20,000 Breaths, 20,000 Deaths

I've been reading a book... Jesus be near as my heart breaks for what I am learning, for the way my eyes are being opened... The book is "Too Small To Ignore", by Wess Stafford. That book is too truthful to ignore. The following has been on my heart since I began to read this book:

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Would you do something with me right now?

Take a deep breath.




Did you do it? You did? Thank you.


Now, exhale.



Somewhere in Africa, South America, or Asia, a child took a breath at the same time as you and I just did.

For that one child, it was his or her last breath. Poverty took that child's breath away.

With the next breath you and I took, yet another child lost his or her life to poverty.





The reality is that in the time span of every breath we take, a child in a developing country dies of completely preventable causes. A cold. Lack of clean water. Diarrhea. Malnutrition or starvation.


Poverty renders them helpless to survive things that you and I all too often take for granted.




If these deaths were at the hands of someone we could blame -- a terrorist, a serial killer, a gunman, Hitler, it would be all over the news, we'd sit there stunned, the wind knocked out of us. Many of us would be angry and seeking justice, we'd want to blame someone and make them pay...

But... What if I am to blame, for not doing something?

If 20,000 children died today in North America, and another 20,000 died tomorrow, and again the following day, and every day thereafter without fail, since poverty never takes a holiday... would we feel any differently than we do when it's in a child "half a world away"?

WHY?


Because the death of "one of those children, way over there..." isn't "our problem"?

Oh, but it is.... it is our problem. To think otherwise is a grave mistake, literally and otherwise. The children of the world are dying. It is our problem. In fact, we were explicitly told by Jesus that it is our problem, our priority, and our responsibility to do something about it. He was serious.


For as long as I have breath, I will not be silent, not in my beliefs, nor in my actions. I can no longer keep breathing my 20,000 breaths without considering what each one represents.

I will ensure that Bessy, Lizbeth, Suwanna, Noah, Novet, Caleb and Leo have the best chance possible not only to survive, but to overcome poverty completely and to survive well. With the help of Compassion, these children WILL grow into productive, successful adults who will in turn help others overcome poverty.

I will also ensure that I do my best to help Compassion meet the needs of other children both in the program, and waiting for sponsors.

I realize that I can't do everything... but I can do something. If I'm not doing something, what am I waiting for?

I have over 20,000 reasons a day to be called into action.... if that's not enough -- what is?







Footnote:

We're all led to make a difference with our own gifts and our own passions, some of us it's on a local level -- with the elderly, the homeless in our neighborhoods... for some, it's more global -- children dying of extreme poverty around the world. Perhaps it's being passionate about protecting animals or raising awareness of the environmental issues. We all have our own ways to make the world a better place, ways that directly use our personalities and what's close to our hearts. I encourage you all to seek the ways in which you're called to make a difference in this world. What matters is making a positive impact on our world.

Not Just Photos

The faces stared back from the two tables, into the faces of the potential sponsors. Although the children's voices couldn't be heard audibly, their silent pleas could be heard loudly in my heart:

"Please don't overlook me... I am not just a photo. I am a child."

I had found myself there several times in the past five years, facing those tables, looking through the photos. I'll never forget looking through all the faces, and my eyes locking with hers... Bessy.


And yet this time, it was different. Very different.


I wasn't standing in front of the tables, I was standing behind them. The perspective felt so much heavier.

As I prayed over each child, I also prayed that they would know that we cared very much about them, and that we were doing our best to be the hands and feet of God as He worked through us to connect them with a sponsor.


That night, I had the opportunity to help by taking a few boxes home to ship to the Compassion headquarters the following day. Three of those boxes contained the photos of the children still waiting for sponsorship. Not every box was full, but they were nearly full.


One box holds 500 photos. A small percentage of children waiting worldwide.


As I lifted the boxes, I immediately realized that the physical weight of the box felt very much out of proportion to the weight in my heart... It was a familiar feeling in so many ways, for so many reasons.

I knew, I had known all along... these aren't just photos... each of these represents a child. Real children, many of whom have waited for months for a sponsor, and as of that night, were still waiting. Oh Lord, be near...


I had the boxes in the trunk of my car to bring them home, but I didn't have the heart to leave them in the trunk for the night.


After all, there's not just photos, they're children.




My prayer tonight is that each and every one of those children will believe that God cares for them and knows each of their names, and each of their prayers... and that they will soon be connected with a sponsor who will love them and also know their prayers, and their name. A sponsor who is God's answer to their prayer.




If your heart is called to sponsorship, or if you're already a sponsor and have room in your heart for one more... please join us here (Canada). (USA, click HERE)

Heart of Compassion

Imagine if a Compassion child needed life-saving surgery, and the $41 ($38usd) wasn't enough to provide this?

Imagine if this was your Compassion child?

There is no corner on earth that I wouldn't go to for my Compassion kids... so when I heard about this sweet boy, I knew I wanted to help, because it could just as easily have been one of our own Compassion kids. I know my contribution will be in good hands -- in God's hands.

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Shaun Groves, a Compassion Artist, Blogger, Advocate and a man who inspires and leads to God by example, has shared a story about his son's Sponsor Child, Achile. Here is what he wrote on his blog post:

"My son's sponsored child, Achile, was born with a cluster of heart defects called tetralogy of Fallot. First diagnosed at age three, he’s been in pain ever since, unable to attend school regularly.

Compassion has provided medical care for Achile for the last two years at the National Teaching Hospital Yalgado Ouedraogo in Burkina Faso in Western Africa. However, doctors there now believe his condition necessitates an urgent heart surgery which is not possible in Burkina Faso. Achile has been transported to a specialized hospital in India for the life-saving operation that will cost an estimated $20,449."

Any money raised in excess of the surgery costs will help provide emergency medical needs for other children also facing extreme medical conditions, via the Compassion Medical Assistance Fund.

Someday, that could be your Compassion child.

Give generously.

Give with love.

Give hope.

May many hearts of compassion come together for this precious child.

To contribute, click on the banner on the sidebar.

Hats Fingertips Off To Henckels!

While on my recent trip to Ohio, I purchased a 7" knife for slicing meat to make homemade beef jerky. I had Elizabeth with me, and knew that with her culinary brilliance and experience, she would help guide me to the best knife for my needs.


She's pretty sharp...


And so is the Henckels knife I purchased.





I thought my knives were sharp... after all, they cut stuff and they worked fine, didn't they? It wasn't until I used this new knife that I realized how dull the blades on my old knives were.

How did I find out?

First of all, the knife cut through the meat like a heated knife through butter.

Second of all, it cut off the corner tip of my finger just as easily as it cut through the meat.


Oops.



(Rejoice in knowing that although you all likely prefer posts with photos, this won't be one of those...)

Brandon is sitting with me as I hen-peck type this post with a hand and a half, trying not to make a bloody mess on my new laptop... he's a little concerned that I will go into shock again. I'm unfazed and focused as I'm talking about this post with him, hoping to teach him the analogy that I'm seeing in this.


It's only when the new knife was compared to the old ones that I realized the truth -- that the old ones hadn't been working very efficiently. Due to the fact that I am not used to having knives this sharp, there will be a learning curve there as I adjust to the truth of how sharp this knife is... To ignore the truth I've been shown could lead to danger, pain, suffering, and even missing body parts.

What if this is like our walk with Jesus? Perhaps we think we're cruising along just fine as Christians until we feel the sharp double edged sword of The Word telling us that our lives for Him are in need of sharpening... that our hearts are dulled and not as effective as they could be? What if we were to just keep going as usual, not adjusting our ways to accommodate the truths He's shown us? To not heed to His warnings would be to place lives in danger, to risk pain and suffering not just within our own lives, our own bodies... but to the body of Christ.

The body of Christ needs all the parts sharpened and intact in order to fully function.



Bottom line is, when it comes to Jesus, don't cut corners -- off your fingers, or off your relationship with Him.

Unearthed Healing

Last summer, I spent several weeks in my beloved flower garden, praying, gardening, healing, worshiping, and simply spending some alone time with God.

With each weed I pulled, pain was also pulled. With each plant placed into the ground, more healing also took root. As the old gave away to new, I felt completely renewed in Him.

Other than adding a few plants this spring, I hadn't planned on doing much gardening. I don't have the physical energy to do as much as I did last year, and I knew that even if the garden was left as is, I was satisfied with the way it was.

I felt as though the gardening, along with the healing, had been completed.



At least, that's how it looked on the surface... until...


... earlier in April when our temporary guest, Pepper, tore the entire flowerbed up, and turning my heart upside down. I wrote about it on my personal blog , trying to put the experience into words:

I got up from resting this afternoon, looked out the window of the master bedroom and into the back yard... the flowerbed with the miniature weeping cherry tree... torn up, desecrated. I turned to Terry in tears and frustration, and told him I didn't think I could take much more. Of the dog. Of the family mess. Of the relentlessness. Of the heartbreak. Of anything.

At some point, I gathered up whatever courage I had (there wasn't much, I'm afraid), and headed outside. I grabbed my garden tools, and fought back the tears. I started on the outer edges of the garden, on my hands and knees, working my way in, unable to even look ahead to the damage done to the heart of the flowerbed...

... Then, I got to the base of the tree. Not only had it been completely dug up, but the special ornament that I bought in Ohio last summer was buried in dirt.

I could barely breathe.

I picked it up, frantically brushing away the dirt from between the hands that held the tiny baby, and as the dirt fell away and the tiny face surfaced, I completely lost it. I had to bite the back of my hand to not scream as I sobbed from the weight of the things going through my mind right at that moment. It wasn't pretty.

"Tested", April 6th 2010

This experience brought me to my knees; not because the flowerbed had been damaged, but because of the weight of the pain I had experienced in those moments. The flashbacks, the crushing emotions, the shock, the shame.

As much as I had worked through so much last summer while gardening, my grief, the issues with my father, the message God had given me about my life... there was grief deeper below the surface that I had never dealt with, grief that I couldn't speak of. I felt blindsided.

"No stone left unturned."

God had made it painfully clear that it needed to be dealt with.





Back in April, I felt discouraged at first when I saw the damage that Pepper had done. It was difficult to see my hard work undone, to see sacred ground turned upside down. It hurt to feel the raw emotions so suddenly, so strongly, knowing I would have to face it and work through it even though I wasn't sure how I would.

All this pain
I wonder if I’ll even find my way
I wonder if my life could really change at all
All this earth
Could all that is lost ever be found
Could a garden come up from this ground at all

Within hours, I felt hope begin to grow from the rubble.

It didn't take long for me to see what God planned to do with this and to realize all over again what a blessing it would be.



As always, God isn't the cause of our pain and losses, but if we open our hands and hearts to Him, He replaces pain with something better, in ways only He can.

You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of the dust
You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of us

The garden being torn up ended up being a beautiful analogy for how the healing process often goes. We heal as much as we can, we but once in a while something happens and triggers an old wound that hadn't properly healed. The unhealed scars gets dug up like the earth of a desecrated garden, leaving us with a need for further healing... leading the way to new life, new growth.


Sometimes, it's healing we didn't know we needed.


Sometimes, it's the healing we never thought we'd find.



We face a choice. Do we completely submit to God, bow down on our knees and do the dirty work, or do we allow our life to remain torn up and turned upside down, unfinished, undone?


Once we begin, we realize that it's not as hard as we had thought -- we build upon the progress we've already made. We don't need to start from scratch, we use how far we've already come as a building block to bring us further in our journey. God fills the gap of difficulty, if we allow and trust Him to.



If Pepper hadn't torn up the garden in April, would I have missed this blessing, this beautiful sight, this breathtaking gift? Would I have missed what God wanted to give me from this opportunity for growth?

What are we missing when we are too caught up in raging against what's "unfair" to notice how much He loves us?


When I wrote earlier this year that I longed for God to be the Vinedresser in my life, I knew it wouldn't be easy, but I knew it would be worth it. My heart calls to Him for perpetual pruning.

You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of the dust
You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of us

Even though I didn't know how to even begin, once again, God led the way. I spent the month of April and May working through what I needed to, and during my time in Michigan, found healing and closure beyond what I had ever thought I'd find. It's amazing how something so broken can become so beautifully restored when we're willing to be raw clay in His hands.



I had every intention of waiting until Pepper leaves us in June before I began to restore my flowerbed, but God had other plans. Even though I was feeling physically miserable, I went to the garden center today, picked up 16 bags of soil, 12 bags of mulch, and nearly 50 perennials. The early bird gets the worm better prices and selection.

All around
Hope is springing up from this old ground
Out of chaos life is being found in You

I raised the flowerbed up by adding more soil getting Josh to haul all the soil, I planted most of the perennials I had bought, which Jillian cheerfully brought to the flowerbed for me. I removed the plants that had died from the mishap in April and was pleased to see life already growing in the rest of the plants I had placed there last summer. Even the "twisty grass" which was supposed to be an annual plant, was sprouting new life.


In the end, the garden had weathered the storm stronger, fuller, and more beautiful than ever...

... and so had I.

You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of the dust
You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of us

God wasn't done yet.

He never misses an opportunity to blow my socks off...




In the years since I planted my miniature weeping cherry tree, I had only seen a few rare blossoms on the tree each spring, five or six at most. Last year, there was only one double blossom. I wondered if I'd ever see it really bloom in this lifetime, but in a way, it seemed symbolic of the way I grieved at the time -- reserved, sharing little.

Since then, SO much has taken place.



Today brought a visual reminder of all that has changed in my life.

Hundreds of delicate, pale pink double blossoms
covered the entire tree
in celebration of
healing,
of joy,
of LIFE.

You make me new, You are making me new
You make me new, You are making me new

What an incredible gift from God.

The timing was His... that the tree would be in full bloom this year is no mistake. God is rewarding the journey, and giving me the gift of seeing the fruits of my faith.


The tree of sorrow has given way to the tree of life -- life in full and glorious bloom.


Yet, in other ways, I also can't help but be reminded of some of my recent journaling...

Does a flower not bloom to its most magnificent glory just before it loses its life and withers and fades? Does that knowledge keep it from blooming, or does it make it all the more determined to bloom as beautifully as possible, taking our breath away with the fragrance of it's short lived life? Does it ever hesitate or fear?

Bloom purposefully.

"Beautiful Things" lyrics by Gungor.

Compassion Blog: We Are Making A Difference

When we think of sponsorship, we normally think of the difference it can make in the life of a chlid. It definitely does make a difference in the life of that child, that child's family, and in their community....


But what if I were to tell you that it makes a difference in the sponsor's marriage?


What if I were to tell you that it could radically change a sponsor's husband?



I have experienced this first hand, and I had the privilege of sharing this experience on Compassion's website recently.

Will you join me here to find out more?

Meet Noah

We have welcomed another one of God's precious children into our family through sponsorship!


Please meet Noah. He is 8.5 years old, just a month younger than our daughter. He lives in Kenya. Noah lives with his mother, and has six siblings. He loves to play soccer, and so do we! He had been waiting for a sponsor for 444 days... 444 is a long, long time to wait for sponsorship. I would love to be there when he and his family receive the news that the wait is over.

We are his, and he is ours, and God orchestrated it all. He joins Bessy (Honduras), Lizbeth (Bolivia) and Suwanna (Thailand) in our Compassion family.



This is the first boy we've sponsored, and the first sponsorship from Africa. The kids are SO excited about Noah! We haven't received his information package and photo in the mail yet, but we'll have our first letter ready to send tomorrow... we are so eager to get to know him and his family!



If you sponsor a boy of a similar age, what kind of things do you like to send with the letters?

Prayers & Support

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On June 26th, I will be joining Compassion International (www.compassion.ca) on a mission trip to San Pedro Sula, on the northwestern coast of Honduras. As a Compassion Advocate, I will be working with those most in need, the poorest of the poor, in conditions that none of us can possibly imagine without having witnessed them in person. I will be documenting my trip online through this blog, sharing photos and writing about my experience while in Honduras in order to raise awareness of the need for child sponsorship. I will be witnessing first hand the difference that Compassion International makes through the local church in the lives of these precious children, their families and their communities.

Although it will be a heartbreaking experience, I believe it will also be a great opportunity to experience the gospel, to be His hands and feet for those in need.

Having followed the Compassion trips of other bloggers to Kenya, India, El Salvador, Dominican Republic and Uganda in the past, I know that I will need the support of prayer to prepare my heart for what I will witness and experience during my time in Honduras, and for the transition as I return home after this life-changing experience and learn to live a "new normal" with a changed and broken heart for those in need.

Please join me in prayer as I work alongside Compassion not only on this trip, but in my work as a Compassion Advocate. Pray for me to have the heart of Jesus, to serve like He did, to honor Him through my words, my actions, my heart, my life, and to have the strength to continually reach outside my comfort zone to share Him with others. Pray for the children still in need of a sponsor, that we will help them connect with the sponsor God has chosen for them.

If you are able to offer financial support for the travel costs of this trip (airfare, lodging, etc), your contribution would be greatly appreciated. I have set up a Chip-In button on my blog for contributions. God will stretch even a one dollar donation into a great blessing. I know that not everyone is in a financial position to donate, know that your heartfelt prayers will be your priceless contribution.

Thank you, beyond measure, for your prayers, your love, and your support.

If you would like more information about the work that Compassion does, or if you would be interested in sponsoring a child, please don’t hesitate click on the following links:

Canada -- Click here!

U.S.A -- Click HERE!



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In His Time

Have you ever wished you didn’t have to wait for something good to happen, and perhaps given up waiting for His time and purpose? Do you find it difficult to wait for the reward at the end of a journey?




In this house, I’m known at the “splinter fixer”.


Not a glamorous title, by any means, but my skills were hard earned.


You see, when I was little, we had a hazelnut tree at our cottage by the river. I didn’t know at the time that it was a hazelnut tree. I just knew that if you could withstand the prickly husks, there was a treat to be had inside.



The outside of the husks were covered in an ultra fine fuzz that would painfully embed itself into anything that touched it… without fail.

Determined, I spent hours every summer prying open the husks, licking the tart juice from the inside, and cracking the shells so that I could get at the tender white nut inside. Although I’d try everything to avoid the splinters, it seemed inevitable.


I think I spent more time perched on the deck facing the river, tweezers in hand, pulling out infuriatingly translucent splinters than I did eating nuts.


I thought the nuts were definitely worth the trouble, though, even though I didn’t know what they were.



I didn’t know any better.



We had never spent time at the cottage in the fall as far as I can recall, otherwise I would have witnessed the husks splitting open and releasing the brown shells containing nuts fit for consumption.




I would have likely recognized at that point that they were hazelnuts. Every Christmas, my mom would fill the bottom of my stocking with nuts in their shells. Hazelnuts were my favorite.


I never made that connection. The summertime un-ripened nuts were completely different that the nuts I received at Christmastime. You can barely compare the two.


Still, even if we had spent some time at the cottage in the fall, I likely would never have experienced the reward of fresh, ripe hazelnuts. My brother and I would have grazed on them all summer long, and they would have been gone well before the first leaf turned color.

My impatience and foolishness would long ago have stolen my prize, my reward.

How much better would it have been to have the wisdom and patience to hold out for what God intended as a reward? Fresh, ripe, handpicked hazelnuts. I may never know what those might have tasted like, but I have the wisdom to know that the patience would have been well rewarded.


Summer wasn't the season for the harvest... God had intended for harvest to come in the fall.

In His time.

Not ours.


What else have I missed by not having wisdom and patience? Just as important, what lessons can I learn from the times I have not been patient, and how can I make sure that God doesn’t need to teach those lessons to me again?

It’s one thing for semi-tasty hazelnuts and splinters to be a consequence, but what if the consequences were eternal, as they often are?

Sobering thought, considering that it seems as though we’re living in the “NOW” generation. We want the rewards, but are we willing to wait for them? To wait for His time?

What harm can come from rushing through life, wanting the reward but not the lessons and the journey?




Ask that to the couple who didn’t honor a vow of purity before marriage.


Or to a believer who gave up on God when life got difficult.


Or the young girl who settled on the first guy that came along.





Not only will patience and wisdom help us avoid consequences, but they will help us receive our full rewards. All that He provides for us in His time IS worth the wait.

"Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up."
~ Galatians 6:9 ~


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Freefalling Faith

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Have you ever believed you could fly? Really fly?


Years ago, my family owned a cottage in the middle of a wooded area near a river. The cottage was a place to escape to for some family time each summer. My brother and I were fairly young, I was perhaps about 5 years old.

Young. Spunky. And spirited.

Some things don’t change much over the years… Like the young part. Don't know about the spunky part, though -- am I spunky? :o)


We had a set of stairs on the outside of the cottage that led straight up to an attic/loft that could only be reached from those stairs. It was quite a steep climb, as you can well imagine. That summer, I had seen the Mary Poppins movie. It must have made quite an impression on me. See, I had this umbrella… can you tell where this is going yet? I thought so.


I had reckless faith.

In just about anything.

I believed I could send toys to God, remember? I even gave it a try with aluminum plates, string, balloons and toy army men. I believed I had to obey my father regardless of what he was doing, that was my job no matter how much I hated it. I also believed that Mary Poppins (and therefore humans) could fly with the help of an umbrella.



Up the stairs I climbed. I don’t remember from which step I jumped, all I remember was experiencing the jump as though it happened in slow motion…


“1… 2… 3… Float!”


“Wait, I think I did it wrong........
... I'm going in the wrong ----THUD.”



Groans and moans. “Uhm, if there were banisters, perhaps I could hitch a ride back up and try that one again. Wonder why it didn’t work… Maybe I was supposed to blink first?”


It knocked the wind outta me, but it didn’t knock the wind out of my sails. I tried it a few more times, convinced that there had to be a way.


Eventually, the umbrella broke.


Pity, because it was a really cute umbrella… and I still had a ton of faith left over.




In hindsight, it’s not the lack of faith that made the attempts a failure, (or the umbrella), it was the root of the faith.


It was reckless for me to base my faith on the things of this world, movie characters or real human beings. Crashing was inevitable. (Broken umbrellas somewhat optional.) A false faith will eventually give way to failures and frustrations, and in the end, will lead to the refusal to risk any further attempts. Enthusiasm vanishes. Insecurity and doubt creep in and make themselves at home. Faith is damaged and diminishes.


If someone had faith in me, he or she would eventually be disappointed, because I’m a sinner, I’m far from perfect, I stumble, I fall, I make mistakes… I’ll let you down, it’s inevitable. I’m human.


Don’t follow me, follow Him.


The root of false faith isn’t strong enough for a freefall. God alone is strong enough for you to freefall.




My faith in God has replaced the false faith of my youth with fearless faith.


When I lock my eyes into His, I know that the focus on Him will allow me to fearlessly freefall. Mary Poppins never knew what she was missing. There is nothing quite like it, and best of all, there's nothing reckless about it. If my eyes aren't on Him, I can't jump. I can't leap. I can't make one single step forward in true faith. When my eyes are on Him, there is no hesitation.


Gone are the days of climbing before I jump…
I’ll jump from where ever I am.


Gone are the days of jumping a dozen times before giving up…
I will jump as often as it takes.


Gone are the days of getting the wind knocked out of me...
Fearless faith takes my breath away right from the start.



The landing is never a concern. I’ll land in God’s hands every single time. I have to believe it, or I wouldn't have the faith to freefall.

He is sufficient.



He is enough.



He is worth it.

No umbrellas required.



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