tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78392485594808511932024-03-20T19:22:58.366-05:00Lost In The AtticAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05269279054321903536noreply@blogger.comBlogger84125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7839248559480851193.post-24397526215296079712016-09-26T14:25:00.002-05:002016-09-26T14:25:43.002-05:00<header style="color: #263333; font-family: Roboto; font-size: 14px; margin: 0em auto 45px; max-width: 100%; text-align: center; width: auto;"><div class="meta">
<span class="date" style="font-size: 0.85em; font-style: italic; letter-spacing: 2px;">May 25, 2016</span></div>
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Jeff and I recently spoke “interview style” at a local church here in Abilene. We’ve done this many times at this point, and the questions we get asked are pretty consistent. Usually people want to know:</div>
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<li>What is 2WX (2nd World Experiment)? What do you mean by 2nd World?</li>
<li>What was it that prompted you to start this ministry? (Some say it like this: I feel like God wants me to do something but changing your entire life is scary. How were you finally able to pull the trigger?)</li>
<li>What do you say to people who say, “I could never do that!”?</li>
<li>How are your lives different now than they used to be?</li>
<li>How do your kids feel about all this? or How are your kids handling this? or I would love to do something like this, but I’m worried about my kids…</li>
<li>What are some things I can start doing now to scale back my life and begin freeing up some cash to help others?</li>
<li>What does the future look like for 2WX?</li>
<li>How can I be a part of what you’re doing out there?</li>
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I thought I’d use the next few blog entries to answer these questions for you.</div>
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<li><strong>What is 2WX (2nd World Experiment)? What do you mean by 2nd World?</strong></li>
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It was sometime back in 2012, when I first “secured” the name ‘2nd World Experiment’ as the name of a blog, but I didn’t go public with it until 2014. (You can read some of those first entries at <a href="http://www.2ndworldexperiment.blogspot.com/" style="color: #162431; text-decoration: none;">www.2ndworldexperiment.blogspot.com</a>. Then again, those early entries may be available right here….I should probably check….because the sweet lady who created and updates this website for us, Dani Kocur, “imported” the old blog to this location, and I think that means you can read the old stuff here.)</div>
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In 2011 (I don’t know when, I just remember it was cold outside that day), Jeff and I were sitting in the living room of the home we owned in Arkansas, discussing this strange new path we were on, a path Henri Nouwen called ‘Downward Mobility’. I was saying to Jeff, </div>
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“There has to be something in the middle; something in between the 1st World and the 3rd World…like the 2nd World.”</div>
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He said, “That’s it! That’s the name of your ministry!”</div>
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I said, “This isn’t <em>my</em> ministry. And what kind of a weird name is 2nd World, anyway?”</div>
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He said, “I don’t know, but that’s it. I’ve gotta go to work now. Bye.”</div>
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I’ll tell you more about that when I discuss question 2.</div>
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Now, when we (usually Jeff) answer this question, we camp out on the fact that, as Christians, we should be in the business of imitating Christ. According to Philippians 2, Jesus </div>
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“Though he was God, did not think of equality with God as something to cling to. Instead, he gave up his divine privileges; he took the humble position of a slave and was born as a human being. When he appeared in human form, he humbled himself in obedience to God and died a criminal’s death on a cross.”</div>
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Jesus didn’t just feel compassion for the plight of humanity <em>in his heart</em>. He actually got down off his heavenly throne and physically came down here to save us. If we are in the business of imitating Christ, it’s not enough for us to just feel compassion for suffering people <em>in our hearts</em>. We have to physically get up off our keister’s and do something. It is our duty to stand in the gap between privilege and suffering; to be a bridge that transports resources, both physical and spiritual, to those who need it.</div>
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2nd World is our way of defining that space in between advantage and affliction. We are not suggesting a complete rejection of 1st World comforts, convenience, or technology, we are simply calling attention to the things that distract us and drain us of our ability to help others. We are asking American Christians to quit saying things like, “I wish I could help [support a missionary; sponsor an orphan; help dig a clean water well…] but I can’t because I’m broke.” When, in reality, we let completely ridiculous things like magazine subscriptions, unused gym memberships, and much more, drain our finances each month. We have got to get a grip, my friends! We can’t sit here on our mountainous pile of resources (money, education, freedom of speech, abundant food and clean water, etc.) and act like we’re helpless to address some of the world’s travesties. </div>
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The world is asking, “If God is real, then why is there so much suffering?”</div>
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And I wonder if God is saying, “I put an abundance of resources in the place where the government is of the people, by the people, and for the people; where everyone can get an education; where women have an equal voice; because I expect my people who live there to distribute those resources to my people who have no voice, no education, and no rights.”</div>
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Here’s what I know: I don’t want to stand before God someday and try to explain to him that I knew half the world was malnourished and dying of water-born illnesses that could be eradicated just by giving them access to clean water, but I couldn’t “afford” to help because I <em>had to have</em> those pillows from Kirkland’s on my couch, and Netflix, and the newest iphone. Because I’m pretty sure God would be face-palming before I finished explaining myself.</div>
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And, listen: please don’t get sidetracked with trying to tell me that God’s grace covers my sin and if I’m honestly seeking after him, I’ll still go to heaven, because I’m not talking about going to heaven here. I’m not talking about eternal salvation versus eternal damnation. I’m talking about the Christian response to real physical and spiritual suffering in our physical world where we live right now. I’m talking about the stuff James addresses when he says,</div>
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“Pure and genuine religion in the sight of God the Father means caring for orphans and widows in their distress and refusing to let the world corrupt you.” (1:27)</div>
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and</div>
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“What good is it, dear brothers and sisters, if you say you have faith but don’t show it by your actions? Can that kind of faith save anyone? Suppose you see a brother or sister who has no food or clothing, and you say, ‘Good-bye and have a good day; stay warm and eat well’ —but then you don’t give that person any food or clothing. What good does that do?” (2:14-16)</div>
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“You say you have faith, for you believe that there is one God. Good for you! Even the demons believe this, and they tremble in terror. How foolish! Can’t you see that faith without good deeds is useless?” (2:19-20)</div>
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We are called to more than just belief; we are called to action. Stand in the gap.</div>
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The “experiment” part of the name? Well, that’s just an acknowledgement that we (Jeff and I) have never lived like this before. We aren’t <em>experienced</em>, we are <em>experimenting</em>. For example, Jeff and I experimented with living without home internet for a year. An eternal year *sigh*. Home internet isn’t a necessity of life, but after a year, we decided it was a non-essential convenience that really enhanced our ability to communicate our message and mission, so we re-connected. (Netflix and cable, on the other hand, we did not reconnect.) </div>
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We experimented with raising chickens and goats. We love to eat eggs, and even learned to butcher chickens. Goats, however, turned out to be really fun pets who escape out of fences, eat the neighbors landscaping, get captured by the animal control officers, have to be bailed out ($$$), and we don’t like how they taste. So, we raise chickens, and admire the goats that are owned by other people.</div>
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We are experimenting with lots of different ways to save money. We are experimenting with lots of different ways to make money. We are experimenting with lots of different ways to live simply and tread lightly on the earth. Some of those experiments will become part of our daily lives; some will get discarded and/or filed away in our “we learned a lot from that” folder.</div>
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And that is why we call this ministry project is called <strong>2nd World Experiment</strong>. (2WX, just because that a cool looking abbreviation.)</div>
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The next entry will try to explain how we found the guts to pull the trigger.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05269279054321903536noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7839248559480851193.post-42054128216793321172016-09-26T14:24:00.002-05:002016-09-26T14:24:08.152-05:00<br />June 2, 2016<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Share<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />I am Eve.<br /><br /> <br /><br />Every day I wake up and choose what fruit to eat. Usually, I choose before I’ve even opened my eyes. My alarm rings, I roll over, reach out, and pick the Fruit of Knowledge. Almost.every.time. I sink my teeth in and the juice of To-Do lists (and all the many ways I plan to exert control over my day) is running down my chin before I’ve even put my feet on the floor. I will check off Prayer and Bible Reading first. Then, God will be on my side. He will bless my choices. I will be smart and methodical. I will knock out all the tasks. I will probably take some names. I choose Knowledge because it seems good to me. It seems right. And it’s so easy to reach. It’s not that I intend to be evil, it’s just that it’s so accessible, so beautiful to look at, and everyone I know who eats it says shrewdly, “It’s delicious! It will make you wise! Here, have some!”<br /><br /> <br /><br />But today, just for a minute, I want to pause and look. I’m going to ask my eyes to do their job and see. My ears are going to listen.<br /><br /> <br /><br />I am standing in the middle of an Aspen tree forrest in the fall. The leaves are yellow and trembling on the branches in the breeze. The air around me is clean and cool. The sunlight is bright, but thin. I can’t see any pines, but I know they're there because I can smell the aroma of their decay: their praise to the Lord as they lay down their majestic lives of Protector and Shelterer, and sink into the earth in submission to their new calling as Nourishment for the next generation of seedlings. The scent of sacrifice hangs in the air.<br /><br /> <br /><br />There are two other trees in front of me. Over to my left is a thick, wide tree with smooth bark. The branches hang low to the ground and offer a place to rest. It reminds me of a hundred year old Southern Magnolia tree, blooming with white, waxy flowers. A few children are climbing its branches. “Look how high I can go!” They are having imaginary tea parties in the playhouses formed by crossing limbs. The adults who are there are smiling with soft lips. They look content. They don’t seem concerned. They are enjoying the breeze, laughing at the children. Eating the fruit slowly, savoring each bite.<br /><br /> <br /><br />But the tree to my right demands my attention. There is a flurry of activity over there. The tree is tall and impressive; almost imposing. The fruit is enticing with it’s deep, rich color, hanging low enough for everyone to reach. Lots of people are there gorging themselves, some to the point of being sick, but this disturbing scene doesn’t seem to deter others from wanting to join in. I notice that the fruit just a little higher up appears to be even sweeter and more desirable than the fruit down low. People are clambering and clawing to reach it. They are stepping over each other. They are stepping on each other. They don’t seem to even notice the ones they’re hurting; the ones they are crushing.<br /><br /> <br /><br />The people under this tree are interesting. They are dressed well. They know what they want. They are focused. They are driven. They are determined. Some use their strength to reach the fruit they want. A few are clever and talk other people into getting the fruit for them. Still others use manipulation and lies. But no matter how they obtain it, they can’t seem to get enough. They seem frenzied; unsettled; unsatisfied. Even so, I struggle to take my eyes off this tree. It shimmers. I know there is something not quite right going on under that tree, but it calls to me.<br /><br /> <br /><br />This tree offers Knowledge so I can impress, lead, out-smart and out-maneuver. Win! I’m not exactly sure what the prize is, but most people are convinced it will be worth the cost.<br /><br /> <br /><br />The other offers Life and says, “I already know, so you don’t have to.”<br /><br /> <br /><br />The Tree of Knowledge promises me power and control.<br /><br /> <br /><br />The Tree of Life promises me peace and contentment.<br /><br /> <br /><br />But I want to be wise, Lord! Your Word tells me to value wisdom. In Proverbs 4, you say,<br /><br /> “Take my words to heart. Follow my commands, and you will live. Get wisdom; develop good judgment. Don’t forget my words or turn away from them. Don’t turn your back on wisdom, for she will protect you. Love her, and she will guard you. Getting wisdom is the wisest thing you can do! And whatever else you do, develop good judgment. If you prize wisdom, she will make you great. Embrace her, and she will honor you. She will place a lovely wreath on your head; she will present you with a beautiful crown.” (v 4-9)<br /><br /> <br /><br />Knowledge seems like the most logical way to get wisdom. Just a small bite, Lord, then I’ll come back and eat Life. It will be ok!<br /><br /> <br /><br />“You don’t understand wisdom, Eve.” It’s a voice speaking to my heart. “You confuse wisdom with knowledge. My ways, and the world I created according to my ways, are far too complex and intricate to figure out with mere facts. Wisdom is based in compassion for others and understanding my heart. It is my job to know and it’s your job to know me. Seeking anything else will leave you frenzied and frustrated and hollow. But you are still free to choose. Every day.”<br /><br /> <br /><br />Knowledge<br /><br /> <br /><br />or<br /><br /> <br /><br />Life?<br /><br /> <br /><br />I am Eve.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05269279054321903536noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7839248559480851193.post-14677149348907309352016-09-26T14:23:00.000-05:002016-09-26T14:23:05.955-05:00<header style="margin: 0em auto 45px; max-width: 100%; text-align: center; width: auto;"><div class="meta">
<br />June 17, 2016<br /><br /><br />We’ve got the first week of Camp@2WX behind us. Our Tennessee group pulled out to head home just before 5 this morning. 3 words: Must.Get.Interns.<br /><img src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/t/5763f6a8e6f2e191d56662fa/1466169253011/?format=1500w" /><br /><img src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/t/5763f7cae6f2e191d5666805/1466169497323/?format=1500w" /><br /><br /><br />This girl is tired. I will plan, organize, schedule, register, write, and even teach all day long, but this early rising introvert was not made for constant, full-contact emotional and physical interaction with real live people for all of the hours of the entire day for all the days of forever. I need to spend the next few days in one of those submerged, sound-proof pods like that one superhero slept in…who was it….oh yes, Google reminds me it was Daredevil. Anyway, that bliss is not in my future. Today I get to do all the mom things for my family that weren’t attended to this week, like laundry, celebrating 2 birthdays, haircuts, buying toilet paper, and taking my son to join his youth group for a mission trip to Impact Houston. Tomorrow I get to go over all the Camp@2WX inventory, replenish supplies, balance the checkbook, and make all the tweaks in the schedule that need to happen based on last week’s experience. And Sunday, a new group of campers arrive.<br /><br /> <br /><br />That being said, this Troy, Tennessee group that just left, was awesome! Those poor kids really had no idea what they were getting in to…none of our groups scheduled for this summer do, for that matter. Full Disclosure: WE really didn’t know either. We just knew that God laid it on our hearts to teach what we’ve been learning for the last few years. Lessons about what it means to really love our (global) neighbors, denying ourselves, and actively participating in God’s will being done on earth as it is in heaven.<br /><img src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/t/5763fa9d03596e8dcd9c06a7/1466170027292/?format=750w" /><br /><br /><br /> <br /><br />This precious group of kids stayed with us; they hung-in and didn’t quit, or even complain very much, when they were served food representing the real meals people eat in other parts of the world…and there was no back-up pizza. They went from Sunday morning to Tuesday evening without a “real” shower, having to bathe from a bucket of water they carried themselves, and you know what they did? They participated! They were thankful and appreciative for having lake water to swim in and a campground shower to bathe in on Tuesday evening.<br /><img src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/t/5763fb4ef7e0ab85e73e39af/1466170427022/?format=1500w" /><br /><br /><br /> <br /><br />Jeff realized, pretty early in, that we probably shouldn’t have called what we are doing here CAMP@2WX. “Camp” is a term that carries with it a deep tradition of recreation, silliness, pranks, crafts, and romantic closing bonfires. Jeff says, for church camps at least, summer camp was like the original <a href="http://christianmingle.com/">ChristianMingle.com</a>. In our day, it was the place where kids went to meet other people their own age from other parts of the tri-state area who were affiliated with the right…I mean, same…denomination. It was where we formed deep friendships and romantic relationships in 5 days, that resulted in a pen pal buddy with whom we exchanged exactly one letter. I mean we wrote that 2nd letter, but our mom didn’t have any stamps at the time and so that’s where we left it until the next summer when we met up at camp again. It was the place where some of us got baptized, and others of us wanted to take that plunge but knew our parents would be crushed if they didn’t get to be there for the big moment. It’s really much the same for teens now, except instead of a pen pal which requires all the effort of hand writing words, and the expense of paper and stamps, and the physical exertion of walking to a mailbox, they make Snapchat buddies and Instagram friends. Other than that, the expectations of “going to camp” have been the same since Time Immemorial.<br /><br /> <br /><br />What we offer at Camp@2WX is more of a one week immersion in the lifestyle of resident of the 3rd World. Our campers are experiencing, with their whole body, and all of their emotions, what it’s like to not be able to fully escape the heat or the mosquitoes, but only to be able to fight it back a little. They are experiencing what it is to not have endless choices of fast food cuisine, but to look at food in terms of fuel and nutrition, instead of having the luxury of rich flavors and eye appeal. They are walking a lot and doing things by hand a lot…the same way most of our global neighbors do.<br /><img src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/t/5763fcab8419c28ad941927a/1466170564510/?format=1000w" /><br /><br /><br /> <br /><br />Their compassion muscles are being physically worked and stretched. They are getting a bit sore. But when they recover, those muscles will be stronger than ever. They will never see a person walking to their job or to their bus stop in the heat of the summer, while they ride by in their air conditioned car, without remembering how it felt to drink a bottle of semi-cool water, or find a bit of shade to rest in for a few minutes. They will see the pictures of orphans and remember the taste of the food they ate while they were here with us. They will remember that they were individually and personally responsible for providing food for more than 7 orphans while they were here with us. They will have a frame of reference for understanding how physical exhaustion and the lack of resources like clean water, transportation, and having a place where your body can really rest and recover and relax after a day of functioning in the heat. They will understand why giving an impoverished person a $20 bill once at Christmas doesn’t fix anything….you might be surprised at how many people say, “I gave that guy a $20 last week and look at him over there sitting in that same spot again this week.” It’s just not that simple, my friends. Yes, you should help the person on the street when God tugs your heart to do so, but don’t be surprised to see them there again the next week. The problems run deeper than we realize. Really fixing the problem is going to require God’s people to actually sacrifice and actually deny themselves for the sake of others, trusting that the real reward, the real time of rest, comfort, and luxury is being stored for them in heaven where moth and rust and relatives (as Jeff says) can’t steal it.<br /><img src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/t/5763fcf58419c28ad94193ca/1466170636061/?format=1000w" /><br /><br /><br /> <br /><br />The kids who spend a week at 2WX, will get it. But it’s not for the faint of heart. It’s not about romance or recreation. It’s about discipleship.<br /><span style="height: 540px; left: 0%; position: absolute; top: 0%; vertical-align: middle; width: 960px;"><img class="thumb-image loaded" data-image-dimensions="960x540" data-image-focal-point="0.5,0.5" data-image-id="5763fd288419c28ad94194d5" data-image-resolution="1000w" data-image="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/t/5763fd288419c28ad94194d5/1466170681533/" data-load="false" data-src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/t/5763fd288419c28ad94194d5/1466170681533/" data-type="image" src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/t/5763fd288419c28ad94194d5/1466170681533/?format=1000w" style="border: 0px; display: block; height: 540px; left: 0%; max-width: none; position: absolute; top: 0%; vertical-align: middle; width: 960px;" /></span></div>
</header>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05269279054321903536noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7839248559480851193.post-8189235421959122392016-09-26T14:20:00.002-05:002016-09-26T14:20:45.672-05:00<br />June 22, 2016<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Share<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Today I sat with my computer and coffee in front of a window, while I waited for our Camp@2WX kids to complete a “mission” at the mall. They were on the hunt for “ostentatious.” (adjective; display of wealth, showy, pretentious, conspicuous, flamboyant, gaudy, brash, loud, extravagant, fancy, ornate, flashy….) Because today, our camp kids were exploring the idea of choosing a life unfettered by debt, so they will be free to follow God wherever he may call them.<br /><br /> <br /><br />I was really just killing time and hanging close to the kids without being up in their space.<br /><br /> <br /><br />I am ashamed to admit how long it took me to notice the guy sitting at the outside table right in front of my window. I couldn’t hear him at all, but I saw him stop several people who walked by. Most shook their heads and walked on. I can only assume he was asking if they had any money to spare. It was hurting my heart. I know that guy. I’ve met him a thousand times. He’s hurting. He’s down. He wants whatever he can get, but it won’t be enough to make a difference. It never is.<br /><br /> <br /><br />I thought about the coffee sitting in front of me. I thought of offering it to him, but my lipstick marks were around the rim. I thought of buying him his own cup, but it was hot outside where he was sitting and I didn’t have the cash to cover one of the fancy cold drinks.<br /><br /> <br /><br />I was in the middle of asking God to please show me what to do that might offer some help when I noticed a young, very pretty girl pause to speak to him. She stayed for a minute or two and then came inside.<br /><br /> <br /><br />I snapped this picture:<br /><img src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/t/576b0aacb3db2bdd3cbecb0a/1466632888193/?format=1500w" /><br /><br /><br /> <br /><br />Then, I watched as she went back outside, handed him one of those frosty cold coffee drinks and then….THEN!…. she pulled out a chair, sat down, and is still talking to him as I write these words. <br /><br /> <br /><br />Friends, I just want to say, I have no idea what this girl is saying right now, but she is being Jesus, right here in front of me and it’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen! She offered what I couldn’t (the frosty cold drink) and then she offered her SELF! And it’s so rare and so moving and I want to tell her (I will tell her if I get the chance) that she is beautiful and her heart is showing and God is seeing her offer a cup of cold water (coffee) to a thirsty stranger. A human, created in God’s own image, who was thirsty for more than a drink. He was thirsty to know he can be seen. <br /><br /> <br /><br />My friends! THIS is what we were called to do! THIS is philanthropy! THIS is God’s Kingdom come and His will being done on earth!<br /><br /> <br /><br />I couldn’t offer this man anything today. But here is what I can offer: my eyes and my voice on this tiny little platform. You who have eyes, see! You who have hands, use them! Use them today! This is what we are here to do! Comfort the hurting. Heal the sick. Offer water or coffee or whatever. (Oh my stars! I use saw someone offer this guy a cigarette. Can you offer a cigarette in Jesus’ name? I’m not sure, but I think maybe yes!) And now I’m a crying mess here in the mall window and it’s time to gather my chicks who are looking for ostentatious.<br /><br /> <br /><br />Just go bless someone and quit worrying about whether or not they deserve it. We didn’t deserve it either.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05269279054321903536noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7839248559480851193.post-41963413423889193902016-09-26T14:19:00.000-05:002016-09-26T14:19:11.397-05:00<br />August 7, 2015<br />It's 4am. Naughty, naughty puppy. Counting today, there are 6 days until we move from Arkansas, our home for the last decade, to Texas, our home for the first 29 years of our lives.<br /><br />I'm not really sure what I want to write about this morning. I just need to write. My heart is so very full. <br /><br />The oldest left for her 3rd year of college. Yay! This is her 3rd school. Not yay. Texas, Alaska, a summer in Peru, now Kentucky. I love her sense of adventure, her free spirit, her willingness to try new things, her bravery. I hate that she is racking up school loan debt as she figures out what to do with her life. I want, so much, for her to just come with us, live and eat for free, take a few classes at a time, work a part time job. But there's this boy...and the lure of life outside the 'rent's house. I get it. <br /><br />I wish we had learned all this 2nd World stuff back in our 20's, when we were first married and beginning to raise her. If we had handled our money, conducted our lives, for the first 3 decades in the same way we've handled this last decade, our precious daughter would be living a different story right now. She wouldn't be accumulating debt because we would have planned for her college education. <br /><br />But, this is our story and we'll live it out to the best of our ability and use it to warn others to rein in their own lifestyles and desire for stuff, while they still can. I mean, what good is a story, experience, if you don't use it help others when you can?<br /><br />Moving isn't the funnest thing I've ever done. You'd think I'd be pretty good at it by now since this is the 14th move of our 23 year marriage. I mean, I guess I've gotten pretty good at it. At least I've learned to label boxes with a little more detail than just "miscellaneous" and "garage stuff," like I used to. And I'm pretty good at letting replaceable things go, instead of hanging on to all the things I've collected over the years. Even so, there are a lot of Medders, you know? When each person in the family has a box of winter clothes, a box of summer clothes, a box of shoes, 2 boxes of things that must be kept or we will die, plus beds, tables, chairs, camping gear, Christmas decor (that is still up in the attic, by the way, and I need to not forget to get it down), dishes, pots and pans....that adds up to a bunch of stuff, my friends, even for people who are pretty paired-down compared to the average American consumer. <br /><br />Then there's logistics. Scheduling all the "end of service" for utility companies and internet providers. Connecting services at the new place...that doesn't even have an official address yet because it doesn't have a structure of any kind sitting on it. (BTW, did you know that the 911 system is in charge of assigning addresses, not the post office?) Closing bank accounts and contacting all the entities that autodraft from those accounts. Opening new accounts (personal and business) in a different state.<br /><br />And shopping for new insurances. Kill me now.<br /><br /><br /><br />God grant me the serenity<br />to accept the things I cannot change; <br />courage to change the things I can; <br />and wisdom to know the difference.<br /><br /><br /><br />Living one day at a time; <br /><br />enjoying one moment at a time; <br />accepting hardships as the pathway to peace; <br />taking, as He did, this sinful world<br />as it is, not as I would have it; <br />trusting that He will make all things right<br />if I surrender to His Will; <br />that I may be reasonably happy in this life<br />and supremely happy with Him<br />forever in the next. <br />Amen.<br />Serenity Prayer<br />Reinhold Niebuhr (1892-1971)<br />I believe I have glimpsed the 7th level of hell. Yes, we realize the open enrollment period is closed. Our qualifying life event is a job change/move to a different state. No, actually, this job won't provide any income until next summer, hopefully. Yes, it's a real job. No, we don't need short term insurance; we need real, actual insurance since the doctors will not accept a goat in trade for my kids' vaccinations.<br /><br />And tonight we are going to try something we like to call The Scheduled Meltdown. We are going to turn off all phones and devices, lock the doors, and close the blinds. Then we are all, every single one of us, going to lay down in the living room floor and cry or yell, kick our feet or curl up in a ball, and bawl about how it's not fair, it's too hard, I don't want to leave my friends, I'm never going to have any friends again ever, no one's going to like me, and what is this about not being sure if we will be able to get internet connection out there?! I don't even know what this language is that's coming out of your mouth!<br /><br />The idea is that after The Scheduled Meltdown, it will cleanse our systems and we won't have to deal with anyone's feelings about this anymore, and we can get on with the transition.<br /><br />I'll let you know how it goes.<br /><br /><br /><br />BUT! There is hope! There is light!....Literally. The sun is finally coming up, the traffic on the road in front of my house is picking up, the puppy is sleeping at my feet, a fresh pot of coffee is waiting for me in the kitchen. And God is good. We are going to survive this transition and this adventure will be worth the inconvenience. :)Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05269279054321903536noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7839248559480851193.post-17464601392961576912016-09-26T14:18:00.002-05:002016-09-26T14:18:23.514-05:00<br />July 11, 2015<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Share<br /><br /><br /><br />Why Abilene?<br /><br />I'm feeling the pressure to go ahead and get this answered for you. I put it off until after our trip out there so I would have some pictures to show you. Abilene Proper is a little barren; treeless and dry-ish brown. But the area we're looking at is a little south of town (20-30 minute drive) and it's a tad-bit greener.<br /><br />Here are a few of the pictures I took a couple of weeks ago (that were already posted to the Facebook page, so you've probably already seen them).<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b0e4b05fb58028773d/1442682032818/1000w/"><img border="0" src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b0e4b05fb58028773e/1442682032818/1000w/" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b0e4b05fb58028773f/1442682032818/1000w/"><img border="0" src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b0e4b05fb580287740/1442682032818/1000w/" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b0e4b05fb580287741/1442682032818/1000w/"><img border="0" src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b0e4b05fb580287742/1442682032818/1000w/" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b0e4b05fb580287743/1442682032818/1000w/"><img border="0" src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b0e4b05fb580287744/1442682032818/1000w/" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b0e4b05fb580287745/1442682032818/1000w/"><img border="0" src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b0e4b05fb580287746/1442682032818/1000w/" /></a><br />Prettier than you expected for West Texas, yes?<br /><br />The biggest message of 2nd World is the attempt to redefine our American lifestyle to more closely resemble the values Jesus teaches in the New Testament. Enjoy your work and use it glorify him, as if you are working directly for God...because you are. Don't focus on accumulating wealth for yourself, but use whatever God blesses you with to care for his people. Use your worldly resources to gain friends and influence people to seek God. (Luke 16:9)<br /><br /><br />This message is for all of us, but the truth is, those of us who find ourselves middle-aged, mortgaged up to our ears, with 3 kids who need braces, and all the stuff kids need, might find the idea of becoming debt-free, and working because we love the work, and having enough left over to help others, to be a bit impossible. BUT, if we structured our adult lives from the very beginning to live below our means, all of those things could be accomplished. Therefore, the target audience for 2nd World is the 20-something's. And Abilene is drowning in 20-something's.<br /><br />There are 3 Christian universities in Abilene, several technical colleges, and a couple of extension campuses (Texas Tech and Cisco college). These young adults are brimming with potential, enthusiasm for life and all it's possibilities, and they are pretty sure they can do anything: balance the national budget, negotiate world peace, end poverty and homeless, whatever. They are full of ideas that, if people would only listen to them, would solve all.of.the.problems. We believe that if we can help shape this group as they are embarking on their adult-life adventure, we can help shift the trajectory of Christian culture.<br /><br />Sounds like a pretty lofty goal, we know. But why bother having goals and ideals if they aren't big and accomplishable only with God, right? :)<br /><br />Also, we would like for the 2nd World campus (in addition to being a summer camp/simple living lab) to serve as a training ground for future missionaries. If a missions major, social work major, pre-med major, has in their mind to do gospel and humanitarian work in a 3rd world country, how great would it be to have a training ground 30 minutes from your school campus?! Weekend retreat, anyone? (And if they were to find out they didn't "have what it takes" to live in a 3rd world country, wouldn't it be better to figure that out before, rather than after they've raised support and moved overseas? ...We've seen it happen, friends.)<br /><br />We plan to tap into ALL the resources offered by a college town. Engineering, agriculture, and design departments all need hands-on projects for their students. Baby, have we got some projects!<br /><br />The other benefit of this area to our ministry, is it's proximity to several major cities (Dallas/Fort Worth, Austin, Oklahoma City, even Denver and our current Little Rock cities aren't out of the question) for groups to be able to travel to our facility in a reasonable amount of time.<br /><br />The cost of land in this area, though rising, is still reasonably priced and available in larger hunks. The piece we are hoping to close on soon is 11.5 acres, and there are other adjoining 10 acre plots still available.<br /><br />The last reason for choosing the Abilene area is personal, and maybe a little touchy for some. Jeff and I both graduated from Abilene Christian University. Our years there were blessed and precious. It has saddened us some to watch over the last few years as our alma mater is pricing themselves so high, ministers (like us) who have children who want to go into the ministry themselves, can't afford to send their kids there. Also, to watch the direction the school seems to be pulling toward seeking prestige and prominence, when Jesus set an example for us of not seeking worldly recognition, is a little disheartening. Based on this personal opinion and viewpoint, we think it will be important for us to be a proximate voice saying there's another way. Recognition, prestige, and power can all be used for good when placed in the hands of God-fearing people, but it's not something we're supposed to seek. We seek first his kingdom, his power, his glory, then (if he sees fit) he will add those other things to our resumes himself.<br /><br />(It isn't our intention to offend anyone with that last reason for choosing the Abilene area for the home-base for 2nd World. I hope I have made it clear that we are expressing our opinion, not facts, and we are happy to be wrong in that opinion. ACU is dear to our hearts, and we owe our professors a debt of gratitude for teaching us and challenging us all those years ago.)<br /><br />So...that's Why Abilene.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05269279054321903536noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7839248559480851193.post-30260604374131027042016-09-26T14:17:00.002-05:002016-09-26T14:17:33.770-05:00<br />July 11, 2015<br />I won't EVER tell you that following God is easy. In fact, if I come across as carefree or nonchalant, just go on and call me a liar.<br /><br />I'll be honest: I shed tears yesterday. I was feeling scared, unprepared, and completely overwhelmed. <br /><br />We haven't closed on the land and it looks like we are headed for a delay on the projected date for that. Someone on the seller's end is in the hospital, and on our end, we just found out yesterday that the organization that offered to handle monetary donations for us (so that our precious friends could legitimately claim a tax deduction), had no idea so much money would come in so quickly. Now, to keep from putting their 501(c)3 at risk, they can't release the money back to us (to purchase the land), until we've incorporated 2nd World Experiment. But to incorporate, we need an address. But to have an address, we need to purchase the property. We are working on a solution to this problem by using a temporary Texas address just to get the paperwork rolling, but there is no guarantee it will all go through before closing. <br /><br />Fear rises up and screams, "You're going to lose the deal on the land and you're going to be homeless!" The Spirit whispers, "God's will will be done. Always. Don't be afraid." (why is the Spirit forever the one whispering?...probably an indication of the smallness of my faith)<br /><br />I am overwhelmed with current technology! I am so tech-stupid, it's comical...to hipsters, but not to me. To me, my lack of understanding is devastating. I manage to do Facebook, email, and a pre-designed blog here on blogspot, but I know our current culture demands more. We need a website. I should be able to monetize this blog. I can't even figure out how to do a stinking' spreadsheet, people! I'm a tech idiot! I spent an hour this morning purchasing a web domain package/hosting through GoDaddy, but I really don't know what to do with it now that I have it. I would hire someone to help me, but we're down to only a few more weeks of having a regular paycheck coming in. I'm on total financial LOCK DOWN right now.<br /><br />I'm overwhelmed with packing. I need to pack, but we're still living here. I've already had to un-pack some stuff I thought we wouldn't need for a while. I'm getting rid of stuff like crazy, but some things are hard to decide what to do with. I find myself wondering what to do with stuff that would be nice to have, but isn't necessary. Like Christmas decorations. They're nice to have for the month between Thanksgiving and New Year's Day, but they are kind of a pain to put up and take down, and we have storage issues to think about. I've noticed that our travel trailer (which is super-nice, by the way) doesn't have a very big attic. Do we pay a storage facility so we can keep decorations? Couch? Washer/Dryer? We have these things and we will use them again eventually. But it could be a year or more. I'm trying to calculate and compare the cost of a year of storage vs selling these things (cutting down on the size of moving truck we will have to rent) and buying it when we're ready. (We always buy used, so our cost of replacement is lower.)<br /><br />I'm overwhelmed.<br />And I'm unprepared. We've never operated a camp before.<br /><br />Listen, I waffle back and forth on this one. Jeff and I are pretty smart. (And by "pretty smart," I mean we graduated from college AND know the difference between there, their, and they're...mostly). Appearances are often deceptive, so I understand the confusion some people have. We have incorporated ministries before. We have been part of setting up a 501(c)3 before. I have been through grant-writing training and have successfully navigated government programs. Jeff can design and build almost anything. I have absolute confidence that we can learn to do anything we set our minds to, but we haven't learned to run a camp yet, so I feel unprepared. My mind swims with all the things I need to research and observe, but I am so overwhelmed with all the things on my To Do list that have to be accomplished today, I can't spend the time learning about camp administration and operation.<br /><br />I am feeling scared, unprepared, and completely overwhelmed. The stress gets to me, to my whole family, sometimes. Yesterday, the kids were bickering and being ugly to each other, Jeff was trying to multi-task, which lead to some yelling, and I cried. Human emotions are real things and the Medders' family is not immune to them. It's what we do in response to them that matters.<br /><br />I'll tell you what we're doing. Praying. A lot. Moving forward. Packing a little each day. Organizing. Getting rid of stuff. Apologizing to each other when the stress gets to us and we sin against each other. And we are trusting God to provide for our needs, knowing he will prepare us for this task just in the nick of time, because that's what he does. We have never doubted our calling; that we are on the right track.<br /><br /><br /><br />"And I am certain that God, who began the good work within you, will continue his work until it is finally finished..." (Philippians 1:6) This is what gives us the confidence to not quit.<br /><br />All of this to say: If you're watching our 2nd World Experiment adventure, don't be tempted to think there's something special about us. We are real people with real emotions and real concerns. This adventure is testing, and growing! our faith in a Good God, but it isn't easy. Something being difficult, doesn't mean it's not from God. Evil forces are at work, and their favorite thing to do is to try to destroy God's plan, and discourage his people. <br /><br />And you can follow God in amazing ways, too. If God is calling you to do something different with your life, even if it doesn't look like what we're doing, you can do it. It might be difficult, or scary, or overwhelming, and you might feel unprepared, but you shouldn't let such trivial things as that stop you. <br /><br />God is faithful.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05269279054321903536noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7839248559480851193.post-48364606242331238022016-09-26T14:16:00.003-05:002016-09-26T14:16:49.777-05:00<br />June 11, 2015<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Share<br /><br /><br /><br />(I will answer the rest of those questions...eventually. Sorry. First, this:)<br /><br />For us, one of the ways we have learned to discern whether or not we're reading God right and following his direction, is to see if Satan starts attacking our modes of transportation.<br /><br />This happened today:<br /><br /><a href="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b1e4b05fb58028775d/1442682033096/1000w/"><img border="0" src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b1e4b05fb58028775e/1442682033096/1000w/" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b1e4b05fb58028775f/1442682033096/1000w/"><img border="0" src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b1e4b05fb580287760/1442682033096/1000w/" /></a><br />My son was at a movie with the youth group boys, so I took my girls (8 and 12) to the local Dollar Tree to buy a birthday gift with their hard-earned chore money, for their sister, who will be 15 on Friday. When we finished at the store, we still had 30 minutes to kill before the movie was over. It seemed like a silly waste of gasoline to drive home, sit for 20 minutes, and then come back to pick up the boy, so we decided to hop into Goodwill to see if they had any treasures hidden on dirty shelves. (You never know...just a few weeks ago I found a super-cute retro typewriter in excellent condition. I bought it for $12 and then re-sold it on Craigslist for $50. Not bad.)<br /><br />As we pulled into the parking lot, I noticed that one of the three spots shaded by a giant oak tree was available. I parked and joked to the girls that I hoped the tree didn't fall on our car while we were inside, but it was worth the risk for the car to not be 1000 degrees when we came back out. I wish I had thought to take a picture of the tree itself, and not just the damage that was done to my car. It's a healthy-enough tree, full and green, just precariously perched on the edge of a retaining wall. Honestly, I thought absolutely nothing more about it because it's looked like that the entire 10 years we've lived here. No big deal.<br /><br />Inside, I found a cute top I thought I could do something with, so when my phone rang and my son said he was ready to be picked up, I got in line to pay the $2.50. As I was putting my change away, a woman comes running in the store saying, "A huge tree branch just fell out of that tree over there and barely missed my husband and I! Who owns that green Suburban? It's windshield is blown out!"<br /><br />I laughed, which threw everyone in the store off a bit, but, experience, y'all. We said, "Yes" to God on a new adventure, are counting the weeks until we deposit our last regular pay check, every vehicle we own is now down for the count, and we're supposed to leave in the morning for an all-expenses-paid weekend trip to Branson (the kids are super-excited because we've never been there before).<br /><br />The only reason I was even at Goodwill was to wait until it was time to pick up my son, and now that he was ready for me, I couldn't come. I had to wait 30 minutes for the police to arrive, 20 minutes to file a report, a few minutes to figure out that the tree didn't belong to Goodwill but, in fact, belonged to Burger King. Then I spent 45 minutes waiting for Burger King to figure out which manager needed to "handle" me, file an incident report with them, then be told they couldn't do anything until they got the report to the store owner. <br /><br />Meanwhile, Jeff called our insurance company (we only carry liability) and they told him that the company (Burger King) might split the cost of a new windshield with us as an act of good will, but it wasn't a "reasonable expectation" for them to be fully responsible, since trees do indeed lose branches every once in a while. (Special-Big thank you to Scott, Bill and Ron for using their influence and their cash to get the windshield replaced. You guys rock.) We will get to make that trip this weekend because God is kind and his people are just awesome.<br /><br />Jeff's van? Last Thursday, Jeff drove to Texas to visit his sister. (She is very sick with cancer and she is very precious to us, so if you would send up a special prayer for her right now, her whole family would appreciate it.) On his way back home on Friday, the van started overheating. He pulled in to a repair shop in Mesquite, Texas, thinking he needed a thermostat. $140 later, they put him back on the road again. 20 miles after that, the van was over heating again. He was in a hurry to get home because the biggest event of the year for our church was on Sunday, and he had several last-minute details to attend to, so he ditched the van at a gas station near Rockwall, Texas, telling the manager he'd be back late Sunday night to pick it up, and started hitch-hiking toward home. I left Benton, Arkansas, and started driving toward him from the other direction.<br /><br />Jeff has been hitch-hiking and picking up hitch-hikers since he first started driving at age 16. He's never had a problem. Four different people people gave him rides this time, and I met up with him in Texarkana. It had been dark for about an hour when he got in the car with me. He confessed that hitch-hiking after dark was a different creature than day-time hitch-hiking, and proceeded to tell me that his last ride was with a drug-runner, but the guy was kind enough to pull over and let Jeff out of the car without any incident. (Yes, his mama is probably reading this, but she and I both know by now that this will not stop Jeff from hitch-hiking in the future because his prayer always is, "God, if you send me a ride, I'll use my words to talk about you.")<br /><br />My brother-in-law, who lives near where Jeff ditched the van, went to pick it up and hauled it to his house, so on Sunday night Jeff and Elijah borrowed a trailer, drove to my sister's house, spent the night, and loaded up the van Saturday morning. On the way home, the borrowed trailer had a blow-out.<br /><br />$300+ in gas, repairs, and a new tire later, Jeff found out he had blown a head gasket...which for those of you, like me, have no idea what that means, basically, he needed a new engine. So, it went to the scrap yard and sold for $200. Almost enough to get Jeff's motorcycle out of the shop. Next week.<br /><br />We can laugh at all of this because Satan has developed a pattern with us of attacking our vehicles when we attempt to follow where we think God is leading us.<br /><br />When Jeff and I felt called to start Fortress Ministries in Fort Worth, we were in a freak accident on highway 30 in downtown Dallas. A car three vehicles ahead of us lost control and started spinning across the interstate. Because we were the 4th car in the pile-up and no one hit us from behind, we were considered "at fault" by the insurance company. Our only reliable vehicle was totaled.<br /><br />In Denver, when we felt called to go to California, on the way home from church where we had just announced our intent to head to Los Angeles, a driver from California who was visiting Denver, ran a red light and left pieces of our Suburban scattered all over Colfax Avenue. Our only reliable vehicle: totaled. In California, two vehicles were stolen within 8 days of each other, leaving us feeling stranded, poor, and alone.<br /><br />But every single time God came through for us. His people came through for us. Because He is Good. Always and forever, He is good and faithful to those who follow Him.<br /><br />When you follow God, you can expect Satan to do everything in his power, within the limits of God's will, to discourage and stop you. Don't be surprised when it happens. It may not be your cars, like it seems to be with us, but it will be something. I promise. But we smile and have great joy because,<br /><br /><br /><br />"Dear brothers and sisters, when troubles come your way, consider it an opportunity for great joy. For you know that when your faith is tested, your endurance has a chance to grow. So let it grow, for when your endurance is fully developed, you will be perfect and complete, needing nothing."<br />James 1:2-4<br /><br /><br />Let's keep going, my friends, because it's worth it.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05269279054321903536noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7839248559480851193.post-70595788706136807772016-09-26T14:16:00.000-05:002016-09-26T14:16:05.345-05:00<br />May 29, 2015<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Share<br /><br /><br /><br />Yes, I do realize I skipped Question 3: Why Abilene?. I will answer that next time, but I wanted to go ahead and tackle the questions people are asking about money (#4 Are you saying it's a sin for me to make money?) and wealth (#5 How do you define "rich"?) because it came up in conversation again yesterday.<br /><br />Communication is a booger, you know? Especially when you're trying to describe a concept that doesn't get much air-time in American culture. For example, in trying to define our mission and purpose at 2nd World, Jeff was using the phrase "to leverage our one life/income to advance the Kingdom"...or something like that. But, when having lunch with a trusted friend and successful business man yesterday, Jeff learned that the term "leverage" was confusing and maybe even offensive. Thankfully, Jeff was able to explain what he meant and the meeting was very positive and helpful, packed with lots of good advice on how to present/market 2nd World in a more effective way. However, the idea that "leverage" had a negative vibe was baffling. Jeff was using the term in a 5th grade science, fulcrum-and-lever, way; like, "increase your pounds-per-square-inch"; like "take what you have and maximize its effectiveness". So when he got home, he looked up the word "leverage." Here's what he found:<br /><br /><br /><br />1 the exertion of force by means of a lever or an object used in the manner of a lever: my spade hit something solid that wouldn't respond to leverage.• mechanical advantage gained by using leverage: use a metal bar to increase the leverage.• the power to influence a person or situation to achieve a particular outcome: the right wing had lost much of its political leverage in the Assembly.<br /><br />2 Finance the ratio of a company's loan capital (debt) to the value of its common stock (equity).• the use of credit or borrowed capital to increase the earning potential of stock.<br />verb [ with obj. ] 1 (usu. as adj. leveraged) use borrowed capital for (an investment), expecting the profits made to be greater than the interest payable: a leveraged takeover bid.<br />Jeff was using the first definition, but our business man friend was using the second. And why not? He speaks Business. Of course it would be confusing, and almost offensive, to try to relate a spiritual concept to a debt/equity ratio!<br /><br />And we learned, yet again, that communication is key, and it is also a slick, tricky, moving target.<br /><br />Alright, so, in an effort to communicate more effectively, let me attempt to answer the questions on wealth.<br /><br />First, having wealth and making money is certainly not a sin. Wealth can be used in sinful ways, absolutely, and it often is, but wealth-of itself- is not sinful. On the contrary, wealth is one of the greatest assets and tools we have as 1st Worlders/Westerners to advance the cause of Christ and his Kingdom across our planet. I personally believe we will be held spiritually accountable for the resource and abundant gift God has given us in simply allowing us to be born on "the good side of the planet," to quote Jeff.<br /><br />I quoted this scripture yesterday on my Facebook page:<br /><br /><br /><br />"In his grace, God has given us different gifts for doing certain things well. So if God has given you the ability to prophesy, speak out with as much faith as God has given you. If your gift is serving others, serve them well. If you are a teacher, teach well. If your gift is to encourage others, be encouraging. If it is giving, give generously. If God has given you leadership ability, take the responsibility seriously. And if you have a gift for showing kindness to others, do it gladly." <br />Romans 12:6-8<br /><br /><br />Some people have a gift for making money. They really do. My own dad is one of those people. He accidentally makes money, quite often. He earned his master's degree in math and physics when I was a baby, and taught college courses for a while. When I was about 3 years old, he decided he wanted a change, so he applied to work at an oil company. He was smart, he worked hard, and he was honest, so every time he came under review (if the company could afford it) he was given a raise and a promotion. He was just doing his thing, using the gifts God gave him, trying to honor God with his behavior and work ethic, and they kept handing him money for it. He's retired now, and he loves to garden. Last summer, his okra started producing like crazy, more than he could use and give away at church, so he decided to put some up for sale, out at the road, at the end of his driveway. He didn't want to have to monitor his okra stand all day, so he just put out a box for people to put their money in, and a cooler full of fresh okra. Totally honor system. And he made $400 from veggies that would have just rotted in his compost pile.<br /><br /><br />Jeff and I know lots of people who have been gifted with the ability to turn an honest profit. If that's you, sweet friends, go for it!<br /><br /><br />But here's where the caution comes in...here's where the message goes awry: Be oh-so-careful that you don't use your wealth simply to increase your own power and prestige. Don't pile up junk and useless toys. Don't try to buy happiness and satisfaction at the shiny new chain store that just opened up on the interstate. Don't become materialistic. And don't, for pity sake, commit the sin of Sodom,<br /><br /><br />"Sodom's sins were pride, gluttony, and laziness, while the poor and needy suffered outside her door."<br />Ezekiel 16:49<br /><br /><br />Do not allow this warning in James apply to you!<br />"Your wealth is rotting away, and your fine clothes are moth-eaten rags...The very wealth you were counting on will eat away your flesh like fire...You have spent your years on earth in luxury, satisfying your every desire. You have fattened yourselves for the day of slaughter."<br />James 5:2-5<br /><br /><br />And, NO, we aren't advocating Robin Hood Economics, either. We are not making a political statement here. In fact, truth be told, we are "green" because there is money in recycling. Yes, it's good for the earth and we are supposed to be caring for this planet, but every time we throw away a soda can or a green bean can, we are throwing away money. (Also, I still pick pennies up off the ground. No shame.) We are simply saying your wealth can be your spiritual downfall, or it can be one of the greatest tools you have in building the Kingdom. And! (Brace yourself!) You get to choose how you want to help! What if you work really hard at something you love doing, get paid lots of money, and instead of spending it on a ginormous house (that you have to clean, or pay someone else to clean), you bought a more average home, and spent the money on lavishing God's love on a hurting world? Orphans, widows, clean water, medicine, feeding hungry people (they exist right here in our own towns...I've seen them leaving school on Fridays with a small can of vienna sausages and a fruit cup from the counselor's office. For some, that's all they will eat over the weekend.). So, whatever you want to give to, is up to you! It's all good, in the name of Jesus!<br /><br />Also, there is a good chance you aren't the intended audience for this message.<br /><br />Hear me out.<br /><br />When Jeff and I read and study the Bible, we really are looking to improve ourselves. We are wanting to draw closer to God for ourselves, and if we find a message to share with other people, that's just a bonus.<br /><br />About 9 years ago, Jeff and I took a look at our mounting credit card debt and decided enough is enough. Remember how I told you my dad worked for an oil company? You might have heard that there is money to be had in the oil business...in Dallas. We were never the J.R. Ewing's, by any means, but we had everything we needed and almost everything we wanted. (Mom would never buy me those parachute pants and I just could not comprehend why...) So, the daughter of a mid-level oil executive grew up to marry a missionary/minister and have 5 children, but it never occurred to her that her lifestyle would need to shift a bit. Thus, credit card debt.<br /><br />We jumped on the Dave Ramsey bandwagon, started budgeting, cut off the cable...even went internet-free for over a year (which was difficult when it came to kids' homework). We conquered our debt and owe no man, except the debt of love, and it's a wonderful thing.<br /><br />But...<br />Instead of producing in us a feeling of financial peace, we came face to face with the fact that we didn't make enough money to raise 5 kids, get all the proper insurances, and still save anything for our future. When we stopped using credit and simply lived off of our income, we realized we made $8 per month too much to qualify for the free lunch program at our kids' schools. We began to panic. We began to feel very greedy about every penny we earned. We stopped tithing because we thought God would surely want us to take care of our family first, and, after all, we worked for the church, so our tithe came out of our daily time invested in God's people and his Kingdom, right? (Wrong, by the way, but that's where our desperate thinking took us.)<br /><br />Over the years that followed, God's word finally started sinking into our hearts.<br /><br /><br /><br />"That is why I tell you not to worry about everyday life-whether you have enough food and drink, or enough clothes to wear. Isn't life more than food, and your body more than clothing?"<br />Matthew 6:25<br /><br /><br />"Seek the Kingdom of God above all else, and live righteously, and he will give you everything you need."<br />Matthew 6: 33<br /><br /><br />"The Lord is my shepherd; I have all that I need."<br />Psalm 23:1<br /><br /><br />"Give as freely as you have received!"<br />Matthew 10:8<br />Here's what we learned: Our problem wasn't our income, or that a tithe was God demanding too much from us. Our problem was that we were trying to live by the standards of the world! We learned that if we freely chose to lower our worldly desires for material things, in the same way that Jesus freely "gave up his divine privileges" and "took the humble position of a slave" and "humbled himself in obedience to God" (Philippians 2:7-8), we could have plenty of money...and some left to share!<br /><br />We learned that we don't have to wait until we're "rich" (whatever that moving target is!) to do good in the world! We don't have the luxury of sitting back and waiting for the rich Christians to do all the heavy lifting, so to speak. Yes, I hope my wealthy Christian friends are doing a lot of good in Jesus' name, but it's not solely up to them! We all have a responsibility.<br /><br />So, wealthy friends, we're really not trying to reach you with this message. I'm sorry if any of you were/are offended, thinking we were judging you for having money. Because we just aren't. We never were. The audience we are trying to reach are those who still think they don't have enough. Those who are still saying, "After I get out of this 'starter home' and into my Big House, then I'll see about giving to a good cause." You don't have to have a bigger house. You don't have to drive a new car. Your kids really don't have to wear name brand clothes. The world says we need all this to be "legit" but Jesus says,<br /><br /><br /><br />"We must quickly carry out the tasks assigned us by the one who sent us. The night is coming, and then no one can work."<br />John 9:4<br /><br /><br />We love you! We don't judge you. We are simply saying we all have work to do, my friends, and time is of the essence! Don't let your income stop you from doing what God has called you to do! Let us teach you how to lower your lifestyle, so you can "leverage" or "maximize" the income and life you already have to do the most good for the Kingdom!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05269279054321903536noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7839248559480851193.post-973295566415099952016-09-26T14:15:00.002-05:002016-09-26T14:15:14.443-05:00<br />May 27, 2015<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Share<br /><br /><br /><br />Several of our friends have expressed concern about how our kids might be feeling about all this moving to another state (even though 3 of our kids were born in Texas), leaving friends behind, living a not normal, semi-off-grid lifestyle, etc., stuff.<br /><br />I always tell them everyone's fine, excited even, but people have their doubts. Sometimes moving, change, instability, can freak kids out a bit. I get that. But, when I said in my last post that God built our family for being ok with weird, I was referring to my kids, too.<br /><br />To put everyone at ease, I decided to assign my kids to answer this question in their own words. "How do you really feel about all this moving to Texas, 2nd World business?" I pulled up my blog post page, sat them down in front of the computer, promised I wouldn't edit their writing, and walked away.<br /><br />Two notes: <br /><br />First, that promise not to edit their writing is excruciatingly difficult for me to honor. I mean, all the missing punctuation, capitalization errors, and mis-wording, is just almost too much. If I was a whiskey drinker, I would need a shot right now. But, I want all the errors to stand as proof that they truly authored these paragraphs themselves.<br /><br />Second, I admit to you that I was a little worried about what I would see when I read their finished work. I really thought I knew how they felt, but when given the freedom to really express themselves, I wondered...Am I really in touch with my kids? Have we really talked through all this with them? Did I listen to their hearts?<br /><br />Sometimes people accuse us of being some kind of an extraordinary family. Absolutely, my children are precious. They are mostly well-behaved. They do well in school. But we are also very, very normal. Jeff and I yell sometimes. It's true. The kids fight with each other. Over really dumb stuff. We have homework drama, boyfriend/girlfriend drama, and You're the worst sister ever for playing the "Wild Draw 4" card on me just because I was about to win Uno drama.<br /><br />Even so, I am happy to report that we are all on the same page when it comes to our upcoming 2nd World Experiment. I am proud to share their responses with you below. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b1e4b05fb580287763/1442682033101/1000w/"><img border="0" src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b1e4b05fb580287764/1442682033101/1000w/" /></a><br />My name is Ruby Medders. i am almost 9 years old. i am kinda exited (excited) and kinda not exited (excited) about 2nd world experiment.i don't want to leave my friends and teachers but it is going to be a good step for my faimly<br /><br /> Love Ruby Medders<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b1e4b05fb580287765/1442682033101/1000w/"><img border="0" src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b1e4b05fb580287766/1442682033101/1000w/" /></a><br />Hey my name is Daisy Jace Medders. I'm going to be 12 years old in exactly one week. 2nd World Experiment is an amazing thing. I personally I am excited about it. I will need to get used to change though. 2nd World is different, we will live differently than most people would. It will be fun... hopefully. I am hoping that God will allow money to come in and make things get started fast. Things meaning power. (Clarification from Mom: by "power" she means "electricity" not "world domination" haha!) And its not money that is needed most, money is needed, but we need Gods love and grace even if things don't go the way that we want with this. :)<br /> Love Daisy Jace Medders<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b1e4b05fb580287767/1442682033101/1000w/"><img border="0" src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b1e4b05fb580287768/1442682033101/1000w/" /></a><br />Hello my name is Elijah Medders. I am nearly 14 years old. I am 100% in on 2nd World Experiment. Being the only boy I am kind of expected to not get too emotional, but when I heard the news I was exited (excited) from the start. I knew that I had to give up some things but I was feeling like God was finally speaking to me, so I was prepared. I am very happy to be leaving Arkansas to work for God. And thanks for asking.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b1e4b05fb580287769/1442682033101/1000w/"><img border="0" src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b1e4b05fb58028776a/1442682033101/1000w/" /></a><br />Hola mi amigos! My name is Jenna, I am the second child, and Ill be 15 in June. When my parents first began talking about some sort of move about 5 years ago I completely resented the idea. We took many trips to check out what could be in our future, but nothing ever clicked. It almost felt like they were dragging us all over the country hoping something would click....but now I realize... that kinda is what we were doing. In the last 6 months my views on the situation have switched gears. We visited Marble falls, Texas and I fell in love with God. I thought I was already in love with him, but this time I really felt it. There was talk of moving to Marble falls it was a wonderful beautiful place,but I had a boyfriend at the time... a real one, a two year relationship type of boyfriend , so you can understand one reason(I thought) I didn't want to go. On the way back home I felt God wanted me to tell my mom and dad how i was feeling about what God had put on their hearts. I said "your life isn't over yet, but mine hasn't really begun. Im strong enough to leave everything behind. God has spoken to me too. Our family needs this. If you think there is a way to do this, I'm in." and that is how i have felt ever since that spring break trip, and this isn't exactly what I expected...Buffalo Gap isn't Marble falls, but if thats where God wants us then I suppose i'll follow. With me it is kinda weird, my parents and even my older sister Mat, have experienced change and done something important with Gods help and guidance. Im too young to remember anything big we did, but I'm ready, I want to do something important to God. This just might be my chance!<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b1e4b05fb58028776b/1442682033101/1000w/"><img border="0" src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b1e4b05fb58028776c/1442682033101/1000w/" /></a><br />My parents? I am beyond proud of my parents. My whole life they have been a demonstration of faith to me; repeatedly packing up our whole family and moving us at God's call. I know they they would follow that call to the ends of the earth, and I would follow them there. Buffalo gap is certainly not the ends of the earth, it's actually really nice and I think it's and excellent choice for this specific project.<br />Learning about sustainable living has been a long process for us that started when we first moved to Arkansas. I remember the first time any of my friends called me or my family and "hippie family." It was so funny, that all I wanted to do was live up to it. My parents have given me this appreciation for our environment that it would've taken longer for me to gain on my own. They raised me to care about people and about this earth that God created for us to manage, how could I not understand 2nd World?<br />There was also growing with study on "more is less" typed subjects. I realize that I don't need beautiful earthly things. That I should store myself treasures in heaven, not on earth where moth and rust destroy, and thieves can break in and steal! I never needed a nice house, nice clothes, or a nice car. What would Jesus have? And I want to be as close to him as I can get.<br />Teaching this to people seems like a very important call, and it has so much room for new, godly relationships! It's also interesting and weird, a great conversation piece. If my parents living as an example of "less is more" is merely making people uncomfortable, that means they are thinking about it and feeling a little convicted, causing growth in the hearts of people.<br />I truly wish that my college adventuring would lead me closer to my parents' crazy God chasing, but I don't think I'll get to be so involved. As they make this move and this giant leap of faith, I am fully supportive and praying my heart out for their success and for God to be seen in them where they go. When our hearts are fully on God's, His Will be done.<br /><br />Sent from my iPhone (Mom note: Mattie is 20 years old and just wrapped up a Bible Certificate program at Alaska Bible College. She is headed to "regular" college in the fall -probably Louisville, KY, waiting on final admission paperwork- to pursue a bachelor's degree in psychology and a master's in social work...at least that's the plan at the moment.)<br /><br /><br />Yes, I know...but, I didn't really "edit" as much as I just clarified some of their words with my little parenthetical comments. Forgive me. Also, I second-guessed myself, wondering if I should have said, "If I were a whiskey drinker..." instead of "If I was a whiskey drinker..." Maybe that's what I get for mentioning the devil's drink in the first place.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05269279054321903536noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7839248559480851193.post-17028745332420136202016-09-26T14:14:00.002-05:002016-09-26T14:14:19.520-05:00<br />May 25, 2015<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Share<br /><br /><br /><br />First, I want to say Thank You, to everyone who has stepped up to support 2nd World moving from Facebook page to Real World. Most of you don't want your names published, so we will honor that, but know that your names are listed in my personal journals and your names have been laid before God in thankfulness for all you've done.<br /><br />We've gotten a few questions over the last week, and since they are all fair and legitimate (and the school year is almost over, so I'll have a little more time for writing), I thought I'd take some time over the next few days to try to respond to them.<br /><br />There may be more question we need to address later, but here is a list of the questions we're getting:<br /><br />1. Do you think it's smart to quit your job before the funding for this "2nd World Experiment" ministry/project is in place?<br /><br />2. How are your kids feeing about all this? (moving, living semi-off grid, changing their lifestyle, living kind of gritty, social pressures)<br /><br />3. Why Abilene?<br /><br />4. Are you saying it's a sin for me to make money?<br /><br />5. How do you define "rich"?<br /><br />6. Don't you think you're being a little extreme?<br /><br />7. Will 2nd World always need to be supported financially, like a foreign mission work?<br /><br />8. What is your mission? What's the point?<br /><br />We're having a rainy-ish Memorial Day here in Arkansas today anyway, so I'll try to get that first question answered now. <br /><br /><br />1. Do you think it's smart to quit your job before the funding for this "2nd World Experiment" ministry/project is in place?<br /><br />Short answer: No, we don't think this makes sense. We want to give our parents, Larry and Sandra Birdwell and (Harvey) and Anne Medders Johnson, full credit for having taught us better. They taught us not to quit a job before having another one lined up. They taught us to be responsible and respectable. This is good and true and we value our training and upbringing.<br /><br />We are fully-versed in the Bible passages that tell us if a man doesn't work, he won't eat, and I promise you we are working hard. Our children will not starve. Jeff and I both have college degrees, are fully-employable, and are not "above" getting regular jobs if we find it necessary. We want to thank our current church (Gateway Church of Saline County, in Benton, Arkansas) for extending us the amazing gift of allowing Jeff to write his own exit timeline from our work here, while we prepare to start this new ministry in Texas. They are going above and beyond, and if it were possible to earn the proverbial stars in their crowns, they would all look ridiculously fabulous right now.<br /><br />Longer answer: We feel we must do it this way. We must be able to put our focus on what we know God is asking us to do. We have been trying to start 2nd World on the side for the last 5 years. If hard work, second and third jobs, in addition to our work at Gateway, could have gotten this ministry off the ground, it would have been accomplished a long time ago. <br /><br />We must do 2nd World, and it's not fair to our current church for us to be distracted, dividing our time between their needs and what we feel strongly called to do with our lives. Gateway deserves to have a minister with a pastoral heart who can dedicate his whole focus on shepherding their hearts and families. <br /><br />The Medders Family has been gifted by God with the desire and ability to live the kind of lives that led us to start <a href="http://www.fortressydc.org/">Fortress Ministries</a> (an inner city church and outreach in Fort Worth) in 1996, and <a href="http://www.drybonesdenver.org/">Dry Bones Denver</a> (that we called City Cafe for the first 2 years...thank you, Matt Wallace, for helping us correct that grave marketing mistake) in 1999, and an extension of Dry Bones Denver in California, called Dry Bones Venice, in 2003. After almost 10 years of recovery from a difficult experience in California, doing mainstream ministry in central Arkansas, we have discovered we still have it in us to go out on a limb and do "weird" and "extreme" ministry again, calling Christians to deeper faith; faith that is evident by the way we live.<br /><br />We simply must.<br /><br />And it's terrifying. I'm not going to lie to you and pretend this isn't scary. It is. Leaving a predictable paycheck and a group of people you love very much, isn't normal or comfortable. And, yes, the thought of "What are we going to do if this fails" has indeed crossed our minds...multiple times...maybe daily. The truth that failure in this, especially since we believe God is asking us to do this, would be extremely embarrassing, is ever-present.<br /><br />We aren't claiming to be able to hear God audibly speak to us. Let me repeat: that is absolutely NOT a claim we are making for ourselves. But we also can't escape the fact that God often called his prophets to exhibit extreme lifestyles and qualities, in order to make a point to his people. (Hosea was commanded to marry a prostitute; Jeremiah had to remain single and childless; Micah was told to go barefoot and live as a slave to make God's point; Ezekiel was deported; Daniel was captured, lived as a slave, and was thrown to the lions) <br /><br />What I am saying is, the work we are setting out to do with 2nd World, will be the hardest thing we've ever done. It will not be easy. We will certainly not be living a life of luxury...in fact, it will be the exact opposite, but God built our family to enjoy living on the edge. Something being difficult, not normal, strange, weird, or extreme, doesn't bother us. We think it's kind of fun. <br /><br />We believe that God wants to use our family to make a point. And we believe he's got the details under control.<br /><br />Please pray for us.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05269279054321903536noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7839248559480851193.post-66654175148336464792016-09-26T14:13:00.003-05:002016-09-26T14:13:35.888-05:00<br />May 21, 2015<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Share<br /><br /><br /><br />Lord, give us today our daily bread. Help us see what needs to be done today, and give us the strength to leave "10 years from now" in the future, where it belongs. You are 10 Years From Now and you can care for our dream and nurture it's future existence until we get there. If we get there.<br /><br />Until then, please, Today. What needs to be done today? What needs to be spoken today? What needs to be laid down today? What needs to be picked up today? You know, better than we do. Plant a confidence in You in our hearts. Simplify big dreams into understandable sentences. Banish the negativity from sneaking its way in. Remind us that all we have is now, so we should do what we can with The Now you've given us.<br /><br /><br />"I am leaving you with a gift - peace of mind and heart. And the peace I give is a gift the world cannot give. So don't be troubled or afraid."<br />John 14:27Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05269279054321903536noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7839248559480851193.post-25039822227689824062016-09-26T14:12:00.003-05:002016-09-26T14:12:53.027-05:00<br />May 18, 2015<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Share<br /><br /><br /><br />2nd World Experiment is going LIVE, and we are so excited and so terrified!<br /><br />We are finally taking our Facebook community into the real world, where people can come and stay, come and visit, come and learn, or come and point and laugh...whatever.<br /><br />I thought about putting this in my own words, but that would take too much brain power, so let me just give a little space to quote what Jeff posted on Facebook this morning (with a couple of little "edits" to grammar and punctuation- bless him, he's a missionary, not an English teacher wink wink).<br /><br />"On January 24, 2010, I preached a sermon from Philippians chapter 2 that I personally can't escape from. The scripture says that we should have the same attitude as Christ who voluntarily lowered himself and gave up his privileges. <br />For these last 5 years, since the "Downward Mobility" sermon, Kama and I have felt a conviction to start a simple living lab that would look like a youth camp, a community, and a church in order to create a new wave of disciples who would volunteer to give up some of our privileges for the purpose of leveraging our one life/income to do more good work in the world.<br />We have been on 4 survey trips… to Albuquerque, NM, Rockport ,Tx, Terlingua, Tx, and Marble Falls, TX ,seeking God’s will and looking for a great place to start up. We were searching for a piece of land that was was within reach of several cities, close to young adults, inexpensive, and had electricity available. None of these places fit all 4 of these criteria.<br />After all this time, we have found a place that both Kama and I are both excited about… and so, even though we really love our friends here… we will leave Benton, AR and move to Buffalo Gap, Tx near Abilene. I gave my resignation to the other elders last Friday… I will continue to preach my heart out in Benton all summer, and then we will go."<br /><br />Here is how we will proceed.<br /><br />Step 1: (After 5+ years of seeking God, and laying our hopes for his church at his feet,) receive an undeniable call, and a confirmation of his blessing, for the direction we are to head. check<br /><br />Step 2: Jeff resigns from his current position as the senior minister of Gateway Church (Benton, Arkansas), so we can begin raising funds for our endeavor without sneaking around behind the backs of our church, whom we love deeply. check<br /> <br /><br /> Step 2b: Try not to throw up because I don't think you realize that JEFF JUST RESIGNED HIS JOB and I am only a substitute teacher...and it's the end of the school year. *Insert barf bag and lots and lots of faith and trust here.* check<br />Step 3: Find a location that has all 4 P's: Property that is affordable (price) in the county (to provide plenty of space and to avoid complicated city building codes), but that is still in close proximity to populated areas. (people) check<br /> Property has been located in Buffalo Gap, Texas, about a 30 minute drive from Abilene.<br /><br />Step 4: Start the nitty-gritty tasks: raise money; begin 501(c)3 paperwork; find like-minded people to serve as our initial Board of Directors. on-going check<br /><br />Step 5: Purchase property.<br /><br />Step 6: Begin construction on the first building: The Chapel.<br /><br />The very first thing we will build on the property is a chapel. We want to say with our lips, and proclaim physically with a building, that everything we do will begin with, and be centered on, God.<br /><br />Jeff and I have a deep place in our hearts for people who don't know God. But, our personal ministry has always been to the church; to people who already claim to be followers of the Way. We are calling the church to go deeper, to take their faith seriously. Just showing up on Sunday morning isn't enough. God wants all of you. He doesn't just want your tithe, he wants your widow's mite (every last penny). He doesn't just want your obedience, he wants your heart.<br /><br />After the chapel is built, we will focus on building rustic facilities for campers/guests.<br /><br />When we envision the final completed project, we picture a place where high school and college students will come and learn about simple living, with the purpose of leveraging their future income to do the most good in the Kingdom. We don't have to wait until we're rich, or win the lottery, to help our global neighbors, if we will plan for it.<br /><br />We picture a place where missions students can come to learn/practice/experience 3rd world living conditions, in a safe environment. We would love to let groups build different types of homes that might be found in Haiti, or Africa, or China, and then use those buildings for foreign mission training. (If you've ever been to the Heifer Ranch and seen their Global Village, you will have an idea of what we're thinking.)<br /><br />It will be a church where people can give and receive encouragement and fuel for the week ahead; where they will receive biblical teaching, as unpolluted as possible by politics and partisan views.<br /><br />It will be a place where a few people choose to live full time, and others will come in RVs for extended stays.<br /><br />There will be gardens and chickens, aquaponics and water-catchment systems, composting and recycling, chickens and goats...and maybe a cow or two.<br /><br />It will be hard work. But it will be so worth the effort when we all learn to grow closer to each other, closer to ground we were put here to care for, and closer to the God who made it all.<br /><br />I wish there was a way to succinctly define what, exactly, 2nd World Experiment is, but there just isn't. Or, at least we haven't yet figured out how to boil it down. For now, we describe it this way: 2nd World is an experiment in what if.<br /><br />What if surgeons, CEOs, small business entrepreneurs, farmers, school teachers, social workers, stay-at-home moms, and students all found great joy and satisfaction in their work, not because they were on an endless cycle to try to get a bigger house and as many cool toys as their neighbor, but because their work had Kingdom value?<br /><br />What if we really...<br /><br />"Store your treasures in heaven, where moths and rust cannot destroy, and thieves do not break in and steal."<br />Matthew 6:20<br /><br /><br />What if God's people actually had... <br />"the same attitude that Christ Jesus had. Though he was God, he did not think of equality with God as something to cling to. Instead, he gave up his divine privileges; he took the humble position of a slave and was born as a human being...he humbled himself in obedience to God..."<br />Philippians 2:5-8<br />What if Jesus followers actually worked...<br /><br />"willingly at whatever you do, as though you were working for the Lord rather than for people."<br />Colossians 3:23<br /><br /><br />What if Christians actually believed this is all about God, and not about us?<br />"Our Father in heaven, hallowed be Your name.<br />Your kingdom come. Your will be done <br />on earth as it is in heaven... <br />For Yours is the Kingdom <br />and the power and the glory forever. Amen."<br />Matthew 6:9-13<br /><br /><br />What if we really loved...<br />"the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, all your mind, and all your strength."<br />and...<br />"Love your neighbor as yourself."<br /><br /><br />Do we really believe...<br />"No other commandment is greater than these."<br />Mark 12:30-31<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />For us, this changes everything.<br /><br /><br />Whether you think we're crazy, or whether you think we're on to something, please pray for us.<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05269279054321903536noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7839248559480851193.post-40714698001087692162016-09-26T14:11:00.003-05:002016-09-26T14:11:53.720-05:00<br />May 12, 2015<br />I don't have any up-to-the-minute pictures to share with you right now because I'm writing in the middle of the night. Stupid head cold. Can't breathe.<br /><br />The garden I was so excited about a month ago, is kind of a mess. Beans, squash, tomatoes, radishes and kale are all growing pretty well, but so are the weeds and grass and there's not a lot I can do about it. If you're in the southern United States, you're probably having an over-abundance of rain like we are. My dad (in Oklahoma) texted the other day that his second planting of okra had washed away and that the fish from his upper tank were swimming through both pastures and across the driveway, down to the lower tank.<br /><br />I "hilled" the rows in my garden pretty high this year (check that: 14 year old Jenna actually did the work because of my shoulder surgery) so my plants aren't washing away, but the weeds and grass are going crazy and it's way too muddy to get out there and try to get it under control.<br /><br />Add to that, a couple of our baby goats are still small enough to squeeze through the planks in the fence. They aren't eating too much (they still prefer mama as their food source), but they are tromping all over everything. <br /><br />Such is life, though. We will do the best we can, and so will you. I just want you to know you're not alone. Especially if you are still fairly new to gardening, know that whether you've been gardening for over 50 years like my dad, or 15 like me, we are all dependent on God.<br /><br /><br />"[God] decided how hard the winds <br />should blow and how much rain should fall. <br />He made the laws for the rain <br />and laid out a path for the lightning."<br />Job 28: 25-26<br /><br /><br />Meanwhile, my chickens are starting to lay more and Daisy (our 11 year old) had two hens in her flock go broody. She has managed to get one cute little chick out of the clutch. The other two that hatched were murdered by the adult birds before we could get in and rescue them. It was a sad and dramatic day for Sweet Daisy as she put each hen, and the rooster, on trial one at a time and heard arguments on both sides (me, being the defense attorney; her being the prosecutor and judge). In the end, she decided to spare them the death penalty, but they receive scathing words of disdain and disapproval from her each day as she throws them their scratch. (I think she will forgive them someday.)<br /><br /><br />Well, whatever homestead or hobby farm drama you have going on right now, I pray blessings on you, that you will embrace and learn from the situations that come your way. (And for our friends in California, we are sorry for complaining about too much rain. I promise we would share it with you if we could.) Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05269279054321903536noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7839248559480851193.post-3894697240099493752016-09-26T14:11:00.000-05:002016-09-26T14:11:03.529-05:00<br />April 15, 2015<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Share<br /><br /><br /><br />My newly planted and mulched garden is getting some much-needed rain this morning. And I am blessed to be writing this from a dry spot under my patio, sipping some special coffee given to me by my brother; beans ground fresh this morning in my great-grandmother's grain mill. Sometimes life is nice and easy like this.<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b1e4b05fb58028777a/1442682033256/1000w/"><img border="0" src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b1e4b05fb58028777a/1442682033256/1000w/" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />But even in the peacefulness of this morning's setting, I find myself a bit uneasy.<br /><br /><br />I read the story of the rich young man in Mark 10. I like it because it's not the typical someone's trying to trick Jesus into saying something incriminating story. It's just a guy, who seems to be genuinely seeking the truth. He doesn't like Jesus' answer: <br /><br /><br />"There is still one thing you haven't done. Go and sell all your possessions and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me."<br /><br /><br />I, and most American Christians, don't like this answer either. We blow past this passage pretty quickly. Jesus didn't really mean we all have to do that. He certainly didn't mean I have to do that. I mean, I have kids to take care of. He just meant that I have to give those things up in my heart, not actually sell them and give the money to the poor. If I did that, then Iwould be poor. That's just crazy-talk. He was obviously just talking to that one guy. And, I mean, I actually feel sorry for him. He had an opportunity to be one of The Twelve and he just walked away from it. I would have totally followed Jesus, if I had been that guy. Totally.<br /><br /><br />Since that passage wasn't really talking to me, I flipped a few pages forward and landed in Luke 6.<br /><br /><br />"What sorrow awaits you who are rich, for you have your only happiness now.<br />What sorrow awaits you who are fat and prosperous now, for a time of awful hunger awaits you.<br />What sorrow awaits you who laugh now, for your laughing will turn to mourning and sorrow.<br />What sorrow awaits you who are praised by the crowds, for their ancestors also praised false prophets."<br /><br /><br />Well, it's just a good thing I'm not rich, at least compared to, you know, people who are richer than me, or fat (very), or prosperous, or highly praised. Fact is, someone actually said something really mean and passive-aggressive to me not too many months ago.<br /><br /><br />Even so, maybe I'll just scoot ahead a bit and see if Jesus has something to say specifically to me.<br /><br /><br />"So why do you keep calling me 'Lord, Lord!' when you don't do what I say?"<br /><br /><br />Ummm....<br /><br /><br />"Give, and you will receive. Your gift will return to you in full- pressed down, shaken together to make room for more, running over, and poured into your lap. The amount you give will determine the amount you get back."<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />So, I obviously wasn't getting anywhere with my quiet time. Sometimes it's just like that. You try to read God's Word, but it just doesn't always speak to you. Sometimes you just have to recognize that you are developing the spiritual discipline of putting the Word in your heart, even when it doesn't really reveal any new insight in to the way you should live out your life on a daily basis, right?<br /><br /><br />I went on with my morning. Ate breakfast. Dropped the kids at school. As the last kid got out of the car, I took a deep breath, breathing in the idea of a few hours of quiet. I'm not working today. I will get to drink my coffee, enjoy the rain, do some writing. What is this song I'm humming?...<br /><br /><br />"This might hurt, it's not safe<br />But I know that I've gotta make a change<br />I don't care if I break<br />At least I'll be feeling something<br /><br /><br />'Cause just okay's not enough<br />Help me fight through the nothingness of life<br /><br /><br />I don't wanna go through the motions<br />I don't wanna go one more day<br />Without Your all-consuming passion inside of me<br /><br /><br />I don't wanna spend my whole life asking<br />What if I had given everything<br />Instead of going through the motions?"<br /><br /><br />Darn that Matthew West character! Who does he think he is, invading my peaceful morning like this!<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />And so, here I sit, all disturbed in my guts. What does this mean? Did Jesus really mean giving to the poor, having no earthly possessions, trusting him for every stinking thing we need, is like LITERALLY the way we should be living our lives? Because I really, really want to think he meant it more figuratively. I am way more comfortable with the analogy of giving up everything; the philosophy of storing up treasures in heaven.<br /><br /><br />Just how big, exactly, does God expect my faith to be?!<br /><br /><br />There is seriously no way I'm sticking a For Sale sign on my life. What about my kids? No! I could never put them through that social humiliation. The load of stuff I have packed in to the back of my Suburban, destined to be dumped off at Goodwill later this week, is enough. It will have to be enough. It's all I can do.<br /><br /><br />Maybe when my kids are grown up and living on their own...maybe then I'll do something insane like selling all my stuff, giving the money to the poor, and trusting God to provide for my needs while I travel the world, serving him by serving others. <br /><br /><br />Right now, the risk is just too great.<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.godtube.com/watch/?v=JMBB21NU">www.godtube.com/watch/?v=JMBB21NU</a><br /><div class="body entry-content" style="margin: 0em auto 24px; max-width: 100%; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; widows: auto; width: auto;">
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05269279054321903536noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7839248559480851193.post-89101170951058368972016-09-26T14:09:00.003-05:002016-09-26T14:09:59.118-05:00<br />April 8, 2015<br />Confession: This blogger who professes and advocates a "2nd World" lifestyle, is currently typing these words from a pollen-covered table at Starbucks.<br /><br /><a href="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b1e4b05fb58028777e/1442682033259/1000w/"><img border="0" src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b1e4b05fb58028777e/1442682033259/1000w/" /></a>I am one of those people who actually likes the coffee here, but I wasn't happy about coming today. A few minutes ago, I was in my overalls caked with dried mud, and I really just wanted to sit down to a lunch of leftover pizza and write about the beginning of gardening season, but my internet provider at home has been down all day. And, just like that, the simple life I want to live crashes into the realities of living in 2015. <br /><br />Like it or not, we have set up our lives to almost require us to have internet access. I mean, it's actually pretty great that I can communicate with all my 2nd World friends in a matter of seconds, and that I can have almost instantaneous access to all the "how to's" I should have learned from my mother and grandmothers, but didn't. (Like this past Thanksgiving when I was able to pull up a youtube video to remind me how to butcher and dress out the rooster we ate.) But, I don't like the idea that I am rendered nearly useless the minute my provider experiences a glitch.<br /><br />And, really, I just didn't want to change clothes. Because you can say all day long that you wouldn't care and you would just go to Starbucks in your muddy overalls, to which I would just say goody for you but that kind of public declaration isn't for me. So, I grudgingly put on my CLEAN thrift story Old Navy jeans, a pair of earrings, same shirt I had on under my overalls, washed most of the dirt out from around my nails, and here I sit.<br /><br />Last Saturday was Weather Perfection here in central Arkansas. Our average last frost date occurred while we were in Texas for spring break, and the following week/weekend was a rainy, muddy mess, so, even though we are about a week and a half late by the gardening bible, we finally started getting a few seeds and plants in the ground this past weekend.<br /><br />We are especially excited about our garden this year because last year we were only able to harvest a few radishes and about 2 salads worth of lettuce. Jeff built me a precious octagonal greenhouse from reclaimed storm doors in January 2014. I had him put it in the middle of my garden so it could double as a garden shed and an extraordinary place to sit during a summer rain. I rearranged the layout of my plots to go in a circular pattern around the greenhouse. It was so beautiful! (I'm sad that I don't have a picture to show you, but my computer crashed and I lost EVERY SINGLE PICTURE.) Anyway, about the time a few of the early vegetables were getting ready to harvest, our house sold. We put it on the market thinking it would take 6 months to a year to sell. It sold in 6 days. It was too late in the season to put in a garden at our new place, so I just popped a few Arkansas Traveler tomato plants in the front flower bed and called it a season.<br /><br />Let me just tell you: those gorgeous gardening magazines lining the check-out aisles at Home Depot and Tractor Supply, LIE! All those glossy pictures of freshly weeded and mulched gardens, sparkling with a fine mist of water, boasting ginormous squash plants and 2 pound tomatoes held up by cute little DIY hammocks, might lead a person to believe gardening is serene, meditative activity with rich rewards of fat, organic produce.<br /><br />Contrarily, if you were to pretend you are a Hebrew slave in Egypt, pre-Moses, you would be closer to reality. Especially when you decide the perfect place for a new garden is in the middle of a lush, decades-old Bermuda grass lawn. The magazines fail to depict the sweaty, red faces, the sunburn, the bug bites, the bee stings. They don't show Mom screaming at Child for walking right across the rows she just mounded, or the 14 year old daughter chasing the chickens away from freshly planted seeds with a rake. The magazine might tell you it's important to remove a lawn from the area where you intend put your garden, but it doesn't describe what goes on in your heart when you are still turning up grass roots at 18 inches below the soil surface.<br /><br />I am romantically hopeful, that I won't have as hard of a time killing out all the grass in this garden, as I did at my last one. After 8 years of pulling grass out by hand, I just about had it under control. Now, I'm starting over again.<br /><br /><a href="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b1e4b05fb580287780/1442682033259/1000w/"><img border="0" src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b1e4b05fb580287780/1442682033259/1000w/" /></a><br />This is how it looked at the beginning of the day on Saturday morning.<br /><br />Early in March, just before our last big ice/snow storm, I ran the tiller over my plot. The idea, of course, is to expose the dormant roots to the freezing precipitation, in the hopes of killing at least some of it. Also, breaking up the ground to allow the nitrogen-rich snow to get down into the soil, is good thing.<br /><br />We ran the tiller over it again on Saturday morning and spent some time on our back pockets pulling fistfuls of grass out and tossing it over the fence.<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b1e4b05fb580287781/1442682033259/1000w/"><img border="0" src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b1e4b05fb580287781/1442682033259/1000w/" /></a><br />Jeff<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b1e4b05fb580287784/1442682033259/1000w/"><img border="0" src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b1e4b05fb580287784/1442682033259/1000w/" /></a><br />Jenna <br /><br /><br /><a href="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b1e4b05fb580287785/1442682033259/1000w/"><img border="0" src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b1e4b05fb580287785/1442682033259/1000w/" /></a><br />Daisy<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b1e4b05fb580287787/1442682033259/1000w/"><img border="0" src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b1e4b05fb580287787/1442682033259/1000w/" /></a><br />Me<br /><br />Jenna did all of the raking and forming of the rows. (I chose to do a row garden this year just because it's easier to define for my children where it's ok to walk and where it isn't.) She is my hero! I had shoulder surgery about 5 weeks ago and my surgeon and physical therapist gave me strict instructions to not lift, push or pull anything...or whatever. After I loaded, pushed, and unloaded 5 wheelbarrow loads of mulch, I decided they might be right.<br /><br /><a href="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b1e4b05fb580287789/1442682033259/1000w/"><img border="0" src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b1e4b05fb580287789/1442682033259/1000w/" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b1e4b05fb58028778b/1442682033259/1000w/"><img border="0" src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b1e4b05fb58028778b/1442682033259/1000w/" /></a><br /><br />After the rows were in, we put mulch in all of the walking paths to help keep the weeds and grass under control, to hold moisture in the soil, and to give worms and beneficial bugs a happy and inviting place to hide. Ruby stepped up to help load the mulch after I decided I didn't want to have to re-do my shoulder surgery.<br /><br /><a href="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b1e4b05fb58028778d/1442682033259/1000w/"><img border="0" src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b1e4b05fb58028778d/1442682033259/1000w/" /></a><br />The other kids think I baby her, but she's a pretty hard worker anyway.<br />At the end of the day, we had 4 varieties of beans, 3 varieties of peas, and kale in the ground. This morning, I put in all the tomatoes (we will have 7 different kinds this year, you know, if I don't mess up), 3 kinds of onions, and 3 kinds of cabbages (in addition to the Burpee cabbage Ruby got at school...every year, the 3rd graders in our district are given cabbage plants. They are supposed to plant and care for them and then send in a picture. There is some kind of a college scholarship awarded to the winner. I'm not sure of the details, but my kids have always had fun caring for their cabbages.). <br /><br />We are supposed to get a storm tonight, with rain all day tomorrow, but the weekend is going to be nice. I hope to finish getting everything else in the ground then.<br /><br />Just so I don't leave my son out of this post, I'll note that even though Elijah didn't help us in the garden, he did the work of beginning to integrate our 6 new chickens to our existing flock. We got them as chicks a few weeks ago and kept them under a heat lamp until they were fully feathered. Now, we have to keep them in a separate cage inside the coop where the other chickens roost at night so they will learn that this area is their new home and so the other chickens can kind of get used to them. In about two weeks, we will let them fully join the other birds and hope that they will be accepted and not have their feathers all pulled out by the dominant hens.<br /><br /><a href="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b1e4b05fb58028778f/1442682033259/1000w/"><img border="0" src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b1e4b05fb58028778f/1442682033259/1000w/" /></a><br />I think in my first post I commented that we still didn't know what Ruby's talent was going to be. Well, when she got bored with the whole gardening thing, I handed her the camera and told her she could take pictures of whatever she wanted to. Almost every picture included in this entry (plus the ones of our animals and property I'm about to include below) were taken by her! She may be our official 2nd World blog photographer!<br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b1e4b05fb580287791/1442682033259/1000w/"><img border="0" src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b1e4b05fb580287791/1442682033259/1000w/" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b1e4b05fb580287794/1442682033259/1000w/"><img border="0" src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b1e4b05fb580287794/1442682033259/1000w/" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b1e4b05fb580287796/1442682033259/1000w/"><img border="0" src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b1e4b05fb580287796/1442682033259/1000w/" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b1e4b05fb580287797/1442682033259/1000w/"><img border="0" src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b1e4b05fb580287797/1442682033259/1000w/" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b1e4b05fb58028779a/1442682033259/1000w/"><img border="0" src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b1e4b05fb58028779a/1442682033259/1000w/" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b1e4b05fb58028779c/1442682033259/1000w/"><img border="0" src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b1e4b05fb58028779c/1442682033259/1000w/" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b1e4b05fb58028779e/1442682033259/1000w/"><img border="0" src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b1e4b05fb58028779e/1442682033259/1000w/" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b1e4b05fb58028779f/1442682033259/1000w/"><img border="0" src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b1e4b05fb58028779f/1442682033259/1000w/" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b1e4b05fb5802877a2/1442682033259/1000w/"><img border="0" src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b1e4b05fb5802877a2/1442682033259/1000w/" /></a><br />Selfie!<br />We hope all of you who will be gardening this summer have a season without grass, bites, stings, and burns, and with plenty of delicious produce to enjoy and share!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05269279054321903536noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7839248559480851193.post-89944764880733149952016-09-26T14:08:00.003-05:002016-09-26T14:08:26.958-05:00<br />April 4, 2015<br />In case you haven't noticed, the United States is pretty stinkin' rich. (Even our poorest citizens are better off than most of the people who live in a 3rd world country.) If you are American middle class or lower, you might find yourself a bit frustrated seeing all the nice cars, all the nice clothes, all the nice flashy gadgets, and you're sitting there thinking, "I work 50 hours a week and I'm doing good to make the mortgage and car payments! Where is all the money going?! And why does this not feel like the American dream they sold me in college...oh, yeah, that's where my money is going: student loan payments." <br /><br /><br /><br />Jeff and I were in that place a few years back. God always, ALWAYS, provided what we needed when we were young and fresh in ministry. VISA provided what we wanted. Regrettably, it took us a long time and a lot of debt to figure out the difference between our needs and our wants.<br /><br />And don't you think that's exactly where most of us get it wrong? We get so distracted comparing ourselves, our stuff, our goodies and decorations, to those of our friends, our parents, even our enemies, that we can't see how God has fully provided everything we need. <br /><br />If we didn't go naked today, we have been provided for. The clothes hanging in our closets that are waiting to be worn later this week are extra; more than we need for today. If we had shelter to sleep under last night, God is faithful. If we were able to hang a picture or choose the color to paint the walls of that shelter, then our cup overflows. If we ate enough calories to keep us alive today, God is good. If we stepped on the bathroom scale and sighed a little sigh of regret over that dessert, then God's provision has been excessive and abundant. Now, before you write me off as "extreme" and "eccentric," hear me say I'm just trying to give us a little perspective. If we can stop comparing our toys to our friends', and choose instead to view our lives through Jesus' eyes, we might find more satisfaction and peace.<br /><br /><br /><br />"That is why I tell you not to worry about everyday life - whether you have enough food and drink, or enough clothes to wear. Isn't life more than food, and your body more than clothing? Look at the birds. They don't plant or harvest or store food in barns, for your heavenly Father feeds them. And aren't you far more valuable to him than they are?" Matthew 6<br /><br /><br />Last week, my family was privileged to spend a day at a Galveston Island beach in Texas. I got up early for a walk by the water while Jeff and kids slept, and I saw something like this (I borrowed this picture from the internet because I didn't take my camera on that walk):<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b1e4b05fb5802877ae/1442682033429/1000w/"><img border="0" src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b1e4b05fb5802877ae/1442682033429/1000w/" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />And as I watched those birds standing at the edge of the surf, I heard myself saying, out loud, "Look at them waiting for God to bring them breakfast!" As those words from my mouth echoed in my ears, I felt a tug of jealousy at the peacefulness of a life that just stands, waiting expectantly every morning for God to fulfill his promise of food.<br /><br /><br /><br />"Give us this day our daily bread..."<br />Haha! Something just happened: someone just quoted 2 Thessalonians 3:10: <br /><br /><br /><br />"Even while we were with you, we gave you this command: "Those unwilling to work will not get to eat.' "<br />and that's ok, because I'm not even close to suggesting that we all just sit around waiting for food and clothing to fall out of the sky. I'm simply saying we should honestly acknowledge the difference between working to provide for ourselves and our children, and the anxious striving to acquire all the things the world dangles in front of us.<br /><br /><br />Almost everyone has heard about Dave Ramsey's Financial Peace University by now. No matter what you think about his political views (and he's more than happy to spout out his numerous opinions), he is pretty smart when it comes to handling money. Jeff and I first heard about him when we were living in Colorado (around 2002), but we just didn't have the time to sit through the class and we didn't have the $90 to pay for the class. (Apparently we could come up with $500 or more per month to eat at Taco Bell, but not $90 to pay for a class that would eventually change our lives, or whatever.) <br /><br /><br />Four moves and 2 states later, we made it to the first class. We learned the lessons. We fought the money fights. We hashed out a budget. We fought. We hashed out more budgets. We quit eating out. We cut all unnecessary expenses. Jeff got the extra job. Minister by day (and night and all the time) and movie theater ticket salesman on the weekends. We did the things, we worked the plan, and finally, in 2007, we paid our last bill and became debt-free, except for our mortgage.<br /><br /><br />At first, we bought into Dave's motto: Live like no one else (now...meaning working our bohookies off and eating only rice and beans) so (later) we could live like no one else (meaning filthy rich, rolling in so much money we could put all 5 kids in braces at the same time using change we found in the ashtray of the car). The idea of having money for a cute house, a car that didn't break down once a month, new clothes, and even a vacation was very appealing. I'm not going to lie. I wanted to be rich. I wanted to be able to just write a check, endow a charity, and be the hero who made it possible for hungry orphans in a 3rd world country to eat a descent meal everyday. Yep. That sounded like the kind of life I wanted.<br /><br />Dave Ramsey taught us to get our spending under control; to "tell our money what to do and where to go, rather than it telling us what to do and where to go." For that hard lesson, we will always be grateful and we will point people who ask toward the Financial Peace University class. <br /><br />However.<br /><br />Even in the midst of seeing dollar signs and an easier life, God was teaching us a different lesson: Kingdom Economics.<br /><br /><br /><br />"My Kingdom is not an earthly kingdom..." John 18:36<br /><br /><br />"Give as freely as you have received!" Matthew 10:8b<br /><br /><br />"Don't store up treasures here on earth, where moths eat them and rust destroys them, and where thieves break in and steal. Store your treasures in heaven, where moths and rust cannot destroy, and thieves do not break in and steal. Wherever your treasure is, there the desires of your heart will also be." Matthew 6: 19-20<br /><br /><br />"So those who are last now will be first then, and those who are first will be last." Matthew 20: 16<br /><br /><br />"You know that the rulers in this world lord it over their people, and officials flaunt their authority over those under them. But among you it will be different. Whoever wants to be a leader among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first among you must become your slave." Matthew 20: 25-27 (emphasis mine)<br /><br /><br />"God blesses those who are poor and realize their need for him, for the Kingdom of Heaven is theirs." Matthew 5:3<br /><br /><br />"But to you who are willing to listen, I say, love your enemies! Do good to those who hate you. Bless those who curse you. Pray for those who hurt you. If someone slaps you on one cheek, offer the other cheek also. If someone demands your coat, offer your shirt also. Give to anyone who asks; and when things are taken away from you, don't try to get them back. Do to others as you would like them to do to you" Luke 6:27-31<br /><br /><br />"Owe nothing to anyone-except for your obligation to love one another." Romans 13:8<br /><br /><br />"Don't love money; be satisfied with what you have. For God has said, 'I will never fail you. I will never abandon you.' " Hebrews 13:5<br /><br /><br />(I smile because even most of my non-Christian friends, who don't believe Jesus is who I believe he is, can still agree with most of these statements spoken by him and his followers. We ALL want a world that is more peaceful and functions on the currency of Love, rather than Greed and Hate.)<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />It occurred to us one day that we shouldn't be waiting until we are "rich" to start giving. We had to figure out how to care for the NEEDS of our family and still have enough left to help others. We believe we are here, in one of the richest nations on the planet, NOT to just horde up more and more for ourselves, but because God has trusted us with great resources and is counting on us to use those resources wisely. And, I don't mean "wisely" in the way most people think of it (like, I can't give money to a homeless person because they might use it to buy a 40, kind of way). I mean "wisely" based on what I know about God's Kingdom. It is not His will for anyone on this earth to be starving, or oppressed, or going without. Jesus didn't make people fill out applications or go through interviews to determine if they would use his gifts wisely. He simply healed those who needed healing and fed those who were hungry. What they did with their lives later was between them and God.<br /><br />I know some of my Republican friends will want to write me off as Socialist, but I'm just not. It's that I've been given access to education, healthy family relationships, a life with minimal oppression and tons of freedom and opportunity (even compared to many of my fellow Americans who are still mentally and emotionally enslaved), and because my belief-system tells me all the "goodies" of this world are going to burn anyway, it's my job, my joyful obligation, to share what I can, while I can. And I can share a lot more than I thought I could. <br /><br />I'm going to have to wrap this post up soon, or I'm going to lose everyone to it's ridiculous length, so I will finish off by saying:<br /><br />Our family is raising 5 children on a minister's salary (and my husband isn't a mega-church pastor, so don't be tempted to over-estimate our income) and we have decided God is calling us to be an example of how "regular folk" can downsize their lives and have enough left over to give (to whatever good cause they feel led to).<br /><br />We sold our house and have moved into a smaller rent house, with plans to eventually live mortgage and rent free in a container house, similar to this one:<br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b1e4b05fb5802877b1/1442682033429/1000w/"><img border="0" src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b1e4b05fb5802877b1/1442682033429/1000w/" /></a><br />In the meantime, we are raising goats and chickens, growing a garden, driving nowhere-near-new, paid-for vehicles, shopping at thrift and second-hand stores, recycling and reusing, going without cable and magazines and Netflix and all the other subscription-based services that leech money out of bank accounts, and we're even doing some super-fun things like building our daughter a tiny house so she can live off-campus in an RV park while attending college, for less than half the cost of living in a dorm! (That will be a separate post, complete with pictures, when the project is finished in a couple of months.)<br /><br /><br />We aren't living a completely off-grid, self-sustaining, zero carbon footprint lifestyle yet (and, honestly, we may never get to a zero-footprint lifestyle), but we're making steps. We'll show you what we're doing to change the way we live, and we welcome your (positive and constructive) comments, suggestions, and ideas, on what you're doing.<br /><br />Blessings.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05269279054321903536noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7839248559480851193.post-57861402069125575392016-09-26T14:06:00.000-05:002016-09-26T14:06:50.547-05:00<br />March 28, 2015<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Share<br /><br /><br /><br />Just in case you missed it in the description of this blog, we are Christians. We hate that the term "christian" has become so politicized and stereotyped. We love how the New Testament refers to us as "followers of the Way" in Acts 9:2, but just like in Acts 24:14, people still think Followers of the Way sounds kind of cultish, so...if forced to define ourselves, we identify as Christian.<br /><br />We don't want you to be surprised or feel "tricked" when we use scripture to back up our ideas, tips and opinions, HOWEVER, we really believe that what we discuss here will be of interest to any person who wants to simplify their life, learn to live on less, and leave a smaller footprint while making a huge impact on our world. <br /><br /><br />We make no apologies for loving Jesus and believing God's word is true and right. If you are a believer, we want you to join us in this adventure! Be encouraged! Be challenged! Be different! Your friends, even your Christian friends, might think you're strange, but so what! Jesus said, <br /><br /><br />"My Kingdom is not an earthly kingdom...my Kingdom is not of this world." John 18:36<br />-and-<br />"You are the light of the world - like a city on a hilltop that cannot be hidden...In the same way, let your good deeds shine out for all to see, so that everyone will praise your heavenly Father." Matthew 5:14-16<br /><br /><br />And if you're not a believer of the Bible, we'd still like you to join our online community of people who are tired of the economy, the fashion industry, and the FDA trying to control how we live our lives. <br /><br /><br /><a href="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b1e4b05fb5802877b4/1442682033431/1000w/"><img border="0" src="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55c5931ee4b0960d6d1aa852/55fd94afe4b05fb5802876be/55fd94b1e4b05fb5802877b4/1442682033431/1000w/" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />My name is Kama Medders, and I'll be the main author of this blog. I am the mother of 5 children (all by birth; no adoptions, no steps...although we applaud anyone who steps up to parent non-birth children!). I have a degree in social work, but I currently work as a substitute teacher, as it allows more flexibility for me to spend time with our kids. <br /><br /><br />My husband, Jeff, is a minister. He is responsible for starting an inner-city church and homeless ministry in Fort Worth, Texas (now known as <a href="http://www.fortressydc.org/">www.fortressydc.org</a>), and a ministry to homeless teens in Denver, Colorado (<a href="http://www.drybonesdenver.org/">www.drybonesdenver.org</a>). He maintains the 2nd World Experiment Facebook page and he may occasionally guest-author a post on this blog.<br /><br /><br />Our oldest child is Mattie. She is just finishing up a Bible certificate at Alaska Bible College and has been accepted to Sul Ross University, with intentions to begin working on a degree in psychology and social work. Jenna is a high school student, who loves just about every sport and is a born leader and organizer. Elijah is in junior high and is my smarty-pants GT kid, who thrives at anything engineering-oriented. Daisy is my artsy-fartsy middle schooler who excels in anything singing and theater. Ruby is our elementary schooler. We are still watching to see where her natural abilities lean, but right now (according to her siblings) she shines at being "the cute one." I would LOVE to let our kids guest-author on this blog as well...we'll just have to see how that plays out.<br /><br /><br />We hope you enjoy our 2nd World Experiment.<br />Kama J. Medders<br /><br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05269279054321903536noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7839248559480851193.post-51237754877204557562014-11-05T11:42:00.000-06:002014-11-05T16:13:00.122-06:00How to Blow a Perfectly Good Job Interview: A Tutorial<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>The Background</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Twenty years ago, I earned a college degree, went to work in my professional field for 6 years, then decided to put the career on hold for a while to stay home with my kiddos.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">No big deal. Lot's of women choose this path, right? Right. Whatevs, girl. Do what feels best for your family. I'll do what's best for mine.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Of course, I wasn't completely idle during those years at home. I worked as a preschool teacher, cleaned houses, did some odds and ends contract work in my field, was a paid children's minister for my church for a while. Stuff. Work that brought in a little extra money and kept me busy.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Hear me when I say I have no judgement for women who choose to work outside their home. None. (Well, unless their children are completely ignored in favor of the career. Then I might judge. I won't be ugly about it, but I will have some private opinions. I'm just being honest about that.) </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Personally, I like to work. I like to feel engaged in my community. I like to think I have something to offer to the world outside my home. I like to be challenged to solve problems, to use my brain, to think. I like to learn. I like to interact with adults...I prefer adults who know how to <i>behave</i> like adults. I like to bring home a paycheck, no matter how small, so I can feel like a contributing and valuable member of my household and my economy.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">But for me, for now, and for probably the next 8-10 years, my career is my kids (the ones I gave birth to, not the ones I call "mine" because they are in my sphere of influence...I hope you can understand the distinction I'm making there).</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">When my youngest child started Kindergarten four years ago, I thought I'd ease myself back into the working world by becoming a substitute teacher. I didn't expect to like it; I never wanted to be a teacher. But the schedule was perfect for me. I would have summers and school holidays off. I could just not accept a work assignment, if I wanted to be available to go on class field trips with my kids. On the days I worked, I would be finished when my kids got out of school.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Turns out, I really like substitute teaching. It's kind of a blast! I get to be in a different class every day; interact with different kids every day. I get to choose, every day, to smile, to be kind, to listen, to influence, to guide, and sometimes to actually teach. It's a lot like being the cool aunt from out of town that swoops in bringing gifts from distant, exotic lands (only I just bring stickers, but the kids think that's just as awesome). </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Plus, being a substitute teacher lets me "spy" on my kids' friends. To get to know them a little better. It helps me make those "can I spend the night at so-and-so's house this weekend, Mom" decisions, you know? Seeing how a kid behaves in class and interacts with their peers, is way better than doing a background check on their parents. (Especially when your education and your -short- professional career was spent working in or with the child welfare system.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I stave off the "I wish you were our real teacher, Mrs. Medders" and "When are you going to be a real teacher, Mrs. Medders" and "Why don't you take the certification test, Kama" comments by saying that maybe I will, someday, if I'm ever in a position to need to financially support my family. When, really, I just don't want to have to deal with knit-picky parents, or school board politics, or state testing mandating what and how I teach.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">However.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>The Opportunity</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Recently, a non-teaching position opened up at my youngest child's school. The position was for the secretary who handles all the money and accounting for the school cafeteria. This person runs the computer during lunch and breakfast, makes sure the cafeteria manager knows how many students to prepare lunch for each day, takes all the applications for the federal school lunch program, communicates with parents regarding their child's lunch account, and makes the daily deposit at the bank. It's a job I've already been trained to do as a sub and I have successfully done the job on three of the four elementary school campuses in our district.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">So, I applied.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And the principal called me for an interview.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The following is the sad truth of how it went down.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>The Outfit</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">My first dilemma came when it was time to get dressed for the interview. I've noticed that the fashion at this school trends toward a lot of chevron prints, flow-y pants, and chunky, rattle-y jewelry. Teachers wear comfortable shoes. Principals wear heals. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I'm not a chevron-print, flow-y pants, rattle-y jewelry kind of gal, so looking fashionable was automatically out of the question. I wanted to look professional, but not "lawyer". Nice, but not like I was trying too hard. After changing and rearranging 5 times (it would have been more, but my Mommy wardrobe leaves me with limited choices), I settled on a light-weight teal sweater, with a black skirt, black tights and black pumps. (I really wanted to wear my new boots, but pumps seemed more interview-y.) I put on the rattle-y-ist necklace I could find in my jewelry box, and headed out the door.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I arrived at the school for my interview 10 minutes early. Early, but not too early. Score one for the home team.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I left my cell phone in the car. Score two.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I carried only my small purse and my calendar, which I thought was awesome until JUST NOW when I'm typing this 6 days after my interview and I realized I should have brought in a copy of my resume. Technical foul against the home team. Ball goes to the opposing team.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>The Interview</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I waited patiently, chatting with the office staff until the principal came out and asked me to follow her.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">*I must stop here and note that any comments appearing in () are the words of my inner self. She is mostly sarcastic, won't shut up, and sometimes gets so loud inside my head as to distract me from what I'm trying to say. She is smart, knows where her priorities lie, but she isn't very tactful.*</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I calmly followed the principal into an office and was greeted by four smiling faces, lots of </span><span style="font-size: large;">rattle-y jewelry and a leopard print jacket. ("Leopard print? Is that still a thing? How many people are in this room anyway?" "Four." "It feels like forty. This room is really crowded. I'm going to gag on that perfume. I really am." "Shut up. I'm trying to meet these people.")</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">"Mrs. Medders, thank you for coming in today. Let me introduce these people..."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"It's so nice to meet you...thank you for having me here today..."</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">("I'm going to throw up. I had no idea there'd be forty people here for this interview." "It's only 4." "I'm going to say something stupid. Why didn't she tell me there'd be this many people here? I thought it was just going to be me and her, having a little chat, laughing it up." "Seriously? This is an interview. How could you think you would be laughing it up?")</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">"Mrs. Medders, why don't you start out by telling us a little about yourself and how it relates to your education and experience."</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">"OK, well, my name is Kama Medders..." ("Duh, they already know your name...") "...I'm 42 years old. My husband and I have been married for 22 years and we have 5 children." ("She asked about your <i>education</i>, Dork, not your Mommy resume. Tell her about your education.") </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">"I have a bachelor's degree in Social Work and I worked professionally for 6 years. I don't usually go around bragging on myself, but since this is an interview, I'll tell you that my husband and I started a private, non-profit ministry in Fort Worth, Texas, 19 years ago, and I'll be going back in 2 weeks to keynote their fundraising dinner..." ("You and I both know that's true, but they are never going to believe you're going to stand up and speak in front of 250 people, when you're so obviously this nervous in front of the 40 people in here." "It's only 4." "Your voice is trembling." "I know. Shut up.")</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">"I left my career to stay home with my kids when my second child was born. I've worked lots of little jobs, but nothing big until 4 years ago, when my youngest started school and I started substitute teaching. Being a mom was important to me, and it still is. That's why I'm applying for this job: It will work well with my kids' schedules." </span><span style="font-size: large;">("Did you really just say being a mom was important? Every woman in this room is a mom and they aren't staying home with their kids." "I didn't mean it <i>that</i></span><span style="font-size: large;"> way. I was just trying to explain why I'm not working in my field anymore." "That's not what <i>they</i> heard. <i>They</i> heard you calling them bad mothers for not choosing to stay home." "Oh, crap.")</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">"Mrs. Medders, tell us about the importance of punctuality..."</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">("I've got 5 kids and we haven't been late to church even once since the 8 year old was born!" "They don't care about whether or not you're late to church, plus you're late to house church on Wednesday nights nearly every week." "That doesn't count! It's <i>house</i> church and we have to drop the teens at a different place on the way there." "You better hurry up and answer." "What do I say?! I'm never late when I'm subbing." "Except that you are supposed to be checked in at the office by 7:30 and it's usually 7:35." "Well, I'm at school by 7:30, even with dropping kids at their schools first, and teachers always want to chat in the hall. Am I supposed to ignore them? What am I going to say? I'm always where I'm supposed to be </span><span style="font-size: large;">when the kids start coming in to class. Is it lying to say I value punctuality? Will they check the office records and see that my sign-in time is often 7:35? What do I say?!")</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">"No one has ever complained about me in regard to my punctuality. I have never left anyone in a lurch." ("Stupid answer.")</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">"Mrs. Medders, how would you describe your relationships and interactions with co-workers and supervisors?"</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">"Most people seem to like me. I don't have major disagreements with co-workers." ("You have plenty of disagreements with your husband. Ha-ha!" "Shut up.") </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">"I understand my supervisors bear a greater responsibility than I do, and it's important to do the job the way they want it done. I know how to do what I'm told, even if I disagree." ("Good answer! They really just want to know if you'll be a good little minion or not. They don't want any trouble-makers or free-thinkers up in here." "Seriously?! They know that's not what I meant.")</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">"Mrs. Medders, as you know, the person in this position has access to private information about students and their families and they handle large amounts of money. Please tell us about how you handle confidentiality and give us some examples of your integrity."</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">("Is that a real question? Did they forget you've been subbing this position off and on for 3 years? If they had any questions about your ability to handle confidential information or money, shouldn't that have come up a long time ago?")</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">"Of course, my background in social work fully equipped me to understand confidentiality. We take it very seriously at our house. My husband is a minister and sometimes people at church act funny around me...I think it's because they told my husband something and they assume he told me..." ("What are you saying? They don't care how your <i>husband</i> handles confidentiality.") "...We don't talk about confidential information with each other." ("Nice save...or not.")</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">"As far as integrity with money, I was surprised when I was allowed to handle money as a sub. It's a big deal to be trusted to handle money." ("Insert joke here where you refer to the time at Office Depot where the principal happened to be in the store when your phone set off the door alarm and you ended up emptying your purse at the register....Wait! I was just kidding! I can't believe you actually just said that out loud! You don't joke in interviews! Especially when it comes to matters of integrity! Have mercy! What's wrong with you?!")</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">"Finally, Mrs. Medders, tell us why you think you would be the best person for this job."</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">"I'm not sure who else is interviewing for this position, so I don't know if I <i>am</i> the best person for this job...." ("What the...") "I just mean, I think you should definitely hire the person who IS best for this job..." ("What are you doing?! Tell them why you would be good at this!") "I know I can do this job. I already understand what this job involves, my child attends this school, so I am automatically personally invested here, and I can do the work."</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">"Mrs. Medders, tell us about your level of computer skill."</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">"Well, I'm not a 20 year old. There are some disadvantages to having graduated college before the internet was invented..." ("Here, let me just put a bow on this job so it'll look pretty when they hand it to the next applicant.") "But, I'm a smart girl. I can figure out most things, and I'm not afraid to ask for help if I need it."</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And there you have it. That's how a stay-at-home/substitute teacher mom, who wants to re-enter the work force, completely blows her first job interview.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Well Bless My Heart</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">In the end, I guess it really doesn't matter if I get this job or not. I've already said how much I love subbing. Based on what I've seen out there, you basically just have to have a pulse and be able to pass a background check to be employable as a sub, so at least I've got job security, for now.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The thing is, I'm not looking for a career. I already have a career, a ministry and a purpose: To raise my children to love the Lord. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I'm not looking for a profession. I already have a profession: I am a social worker to the core...It's just that social workers don't get to come home at 3pm everyday, get two full weeks of uninterrupted time with their kids over Christmas, or get to hang out watching TV, eating snow cones, or traveling to Grandma's house and church camp all summer.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">What I was hoping for was a job. That pays money. And fits in with the way I want to live my life. Even though it will be a hit to my ego if I get the call that they've "decided to go with someone else," it's all going to be OK. Because, at this point in my life, it's more important for a job to fit me, than the other way around. You know?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Life's too short.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Author's note: I did not get the job, but the principal assures me it was not because of my horrible interviewing skills. They decided to go with someone who is already employed in the district. There are no hard feelings. All is good.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05269279054321903536noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7839248559480851193.post-14128252543678159552013-12-31T21:01:00.001-06:002013-12-31T21:01:34.348-06:00A Conversation With Myself, Happy New Year<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I am a mother to 4 girls and 1 boy, ages 18 down to 7. So I find myself giving a lot of advice.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Like:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"I advise you to get your room picked up before I come in there and pick it up for you...and there WILL be a trip to Goodwill involved."</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzBBOtRQZVgFAjH_LWY9uYzr4EhAxrCnp_hkyPaA2_YaCAOaVs-BPyfjtsABEB_BaCCWto7ZqDajtEYgpRgYpPcy9VZQ9w550m_Gao_d_eEy-df25BxnLtMoQwjET1z4JCPS6TrbkRJV0/s1600/DSCN8281.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzBBOtRQZVgFAjH_LWY9uYzr4EhAxrCnp_hkyPaA2_YaCAOaVs-BPyfjtsABEB_BaCCWto7ZqDajtEYgpRgYpPcy9VZQ9w550m_Gao_d_eEy-df25BxnLtMoQwjET1z4JCPS6TrbkRJV0/s320/DSCN8281.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">and</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"I advise you to get your attitude straight...NOW."</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEL_-NCW4kfl6xkaxBNuDX_FbBU7ZleGcGepD81VLYnhT0IFz-BbctfwJZRad1M0GY5crQdRl8oqt05KERK-3wQoNx4SnhV4QhjYQzukzl4jhwYf-wv4xNeVE48YaXrVrZtHN0Go95c24/s1600/DSCN8290.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEL_-NCW4kfl6xkaxBNuDX_FbBU7ZleGcGepD81VLYnhT0IFz-BbctfwJZRad1M0GY5crQdRl8oqt05KERK-3wQoNx4SnhV4QhjYQzukzl4jhwYf-wv4xNeVE48YaXrVrZtHN0Go95c24/s320/DSCN8290.JPG" width="271" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">and</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"I advise you to go back to your closet and try again or else I will be choosing an outfit for you."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Lots of advice being shared.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">But, every once in a while, when my kids are feeling sad about something hurtful that happened at school, or they aren't confident in the way God made their body, or a boyfriend moves on, or others seem to be able to control the ball better on the court...or whatever...I surprise myself by actually managing to share a bit of comforting wisdom with them. Sweet! And I quickly write about it in their journals so when they are older, they can remember that I was a good mother.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">One time, I tried a new approach with "sage advice-giving." My young teenager wanted to be allowed to be <i>dropped off</i> by another parent with some of her friends at the River Market in downtown Little Rock on a Friday night. During RiverFest.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">This is me, with sweet calmness in my voice: "Darling, if you were your mother, do you think it would be safe and responsible to allow you to do what you're asking me to let you do?"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I know, I know. But keep in mind that I was trying to avoid the drama, tears and general freaking out that usually accompanies this kind of parent-child interaction. I had hoped (albeit a vain hope) to appeal to her grown-up personality. Like most teenagers, she has multiple personality disorder and sometimes, <i>sometimes</i>, Surprisingly Mature does make an appearance. No such luck this time. Two Can Play At This Game showed up and replied:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"Mother, if I was my mother, I would trust me to take care of myself and I would want me to be happy and spend good quality time at a music festival with my friends."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">And so there was no avoiding the freak out. And tears. Oh, the tears and the accusations.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">However, that is not my point at all. What I'm trying to say is occasionally I sit at my children's bedside in the dim lamp light and give them the kind of advice that causes tears to dry, trembly smiles to flit across their face and while they hug me, I glance around the room to see if I can catch a glimpse of the One who fed me the words that soothed and blessed my precious one.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEmXig5eAgmnArqc1ig06sVdENQZTKDLld_YUCgyzonmP9yh8D_37uG-h69KQGSgqjUM5CzQC0lAtlTDlZwEBJtJWZImxF9p1h_kpEtDsOkFh2cF3jeIMQlok83vaVmiaF4_RCEIf1Se8/s1600/DSCN8295.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEmXig5eAgmnArqc1ig06sVdENQZTKDLld_YUCgyzonmP9yh8D_37uG-h69KQGSgqjUM5CzQC0lAtlTDlZwEBJtJWZImxF9p1h_kpEtDsOkFh2cF3jeIMQlok83vaVmiaF4_RCEIf1Se8/s320/DSCN8295.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">In those moments it occurs to me that I should listen to my own advice a bit more. I can be a pretty smart cookie every once in a while.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I am coming clean now and confessing that teens aren't the only ones who suffer from multiple personality disorder. I, too, have never outgrown the disease. I am in the middle of lecturing my child for running barefoot through the church auditorium and nearly knocking down an elderly lady, when there are footsteps behind me. As I turn from my errant offspring, I magically transform into smiling, friendly Preacher's Wife as if I wasn't just threatening another human life a mere millisecond before.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I am walking through the house ranting and guilt-tripping everyone in my path because I am such an unappreciated slave in my own home, picking up everyone's dirty socks and stepping on Legos and how I am apparently the only one who knows how to flush the toilet, when my phone rings. It's a dear friend calling to discuss the details of our next epic hiking trip. And in an instant I go from Dirty Dishrag to Fearless Adventurer. Multiple personalities, indeed.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">So, on this 31st day of December, 2013, instead of writing a bunch of New Year's Resolutions, I'm going to attempt to use, with myself, the approach that failed so badly with my teenager. I am going to ask my 85 year old self to speak to my 41 year old self. (And, hopefully my 17 year old self can keep her mouth shut and stay out of it.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">85 year old me might say something like this to 41 year old me:</span>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSJE8xwb0fTRyzi8-4KBoxvsIuG__7ERIdFj-JpAHdSZZ7616DSKAUuwgAGGwUUUq3lub1JYy226mytce8vzoKbrFgB-Fe3Swaf4qhFHypbS9t_kr18nsQa-72wijIMwyUOqJ2UT31eQA/s1600/DSCN8264+-+Version+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="347" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSJE8xwb0fTRyzi8-4KBoxvsIuG__7ERIdFj-JpAHdSZZ7616DSKAUuwgAGGwUUUq3lub1JYy226mytce8vzoKbrFgB-Fe3Swaf4qhFHypbS9t_kr18nsQa-72wijIMwyUOqJ2UT31eQA/s400/DSCN8264+-+Version+2.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is my Grandma Childers. I hope to look something like this when I'm 85.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Tuesday, December 31, 2013</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Dear 41,</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">You are beautiful. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">When you look at those old photographs of yourself from when you were 7, you want to gather that shy, pale, red-headed, freckle-face darling in your 41 year old arms and tell her she is lovely. You want to kiss her forehead and tell her she will never have shiny dark hair or red lips and that <i>that</i> is a good thing because she is amazing and brilliant and beautiful just the way she is.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">In the same way, 85 wants to gather 41 in her arms and shout, "You are beautiful!" Quit looking for beauty in the mirror. It's not there and mirrors lie.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Those lines around your eyes -the ones that have you paying way too much for tiny little jars of cream that leave greasy spots on your pillow cases- those lines show most when you smile. Smile anyway! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The creases between your eyebrows that you think make you look like Stinky on Sesame Street, show most when you are worried. Worry less!</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiPR8Hy0Xgvt7GayHlTjkY63N6yPJg9QZmkEHQOGLGFBlSVniIOcNPKBA1pS8SXKc8pYM-pNEqTWnCeZty8fPdahW5ZNxajLJIKQetadVhVPR71HCHSUEF28hTWmMsQCln4ltt4hFoFII/s1600/Unknown.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiPR8Hy0Xgvt7GayHlTjkY63N6yPJg9QZmkEHQOGLGFBlSVniIOcNPKBA1pS8SXKc8pYM-pNEqTWnCeZty8fPdahW5ZNxajLJIKQetadVhVPR71HCHSUEF28hTWmMsQCln4ltt4hFoFII/s200/Unknown.jpeg" width="196" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">41, you are so concerned about that extra 15 pounds you've been carrying around since your last baby was born. At 85, I have some things to say about that.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">First, you have carried 5 babies to full term inside your body. Give yourself a break. No, your body will never wear a bikini, but does that really matter? You never wore one before you had babies. <i>So what</i> if the skin around your belly button is a little loose. Your husband is the only one who sees that part of you, and he doesn't care one bit about those stretch marks. He's crazy about you.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Second, you spend a lot of time worrying about that 15 pounds, but not a lot of effort in trying to fix the problem. I mean, you run some, but you know you could do better. You are strong enough and stubborn enough. You just have to quit being lazy and do the work: cut some calories and be more consistent in your exercise routine.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Or not. I don't care. You will feel better if you take care of yourself, but there really is no cheating Age. It will catch you eventually. You could just choose to love yourself the way you are. That would be fine, too. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">And, Darlin', that book you've been fretting over since you got back from the Grand Canyon isn't going to write itself. I know it's scary and you're worried about being rejected. I <i>am</i> you, and my memory may not be as vivid as it used to be, but I remember rejection in all its many forms. It's not fun, but even at the young age of 41, you have already learned that rejection is survivable. I'm not going to tell you how this turns out, but 85 is telling you you will regret it if you don't try. Oh, and quit using the kids as an excuse. I know they keep you busy, but you still manage to waste plenty of time each day. (17 says, "She <i><b>so</b></i> just busted you out.")</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">41, you have lots of ambition and lots of ideas, high energy and a pretty good grasp on the big picture, but you are easily discouraged when other people don't seem to know what to do with you; when they reject or doubt your leadership; when they dismiss you because of your gender. And you often lose control of your tongue and temper. (Don't worry. You will get better at that.) You get embarrassed and discouraged and then you just quit. You walk away. Don't bother trying to deny it. I know where you keep those 3 ring binders and journals full of ideas, plans, sketches and half-written stories. I'm sorry to say you will always struggle with this desire to throw in the towel to some extent. Part of it is your personality and your propensity to doubt yourself. Part of it is society. But, Darlin', God can't use you if you keep giving up so easily and He wants so badly to use you to call people to His rest. Find a way to call them and DON'T QUIT.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">You doubt your ability to be a good mother to your children. You've made a few mistakes, that's for sure. But beating yourself up about it isn't productive. Keep praying. Keep loving your kids. Keep holding them to high standards. Stand by their side when they make bad choices. Never abandon them. Walk through the hard stuff with them. That's your job. You do a good job of admitting when you've made a mistake and asking them to forgive you. Be ready to do that again because you have quite a few mistakes ahead of you still. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">85 is telling you your kids are on the right path, but I also want to remind you of the talk you had with Aunt Debbie at Christmas. She said your kids don't belong to you; they belong to God. He loves them more than you do. You have to trust Him with your babies. You have to trust that He can even use your parenting mistakes to mold them for their purpose in His kingdom. 41, you will have to trust your Father with your children. Even when you don't understand.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">And then there's your husband. I won't reveal what goes on in your heart, the things only the Lord and I can know, but I will tell you this: no relationship is perfect. You, 41, are not perfect, and your husband shows you more grace and patience and forgiveness than you will ever know. Life is complicated sometimes, but it is also beautiful, and you two are in it together. So, try taking it down a notch on being annoyed when he interrupts you, or handles the kids differently than you think he should, or chooses to stay and see things through when you prefer to move on to new adventures. </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Quit worrying about his weight and snoring issues and just enjoy his presence in the life you share. He loves you more than life. Companionship is harder to come by at 85. Treasure what you have now, while it's yours. Quit wasting time.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Finally, 41, love God and love people; all people. It's hard. It's hard to love people who hate you and lump you into stereotypes and groups when you know you don't belong there. It's hard to love people who misunderstand you and want to assign motives to your actions. It hard to love people who are angry and hateful. But you have to try. And it's hard for 41 to love 41, but 85 has grace and forgiveness for you, so take a deep breath and get ready to take on 42. She's coming fast. Embrace her.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">As for me, my life has already been poured out as an offering to God. The time of my death is near. I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, and I have remained faithful. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Love,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">85</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Happy New Year!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05269279054321903536noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7839248559480851193.post-7611591688371885582013-11-19T12:43:00.001-06:002013-11-19T12:43:46.280-06:00Sex and Passion<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Queen Esther of the Bible - the woman revered for her beauty and bravery by Christian and Jewish women, alike - was a victim of sex trafficking.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk5dRas-gUN36IcrOFtgdhBwcacS0P9M4d1WrffhATs7Vf90rk58dHvYv7i5ZyjZu1S7xzTt4RjOWxDuLuZHbaw-SvOT8kYDvrYCuMn5Njt_4U2hwkFa8NJZaKWKtsu9jKIQx7_FKKhEQ/s1600/esther-view-ii.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk5dRas-gUN36IcrOFtgdhBwcacS0P9M4d1WrffhATs7Vf90rk58dHvYv7i5ZyjZu1S7xzTt4RjOWxDuLuZHbaw-SvOT8kYDvrYCuMn5Njt_4U2hwkFa8NJZaKWKtsu9jKIQx7_FKKhEQ/s320/esther-view-ii.jpg" width="230" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">What?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I read that in a book recently, so I had to go back and look for myself. Sure enough. Esther chapter 1, describes a ridiculous party thrown by King Xerxes, the guests being "all the military officers of Persia and Media as well as the princes and nobles of the provinces." The purpose of this party was to display all the wealth and opulence of the kingdom. The party went on for days, and when it was over, he threw yet another shindig. To prove he was a generous soul, "by edict of the king, no limits were placed on the drinking, for the king had instructed all his palace officials to serve each man as much as he wanted."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">During this party, while the king was drunk off his butt, he decided to send for Vashti (the current queen), so he and all his three-sheets-to-the-wind buddies could "gaze on her beauty." How nice. He wanted to share. After all, he <i>was</i> trying to prove his generosity.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">But, guess what! Vashti refused to stand before the king and his minions to let herself be gawked at (and who knows what else). REFUSED. Boom! She just did that.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">My personal guess is that if those men hadn't been too drunk to stagger their way to her quarters, she would have suffered much. But, as it was, the king just decided to banish her from his presence. Oh, no! Not that, King Xerxes! "Don't throw me in da' briar patch!"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Skip the part where the men start to worry that their wives will follow Vashti's example and start to stand up for themselves and fast forward to where the king isn't drunk and he's starting to feel a bit lonely. Poor little dude. So, his super-smart personal advisors suggest that he let them "search the empire to find beautiful young virgins for the king." They would round these women up, bring them to the palace and pretty 'em up a little more, and then let him choose his favorite one to be his new queen! Oh, my gracious! What a great idea!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"As a result of the king's decree, Esther, along with many other young women, was brought to the king's harem at the fortress of Susa and placed in Hegai's care."</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8YtoomLIyKguW-RiJhog0krkHNQ4kSa2Xv3WA-D-puHSgEITJBhS-BFY8ymCj5U6atgJWPlOhNec6I9Wmvc6oOs2S3WNUpdLbXKHZH6whK5mC7KCeIk6-MPYPSP2NAZO02qAzdXzlFS8/s1600/images.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8YtoomLIyKguW-RiJhog0krkHNQ4kSa2Xv3WA-D-puHSgEITJBhS-BFY8ymCj5U6atgJWPlOhNec6I9Wmvc6oOs2S3WNUpdLbXKHZH6whK5mC7KCeIk6-MPYPSP2NAZO02qAzdXzlFS8/s320/images.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Do you think this image of a group of Jewish girls is too "modern" to illustrate my point?<br />I don't. Cuz sex trafficking still happens, my friends.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">She, </span><i style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">along with many other young women</i><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">, were taken from their families and trafficked for the sexual pleasure of the king. I somehow missed that part of the story in Sunday School. We always skipped over the how-she-got-there-in-the-first-place part and went right to the part where her people (the Jews) were in danger of mass extermination and her cousin, Mordecai, tells her, "Who knows if perhaps you were made queen for just such a time as this?"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Most of us know that, in the end, Queen Esther chose to risk her life, went before the king uninvited, pled her case, and ended up saving the lives of her people. I'm glad she did. But does the belief that maybe she was made queen for "such a time as this" mean God somehow approves or condones the brutal way in which she (<i>and many other young women</i>) came to that position? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">No. God does not approve the mistreatment and degradation of his daughters. Not then. Not now. Esther's life is, however, proof that God has always been true to himself in "caus[ing] everything to work together for the good of those who love God." </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">And I am stunned again at the realization that the women of Biblical times understood far greater than I ever can, that Jesus was offering them liberation. He treated them like they had value. Like they had something more to offer the world and his heavenly kingdom than their bodies. And I love Jesus even more because he offers to give <i><b>my</b></i> life purpose.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">There are still thousands and thousands of girls being trafficked every single day on our planet. It is absolutely and unequivocally wrong. I have been blind to this issue for too long. And so have you.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I am just me. Just one women who's voice has a tendency to either stay quiet when it shouldn't or get loud and passionate and say regretful words in church leader team meetings. When I get passionate about something, I tend to make a bigger mess than there was to begin with. I hate that. But my trip to Africa opened my eyes to some of the realities that millions of women still face. Realities of abuse, oppression, trafficking, poverty and I can't stand the fact that American Christians are in the process right now of dropping billions of dollars on the "hottest new toys of the season" for our children (who are, as I write, plotting new ways of destroying said toys) and creepy robotic reindeer for our front yards, and stringing every inch of our homes with electric lights made in China. What in the world are we doing?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">So, I will take a deep breath and calm down now.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I know we will buy gifts for the people we love this season. My kids will get gifts from me. Only 3: 2 from their dad and me and 1 from "Santa." Yes, it's okay to give gifts to our children, our parents, our friends. But could we do it in a way that also helps women globally?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">This coming Friday night, November 22, my precious church (<a href="http://www.salinegateway.org/">www.salinegateway.org</a>) is hosting an event we call Acoustic Cafe. It's an event where we invite local musicians and song writers to share their art with us. Some of the music is of the Christian genre, but mostly it will be a mix of pop, country and bluegrass. It's free to attend, but bring a little money because we will be selling desserts to benefit our efforts to drill clean water wells (through <a href="http://www.water4.org/">www.water4.org</a>) all over the world! AND...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I will personally be representing and offering products for sale from <a href="http://www.eternalthreads.org/">www.eternalthreads.org</a>. I will have items such as scarves, baskets and jewelry, hand made by women in 3rd world countries who are trying to send their kids to school and provide a better life for their families and items made by young girls who have been rescued from traffickers in Napal. I won't make a single penny from these sales. Please, please come to 1201 Longhills Road in Benton, Arkansas, this Friday night starting at 7pm. Enjoy some music and do some Christmas shopping! If you can't make it, consider clicking on those links above and spending some of your Christmas dollars there.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">It's the least we can do.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05269279054321903536noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7839248559480851193.post-71199828539267152332013-10-30T14:28:00.001-05:002013-10-30T14:28:06.468-05:00My Africa<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">And so, I went on a trip to Swaziland, in the south of Africa, and took these pictures:</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">I could let these pictures speak for themselves about the poverty I saw while I was there. These pictures will tell you of primitive living conditions, lack of running water, lack of toilet and bathing facilities, lack of electricity, children wearing American hand-me-down clothing...or no clothing, and many other difficult and un-hygienic situations.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">All of those things are true. And most of my friends will be moved to pray. I hope you will. Some of my friends will want to give money. I would say, when we are shown real poverty in contrast to our relative wealth, wanting to share is an honest and Christ-like response. I can help you know where and how to give money that will be helpful in long-term ways.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">But, if I <i>only</i> let these photos speak for themselves, you will only know part of the truth. I want you to know the whole truth. So, if you have time now, grab some coffee and settle in for a lengthy read. If you don't have time right now, I really hope you'll log back on later and allow me to show you the Africa I saw...one that might make you wonder if us first-worlders might be missing out on something pretty big.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">(Realizing that this entry IS very long, I went back and added in some sub-titles so you can only read the parts that interest you, and just skim or skip the rest. You're welcome.)</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Our Arrival</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">And so, on October 15, 2013, I got on a plane in Little Rock, Arkansas, at about 3:30 PM, flew just under 2 hours to Atlanta, Georgia, OJ'd it through Atlanta International, and arrived at the gate just as they were closing the doors to the ginormous aircraft that would take us on a non-stop flight to Africa. 16 hours later (that equals 2 hours of chatting with strangers - stressful for this introvert, 6 chapters of <u>Mud Season</u>, 9 episodes of season 3 of <i>Downton Abby, </i>2 glasses of wine, 4 cups of water, 3 meals, and 4 trips to the <i>facilities</i>), we landed in Johannesburg, South Africa. Sean Boehrig, the missionary we were visiting, picked us up at the airport, where we proceeded to drive 5 hours to our final destination, their home, in Swaziland.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">We were given quite a crash-course on South Africa, when we passed Vegas-like hotels, complete with a Hooters restaurant, just as we left the airport, followed immediately by massive slum settlements, where people live in lean-to shelters built of sheet metal, wood and tattered fabric. We were made very aware of the AIDS epidemic by billboards all along the highway, encouraging people to get tested for HIV, with slogans such as "Cheating? A good man gets tested." and free condoms available in every public restroom. We were told that many black South Africans were openly angry with white people (understandably so) and we got a small taste of it when the cashier at a gas station refused to make change for us and our friend, Sean, told us that since it was getting dark, it was best for us to get on out of South Africa with as few stops as possible.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">As we were crossing the border into Swaziland, an officer confiscated, um, I mean, was "gifted" a flat of seedlings that were intended for the community garden. And about 15 minutes inside the border of Swaziland, we were pulled over on the highway by un-uniformed officers and had to get out of the car while it was searched for (presumably) drugs. I have to say, that as intimidating as that may sound, it was actually not a big deal and the officer was quite quick and polite.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">The rest of the drive was uneventful, aside from the fact that they drive on the left side of the road and our host is a confident driver (of course, meaning he drives kind of fast). There were more than a few gasps heard coming from the back seat...especially when we hit that large plastic tub that was sitting in the middle of the highway...but that's all really beside the point. We made it. That's all that matters. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>My Take on How the Boehrig's Are Different From Other Missionaries</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Typically, when an American missionary goes to Africa, they will hire Africans in the local communities to work for them as housekeepers, gardeners, guards, etc. Even though this might seem degrading in the States, it's expected of American missionaries because it provides jobs for Africans. It gives the American Missionary good standing in their African community.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Sean and Nicole Boehrig have bucked that thinking. They surprised us, frustrated and convicted other American missionaries/white people, and confused the Swazi's when they chose to live in the 1 room servants' quarters of a white family's house. They insist on living in many of the conditions of their Swazi neighbors, use public transportation or walk much of the time, and do menial tasks such as yard work, cleaning, and cooking, for themselves.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Here's where they live:</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">(The trampoline belongs to the children of the family that live in the main house.) The door on the right is their bedroom where they have just enough space to loft a double bed, sit on the floor underneath the bed on a rug made of woven grass, put their clothing in a small trunk, and they also have a small sink (with running water!) and a single shelf for their dishes and a few photos. The door on the left houses a flushing toilet, a shower, and a couple shelves where they store some food stuff, like flour, salt, eggs - no refrigeration, and things like matches and toilet paper. Did you catch that part about no refrigerator? Turns out, if you're careful and buy in smaller quantities, it's not quite as necessary to refrigerate things as most Americans think. Seriously we refrigerate EVERYTHING here. My own fridge holds coffee and pancake mix. Why? I mean, mostly it's because I was too lazy to put it in a closed container and I didn't want weevils to find a home there, but still! I have friends who refrigerate bread, peanut butter, even batteries. We might have an addiction, people...or at least a paranoia.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Anyway, if you look closely at the picture, on the ground by the bathroom door, you will see a bottle of propane and two metal burners. That's where they cook. There's a card table and some folding chairs in the yard. This is their living/dining room. (When it rains, like it did the whole time we were there, they move up under the porch that's attached to the main house.)</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">That's it, ya'll. That's how they live. And they do it <i>on purpose</i>, not because they couldn't raise enough financial support. Seems pretty hard-core to us, but because they have electricity, running water, a shower and a flushing toilet, it's luxury compared to most Swazi's.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">The Boehrig's could, very easily, choose to live like most white people there do...in regular, American-style housing, complete with carpet and TV. They could give people menial jobs. They could say, "Follow God like we do." and the Swazi's probably would. But it would be because we have managed to convince most of the world that our "wealth" is a blessing from God, and they want a piece of that pie. But instead, Sean and Nicole are teaching people to improve their lives using resources they already have at their disposal. And that God already loves them, has already blessed them, and that following the teachings of Jesus is a response of thankfulness more than a means of manipulating God into bringing monetary wealth into their lives.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">I'm not sure if any of this is making sense, so let me just move on and tell you about the things we participated in while we were there.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Our First Full Day: Gardening and Language Lessons</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">On our first full day, Sean and Nicole gave us a choice. We could either go with Sean to the home of a man who wanted to see Sean demonstrate a manual-powered water pump that was strong enough to pull water up from the river, bring it uphill, and provide enough volume to irrigate a garden. Or, we could go with Nicole to work in a garden she shares with a few people in the community. She uses this garden to teach Swazi women about succession and companion planting, and saving seeds. Nicole shares the produce with these other ladies as a way of supplementing their food supply and to teach about selling produce as a way of increasing income. She is also experimenting with some new methods of gardening she just learned from attending a permaculture workshop. (One thing Nicole said that really stood out to me was that "When you consider that we were originally created to live and work in a garden, the whole act of caring for your garden takes on a deeply spiritual nature.")</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">It turned out that we divided on gender lines and the guys, Jeff and Mike, chose to go with Sean to learn about the water pump, while Alex and I went with Nicole to work in the garden.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">That's Alex, talking to Glorious, one of the ladies who share this garden plot with Nicole. Glorious works at a company that builds roof trusses. She answers the phone and places orders. The thing is, it wasn't keeping her busy; she found herself sitting around quite a bit. So Nicole encouraged Glorious to approach her boss and ask if they could use a bit of unused land by the shop to plant a garden. Her boss agreed, so she and Nicole got busy turning an unused bit of ground into a garden that is now supplementing the diets of 3 households! </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Here's another interesting fact: Glorious actually lives at the shop. She has a home where her children live, but she doesn't have a car and it's too far to walk everyday. So, she lives at the shop during the week and goes home on the weekend. (I think her mom takes care of her kids.) Anyway, this is the cob stove, right by the garden, where Glorious cooks her meals:</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">While we were there that day, she opted to cook a lunch of tomatoes, peppers and onions right out of the garden, over an open fire right next to this cob stove. It smelled delicious and it's way more healthy of a lunch than I eat most days!</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">We worked most of the day planting new seeds in beds nourished with compost and manure.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">I learned so much about companion planting as a way of organically deterring harmful insects, loved seeing how their 18 day composting method worked, and was inspired by the fact that gardens don't have to look like the ones in magazines with decorative borders and pebbled pathways, in order to be beautiful. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">In the afternoon, when we returned from gardening and the guys got back from their amazing day with Sean (where Mike reports he met the poorest person he's ever seen in his life, but doesn't feel sorry for him because he's also the happiest person he's ever met), the Boehrig's had a surprise for us.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">They had arranged for their language tutor, Nawazzi (I'm sure I spelled that wrong), to give us a beginners lesson in Suswatti (probably spelled that wrong, too). Nawazzi works as a maid for Glorious's boss. She is young, doesn't have children, and just got married about a week ago.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Now, Nawazzi looks like a modern young woman and she'd been dating her guy for a couple of years, but the wedding was apparently a "traditional" Swazzi ceremony. We don't know exactly what Nawazzi experienced, but in general, this traditional ceremony would involve the woman being taken to her husband's family and locked in a room with him for 24 hours (kind of like being kidnapped). Then the family might strip her of all her clothing and send her outside in the night to present herself to the family ancestors/spirits to see if she meets their approval. It is reported that sometimes the male family members will rape the bride, I guess as a way of claiming her and making her submit to her new family. The next weekend, the husband must go to the new wife's family and ask forgiveness for keeping her away from them and then he has to pay them a dowery. The dowery is 18 cows. We were told that Nawazzi's husband only had 4, so he will be in debt to her family and their marriage won't be "official" until the debt is paid...which somehow doesn't bode well for any children they have before the debt is paid. I'm not sure how it all works.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">So, Nawazzi spent 2 hours trying to teach us the basic greeting in Suswatti. It goes something like this...and let's just assume I've spelled EVERYTHING wrong (think phonetical):</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Sow-oo-bone-ah: I see you</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Yay-bo: yes</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Unjani: How are you?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Niapeela. Unjani way-no?: I am fine. How are you?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Nami niapeela: I am also fine.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">She also taught us how to say goodbye:</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Salagothley: Stay well</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Hambagothley: Go well</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">She tried really hard to teach us some other things, but this is all I retained. Bless her. We all wish we had thought to ask to have a picture made with her before she left, but we didn't. She blessed us so much...and I'll explain why when I tell you about our 2nd full day in Swaziland.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Our Adventure in the City</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">On Friday, Mike went with Sean to do some work clearing land with a Swazi man named Seeboneisa, while Alex, Jeff and I went with Nicole to the city of Manzini, about 30 minutes away.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Since there were so many of us, it would have been more economical to just drive the car in, but Nicole said part of the experience was using public transportation and taking the bus in. And, Holy Cow, was she right! </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">So we walked from her house to the side of a 2 lane highway and stood in the rain at a crumbling brick structure to wait on a bus. She said usually a bus comes right away, but she did once have to wait 40 minutes for one to come by. Fortunately, we only had to wait about 5 minutes.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Where I live, a bus might start out it's shiny new life as a school bus. It would do it's duty being abused by small children on field trips and transporting sweaty football players to away games. After a few years, it might be sent to the county to be used as transport for prisoners who have been convicted of non-violent crimes as they are hauled to the side of the interstate to pick up trash. Later, it might be sold at auction to a church who wants to paint it up like a package of Lifesavers and use it to start an innovative bus ministry. After 15 years, or so, when that bus is good and broken in, a deer hunter in Arkansas will buy it and with dreams of shooting, gutting and hauling home the biggest buck in the history of hunting. They will outfit that rig with gun racks, ammunition storage, sleeping quarters, a fridge for beer, a walk-in freezer for hanging meat and a flat screen TV... but no toilet, because they are real men who like to rough it.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">So this almost-a-hunting-bus rolled to a stop and we shyly filed on behind Nicole and then looked for a place to sit. The seats on either side were appropriately big enough to seat 2 adults who don't mind touching each other. Let me just skip ahead to the part where Jeff sits on one of those seats, along with a Swazi women who is nursing one child and has another child perched on her knee. Also, on this same seat is another woman, presumably the grandmother, with yet another child on her lap. The entire bus is crammed full, but the driver sees no reason to stop letting people get on. I mean, each person is paying a fee to ride, so why turn down paying customers. People are standing in the aisle and a women who (maybe) thinks she is leaning on the back of my seat, is, in reality, sitting on my shoulder.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">And did I mention it's raining? Well, it was. And I watched with slight uneasiness as the bus driver controlled the vehicle with one hand while using his other hand to reach out of the window to wipe the rain off of his side view mirror.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">This is when Jeff reaches into his shirt pocket, pulls out an index card, looks a Swazi boy (who was about 7 years old) in the eye and says, "Sow-oo-bone-ah." (traditional greeting)</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">The poor little boy, who may or may not have ever even seen a white man, especially not one with a giant beard like Jeff's, panicked. His eyes got huge and he covered his mouth with his hands. A few people around him giggled, some gasped when they realized Jeff was trying to speak Suswati. And Jeff, being Jeff, took this as encouragement and tried again: </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">"Sow-oo-bone-ah." The boy peeked out from behind his hands, but still didn't answer, so Jeff pointed at him and told the little boy, "You say, yay-bo." At this, the entire busload of Swazis burst out laughing! They began to talk to us in English and let us practice our very limited knowledge of the greeting we had learned. They were so delighted to meet some white people who were making an attempt at speaking their language. Jeff was quite the hero that day!</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">So, thank you, Nawazzi, for giving us the language tools to experience this joyful communion with our brothers and sisters in Swaziland! And, a special compliment to Sean and Nicole: You two rock my face off with your willingness to learn a language you don't HAVE to learn! You read that part right. The Boehrig's wouldn't actually have to learn Suswatti in order to live in Swaziland. Almost everyone there speaks English. It's taught in the schools. All signage, road signs, billboards, grocery, menu's, EVERYTHING, is written in English. Most English-speakers, even those who have lived in Swaziland for years, don't bother to learn the native language. Sean and Nicole believe it's important to be able to speak to their friends and neighbors in their own language, and it is proving to be such a blessing to their ministry. Swazi's are so excited when the Boerig's speak to them in their own language and they are so happy to help them increase their skills. I know our tiny efforts to speak the greeting, on the bus, in the bakery in the city, at church, was met with smiles and enthusiasm!</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">So, here are some pictures of our day in the city of Manzani:</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">This is one of the schools in the city. Public education isn't free, so not all kids get to attend school. Those who do, adhere to a strict uniform, all the way down to the haircut. Most school girls have their hair sheared down to the scalp...which is actually quite cute! though, if they weren't wearing skirts, it would be difficult to tell the boys from the girls.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">We stopped at a bakery, where Nicole <i>ABANDONED</i> us, and we had to communicate and count foreign currency <i>all by ourselves!</i> As it turned out, we did fine and Nicole was only actually gone for about 5 (<b>eternal</b>) minutes. But, that milk pie I'm eating made it all worth it. YUM!</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">These are pictures from the market. Lots of beautiful, hand-crafted items. And then we found this:</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">This is a traditional garment worn by men. It's made of baboon skin. We actually saw a guy wearing something similar to this when we went into a hardware store for Nicole to pick up some shade cloth for her garden. Thankfully, the man was sitting on a stool and was wearing a green sport coat on top, so we weren't treated to the full monty...I mean...ensemble. I wasn't brave enough to take a picture of the guy, but noticed he was also wearing a random feather in his hair. Nicole said that feather indicated he was a member of the extended royal family. Sounds exciting, but we were also told that since Swazi men are allowed to have as many wives as they want, there's no shortage of people who are related to the royal family. According to Sean, the U.N. has pressured the current king to maybe not take as many wives as his predecessors did, so he only has, like, 8. Progress.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Another interesting note about the whole multiple wives thing: If a man marries a woman who already has a child, he is not required to accept that child into his home. This means many women leave their children with grandmothers, aunts or sisters, when they get married. On the contrary, if a man, for example, has a wife and children in the "country", and another wife, with more children in the city, his wife in the city is required to care for his country wife's children (and vice-versa) when they come to town.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">This is a picture of a roadside market selling fruit and used clothing. I snapped this one when we were waiting for a bus to take us back to the Tricash village where Sean and Nicole live.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">And this is a picture of the hospital in Manzani where Nicole works as a duela (sp?). Women from all over the rural areas, will walk or ride the bus into the city when their due date draws close. They may stay in a building called The Waiting Place until they go into labor. 24 hours after giving birth (barring complications), they will walk or ride the bus back home. (My women friends who have given birth, unite, and say a collective, "Dad gum, ya'll.")</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Our time in the city was eventful, but the day wasn't over yet. When we got back to the Boerig's house, they had some special friends over for "tea." We had some delightful conversation and Jeff and Mike got to show off some American culture (and cause a few dropped jaws) when they took turns holding the baby! Apparently, it's not common for men to handle babies...much less, act like they enjoy it!</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Here's a funny story that I don't think Jeff confessed to Mike, so, sorry Honey, I'm about to "out" you: Jeff held the baby first, was bouncing and making faces at her. He said this to me later, "Yeah, after about 10 minutes, it occurred to me that she was probably wearing a cloth diaper, so I decided I needed to give Mike a turn holding her."</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">After the "tea," we went to a brye (sp?), which is like a bar-b-que, with some of the Boehrig's white friends. Some were missionary teachers and nurses at an orphanage, some were Africanse businessmen, some were from the States, some from Ireland, some South African-born... at any rate, it was a shockingly different life-style from the one Sean and Nicole have chosen. The cookout was in a home about a mile from the Boehrig's house, but it was in a gated, golf-course community. Wow.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">At the brye, we learned that the chief, or some other community leader, had asked the guys for help in catching and relocating a crocodile that had been eating ducks and had chased a child. (Say, "The crocodile chased a child" nonchalantly, because that's how they say it... like it was just a slightly bothersome occurrence.) Of course, crocs have to be hunted at night, because they hide/sleep during the day. So, at about 10PM, 8 men climbed into a "bass" boat with no seats, armed with flashlights and a rope with a giant hook attached to one end. Oh, I forgot to mention that the way they operated this boat was the guy handling the throttle had to yell instructions to the guy who was holding the motor in both hands and manually turning the engine to steer.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Jeff said they had to do donuts in the water to stir the crocodile to the surface. After 20 minutes of this, Jeff was "ready to hurl" and was starting to think they were just playing a joke on the naive Americans, when they spotted the crocodile. Jeff says he's not exaggerating in saying it was probably 9 feet long. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">The plan, of course there was a plan, was to get close enough to hook it in the neck, drag it into the boat, duck tape its mouth, load it in the back of one guy's truck, drive it to another pond, and set it free. Easy. Not dangerous at all.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">After a couple of hours and nearly pitching one guy into the water on top of the croc (slight miscommunication between the throttle guy and the engine guy), they decided they didn't have the right tools for the job, and called it a night. The end.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Day 3: The Day We Built a Cob Oven and My Life Changed...No Biggie</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">I haven't told you much about what Sean does, because, up until Saturday, I had spent most of my time with Nicole. Just to clarify, Sean and Nicole moved to Swaziland to join one other missionary couple (not a big organization, or whatever) in an effort to reach people with the hands-on Good News of Jesus. The Good News that not only does Jesus offer eternal salvation in Heaven, his way of "doing life" here on earth, right now, offers peace, joy, community, stability, and an economy that isn't affected by Wall Street or terror attacks or government shut downs. Sean teaches people to work together as a community, using resources they already have, to meet the needs of everyone. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">For example, Swazi's typically cook over an open flame, using logs from trees they've cut down and carried home. It's a LOT of work and they are cutting down a valuable resource. Sean has engineered a rocket stove, made of scrap metal, and a couple of inexpensive, readily available manufactured parts, that is able to cook longer and hotter, and only requires a small amount of sticks and twigs, that can be gathered by children without sacrificing entire trees, to burn as fuel. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">And, get this! He isn't <i>giving away</i> these stoves. But, instead, he has taught a man to build these stoves, and now that man is turning his new skill in to a business that will help his community, lessen the impact on the environment, and improve his life with more income!</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Sean has also located a company in South Africa that makes a very simple, and extremely durable, water pump that works like a StairMaster. (I'll post pics in a minute.) This simple pump will give women hours in their day...time, and difficult labor, that they would normally expend walking down to the river and lugging up 5 gallon buckets, over and over, until they have enough to meet the basic cooking and cleaning needs of their family. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">And this new pump system will also allow them to plant gardens! No one has time or energy to haul enough water to care for a garden (especially in the African summer!), but now they will be able to pump water directly from the river to irrigate their gardens...which will provide better nutrition for their family...and will produce enough extra that they can sell their produce for more income! </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">But, again, Sean doesn't give these pumps away. Instead, he demonstrates these pumps, shows them how it can improve their lives, and helps them discover ways they can earn and save the money to buy one for themselves. (He's also trying to find someone local who would like to start a business importing these pumps from South Africa.)</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Here's some pictures of the pump being used:</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">We were cracking up at the way Swazi's don't have "personal space" issues like American's do. The more weight you put on the pump, the faster it will work, so it only makes sense to put as many people on the pump as will fit! It really just takes one person operating the pump at the river and another to hold the other end of the hose to either water the garden or, like in this case, to fill the container that holds water for household use:</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">On Saturday, our goal was to help Sean with another of his on-going community outreach projects: we were going to build a cob oven for a family of 5. Here is a picture of their house:</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Most of their cooking is done in a pit in the ground, but here is the mud structure where we will put the new cob oven: </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">This is where they raise chickens:</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">As a subscriber to Mother Earth News, I was especially excited about this project. Just this last month, Mother had published a special feature about how to build cob homes, and I was looking forward to seeing this concept done on a smaller (oven) scale. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Cob is a mixture of clay, sand and grass. Remember, Sean is not about giving stuff away, but he is all about teaching people to find and use sustainable resources they already have. So, a week, or so, before our arrival, he told the family he would be happy to teach them to build the oven for free, but they would have to provide the materials and labor. They would need bricks for the base, and sand, clay and grass for the cob. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">They walked to the river and hauled up sand by the bucket loads, until they had a large pile. They found another source from which to dig and haul clay. For the cob, the women took machetes and feed sacks and hiked up a nearby mountain to cut grass. We aren't exactly sure where they got the bricks, but the ones we used looked suspiciously similar to the ones at the crumbling bus stop in town.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">With all the supplies gathered, they only lacked labor...which is where we came in. When 6 white people show up at a Swazi home, it doesn't take long for all the neighbors to start "dropping in" to see what's going on! Before we knew it, it was a full-out party!</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">The African women started cooking...we tasted a traditional breakfast of fermented corn mush:</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">...which I can't really recommend, but wasn't as bad as I was afraid it was going to be!</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">They cooked...</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">...and cooked...</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">...while the children played...</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">I made a few friends by taking their pictures and then letting them see their images. They were thrilled!</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">And then, while the men built the form for the oven, </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">it was time for the white women to get to work mixing the sand and clay.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">After a while, we got some help...</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Two things to note here. 1st: We're mixing mud in skirts. Turns out, that first day, when Alex and I worked in the garden wearing jeans, well, apparently, we were being floozies. So, when we knew we would be spending most of the day on Saturday at a Swazi home, we figured we better wear skirts. No matter that this was the only skirt I brought and I would have to wear it to church the next day. Who really cares about a little mud.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">2nd: For the first 10 minutes, stomping river sand with my bare feet, was like getting a good pedicure. But, shortly after that, it started to make me think of that Korean spa in Dallas my friend told me about. Where small women swarm you and scrub your naked body, even the more delicate areas, with the equivalent of 60 grit sand paper, or, maybe, pine tree bark.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">So, you might get my point.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Anyway, some of the sweet Swazi women saw my pain and not only went and borrowed some mud boots for me to wear, but also refused to let me walk to the river to wash my feet. Instead, they heated up some water, gave me a bucket and a rag to clean myself.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">And I've never been so humbled, felt so cared for. There are no words.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">So, we mixed and mixed and others pitched in...</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">And the guys molded and built the oven... (Alex and I tried our hand at building and molding, but I think we preferred the mixing part.)</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">When the African women finished cooking, they joined in the mixing...that's when the party started! I'm talking about rhythmic chanting, clapping, the whole thing!</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">I mean, seriously. How much better would my days be if I could chant and dance and turn hard, dull work into a dance party? Oooohhh...Freak out!</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">When the oven was complete</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">we took some pictures with everyone who was still there at the time</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">...and then we enjoyed the most delicious Swazi food ever (kind of reminded me of the soul food we used to eat when we lived in Fort Worth).</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Sunday: The Day In Which I Slit a Throat and Attended Church</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Please note that my vegetarian friends will want to skip this section. Really. K bye. See you in the next section.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">On the day we built the cob oven, the family gifted Sean and Nicole a live chicken. Jeff and I raise chickens and we've had our Giant Black rooster (about 10-12 pounds in his currently "alive" condition) marked for the Thanksgiving platter since he started getting aggressive and attacking our little Ruby every time she goes into the yard to play. I thought the family was going to kill and cook the bird right there and I was going to get to learn the proper way to...well, you know..."off" the bird. Nicole saw my disappointment when they handed her the live bird to take home.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">She said, "Don't worry, we interned at a farm for a while. We can teach you to do it. The family wants us to eat this bird anyway."</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">So, on Sunday morning before church, Sean said, "OK, you want to learn to slaughter and gut a chicken? Let's go."</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">First, they caught the bird, who wasn't being accepted into Sean and Nicole's flock of chickens anyway. And then Sean explained the process to me. If you hold or hang the chicken upside down, it calms down almost immediately. He talked about the methods our grandparents used like breaking the neck or using an ax, but quickly slitting the throat with the bird upside down is a lot less traumatic to the bird and allows the blood to drain quickly. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">So, when Sean said he would <i>teach</i> me to kill and gut a chicken, I really heard the word <i>show</i>. So I was a little surprised when he handed me the knife and said, "OK, here you go." But, I'm also not one to back down from a challenge. I really did want to learn. And what better way to learn than to do. Don't worry, I won't post any bloody pictures, though I did take plenty so I could remember all the steps.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">You can see by the look on my face, that I didn't actually enjoy the process, but it also wasn't as horrible as you might imagine. I had a moment of deep thankfulness when the animal's warm blood was pouring out over my hand and I can promise you, after that experience I will never waste meat again. We cleaned and cooked every bit of that bird (excluding the guts) and turned all leftover skin and bones into broth. And it was delicious.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">I left plenty of space so my sensitive friends hopefully won't have to look at those pictures any longer than they have to...unless you have one of those gigantic computer monitors, and in that case, it's your own fault. :)</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">So, then we went to church. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">And it was a great experience. More modern than I would have expected. It was raining and when we pulled up, I wondered if we had gotten the time wrong. And then I realized something:</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">OH, YEAH, I'M A STUPID AMERICAN.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Because I thought that since there were only 2 cars in the parking lot, no one would be there. Turns out, we and the church minister were the only ones with cars. Everyone else walked. DUH. The building was full. People were kind. The sermon was translated for us. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">After church, people giggled and exclaimed when we used our Suswati greeting. Many asked us how they could get to America and could we give them jobs. And we wanted to tell them, "NO! You don't want to come to America! We are selfish and our children fight with each other. Our money hasn't satisfied us. We are lonely in our alarmed homes inside our gated communities. Stay here, where you have family, friends, community, fellowship." But, we smiled and nodded and thanked them for their hospitality.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">(And later, after I'd had some time to think and process, I came to a different conclusion about their desire to come to America...I'll tell you about that in a separate blog entry.)</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">After church, we ate lunch at a place most Swazi's couldn't afford. It was a beautiful place.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">And I bought a little woven basket for my mother and a pair of earrings for my daughter. And I contemplated right and wrong and what Jesus really meant when he said, "Love your neighbor as yourself." And I wondered if the woman who cut the grass, dyed it, and wove it into the form of that little basket, would see even a penny of the money I just paid for it. And I imagined a teenage girl piecing together those earrings that would be worn by my daughter, and I wondered what her life was like.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">I didn't come up with any good answers.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">We ended Sunday at a game park. A beautiful place where I wish my Canyon girls and I could go and hike and camp and explore for like a year. It was raining, so we didn't see too many animals, but we did see this little guy:</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">And this interesting creature:</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">And, wildebeests, of course, but you'll just have to use your imagination, cause this is all I could get of them:</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">And, then there was this, but crocs are just passe, like whatever, by this point in our trip.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Going Home</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">On Monday, we started the journey home. It was a beautiful drive, much less scary because we were all used to Sean's driving by this time. We had deep conversations in the car, saw monkey's on the side of the highway, got pulled over by police so many times I lost count...no kidding. We were exhausted and happy, inspired and disturbed. I'm pretty sure I'll be processing through this experience for a very long time.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">But here's the one thing I want to say:</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">We are blessed. But it's not because we live in America. We are blessed because we bear the image of God. And we have a job to do:</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">But when the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, then he will sit upon his glorious throne. </span><b style="font-size: x-large;">All the nations </b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">will be gathered in his presence, and he will separate the people as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats...</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Then the King will say to those on his right, "Come, you who are blessed by my Father, inherit the Kingdom prepared for you from the creation of the world. For I was hungry, and you fed me. I was thirsty, and you gave me a drink. I was a stranger, and you invited me into your home. I was naked, and you gave me clothing. I was sick, and you visited me." </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Then these righteous ones will reply, "Lord, when did we ever see you hungry and feed you? Or thirsty and give you something to drink? Or a stranger and show you hospitality? Or naked and give you clothing? When did we ever see you sick or in prison and visit you?"</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">And the King will say, "I tell you the truth, when you did it to one of the least of these my brothers and sisters, you were doing it to me!" Matthew 25</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05269279054321903536noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7839248559480851193.post-70674041154610415582013-10-15T05:58:00.000-05:002013-10-15T05:59:03.786-05:00Africa or Bust<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">It's 3:38 AM on October 15th.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">At 7:00 AM I will start saying goodbye to my children and dropping them at their various schools. Before they get home this afternoon, I will be boarding a plane bound for Johannesburg, South Africa. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">From the airport, it's a 5 hour drive into Swaziland. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">I'm not sure how many time zones I'm going to cross, or what time it will be <i>here</i> when we land, but it will be about midnight on Thursday morning, <i>their</i> time, when we reach our final destination.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Why?</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">The short answer I give friends is: Jeff and I (and our friends Mike and Alex) are going to visit some missionaries, see what they're doing, and try to encourage them. Easy.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">But, really, the <i>why</i> goes much deeper than that.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">A couple of nights ago, I was saying bedtimes prayers with my 7 year old, Ruby. She doesn't care so much about that place I showed her on the globe that sits on the shelf in our living room; that place where lions and giraffes run free, like our coyotes and white-tail deer. (You mean like the lions and giraffes that run free in the zoo in Little Rock, Mom? Something like that, Honey.) She just cares that Mommy is going on a plane and she'll be gone for seven sleeps. To her, that's a very long time. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">And when she was hanging on my neck crying, asking why I had to go to Africa, I had 2 thoughts. First, I thought how remarkable it is that this child loves me so much. <i>Me</i>. I have failed her as a parent so many times I can't even count, but she just loves me anyway. So much undeserved love, and I gobble it up, inhale it, and am thankful to God that he gave us this gift, this picture of him, in the precious love of a teary-eyed, 7 year old girl, clinging to her mommy. It is a gift from God. If he's ever given that gift to you, call it by name, and thank him for it.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">My second thought kind of struggled to get to the surface, had trouble fighting its way through the guilt. Am I selfish for taking this trip? Should I wait until the kids are older? What if something scary happens and I'm not there to tell them it's going to be okay? What if something amazing happens, like so-and-so actually <i>looked</i> at me when I was at my locker today, Mom? Who else is going to know what a big deal that is and respond with appropriate levels of enthusiasm? How much money did our hard-working, barely-making-ends-meet church members fork over in order to buy this plane ticket for me? Was it selfish of me to ask my parents to leave the care and keeping of their home and my elderly grandmother to others, so they could come care for my kids? Is it right for me to block out 8-10 days of working/earning potential, when my 18 year old is going to school full time and pulling 7 hour shifts as a Denny's waitress in order to pay for school? I mean, I have certain <i>responsibilities</i> here. Jeff gets to count this trip as work, part of the job for a minister. Me? One of my other kids prayed that I would have a nice vacation. Is that what this is? Am I taking a <i>vacation</i> at the expense of...well, everything I've already mentioned?</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">For a few minutes, I considered leaving my girls' room and going straight in to ask my husband if my plane ticket was refundable.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">But, then, I remembered something. I love adventure. I love the idea of seeing how different people, different cultures, manage, cope, and survive in the same world I live in, using completely different tools and ideas. Seeing the same world, same problems from a different angle, is one of the coolest things I learned as a social worker. I want to see people being happy with less stuff. And I'm pretty sure I will.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">The biggest role I play right now is Mom. It's such a big role that, like a lot of women, I sometimes forget it's just a role; it's just part of who I am, not the essence of my being. I know this because I have faint memories of being a person with thoughts, ideas, dreams, faith BEFORE I was a wife and a mother. It was a long time ago, my friend, but I'm sure it was real. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Anyway, here I am now: a mom. And I know that, as such, I have a responsibility to teach my kids important things.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Things like faith. They need to see me trust God to watch over my family; to keep the plane in the air; to know that I will choose to trust God with whatever comes my way. They need to see me have big faith with small things, like in our everyday lives when I leave them in the care of schools and teachers, when I let them do things like hike in the woods behind our house, and ride bikes and climb trees (even though those things have led to ER visits and broken bones in the past). And they need to see me have faith, even weak, small faith, in BIG things, like flying over vast oceans, going to a place where it will be all-too-obvious that I ain't from there, a place that many Americans don't understand and, therefore, perceive as "dangerous" or "unstable." They need to see me love places and people because God loves those places and those people. I <i>talk</i> about these things to them. They need to see me <i>act</i> on it. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">And bravery. They need to see me have adventures, go places, so they will know they can do it, too. My girls need to see me do things like hike the Grand Canyon and go to Africa, so that the idea of doing "big" things gets planted in their hearts now...so that stepping out and doing new things, following God, isn't a scary thing, it's just "what grown-ups do." My son needs to see me do those things so he will know girls can do hard things, too, and that he should look for a girl who isn't afraid.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">There's lots more to write, but my kids will be waking up, some grouchy, others bright-eyed, and they deserve my attention this morning. When I come back, I hope to have tons of pictures to share on Facebook, and plenty of stories to tell here about 3rd world farming techniques and "permaculture" -whatever that is- and clinics, and church and real life...and stuff I'm too inexperienced to even imagine. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">I expect to find God in Africa.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">I'll let you know how the experiment turns out.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05269279054321903536noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7839248559480851193.post-31578560316524191332013-09-21T12:10:00.001-05:002013-09-21T12:10:52.423-05:00Word to the [Girls' Sports] Mamas<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Sweet Mamas, I know you. I see you. I see you sitting in the bleachers at softball games, in the stands at volleyball games, barely constraining yourself to the sidelines at basketball games. You already know your 14 year old girl is beautiful, even if she doesn't know it or believe it herself yet, and now - out on that court, or red dirt field - you want her to be strong. You want her to go out there and kick some ass for all the times those magazines and commercials made her feel ugly; for all the times they made her feel like she wasn't sexy. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Did I state that too bluntly? I think not. You want her to spike that ball down the other team's throat, pop the net from the 3 point line, slap-bunt that ball, for all the times a boy teased her and made her feel inferior, or when that girl looked her up and down and made her feel worthless, or when the teacher didn't take her seriously. I know you.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">I also know when your amazing daughter serves the ball into the net, air-balls a free throw, or errors at first base, you feel her disappointment and humiliation in your guts. And you feel it that keenly because you know how many gallons she has sweated, you know the late nights of homework after games so she can keep up her grades, and you know when she's had a hard day of feeling like she's not enough because even if she's the kind who doesn't want to talk to you very much, you <i>know stuff</i> about her by the way she carries her backpack to the car after school, by the way her eyes hit the ground when she walks past that boy.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">And you feel it because when she is playing, you are out there with her. You are picturing yourself righting all the wrongs committed against your own femininity with every successful slide into home.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">I know these things about you because I see the intensity on your faces, hear the pain in your voice when you protest the official's call and I know that most of you who are mothers of female athletes, used to be athletes yourself. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">I know because I <i>am</i> you.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">My dad started teaching me to shoot a basketball back when I was so small I had to use both arms to scoop up that giant ball. He mounted a full sized goal about 3 feet off the ground on the wall of our garage so he could lower the door and keep the area warm with a space heater while he "practiced" with me in the winter. I played on my first rec league team when I was in the 4th grade. Here I am in the 6th grade:</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVY8O8umbN42HnRoR9KtFvy6h4fXkFwqqKtjPIrccBziO-3mZK9GRpw3lesKBW7AHQAg1NDWpQILBC_a1JBsom3ClhHOK3GwKTlTPdBbAf8mOLdjLZf0t-LnP56GvCn5kWczSHPy4Z44Y/s1600/raider+basketball+1+A.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="295" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVY8O8umbN42HnRoR9KtFvy6h4fXkFwqqKtjPIrccBziO-3mZK9GRpw3lesKBW7AHQAg1NDWpQILBC_a1JBsom3ClhHOK3GwKTlTPdBbAf8mOLdjLZf0t-LnP56GvCn5kWczSHPy4Z44Y/s400/raider+basketball+1+A.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunnyvale Raiders, 1983</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">I was cute, wasn't I? I can assure you, I didn't know I was cute. The assault on our self-confidence happens swiftly, early, and when no one is looking. </span><div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Like most 4 year old girls, performing a gymnastics routine for my parents in the living room, I thought I was fabulous. No exclamation point needed. It was just a simple fact. At 4, I'd never had a dance lesson <i>in my entire life</i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">, but I was destined to be a famous circus performer. Of that, I was sure. But by the time this picture was made, I felt plain, ordinary, unimportant and ignored. (This isn't a commentary on how I was parented. I know this because I read Wild at Heart and Captivating when my girls were young. I make a very conscious effort to instill the belief and confidence in my girls that they are beautiful, they are valuable, and still they are assaulted by unseen forces that tear them apart from the inside out.)</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">But, unlike some girls, feeling unnecessary didn't make me cower inside myself. I was a true, stereotypical redhead, of the hot-tempered, Irish, Oklahoma land-run variety. I got angry. Very angry. I was angry at boys for not noticing me. I was angry at teachers for not calling on me in class or failing to nominate me for yearbook staff. I was mad at my sisters for being happy and giggly all the time - the nerve. I was mad at my parents for you know, just, whatever.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">And I released it all on the court. Dodgeball, kickball, basketball, volleyball. The harder I could throw, kick or hit that ball, the better I felt. Here is a picture of me in the 8th grade that made it into the yearbook:</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv-l3qwCS7iqllGq8k18AJzHCB6GOgQKqZT6-KvOjvAqAwkyJGQiDPXYs_3sTBoFEhPqA_mjsgwneRKzyBF3n2QrvPqIkY-Lrow_pKozkb-27Y-4dhvok-833jcmkjpUqR15StKb0mfV4/s1600/raider+basketball+A.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv-l3qwCS7iqllGq8k18AJzHCB6GOgQKqZT6-KvOjvAqAwkyJGQiDPXYs_3sTBoFEhPqA_mjsgwneRKzyBF3n2QrvPqIkY-Lrow_pKozkb-27Y-4dhvok-833jcmkjpUqR15StKb0mfV4/s400/raider+basketball+A.jpg" width="308" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunnyvale Raiders, 1985<br />#5, behind me, is Monti, my partner in crime for many years.<br />Fist-bump to Monti, who was one of the strong girls in my life.</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">This picture was taken just as I was stealing the ball and hip-checking that girl in the face...and just before I fowled out of the game, again.</span><div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">I was really good at putting on the "I'm sorry I let you down, Coach" face, as I walked off the court to take my place on the bench for the remainder of the game, when, in truth, I was notching my proverbial belt with every foul-out and technical foul I earned. I had a problem, ya'll. And what I once wore with defiant pride, I now re-visit with sadness for that girl who didn't know how to view herself through God's eyes.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Eventually, sports did for me what all the studies say it will do for girls: It made me more confident, more focused, kept me drug and alcohol-free. But it took years of sweat, thousands of bruises, one horrific, skin-shredding fall over the hurdles at a track meet, and a final spat with the volleyball coach, before the anger started leeching out of my soul.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2F5MBBuMftbwnQQVQdX51L1EBi0_yOSxAuQvnXrnb1RVgWlSYQeMSuBZoZU209q_AZSwPtcVV9IhtHUwaNMNWi9r_sTipy70DLHrOBSM2RHU-y9Y-uChAUa3Bj4LUh4CYnbUwoIOzMaE/s1600/pirate+volleyball+A.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="281" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2F5MBBuMftbwnQQVQdX51L1EBi0_yOSxAuQvnXrnb1RVgWlSYQeMSuBZoZU209q_AZSwPtcVV9IhtHUwaNMNWi9r_sTipy70DLHrOBSM2RHU-y9Y-uChAUa3Bj4LUh4CYnbUwoIOzMaE/s400/pirate+volleyball+A.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Poteet Pirates, 1986</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">(This picture was taken my freshman year of high school. I played volleyball and basketball and ran track until my sophomore year, and continued playing volleyball through my junior year, but this is the last picture I have because of a "mishap" when the people we were renting a house to took it upon themselves to "clean out" a storage shed for us. An incident that cost me almost all of my high school and college pictures and mementos.) </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">So, yes, in a fit of anger at a coach, I quit the team my senior year. Such a proud day in my history.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">But, the good thing that came from me being a bratty quitter, was that I found out this thing I thought was my <i>life</i>, wasn't. I started to learn there was more to me than just being angry, competitive, and hot-tempered. I figured out that I cared passionately about downtrodden, mistreated, alienated people. Hmm, degree in social work?</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">I will confess something to you: Just a couple of days ago, I was sitting in the stands watching my 13 year old and her teammates warm up before a volleyball game against the arch-rival team. Crazy, wayward balls were flying all over the gym and I was fantasizing about one of them flying up into the stands where I was sitting. In my fantasy, I would stand up, with perfect timing and precise aim, spike the ball down to my girl, who would libero-style dig the ball with a perfect pop-set to her teammate. It was a beautiful scene...until I remembered I never could spike the ball, even when I was 17. And then I recalled about a month ago, when I was at a sports-themed birthday party for a 5 year old boy, I attempted shooting some hoops with a friend. Every time I shot the ball I peed my pants. It's the truth. And the last time I played a softball game, my left rotator cuff rose up in angry protest and said, "You're 41, not 23! Get REAL!"</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">And, yet, with all my personal issues, God saw fit to give me 4 daughters to raise. I am humbled and a little scared. Two of my girls have traditional athletic potential, and the other two are bent toward art and theater. Make no mistake: in our house, art and theater are competitive, athletic events...only with more interesting "uniforms". (Note: My theater girl refers to her sister's team uniform as a "costume." It's all fair. No flag on that play.)</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">So, here's the deal, Sports Mamas: I know you. I see your heart. You might be on the sidelines physically, but your spirit is on the field. You are in the huddle, offering encouragement. You are on the bench, giving high-fives as girls are subbed in and out of the game. You win the award for Best Supporting Actress! Just yesterday, a cheer mom was lamenting to me that she couldn't be at the game to watch her girl cheer and she worried that she wouldn't be there if her daughter was injured during a stunt. Even though I have only recently personally accepted Cheer as a sport, I applaud that mama because she <i>gets</i> it. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">It's about uniting with our daughters in a sisterhood that makes them stronger. Not brute feminists, like I was for so long, but truly strong. Confident. Focused. Beautiful. Secure. Knowing our strength and value are bestowed on us by our Creator at birth, not something we have to take by force.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">So, the next time I hear you cheering for your girl, even if she is on the rival team of my girl, I will remind myself to not take it personally. I will smile, knowing there is one more girl in the world who has her mama on her team. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">And I will pray for the millions of girls who are playing the game alone.</span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05269279054321903536noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7839248559480851193.post-7595642022064798352013-09-02T21:06:00.001-05:002013-09-02T21:06:18.233-05:00I'm Not So Good At Listening<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">When we lived in Colorado, I had some workout buddies. Kathi, Gaydene, and (until she broke her foot) Gaye. In the warmer months, we would meet a couple of times a week to hike the Apex Trail, which ran behind my house. When there was a bite in the air and snow on the ground, we met up at the church building, took over the youth room and laughed and sweated our way through various exercise videos until the church staff started arriving to begin their work day. In the months leading up to our departure from that place (before we left for our ministry adventure in California), I arrived at the church building 30-45 minutes before the other ladies so I could have some quiet prayer time. That's when I started talking to God, and stopped listening.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">"God, why are you sending me away from this place I love so much?"</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Because it's time.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">"But, God, I just really, really love it here. It's so beautiful and I worship you every time I walk out my door and see these mountains."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">You love my creation more than you love me.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">"What!? No I don't. Well, maybe I get my priorities out of order sometimes, but I'll do better. Please, let me stay here."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">It's time. You know it's time.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">"Ok, I'll go to California, but do you promise to let me come back here?"</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Silence.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">"Well, if you won't promise to bring me back here, I'll get Jeff to make that promise to me."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Silence.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">And so I got Jeff to promise to move me back to Colorado someday. I told him when I died, I expected my ashes to be spread in Golden, Colorado, off the top of Lookout Mountain, or along one of my favorite hiking trails. I "followed" God and Jeff to California, leaving hundreds of miles of heel marks across the west, past the Great Divide. And then I succeeded in making my family miserable for the entire year we lived in Marina del Rey, California, as I dragged them through the saga of my depression.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">The whole year, every single morning, I let God know I was mad at him for bringing us to that beautiful beach front ministry, even though he introduced us to a church full of wonderful, supportive, Christian people, and opened the hearts of hungry people, starving for His love. I hated it. Hated it because it wasn't Colorado. I loved listening to the sea lions barking and the dolphins playing in the waves, but I hated them because they weren't in Colorado. I loved the soothing rhythm of the waves and the smell of the salty-fishy air, but I hated it because it wasn't my soothing mountains or the smell of spicy pine and smokey fire places.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">I complained to God every single day.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">"God, I don't want to raise my kids in this crowded place. I don't like living in an apartment with no space for my kids to run and play."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Silence.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">"God, the people here are so materialistic and all they think about are celebrities and getting "discovered" by big-time directors. Please, I don't want to live here."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Silence.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">"God, if one more reality TV producer hits me up to audition for "Super Nanny", I am going to throat-punch them. I swear it."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Silence. And then our funding for the ministry there in Califas fell through.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">"God, is this you releasing us from this place?!"</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Silence.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">"God, I know we've been offered other funding to keep the ministry here going, but do we have to accept it?"</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Silence.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">"Ok, so, God, Jeff has an interview with a church in San Antonio, and I really, super-duper want to live in San Antonio. I think maybe you're calling us there, aren't you!?"</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Silence.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">"Um, so it's kind of weird, God, that the church Jeff was supposed to work for in San Antonio suddenly had a budget meeting and decided on a hiring freeze. I thought you were calling us there."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Silence.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">"So, God, I guess Jeff is going to take that job in Arkansas...(clearing throat)...I said <i>Arkansas</i>...you don't really want us in Arkansas, do you? I mean, I'm really not feeling <i>called</i> there, God."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Silence.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">"Ok, God, so here we go...we're going to Arkansas, now. This is when you are supposed to miraculously come through with the San Antonio thing. We have to feed the family, you know...All right, so maybe we'll go to Arkansas for a year or two and then you'll open up the San Antonio job, right?!"</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Silence.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">"That must be it! A few years in Arkansas and then we can be on our way."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">And it's been 8 years of me not listening to God (at least not much), because when I say, "Arkansas?" he says, "Arkansas." And when I say, "Really? Still?" he says, "Really. What's the problem with it?" I say, "Well, nothing really, except that it's not Colorado or Texas, and that's, like, <i>important</i> to me." and he says...nothing. For 8 years.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">I can't figure it out. Except, lately, I've been thinking maybe God has a job for me to do here. I don't know...probably just a crazy notion...but, still...if he does have something for me to do, I'm thinking it would be a good idea for me to start listening again.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Of course, that's easier said than done. Usually, I'm more like a 12 year old boy in a pocket knife shop.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">So, today, we were at a flea market in Hot Springs, and my 12 year old son wandered into a booth that sells pocket knives. And, obviously, he wanted one <i>real</i> bad.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Jeff said, "Son, you already have a pocket knife."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">And Elijah said, "I know, but I don't have <i>this</i> pocket knife."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Jeff said, "You can't do anything with that knife, it's only 3/4 of an inch long."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">And Elijah said, "I can clean my fingernails with it."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Jeff said, "No."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">And Elijah said, "I'll spend my own money."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Jeff said, "No."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">And Elijah said, "Come on, Dad."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Jeff said, "No. And don't talk about it anymore."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">And Elijah said, "Ok, I won't talk about it anymore, but if you'll just let me spend my own money..."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Jeff said, "No...and you're talking about it."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">And Elijah said, "I wasn't talking about it anymore, I was just saying that if you let me get it..."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">Jeff said, "No." and this time Elijah quit talking about it, but you could tell he was still <i>thinking</i> about it.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">So, I'm going to try to do a better job of listening to God; being still in the moment and hearing what he wants from me right now, right here in Arkansas. But, I can testify that it is most definitely an uphill battle to get control of my desires. I want what I want, just like a 12 year old boy in a pocket knife shop. My Father has said no and I'm not sure why, but I am pretty sure he loves me.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05269279054321903536noreply@blogger.com