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Me and Gideon

2/1/2020

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Home is Where...?
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​One of the first questions people ask us when we come off the field from Romania is, "how does it feel to be home?" We're not the only missionaries who get this question. We just returned from a conference with about fifty other missionaries, and they all bemoaned receiving this same question. 


For many, the issue of this question lies in the problematic defining of the word "home." When so many of your greatest and most recent memories have been made in another country - and when so many close bonds have been made with those working beside you - "home" isn't such an easy place to identify. Home isn't simply the place you've lived in the longest, though that may help to make a place home. Home can also be the place in which you have experienced the greatest joys and pains. It is possible, then, to not really have a home, or to have more than one home. 

But having been on the field only a little over two years, this notion of dual homes hasn't been my biggest issue with the common question posed to me. My issue is not so much that I like some other place more, but that I like this place much less. Now this isn't some anti-American article, though those who are uber-patriotic may see any critique of or displeasure with the United States as anti-American. Instead of being unpatriotic, I am hopeful that my view is simply realistic. And really, more than a critique of the United States, I believe my experience is more a critique of myself.

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Spiritual Warfare

3/24/2019

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A few weeks ago we were at the end of our rope. We had endured several years of difficulties, especially as it related to our family - and particularly our daughter. Now, for five weeks straight, our daughter was coming to us in the middle of the night - every night - and telling us that she was having nightmares. We know this is a phase that many young children go through, but because of the frequency with which they were happening and her inability to ever tell us about her dreams at all, at first we thought this was just a ploy for her to get our attention and sleep with us, but we began to see that there was genuine fear each night as we were going to bed. At the same time, her behavior became increasingly horrible again, which could be expected with nightly loss of sleep. But this was to another degree. She began having some very severe rages again. We watched her spiritual life decline. For no apparent reason she didn't ever want to pray anymore. She seemed to be taking pleasure in her cruel behavior, and we were seeing no signs of her sweet compassion or repentance we knew before. She began acting very hateful toward us, yelling that she hated us and that we didn't love her during her rages. 

As usual, Catalina caught the brunt of her nasty behavior, and it was clear that Catalina was really struggling with this major stress, too. Providentially, Elin's worst meltdown yet happened the night before Catalina was set to leave for our organization's Europe Women's Retreat. While there, she sought prayer from the more veteran missionary ladies. She went in, saying that she didn't really even know what to ask for per se. She knew she needed prayer about the anger she was struggling with, and then she began slowly telling the struggles that we've faced with Elin ever since arriving on the field - how her personality has done a complete 180 from when we were in the States. Without hesitation, the other women immediately declared that our experiences sounded like spiritual warfare. I'm not talking about the metaphoric spiritual warfare we always mention and don't really believe. I mean real warfare. They prayed fervently with hands over Catalina, praying for and declaring the Lord's victory over our situation - praying like they were doing battle.When Catalina got home we began to pray over our children each night - not simply for peaceful sleep - but that God would sanctify us and our house, that he would post angels around us to guard us, and that he would drive away any demonic forces which surrounded us. We rebuked the evil forces and declared God's victory.

Her first night back, Catalina slept with Elin after praying over the room. It was the first night Elin didn't have a nightmare, but Catalina had the worst, very vivid, very demonic nightmare she can remember. And after all this time of not really even knowing if Elin was telling the truth, the second night after Catalina's return, our daughter opened up to my wife and told her that in her dreams, there were dark monsters chasing and trying to eat her. She said she couldn't speak at all in her dreams and always wanted to find her sword. We were heartbroken for her. The next day - a Sunday - we taught our children the Armor of God for the first time. We acted it out and reviewed it over and over. We prayed it again before she went to bed. 
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The nightmares immediately stopped. Elin has only had one nightmare in the last seven weeks, and that was on the only night in that time span we broke our discipline of praying over our children before we went to bed. 
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I'm Praying for the Babies

4/23/2018

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We’re still here in the hospital. We might be able to go home tomorrow but not sure yet. And I’d truly love to go home, but until that time, God has changed my prayers and prayer requests.

I’m praying for the lady across the hallway who lives in my same town and doesn’t have a church home. She’s been very sweet to me and I’m hoping to be able to make a connection with her once she leaves the hospital. Which she says won’t be until at least Friday for her and her 2 month old baby girl.

I’m praying for the room down the hall with motherless babies. There are about 6 cribs in one room - all babies whose mothers aren’t here. I don’t know if they’re orphans or if their mom’s just can’t stay up here with them. I pray for them constantly! There are only two nurses for the entire respiratory wing. They can’t possibly tend to the needs of these poor ones. Today I stood outside the door and saw one baby - probably one year old - lift her head and just wail. I felt so helpless. She had mucus just dripping from her nose. I got a tissue and cleaned her face off, but I wish I could do so much more. I keep praying for the God who loves all His children to send them His Spirit for peace and comfort. I’m praying His promises that He sees them and loves them.

I’m praying for Alexandra, the sweetest little 11 year old girl down the hallway - who has 6 more siblings at home, preventing her mama from being here with her in the hospital. I gave her some chocolate and talk to her as much as I can. She’s soft spoken, and it looks as though her mama French-braided her hair before she came to the hospital, and it hasn’t been fixed or combed or washed since. She gives me the biggest grin every time she sees me, and she often stands at the door of the motherless babies. She clearly has a soft heart for them, probably because she’s in the same situation.
I’m praying for the sweet little girl next door who has this terrible barking cough. I can’t even explain how it sounds. I hear it all night long.
I’m praying for all the poor kids who have to have treatments done that they neither want nor understand. That they’re afraid of and are uncomfortable. All hours of the night I hear kids screaming because they’re scared. And often don’t have a mama to comfort them.

I’m praying for the lady down the hallway who has twins here - both sick. I can’t even imagine how overwhelmed she must be since I feel like one baby is so hard! She ran out of diapers for them today and asked if I could give her some. I gave her half the bag I have and told her I’d give her whatever I have left after I leave.

I’m praying for the girl across the hall who ended up here in the hospital without any credit left on her phone, so she had to borrow a phone to even call someone to tell her she’s here and needs supplies. Her sweet baby daughter has the thickest head of dark black hair, coupled with pretty blue eyes. Her daughter’s name is Catalina.

I’m praying for the nurses who come only two at a time for 12-hour shifts. Who are most assuredly tired and overwhelmed. Who do their best to meet the needs of everyone. Who probably feel unappreciated. When I asked one of them this morning how she’s doing, she was taken aback and thought I was asking my own baby. When I said I was asking her she was surprised and then smiled and softened toward me as she answered. Then there’s the other nurse with an infinity tattoo on her arm. When I commented on it and asked her about it, she softly, lovingly, sadly mentioned it was in honor of her sister. Even a language barrier doesn’t keep me from knowing what that means.

I still pray for Denton. And I still want to go home. But it’s been harder and harder for me to pray for myself these last few days as I’ve gotten to know the needs of others here. I have friends who come to relieve me. I have a sweet husband who brings my other babies up here for quick five-minute visits so I can hug and kiss them, and they bring me food and more clothes and toiletries. I have a sweet daughter at home who remembers to pack socks for Denton and a piece of paper and an orange highlighter for me, in case I get bored and want to color.
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I walk up and down the hallways a lot, softly bouncing Denton and singing hymns. Nobody understands anything I sing. But God does. And I’ll keep using the oddity of my “fat baby” (as the other ladies here affectionately call him) to open up conversations and allow the Lord to work His love on their hearts. I want to go home, but until God says it’s time, I’ll keep praying and singing for my little mission field here.
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"Those" People

1/4/2018

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​"Those immigrants..." "That beggar..." "Oh, it's them..." You don't need me to fill in any more details to understand the tone conveyed in these statements. "Those," "that," and "them" are pieces of language, which when implemented, are usually very descriptive words in and of themselves. We don't need any more descriptors to know how the user feels about a group. While we can use these words to specify just about anything - positive or negative - we generally use different terms when discussing the positives. We tend to use "those," "that," and "them" as a distancing tool when speaking of people, as it removes us from an individual or a group. Sometimes our desire to distance ourselves stems from our feelings of superiority (e.g. "I would never date that guy."), and sometimes it is a distancing which stems from fear (e.g. "Those immigrants want to take our jobs").  ​

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Let Your Dim Light Shine

2/12/2017

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Derek and I were invited to speak at Redeemer Presbyterian's Missions Conference in Valdosta, GA. He shared at the men's breakfast, and I was able to share at the ladie's coffee. There have been very few places in our life where we felt instantly connected and loved by a community of people. Redeemer is a special place, and the people so obviously love the Lord and each other. It was truly a privilege to feel connected to the Body of Christ at this church. 

But the time leading up to the conference was one of the most difficult times in my life. I had no idea what I had to share with these ladies. But it turned out to be a healing experience for me, and somehow it seems that the Lord used it to encourage others. So I decided to share it here, too. Feel free to read the text or listen to the recording. And remember that you are not alone! 


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