Miracle Baby

Many people have prayed for this baby and her mother. Little Sandra Maricela was born full term and naturally to a mother with kidney failure. A tiny 3 pounds something, she spent about two weeks in the hospital before coming home to join her thankful and happy family. She is doing well, growing, and seems to be bright and alert.

Recently we hosted a baby shower for this precious miracle baby and her mother, Rosi. Although this is not necessarily a custom here in this area, we want to teach the women to celebrate their children as gifts from God and this seemed an excellent opportunity to do so.
Rosi's older daughter and a niece were delighted to help open the gifts.

Rosi's gratitude was evident in her delighted smile and the tears that fell as she read the words of blessing that were shared. "Mi milagrito" [my little miracle] she crooned softly, cuddling her tiny daughter.

Here's a shout out to our faithful prayer partners- only eternity will reveal what a difference you have made in this woman's life!

Two Years Old

All day long I listened to her chant... "My buth-day soon! I wanna piñata! Where's my cake? Blow my candle! Gwamma sent it!"

"Gwamma" really did send this package, so she had at least one wrapped present to open!

Cozy new clothes, a notebook of her own, and crayons. Unfortunately, Mandie still thinks crayons are for breaking and unwrapping and chewing; no, they didn't last long!

Her favorite toy was the little kitchen set her Daddy got her with lots of dishes and plastic food. Every few minutes she announces, "I gonna play wif my buth-day toys!" and off she trots to the play room.
When you're two, what is more delightful than party cake with lots of sprinkles? Thank you, "Mimi"!

And now... we are off to learning how to read. No, wait- better make that potty training. Waa!

Preacher's Kids and Church Services

You know all those stories about the preacher's kids being the worst behaved children in church? I used to think they were largely unjust... until my own children haplessly fell into that category. Add to that the stigma of being missionary kids, and it is enough to cause palpitations to even the most stalwart mother heart. Church services in El Eden are always an adventure. Our building is too small; there are no restrooms, (don't even ask about a nursery); there are no benches, (only plastic stacking chairs that make raucous noises on the cement floor when bumped, which is frequently); and every service attracts a great assortment of village children who have nothing more entertaining to do than to come and watch the "gringos" have church. Now I don't begrudge those little guys at all- I really have faith that they are learning something worthwhile, and sitting in church is definitely one of the more profitable choices of daily activities.

However.

My tribe, especially those under the age of ten, is still in the training process where church is concerned. With my hubby involved in every service -either leading worship or preaching- it falls to me to maintain order on The Brechbill Row. Sometimes things are fairly calm: Derek actually looks at the speaker and doesn't ask Embarrassing Questions in a Loud Whisper. Mandie is content with her doll baby and snuggles on my lap. Tony remembers to stand up with the rest of the congregation and follows along in the songbook... Then there are the other times.

The "other times" frequently take place when Freddy, Elvis, and Henry (three little characters as colorful as their names) choose to sit behind us. This week we had special meetings for four nights which gave unprecedented opportunities for training, or, entertainment if you are not a parent. Last night the church house was especially crowded when another local church joined us for services. As soon as I herded my tribe to their seats, the Three Characters dashed in with great gusto and a good deal of noise and flopped on the chairs behind us. The show began at once. There was lots of talking, shuffling, pinching, humming, squirming, and punching, accompanied by large quantities of giggles. Well, my tribe simply doesn't have any resistance to that sort of amusement and in no time there was a full-fledged competition in progress. With some shuffling, I managed to get both my boys seated in front of me instead of beside me which lowered the noise to a dull roar, as Andrew would say. The threesome behind me kept up a steady stream of distractions in spite of my dark looks and the much hissing from the visiting ladies behind them. Worse yet was their mimicry of the brother in the back row who was being particularly blessed. Every few minutes he emitted a hearty "Glo-o-o-o-ria a Dios!" which was immediately repeated in the row behind me. "Glo-o-o-ria a Dios! A-a-amen! Oooooh Señor!" I alternately considered spanking them, offering prizes for total silence, and lecturing them on the sin of mockery. Then I decided that they were a battle I wasn't called to fight so I prayed for wisdom instead. Fellowship time after church wasn't much better as my boys were ready to vent their energy and the Characters were all too willing to induce them. I remind myself that some day very soon they will be grown-ups, reminiscing about "these times"... and I wonder what will they remember???

So today Derek was making his usual complaint about "those boys that always fight with me," and prescribing various punishments for their behavior. As he detailed the many injustices he has suffered because of them, I sighed inwardly and wondered how to show a four-year-old the deception of his own heart. Jen also stood by listening and not succeeding too well at hiding her amusement. "Many are the afflictions of the righteous," was her conclusion to the matter.

Oh, but a sense of humor and a hearty laugh does wonders for a mother's perspective!

About...

Life: It's all about Jesus; His purpose and His glory!

My Kitchen: A place for coffee, chopping vegetables, and heart-to-heart conversation.

Patience: It's tireless and long-suffering; has the power to endure whatever comes, with good temper. (Col. 3:12, Amplified Bible)

Derek: Loves people. And, unlike his mother, he will never long for "just a small space of peace and quiet".

The Sky: There's nothing in all the world like a Honduras sky. I fall in love again and again.

Listening: What my sweet friend Janie does best. Thank you Lord, for her short visit!

School: Happy, happy children. Contented parents. Patient teacher.

God's Love: I am discovering it anew. And wondering how we can know such a huge, powerful, passionate love and yet remain so unmoved.

Emily: Celebrated her eleventh birthday. How can this be happening to me?

Our Table: Now regularly seats ten people.

Manners: What my children are learning since there are ten people at the table.

Guests: They are plentiful and kind and generous.

Chocolate: My cup runneth over, thanks to some of those generous guests.

Gratefulness: What shines in Mandie's eyes when I sew a dress for her beloved Baby Maggie- followed by a hug and, "Baby Maggie wuvs me!"

Jackets and Socks: The new novelty since the weather has suddenly turned cold and rainy.

Potty Training: Definitely not my field of expertise.

After Dinner Conversation: Anything from homemade rockets and basketball to courtship and "finding God's will". Having three young people around has certainly added an interesting dimension to our lives!

The Truth: Sets us FREE. I love it!

Long-suffering: You, if you have endured to the end of this post.

Me: Loving my life!

On Listening

I think it was Dietrich Bonhoeffer who once said, "The first service that we can perform for anyone is to listen." Peter Dyck quotes this in his book, Up From the Rubble, and goes on to challenge the reader on the difference between being a servant or merely performing a service. It is the difference between doing and being; an act versus an attitude; it is character rather than performance. True servants give themselves along with their gift.

This is a lesson that I am presented with constantly in mission life. It is all too easy for me to merely give away my "good deeds" while tenaciously guarding myself. Thankfully God is infinitely patient with me, and again and again He gives me opportunities to lay down my life for others. I am learning... slowly.

No one ever told me that the one of the first and most important things a missionary needs to learn is to listen. I believe every aspiring missionary would do well to take some intense listening classes. (Ok, is there such a thing??!) There are days when it seems that all we do is listen to people: financial problems, struggling families, marriages in distress, hurting youth, children with questions... Many of them are not looking for answers so much as a sympathetic, listening ear; someone who truly cares. And this is not a gift I can hand out like the sweet rolls and coffee that accompany many of our conversations. When I ask God to teach me how to listen with my heart instead of only with my head, spirits are connected and true fellowship ensues. Yes, this giving of oneself is costly... but it is the way of Jesus, and it is the way of JOY!

Not what we give, but what we share,
For the gift without the giver is bare;
Who gives himself with his alms feeds three,
Himself, his hungering neighbor, and Me.
(James Russell Lowell)

Why My Days Are "Like That"

Here is the pair who brings us so much mischief, delight, trouble, laughter, and gray hair. We can't imagine life without them!

Some Days Are Like This

The day started calmly enough. At 7:45, the three oldest children bounded off to school and I was already immersed in the wringer washer's soap suds. Derek and Mandie have yet to learn to entertain themselves constructively while their older siblings are in school, and I am finding out what a negligent mother I am with only my own eyes to watch the two little ones. Mandie got her first bath for the day after playing in a pile of wood shavings and generously filling her hair with sawdust. I literally put the vacuum cleaner to her head before attempting to scrub the fine shavings off her scalp. Freshly washed and dressed, I was about to send her outdoors again when Derek asked for a lollipop. Unwisely, I agreed, blithely imagining that sucking a sticky candy would somehow keep them from worse mischief. As I returned to the clothesline, Tim dashed by on his way to a meeting in town. "Someone is coming to buy study Bibles," he called. "I got the order ready and it's in a box at the library." I nodded absentmindedly. While selling books is not my forte, this sounded simple enough. Returning to the house, I discovered my recently-bathed girlie was a sticky mess and her clean blue dress stained with sweet red drips. I only had time to wash her hands when a rattle at the gate announced the arrival of a book customer. Suddenly I faced a dilemma I had not anticipated. Do I leave Derek and Mandie alone in the house while I run across the street to the library (bookstore) or do I take them with me??? To leave them unattended in the house spells certain disaster; taking them with me- well, they might play in the grass beside the building... Scooping up Mandie and grabbing Derek by the hand, we headed across the street to the waiting customer, just as a second vehicle stopped by our gate. Greeting the two men who were patiently waiting, I opened the library door and invited them in. Derek and Mandie were hard on my heels, but the building is much too small to accommodate more than three or four people, so I sent them outside to play. At this time, two more men arrived at the door and announced that they were here to pick up the study Bibles. As I sat down at the desk to write up their bill, they decided to add more books to their order and began stacking them on the desk where I was working. Suddenly the quiet order of business was rudely shattered by a handful of sand and gravel flying through the open door and across the plywood floor. "Amanda Jane!" I gasped. "Derek, go play in the grass, please!" Derek cheerfully obliged by grasping Mandie under her arms and hauling her off despite her shrieks of protest. "What's the price of Bibles per box?" one of the customers asked as I returned to the desk. "Oh look!" gasped another. "Your little girl- she's eating dirt!" My brain did a sideways flip as I gazed out the door at Mandie's dusty hands wedged firmly in her mouth (two year molars coming in). My mind said, "Ok, I am running a business, and my little girl is eating dirt. What am I supposed to do about it?" But my lips smiled and said, "Oh she's not really eating it; she just put her dirty hands in her mouth for a minute." Back again to writing up the bill. For the third time I tore it up and started over when the customer discovered he didn't have enough cash for that order. Suddenly to my unbelieving eyes there appeared a moto-taxi and two more customers squeezed into the very crowded and overheated building, sending me into further despair. Somehow Mandie slipped inside and began unpacking the stack of books I had so carefully recorded and placed in a box. Seeing my obvious incompetence, one customer attempted to help me by calling out orders to Derek in broken English. "Der-r-rik! Come he-ah pliss!" Finally I had one order completed and two customers dismissed. Then I had to run to the house to get change and business cards. By this time I was sure that leaving the children unattended in the house was a far safer and saner option than having them with me, so I picked up Mandie and hissed at Derek to "watch these people" while I run to the house. A look of panic crossed his face, but I assured him I'd be right back and rushed out before he had time to protest. Leaving Mandie on our front porch, I grabbed the change and raced across the street once more. I tried not to appear too eager as I waved good bye to the second set of customers, and turned to the lady who was still waiting for my services. Sorry, we are out of Thompson Bibles; no, there are no books on Intercession... No Derek, I can't come across the street and open the gate for you, you will have to figure out a way to do it yourself... (And under my breath:) "If one more person comes, I am going to---" And then another car pulled into the driveway. An older couple walked up to the door and greeted me enthusiastically. "Did your husband tell you we're coming? We're from El Progreso and we ordered some books..." They were obviously enjoying an outing together and had plenty of time to visit and ply me with questions. "What denomination do you belong to? Are you something like Amish? I was in Pennsylvania once, and went a theater where the actors dressed like Amish or Mennonites..." Their rambling conversation helped me relax, but I kept a wary eye turned toward our house and wondered nervously at the great silence reaching my ears. At long last the final purchases were made, the sales carefully recorded, farewells spoken, and the door closed behind me. It was noon when I returned to the house, where there was still laundry waiting to be hung up and lunch to cook for the teacher and children who would be out of school in a few minutes. You are probably wondering what Derek and Mandie did during the time they were left alone in the house. Frankly, I do too. I found Derek playing outside, but I have no memory of where Mandie was or what she was doing. Which means that either she was in rare calm behavior, or my mind had somehow gotten lost in the shuffle of the morning's events...

That evening, over grilled chicken and fried fish at Las Glorias, I poured out my tale of woe to my man. He listened with grave interest, murmured sympathetically, and kindly restored my right mind to me. ...Sighs of thanksgiving... All is well once more.