Her Story

While I was ready to walk out of hotel one morning, I paused for a conversation with Cindy, a woman who was with another mission group staying at the hotel. Cindy is middle aged and had a special demeanor about her. As we talked, she shared about her near fatal car crash a few years ago, how it had left her disabled in speech and thought, but how God has worked in her life through it. She shared about her abusive husband, her custody battle, and how people have told her she needs to stop talking about these things.

As she was sharing, she gave nothing but testimony to her Lord who delivered her from each hardship, being the only One who was with her in the hard places.

She said several times how people, fellow brothers and sisters in Christ, tell her not to share her story.

As I sat and listened, we shared truth and tears, prayed together, and developed a friendship that extended throughout the week.

I had to think of her in relation to this blog, the purpose of which is encouragement through sharing our stories and God’s handiwork in our lives. I was troubled at the message she was given that she was “bothersome,” that her story was not significant, worth sharing, or that her honest love for God was not worth listening to – perhaps because it was too simple. As the tears streamed down her face, she said “I have never been able to share this because people tell me not to.” In that moment, I realized the intense importance of sharing our stories, how healing it is for those who need to be heard, for their experiences to be known.

Through the rest of the week, I saw Cindy share her love for God with children and workers at the “hotel.” She shared the gospel with a young man who received Christ, and hopefully she was able to distribute the 300 stuffed animals she brought with her to the D.R. for children. As I heard her story, I realized what a feat many of these things were for her, and saw even more the power of our Lord in simple actions, which would be unknown if the story wasn’t told.

It’s a challenge for each of us, myself included, to take the time to listen and hear the stories of others. Through our stories, we build community and kinship, gain strength from each other and learn from one another. It was easy for me to make assumptions about Cindy before I met her, all of which were wrong, and in hearing her story, I was blessed by the way God worked in her life and the simple joy she had in loving Him. I had to wonder if more of us would have similar expressions of testimony if we shared more of our stories, for His honor and glory, without fear of judgment or condemnation.

My mantra as a history teacher was “history is not about a bunch of dead people” – instead, it’s a collection of stories about life, common experiences, things we can learn from and take courage in. As Christians, these tales become His Stories, avenues for testimonies for His glory. The time with Cindy reminded me of this, again, and I was blessed by the time spent listening to her story. All throughout our time together, I saw the handiwork of God, her love for Him, and His undeniable love for her. That is a story I could listen to over and over again. It is a part of all of our stories – and a challenge for us to take the initial step to “tell the story.” Hey, I think there’s a song about that, loving to tell the story……of Jesus and His love.

Lasting Impressions

This was a typical scene for our noon meal at the pastor's house. The pastor's house is in the

background, the makeshift wall is their "back porch" behind the tiny kitchen, which is where the heart of the home was. The rest of the house consisted of a front room where their dining room table was (no matter how meager the home, all homes tried to have a dining room table, very beautiful), and three bedrooms, housing 15 people - pastor's family of six, plus other children of the church. It in this home I saw and felt the love of Pastor Alejandro and his wife, Anjibel. There were several other children staying in there home, had I known more Spanish I could have found out why, but I didn't need to know the reasons as it was evident this couple loved people and their home was a shelter for others.

This home, along with Pastor's church, was damaged in a hurricane two years ago. Pastor showed me pictures and there was water half way up the walls of the home. I don't believe the pastor and church family have recovered yet from these losses. Inside the home many walls were still warped and damage was evident. Yet, one would not notice that. What I noticed was the love and joy of those residing there.

I had the privilege of spending a morning with Pastor and Anjibel as people from the church came to the house to get clothes our group brought with us. This specific experience I will share in another post, but one thing that struck me was how the Pastor and Anjibel did not take any clothes for themselves or their family until the church family had chosen some. As people came in his home I saw him hold the babies and interact with the people, along with Anjibel...they were both so concerned about the needs of their church family and other people, asking me, if it was alright to pick a pick of clothing for so and so. It brought me to tears as I observed the quiet things they did on behalf of others, yet I could tell that they themselves had many needs, too.

The last evening they had a special service for us and their church family. Crammed in the side of his house which was the make-shift church being used since the hurricane, I watched as the people we met all week worshiped the Lord. They sang, spoke and danced with great joy, emotion, and fervor, it was He was the source of joy in their lives. I felt as though I was standing on holy ground. Watching Anjibel, this woman of grace, worship her Lord, left a lasting impression on my mind.

And then the Pastor spoke, and one thing he said was he wished they could have given us more to thank us for the work we did (he shared the 8 of us did more work than a group of 20), but they gave what they could. They proceeded to give us a snack before we left, and they brought out for us a plate with a piece of ring bologna, Velveeta, and six saltine crackers wrapped in a napkin.

That side of unwrapping saltines will never go out of my mind.

As a woman, this pierced my soul as food is often equated with hospitality, especially in Mennonite circles. Getting to know Anjibel during the week, I saw several times on her face a sadness of wanting to do more, to give more, and yet saltines were the best they had to give. Pastor apologized for not having more to give, yet inside I was saying, "No, you have given more than you know!"

What they gave me from the week, more valuable than food was this:

The level of love, respect and admiration given to this family was not based on the material possessions or the level of showmanship or entertainment, but on the quality of love, care, and relationships developed with those around them. For me, the impression of unfolding saltines and the humility I felt in eating them is one I will never forget. Nor will I ever forget the love on Anjibel's face as she interacted with others, or as she worshiped God. The lack of means did not define her character or reputation as a woman, but her grace and respect defined her, and it was rooted firmly in her Lord.

I think the next potluck at church will look a little different to me. So has Walmart as I shopped for groceries already, realizing the choices I have for what I serve my family and others. I'll won't look at a saltine cracker again without being humbled, nor prepare food for others without thinking of Anjibel, and what they gave far beyond their means. It's one picture forever embedded on my mind and heart.

Unto the Least Of These

You never know what one act means in the life of another person, or how God ordains paths to cross. The first afternoon in El Pinon, after spending time with the children, I saw two women sitting under the shade tree in front of the construction site. It was one of the few shade trees on the block, and it was where men, women, and children gathered to get out of the intense heat. I went over and introduced myself to the women, noticing one of the women was in a wheel chair. She was crocheting a pattern on a plastic square and I tried to pull out a few words for conversation in my limited Spanish.

“Muy bonita” I said, which I think conveyed that it was pretty. Not being able to converse much more in Spanish, I just sat beside the women and smiled a lot. I couldn’t figure out her disability without staring, but on the second day, I got a glimpse that she only had one leg. Her complete lower body consisted of one small, deformed leg. Yet one would not notice this because of the beautiful smile radiating her presence, and her confidence. On that second day I sat with her and another friend, and while we sat there, I showed them pictures of my children. One of the other adults in the group said of both of these women didn’t have children. I found that odd, but quickly learned that motherhood is important in their culture.

The following morning, Day Three, she was under the tree when we came to the jobsite. That morning I asked to see the school in the town, so three of the neighborhood girls, Crisleny, Paula, and Ruby, went to take me to the school. Seeing Sugeidi sitting under the tree, I asked her if she wanted to go with us, and she said yes. So the three girls and myself walked in the scorching heat pushing Sugeidi in the wheelchair down the middle of the road to the school. I was struck by the expression of people in the village sitting in front of their primitive homes as we walked by. It was evident by the expressions and stares as we passed by this was not a usual scene. Sneers, jeers, and rude comments have the same tone in every language.

But so do smiles and nods of approval.

In the midst of the walk, I could sense something significant was taking place, though I wasn't sure what it was. It wasn’t until later I realized the power of the simple interactions between Sugeidi and I.

During the walk to the school, Sugeidi gave me a card she made the night before. It was a beautiful handmade card, and inside she wrote something in Spanish. Later that evening, I asked our interpreter if he would translate it for me, and he did.

Then I knew the significance of our interaction.

There, on my computer were the words she wrote. I immediately started crying upon reading them because I knew they were from the Lord himself - the Holy Spirit prompting someone to write something that could only come from Him.

You see, on the night she wrote the card, I was in my hotel room, in tears, crying out to God with very personal things. In addition to that, I asked God to be tangible to me. And here, from a woman who knew nothing about me, with whom I had shared nothing more than time, smiles, and a few limited words, came words of encouragement – prophetic in nature – touching personal spaces in my heart that only God Himself knew.

In addition to understanding the importance of her words, I also was learning the significance of the simple gestures God ordained for us to enjoy together. While conveying how my kindness had been a blessing to her, I was awestruck at the blessing her words had been to me.

But then, I shouldn’t have been. For in the recesses of my heart, a verse came to my mind, “Whatever you do unto the least of these brothers of mine, you do for me” (Matthew 25:40). Then, it was all too clear to me the significance that time, a smile, and a few simple words can make in God's timing.

First Impressions

I arrived home early this morning, 2:30 am, and have a few minutes before the family returns from church. I'll be posting some pictures from my trip, with more reflections to come in days and weeks to come. Many stories to tell of where God's story and the lives of those I met need to be shared. I'm not sure to to post several pictures at one time yet on the blog, so stay tuned for more to some, with their stories.

Tuesday afternoon I spent some time playing with the girls of El Pinon, the village where we were building the church. I learned how to play several games, here I was learning a hand motion game, the kind girls used to play years ago. It was so much fun to play and laugh with the girls, experience simple joys and pleasures with them. They are so loving.

Day One

Day one of the misssion trip has gone well so far - mostly traveling. Arrived in Santo Domingo in the afternoon and had time to walk part of the city and see the sights. Beautiful hotel room for tonight, will be the only one. Traveling with quite an adventuresome group. Highlights so far - a joyful reunion between Leah, a young woman from Shipshewana who has been serving down here since August, and her mother who joined us for the trip to visit her, and the send off we receieved from those in the community who have already been on these trips there to serve. It has clearly impacted many people's lives. I love interacting with people from different cultures. The people here are very very friendly, more so than in Italy, at least until you get to know them. Ready for the day of a lot of travel, reunions, then final destination of the job site. Will be my last really good shower and nice hotel with fluffy pillow. Ready for the adventure, as Ron said. "It will be an adventure." I have to keep a journal of the trip for class, so I will post the rest of the story when I get back...last time to access the wide world of internet communication, too.

I was able to talk with Ron and Andrew while in Miami. Andrew was feeling somewhat better. Always in the back of your mind, those you leave behing. But the sights and the sounds of what surrounds you in always your reality....And the Lord who governs all circumstances regardless of where you are on the globe. So thankful that so matter where I go, the same Lord is over all, bonding to those you leave behind

Here I am, Send Me

I'm preparing to leave for the Dominican Republic on Saturday. It's officially meeting cross-cultural requirements for my Master's program, but it will be the first mission trip out of the country I've been on. I have been so busy meeting the checklist as I race against time to get everything done before I leave home, I haven't really pondered what the Lord will be teaching me in the next week. My daughter, Kaylee, went to Mexico, over Christmas last year and I have marveled at the impact the experience and people made in her life. I am open, ready to learn and serve, anticipating the stories and lives I'll encounter next week.

So thankful for the opportunity.

The Raven

“Once upon a midnight dreary…” This is the common meter remembered from the eerie poem “The Raven” introduced in high school English class, conjuring up images of a sinister, black bird depicted by master illusionist Edgar Allan Poe. This same bird appears in a familiar Old Testament story – with the prophet Elijah in a barren desert ravine. Elijah is there relying upon God for daily food, not the manna-type in Moses’ day, but food brought by ravens.

This story intrigued me recently in studying the history of Israel. As was reading the scene in 1 Kings 17, I was struck by the story line. Elijah had just declared by the Word of the Lord there would be no rain in Israel for several years. Then, God tells Elijah to hide in a ravine and drink from a brook and that He has “ordered the ravens to feed you there.”

Of all birds to feed Elijah, why ravens? They are labeled “detestable” in Leviticus, and it’s no wonder. Although they are viewed as highly intelligent birds, they are known for eating carcasses - common road kill. In fact, they prefer gauging the eyes of man or animal first (Proverbs 30:17) upon their feast. They are even known to manipulate wolves or coyotes to tear open a carcass first so they can dive inside. Even more repulsive, they are known to pick out undigested food from human and animal feces.

Yum, yum, Elijah, eat up! No hand sanitizer for this food service worker(1 Kings 17:6).

Thinking about why God would have chosen a raven is interesting. If he commanded the raven above any other bird or animal, there was thought and reason to it. Our God does nothing by happenstance.

Scenario A: Ravens are very versatile and intelligent. In addition to devouring road kill, they eat insects, grain, fruit, berries, and small animals. They are described as “opportunistic” in finding food. Sounds like if there was food in this drought-laden desert to be found, God commanded the one bird who would find it.

Application: God chooses the precise instrument and circumstances to meet our needs. Often it’s not in the packages we would expect. His creativity is beyond our understanding, so should we limit our expectations of what, or whom, or how He may meet our needs?

Scenario B: While ravens are the most detestable bird, hanging around the filthiest, most vile places (known to nest near human dumps), crafting evil in the animal kingdom (known to watch where other ravens hide their food, then they steal it), God chooses this bird to feed his servant. In fact, God orders the bird. He uses the intelligence of an otherwise vile animal to do His work, at His command. I’m sure our Lord could have given the same intelligence to a more favorable bird, like a dove, for this job, but he chose to use the vile one.

Application: God can change the nature of anyone He chooses, even the detestable. He doesn’t always choose the most likable. Sometimes God ministers to us, as He did Elijah, through people we would not give a second thought to. Who may God be sending to minister to us that we may overlook because of our own preferences and prejudices?

Scenario C: Other references to ravens in scripture deal with God meeting their needs. Luke 12:24 mentions how much more will He meet our needs above the ravens, whose needs He meets every day. My favorite reference to ravens is in Psalm 147:9 and Job 38:41 which depicts the cries of young ravens for food:

“Who provides food for ravens when it’s young cry out to God and wander about for lack of food?” (Job 38:41).

These verses tell us that even ravens - the most intelligent of birds, never lacking for food choices -cries out to God when all resources for food are gone. And the Lord hears they cry of this vile, crafty bird, and meets its needs.

Application: Do I rely on my own capabilities for provisions so much that even when I am starving (physically, emotionally, spiritually), I do not cry out to God? If this vile bird cries out when all resources are spent, and its needs are met by the Creator, wouldn’t our Father meet our cries even before we get to the point of desperation?

And even more so - this picture gives hope to those not knowing their Creator as Lord…who, when crying out in desperation, will be met instantly by their Creator. He declares we are much more valuable than a bird to Him.

So many pictures of God’s love, provision, grace and power presented in this simple story of Elijah being fed by a raven. Usually we think of the dove as the image of God and his mercy. Today, I have been ministered, by the common, ordinary, and somewhat repulsive black bird.

God never ceases to amaze me.

“Consider the ravens…..how much more valuable you are than birds.” Luke 12:24