Unexpected Season's Greetings

It’s become really important to me that I have complete freedom to choose how I spend my Saturdays.  They’re the one day each week when I don’t have any other “responsibilities” to be anywhere or provide anything but I can commit or not to things just because- without the pressure of any obligation or the fear of taking on any guilt.  

So, it’s Saturday and I’ve spent the day at a very leisurely pace (even the dog wasn’t bothered to go downstairs until almost 11 this morning!) drinking tea, reading books, searching through recipes I might want to try for a Thanksgiving dinner I’ll be going to next Sunday, listening to podcasts, writing, praying and cleaning out some cupboards and boxes.  I’ve also learned that I feel so relaxed and un-stressed is when I do not have demands on my time but am free to keep reading, continue listening to another episode and unpack boxes and cupboards as slowly as I need to…

As I was working through a shelf that holds sheet protector binders full of teaching curriculum from when I taught with the internship at my church a few years ago I also discovered some unopened markers that I will bring to Carrying Companions on Monday, some round bump dots that I have been hoping to find for a-g-e-s so I immediately put two of them on my very non-tactile microwave button panel and I also found a few Christmas cards…

How very unexpected that was.  During the past 12 Christmas seasons I’ve only spent 2 in the states and Christmas cards are not a common part of the holiday here so I’d kind of forgotten about how beautiful they can be… 

These ones I found today filled me with peace at the sight of their blue and silver sparkles.  Immediately after that there was this huge wave of pain, nostalgia… a missing, a longing for something… 

I sat down and thought with the Lord, “I know I’ve chosen to obey and that where I live Christmas cards don’t mean the same thing they used to mean in my life… but, why the sudden sadness?”

I knew right away what I would do if I had more Christmas cards! I would have put them on display on a wall in my living room.  In the rough shape of a Christmas tree.  I remember that my grandma would do that in her one bedroom apartment when she was alive.  She had so many cards from so many years in the past! I loved looking at them again and again each year; rereading the handwritten words of hope and love from her friends and family through the years. And, we began to do it at our house, too… before things got bad.  

You know how the history of the world is sectioned into 2 distinct times, BC and AD? There’s definitely a divider stuck in the history of my childhood and when things began to get bad holiday traditions were one of the most noticeable casualties.  Even when I was still a kid, the loss of those things couldn’t be hidden or overlooked.  They left gaping holes in my heart, screamed confusion into my understanding of family and stole parts of my story that I had hoped would be the history I could share and pass on about my life…

Yep, today those Christmas cards poked at a place in my heart that I hadn’t realized still needs healing.  The thing about realizing as an adult that we need healing is that it’s harder to try to avoid the pain, unlike when we’re kids and ignoring the pain is often the road to surviving.  

As a kid I experienced pain, disappointment, doubt, fear and all in massive amounts that would have surely drowned me if I’d tried to find healing because I didn’t know the Healer of broken hearts back then; the One who came to replace our hearts of stone with hearts of flesh….  

But now, today, I do know Him. And I’ve had experience in His ways of healing.  Even I’m (pleasantly) surprised still though at how quickly I sat with Him today. Pain is scary.  Sometimes for me pain from the past is more scary than current pain because I don't know what else in there....

I’ll hang up the cards this year.  As a witness for myself of hope.  Hope that He will continue restoring what’s been stolen, that He will continue redeeming what’s been confused and that my history- what I have to pass on- has been rewritten for His glory because I’ve chosen to surrender it to Him.  

Are there parts of your story that still seem so broken, painful, confused, maybe even things you haven’t thought about for a while because you just believed it was always going to be that way…? I promise, unto us Jesus was born giving us access to God once again… access to the Wonderful Counselor Who knows just when and how to bring even more healing and transformation to our hearts.  Don’t feel pressure to make something happen, just go about your day as usual and be ready to ask Him what He wants to show you if you have any unexpected emotions.  It could become an opportunity for you to draw closer to Him and receive more of what He has for you this Christmas season.  

Beautiful, Valuable Restoration

Gifts are my love language; the fact that I was thought of, planned for or inspired someone to some form of generosity, even while I wasn’t with them, speaks volumes into my heart about my value in a relationship. I often thank God for His gifts of friendships, beautiful scenery, calm breezes (I live in a very humid tropical country), delicious food, ability to communicate in more than one language, a dog who brings so much good into my life… and so many other good gifts! 

Last October my brother and sister who know me so well gave me a gift just because they saw it and thought of me! It was a simple gold bracelet with a turtle charm (I’ll tell you why turtles are important another time)-  I felt so known, so seen, so valued.  It was a perfect gift! And, a treasure. 

I’ve never felt like I could wear a bracelet- I’m not small and dainty. I see things with my hands more than my eyes so my wrists are often banged against things as they’re discovered. 

I wore this one though. I wore it on days when I needed a smile and on days when I knew others needed encouragement from me. 

Then, in January, I wore it on the first day back to work after the new year holiday. And, it fell off my wrist, I lost it. 

I cried, hard. I didn’t expect the kind of sobs that came up.  They were tears from sadness mixed with tears from lies that said, “I told you so… Why did you think you could have something so valuable? You aren’t meant for things like that…” 

As I cried through telling my sister I’d lost the gift she immediately said they’d get me another one (she also told my brother to buy me an expensive ice cream bar while he was on his way to my house that evening – how well they really do know me!). 

I didn’t think I wanted another one, the risk of losing a second one actually made my stomach hurt a little. I wasn’t meant to have beautiful, valuable things… why would they get me another one? I secretly hoped they’d forget. 

Tonight she handed me a gift box. In it was not only a turtle bracelet, but also a necklace and earrings! I was stunned, speechless. And, all at the same time, so filled with love in all the places in my heart that needed His restoring… in a moment He gave more than my expectations and shattered the lie that I wasn’t meant for beautiful, valuable things… 

At some point in my past- no, not just once, it must’ve been many times- the deceiver led me to believe I wasn’t meant for beautiful, valuable things… maybe it was as each glass figurine my stepdad brought home for me as a gift eventually got broken during domestic violence… or, maybe it was when my mom’s boyfriend got me the exact purple radio I wanted and later set the house on fire… maybe it was when I turned 16 two months after a cousin who had a big, beautiful party and I, in foster care, didn’t even have a cake…

Yes, the deceiver led me to believe…

But, oh the Truth sets us free! 

The Truth that God created me in my mother’s womb, that He prepared such wonderfully good, beautiful, valuable things for me! The Truth that by His grace those broken places from our pasts can be healed and restored to wholeness… 

His goodness is more than you expect… 

Carrying Companions as God Carries Me

Hi! 

Can you believe that it is August already??? For it being such a strange year it seems like it’s suddenly going by quite quickly! This year has come with all kinds of new things for me; a new house in a neighborhood that I love, a new golden retriever puppy who keeps my days busy and keeps me on my feet and lots of new opportunities for saying goodbye as many non-Cambodian  friends have found themselves leaving Cambodia, as well as meeting lots of new people (Valor, my puppy, has opened up an entire new community of dog lovers for me to be part of!)

By far the biggest new thing this year is the beginning of Carrying Companions!  It’s hard for me to grasp the reality that I have really, truly started a brand new ministry project and that it has been active for 6 months already- God’s grace and favor during this has been absolutely incredible and I love, love, love every minute that I get to be with a Cambodian who has a disability or their family members

Currently we have 2 full time staff and one part time and we are working with 7 clients ranging in age from 2 years to 28 years.  There are 2 things that I have discovered I enjoy the most; the first is being part of “firsts” with people like when a few of our clients rode alone on Cambodian public transportation for the first time or when our 26 year old friend was able to write the first 5 letters of the Cambodian alphabet for the first time! The second thing I enjoy the most is when family members experience a sense of hope or relief like when we sit with and listen to a mom whose 12 year old son has cerebral palsy and she has kept him with her his whole life (despite urging from everyone around her to send him to an institution for unwanted children) as she tells us how alone she has felt and is able to release some of her burden through tears because she can see that now she is not alone anymore! 

On a personal note, I have been completely overcome with gratitude and humility (so many times) as I realize again and again the immense privilege I grew up with.  It’s true that my family situation was rough and I’m not denying that but, as far as being a child and young woman with a disability I was given a chance at everything and anything I could have ever dreamed! New York City public school system gave me free access to mobility training from the time I was 5 until 16 so that I could get around the city independently.  I had a paraprofessional in the classroom with me until 6th grade to help make learning accommodations.  Medicaid gave me eye exams and glasses.  At school I had adaptive physical education classes where I learned sports with other visually impaired students and we learned volleyball and tennis with balloons, hockey and basketball with equipment that had beepers and we ran track with sighted friends as our guides.  

There was absolutely nothing that was off limits.

And, learning about the situations of people with disabilities here and in other less developed countries both completely breaks my heart and moves me with intense passion to help them access the BEST of what is available.  

We are going to need LOTS of companions to carry us as we continue to move forward!  Right now, our working monthly budget is $900 and we have $700 in monthly sponsorship.  In order to continue growing we will need monthly sponsorship of $2,500 by the end of this year.  

I would be honored and grateful if you feel led to invest on a monthly basis from your finances into what God is doing through Carrying Companions! 

Another way you can partner with us is by becoming an advocate… We need to grow our network of people who know our name and YOU can help us do that! I’m asking for 7 people who can commit to share about Carrying Companions through your social media platforms and with your friends and relatives in person.  This would mean that you would be available for me to send emails to you with photos, facts and stories that you can share with your own communities and that you would be willing to make our needs known along with me.  

I know that this ministry cannot grow out of my own efforts, but it will go as far as God wants it to go- and I believe He wants the very best for His sons and daughters who already struggle through so many obstacles.  So, here we are in the very beginning stages of growth seeking people who will come alongside us with prayers, finances and advocacy.  I’m looking forward to hearing from you as you ask Him how He might allow you to go on this adventure with us!

You can invest financially anytime through:

IOM- Tell them it's for Carrying Companions! It'll be tax deductible

CashApp- It's always so fun hearing that coin drop notification sound!

PayPal- last but not least because every $ adds up!

Let me know if you have any questions or if you've decided to become a financial partner or an advocate (or maybe even BOTH)

Persevering to Receive a Good Gift

I’ve always loved to read and I used to write a lot more than I do lately... I believe that literacy (the ability to read and write) is one of the very good gifts God had in mind for my life. 

As a child, I remember watching tv shows such as Reading Rainbow and Wishbone whose entire themes were based around engaging children in stories. I loved participating in any program that had a reward of receiving a free book. And, to this day I can still vividly remember getting my first library card at nine years old; the first book I ever checked out from the library was Matilda and I devoured it. 

As an adult I’m the person who reads the entire instruction manual that comes with anything I purchase.  I want to know every tasty detail offered for each option at a restaurant and will spend quite a lot of time reading the menu.  And, at hotels, museums, zoos or any other attraction I can be relied upon to know the specifics of every service included and what will cost extra. 

Literacy is important to me.  One reason is because it enhances my experiences.  As a person with limited sight I’ve never been able to rely on pictures or gestures to help me understand the world around me.  Words often provide details that I would miss out on if they weren’t there.  I love it that God gave us the Bible- such a wonderfully descriptive book to discover who He is, how He does things and what He has for us!

Another reason that literacy is important to me is probably because it’s one of the gifts that I had to persevere for in order to be able to receive.  There were meetings when I was 4 years old (and earlier but I don’t remember those) in which professionals told my Mom that my visual disability would stop me from reading and writing. That it would be too much to expect me to manage literacy plus navigating the world around me. They said I could become Braille literate but that Braille had limitations and we shouldn’t expect too much.  My Mom, very unprofessionally, told those guys that I would learn both. 

As I went to school it took me longer than the other kids to recognize what each letter looked like, I remember going to a special one on one class for an hour every day where we worked with flash cards, magnetic letters and wikki stix.  

It took me longer to learn how to write each letter, I remember the bold lined paper and felt tip markers.  

It took me longer to learn how to make my letters fit in the appropriate spaces, I remember my first grade teacher tearing up my worksheets in front of the class because I wrote the words too big on the lines that were printed there.  

It took me longer to learn how to see whole words and not just letters next to each other, I remember reading my first book in print (Brown Bear, Brown Bear What Do You See?) when I was almost 7. 
There were many tears when I was a kid watching my friends learn faster than me...

It took a long time ... and I did it.  

I’m full of gratitude towards the adults who didn’t quit.  If there's someone in your life who is taking longer than expected to get to where God is calling them don't give up.  Recognize and encourage every small step in the right direction.  

It took me almost 8 years of life in Cambodia to build the courage to begin to learn to read and write Khmer.   I’ve heard many with perfect vision say that they began to learn to read and write Khmer only to quit because it is so difficult.  And they weren’t kidding, it is sooo difficult!  Based on Sanskrit, the writing looks nothing like the Roman alphabet and has more than 100 individual characters used to build words- the most in the world! 

With a one on one teacher for less than 3 hours each week God has been asking me to receive the very good gift of learning literacy in a second language... 

It’s taking a long time to recognize each letter, I still  have to practice as I get ច, ថ, ជ and ផ confused quite often.  

It’s taking a long time to learn how to write each letter, my teacher very creatively has used parts of English letters that I already know how to write as stepping stones to help me learn to write the Khmer ones.   

It’s taking a long time to follow instructions to write my letters bigger and not smaller so that “tall” words like ប្អូន can be read clearly even though they don’t fit into one college ruled line in my notebook. 

It’s taking a long time to recognize whole words, there are usually only spaces in between sentences and not each word. 
There are sometimes tears as this adult watches some friends learn faster than her...

It’s taking a long time... and I’m doing it!

The letters on the left are from my very first time trying to write Khmer letters- Jan. 2018.

The ones on the right I wrote just before posting this blog.

Literacy is important to me and I love sharing this good gift with those God puts in my life. I share it through conversations about words and stories, through inspiring Cambodians towards literacy by showing them the gift God gave me in their own language and by speaking about and showing them that sometimes we need to persevere to receive the good gifts God has for us.

Is there something good God has for you and it's taking longer than you expected to receive it...? Or, longer than others expected...?  Learning a new skill? Breaking a bad habit? Maybe creating healthy routines with your finances or eating or sleeping or time with God...? Maybe your family needs a new home or you need a new job... And, maybe you’ve become discouraged and maybe you’ve stopped trying...

God hasn’t quit. He doesn't measure time the way people do and He's never late.  

As long as you’re willing to persevere He’ll be there and He’ll send the right people to encourage and teach you.  Sometimes, like when I was a kid, He’ll surround you with people and circumstances that will push you forward.  And other times, like me learning Khmer literacy, you’ll need to have the courage to ask someone to be part of the process. 

It might take longer than expected but if it's God's calling and you're willing to persevere you can move forward... slow movement is still movement.  

The Sound of Your Name Said In His Voice

When she didn’t understand what was happening

Even though she was slow to believe

When she felt alone

While she was weeping

He saw her devotion to Him and gave her a great reward

He came to her

He knew what she needed

He said her name

Her name in His voice opened her eyes to see life

And the sound of her name said in His voice changed everything for her

In John chapter 20 we see Mary on resurrection morning.  She was slow to believe that what Jesus said could really be true, that He would rise from death.  And, I just can’t really blame her! I think I would’ve wanted to believe it but, I too, probably would have been doubtful as I grieved the loss of such a dear friend.  Mary is so loyal, she wanted to protect His reputation, she wanted to make sure His dead body was treated with the most honor and respect that could be given.  Her devotion brought her to the tomb before sunrise.  

Mary wept.  The body was gone, it hadn’t been cared for well, it wasn’t protected. She was devastated.  

In her moment of devastation, yet still loyal, He was there. He saw that the devastation was a sign of her loyalty and He gave her such a great reward. She didn’t expect it, she expected Him to be dead.  

Her name in His voice opened her eyes to life.

When I don’t understand what’s happening

Even though I’m slow to believe 

When I feel alone

While I’m weeping

He sees my devotion to Him and rewards me greatly

He comes to me

He knows what I need

He says my name

My name in His voice opens my eyes to see life

And the sound of my name said in His voice changes everything for me

As I read Mary’s story in John chapter 20 this morning I was dealing with some broken-heartedness of my own.  There are circumstances in my life that I don’t understand why they are the way that they are.  I’ve said goodbye to many dear friends this year.  There are things I want so desperately to keep believing for even though I’m slow to believe.  Personally, I hear voices before I recognize faces. This morning, again, my name in His voice has opened my eyes to the life He offers each day.  Such a great reward.  

And, you? Will you be brave enough to go to where He waits for you, even though you don’t understand and maybe you’re just a bit slow to believe? Will you weep, let the devastation out so you can hear your name clearly when He says it? The sound of your name in His voice will be a sweet reward and allow you to see the life He offers.  

When you don’t understand what’s happening

Even though you’re slow to believe

When you feel alone

While you’re weeping

He sees your devotion to Him and rewards you greatly

He comes to you

He knows what you need

He says your name

And the sound of your name said in His voice changes everything for you

Grace in Weakness

It’s really easy for people to share about the victories we have in our lives- the prayers that have been answered in the way we were hoping for, the anniversaries of important positive life changing days, the celebrations of so many days, weeks, months, years since we have done such and such a bad habit, the moments when we have succeeded at something for the first time or when we have passed a test that we thought would be impossible.  And, rightfully so, we need to practice celebration in our own lives and the lives of those around us! 

But, today I was reminded of the beauty and goodness that can be found when we are willing to admit the things we haven’t overcome yet, to look at our weaknesses and call them weakness, to ask people to continue praying for that situation we haven’t seen change in yet or even to rejoice in the percent we did get right on an assignment.  

I’ve wrestled since the time I was 8 years old with feeling like I was replaceable.  I was told a lie that there will always be something or someone better than me and when they show up I won’t be loved anymore.  I have had to figure out the detail of that lie so I can come against it in the most effective ways.  It would be one thing to say that I believed I wouldn’t be needed anymore, if that was the lie then I would still be confident in the truth that I’m loveable.  

That wasn’t the lie though.  The lie was very distinct, very targeted.  As my younger brother was born I had just asked my mom if I could change my last name to my stepdad’s, I wanted to have the same last name as my brother and the man I had been calling dad.  The Destroyer chose that very season to break me in ways that I am still recovering from.  

My stepdad now had a child of his own.  A son.  I became worthless. I was no longer loved. I had been replaced.  

Even today I have to be aware of what voice I’m hearing in my mind.  Every now and then the fear of being replaced finds its way to the surface and impacts my current relationships.  Especially in seasons of transition or uncertainty of any kind and the past few months have had more than their share of such things.

This afternoon I found myself confessing to someone I care about so deeply that I thought she didn’t want to spend time with me.  It took a lot of humility and honesty to say that to her.  I could have made up an excuse and not had to face the after effects of what my childhood has done to me.  But, I chose to stand in this moment of acknowledging my insecurity.  

It was hard.  

Grace was given.  She forgave me for still not yet understanding the completeness of her acceptance.  And, I told her I would start to have more confidence in it.  Pray for me? 

Fully accepted

I believe it is important for us to share our stories even when we don’t have complete victory.  After all, if complete victory was in the here and now then why would we long for eternity? 

So readers, keep taking steps forward and find the ones who will cheer you on in the process.  The majority of people around us won’t have the privilege of seeing all the moments of believing and persevering and continuing and that’s okay.  Our Father in Heaven sees every one and He delights in our desire to keep going forward.  

The Day I Found Hope

This week is a very significant one in my life because it marks 20 years since I began following Jesus which has been the best choice I’ve ever made.  I have learned so much (and still have so much to learn!) about what it means to live life abundantly as He desires for me.  

It’s a significant week for another reason, too.  The catalyst that provided the opportunity for me to receive Jesus into my life was a very traumatic event.  I’ve never called it that, “traumatic” until this week but I believe it’s an appropriate word.  

David Crowder has a song called "Shadows" and the lyrics are so perfect for the experience I'm about to tell you...

"Life is full of light and shadow, o the joy and o the sorrow, 

And yet will He bring dark to light,

And yet will He bring day from night,

When all seems lost and we're thrown and we're tossed,

We will remember we're resting in the shadow of the cross."

I was 15 in June of 1998, getting ready to graduate from 9th grade and begin high school.  My 6 year old brother was finishing 1st grade and our 5 year old brother would be heading to kindergarten in a few months.  Summer break was so close and the excitement about 2 months of no school was all over the place! But, first, there were state math, history, science and language arts exams to take.  This was the first year that I was actually trying to study and felt like I should put some effort into passing these tests.  I knew that I would be going to a new school the next year and wanted to at least start off on a good foot.  So, I studied at home.

Studying at home was a test of its own kind.  Anywhere from 5-12 of us lived in that one bedroom apartment in Queens, New York City (yep, I’m a proud New Yawker!).  On rare occasions it was simply my mom, her boyfriend, my 2 brothers and me.  More often though there was also my best friend (we kept each other alive and sane) along with people who were too high on drugs to leave or dealers who found it easier to stay in one place instead of traveling to deliver their goods.  

A few months earlier, in April of that year, I knew things were getting out of control when the night before Easter I pleaded with my mom over and over to, “make sure they’re all gone in the morning, so we can have Easter”.  My request began at about 4pm that Saturday afternoon and was always met with, “of course they’ll be gone, I know it’s Easter tomorrow”.  At about 1:00 in the morning I dragged myself out of the bedroom where my brothers had fallen asleep and in the darkness of the living room crowded still with 5 adults continuing to sniff, smoke and shoot various drugs I put my hand on my mom’s shoulder and asked one more time, “please, make them leave before the boys wake up…please…” She said she would.  

That was the first time a holiday wasn’t celebrated in our family.  

It was as if mom and I both knew, without speaking it out loud to each other, that things were not going to improve after that.  Maybe she felt like she had fallen too far to stand back up, maybe she was being selfish, maybe she lost hope in ever being the mom she once was… whatever the reason was the result of her letting go of the responsibility of being a mom was that I tried to do it for her.  I tried and I tried and I tried and I kept it together as best as a 15 year old could.  I lived to keep my family together.  I knew that if the government took us away from each other things would not get better.  I had lots of friends in foster care, the system was failing everyone I knew and I didn’t want to become part of that.  

Besides…I reasoned with myself that things weren’t really all that bad anyway…

On that Wednesday night in June I was on the phone with my best friend and we were studying for our biology state test the next morning.  It was a strangely quiet evening with only mom’s boyfriend and one of his friends at the apartment.  Mom had gone out to dinner with a friend but surprisingly she had made us dinner before she left.  I had tried to convince her not to leave us with her boyfriend who had a habit of drinking too much and then breaking things or hitting people.  She went anyway, said she’d be back before 9:00.  

“Hey, Yvonne, get some clothes on your brothers, they’re here to take you…” her boyfriend said in a panicked voice.  

I looked up from the book I was reading practice tests out of to see a police officer standing in the bedroom along with the social worker who had been there last night.  

“what…?” I said as I took in what was happening. “um, I think, they’re taking us… taking us from mom…” I said to my friend.  

The police were there.  This had never happened before.  I’d seen many social workers at our house in my lifetime but never with police.  They usually came at separate times, not together.  The presence of the officer sent me the message that this was for real, we were leaving.  

I hung up with my friend and quickly called my brothers’ grandparents who had been mine as well since I was 5.  “Mom’s not home and they’re taking us!” I quickly blurted out.  Then, to the police, “Where are we going?” The social worker answered, “A temporary shelter in Manhattan.”  I told my grandfather on the phone and heard his voice crack as he said they’d figure it out.

The next few minutes seemed to happen in slow motion as I tried to make sure the boys had clothes and shoes, I stared at my mom’s boyfriend in disbelief as he said nothing in protest.  We walked out of the building into the darkness of that rainy summer night and got in the back of the police car that drove us away…

I held back my tears, my brothers were trusting me, they clung to either side of me and kept asking what was happening… I just held them as tight as I could and said it would be okay… I was certain that in just a few days we would be back with mom.  I knew that this would be the wake up call that would cause her to make things right again. 

I didn’t know, I didn’t know then that 20 years later I’d still be waiting for my family to “be okay”. 

There are moments in life that feel so overwhelmingly dark and you think there’s nothing that could be any darker.  That night was one of the darkest moments of my life.  Everything my 15 year old self held dear was being torn apart as we drove away from home.  I felt like I had completely let my mom and brothers down.  I had failed to keep us protected from the government.  I had not been able to teach my brothers to keep family secrets.  They didn’t know how like I did, mom had taught me but I didn’t pass the lessons on.  They didn’t know how to hide red marks, if they were hungry they said so and most of all, they didn’t know drugs were not actually allowed in people’s homes.  

Two days later was June 19th and we found ourselves being moved from the temporary shelter to our grandparents house.  The social workers asked me what I would need to help me get through this well and all I knew was that I needed my best friend so I told them I needed to go to her church.  Every time the doors were open.  I told them church would help me.  Truth was I had only been to her church once a few years before.  

That very first Friday night I found myself at youth group in the multicultural, pentecostal church that became my refuge during the most difficult years of my life.  

I didn’t know it then but, my friend had been praying that God would do whatever it took to get me to believe in Him.  God answers prayers, y’all.

After that first youth group meeting I was able, for the first time ever, to be completely honest with an adult.  I had already been taken away from my mom so I felt as though I had nothing left to lose.  

I told that youth leader about the drugs, the rundown apartment, the alcoholic, abusive boyfriend, the times I had done the urine sample for my mom’s drug tests so they would come back clean, learning how to steal food from grocery stores… I told him almost everything there could be to tell.  And then, he told me something that changed my life forever.

After patiently and compassionately listening to the story I had to share he looked at me and he didn’t say, “Jesus loves you! Repent and believe!”. He didn’t say, “Your mom has sinned and is going to hell unless she believes and repents.” While those things may well be true, he allowed Holy Spirit to guide his words and that message went straight to my heart, my gut some  might call it… 

“Wow, I’m really sorry those things have happened to you.  But, you need to know that this wasn’t God’s plan for your life.  Or your mom’s life.  Or your brother’s lives.”. Those words meant so much and still mean so much to me.  Hope is what drew me to Jesus.  Hope is what I cling to, still, today.  

Drug abuse wasn’t God’s plan.

Physical, emotional, sexual abuse wasn’t God’s plan.

Lies weren’t God’s plan.

Hunger, loneliness and silence weren’t God’s plan.

God had better plans.  

God HAS better plans.  

When I began to think that maybe there could be more, maybe there could be better, than what I’d experienced, not only for myself but, also for the ones I love so much is when I began to let God work in my life.  That moment that I thought was the darkest turned into the very thing that allowed me to experience true hope.  We have an enemy and he is clever.  He's a good liar, twister of truth, deceiver... but he's already been defeated and his power is nothing compared to what Jesus has for us! 

My hope is not some false, fairy tale kind of hope that probably won’t happen.  No, my hope is in Jesus, the One who conquered death and all that death holds with it.  He rose from the dead.  He didn’t just overcome it, He did much more than that.  He endured it…He lived through it and came out victorious! I have hope because I know He did it and He offers His victory to each one of us…including the ones we love so dearly who don’t yet know the victory He offers them…  

Because of the shadow of that cross where He died I can live in the light of hope!

Because of the shadows the enemy cast over my life I know the value of this hope!

Redefining Tradition

Tradition: beliefs or ways of doing things that are passed from generation to generation.

The season of November and December is one that carries much meaning and sentiment, especially in America.  I grew up in a city that would be decorated for Christmas even before Thanksgiving, a city that spent lots of money to put a giant Christmas tree on display and a city where the weather usually matched what gets sung about in Christmas songs on the radio.  The traditions of the holiday season were always alive and well in the stores, on street corners and even as you rode on public transportation. There was an anticipation in the air about gift buying and receiving, parties to host and attend and reconnecting with loved ones who would have some spare time from work or school.

We had traditions at home when I was a kid as we celebrated Christmas along with everyone else.  I didn’t know anything about church or God until I was 13 but that didn’t stop us from being part of the Christmas traditions of society.  I had my picture taken with Santa, I would watch candy canes melt in my hot chocolate (I mean, that’s totally christmasy!) and we would get a real pine tree, put it in our house and decorate it! My family took part in the traditions and I looked forward to December….

Until those things began to stop…  

We didn’t stop because I grew out of it or because we decided to become some kind of religious or because we moved to a place where there was no snow… 

We stopped because one year adults fought with each other, pushing and shoving until a daughter accidentally poured boiling water on her hands.  We stopped because one year a stepdad shoved the Christmas tree out a window.  We stopped because one year a father threw batteries at a 3 year old son’s head. We stopped because drugs are a powerful force when people don’t call on Jesus for help. 

And then as I grew older I began to fear and even hate the word tradition.  Friends would talk about what their families were going to do together and I smiled for the while inside I screamed that it was unfair.  Others would share about what gifts they were going to buy for family members or what they were hoping to receive and I would act excited while really I was in so much pain, grieving for what I once had and what I thought would always be.  

And now here I sit in a country where more than 95% of the population doesn’t know Jesus yet many stores decorate for Christmas, the carols are heard in English on the radio in coffee shops and gifts will be exchanged.  And… I have a Christmas tree in my apartment… It’s kind of become a tradition for me…

The first year I decorated this tree I heard myself saying to my younger brother, “You put the star on because you’re the tallest and it’s tradition” as soon as I said it I wanted to take it back.  I wanted nothing to do with the thought of things that stay the same.  I was too scared that maybe I would let my heart get attached to the feeling of safety that can come with tradition.  Safety of knowing what to expect.  

I didn’t take my words back that day though and as I have spent time with Jesus talking about these things during the past few Christmas seasons He has calmed my fears and has helped me redefine tradition.  For those of us who come from less than healthy homes there is a tendency to push away from things that healthy families do.  Until we experience healing we’re not quite sure how to respond in moments where things feel like they are tradition for someone else.  Over the years I’ve been invited into quite a few families traditions and each situation gave me a little bit more solid ground to stand on as I sought healing.  

With the help of Holy Spirit I’ve been able to redefine the word tradition.  Instead of taking my cues from what society around me has told me it is I am now able to work out what it means for me… I like what we’ve come up with! I now see tradition as ways of doing things and beliefs that are passed down from year to year with the freedom to change, grow and develop as God leads.  This still allows me to hold seasons, celebrations, moments with loved ones close to my heart. I still experience the excitement of looking forward to specific things that will happen. There's so much safety because I trust God with each season. And, I’m allowed the freedom to be okay when things change which is actually fun because some changes are great and should be celebrated and not mourned!  

This has become really important to me as a still single missionary and as someone whose biological family hasn’t come into their places in His kingdom yet. While I’ve been living in Cambodia for the past 7+ years it’s only been during the past 3 that I’ve been creating traditions of my own.  They are the small things that make me smile as they happen.  Things like wearing snowflake earrings in December, sharing the best things in life with people around me and even the tallest person putting the star on a Christmas tree.  

During this Christmas season may you embrace the traditions that you have.  Maybe you’ll spend it with lots of family gathered in one place.  Maybe you’ll spend with just a few you love.  Maybe you’re in a brand new place and haven’t built traditions yet, start with something small and work from there.  Maybe you haven’t begun asking Holy Spirit to heal some hurt places that tell you to run from tradition…it’s okay, say simple prayers inviting Him to do what He wants because I can promise you that His ways are good and kind and gentle (Psalm 119:68)

Uncontrolled Safety

Safety occurs for a person when they are protected from danger, risk or injury.  Some people value safety more than others do, I am one of them!  I also enjoy adventure, though... new experiences that have been survived become anchors of of trust in the God who cares for me as well as fun stories and memories to share! 

As someone who is legally blind what I've incorporated into my life is a system of discovering strategies that make me feel safe for various situations. For example, when I’m walking with someone in a place that I’m not familiar with I make sure to be very careful that they are always one step ahead of me so I can feel when we’re going to go up or down.  I have also become very good at making a mental map of new places so that when I go a second time I have a good idea of what the layout is (this fails me fairly often in the developing, ever changing obstacle course that is Phnom Penh...).  Another strategy is that when someone is guiding me and it’s their first time I make sure to tell them not to be afraid as I declare the truth that I trust Jesus with my life and physical safety and hopefully this eases their nerves but it certainly reminds me where my trust belongs. 

While living in Cambodia there are literally opportunities for new adventures every week, if not every day! One of my favorites has been riding on “moto’s” with friends who drive. And, to be quite honest, in the beginning I wanted absolutely nothing to do with this perceived craziness. I had never once in my life ridden on any type of motorcycle or scooter and had zero desire to begin in chaotic Phnom Penh traffic. Nothing about it felt safe to me and I reasoned that, while I do trust God and enjoy the feeling of accomplishing something new, He has also given me wisdom to use. 

After being surrounded by the Phnom Penh traffic for about four months I reconsidered and decided to be brave and began to ride moto’s. It has actually become my preferred method of transportation for 90% of occasions because they get places way faster than cars or tuktuks. I even enjoy riding in the rain which, I think, is because when you’re the one simply riding you don’t have to pay attention to the road so I get to joyfully ride under the waterfall!  

Over the years I've discovered a few strategies that help me feel safe when I ride moto’s. I never ever ride side saddle, I only ride with people I know and I hold on to the metal bar that is on the back of most scooters that people drive here. This holding on part is the most important for me. It makes me feel secure. I can’t see the road in front of us so I can’t anticipate bumps or even turns so when the unexpected happens (about every 15 feet here) I can quickly grab that bar and steady myself. 

I absolutely love when something that seemed so frightening and impossible becomes a normal part of life. Such victory! 

This all moved to a whole new level about three years ago when one of my brothers (who is also one of the people I ride with most often) got a new moto. This one was way bigger than his old one- I can’t touch the ground with my feet when I climb up on it (yes, I am short but still…)! The seat is not as long and the worst part… there’s no metal bar for stability! 

It looked giant and unfriendly when compared with what I was used to

i’m sure you can guess that it didn’t take very long though for me to want to overcome this. I reluctantly got on the back of his moto and he said, “okay, hold onto my shoulders”. Nope. Not me. I want more stability than your shoulders.  I’m used to having my hands on the moto so I found a way to get my fingers under the seat and I gripped the inside for dear life. And this is how I rode his moto for the past nearly 3 years.  In a very kind gesture he usually drives much slower when I’m with him than he would otherwise. 

Each time we arrive at our destination my fingers are red, calloused and blistered. They sting for a good while after each ride. Sometimes when we would go over big bumps my hand would get caught between the wheel well and the seat as they bounced together from the impact. My brother would notice and regularly would say, “just hold on to my shoulders”. And I would protest that it was no big deal and that I felt safer holding on to the moto. Then we would go on with life until the next time I rode on his moto. 

He’s married now and his wife has a cute little scooter that happens to be my favorite to ride these days! So sometimes when he’s just giving me a ride home from somewhere he’ll even drive her moto because we all know how I feel about riding his. Still, there are plenty of days when I ride with him on that giant, unfriendly moto. 

About two weeks ago after I got off the moto the typical routine of looking at my red, stinging hands for a few seconds occurred while he parked and again he said, “just hold on to my shoulders” and again I shook my head and explained that I felt safer holding on to the moto. 

The next time we go on the moto he said it before we went anywhere. 

“But, what if I pull you, like this?” as I pulled on his shoulders like I imagined I would if we hit a bump. “Or this?” As I pushed him forward. Even as I was doing those things though I was surprised at how stable he was, how centered he was. His actual verbal response though was not as convincing as he looked back at me and said, “I don’t know. We've both never done this before so I guess we’ll find out”. Yeah, in the moment that was not helping me feel safe even if it was his own declaration of trusting God. 

So, I took a (very) deep breath and tentatively put one hand on his shoulder while I kept the other on the back of the moto. I quickly realized that this was not going to work well. I gathered all the courage I could find in myself that afternoon and put both hands on his shoulders. As we drove I was just imagining the next moment would be the moment that I go flying off the moto, it was like when I first began riding. And then, he picked up speed. We were all of a sudden going faster than we had gone before. I bit my tongue on the back of that moto and did not ask him to slow down… maybe, just maybe, he was driving faster because he felt more confident driving this way.… As I rode, keeping all of my cautious, controlling thoughts in my head or just on the tip of my tongue but not allowing them to be voiced; I noticed that I began to feel peace… 

It was as if God was literally calming all the nervousness in me with His presence. We were going faster than before, I was not holding on to the moto and yet…. I began to loosen my white knuckled fingers and my knees that were braced for being knocked off the moto. 

And I heard the Father ask me, “Are you in pain? Do your hands hurt?” I quietly thought about it and in my heart I whispered a slightly embarrassed, “No, my hands don’t hurt at all”. He continued, “Do you feel safe riding with your brother whose ability to drive this moto has not changed at all? Do you still trust Me to care for your physical safety?” Another sheepish response as I told Him, “Oh, I get it… I let go of my idea of what was keeping me safe and here You are being so faithful to show me that the things that were keeping me safe had nothing to do with my own efforts to hold on to this moto…. In fact, my efforts were causing me pain…” I immediately remembered Psalm 121:7-8 “The Lord will keep you from all harm- He will watch over your life; the Lord will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore”. 

Um, yeah…. That will preach to me for months. 

I am always telling God that I’m so grateful for the gift He gives through confirmation. He doesn’t have to confirm anything to us. He can just tell us one time and that’s it. But, He’s so kind that He will often confirm His word through circumstances and other people. 

As soon as we got off the moto that day my brother said, “Let me ask you a question. Do your hands hurt?” 

Okay, okay, Lord, I heard You!!

As I take this truth with me each day I am finding myself both challenged and excited . I'm being challenged to let go of some of the ideas that I thought had become such valuable strategies of safety so I can see how ever present and constant He is.  It's exciting because I'm finding myself looking at some things with a new perspective, one that allows me to ask Him to show me how He's protecting me and how He wants me to partner with Him as I step out take risks . It's exciting because the more I listen for how He wants to do things together the more I'm able to see His goodness.

As you face your next challenge I encourage you to ask Him to show you where He is and how He wants you to partner with His strategy . If it's His strategy, it'll be worth the risk!