Get in Shape, Girl!!!

Do you all remember that commercial for the ribbon exercise kit? Please tell me someone had that exercise video...take me back to the 80's!

So I was talking with some friends about exercising. We were basically bashing exercise because it takes so long to get into shape, like weeks. But then, unfortunately, it takes one or two times off to get out of shape. This is the main reason why I find myself loathing exercise. So I get on the bitter bus and talk about how hard it is and come up with excuses why I don't.

A light bulb came on today as I was thinking about this. I realized, huh, my relationship with God is a lot like my relationship with exercising. I need Him to keep healthy, but I don't just need Him in doses, I need to spend time with Him regularly. That's the only way I can "stay in shape" spiritually.

For so many years I've lived my spiritual life in a "if only..." syndrome. I thought, if only I could get to that certain point when I would be so spiritual I wouldn't really need God or life would just be easier. Just like my "if only I could get to that certain size, then I could stop exercising" syndrome. Well, friends, the deeper I get in my relationship with God the more I realize my need for Him. Just like, the older my body gets, the more attention I have to give to it!

I'm realizing that these two things require a lifestyle change. I don't want my motivation for exercising to be that I fit into those pre-third-baby pants. I want to take care of the vessel that God blessed me with, to honor Him. And I don't want my spiritual life to be a chore either. I long for a deeper sense of who I am as God's child, what does that mean? I want to desire spending time with Him. I think if I truly believed in how much He loves me, I would spend time with Him and wouldn't be able to get enough of Him. No one in this world loves me and understands me as much as He does, so why don't I give Him the time of day?

When I talk about "spiritual exercise" I simply mean spending time with Him. It means exercising the truths and promises of God in order to rid our minds of the lies we live under. This will leave room for relationship with Him. That is what we need and it is what He longs for, that's why He created us. We would be so much healthier if we truly grasped this concept and put it into action. Lord, please help me to change my lifestyle to include spending time taking care of my spirit, as well as my physical body. Thank you that you long to spend time with me. Help me to believe that!

Something About Mary...

I have been thinking about writing this post since last March. I was on a Women's Retreat with my church. The speaker talked about the Samaritan woman at the well who met Jesus. The speaker shared her own story which turned out to be a traumatic childhood shadowed with abuse, followed by an abusive marriage. Her testimony was incredible, as well as many others that were shared that weekend. It was so great to see the freedom and hope they've found in Christ through their broken and shaded past.

Even after hearing testimony of God's transforming these lives, I couldn't help but feel like my testimony was drab. I was born into this world with a conscience the size of Texas. I remember agonizing over things that I thought I had done wrong, when I was little. I would not have even gotten in trouble for them. I barely got any spankings. I was always the goody-goody. I was the teacher's pet and probably a dorm parents dream. I heard about God all day, every day for most of my life.

I was the same all the way through high school, even. I never partied, I've never been drunk, never used drugs, only smoked a cigarillo one time (I even felt guilty about that!). I went to a club one time--that was enough for me. I waited until I was 21 to have any alcohol and I remained a virgin until I was married. I'm not saying all of this to boast, except of course in Christ. He's the only reason that I was able to be this way because I did submit to Him early in life. I was fortunate to never have been abused or have any major traumatic experiences either.

I am in no way complaining about my good life. But I do remember early on wondering what was so special about my testimony. No one cries when I share it because it's not dramatic. I'm not dramatic...

So at this retreat I'm feeling self conscious, like I have nothing to bring to the discussion. But the Lord gently reminded me of sweet Mary, mother of Jesus. She seemed rather plain and boring. She was a virgin, as well. I imagine that she never really "rocked the boat," whatever that would mean for those times. But God chose her to carry and birth the Savior of the World, the One I believe in. She wasn't "plain old Mary" after that! God used her sweet life to show His love to this whole world. She was open to it and believed in God's purpose for her life.

When I think about her life I am so encouraged. Everyone should be. God worked through "good" Mary and He also worked through prostitutes and sleazy tax collectors. No matter what your testimony is, God has a purpose for you and can use your testimony to attest to His faithfulness and love in your life. He does not want us to be so ashamed of our past that we don't want to share our testimony, but He also doesn't want us to be embarrassed by our lack of story. We all have a story and His fingerprints are all over it. And...our testimony is on-going, it didn't end when we received Christ into our lives, it started there.

Am I the Biggest Loser?

Okay, so I just had to remind myself that I was just watching this show...on TV. I really don't even know these people, so I have no reason for being mad at Vicky for voting off Amy. I'm mainly mad at Vicky because she's a bully. She voted Amy off just for revenge. She's been mean to the other team and mean to Amy for voting her husband off a couple of weeks ago. I mean, I understand her being mad, but, it's a game, it was the smartest move Amy made. Amy should have voted Vicky off last week when she had the chance. What was she thinking? She was trying to patch things up, but she should of known she was never "safe" with Vicky.

Okay, get over it, Diane. It's just a T.V. show. I really hope Vicky doesn't make it to the finale, I may not be able to watch. Tonight I couldn't help but sob at Amy's homecoming. She's lost over 60 pounds and was able to shop in her favorite boutique in her hometown. Then she went to meet her family and friends. Her dad literally sobbed for joy when he was hugging her. Throughout the show he's sent video messages and each time he's been so supportive and in love with his wife and daughter who were both on the ranch together. Winner dad!! Every time he talks on the show, I sob. So, I love this show because it changes people's lives. Bye, bye Vicky...I hope.

This morning I blew it....again!

This morning started out perfect. The 6:30 phone call said that schools were delayed for 2 hours because of the light dusting of snow. It was so pretty outside, Marshall made cinnamon rolls, we played outside and drank hot cocoa with pink marshmallows. But then it was time to go to school. I had given the 20 minute warning (to whom, I have no idea). What kids under five have a clue how long 20 minutes is? I don't even have a clue.

Well, I'm getting things done, the kids are playing and then I notice, it's time, right now, to start getting out the door! Of course Eliza didn't have shoes on, then she couldn't find her other shoe or the purple socks she wanted to wear. I still was in my PJs and no bra. Then Eliza's shoes felt uncomfortable, but instead of being compassionate and helping her with that I made the comment that she had plenty of nice shoes in the closet that she never wears and so she can put one of those on, "I don't care!!!" Of course she lost it, back when she couldn't find her other shoe. The whole time I'm telling her to stop, she's getting herself all upset for nothing.
(oops)

We finally get to the door and she says she's hungry. I tell her she should have told me this 20 minutes ago. Again,... really? Should I expect a five year old to be able to do this? Meanwhile Jacob is out in the yard stuck in the fence. I'm so angry with Eliza that I yell at her to, "Go to the car, I'll get you something to eat, Arghhh, (slamming of doors and stomping of feet), what is your problem?!!!" I know you all are thinking, "what is YOUR problem?" We finally make it to the car and we're not even late, I'm just impatient and unloving at this point, blaming her for making us late when she can't fit her big backpack through the seats to sit in the back. She and Psalter are fighting over who's going to sit in the back. Meanwhile Jacob is chasing blowing leaves down the sidewalk.

Needless to say, I recognized I was having a meltdown. I had just given up back when Eliza couldn't find her other shoe. I had entered into the chaos, so focused on myself that I pushed disappointment and guilt onto my highly sensitive child. I hated myself as I was saying and thinking these things. I knew I'd have to stash away for another future counseling appointment for my sweet, eager-to-please little five-year-old. What a psycho mom I was. Happy and fun with the hot cocoa and pink marshmallows, then I turned into a monster.

I did, thank goodness, remember God's grace. I asked my children for forgiveness and then prayed out loud asking God for His forgiveness. It was a very quiet car at that moment. As Eliza left the car, I hugged her saying, "mommy is not perfect, I really messed up this morning yelling at you and I'm so sorry, will you forgive me?" My sweet child said the most precious 4 words, "I forgive you, Mommy." I'm so glad that the Lord can use our junk to show us and our kids how deep His love and grace goes. I know that I'll mess up again, but God's grace is sufficient enough to cover that too, and He'll use it for good somehow!

My Little Delight....

He's about 2+ feet tall, 30 pounds and walks like a penguin. He thrives on bugging his sisters, especially Psalter. He gets a gleam in his eye as he watches her building a tower or doing a puzzle. Yes, he destroys them unless I'm there to intervene. If I tell him, "no!!" his lower lip pouts and he says, "oh."

He also loves to pull full glasses of juice off of the kitchen table and pour them on the floor saying, "uh-oh, wook, mommy, wet!" One day he dumped a tupperware full of fuse beads all over the kitchen floor, three different times. They haven't come out since then!

He loves to sample lots of different textures and liquids. The other day I found him with a glue stick in his mouth. When asked if he ate it or not he said, "Yahsh. Mmm nose." Sure enough he was sticky all over. He thinks he has a wax deficiency because he eats crayons and candles all the time. He also used to think markers were for eating. I found many with the tops bitten off.

His favorite favorite foods are "nunnets, nonuts and cookies" which are nuggets, donuts and oreos,as if you couldn't tell by his Michelin Man body-type. He loves "kucks, bus, car-cars, bike, and nung-nung-nung-nung-nungs" (trucks, cars, bikes, bulldozers, and motorcycles). Cows are "boos", sheep are "baas", lambs are "may-may", lions are "RRRRR" and the moon is "moont", spoon is "poont" airplane is "bear-pane" Cinderella is "lalella".

If you can't tell, I'm smitten with my sweet son. He loves to give hugs and kisses, even to perfect strangers. Though I may have to sweep my floor 3 times a day because of him and watch him every second to make sure he's not climbing on the table or eating glue, he's such a joy.

When I sing and put him to bed I secretly hope that he would stay like this forever. The little dimple in his chin, the crater in his cheek and the gleam in his eye make me smile all day. I wish the that I could bottle up and sell his passion and enthusiasm over simple every day things like the "moont". Sweet Jacob, I'm so happy that you are my son!

Thank you for changing my name!

I'm not referring to my most common name, "mama" or "mommy," which I hear hundreds of times a day. I'm referring to the new name that I believe God gave me a year ago and has been working it out in me since then.

Back in the Old Testament days names were considered someone's identity. For example, Jacob, the twin of Esau was born to Isaac and Rachel grabbing on to his brother's foot. His name actually means, "grabber." As he grew up he was rather deceitful by stealing his older brother's birth rite and blessing. But God had a special plan for Jacob. He actually wrestled with Jacob one night. Jacob put up a pretty good fight too. That's when God gave him the name, Israel, which means "He wrestled with God and overcame." So his name was no longer "grabber" or "deceiver," but one of a calling. He had a new identity. Ten of his sons and two of his grandsons later made up the twelve tribes of Israel. Wow!! The fact that God would use a "deceiver" to father this great nation is a comfort indeed. Also, the fact that God still used Jacob even after he wrestled with God amazes me. You mean we're allowed to do that?

This has been such a powerful story for Marshall and I. That's why we named our son Jacob. It makes God seem more personal and not just the "Big Man Upstairs" that only uses perfect people to do His will. It's exactly the opposite. He uses broken, messed up people like us who are willing to be broken and give up control, so that He may live out His will through us. I don't know about you, but that sounds like good news to me.

We all have names that have been attached to us. Maybe it's "loser" or "worthless," "fat," "ugly," whatever they are Satan uses them to make us believe that we are those things. I have lived with many names. The one that has bridged most of them and has been Satan's biggest target is fear. Fear of abandonment, fear of rejection, fear of failure, fear of disappointing, fear of ..... You name it, I had it. So, fear was the identity I operated under. Many circumstances would confirm that this was indeed my identity. Whether it was that I was rejected by a friend or I failed at something, I lived under it.

After going through some counseling last year, I started to work out some of these issues in different forms. Around that same time Marshall and I attended an Urban Project conference for IV staff. We had an incredible speaker during that week. One night during a service she had us cup our hands in front of us with the different things that we hold onto. God pierced my heart through her as she identified fear as one of those things. I knew that was for me. It was the heavy blanket that has suffocated me through life. It was the constant clashing cymbals inside my head and heart. After we identified them, then we released those things in order to take on the truth that God was calling us to.

That night I felt like an operation took place between me and the Lord. I realized that I had been living my life based on fear. I wanted a change, so I took the plunge and wrestled with God, just like Jacob did. Exhausted and humbled, I gave Him my fear and He gave me the new name, "Fearless!" I sound like a warrior princess, but in all honesty, I feel like one too.

By letting go of that stronghold of fear and choosing to believe God's truth about me, I have been able to experience His love for me! This has changed my life. I walk much lighter, breathe much easier and I can actually hear the quiet. The scripture that says, "My yoke is easy, my burden is light," can I just say an "Amen!!!" I finally understand what that means. There is so much freedom when we take on the yoke of Christ. It feels so light to carry God's "burden" of truth, grace, forgiveness, love, and peace. Now this didn't just happen over night. In fact that night I was overwhelmed with fear about something and had to believe in the truth that God has changed my name. Believing this continually is what has brought the freedom. That's what walking in truth is all about.

Check in another time to hear more about the warrior princess, "Fearless!"

Something about Mary...

Today I was more of a Mary than a Martha. Now, that's unusual because normally I'm a Martha full force. When I say this, I'm referring to the sisters that are mentioned in the Gospels. Martha is the one who is rushing about cooking and cleaning upon Jesus' arrival and Mary is just sitting at His feet listening to Him and asking questions. Martha gets frustrated with Mary and asks Jesus to tell Mary to help her. Jesus responds, "What Mary has chosen is better."

So, today, for part of it, I have chosen to sit at His feet. There's even a pink ring around my toilet, coffee stains on the bathroom sink, laundry on the couch, dirty dishes in the sink and toys laying around. Those who know me well know that those are hard things for me to leave undone! But I did, to play games with the girls, to tutor Brianna, to spend time at my Lord's feet and to blog.

And surprise, surprise, the Lord met me during my time of quiet. I had to quiet my mind from obsessing over the laundry basket sitting next to me and the pink toilet in the next room, but I asked the Lord to bless the time and my effort. It's amazing what you can hear when you sit down to listen. I heard truth about His extravagant love for me. I heard Him say He will never let go through the calm and through the storm. I even learned some incredible truths from the book of Leviticus.

So, I guess Mary did chose right. Oh Lord, help me to be more like Mary in this Martha world!

The Woman at the Well

I went to our women's retreat this past spring and the theme was "The Woman at the Well." One of my friends wrote about her preparation for this retreat by reading the passage and meditating on it. Something that she got from this time painted a clearer picture for me. I wanted to share it with you.

The story comes from the book of John, Chapter 4:1-26. Jesus was traveling through Samaria and stopped at a well. First of all, for Jesus, a Jew, to be traveling through Samaria was a big deal. The Jews hated the Samaritans because they were essentially "half breeds." Jesus was not only passing through, but stopped at the well and talked to a Samaritan woman there. He asked her for a drink of water. Her response, "You are a Jew and I am a Samaritan woman. How can you ask me for a drink?" Then Jesus answered, "If you knew the gift of God and who it is that asks you for a drink, you would have asked him and he would have given you living water."


Jesus already knew about this adulterous woman's past, but He wanted to build a relationship with this woman to establish trust, and THEN reveal who He was. Instead of starting off with how He could save her, He asks something of her. He knew how important water was for her to live. They both knew that she needed water on a regular basis to be healthy. That is why Christ used water as an analogy to describe His "living water" which is salvation and life by His Spirit.

Could He be asking us for us to give Him the "water" that we drink to try and sustain life, even our spiritual lives? What are those things, you ask? Whatever we do to survive, to make life work, whether we know God or not. Some things work for a time, but then fail us, so we find something else. You're familiar with this, I'm sure! This was the story with the Samaritan woman. She was an adulterer, and had 5 husbands. It was not working for her, it was not giving her life. I believe the Lord was asking her for those broken relationships, saying, "Give me those things that you try to satisfy your thirst and I will give you what you're REALLY looking for-life, freedom!"

It's amazing, even though I've been a Christian for a long time, I still miss this all the time. Although we only need to receive this "living water" one time, we often need to go back to the well in order for us to hear Jesus asking us for a drink. This reminds us that we already have the "living water," so we don't have to stay stuck in the old ways of quenching our thirst which we just do out of habit. So, I'm asking God, "take me back to the well!"

I'm Baaack!!

I know I've been disappointing so many in my fan club with my lack of blogs this summer. I blog in my head all the time, because I can do that without interruption. So, eventually I will get all my thoughts written out.

Between G.U.P.Y., traveling to Mexico for a week, family vacations to the beach, having the kids home all day every day, grumpy baby stages, getting one ready for kindergarten, the other two for pre-school, our fridge dying on us, then our replacement fridge having issues, having my phone and some money stolen, dealing with our invisible backyard fence builder and having to get an emergency appendectomy, we've had a pretty good summer. Those are also the reasons I have not had the energy nor time to devote to my blog or others, for that matter (so sorry, friends).

It has been a summer full of different circumstances, some good, some bad. Either way, the underlining truth that has kept my perspective hopeful and my heart content is the fact that God loooves me. I mean, He really and trully loves me, Diane Shady Benbow! (He loves you, too, but that's for you to discover--how much!!!) This truth has transformed my life this summer and continues to do so. It feels like our family is being hit with a lot of challenges and changes, all at once. I have questioned God and His timing, but ultimately, I am assured that if He loooves me and He's the King of Kings and the Lord of Lords, then I don't have a THING to worry about. Satan can mess with us all he wants, but he can never take God's love from us! That, in itself, is reason to keep on keeping on. I will write soon, I promise.

I'm Changing my Name!

For the past week or so I've heard, "Mama" thousands of times. Not in a happy voice, but a whiny voice with arms lifted up. Another word that's been uttered too many times is "Bupa," which translates to "up." I don't know what happened to my sweet, laid-back little boy. We went to the beach two weeks ago and someone switched him out with this whiny, needy, temper tantrum throwing, mama name-calling little guy.

One night last week when all the kids were down, except Jacob, who was still screaming in his bed, I just gave up. I felt so out of control and overwhelmed. I felt a gentle tug from my Father to spend some time with Him, which I did. The scripture that came to my mind for this experience was from James 1. Sometimes I want to rip this page out of my Bible or clock the next "James" that comes my way. But, really, I need to be reminded of this scripture all the time. "Consider it pure joy whenever you face trials of many kinds."

Who WANTS to face trials??? Of course we don't want to, necessarily, but that's the point. It's in our weakest moments that we cry out for help and God is waiting to use the experience for our benefit. He uses it to help us persevere through His strength, which builds character and character builds maturity. I definitely want to grow in maturity in Christ, so if that means "suffering," then bring it on! That's what Paul says, "when I am weak, then You are strong (in me)." This means that when I am at a loss and I look to Christ for help and allow His strength to work through me, then WOW!

"I can do all things THROUGH CHRIST who strengthens me..." Philippians 4:13. The key point being "through Christ" and not "all things," because if we are doing things through Christ, then we would be doing all the right things. So, I can deal with hearing, "Mama!!!" 1,000 times a day and love my little "monster" through Christ's strength, and His alone. After my change of heart, I've decided not to change my name, I actually now enjoy it.

Wounded Soldiers

I clean a Barber Shop once a week. I know the thought of being around hair grosses some people out, but what I experienced Monday morning before 7:00 AM was much worse than hair! I usually empty the trash cans first. I was in the kitchen emptying the big can when I saw it....staring at me with one of it's beady eyes, body limp. I positioned the big can in front of poor Mickey, so I would not have to feel guilty about his demise all morning.

As I took the trash outside, I lifted the lid of the big can and a very large "indestructible" gawked at me with his antennae and then scurried under some paper and bottles, out of sight. Thank goodness. I returned to the kitchen to find yet another very large roach scurry across the floor. What in the world???? Do I get paid enough to encounter such critters?

That was not the end of it! Later, I was vacuuming and I saw friend #3 and he didn't scurry away, but challenged me to a fight. Out of pure panic that he just might attack, I whacked him with the end of the vacuum. Not once, not twice, but three times, until I saw some proof that he was dead.

I couldn't clean him up then, I would need a whole roll of paper towels and time to prepare myself (BTW, did I ever tell you that I grew up in Africa? land of poisonous snakes, scorpions, lizards, giant spiders and evil monkeys? Yeah, and I'm afraid of a roach...). Later I came back with the wad of paper towels to find a trail of guts, but no roach. THAT, my friends, is why I'm scared of roaches, they're indestructible. I saw him hobble across the floor on his good side. I saluted him and let him go. Kudos to Mr. Roach for surviving the crazy whacking giant. I hope you died in peace, wherever that was.

"Mommy, I had a bad dream..."

Eliza woke me up at 4:30 to tell me this. She said that she dreamed that Psalter was using the potty and flushed the toilet. Psalter flushed down the toilet as well. Eliza cried and cried. I had heard her moaning and was about to go check on her, but was too tired to move, that's when she came in. She told me that after she woke up from her dream she walked over to Psalter's bed to touch her and make sure she was there. Eliza said, "I love my sister, I was scared something happened to her..."

Isn't that just so precious? Not the dream, but the fact that she went to make sure that Psalter was there. It's so comforting to see that even though they bicker and fuss often, they really do love each other. I'm so glad that they will always have a friend and a playmate in each other. Now I can use this nightmare as proof when they ARE fussin' at each other, that they are sisters that love and care for one another.

My Friend LeeDee

Eliza asked me the other night to tell her the story about LeeDee again. This thrilled me because I had told her about LeeDee to teach her about true thankfulness. When we lived in the "bush" of Burkina Faso, we lived a mile up on a hill from the village of Ouarokoye (water-coy).

Mom is an RN, so she had a back door clinic. People walked for miles to get medicine and have their wounds treated. LeeDee was one of these. She actually is slightly crippled. In their culture, she is considered almost worthless because she cannot do all of the work that women there do. She was able to marry and have a few children, but she was really mistreated by her husband and others because of her crippled legs. She became a Christian, so the church people really started to support her, almost as a widow status.

She would often get ulcers on her legs and feet, from using her crutches to walk and poor hygiene. She would walk the mile up our hill, over the rugged rock driveway, sometimes shoeless, to get these ulcers treated. Sometimes she had a baby on her back. She always came up with a smile, greeting us in the Lord.

We would save our tin cans and give these to her each time she came up. I wish you could experience her joy over this. She would start singing/spitting through her buck teeth smile and dance. She would say, "Don Beni budica" over and over which means, "thank you to God." One time we gave her a brand new shiny metal bucket. She about fainted with excitement and joy.

What a precious gift LeeDee was and still is to me. When I covet something someone else has, I remember her joy over some tin cans and a metal bucket. It keeps "stuff" in perspective for me. I really don't need anything! Most of the world lives without 99% of what is in my house, so I can sure live without the "thing" I think I HAVE to have. Thanks, LeeDee!

"Poop Happens"

That's the only way to describe this morning. Marshall is gone for the week, so I'm single-mommin' it for awhile. I was already tired from Jacob and Eliza waking up several times last night and for good at 6:00 this morning. So, I was a little grumpy already.

I got everyone dressed and ready for school, was ready to walk out the door on time, no less. Psalter has been potty training herself, which is awesome. She pooped on the big potty and some of it was left over at the top of the bowl--left some tracks. It smelled the whole house, but I wasn't going to stand there and wait for the tank to fill up for the fourth time.

I was calling them to come to the door, Jacob's shirt was all wet. Where did he get that from? Maybe he's just really drooling from his teething. I didn't have time to change him. We continue to the car, fighting about headbands, not enough time for braids and we forgot my backpack, etc. I get Jacob in his seat and grab his arms to buckle his harness. His sleeve is soaked, I grab his hand and take a look, "NO, it can't be..." Yes, it was, it was poop. All over his hand and some on his face. No joke! He was sampling some of Psalter's poop. I can just visualize him sloshing around in the toilet and squealing with delight as he squeezed the poop through his hands. I guess some day I'll really laugh about this. Marshall sure did when I called him to tell him.... He was just glad he wasn't here to clean it up. :) So that was the start to my day, how 'bout yours?

Who's Your Fav?

Marshall was asked recently, "Which of your kids is your favorite?" Marshall responded wisely, "All of them are my favorite." He went on to explain why when the person kept insisting that one of them HAD to be his favorite. I've been thinking about this a lot lately. I used to be so afraid that one or all of my children would grow up feeling that I favor one of them over another.

So I asked God for help and He has really opened my eyes to the beauty of each of my children. In doing this, I've seen how they are created in His image with different attributes of His. Eliza displays the more serious, deep side of God. She has this spiritual depth and wisdom that is amazing! She is very conscientious and a serious rule-follower. She is a compassionate, tender-hearted little girl. I see God's attributes of compassion and justice through Eliza.

Psalter is very different. She is a free-spirited little girl, fun to be around, a social butterfly. She never stops talking and includes everybody. She will bend the rules, not maliciously, she's just not very conscientious. She has a way with people wherever she is, in the emergency room, at the Dr.'s office, in a classroom, in a store, people are just drawn to her. I see the fun side of God here. He longs for us to live life freely, which we can only do through a relationship with Christ. This is a side of God that a lot of people don't see. Psalter is a great example of it!

Then there's Jacob. What a delightful little guy. He's so happy. I love to watch him notice something. Pointing, taking a big gasp and eyes wide, then some sort of vocal exclamation. His excitement about life rubs off. He also has a certain charm with people. I think that God wants us to see life through a baby's eyes. Why else would He mention that we need to have faith like a child? He wants us to see the beauty and newness to life. He promises that His mercies are new every morning. Would we see them without "child-like" eyes?

The best thing I've learned from all of this is that each of my children is my favorite because each of them is so unique from the others. This has got to be how God sees us, too. We were created in His image, yet each of us different from one another. And...even better...I am His favorite and so are you! It feels good to be someone's favorite, doesn't it? Especially the God of the universe!

My Body is God's Praise!

This is for all the struggling sisters out there. I think that 99.9% of all women struggle with body image. This has been a struggle for me all of my life, whether I’ve been a size 12 or a size 6, I’ve never been content with myself. It started because of some teasing I endured during the awkward, chubby, body-developing years of 4th-7th grade and have continued to haunt me 20 years later.

Well, let me share some new insights the Spirit has given me over the last months. First of all, let me enlighten you with the fact that we were all created in the image of God. After each day that God spoke something into existence during the Creation Story, documented in the book of Genesis, God said, “It is GOOD!” When he created Adam and Eve, He did not speak them into existence, but rather formed them from the dust of the earth. This indicates His careful and thoughtful formation, His personal relationship with man. Then He breathed His “breath of life” into man. How extraordinary is that? Each of us encompasses a part of God’s personality within our DNA. We all were created uniquely, yet in His image. How big and incredible is our God if He encompasses all the personality traits of the Myers-Briggs and beyond. It’s too big for my mind to fathom.

So, He knows that His creation is GOOD. Psalm 139 talks about how God knew us before we were born, He “knit us together in our mother’s womb.” If He is satisfied with His creation and spent time and thought forming us, what does it say to Him when our hearts are discontent with ourselves? I Corinthians 6:19 informs the believer, “Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore, honor God with your body.” What does it mean to “honor” God with our body? It surely doesn't mean compare ourselves to others and wish we were different. It can’t mean to focus on what we think are imperfections. It doesn't mean to obsess over eating for comfort or not eating, exercising obsessively or laziness or giving up altogether. I think honoring God means taking care of our bodies through healthy amounts of exercise, food, rest, along with treating it with respect. If we are doing these things to honor God and not seeking or obsessing over acceptance from others, only then will we be content with the gift He’s given us...our bodies.

Romans 12:1 takes this a step further by exhorting us to, “…in view of God’s mercy, offer your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God-this is your spiritual act of worship.” The only thing we have to DO here is offer our bodies. Our bodies, themselves, are already holy and pleasing to God because they are His creation. All He wants is for us to offer all that we have to Him, including our physical bodies and this is a spiritual act of worship. Remember the verse that says that even the rocks and trees cry out in worship to the LORD? Well, our bodies cry out in worship to our God, whether we do or not because our body is part of His creation. So, wouldn't it be incredible if our whole being was united in that worship? If our spirit, soul and body were yielded wholly to the Spirit of God, we would love ourselves, body and all.

What does this look like practically? Instead of obsessing over the "last" ten pounds, maybe a life change is what I need. Eating healthier, exercising regularly and praising God for how He has made me. Being a fan of "The Biggest Loser" you really learn how important it is to go one day at a time and maintain the life-changing habits from day to day. [So throw out the "lose 10 pounds in three days!" articles and books. It's a lifelong commitment, sister!] As I'm eating, I ask myself: am I obsessing over the calories and fat grams or feeling guilty for treating myself? Am I thinking about food all the time? Or, am I simply eating because my body needs it? Same with exercise, am I doing it because I'm obsessed over losing those ten pounds or burning off the calories for that piece of cake I just ate or am I just doing it to be healthy? I hope and pray that one day I will get to the place where I eat simply because my body needs nourishment and I exercise to keep my temple healthy. More than that, I hope that even if I remain the same, I will learn to be content with myself and love the body I'm in. THAT, is honoring my body and THAT is my spiritual act of worship!

My Time = Your Time

Dear God, I am so grateful that I have finally learned the simple truth: You just want to spend time with me. I don’t necessarily have to open my Bible to do this. I don’t have to have a quiet space and a certain amount of time. You just want me to realize that You are a part of my everyday life. You are there when I road-rage, You are there when I get impatient with my children, You are there when I pray for someone hurting or in need, You are there when I serve my family. I don’t often acknowledge Your presence in the “every day” part of life. You long to be known and experienced in those “every day” moments.

I used to be held in bondage by my fears of failing in my Quiet Times. I was in bondage to high expectations from myself and others. My Quiet Times were riddled with shame, guilt, or a new self-infused vigor to “do better.” Maybe if I get up earlier. If only I had one more hour in the day. If only the kids would shut-up and leave me alone… Maybe if I had someone to be accountable to…. All of these things came up empty as I continued to fail miserably!

Then I realized, wait…I don’t even pray. If I do have my Quiet Time, I go about my day forgetting what I learned and yet I have a sense of self-righteous satisfaction that “I” did it! It was just another thing to mark off my check list for the day, along with making my bed. Those times I spent with You did nothing to transform my heart or my mind.

But now, for some reason, the light bulb's been turned on. Paul’s command to pray without ceasing has new meaning. You want me to acknowledge Your constant presence in my life. You want me to talk to You throughout the day (not just that 20 minutes I sometimes set aside in the morning). You are my best friend, always at my side, whether I'm wiping a counter or a poopy bottom. You want to hear everything I’m thinking, even though You already know it. Just like I heartache over my parents missing so much of my “every day” life, You long for me to notice You and experience Your life! Oh, forgive me, sweet Father. Thank You for always being there, for holding me during those fearful and lonely hours. I’m sorry that it has taken me this long to recognize Your constant presence and desire for me.

Joy Found in Suffering...

We all go through suffering of some type. Mine started when I was six. Being sent to Boarding School, away from my parent's caused me a lot of heartache. I didn't realize this until recent years. I went from feeling numb most of my life, to feeling anger and then bitterness towards God and then my parents. Trudging through this with my counselor has brought me to acknowledge my pain as significant and allow God to bring healing, and give me the humility to forgive and the power to love.

My parents and I are starting our relationships on a new level, starting now. I want us to make the most of the time we have left. As I visited them with the kids this last week, I was saddened by how much older they seemed to me. But I'm holding on to the hope that the Lord will allow us to make up for "lost time."

We had some good talks each night I was there. On the last night, I asked them to tell me how they felt when they sent me to Boarding School. The tears started on both sides of the room as they responded. They shared about how it was so hard for them, they had to make some huge sacrifices for the gospel to advance. I know they felt like they were making the best decision for me. It was the best and only option they had at the time.

Then Dad shared about the current state of Burkina Faso, where they served for 30 years! He told me that the gospel is spreading so rapidly there, enough for missionaries to pull out because they are no longer needed. Unreached people groups are being reached, by other Africans! Pastors are being taught in seminaries, by their fellow Africans! Churches are being started and led by the National church. Dad was so excited as he shared all of this. And then he said, "so, Diane, the sacrifice you made to go away from home, so that we could do the work here, was NOT in vain! Take joy in that!" And I do. I would do it all over again, knowing how much God used Mom and Dad's ministry to advance His kingdom. I got to play a part in that! I don't feel bitterness anymore, not even regrets. The Lord's healing balm is so gentle and yet so powerful. Praise God!

All For Love

This is the season...It's March...It's March Madness...It's basketball season...It's Carolina's basketball season...It's my sweetheart's favorite and most intense season, therefore it's mine too. I married into it, adopted into the Carolina fan club.

As I watch the "Elite Eight" game against Louisville, my stomach's in knots and I feel the intensity already. I started out watching basketball and NASCAR with Marshall, just to understand him better and therefore love him well. Now I feel like I'm adopting the passion as my own.





In light of that, this has been my most recent reading material. These were the two books I read as insomnia hit me at 4:30 this morning. I don't count these two books as equal, by the way!

Monkeys are Evil!

You know the saying, "Monkey hear no evil, see no evil, do no evil?" Well, I think monkeys ARE evil. Before any animal activists get on my case, hear my personal interactions with monkeys. Of all my monkey interactions, none have left me with warm fuzzies!

Baboons are the scariest. First of all, they are mean looking creatures, tall and very aggressive. One of the older MKs bought a baboon from somewhere and thought it would be a good idea to drug it, force it into a cage and chain the cage to the top of a van full of kids for the 6 hour trip down to school. It pooped all over the roof, but it did get us through the border stops quite quickly. When we got to school, the baboon was chained to a tree next to the guy's dorm. He paced back and forth and kinda grunted at us. They ended up having to shoot him because he bit someone or had some disease.

Okay, so the real trauma for me started with a dorm pet. A chimpanzee named "Lulu." She was caged outside the dorm, but the middle schoolers would get her out and let her climb on them and take her all over campus. Sometimes they would bring her in the dorm. All of us little kids would call out, "Lulu down the hall!" You could hear kids jumping under beds and into closets. Then the bravest would peek out and check when she was gone, so that we could come out of hiding.

I had a fear of Lulu from the beginning, but it escalated one year on my birthday. I came into the dorm, standing in the doorway without realizing Lulu was in the dorm. Like a slo-mo movie I saw Lulu across the living room, she turned towards me and started galloping on her front knuckles and back feet, lips tightened to show All of her teeth. She ran straight for me and I was so paralyzed, I just stood there. Of course she grabbed onto my leg and took a bite. I started screaming, shaking my leg, trying to get her off. She leaned back her head and started screeching like Chimps do. Need I go on? Now you see why monkeys are evil? I was only 7 or 8, had turned it just that day!

During vacations, when we lived in the city, we stayed on a mission station that was surrounded by walls on every side. In one corner of the station one of the missionaries was raising rabbits, which we loved to play with. The only problem was that there was a little green monkey leashed to a zip line that went from his tree all the the way across to the wall. We would wait until he was up in his tree and try to run under him to the back. He would fly out of the tree and grab us by the hair, biting whatever he could get. Then when we made it to the other side, hearts beating wildly and screaming, we would look back to find him taunting us. He would jump up and down, eyes wide, mouth wide, showing all of his teeth. He was about the size of a house cat, but we were terrified of him.

A mile down from our boarding school was a zoo. We could hear the monkeys and lions if the wind blew right down the valley. Sometimes we would visit the zoo. The monkeys were chained to the trees, not caged. When you walked by, even at a distance, you would often hear a "ping" or feel a "wump" as a mango seed or rock hit. There was one huge chimp who was very laid back. If fact people had taught him some vulgar sign language, which he showed off to everyone. He also was taught to smoke. He would walk around with a cigarette in his mouth and if someone lit it, he would smoke, no lie! So he was the only monkey that came close to redeeming the whole kingdom of monkeys for me. Sorry, monkey-lovers, but from personal experience, monkeys are evil!

Dorm Life: part 2

We had a laundry room where everyone had their own cubby. There was one African man who's job was to do laundry every day, all day. This was with an old fashioned wringer washer and hanging everything on the line. When it was dry, he'd bring it in, fold it in stacks and then someone's dorm job was to put the clothes in the right box. Oh, and we had to sew name tags on EVERY piece of clothing before coming to school. BTW, my mom made us sew on our own name tags.

To make our dorm function, we all had dorm jobs. These would be switched up every two weeks or so. Some of the jobs included putting the clothes in the cubbies, distributing sheets to everyone on sheet day, watering the plants, feeding any animals, etc. My least favorite was taking care of this weird kind of cat. I don't remember what it was called, but it was real slow and slinky and lived in a cage in our dorm. I had to open his cage, take out his litter box, rake out the poop,throw it away and then put the box back in. You may think that's not a big deal, but that cat was weird, it hissed at me. So I would dread doing my dorm job!

We had a Rec room on the lower floor of our dorm. The rafters were exposed and so our dorm father hooked up a thick rope that we could swing on. We also had a balance beam and lots of mats, so we often tried to do gymnastics. There was a ping pong table and a Fooze-ball table. We played all sorts of games down there. We even climbed the rafters sometimes-that was a big "no, no."

We had a TV in our dorm living room, but we couldn't watch it hardly ever. Sometimes we would watch "Happy Days" and John Wayne westerns translated into French. It was quite comical, actually. On Sunday afternoons when I was real young, we would watch a Western. When I got older and VHS was invented we could watch an ICA-approved movie. Some of my personal favs: Savannah Smiles, The Apple Dumpling Gang, Pete's Dragon, Sound of Music, Annie and Mary Poppins.

We had one piano in the living area, as well. My mom made me take lessons. I hated it! Not because I didn't like playing the piano, I actually caught on pretty well. But I HATED practicing because not only could our dorm hear every note, but you could hear it almost all the way down to the Dining Hall. My dorm mom made everyone come to the piano recital that I had to play in. I looked out to see all the bored faces of my peers and especially the older boys I had crushes on---horrific! I wanted to crawl inside the piano and not come out. My piece was so basic, fortunately it was short, so I rushed through it.

Every day we were expected to make our beds and clean our rooms. Our rooms were graded. If we failed, then we would be grounded until it was cleaned up and checked out by a dorm parent. I never failed, but sometimes I got a lower grade because of my room mates. This is why I don't make my children make their beds and it took me years in college and after to be able to make myself make my bed. I usually make it everyday now, for me, not a grade.

Speaking of roommates, I've had hundreds. At the end of each trimester we would pack up everything in our room into footlockers and suitcases. We would pack a suitcase for vacation. We would store what we were leaving behind in the attic. We would usually switch rooms and roommates each trimester. Sometimes that was not very good for friendships. For girls, anyway. It was always a drama fest the last few weeks of school.

Some Recent Family Pics

My sweet Psalter.
Need I say more? BFF! I did not pick out Psalter's outfit, BTW! I pick my battles with the three-year-old.
Life doesn't get much better than this!
...or this!
And, no, I did NOT pick out this outfit!

Dorm Life

Most of the dorms had two hallways (only 2 did not). In the elementary dorms there was a boy's hall and a girl's hall, across from each other with a living area in between. Each of the dorms started with "B"s. Mine were Bethel and Bethlehem. There was also Baraka, Berea, Brotheren and I forget the others.

The hallways in our dorms had a zig-zag pattern of curtains from top to bottom. You could lay on the floor in your hall and see the boy's feet as they went from room to room. We used to wrap these curtains around us, if we were indecent, but wanted to get someone's attention that was out in the living area. Several girls were merciless and would yank the curtain away from any girl that was doing this, exposing them to the world. Speaking of indecent, my earliest memory of this was when I was six. I had just gotten the "Wonder Woman Underoos." We had gotten our shipment from the States and these were my treasured items. I was so proud of them and was showing off to friends. I walked out into the living room and sat down to talk with my dorm mom, not realizing I was just in my underwear. Some boys came out of their hallway and...of course, they made fun of me.

In the elementary dorms each room had a curtain in the doorway. These became nice swings for us. We could also talk to each other or throw notes across or down the hall during long weekend noon-rests. The curtain in the bathroom became more than a swing for us, however. Since all of the floors were a polished smooth cement, the bathroom floor made a good slide. We would lather up the floor with shampoo and water or baby powder, hold onto the curtain and stand back as far as we could in the hall and then run and let go, BAM!! Of course we would get into trouble, if we were caught in the act or if someone ended up hurt.

The floors were also a great surface for playing with fire. No joke! We would pour perfume on the floor, or write a message with it and then light the match. It was amazing to see how high and long the fire would go. There was only one time this became catastrophic. We did it too close to a desk and it caught on fire. We all went running to the bathroom with our little bathroom cups to fill them with water and douse the fire. Fortunately we got it out without too much damage. I don't even think we had to report it.

We had speakers down the hallway, which the dorm parents could make an announcement through, or, my personal favorite (not really) they would play music to wake us up in the mornings. The song they always played was from the "Bull Frogs and Butterflies" album called, "Good Morning." It's an obnoxiously happy song that my kids actually love to listen to, now.

We had a chimes that the dorm parents would use to give us messages. Each tune meant something different. For example, we had one for dorm meeting, dorm devotions, noon rest starting, etc. It sounds like I lived the life of a villager, sending messages via a musical instrument.

I've Been Tagged!

I've been tagged by my friend Melissa to share 7 strange things about me. So here goes....

1. I love peanut butter and syrup on my waffles and pancakes.

2. I freeze my Kraft caramels so that they're hard and chewy. I also freeze my chocolate, so that it takes longer to melt.

3. My dream job would be to work on the "Clean Sweep" show from TLC.

4. I'm borderline OCD when it comes to cleaning, that's why I get paid the big bucks!!

5. Shoes are a weakness for me. I don't buy many, I just drool.

6. The celebrities I would like to meet and shop with afterwards are Stacy London and Clinton Kelly from TLC's "What Not to Wear."

7. When I'm in the Grocery Store section at the Children's Museum I spend the whole time rearranging the shelves and baskets to put things back where they're SUPPOSED to go! The scary thing is that Eliza does the same thing--without my asking.


I now tag Marshall, Suzanne, and Jenny

I Don't Want to See the Inside of Our Dr.'s Office Again!!!

At least not for a while. This past month, I feel like our family could have been the sole providers for the office. Thank goodness for a smart husband that set up a flex plan for this stuff. We've probably drained it by now, just within the last month!

First there were some routine checkups, my high blood pressure scare checkup, then there was the emergency room visit to stitch up Psalter's head injury, followed by the visit to our doctor the following week to remove the stitches. While we were at that appointment the Dr. noticed Eliza was looking rough (she'd had a high fever for a few days), so she did a strep test and sent us home with no conclusions. We ended up back there the following Tues. because Eliza's temp was still there. After many pokes, swabs, long waits, questions about whether or not she would need a shot and could we go home now and an x-ray to rule out pneumonia, the conclusion: she had a double ear infection.

At that visit, I had been coughing and feeling miserable for a few days. I did not say anything, just wanting to wait it out. By Thursday, I was hacking up and blowing out green stuff. Nice, I know. I called the office, did I need to come in? Yes....

I got to go with just Jacob this time. I got to see my Dr. She determined it was viral, sent me home with nose drops and a prescription for an antibiotic if the back of my mouth drainage started to taste bitter. Nice, again. Too bad I don't have a picture.

A few days later, Saturday, I wake up with a sore jaw. I look in the bathroom mirror and I'm horrified by my enlarged cheek and jawbone. It looked like a Brooke Shield's wanna-be botox injection gone bad! On one side. So I called the Dr. on call. So happened it was my Dr. and she would be in the walk-in clinic that day. I went. Tired of frequenting the place. I get taken into my room and when my Dr. stepped in, she took a step back, gasping and said, "Oh my!" Not the most comforting thing to hear your Dr. say. Turns out I had a stone in my parotid gland, those are the salivary glands. Really??? They can do that? She prescribed me a strong antibiotic, told me to eat a lot of sour foods to work the stone out and sent me on my way.

Several hundred co-pay dollars later, we are all healthy and taken care of. I'm thankful that I live in a country with quality healthcare and medication. I'm also thankful that we can afford insurance and the needed medications. I'm very thankful that we are healthy individuals that sometimes get sick and not the other way around! But I still would rather not see the inside of our Dr.'s office for a long, long while.

What is I.C.A.?

I.C.A. stands for International Christian Academy. Thanks for all the efforts in guessing what it stood for. It was a boarding school for missionary kids and was started by Russ and Ruth Ragsdale back in the 60s. It’s located in a small valley, east of the town of Bouake (bwa-kay), Cote d’Ivoire, West Africa.

The campus is a little over a kilometer around. The front part of the campus consisted of staff housing, the classrooms, library and offices. In the middle were several dormitories, the dining hall, clinic, and park/recreation area. South of the campus held the chapel, more dorms and more recreational areas. There were eight dorms, four elementary-junior high dorms, 2 high school girl’s and 2 high school boy’s dorms. We had two soccer fields, one at the north end and one on the south, three basketball courts, a racquetball court, a petite-porteau court (outdoor soccer on a court), one play ground with swings, merry-go-round, sandbox, see-saws, etc. and a commissary (campus store).

The south end of campus is closed in by a marigo or swamp. Because of the swamp, we had plenty of snakes, bugs and frogs on campus. Cote d’Ivoire is a very lush country. It is very tropical, even inland. Many types of plantations fuel its economy: bananas, cocoa, and coffee just to name a few. Our campus had plenty of mango, orange, tangerine and guava trees. There were several palm trees plentiful with coconuts and even a tree that produced prickly pears.

We had electricity and running water. Our buildings were built out of cement. We did not have air conditioning, but each classroom and dorm room was equipped with a ceiling fan.

So, this was part of my life, twelve years, in fact. I started going to I.C.A. when I was six years old. It holds a lot of fond memories, along with some hard ones. I made some wonderful friends, met with some incredible mentors and learned so much. What makes my heart grieve is that it will never look the same. I doubt that I will get to go back because it is not functioning as a school anymore, but rather a barracks for the French army. The French have been there since the country’s civil war began in 2002. My parents were working on the campus at the time and they had to evacuate with a whole school of children and staff. They left everything there, but a carry-on suitcase. They had to leave a lot of memories behind. Years later my dad was able to go back and get what was left of their stuff. It’s helping me to write about it, so thank you to those who read because you are getting to know a piece of me that is grieving the loss of this place that means so much to me.

Garden of Eden

From as early as I could remember we would go camping every year for a week or two in April. This was between the hot dry season and the coming rainy season. Since we were at Boarding School for 9 months out of the year in the Ivory Coast, we were on a trimester system. So we had a short 3 week vacation around Easter. It became a tradition for a lot of the Burkina missionaries to come from all over the country to this one place to go camping. This was the "Garden of Eden."

Burkina is a savanna landscape, that means means it's relatively bare with random assortments of bushes, trees and tall grass. There are a few areas, however, where rivers flow through the country and are surrounded by a lush, green landscape. The Ganguette River was such a place, the most beautiful. The river flows from what we called the "source." The source was a shallow area which the water bubbled up from the bottom, through the rocks and sand. It was covered with brush and trees, you couldn't stand up under here. My dad spent hours snorkeling here, looking for precious stones.

The water flowed downstream from there in a heavy current, but pooled in several different areas. We named each pool, one was the Protestant pool, the other was the Nun's pool. The Nun's pool was where we spent most of our time. There was more bank to work with. We would jump off the side or swing in on a vine. One of the dads tied a rope to the big tree hanging over and we would swing from the bank and drop in the middle.

The water was completely clear. You could see every rock at the bottom of the river. It was really an incredible place. Sometimes we would work our way upstream, which was very taxing, then we would just lay back and float back down. In fact we made a whole day's event out of it. We would get on some big innertubes and start at the nuns pool and float downriver for about an hour or so to the bridge, which is where the rest of the crew would meet us with lunch. Then we would sun there for a couple of hours and then drive back into our campsite.

Now camping in Africa is so different from here. We had the macdaddy tents with the screened in porch area, bunk bed cots, a port-a-potty. Some missionaries would dig a hole for an outhouse. That's the part I didn't like. Mom had a whole cabinet just for camping dishes and appliances. Every few days someone would ride into town to get big blocks of ice for our coolers. We took baths and washed our clothes in the river. We mainly wore bathing suits all day.

The only thing we had to worry about were snakes and hippos. I used to be a little freaked about that. The hippos would come out at night, you could hear them thrashing around on the river banks. Some of the older kids would be daring, or maybe it was stupid, and they would go swimming at night. The called it "hippo swimming" or something like that. Random Fact: Did you know that one hippo molar is the size of a saucer? My biggest fear, however, was and still is to this day, seaweed. My mom says that when I was really young she had me on a tube to float down river and I got stuck by myself in a blob of seaweed. That explains itself.

So, I used to think that the Bible was mistaken and God did not forbid anyone from entering the Garden of Eden. Because, to me, this was a pretty perfect place--aside from the grubs, snakes, seaweed and hippos. To little me, it was THE Garden!

What is Burkina Faso?

Well, you can read more factual info. about Burkina Faso online or you can read what I have to say about it and my personal experience (or both). Burkina is a land-locked country with very few resources, therefore making it the 27th poorest country in the world. The average income per year is $1200. Can you imagine? The unemployment rate is so high that there is a lot of emigration to neighboring countries like Ghana and the Ivory Coast to work on the plantations there.

I lived there for the first 6 years of my life among the Bwa people of the Red Bobo tribe. I lived with my family in a village, Ouarokoye (water-koy) on top of a hill. We lived in a cement house with a kitchen and bathroom. But, our water came from a well down the hill, which had to be pumped up the hill each day to fill our cisterns. We had "running" water because it would then be pumped from the cistern to the barrels above the house.

When I was real young, I remember taking sponge baths because we didn't have a water heater, so mom would heat water on our kerosene stove and put it in big tubs. We also had a kerosene fridge, which my mom labored over for hours, refilling the tank and making sure the pilot was lit. We had all of these appliances because we did not have running electricity. Dad would run the generator a couple of hours a night for supper and family time of reading and games, etc. We would also run the wringer washer (anyone seen one of those bad boys?) a couple of times a week for laundry and then hang up all of the clothes. It was a whole day process, wringing from the washer to the first rinse, then ring again for the second rinse, then wring again to hang up. Just writing about it now makes me very thankful for my modern day appliances that make it so much less time consuming.

My days consisted of playing with African friends, rounding up our chickens, helping my mom cook and bake, playing in the dirt and on our little playground. We went on a lot of walks, mostly to pick fruit called, "nya" or "zaba." I remember afternoons, we would take a rest during the hottest part of the day, then we would get up and mom would make popcorn (in a pan) and pop open a couple of cold cokes. This was always such a treat.

Since my mom is a nurse, people would walk for miles to come and be treated or get medicine. She could basically act as a doctor and prescribe and sell medications at an affordable cost to the patients. I saw some gross things. I helped her count out medications, mostly anti-malaria and put them into little bags. Mom would also teach the women basic hygiene for themselves and their babies and try to vaccinate as many as she could.

Dad was there to translate the Bible into the Bwamu language. It took them at least 3 or more years just to learn the language and develop an alphabet. It was a painstaking process that he worked on for years. He did a lot of traveling on his moped into the "bush" to little villages that had not heard the gospel. They would do evangelisms there and then move onto another village. Sometimes he was welcomed, sometimes not. He always had to get permission from the village chief. Churches would start, but they needed a pastor. Most of the people are uneducated, so who would teach? A Bible School was started to train up pastors among their own tribes. It was so neat to see that process.

So...Burkina is many things. I've just barely scratched the surface. It was a famine-raged and war-torn country in the 80's. I remember several coup d'etats. My dad experienced 17 or so during his lifetime as a missionary in West Africa. But that didn't change the people. Most of the people are the sweetest, most generous that you would ever meet. It's a place where you can focus on what really matters--relationships! I love that I got to experience Burkina Faso. Thanks for learning a little bit about me.

Am I LOST? Or are they LOST?

Yep, I've dedicated hours and hours of my free time to catching up on the past three seasons of LOST. I'm convinced that the title is meant for all the viewers and not the actual storyline. Now that I'm caught up and I've seen the season premiere, I'm more confused than ever. I'm not a LOST junkie, although I am very committed to the show and will defend it at all costs. But I don't join chat rooms or read the LOST magazine to figure everything out. Just when I think, they can't possibly twist it any more, they manage to.

I'm not so sure I like the recent "flash forwards" (who knows, some of the older ones that we thought were flashbacks, are they really?) And maybe they really aren't "flash forwards" because they could do that to us, too. It's like they're controlling us, they're dangling the fresh bacon in front of us like we're salivating, starving dogs. And, we will gobble it up, whether it's really bacon or not because we ARE LOST! Arghh...I didn't think I was that easy.

Same Kind of Different as Me!

I borrowed this title from a wonderful book that our church body is reading. It's about the relationship that develops between a black homeless man that grew up on the sharecropping plantations of Louisiana and a rich white art dealer. It's an incredible book that I would recommend to everyone to read. The book helped to open up my eyes to lots of different issues and harsh realities that I've hardened my heart to. Since I've been going to counseling and dealing with my emotions and feelings, my heart has been softened. Sometimes it's too much to handle.

A friend and I were having breakfast several weeks ago and were talking about the problem of homelessness, especially in the cold weather. The unsolved problems seemed too heavy for a breakfast conversation. We both felt hopeless. But as I left I started to think about what God has been teaching me over the last several months. Number one, nothing is hopeless when we allow God to be in control and we trust Him with our hearts and passions. Also, it is so important to do SOMETHING about the pain we feel for those that are suffering. Whether it's prayer for the earthquake victims across the world, volunteering at a pregnancy care center, supporting a child through Compassion International or serving at Urban Ministries and Salvation Army. I see through the gospels how Jesus had compassion on the poor and suffering. He brought healing, but it was always through relationship. Even the sick woman who just touched His robe when He passed by and was healed, He also filled her need for His acknowledgment by publicly forgiving her sins.

So, even though the Evil One wants to derail us from doing or caring for anyone with a lot of issues or under a lot of oppression, we don't have to fall into his snare of hopelessness and defeat. I'm seeing how much time and effort it takes to build relationships with people that are different from me. Although their situations are not changing, their hearts can be changed by my relationship with them. Because I am the daughter of the King and therefore, through me, they are seeing God's love and freedom for them. Even though it "feels" like I'm not doing much because I'm not changing someone's circumstances, I am showing them compassion, their true need.

My friend Vicky has helped me see the grand picture. She's been an addict for years and has been rejected by her family. It seems hopeless, but a measure of success for her is seeing that she is unconditionally loved and beginning to believe and trust in that. Hmmm....I'm not so different than her. I see my lack of unbelief in that area. Although I don't use drugs to numb my pain and rejection, I fall to other more hidden means to numb my pain. The more time I spend with her, the more I realize that I need and have God's love and forgiveness as much as her. Even though building a relationship with her is not changing the face of homelessness in Greensboro, it is one drop in the bucket. If every believer had one friend like Vicky, think of the impact that would make! Just a thought....

Did I Just Eat Lunch With a Local Celebrity???

Yes, I did. I just had lunch in the McDonald's playground with Eric Chilton, the head meteorologist for our local CBS station. I thought he looked familiar, but then again, I don't watch the news much, so....

As I embarassingly stared at him, trying to remember where I knew him from, he started the conversation with, "You've got your hands full." Nodding in agreement as I had to keep running out to the dining room to get various items, straws, ketchup, an extra cup, I was too distracted to think of any conversation starters. Then he commented on our new Carolina tee-shirts Eliza and I were wearing and so we talked about Saturdays game.

I met his twin boys and we talked about having multiple children and how boys and girls are different. We talked about their pre-schools. Then he proceeded to talk with me some about his personal life, and it didn't feel weird. He was very nice. I wonder if he was glad that I didn't recognize him or if his pride was withered that I didn't refer to him as "that weather guy on TV." Maybe he just wanted to be a normal guy eating at McDonald's with his 5 year old boys.

So, Eric Chilton, nice to meet you, my name is Diane. Thanks for being a down to earth person, maybe I'll watch your weather reports instead of the competitors.

Husband of the Year

Three posts in one day? Yeah, I know, I function in bulk. I buy in bulk if it's cheaper, read the 98 blogs in my google reader and publish 3 posts in one day. But I have to write this one to honor my sweet husband. I hope that each of my friends can name their husband as "Husband of the Year" too.

He just started a new job, which is overwhelming and exhausting. Yet, he still gets up with the crying babies (yes, that's plural). Even though his introverted-self comes home exhausted from lots of meetings, he musters up the energy to do puzzle races and read books, change stinky diapers and ask me how my day was.

We've been through a lot of crisis together over the past several years and he has pushed us, as a couple, towards the Lord in healing and renewal. We actually feel like newly weds, in a much deeper way.

Thank you, sweetheart for your patience, perseverance, and your love. Each night I put Jacob to bed I pray that he grows up with a heart like his father's.

I love you and I'm proud to be your wife!!!

Incessant Knocking

As I got Jacob up from his nap and set him in front of Elmo so that I could shower, I heard the knocking. I knew it wasn't at our house, so I figured it was across the street. We hear the knocking, usually several times a night and early morning. It's a $5 a night hotel, catch my drift? It's across the street from our bedroom window, so we often wake up from the car doors slamming and then the loud knocking and sometimes shouting.

Well, it's mid-morning and the knocking went on for at least 10 minutes. I peeked out my blinds, the nosy neighbor. I saw two white men on the porch, then I saw the big white letters P-O-L-I-C-E and the bulk at the waist. I felt like I was watching Law and Order. I saw one of the guys go around through the back. The front door was wide open now, so I could see him draw his gun as he walked down the hallway to the first door.

Then I closed my blinds and continued about my morning getting dressed and brushing my hair, playing with Jacob, writing this post. What struck me is that we're living in the middle of this, but our children don't know it. Their life is safe and loving. Those that are being hunted and some of the children we minister to experience this every day. A lot of them do not close their blinds to a peaceful loving home. Their life is chaos. The dealers and users the police are looking for probably grew up in a home like that. Breaking it down to that level gives me compassion and love for the dealers and users. I am reminded by the Lord that they were knit together, by God, in their mother's womb. He loves them just as much as He loves me, a do-gooder. He came and died for them, too. They deserve His love just as much as I do.

Now the incessant knocking is not as much of an annoyance, but rather a reminder. A reminder of God's love for what we would call, the "least of these." But in His eyes they are not, they are potential heirs in His glorious kingdom!

More Wisdom From a Four-Year-Old

I went to pick up Eliza from Sunday school this past week. As I walked into the room one of the teachers said, "Eliza said the most precious, insightful thing today." I braced myself for the tears. They were talking about Zacheus and how he climbed the tree to see Jesus and Jesus approached him to tell him that he was coming to Zacheus's house to eat. The teachers asked the children what they would do to prepare for Jesus coming to their house. Some answered they would clean up, others that they would make some food. Then my sweet, sweet child quietly raised her hand and said, "I would fall on my knees."

I don't think I need to say anything else!

"...In Sickness and in Health..."

Six loads of laundry, baths in the middle of the night, four moppings, a pack of clorox wipes, a roll of paper towels and many tears later, I decided that parents should have to make vows before their midwives or doctor as soon as that little one is pushed out. How else could you be prepared for the "sickness" part of the vows. In the most glorious moment of your life, as you hold that slimy, warm, sweet newborn baby to your chest, you're not thinking down the road several months or several years later when you'll kill your back bending down to clean up throw-up all over the house. But maybe stating some sort of vows like you do in your wedding would at least prepare you that it's for sure coming!! It's not like I won't take care of my kids when their sick, but just a clue of what it could be like and the knowledge that my life is changing forever would have been nice to have known!

The point is that we would promise to love them in sickness and in health. Even as hard and sometimes as aggravating and gross as it sometimes, I love each them even more than the first moment I saw them. I rejoice in the fact that I can clean up their throw-up because they are a precious gift to me and I'm very blessed to be able to do so.

An Answer to My Very Own Question...

In my last blog I wrote about a terrible day we had several weeks ago. At the end I stated this, "So, obviously, I cannot get away from these sad moments, many of them live around me. Therefore, if I can't escape them or ignore them, what DO I do with them?" As Marshall and I reflected on that day we talked about a line from my favorite Christmas song, "Fall on your knees..." In our sadness about the life situations of our neighbors and their families, Marshall highlighted this phrase of the song, "...the thrill of hope, a weary world rejoices, for yonder breaks a new and glorious morn'..." The Israelites were an oppressed people, so the coming of a Messiah which was promised to them through the prophets hundreds of years before was a glorious and long-awaited event. And of course, just like God always does on His terms rather than ours (because He knows best), Christ did not come like they had imagined. I'm sure they thought he would come in a kingly fashion to swoop in and rescue his people through battle. Instead he came through a virgin, in a stinky, uncomfortable, cold stable. He came as a baby. The key in all of this and answer to my question of what do I do with all the sadness I encounter and see out my window every day, is simply love.

All of this He did out of unexplainable, unconditional, unmeasurable, perfect love. The fact that Christ was born into poverty shows God love for the poor and His purpose to use them for His honor and glory. Only His love, only His love, only His love overcomes all hopelessness. So, what do I do with the despair I feel when I see my friends walking and dealing the streets? Now when I start to feel despair or hopelessness, I fall on my knees if I can and I start to sing this song, "the thrill of hope, a weary world rejoices..." and I envision all the people of Glenwood raising their hands in freedom and praise to my glorious Savior who came out of love to bring hope into this weary world. He is still bringing hope to my weary neighborhood by putting us here to love them, through His love. THAT is the thrill of hope and THAT is my calling.