See Something More

I just packed a suitcase for what feels like the twentieth time in the two months. I've borrowed four different cars, slept in (or on) eleven different beds (or couches), traveled to thirteen different cities, and been in the car for around 71 hours in transit between those cities. It's been a wild ride, and I've loved each day of it. I'm thankful for each chance the Lord gave me to share what he is doing in Burkina Faso and in me, whether that was a formal presentation or a spontaneous conversation. I'm thankful for each dinner invitation, coffee visit, Sunday morning (no matter at which church I happened to be), Pinnacle climb, and evening sunset walk. Being in the United States is a blessing because of the people here who love and encourage me, and perhaps that is the best Christmas present I could receive this time. Christmas has just been a little different, being out of a suitcase and all. Even though my family lives in Indiana now, the holidays still happ

Riding up the ski lift, we could hear an unusual amount of hoots and hollers echoing all across the mountain. Laughing, whooping, and yahooing filled the air as we went up the mountain on the first morning chair lift. Because you just can't ski in twenty inches of fresh powder without making some noise. We had 23 inches to be exact, which is crazy fun when you can hardly turn or steer, but you can point your skis straight down hill and spray powder up to your waist. My dad and I took advantage of such conditions to take some of the hardest runs through the trees where no one had yet been. I felt like I was skiing on clouds as I slid down absolutely effortlessly and silently on the untouched, untainted snow. I slid to a parallel stop to catch my breath. My dad had skied on down and I found myself completely alone on a precipice of stunning glory. At 11,000 feet, I could see layer upon layer of mountain grandeur, covered in new snow, strikingly white against the Colorado blue

"Are you ready to go back?" seems to be the question of the day. The answer is, well, yes and no. Not a day goes by that I do not think about the family and the life that God has given me in Burkina Faso, and I miss it. I miss them. I also feel like the mission that I had in coming to the United States - to be with my friends and family, to rest and be refreshed, to visit supporters and churches, and to testify to what God has done so as to give him the glory and thanks he deserves - has been accomplished. For those reasons, I am absolutely ready to go back. Counting down the days even. Yet coming back to the United States always presents the temptation to stay. I could be close to my friends and family. I could get a great job being a bedside nurse. I could advance my career, work three twelve-hour shifts a week and then spend all my extra money adventuring on my off days. I could make friends, have lots of fun, who knows - get married? The truth is, life would be easier

The children's minister told me to expect around fifteen kids on Wednesday night, but I think it ended up being closer to fifty. But that's okay because it just reminded me of Africa; that's what happens every time we do children's outreach. Multiply what you expect by about three and there you have it. In that room of fifty kids, I felt very much at home. I wrapped my pagne (traditional skirt) around my waist and started telling the children what it is like to be a child in Burkina Faso - the similarities and differences, their hardships and their joy. How school is hard and not a guarantee, how life is hard, how staying healthy is hard, yet how much laughter and happiness they find in playing soccer or jump rope or coloring. I told them about the kids' club that we host every Wednesday for the children in our neighborhood, and we even did a mini kids' club right then and there. We played some of the same games and sang some of the same songs in French that

As a part of Advent, I've been preparing my heart for Christmas with some devotionals that walk you through Old Testament stories that tell of the ancient longing for a Messiah. One such story today was the story of Jacob in Genesis 28:10-22. Most of us know the story - Jacob is on the run and comes to his resting place for the night with nothing but a rock for a pillow. He has this vision of angels ascending and descending on a ladder from heaven, and God speaks to him personally with a promise that he will be with him and bless all the nations of the earth through him. To me, the climax of the story is when Jacob wakes up and says, "Surely the Lord is in this place, and I was unaware of it!" To quote the devotional that I read today: "We are painfully unaware...How many times could we, like Jacob, say 'Surely the Lord was in this place and I was unaware of it.' If we had eyes to see and ears to hear - what would things look like, what would they sou

I just spent two and a half hours with a health insurance agent in her office. That's partly because I know nothing about insurance and had a thousand questions for her. It's partly because I was on "Africa time", meaning I had no where to be and really didn't care that I took over two hours of her time. Neither did she. I had blocked off the entire morning to the task of applying for health insurance, and maybe the Lord prompted me to do that just for her. That's the main reason it took so long - we kept talking about Africa. She was so interested in what I was doing spending my third year in a "dangerous place" with "poor quality health coverage" according to a map she pulled up. "It's not everyday that I get a case a interesting as yours!" she kept saying. Our conversation quickly turned spiritual, which is one of the perks to being a missionary. The spiritual doors are opened quickly when all someone has to ask is "

The turkey is gobbled up, the pie pans cleaned, and the thanksgiving decorations thrown out to be replaced by Christmas trees and Santa figurines. Christmastime is upon us, but for some reason I can't move past Thanksgiving. It's partly because I think Thanksgiving gets ripped off, like everyone skips over it as quickly as possible to get to Christmas. It's also partly because I think of thanksgiving not as a special holiday but as an everyday attitude. It's also partly (and mainly) because my heart has been overwhelmed by thanksgiving every since I finished my second year-long term in Burkina and came back to the United States with a breathtaking recognition of just how much God has done this year. This past year has been wonderful, painful, victorious, challenging, exciting, and difficult all at the same time, but if I could sum up the state of my wild heart at this moment, it would be one very solid word. Thankful. The thing I am most thankful for during this s

Tightening my tennis shoes and stretching my unused muscles, I whispered a silent prayer. Because I never thought I would be able to do it. After training almost three months for a half marathon, I injured my foot just two weeks before the race. I rested those two weeks, but I still came to the start line on that cold Saturday morning, my heart and lungs ready to run, but my foot joints and tendons waiting silently to declare the outcome. The Chosen 5K and half marathon is an annual event in Texas that benefits organizations related to adoption and foster care. This year was extra special because one of our short-termers organized a team to support our infants in distress ministry, and what started out as a dream and desire turned into the second largest team at the race. I was simply honored to be there, to be a part, to see friends and familiar faces, and to meet others who were running for babies in Burkina. So at the start line, I told myself that even if I had to walk the whol

For this past year, I have been living and writing about everything that God has been doing in and around me in Burkina Faso, West Africa. All the while, God has been equally and actively working in a different realm - the life of my family - and it's been just as exciting to see and experience. This past year, my dad's job moved him and my mom to Fort Wayne, Indiana. It was not an easy decision; in fact, my parents approached the whole process with extraordinary faith, seeking God's will first and foremost above their own preferences and conveniences. Their journey was so prayer-focuses an faith-filled that their final decision to move to Indiana had God's fingerprints all over it. But that didn't make it easy. It was their first big move since their marriage. They had truly built a life for themselves in Little Rock, and then they picked up and left it all behind. Everything familiar. Everything they had committed to and invested in. They left my sister twelve

I wonder if the little boy's mother packed his lunch, or if he was old enough to do it all by himself. Did he say, "Mom, pack me something for lunch today because I'm going to go hear Jesus"? Or did a friend spontaneously show up at the door and announce, "Jesus is in our village!" and then the little boy, surprised and hurried, grabbed the quickest thing he could find - five loaves and two small fish? I wonder what Jesus did all day, who he healed and what he taught, and what the little boy thought about it. Whatever it was, it was enough to make him offer all he had to give - his humble lunch - to Jesus. - - - This past weekend I attended the Global Health Missions Conference in Louisville, where I spent three days and received incredible encouragement, relevant information, empowering counsel, and spiritual refreshment. As wonderful as the sessions, keynotes, exhibitors, or worship times all were, that wasn't what made the conference so great.

Standing beneath the branches, I looked up into a ceiling of yellow leaves turned glimmering golden by the rays of the setting sun shining through them. Pick any one of those maple leaves and it's a lovely yellow, but paint the entire tree that same color and shine the sun right through it, and it lights up as if the leaves themselves are glowing. The tree just beside it was a radiant orange, and the one on down the lane showed off tips of red at the end of its branches. As the cool autumn wind blew, some curled-up leaves fluttered to the ground, adding to the blanket of fall colors beneath. I kicked those leaves with my feet as I walked; I reached down and threw some up into the air, hoping that a few would get stuck in my hair. Such beauty, such glory...it brings the child out of me again. Fall in Indiana is like something I've only seen in Hallmark movies or on pictures in calendars. Fall in Arkansas is nice, and I've loved it all my life. But seeing the fall colors

Whenever I sit down to write a new blog, I almost always begin by asking myself, what have I done the past few days?  Because stories seem to come out of what I have done or what has happened recently. That's why writing this post started out kind of difficult. What have I done the past few days? Well, not anything very noteworthy or that would interest any reader. I've come home, hung out with my amazing family, eaten great American food and done some great American-y things. I've had a great week; I've rested. But I haven't really done anything. Accomplished anything. I am noticing just how much we base the significance, importance, or goodness of our lives based off what we do or how much we accomplish. Here's another example. The classic question: How has your day been? And how does the other person respond? By giving a list of things he or she did . At least that's what I do. Because we tend to measure our days by how much we do. Striving. That&

Eight months ago, God connected me with Joël, a thirteen-year-old boy in Burkina who was crippled by a bike accident two years ago. Six months ago, God connected me with Ray of Hope, an organization that provides kids in developing countries the opportunity of high level medical care in the United States. Five months ago, God connected the rest of the dots and Joël boarded a plane. What makes the story sweeter is that Ray of Hope is located in Ft. Wayne, Indiana, the same exact city where my family moved this year. Coincidence? I think not.  Yesterday, I arrived to my new home in Ft. Wayne for my ten week furlough, and today, the Lord brought Joël and I together again in the same place, and my two worlds collided.  When I first saw Joël, I didn't know whether to hug him (the American thing to do) or shake his hand (the Burkinabé thing to do). I didn't know whether to speak English or French. We ended up doing a mix of both. I didn't know whether to talk about life in the U.

I listened to the patter-clack noise that my feet made as they stepped lightly on the stone pathway, and the sound took me back thousands of years. Did Paul's feet make the same comforting sound when he took strolls through Corinth on sunny, warm days in October? Or was the city always bustling with buying and selling and so much activity that he didn't even notice the clack-clack of his sandals against the gray stones that form the streets of Corinth?  I am currently on a single missionary women's retreat in Athens, Greece, with eighteen other amazing women who are serving Jesus and ministering to his people around the entire world.  We've got people who have or are presently serving in over twenty-eight countries including Tanzania, Zambia, Angola, South Africa, Burkina Faso (that's me!), Ghana, Yugoslavia, Croatia, Bosnia, Poland, Belgium, Netherlands, Romania, Russia, Hungary, Germany, Scotland, Nicaragua, Honduras, Guatemala, Australia, and multiple countries i

You thought potlucks were an American thing. You should see what Burkinabé-style looks like. The table was absolutely loaded with the various dishes that each person brought: t ô made of corn flour, tô made of millet flour, rice,mpeanut sauce, cabbage sauce, djo-djo (traditional Dagara sauce made with leaves, squash, and peanuts), riz gras (spicy, flavored rice), sen-sen (fried bean flour cakes), salade crudité, porc au four, drinks, and a pizza (okay, my American teammate brought that dish, but we have affectionately taught our Burkinabé teammates to appreciate pizza).  It was so unbelievable that people were taking pictures of the table and of their plates, piled high like mountains. One look at such a gorgeous table and you had automatic permission to eat as much as you wanted because you could already tell there was way too much food.  I invited our Burkina team (which includes our missionary team plus all of our national members who work so hard in each of our ministries) to share

When I had only two weeks left in Burkina until leaving for my two month furlough in the United States, I asked God to help me spend my last few days well. I imagined it like the end of a race when the runner gives all he's got so that he crosses the finish line with nothing left. I wanted to cross this finish line of my second year in Burkina having given all my heart, soul, energy, time, money, and resources. I wanted to leave feeling like I had poured out all of me, like I had spent all that I had left to give. Well,  he took that prayer seriously.  I've been wrapping everything up as best I can before I leave. I've finished medical cases, implemented organization changes in the infants in distress program so that I can pass the baton and leave the work in capable hands, accomplished end of the year children's ministry goals, and left what is needed for what I can't finish. Long days, long hours, many tasks, many activities, tired feet, happy heart.  As I sit her

I  started the team meeting with my very favorite question: "How have you seen God at work in your life recently?"  I'm not sure if they've ever been asked that question before, but after a moment of reflection, they got it, and they started throwing out answers through stories one after the other.  One team member saw through the leadership training seminar last week that God is in deed at work in strengthening the local village leaders and evangelists. Another recounted a story of a specific problem she had in her work. She manages the young scholars program and needed to enroll a student in school, but the director refused and said their were no places left. No questions. Without any other options for this orphan student, she prayed and believed that God had the final word and not the director of the school. Against his counsel, she persisted with her request, and the director miraculously gave the student a spot.  Another woman testified that she was in a difficul

I've been complaining to the Lord lately about feeling lonely because I live in my house all by myself. Well it's funny how the Lord answers our complaints sometimes.  My answer came in the form of Ollie. That's not her real name, but that's what we will call her. She is a student in our Young Scholars Program, doing the equivalent of the tenth grade. Her father has abandoned the family and her mother doesn't have the resources to send all of her children to school. Since there is no secondary school in her village, she comes to our city to live during the school year and attend high school. Finding lodging for her and two other young women like her can be a little tricky, so when she needed a place to stay for just one night while we figured something out, I let her stay with me, not knowing that it would turn into a 12-day affair.  I got to teach her how to use the toilet, make tea on the stove, and pop popcorn in the microwave. She taught me how to make djo-djo,

The classroom where I had spent all morning emptied, and I took a moment to breathe in the silence and take a sip of water after speaking and teaching all morning in French. I didn't realize how physically and mentally exhausting that is until the students - 45 village leaders, evangelists, and children's "monitors" (children's ministry leaders) - left the classroom and gave me a minute to breathe.  What a great morning we had already had! Charlotte and I tag-teamed in teaching (as Rebeca translated into Dagara) the sessions of this first children's ministry formation:  Introduction: vision and goals  The importance of children in the church Characteristics of a children's minister The foundation: Prayer How children are not like adults How to organize a children's ministry (essential elements)  How to prepare a Bible story lesson for kids Tools for success  Now the participants had a chance to start putting it into practice, and I didn't want to