"Yen, let me tell you something."

Pastor Ramon put his arm around my shoulders as we walked out of the supermercado.

We had just completed a task of buying as many items as we could for only $5. Our guide was a short grocery list with everything written in Spanish.

"Que paso, Ramon?" I asked.

"You, you have blessed me and my family. You are my favorite, you know that?" he told me.

I was flattered.

I hadn't really done much other than love his children and talk with his wife, Delfina.

"Gracias, Ramon."

He continued.

"You are here," he touched his chest. "In my heart always, you remember. You are my daughter."

I nearly cried, I was so touched.

To be adopted by a family you hardly know is something amazing, especially when you're just loving without expectations.

I had felt insecure about my Spanish abilities around most people there, but especially Ramon and his family. I was trying my best, but as a person whose job is to communicate a message to others, not being able to communicate as effectively or as eloquently as I wanted was extremely frustrating and difficult.

We walked out of the grocery store and laid all of the items on the concrete sidewalk near the entrance.

Soap. Toothpaste. Cooking oil. Vegetables. Rice. Beans....

Most of us were able to buy more than 8 food staples using only 5 American dollars.

It made me look at my Starbucks Frappaccino back home a lot differently, that's for sure.

After the items were divvied up, our small groups grabbed two grocery bags and loaded back onto the bus.

We sat on the bus for 30 or so minutes as we traveled to a poor Colonial across town.

When we arrived, they told us to stay with our groups and wander the sand-covered streets until we felt led to give one of our bags to a family.

The homes were broken in many cases. Floors were dirt and fortunate homeowners had block walls. Others used whatever materials they could scrounge up to create their homes.

It took us a while to find a family that was home or willing to accept our groceries. I was frustrated by the end of the exercise, wondering if people were just used to groups traveling here and giving out bags such as these.

I was nearly sent over the top when we were asked to pose for a picture near the bus, while homeowners from the community rifled through a box of clothing and shoes nearby.

Taking a picture near such poverty felt as if we were exploiting the situation and saying "look where we are and look what we did."

It wasn't until our trip leader asked us to be quiet and look around that reality and my focus shifted.

A boy, about 6 years old, shifted clothes in one box from one side to the other. Finally, he pulled out one bright green flip flop.

He held it up, and then smacked it against the palm of his other hand. He looked at it for a minute, then shoved it in a box at his feet.

He didn't even have the mate for it.

I don't know why he decided to keep the bright green flip flop, but it certainly hit me hard. If I had found one bright green flip flop at home, I would've thrown it away. What would I do with one bright green flip flop?

The barefoot boy then turned away from where we were and walked back down the road where power line wires laid exposed on the ground.

Youth ministry vs. children's ministry

Juarez, Mexico: Part V

Fast forward a few days...

Vacation Bible school was a hit. Telling our story by using Spanish children's books depicting the story of Queen Esther was definitely the route to go. The kids made crowns for the art project and-- of course-- wanted more jewels for them, but supplies was limited.

With the kids, I could speak in my broken Spanish and not fear too many strange looks. They'd just smile and wait a little longer for me to get my message out. Being that my language skills lie somewhere in the elementary level, I was the perfect communicator for the age group we worked with.

It was my first VBS---ever. Initially, I was a little worried. I mean, working with little kids is just, well, different than working with teens. You have to communicate differently.

But it wasn't a bad change, I realized.

With children, you can love on them--hug them, turn them upside down, and play "pato, pato, ganzo" (duck, duck, goose)---and be given the biggest grins in return. In youth ministry, you usually get a blank stare or "the look" when you try to love on them (in different ways, of course). Okay, that's a generalization, but true much of the time.

I decided to stay at VBS the rest of the week.

During my week of adventures, I bonded with Melody, the youngest daughter of the church's pastoral family. I called her my "mono"--monkey because she loved being dipped upside-down and swung side to side. A fake tattoo of "Donkey" (Shrek) that I found in a Doritos bag thrilled her to no end (she got her sister to put it on her immediately), and hugged me around the legs saying "es de mio" (she's mine) when other kids where fighting for my attention. It was certainly flattering and also such a pure act of love that I don't get to experience too often.

Then there was Daniel. Daniel was the biggest goofball I'd almost EVER met. He taught all the children the "goose dance" when they couldn't win at duck, duck, goose. (I'll have to post the video--he's hilarious!) We had our own little handshake and could play a hand-slapping game for hours after VBS ended each day. He truly gave me that much more to look forward to every day when I went to the church.

I began to see why many in the church choose children's ministry over youth ministry. You get that reaction, that pure loving reaction almost immediately. You know you're the authority over them and can guide them in a way they can't at that age. Youth ministry can leave you feeling a bit insecure and wondering if you're affecting any change.

Perhaps my experience in Mexico gave me a "grass is greener" perspective. Either way, I know God has called me to youth ministry and I will continue with that until He tells me otherwise, but it was certainly a new experience.

Because of my time in the Juarez VBS, when I returned home and found out that our VBS hadn't happened yet, I decided to volunteer.

At first, it was overwhelming because there were so many resources, so many beautiful decorations and other things that our modest VBS didn't have.

While it wasn't the same, I did learn one thing: children are the same anywhere you go. They're willing to be vulnerable and love on you even if they don't really know you. In most cases, they haven't learned how harsh life can be or how mean and unloving people can be. They have a pure faith.

It's no wonder that Jesus cared so much for them.

Juarez slide show 2007.

Friday, July 20, 2007 Juarez, Mexico: Part IV "Can you translate the message for the English speakers here," Ramon asked me in Spanish. We were at his church, dressed in the best Sunday clothes we could stuff into our small black duffel bags. I nodded and qualified it in Spanish with "I'm not the best, but I will try." He patted me on the shoulder and I left to go back to my seat. Turning to one of my group members, I whispered "I have to translate the sermon for everyone into English---I'm so nervous! Pray for me, please!" She said a little prayer and encouraged me with some kind words. Still, there was a little voice inside of me that was freaking out. It had been two full years since I had truly had the opportunity to be immersed in the language and I feared that I had lost a lot of my skills. Four years of Spanish at the university is nothing to sneeze at, but it doesn't compare to using it all the time and living in a foreign country. Church began with a worship time. This is when I fell in love with it. There were no acoustic guitars. No basses. No drums. Just a karaoke-like CD player at the front of the room, two microphones hooked up to each plug. As the music began, I looked around the room at other church members who were already singing along to "Ven, es tiempo de adorarle" (Come, now is the time to worship). As cheesy as it may sound, I felt my spirit soar and I began feeling that swell of emotion that happens when the Holy Spirit is moving in amazing ways. The tears came to my eyes and I could help but feel overwhelmed by the heart of this congregation. After the song finished, Pastor Ramon explained in his broken English "Now, you Americans may not dance in church, but here, we dance." The song "Remoleondo" began and as the chorus hit, church members began spinning in a circle in their small space near their chairs. Then, everyone began kicking their feet out like ska dancers. With ribbons twirling at the front of the room, four little girls danced along to the music and church members grinned from ear to ear. What a great church service, I thought. As worship closed, Pastor Ramon cued me and I walked to the front of the congregation of about 60, prepared to translate his sermon. All of a sudden, he called our trip leader up, who spoke basically NO Spanish. What's going on here? I thought to myself. Then, Ramon told me that I was going to translate Bill's words for the congregation and Bill was to tell them why we were there and anything else. This is not what I signed up for! I thought as I got even more nervous. It was bumpy, and absolutely terrible most of the time. I had only been in the country for less than a day and hadn't had much practice time. Already I was trying to translate for a big group. I sat down, feeling disheartened about my abilities. My group mate hugged my shoulders and told me she thought I did a good job. Hah! You didn't understand what I was saying, though, I told her. Though I wasn't up at the front to translate the message into English (something MUCH easier to do), I quietly translated sections of it for others in my row. I felt at least a little bit better by the end of the service because I had helped a few people understand what was going on. Things would get better, I told myself. We left on the bus that day and headed back to our bunks.

Wanna learn Spanish?

I just found an AMAZING resource that I'm soooo interested in trying to keep my language skills up.

The place is called "The Spanish Place" and it's on Mill in Tempe. Basically, you can pay $25 for a day pass to attend all classes that day or $95 for a month pass, which allows you to go to as many classes as you want throughout the month (and it goes from whatever date you start to that date the following month, i.e. 2oth of july to 20th of August).

I'm so jazzed about this and am certainly going to see if I can try it out.

Anyone game? Hannah?

Nos vemos!

Hasta luego!
j

Juarez, Mexico: Part III

After a few hour's wait, the other groups from Oklahoma and California arrived and I picked through the pile of duffel bags to find the one I had marked with a bright pink ponytail holder. Lugging it through the automatic doors, we walked down the sidewalk to a caravan of SUVs and vans that would take us over the U.S.-Mexico border to our destination: Juarez.

My small group from Arizona was shuffled to different vans in the line of vehicles and I left to join the California group.

They couldn't help giving me a nice jab at the fact that my Arizona group flew to Texas rather than making the drive like they did. Then again, they were planning a luxurious stop at a Tucson spa on the way back. Rough life. (so California! haha)

When we finally pulled up to our temporary home, located on a Christian school campus, we were thirsty, hungry and tired from traveling. To our relief, we were shown our rooms, complete with plastered walls, bunk beds with plastic-covered mattresses, and little else. The swamp cooler worked in our bedroom, if the air was rerouted from the main dining/community room.

We didn't know that the first night.

Not only were we acclimating to the heat, but we were adjusting to no cool air. Most of us went to sleep that night sweaty and sticky, wondering how we were going to survive the rest of the week ahead of us. Fortunately, the trick was discovered the next morning and we had cool air the rest of the week.


The first days

It was surprising to me how difficult it was for the teens to adjust to life without iPods, without their cell phones, and without hard plans and schedules for the week. One boy struggled to sit still or find something to do now that he didn't have his MP3 player. Clearly out of his comfort zone, I tried to encourage him to read his Bible, get to know the other group members, and just relax a little.

It proved to be quite the challenge as he sat around bouncing his right leg and looking around the room.

I gave him his space and went about talking to other group members and enjoying a little peace and quiet.

It had been a very long time since I had been without what I had once considered "necessities." No cell phone to text message a friend. No iPod to listen to my favorite music. No hair dryer to quickly style my shoulder-length hair.


Pastor Ramon

Saturday night we were finally given our briefing and introduced to the family and pastor we would be working with for the duration of our trip.

In Spanish, Pastor Ramon told us his testimony.

He had been addicted to drugs and alcohol from a young age, and spent much of his early 20s getting mixed up in the gang scene.

One day he was laying in a city park when he remembers a teenager coming up to him and telling him "You know Jesus loves you," and simply walking away.

It changed his life.

He began asking questions and desiring to be out of his drug-addicted life. Eventually, he met his wife, they started a church, and had two beautiful daughters.

I was touched by this man's story, but more importantly the man himself. Joy seemed to radiate from his inner core as he smiled and joked with the group of English-speakers. To me, he was the epitome of what a Christian should look like. Jesus changed our lives and yet, often, we walk around just as down-cast as anyone else.

I didn't realize I was the most fluent Spanish speaker in the group until I noticed I was the only one laughing after the punchline of his jokes.

At that point, it was pretty clear to even the trip leader that they had someone who could be the liaison they needed to survive the work projects and church meetings.

That was the beginning of the most uncomfortable, stretching part of my experience in Juarez.

Thursday, July 12, 2007

Juarez, Mexico: Part II An hour after leaving Phoenix, we were already touching down in El Paso, Texas with a sleepy leader, a discouraged leader, and two anxious team members. It was 11 o'clock, leaving about two hours until we would board vans with other groups from all over the U.S. and travel across the border to Juarez. As we exited the plane and began walking toward baggage claim, it was apparent that our 2-hour wait was going to be less than thrilling. Aside from a handful of shops catering to turquoise-loving tourists and two small Mexican food restaurants, little much else existed. Baggage claim reminded me of the little town in Washington I used to visit when I was younger. Four luggage carousels were nestled in a corner of the airport with dozens of passengers waiting for their bags to arrive. We began to notice other high school-aged students wearing the same grey, "Project Serve" T-shirts that we were sporting, so that was a pretty good sign. Luggage arrived. We met our trip leader. Baggage was tossed in a growing heap next to the automatic sliding doors near the exit. So far, so good. Still feeling like a failure as a leader, but doing all right for the most part. "So hey, do you guys want to go get some food?" our trip leader asked. We shrugged our shoulders, grabbed our wallets and walked down a small corridor to our only option: Mexican food. "Fine by me," I thought. "Might as well get used to it-- we'd be eating a lot of it for a week." Our small group stuck together in the small alcove, straining to hear over the loud hip-hop music blaring from a speaker overhead. After polishing off a chicken burro and an iced tea, I checked my watch and we headed back to the carousels where a large group of teens had congregated. Sitting in a circle, they slept and talked amongst themselves while we sat in a set of chairs. My other leader began sleeping with his head resting on a metal bar behind him. Within a few minutes, I was ready to break out of our little group and try to be social. With my team members on board, we joined up with the other group while my other leader laid down on the airport floor to take a power nap. Georgia. Never been there, but the accents sure sound nice. As soon as we had approached this group of Georgians, we were immediately welcomed in and began comparing notes on the differences between our cultures. Sweet tea. (Big) trucks. Football. Wafflehouse. Yes, Wafflehouse. It was in that moment of learning about these 16-19-year-olds that I began to feel more excited, more relaxed, and less aware of my previous failures as a leader. We would be waiting for another hour for other groups to arrive, but I was looking forward to the wait and the rest of the week ahead of us.

Wednesday, July 11, 2007

Juarez, Mexico: Part I Saturday, June 23 The morning started off on a good note. With my black, Youth for Christ duffel bag packed, I swung my sleeping bag, and backpack over my shoulder and headed out to my Xterra to load up. Within minutes, one of my other team members, arrived, large straw hat perched atop his head. "You ready?" I asked him. He nodded and smiled. With a final hug good-bye and a brief prayer, his mom was off and we left to pick up another team member. With a knock at the door and a few minutes of waiting, my other leader appeared, bleary-eyed from staying up til the wee hours of the morning talking with his "like" interest. "Didn't get much sleep, huh?" I smiled. I had figured he was going to be up for hours with her. He smiled back drowsily. He'd been away in California for several weeks without much contact with her and had been looking forward to catching up. With the back loaded up, we were on the road again heading toward the airport. We had one final team member to meet up with before boarding our flight. That's when things started to turn. We stood on the curb waiting to be checked in for about 15 minutes only to find out that we have to pay $2 per bag to check in there. Conveniently, the sign that states this was shoved behind the counter. Grumbling as I walked, I began dragging my bags to the U.S. Airways ticket counter where the line snaked around several times. This is where we finally meet up with our last team member. After 15 minutes, our group finally reached the front of the growing line. We each approached the the kiosk only to find out that each person was listed under my name for a group check in. Just one more roadblock to tackle. Quickly, I checked in, threw my bags on the weighing station and searched for my other team members who were stuck waiting for an airline worker to help them get things sorted out. We were all scattered, but I knew where each person was, thankfully. I buried my head in figuring out the computer kiosk for two of my team members, eventually got it figured out and then began to look around, discovering that I have lost one of my team members. Shoot. "I hope she's just waiting at the security checkpoint for us or this is going to be VERY interesting," I think to myself as I lead the other two up the escalator toward security. She is---along with her parents. Thank goodness they still like me! This is when I began to feel like a pretty sucky leader. Through the security gates we went and off to our gates, finally, as a group. I began to breathe a sigh of relief as we found our gate and put our bags down next to a group of empty chairs. That's when I heard "wait a sec, my ticket says I'm supposed to be at B11." I looked at my ticket. Double shoot. Off we trudged towards the RIGHT departure gate, located on the exact opposite side of the terminal. Thank goodness he discovered it before it was too late. Safely at our correct gate, a team member and I begin comparing notes about who's sitting where. "That's funny, we're listed in the same seat," she says. I examined it further--- she has a copy of my ticket. Oh geez. Grateful for a previous mistake at the kiosk, I rummaged through my bag and found an extra printout of her ticket that the airline worker had printed off for me. Crisis averted. About 30 minutes later, we were on the plane destined for an hour-long flight to El Paso, Texas where we were to meet up with the rest of our team with Youth for Christ. We were ready to help with VBS, sweat under the 100+ degree heat during work projects, and build relationships with other people. But there was so much more that we didn't expect...

Hey guys,
Not sure who reads this, but say prayers for my dad as he travels back from business in England. I'm encouraged by the fact that there's been so much awareness and security at the airports, but it's still a bit scary.
Thanks!

Several updates....

1. One of my teammates- Laura- came to faith in Christ just a few years ago and is growing, but absolutely one of the most joyful people I've ever met. I was incredibly encouraged by her. Amazingly, God reached out to her through her meeting new friends when she moved. They invited her to church just to have fun and hang out, but when they invited her, they didn't tell her they were going to a church. She went through some tough times and then one night she said emotionally she was a rollercoaster. She was in her bedroom one night and she felt alone, afraid and overwhelmed. Then a peace came over her and she felt comfort like she'd never felt before. She went back to her Christian friends and told her she thought it might have been God and they prayed for her.
Now Laura is living in a home with three non-Christians. Her parents are Chinese and relationships in the home have broken down to the point that neither really speaks to her.
When I was with her on the trip, she really felt like leaving home because things were so uncomfortable. But I encouraged her to pray for her family, stay in the home and even ask them if you can pray for anything for them.
The other day she did just that----and a huge fight broke out, with everyone just leaving things unresolved in the end.
But then something amazing happened---her father came back to her in the afternoon and asked if she would pray for his friend.

PRAISE BE TO GOD! He can do all things and my goodness, can you believe that? He's stirring this young girl's father's heart all because she asked if she could pray for something.

2. For the past several months, one of my best friends has been struggling in her marriage, feeling neglected and feeling like her husband doesn't want to make an effort in anything. The last straw came when she found out he was struggling with gambling and they separated. For the past few months they've lived apart and her anger has boiled and she's wanted to just get a divorce and have it over with because it's been so painful (mind you, they're Christians).
Before I left, I begged her not to make any serious decisions, to keep praying for her husband and to seriously give counseling a shot. Her husband had finally set up a session when she called and told him she was through with him. She didn't think it would work and decided to go only to feel vindicated, that she did what she needed to do.
Counseling wasn't the best right off and she went back home to think things through more before recommitting to going back to counseling. On her way back from her hometown, she ran across a marriage CD in her car that she hadn't listened to in a long time. For the four-hour drive home, that's all she did was listen.
When she got back home, she asked her husband to go over to the house and listen to the CD with her. They prayed, decided they both needed to get their lives refocused on God and decided to give counseling a better shot.
He even moved back in!
While they're not out of the woods yet, this is a HUGE step in the right direction and one I haev been praying for for a very long time. I truly believe God can save this marriage, but it's amazing to see Him working as quickly as He has.

Back from Northern Ireland and it was an amazing experience! It's been incredibly hard getting back into the groove of things--it's been like slow-mo at work this whole week. Hopefully Monday will be better...
Anyway, we saw one teen commit his life to Christ, which was awesome! We were having all kinds of issues with leadership and then finally one night, our assistant leader for the trip completely quit. She left the same night we had an evening church service. We had one of the groups from the drop in center (an evening hang out place where kids could come and play pool, buy snacks, chill with their friends, get on the computer, etc) come to the service and this teen boy sat behind me. His name is David and he was always super nice and not so rough around the edges. Anyway, he came up to me after the service and insisted I go with him downstairs while everyone else was hanging out in the community hall having tea.
Reluctantly, I followed him downstairs, preparing myself for anything. We sat down in the foyer of the building and he told me- with a sparkle in his eye and a giant grin on his face- that he had prayed for Christ to come into his heart and said he wanted to be a Christian.
I was over the top excited for him! I had been talking with him all week and he seemed like he had a belief in Christ, but he told me he had never made the commitment to follow Him.
After that I took him around to each of my teammates and introduced him as our new "brother" in Christ. It was amazing.
Beyond that, each night was filled with conversations with kids who were entrenched in the Troubles and tensions over in Northern Ireland. Though kids might call themselves "Catholic" or "Protestant" it's more of a political affiliation than anything else. Sort of like "who do you support?" when it comes to football (soccer). They might say they belong to a religion, but there's nothing really there. They drink (underaged in most cases), smoke, do drugs, have orgies and sex, break the law; basically anything that makes them "cool" in their friends' eyes. Many don't have hopes for the future and their only ambition is to shoot a Catholic in the kneecaps. (Most of the kids we worked with were "Protestant" or "Loyalists."--Loyalists don't want to see the Republic of Ireland and Northern Ireland rejoined and generally view Catholics the way Whites used to view Blacks in the South back in the day).
It was terribly sad and hard to comprehend why the kids harbored such hatred in their hearts for people just like them. Why they could possibly follow a fallacious statement such as "all Catholics are murderers" basing their facts on previous incidents.
I'm going to continue to pray for Ireland, the teens in Ballymoney and the youth workers staying there. The country needs its youth to be healed or healing will never come to the country itself.

Hello all and what\'s the crack? (N. Irish slang for \'what\'s up\')
I\'m in Ballymoney now and working in a drop in center with my Summer Serve team. Basically we\'re putting on programs with games, testimonies and dramas and hanging out with the kids each afternoon/evening from 3 to 10 p.m.
The teens here are great! We\'re having a blast with them and they seem to be warming up to us pretty quickly.
Please pray that God would stir in their hearts and that we could communicate the gospel even more with them. They\'ve had many Summer Serve teams here in the past and we hope it will be a time of harvest.
Secondly, pray for continued unity within our team. We\'re all getting along fantastically and everyone seems to bring something unique and wonderful to the group. Pray for God\'s hedge of protection over us.
Lastly, please pray for my allergies. I don\'t have them back home, but I\'ve had a pretty bad case of hay fever while I\'ve been here. A friend has given me Claritin, but now I have to wear my glasses which is a bit awkward. Pray for God\'s healing.
See you in a few weeks!

Beyond

I want to know strength in weakness
Of victory in the midst of seeming defeat.
I want to know rejection's sweet reality-
His Words sticking to the wounds and
Stinging the pride that tries to fill the emptiness.
I want to know love in its depth
Clarity in confusion
And trust despite the unknown.

Take me beyond this skin,
Til I can trust in myself no more.
Wake me out of this earthly slumber,
Cleansed down to the core.
For I am nothing without your strength
Though I'm everything in this world.
I am just a shell of your appearance
Your creation unfurled.
-j.p.-

LADIES' NIGHT JULY 2006


Tia and Me at Cosmic Bowling
Say "hello" and "welcome" to the newest member of our Vineyard Family- Miss Tia from N.Y.! She'll be helping out with the teens and I'm sooooo excited!

"Peace" Northern Ireland-style :)

Susie, Hannah and DD

Tia gets a Strike!!!!

DD contemplates "strike" strategy with Hannah

Getting ready to use the strategy.....

Yes, as you can tell, our group of five girls had a FABULOUS time for Ladies' night. First, we hit Applebees and scored a free appetizer (for being charming, of course!) and knocked out appetizers, a few drinks, entrees and even a dessert! Then it was off to Starbucks to chill until our late-night date with Cosmic Bowling at AMF in Chandler.

It was a very late night filled with "Baby Got Back" requests, sing-alongs to a popular Queen song and of course, who can forget that time DD tossed the bowling ball backwards? (don't worry, it happens to the best of us!)

Lots of our wonderful ladies from group were missing, but still, we had an awesome time! We'll plan to do this at least every few months.

Welcome, Tia! You're one of us now! :)

Later people, I'm off to Northern Ireland...

PEACE out- (guess what sign I'm using!)

The countdown continues!
Less than five days until we leave for Northern Ireland, can you believe it?
For whatever reason, it still hasn't completely sunk in that we'll be there in just a few days and scattered all over the country. Sure, my bag is packed (c'mon, you know me!) and I've been doing my journal entries in my notebook and praying like crazy, but it's still not reality. I suppose it won't be realized until we're touching down in Belfast. I'm pretty sure Harry and Rhyss are going to meet us there (Rhyss mentioned he missed my chocolate chip cookies--so I guess I'm baking on Saturday!).
Though it will be hard to be separated from Obadiah for 2 weeks, I'm not worried or dreading it, quite honestly. I know that God uses those times especially to grow us because it takes away any possibility of dependency on others we normally seek for comfort.
I'm not sure what my abilities will be or how effective I will be about communicating the Gospel, but I continue to pray that God will just breathe on me, and breathe into me the words he wants those I come in contact with to hear.
All I can do is be obedient and step out in faith. I'm realizing that more and more each day with each action I take in that regard. It's hard to put yourself out there sometimes, but I truly hope this trip will create more of a boldness in me to share my beliefs even with those who seem opposed to listening.
Anyway pray for us! We'll be gone for a while!

Here's our "baby." Coal is now about 6 1/2 months old. Isn't he cute? He's a little brute and extremely strong, but as sweet as can be. He has tons of energy and loves to play. We've got him enrolled in obedience class and he has one more until he graduates. He's still having a tough time leaving the leash alone, but we'll let it slide for now and continue to work on it. He's very photogenic, as you can tell. I love our little pound puppy!

Day 1 of taking Paul's challenge to work with Mormon Friend:Failed miserably. I'm pretty sure I did everything Paul told us NOT to do. Let's see... so first, I asked about what was going on in her life- not abnormal at all. She told me she went to a baseball game with her church. BING- a light goes on in my head, though I'm not at all prepared to talk about religion or whatever. So we keep talking about baseball games and nose-bleed sections. Then I ask her "So what do you think of your church" and "so what do you believe" and "what about Jesus Christ-what do you believe?" Listening pretty well. Nodding and smiling....it's all looking good until (you guessed it) I opened my mouth....and told her what I believed. It never turned confrontational but boy did it turn into a tennis match. She believed she had to strive to be like God -smack! I'd tell her I don't believe we're bound by the law anymore- return smack! And so it went on... Then a met a couple of 20 somethings later in the day. They were standing at the freeway off ramp where I turn left to drive home everyday. I sat in my air-conditioned little white car trying not to look at the 20-something-year-old guy with piercing blue eyes, yellowed teeth and dirty t-shirt and jeans. I didn't have any money or food or anything to give to him and his female companion, who looked to be a little younger than myself. I looked up a few moments before the light turned green to see the guy staring me straight in the eyes and the girl clutching her hands together in a begging motion. Their makeshift cardboard sign read "Stranded- need money to get back to NM..." and some other stuff I can't remember. I remember their eyes though, especially as I drove away after shrugging and mouthing to them "I don't have any cash." As soon as I turned left to go toward home the Jesus' voice echoed in my ear "what you do for the least of these you do for me." It nagged me and churned in me and I knew I needed to do something. I drove home with the 20-somethings' faces in my head and prayed they'd stay at the corner in the 110+ degree heat. I let the dog out, grabbed a mini Gideon New Testament Bible and a makeup bag and drove to Target where I grabbed Clif bars and Balance bars, water and mini-toiletries. I prayed more "please let them be there still." The checkout clerk and the woman in front of me buying earrings and hair decorations clearly didn't see that I was in a hurry or they just chose to ignore my finger tapping against my debit card. Didn't they realize I needed to get out of there? I finally got the stuff and hurried out the door of the store, my black heels clicking, my hair falling out of the neat updo I'd created earlier in the day. I drove a few minutes back toward the off ramp and saw them standing there. Now I just needed to find somewhere to park. About a football field away was some industrial building with signs that screamed in big red letters "Unauthorized vehicles will be towed at owners' expense." But there was no where else to park. So I parked at a spot away from the signs, hoping my car would still be there after I walked to the off ramp. Their faces were grateful as I handed them the bags. I chatted for a while with them. They'd been together for two years, lived in New Mexico and worked as telemarketers. They said their jobs weren't "noble." They said they drove out to visit his family after the family promised to pay their way back. After some conflict, they said they left the house, but had no way of getting back home. Frankly, the only reason I tell this story is because of the next step. The next CRUCIAL step. They thanked me for the gifts and I told them it's what Jesus would want me to do and some other stuff. That he brought joy to my life, he was the light in my heart and he's the one who told me to help them. They smiled and nodded in a friendly nature and thanked me more. I told them "good luck" and "I hope everything works out for you in New Mexico" and I walked across the crosswalk which began flashing the red hand. I should have taken the sign as a "sign" and turned around and went back, but I didn't. All I could think of was "I forgot to ask them if I could pray with them" and "I didn't really even share my faith." Yes, I was obedient, but man, am I ever human? It seems like something like that should be the most basic instinct of a Christian. Hurting people + Christian person = PRAYER. But I've never been all that good at math, obviously! Obadiah encouraged me and said that maybe it was just a test to see if I would be obedient. Maybe it wasn't at all about doing the steps I was beating myself up over. Maybe showing Christ to them was all about just reaching out in their time of need. But I'm still having a tough time with both situations because I feel like I've failed. Maybe I've planted a seed somewhere, but maybe I haven't. How is it going to be in Northern Ireland if I can't even develop the instincts here? I know that God will take care of me and that it will be different over there. You can bet I'll be doing a lot of praying and reading my Bible before then, however.

Every day I realize how little I know.
I'm learning how to navigate the harsh waters of office politics. I'm learning how to keep my foot out of my mouth, how to keep to myself and how to let my light shine despite the walls I face each day in my office.
Maybe this is just office life, the way every place feels and how all employees feel at one point or another, but I feel a bit used and abused. I don't get positive feedback and when I do, a caveat is attached to it.
"You're doing a really great job here, but..."
"Thanks for filling space, but could you..."
There's no grace. No empathy. No pat on the back of encouragement.
Part of me wonders why I worked so hard to get where I am.
Is it all for nothing?
Sometimes I want to go and hide under my covers and just forget about the working world. I wonder how I'm ever going to be a good mom if I'm working in the job I am, or how I'm ever going to be there for my family if I pursue my dreams that have turned out to be so bittersweet.
Maybe I'm just new to this and don't understand it. Maybe I can attribute my need for encouragement and support to this generation I grew up in, which depends so highly on outward stimulation and appreciation.
Maybe. Maybe my expectations have been too high and that I've grown up in a bubble of teachers and books and grades always giving me my satisfaction. I had the stellar grades, I pursued my collegic dreams, I got the scholarship, met the man of my dreams, got married, got a dog (no white-picket fence). But why this dissatisfaction? Why do I feel underappreciated and just plain used?
The grass is always greener, as the cliche goes. I know that I'll never feel as appreciated or loved as I'd want to feel and find myself depending more on God as I cling to truth and the soft-spoken words whispered within. Hold on. You're trying your best. You're doing great.
Is it the job, or is it something more in the depths of my heart?
I don't want to lose my passion for what I'm doing, but I feel it waning as I deal with yet more expectations outside of myself, the ones that weigh on me heavier than the load I already choose to carry. Yes, my head says 'give Jesus your load, surrender.' Much easier said than done. How do you just coast?
I'm learning every day. And it's not easy.

Counting my blessings...

1.) Husband and I were looking into buying a brand-new washing machine and dryer--would have been a couple grand. But, I got an e-mail from my mom on Friday saying a friend of a friend was buying a new set even though hers were only about 4 years old. The lady wanted to just give the set away rather than selling it. The only catch was that you had to go pick it up.
So, we now have an almost brand-new set. The cost? $0. Is there a better price out there? That was a huge blessing!

2.) School's out which means my schedule at work slows down a bit. Yippee!

3.) A really cool journalism conference is coming up in Texas, but it was going to be really pricey. Fortunately, I got a help from my dad and now I can stay in the same hotel as the other reporters :)

I'm sure there are more, but those are on the top of my mind. Hasta luego!

For some crazy-strange reason, I'm actually able to log on to the blogger Web site today, so here I am again...finally.

It's been a while since I posted, mostly because access to this site is limited at work and the Internet isn't working at home. But boy have I desired to do some free-writing after writing all day long and listening to others' thoughts and visions and experiences.

I'm not sure when this all began, but a change has been erupting from the innermost core of my being over the last few months or so. First I think it began with listening to what I thought was God's voice. Inexperienced in actually following through with what the small voice is ordering me to do (when it seems crazy and illogical), I decided to take a small step of faith. I had to call a friend whom I hadn't spoken with in ages, a friend who is no longer a friend by his own decision several years ago. I called to tell him that God wanted to tell him something, for him to look at John 14 (I think that's what it was...) He was busy at the time, but promised to look it over. He asked me to call him again soon. That was months before Thanksgiving and now we're pushing for Father's Day. I haven't called him back mostly because I'm waiting on God to tell me "when" or "if."
That was step number one.
Next came the healing step.
I grew up in a conservative church where we believed the extent of healing prayers was focused on God--i.e. "God, please heal so-and-so of his foot. Amen." Not very extensive, it just wasn't a focus and the gifts of the spirit were not discussed.
Then I went to the Vineyard and my eyes and ideas were opened.
I stepped out in faith when the pastor asked if anyone needed healing. Physically, I didn't step out of my seat like the rest of the would-be healed. My injury just wasn't severe enough, I thought. I didn't have cancer. I wasn't struggling to breathe. My life was good, I just had a bit of a thorn in the flesh, namely a sore wrist that limited the pressure I could put on it.
But when our pastor asked us to lay hands on the injury and tell the ailment to "go," I did, to myself. I remember hearing the Joy Williams song running through my brain "I believe in you" and truly thinking to myself "yes, if you want to do it Lord, you're the ultimate healer and you can do it."
The pain was gone.
That was step number two.
Since then, I have been dreaming dreams and others have dreamed dreams for me. A lady in the congregation came up to me yesterday saying she saw me cloaked in a robe with a material she had identified as "international" or "missional" from other dreams she had had and the words God had spoken to her. She told me she interpreted the dream to possibly mean I was meant to serve the nations in a missionary capacity. It was a confirmation to me that God truly has always placed on my heart. It was love and compassion that drove me after my first mission trip to Mexico, to learn Spanish, learn about the culture and ultimately visit the border over and over. It was the stirring in my heart that has led me to pursue a trip this summer after watching a video when my fiancee returned from Northern Ireland after working with youth. My heart broke and continues to break when I see youth straying from God, devoid of purpose, chasing so many things that entangled and trapped me until the age of 20 when God grabbed ahold of me and I clung on for dear life.
And now He continues to work.
I may not fit in to what my former Bible mentor thought was what I was supposed to do to grow closer to God (memorize Bible verses, get in the word each day with a quiet time, etc--all good things), but still I am. I seek after God in my own ways daily and though I'm not perfect, he still sees me fit to invest in, nurture and love.
I am a Raggamuffin. I have been beaten down, called names, rejected, scarred in a number of ways, yet He still loves me and accepts me, flaws in all.
And I'm still growing.