Category: Faith

Three Strong Women

Strong Woman #1:

She watched as the water rose a little higher each day. The beautiful pasture behind her house was gone. The only evidence her house had not been built lakeside was the many trees still trying to climb above the rising floodwaters to reach the sky above. The barn that normally stored her husband’s equipment and tools was in the middle of this new “lake” and reachable only by boat.

She stood on the back step of her house explaining to her friends by live-feed that they couldn’t stay at their home any longer since it, too, could only be reached by boat. She asked for prayers for everyone living in her rural community, but she also made sure we knew she was going to be fine because God was already providing for her family.

She was so positive about her dire circumstances that it was inspiring.

Strong Woman #2:

In an interview following the hurricane that devastated her community, she admitted to looking at her husband in the midst of the storm and telling him they weren’t going to make it. They did make it but had to climb through rubble to get out of the building that collapsed around them.

Her life, her community, her town in shambles – she went to work. She was the mayor and her people needed her to be strong when they couldn’t be. She organized; she helped; she found resources; she did whatever she needed to do to help the people counting on her. All the while, she kept a line of communication going for the community to both give them needed information and also lift their spirits.

She was so positive about her dire circumstances that it was inspiring.

Strong Woman #3:

She listened to what the doctor had to say. The diagnosis was worse than she had originally been told. It was cancer and it had spread. She was no stranger to cancer. She was a widow of nearly six years because of cancer. She had fought it a few years ago in her own battle and won.

She looked to the doctor with a brave smile on her face and told him she was going to hold on to what her very wise grandson had told her five years ago when she faced her first battle. That young boy, who was wise beyond his ten years, told her that if she won that fight she was going to get to stay with him, the grandson. If she didn’t win, she would get to stay with Jesus. “Either way, it’s a win/win situation for you, Grandma,” she repeated.

She was so positive about her dire circumstances that it was inspiring.

These three woman have all recently found themselves in circumstances that would break many people. I’m sure they each feel overwhelmed and afraid at times. As of this moment, all three are still living in their respective crisis. Despite their circumstances, they are all three a beautiful example of the Proverbs 31 wife. They are all inspiring.

“She is clothed with strength and dignity; she can laugh at days to come. She speaks with wisdom, and faithful instruction is on her tongue…’Many women do noble things, but you surpass them all’ (Proverbs 31:25-26,29 NIV).”

What if Jesus Wrote Our New Year’s Resolutions?

My lunch box looks like my new year’s resolution has something to do with eating healthy. (We won’t discuss the donut I got at the coffee shop this morning on my way to work.) My credit card statement looks like my news year’s resolution has something to do with living on a budget. Both of these are probably good resolutions and things I should do, but they aren’t my new year’s resolution.

In the first Sunday sermon I heard this year, Pastor Phil asked, “What if Jesus wrote our new year’s resolutions?” Wow! What an interesting thought! What if He did? I think my resolution would be “do not be afraid and do not worry.”

The list of Bible verses instructing us not to be afraid and not to worry is nearly endless. Here are just a few.

Matthew 6:34 Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.

John 14:27 Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.

Psalm 27:1 The Lord is my light and my salvation – whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life – of whom shall I be afraid?

Psalm 23:4 Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and staff, they comfort me.

Deuteronomy 31:6 Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.

My list could go on for a very long time, but I think you can already see the pattern in these five verses.

Don’t worry and don’t fear. If you are focussed on Jesus, He will take care of you. Life may not always be trouble-free and painless, but He will be with you to sustain you through this life until you reach the end of it, and then He will meet you at the gate to the next life…the one that lasts forever.

With Just One Breath

One breath… Take one breath with me right now. Feel your chest rise as your lungs fill with air. Feel it fall as you exhale. Let’s do it again, but this time close your eyes. Make it a long, slow, deep breath. Imagine you can not only feel but can also see the air as it enters your nostrils, passes through your throat and down your windpipe, then flows into the passages of your lungs eventually passing oxygen to your bloodstream. As you slowly exhale, imagine the carbon dioxide flowing out of you only to be replaced by more oxygen in the next breath.

Some of us have no difficulty breathing. Others struggle with every single breath we take. Easy or difficult doesn’t change the fact that your heart needs oxygen from our breath to continue to beat. Each breath we take is important, but there was one breath taken – one simple breath – that changed the course of humanity. There was one breath taken in all of history that impacted every person living today and every person who has ever lived.

That one breath…

There was no machine to force the chest to rise and fall in an artificial rhythm. There was no one performing CPR trying to stimulate the lungs to inhale on their own. There was nothing but stillness. For three days the body with unmoving lungs and unbeating heart lay on stone carved into a cave tomb. For three days all of humanity was lost in death.

Then the stillness was broken. He took the breath – the breath that changed everything, the breath that gave us hope.

I Peter 1:3 states, “Praise be to God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead.”

With just one breath…

“Who Told You That?”

It’s been a few months since I’ve posted to my blog – nine to be exact. I’ve written a few things but they just didn’t feel right. They didn’t feel worthy of posting, so some wait patiently in a notebook and some quickly found the nearest trash can. Despite the fact that I have known for a long time that God has called me to write, nothing I wrote felt good enough to me.

This week I realized why.

Monday I pulled out my copy of The Quest by Beth Moore. It’s a Bible study I started a few months ago but didn’t finish. I started reading the answers I had written back then in response to some of Beth’s questions, and I realized why my writing “wasn’t good enough” but I didn’t do anything that day to change it.

Then I received a message today from God. Well, the message was actually from Facebook, but God can and will use whatever means He needs to in order to get His children to listen. I heard His message weeks ago when a handful of people asked me in the same week if I was still writing. Then I heard His message through Beth this week. Today’s message from Him sunk in when I received a notification that said, “1,014 people who like Forgiven Faith haven’t heard from you in a while. Write a post.”

Four hours later that number has increased by five. I don’t know where all these likes have come from. I haven’t posted since November of 2017 and the last I checked it was only in the 300s. My writing is not enough to attract 1,000 readers and I don’t promote, so I don’t know how my likes increased that much. I do know God has used that number to convict me.

God told me four years ago to write. I fumbled through writing for about three years. Some of my posts were terrible, but some were pretty good.

Somewhere along the way, I guess a year ago, I made a grievous error. I listened to a newly published author who is not a faith-based writer or even a faith-based person. That counsel was very discouraging and I have been unable to focus my thoughts on writing since that time. I learned the feel of writers block.

The counsel I received from Beth Moore this week is helping to reverse the impact of the false counsel I internalized all those months ago, however. There are two questions she posed that really spoke to me. The first felt like a knife in the chest and the second, a knife in the back.

“Where are you?”

When Adam and Eve first sinned, when they ate that infamous fruit they immediately knew they were wrong to do it and they hid from God in the garden. God knew exactly where they were but He wanted them to come to Him, so in Genesis chapter one verse nine, “the Lord God called to the man, ‘Where are you?'”

God has been asking me that same question in more ways than I can remember and today He sent it to me by Facebook. I was knowingly ignoring His directions and was not writing. I was coming up with every possible excuse to explain why I had not done what He had instructed just like Adam and Eve did. I had thrust that knife into my own chest.

Then God (and Beth) asked, “Who told you that…? (Genesis 1:11)”

Who told me my writing was unworthy of publishing? Who told me I was doing it all wrong? Who told me I was wasting my time writing faith-based blogs and stories? Who did I allow to stick a knife in my back?

It wasn’t God who said any of those things to me; and, since it wasn’t God, why was I listening?

I’m back. Good or bad blog post, I’m back. I pray I don’t disappoint.

Am I a Songbird, a Crow, or Silent?

What kind of bird am I? Do I sing with the rest of the choir when the sun is shining but keep my beak clamped shut when my life is overcast? Worse yet, do I sit on my tree-top and squalk at those around me like a crow no matter how my surroundings appear?

I look forward to walking out the door of my apartment each morning. Not only am I escaping my tiny box of a home that I share with my 110 plus pound great dane and way-too-fat cat, I also enjoy the morning choir of songbirds that I am almost always blessed to listen to as I walk to my car each day. The chirping and singing is so cheerful it can brighten even the darkest of my moods as I make that short treck to the parking lot.

This morning as I was getting ready for work, I glanced out the window and found the skies to be overcast and dreary. I continued getting ready without noticing that my good mood was starting to cloud over with the skies. Though my life is really blessed and I have been very happy lately, I was allowing the blah-ness of the day to affect me without realizing it. When I had completed my morning routine, I grabbed my purse, lunch and keys and headed for my car. My thoughts were consumed by my schedule for the day and shadowed over by the clouds overhead, but about ten feet out my apartment door I heard something that stopped me in my tracks.

Despite the cloudy, dreary-looking skies, I could hear birds singing. I didn’t hear as many voices in the choir as on a sunny day, but that didn’t effect the beauty of their song. I forgot about my to-do list. I forgot about the clouds hiding the sun. I remembered just how blessed I am. I remembered how happy I am. Then I had a random thought. What kind of bird am I?

Do I sing with the rest of the choir when the sun is shining but keep my beak clamped shut when my life is overcast? Worse yet, do I sit on my tree-top and squalk at those around me like a crow no matter how my surroundings appear? I would love to say I continue my song even when I can’t feel the warmth of the sun’s rays on me, but I know I fail at this more often than not. These random thoughts reminded me of the Apostle Paul when he said, “I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want (Philippians 4:12, NIV).”

Am I content with my life so that I can sing my way through sunshine, clouds or rain? Am I content with my life so that I can lift some else’s spirit through the clouds or rain? I should sing despite the dark days. The Holy Spirit should be able to use me to lift the spirit of others on the overcast days we share. I should be a songbird no matter the skies.

Faith in God’s Leaders

Brother Gary stood before the members of the congregation which were in attendance for the church business meeting. He calmly, quietly and fairly performed his duties as moderator. I honestly don’t know how he did such a good job considering this meeting was an attempt by some members to put an end to his 14 years as the pastor, but he was very professional in performing the difficult task assigned to him.

I loved Brother Gary and considered him an excellent shepherd to lead this flock, but I had not been a member of this church nearly as long as most. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe there were things about Gary I didn’t know. I decided to listen to the arguments, and arguments they were, on both sides with an open mind before deciding how I would vote. 

Though I couldn’t imagine what un-Scriptural actions Gary could have taken, I assumed the group requesting for the vote to remove him would show what they considered evidence of a sinful behavior or evidence that he was leading the congregation away from Biblical principles. I listened. I waited. I prayed. I listened some more. The worst thing anyone could say about Brother Gary was that some times he was “difficult to work with.”

When I realized the sole reason this group of members wanted Gary removed from the pulpit was because he was “difficult to work with” and sometimes stood up to them, I was furious. I felt like this group had not only wasted my time, but they had more importantly wasted God’s time. We could have spent those two hours of lost time in planning community outreach, in planning a mission trip, in ministering to the needy or in praise and worship. Instead, we spent it in an argument that eventually led to a church split. 

If God had wanted Brother Gary removed, He would have provided evidence against Brother Gary. He didn’t. It’s time for the church to remember Who should make leadership decisions. It’s time for the church to have faith in God and trust Him to put the right people in place to shepherd. It’s time for the church to realize God knows better than we do.

In Acts chapter one, the disciples faced the task of choosing a replacement for Judas Iscariot. “So they proposed two men: Joseph called Barsabbas  (also known as Justus) and Matthias. Then they prayed, ‘Lord, you know everyone’s heart. Show us which of these two you have chosen to take over this apostolic ministry, which Judas left to go where he belongs.’ Then they cast lots, and the lot fell to Matthias; so he was added to the eleven apostles (Acts 1:23-26 NIV).” 

The disciples didn’t form a committee. They didn’t debate candidate qualifications. They let God decide, and then they did something that would be unthinkable today. They had faith that God made the right decision and they set about doing the work He had assigned to them. What if we did that today?

Adventures in Moving – Day 1

I have Lucy, my 110 pound great dane, on a leash that is wrapped around my left wrist. Romeo, my siamese cat, is in the pet carrier in my left hand. I have a purse and another bag over my left shoulder and I’m pulling my large duffle bag with my right hand. Thank God that bag has wheels. We’ve stopped rather early but I don’t care. Lucy needs to stretch her legs. Romeo is a cat and thinks he needs to be pampered as all cats think they should be. I just need sleep.

Where is room 337? I know the desk clerk said there was an elevator. Where is it? With my duffle flipping over every few seconds as Lucy jerks me towards yet another interesting smell and poor Romeo getting jostled all over the place, we round a corner and there it is – the elevator. The door opens, I enter, Lucy enters and Lucy quickly exits again just as the doors are beginning to close. She was not going to enter that moving metal box willingly. So here I am with my arms over full, using my foot to try to keep the door from closing on the leash as she’s outside the elevator. I finally drag her on and she hunkers down for the short ride up. 

We exit the elevator, Lucy practically bolting from it, find our room and all three of us are in the beautiful king-sized bed within five minutes of entering the room. I don’t think a bed has ever felt so comfortable as tonight after spending an afternoon with Romeo wandering all over the cab of the moving truck meowing and Lucy trying to figure out how she can sit in my lap while I drive.

Today was a rather uneventful day on the road. Hopefully, tomorrow will be the same. This has not been one of my more entertaining posts, but it’s the update on my trip that people keep asking for. If all goes well, tomorrow will be just as boring. 

Hitting the Reset Button

I received the phone call of a lifetime two days ago – a phone call that allows me to hit the reset button on my life.  My first thoughts after that call consisted of, “Wow! How often does that happen?  How often does someone get to reset their entire life?  It must be a rare occurrence.  I am so blessed to have this amazing opportunity!” 

For two days I have lived with joyful thoughts of making plans for my new life and I decided a few minutes ago that tonight was the night to tell everyone about the upcoming changes in my life.  I picked up my journal and pen and wrote the first sentence.  I had a plan for how this blog was going to go, but halfway through the first paragraph it changed.  As I was writing “How often…” I realized I have had numerous opportunities to reset my life.  I’ve just ignored them.

God has led me to many crossroads that would have been much better paths than the one I wandered on for most of my life.  I’ve struggled on the same path for many, many years.  Sometimes the path was easy to travel; but, more often than not, it was covered in obstacles.  I have stumbled in bare feet over sharp gravel.  I have stubbed my toes on numerous boulders.  I have tripped over pot holes.  I have even crawled over walls of debris to stay on a very painful path while ignoring easy detours that could have helped me avoid the debris pile.  I have stopped to glance down crossroads before – crossroads covered in soft grass with beautiful wildflowers lining the sides.  They often looked inviting; but fear of the unknown kept me moving forward, stumbling down my chosen treacherous path.

Eventually, I did take a crossroad but it wasn’t covered in soft grass in the beginning.  It was rough, just not as rough as the road I traveled for so long.  God never gave up on me.  He knew how stubborn I was.  He even knew how long I was going to stumble along before taking the opportunity He gave.  I finally followed His lead.  He led me on the new path for a while and it’s been a good one.  The crossroad I chose was really scary in the beginning and wasn’t without a little sharp gravel, but that’s only because I chose the one with gravel rather than one of the earlier ones with soft grass.

I thought this second path was the one God intended me to follow for the rest of my life, but another road recently crossed my path.  My first instinct was to stay on the path I was already on but then I realized this crossroad may have been another one of His.  It’s scary to leave one path for another – at least it is for a person who doesn’t like change and has faced a lot of it in the last couple of years, but I’m doing it.

Despite my fear, I am hitting the reset button on Monday, the day after Christmas.  My reset button is big and yellow and says Penske on the side of it.  Once it’s loaded with everything I own, it will take me about 1,000 miles north.  I am moving from Bay County, Florida to Bay County, Michigan to start my new job as an accountant.  I am scared, but I am way more excited than I am scared.  For once in my life I am going on faith and taking the crossroad God has given me without arguing with Him first.  He will take care of any gravel and pot holes.

The reset button is scary but amazing at the same time.

Why? It’s Not Always what You Think… Hector

He was a good looking boy and appeared to be around thirteen or fourteen years old. It was hard to say for sure since he, like many of the kids, appeared to be a little small for his age by U. S. standards. He joined our group in the middle of the story and Bible verse because he and his family were a little late. Since we had already started, he took a seat in one of the chairs and started listening to the story and verse. 

We had placed the white, plastic chairs in a semi-circle in a corner of the building. Having four large groups of people meeting simultaneously in one huge concrete building with no dividing walls created nothing but a giant echo chamber. It was very distracting, and we hoped our chair placement would help the people in our group stay focused on our activities. All four groups had the same basic goals though the methods to reach the goals varied. We were to teach a Bible story about the Holy Spirit, memorize a Bible verse that would help the family members to remember what they had learned in the story, make a craft that would give them a visual reminder of the verse and story, burn some energy with some recreational games and finish with a new pair of socks and shoes for each person.

We had already finished a few sessions at other locations, but each location was unique. This particular facility was in a very poor area of Guatemala. The Family Hope Center we were visiting this day was fairly new and had not yet had time to establish a strong support system for the families it served. So many stories can be told from this one center that it is enough to make my eyes water as I sit here at my keyboard. For now, I will tell Hector’s story.

As each new family joined us, even the latecomers, we tried to make them feel welcome by engaging them with the activities the other families were already participating in. The first activity this day was to try to memorize the Bible verse using repetition and games. After reading and repeating the verse a handful of times, we played a game to challenge each person to repeat a portion. I can’t remember which game we are doing at the exact moment I really noticed Hector, because there were so many games. I just remember having our group of people divided into two teams and the team members lined up one after another in one line for each team. 

Most of the members of our group, young and old, wanted to participate and quickly joined a line. Just as we were getting ready to start, I noticed one boy who looked to be a young teen. Since my Spanish was basically non-existent, I chose to try to coax him into playing by using hand motions. He gave me a smirky-smile and shook his head “no” obviously thinking that annoying American would leave him alone after that. Well, he didn’t know this annoying American yet. 

I walked a little closer hoping I could read his name tag. “Hector?” I asked. He nodded but said nothing. I walked a little closer, and motioned with my hand again to the line as I said, “Hector, come on.” I was not going to let this boy miss the fun just because teenaged boys didn’t think this kind of a game was cool. I just kept up the hand waving and, “Come on, Hector,” until he finally gave in. With a look just short of an eye roll and exhaled breath just short of a huff, Hector joined the fun. His look confirmed to me that this teenager didn’t want anyone to think he was having fun doing anything so un-cool, but he did play the game and put enough effort into trying to remember the verse that I gave myself an invisible pat on the back for being persistent until he gave in.

We continued with the Bible story. We spent some time outside playing games. We made crafts. We washed feet and put new socks and shoes on everyone. We followed the same basic pattern we followed with every group that week; and, like every other group, every Buckner volunteer was very moved by at least one person they interacted with. My daughter, Megan, and I had a few minutes after giving out the shoes to talk by ourselves about our “one person” for that group. I talked to Megan about little Emyly whom I mentioned in my last blog post entitled Hot Potato and No Espanol. 

Megan’s “one person” for that moment was a boy she had put shoes on. The way she described this poor boy’s feet made my feet hurt just thinking about it. His shoes were so small that his toes were completely forced to curl under and his feet appeared on the verge of starting to deform. She felt so bad for him and was so happy we were able to give him a pair of shoes that would relieve the pain he had to have been in. I asked which boy it was. She said the older one wearing the white shirt with black and orange stripes on it. “Hector?” I asked, and she confirmed. I was so wrong about this poor boy and I felt so guilty for making him stand.

At this point in any blog post, I always choose a Scripture passage that I believe to be relevant and try to wrap it all up with some sort of inspirational conclusion. I can’t do that with Hector’s story. I have waited for three weeks for God to lay the correct passage on my heart but nothing seems to fit my usual pattern to enable me to wrap this experience up in a neat little package for my readers. Hector can’t be wrapped up in some simple conclusion. Hector’s life goes on with a new pair of shoes but he is still living in the poverty that nearly deformed his feet. A new pair of shoes has not changed his life completely, but spreading his story may do just that. Hector, along with countless others living in poverty need prayer more than they need anything else. Shoes that fit are great, but those shoes and Hector’s story can change lives only if they stand out as a reminder to the rest of us to pray. Pray for Hector. Pray for Emyly. Pray for all of them. 

While waiting for the passage I thought God would give me, I nearly missed the one He did. Jeremiah 29:11 says, “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” I don’t know what God’s plans are for Hector. I don’t even know what His plans are for me. What I do know is that He has plans for both of us and for every one of you. Quit assuming you know the facts, and quit looking for the inspiration. Live in His plan right now, even if you don’t know yet what it is.

Hot Potato and No Espanol

I immediately felt a little tug on my heart and knew I couldn’t leave her standing there all by herself. I walked over to her, said “Hola” and sat in the dirt beside her so I could be at her eye level. I read the little sticker on her shirt, pointed to her and said “Emyly.”  She smiled and nodded and I pointed toward myself and said “Holly.”  Emyly smiled and started talking. 

The concrete building was a giant echo chamber, but at least it was cooler than it was outside. We hadn’t been outside long and I hoped we wouldn’t be out much longer. My team, the blue team, consisted of four Buckner International volunteers, one Buckner intern volunteer and two interpreters. We had already finished our vacation Bible school story and memory verse sessions. The crafts and shoes would come later after the recreation session we were outside for right now. I was very happy about the game our recreation leader chose. I am not in shape and I trip over oxygen all the time, but hot potato with a balloon was something I could do. One of the interpreters played some music from her phone. When the music stopped, the person stuck with the balloon had to get in the middle of the circle and do their best imitation of the animal chosen by the recreation leader. We had a monkey, an alligator and a handful of others. I was assigned an elephant for my turn in the middle. 

There was something I found very interesting during my time in Guatemala. The parents and grandparents were often just as excited about the activities as the children were. They tried memorizing the Bible verses, they made the crafts and they often played the games. On this day, we had a handful of parents and they played hot potato along with the rest of us. As I watched the balloon make its second clockwise lap around our little circle, I noticed a little girl, maybe four years old, standing in between two women on my right. She looked excited as the balloon headed her direction. As it made its way to the first woman, the little girl raised her hands to take her turn in passing it, but she wasn’t the only one excited. Both of the women she stood between were enjoying the game and were trying to make sure neither of them ended up in the middle of the circle imitating a cow or rooster, so they got rid of that balloon as quickly as possible. They skipped the little girl. The disappointment lasted only a moment on her face, but I still felt bad for her. As the balloon made its laps and the animal-imitators entered and exited center stage, I was distracted. I don’t know if that little girl in the pink shirt and white hat with little butterflies printed on it ever got her turn to pass the balloon. 

After a few rounds, the recreation leader and interpreters decided to try a new game. We played so many games during that week that I honestly don’t remember what the new game was, but I decided to watch from the sidelines and take some pictures and videos. As I was watching, I noticed the little girl in the white hat with the butterflies standing on the sidelines leaning against the side of a nearby building. She was holding the two purses and umbrella that I remember the two women holding during the earlier game, and she quietly watched everyone else enjoying the fun. I immediately felt a little tug on my heart and knew I couldn’t leave her standing there all by herself. I walked over to her, said “Hola” and sat in the dirt beside her so I could be at her eye level. I read the little sticker on her shirt, pointed to her and said “Emyly.”  She smiled and nodded and I pointed toward myself and said “Holly.”  Emyly smiled and started talking. 

If you read my last blog, you know I don’t speak Spanish, so when she stopped talking and looked at me with a look that indicated she was expecting an answer I had no idea what to say. I did the one thing I had become pretty good at in the last few days. I raised my hands palm up, tilted my head, shrugged my shoulders and said “no Espanol.” Emyly tilted her head back, laughed at me and started talking again. She didn’t appear to ask me any more questions, so I guess she understood what I had told her. That didn’t stop her from talking, though, and from pointing at people and things as she talked. I didn’t have any idea what she was telling me until I heard a Spanish word that sounded similar to the English word family. She talked and talked and talked some more, all the time knowing that I had no clue what she was telling me. I did try pointing out my daughter and telling Emyly that I was Megan’s mom, but I couldn’t remember how to even say that. As Emyly watched, I walked to Megan, got her attention and asked how to say that I was her mom. Megan doesn’t remember much of her high school Spanish but she was able to tell Emyly that I was her mother. 

As I sat back down beside Emyly I tried to find things to communicate with her about. When she took her hat off I traced one of the butterflies with my finger, pointed at it, said “butterfly” and tried to find a way to ask her what a butterfly was called in Spanish. I’m not sure if she ever figured out what I was trying to communicate. I didn’t understand another word she said, but that was okay. This may sound odd to you, as my reader, but despite the fact that neither of us understood anything the other was saying, Emyly and I had a really amazing conversation. We talked and we laughed and we enjoyed the brief time we had together. I will never forget little Emyly.

Children are amazing. Their innocence allows them to grab ahold of faith without questioning it and hold on until that innocence is broken. After it is broken, some manage to hold on but many do not. The Gospel of Luke tells of a time when parents were taking their children to Jesus to have Him touch them. “When the disciples saw this, they rebuked them. But Jesus called the children to him and said, ‘Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. I tell you the truth, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it‘ (Luke 18:15b-17).” 

Heaven is for children – God’s children; but unless we can hold on to our faith like an innocent child does, we risk losing our soul. We have to let go of all of the baggage that we carry as adults and just talk to our Heavenly Father, even when we think He isn’t listening or we don’t understand what He is saying. We need to be like little Emyly and just keep talking to Him – even when we don’t have any idea what His answer is. He is listening; and when the time is right, He will make sure we understand exactly what His answer is. Until that time comes, actively spend your time practicing the faith of a child and keep talking to Him. If you do this, He will answer and you will understand…in His time.

NOTE: Thank you, again, WayFM and Buckner International for giving Megan and I this amazing opportunity to serve with you.

“Luke 18:15b-17.” NIV Archeological Study Bible: An Illustrated Walk through Biblical History and Culture. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 2005. N. pag. Print.