Finding Your Value

My writing has been hit or miss the past year.  I apologize.  It's been a year when my heart's been heavy and so many of the things in my mind have felt too personal to share or have been bits and pieces of other people's stories, and I haven't felt it was mine to tell.  So I've been waiting.  Waiting for inspiration or some brilliant thing to come upon me that would certainly be compelling enough to warrant a blog post.

But for the most part, nothing came.

I sat and stared at the screen.  I typed words, and then I hit backspace until the page was white again.  And I shut the computer down.

I've felt a little inadequate sometimes, to tell the truth.

My reality was shattered to bits by moments spent on the other side of the planet. Standing on a hilltop in a Ukrainian village whose name I still can't pronounce, looking past the smoke from burning trash piles to make out the tiny white speck of a building I was told by the boy standing with me had been his mother's home.  I stood there and caught my breath in my throat, because in that moment he stood beside one who desired to be a mom to him and could not be, because of governments and aging-out of adoption eligibility, looking out at one of the remaining bits of visible connection to a mother who had passed away.  And I just have struggled with how to reconcile all this in my mind, even though I know we live in a broken, hurting world.  

I wondered how many times he'd climbed that hill and looked at that house.

His village is a thousand years old.  We were jokingly told we may have been the first Americans to go there.  (I wonder if it's maybe true.)

We ate fresh sunflower seeds, plucked from the gigantic center of a flower he pulled out of a seemingly endless field of yellow.

It's these moments that have sort of tripped me up this year.

But they weren't all heavy.

We had a good laugh that my husband ate the shell of the sunflower seed, and that I ate the skin of a grape (and lived to tell... we Americans... I tell you what), and we all thought it was funny that we were in great anticipation of a small-town parade when we heard horns and sirens ringing out when in truth it was some sort of Ukrainian signal that you could take your garbage to be disposed of.

When I came home I cried.  And I pushed the Lord to please do something.  Anything.  Give me something to "do" so I feel better about all of this.  Give us an adoption plan.  Give me a ministry opportunity. Something.  Something to be busy and to feel productive.

But I'm learning again to quiet that and to wait. And that's not really my strength, but it's something I am developing with practice, this waiting and this patience. (If you haven't yet, I highly recommend NOT praying for patience.... really.  Anything but patience.  There must be oodles of things God develops in us that are more fun to develop than patience...)

And somewhere in the midst of my stubborn nagging of the Lord to let me remind him of his will and to be sure he knew how very good and well thought out all my plans are for my life, He reminded me of something.

I already have something to do.

I already have a ministry.

He's been whispering to my heart about how my eyes sometimes are focused too far out ahead of me.  So I've pulled back.  And I've been renewing my focus on home and family and the things that are right this minute my work and my offering to him.  And all of these things - these children, this man, our home - are gifts to my life from a really loving and gracious God.  A God who gives good things.  Who is good always.

Last night, I went into a small group class at church called Christianity in the Marketplace.  So, yes, I partially went because I was a smidge shy to go into the women's Bible study alone.... I know, I know- I'm too old to be nervous to attend something without a friend.  But there you have it.  It's true.  So I tagged along with my husband to this class.  And you know what?  It was wonderful.

It was relevant for me.  Because I do have a marketplace.  It's my home.  And in that hour last night, as we heard teaching and as I read the familiar passage of scripture reminding me to "do everything as unto the Lord," I was so encouraged to see my "work" in a new light.  I was able to grab hold of the vision that I saw so clearly 4 years ago when I first stayed home full time.  God reminded me that what I do each day in my home, if I do it heartily and for Him, does have big impact and eternal value.

It's easy for us moms to sometimes forget that what we spend our days doing is of great value.  And I think sometimes the most critical voices we hear are our own.  We sometimes try so hard in our own strength to "make" something valuable of our lives and our time, when really, it's already that.  Because each of our moments is a gift from God.  And no matter what it is we do, when we do it fully and joyfully and diligently and heartily and "as unto the Lord," we can consider our days an offering to give back to the One who has given us this gift of today.

Today is beautiful.  I had coffee earlier than usual, and Sage and I made granola bars.  We took coffee to my husband at work.  Then we went to Target and chose some fun things to use making birthday gifts for my mom and grandmother.  Sage leaned her second memory verse of our "ABC's of Scripture," and she recited it while working diligently on her special gift.  She played the metal triangle instrument we found in the dollar section of Target spontaneously at a number of different occasions: to signal nap time, to signal prayer time, to signal that I could give her a kiss. (Now it's quiet upstairs, so I'm enjoying her sleeping after a 3 week stretch wherein I feared she'd outgrown nap time!)

I'd like to encourage you today to see your time and your life and your value as the Lord does.  Right now, today, you are in a place where God will use your energy and time and talents to be a blessing to others and an example of His love in this world.  Have you had any seasons of life that God has used to change how you see your time?  Are there any ways I can be praying for you today?

Reason #359 Why Teenagers Rock

We don't see enough of the good teenagers do these days.

Here's some GOOD stuff teens are doing for others and for God. 

Get ready to smile (and/or cry)...  

Bangor Baptist Church's Thrive Student Ministries serving inner city Philadelphia at Center for Student Ministries (CSM). Video production by Kanishko, who 

Teens on a Mission: Philadelphia

Hey everyone!  I've been so caught up in my own busy days that I haven't sat down to write in ages.  This year has been incredible.  I've wrestled a little with what to share and what not to share, because so much of the story is not only mine, so I've been living it and not writing it.  But I've missed being here in this space with you all, so I'm excited to be back!

Sunday at 4 a.m. (yes, that's right) we woke up to drive four of our teenagers to church, where they were meeting the teens in Thrive Student Ministries at Bangor Baptist to depart bright and early for a week in Philadelphia doing missions work.  It's been an amazing process, because the trip required each teen to raise $800, and that amount seemed incomprehensible sometimes (x4!), but the Lord, in His perfect faithfulness, provided.  (Here's a photo from 4a.m. - Kanishko snuck out of the shot, but here's my hubby with the girls!)

The teens will be working in the city all week, and they took a prayer tour yesterday - here's a photo of the skyline from their last stop.  They also sat together under an overpass where, each night, homeless people gather to sleep, and they saw shoes hanging from electrical wires over the streets and learned that this usually is in memory of a child who died from gang violence or drugs.

Before heading out each morning, they gather to read the Bible and have some prayer.  Today, their reading is from Matthew9: 35-38 "Jesus went through all the towns and villages, teaching in their synagogues, preaching the good news of the kingdom and healing every disease and sickness.  When he saw the crowds, he had compassion on them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd.  Then he said to his disciples, 'The harvest is plentiful but the workers are few.  Ask the Lord of the harvest, therefore, to send out workers into his harvest field.'" 

Today, I'm praying that each of the teens on this trip will be broken by the same things that break the heart of Jesus, and I'm asking that as the Lord will take those broken pieces and put them back together in the shape of his perfect will for each of their lives, that he will form in them hearts that hear His voice and are willing to walk in uncomfortable places, just like Jesus did when he put on human skin and walked on this earth.  I'm asking the Lord to speak into each life how He desires to use the gifts and talents knit into each teenager for His glory and for the good of others.  I'm asking God to take this week and fill each moment with His presence, and I ask He would grow each of these students into young adults who chase hard after the heart of Christ in the hurting parts of our world and that "his harvest field" would have some lifelong workers in these students.  

If you'd like to pray for these kids and for Philadelphia with me, please do!  And if you'd like to leave your thoughts or prayers in the "comments," I'll be sure the kids see them when they get home.  Thanks friends!

Beautiful Wazhma

Where to begin....?  We've been so busy, my family and the Shahzaman family both.  In January we accomplished a lot of "starting."  The kids started school, their mom and adult sisters started processes of applying for aid as refugees here in Maine.  And then there has been the waiting.

February has been a strange mix of racing and waiting.  We've been at countless meetings and appointments, visits with housing authorities, dental clinics, schools, learning centers, errands.  We have filled out mountains of paperwork.  (Have I mentioned MOUNTAINS?????)  And then we are told to wait.

"Our" Shahzaman family (as Selden and I have come to know them in our hearts!) are a family of people so amazing and so real and so strong, I don't even know where to begin to describe all I love about them. But I'll give it a whirl.  There is so much to say about each of these people I love, so it will take a few days, and I'll talk about them one at a time, ok?

Wazhma is so tender-hearted and so funny.  One day she and I were driving to the human service office to inquire about her Refugee Assistance, and we made it toward Bangor, and then she asked me something about documents, which I said she needs to have with her.  So we turn around, drive back to the hotel where they're still living (Lord bring them a home soon, please, in Jesus' name, and thank you in advance for this answered prayer).  She shows me what she has for papers, while we're in the parking lot, only to find out she had what we needed and was asking about some documents for her upcoming hair apprenticeship.  So we sat in the car and laughed, because so often we don't understand each other, and all we can do is just laugh and hug (and then go to Mc Donald's for a caramel frappe - her favorite).  So after hugging - and getting a frappe - we began our drive back to human services.

Wazhma said to me while we were driving, "I think one day I go to India, because I think there are very big (meaning "many") hungry children there.  And hungry children is no good."  I agreed with her.  She continued, "Is there very big ("many") Christian people in India?" I told her, "No, very small ("few") but very big other religions there."  She told me, "I think we will go and be very big Christians.  And we feed hungry children there."

I swallowed hard.

A few evenings before this, Wazhma and I were walking through WalMart at about 7:30 with her mom, gathering some groceries for their family.  I hadn't wanted to go.  I was tired.  (And I really don't love WalMart, no offense.)  We walked up and down the aisles, and Wazhma and I were talking a little, examining food items and trying to determine what they were equivalent to in Ukraine.  Her stomach growled, and she patted it and said, "I hungry!" I asked her if she'd eaten at all, and she said, "No today."

Conviction washed over me, hot and hard to bear.  I ate three times that day.  And I didn't feel like being at WalMart, and my friend Wazhma had not eaten anything and was hungry.  Lord, forgive me....

And my sister-friend Wazhma,  who herself (despite my valiant efforts to make sure they have ample food and trips to the store and meals and everything) is sometimes hungry, has a heart that hurts for the hungry bellies of little ones in India.  Have I told you how much I love this woman?

One day, after a day packed with errands and meetings and school visits, Wazhma and I went to the Brewer Library, so I could get books for Sagie and she could get some for Roma, who is 7.  Wazhma wants to help him with his alphabet and his English.  At the desk, I told the librarian that Wazhma needs a card, that yes, she is a Brewer resident, and Wazhma shuffled through her various documents to find the necessary photo ID.  "What is her address?" I was asked.  After giving the address at the Inn, I was told, "Oh, we don't give cards to people at the Inn.  We've had problems with that before."  "What!?" I was stunned.  "Can she use your card?" I was asked.  "She is a Brewer resident," I told them, "and she would like her own card.  She has 5 siblings in school here in Brewer, and she wants to read to her little brother, who's in Mrs. Raymond's first grade class, so he can learn his letters."  "Can she use your card, then?" I was asked again.

I cried.  I stood at the desk in the Brewer library and I actually cried.  (I am not a crier-in-public, ok?) Then I said, without pausing for air, and with tears rolling and voice shaking, "She is a refugee, and she came to this country and was in a Muslim housing project even though she's a Christian, and her family is now in Maine, and she is my friend.  I've known them for a couple years, and she is not going to steal your books or not return them. She lives in Brewer.  The five kids are in school here, and they're not just going to up and leave with these books.  Can she PLEASE have a card of her own?  This is SO undignified! She has NOTHING of her own now, and all she wants is a library card, so she can read to her little brother!" I wiped my eyes.  Shelley, a librarian who I've known for years came over and smiled at us, and she took a library card out and issued it to Wazhma (I am a big fan of Shelley).  Wazhma and I left with our stacks of books.

In the parking lot we walked, arms around each other's shoulders, to the van.  "Maybe this is a very bad day!" she said, and we squeezed each other and laughed.  "Yes," I said, "but tomorrow a good day." She agreed, and we laughed a little more.  Sometimes that's all you can do after crying in the library.

Wazhma is stunning.  Beauty personified.  And to see her heart....  Oh my goodness.  The story her life has been up to this point is something I am still learning of in bits and pieces, through her broken English and her emphatic gestures and expressions.  But the message always comes through.  She has seen a lot of hard places.  She has lived through more fear and hurt and loss than I will probably ever know in my whole lifetime, and she is still tender-hearted, warm, open.  Quick to laugh.  Filled with hope even when weary from the long months of waiting for something that feels like roots being put down in this new country.  And it is not easy. 

Today, will you pray with me specifically for my sweet friend Wazhma?  She is hoping to start apprenticing at The L Factor with my childhood buddy Gina, and I am praying that all her documents can be perfectly provided so this can start soon.  I'm praying for her future here to be blessed.  And I am praying for her to be in a permanent home very soon.  Bangor Baptist is still accepting donations to help pay their ever-growing hotel debt, and if you are moved in your heart to give a gift of any amount toward this, it is tax-deductible and is greatly appreciated and can be sent to:
Bangor Baptist Church
1476 Broadway  
Bangor, Maine 04401 
(memo: Refugee Assistance). 


"And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.... What, then, shall we say in response to this?  If God is us, who can be against us?  He who did not spare his own Son, but gave im up for us all - how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things?" Romans 8:28 & 31, 32