On the Experience of God's Work

When I am doing God's Work as His Missionary, I find that something strange happens to me, to my past, to my future...and to the clock.

You travel to dangerous places, whether it's in the city or across the border, and are terrified. You're praying with all of your might, everything you see is terrifying, and then...in the space of time between the raising of your foot and the dropping of it to take a single step...you are full of joy. Without realizing it, you smile at the person that has terrified you ever since you arrived. You're fascinated with the area. You're nervous, but not afraid of presenting your drama; you even joke around with your friends. You perform the drama, and a few people watch. You feel much more comfortable as you walk across the street that you've only crossed five times in your life, feeling that you do it every day. You order exotic and disgusting-sounding foods (okay, you only do that if you're like me), and everyone comments on how brave (or stupid) you are. You eat the meal as if you've eaten every meal of your life at this little restaurant in the city, then you talk to a man as if he were your neighbor. You go back to the side-walk that is your stage and you prepare to begin the drama once again. You do, then you do it again. And then it's time to leave. You walk back to the car, and you realize: It seems like all that you've ever done is spend time in Little Mexico, that it's all that you've ever done. Your future seems tied to Little Mexico and the children watching you, the grown men, the women, the people eating across the street. All that you want to do is spend your life on that little rectangle of side-walk. You feel like you've either spent eternity there, or a few minutes, and you're shocked to discover that time passed while you were there. As you leave, you are the happiest person on earth, and pray that the Lord will bring you back.

Okay, that was my day. If you think that I shouldn't have used the pronoun "you", then I think, perhaps, you may need to reconsider. If you have been a missionary and your experience was completely different, then you do not have to reconsider anything. Please do not compare your experience with mine. However, if you have never been a missionary, then I would like you to pay close attention to this scenario and see if it applies to you in any way:

You just found out that you're going on a mission trip. You find out that it'll be hot, you'll be in pain, you'll be speaking to strangers that don't speak English. In a word, the entire trip will most likely consist of your suffering. There is nothing you would rather not do than this mission trip. You see yourself as more of a stay-at-home-and-support-the-mission kind of person. You do your best to learn what you should, and try to rejoice in the Lord, but it's all forced and you can't stand it.

That's me. Now compare the first scenario and the second. Never in my wildest dreams would I imagine that I would be able to worship God by swaying back and forth. God's Work is not what your flesh tells you it is. I finally understand a video that I saw once. It was a missionary that worked at campgrounds (I think). She said something along the lines of: "This is the most fun a person can have" (along those lines not exact). AMEN!

My Dad Doesn't Like Chunks of Tomatoes In His Chili

Okay, I've been reading in the comic strip "Zits" (this is old, just to warn you) that Jeremy blogs the conversations that take place at his dinner table. Since I really have no idea what a blog should be, Mom suggested that I blog the conversation at our dinner table (as a joke) and since I have nothing to report right now, I guess I will.

So, Dinner today was chili and peanut butter sandwiches. So we prayed, Dad looked through the mail, we talked about how we received some mail that was directed to someone that lives on a near-by road, Dad talked about how, since he received two CycleNews' in one day, on one it says something like: "Who will win the championship?" and he said something that referred to the fact that he can lift the magazine and there's the answer. Um...then at some point Dad said something about chunks of tomato in the chili, and Mom said that that's how you're supposed to make it, and that it makes the meal more interesting to eat (frankly, I'm on Dad's side). Dad said okay (Mom was having a stressful morning). And I think maybe before that Dad noticed that a motorcycle dealership was hiring - a janitor. So that brought up the subject of Dad's work, and how his boss said something about his not having the choice on whether to take off Saturday. But Dad can use a sick day, so really, he does have a choice. And he was talking about how he could change jobs, but we might "starve", and Mom said that would be okay (we wouldn't really starve, people, it's a common expression in my house).

Please forgive the choppy/vagueness of this post. I wasn't taking notes or anything, since I had no idea that I was going to blog this.

Oh yeah, the Da Vinci Code is getting poor reviews!!! YAY!!! I am so sick of that heretical junk being talked about non-stop!

HIGH-SPEED INTERNET!!!

I LOVE WILDBLUE!!! I've got highspeed internet now and it's great! My safety Dance video just starts right up without sitting for an hour! Plus things download really fast. We downloaded a whole book last night (audio book - 20000 Leagues under the Sea) and it took virtually no time at all! My friend was laughing at me today because I accidentally told her about it twice. Okay, this was a friendly laughing "with" me thing, not harsh maniacal laughter at my stupidity or anything. Why I threw in that disclaimer I have no idea.

Anyway, I've got the Hampster Dance song (a nice little kid one-Dad said that the original wasn't nice). It's happy. I'm going to listen to it now. I'm sorry that you can't. It's a very bouncy song. It has this great motivational guy in the background every once in a while. He says stuff like: "That's it!" "That's all there is to it!" "Let's try it" "Terrific!" etcetera. Oooh, I don't know if I like that part.

Anyway, I really like Wildblue. It's a very convenient blessing.

Anyway, let's see how many paragraphs I start with "Anyway".

Anyway, I would like to ask for prayer for a child that was born prematurely for health reasons. He needs your prayer.

So, Everyone is still free to send end endings and I would very much appreciate it if Yourbiggestfan would finish the story for me!!!

Mother's Day

Some things that I love about my mother:

I realize that it might not be safe to put this on my blog, because my mother is the best woman that has ever walked the face of this earth, and so she'll be easy to spot, but she needs recognition.

(please note: these are not numbered according to rank, but according to what I thought of next)

1) My mother loves me.
When I was little, I would say "I love you", Mom would say "I love you more," and I would say "Nuh-uh, I love you more", etc., but I have realized that, however harsh and unloving it may sound, she really does love me more, and for that I love her. I could not love myself, be patient with myself, be a mother to myself (so let's hope my kid(s) is(are)n't exactly like me).

2) My mother is not perfect, and does not pretend to be.
My mother is human, and being human she sins time after time, and she is broken. Yet being a Christian, time after time she is forgiven, and time after time, she finds peace. She shows me that I am not the only one that struggles.

3) My mother prays with me.
Yes, when we pray I feel like the most stuttering person on earth compared to her worship-filled, praise-filled, God-honouring prayers, but it doesn't matter. We come together before our God and Master, both sinners, both forgiven, both crying, both loving God in a way that could seem so much if it were not so little.

4) My mother prays for me.
There are times that I know that the only thing getting me through the day is God's grace through my mother's prayers. There is an awesome (in the deepest sense of the word) blessing that comes with the knowledge that your mother (or really anyone else, but mainly her) is praying for you.

5) My mother trusts me.
There is nothing more honouring to me than to trust me. If I have earned your trust, then I value it more than anything else, and my mother trusts me very much. There are so many things that I could do behind her back, and most likely she may never find out, because she trusts me. Yet because she trusts me, I will not do them. Trust is a major thing with my mother. If you break her trust, that's it. But thankfully I've been wise enough to realize the importance of her trust, and so have always (unless there's something I can't remember) honoured it.

6) My mother is a devoted servant of Christ.
My mother lives on the Word of God. Her day is ruined if not started by prayer and reading His Word. My day goes downhill, but many times if I've forgotten to pray, I've forgotten why my days go downhill. My mother always seems to know. She is not materialistic, but treasures up God's promises. She gets frustrated when she falls short, yet she falls short in ways that I do not even think of because my faith is so shallow. She earnestly desires to know the Will of God, even if it means giving up stuff.

7) My mother loves my father.
My parent's relationship is the coolest. You'd swear they were newly-weds or some-thing, they love each-other so much. There is nothing I want more than to marry a man that loves me as much as Dad loves her, and to love that man as much as Mom loves him. The clearest way that my mom shows that she loves my dad is through her submission. Very rarely does she do something drastic with-out seeking Dad's advice, and often when Dad needs something done and doesn't have time, he asks Mom to do it, and she does it without hesitation.

8) My mother confides in me.
My mother tells me many things that I am honoured to be thought responsible enough to hear. There is nothing that I love more than to have Mom sit down and tell me everything that's bothering her. I feel like an adult, even if there's nothing that I can do for her, I can pray.

9) My mother is my best friend.
All friends my age, no matter how close, will never be as close friends as my mother and I. I feel more comfortable around her than anyone else in the world.

10) My mother is honest, but not harsh.
My mother tells me when I am headed in the wrong direction, or when she feels that I am headed in the wrong direction, then lets me pour out my jumbled up, confusing and pathetic heart. She's never harsh or cruel or tells me things that I do not need to hear. Her only intention is to keep me on the path of Righteousness.

11) My mother does not mind talking about uncomfortable or private things.
I have always known that I can come to my mom with the weirdest questions and not be turned away.

12) My mother love myself and my siblings all equally.
My Mother would never in her life play favourites with her children.

13) My mother lets me be my own person and encourages my interests.
My mother does not try to squeeze me into a cookie-cutter shape. She takes me places that I like to go, looks into the things that I enjoy, doesn't get annoyed by what I enjoy. In some ways we are extremely alike, but in others we can be extremely different. I have found, however, that, given enough time, I start to like some of the stuff that she does and I don't, without her pushing it on me. ANYWAY, the only time my mother objects to something is when it goes against our Lord and His Will.

14) My mother has lived in the world and no longer does.
My mother is a completely different woman than she used to be, and I'm reaping the benefits. She can teach me from her personal experience, and I must say, it makes lessons extremely interesting and very realistic.

15) My mother can bring up past embarrassing experiences for a joke, but does not push the limit to the point of cruelty.
My mother is a very funny woman (in the good sense), and very often a past mistake is very humorous (the longer ago that it happened, the funnier it is, I've noticed). But Mom does not laugh at her children's stupidity. My mother does not mock us.

16) My mother is so humble she won't admit that she's humble.
If my mother ever reads this (and I fully expect her to when she gets the chance) most likely (unless she has a complete change of heart before then) she will tell me that she could be better. Of course she could. She's human. But I think she's about as good as we can get in this fallen, sinful world. Okay, we do have jokes about humility and stuff, but what I'm trying to say is that my mom is more humble than she thinks she is.

17) My mother keeps an eye on me.
No matter how much she trusts me, my mother is always checking up on me. I haven't lived as long as she has and I need her to read my blog and require that I ask permission to go online and call people, etcetera (I love that word, it's so beautiful - okay, back to the subject). And my mom does that. She doesn't need a catastrophe to open her eyes. I don't have to suffer so that my younger siblings won't.

There are so many other things I could say about my mother, but she's up from her nap, so I'll probably have to get off soon. Any virtues that may be in me came about through the prayers and faithfulness of my mother. I love my mother. Long ago I sang a song called "My Mother's Gentle Love". I can still remember most of the words. I'm going to put the chorus here.

My mother's gentle love,

My mother's gentle love,

Has taught me of God's tender Care,

And turned my eyes above.

I'll bless her all of my days,

For all her gentle ways.

Oh how I thank my Lord above,

For my mother's gentle love.

I never thanked Him for her more than I do now. So there. That's my pitiful tribute to the best mother on earth.

WHAT HAPPENS TO THE PUPPY?

After sleeping for hours, the little dog awoke. Blinking, he sat up on dark velvet cushion and forced himself to use his two front legs. They were stronger than he expected. He tried the back pair. Stronger. Excited, he yelped and began to jump up and down on the bed. Forgetting himself he began to wag his tail happily. All at once his joy ended. The noise came, loud as before, penetrating his ears and shaking his body. He cried out and was, once again, dazed..........

This was sent in by Yourbiggestfan. Isn't it wonderful? I'm so intrigued, Yourbiggestfan! What happens next? You're great at this! Thank you so much for writing!

REMEMBER everyone, YOU can still write! You see what a great job Yourbiggestfan did, now it's your turn! I want to know how many great imaginations we have out there! And it doesn't have to be great! Just clean. Give me a story ending, and I'll put it on here. (oh yeah, try to stay clear of plagiarism, I haven't read all of the doggie books out there and stuff, so it'll be hard for me to know if the thought is original. If it's not, and I give you the credit, then you'll have your conscience to deal with and I won't. There, there's my disclaimer. Now have fun!