We're Home!

At the present moment, I am laying on my green couch in my own living room.  I just took one of the longest, hottest and best showers of my life.  My husband's welcome home gift to me was a professionally-cleaned house.  Have I mentioned lately that I married WAY above my pay grade?  It's great to be together as a family again.  I am joyful in spirit and weary in body.  Just wanted everyone to know that we made it home from Guatemala safely.  Just in case you are not yet sick of reading these blogs... here's one more entry I wrote on the plane ride home.  Thanks for praying us home.

At the time of this writing, we are on our Delta flight headed for home.  It’s a strange combination of feelings – as any of you know who have been on mission trips before.  At this point in the journey, our bodies are running on fumes.  The only way I know to describe the fatigue is “shaky tired.”  Yet our emotions are on overdrive.  We’ve begun to try to process all that we saw this week, and all that we saw God DO this week.  It was NOT an ordinary week. 

Our hearts are filled with anticipation to reunite with those we hold most dear back home, and at the same time, our hearts are already dreading the airport goodbyes with our newest friends.  This team assembled at Hartsfield last Friday as awkward strangers, but at departure time on that same sidewalk in a couple of hours… there will be sadness.  I’d give a kidney to anybody on this team. 

Individual strengths have been on display – it’s amazing to see how God assembles a team.  Some are nurturers, some are take-charge types, some are humble servants always in the background, and some are natural born leaders always up front.  I’ve learned from my two mission trips that you can check your snap judgments of your teammates right along with your luggage and forget about them.  One of God’s hobbies, I think, is shattering our stereotypes.  This week I watched a man I “figured” would be the most detached and stand-offish from the group jump into the kids program during the clinics like nobody’s business.  He blew up 487 million balloons and turned them into animals if he did ONE.  An amazing man.

I watched another member of our team, an accomplished airline pilot, heap praise on a college kid among us who showed the pilot how to fly in a counseling station.  I watched a mother on our team weep repeatedly in a counseling station as the life circumstances of each patient took another chunk out of her heart.  She confided in me later that she believes her emotions are “getting in the way” of her effectiveness.  I beg to differ.  I think it’s exactly why God HAD her in those counseling stations.  How often do you think a Guatemalan villager experiences the tears of a gringo?  Isn’t that a testament of the unity of God’s global church?

It will take me a couple of weeks to “decompress”.  I learned that last year.  My emotions will be all over the place during that time (and not from hormonal swings this time!)  As is my tendency, I will journal my way through those times.  Some I will choose to share with you, and others will be just between God and me.

I wanted to leave you today with one last God story.  I wanted to write it last night, but I just couldn’t.  It was too raw and my heart needed some time to just treasure the moment.

During the final moments of Clinic 4, our last one of the week, I finished up in my counseling station a few precious minutes before the others.  I immediately seized the opportunity to grab my camera and take some shots of a “clinic in action” to share with all of you on the blog.  I hastily laid my Bible and my Journal down on the concrete floor beside my counseling station and ran around the room snapping photos as fast as I could go.  I was thrilled to be able to do that.  Watching the dentist teach the village kids how to brush their teeth was priceless!

Once a clinic is over, it’s all-hands-on-deck for repacking and reloading the supplies and equipment back into the fleet of Suburbans.  It’s a frenzied time.  But that day was different.  The mission team was treated to COLD beverages from a restaurant about a “block” down the street.  We had packed coolers full of lunch meat and bread to eat, but to have a cold Coke to go with it felt like a day at the spa!  We were laughing and talking and sharing stories a mile a minute.  The Guatemalan Ministry staff stayed behind to pack everything up – just to serve US.  When they were done, they drove the Suburbans to the front of the restaurant to save us the trouble of back-tracking.

About an hour into the five hour drive home… I reached into my backpack to get my bible and journal to start studying and asking God what He wanted me to share on the blog.  That’s when the wave of nausea hit me.  I immediately knew in my gut that my Bible and Journal never made it back into my backpack after my “photography shoot.” 

I cannot describe to you to the depth of my anguish in that moment.  The Journal was one I use exclusively in Guatemala.  It had two years worth of Clinic Notes and Devotion Notes from Dr. Hermann’s Worship Time with us each morning.  The name of  every single patient I had seen the last two years in the counseling stations were written in that journal, along with a brief synopsis of their circumstances.

And my Bible.  It was the one held together by heavy-duty Scotch Packing Tape.  (I would have used Duct Tape, but I didn’t want to cover up the words “Holy Bible” on the binding.)  The fake leather is fraying at the corners.  It’s certainly not pretty to the casual observer, but to me, it is beautiful.  Like most Americans, I have plenty of other Bibles.  I have newer ones and bigger ones and ones with helpful study notes.  But THIS was my travel bible.  Anytime I’ve left home in the last 15 years and needed to have a Bible with me, THIS was the one I took.  It’s got six years of BSF notes written in it.  It’s been to every Bible Study I’ve taken, and every Bible Study I’ve tried to lead during those years.

In short, this Bible has been where I’ve been… both physically AND emotionally.  I was brokenhearted in the back seat of that Suburban. 

We did all the things you do when you realize something valuable is missing.  We checked with all the other team members to see if someone picked it up.  We checked all the Clinic Supply Bins, once we arrived back at the Ministry Center, to see if someone had crammed it in there while packing up.  No luck.  It was just gone.  I knew in all likelihood, it had been swiped… perhaps by a child hoping to sell it.

With the combination of extreme fatigue, heightened emotion from four clinics in rapid succession, and the loss of my beloved Bible… I will confess that I sat down in the Ministry Center and had myself a cry.  I was sitting at a table by myself in the common area at the time.  I’m not much of a crier, so when I do… it’s more of a silent thing.  Just tears spilling over the banks and down my cheeks.  In the Ministry Center, there is NO WHERE to go to have a private moment, so I just sat where I was and gave in to the emotion.  Unfortunately, Braxton strolled up in that moment.  He’s not used to seeing his mom cry, so when he realized how upset I was over my bible… his banks flooded too.  We were a pitiful pair!  So we decided to do what we’ve done a lot of this week.  We prayed that God would help us find my Bible.  Our small group family member, Cameron, joined us in that prayer.  THEN we called it a night.

The next day, our team leader (TG) told me that she had told Dr. Hermann about the Bible and he was going to make some phone calls.  I’ll confess that it didn’t spark much hope in me.

Three hours later, word came that my Bible and my Journal had been found back in the village of San Marco!!  Oh ye of little faith!  The very BEST part of this whole ordeal was seeing my son’s reaction to the news.  He immediately connected our prayer to the miracle of finding the Bible.  THANK YOU JESUS!  It may sound like a small thing to you, but to a parent anxious to see signs of spiritual growth in her child… it was a gift. 

At that point, we had no idea how the Bible would make its way back to ME from a village five hours away (it’s not like you can just throw it in a FedEx package and drop it in the mail.)  But I wasn’t even worried about that part.  I was JOYFUL just knowing that what was lost had been found.  I figured it would take a few weeks to make its way home to me in Atlanta.

But our personal miracle wasn’t over yet.  At our celebration dinner on our last night in Guatemala (the Guatemalan Ministry Staff traditionally grills out for us), TG casually strolled up to me and put a plastic bag in my hand.  It was a black bag, so I didn’t immediately make the connection.  But it didn’t take long.  My Bible and my Journal were back in my hands!  I felt like that verse of scripture in Matthew 13:44 that says,  The Kingdom of Heaven is like treasure hidden in a field.  When a man found it, he hid it again and then in his joy went and sold all he had and bought that field.    “How in the WORLD?” I asked her when I finally stopped jumping up and down.  GET THIS.

A 2^nd dentist, (Monica), who occasionally volunteers some of her time to the Ministry, was working with another team out in the villages.  She had called the Ministry Center to ask permission to run a personal errand to the village of San Pablo at the end of the day’s clinic.  Dr. Hermann’s brother (Dietrich) helps coordinate the staff, so he gave her permission to do her errand.  Shortly thereafter, Dietrich was pulled into the communication loop over my missing Bible.  He was allowed to place the last piece into the jigsaw puzzle God was putting together.  When he heard about my Bible, and that it had been found in San Marco... he realized that Monica would be within shouting distance of San Marco as she ran her personal errand.  He just started laughing with joy over how God goes before us and answers our prayers.  He called Monica and asked her to pick up the Bible from the village pastor before returning to the Ministry Center. 

Twenty-Four Hours after praying about my missing Bible, I was clutching it to my chest.  Perhaps having not seen the villages for yourself, you can’t appreciate the magnitude of that miracle.  But I can.  God is personal and loving and He answered the prayer of a weepy mom and two young men who took the time to pray.  The sheer sweetness of it buckled my knees.

You can be cynical if you want to, but I’m sick of not giving God credit for the things He does for me every single day.  I don’t want to live that way anymore.  I want to open my eyes to the workings of my Father in the world around me.  I want to open my eyes in AMERICA.   I want to experience His grace EVERY day, not just for one week in Guatemala.

So as the flight attendants hustle me off this computer, as we make our initial approach back into Hartsfield-Jackson, I want to thank you for praying for us while we were gone.  I value prayer MORE than I did a week ago.  I hope I’ll be able to say that same thing next Friday. 

Clinic 4 - Visual Effects

It's our last night in Guatemala.  It's been an amazing trip, filled with God moments.  There are more stories to tell and more words to write, but tonight I am too weary to blog.  I thought instead I would treat you to the sights of a typical clinic.  You'll see pictures of a pharmacy, counseling stations, doctors in action, the children's program in full swing, the eye clinic, and the dentist giving a hygiene lesson to the kids.  The Guatemalan staff does an amazing job of transporting all these supplies from Point A to Point B!  

Please pray for a safe journey home for all of us tomorrow.  And know that we have prayed faithfully for YOU, our supporters, while we have been here.

Good night everybody!

Keith and Thayer... we're looking forward to airport hugs!!!

Clinic 3: The Other Side of the Lake

Tuesday brought an incredible treat for the Mission Team.  After devotion, we boarded a boat – along with everything needed for our mobile clinic – and LITERALLY journeyed to the other side of the lake.  It brought breathtaking views and was just a surreal experience given all the poverty we’ve been exposed to this week. 

I don’t mean to over-spiritualize it, but I found it impossible not to think of the places in scripture where Jesus and His disciples got in a boat and crossed to the other side of the lake.  I sat on the roof of the boat, with the wind in my face trying to imagine what it would have been like to be on a boat with JESUS.  Did He and the disciples laugh a lot the way our team does when we travel?  How did they decompress after a particularly emotional day?  What would it have been like to be IN the boat when Jesus sat up and commanded the wind and the waves to “BE STILL”?

The thing I love most about mission trips is that the Bible seems to come to LIFE before my very eyes.  I was soon to experience another example of that in the clinics.

When we arrived, there was a sense that this clinic would not be like the others.  I don’t know how to describe it really.  The village was just “rougher” – there was a tangible sense that light was not present.  Despite the fact that the landscape of the village was beautiful nestled by the lake, the air had an oppressed feel to it.  The children appeared poorer.  I watched the children brutalize each other… I don’t mean just children at play with a little rough-housing.  I watched older children kick younger ones while they were on the ground.   It was pitiful.  The workers in the Children’s Program drew the hardest duty during Clinic Three. 

But they were amazing.  It’s a beautiful thing to watch light enter a dark place.  Somehow by God’s grace, organized games actually occurred.  Hugs were given out in abundance, and smiles were given freely.

Back in the counseling stations I had two memorable experiences.  We were set up in an actual school, rather than the village church for this clinic.  Both my highlights of the day were teachers.  The first was a lady named Lillianna.  Pay careful attention to her name.  She was a first grade teacher at the village school.  She had a gentle smile and teddy bear earrings in her ears.  Quintessential first grade teacher, a beautiful lady, and as lost as she could be.  But God provided the right conversation for us to begin.  I told Lillianna how much my own first grade teacher had meant to me personally, over 40 years ago.  You see, my mother died of cancer in November  of my first grade year in school.  My teacher, Mrs. Housend, was amazing.  She went so far above and beyond the call of duty for me that year – I never went more than an hour without a hug from her.  If my pigtails weren’t straight when I arrived at school, she fixed ‘em for me.  Mrs. Housend’s first name?  Lillie Ann.  How incredibly COOL is that?  God speaks to us in ways we can understand.  He basically sent me a billboard in the counseling station that day.  By the time I had finished my story, Lillianna was at ease with me.  We then entered a conversation about the gospel very naturally.  The Spirit moved in those moments and Lillianna is a new sister of mine in Christ.  Praise be to God!

The second highlight of the day was with a male Kindergarten teacher named Juan.  Remember how I told you that the Bible seems to come to life for me in Guatemala?  Juan knew quite a bit about God.  He credited Him as the Creator and the Author of Life.  Juan was a praying man, but he did not know Jesus.  As God would have it, Juan was bilingual.  Not only did he speak the native Mayan language of the village, he was also fluent in Spanish.  THIS fact enabled me to put a Spanish New Testament in his hands.  We opened our bibles together to the book of Romans, and God allowed me to escort Juan down the Roman Road.  I’m sure you are all familiar with it, so I won’t repeat it here.  But those six verses of scripture, scattered throughout the book of Romans, opened Juan’s heart to the gospel.  He enthusiastically accepted Christ as his Savior.  As we finished praying, Juan said, “Thank you for coming to our village.  I have never had a bible.  And today I learned something new and exciting.”  - My mind went to the place in scripture where Priscilla and Aquila sat Apollos down and explained the WHOLE gospel message to him.  Before that, Apollos’ knowledge of God was GOOD, but incomplete.  (It’s in Acts 18 if you’d like to read the story for yourself.)

As Juan departed, I put a bookmark in his new bible at the book of John.  I told him that God had written a letter in the bible just for him, and he should start his reading THERE.  He smiled a big Kindergarten Teacher smile as he walked away, his new bible clutched to his chest.

God is Great.  The village school now has at least two lights shining in its midst.  We boarded our boat physically weary, but uplifted by all that God had done in the village that day.

Clinic Two - Are We There Yet?

Monday was a really long WEEK, but sometimes I think God issues a physical challenge to us in order to help us see how weak our Spirit truly is compared to the pull of our Flesh.  I don’t think He does it to condemn us, but rather to help us grow in our dependency on Him and in our understanding of how UNholy we truly are.

We began our day with a devotional that reminded us that we, as Christians, are used by God to be GUIDES in the world to others.  We studied the story of Philip and the Ethiopian in Acts chapter 8.  I love the VERB in verse 30 of that passage.  When the Spirit of the LORD told Philip to approach the chariot of the eunuch, it says that Philip RAN.  Oh that we would be the kind of followers of Christ who would RUN to obey the promptings of God!  But all too often, I (speaking only for myself) spend so much time analyzing whether or not the prompting was actually from GOD, that I miss the window to run, walk, or ACT at all.  Or worse yet, I know deep within me that a prompting IS from God but talk myself out of acting on it because of fear.  (Fear that someone will think I’m weird, or think I'm “too much” or just fear that it will take more time than I am willing to give it in the moment.) THAT is called seeking your "glory" from man rather than from God.  Crap.

It isn’t like that here.  The volume on God’s voice seems to be turned UP… probably because the everyday American distractions are muted.   Here we are DESPERATE to obey the promptings of God – ANY prompting – because as we sit in a counseling station knee to knee with a Guatemalan villager, we realize we have NOTHING to offer and NOTHING to lose.  If God doesn’t speak to us, and if we don’t act… absolutely nothing of value happens.  At that point the trip is reduced to a really bad vacation.  Our mission trip is absolutely focused on introducing Christ to people who do not know Him.  But it isn’t just about getting villagers to “repeat the sinners’ prayer” – it’s about being a guide to them on their journey, at whatever point they happen to be.  We aren’t offering religion.  There’s an abundance of that in the villages already.  We are trying to introduce the ONE God in the entire world that seeks relationship with His worshipers.  Sometimes they don’t need an introduction.  Sometimes they already know Jesus, and instead just need an empathetic listener, a hug, and a word of encouragement to stay connected to God.

Monday was a 14 hour work day.  After devotion we loaded the fleet of Suburbans with everything we needed for three medical clincs and two overnight stays in the villages.  It was a mountain of supplies, cots, and sleeping bags.  We drove – FOREVER.  The journey was not for the faint of heart.  We drove on narrow mountain roads; the face of the mountain on one side, steep drop-offs on the other.  The road itself reminded me of old M*A*S*H reruns on TV.  You know… the ones where Radar O’Reilly had to drive the jeep while dodging bullets and potholes made from bombs!  I can’t vouch for the others, but I can testify that my own prayer life deepened significantly on the trip.

English Translation: "Dangerous Curves!"

We arrived in the village at long last, weary – but with a full clinic ahead of us.  I am ashamed to admit that my heart sank when I saw the size of the crowd waiting for us. I knew it would be hours still before we could rest.  Remember in Matthew 14 after Jesus learned that his cousin, John-the-Baptist, had been beheaded?  He was looking for a solitary place to grieve and to pray so he got in a boat to escape the crowd.  Yet when He arrived on the other side of the lake, the crowd had beaten Him there.  Scripture says that Jesus looked on the crowd with COMPASSION. – I wish I was more like Jesus.  When I looked at the crowds in the clinic waiting room, I began calculating how much time stood between me and my cot.  (Not my room at the Ritz – just my cot in an open room shared with 21 other people.  Somehow that deepens the degree of my selfishness.)   I didn’t see PEOPLE, I saw inconvenience.  Mission trips aren't just about the people we come to serve.  The trip is also very much about the relationship of the missionary with her God.

I immediately felt ashamed of my internal response – afterall, this is exactly what I had signed up for as a member of a Mission Team!  I asked God to change my perspective and fill my heart with love for His Guatemalan children who were likely weary themselves from waiting all day for us to arrive.  And THEY were also sick.

It was a Mayan village – meaning that each counseling station needed TWO interpreters: one to translate English into Spanish, and another to translate the Spanish into the specific Mayan dialect of that village.  It sometimes felt like an exercise in futility!  But being in a counseling station is not supposed to be an exercise of human performance – good or bad.  It is simply about being AVAILABLE to God in the moment and having intimacy with Him so that you can HEAR His voice prompting you with questions and insights.  Besides, I’m pretty sure God knows ALL the languages, and thus isn’t bothered by our translation struggles.

Around 10pm (body clock time), I met a man named Nelson.  He came to the clinic seeking help for severe back pain.  He needs an MRI – which means he needs a miracle.  The nearest hospital is in Guatemala City… hours away from the village.  He can’t afford the transportation cost to get there, can’t afford a place to stay upon arrival, and certainly can’t afford the test even if he COULD get there.  Nelson hasn’t been able to work for over a year because of his back pain.  Money is a problem for the family, and Nelson believes his wife has lost respect for him.  They have a 7 year-old son.  Nelson is a Christ-follower, the real deal.  He continues to plug in to the body of Christ in the village church each week.  He takes his son to church to make sure he hears TRUTH.  His wife has stopped going to church with the family. 

Nelson asked us to pray for his back to heal – but more for the restoration of his family.  He is a humble servant who believes God has a purpose for all this suffering in his life.  (At some point in the counseling station, I became the soul-sick patient and Nelson became the missionary.)

So is Nelson’s case hopeless?  I might have been tempted to think so a few years ago, but not anymore.  Nelson simply needs a miracle.  Dr. Hermann is fond of saying that “our prayers will never cause God to do anything He does not want to do.  But some of the things God LONGS to do – He will NOT do unless we pray.”

Case In Point: Same Clinc.  Same Tired Crew.  Dr. Hermann had a patient with a lump in her breast - maybe a cyst, maybe a tumor.  She needed a miracle.  She got one.  Following a time of  prayer, the lump was gone.  The pain was gone.  God chose to heal that lady.  There are so many stories like that during the clinics, it begins to change a person’s viewpoint about miracles.  (Well ok, it has changed MINE.)  Does God still do miracles?  Oh yes sir… He absolutely does!  (I hope someone out there who may be reading this blog - and needs a miracle of SOME sort - will be encouraged by that.  Americans need miracles too.)

I don’t know why SHE got a miracle and Nelson did not.  But it ain’t over yet.  In Luke 11:9, scripture urges us to pray with persistence.  “And so I tell you, keep on asking and  you will receive what you ask for.  Keep on seeking and you will find.  Keep on knocking and the door will be opened to you.”    So tonight, as I type the words for this blog, I do so weary in body – but strong in Spirit for Nelson.  His situation is NOT hopeless.  But I need you to pray WITH me.  Let’s believe God for that miracle, understanding that God sees a bigger picture than we do and that God’s timing is perfect.  But we are His children, and He lets us ask.  Please… join me in the asking.

Why So Downcast?

I woke up at 4:00 this morning and couldn’t go back to sleep.  Just had a heaviness in my heart for the afternoon I knew was ahead.  Our tradition on Sundays in Guatemala is to attend church at Vida Real, Dr. Hermann’s home church.  THAT was awesome.  The sanctuary was filled to overflowing, the praise and worship TUNES were familiar so we just belted them out in English right along with the Spanish crowd.  Braxton stood in the aisle at one point to RECORD one song in particular… Mighty to Save – his Daddy’s favorite!  It wasn’t as good as Shea sings it Honey, but it was still awfully good!  Know that we were thinking of you the whole time!

After church, we had lunch in Antigua and then headed to the Orphanage.  THAT was the source of my heavy heart this morning.  Last year, the orphanage trip was emotionally the most difficult part of the week for me.  It’s hard to see row after row of cribs, and literally hundreds of kids in one compound that the world has labeled as “unwanted.”  The mother in me struggles with that. 

Given that my day started pretty early, I grabbed my Bible and started reading in the Psalms.  Not really knowing where to start, I just turned to the place I always turn when I’m feeling blue.  Psalm 42: “Why are you downcast O my soul?  Why so disturbed within me?  Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God.”   A little further down in that passage, it says “My soul IS downcast within me,”  I’ve always appreciated that inclusion by the Psalmist, because sometimes – even though we are COMMANDED to rejoice in the Lord ALWAYS – sometimes a person’s soul is just dad-blamed downcast ANYWAY.  It just IS.  The Psalms are FULL of our real human condition.

The passage goes on to say, “therefore I will remember you from the land of the Jordan, the heights of Hermon…”  For reasons I can’t explain, I never really made it past that phrase.  I meditated on the fact that the scripture is urging us to remember God’s PAST faithfulness to us, and to be ENCOURAGED by that.  I thought about “the land of the Jordan” – all those GREAT Bible Stories about God parting the waters of the Jordan River so the Israelites could cross over into the Promised Land on dry ground.  I recalled how the Israelites took 12 stones from the bottom of the Jordan to make a monument to God’s faithfulness.  Who could forget the battle of Jericho, right after they crossed the River?  Amazing stories of God’s power flooded my mind just from the mere mention of the words “the land of the Jordan.” 

I paused in my Spirit and just thanked God that He has a plan and a Promised Land for each and every orphan that I would meet and hug today.  I stood up from my spot in the dining area of the Ministry Center – which was obviously not crowded in the wee hours of the morning – to go get another cup of coffee.  I sat back down, ready to move on to another Psalm.  But my eyes kept coming back to that one phrase listed above.  Can’t say that I’d ever paid much attention to what came AFTER the words “the land of the Jordan.”   Maybe it’s because I had no idea what “the heights of Hermon” even MEANT.  But today it drew my attention over and over again, - I could NOT seem to turn the page, despite my desire to do so.  I finally relented and followed the cross-references to Deuteronomy 3.  After backing up a couple of chapters and reading, I learned a few interesting things.  Remember how God gave the Israelites SOME land “East of the Jordan?”  That’s really what “the heights of Hermon” is talking about in Psalm 42.  But some of the specific wording really caught my attention. 

“At that time, we took all his cities.  There was not one of the sixty cities that we did not take from them.  All these cities were fortified with high walls and with gates and bars.”     As soon as I read that sentence in Deuteronomy 3, I had a flashback to last year’s orphanage visit.  See if you can figure out WHY my mind flashed back to that picture…

This picture is the view from INSIDE the Baby/Toddler area of the Orphanage.  The gates and bars and walls keep the little guys segregated from the other areas of the compound.

God is busy showing me this week that He is BIGGER than the things that worry me.  He is BIGGER than the things that make my soul “downcast.”  He is BIGGER than the hopelessness of orphanages.  I think He was making a point to me with that scripture about the high walls and gates and bars that He is working a plan right NOW for those orphans... not just for their FUTURE "Promised Land."  We heard a cool story today from one of the orphanage workers.  She's an American in her late 50's - recently divorced.  Lived her whole life in Alabama.  Now she's devoting HER life to making life better for these orphans every single day.  - God is BIGGER, and He's working NOW.  Gates and Bars and Walls are nothing to Him.

He is BIGGER than the things back home that tug at my heart this week while I am in Guatemala ( a beloved mentor with a cancer recurrence, a best friend caring for aging parents with health challenges, a nephew with some scary symptoms that require neurologists and too many ambulance rides.)  OUR job is to invite Him into those places with our prayers, and to RESPOND in obedience when He gives us marching orders.  Today my orders were to get off the bus in the heaviest rainfall I have ever experienced in my entire life. 

We couldn’t play outside like we did last year – so we just took the party inside.  We were NOT going to be deterred.  It was SO worth it.  I think these pictures will attest to that.

Tomorrow we depart for three days in the villages.  Please step up the prayers for this part of our journey.  We won’t be back to the Ministry Center until late Wednesday night, so it’ll be Thursday before I get to post another update. 

He’s BIGGER.  He IS.  

Clinic One - Jesus Loves Me

Today was just a fabulous day!  We began our day with a devotion that reminded us of the POWER of prayer.  In case any of my college-aged friends from NFUMC happen to be reading this – the first passage of scripture we studied this morning was from 2 Chronicles!!  I thought that was pretty cool, and immediately thought of all of you.  (We’ve been studying 2 Chronicles together in the month of May.)  Our focal passage today was 2 Chronicles 7:14-15 “ If my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then will I hear from heaven and will forgive their sin and will heal their land.”  We spoke at length about the fact that we don’t pray because we think WE have the power to change things ourselves.  We are NOT humble people.  We must learn to acknowledge that God is God and we are not!  Amen Dr. Hermann, and thank you for the reminder to pray – about everything!

I’ve always classified myself as a “country girl,” but today I traveled to a place that makes my hometown of Lumber City, Georgia look like a booming metropolis.  We traveled WAY up into the mountains to today’s village.  The altitude was high, and the fields were literally carved into the slopes of the mountains.  There are no John Deere’s here Dad.  All planting and harvesting is done by hand.  The poverty is unimaginable.  But today we had the privilege of partnering with God and infusing some hope into the community.

We saw very few unbelievers today, but we saw MANY discouraged saints – beaten down by harsh living conditions and difficult circumstances.  It was an incredible joy and privilege to simply extend a hand or a hug, and to bend the knee in prayer on their behalf.

The day netted many stories, but one stood out above all the rest to me personally.  Allow me to introduce you to Emelda.  She is a wife and a mother and a fellow sojourner.  Today she was feeling sick in her stomach, but even more sick in her spirit.

 As we began to talk about Jesus and His very personal love for each of one of us, her shoulders noticeably sagged.  She told me that she was feeling far from God, although she had been faithful to keep up her church attendance.  When I asked her if she had any idea why that distance had crept in, she began to talk about an incident that had produced a debilitating spirit of FEAR in her.  The incident itself was not particularly dramatic, but the fear was very real and very pervasive.  Emelda is a singer.  She has been gifted by God for the building up of His church, and she used to sing frequently in her church, much to the delight of all its members.  Her eyes shone when she described it to us.  But the fear that had gripped her a couple of years ago had left her afraid and powerless to stand before others to sing.  She admitted that she believed THIS had caused the distance she felt from her Heavenly Father.

Not being a skilled therapist – or a skilled ANYTHING really – I had absolutely nothing to offer Emelda, so I simply asked if I could pray for her.  We gathered around her: me, a translator, and a couple of other team members.  And we prayed, HARD.  We prayed that God would free her from this spirit of FEAR, the same way Jesus freed people from demons in the Gospel accounts.  We reminded ourselves through prayer that God is bigger than our fears.  We reminded ourselves that EVERY good and perfect gift comes from above, and that God had clearly gifted Emelda with the ability to sing.   We reminded ourselves of the scriptures that tell us that we are the LIGHT of the world, and light should never be hidden.  As we concluded the prayer, I knelt down on the filthy concrete floor directly in front of Emelda.  I grasped her hands in mine and put my face close to hers.  I locked eyes with her and instructed her to SING.  She stared at me like I was absolutely crazy.  I said it again… “Sing just for ME, an audience of one – just a chorus of a song you love.”  She glanced nervously over at the translator, her eyes begging for help.  The translator simply nodded and repeated the instructions. There was a long silence, but I kept staring right at her refusing to let her eyes or her hands go.  She opened her mouth a tiny bit; the words came out in a gentle whisper – but they came out.  I squeezed her hands and kept smiling.  She began to get some momentum.  She sang for maybe 30 seconds – the last few with a clear, strong voice.  When she stopped, she had the biggest smile on her face!  I immediately asked her if she knew any children’s songs.  She shook her head no, but I stayed put.  This time I  began to sing “Jesus Loves Me This I Know, For The Bible Tells Me So.  Little Ones To Him Belong, They Are Weak But He Is Strong.”     

I had been watching her eyes for any signs of understanding, but they seemed blank to me.  So I let my voice trail off before the chorus.  I released her hands and patted her knee as I began to raise myself up off the floor.  As soon as she realized I wasn’t going to finish the song, her voice began to sing the chorus in Spanish... in absolute PERFECT pitch.  “Yes Jesus Loves Me…”   I felt a lump come into my throat and chills covered my arms.  I sank back down to the floor in front of her and we finished the song TOGETHER…she in Spanish, and me in English.  "Yes Jesus Loves Me.  Yes Jesus Loves Me, For The Bible Tells Me So."    Honestly, it was one of the coolest experiences of my life.  As I looked around our little circle – every eye was brimming with tears.

God Himself had visited our circle.  You just KNOW it when it happens.

Enjoy these snapshots of our day.  And please keep praying for us!

We Have Arrived!

We have arrived safely in Guatemala, and to the Ministry Center that will be our “base camp” for the week.  We had a very smooth trip, meaning that every ONE and every THING arrived in one piece.  We are grateful to God for that.  It is not easy to move 23 people and 30 pieces of checked baggage through all the necessary hoops at Hartsfield and Guatemala.  Today alone, we have been transported by car, train, plane, and bus.  AND we have loaded/unloaded 30 bags each time.  Our trip leader, TG,  has a ton of responsibility just to GET us all here!

Being the basketball fan that I am, I’m interpreting my early morning encounters as simply, “THE FAVOR OF THE LORD!”  In the Delta Crown Room, as Braxton and I were saying our farewells to Keith and Thayer, Bobby Cremins came and sat down in the chairs adjacent to us.  We had a nice little chat with him about his recent knee replacement surgery.  We were big fans of his when he was the head men’s basketball coach at Ga. Tech.

As Braxton and I were walking to our gate on the international concourse, I connected with God in my spirit and just said… “Thanks.  That was really cool seeing Coach Cremins”  I’ve been trying to develop the HABIT of expressing thanks more in my life; not just to the people in my circle but to God Himself – for the little things.  I think God really likes it when we do that.  How do I know?

When we got to Gate 18 and sat down, I glanced across the aisle at Gate 17 and noticed that its destination was Honolulu.  Who did I see pacing and talking on his cell phone?  Roy Williams, the head basketball coach of UNC!  I just laughed out loud.  God was purely showing off for me now.  While I’ve always been an ACC basketball fan, I now have a particular interest in UNC, as our nephew is a freshman there this year.  He’s a scholarship quarterback, but he’s got a sweet jumpshot as well.  So, since God was smiling on me today – I just got up out of my chair and introduced myself to Coach Williams.  He’s a delightful man, and we had a nice chat about Kanler.  If you happen to see this post Kanler… he’s expecting a visit from you in his office.  Might not hurt for YOU to connect with God in your spirit and say a quick “thanks”… grin.

So the day started well, and the traveling was easy.  Being a sophomore has its advantages.  The Ministry Center feels like home this time.  I know where everything is, and what all the rules are.  Today we have a gentle breeze, and cool temps.  My jeans and long sleeves feel just right.  Here are a couple of shots I took on the drive from the airport to the Ministry Center, just as a reminder that we are NOT in Kansas anymore. 

It’s not intended to be a scary thing – just a realistic and truthful description of where we are.  One of my favorite comforting sites, once we arrived at the Ministry Center, were the guard dogs Nina and Stark.  They patrol the Center and keep it safe for the Missionaries!  Those dogs take me back to my pigtailed days, growing up on the farm in deep south Georgia. 

My best friend during my formative years was a German Shepherd named Raider.  On long summer days, Raider took every step I took.  Our favorite game was “Corn Bin Baseball.”  I’d don my bright blue softball glove and grab a tennis ball.  The pitcher’s mound was a scuff mark I’d made with my bare feet in the red Georgia clay.  I was the star pitcher, and Raider was the Gold Glove outfielder.  I’d hurl the tennis ball against the door of the Corn Bin and it was game ON!  If the ball made it past me on the richoet, Raider was on it like white on rice.  He didn’t have a very good arm, but he got the ball back to the mound eventually.  He was a faithful companion.

Seeing Nina and Stark gives me yet another reason to say a quick prayer of gratitude to God… for a sweet memory, and for HIS hand of protection on us while we are in Guatemala.  In Psalm 5:11-12, it says:


But let all who take refuge in you be glad; let them ever sing for joy.  Spread your protection over them, that those who love your name may rejoice in you.  For surely, O LORD, you bless the righteous; you surround them with your favor as with a shield.

God has provided a safe environment for us, SO THAT, we can focus on the job He sent us to do.  During our three hour flight, I read a passage that helped me focus on exactly that.  It’s Isaiah 41:17,18,20.


"When the poor and needy search for water and there is none, and their tongues are parched from thirst, then I, the LORD, will answer them.  I, the God of Israel, will never abandon them.  I will open up rivers for them on the high plateaus.  I will give them fountains of water in the valleys.  I will fill the desert with pools of water.  Rivers fed by springs will flow across the parched ground.  I am doing this so all who see this miracle will understand what it means - that it is the LORD who has done this,   the Holy One of Israel who created it."


One of our objectives is certainly to provide tangible medical care to the people in the villages. But the reality is, they will likely get sick again.  Our more IMPORTANT objective  is to help satisfy their SPIRITUAL thirst.  God is sending US - plain ole, unimpressive, uncredentialed US - to "open up rivers for them on the high plateaus."  


Please pray that we will serve the people well.  Pray that we will LISTEN to God's instructions for each patient.  Opening the fountain of living water doesn't have a boilerplate blueprint.  It requires different things for different people.  Pray that we will treat each villager with the love and respect he or she deserves as an image-bearer of God.


And pray that we will do it ALL in such a way that the villagers will KNOW  "that it is the LORD who has done this, the Holy One of Israel who created it."  


Tomorrow is Clinic One of Four!  To God be All the Glory!!