flotsam and jetsam

Have you seen the Spring Update post on the One Word 365 site? I wanted to make sure you didn't miss it, because I'm really looking forward to reading how everyone's word and year are taking shape...

Maybe you've written an update in the past several weeks that counts as your Spring Update, or maybe you need to force yourself to stop and write one.

I'm in the latter category.

Although I'm feeling overwhelmed by more to do than time to do it in, and honestly don't know when I'll get my update post done. But hopefully the fact that I'm putting this on my blog will motivate me. (If only that could stretch my time and my energy too. Hmm...)

Anyway...

Please help spread the word and direct people over to the Update page on the One Word 365 site. Let's rally our global community and actively encourage each other to keep on keeping on.

Also -- in completely unrelated news -- I had the incredible honor or writing for Prodigal Magazine this month. You may have already seen it (if you follow me on Twitter), but if you haven't...

I shared a piece of my journey I've never shared before. On getting tested for HIV...

Things here in Africa are going well. My days have been very full and busy, but lots of work is getting done. I am really enjoying and appreciating being back in a team work environment again. It's been so great to have amazing people to brainstorm with and work alongside.

Thank you all for your amazing encouragement, prayers, love, and friendship. It is definitely making being on the other side of the world a bit easier. And I am so grateful...

Okay, your turn.

How about you leave me some flotsam and jetsam of your own. (I've spent about 7 minutes trying to determine if that's a question or a statement — my own personal crisis of punctuation!) (Okay, all my rambling is clear evidence of how exhausted I am...)

What are some random thoughts and happenings going on in your world?

healing in the heartache

I flew to Africa over the weekend... I'm here for 5 weeks. I am spending a month in Maun, Botswana—the place that stole my heart for Southern Africa when I was only 15—to help Love Botswana Outreach Mission develop communications policies and strategies. Then I'm heading down to Cape Town for a week to work with Bridge for Hope on some project development possibilities.

That's what I'm doing now.

I consult with non-profits, assisting with communications and development—translating my 13 years of leading a ministry in Africa into ways I can strategically help other growing non-profits.

It feels like a natural fit and like I'm in way over my head all at the same time. But I am beyond grateful for the chance I have to do this, and the opportunities I have to still be involved with what God is doing through ministries around the world. Such a tremendous gift.

Bittersweet at times, but still a priceless gift...

I forced myself to find words for what's going on in my heart being back in Africa again. About the unbelievable timing of this trip. About healing in the heartache.

And I'm sharing them over at Deeper Story today.

... ... ...

Fourteen years to the day since I first moved to South Africa, I arrived there again. On Saturday. My first time to return since I had to close our ministry and move back to the States.

Fourteen years.

To. The. Day.

The irony coincidence full-circle timing is unavoidable.

As if I didn't already have a kaleidoscope of emotions wrapped up in this first-trip-back, I go and do it on my Africaversary.

A big hot mess.

That's what I've been. For weeks now, leading up to the trip. On the entire (ungodly-long) flight over. And since my feet touched the ground.

The landscape of my life looks incomprehensibly different than it did 14 years ago. I'm no longer 19, chasing a dream, following a call... heart brimming with hope, expectation, and excitement.

Instead I'm exhausted inside and out... broken... still trying to locate and pick up the shattered fragments of my life... bearing what feels like a permanent scarlet letter... returning to a place that was home for so long, but doesn't feel like home any longer.

In fact—and I'm only realizing this now, as I'm typing it—it doesn't just feel like Africa is no longer home. It feels like she's betrayed me. Cheated on me. Hurt me.

But I know it wasn't her. I know I can't blame her for the heartache my ex-husband caused. And yet, there is heartache here nonetheless.

And there is nothing to do but face it and feel it, and trust the Healer to heal it.

To heal me. Through her.

Because while I don't feel drawn to live in Africa full-time again, I know I will be here often. And no matter what, at some point there needed to be a first-trip-back again, the hardest trip yet.

So these next 5 weeks in Southern Africa will be filled with old and new memories, heavy and light moments, grief and restoration. And then there won't ever be another first-trip-back.

The hardest will be behind me.

That's the joy that's set before me right now. Not sure if that's good, bad, or otherwise, but that's what's helping me keep breathing and keep going.

While she no longer feels like home, Africa still has my heart. She captured it when I was 15, and she will have it for always. Firsts, lasts, and everything in between...

So I'm trusting asking Him for the courage to do it afraid, to seek the healing in the heartache, to show me parts of myself I've lost, and to reveal parts of Himself I've never seen.

Originally posted on Deeper Story. Read the comments there >

On Getting Tested for HIV

I was the all-American good girl growing up. I turned my homework in on time, studied for tests, and got straight A's. I never drank or smoke or did drugs. I went on mission trips. I never dated. (I was, after all, part of the "I Kissed Dating Goodbye" generation.) And I saved myself for marriage...

I never even kissed a guy till I met my husband.

We fell in love as missionaries in his home country of South Africa. We got married and pioneered a ministry in the poorest region of the country.

It was the thing of fairy-tales...

So I never in a million years expected I'd ever have to get tested for HIV.

But I did.

Because my husband was unfaithful. And because we lived in the country with the highest AIDS-infection rate in the world.

He was with her for over a year-and-a-half before the truth came out. And when it did, he chose her. Over me. Over the ministry. He walked away from it all, in pursuit of a new fairy-tale all his own.

With my life crumbling all around me, I was forced to face things I'd never imagined.

Like an HIV test.

I couldn't hold back the tears as vial after vial of blood was taken.

My heart hurt far more than my arm did. I sobbed over the fact that I even needed to get tested. And I wished I had someone there with me. To hold my hand, literally and metaphorically.

My HIV test came back negative (for which I was—and am— overwhelmingly grateful), and I was given some heavy-duty antibiotics to kick any possibility of STDs. So all is well.

Physically.

But, even two years later, I'm still trying to process the reality that someone who professed for-life love put me in this vulnerable position.

And I wrestle with feeling that saving myself for him was a waste. (Even when I know it wasn't.)

I wish there was a pill that could cure my heart of distrust, fear, and insecurities. But there's no quick remedy for broken trust, a violated heart, and a deep-seated fear of rejection.

All I can do is trust the Healer...

Even when it still hurts.

Originally a guest post on Prodigal Magazine. Read the comments there >

fragile

Fragile. Like the costly alabaster jar broken at His feet.

Like the rickety contraption lowering the cripple through the roof.

Like the woman crawling through the crowd for her healing.

Fragile.

Like the tears of two sisters for their brother who didn't have to die.

Like the nakedness of the man in chained torment of his mind.

Like the interrupted desperate plea from a Centurion for his deathly ill daughter.

Fragile.

Like the dull ache of a lifelong thorn in the side.

Like the embers of passion and calling being fanned into flame.

Like the vapor of dreams dissolved.

Fragile.

Like the hope for a Messiah shattered by the strikes of a hammer on a hillside cross.

Like the silence of the Saturday that sealed the tomb more tightly than the stone door.

Like the gasps of fear and hope in discovering an empty grave.

Fragile.

Like the tentative faith of a hand outstretched to feel the scars.

Like the can't-believe-my-eyes belief in a resurrected Savior.

Like the obedience to follow transformed into an obedience to go.

Fragile.

Like my (in)ability to find words and use them well.

Like the fears, uncertainties, and loneliness of my sojourning soul.

Like the weight of self-discovery: momentary mirror glimpses of who I really am and how far I have to go.

Fragile.

Is my heart.

Asking Him

and you

to hold her gently.

5 Minutes with Discipulus

I'm being interviewed over on the Discipulus website today. My friend Moe asked me some killer questions. Like:

• Having served in Africa for thirteen years, what is the greatest lesson that you learned?

• You have gone through so much in life, and yet, you choose to love. What is the driving factor behind that love?

• Jesus asked His disciples, “Who do you say that I am”? Who do you say that He is in your life?

So to hear me unpack discipleship, soapbox about "avoiding the appearance of evil", and speak courage to fearful hearts (including my own), link over and read through the interview.

You are invited to ask questions in your comments there on the post, so if there's anything you wanna know about/from me... feel free to ask!

Hope to see you there...

in the cleft of the rock

"God said, 'Look, here is a place right beside me. Put yourself on this rock. When my Glory passes by, I'll put you in the cleft of the rock and cover you with my hand until I've passed by.'"

~ Exodus 33:21-22

Sometimes when it's the darkest...

God is the closest.

heart homelessness

Sometimes I feel like my heart is homeless. As though she has nowhere to land. And I'm swallowed up by loneliness, even if I'm surrounded by people. And my feelings are all over the map rather than in one specific place. And home—a place where I feel safe, understood, seen—is nowhere in sight.

Each of us walks such individual journeys, that even someone who has been somewhere similar still can't fully understand the place we find ourselves in. There is a unique loneliness that comes with our paths. A loneliness that cannot be avoided. An inevitable they-just-don't-get-it-ness.

Heart homelessness.

Sometimes it feels more overwhelming, and sometimes I don't feel it at all. It comes and goes like the tide, though without predictability or rhythm.

And my heart's left carrying around her makeshift cardboard shelter... always looking for a place and a people that feel like home.

I know deep down that Home is only in Christ. That He is my shelter, my refuge. He is my security. In Him I am always seen, known, understood, loved, and safe.

But I also think He calls us to find a mirrored sense of home in community.

In those times when it happens, it is absolutely beautiful! A miraculous gift... I have lived this, experienced this, time and time again. There are no words to describe the matchless wonder of this tangible extension of our Heavenly Home...

Yet relationships have seasons... Friends move on... Even the best-intended aren't always trustworthy (myself included)... And everyone's journeys are different (even when they are similar)...

So sometimes our hearts simply have nowhere to land...

What then?

I don't know...

As usual, my writing (like my heart) takes the shape of a question mark rather than a period. And so instead of presuming to have an answer, I ask you...

What do you do when your heart feels homeless?

monday morning confession

I love kitchen gadgets—well, to be honest, I love pretty much anything kitchen-related—but I don't even like to cook. I figure that if I have to do it, I might as well do it with the best stuff out there.

Makes perfect sense to me!

Okay... Your turn.

[see previous monday morning confessions...]

bittersweet

When people hear I got divorced after 10 years of marriage, the question is inevitable. "Do you have kids?" I usually purse my lips together and shake my head while I answer. "No... No kids."

And then I hold my breath.

Because nine times out of ten, the response is the same. And I catch myself bracing for it.

"That's good."

I keep my lips pressed tightly together, and slowly nod obligatorily.

I understand what they're saying. With as much as my life fell apart when my husband decided to leave with another woman, I am grateful there weren't children's hearts also so deeply wounded. So yes. That part is good.

But what most people don't realize is there is such a bittersweetness there.

I don't not have kids because I didn't want them.

I longed to have children, and we were finally at a place of attaining certain goals that would allow me to step back from working full-time so we could start a family. And the irony is that he began pushing for a baby right when he started his affair. And since I knew something was going on—even when I didn't know how bad it really was—I knew adding a baby into the mix wouldn't "fix" anything. So I'm the one who made the decision to wait. Because I needed to be sure we were okay.

And we weren't.

And we never had kids.

So while I'm glad there weren't little people dragged through the devastation of my past few years, and I'm beyond thankful I don't need to figure out an international custody arrangement, there is also a huge sense of loss for what could have been... and for what will never be.

It's an added layer of grief. Of mourning. Of letting go. Of uncertainty about ever having the opportunity again.

So yes. "That's good." But it also sucks.

Just think twice before you make a quick remark to someone. We never know the whole story. We can never comprehend the full situation. Don't presume. Don't preach. Ask.

Ask questions. Hear what the other person is thinking... feeling... saying... not saying...

Don't jump to conclusions.

Just ask.

And love.

Originally posted at Deeper Story. Read the comments there >

disappointed in jesus

I think we all, at some point in our faith journey, grow disappointed in Jesus. Of course we don't call it that.

But if we were being most honest, we would.

Because there are times when He doesn't show up like we expect Him to. He doesn't spare us from what we want Him to. He doesn't do what we think He should.

And ultimately it leaves our hearts disappointed.

John the Baptist found himself there.

And if Jesus' very own cousin—the one who leaped in the womb when unborn-Jesus was nearby and who, upon baptizing Jesus, heard God's own voice declare Him to be His Son—if John felt disappointed in Jesus, it seems fairly safe to assume we all will find ourselves there too.

When John the Baptist was in prison, he sent word from jail to ask Jesus if He was "the One". Now, John had seen and experienced an awful lot that had left him completely convinced that Jesus was in fact "the One". He had lived his whole life built on that premise, doing nothing more than point people towards Christ.

But now he finds himself in prison, where he knows he will likely die. And he's starting to have his doubts. Because this isn't how he anticipated the story unfolding... And he's no longer feeling convinced...

"Are you the one... or should we expect someone else?"

Jesus replied, "Go back and report to John what you hear and see: The blind receive sight, the lame walk, those who have leprosy are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the good news is proclaimed to the poor."

I hear Him gently reminding John not to forget all he had seen and experienced. That He is still who John knew Him to be. No matter what.

And then Jesus added: "Blessed is anyone who does not stumble on account of Me.”

He heals the sick. Raises the dead. And breaks chains of captivity. But He wasn't rescuing John from prison. He wasn't going to spare him from being beheaded. He wasn't showing up in the ways that John not only hoped for, but also expected.

What I hear in those words is this:

Blessed are those who still trust Me even when I don't live up to their expectations.

He was acknowledging John's disappointment in Him, and asking him to trust Him still.

When life—and therefore God—doesn't pan out the way you'd hoped, wanted, dreamed, and believed... and you are left feeling disappointed in Jesus (even if you aren't ready to admit that's what you're feeling), you have a decision to make.

What will you do when God doesn't live up to your expectations? Will you still worship? Will you trust Him? Follow Him? Love Him?

I keep hearing His words: "Blessed is anyone who does not stumble on account of Me." And I feel so challenged.

Will we still trust that God is good even when He disappoints us?

how? or wow!

There are two kinds of people in the world: How? people and Wow! people. Typically we are bent one way or the other, although certainly we are all capable of both.

How? people are the figure-out-ers. They hear a great idea and immediately jump into the role of working out how to make it happen.

Wow! people are the encouragers. They hear a great idea and immediately respond with exhortation and encouragement.

Both are needed. And at different times in the ideation process, one is needed more than the other.

The How? questions will eventually be needed, but not always right away. Often ideas need to percolate a while before the logistics should be tackled. What may be needed initially are some Wows! to fan the flame and fuel the vision.

I learned this the hard way.

I'm a How girl. I quickly jump to the practical elements when I hear an innovative idea... How can we make this work? What will we need to do it? When could we feasibly get it done? What steps do we need to take to get there?

I ask questions, not to challenge but to strengthen and help.

But I realized that my Hows? can come across as deflating when I never intend them to. In all honesty, I know I crushed my ex-husband's heart many times by responding with How? when what he needed from me was a Wow!

Ugh.

So when I'm sharing an idea in my heart with someone, it may be best to define where I'm at in the process and what I actually need from them.

It may be helpful all the way around to clarify when I need a Wow! reaction and when I need a How? reaction. And when someone is trusting me with an idea of their own, it may be wise for me to ask right off the bat what they need in that moment.

I want to always be one who encourages and strengthens, with both Wows! and Hows?

I just need to get better at learning when each is most needed...

Are you a How? or Wow! person? How does it play out in your relationships?

when i fly

When I fly...

I touch the outside of the plane as I board.

I choose an aisle seat.

As soon as I sit down, I put my seat back just a tiny bit -- not enough to be caught, but enough that I feel convinced I've scored myself some extra room.

I keep my seatbelt as loose as possible.

I adjust the air-blower-thing to high, and angle it right at me.

I wear a sweater or zip-up for when the air-blower-thing inevitably makes me cold.

I always bring something to read and rarely ever read it.

I text my friend right before I have to shut my phone off. It's tradition. Last text before takeoff, first text after landing.

I turn my phone on as we're landing, so it is fully powered up by the time we're on the ground. (I know, I know... So I won't also tell you that I've been known to occasionally turn it on mid-flight...)

I drink ginger ale.

I never eat the peanuts. And I always wonder why they still give those things out, especially with so many people allergic...

I become completely anti-social. I'll smile and say hello, but that's where I'd prefer our interaction end. Sorry, neighbor.

Armrest down. Always down.

I try to avoid going to the bathroom on the plane, but if I do... I cover my ears when I flush. That sucker is loud! Heh. "Sucker".

I try to force myself to sleep if there's turbulence.

I am that girl whose head drops when she falls asleep, jarring myself back awake just enough to reposition and do it all over again.

I thank the flight crew on my way out.

I'm sure there's more, but I'm drawing a blank.

How about you? What do you do when you fly?

(men and) women of action

"A woman named Mukankusi lived in the Bugesera District with her three malnourished children. They didn’t know where their next meal would come from and lived without any shelter. Food for the Hungry began a program called 'kitchen gardens'. It helps impoverished women to feed their families and sell produce for income. A kitchen garden is ideal for dry regions because they are filled with kitchen wastes, like vegetables and other compost materials. They require very little maintenance and remain humid with less watering.

Mukankusi successfully started a kitchen garden and began selling her vegetables in the market. With her profits, she applied for a small business loan and bought her own house. Her three children now have permanent shelter and are no longer malnourished.

Mukankusi has become an empowered, self-sustaining businesswoman with the ability to provide for her family."

That story was recently shared with me by a friend who works for Food for the Hungry. Incredible, isn't it?

There is untapped, God-given potential in the lives of poverty-stricken women around the world... Potential that has the power to eradicate poverty and change the future for generations of women to come.

Food for the Hungry is doing an incredible work with impoverished women in some of the poorest regions. Through their Women of Action program, they help disadvantaged women in Bangladesh to discover their potential, restore their dignity, and transform their communities.

That is worth celebrating!

Just around the corner is International Women's Day.

March 8th is a day dedicated to celebrating the economic, political, and social achievements of women, past, present, and future. Women's Day is something we honored in South Africa, so even though it isn't a widely recognized holiday here in the States, it remains dear to my heart.

And I love what Food for the Hungry is doing to celebrate.

In honor of International Women's Day, they are hosting a 5K Walk in Phoenix to raise funds for Women of Action. They even have a generous donor who has committed to match the first $10,000 raised!

A 5K Walk to raise 10K that instantly becomes 20K... I love God's ways of multiplying our efforts!

Celebrate with us by...

• Participating in the 5K Walk. If you live anywhere near Phoenix, join on March 11th for the 5K. This is open to women and men!
• Sponsoring women in Bangladesh through Women of Action. Directly impact a family and community in dire need.
• Donating to the 5K Fundraiser Walk. Your donation will double in impact with the matching grant!
• Spreading the word. Use Twitter, Facebook, your blog, and your voice to let others know they can help.

Together, we can make a huge impact.

Would you share how you feel you can get involved? Also, I'd love to hear about a significant woman in your life & how she has impacted you.

60/366

It's Leap Year. And today, February 29th, feels like a bonus. It's an extra day,  and it's got me thinking about what I want to do with it.

I know every single day is a gift. Even Mondays. I know today is no more special than yesterday or tomorrow. But still it seems to be challenging me a little differently.

It's got me thinking more uniquely about the fact that what I've been given -- these 24 hours, these however-oh-so-many breaths, these moments -- are once in a lifetime.

I want to live today with purpose and intentionality. I want to see what's in front of me, hear what's between the words being said, and live from my heart. I want to give more than I get, focus on others more than myself, and choose the next wise thing.

I want to steward today -- day 60 of 366 -- as best I possibly can. And I want to steward every day that follows just as well...

Leap Year. February 29th. Let's do this thing right...

What will you do with the gift of today?

space for selah

I'm not very good at building margins and space into my life. I never have been. My people-pleasing, perfectionistic, and workaholic ways crowd out any real possibility of healthy margin and breathing room in my life.

When I lack the space to just be, even when my time is filled with everything I love, a crash-and-burn is inevitable.

Been there. Done that. Lived to blog about it.

It takes intentionality to build space into my life. But when I do, my heart is better for it. And so is everything that stems from my heart. My writing, my relationships, my perspective...

A little bit of space goes a long way. Especially when it's a built-in consistent part of my life.

A healthy life rhythm has space built in.

Reminds me of the story of the woman with the issue of blood. I've always loved that passage because it vividly shows me that God is passionate about healing my heart and not just my body. But it also demonstrates a valuable lesson for my heart.

You remember the story, right? The woman pressed through the crowd on her hands and knees, grabbed the hem of Jesus' robe, and was instantly healed.

And the Bible tells us that Jesus felt power go out of Him as soon as she touched Him.

It's unavoidable: Ministry is draining.

If Jesus felt the effects of it, we certainly will.

Serving others, speaking God's truth, and sharing our lives, tires us out. Physically, emotionally, spiritually. We feel it when we spend ourselves for others.

Even when we are doing what we love.

Maybe even more so when we are doing what we love. Because then we have to force ourselves to seek space for our hearts.

Building space into our lives means paying more attention to what and who drains us, as well as what and who refuels us.

When we have space to be and to soak up that which fuels our hearts, then our gifts, passions, and creativities will flourish.

Have you ever noticed the Hebrew word Selah in the book of Psalms? While there's debate over its full meaning, many take it to be a rest. Similar to the rest symbol in sheet music, it signifies the need to pause and soak things in.

Our lives need Selahs written into them.

We need to intentionally create space for Selah in our lives, forcing us to pause, slow down, pull back, and rest. When we do, life is more full. Not just busy, but abundant.

Selah, friends. Selah.

What does space and Selah look like to you? What and who refuels you?

This post was inspired by the Luminous Project. Luminous is an event for creatives on May 9-11, 2012 in Nashville. To find out more, check out LuminousProject.com. You can use the promo code luminousLOVE to get 30% off the ticket price.

on choosing your own adventure

Remember reading Choose Your Own Adventure storybooks when you were a kid? I loved those books. But I cheated.

I'd read ahead and skim the different options to see how they all panned out. And then pick the best one. I wanted the most ideal outcome to every situation — the best story possible.

In some ways, I've tried doing the same exact thing with my life.

When faced with choices, I wish I could peek ahead and see how all the options will turn out. (I'm not talking about moral issues, but things like where I live and what job I take.) I want to make sure I pick the one that is God's perfect will for me. I want to stay in line with exactly what He wants me to do.

But that way of thinking paints a picture of God having one ultimate plan for my life, which includes specific choices in even the smallest of decisions. And while that may sound holy, it leaves me feeling a bit like a puppet. As though if I get one thing wrong in my attempts to navigate His will, the rest of my life is basically a wash.

I'm not sure that's how it works. Maybe God doesn't hold my future in the balance based on where I choose to live. Or what career I step into.

In the midst of navigating the greatest transitions of my life, there is freedom in realizing God isn't controlling me. My prayers don't need to be, "Tell me what to do, God, and I'll do it." I can operate in the gifts, abilities, and common senses He's given me. Maybe He just wants me to discover and embrace who I am and what I would enjoy.

That doesn't mean my decisions are devoid of God. Quite the contrary. It requires an enormous sense of trust in Him as my Shepherd and guide. "Christ in me, the hope of glory..."

So maybe He really is letting me "choose my own adventure", guiding me with the desires, dreams, vision, and wisdom He's placed inside me. And maybe I don't need to strive so hard to peek ahead and confirm the outcome in advance, because no matter what, I remain in His hands.

I am still trying to nail down specific thoughts on all this... I'm in no way implying that we shouldn't pray or seek God's specific guidance. I'm not saying we can do whatever we want because His grace will carry us regardless of our willful choices to sin or disobey or go our own way.

I'm just saying I think there may be more lateral freedom in "God's will for my life" than I've ever before grasped.

What's your take on all this? I'd truly love to hear your thoughts.

Originally posted at Deeper Story. Read the comments there >

if God's in it

The other day I heard someone say something that got me soapboxing in my head. "If God wants us there, then everything will work out. The doors will keep opening for us, and everything will just come together."

And while that sounds spiritual, I've gotta be honest... I disagree.

Sometimes, even when you're right where God wants you to be, it doesn't all work out all the time. Doors will slam in your face. Provision may not be there. Vehicles will break down. There will be floods, and droughts, and fires. The bottom my even fall out of your world. Sometimes, it's just one hell of an uphill battle the entire way.

If smooth sailing is an indicator that God's in it, then difficulties are a sign that He isn't?? Hmmm... I wonder what Paul would say about that, having penned most of the New Testmanet in prison...

a healing thought

By His wounds, we are healed. And by our wounds, He also brings healing.

Let your scars show...

[HT: Tracee Persiko's post]

help wanted

Asking for help is not my strong suit. No, seriously. It's reeeeeeeally hard for me.

After a lifetime of advocating for a cause I believe in, it's painfully difficult to advocate for myself. I'm actually tempted to unpack the reasons behind that, but I recognize that it would be just a procrastination tactic, keeping me from what this post is really supposed to focus on.

Asking for help.

Oi vey!

So here goes...

I moved to Africa when I was 19, and lived there as a missionary for 13 years. And then my husband left, and a year ago we were forced to shut down the ministry.

When I left Africa last December to move back to the States, I had to leave behind everything but the clothes, shoes, and few valuables I could fit in my suitcases.

I did (thankfully) get to secure some square footage on a shipping container for all of my irreplaceables: Like family heirlooms, priceless (to me) African pieces I've collected over the years, handcrafted baskets, photos and framed art, some large wooden furniture pieces, and my Big Easy. But this was over a year ago, and the shipping container still hasn't left South Africa. At this point, I have to wonder if it ever will...

For now, all I have is what I managed to take home in my luggage on that last flight from Africa.

I couldn't bring my cozy couches or my stash of throw blankets or my DVD player. I had to ditch my pots, plates, glasses, and silverware. There was no way to save my appliances, kitchen gadgets, bedding, towels...

The list of what I had to walk away from is seemingly endless.

I've been living on the generosity of friends-who-are-like-family for the past year. I am beyond grateful for the ways they have opened their hearts and home to me, loving me through such a difficult season. I wouldn't have made it through without them. Truly.

And now... in just two weeks... on February 18th... I move into an apartment. Here in Nashville.

I can't tell you how equally exciting and frightening that step is. But I can tell you it feels good. Really good.

I have an apartment! And that's more than I've "had" for a long time.

I get overwhelmed though when I think about the fact that I basically have an empty apartment. (And I'm battling the deep missing of my old "stuff", which really just signals the missing of the life I lost...But I'm trying not to spiral. Not today anyway.)

The business of starting over from scratch is a difficult one, let me tell you.

And I can't do it alone. It's impossible.

So I'm asking for help.

If you live in the Nashville area, would you look through your house for furniture and kitchen/house stuff that you'd be willing to part with?

If you know someone who lives here, would you ask them if they have anything they'd like to "donate to the cause"? (Heh. Old habits die hard...)

If you or someone you know has a pick-up truck to help on move-in day (Feb. 18th), that is needed as well.

Would you spread the word in whatever way you can?

I can't even tell you how big a help this would be to me right now.

But it would be enormously BIG.

Thank you, friends. Really.

the beginning of the end

The past few years of my life have been filled with untold endings. The end of my marriage. The closing of my ministry. The loss of my home, job, community...

The endings can be so obvious that it's often easy for me to overlook the new beginnings. But they're there. When I take the time and make the choice to look for them — to dust for God's fingerprints — I see them. Plain as day.

The beginning of my heart re-awakening. The launch of a new journey. The start of a new home, job, community...

I am reminded once again that the new life of spring actually begins with the dying leaves of autumn.

And I'm brought back to The Beginning.

"There was evening, and there was morning—the first day."

While we usually picture our day starting with the sunrise, God created it to begin in the darkness of night. Though it seems like an ending, the night — with all its bleakness and uncertainty — is really just the beginning...

What endings are you experiencing right now where you need to dust for God's fingerprints of new life?

Originally posted at Deeper Story. Read the comments there >