On Saturday Haeyoung brought home the movie "Little Women" to watch with the girls.
I don't know why, but I never read the book when I was young but I decided that I wanted to read it before I watched the movie. So I woke up early on Sunday morning and started reading. I read, and read, and read. I laughed, I cried, I threw a pillow and I drove Carmen and Lisel crazy making predictions.
Finally I finished. I loved it! The book is well written, has dynamic characters, good morals, and experiences that everyone can relate to.
Then came time to watch the movie, I was so excited to see the characters and the plot played out.
And I was so disappointed.
Seriously. I was really disappointed. Actually I think the word I used was deceived. How dare those movie people take such a good book and ruin it! The best parts were taken out, everything was out of order and squished together, some parts were invented, and the characters didn't look anything like they looked in my imagination.
Just another lesson that the book is always better than the movie.
Sigh.
That's how it is in my life too. I read the Bible and I get so encouraged by the people who make up those pages.
Ester: she risked her own life to save her people
Ruth: she left her family behind to follow God
Paul: he faced ship-wrecks, a bite by a poisonous snake, 40-lashes minus one, and imprisonment and yet still wrote one of the most "joyful" books of the Bible (Philippians)
David: he was a man after God's own heart
Daniel: he slept with the lions
Countless men and women who have walked before me and found favor in the Lord's eyes. And then I try and feel like a failure.
The book is better than the movie.
I want to live without fear, full of joy, facing the trials head-on. But sometimes just getting out of bed in the morning is a chore. I want to write and encourage and speak truth into people's lives but first I have to pull the log out of my own eye.
And yet some day I will get there. Maybe I won't be asked to walk in the fire, or to lead an army, or be imprisoned. But I will do something great. I know this because we will all do something great.
God wants us to be great for Him. He wants us to be brave for Him. He wants us to serve Him.
And we will, we will. In His perfect timing.
Someday my movie will be just as good as the book.
Monday, October 31, 2011
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Hold my Hand
A couple days ago I took the boys into Danli to help me run some errands. I like the company, the boys like the snack I always buy them for being my "assistants".
In search of a place to make photocopies, I led the boys around the city. Running across streets and cutting through alleys, always with the boys on my heels. Until I looked down and there were Josue and Daniel, one with his small hand placed firmly in mine, the other with his arm looped through mine like a perfect gentleman leading a lady.
It's so natural now, to walk surrounded by kids. To walk with my wallet tucked into my armpit so that my hands are free for holding. To change "partners" at each stoplight. It's so natural.
Today I was journaling. I have a bunch of errands to run that will take me all over this city. I will be alone as I pick up my passport from immigration, change money at the Chinese supermarket, cash checks at the bank, buy groceries for the week, and stop at the fruit stand to stock up on produce.
I will be alone
But for now I only think about my journal, and my coffee.
And the words flow. Not from my mind, but from my heart.
I read what I have written: Hold my hand Father. I just want you to hold my hand.
...just hold my hand
There is something so comforting in holding someone's hand. Because all of a sudden instead of one, you are two. There is the knowledge that no matter how dark it is, there is another to help you see. No matter how windy it gets, there is someone to sustain you. No wonder I always seem to have someone slipping their hand into mine!
So often my job is to be the adult. To be the comfort, to be the eyes that see and the one that sustains. I wipe tears and calm fears and make smiles appear. I am the adult.
But sometimes I want to be the little girl. I want to slip my hand into one that is bigger than mine. I want to be led and comforted by another.
Sometimes, admits the chaos of life, it is comforting to have someone take us by the hand and lead us.
My prayer this morning is simple and free of clutter. It is not a prayer that comes from my mouth, but is rather the cries of the heart of a little girl: Hold my hand Abba, just hold my hand.
In search of a place to make photocopies, I led the boys around the city. Running across streets and cutting through alleys, always with the boys on my heels. Until I looked down and there were Josue and Daniel, one with his small hand placed firmly in mine, the other with his arm looped through mine like a perfect gentleman leading a lady.
It's so natural now, to walk surrounded by kids. To walk with my wallet tucked into my armpit so that my hands are free for holding. To change "partners" at each stoplight. It's so natural.
Today I was journaling. I have a bunch of errands to run that will take me all over this city. I will be alone as I pick up my passport from immigration, change money at the Chinese supermarket, cash checks at the bank, buy groceries for the week, and stop at the fruit stand to stock up on produce.
I will be alone
But for now I only think about my journal, and my coffee.
And the words flow. Not from my mind, but from my heart.
I read what I have written: Hold my hand Father. I just want you to hold my hand.
...just hold my hand
There is something so comforting in holding someone's hand. Because all of a sudden instead of one, you are two. There is the knowledge that no matter how dark it is, there is another to help you see. No matter how windy it gets, there is someone to sustain you. No wonder I always seem to have someone slipping their hand into mine!
So often my job is to be the adult. To be the comfort, to be the eyes that see and the one that sustains. I wipe tears and calm fears and make smiles appear. I am the adult.
But sometimes I want to be the little girl. I want to slip my hand into one that is bigger than mine. I want to be led and comforted by another.
Sometimes, admits the chaos of life, it is comforting to have someone take us by the hand and lead us.
My prayer this morning is simple and free of clutter. It is not a prayer that comes from my mouth, but is rather the cries of the heart of a little girl: Hold my hand Abba, just hold my hand.
Monday, October 24, 2011
Cold Front
If you've been keeping up on weather, we've had a not-so-nice tropical storm that caused a lot of havoc in our little country. Due to a ton of wind and flooding, the southern part experienced a lot of damage and basically lost all communication with the rest of the country for a while. It was (and still is a mess).
Thankfully, we at the Villa were not subject to any of these problems except for the cold front.
Cold Front?
Ok, I know that those of you from the northern US and Canada are probably scoffing and about to give up reading right now.
Please hear me out.
When it gets cold in the US we:
turn on the heat, shut the doors, thank God for good insulation, make a fire, put on warm clothes, enjoy our thick carpeting.
In Honduras:
there is no heat (we have no need for it 95% of the year), there is no insulation in the houses, the windows and doors are not caulked to prevent a draft from entering, there is no carpeting. And at the Villa, thanks to our courtyard, every door opens to the outside.
Luckily we do have a fireplace, and a lot of fire wood. The girls are now professional fire-builders and the boys have fine-tuned the skill of cutting a tree trunk into fuel for the fireplace.
I love this "cold front" because it reminds me of fall back home. I like to curl up on the couch with a cup of coffee-or homemade tea, a blanket, and a book. And if I'm lucky, a little "buddy" comes to share my blanket and tuck his cold feet under my legs to warm them up.
Yes, I am a very lucky girl.
Thankfully, we at the Villa were not subject to any of these problems except for the cold front.
Cold Front?
Ok, I know that those of you from the northern US and Canada are probably scoffing and about to give up reading right now.
Please hear me out.
When it gets cold in the US we:
turn on the heat, shut the doors, thank God for good insulation, make a fire, put on warm clothes, enjoy our thick carpeting.
In Honduras:
there is no heat (we have no need for it 95% of the year), there is no insulation in the houses, the windows and doors are not caulked to prevent a draft from entering, there is no carpeting. And at the Villa, thanks to our courtyard, every door opens to the outside.
Luckily we do have a fireplace, and a lot of fire wood. The girls are now professional fire-builders and the boys have fine-tuned the skill of cutting a tree trunk into fuel for the fireplace.
I love this "cold front" because it reminds me of fall back home. I like to curl up on the couch with a cup of coffee-or homemade tea, a blanket, and a book. And if I'm lucky, a little "buddy" comes to share my blanket and tuck his cold feet under my legs to warm them up.
Yes, I am a very lucky girl.
Monday, September 26, 2011
Bad Day
You know that book Alexander and the Terrible Horrible No-Good Very Bad Day?
It stars out "I went to bed with gum in my mouth, and now there's gum in my hair."
Well, I've been having that kind of day. For two days.
On Saturday we woke up with no light. By Saturday night, there was no water either. Eating sandwiches and dry cereal. Sending the kids to the river to bathe while I wash my hair and face with water falling from the rain gutter. Everyone in bed by sunset (6:30pm) and going stir crazy. I went for a run to "get away" for a bit and found myself a mile from home and completely drenched by a sudden rain shower.
Into town for my day off and I spent 3 hours trying to cash a check (it's a long story)
Tired. Worn out. Frustrated.
A Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day to be sure.
But then I stop for a coffee and a cookie (chocolate makes everything better) and a moment to think before I have a collapse of emotion.
Today I ate breakfast.
Today I got 3 hugs before 6 am.
Today I woke up in a warm bed.
Today I had money to go to the grocery store.
Today God kept me safe on the highway.
Today I was loved and appreciated.
How many people don't receive those things on a daily basis, and yet I do.
One of our children was abused by her own father and feared going to bed at night.
One of our children was locked in the house without food for almost two days.
One of our children ran drugs for an older sibling at the young age of 10.
One of our children was exposed to drugs and alcohol instead of being sent to school.
Many of our children came to us with deep emotion wounds that match the physical scars.
Many of our children begged and robbed and "lived" on the streets.
It still hurts my heart to hear the stories of these precious children, even if it is the 5th, 6th, 7th time.
I have never experienced any of those things.
Perspective.
So I guess it wasn't such a terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day after all.
It stars out "I went to bed with gum in my mouth, and now there's gum in my hair."
Well, I've been having that kind of day. For two days.
On Saturday we woke up with no light. By Saturday night, there was no water either. Eating sandwiches and dry cereal. Sending the kids to the river to bathe while I wash my hair and face with water falling from the rain gutter. Everyone in bed by sunset (6:30pm) and going stir crazy. I went for a run to "get away" for a bit and found myself a mile from home and completely drenched by a sudden rain shower.
Into town for my day off and I spent 3 hours trying to cash a check (it's a long story)
Tired. Worn out. Frustrated.
A Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day to be sure.
But then I stop for a coffee and a cookie (chocolate makes everything better) and a moment to think before I have a collapse of emotion.
Today I ate breakfast.
Today I got 3 hugs before 6 am.
Today I woke up in a warm bed.
Today I had money to go to the grocery store.
Today God kept me safe on the highway.
Today I was loved and appreciated.
How many people don't receive those things on a daily basis, and yet I do.
One of our children was abused by her own father and feared going to bed at night.
One of our children was locked in the house without food for almost two days.
One of our children ran drugs for an older sibling at the young age of 10.
One of our children was exposed to drugs and alcohol instead of being sent to school.
Many of our children came to us with deep emotion wounds that match the physical scars.
Many of our children begged and robbed and "lived" on the streets.
It still hurts my heart to hear the stories of these precious children, even if it is the 5th, 6th, 7th time.
I have never experienced any of those things.
Perspective.
So I guess it wasn't such a terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day after all.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Twenty-five
A quarter of a century.
That's how old I am.
I am old.
Well, at least to the kids. I'm twice the age of most of them, and older than some of their parents.
In 25 years I have seen so much of the world, good and bad. I have seen the beauty of untamed wilderness, I have seen the horrible poverty of third world countries. I have felt the warmth of a pile of kids jumping on top of me, I have felt the sting of rejection. I have learned to share my toys and to share the Gospel. I have been victorious against skin cancer, and 16.5 years of schooling.
I have become independent. I have overcome my fear of the unknown. I look a challenge in the eye and laugh because I will always, ALWAYS triumph.
Yes. I am old.
But also
I am young.
I'm sure many of you are reading this and rolling your eyes. "What is this girl talking about being old?" you ask yourself.
It's true, 25 is young, I have so much ahead of me. On my birthday I was called "terrnita" which is a nice way of calling me "just a baby"
I have so much ahead of me, so many dreams to still be fulfilled. So much life to live, so much world to see, so much love to give (and receive). So much.
Right now the desires of my heart are simple and clear. I dream of writing a book. I dream of having a ministry, of serving my God to my full capacity. And above all, I want dream of being a mother and running my own household. (I'm still waiting for the husband part...good thing I've learned patience!)
I am perfect.
All in all, I think being 25 is perfect. I'm young enough to still get away with acting like a kid without embarrassing the girls. I'm young enough to do crazy and daring things without getting reprimanded. I'm old enough to make decisions and be in charge or things when it's called for. I'm old enough to finally be called an adult (that's still debatable)
Twenty-five and ALIVE (thank God for that)
Here's to another year, I think it's going to be a great one.
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Life Is Good
Before I get started on the blog part, I have a confession to make.
I am not a good horse whisperer.
The day after my last post, Estrella died. It was really sad and awful-because I was home alone with the girls - and we all wanted to cry, but we were strong and didn't. So I guess I can cross that off my list of future jobs.
Regardless Life Is Good.
A while back, I "borrowed" a pair of socks from my mom. Cute "Life is good" socks with daisies. I liked them so much that she finally gave them to me.
The other day I grabbed a pair of socks from my drawer and scrambled to put them on. A few hours later, I looked down and saw "Life is good" staring up at me from my feet. It put a smile on my face, because it's true.
Sometimes I allow myself to get caught up in what is not good: the water pump is broken, Noe is fighting with Josue, I don't want to eat rice and beans, the horse is dead (you get the idea).
But the truth is: Life is good. It really is.
It's just that sometimes we have to dig a little deeper or look a little harder to see the rainbow through the clouds.
Last night I made a fire. It was probably the best I've ever made. It was so good, that we decided to throw some potatoes and roast them for dinner. They were exceptional potatoes. Life is good.
On Friday we went to a pueblo named Manzaragua to do an outreach. Over 120 kids came to see our kids sing, dance, act and present the Gospel. Then we got to break open pinatas filled with candy.
Life is good.
This morning I was able to talk to a college friend who I haven't talked to in over a month. She listened and encouraged me in so many ways.
Life is good.
God is good. Once we truly believe that and embrace it, we can believe and embrace the fact that life is good.
Being alive is good.
Living day-t0-day is good.
So yeah, our horse died, and the lock on the front gate doesn't work, and yesterday I had to walk nearly two miles to get vegetable oil, but usually the good outweighs the bad (because with the oil we made yummy banana bread).
Recap: God is good, therefore life is good.
I am not a good horse whisperer.
The day after my last post, Estrella died. It was really sad and awful-because I was home alone with the girls - and we all wanted to cry, but we were strong and didn't. So I guess I can cross that off my list of future jobs.
Regardless Life Is Good.
A while back, I "borrowed" a pair of socks from my mom. Cute "Life is good" socks with daisies. I liked them so much that she finally gave them to me.
The other day I grabbed a pair of socks from my drawer and scrambled to put them on. A few hours later, I looked down and saw "Life is good" staring up at me from my feet. It put a smile on my face, because it's true.
Sometimes I allow myself to get caught up in what is not good: the water pump is broken, Noe is fighting with Josue, I don't want to eat rice and beans, the horse is dead (you get the idea).
But the truth is: Life is good. It really is.
It's just that sometimes we have to dig a little deeper or look a little harder to see the rainbow through the clouds.
Last night I made a fire. It was probably the best I've ever made. It was so good, that we decided to throw some potatoes and roast them for dinner. They were exceptional potatoes. Life is good.
On Friday we went to a pueblo named Manzaragua to do an outreach. Over 120 kids came to see our kids sing, dance, act and present the Gospel. Then we got to break open pinatas filled with candy.
Life is good.
This morning I was able to talk to a college friend who I haven't talked to in over a month. She listened and encouraged me in so many ways.
Life is good.
God is good. Once we truly believe that and embrace it, we can believe and embrace the fact that life is good.
Being alive is good.
Living day-t0-day is good.
So yeah, our horse died, and the lock on the front gate doesn't work, and yesterday I had to walk nearly two miles to get vegetable oil, but usually the good outweighs the bad (because with the oil we made yummy banana bread).
Recap: God is good, therefore life is good.
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Here’s the recap.
1. We received a horse as a gift.
2. We were surprised to find out she was pregnant.
3. The horse gave birth.
4. The man who took care of the horse left.
5. We realized that we needed to take care of the horse.
That’s where I come in.
I have always tended to avoid horses after an accident that occurred when I was younger. I will share the story so that you don’t think that it was some horribly tragic occurrence.
Some family friends of ours had a small farm. On the farm was a horse. Once I was riding the horse with the daughter of our friends. The saddle began to slide little by little, taking us along with it. (Picture two little girls still in the saddle, but now riding sideways).
Long story short, we fell off. She was caught, I was not. The story is more funny than traumatic, but I never had a fond feeling for horses.
Until now.
So our horse, we call her Estrella (which means star) and her baby Relampago (lightning) were running wild and not eating well and we basically sick and weak. It was proposed that we bring them closer to the house so we could tame them and keep an eye on them.
The boys were prohibited from getting close to the horses (you know how little boys are) and the girls were afraid.
Enter Miss Katie
For some reason, I feel a lot of sympathy for Estrella (I call her mama). She’s super thin and weak and still has to nurse her little baby.
Since her move to the house, I’ve taken to visiting her and bringing her water and treats. I guess I’m also in charge of untangling her (which happens a lot). Yesterday my head was way to close to her back hoofs for comfort, (she had gotten the rope wrapped around her two hind feet and was in danger of falling over) and all I could do was pray that she trusted me enough not to kick me.
So there’s the story of our horse. The veterinarian comes on Saturday and is going to give me official instructions for taking care of her. I’m kind of excited to be in charge of nursing her back to health.
And if it works, I can put a new job on my resume:
1. We received a horse as a gift.
2. We were surprised to find out she was pregnant.
3. The horse gave birth.
4. The man who took care of the horse left.
5. We realized that we needed to take care of the horse.
That’s where I come in.
I have always tended to avoid horses after an accident that occurred when I was younger. I will share the story so that you don’t think that it was some horribly tragic occurrence.
Some family friends of ours had a small farm. On the farm was a horse. Once I was riding the horse with the daughter of our friends. The saddle began to slide little by little, taking us along with it. (Picture two little girls still in the saddle, but now riding sideways).
Long story short, we fell off. She was caught, I was not. The story is more funny than traumatic, but I never had a fond feeling for horses.
Until now.
So our horse, we call her Estrella (which means star) and her baby Relampago (lightning) were running wild and not eating well and we basically sick and weak. It was proposed that we bring them closer to the house so we could tame them and keep an eye on them.
The boys were prohibited from getting close to the horses (you know how little boys are) and the girls were afraid.
Enter Miss Katie
For some reason, I feel a lot of sympathy for Estrella (I call her mama). She’s super thin and weak and still has to nurse her little baby.
Since her move to the house, I’ve taken to visiting her and bringing her water and treats. I guess I’m also in charge of untangling her (which happens a lot). Yesterday my head was way to close to her back hoofs for comfort, (she had gotten the rope wrapped around her two hind feet and was in danger of falling over) and all I could do was pray that she trusted me enough not to kick me.
So there’s the story of our horse. The veterinarian comes on Saturday and is going to give me official instructions for taking care of her. I’m kind of excited to be in charge of nursing her back to health.
And if it works, I can put a new job on my resume:
horse whisperer
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