DATELINE: Gulu, Uganda.  8:02 P.M.  That’s 12:02 P.M. CST for those of you keeping score at home.

THE LONG AND BUMPY ROAD

Today, we made it to Gulu!

Because things have begun to settle down after the bombings in Kampala, the VoH board decided to have us drive after all.  Charles-the-Driver (not to be confused with the Charles of Rose-and-Charles fame) arrived to pick us up…with Asunta!!  It was SO GOOD to see them again! Read the rest of this entry »

DATELINE:  Entebbe, Uganda.  11:04 P.M. Gulu time.  That’s 3:04 P.M. CST for those of you keeping score at home.

We made it to Africa!  It’s been a full 24 hours since we left American soil.  It’s hard to believe, but we’re actually HERE!! Read the rest of this entry »

Note:  These blog entries are taken directly from my journaling over the past two weeks.  I have backdated them to reflect the actual dates and times of my writing.  And I promise to do a better job of blogging this trip than the one I took in November.  Who knows, I might even write about the entire trip this time!?!

DATELINE: August 4, 2010.  6:04 P.M. CST.  That’s 2:04 A.M. Gulu time for those of you keeping score at home.

Today, I return to Africa.  Technically, I’ll only make it halfway - to Amsterdam - today.  I’ll make it to Africa tomorrow.  Even in terms of Dallas time.

Regardless, I’m going back!  What an honor, a privilege this is! Read the rest of this entry »

In the words of a current local sports team slogan….It’s time.

Time to go.  Time to be the hands and feet of Jesus to desperate and needy children.  Time to share love and hope with children who have suffered unimaginable loss and sorrow.  Time to speak words of healing and joy to those who are lost and hurting.

Time to teach.  Time to put all those materials we’ve been collecting over the past few weeks to good use.  Time to use my God-given skills and abilities into practice.  Time to listen, to learn, to anticipate, to react, to adjust, to be creative, to be flexible.

Time to learn.  Time to open my heart and mind to what God will teach me.  Time to allow Him to speak directly into my soul, showing me what He wants me to know.  Time to be still, to meditate, to ponder, to think, to drink Him in deeply in a brand new context.

But most of all, it’s time to give up.  Time to give up my “self” and let Him take over.  Time to open my hands and release all control.  Time to allow Him to be my voice and His words to speak through me.  Time to be His hands and feet and let Him serve through me.  Time to let “me” be invisible, so that only He shines through.

Yep, it’s time.  Time to go back to Africa.  Time to love on these precious children who have never been far away in my thoughts.  Time to see what God has done in the past 8 months.  Time to reconnect and form new friendships as we journey together in a strange land, a completely different culture where WE are the outsiders.   Time to pull myself away from the comforts I’ve grown so accustomed to and live outside that comfort zone in order to more deeply connect to those I seek to minister to.  Time to hug my babies, kiss my husband, drink in the moments that have brought me here.

It’s time.  And by God’s grace, I’m ready.

Tomorrow morning if you wake up

and the sun does not appear…

I will be here.

Days of darkness…we’ve had our share.  Job losses.  Deaths of parents and loved ones.  Cancer.  Times when it seems like a dark cloud is hanging over us.  Times we’ve wondered if the sun would come up in the morning.  Through it all, we’ve been together.  We’ve held on to one another, relied on one another, comforted one another, and reassured one another.  Looking ahead, there are sure to be storm clouds on the horizon.  It’s somewhat frightening, since we have no way of knowing what those storms will be.  But I promise you today, as I did seventeen years ago, I will be here.

If in the dark we lose sight of love,

Hold my hand

and have no fear:

I will be here.

Times of stress, of fear, of doubt.  We’ve had our fill of those, too.  Financial struggles, endless to-do lists, pressures of work and family, the constant struggle to balance ministry and marriage and parenting.  When our emotional wells run dry it’s easy to lose sight of “us”…to begin blaming…to fight and argue…to demand and expect and withhold.  But in the end, we’ve always come back to one another, found ways to rekindle the flame of our love, been able to reconnect in our hearts and souls.  Looking ahead, we still have a lifetime spread out before us, filled with years of work and ministry and family.  But I promise you today, as I did seventeen years ago, I will be here.

I will be here when you feel like being quiet

When you need to speak your mind, I will listen

And I will be here, when the laughter turns to crying

Through the winning, losing, and trying

I will be here.

Times of trial, of trying and failing, of striving and falling short.  Times when each of us has felt defeated, lost, and unsure of ourselves and our abilities.  We’re very different, you and I.  But God brought us together because we fit each other so well.  Your strengths complement my weaknesses, and I’d like to think I smooth out your rough edges.  When I fall, you’re there to pick me up.  When you fail, I’m still the one who cheers you on and encourages you to try again.  We’re not perfect, but I believe we’re perfect together.  Looking ahead, I know there are potholes in the road.  There will be detours and wrong turns.  And so I promise you today, as I did seventeen years ago, I will be here.

Tomorrow morning, if the sun comes up

and the future seems unclear

I will be here.

Times of uncertainty.  Times of fear, doubt, and questions.  Times when we’re not sure which way to turn, which direction to take, or how what we’re supposed to do.  Sometimes it seems like God has been silent.  We’ve felt alone, with no direction or guidance, fumbling our way along, hoping to stumble across the path God has chosen.  But we’ve never truly been alone.  God’s always been there, even when we haven’t seen or felt Him.  And we’ve always had each other, to lean on, to talk to, to share the journey with.  We’re still walking along this road of life as it stretches toward the horizon.  Looking ahead, I can’t see where it all leads.  There are hills and bumps and twists and turns, obscuring the road signs.  So I promise you today, as I did seventeen years ago, I will be here.

Just as sure as seasons are made for change

Our lifetimes are made for these years

So I will be here.

Times of change.  Changing jobs, changing responsibilities.  New addresses, new homes.  Different ministries, different churches.  The only thing that stays the same is that nothing ever stays the same.  In our years together, we’ve witnessed a lot of change.  There have been changes in the world around us, but also in our own little world.  We’ve had friends come into our lives for a season, only to leave abruptly.  We’ve been engaged in activities and ministries that have energized and captivated us for a season…and then faded away as our interests waned and our focus changed.  But through all the changes, I could always count on you as my constant companion.  The one who would be by my side, holding my hand.  The one who’s encouraged me to grow in areas I never expected.  The one I’ve poured my heart into and watched blossom into an amazing husband and father.  Looking ahead, I can’t see who we’ll become, or how the road ahead will change us.  I know there will be seasons of plenty and of want, of harvest and planting, days when the winter winds will howl and days when the warm spring breezes will blow.  And I promise you today, as I did seventeen years ago, I will be here.

I will be here

And you can cry on my shoulder.

When the mirror tells us we’re older, I will hold you.

And I will be here

To watch you grow in beauty

And tell you all the things you are to me…

I will be here.

Times of remembrance.  Times to reflect and look back on where we’ve been.  We’ve shed tears as we’ve laughed so hard we could hardly breathe.  We’ve shed tears as we’ve experienced losses so deep they’ve torn at the very fabric of our souls.  We’ve created memories that have interwoven our hearts so completely it’s hard to tell where one ends and the other begins. Our friendship has always been the basis of our relationship, and on that friendship and shared faith we have built something of beauty.  We can speak without words, through just a touch or a simple look.  Looking ahead, I can see the crow’s feet deepening, the grey hairs multiplying or simply falling out.  The effects of gravity are inescapable.  But still I promise you, as I did seventeen years ago, I will be here.

I will be true to the promise I have made

to you and to the One

who gave you to me.

Times of renewing.  Times when I am reminded just how deeply I love you and how grateful I am that you love me, too.  Times my heart is nearly bursting with pride to share your name and be called your wife.  Times I am honored to call you my husband.  But none of this would be possible without the One who brought us together.  Through a divinely choreographed dance, God’s hand guided us along the twists and turns, the hills and the valleys, to that straight and narrow path to the altar.  As I stood before our family and friends and even God Himself, I made you a solemn vow to love you, cherish you, honor you, and be faithful to you to the end of our days.  Looking ahead, I can see us walking together along that road, hand in hand.  Sometimes it’s a leisurely stroll, other times it’s more of a sprint.  No matter what, I promise you, as I did seventeen years ago, I will be here.

Tomorrow morning if you wake up

And the sun does not appear,

I will be here…

We’ll be together…

‘Cause I will be here.

Times of togetherness.  Now and always.  Looking ahead, it’s just the two of us.  Living life in love together.  No matter what, I promise you, as I did seventeen years ago, I will be here.

This week was VBS at McKinney Fellowship.  Our theme for the week - in case you hadn’t already guessed - was Cokesbury’s Galactic Blast, a week of learning about the universe, the cosmos, and the God who created and rules over all of it.

As you might suspect, I was privileged to be on the worship team for the evening VBS for the elementary school-age children.  Although I technically wasn’t “in charge”, I was able to lead each evening’s worship set at the opening and closing ceremonies and helped teach the songs during the rotations.  We had approximately 800 children throughout the week, excited to learn and be a part of each day’s activities.

Quite honestly, this year’s music didn’t really speak to me.  I just wasn’t “feeling it.”  As much as I enjoy being onstage, I just didn’t connect with the songs we were teaching this year.  Frankly there were times I put on a happy face and forced myself to be enthusiastic and energetic, all the while praying continuously that God would speak to the children in spite of me.

As He always does, God honored that prayer.

During one evening’s worship rotation, I felt a strong leading to share the gospel as I was teaching the words and motions to one of our songs.  Even though it wasn’t the “official” night to have a gospel presentation, I knew God was asking me to do it.  As I spoke, particularly to one group of older children, I could feel the Holy Spirit burning passionately inside me.  The words spilled out uncontrollably - I can’t even remember what I said - but I know I said more than I intended.  I was actually a little embarrassed that I had gotten so carried away with “preaching” when we were supposed to be worshiping.

After that rotation, our children’s pastor came up to me with an odd look on his face, one that I couldn’t quite place.  I was afraid I’d said too much, said the wrong thing, that someone had complained about something I’d said or done…and in a low voice he looked at me and said, “Don’t say anything when I tell you this.”  Instantly I turned off my microphone, certain I was going to get a mild chastising.  “That girl in the back row behind me…she’s NOT a Christian.  She’s unchurched.  You just gave a totally clear presentation of the gospel…and she was here for every word.  I don’t know how God is going to use that, but I just wanted you to know.”  As he spoke, a huge smile spread over his face and his eyes brightened.  “Keep it up.”  And he turned and walked away.

I sat there, humbled.  To think that God would use me - despite all my inner complaining - to share His message of love and forgiveness and sow the seed that will hopefully one day reap a great harvest was an amazing thought.  And as I watched the children on our final night give themselves over with complete abandon to joyous, exuberant worship, I realized that it *is* really all about Him.

HE is the true Galactic Blast.  He just lets me tune the spaceship’s radio every once in awhile.

If you’re interested, a video montage of VBS is available here.

At least, it felt like it was.  A whopping 116 degrees in the SHADE.  A searing 134.5 degrees in the sun.  Yikes.  I don’t care if it IS a dry heat: that’s HOT!

So, why in the world was I up there?  What in tarnation could make me believe it was worth it to climb up to the rooftop of a Nissan dealership in those scorching temperatures?  Aside from a million dollars, or the promise of a lifetime supply of Diet Coke or chocolate, it was the next best thing: a few minutes of “fame” and the chance to talk about Scouts.

Overall, I think I rocked it…right up until the end when, much to my dismay, I realized that they had fixed the cherry picker and I would have to ride the scary contraption of death after all.  I was so happy to get off the scary contraption of death I nearly kissed the ground.  The nice gentleman who operated the scary contraption of death was certainly happy to have circulation restored to his arm after I released it.

The Daily Douse was a whole lot more fun.  Especially since I could watch it from the ground.

Sometimes, I’m such a twit.  I can’t tell you how glad I am that God, in His infinite patience and endless love and mercy, never actually says that to me.  But I’m sure there are times He must feel like it.

This epiphany came to me this weekend after spending several days trying to climb out of the deep dark emotional funk I’ve been in.  The circumstances of the past couple of weeks, coupled with a never-ending list of stuff I gotta do, have worn me down.  Physically, I’m tired.  Mentally, I’m frazzled.  And spiritually, I’m empty.  The sum of all these parts is depression.  Darkness.  Despair.  And as much as I hate being in that place, I’ve been unable to find my way out.

Until this morning.

As the sun pierced through the windows in my studio, it was like God opened a ray of light into my soul and spoke directly to my heart.  I was re-reading our passage of study for our Uganda trip meeting when suddenly He had me park here for awhile:

I am not praying that You take them out of the world but that You protect them from the evil one.  John 17:15

As I meditated on this, He gently moved my eyes back a few verses to read this:

I have told you these things so that in Me you may have peace. You will have suffering in this world. Be courageous! I have conquered the world.  John 16:33

And then He sent me here:

Consider it a great joy, my brothers, whenever you experience various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance.  James 1:2-3

You’re probably more of a quick study than me.  By now, you’ve probably noticed a theme, a trend, an obvious connection.  Eventually, I did too.  But what struck me is that these verses contain a promise, too.  Maybe not a happy, all-warm-and-fuzzy, let’s-get-together-and-sing-Kum-ba-Yah kind of promise, but a promise nonetheless.  These verses promise us that as believers - heck, as human beings - we will experience trials.  There’s no escaping them.  We might as well accept that fact and be prepared, because it’s gonna happen.  Cancer.  Job loss.  Accidents.  Political strife.  Some trials are more difficult than others, but there is no escaping that promise.  Trials will happen.  Life is hard.

Oddly enough, as God reminded me of this promise, I began to feel energized.  Renewed.  Fearless.  And - ironically - hopeful.  Crazy as it seems, this reminder that hardship is inescapable, that trials are promised, that life is difficult brought me a sense of calm and restored optimism.  Because there is more to the story.  Like all optimists, I search for the silver lining.  And there’s a big one.

Our trials have a happy ending.  It’s guaranteed.  I don’t know exactly what that happy ending is, because it’s different for everyone and unique to each situation.  We are protected from the evil one.  Christ has overcome the world.  We have the strength to endure - which means an end is in sight.  We will get through it.  We will succeed.  We will have joy once again.  Just read those verses again and I’m sure you’ll see it.

Is it any wonder, then, that this song spoke so deeply to me this morning as I had the privilege of singing it at church with my favorite trio?

“Women are pink.  Men are blue.”

“We’re not wrong, just different.”

“You’re stepping on my air hose.”

Those are a few of the catch-phrases that will stay in our minds from this weekend.  Before you rush off to IMDB to try and figure out what movie we went to see, let me explain.  Matt and I had the privilege of attending the “Love and Respect” Marriage Conference yesterday and today, hosted by our church’s marriage ministry.  We had heard wonderful things about the Love and Respect material, so after shipping the kids off to “Wildlife Camp Grandma” we looked forward to sharing some time alone, not focusing on the job loss or financial struggles, but on one another.

The basis for this ministry is Eph. 5:33, “To sum up, each one of you is to love his wife as himself, and the wife is to respect her husband.”  We studied the reasons for the differing commands given to husbands and wives, the meaning of “love” and “respect”, and the challenges we face in marriage.  We walked out with our heads full and our pens dry, but the lessons we learned will not soon be forgotten.

If you have the chance to attend one of these conferences, or to do a study on their material, we both would highly recommend it.

You know, there are some verses in the Bible that frighten me.

It’s not the ones about the wrath of God, or His mighty arm of justice, or the consequences of sin.  I can live with all those.

No, it’s ones like this:

And He said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness.”  2 Corinthians 12:9

Or this one:

My brethren, count it all joy when you fall into various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces patience.  James 1:2-3

And especially this one:

Every branch in Me that does not bear fruit He takes away; and every branch that bears fruit He prunes, that it may bear more fruit.  John 15:2

Frankly, verses like that make my stomach a little fluttery.  If I really allow those words to penetrate my heart and sink into my mind, I find myself getting a little weak in the knees.  Honestly - dare I say it? - these passages scare the hell out of me. (pun intended)

I know it sounds crazy.  I know you must think I’m playing a few cards short of a full deck here…I’m a few ants short of a picnic…the lights are on but no one’s home.  Whatever. Throw out any cliche’ you want.  “Why?” you ask.  Why would passages like that strike fear in my heart?

Because those verses represent the moment I surrender all control and open myself to whatever - and I mean WHAT.EV.ER - God wants to do with me.  Suddenly my life becomes not so much about me and what I want and what I think is best for me and the choices I want to make, but rather what God wants to do with me, what He thinks is best for me, and the choices He wants me to make.  And sometimes, that process is painful.  It means I allow God to do what is necessary to shape me and mold me into His image.  It means that the road may get bumpy.  It means He may choose to test my faith.  It means He may allow me to undergo some fiery trials to refine and purify my heart, my thoughts, my actions.

And that’s not often a pleasant process.

So, today was one of those days.  I admit, I was a little fearful when Matt went to his oncologist appointment.  Certainly, I’m always a little nervous.  That’s natural.  Though the risk of relapse is small, there’s always that chance that his cancer could come back.  It could come back and not be as treatable, as easily cured as it was the first time.  It could metastasize and show up differently and be a different kind of cancer…the list goes on and on.  Most of the time I can keep it in check just knowing how God healed Matt.  But this time things were a little different.  With Matt being laid off, I know we’re in a time of testing.  We’re in the refiner’s fire.  And I was afraid that at this appointment something just might “show up”…to further our testing, to put not just our feet to the fire, but our whole bodies.

That’s what made the good news of Matt’s appointment today so extra-special.  No worries.  No concerns about how to handle a major illness without health insurance or benefits.  No fear over how we’re going to pay for testing and treatment without a steady paycheck.  No stress about doctor’s appointments and hospital stays while in the midst of job interviews.

Maybe I need to focus a little more on some other verses.  You know, like this one:

And my God will supply all your needs, according to His riches in glory by Christ Jesus.  Philippians 4:19

That one doesn’t seem frightening at all.