Popcorn For Dinner

Not Shaken but Praying

Saturday morning I woke to a Facebook newsfeed filled with #prayforparis. Immediately I flipped to find BBC news and to learn what had happened. While I slept, tragedy unfolded on the other side of the continent.  The whole world knows the story. We grieve with Paris.

 

Two days earlier Andy and I had taken an early flight to Southern Russia. It was my first time at the airport since the jet filled with 220 St Petersburg tourists and airline personnel had gone down in Egypt. We entered the airport through the lower level so that we could see the memorial to those lost. 

 

Stems of carnations and roses were piled 3 feet high and 6 feet deep on the curb side. Hundreds of stuffed animals joined the flowers. Candles and photos memorialized those lost. My heart went out once again to my fellow citizens who had lost those they love in this tragedy. Less than two days later and a continent apart, people again died in the hand of terrorists. 

 

 

 

By Saturday afternoon my newsfeed was filled with profile photos covered by the French flag. People remembering France's loss. People committed to pray for France. 

 

Amidst that solidarity were questions from a few: What about Beirut? What about Israel? What about Iraq? What about....? Once again an incredibly sad event became a dividing line between countries and people. 

 

Shortly after hearing the news of Paris, my mind began to play the bridge of Bethel's "We will not be shaken." I turned the song on and listened through a few times. 

 

All those against Him will fall

For our God is stronger 

He can do all things

No higher name we can call

For Jesus is greater

We can do all things. 

 

For we trust in our God

And through His unfailing love

We will not be shaken

We will not be shaken

We will not be shaken.

 

Our world seems so out of control, so uncertain, so scary. The apostle Paul wrote, "Our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms." (Ephesians 6:12). While things seem out of control, I need to remember that this is not a human battle. It is a spiritual battle that I can fight only through prayer. It seems today those powers are unleashed like no time I can remember, and they are devastating the lives of average people around the world. 

I must cling to the hope that I can trust God. Ultimately those who stand against Him will fall. He is stronger. He is in control. The name of Jesus is the name I can call on any day or night. I can believe He will use me in this world today. 

This isn't a battle between people. It is a battle in the heavens. It will be won as Christians pray intensely for this world. It will be won as we proclaim Jesus and His unfailing love for others. It will be won as we live our lives so others see Jesus through us. 

So I pray for Paris, and for Russia, for the Middle East, and for the USA.

I pray for so many places in this world that are so in need of a Savior. 

I pray that He would use His people to proclaim His name to those suffering and those searching.

I pray that many would see that Jesus is their hope.

I pray that they will run to Him for comfort for their pain.

And I pray they find peace in Jesus, the one who will save our world.  

 

 

Easter Dinners and One Another

It's been a year. One year exactly since I last blogged or looked at my blog. Sometimes there are just things you have to let go. Blogging was one of those things.

In that year we moved from Moldova to Russia, and I finished my master's degree, completing three classes and the thesis in ten months. This isn’t an extraordinary feat. Many people finish master’s degrees. I knew I needed complete the degree this year so I doubled my efforts, and studying consumed much of my time.

Moving to Russia proved fantastic for our family. We adapted to apartment and city living. We felt awe over the dramatically short winter days and are equally amazed by the current long days of the coming summer. We enjoy walking the dog twice daily: rain, snow, cold, or sunshine. I have figured out where to shop for groceries and how to cook locally. We love the school the girls attend and that they have loads of friends.

Yet, in February I was feeling like a plant that had been uprooted and transplanted one too many times. In less than three years we had lived in the USA, Moldova, again a few months stateside and then Russia. My roots weren't sure they wanted to do the work of really sinking once again. Transition marked my life and replanting myself felt difficult and tiring.

Plants need good soil, water, and sunshine to grow and adapt to a new pot. People need people to transition. I didn't have that. I hadn't had much of it for a few years. There had been too much movement to see relationships grow. To have friendships again meant work. Relational work. 

We were attending a wonderful Russian church, yet only a few young men spoke English. I couldn't connect with the ladies. My Romanian was useless. Weekdays I spent in my apartment working on research and writing. I once attended a women’s gathering for international women. I met ladies I’d met at the previous meeting. They remembered me. I remembered no one. I knew my life was out of whack. Something had to change.

I'd like to take a trip back in time to my first year of marriage. Andy served as a youth pastor in a church in Northern Minnesota. As Easter approached I felt dismal realizing that spending the holiday with family wasn't an option. We lived too far away to show up for Easter dinner after church. I waited for someone to invite this young newly married couple to their celebration. Making an Easter dinner for the two of us never dawned on me. Easter morning at church a family heard we had no plans and invited us to join them. I was shocked that they didn't eat ham and scalloped potatoes for Easter. They ate spaghetti!

I realized that day that my misery was my own making. How silly of me to wait for someone else to invite Andy and me! I could make holiday dinners and be the one to invite others along. I came to love holidays in our own home with a host of different guests each year.

Adapting this logic to my present situation in Russia, I knew my melancholy was of my own making. While dropping the blog for a year was a good idea, dropping people was simply stupid.

I started volunteering at the girls' school when they called for help. I started praying with other moms for the school's building search. We found a small international church that fit our family and where I could connect. I invited people to our home for dinner. I got out. I found places I fit. And amazing even myself, I still finished my thesis with these “distractions.”

We were meant for community not isolation. No matter what we have to get done, we need people.  John Donne wrote, "No man is an island.”

The New Testament shouts relationship. Jesus lived in community with his disciples. Paul, Peter, John and the writer of Hebrews urge Christians to do life with one another. We are to love, encourage, fellowship, teach, forgive, and pray for one another. People need people.

I’m grateful I finally figured this one out.

Oh, and after meeting new friends, I didn’t make Easter dinner for the first time in many years. I brought a salad, corn casserole and dessert to someone else’s home.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                                     

 

Into the Deep

Recently I read 1 Chronicles 4:10 where Jabez prays, "Lord that you would bless me and enlarge my territory...."  In the early 2000's, nearly every Christian knew this prayer and prayed it.  A book had been written on the idea, encouraging believers to ask God to enlarge their territory for Him.  As I read this verse, I wondered how many of those prayers had been answered and how many had been unanswered.  

I prayed  along with many.  I asked God to enlarge my territory.  

Enlarge he did.  I went from a town of 1,000 to a town of just under a million.  I went from rural Montana to quiet Moldova--both agricultural but worlds apart. 

Enlargement didn't come without a price.  We left friends, family and the familiar and went where we knew no one and life seemed strange.   In reality it was just a change of scenery.  

We were stretched to learn new languages and decided to divide and conquer with the two languages in the country.  I took Romanian, and Andy took Russian.    Some days we wondered if we'd ever be able to speak, but reward came in listening to women's stories of healing in their language.  Hearing their hearts sing in their own tongue.  

Enlargement came when we started to build friendships with pastors and help them build their church buildings.  We were stretched in bringing in teams to lift cement and pour walls.  We were stretched to believe God would provide the money through His people to build another church.  

Then God pushed us a bit further, "Open Freedom Home".  We did.   We often laid awake at night wondering why we did it.   The problems were great.  The financial need huge. We dreamed of true freedom in the lives of the girls. Could it really happen?   Could the love of Jesus really change women who had been sold into sexual slavery?

He could, and He did. My territory is enlarged yet greater as I have incredible love for women I didn't know 5 years ago.  Women who are made in God's image, but the sin of this world did all to destroy that.  They are redeemed, made new.    I love them like my daughters.  They love me and express that love freely.  It's a joy to see their daughters grow and change and learn to love Jesus too.   

Late last summer we were asked to move to Russia to assume leadership of the Russian missionaries.  I didn't want to leave Moldova, but I felt the nudge.  Andy felt the nudge.  God was asking us to stretch and enlarge our territory once again.  The good-byes began and were always painful.  I became tired of telling the story again and again.  

You see territory enlargement often comes with stepping out into the unknown.  As I again read this prayer in Chronicles, I thought that many miss the answer to the prayer becuase they simply didn't want to step out into new territory.  New territory isn't always easy.  It comes with a price-the price of our comfort and peace.  

A new song from Hillsongs speaks to me: 

"You call me out upon the waters
The great unknown where feet may fail
And there I find You in the mystery
In oceans deep
My faith will stand

And I will call upon Your name                             
And keep my eyes above the waves
When oceans rise
My soul will rest in Your embrace
For I am Yours and You are mine

Your grace abounds in deepest waters
Your sovereign hand
Will be my guide
Where feet may fail and fear surrounds me
You've never failed and You won't start now"

And that is the key to enlarged territories--understanding and trusting the character of God.   As we trust who He is we know He will never leave us or forsake us, and we can step into the unknown.

Our territories enlarge, our work enlarges, our joys and ministry enlarge.  Greater still, our relationship with the One who made us and created us enlarges. He knows best who we are and what we can do.   With each new place we have stepped our foot, with each rise of the waves around us, we better know the hand of God in our lives.   We better know the One who created us.  We know that He has never failed and won't start now.  

These past ten years in missions have been incredible.  We step again into the great unknown, only knowing that God goes with us.  

Where is God asking you to step today? 

I have friends who have left lucrative business careers for ministry in church and missions.  
I have friends who gave up teaching "easy" kids in the suburbs to teach the poor in the inner-city.
I have friends who have planted churches in communities that have yet to know the Savior and others who have started businesses because God called them to be a light in the business world.

God asks us to trust him and follow where he leads.  His grace abounds in the deep water.  

I'm asking God to give us the grace as we follow him to deep waters once again. 

 

 

Necessary Endings

I hate goodbyes as much as the next person.  

I hate goodbyes left unsaid more.  

Many of us have come to believe that if we just don't say goodbye, we don't have to feel the pain of leaving.   I remember thinking this when I was in college.  I taught a Sunday school class  of 3rd & 4th grade girls at my church.  I moved from the church I grew up in to a church of my adult choosing, but I didn't want to say goodbye to these little girls I loved so much.  So I didn't.   It showed my 20 year old  immaturity and is a decision I've regretted over the years. I learned that goodbyes are painful and necessary.  It is part of releasing sorrow for a relationship that must part, whether long term or for a few days. 

I reflect on this today with a bit more than a month left in Moldova.  I have friends that regularly express their grief that we are leaving.   They love me and know I love them.   But the other day a friend looked at me and said words in Romanian that are the equivalent to "I will never see you again.  Have a good life."  Then she turned and walked away.  I wasn't sure I had understood correctly. Surely she didn't just say that and walk away. Elissa stood next to me, turned and asked, "Did she really just say what I thought she said?"  We were both shocked. Yes, I had understood correctly, and it left me no chance to hug her.  

No chance to tell her again how much she has meant to me.  

No chance to close that chapter.  

She is gone.  I found out she had obtained a visa to America.  She didn't want to say goodbye.  She leaves in a few days. 

This has happened several times in Moldova.  My language teacher told me she was going to visit her son but had an emigrant visa.  The girls' piano teacher finished a lesson and declared, "I won't return.  I'm going to America in two days." 

These repeated times of "Relationship Over I'm Leaving" kill me.  I can't do that anymore.  I have to acknowledge and grieve the place I am leaving--the place I've called home longer than any other place in my life.  

I'm doing my best to say goodbye to my friends in Moldova.  I want to eat dinners and spend time with those I love here.  I'm letting people know what they mean to me and how grateful I am for their friendship and grace toward me.  

I'm saying goodbye to my house and this beautiful country.  I'm enjoying last bonfires, dinners and time in my backyard.  I'm relishing walks in the vineyard.  I'm enjoying the last time I'll experience the blossoms of spring and my rose bushes coming up.  I'm loving my kitchen and large oven, praying someone else lives in the house after us  that also will also love to cook on it.  I'm enjoying the world around me. And in each of these joyful times, I'm knowing it is a final time.  I'm saying "farewell Moldova".  

I plan to visit my vegetable market, chicken store and meat store in my last week here--all places I'm known as the crazy blonde foreign woman who attempts to speak their language and smiles broadly.  The clerks smile when I arrive and greet me, and I pretend I'm a local. I will tell them that I'm moving, and I have appreciated their service.  I will tell them goodbye.  

I will hug my friends and tell them how they have made my last ten years special, rich and full. I will cry with some and laugh with others.  I will recall how small the girls were when we arrived and how much they have grown in the ten years here.  

Because I've learned that not saying goodbye doesn't prevent the pain and doesn't keep the goodbye from happening.   But saying goodbye is a way to thank the wonderful people around me for how they have blessed my life. 

In the past few years I've reconnected with Jennifer & Jill others from my Sunday school class via Facebook.  Each are now well past the age I was when I left without a goodbye.  They are wives and moms and business women--lovers of Jesus.  Forgive me, girls, for not saying goodbye.  Thank you for teaching me the importance of goodbyes.  

Goodbye is a necessary ending.  

 

 

 

Because She Prayed

It's often said that we won't know the impact of our prayers until eternity.  This week God let me get a glimpse into an answered prayer, not mine, but that doesn't matter.  Andy shared this story in his newsletter this month.  I have a bit more to add.  

Four years ago Nelly* was at a shelter after returning from where ever.  She was an orphan and now labeled a victim of trafficking.  She sat on a swing outside the shelter, obviously pregnant, when a stranger approached her.   The stranger introduced herself.  She was a psychologist and had just served some of the mothers and children at the shelter.  

The Woman asked Nelly about the coming baby.  Nelly admitted this baby was a reminder of her time on the streets, of time abused by men.  She did not want the baby and planned to abort it.  

The Woman talked to her about life and urged Nelly to choose life.  Then she left.   They never saw one another again.  

The Woman didn't know if the baby had been born or aborted.

Nelly couldn't tell the Woman that Alexandra is a joy to her life. 

This week there is a small group of doctors in Moldova with the American Christian Medical Association doing training for Moldovan doctors.  One of the doctor's wives, Patsy, connected with me a few years ago.  She asked if she could come back to Freedom Home on this visit.   And could she bring the wife of her husband's translator?

We were visiting together when Nelly came to join the conversation. She began to visit with the wife of the translator.  Suddenly there was a realization. "We've met somewhere."  

Nelly connected that this was the Woman at the shelter who told her to not abort.  

The Woman connected that this was the girl she had talked to at the shelter, urging her not to abort.

She had gone home and prayed fervently for the girl, but she thought she'd never known the outcome of those prayers.

God gave her a glimpse into her answered prayer. 

And beautiful little Alexandra lives today because of it.  




I think about the ramifications of this story: 

Nelly came to Freedom Home a year after Alexandra's birth.  She spent the first year in the mother/child center, but could only spend one year there.  She came to Freedom Home because she needed a place to go. It is here she has learned the peace Jesus brings and felt love unconditionally for the first time.

Alexandra adores my daughters.  

She tolerates me.  That makes me smile.  

It's all over a peach. 

She had just come into the home and Moldovan peaches were in season.  If you haven't eaten a peach in Moldova, you have never eaten a peach.  Juicy, sweet, amazing.   I wanted to share this amazingness with this small child.  She didn't want it.  I tried to force her clamped mouth to open for the peach.  Tried to shove it in. I know, I know, where is the love in that?  She became angry. She began to scream as only a one year old can.  She didn't forgive me--for a good year or more.   

But she loves me now and everyone around her.  Alexandra's smile is shy and sweet.  She loves to talk and can carry on amazing conversations. Real conversations.   She thinks deeply.

 She dances by bouncing.   She is a delight.

I wonder what God has in store for her life.  

And I'm so grateful that one woman took the time to stop, talk and encourage and then she prayed.  God heard that prayer and didn't just spare Alexandra's life but directed it to a place where Alexandra would not just be alive, but thrive.  A place that she would grow hearing and experiencing the love of Jesus.  God directed her and her mama to Freedom Home.   

I can't wait to tell you what Alexandra's life has become in 20 years.  

God is working on this little girl--so fearfully and wonderfully made.  

 

True Stability

This morning I sorted through a couple of file holders that have sat on my desk for the past 5 years.  I threw out stacks of papers--old syllabi from master's classes, notes from conferences--the kind of stuff that hoarders hang on to until they are forced to give it up.  

Cards and notes from my daughters went back in the file.  They are too precious to throw. 

Sorting is my life right now.  Clothes, books, dishes, personal care items...you name it.  I'm sorting it.  Keep? Give? Sell? Take?  The questions keep coming. They tire my brain.  Every day something in my house is sorted.  My bedroom has a pile of bedding to sell.  I've given away another half the pile.  Three grocery sacks sit in my hallway full of hats, scarves and mittens ready to go to a village for some child to use next winter. 

This isn't the first time I've done this.  In fact, this is the 8th time in 11 years that I've sorted, packed, sold and given away my household goods to prepare for a move.  I think about several of my siblings who have lived in the same house for years--actually raising their kids in one home and still living there.  The idea is novel to me--and inviting.  

Over the past few months I've done a few different types of temperament tests--DISC, Meyers-Briggs and others.  These are not all-knowing, perfect tests, but they do give an idea of who I am.  They are tools to help me understand myself and how I relate to the world around me.  I've learned I'm not a person who likes change.  I crave stablity.  

At one point early in ministry I told Andy that I didn't want to be a pastor's wife that moved all the time.  Couldn't we settle into a pastorate and stay there?  Then God called me to missions, and  I answered.  God took me away from a life of stability to help me grow.  He moves me beyond my comfort zone to stretch and strengthen me.  When we do strength training for our muscles we push the muscle fibers to limits to break them.  The muscle then becomes stronger.  God is stretching me and  making me stronger.  

I've learned a lot in the past eleven years of moves.  I know that He is my source. He is faithful. He is sufficient.  He is enough.  It isn't about my house or the things in it.  It isn't about my sense of comfort or my sense of stability but knowing that "His grace is sufficient for me because His power is made perfect in my weakness." 

As I sort through the things that have been part of our lives since moving to Moldova, I'm thankful for God's sufficiency.  I'm thankful that He has been my stability in a life of instability.   And I'm thankful that He sees me through.

Forever Changed

An interesting question came my way in an interview with a blog writer:  How has this ministry affected your own daughters? The question regarded our ministry at Freedom Home.  This question isn’t new to us.  It is often asked in various forms.  Do you let your girls go to the home?  How is it for them with the women at the home?  The underlying question stems from the wonderment that we would expose our girls to former prostitutes. 

Only recently has it dawned on me that the question comes from a misunderstanding of the women at Freedom Home.  Many envision women who are overly sexualized and walking that out in every action, every day.  I have never seen these women in that light.  I see them as beautiful broken women in need of Savior.  They are no different than my neighbor who lives with her boyfriend or the teenage girl hopping from one meaningless relationship to another.  All are in need of the Hope of the World.  

So, yes, our girls go to Freedom Home.  They play with, entertain and love the children.  They sit on couches with the women and celebrate birthdays and holidays with them.  They laugh, sing and dance with them.  They hug them and eat with them.  They love them as sisters and miss them when we are apart.  

The difference with the blog writer’s question and most of these type of questions is that I took this interview in the car.  The girls sat behind me, so I posed the question to them.  How they responded surprised even me.  

They don’t like when people speak derogatorily of prostitutes. 

They don’t like prostitute jokes of any kind.

They don’t like movies or TV shows that show the worst of humanity.  

The worst of humanity is not something to be entertained with or laugh at. 

They love women who are broken by the worst of humanity.  The brokenness isn’t just from trafficking, but started in horrid homes.

Their sensitivity to the needs of others, specifically the women they love in Freedom Home, astounded me.  

They don’t see them as a sexualized prostitute.  They are just normal young women--their friends. 

To Elissa, Natalie and Lauren, the work we do has nothing to do with an issue.  It is about the individuals in the home--Nicky and Essie and Amy and Nica.  

They have rejoiced with us in baptisms and cried with us when a girl walks out of the home.  Their hearts have been torn by the pain of the girls’ lives and their character has been strengthened by learning to be sensitive to the deep needs of others.

Early on the Lord spoke to me from the story at the end of Luke 7.  Jesus is eating at the home of a Pharisee and an immoral woman comes and anoints his feet.  Jesus is accused by the Pharisee of not knowing her character.  Jesus then speaks of debts and forgiveness.  He ends with “he who is forgiven much loves much”.  

I’ve heard this interpreted that the person who lived a very sinful life will love Jesus more than I could ever possibly love him because I have never walked in a life of great sin.  Somehow that didn’t set right with me.  

As we began to work at Freedom Home, I read this passage and realized that Jesus' statement isn’t about the woman’s specific sin--immorality, possibly prostitution.  It is that she realized her only hope of forgiveness was through her Savior, Jesus.   And so she loved him abundantly.  

The problem we often have as Christians is that we categorize sins. The sin of the prostitute is greater than my sin of gossip. The sin of the bank thief is greater than my sin of telling a “white” lie.  The sin of the murderer is greater than my sin of unforgiveness.  

The reality is each of these “lesser” sins removes me from the presence of Jesus just as much as an of the “greater” sins.   

My capacity to love Jesus comes in understanding that I am in just as much need of a Savior as  this woman who anointed Jesus' feet or any woman at Freedom Home.  Without His grace and mercy in my life, I too, would be condemned to an eternity in Hell.  How then can I not love this Jesus with all abandon? 

Our family is forever changed because God led us to start Freedom Home.  That is for certain. I’m thankful that Jesus gave us this season to be family to the wonderful women and staff at Freedom Home.  

Blessed are the Meek

We buried our beautiful German Shepherd, Britta, this morning.  

The past few days have been full of tears and sorrow.   Britta was bitten by infected ticks which put parasites into her blood and attack her organs. She fought hard.  We prayed hard.  Our vet, Pavel, doctored hard.   But in the end her strong body grew weak and her breathing labored.  I stood with her this morning as she breathed her last.   

Britta was a beautiful dog to look at but also a beautiful dog in personality.  Many, many people came through our house in the past five years, meeting Britta and loving her ways.  She adored people.  She adored being with people.  She loved bonfires, picnics and yard work because it brought people to her territory.   Often men who came to work at our house asked us to kennel her, not because they were afraid of her, but because she wanted them to play.  She wouldn't leave them alone, and they couldn't do their work! 

Shepherds talk. Some more than others.  Britta fell into the "more" category.  She stayed by the door of the house when inside, but often complained about that, sounding like a whale. She sang with the girls and had an irritating bark/cry mix when it was time for a walk or run.  That sound didn't let up until we were into the vineyards. 

In the sermon on the mount Jesus said, "Blessed are the Meek for they will inherit the earth."  For many years I thought meek meant weak.  I didn't understand what Jesus' words.    A few years ago I learned that meek means "strength under control".   When I heard this definition Britta immediately came to my mind.  She was a beautiful picture of strength under control.  

German Shepherds have one of the strongest bite pressures of all dogs.   We used to have Golden Retrievers, and I played tug-of-war with them many times.  I could always win.  I would simply put pressure on the lower jaw and the Golden would drop the toy.  

I never won the game with Britta.  No one did.  Applying pressure on her lower jaw didn't work.    The game was over when she decided it was over.  She destroyed several sets of indestructable rubber dog toy rings.   She chewed logs, not sticks, and this fall she put away a 3 foot rawhide in a few days time.  

Yet our miniature schnauzer loved to play with her and often came to me wet from Britta's mouth on her back.  Gracie's head would be in Britta's mouth, yet she never was hurt.  Strength under control.  

When Gracie had puppies, Britta became the dog aunt to seven balls of fur.  I sat many early mornings outside with all of them.  Gracie would go her own way, but Britta ran the yard with the puppies until the puppies needed a rest.  Often they  would pile up on Britta's fluffy tail and fall to sleep.  Strength under control. 

I had no doubt that, although she'd lop gently beside me in the vineyards, if someone had tried to harm me I could have dropped her leash and they'd find the power behind her jaws.   

These past days I saw weak Britta.  She couldn't stand or walk.  She fought for her life, but in the end she lost.  I experienced the difference between weak and meek.  

Britta lived her life meekly.  I've learned a great biblical life lesson from my dog.  

Through her God gave me a beautiful living picture of how I need to live my life.

I'm sure no one has ever called me weak.  That has not been my problem.  But for so much of my life I lived with uncontrolled strength.  

And I pray that I never forget to follow Britta's example of meekness. 

Lord, teach me to be meek.  Teach me to control the strength in which you made me so that You may be glorified in all I do. 

Today as we look out at the beautifully falling snow, we can't help but think how Britta would have loved the fresh snowfall.  She would have romped and dug in the snow, begged us to come out with her and came in a huge mess.   Our hearts will heal from our loss today, but may I never forget this meek dog and the lesson she taught me.  

God calls me to be meek. 

"Blessed are the Meek for they will inherit the earth."  Matthew 5:5

 

Friends everywhere and nowhere

Nine and a half years.

That's the amount of time we've called Moldova home.  Early on friends and family wondered if our three daughters should be raised in such a place.  Was it safe?  Would they be healthy? How would they manage? 

One picture stays in my mind from our first weeks in Moldova.  It is Elissa's 7 year old self standing with the fridge door open, pulling out a piece of plastic wrapped cheese.  Our family distained "plastic cheese".  We wanted sharp cheddar or colby jack not "plastic cheese".  But here stood Elissa slowly unwrapping and savoring every bite of plastic cheese.   Peanut Butter had never appealed to her, but that changed those first weeks in Moldova.   Familiar foods became comfort in an unfamiliar and sometimes harsh world.   

Elissa is now 16.  She returned with us this past August thrilled to be "home". What a change from 9 years earlier!  Elissa knew she was back to home schooling with her sisters,  few local friends,  and no Five Guys Burgers.   Our plane landed at 12:30 a.m. and the girls were all as giddy as if they'd won Justin Beiber tickets.  They were home!  As they walked in the door of our home, all dropped to the ground to pet their beloved German Shepherd.   Culture shock stayed at bay this time.  

Moldova has become home, but in less than a year we will uproot again to resettle in Russia.  Elissa's senior year of high school will be in Russia--again all things new.   She's leading all of us girls in Russian language study.  Together we'll explore St. Petersburg.  We'll take in the art and culture.  We'll get to know new friends.  We'll expand our lives once again in this new place.  

Recently I overheard Elissa say, "I can't imagine if I'd stayed in Harlowton.  I'd have like only 100 friends.  Now I have friends all over the world."   She loves the little Montana town where she spent her early years and  cherishes her friends still there.   But she realizes that God had another plan for her life.   God has taken her to places she could never have imagined.   She has had the opportunity to meet people from so many walks of life.  She gets to minister to women who need healing and find joy in their sisterhood.  

My mom heart felt blessed by Elissa's outlook.  She wasn't downing the small town life, but finding the blessings in the life God has given her.   This year the three have found friendship in one another and Renee, their teacher.   They all long for friends their own age, but they take what they have now--family.  

In August we make the move to St. Petersburg, and we pray that as God opens new adventures for our family, He will also open up life long friendships for the girls.   But that in it all, they will know they are just in the place God wants them to be.  

 

 

 

Party Time

We're going out for pizza tonight, and I can't wait. 

We're celebrating, and it has nothing to do with a fall holiday.

We're eating pizza with about 15 women, lots of children and a few men.   We'll have to order a lot of pizza.

It isn't about the pizza.  

It's about lives saved, redeemed and restored.  It's about *Tina and Amy and Essie and Nelly.  

Four years ago today we opened the doors to the first woman of Freedom Home.  A day later we took in two other women.  We had three staff and no idea what to do other than to love these women.  The first days were hard.  Actually the first few years were hard...and it is still hard. 

Six months into the doors being opened Amy and her daughter entered the home.  She was tormented daily by all life previously brought her.  Today Amy is filled with life and joy.   Nica is a normal intelligent four year old, curious about life, full of promises for a bright future.  Amy dreams of the future and being on her own next year.   She knows that God has great plans for her. 

Ten months into the doors being opened Tasha came into the home with her daughter.  Lazy, angry, and abusive she seemed impossible.  Yesterday she translated for me Romanian to Russian/ Russian to Romanian as I counseled a new woman in the home.   The anger Tasha showed yesterday was over the lies Satan tells a woman that her abuser will no longer drink and abuse her.   She knows Christ has changed her.

More than two years after the doors opened Tina came into Freedom Home.  She covered pain with jokes and laughter.  She hated her daughter, who, like all the other children in the home, resulted from trafficking.  Today she worships Jesus freely from a place deep within.  She thanks God that she did not abort little Lenuta as planned.  She forgave the abusers from the years before she was trafficked.   She prays openly in church service for those yet locked in prostitution. 

One by one different staff joined our ministry.  Women who love these broken souls immensely.  Women who were often broken themselves. Women who are finding God's healing also.  Women who give incredible love freely from their hearts to the women and children of Freedom Home.  

We didn't know what to do.  But God taught us.  He showed us in His Word.  He brought connections with people who taught us skills.  He taught us how to lead.   He taught us deep unconditional love--His love that changes lives.  

Tonight we will eat pizza, and we will celebrate  God's powerful work in the lives of women. 

This will be the greatest pizza party ever.