A Year in Review

It's difficult to summarize an entire year in a few paragraphs, so I thought I'd wrap up 2012 with some lists.


Family Highlights
Daren's ordination!
The adoption of our niece, Willow Grace!
The birth of our second son, Justus Scott!
The day Justus was released from the hospital!
Jackson being potty-trained and moving into his big-boy bed!
The birth of Kate Rene, our second niece!

Top Ministry Moments
Attending our first-ever regional women's retreat and hearing women's stories and testimonies.
All the fun and memorable moments at CTV Family Camp.
Weekly prayer walks with Jackson in our neighborhood.
The CTV Ladies Craft Time Amber and I planned and hosted.

Gut-Wrenching Experiences
Finding out our son was experiencing seizures and would be admitted into the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit.
Sitting in the parents' room of the NICU while Justus underwent a spinal tap.
Receiving a phone call that Dana and Nick had been in a bad car accident and her water broke.
(Thankfully, through the Lord's awesome grace and provision, each one of these experiences had a happy ending)

Thought-Provoking Books

"The Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl", Harriet Ann Jacobs
"Theirs is the Kingdom: Celebrating the Gospel in Urban America", Robert D. Lupton
"Life with God", Richard Foster
"Narrative of Sojourner Truth"
"Jesus Calling", Sarah Young

Most-Played Songs on my Ipod
"Moves Like Jagger"- Maroon 5
"I Got a Woman"- Ray Charles
"Home"- Phillip Phillips
"Little Lies"- Fleetwood Mac
"Hello"- Lionel Richie
"Love You Like a Love Song"- Selena Gomez

Most-Watched Netflix Shows
Downton Abbey
Mad Men
Breaking Bad
Parks and Rec
Desperate Housewives
Army Wives
Battlestar Galactica
Star Trek
(Yes, my taste in televison shows are quite varied and eclectic!)

I Survived...
Being pregnant and raising a two year old along with teaching at staff trainings, being project manager for CAP (and also teaching and assessing) and being a core group leader for Community Bible Study.
A mountain hike with a screaming toddler and a police inquiry (someone thought Jackson was being kidnapped due to his hysterics).
12 days of having my baby in the hospital.
30 minutes of horrendous pain as a doctor scraped my uterus for leftover placenta after delivery.
Christmas was with a baby and a sick toddler.
Weeks of sleepless nights, toddler temper tantrums, and the insanity of adjusting to life with 2 kids!

So long, 2012! All in all, you weren't a bad year. Looking forward to what 2013 will bring!

Hope for a Weary World

I'll admit that when bad things happen to me or my loved ones, I wonder why God allows such things to occur. When I hear about terrible crimes committed against innocent victims, I question God's compassion. I know God is sovereign- He is in control and nothing can ever change that. His love is greater than anything we can imagine- yet these questions lurk in the back of my mind when there are no easy answers.

I try to make sense of these things- I try to understand why God allows suffering. Sometimes, there is an explanation. We know from James that suffering produces perseverance (James 1:2-4). God can shape our character through hard times. However, I am realizing that there is not always an explanation for suffering other than we live in a fallen world. Sometimes we can't make sense of why things happen.

In my devotional, Jesus Calling, I was struck by the following passage:

"Because the world is in an abnormal, fallen condition, people tend to think chance governs the universe. Events may seem to occur randomly, with little or no meaning. People who view the world this way have overlooked one basic fact: the limitations of human understanding. What you know of the world you inhabit is only the tip of the iceberg. Submerged beneath the surface of the visible world are mysteries too vast for you to comprehend...This is why you must live by faith, not by sight; trusting in My [God's], mysterious, majestic Presence" (581).

In a way, it's comforting to know that we don't have to have all the answers. One of my favorite verses is Isaiah 55:8-9, "For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, " declares the Lord. "As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts."

It's difficult to have faith when explanations allude us and situations seem hopeless. When I allow myself to dwell on my own suffering or the suffering of others, I neglect to accept the joy and peace the Lord so freely gives. God never promised us a problem-free life, but He did promise us His Holy Spirit to guide and comfort us.

We live in a fallen world where bad things happen and we don't know why. We live in a world where people are hurting, downtrodden, weary. Thankfully, we live in a world with a Savior. A Savior who gives Hope, Peace, Joy and most of all LIFE.

Long lay the world in sin and error pining.
Till He appeared and the Spirit felt its worth.
A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices,
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn. 

The Marginalized

I was recently struck by a passage I read from Micheal Elliott's book, "Community of the Abandoned.":

"We, like the first followers, want Jesus to act like a king. We want choirs of angels to sing preludes and postludes with every appearance...Yet he continues to speak with a still, small voice, when we demand a brass section. His face is not aglow. It is dirty. He dwells with the starving masses and the frightened flocks. Like the shepherd he is, Jesus searches for the lost ones of the flock, he stays on the edge of acceptable society with the marginalized" (122).

Who are the marginalized in my neighborhood? Who are the people that are hard to love?

The other day, I was taking the boys for a stroller ride in our neighborhood. I passed by Kathy's house. It looked abandoned. I hadn't been to visit her in months. I felt guilty. My visits with Kathy were not what I'd call "productive." Kathy is mentally challenged. Our conversations would often center around her paranoid delusions and sometimes it was hard to make sense of what she said.

But despite this, whenever I would come to visit, Kathy was always willing to talk about the Bible and ask for prayer. I invited her to church many times. She came once, but left shortly after arriving. Being around a large group of people was just too overwhelming for her.

Kathy is one of the people that fell through the crack. Since she never came back to church, it was easy to forget to visit her. She is one of the marginalized. Now she is gone. Her home is vacant. The colorful wind chimes that used to hang from her porch are gone. So are the patio chairs with the worn cushions that we would sit on as we chatted. I have no idea where Kathy is now. I may never have another chance to talk with her or pray with her.

After seeing her empty house, I felt convicted. I know that Kathy may never be a leader in one of our church plants, but that doesn't mean that she wasn't worth a little time and investment. Jesus didn't spend most of His time with great, charismatic and influential people. He spent it with prostitutes and beggars, with the lame and blind, with people who smelled bad and were looked down upon. He spent time with the Kathys of the world.

With a baby, toddler and ministry responsibilities, it's easy for me to get so busy I forget why I live in my neighborhood. I live here so I can visit those who are hurting and lost and love them regardless of what they can offer me. I live here so I can be Christ to those who have yet to meet Him.

My prayer is this:

"Keep me ever mindful Lord, 
that you hang around with the victims of life.
Give me the courage to take off my blinders
and to hang around the people
you are with." (137).

Walking by Faith Not by Sight

The title of my blog is "The Road Less Traveled." However, the title of this particular post ought to be: "The Road I Never Wanted to Travel." One month ago, I delivered our sweet baby boy, Justus. He came four weeks early and spent the first 12 days of his life in the Special Care Nursery and in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. This was not the way I imagined bringing our little boy into the world- attached to numerous cords, monitors and IVs. However, through this journey, we experienced a whole new aspect of faith and how powerful the Body of Christ can be. The following is an account of those 12 days. In the years to come, I want to be able to remember every detail of this time as a testament to God's goodness and grace and be able to share this someday with Justus. Beware, it is rather lengthy- so feel free to skim. :)

I went into labor on Friday, August 10 at 8:00 pm. Daren, Jackson and I had just returned from an evening of running errands. Our last stop had been at Sam's to stock up on food for our outreach that Sunday. Shortly after arriving home, I started having contractions. I assumed it was false labor- it was too early to be real labor. I remember watching the Olympics and the clock at the same time.  By the time they were five minutes apart, they were showing the track and field events. Jackson was up watching them with me (we still hadn't put him to bed). While watching the women run, he remarks, "Their tummies are so small and yours is so big." Yes, son, my belly is big because I am having a baby- apparently sooner than I anticipated. And, no, mommy's tummy will never be that small- baby or no baby.

At this point, I phone my OB's office and speak with a nurse. She tells me it's time to check into the hospital. Thankfully, my bag was already packed (I had a feeling he was going to come early- although not this early). We called my mom and she came over to stay with Jackson. Part of me still thought (hoped) that this might be false labor and they would send me home. No such luck. Once I checked in, I was already dilated to a four and my contractions were three minutes apart. Thankfully, my labor was easier than with Jackson. I was actually able to watch TV while I breathed through contractions. I remember that we were watching "Nick at Nite". I remember my contractions getting more painful with each new TV show: Mildly painful during "Scrubs",  hard to breathe through during "George Lopez" and so-painful-I-no-longer-want-to-watch-TV during "The Nanny."

By that point, it was seven in the morning and I was dilated to a seven and I thought, "An epidural might be nice." After the effects of the epidural settled in, we continued to discuss name options. Did I mention that we had not officially settled on a name yet?! It was also during this time, that I began to realize that our lives were about to change again. I was thinking about the fun plans we had for the weekend. My mom was going to watch Jackson for the day and we were going to see a musical with friends, go out to eat, see a movie- have one last date night before the baby. So much for that. I also had plans to celebrate my mom's birthday.  My mom, sister and I were all going to have lunch together and get pedicures. And what about the neighborhood outreach we had planned...at our house?!

I didn't have too long to ponder these things because by 8:30 am, it was time to start pushing.  At 9:03, we welcomed little Justus Scott into the world. It was truly a beautiful and happy moment to hold this precious little life that had been living inside me for the past nine months.  Unfortunately, the moment was short-lived. After briefly holding him, the nurses checked him over and noticed an irregularity in his breathing. It sounded like he had fluid on his longs. Our pediatrician confirmed this and sent him to the Special Care Nursery. I was told this was somewhat normal and I wasn't too worried. After I was well enough, I would visit him there.

This was just the beginning of our long journey. What we thought would be 2 days turned into 12.  In fact, I wasn't able to see Just again for another 24 hours due to health complications of my own. A few hours after leaving the delivery room, it was determined that there was placenta still in my uterus. This can be potentially dangerous so the nurse and doctor had to act quickly. The doctor manually removed the remaining placenta. This was, to say the least, a horrendous experience. I have never experienced pain like that in my life. Normally, I am not a screamer, but on this occasion, my screams could be heard in the hallway. And the worst part was that Daren wasn't there. He had gone home for a few minutes before we knew anything was wrong. I'll spare you the gory details.

Despite all the pain, I was very lucky. Well, maybe lucky is the wrong word. Looking back, I see how God was watching out for me every step of the way. The nurse detected the problem early. Her patient before me bled out due to the same problem so she was on the alert for similar symptoms in me. The doctor was able to successfully remove all the placenta and the medication helped stop the bleeding. And because I didn't loose that much blood during childbirth, my hemoglobin levels never dropped significantly and I didn't have to have a blood transfusion.

The next ten days were the longest of my life. We experienced so many ups and downs. There were joys and tears, peace and fears- all mingled together. Every day had its challenges. Justus' first few days were focused on getting rid of the jaundice and making sure his lungs were clear.  I would spend my days watching him under the billy lights- his tiny body bare except for a diaper and a paper mask covering his eyes. I treasured the moments I could hold him while I nursed him- which was often difficult with all the cords and monitors. Each night, we would leave him and it felt wrong somehow to be leaving the hospital without him. I would ride the elevator to the lobby and see moms leaving with their newborns tucked safely in their arms. I enviously wished it were me. Some days it seemed like we were never going home.

And just when we thought Justus was getting well enough to take home, we had a major setback. The nurse informed us that while we were away, Just had stopped breathing for 20 seconds. He turned blue and she had to administer oxygen. Our pediatrician thought it might have been a seizure and ordered a consult with a neonatal neurologist. The neurologist ordered an EEG. To our dismay, the EEG showed seizure activity in his brain. I remember siting in the room while the doctor delivered this news. I managed to hold back tears as he explained the numerous tests that would need to be done on Justus to determine the cause of his seizures. He said that sometimes seizures can be caused by a bleeding on the brain or spinal meningitis. My mind was spinning. It was hard to imagine that something terrible could be wrong. In order to perform the tests and begin him on the anti-seizure medication, he needed to be transferred to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU). When the nurse came to transfer him, the tears began to flow. We had been so close to going home. Now this. It was difficult to see God's hand in this and to trust him.

As we walked into the NICU, it was hard not to notice all the incubators and the tiny babies inside them. Many of them only a couple pounds and hooked up to all kinds of IVs and breathing tubes. We made our way to Justus' little crib. No longer could I reach over and touch and hold my baby. I had to don a gown and gloves in order to hold him.  He looked so small and helpless. I only had a few minutes  before they performed the spinal tap. The doctor led us to a waiting room- we couldn't be there while he performed the procedure.  It was at that point that we were most raw. We were worn out- physically and emotionally exhausted. We couldn't talk. We just held onto each other in silence.

The doctor returned shortly and informed us the spinal tap went well- even though it took two tries.  We could go back and see him now. He looked so small and helpless with bandages and and an IV coming from head. I held him before leaving and whispered how much we loved him. Tearfully, I asked the nurse what they do if he cries- my worst fear was imagining my little baby crying out with no one to comfort him. It was so hard to leave. I cried the whole way home.

The next few days were spent waiting for test results.  Amazingly, each test came back negative! Although we may never know the cause of his seizures, we did find out that there was no life-threatening underlying causes. The Lord is good no matter what the outcome (a truth my mom taught me), but we were very thankful for the good news.

Now, we could be transferred out of the NICU and back to Special Care. The battle was not over yet.  In order for Justus to be released, he had to eat completely on his own without the aid of a feeding tube.  That meant that I had to watch the clock as I nursed and then tell the nurse how many minutes he nursed. If it was under 18 minutes, she had to supplement him with the feeding tube. It was very nerve-wrecking for me- especially with all the cords and monitor. He would sometimes eat so fast, his oxygen levels would drop. So I would have to watch his O-SAT (oxygen saturation) levels to make sure they did not drop to 70. If they did, I would have to stop feeding him until it stabilized. Talk about stressful! If he nursed well, I would be elated. If he nursed poorly, I would despair.

One morning, after making the long walk from Special Care to the parking garage (a walk I could have done in my sleep), I got into my care and tried not to cry. I remember praying. I can't recall exactly what I prayed but I know there was desperation in it. It had been a long journey and I was tired.

The Lord heard my prayer. Justus began to nurse better and no longer needed his feeding tube. What a huge relief! Then, we were told that we could be released to a Family Care Room. This meant we could room in the same room with Justus but still have nurses on hand if we needed them. We were very excited- it was one more step closer to going home. However, our pediatrician informed us that Justus would need to be on a heart monitor once he was released to go home. Since his seizure had caused him to stop breathing, the doctor wanted him to wear it as a precaution. I thought, "Okay, no big deal."  Little did I know what that monitor would entail! It was the size of a small DVD player and had a big long cord that was attached to two nodes that had to be velcroed to a band that went across his chest. He had to wear this monitor continuously and we had to know how to trouble-shoot it in case it went off by error- which it did a few times. When it did go off, it was an ear-piercing beeping that could wake the dead. Talk about nerve-wrecking! I kind of freaked out when we got through with our tutorial.  I was so looking forward to holding my baby without all the cords attached.

Good news was on the way, though. Our pediatrician came by the next morning and told us we could go home! Justus would need to remain on the phenobarbital and heart monitor, but other than that, he was a healthy baby. We were overjoyed. No more nurses fussing about, no more daily weigh-ins, no more trips to the hospital. We were going home. Home. What a wonderful word that is.

We have been home now for awhile and I have had some time to process those 12 days. When I look back on it, I realize how much the Lord provided for us. He gave us strength when we were weak, perseverance when the road was rough and hope when we despaired. He is a God who gives good gifts to His children- even when circumstances are difficult and painful.

I am also thankful for the Body of Christ. We were surrounded by friends and family who loved us and cared for us the entire time we were in the hospital. We had a number of people bring meals over, we had people praying for us in a number of churches, we had four pastors come and pray for Justus- two were from our Spanish-speaking church plants, we had friends and family take care of Jackson and we even had two of our dear friends sneak over and clean our house and do our laundry! Words cannot describe how blessed we felt to have such love and support from our brothers and sisters in Christ. We are also so thankful to our wonderful parents who did so much for us and supported us through everything.

Trusting in God is easy when life goes according to plan. I am learning to trust God when life does not go according to my plan. The Lord gives us exactly what we need when we need it. "Because you are my help, I sing in the shadow of your wings. My soul clings to you; your right hand upholds me" (Psalm 63:7-8).

We walk by faith not by sight.

"For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal." 

2 Corinthians 4:17-18

When Parenting and the Police Collide

Proverbs 19:18 says, "Discipline your son, for in that there is hope; do not be a willing party to his death."

My mom read this verse to me the other day as we were sitting on the deck of our condo while vacationing in Colorado. I had just finished battling it out with Jackson after he decided to throw a tantrum over something ridiculous. My morning coffee was now cold and my patience was dangerously thin. I felt exhausted. No amount of parenting books can prepare you for what it takes to raise a strong-willed child.

I was somewhat encouraged knowing that the battles we fight now will hopefully shape Jackson into a young man who has an obedient heart.

However, our battles for the day were not over- not by a long-shot. Later on, we all decided to take a hike along Boreas Pass. The beginning of the trail wasn't too steep, so we let Jackson walk.  At a certain point the trail began to get rockier and we decided he needed to ride in our backpack carrier. Well, Jackson did not want to get in the carrier.  He continued kicking and screaming the entire time we wedged his body into the pack. Thinking he would eventually calm down, we kept him in there. But he kept on yelling and lunging side to side. At this point, Daren and I decide the hike was over for us. We took Jackson out and told everyone else to go on. This made Jackson throw an even bigger fit. He wanted to continue on with everyone else, but we told him that was not an option. We knew it was important for him to realize the consequence of his actions.

As we headed down the trail, Daren had to carry the screaming and writhing Jackson. After an intense five minutes of this drama, Jackson finally calmed down. He apologized and we managed to make it back in relative peace.

Thirty minutes later, we all loaded up and pulled out of the parking lot. At that moment, we see four police vehicles pull up, one of them was an SUV with a trailer containing 4-wheelers. We all wondered what had happened and if someone on the trail was in danger. Daren, Jackson and I were riding with my parents. The rest of our group was in the vehicle behind us. We slowed down when we noticed the police stop their car. All of a sudden two police officers approach our car. They ask my dad, "Is there a Daren and Tina in there?"  I roll down my window and identify myself and Daren. At this point, I am feeling anxious. What could they possibly want with us? He asks us for our identification and asks us if Jackson is our son. He says they received a call from a lady on the trail who reported hearing a child screaming, "Let me go! Help me!" The lady was very shaken up and thought the child might be in danger. The officer asked me if Jackson had been screaming on the trail and if he had said those things. My heart rate accelerated and my mouth went dry. I explained the whole incident on the trail as best as I could saying that he wanted Daren to let him go, but we didn't trust him to walk along the trail until he had calmed down. We didn't want him to injure himself. The officer asked if this was normal behavior for him. I replied, "He's two- he has tantrums! Most 2 year-olds do!" I was beginning to panic. Did they suspect us of child abuse? A sudden bolt of fear shot through me as I pictured them taking my son from me. When the officer asked me if Jackson got the scratch on his knee from the hike, I was on the verge of telling them I wouldn't answer any more questions until my lawyer was present.

Then they explained that the lady who called thought that a child was being kidnapped- that was the reason they were questioning us.  I assured them that Jackson was my son! The fact that they were just trying to make sure a child hadn't been kidnapped relaxed me a little, but they still wouldn't let us go. I had to tell my story again and we had to wait for a senior office to clear us to leave. I was still very tense and on the verge of tears. After what seemed like an eternity, they let us go. They were quite jovial at this point- joking with Jackson and telling us to have a good vacation. Well, this was definitely not the high point of our vacation!

Later on that evening, we could all laugh about it, but I was still a little shaken up. My child actually threw a tantrum so loud someone thought he was being abducted! I wondered if there was something we could have done differently. How could we have avoided this?

As parents, we are hardest on ourselves. We constantly compare our children or our parenting styles to other parents. We wonder if we are "doing it right" or if we are damaging our children for life. All I know is that Lord commands us to discipline our children in love. We love Jackson and know that the battles we fight now are shaping his character. Though sometimes it still feels like all our efforts are for naught, we are beginning to see the fruits of our labor.

Funny thing, James Dobson never mentions a scenario like this in any of his books. Maybe 15 years from now,  Daren and I will write a book...mostly full of stories how we didn't quite know what we were doing but made it through anyhow. :)

My Personal Mt. Everest

Sometimes I think I make ministry more complicated than it has to be. Don't get me wrong, planting churches in the inner city is hard and often frustrating work. In fact, it might be the most difficult task I'v ever encountered (with the exception of rearing a child, of course!).
But at times, I make it more complicated because I make it about me. I worry about how I am going to reach all these lost and hurting people. I get overwhelmed by the enormity of it all and this mission begins to seem like Mt. Everest- an insurmountable peak looming in the distance, filled with jagged rocks and hidden crevasses. And dare I mention, the path to the summit is lined with bodies?? (Daren has been watching Everest documentaries lately-interesting but somewhat disturbing).
Then, I stop myself and remember this: I am not responsible for the salvation of my neighbors. I am not the one who will birth a church in my community. The Lord will do these things in His timing- not mine. My responsibility is to be obedient to what He calls me to do. Right now, He is calling me to be faithful and wait on him. For someone who is a doer to the core, this is a discipline that is definitely stretching me. Unless I am actively "doing" something in my neighborhood, I feel like a bad missionary (whatever that means).
But lately, the "doing" has looked different. Currently, Daren and I are between church plants. We are waiting on the Lord's timing for our next church planting assignment. In the mean time, I am up to my elbows in other ministry projects. Because of that, my time in the community has decreased some and I have been feeling guilty. Once again, I felt that I should be doing something meaningful. Then I realized I already was. Three-four mornings a week, Jackson and I take a walk through our neighborhood. During those walks, I pray. I say prayers for those living in our community. Some I know by name, some I don't. I pray that the Lord will break down strongholds of addictions and abuse. I pray for His miraculous love and His all-encompassing light to penetrate the darkness. Jackson and I wave and say "hello" to those we meet. He is quite popular with most the neighbors and kids. :) I am also available for the many kids who stop by our house to hang out or play in the backyard.
I know these simple things do not seem like much, but there is a season for everything. Right now, I am in a season of simply showing love to those God brings along my path and praying fervently for my community.  The Lord, not me, will bring change and hope to this neighborhood. He will establish His church- I am just a willing vessel to be used for His purposes. My responsibility is to let Him guide me up this humanly insurmountable mountain- placing one foot in front of the other- knowing that with Christ all things are possible.

Living in Community

As Daren, Jackson and I sat in our basement last Saturday night wondering if the tornado would come our way, a flood of questions suddenly gripped me: What about our neighbors? Did they have basements? Did they know they could come to our home? Had I told them that? Here we are, missionaries to this inner-city community, and I felt like I somehow missed a huge witnessing opportunity. Sure, I knew that our closest neighbors and community friends had basements, but what about the others I didn't know as well? I still had a responsibility to reach out to them. That's what it means to live in community with one another.

Daren and I have lived in this neighborhood for almost six years. During that time, we have come to know many individuals and families and our lives have truly been blessed by their friendships. But it's easy for me to become complacent and even lazy. I put off visiting people because I'm too busy, because taking care of a two and a half year old drains my energy, because I'm consumed with other ministry responsibilities...the list goes on. After our tornado scare, I realized I need to do better at connecting with those in my community.

After supper on Monday, we took a stroll around our neighborhood. First, we stopped by Carl's house. Daren has gotten to know Carl over the years and is currently working with him on our community garden. While chatting with him outside his home, we learned that he has served in the national guard and was even a personal body guard for one of Kansas's former governors. Carl also has a love for gardening and for animals. I dub him the "Urban Dr. Dolittle" because he is known to feed ducks that wander into his yard- they even knock on his door with their beaks! Jackson loves to go visit him and he and Carl always share a fist bump before departing. Jackson's life will be made all the fuller for knowing individuals like Carl- just as mine was when I was a missionary kid.

Next, we visited a family we have know for years. The girls have been in my Bible clubs and will stop by and visit me after school sometimes. It had been awhile since they dropped by, so it was good to re-connect with them. This family has a little girl Jackson's age. We have pictures of them both as babies laying side-by-side. The high point of this particular visit was watching them both swing on a colorful hammock in their yard. Later that week, the girls came over to hang out and eat waffles with us for dinner (Yes, when I don't feel like cooking, I make a super healthy meal like waffles and bacon!) My hope is that these two will be able to become friends and enjoy living a block a part. Some of my earliest friendships were with kids from the neighborhoods my parents ministered in. I look forward to Jackson being shaped and molded into a person who comes to love people from all different cultures and backgrounds.

Living in community with one another is sometimes tough. It requires time and effort and sometimes it requires you to sacrifice your to-do lists and even your standards of hygiene (while talking with Carl, Jackson manages to find and play with a cigarette butt as well as dig up other "curious items" in the dirt). But the rewards far outweigh any of the hardships! My life and ministry is fuller and more complete because of these wonderfully unique and diverse people.

A New Type of Woman Warrior

Maybe some of your remember the TV show Xena Warrior Princess.  Each episode centered on Xena's adventures and her ability to defeat any nemesis with her fit, muscular body which was always clad in a leather mini skirt.  I'm sure many young girls looked up to this heroine. I, on the other hand, was always mystified at how she could execute her martial arts moves in her leather attire. Fashion does not always equal practicality, but I digress...

At our Regional Women's Retreat a couple weeks ago, I discovered a different kind of woman warrior.  Women who live and work in our inner cities. Women who serve their families and their churches despite personal and economic difficulties.  During our retreat I had the privilege of getting to know some of these women and hearing their stories.

Sandy is battling an untreatable form of cancer.  She bears physical scars from her illness and struggles with extreme fatigue from her chemo pills.  But Sandy remains optimistic, even joyful.  She is a part of a Bible study one of our former church plants is doing in a low income trailer park. Sandy eagerly talks about the upcoming arrival of another grandchild. She is friendly and outgoing- always looking for ways to serve. After our craft time, Sandy worked to clean up supplies, scraps of paper and even swept the floor-all without being asked.  It's hard for me to imagine having such a positive attitude if I had to deal with her reality.  I feel almost ashamed when I think about the "burdens" I complain about.

Gloria is a grandmother trying to become a foster parent to her two grandsons.  Her husband left her years ago.  Her grown children are struggling. She is trying to create a loving and stable environment for her grandsons.  She proudly shows me their pictures.  I look at their grinning faces and thank God they have a grandmother like Gloria to take care of them.  During our testimony time, she shares that one of her grandsons has ADHD and the other suffers from re-attachment disorder.  She is trying her best to take classes and become more educated on how to best care for them.  She tearfully shares that this weekend has given her the strength she needs to get through this difficult time.  I am relatively young and, at times, child-rearing can leave me utterly exhausted. I have so much respect for the many grandmas in the inner city who have not only raised their own children, but are now raising their grandchildren.

Linda is a wife, mother, grandmother, and works almost full-time at a local grocery store.  She also serves on her church's leadership team.  I have had the honor of knowing and becoming friends with Linda. Her generous spirit never ceases to astound me.  Despite her difficult financial situation, she always helps those in need.  She constantly helps out her adult children, who continue to struggle to make ends meet.  She is always willing to give a word or encouragement to her customers at the store or her neighbors. She is known to take care of the elderly living in her community.  The other day, she asked the pastor if she could have a box of food from our pantry.  Times were hard and her last paycheck barely covered the rent.  That same afternoon she spoke to a nearby neighbor. This young woman had a house full of children and not enough food stamps to provide a meal for her family.  Linda went straight to her car and pulled out the box of food she had received.  Without a second thought, she gave the box to her neighbor.  This is what Christ meant when He said, "Love your neighbor as yourself."  I ask myself, "Would I have done that?"  I marvel at her generosity and realize I have much to learn from her.

These women may not be warriors in the traditional sense. They don't stand out in a crowd.  You won't see their heroic deeds in a newspaper or TV interview.  But like any good warrior, they stand strong in spite of overwhelming opposition.  The walk boldly in the grace and power of our Lord.  These are the women I admire. These are true warrior princesses.

Working with Teens...Never a Dull Moment

It's been a few years since I've worked with teenagers. Memories include everything from the heart-warming to the heart-wrenching. Watching my kids struggle in horribly dysfunctional homes in the midst of being made fun of at school to watching them commit themselves to Christ and succeed beyond all odds. I've broken up fights, traveled cross-country in a van with teenage boys with body odor, hugged away tears, clapped and cheered at high school graduations, laughed as I watched someone say "chubby bunny" with a mouthful of marshmallows, but my greatest joy was discipling young girls who would become women who follow the Lord and serve in His Church.

Now, I am again privileged to work with young people. Each Thursday I help with a homework and Bible club for highschoolers.  Last Thursday was my first day. I began by picking up a young woman ("Alisha") I have known since she was in middle school. She comes from a large family that struggles to make ends meet. I walk into her home - a small, dimly-lit house that barely seems big enough to house the eleven individuals who live there. I talk to the mom while Alisha gets ready. She tells me Alisha is pregnant. She sighs when she says this. Her face betrays the hopelessness and  despair of the situation. Her daughter is fifteen.

When we get in the car, I talk with Alisha about her pregnancy. She tells me she is confused about what to do. There has been talk of abortion and adoption. Alisha is adamant that she does not want to kill her baby. I struggle with how to encourage this girl. I tell her we will pray about it and ask the Lord to help her.

Ironically, our babies are due around the same time. I can't help but think about the two lives yet to be born. By God's grace, my baby will be born to two parents who love each other and the Lord and who are equipped to provide for him or her. Alisha has none of these resources. What will happen to her little one? All I know is that God is sovereign and He loves her baby just as much as He loves mine.

At our next stop, I pick up two Hispanic boys. I know their parents through our ministry. They invite me inside and we talk while the boys get ready. Their warmth and hospitality reminds me how much I love working among Latino people. I hope to get to know them more as the club progresses.

After we arrive, each teen is partnered with a volunteer who helps them with their homework. I help one teen with his French- a little difficult since I know no French!

During the lesson time, I am reminded why I love working with teens. They eagerly engage in the lesson and pepper the teacher (one of our missionaries) with questions. Some are on topic, others are not. We are studying the creation story. We talk about how God created each person uniquely and with a purpose. We look at Psalm 139. We read verses 13 and 14: "For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made..." During this discussion, one of the boys asks if abortion is a sin. I look at Alisha. She thinks about this and then replies that abortion is wrong because killing is a sin.  I can't help thinking about her baby- knowing that the circumstances involving her pregnancy were not God's perfect will, but that the little baby has a purpose and is uniquely gifted for that purpose.

As I ponder this, one of the boys asks, "Is it a sin to date older women?" We all laugh- this question was  definitely NOT on topic! But as he was serious, the teacher gave him a biblical answer.  Even amidst the humor, I am glad that these teens are asking questions and seeking biblical answers. Some questions are more serious than others, but there is an obvious quest for knowledge. My hope and prayer is that I can help these youth as theymake their way through these formative (and sometimes difficult) years.

Practice Hospitality

One of my favorite Scripture passages is found in Romans 12:9-13. In a few short verses, it sums up how we should live. The last verse is simple and to the point: "Practice hospitality."  As a missionary, this is kind of part of my job description. I am called to open my home to others. And while I do enjoy doing this, there are times when I just don't feel like it. Yesterday was one of those times.
One of the women I have been ministering to and who also has become a friend, asked if she could stop by. I was right in the middle of making dinner and it had been a LONG day and I was tired. But I politely invited her over for dinner. She mentioned her nephew would be coming along, too. Mentally, I prepared myself for a long evening. However, despite my misgivings, the evening turned out well. Jackson and her nephew hit it off great. As I watched them play, I was thankful that Jackson had the opportunity to play with a little boy from a different background, just like I did when I was little. As a young child, my closest friends were usually the children of the parents my parents ministered to. Those experiences helped shape who I am today.  It is neat to see how the Lord will use similar experiences in Jackson's life.
And as my friend and her nephew prepared to leave, Jackson gave the little boy a big bear hug.
When we step out in obedience (even when we don't feel like it), we reap the rewards.

How Did I Get Here?

Anyone who knows me, knows that I am terrible at directions- both at giving them and receiving them!  There have been times, when hopelessly lost, I have pulled over and thought, "Where the heck am I?" (Although to be completely honest, I wasn't saying "heck"- yes, I admit I may let a few bad words slip once in awhile under extreme duress).
Likewise, there have been times in my life when I ask myself, "How did I get here?" As an missionary kid raised in the inner city, I had no intentions of following in my parents' footsteps. I had my eyes set on a much more glamorous career: journalist. I would start in print journalism and work my up to television journalism, eventually becoming the next Barbara Walters. Yes, I was a little delusional. But funny thing, God had completely different plans for me. When bemoaning missionary life as a kid and declaring that I would never become a missionary, my mom would smile and say, "Just wait until you meet a handsome missionary one day and he changes your mind!" Well, most of you know the story. I, indeed, did meet a handsome missionary who I married and we now live and work in the inner-city of Wichita with our two-year old son, Jackson.
In retrospect, I know exactly how I got here. The Lord was preparing me form an early age for a life of ministry. Being a part of my parents' ministry allowed me to learn about other cultures and people from different backgrounds. I enjoyed making friends from different ethnic groups. I also developed a heart for hurting people.  No matter what I did, I couldn't escape this calling. Even in college when I was working, taking a full load, and serving on student government, I still made time to volunteer with an inner-city youth group. It was in my blood.
Another thing I never thought I would do is study a foreign language while living in the foreign country! Daren and I had the opportunity to learn Spanish in Costa Rica for three months. Talk about a learning experience! But even during the hard times when I'd ask myself, "How did I get here?" The Lord would remind me that he had been preparing me for this. My time in LA as a kid introduced me to the Latino culture and gave me a love for the people and culture which helped make the adjustment easier.
I imagine that ten years from now, I will be asking the same question. But I take comfort in knowing that the Lord is preparing for whatever the future holds.