Prayer Cards

With each step of this process of getting to Kenya it's becoming more and more real....we are really moving to Africa.

We are going to be international missionaries.

We have an amazingly talented friend who can just about whip up anything on the computer. I'm sure our new prayer cards only took him about 10 minutes, but man, they are impressive!

Here's the frontside:

And here's the back....

I didn't upload these to Flickr so that if you desire, you can enlarge them and print them. Or, if you'd like a "real" one, you can email me your address and I'll stick one in the mail to you. (Don't be alarmed when a pledge card shows up with the prayer card. For some reason, the two refuse to be mailed alone. Funny how that works. ;)

They make great decorations on your fridge, bathroom mirror, dashboard of your car, forehead, ceiling above your bed, in your Bible, on the microwave door, on the coffee pot, on the wall beside the toilet.....you know, anywhere that you will see it often and pray for us. We cherish your prayers as this process is becoming more challenging with each step.

We are at just under 10% of our monthly support goal which is A-MA-ZING! I can hardly believe the ways God is using His people to support His ministry. Thanks for caring about us and the ministry God is preparing us for in Kenya. I can't wait to see how He's going to unfold all of this!

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On a sidenote: Our treasured friends, Chris and Lindy over at Only Servants Ministries are expecting their little miracle, Ezra, any day now. Lindy's been having contractions about every 10 minutes for about 24 hours now. She'll be delivering the baby in Kenya with a great doctor at a great hospital. Please pray for Lindy, Chris and baby Ezra as they journey through the process of labor and delivery. Thanks friends!

Happy 5th Birthday Lucas & Ashlee!

These two people are five today.

FIVE.

How in the world did that happen?

As I was cleaning out our school cabinet on Friday, I found an old prayer journal from 2005. Elizabeth was an only child and reading the words I wrote from 6 years ago I was reminded of how I felt when I found out Lucas and Ashlee were coming - as a double dose.

After seeing 2 shadowy babes with heartbeats on the ultrasound screen and subsequently sobbing in the doctors office and soaking Luke's shirt, I retreated to the car. With hands trembling, I call my BFF Amanda.

"Hello?" she answers.

Words can't be understood through the sobs and sobs and I try to tell her of the news I've just learned.

"Jess? What's wrong? Is the baby okay?" she asks urgently, herself having faced the difficulty of a miscarriage.

"No. Everything's fine," as I take deep breaths trying to gain some composure.

From somewhere deep inside me I muster a breath and say, with wails overtaking my voice once more, "Amanda.....IT'S TWINS." Anyone else walking to their car must have heard my cries.

"Twins?! Are they both okay?" she asks.

"THEY'RE FINE!! AMANDA, HOW CAN I EVER BE A MOM TO THAT MANY KIDS?!?" I wail again, then sobs overtake me and my words are drowned out.

Looking back I see now that the Lord was mocking me. Oh how the Lord has a sense of humor.

When we found out that Lucas and Ashlee were a Lucas AND an Ashlee I thought my world was over. Stupid, I know. I prayed to God often to prepare me to be a Mother to multiple young children.

The day they were born was incredible. My doctor was fabulous and so patient. Ashlee has been dramatic from the very beginning.

And with their birth came new meaning to having my "hands full."

From the start, God showed me my urgent need to depend fully on Him to parent our small army of children. I still fail pretty much every day. But each morning He reminds me that just as His mercies are fresh, as should be mine.

Five years after the birth of those precious babies, they are now big kids. We are beginning a year round schooling calendar in 2 weeks and they will officially be Kindergartners. How on Earth can that be so?

Ashlee is the most loving child I've ever met. I'm not just saying that because she's mine either. Okay, maybe I am partial but she really is. But she is quick to offer comfort to others, especially her younger siblings. She's eager to have her second choice if she knows it will make someone else happy. She's caring and affectionate and loves her baby sister Ella so much that I'm sure she's her #1 fan.

Ashlee is still the eldest drama queen in our family. As quickly as she wails with hurt over a bumped knee or bruised ego, she's equally quick to recover (especially if there's food - or candy - involved). She loves to cook and be my helper in the kitchen. She's the best snuggler of everyone in the family, knowing just how to fit into the right places so it's comfortable for us both. She gives awesome kisses, is obsessed with coloring and can still beat anyone in the family in a foot race. Ashlee lives life wide open. She's loud, very silly, happy and brings excitement to our family. Kindergarten is going to suit her well because she loves learning. And, did I mention she's a little silly?

I cannot even begin to think how incomplete our family would be had the Lord not gifted us with her. Her twin brother would be lost, I think.

Lucas is the total opposite of his sister in almost every way. He loves anything that is typical boy - guns, trucks and army men. He discovered Luke's stash of vintage GI JOE men and spends 100% of his time carrying one around or requesting to trade it for a different one from the box.

His newest love is all things super hero, specifically Spiderman. He loves watching "SuperHero Squat" He is thrilled to play anything outside, loves all things Toy Story and spends quite a bit of time in the bandaid box. He's still a Momma's boy and I am soaking up the free hugs and kisses while I can, knowing that in a few short years he'll be too cool to give his Mom a kiss on the lips. It's not uncommon for him to come to me, pat me on the leg and show me his lips. After a quick smooch he will often say, "I just love you Mom."

It melts my heart each time. How could it not? He adores time with his Dad, especially when they're "fixin' stuff." He's quick tempered but quickly asks forgiveness. He wishes he could swim without floaties and ride a bike without training wheels. He's usually the 1st to go to sleep and the 1st one up in the morning. He adores his littlest sister Ella and tries to protect her from so much - even though she rarely desires to be protected. He has so many questions about who Jesus is, what He did and about salvation.

He and I certainly have a mother/son bond that is unique as we are both strong willed, headstrong people. I cannot imagine how we would have ever felt complete without Lucas in our family.

My sweet babies are growing up. I've never been one to be teary or emotional on birthdays, but I can see myself become more and more of an emotional wreck each year as the baby faces of my children change into the faces of kids, then to teens, then to adults.

Somedays I wish I could just stop the clock and savor these fleeting moments. But then I remember that with each passing year it only gets sweeter. Each year I see more of the personalities of these people the Lord has entrusted me with and I am blessed more and more by their unique quirks, characters and what makes them tick.

Happy Birthday to my double dose of blessings! I love you both so much it makes me hurt!

Happy Birthday Lucas!

Happy Birthday Ashlee!

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To read previous posts about Lucas & Ashlee and their birthdays click here and here. (I'm not sure who those chubby faced kids are in that 2nd link. I vaguely remember them. Makes me sad.)

Das Not Funny!Friday: Returns!

Remember that time I used to blog about all the funny things my kids would do and say? No?

Well, there was a time when I used to blog about all the funny stuff my kids would do and say. And per the request of a few different people, I'm bringing Das Not Funny! Friday back.

I hope.

If I can remember to write them down this week. So here's your heads up if you'd like to join me.

Below I am reposting a Das Not Funny! Friday from September 18, 2009. I'm looking forward to reading the funny stuff your kids/husbands/nieces & nephews/the-kids-you-babysit say on Friday so write them down and I'll see you on Friday!

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Friday again! Who's up for another round of Das Not Funny! Friday? I am!

What is Das Not Funny! Friday, you ask? Welllllll, I've always said that I want to write down the funny things that my kids are forever saying. However, I stink at journaling. Therefore, I began posting them here on Fridays. They're called Das Not Funny! because when our daughter Ashlee does something funny and we laugh at her, she usually frowns (like pictured above) and says, "Das not funny Mommy!"

She's a TAD dramatic and doesn't realize that this comment only makes her antics even funnier. I hope you'll join me and play along for this week's Das Not Funny! Friday.

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Monday did not go as scheduled this week. The physical therapist was here for Baby Girl so I sent the twins to the basement to play (Elizabeth was over at Nana's house that morning). After checking on them several times, I realized that they were quiet. Too quiet. The following is the conversation that transpired next...

"Ashlee! Lucas! What are you guys doing?"

Giggling from the basement echos up the stairs.

"GUYS! What is going on down there?"

"We's just playin' Momma," Ashlee calls.

"Um. Playing what exactly?"

"We's eatin' dees fangs."

"You're eating what?!?"

"Dose fangs in Woocas mouth."

"What things? Bring them here now!"

They both creep up the stairs.

"Lucas, what are you eating?"

"Gurwillda food," he states, logically.

"Show me please, NOW."

He opens his hand to reveal several brass shelf hangers from a shelving unit.

"Did you have those in your mouth Lucas?"

"Yep."

"Did you eat any?"

"Yep."

We spent the next 4.5 hours at various doctors offices getting x-rays and verifying that a brass shelf hanger apparently denigrates upon ingestion. Either that, or he really didn't swallow it at all.

I'll let you decide which is true.

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Last night Lucas was helping me make dinner. We open our pantry and both discover a horrible smell (thanks to some rotten potatoes). Lucas turns to me and says,

"Shoooo weeee Mommy. You poot stinks."

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Ashlee to me, from the bathroom: "Mooooooom. I'm done. Come wipe me."

I enter the bathroom and begin her requested task.

She adds, "Wipe me good Mom. But cwose your eyes. Don't wook at my poop.."

Somehow, those two things cannot be accomplished at the same time little girl.

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If you'd like to play along write your own Das Not Funny! Friday post then enter all your info into MckLinky.

Y'all have a great weekend, free from poop or brass shelf hangers or either of those two combined.

BE the church

Just wanted to hop in very quickly and ask you all BIG question...

How much are you willing to sacrifice to advance the kingdom of God?

Is it worth one meal out per month? How about two? Is it worth forgoing one shopping spree per month? How about your daily stop at Fivebucks?

Our sweet, new friends Sam and Hanna are set to leave for the field on JULY 17th!! However, Africa Inland Mission's policy is that all missionaries must be fully funded/pledged ONE MONTH before they depart. That means, by June 17th (about 3 weeks away) Sam and Hanna must be FULLY PLEDGED.

Yikes! My understanding is that they are at about 50% of their target support.

So, again I ask you...what are you willing to sacrifice to advance the kingdom of God?

One meal out per month? Two? Your non-fat double shot latte?

Can you sacrifice $50 a month? How about $100? Depending on the size of your family (or how extravagant your favorite take out place is) that's 1 or 2 meals out per month.

There's no need to stop and pray about the decision to support missions. It's Biblical. Take the step of faith and support this sweet couple. I promise you won't be sorry.

Click here to see how you can support Sam and Hanna.

And click here to read more about who these sweet people are and what they've been called to.

Don't just GO to church folks, BE the church.

The color of their love

She walks down the sidewalk toward me slowly. Her flowing skirt dancing around her calves, her bare feet shuffling on the concrete. She looks older. Much older than I ever remember. I thought she was old when I was 10.

That was 21 years ago.

Now it’s not my limited perception making her seem aged, but time. Years of working on a factory assembly line, then coming home to cooking, cleaning, gardening and canning the works of their harvest.

In my memory, she still wears a calf-length skirts and walks everywhere barefoot, while humming hymns. As I see her shuffling toward me, a thousand memories flood my mind. I can nearly hear her cackling laughter in my ears as a broad smile spreads across her face.

“Hey Jess!” the same voice of the grandmother of my youth echos out, sounding only slightly more weathered. I’m holding her namesake, who squeals in response to my Granny’s attention.


I used to sneak her extra pair of false teeth out of the bathroom and wear them, as best I could, over my own teeth. One time I used her denture glue to help hold them in. It took me forever to get that off my teeth. She laughed and laughed at me.

I wrap my arm around her, realizing she’s a little shorter than she used to be, but she smells just the same. “Look at how those kids have grown! And, there’s Ella.”

I’d played this moment out in my mind at least a dozen times, but living it was much better than I could have ever imagined. I shift my hip over so my Granny can finally meet the great-granddaughter who bears her name.

"Ella, meet Ella," I say. They both grin.


She laughs a hearty laugh, one that’s familiar and I can’t help but smile along with. “She’s beautiful, Jess, just like her Granny.” She cackles again, as she turns to walk to the house.


“Y’all come on in and get you somethin’ cold to drink,” she more commands than offers. Their house exists outside of time, I do believe. It’s hardly changed since I was a kid, only now it seems much smaller.

I walk into the kitchen and can almost see her standing there at the stove, with her back to me, her elbow moving wildly as she stirs a big pot of soup. Her voice breaks my thoughts, “Jess, there’s bologna in the refrigerator and some sodies too if you want one. Make those kids the rest of them hot dogs.” Pots rattle in the cabinet as she searches for her favored choice to boil some hot dogs.

“I’ll just grill them here, Gran.” She looks at me and clangs the pot on the stovetop, “Alright, but you’d better clean it up when you’re done.”

I smile. Not much has changed. I’m still a little girl in her mind and she’s still my headstrong, bossy, love-filled Granny.

We eat lunch and then head outside. She uses a cane now and tears sting my eyes as I notice how much more slowly she walks. It’s been nearly 18 months since we were here the last time. Too long considering how much she’s changed.

“Don’t you feed those kids? They’re so skinny.”

“Yes, Granny, they eat. A lot. Trust me.”

She laughs again.

We talk about nothing and everything. She asks about Africa. She says the obvious, “Four years? Well, you know we probably won’t be around by the time you get back.”

Tears wet my lashes again.

“I’d thought that too Gran,” I almost whisper. I’m pretty sure I got my matter-of-factness from her. Actually, I know I did. She loves boldly and speaks her mind the same.

In my mind I can almost hear her voice singing hymns as my eyes follow the rows of levies through the rice fields that surround their house. I blink hard to make the tears disappear.

“Come on and let me show you my flowers.”


For the next half an hour we walk hand-in-hand as she quizzes me on the names of the plants and I fail her test miserably. She laughs as I make up random names for the varieties of foliage, none of which are correct. She, on the other hand, knows almost every plant and who gave it to her and on which occasion. Her mind is still sharp even though her body is weakening.


I used to catch critters in glass canning jars. Usually lightening bugs, sometimes bees. My cousins and I would play for hours in the creek beside their house throwing rocks, catching inedible fish and hunting for crawdads. I took our kids down to that same creek and was surprised by how small it really is.

My Paw arrives back from a monthly lunch gathering with his brothers. My Granny and paw have been married for over 60 years and I don’t recall ever seeing them argue, though I’m sure they did. Again, my mind turns to memories and I see my Paw hunched over a small desk, with a desk lamp, reading a well worn Bible.

My hands would be purple or hot pink or maybe blue depending on the type of dust put on the seeds that we grandkids planted in their garden. They’d hand us a bag and show us a row and we’d get busy planting seeds. You could wash and wash and wash your hands but that color would take days to come off your skin.

“We planted us a garden again this year,” she says, breaking my thoughts once more. “Used to we could plant the whole garden, all over the back yard, in just one day. This year it took us all day just to plant 4 plants.” I look at the meager garden that they have sowed this year. It’s puny in comparison to the gardens of my childhood. I remember being yelled at for playing in the rows and rows of corn. I’d get called in from the back yard for stepping on the rows and rows of okra. It spanned their entire backyard, which is good sized enough to store up food for the winter. Now, their garden is the size of a few baby cribs.

My life is not what it once was because of the faithfulness of their lives. I am stained with their love. My greatest prayer is that our children, and even our children’s children, understand the labor of my grandparents and know The Love that they testified to my entire life.


Long after their garden is never again planted in soil, they will continue to reap a generational harvest. The legacy they have planted in the hearts of their children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren has stained our family’s hands for eternity. I could never wash off the color that these two people have embedded in my life. Nor would I ever want to. Long before I knew the King, they knew Him. They remained steadfast through deaths and burials of their children and grandchildren. They continued to slow, plant and tend. They continued to persevere. They sowed great seeds in me, without my even knowing.

Years from now as I remember my Granny’s abundant cackling laughter and my Paw’s tender, deep voice, I pray that I will also remember the love my Savior poured into me through them. I pray that my life remains stained with the color of their love.

Here

I'm still here. Sorta.

I mean, I'm not in the "here" that we're normally at. We are traveling and will be back to our normal "here" sometime next weekend. We've enjoyed spending time with long-time friends. Friends who encourage the mess out of us, provoke us to think about God's word authentically, challenge us with our normalcies and love us beyond what we deserve.

We've been encouraged, supported and squeezed extra tight by family.

We've had the privilege to speak with two groups about our ministry in Kenya and both times walked away more blessed than we could have previously imagined.

We've been spoiled rotten by having our sweet friend Paige travel with us to help us. Originally, her role was to help us with the kids, but I can see that she's really here for so much more. She's encouraged us as well, jumped into the thick of loading and unloading and just blessed us on every level possible.

I guess you could say that we're blessed to be here, rather than "here."

I hope to post again soon with pictures, updates and more info about Guinea-Bissau, our assignment in Kenya and just life in general.

Sneak Peek Photos

I should be packing. Or sleeping. Instead, I'm pulling up breathtaking photos on my computer and staring at them intently.

You see, in exactly 1 month, our sweet, amazing, wonderful babysitter Amanda is getting married. And over the last several months, our relationship has blossomed and now, well, she's not just a babysitter anymore. Now, she's my friend.

And I couldn't be more excited for her. She's marrying an amazing man who loves her fiercely, loves our kids (which speaks volumes to me) and, best yet, loves the Lord.

Today I had the pleasure of, once again, playing photographer and taking some Bridal Portraits for Amanda.

You guys, she is stunning. It's a good thing I'm going to be plenty distracted by my chaotic kids at her wedding or I'd bawl my eyes out. Oh who am I kidding? I probably will anyway.

I so wish that I could show you my FAVORITES but they show too much of her dress! After the wedding I'll post my favorites. Until then, you're stuck with these teasers.

What an honor to have dugout level seats to the beginning of a marriage! This girl blesses me, often. I wonder how they feel about life in Kenya? ;)

Bold. Sacrificial. Hungry.

Oh blogging. I have so much to say, yet so few words and even fewer minutes. Life seems to be speeding up by the second and each day that passes I think, "Man! I just want to write. I just want to blog about my trip and the ways God showed up BIG."

And then it's bedtime and I fall into bed. A seemingly 20 minutes later my alarm goes off, or a half dressed kid crawls in bed beside me and the day begins again. And I think, "I'll blog tomorrow."

Somehow, tomorrow never seems to come.

I swing in the balance between looking to tomorrow and reliving 10 days I spent half way around the world. My mind goes from here to there and back again, wondering if Kenya will resemble Guinea-Bissau at all.

I remember the warfare but also the victory. Like a rhythmic, ever steady pendulum, I flow from hopeful to sad, from fearful to courageous. I remember the smells, the bustle of the market and the drops of sweat rolling, unceasingly, down my back.

It was our first full day in Guinea-Bissau. The missionaries we were staying with, took us to the Bible college that our church had sent money to build. In a few more weeks it will be finished and men will begin being trained to be Pastors.

I'd seen photos of the Bible college, but standing there within it's walls was monumental. I was so struck by this group of people who were gathered on the long, stone and concrete porch of the Bible college.

Being ever the question asker, I asked the resident missionary, "What are they doing?"

"See that man in the middle," it was more of a statement than a question.

"He's our day guard. His shift is 7am-7pm. He's a new believer but he won't quit going to the witchdoctor."


"That one (in the hat) who's talking. He's teaching them, telling him to turn from the ways of the witchdoctor and trust solely in Jesus."


"He doesn't come to church, so every Saturday, while he's working his day guard shift, they come to him and teach him the truth. They pray that one day, he'll leave the ways of the witchdoctor and fully understand the power of Jesus," the missionary continues.

I hesitantly walk over the the group to snap some photos and listen to the teacher lecture in Kreole. I can only make out a few words, "Biblio" and "Jesus." Another in the group sits, with his Bible open, listening to the man who continues to teach.

This is church.

This is the body of Christ.

Men and women decidedly, purposefully, intentionally discipling a believer who is new and weak in his faith. He won't come to them, so they go to him.

"They come every Saturday," the missionary continues, "even that woman and her daughter. She's a widow but she still comes."

I had noticed the young girl, sitting intently with the adults. In fact, she had taken me back so much that I had to walk away from the group to compose myself, to distance my heaving sobs from the team's earshot.

It's day one, I can't be loosing it yet. Seriously. Get a grip, Jessica.

I look back at the girl, knowing that she's fatherless and yet she and her mother continue to disciple. They choose to disciple a man who others would deem as a waste of time. Women work hard in African culture. Widowed women doubly so.

The little girl reminds me so much of my Elizabeth. My big girl who decides, 9 times out of 10, to sit with us in small group with our teenaged Sunday School class instead of playing outside with the babysitter and her siblings.

I imagine Elizabeth and this sweet girl sitting together. Elizabeth giving her a few of her treasured silly bands and this girl, sharing with her a few Kreole words.

I can almost hear their giggles in my ears.

My heart swells as I realize that indeed these two are sisters.

Same Father.

The tears flow again, this time for joy.

I hope that one day she and Elizabeth will be able to giggle and trade treasures in Heaven. Can you imagine? Two girls, about the same age, treasuring the Word of God so much they choose to sit and soak it in with the adults? A whole world apart yet desiring the same things?

Bold. Sacrificial. Hungry.

A group of hodgepodge believers, choosing to spend their Saturdays teaching and discipling a man who most might write off. A widow and her daughter, another missionary and a group of Guinea-Bissauan men desperate to proclaim the glory of the Lord.

May we all be so bold. May we all be so sacrificial. May we all be so hungry.