supposed to be part of the answer, and I have a feeling that some of you are too.

Many of you have asked how you can help, “what can I do?”
“I want to send money there, how can I do it?”

Well I’ve found some ways.

Check out the different options and let me know if you’re interested.

Option 1.You can help by bringing equality and an easier life to 12 orphans and a caring mother—who I now consider part of my family—The Alma house.

Water Tank--$1300
Safer Kitchen—$550
Ceilings—$2000

** I believe I am going to have extra money that I raised for my trip, so I will be giving that money directly to the Alma house for these specific needs. But that will only cover maybe ¼ of these current needs. SOOO feel free to join me in this! I plan on continuing to save my own money and raise funds from anyone interested until these things are installed in their house.

Also, it costs $900 a month for each home to “operate.” The Alma House’s sponsor is only giving $600 a month right now, like most of the other house’s sponsors are also doing. The global economic crisis leads to people giving less money which means less for those who already have less. Anyways, I am praying about giving a monthly contribution to the house in addition to those three extra needs listed above. That may come at a later date for me though. Right now they are not getting as much food as they normally would or a variety. They are just getting the basic necessities right now.
I have personally experience the frustration of not having water to boil, bath with, wash things with, cook with, etc. because this house doesn’t have a water tank. They can get water in other ways but its not as easy nor as sanitary as the other houses that have tanks.
The kitchen they use right now is a little shack. They make a fire with firewood, and cook on that. So you can imagine the smoke in this place. I can not stay in there for more than 5 minutes. They pretty much live in there. The “safer kitchen” means they will have a chimney and they will not use firewood.
And the ceiling will provide more privacy, a much quieter house, insulation, and all those other things we take for granted with ceilings.

Option 2.Donate to Bethany Village to help support one of the other homes that has similar needs as the Alma house, or the random needs that come up for the village as a whole, like clothes shortages, food shortages, a new home which will be needed soon, staff housing, etc.

Option 3. You can sponsor one of the children I described in the previous blog post (titled “A Beacon of Hope”) for only $30 a month. I know many of you are already doing something like that, so that’s great—move along! (Unless you want another one or something)
But for those of you that are not, and feel a desire to legitimately give a child a completely different future than what he/she has at this moment, please consider this.

I’m not using fluffy words. I’m not exaggerating. I’m not choosing every word carefully so that it truly represents things the best way I see it.

THIS IS NOT AN INFOMERCIAL ABOUT THE STARVING CHILDREN IN AFRICA.

This is about me, Juliette, being here in Uganda, working intimately with people who are truly giving children a future and working intimately with those actual real children.

This is about you wondering how you can be a part of it.

This is about you wondering how you can share the IMMENSE blessings you have in your life.

I only share this for 2 reasons.

1.When I was telling my mom about the GREAT work this ministry is doing and the real, live impact I am witnessing, she said that I need to tell people about this because its hard to know who you can actually trust when you hear about the places that you can “send your money and change lives.” This was a good point she made. So if you trust me, you can trust this.

2.The other reason I share it is because you have no idea how overwhelming it is to live life with these people and every day hear about another need that the children need or Bethany Village needs or ARMs needs. And then I hear that it would really only cost a hundred dollars or a few hundred dollars or even a thousand dollars to alleviate the need. And then, I know how small of an amount of money that really is. Yet it is SO huge here. And then to know about all the money I have access to personally and through all my friends and family. . . .its overwhelming!

So I am compelled to share!

If you want to help with the Alma house, please email me.
If you want to help with the TONS of needs of Bethany Village in general, please email me.
If you want to know more about ARMs and sponsor a child you can email me or go directly to

africarenewalministries.com

and do it yourself!

Don’t feel guilty or overwhelmed or burdened by any of this. I just share it for those of you who said you are interested in helping.

Some of my favorite pictures. . .

2009-10-28T02:02:00.001-05:00

Can't wait to actually show these with much better picture quality. . .

A Beacon of Hope

2009-10-27T08:02:00.001-05:00

Africa Renewal Ministries is the ministry that Bethany Village was birthed from. This ministry is operating all over Uganda.

They are educating orphans.

They are providing food, shelter, medicine, and other basic needs to many.

They are providing homes for orphans.

They are training pastors.

They are training youth to be leaders.

They are teaching youth about AIDS and other concerns.

They are giving kids the opportunity to go to university.

They are being Jesus to a hurting country. It is quite beautiful.

There is this group of believers that make up a church community in a certain town in Uganda. They thought, “how can we be a part of bringing the Kingdom of Jesus here to the broken people around us?”This group of people discovered what Jesus said for us to do, in order to be a light, or to be a beacon of hope, is to love the hurting, to restore the broken.

They discovered what Jesus meant about the Body of Christ when he said “be as one so that the world will come to know me.”These believers depend on one another, encourage one another, admonish one another, and simply love one another. And the hurting people around them have seen it. And the hurting people around them said, “I don’t know what to do with this child. Who will take care of it?. . . Let’s bring it to the church.”“I cannot afford to get my child food or an education and I don’t know anyone who can help me—Let’s talk to the church.”“I don’t know what to do with my life. I have no education. I have nothing. What can I do? I will go to the church.”“I have a disease. . .I am sick. . . There is nowhere to go to make me better. What will I do? I will go to the church.”

And so they come to Ggaba community church. And the people that make up the church give orphans homes. They transform the lives that these kids could have. Literally. They transform them.I’ve seen it with my own eyes. These people find other people who have lots of money (called “sponsors”) who will give just $30 a month to pay for one of those kids who’s parents have no money so that they can go to school and get a couple of meals a day. Five-thousand children are going to school, getting food and a future because 5000 people around the world give them $30 a month.

And because a group of Believers said, “I’ll stand up for the weak. I’ll seek justice for the helpless. I’ll stand in the gap. I’ll be the middle man. I’ll raise awareness. I’ll use my voice for the voiceless. I’ll do whatever it takes.” These people help pay for young adults to go to university so they can further transform Ugandan society. These people give hurting people a “future and a hope.”

These people are God’s plan of salvation--in action.

Ggaba Community church, the primary and secondary school here, the ARMs offices, the day care, the Clinic—this all makes up the compound of hope.

And this place is literally on the same street as complete poverty. Like, one second you are surround by children learning, people working hard to care for others, Christians singing and praying—and then the next step you take, you are surrounded by poverty, shacks, brokenness.

This is what the church is meant to be.

A place where hurting people go for a future and a hope.

Success!

2009-10-23T12:13:00.005-05:00

Some say success is making lots of money.

Some define success as getting a certain job promotion, or just having a certain job.

Some say it is just being happy.

I SAY it is. . . . drum roll please. . ..

getting 3 infants to sleep back, to back, to back.

And then soaking in the silence.

But seriously, taking care of babies is my calling in life, I believe.

So here are my precious Ugandan babies:

Meet Daniel. 10 months??? (no one really knows the exact ages of any of them)
Another post just on Daniel coming soon.
I started to write about him but realized I was writing like 3 paragraphs on his story.

Meet Rachael. 2-3 months??

In close running for best baby also. Sleeps. Cries to eat. Eats. Sleeps. Smiles. Repeat.

Meet Joshua. 4-5 months?

Not so good baby. But obviosuly adorable. He cries a lot. A lot. And very, very loud. He always needs attention. (reminds me of another josh i know. =) )

I think he has issues with the formula . . .but there's not really any other options for him.

Meet Aiden. 3-4 months??

This is a boy, don't be mistaken. Isn't he precious?

He also cries loud and often. And I think he has issues with the formula too. . .but what can you do about it here? He's a smiley man!

It's hard to say, but if I do have a favorite it is probably Rachael.
It could be because she is the smallest.
It could be because she is a girl.
It could be because she is such a good, easy baby.
It could be because she reminds me of Emma Tillery.
Or it could be for some unknown reason!

I am starting to spend lots of time at Loving Heart's Baby Home in Gaba (across the lake from bethany village). Right now there are only these 4 babies, but hopefully in a couple of months the final paper work will be done and tons more babies will be filling this home.

They have had to turn away some babies already because the government told them they can't get anymore babies until they finish this paper work. Amy, the director, told me that a couple of babies have already passed away because they had no one to take care of them.

How horrible is that?

Please pray for the paper work to be finished quickly so that dying babies may be saved and have a completely different future!!

All of the babies accepted in this home are "abandoned" babies. Meaning their parents are no where to be found--just left em at the hospital or somewhere worse.

I must admit, though, I have enjoyed having just 4 babies. It is enough to keep you busy but you also have enough time to have a personal relationship with each of them. There are 3 "care taker/mothers" who work different 12 hour shifts throughout the week. They are Uganda women who speak pretty good English, love Jesus, and are pretty good at what they do. I have enjoyed my time with them.

I'm pretty sure there are some families (Ugandan and American) that are in the works to maybe adopt these 4 babies. I pray for those families and for a speedy process almost every time I'm rocking these babies to sleep.

I pray for those parents right there in that moment that they will feel connected to this little heart I'm holding. I pray that that little heart will feel comforted and loved and safe in my arms until their parents can come for them. I pray that I can prepare these little hearts at least a little bit for the wonderful love and future that the Lord has in store for them. And I KNOW it is a good one.

It is seriously incredibly overwhelming to be holding this beautiful little babies and think about the life they would have had if they were not in this home. They could be dead. They would DEFINITELY be sick, underdeveloped physically, emotionally, psychologically, and mentally, lacking love, possibly not raised to know the Lord, and the list goes on and on.

But here, though they are not with their parents yet, which is a big deal, they are at least being loved, fed, given good health, protected, and taught.

All of these babies came here very malnourished and underdeveloped but they are doing so well now!! In just 3 months! Its amazing!

If you want one of these babies or the ones we will be getting soon, talk to Generations Adoptions in Waco, Texas!!!

Here's some fun extras. . .

Irene

2009-10-21T03:17:00.001-05:00

This girl. She’s an interesting one.

She has been to Uncle Francis office twice for “misbehavior.” The misbehavior has been for not taking care of the expensive milk they buy for her because she has HIV. (she throws it out, wastes it, doesn’t drink it, etc) and for hurting the little 2 year old. (she is very physical and sometimes goes overboard)

So she is labeled as “bad.”

And I just don’t know if I see it that way.

I just don’t think she is rebellious. I do not sense a rebellious spirit from her. If any of the kids in my house has one, its maybe Anita, but I don’t think any of them really do. (now in the preschool, that’s a different story. . .)

Irene is obviously developmentally behind emotionally, mentally, and socially.

She is 12 but functions more like a 7-8 year old.

And she definitely has one of those personalities that likes to play more than work, according to African standards-- not American.

She likes to laugh, have fun, be silly, sing, dance. She is out-going. She likes attention. But not TOO much attention.

I don’t know if she would be at the top of her class even if she was developmentally up-to-speed mentally. She’s not a “book worm.” She seems to try hard in school—they all do. But I don’t think academics is really her gifting.

And that’s okay.

BUT academics is really prized here.

Francis told me that when Irene first got here, Mama Jane was giving her lots of attention because of the hard situation she was coming from. She kind of treated her extra special. Mama thought maybe that’s all Irene needed in order to correct her behavior.

But is seems that Irene took advantage of that special attention and did not use it well, so Mama Jane backed off, and she behaved a little better.

So I’ve been asking these kinds of questions:

Is she just absent-minded? Just a forgetful child? Or is it really rebellion? Is she just seeking attention?

One day in the office, I was categorizing all the kids according to who has a parent/relative that could take them back one day and those that have no relative to ever take them back.

Irene is the only one in my house that has absolutely no one.

The moment I heard Francis say this, my complete natural instinct was, “oh, well I’ll take her back with me, then.”

Hah. Of course I did not say this out loud, but that is seriously what went through my mind the rest of the time.

And I am completely serious about this.

But then I had to ask myself the question that I’ve been wondering. . . forget all the legal and logistical things that would make that improbable—would she be better off taken out of this culture that she has been raised in for 12 years to America with me or would she be better off in this village, with this house mom, with Uncle Francis as her father, in the culture she has been in for 12 years, in a home that is raising her to be a wonderful, hard working woman of God, that IS providing the ARV medication she needs, and all of the other of her very basic needs?

And I honestly do not know the answer to this.

Just for curiosity’s sake, I asked Uncle Francis, “What if someone like me—single, 22 yrs old, etc—wanted to adopt one of the kids who has no relatives to take care of them? Would that even be considered or what?”

He said that the last he had heard about Uganda law, you have to be at least 25 yrs older than the kid, you have to be married, and some other qualifications that excluded me. The law could be different now, but either way, I should probably stop thinking about it, eh? =)

___________________________________________________________________

I wrote all of that about a month ago, and then last week, I got more to add to the story of "Irene."

Sam works at the Baby Home. He asked me about my time at Bethany and then Irene got brought him. He told me that he was the one that "found" her and then proceeded to tell me her story. . .

Sam used to work for the Child Sponsorship office where they go into villages and find the kids that need sponsors to go to school and eat and all of those things we take for granted. He was visiting a house one day, while the kids were at school, just talking to the grand mother. He noticed one girl was still at home so he began talking to her. He said "her face was so bright and happy. . .but when i looked in her eyes, they were so sad."

He asked her why she wasn't at school.

She said because she did not have money for books.
He said, 'ok well i'll get you money for books.'
She continued to have excuses about why she couldn't go.

So then he asked her grandmother.
She dismissively said, "Oh that one is HIV+"
End of story.
No more information needed.

HIV + children are done for, useless, no hope for future.

Unless a man like Sam, who works for an incredible organization walks into your home and starts talking to you. Sam immediately started sponsoring Irene--getting her to school and getting her proper medical treatment.
But when he came to check up on her over time, he found out she still was not being take cared of properly. And her family really did not want her.

So he brought her to Bethany Village. And got her medication that is probably going to save her life. And he takes her home with him during the holidays. And he comes to visit her at Bethany from time to time. He said he would have pretty much adopted her, but he is a single man, so that is unacceptable.

Coryn asked him that when he gets married, would he take her home with him. He said,

"yes, she is my child."

Tears welled up in me as I heard this story.
As i heard the pain and injustice that my precious Irene has experienced.
As I heard the beautiful redemption that the Lord has brought her.
As I heard the love expressed in this wonderful man's voice as he talked about my precious Irene.
As I heard that she does have the hope I long for her--for her to have parents. Here in her culture.

I was overjoyed.

Random pics (Josh, mainly for you!!)

2009-10-18T09:35:00.003-05:00

This is the bathroom you wanted to see. Here's the inside. It looks like it flushes, but don't be decieved. That bucket of water is how it flushes. Its really not that big of a deal, but its just annoying having to fill it up so slowly, then carry it to the toilet, then empty it in the toilet and get the water all over you. Ya know, not what this little American girl is used to!

This is from the outside.

This is the children's toilet.

And this is where they bath.

These are the boys fishing with their handmade fishing rods!!

They are so cute. But i dont know how they balance on that thing!!

Well-behaved Children

2009-10-16T08:12:00.003-05:00

(this doesnt really have to do with the post. . .but it IS some well-behaved children, haha. This is Anita and Carrol doing homework. I LOVE how the kids are always helping each other eevery night with homework. Its beautiful.)

One day Sharif was asking me questions about America and one of them went like this, “In America, do they beat you? Who beats the children?”

After I laughed a little, I figured out that he was asking, “when a child misbehaves at school, do they get spankings?” The English word they use for anything like “hit,” “slap,” “tap,” or “spank,” is “beat.”

This proved to be rather confusing to my mind at first.

I would hear “she beat me.” Or “I’m going to have to beat them.” And I was a little appalled. I soon learned that is the only English word they know for a variety of physical abuses and corrections. =)

I told Sharif that, no, children do not get “beat” at school, but there are some parents who “beat” their children for discipline. Though it was hard for me to even USE this word in reference to disciplining a child with spankings, it was the only way he could understand so I conceded.

So perhaps my hypothesis of why the children are so well-behaved--even under little adult-supervision-- could be correct.

My hypothesis was perhaps it is because they receive spankings for misbehavior. The adults here do not “spare the rod.” Don’t get me wrong, the children are not “beaten” for any misbehavior.

They receive lots of warnings, talking-tos, questions, and explanations for the discipline. And they do not “beat” them in the way in which we understand that word. It is more like spankings and swats. I witnessed it one day from Mama Jane. She gave Anita some slaps on the arm because Anita had hit Christine. Not a “beating,” but I think she learned her lesson. . . .

And Uncle Francis and I have talked a great deal about parenting/disciplining children. He has 177 kids to parent and, from my perspective, he does it well.

He has a lot of wisdom.

So I listen a lot. =)

He knows everything there is to know about every single one of the 177 kids in each home.
It’s amazing.

He said that the first 2 years he was here, he had to do a lot of discipline, and a lot of disciplining with “the rod” (spankings). That is because they were trying to teach these children how to work hard, be obedient, have good hygiene, etc. and these kids were coming from homes that usual did not do much of any of that.

So it took time to teach them. But he said that the past 2 years he has rarely had to do any discipline like that.
The kids learn.

He has lots of conversations about misbehavior—as opposed to “beatings.” And of course there’s the newer kids that take some time, but for the most part, the kids learn what is expected.

One day in the classroom, I was trying to get the kids to be quite and do their work. They would listen for like 3 seconds. Well someone had a stick in their hands so I took it away from them and began carrying it around absent-mindly in my hands.

Well something happened.

The kids actually listened to me when I spoke. They were quite.
They looked at me with much more respect. (possibly fear?)

It took me a second to realize it was because I had a stick in my hands!
And I didn’t even use it or move it around!

Oh and just so you know these kids aren’t perfect: there was an incident one day during recess where some boys were kicking another boy and the teacher yelled at them. And then a little later a boy was hitting another little boy and I had the honor of intervening on that one.

Sorry to all of you that disagree with this kind of discipline for children. Though I have no children of my own to testify for, all of the American and African children that I have met that are disciplined in this manner have led me to believe it is the best. Of course, I do not completely agree with the way I have seen (and heard) these spankings executed, like doing it in front of people, or not explaining it in a loving manner, and sometimes it’s REALLY hard for me to witness, but I agree with the basic principle.

Being “the missionary”

2009-10-16T07:45:00.000-05:00

Oh how strange it is to be on the other side.

be.love.d

Wedding Pinterest Day!

This Man

Cups

Broken and Faithful

Reteach a Thing its Loveliness

Lemonade

"Seperation"

Redemption?

Stones of Remembrance

Regret Nothing

JuJu is going crAAzy!!

8 year old Innoncence

A Glimpse Into Motherhood

Defaults.

Letter from a Birmingham Jail

Lachrymation

YOU ARE NAMED

Guiltless Shopping!

Ev. ery. thing.

Jehovah-Jireh

Education for Ugandans

What Is It About 20-somethings?

Going Home

A Beautiful Dress for Eva

More Eva Videos

My Sweet Eva

Lose two gain one

Less than 10%

Real Food

I got this making stuff for you

Healer

In Texas?????

It's not easy, but it's wonderful. . . .

Why did I go to Uganda, you ask?

I'm Back!

Mukono

Just hangin

Harvest time!

A few more

A few at a time. ..

Hollow Eyes

Jinja Vaca AND IJM #2

Jinja Vaca #1

Jinja Beauty

Confessions of Prejudices

Confessions of Comfort

Fun All Around

Confessions of Inexperience

Pastors, Prophets, and MUZUNGUS!

Mary had a little. . . goat. . .

Being “the missionary”

Food

What if he was your child?

Thoughts on parenting from a 22 year old. . .

Its' officially the rainy season!

Want to help?

Some of my favorite pictures. . .

A Beacon of Hope

Success!

Irene

Random pics (Josh, mainly for you!!)

Well-behaved Children

Being “the missionary”