Far As the Curse is Found
We drove home from Ohio the other night. The air smelled like winter, and strings of lights hung like halos around picture perfect houses, but there was something not right hanging low on the western horizon. Smoke. There are these places burning in the Appalachians. Memories and plans burning to the ground, and the hungry fire roars on. There are these songs on the radio about how all is calm and all is bright, while the flames turn beauty to dark ash. There are these toys in store aisles, and there are these parents burying children taken out by a madman on a school bus. There’s this woman, this sweet friend with a brilliant smile, who just heard that her cancer is back and growing fast. And there’s this husband and son being brave and working hard to make...
Read MoreGetting Unstuck
My friend Trudie just got a huge double stroller. Like the kind that might take up the majority of an elevator. Which is exactly what happened a couple weeks ago at a local science museum. My husband and two girls got in first, followed by Trudie’s three-year-old, and then Trudie with her baby and stroller. (Did I mention this thing is giant?) The young maintenance man in the corner pressed himself into the wall and stared as I tried to squeeze myself past the stroller’s handle into the one empty square foot of space beside Trudie. I tried. And failed. As the handle pressed into my rib cage, the elevator doors closed on my undignified hind end. Over and over. By the time I managed to turn the stroller just enough to let me in, my friend and husband were laughing...
Read MoreIt’s That Simple
My five-year-old daughter leaned against my pillow, a rainbow of gel pens spread out on the bed around her. Her face was all concentration as she added vibrant life to the black and white outlines of a flower. “Mom?” “Yeah, babe?” I folded another dress and added it to the box that will store my clothes while we’re on furlough. “God makes beautiful things.” “Yes. He does.” “Then Satan breaks things. But God makes them beautiful again.” And there it was – the uncomplicated Gospel from the mouth of a child who hasn’t even been to kindergarten yet. To be honest, life over the past year has been anything but uncomplicated. I’ve witnessed more brokenness during our short first term here than I could have imagined I would. I’ve seen how evil can lean in hard and heavy...
Read MoreWhere Words Fail
I write like I breathe. Inhale. Exhale. Pull thoughts into the core of me, let them saturate, then push them out as words. It’s less a pastime and more a necessary function of life. Sometimes, though, the thoughts and emotions flow wild and the framework of words doesn’t hold them. They pour out like water, bursting through the cracks and splashing over the sides, and I sit drenched and wide awake in the stream. Some experiences are too big to be tied to time and space. They overlap into eternity, and if we pay attention, we can catch glimpses through the veil. These moments are big enough that they vibrate the air around them, they resonate like music in the bones. They leave us gasping, pulling for air like a fresh born baby before its first cry. Three weeks...
Read MoreThe Long Promise
Well, friends, this week marks one year since we left the U.S. for PNG. People told us that the first year on the field can be especially hard, and we definitely found that to be true. Months of transition, breath-stealing homesickness, feeling overwhelmed in new ministry roles, culture shock, and other unexpected difficulties came to a head for me in September. I was a mess. For a time, I wasn’t even sure we could continue here. Some parts of our stories aren’t pretty. Yeah, even missionaries. But those parts need to be told, too, because it’s there in the raw mess that the God who makes all things new gently, slowly picks up our scattered pieces and restores us and peels back the healing layers to show His glory… The Long Promise She was old and weary,...
Read MoreGrowing Pains
The year I was in kindergarten, I grew six inches. I started out as one of the smallest kids in my class and ended up being one of the tallest. (Impressive, especially since now I tower over even the biggest kindergartners at an enormous five feet…) I remember laying in bed awake late into the night with my legs aching, just wanting to turn off the pain and go to sleep. My mom would hear me crying and come tuck hot water bottles around my calves and say, “It’s just growing pains, sweetie. You’re growing, and that’s a good thing.” It didn’t feel like a good thing. I just wanted to stop hurting. We’ve been in Papua New Guinea for almost ten months, and in our new home in the Eastern Highlands for almost seven. We’ve taught through transition stages enough in our...
Read More