One ordinary life....One extraordinary God.

To mark a moment
To celebrate and embrace the past
To move forward into the future with God-confidence
To thank the many astonishing people of my life
To be commissioned and set aside in a public sort of way

On Saturday, January 16, 2010
at a service held at Highview Community Church, Kitchener
at 2:30 p.m.
I am being Ordained.

This is an open invitation to all who would like to celebrate that with me.

Pretending to be Mary

Just the other day my granddaughter Abby came around the corner with her hair a tousled, wondrous mess. Her mother, like most, values tidy hair, and asked Abby how she came to be so unkempt. Abby replied, matter of factly, "I had a blanket on my head." When asked why, she smiled and said, "I was pretending to be Mary."

We've been telling the Christmas story at our house, so it's not at all surprising. After all, every one of the three "Marys" in our three different play set nativities all have the traditional, ancient near eastern head covering for the figure representing the Mother of Christ. So if Abby were to engage in imaginative play, enacting the story for herself, it follows that she would try to imitate Mary with a blanket on her head.

I suppose it's not all that surprising, either, that she would choose Mary as her point of identification. Her own Mommy is the "centre of all things", typical for a three year old, and Mary is the Mommy. And a baby was born at her house not all that long ago, and Mary is the one having the baby. If you string together all the three year old logic, a blanket on your head makes perfect sense.

Now, I haven't been three in oh, 49 years, but still, I think in a way, around this time of year, I tend to walk around in my own head sort of "pretending to be Mary." I do. If I re-enact the story and try to bend my brain around her place in it all, it gives me lots to play with in my soul. Play with, ponder, meditate, wonder at.

That statement holds me every time I read it.

"I am the Lord's servant," Mary answered. "May it be to me as you have said." (Luke 1:38)

Go ahead God, with preposterous thing You've just told me. This idea You've got that I would carry Your Son, Your very Self inside of me. Go ahead and change everything I had planned. All my dreams and thoughts about my own life. Take me, my body, my promised marriage, my future, my entire life. It's all Yours. Because I am Your servant.

Yes, she said that!

As someone who has come to understand how desperately I need Jesus, I am speechless with gratitude that Mary said it. That Mary did it. That Mary laid aside everything of herself to bring Jesus to me. What a warrior woman you were!

I want to pretend to be Mary. To say what she said and be willing to give everything over. To relinquish it all, all of it, so God can do what He's got in mind through me, if He should choose. I want to pretend to be Mary.

It's remarkable really, that such a young girl would be given this preposterous responsibility - to bring the Saviour to the world. In my pretending, in my identification meditations, I'm sure she did not feel at all up to it. "How can this be?" she asks, confused. "Who, me?"

I ask it too. How could I, even if I'm willing, possibly be up to the task? In my own way, in my own life, if I'm to bring Jesus to others, I am so not up for it.

I get tired. I get cranky. I get selfish. I let the worries get the better of me. I fail to trust, I fail to rest, I fail to love. I overbook my life and leave little room for those I love to enter into my heart-space without feeling like an unwelcome intruder midst all the things I have to "do".

Bring the love and life of Jesus to the world? Who, me?

But it's not me really. Not at all. "The power of the Most High with overshadow you," the angel said. Overshadow. That means "be more than", "eclipse", "take it far further than you ever could." That's what the power of the Most High can do.

So I pretend. I pretend to be Mary and offer myself, as tired and cranky and selfish and worried and driven and loveless as I tend to be at times. I pretend to be Mary, as small and helpless as I feel most of the time. I pretend to be Mary, and ask God to overshadow me in any meager attempt to offer Christ to my world.

Go ahead God, with preposterous thing You've just told me. This idea You've got that I would carry Your Son, Your very Self inside of me. Go ahead and change everything I had planned. All my dreams and thoughts about my own life. Take me, my body, my promised family, my future, my entire life. It's all Yours.

Because I am Your servant.

I'm just here, with a blanket on my head.....pretending.

An Open Christmas Letter to Highview Community Church

December 10, 2009

Dear Friends who are Family,

A winter sunrise is a spectacular gift.

Over a cold, sepia horizon, comes a silent explosion of colour, screaming a defiant warmth across the brittle sky. A new dawn. A new day. A new promise into which God's new-every-morning mercies can pour away the darkness of our complicated and messy ways of being human.

That first new morning after that unbelievable night in the stable, I imagine the sunrise over Bethlehem was like that; defiant and merciful. The eternal plans of a God of covenantal connection were in full swing. The sky screamed it. The earth received it. The universe vibrated with it.

From now on, no matter how complicated and messy it got, the darkness couldn't win. God wins. Jesus is here. Everything is new. A new dawn. A new day. A new promise into which God's unspeakable mercy and grace can pour into the hearts of humanity; all who would seize it.

It is truly humbling to be part of the vibrating gathering of humanity that calls itself Highview; to journey with you, to get tired with you, to serve in the intensity of the battle with you, to laugh and rest with you, to love you. To watch you, collectively and as individuals, allow God to press and direct and change and transform. To be given the great gift of your companionship and support through personal losses, challenges, opportunities and celebrations. You are like a winter sunrise to me -- a truly spectacular gift of grace and hope and promise.

As we head into a future of hopeful change and untapped potential -- particularly as it pertains to the expansion of this physical property God has entrusted to us, and all the ways that connects with our vision going forward -- I hope you know first that I love you, and second that I totally believe in you. Honestly, my heart can hardly hold how much I am grateful for you all. And I am fully convinced that God has given us everything we need to succeed in the Five Year Plan as He directs...all the way!!! We have astonishing things ahead for us.

On behalf of Ken and myself, I want to wish you a hushed and holy Christmas season, and a year full of the defiant mercy of a God who can take you all the way.

Ever Grateful,

Ruth Anne

Advent Subtraction

I want to do stockings again this year.

We'd sort of let that fun, first morning tradition lapse at our house for the past few years. But this year - O glorious morning of wonder - there will be a full house waking up together, complete with the not-so-sleepy eagerness of little children to rouse us from our beds and drag us downstairs way too early and just in time.

So already, I'm collecting to stuff the stockings. Adding to the items. Gathering, piling, stashing.

And....subtracting. Adding to the trinkets. Subtracting to the "needed things" to do between now and Christmas. The last thing I want to happen is a last minute, thoughtless cramming. There's nothing worse than last minute, thoughtless cramming at Christmas.

Stockings.

Souls.

And it takes some subtraction to make it happen. What will I NOT do this Christmas in order to make it holy and hushed and real? Not just for me, inside of me, but for my family.

It's the calendar that gets the first purging. The calendar - my friend and foe, all in one fell swooping buzz of it. What will I NOT write there, so Christmas can be holy and hushed and real?

Then the budget. What will I NOT buy, so Christmas can be holy and hushed and real?

Then my preoccuative brain space. What will I choose NOT to think about, dwell on, mull over, worry about, feel sorry for myself for, so that Christmas can be holy and hushed and real?

How can I make sure that what I truly value and love and live for is properly celebrated this season? The holy things. The hushed things. The real things.

If stockings are important, then how do I do the Advent Subtraction to make it so?
And my people. If loving them is important....

And if perhaps one of the best things I can give to those I love is my passionately relaxed and full attention...what Advent Subtraction do I need to be sure is done, so that I can be fully present this Christmas?

And then, just now, it strikes me. What profound Advent Subtraction had to happen for Jesus to come and be fully present with us? All that He did NOT do or demand or collect for Himself in order to move from Heaven to Earth. Instead He "emptied Himself" (Philippians 2:5-11) totally. One giagantic cosmic taking away from....so Christmas could happen....

Holy...Hushed....Real.

Thoughts on Thinking

Some quotes from stuff I'm reading right now that's "informing my thinking".

From The Rest of God by Mark Buchannan

"The wisdom of the wise is to give thought to their ways. They think about where they're going. But the folly of fools is deception. They keep lying to themselves.

"Wise people ask, Does this path I'm walking lead to a place I want to go? If I keep heading this way, will I like where I arrive?.....Consider your thoughts and attitudes, the pattern of them, their shape and drift. Are they leading you where you want to go? Plot their trajectory: will they lead you in a place you care to live?....Invite the Spirit to search you (Psalm 139:23-24) and reveal one habitual thought, one attitude of your heart, that is misleading you." Page 40-41

From God is Closer Than You Think by John Ortberg

"In reality, each thought we have carries with it a little spiritual power, a tug toward or away from God. No thought is purely neutral.

"Every thought is either enabling and strengthening you to be able to cope with reality to live a kingdom kind of life, or robbing you of that life. Every thought is -- at least to a small extent -- God-breathed or God-avoidant; leading to death or leading toward life." Page 90

This week, I've done what Buchannan suggested. Asked God to show me, and He has. It's quite amazing to sit back and take stock of what's going on in my brain most of the time. Even when I'm not really aware of it. Humbling, sobering. And I'm asking myself the hard questions. Am I headed where I want to live? Where do I want to live? Not in negativity and insecurity, that's for sure. But too often that's where my train of thought is chugging. The scenery that flashes past as the train speeds along is dreary, sad, black and white. Is this really where I want to go?

And then, Ortberg's idea...that each thought takes us in a kind of direction. Do my thoughts strengthen and enable me to live the life God has called me to?

Sometimes it's essential to get off the train. Catch another one in the other direction. Let the spiritual power of my thoughts push me, pull me toward brighter things, powerful things, things God has dreamed for me, planned long ago for me to be, for me to do.

Joyful thinking.
Saturday morning cuddle with a pj'd three year old who's conversation is simple and unfettered and full of unconditional love for sleepy, Saturday morning Gramma.
Being part of a community marking a move of God-like porportions in the life of a rescued treasure.
Napping.
Out with friends who give to combined kingdom efforts, at great personal cost.
God breathes Himself into every moment.

Taking every thought captive.
Thinking.

Everlasting Otherness

Before the mountains were born
or you brought forth the earth and the world,
from everlasting to everlasting you are God.
Psalm 90:2

I have recently inherited a great gift. A dearest friend has relinquished into my care his entire professional library. I'm not kidding! We're talking lots of dollars and hours of reading and study in commentaries, contemporary issues, classics and "new" classics. I am in agony. So many books, so little time! I'm fantasizing about shelving.

Besides the deep gratitude that comes with such a gift, I am impressed with a daunting sense of how small is my brain. Just sorting through this treasure will take hours, let alone any concept of being able to read and absorb all the knowledge that is written in the bizillions of words contained between the covers.

Okay, I know. I'm not supposed to actually read them all. Lots of what I am now desperately trying to find shelf space for is meant to provide research information to facilitate further learning (yes, I will graduate one day!) and hopefully offer some crumbs of insight to the extremely patient people who kindly listen each week to "loaves and fishes" I bring to the pulpit Sunday after Sunday. Many of the books will be for sharing with fellow-journeyers as we explore ideas and attitudes and issues together. Others will provide timely quotes from smarter brains and deeper souls.

But still. The sheer volume of the volumes is mind numbing.

Reminds me of infinity even though it's hardly close.

Right now I have the happy task of pondering such things as the creation of the universe. Highview is making our way through a six week series in Genesis; creation, beginnings, patriarchs, all of that. So again this morning, already starting the very early hours, I've been meditating, reading and thinking - confronted again with the sheer volume of the volume of God.

He's endless words of everlasting otherness, my God. His ideas and phrases and paragraphs have no beginning and no end. He keeps on writing and composing the story - my story, your story, His story - history, breathing His life into every understanding, every scene. And He writes Himself into the drama of it all. Composer and principle player. But in some crazy way, He lets me - and you - be the star.

The night I received the books, I sat under the stars with my friend for a bit and we talked for a long time. God is in everything, we decided, having contemplated the clear October sky and the dramatic events of our lives as friends these past two years. We spotted Him everywhere in the story, even in the acts where He's offstage, so to speak, hidden, but Present. And it goes on and on. From everlasting to everlasting. And the friendship itself sat still in the Everlasting Otherness.

I think there is a library in Heaven. I do. And I think that's where I'll find the time, finally, to read all the books. And I think that's when so much time will still never be enough for so much God.

Today Was 30 K!

I just counted.

This morning I swam kilometer 30!

My "swim to Thailand" is almost over. Friday morning will be the last of this particular fundraising event. I had promised to swim 30 k between September 1 and October 16 and....I did it!

No ice caps the whole time, I promise.

And I just counted something else. My total raised in $1,830.90! There's still a ways to go to be able to send the total amount of $8,000.00 to Asia's Hope for Suradet and the Hot Springs family for the truck.....but honestly? I'm just grateful to be able to send this much.

I am so grateful to the friends who have supported me in this. I appreciate so much your hearts for the kids in Thailand who will benefit from this gift. There is something very good, holy even, that happens when we spread around the good things God has given us to benefit others. It's the "conduitivity" we were talking about on Sunday morning. One of the three prevailing attitudes required to develop a robust gratitude, 1) inventority - taking stock, 2) humility - being appropriately small, and 3) conduitivity - passing it on. (I just love making up words :)

Three more swims. I'll keep swimming though.

It's good for me. Quiets my soul first thing in the morning.

Swimming to Thailand Update

Just wanted to do a very quick posting to give you an update on the total so far.

Today I received another $750.00 donation, bringing the grand total to $1,320.60.

Thank you so much! This is so encouraging, and it's only day nine! The truck will cost about $8,000 Cn so that's my goal. We're getting there!

I am missing my ice caps very much, but I do have to admit that the swim itself, each morning at 5:45 a.m. is quiet and soothing and rhythmic and centering and kind. I still have to push past the 19 laps mark to make it all the way up to 23, so it's not like it's easy. But for 25 minutes every morning I am in a water-space of solitude. And God swims with me.

I am missing Thailand these days, and the inspiring, beautiful family of orphans who live there. Perhaps because I'm thinking about them and about raising the money for the truck. Perhaps because my heart has been wrecked by leaving a piece of it half way around the world.

I miss them. I am swimming in it.

Some Things Need No Defending

SWIMMING TO THAILAND UPDATE: Believe it or not, within the first five days of my swim I was/is already up to well over $500. Thanks to someone who wanted to match the money part that I'm contributing, and another person who just supports me whatever it is I'm doing....my Mom. Check out September 1st blog for more details.

Labour Day. It's been a very good day.

Most of last week was like that actually. Truly big and wonderful and bright. On Wednesday last, my early morning swims brought yet another bonus. City sunrise. And I had my camera, and caught it happening.

I've been listening to Steve Bell - Canadian music artist - a lot this summer. His Solace album has brought me, well, a great deal of Solace. And then recently, I slid in the Symphony Series CD. And this song, Pleasing to You, just sort of caught the mood of that sunrise.

Pleasing to You – Music and Lyric by Steve Bell
adapted from Psalm 19

The sun comes about
With a force and a strength
Bursting out from the ground
Like a hound to the race
It’s the same every day after day
Unto ages unending
I believe there’s more to this than were getting

It again rose today
As I’ve come to expect
Like the bridegroom awakes
From his honeymoon bed
To the one that he loves
And the object of all he can offer
I believe there’s something good here to ponder

The law of the Lord is right
A blazing light
Ever making wise the simple
The wisdom of God is whole
Restoring the soul
And the honour of His people
What can gold mean to my heart
When much sweeter fare by far
Is the counsel of the Holy One
My rock and my redeemer
And my God

The heavens proclaim
What I’m trying to say
Night after night
And day after day
There’s no time and no place
No speech where the truth is suspending
I believe that some things need no defending

The music is bright and big and wonderful, like a feel-good musical, and it's been lifting my soul over and again as I've played it loud and much. I'm pretty sure it's at least part of what gave me so much energy and a sense of well-being all the way through to Friday morning. After all, the psalmist is dead on. The wisdom of God is whole, making wise the simple. I have sensed much of His wise presence in my simple thinking and being over this summer. And even though I barely understand anything that He's allowing, He owes me no explanations. Some things just need no defending. Because He's God. He's already given me by far more and away than anything I could repay Him for. I'm His. And He's God, and I'm not. And all week I was not just resting in that, I was delighting in it too. Deeply. In a way I haven't really known in almost a year and a half.

But things did get stressful on Friday. They called me from where my Dad and Mom are now living, and wanted me to get there quick. Dad was not good, with all the symptoms of sudden onset pleural edema, easily and quickly fatal for a person my Dad's age and in his general, post-stroke condition. By noon, however, his vitals were all evening out again, and the crisis was over. He was up in bed, with an oxygen mask, but smiling and wondering if Ken could come down and fix it so he could get that classical music radio station set up again, since the power outage reset the configurations. Okay.

The weekend played out and was full of a few extra visits down to see Dad and Mom, some heavy duty physical labour (moving a friend on Saturday and moving my office on Monday), having weekend company, and a Sunday morning service, and just a lot of what makes my life so full right now. By Sunday morning I was feeling a bit rattled, hard to grab my thoughts, and obsessing about having a nap.

Which I did. Two hours Sunday afternoon. Early to bed Sunday night. And I still felt uneasy this morning.

Ken made his way with me gently through the day. We moved the furniture parts of my office down to the new space. It was a big job, requiring all our combined strength, a serious dolly, and all the patience of our 31 years of marriage experience in working together. He stayed with it with me the whole day. And it eased my uneasiness and brightened me.

I am going to bed ready.

Tomorrow is on it's way. A new day for the sun to come about with a force and a strength like a hound to the race.

And I believe there's something good here to ponder.

Swimming to Thailand

I am swimming to Thailand.

Well not really! It's too far and there's sharks and stuff. But this morning I did begin something brand new.

Between Tuesday, September 1st and Friday, October 16th I will attempt to swim a total of 30 kms. That's 23 laps, there and back, across the width of the Waterloo Swimplex shallow end, once each day for 30 days. I'll be swimming Monday to Friday, not counting stat holidays.

I'm doing it to buy a truck. A covered pick up, to be more precise. It's a new vehicle for the children who live at Hot Springs, so they can get to school without getting rained on or baked in the sun.

If you know me or have been following this blog or attend Highview Community Church, or any or all of the above, you already know about the 15 amazing kids Highview has adopted in sponsorship through an organization called Asia's Hope.

Countless children are orphaned and abandoned in South East Asia every day. AIDs and poverty and a weak-at-best social infrastructure, leave so many innocent victims just barely trying to survive. Without help, there's no hope.

Asia's Hope is grass-roots, non-denominational and indigenous. There is no huge budget for fundraising and advertising. Churches, businesses, Christian organizations and individuals are desperately needed to actively partner with Asia's Hope to provide a consistent level of financial support.

Highview connected with this amazing organization in the winter of 2008 when we were first introduced to Suradet and Yupa, a young pastor and his wife who had voluntarily taken in 13 children into their family. Eighteen months and three trips later, I am more passionate than ever about what is happening in a very small village in northern Thailand, and the 15 children, and their caregivers, who live at Hot Springs.

So I'm swimming to Thailand.

I've ridden in the back of the truck that is currently used to transport the children back and forth to school and any other outings. It was kind of fun for me. Novel, intense, feeling the hot wind whipping around me and the other sweaty little persons squished together back there. But it wasn't raining. It wasn't rainy season when it rains all the time. And I just did it once.

I've been in the front of the truck, in the passenger seat on the left, and heard the grinding of the gears and felt the strain of the engine climbing the hill up the lane to the house. They live in the foothills of the Himalayas and, well, it's hilly. Puts a huge strain on any vehicle. This one is wearing out.

So I'm swimming to Thailand.

If you swim 23 times back and forth across the shallow end of the Waterloo Swimplex pool, you've swum just a tad over a kilometer. So, I'm going to do that 30 times between now and September 16.

And I'm asking for sponsors. You don't have to put on a bathing suit. You don't have to get wet. You can just do some simple math, put a dollar amount beside the number 30, and multiply it. All the money will go through Highview Community Church and directed to Asia's Hope for the purchase of a new truck for Hot Springs. Any donations over $10 can be receipted for income tax purposes.

To sweeten the pot and make it that much more of a challenge for me, I am giving up ice caps for the duration. Yes. You heard me right. The money I normally spend on ice caps, I'm putting in the pot. If I take a simple approach and calculate 30 x 3.51 I get $105.30 (Well actually, that's what Paula just hollered out to me when I asked her to do it on the calculator).

But wait..there's more! I am also willing to contribute what it is costing me each time to swim. At the per swim rate (I have a pass, but we won't worry with that), it's 30 x $5.00 which comes to $150.00 (I did that in my head).

So, on top of doing the actual swim, I'm giving up ice caps AND contributing $255.30 of my own.

That's only to show how serious I am. And really, its such a small thing to do.

Last night my Mom called and asked me about my swim. She wants to sponsor me. My first sponsor. I love that about my Mom. She believes in me no matter what crazy things I try.

As I watched the sky get pink with dawn this morning, swimming back and forth beside the immense floor to ceiling windows, for my first of 30 swims, I realized just how lovely it was for me. Clean, warm water. A clean change and shower facility. A parking lot that was well cared for in a community that even has a swimming complex like this. I ate breakfast later and it wasn't rice. I didn't see one child alone and begging on the street as I drove in to work. What a different life I lead than my beautiful friends on the other side of the world.

So if you want to join me in the swim, I would gladly accept your sponsorship. You can contact me through the comments option on this blog. You can e-mail me a rabreithaupt@buildingbiggerhearts.ca. Or you can simply mail a cheque, payable to Highview Community Church per Swimming to Thailand to Highview Community Church 295 Highview Drive, Kitchener Ontario Canada N2N 2K7.

And thank you.

I'll let you know how it's going as the time goes by.

Falling Forward

"Restrain your voice from weeping
and your eyes from tears.
For your work will be rewarded,
declares the LORD.
They will return from the land of the enemy.
so there is hope for your future,
declares the LORD.
Your children will return to their own land."
Jeremiah 31:16-17

I spent the day with papers all over my desk, binders opened on top of each other, my computer screen layered with windows. It was an ordered chaos of strategic planning and visioneering, as interwoven and interdependent as the papers and binders and windows themselves, each element resting with delicate precision on the life and intentions of the other, in order to manifest in the vibrancy of another ministry season at Highview.

I love this time of year. It's when we get to set it all up, like a giant connection of dominoes, or a childhood game of Mousetrap. This is the careful, thoughtful part, where the ideas and conversations and prayers of last season have morphed into the building blocks of this season, and are now being set up, piece by piece according to the plan, ready for go.

In just a few weeks, some master gong of convention will sound off the beginning of this particular season, and the first domino will nudge, the ball is released, and the rest all falls into line. Fast and furious, it will seem by the end of it, but wild and wonderful and unpredictably predictable while it runs, with constant rapt attention while we watch to see if it all works like we hoped it would.

I love it, because it points us forward. Dominoes only fall one way. Forward. The ball only rolls one way. Forward.

It's a gift, this forward motion. Like gravity. It keeps us where we are supposed to be. Eyes intent on where it's heading.

Although.

It's not quite so clear where it's all going. We can plan it, we can set it up. But there's this randomness to our human experience in this post-fall, pre-heaven interim. There's an unexplainable Wild Holiness that engages dynamically without consulting us. I know. He does. He has.

So.

I am wild with hope this time around. And thoroughly surprised by the joy of it again.

Happy Birthday Mom!

For my Mom, who turns 82 today.

I celebrate you, Mom, for your life and legacy.
For always believing the best of me, and being a strong voice in my childhood for the strength in each of us.
For knowing and using your spiritual gifts of Faith and Giving, even without ever having attended any seminar on the matter.
For delighting the simplest of things and teaching me that there is joy in ever day if you look for it.
For demonstrating tenacity and loyalty in an age of convenience and self-servitude.
For showing me that it is possible to live a life in which there is no bad word for any human being.
For giving generously to global initiatives, long before that was the "new cool" thing to do.
For telling me about Jesus and being there when I gave my heart to Him.

I hope our ride in the country today, the only thing you've asked for your birthday, brings you joy and fills your soul.

I love you Mom.

Ruth Anne

A Severe Mercy

For you O God, tested us; you refined us like silver. You brought us into prison and laid burdens on our back. You let men ride over our heads; we went through fire and water, but you brought us to a place of abundance.

Psalm 66:10-12

Hold me together, Yahweh
Let it never be said that I trusted in vain
It's Your reputation that makes me outrageously brave.

Hold out Your mercy to me
Go ahead and correct me for the sake of Your name.
It's not much of a threat but my hoping is keeping me sane,
Again and again.

In Your love remember me.

Steve Bell

Therefore, strengthen your feeble arms and weak knees.
Make level paths for your feet,
so that the lame may not be disabled,
but rather healed. Hebrews 12:12-13

Though you were ruined and made desolate
and your land laid waste,
now you will be too small for your people,
and those who devoured you will be far away.
The children born during your bereavement
will yet say in your hearing,
'This place is too small for us;
give us more space to live in.'
Then you will say in your heart,
'Who bore me these?
I was bereaved and barren:
I was exiled and rejected.
Who brought these up?
I was left all alone,
but these -- where have they come form?'

Isaiah 49:19-21

Morning by morning, I wake up to find
The strength and the comfort of God's hand in mine
Season by season I watch Him amazed,
In awe of the mystery of His perfect ways,
All I have need of, His hand will provide
He's always been faithful to me.

Carolyn Ahrens

In repentance and rest is your salvation.
In quietness and trust is your strength.

Isaiah 30:15

Only with You, Abba.
Only You.
Else all is lost.

RAB09

Time Away from Time

It's so easy to fall into a time warp continuum when everything around you reminds you of nothing related to the clock or schedules, but only to the rhythms of the created order and the holy hush that wraps you up in it.

It's all about the light, I think, or the water. Or the light on the water. And being away from everything else for days at a time.

It's all around you but comes inside you somehow, until you are breathing with it. Breathing the wind. Breathing the colours.

There's a timeless patience everywhere. In the rocks. In the way the trees bend their growth with the prevailing push of westerly unseen forces.


It's in the time-doesn't-matter way you wait to be friends with small creatures who can teach you so much if you stop and watch them long enough, coaxing them, patiently. Until they trust you, which feels good in a very simple sort of way.

And it's time to connect with the Timeless One, who for eternity has loved me, as startling as that is, but as clear as it becomes, when you have time.

Time for the Light to shine warm and wonderful on the stilling waters of my soul.

Time for the Pneuma-Wind to breathe fresh into me again. Time to regain some trust in myself, as timid and cowering as I feel.

Time to be sought out and pursued by the Patient One, who waits for me to catch up with Him.

It's not enough, of course. It's never enough time in the place away from time. Three weeks blurs into what feels like a mere few days. And I would never think that it was time to come home again.

Except it is.

Time Now

Time now. I'm going off line for three weeks. I'll be at the cottage, and I am so ready to be at the cottage.

Time now. To just be. To watch. To hear. To revel in my skin for a bit. I'll be at the cottage, and I am so ready to be at the cottage.

Time now. To bake cookies and pick blueberries and swim. To sit still long enough to earn the trust of skittish creatures and let my soul come out of hiding. I'll be at the cottage, and I am so ready to be at the cottage.

Time now. To nurture my most important human connection and give the gift of space to all the rest. To heal a bit. To cry some. To laugh silly and think of nothing too much at all and everything all at once. To let the enormity of my life find its proper perspective in the bigger-ness of God.

Time to be me, in case I forgot how. Time to let my spirit marinate in gentleness. Time to sleep the holy sleep of Sabbath.

And I can do all that. Because I'll be at the cottage.

And I am so, so ready to be at the cottage.

And for all those who have shared something of themselves with me this season, thank you. I needed you. I will need you again as we go around again.

But for now, it's time.

Taking Care of Each Other

I've recently taking up swimming. It's my latest desperate attempt to do something that counts as exercise. Three times a week, for the past, oh two weeks (you've got to start somewhere) I've headed over to the Rec Centre and done the lane swim. 20 laps, I'm told, is close enough to 1 km that I've been using that as my goal.

Feels good.......when I'm done. Actually even during the swim, I find it soothing, calming, centering, over and over again, lifting my arms pulling myself forward through the water. A time to think, uninterrupted. A time to pray.

In the week before Zachary's birth, Kristyn and I were mapping out a few plans for after his arrival. Wait, did I say plans? What am I thinking? You can't plan anything once a newborn is in the house. I guess we were talking more about some priorities, things we were wanting to keep at the top of the list, even once the lovely random newborn chaos began.

At one point in the conversation I had said that I hoped I could still get over to the pool to do my laps. "Because," I said, "I still need to take care of myself."

Abby, who was playing nearby, picked up on that and corrected me.

"We will take care of you, Gramma."

I looked at her and realized how fundamentally right and true and good her statement was. We're a family. Our dynamics may be somewhat unusual but the bottom line is still the bottom line.

We're a family. We take care of each other. The giving and the taking flows back and forth and up and down and in and around in ways that, provided we all know who we are and Who's we are, happens in love and with grace.

And the very cool thing, especially for us right now, is that "family" goes a whole lot further than just those who live under this one roof. A whole lot further. We know it. We feel it. And the giving and taking flows back and forth and up and down and in and around in ways that, providing we all know who we are and Who's we are, happens in love and with grace.

And hopefully I can get in a swim soon.

Newborn Awe

It's all new
All wide-eyed and unbelievable
Everything you see
Everything we see in you and because of you

Welcome, Unexpected Blessing
Grandson undeserved
We receive you with bold love
And kick-butt grace
And we commit you to our Faithful Creator
And ask His favour to continue to do as good as the little we know

And we love you
How could we help it?

RAB09

For Zachary Jan born June 19, 2009 at 1:49 a.m. 8 lbs 7 oz, 22 inches
and entirely captivating.

When You Least Expect It

Just a short post this evening, to share with permission an excerpt of an e-mail I recently received from Starr Bramer. Starr is a University Student who works with our Children's and Student's ministries at Highview and also traveled with our Asia Team last month to visit the Hot Springs Orphan Home.

Confession: I am shamelessly recruiting young adults for our missions teams with the blatant intention of exposing them to the kinds of cross cultural experiences that God may choose to use to totally redirect their futures. Shamelessly, but with a great deal of respect and no hint of manipulative tactics, I trust.

Starr was stellar on the trip to Thailand. She demonstrated maturity beyond her years, moved honestly through the emotional terrain of a first cross cultural experience, and held her own as a full member of the Team.

Here's part of how she's continuing to process what went down for her.

I was at a concert Saturday night. Hillsong United was playing in the Molson Ampitheatre. Big sounds, lights, hype. But then in a quiet moment, a member of the opening band talked about a recent trip to Thailand and the pain of seeing the big industry that is prostitution. You can buy children there. In the middle of a huge concert in Toronto, I started sobbing for the children in Thailand. There is so much hurt. But I thank and praise God for Suradet and Yupa. Because of them, our 15 beautiful children are saved in such a big way.

God works in such weird ways! I'm praying for our friends in Thailand along with you.

Starr

On This Rock I Fret

Human relationships can be tricky things.

I'm involved in a lot of them. In fact, for the most part I regard my life to be rich in deep and lasting friendships, some of them life long. Family members, especially my husband, bring a stability and anchoring to my own identity and personhood. Others, like the delirous joy that exudes from my granddaughter, feel like outlandish gifts I most certainly don't deserve. I am more me because of the other.

I also feel a great delight in the connections I have with people from so many different areas and eras of my life that fall into various degrees of knowing. Their laughter, their opinions, their stories all make a contribution to my own. God brings so much to my life through the interface of other human souls with mine, and I am glad, grateful.

Still, at times, the relational territory gets weird. You want it, but it's not easy. It's sort of like getting out to the water on one of the rocky beaches up on the Bruce Peninsula. The vivid colours of sky and water, and the promise of an invigorating swim draw you out there, but each step is treacherous, requiring great concentration and agility. The rocks are different sizes, and some are well set, while others are totally loose, and they all look the same. You can't tell, sometimes, when you put your foot down, whether or not you'll be okay. The threat of a nasty tumble is in every step.

It's puzzling to me how quickly I can lose my nerve in these relationships. In spite of the fact that at other times, certainly in the past year, I have been able to square my shoulders and face dark and insidious enemies with a courage and ferocity beyond myself, the threat that comes to me in the form of a difficult relationship makes me want to forget about the swim and run back to the forest to hide. I can anticipate the fall, remembering the pain of past knee-smashing, elbow-crunching, face-disfiguring encounters with the rocks of violation and betrayal. My ankles are weak with the sense that I've been here before, and it's going to hurt.

What keeps me going? Certainly there would be some routes to the waters of friendship that should be avoided at all costs. When another human soul is so damaged that abuse and violence in any of their forms is the experienced expectation, it's not wise or loving to go there. And in some cases, I have chosen not to visit those beaches any more. Nothing good or godly can come of it.

But something about the way God keeps pursuing me informs me that rocky relationships should not be abandoned as a matter of course. I feel like running, but I don't. And I might get hurt, and I may do some hurting, as we both pick our way through. And if I get tired, like really, really tired, like I am now, I may need to sit out for a while and catch my breath before moving forward again. But if I love you, I'll keep going. And if I left my love for Jesus love you when I can't love you, I'll keep on going. If you start to pick up stones to throw at me, I'll leave the beach.

But as long as we can keep heading out to the water together, I won't give up on you.

At least, I don't want to.

An Open Letter to Two Remarkable Heroes

To my dear and honourable friends, Pastor Suradet and Yupa,

This day, for reasons not clear to me, has been particularly painful in the missing of you both. My thoughts have been of you, and of the children at Hot Springs. My heart is heavy with longing to be with you. I am homesick for Thailand.

Often I write about and express freely my affections for the children. They are without question 15 treasures, and I do miss them terribly on days like this, and most other days too, if I'm honest. I miss hearing their voices, having them come for a hug, being gifted with a beauteous smile. They have captured my imagination in ways that still surprise me. I am fiercely intent on their well being. I pray for them with intensity.

But today my thoughts are more with you. Today I am missing you, my friends.

It still astonishes me that I could feel so close to and hold in such high esteem people with whom I can barely communicate. Not with language at least. Your English is very good. Geng mahk. Much better than my feeble attempts to wrap my poor brain around Thai, as amusing as that challenge has been. But really, if we were both honest, we can hardly talk to each other.

Yet I love you so much. I feel so warm and welcome and respected in your presence. I am so eagerly embraced into your family, and into your hearts. Your lives inspire me and lift me and make me want to live better, and know you better, and ask if somehow I can be more and more part of who you are and what you do.

That's the thing. This deepening desire to be part of what God is so clearly doing through you. I am compelled by an interest and affection I don't understand. There is a chemistry happening, something I've only experienced once or twice before in my entire ministry and personal life. There's a pull, a fascination, something I can't shake, not that I want to, that makes my heart beat harder when I think about how God is letting me do this with you.

I speak in the personal, but I fully know that there's a whole beautiful church of people called Highview, especially the sponsors, that share in all of this. Hot Springs is hardly the pet project of one person. It can't be. It's certainly way bigger than me, and we need to pull on the resources of one another in order to make the difference we hope to make. In that, I have been overwhelmed with the generosity of our people to engage with the children. You are well loved by not just the sponsors, but by our people as a whole. Know that. Feel that. Receive that.

That's why, right now, as we consider the changes that are being presented to us, I am more and more convinced that God is about to show us something new. I am asking Him to give the ideas and compassion and the creativity to partner with you in the fullest sense of the word. To think this out and through and up and over and above all that you both require to raise your children and unleash them to their futures. We want to do this ministry with you.

You have done a remarkable thing. You've opened up your entire lives, turned them upside down, for the sake of bringing love and life to children who would otherwise have been helpless. You spread out the mats and put on the rice and opened your arms so that thirteen kids could sleep and eat and be loved. Selflessly, tirelessly.

I love watching you do it. It's so joyful. You are so delightful as you love them. Being with you and engaging with this sweet energy, pours light and strength into my soul. Moving easily through a regular day with you is like plugging into to something supercharged and gentle and white hot and pure. From morning devotions at 5 a.m. to evening devotions after supper and all the moments of life in between. The children. The mountains. The rain. The rice. The mangos. The singing....that sound of musical hope echoing in the upper assembly room, and out into the jungle air.

You are doing an amazing job. You are doing this so well. I am so inspired and challenged by who you are and what you do. What an unspeakable gift you have brought to these children.

To Bee and Bao, of course, the children born from your bodies. But also for Teh and Saiy and Entorn and Thim and Somchai and Bee and Miki and Sai and Boy and Bee-yung and Fruk and Nam and Nut, the children born from your obedient compassion Fifteen altogether.

Suradet, you told me, when we were there, that you have a dream to build a dorm that would house 30. Thirty children, you said. Dek dek sam-sip, I said. And you smiled that completely bilingual and winning smile of yours, and said, Yeeesss.

You have one of the biggest hearts of anyone I know.

I want to learn from you, Suradet. I want to understand better from you Yupa. You have so much to teach me about love.

And love is the most important thing. In fact, the two you embody the words of Paul in Galatians 5:6.

"The only thing that counts is faith expressing itself through love."

You ARE those words Suradet.
You LIVE those words Yupa.
Far more than I.

And that is why you are my heroes. Remarkable heroes. Stunning.

So my prayer on this day of particularly missing you is this. That I may be granted the enormous honour of sharing in your ministry as much as I possibly am allowed. To the fullest extent that God sees fit. With whatever I can bring to this, I am asking, begging, to be granted the priviledge to share in this. Not in the doing of it, because you already do it so well. Just....Lord, please let me be as much a part of this as I can be.

And please, can it be that soon I will wake up and not be missing you....because I will be there with you for a little while again.

With deepest affection and immense respect,
Your humble friend,

Ruth Anne

A Breathless Marking

It shouldn't be but it is
Both sides of it
The ugly of vile
And the astonishing beauty of grace

Both have been my companion this year
Both should not be
But are

And all I can know is what it means to be forgiven
And seek to forgive
And what it means to be loved anyways
And to love anyways

And to stand undone by the strength of it
And weep in the sorrow and joy of it
And find no rest and rest also
In the Best of it

And be in this moment of marking
Breathless with anguish and wonder

RAB09

Trading My Sorrows

Because of the combination of early morning and late evening meetings all in one day, I arrived home today to be greeted by a granddaughter who hadn't seen me since Monday.

The exuberance of her wild and kissy hello was not lost on me. To have that much energy come from a little one who not that long ago lay listless in a hospital bed was beyond the expectations of the groaning-prayers offered in the anguished hours of early mornings in March. To have that much shiny joy concentrated in one small, now healthy body, giglging and squealing and bouncing with unrestrainted delight, is nothing short of a good and perfect gift from the Father of Lights.

Later, as I was combing her wet hair after her bath, she asked permission to jump on the bed. I asked her not too, because I was sure that if she did while we were combing her hair, it would hurt her. She paused for a moment, and then began to move her legs and hips in a subdued, swaying and totally uncoordinated kind of way and asked, "Would this hurt?" I said I didn't think so.

And there we were, combing her hair while she did her silly hair-combing pseudo-dance of joy.

And, Father of Lights, I just wanted to say thank you.

Earthfest 2009 Loves K-W

Just a very quick post this morning before I head off to be with and worship with the amazing collection of people called Highview.

First, to explain. Love K-W is a month long community outreach initiative involving approximately 20 churches in the twin cities. From May 1 to 31, churches have banded together to reach out into their communities, focusing on underserviced groups and individuals, to show the love of Jesus in tangible, meaningful ways.

This weekend it was our honour to "Love K-W" by connecting again with our friends and neighbours at Waldau Woods. Earthfest 2009 was so much fun!

YOU GUYS ROCK! There was face painting and popcorn and crafts and climbing in the bouncy castle and cleaning up the play areas and sweeping the roadways and turning over flower beds and hot dogs and cake! The very best of it is how three different groups really came through to make the day a success.

Thanks and kudos to Kitchener Housing for all your cooperation and help and for providing the BBQ at the end of the day! Good on you, residents of Waldau Woods who signed on to help out and help build into the community spirit.

And thanks to every Highviewer who came out to be "hands and feet" in so many different ways. Renee Peers, our Student Ministries Director, plus all the students and volunteers, deserve special thanks for the planning and preparation of the festival portion.

Glen Good, along with his lovely wife Anne, also deserve special recognition for heading up the clean up portion, and putting so much of their own elbow grease into the weekend.

Personally, I can't think of any way I'd rather have spent this weekend than with all of you, down at Waldau Woods, building on friendships we have already, meeting new friends, and just simply bringing what we have for God to use however He sees fit.

DON'T FORGET LOVE K-W's CELEBRATION EVENT
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Waterloo Pentecostal Assembly
7:30 p.m.
Admisssion: Item for the Food Bank

A Respectful Temptation

It starts with the wai, and the titles, and the being given first preference for almost anything.

That’s why they are a little shocked, perhaps amused that I am in the back of the truck. Hot sun, hot wind, hot little bodies pressed close for the ride. The deep green of the jungle and the deep red of the earth and the deep blue of the sky and the relentless beauty of childish Asian faces all press vividly into the moment.

I am vivid too, here in the back of the truck. My eyes linger vividly on the children, one at a time…..Fruk right here in front of me, Saiy to the right, Miki to the left, the rest of them, all of them, every amazing one of them, collected along the sides and in the middle. They are preoccupied with the ride themselves, so I indulge myself with just looking at them while they don’t notice. It fills me in ways that make me breathe in short little breaths, holding them in, as if to hold in the moment.

Like the promise of a cool shower at the end of a brutal midday hike, the anticipation of vivid moments like this kept me going all winter. Through the months of expected cold and unmitigated, unexpected events of stress that dominated the stretch between this and my last visit, I have so wanted to come back to these children. Ached for it, really, the impossible distance at times wrenching deep tears from my longings.

I do believe it’s the children themselves that provoke my desire. But careful introspection requires consideration of the shadow side of all of this. There may well be other motivations, and because I long to keep this Asian love affair as pure as humanly possible, for oh so many reasons, some pondering of the possibilities seems prudent.

Perhaps it’s escape. Yes, I’ll consider that. Being half way around the world from the relentless cycle of events that has hammered my life particularly stridently in the past 12 months, does afford permission to be doing something else than solving all those problems all the time.

Perhaps it’s the simplicity. These people don’t have much, and so life is clearer some how. Being the guest, I do no cooking or laundry or other chores, and even if I did, it would be so novel and different that no tedium could possibly be squeezed out of it.

But perhaps what tempts me most, if I were to be brutally honest, which I am finding more and more necessity for in my older years, is what is built into Thailand itself.

Here I am respected. I am a guest midst a people acculturated to serve, where I am the benefactor of people who need the resources I can allocate. Here, apparently, I am esteemed as Ajahn Rut and treated with deference, with respect.

Here me just being, not doing, is enough, more than enough, to be treated with respect.

Instead of always coming up short, running out, disappointing and never satisfying, like I do at home most of the time, here I am over and above, more than usual.

The contrast to my image of myself at home is startling. At home I am constantly being measured against how much I can do. At home I live in a secular culture, and even a church culture, where being pastor doesn’t really have a whole lot of clout. At home we’ve dropped the titles. We don’t wai to one another as a symbol of humility and respect. And at home I am still trying to recover significant status and credibility lost by events way out of my control but which landed me smack in the middle of something truly ugly that can’t help but tarnish my image.

I’m not feeling sorry for myself. These are my realities and within them, at home, I enjoy so many beautiful blessings and joys. Life, for the most part, is easier than it is in Thailand, and there are many benefits from living in a culture less hierarchical than Thai culture, especially as a woman. So, cognitively, I understand.

But I think, if I’m honest, I could get used to this being so “special”. Yes. It would be nice. It might be just lovely to be the first served at the table all the time (even when we went to a restaurant, how did the server know?), to have any request be immediately tended to, to say something just once and be listened to. To have letters addressed to me as "Dearest and esteemed Pastor Ruth."

The other day, here at home, I had a truly upsetting encounter with someone who is angry that Ken and I are helping our daughter through her nightmare. There was too much anger to completely be able to decipher exactly what the issues are, but, given our situation and the social implications, it doesn’t completely surprise me. Still, this was someone with whom I had previously enjoyed an easy, casual friendship; someone who had asked me in the past to engage with them in important life moments as a pastor; someone I thought might be able to respect my choices.

There was no respect in our encounter. I was clearly despised. And in sorting that out this week, I realized a fleeting thought – I wish I were back in Thailand.

But then almost as quickly another thought came. “If it was all about you, then yes. Wishing for Thailand would make sense. However, instead….why don’t you bring that piece of Thailand home?”

So I probably won’t wai you, or duck to keep my head lower than yours. But hopefully, as I keep sorting this out, I will offer my respect more easily.

The cross cultural learnings of my connection with Thailand continue to be a source of intrigue and amazement to me. I have so much more to understand. So much more God can do with my soul because of this.

Psalm 37:4

We're home now.

The long, long journey back is done and I am back with my family, having already had a wonderful coffee with a close friend already this afternoon.

While the unpacking, both literally and emotionally, will take some time, I thought I'd include a moment from last week when were were just starting our time at Hot Springs.

Tuesday, May 5, 2009

In and amongst the excitement and rice it’s been lingering. This trip, there’s been a feeling, a sensing, a prevailing thought, flitting around on the outskirts of my awareness, not registering completely until I identified it yesterday during a ride.

I think we were on our way to Doi Saket. The streets were familiar, the strangeness recognizable in that strange new way of normal this third time here. And I was feeling particularly happy. Happy to be on my way to see the Doi Saket kids again. Happy to be here driving on the left side of the road. Happy to have George and Starr with me. Happy to be with Tutu, talking and sharing our hearts together as if we have been friends for a long, long time.

And then, there it was. This lingering, flitting feeling that was…….guilt. Yes! I’m feeling thoroughly undeserving, completely indulgent and wholly unworthy to be here.

Third time in fourteen months! When George did the math at supper the night before, I almost sucked air. Wow! That means in the same amount of time that I’ve been to the cottage once, I’ve been to Thailand three times. Hard to believe. And rather indulgent, I’m thinking. It costs a pretty penny to get here for one thing. And others have made sacrifices to help me with those funds. It’s a sacrifice for others too, those who pick up the slack at the church and at home.

And here I am, with a heart full of joy, riding in a truck on my way to hug and be hugged and to help give our Werthers to orphans in Thailand. How selfish is that?

This “guilty” lingered for a bit, on through until yesterday, our second day at Hot Springs. It didn’t dominate, by any means. The children, kissing them, hugging them, looking into those deep, deep brown eyes and receiving wide and shy smiles all at once…..the children themselves are enough happiness to block out guilty for most of the time. But it was there.

I don’t deserve this. I really don’t. The way I behaved and the arrogance and hissy fits of the first trip….oh my goodness, I most certainly didn’t deserve to come back at all after that. Then there was last October, and the healing beauty of the simplicity of loving and being loved in a little place nestled into the foothills of the Himalayas.

I don’t deserve the love of these children, unassuming, unconditional, affectionate with reckless abandon. They give all of themselves and capture a piece of my heart.

And I certainly don’t deserve to have done all of this and experienced all of this and received all of this all in the scope of 14 months. I do not. I do not.

But in the middle of a game of “wild monkeys”, around the cement table …..with Sai snuggling her little self right into the nooks and crannies of me, part of the game, but also stroking my arm and grabbing my hand and looking up at me for approval, frequently and with intensity…..

And with Miki, whom for whatever reason has found her way especially into my affections, on the other side, showing leadership and making me proud of how she’s working the table to make sure things are fair and everyone gets a turn…and how she keeps catching that I’m staring at her, and when she does breaks into this fantastic smile that just about undoes me….

And with Fruk across from me, grabbing for the wild card with tiny hands trying hard to play hard and fast, even though he’s one of the younger ones, the cuteness factor through the roof, just because he’s at the table…..

And the palm trees and orchids and other tropical plants I now recognize by sight even if not by name, and the hot, hot sun kept at bay by the corrugated roof under which we are gathered, and the chickens running free and the dogs laying quiet…

And the whole big thing that is the excruciating honour of just being allowed here, knowing how my heart felt crushed inside my chest when I had to leave last time, and how long I’ve deeply, deeply desired, longed to be here in a moment just like this…… I heard Him say it.

“I am giving you the desires of your heart, Ruth Anne. Don’t feel guilty. Just enjoy.”

Psalm 37:4 “Delight yourself in the LORD, and He will give you the desires of your heart.”

I’d grown up learning that verse, but I never understood it. Now I think I do. It’s not, like I was taught it wasn’t, a way to trick God into giving Him what you want. Doing all the right things and then, well look, it was in the contract, so give me my fancy car or the right husband or whatever it was that your heart desires. It’s not even a rip off, like I felt it was when I was a child. That whole…if you delight in God, then your heart will desire Him and you’ll get what your heart desires in the end….some Matrix like quantum loop of psycho-religious logic.

Except, maybe it is a little.

Because when we started this whole Regions Beyond thing, it wasn’t really anything to do with some wild and sexy thing I had dreamed up for the church. In fact, to me, in some ways, I feared we would be going backwards into some stuffy missions program. However….God was certainly up to something in the hearts of our people for places like Haiti….and Asia, as it turned out….so we went at it full force. I led us into this with everything I have and everything I’ve been given as a servant of the kingdom. I gave God my best in this, as best I could. I delighted in who God made me to be in order to bring about the kinds of changes that would direct us to a small place just north of Chiang Mai, and the 15 children waiting there for us to be the answer to their prayers….and for them to be God’s provision of my own desire.

It’s hard to explain really. Hard to remember what happened first. Except for God, who is timeless, I guess He already knew. He knew I would fall in love, so He directed me to serve Him where my desires could be, would be met.

And here and now, in this moment of time while I’m here, yet again, much to my astonished heart, here again, He does it. He grants me what I’ve been longing for, painfully, hugely.

I’m here.

And Miki is smiling at me.

And my heart is full, undeservedly. The lavish gift of a God who does not count against me the sins of my folly, but instead, orchestrates all of this in such a way that His plans and purposes for 15 despairing kids can be fulfilled….

And the desires of my heart can be given.