Stormy Weather

My Mam-ma always said it just this way: "Got my walk in today."

Even if Granddaddy was with her, or her grandkids tagged along, it was ‘my walk’. The two words kind of squished together in that comforting West Texas way.

I hear those words, her words, in my head when I say this now too. And I am amazed again at how far from my childhood I am and yet simple phrases and moments like these spring up so current and evocative.

My walk.

When we are home in Fort Portal, I like to walk at the same time every day.

Early evening. Just before dinner.

For the last few weeks before our furlough, this was the same time of day the rains would appear.

When rainy season descends over Fort Portal the storms can be heavy.  Strong winds, lightning and sometimes hail.

From our home you can see the storm approaching and very often predict it’s strength or nature.

The storms and their timing very often affected ‘my walk’ in the weeks before our departure.

I missed my walk some nights. And I shortened my walk some nights.

And some evenings, I got my complete walk in before the rain fell.

But I had to be paying attention.

This from a typed musing just before we departed:

“Tonight, the sky started to rumble as I put on my shoes. The clouds were dark in the distance so I hurried to get in what minutes that I could.

As I circled my usual path, I began to pray for God to hold back the storm. Just so I could finish my walk.

And it struck me.

So much of this current season is just like this.

I seem to be constantly praying, “Hold back the storm, just for a bit.”

It is heavy and threatening. Approaching. Visible.

And yet, I rush against it. To complete something then move to safety.

Sometimes, the rain pelts down despite my request for a reprieve. Sometimes the storm holds until the minute I get inside my back door.

And sometimes it is a little of both.

The rain has been fat and heavy. Painful as it hits my head.

Other times, it is a slow drizzle and I can walk in it with little discomfort.

Sometimes the electricity lights up the sky around me, sending me racing for the door.

But in the last weeks, I could always count on the presence of the storm.

I couldn’t stop it.

I could only choose how to negotiate it.”

Living in the vagabond state of furlough changes all of our daily practices. We are in new systems and schedules and lifestyles. Colder weather. As I look back over the last six months I am gently astounded by the provision of time to walk at every destination point.

The venues have varied and I never know at what time of day I will be free to sneak away for exercise. But one thing has remained steadily consistent.

Storm.

Winds (I’m looking at you West Texas!), snow, rains, bitter cold and the seemingly unending ‘storm’ of ill health that has battered our family more than the elements.

The ‘storm’ of a constant change of plan. The constant waiting. The pelting rain of not knowing what the next steps will be.

To get ‘my walk’ in I have to be paying attention. I must be deliberate.

(And flexible--deep, deep sigh)

I can’t choose when or how the storm will play out. I can’t manipulate it. I can only choose to push into it or wait it out or not walk at all.

And those choices make all the difference.

I am pondering today that I have been allowed to see the approaching storm. This isn’t always the case. But when I see what may be headed my way it serves some of the same purpose that an unexpected storm serves.

A reminder.

I am not in control.

Turns out the walk isn’t all mine.

‘My walk’ is a gift.

A provision.

And the strength to persist in the walking? To push through the storm?

Grace.

“Do you not know? Have you not heard?

The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth.

He will not grow tired or weary, and his understanding no one can fathom.

He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak.

Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall;

but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength,

They will soar on wings like eagles;

they will run and not grow weary,

they will walk and not be faint.”

Isaiah 40: 28-31

On Lattes and Listing and Thanks

Thank You.

Two very important words. For the one who says them and the one who hears them.

I often neglect the public listing of my furlough thanks. Over the past months we have been graced with many mercies from dearest family, friends and even complete strangers. Saying thank you is so important and I love to do it. And yet, I often let the fear of leaving someone out stop me from beginning a public list at all.

But my Grande Skinny Vanilla Latte changed all that.

Here’s how.

On one of my passes through the Starbucks drive thru, a kind stranger in a pick up truck in front of me paid for my coffee. I was surprised and encouraged. This unexpected kindness changed the course of my day.

And.

I couldn’t wait to share that same joy with someone else. This simple act by a stranger persistently challenged me over my final weeks in America to remember that kindness truly breeds kindness. Large or small, when we act in generosity, the world changes for the better. 

So. 

I’m going to start a thank you list, out loud, right here. I hope it will change the course of someone’s day for the better.

And that, just like my latte, inspire more of the same.

Pay it forward, as it were.

Here we go---

*thank you to the Cashes and the Moneys--grandparents who welcomed us for shorter and longer than expected visits respectively. The Uganda ministry is costly in many ways, but it is arguable that Nana & Papa and Grammy and Granddaddy pay the dearest price. We are grateful for their support, welcome and persistence in staying connected to each of us. We love you, deeply. Thank you all for everything!

*thank you to the kind gentleman who helped lift my luggage upon arrival in Florence Italy. I do not know your name but you seriously blessed my day!

*thank you Dr Cochran, Dr. Coate, Dr. Propst, Dr Burnett, Dr Brown and Dr Rutherford for your kindness in serving our family. We are grateful.

*thank you Mike & Koni, Kristi & Allan for sharing your lives and time with us, working to give cousins together time, and continually welcoming us home, even though we are so very separated by time and distance. We love you.

*thank you Steve and Dana for the wonderful example of service you have set in caring for Dana’s mom through much suffering. We are so sad to have not hugged your necks this furlough, but we are very grateful for your faithful care for Margaret and Richard. You were exactly where you were supposed to be. We love you both so much!

*thank you to New Life Church for your heart and your welcome. We were uplifted among you as we worshiped and communed. Our children feel such a part of your youth group and children’s ministry—you were a home to them and we all treasure this.

*thank you to Sherwood church of Christ for being family and dear friends to my parents. They love being among you and serving Jesus with you. We are grateful for your fellowship, your prayers and our bond in Christ.

*thank you Metro church of Christ for so many years of faithful devotion and support. You are a stable supportive influence in our lives and in the lives of our children. Thank you for your hugs, smiles, meals and esteem. You are a gift to us.

*thank you Uncle S’more (aka Greg Woods) for making memories with our family for all these years. Living scattered about diminishes the number of constants in our children’s lives. You have been a constant—a minister to our whole family. We are so thankful for your wisdom, your listening ear, your discernment and your prayers. We are also very thankful you chose to marry the amazing Dottie! So enjoyed our fun time together. Love you both!!!

*thank you Devin and Melissa for taking your family on that fun cruise and loaning us your suburban while you were gone :) SO blessed by your generosity!

*thank you King Flight schools for making video curriculum that teaches flight ground school so well.

*thank you Benjamin Franklin for the gift of electricity

*thank you to every sweet person who made their washer and dryer available to me. Truly one of my highlights this furlough was washing clothes in machines. Truly.

*thank you to Glenwood church of Christ for every hug, face-to-face conversation and prayer. Sitting around your tables and sharing food, seeing how your children have grown and sharing memories of when our kids were babies, hearing your words of encouragement and realizing God’s ongoing plan for our fellowship together has blessed us again. You are dear, dear folks and we are thankful for your participation in our family and the ministry in Uganda. We love you.

*thank you to every single woman who pulled me close and whispered into my ear words of hope, and solidarity and esteem and blessing. Words of understanding. I cannot think past those moments of blessed interaction without tears of gratitude. I cannot always find spoken words to express pain in my life, but some of your wise, knowing eyes saw into the depths and acted in love. I give praise to the One who joins us. And I am thankful.
*thank you Kregg and Anne for hearing our story and sharing yours. You have beautiful hearts and we are so blessed to know you and your family. 

*thank you to Trisha, Melinda and Sharon for including me on Fridays. I LOVED our study and prayer. LOVED knowing you each better. LOVED speaking of God and His persistent care in each of our lives. You were an equipping gift to me. Thank you.

*thank you Uncle Wade for making wonderful memories with all the cousins. You are a gift and we are thankful for you!

*thank you Cherise for being my best friend and advocate— You will always be one I am deeply connected to—I am beyond grateful that this connection is so much stinkin’ fun! I love you and I am so proud of you!

*thank you Jana Miller and Trisha Wall for being faithful, stalwart friends. Thank you Trisha for the gift and fun you bring to our lives; laughing with you is one of my favorite things to do especially as it blends so easily with deeper conversations and heart sharing. Your support through the last few years has been deeply sustaining.  You are a treasure to me and to so many others. Thank you Jana for supporting our family in SO many practical ways. Homeschool curriculum, groceries, packing, directions, places to stay, rides to and from places, clothes…you have done it all. It is so easy for me to be around you. I can rest when we are together and I treasure that.  Thank you for the laughing and sharing and listening. I miss you already.

The fact that you two amazing ladies are close friends to my flesh and blood sister is a most sacred blessing. I am in awe of how God has moved among us. Love, love, LOVE you!

*Thank you Stephanie Harris for being a great friend and having amazing parents :) I feel like I know you better after this last week of hanging out with your folks. Thank you for helping us make Dallas arrangements for our travels.

*Thank you Curt & Jan for such warm generosity to complete strangers. We could never have planned for the intersections and connections we would discover in our conversations. I am so grateful to know you both. Thank you for opening your heart and home to us.

*Thank you Suzy Jeffrey for a wonderful visit that filled my heart with good things. WOW! Laughing, crying, learning, sharing…we covered a lot of ground over those fancy scrambled eggs :). I loved being with you and praise God for making it possible!

*Thank you Morton and Suzy for a wonderful prayer of blessing on our last night on US soil. We look forward to more visits with you if God makes a way. So blessed by your stories and appreciate you learning ours.

*Thank you Kelly Vaughn.  Your obedience to God’s leading has greatly impacted my life. I am so grateful that after all those years of hearing about you, I finally got to know you in person. A kindred spirit if I ever had one--I love you, dear friend!!!

*Thank you Randy & Kelly for everything! The visit, the concert, the listening, the prayers.  We treasure the comfort of sharing our hearts with others who know of our life ‘through the wardrobe’. We are so thankful for your friendship and can’t wait to be together again.

*Thank you Jeff Morrison for being such a supportive good friend. Thank you for always being willing to help out in any way you can. Thank you for loving and raising those boys so beautifully. We love all three of you.

*Thank you Dennis Dossey for your encouragement. We are excited to see where this will lead us. So thankful for our time at Bammel.

*Thank you Robert and Amy for being faithful, dear friends. Thank you Robert for standing with Jeff and embracing this ministry. A trip to my home in Africa?! YES!!! Come see us. We love you!

*Thank you Bammel church of Christ for hosting Soul Link. Such a blessing for our girl and for us.

*thank you Hollye--for everything.  I love you! And I miss you!

*Thank you Amy Hosch for being there. And for lunch. And for sharing life with us, in this distant way that we can. I so appreciate you and love you!

*Thank you Kendra King for stepping into my world and speaking such beautiful encouragement. I love you—

*Thank you Roger McCown for your knowing and understanding support. You and Liz bring encouragement to us. Thank you for hearing us. You guys have such a beautiful family—loved our time with you!

*Thank you Wes and Kim Crawford for moving to Tyler! So amazed by the connections we discovered in our conversations. Our God is amazing. Looking forward to more time together as God makes a way. Thank you Wes for that terrific sermon on lament---PREACH!!!

*thank you Jack and Tootsie Hooper for everything. Your generosity blesses so many. We are deeply grateful for your persistent love and care for our family and this ministry. We love you!

*thank you to countless, beautiful people who invited us into their lives for a meal or a moment to visit. We were blessed by every invitation, even if we were unable to get to you. Our lives are so full of amazing people. Thank you for your effort to stay connected with us.

*thank you Shelli Presley for the prayer and easy conversation—no matter how many years pass we just start up like we talked 30 minutes ago—I am incredibly grateful for this. Incredibly grateful for you!

*thank you Maury and Jacqueline for so many years of faithful friendship and service—we love you both!

*thank you Donita for the gift of a great haircut; how very many years you have served our family with all things beautiful. I love sitting in your chair!

*thank you Jana, Sarah and Emily for driving to Tyler so that Jana and I could sit together at Glenwood. And visit at Mercado’s. And solve the world’s problems while our kids play basketball in the gym. Your showing up set my Tyler experience a-right. Love all of you Millers!

*thank you Joanna Neel for making me eat that cobbler and blue bell ice cream—and for serving with a big spoon :)

*thank you Dewayne and Cynthia for hearing us. Can’t wait to welcome you in our home.

*thank you Don and Sanna for praying so faithfully for our family and this ministry. We love you--

*thank you kind stranger in a Ford pickup—that was the very best Vanilla Latte I had all furlough!

And may the list go on…

To Pause

Heathrow. So many people. Business travelers. Tourists. Families. Large groups. Lone travelers. Hurried and frantic. Or exhausted and still. Different skin colors. And fashion tastes.

So many souls and stories marching past our bleary eyed gazing.

We have safely reached London and wait for the next leg of our journey.

I sit among the movement taking in the beautiful shops and scents and options. Everything changes tomorrow.

Starbucks will not be just around the corner.

There is something peaceful about being at this juncture in our travel. I am sitting with absolutely nothing to be done (except find food for the boys. There is always that J) I have not had a moment like this in a while. On furlough, there is always a working list in my possession. The next thing that must be accomplished or started or finished. Our final week before departure is a long stretch of deadlines. I am thankful to be on the other side of the troubleshooting and planning and sorting and deciding.

Tomorrow will begin a new set of tasks. I am easing back into the reality that we fight to survive in Uganda. We push back against many things, big and small, to exist in safety and cleanliness. We work hard to live.

But there is nothing I can do about that today. I sit. I breathe. I write. I think.

I am thankful to be here.

Nothing but the Blood

“There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.” Ernest Hemingway

Blood is a messy business. Sticky and smelly.

Personal.

Essential for life.

Blood carries good things all the way to the extremities.

Blood is necessary.

It also connotes unclean. No one likes someone else to bleed on them.

Blood can carry disease.

And healing.

It’s paradoxical.

Blood can forever bond you to another. Or forever separate you.

Either way, blood means something.

Every time.

When I think about writing, Hemingway’s description fits.

Writing can also be a messy business. And it is almost always personal to someone.

Writing can stink. And stick to you.

Writing can carry ideas and stories across giant expanses of time. Into the extremities.

Writing can be distasteful and repulse. It can hurt. And heal.

But writing means something.

Every time.

I have sat at my computer in the last months and 'bled.'

But in large part, I have kept the outpouring behind closed doors.

As I seek to push into writing on a schedule again, I open those doors and will display some of my harried, scattered furlough thoughts here.

I’m learning. Exercising this vulnerability that shares something. Anything.

Recognizing, that where the blood pours out a wound often remains.

And praying that I just might have the courage to work from my wounds.

To speak.

“In the same way, after the supper he took the cup saying, ‘This is the new covenant in my blood, which is poured out for you.” Luke 22:20

I am able only because He bled first.

“This is my blood of the covenant which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins.” Matt 26:28

And saved me.

“But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far away have been brought near through the blood of Christ.” Eph 2:13

What an incredible giver is He that after the beatings. After the betrayal. After the pain and the humiliation and the dying. After all the horrible Alone-ness.

He showed up again.

He could have just been seen. Proclaimed in a loud voice. 

He could have gathered the crowds again and said, “See, you crazy crazies. I AM who I said I AM.”

Instead he came to locked rooms. To hidden places. To two guys walking on the road. And to Women.

He spoke. He breathed. He ate.

And he let his beloved touch His wounds. Those tender, recently torn spots.

“…Though the doors were locked Jesus came and stood among them and said, ‘Peace be with you!’ Then he said to Thomas, ‘Put your finger here; see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Stop doubting and believe.’

Thomas said to him, ‘My Lord and my God!”  John 20:26b-28

He let them touch.

So that they would believe.

The wounds testify don’t they?

Where we have survived.

Even barely.

There He stands too.  (though not barely)

Fully drained of his lifeblood.

Fully reborn. 

He did it first. And asks me to follow.

Not just to the pews. Or the conference.

Or even to the social justice cause.

“Then he said to them all: ‘If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will save it.” Luke 9:23-24

He asks me to pour out my 'blood.'  To surrender. 

To lose my life.

So that I might live.

“To him who loves us and has freed us from our sins by his blood and has made us to be a kingdom and priests to serve his God and Father—to him be glory and power for ever and ever! Amen.” Rev 1:5b-6

Rains

The drenching rain pours. We sit sheltered, today, from its harshest effects.

We are in an RV on the Oregon Coast for a two night repose.

Kinley reads. The boys watch cartoons. Isaac plays games on an iphone.

I peruse the internet and Jeff sneaks in a much deserved nap.

He has driven many, many miles. There are more ahead.

Breakfast settles into our stomachs and the smell of bacon and coffee remain comforting and warm.

This motor home is our very first home. The only one we have ever fully owned.

We sleep, lined up like matchsticks, cozy and ordered.

In the midst of furlough that disperses our family into larger family systems we claim two nights and some hours as just Us.

We get this gift often as we serve in Uganda. The isolation we feel anchors us to each other and shapes our family. We anticipate outlets and opportunities to venture outside of our family for moments and respites, but find ourselves resting and resolving best when we get back face to face and shoulder to shoulder with this, Our Team.

Amazing the ‘able-ness’ of our God. How He fills and inspires and motivates right where He calls.

I sip another cup of coffee. Stare at these God has allowed me for now. And continue in a season of Thanksgiving. Prolong the acknowledgement of harvest.

It aches. A place setting for each of mine. While others, those dear to me, acutely feel the empty space. The one who met Jesus ahead of us.

I strive to welcome this awareness. This loss that does not relent even as cheery music wafts and lights twinkle. I want to honor the road my warrior friends are navigating.

I want the courage to be Real. Lord, make me able to accept and make a secure place for Authentic. For the painful inexpressible. For the need to be silent. For the ache to wail. For the blessing of remembering. For the completely unpredictable process of a healing wound.

I have time today to sit and think. To remember. To pray.  To cry. To thank. To learn.

All as the drenching rain pours.

Into the storms around me, with humble courage-seeking voice, I speak to believe. I speak to choose.

“Blessed be the name of the Lord.”

Today, My Heart

Today my heart is at Rondo Retreat Center in Western Kenya. On the expansive lawn. Laughing and learning in the living room. Worshiping in the chapel. Having long heart to heart talks with sisters I dearly esteem and love.

Today my heart is in any number of  living rooms in Nairobi, Kenya. Tuesday night potluck. Ladies Bible study. Planning ladies retreat. CDT is cross-stitching a million notebook covers. Seasoned missionaries sharing life. Teaching me how to survive. How to thrive.

Today my heart is at a dinner table. Turtle Bay Resort. Rondo, again. The Reppart’s home. Laura and I are reconnecting. Pictures of grandchildren. Memories with her children. The conversation circles and meanders but always points to God. Laura sat right up next to her King. Leaned into Him. Sought after Him. I learned from her, every time we spoke.

Today my heart is on a mountain top. Jeff has led amazing young ladies on a senior year adventure.  I tagged along and summited with them. One deliberate, difficult step at a time. Laughter. Success. Brutal chill. And communion.

Today my heart is in our second house in Fort Portal. Dear friends, the Browns, are with us. They are newly weds and we are newly parents. Two year old Kinley beebops around us and Alex is three months from arrival. We are sharing the stories of our hearts and lives. Until the wee hours of the morning. And it is good.

Today my heart is in Fort Worth with dear missionary community gathered to honor, to remember and to say goodbye.

Today my heart is in West Texas. With my enduring man who continues to recover. With the Cashlings enjoying the delights of America.  With my parents who are so good to me and mine. And with my sister and her amazing family who welcome us into their lives. Their activities. Their world.

My scattered heart, all broken and mended.

Gathered and strewn.

Full.

Today every piece of my heart finds welcome in His.

Pressing into His Knowing is Glorious. Familiar. Safe.

Intimate.

Connected.

Whole.

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted…” Psalm 34:18

 Laura Reppart, beloved wife, mother, Shosho, and friend passed from this life early this week. She is Home. And Healed. But we will all miss her here. 

Come, Lord Jesus, Come.

Home

Four AM.

Jeff is moving quietly, allowing me to sleep as long as possible.

I release to the awakening around 4:30. Sleep will be elusive now.

We talk quietly. Our difficult flight experiences yesterday. Travel.

Arrival in my dear Texas.

We are thankful to have traveled safely.

Thankful for our amazing children.

Thankful for each other.

I walk silently into the kitchen to make tea and I’m greeted by waves from the Cashlings. All awake soundlessly in the dark room.

“My body thinks it’s daytime, Mama,” Silas whispers.

Accurate.

We begin to move slowly in the morning dark. Enjoying the stretching of our legs. The comfort of a bed. Being safe, together, here.

We are cycling a travel cold. Stuffed noses and raw throats. Warm tea soothes and Tylenol eases.

Jeff has taken the sickness hardest. Any virus deeply affecting his weakened body.

He endured much yesterday. Thankful for his strength.

I sip my second cup of coffee. The caffeine does little to push back the weariness of jet lag. We must feel this until we don’t. There is no way around the tired. Just through it.

My brain seeks. Searches. Works through this transition.

Through the wardrobe.

Shifting of gears.

How to describe?

When we first moved to Uganda, seventeen years ago, someone mailed us the VHS tape of the movie Twister and I watched it over and over again. The movie was good, but it was the scenery that called me back. The camera shots of a wide, open sky. Tarmac roads. Scenes that reminded me of home. A place I understood.

Watching those landscapes soothed me then.

I remembered this feeling yesterday as I watched another movie on the airplane. There was a scene of arrival in an African airport.

And that same soothing, familiar feeling washed over me.

Africa. The Third World. Now the place I can negotiate and understand.

I am still shocked by this.

This being an alien.

Landing in Texas bears a deep familiarity. Volume and accent and a warmth of welcome. A manner of conversation and joking that I recognize and remember.

Football games. Church. Restaurants.

Kindness of strangers.

We have met such kindness in every culture we have passed through.

But when the kindness reaches you in a familiar accent it touches uniquely.

We have two nights, cozy in our hotel room, to sip hot tea. Rest our weary bodies.

And allow our brains to shift.

Tomorrow, we make one more flight.

To family. Hugs. Connection. Conversation.

Another home.

This life is good. Rich. Full.

Even from weariness. Especially from weariness.

His Strength sustains. And He is ever, more real. Always Present.

“…And they admitted that they were aliens and strangers on earth.”

“…they were longing for a better country---a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them.”

Hebrews 11:13b;16

The Gift of October 8th

It's a Rerun! Which, if you know me and my sister, is entirely appropriate :) This a post from one year ago today. Happy birthday Cherise!  

The suitcase made a tap-tapping sound as I bounced on it’s hard case. I stood on my tip-toes on the wobbly case, peering out the bedroom window. Mam-ma had just announced their arrival and I was eager for a glimpse.

I could see the car. And Daddy. But Mom was still sitting in the car, and she was in her pajamas and robe.

My hair was combed and tidied in barrettes. My clothes were clean and fresh. This moment was important and the joy of the impending introduction was reverberating through my tiny frame and making me jump and wriggle and hop.

I bounced down the hall and out the front door, with Mam-ma holding my hand. Warnings to be careful and quiet played in my ears.

Mom was just sitting and holding and I was curious about that. I pulled up on Daddy’s car door as he unloaded things from the trunk.

Mom smiled at me as I strained to see the bundle everyone was making such a fuss over.

“Come around over here, Cheryl. Quietly.”

I stood at the opened passenger door, relieved that Mom seemed to be just fine.

She pushed back the blanket with these words, “It’s YOUR baby, Cheryl! She’s here!”

It was... A Sister!

From moment one, I was enthralled.

She wriggled and stretched. I gasped, wide eyed.

My VERY OWN baby?!?!

I could hardly contain my joy.

I was called back to Mam-ma’s hand as Dad helped Mom inside. Everyone paraded down the hall to Mom and Dad’s room where Mom lay the tiny baby in the middle of their bed.

I was bounding with excitement.

Mom nodded at me and I (oh so carefully) climbed up beside the waking bundle.

The blanket was falling back and her legs and arms were squirming. She was tiny. And she didn’t have ANY hair. I smiled down at her and our eyes met for the first time.

She reached out towards me and grabbed a handful of my hair. And tugged. I startled with the sudden pain of a hair pull. Everyone laughed and calmed me, assuring me Sweet Sister meant no harm.

Despite the adult take on the situation, I was pretty sure I had seen the first smirk pass across that sweet baby face. (smile) I , to this day, adore that smirk.

It was the first of many moments that would be for us alone. Instantaneously, an understanding. We would know each other in a way no one else ever would.

Sisters.

My world changed forever on that day.

And I am so glad it did.

Happy Birthday, Cherise.

I am forever thankful for you.

Malaria

Jeff began to feel badly Wednesday night. We had worked through an emotionally exhausting day of counseling with those we love here. We wondered if his weariness was tied to the day’s events. But in the early dark, his discomfort turned an ugly corner and became severe. We both suspected malaria. (Jeff has had malaria seven times; I have had it four.)

After a sleepless night for both of us, we decided to use a malaria self test but the results were inconclusive. We tried a second test with much prayer that God would give us a clear answer. He did. The test was definitively positive. We began treatment immediately.

We are so thankful for the convenience of the malaria self tests. We were able to diagnose and treat from the comfort of our own bedroom, instead of facing a difficult clinic experience in town.

For those who are interested in specifics, malaria is spread through the bite of the female Anopheles mosquito. Mosquitoes bite an infected person then transfer the illness when they bite the next person. Malaria manifests in a cyclical fever. Your fever raises, then drops (producing chills), then levels before raising again. Through each cycle one maintains a very unique brand of headache and joint and body aches. Malaria is mean and it hurts in a very distinct way.

Malaria is common in this land. Many people suffer with it every day.

Malaria can be deadly if not treated. You don’t ever want to wait malaria out. When you know you have it, treatment should begin immediately.

We are blessed to have access to education, information and medicines to help our bodies fight this sickness. We are overwhelmingly grateful for our Lord, the Healer, who is at work on our behalf even before we know the disease is coursing in our blood.

Please pray for: 

*the meds to remove the parasites from Jeff’s body

*Jeff’s energy and strength to renew miraculously and quickly; malaria leaves a body anemic and weak

*wisdom as we prepare for furlough departure—so much to be done but with one player out we need clarity to choose where to put our limited energy

*Cheryl’s health to remain strong

 *the Cashlings to be well

We are so very thankful for: 

*the ability to buy medication

*medical professionals who research and study sicknesses like malaria so that the disease can be treated

*our home to convalesce in

 *every single prayer and pray-er who labors on behalf of our family 

Communing

Communing in the sacred space of grief is tender and soul affecting.

This poem by Shawn Brown speaks artistically poignant to the experience of grief. I am thankful for Shawn's heart and his willingness for me to share his writing here. 

Be blessed-

at a deep silent lake of grief


3 adult children sit on a low dock


dangling their feet in the water


it is dark and the dark is cold and clear


though a grey mist is forming


a fog that becomes more dense with distance


no way to make sense of the vague shapelessness there

a man stands waist deep in the utterly still water


hands at his sides


shoulders drooping


also seeking somewhere to focus his eyes

the stars have been coming out


one by one and in groups


to shine their light on the people


so many that it is remarkable


reflecting off the smooth lake


steady through the ripples


everyone is grateful for their light

and there are others at the shore


on the dock


toes in the water


arms open


children splashing lightly


playing around their legs


feeling the weight of the water


quietly understanding what their age allows

someone skips a stone


and all wonder when it will stop skipping


slide into the silent water and fall to the bottom

all the while the ripples spread, more stars come out, the stillness grows

no one tries to deny that soon they will be completely submerged


and that when they emerge


the water of that lake will never completely dry from their skin


and that they will return to the lake


often at first and always for the rest of their lives


and though grief is lonely


they will never be alone in their remembering


the ripples of this life will never stop spreading


(Shawn’s mother-in-law, Laura Reppart, is currently undergoing radiation treatments for a brain tumor. For prayer news and updates on the Reppart family you can go here. To see more of Shawn’s writings please visit his blog Circumstantially Wonderful .)

Remembering

“Let all the earth fear the Lord; let all the people of the world revere him.

For he spoke, and it came to be; he commanded, and it stood firm. The Lord foils the plans of the nations; he thwarts the purposes of the peoples. But the plans of the Lord stand firm forever, the purposes of his heart through all generations.

From heaven the Lord looks down and sees all mankind; from his dwelling place he watches all who live on earth—he who forms the hearts of all, who considers everything they do.

No king is saved by the size of his army; no warrior escapes by his great strength. A horse is a vain hope for deliverance; despite all its great strength it cannot save. But the eyes of the Lord are on those who fear him, on those whose hope is in his unfailing love, to deliver them from death and keep them alive in famine.

We wait in hope for the Lord; he is our help and our shield. In him our hearts rejoice, for we trust in his holy name. May your unfailing love rest upon us, O Lord, even as we put our hope in you.”

Psalm 33: 8-11 & 13-22

These last weeks have been full of remembering.

Childhood memories with life long friends.  Delightful reunions over burgers in Kampala. International, world changing events.  Rebecca. Airplane ferry flights. Friends who have relocated.

Some seasons are just like this, aren’t they? Heavy with memory. Deep with meaning.

Psalm 33 and 34 have poured into these deep recollections in my heart. And actively breathed life, repeatedly.

Today, with world news swirling and dear friends grieving and travel logistics pressing I read David’s words, out loud.

And it helps me to remember.

God.

Is.

Delivering.

Keeping.

Shielding.

Purposing.

Planning.

Foiling.

Thwarting.

Watching.

Considering.

Loving.

He is.

We wait in hope. 

We rejoice and trust.

And His unfailing love settles all over us.

On Women and Valor

Her name was Rebecca and I have been given the honor of sharing a part of her story over here. 

Please join me as Rachel Held Evans hosts a week of essays honoring valor in the hearts and lives of women. 

I'm thankful to be a part of honoring the courage of amazing sisters. 

Come join us! 

Eshet chayil!

Veranda Prayers

The transience is pressing in today. We walk alongside others in this international existence knowing change is just around the next corner. But despite the coming and the going a community is formed, through shared experience and treasured moments. A community that does hold. My thoughts this morning are with friends who are hurting many miles from where I sit.  My heart turns to these and other memories as we feel and love and experience, from a distance. 

Our conversation started over lunch. Our annual ladies retreat chattering, ministering around us. There were pictures. Funny stories of the grandkids. I was hearing of their reunion, all together in Kenya. And we were celebrating the miracle of that.

Then the tears.

There had been a loss. And a barrenness. And my heart broke too.

We made our way to a veranda, and tucked ourselves away. To pray.

To battle.

I treasure this. Anointing tears.

As we sat together, we were strengthened from the past experience.

Her first born and I consecrated the lawn of this retreat center one year long past. Annointed with our tears. And our frustrations. And our fears. Two very inward souls, trusting from some of our deepest places on that day. A rarity. And a treasure.

Her second born and I shared some tears too. From laughter. Soul renewing hilarity over mountain climbs and British soldiers and exhilarating exhaustion.

We had all shared a meal, some time later, and sat together in their living room in Nairobi. Broken shards of loss all in the middle of us. Sacred space. Painful space.

We didn’t know the outcome that evening as we sat with the fractured realities. Only faith. And hope. And surrender.

It hurt.

From those memories and many others, birthed communion. And trust. The familiarity of joining our hands and hearts in prayer.

On the retreat veranda, those years later, we could see the expanse of gorgeous rain forest just in front of us. Full of life. Full of renewal. Full of funny monkeys.

We believed and prayed. We asked God for New Life. We asked for Favor and for Grace. On that veranda, through some tears.

Right on the edge of all the glorious beauty.

This morning, some years later still, I sit on a veranda again.  Reading black and white words.

‘Inoperable tumor.’ ‘Aggressive cancer.’

And I am remembering. I am communing.

Many of my memories with these friends were moments when we spoke to each other, “You are not alone.”

Today, I pray That.

This scattered community that we are.  Defying the physical separation of miles and life circumstance and oceans. Reconvening around one Throne.

To be heard.

Tears. And Hope. Feeling all on the edge of the glorious beauty ahead.

Surrender.

It still hurts.

Here on this veranda, I join with the community of other believers in the beseeching and yielding of prayer.

And we are not alone.

(Updates and prayer news for the Reppart Family can be found here.)

Extravagantly Affordable

There are things, important things, that money cannot buy. But most everything has a cost anyway. Time. Energy. Control. We ‘pay’ and ‘spend’ something as we choose throughout our days.

I am blessed when I deliberately considering my ‘spending habits’ and how I speak about them.

“I feel like I accomplished NOTHING today.”

“Where did the time go?”

“That (moment, conversation, trip to town) felt like such a WASTE.”

“I wish I had done (fill in the blank) INSTEAD OF (fill in the blank).”

I am defining my circumstances from the standpoint of Me. 

My choices and my strength.

And I realize, I am depleting a shallow fund.

Not only that. 

But I am paying for something already purchased. Spending from a savings that is not mine.

Instead.

“…You are not your own; you were bought at a price….” 1Corinthians 6:19b-20a

I belong to Him.

“For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” Jeremiah 29:11

He has PLANS.

“But the plans of the LORD stand firm forever, the purposes of his heart through all generations.” Psalm 33:11

Plans that are not currently, nor will they ever be, failing.

Plans that are good.

And the most amazing thing. The most astounding truth.

His benefits arrive in the PIT. In the MUCK. Where we are DISEASED.

“Praise the Lord, O my Soul, and forget not all his benefits-

who forgives all your sins

and heals all your diseases,

who REDEEMS your life from the pit

and crowns you with love and compassion

who SATISFIES your desires with GOOD things

so that your youth is renewed like the eagles.” Psalm 103: 2-5

He finds us over our heads in the ugly and ridiculous and buys us right back.

To SATISFY.

He affords. So I can too.

I can afford

Time to read aloud to my children

 Stolen kisses in the kitchen

 Lingering cuddles

 Deep, healing breaths

 Quiet

 Memorizing scripture

 Forgiveness

 Writing

 Laughter

 Another cup of coffee

I cannot afford

Fret or worry

 Bitterness

 Self-pity

 What-ifs

 Regrets

Afforded unto Me

Coffee on the veranda in the cool of the morning

 Sweaters and cooling rains

 Time with sister-friend on my porch, in my house, in my world

 Time to write

 the book of Nehemiah

 Ability to read

 Watching the Olympics

 Time to think

 Being Home

 Today’s bread

 Opportunity to ‘not know’ but obey

 Witnessing initiative when (and where) I least expect it

 forgiveness

 Dinner time conversation

 Front row seat to God’s crafting, refining and shaping of the four Cashlings

 Every single hug

 Jeff

 “Praise the Lord, O my Soul, all my inmost being, praise his holy name.” Psalm 103:1

Load Up the Camels

“By faith Abraham, when called to go to a place he would later receive as his inheritance, obeyed and went, even though he did not know where he was going.”

Seventy-five year old Abram. And lovely Sarai.

 Right smack dab in the middle of a predictable, constant life.

Surrounded by family. Familiarity. The security of knowing.

Called to move.

“…to a land I will show you.”

I try to picture the hub-bub created by Abram’s active obedience to this interesting directive.

Packing up their tents and herding animals and loading camels---destination unknown.

They must have been questioned about their journey? Where were they heading?

What exactly was the plan?

How long would it take to get...Where?

The servants would be curious. The community would be interested. The family would need to know where to forward the mail.

I picture Abram overseeing the massive migration that was his household, fielding the questions and wondering himself.

Did he answer, “God knows.”

Or simply, “I don’t know.”

Or perhaps the spiritually astute, “God will provide.”

Responses that could all most simply be boiled down to, “No clue.”

I wonder how his lack of knowledge was received?

Abram was commanded to 'not know'. But obey.

On more than one very difficult occasion.

Desert travel. Barrenness. Attempted murder.

Many years filled with long seconds and minutes and days of not knowing.

This is resonating with me right now.

A recent season of planning and decision making has been thwarted and delayed and remains undecided, leaving me to answer when asked about our plans, 

"God knows."

And “I don’t know.”

And “God will provide.”

Yep.

“No clue.”

It is easier for me to ponder and esteem this type of faith in the setting of a distant desert among tents I’m neither packing nor setting up. Camels I am not smelling.

To keep that kind of not knowing but believing obedience somewhere far away from my ‘need to know’ existence.

When this lack of knowledge settles in my living space and gallops across my daytimer, I become a tad bit grumpy.

With a smidge of pout.

Is my knowing a right?  A necessity?

A privilege?

I need to more carefully distinguish the difference.

“All these people were still living by faith when they died. They did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance.”

I must remember who I am.

“And they admitted that they were aliens and strangers on earth.”

And who my God is.

“Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them.”

Believing my Father, who knows me and mine so very well, has a definitive plan.

My not knowing is allowing me to exercise a very particular faith muscle.

Building strength where fitness had waned.

Developing brawn I might need in the very near future.

You know.

To load the camels.

(scripture references in italics from Hebrews 11: 8,13,16b and Genesis 12:1b)

A Love Story by Cheryl Money Cash

Once Upon a Time

--I met a guy who was crazy passionate about living in Africa

--I found this mildly intriguing in an amusing sort of way

--when he asked for my number, I gave him the wrong one

--I did not hear from him for the rest of the year

Twice Upon a Time

--I saw the Africa guy from a distance and waved

--I dated other guys

--I wrote about the Africa guy in my journal

--one entry read: “Pray for Jeff Cash—money situation”

Twice Upon a Time Squared

--I traveled the West Coast over Christmas break and had the name “Jeff Cash” said to me (with glowing description to follow) on four different occasions in four different cities

--the last occurrence was in the home of his first cousin (hey Barb!) who showed me family pictures and said Jeff’s mom (hey Phyllis!) wanted to send a care package back to Texas with us if I would take it

Once Upon a Time

--it snowed and I didn’t meet Jeff’s Mom because she was ‘stuck on their mountain’

--I pondered what kind of life these interesting Northwesterners lived that they could actually employ the phrases, “I couldn’t make it. I was stuck on my mountain.”

--I wondered if I would ever hear from Jeff Cash again so I could tell him that I met his cousin

Thrice Upon a Time (or so)

--Jeff ventured to the University I attended to try and locate me

--I prayed for this Africa guy whose name would not leave my head (I figured it was the ‘Cash’ name that resonated)

--I thought about Africa and missions, intrigued and terrified

Once Upon a Time

--I happened to be at my apartment in the middle of the day

--at the exact same moment across town, Jeff ran into a mutual friend of ours who dialed my correct phone number so Jeff could leave me a message

--I answered the phone

--Jeff offered to show me pictures of Africa and tell me about his time there

Once Upon a Time

--we met and talked for hours

--he worked hard to recruit me to join an Africa team

--his ‘recruiting’ may have eventually involved roses, teddy bears and some kissing

--he was one heck of a recruiter

Once Upon a Time

--I got married and moved to Africa

And we lived….

Diligently. Laboriously. Passionately. Lovingly. Strenuously. Blessedly. Uncomfortably. Peacefully. Combatant-ly.  Hilariously. Adoringly. Thankfully.

Happily Ever After.