this is the hardest job i've ever done

it's funny how God shows up.  today i sat with a group of mk's (missionary kids) and held two of them as they sobbed.  they are grieving the only home they have ever known in s. america.  one asked why God would take them there only to have them come back 10 years later.  the other kids sat around, offering a reassuring hand on the back or tear filled eyes of their own.  the other 3 kids packed up and moved out from their home in tennessee forever, just two days ago.  these kids all get loss.  they feel it hard.  they are all grieving.  and it hurts. and it's hard. and not a single one of us denies it.  it sucks.  there is no better word.  

we can't claim that it was some great teaching tool that lead us to this point.  in fact we were bumbling along at this point.  yet something, said by sarah, my assistant, in her prayer caused one of these beautiful sisters to break.  and her broken heart exposed broke her older sister, who cried for the next half hour.  the younger sister then took a role of comforting her sister, just whispering in her ear, "it's hard, it's so i hard, i know."  every person at the table felt the emotion as we sat and affirmed the hardness and seeming unfairness of it all.  

my heart breaks for these kids.  for their loss.  their confusion.  for the fact that none of them chose this life, yet it's the one they have.  i can't fix it.  i can grieve with them.  and it hurts.  it's going to keep hurting.  God give me strength.  because He is the only one who can.  He is the one who truly understands how much this hurts.  

now i lay me down to sleep

oh who am i kidding...i'm way to awake to go to sleep.  time for another rousing round of level 2 sudoku.

praise Jesus for a blissfully boring saturday.

today

i am a mac owner

i am thankful that i didn't get caught in the rain

i am in need of a nap

i am a walker of 2.5 miles pushing 60+ lbs of stroller

i am wearing a white shirt (see #2)

i am choosen by the I AM

today

i wish to be accused of cutting school.


i know i look young. i might as well have some fun with it.

martha

the other night i was cleaning up from a party our house hosted, alone in the kitchen, while the last few people chatted away in the living room. my first fleeting thought was, "here i am again, being the martha." but just as quickly as that thought came to me, the realization struck me hard, martha was in the kitchen alone while her sister mary was with Jesus. but here i was in the kitchen, but far from alone. as i realized that i was with Jesus in the kitchen the joy filled me and spilled out into the suds filled sink with my dishes.

this is the laugh i love

the magic of christmas

i've struggled to explain it to people. why, for whatever reason, there is still that undeniable flutter in my chest at the thought of christmas. why i still hold on to the child-like hope that all things can be good on that special day, more specifically that special eve of a day.

tonight i was struck with a sudden memory that embodies the sentiment. a memory of a few christmases in a row, that encompassed the feeling i struggle to describe. my last few years of high school included membership in a club that focused on service. a friend of mine had started the club and i, not to be left out of anything, willingly and curiously joined. the 'service' we rendered on christmas eve forever is blazed in my memory. many people have had similar experiences. well off kids take gifts to families without. we would gather the items weeks in advance, have a party to wrap them, and then bundle up late at night, christmas eve, to deliver them.

i could begin now to talk about how great it felt to me, the warm fuzzies i got, how they were so grateful for us, but i will not. i have a book sitting on my desk titled, when charity destroys dignity. i have heard testimony of a friend about how handouts as a child broke his mother's heart because of her own inability to provide for her children. yet still, there was something alive in those nights. God was moving in those nights. they were not the end all, nominate me for sainthood moments that i originally believed them to be. as i stood, fumbling to find words to communicate with a latino father in tears, i grew to see that night as more than rich girl makes poor family eternally grateful. instead i saw people. people like me. God instilled a hunger in me to give, to help, in whatever way i could. God instilled in me a drive to defend the cause of immigrants, because i saw them for who they were. i have fought at many a dinner table for the respect and understanding of those in our country just trying to make it, while they take the first steps to learn how to live here, including learning the language of the land.

perhaps God let me see poverty as reality so i could live in it too and not begrudge God. perhaps God let me be touched by those lives because He was working all things out for good in all of our lives. perhaps.

all i know is that on these christmas eves, as i lit my candle at my home church's midnight service, i found that indescribable feeling tight in my chest. there were no words to describe it. all i knew was that i was now forever changed. and that God's gift of His only Son meant so much more, not because i had given, but because God had given abundantly more.