An Unlikely Fit....

When I drove past the sign, it caught my attention.
The Biker Church.
What was this place? What might God be doing there? I was on a Tuesday afternoon drive, so I disregarded the thought and continued enjoying my fall drive. Saturday night, as I prayed about where I should visit for church in the morning, that sign kept coming back to me. I was really curious, but also very intimidated. This wasn't a group I anticipated 'blending' with.

Sunday morning came and I found myself wondering what a person might wear to a Biker Church. I realized that I almost certainly had nothing that would seem appropriate, based on my admittedly limited knowledge of what I was getting myself into. I just dressed in something simple and neither too casual, nor too dressy. On the way, I blasted music and let the wind whip through my car.



When I spotted the church's sign, I noticed two or three motorcycles in the parking lot. I also noticed that it was a garage-type building, and that the sign didn't point down a nearby road as I had initially assumed. A very brief glimpse in the door as I drove by, showed that there were just a few chairs set up, and it looked to be small. Honestly, I reconsidered. Because I was 8 minutes early, I decided to keep driving.

For the next 10 minutes I drove down a road, debating between just walking into one of the many churches I passed where I'd be a 'normal' visitor and I wouldn't stand out. I tried to tell myself all the reasons that I could just go to the Baptist, Presbyterian, Evangelical Free, or Methodist church that I passed just in that short drive. But I kept thinking of what I might miss if I didn't take this opportunity. So, I took a deep breath, gave myself a pep-talk, and turned around to head back to my chosen place of worship.

I've learned a few things about visiting new churches alone in this last, nomadic year. One is that the sooner you get through the greeting committee, and into the church proper, the sooner you can find a seat, blend in, and take the opportunity to observe your surroundings. Even in a friendly church, people will usually give you a moment or two, and you can gather your wits and prepare for the onslaught of 'new' that will make your acquaintance. Acting on this theory, I pulled into the parking lot, gave a quick smile and greeting to the two men at the door, and ducked inside.

Inside was no relief. It was a functional motorcycle garage with an altar, 10 chairs, and a sound booth monitored by a 13-year-old girl. Nobody else was inside. One of the greeter guys from the doorway ducked inside and introduced himself. Smokey was an ex-biker who was all smiles and friendliness. He got me some coffee and made me feel welcome. I soon met the other 8 church-goers. Worship was simple; prayer and testimonies, worship along with Youtube, and a clear, straight-forward sermon. I'd picked the perfect day to visit, my new friends told me, because we were having lunch today. As service ended, I began to feel slightly more comfortable.

I joined that little church for lunch. I joined them the next Sunday as well. The little group of 10 or 20 that gathers in a Motorcycle garage has a little place in my heart now. They welcomed me well, and they joined me in my excitement about my future in Africa. It took a bit of guts to join them, but God used an unlikely fit into an unlikely group of people to encourage my heart these past two weeks. Who knew how God would bless me through a tiny gathering of saints in a small town in North Carolina.

I wish I were Brave...

I wish I were brave.
That my heart was stuffed full of courage.
That it didn't hurt to make choices that are different.
I wish I were free.
From this need to feel everything.
From the conflicting desires for comfort and control.
I wish I were cool.
So that change wouldn't phase me.
So I'd know how to be when there aren't any rules.
I wish I were gentle.
When I speak and when I respond.
When with others and toward myself.
I wish it made sense.
To give and forgive.
To let others in, and to let them go.
I wish I understood.
What it means to 'cast my care'.
What it looks like to 'count all but loss'.
I wish, and I work, and I wait.
Until the reflection of Glory is all others see.
Until my heart is established in courage not my own.

All I ever wanted...

 Sometimes missions is all I want to do and all I've ever wanted to do, but occasionally I really count the cost. Sometimes I like the thought of being a well-dressed and successful business woman. But other times it feels equally right to be hand-washing laundry in the Sahara with a four-year-old. Isn't that what this life is? A series of choices? The most epic Chose Your Own Adventure book in the world? My dear, late pastor used to remind me that the good is the enemy of the best. And I feel it sometimes, in my heart. The good and the best engaged in combat. A hand-to-hand battle that is crushing my heart. The yearning to live without yearning.

Washing laundry with Hadessah

This season of life I'm in is so fluid. Some days are jam-packed with multiple jobs, church commitments, study, and communication. Other days, I feel like a schoolkid in the summer time with a chance to catch up on reading, sleep, and a social life. Each experience is shaping me and preparing me. I can see how important this time is spiritually. I'm learning to be disciplined in a schedule-free existence... something that will likely come in handy in the Sahara. I'm learning to ask God for my daily bread in a much more literal way than I ever have before. He's proving himself faithful again and again.

Men praying in the market place

In this season where I'm pursuing training, classes, and a few other things to prepare me for the Sahara, I'm also gathering people around me who will commit to regular praying, financial giving, and spiritual/emotional support. I'm building an email list to keep people up to date, and I'm designing prayer cards. I'm learning about waiting again. I'd love to hear from any/all of you, and to reconnect before I travel again. I'd love to add you to my email list and keep you abreast of all that God is doing. Message me, eh?

Africa... Visited.

My travels in Africa look somewhat like a dot-to-dot. We were a little here, a little there, and a smidgen of time between the two. 

Who is we? Laura, a friend I trained with in the Philippines, came to with me. We visited three teams in four cities in addition to catching the sweet baby for whom we were originally summoned. Timing throughout the trip was perfectly ordained by God. 

Us with Sahara, the baby we caught, and her mother

As planned, Laura and I had the privilege of attending the birth of Sahara, born in the middle of a Saharan sand storm. Her birth was perfect and beautiful, and all of the things we asked God for were granted. Because we were so far from any decent backup care, we prayed for a complication-free delivery, and God came through.

Laura and I painting a house

In the next town we visited, Laura and I were able to help another family get closer to settling in their new house. We painted the entire inside of the house in two long days! We were so clearly able to see God's timing there as well, because the family was unable to hire local help.

One of the families we stayed with

Next, we stayed with a family who is doing language learning in one of the bigger cities in the area. While there, we met orphanage workers and other volunteers from several different organizations. We were also able to visit a premature baby to give additional care and support to that family. 

Evaluating a Premature Baby

Finally, we spent some time in a third city further south. There, we were privileged to give a health teaching in a settled Nomad village. We taught woman about some of the common complications surrounding childbirth, and we gave them some simple solutions. At the end of this time, we shared a Bible story with them. As the team is new there, and focused mostly on language learning, this was the first time a health outreach and spiritual outreach had been combined. What joy to be there for that special 'Grand Opening'!

Introducing Women's Health and Jesus in a Nomad village

Overall, Laura and I both came back with a desire to seek God as far as long-term work in Africa. We saw His hand of provision, protection, and planning throughout our trip, and we saw the great spiritual and physical needs that He has equipped us to address. We ask you to pray with us as we pursue a long-term commitment to working in Africa.

A Hard Job....

She'd given birth to 10 children, and yet, this one was her hardest labor. She was so worried about her daughter. Was everything ok? Each time we checked heart tones, she met our eyes with a question in hers. Was that normal? Was her daughter going to be alright? Wasn't this labor too long and too hard?  Shouldn't the baby be born by now? Instead of settling in and letting labor take it's course, she was anxious. She couldn't sleep. She nibbled on food. She asked hundreds of questions. Sometimes she even paced.

Grandmother-to-be is a hard job.

It was 12:22 am on the coldest night of the year when we pulled down the gravel drive in rural KY. A fire kept the Amish home toasty and warm in contrast to the crunchy cold outdoors that shrink-wrapped your skin to your face every time you walked to the outhouse. Kerosene lamps stood, lit, on several surfaces in the main room, giving the house a comfortable feel like warm tea in your belly. After some relaxed conversation and laughter, things quieted down. We all tried to get some rest before the action really picked up.

Labor is a hard job.

She worked so hard, resting when she needed to, and exercising to help move things along. In early afternoon things began to get more uncomfortable, and it seemed that the end was in sight. Baby's heartbeat even gave us a few decelerated readings that seemed promising. A check told us that baby was in an unfavorable position, and we still had a long way to go. She stayed strong and tried so many different tricks to encourage baby to re-position. Her pain moved to her back and became nearly unbearable as darkness visited for the second time in her labor. She begged for relief and another check showed us that things still weren't anywhere near ready for birth. She clung to her husband with each contraction as they somersaulted over her, one right behind the other.

Mother-to-be is a hard job.

He looked earnestly at us as we discussed options for his wife and baby. We could try the birth pool as a last resort, or we could go to the hospital for pain relief. Positions and massage were not offering reprieve any more. He agreed to stoke the wood stove and try to heat enough water to fill an 80 gallon pool up in his kitchen. Up and down the stairs he trekked with armloads of wood. Teapots, soup pots, and canners full of water were heated on propane burners and the wood stove. Finally, the pool was full. His wife found enough relief to doze off a bit between contractions, and in his relief, he was able to crumple on the floor against the kitchen counter and nod off as well.

Father-to-be is a hard job.

With daylight just beginning to show her face, the time had come for little one to make his/her grand appearance. As with the rest of labor, it was an uphill battle. Mommy, Daddy, and Midwives tried so many different positions to talk baby out of his/her timidity. The midwives took turns, because even a certified contortionist wouldn't have outdone us that day. When Mommy needed to, she would push, pull, squeeze, or lean on whomever was available. This midwife now understands the term 'head compression' and knows that when squeezed hard enough, she will see multicolored stars swirling across her field of vision. The other midwife nearly had her jaw dislocated.

Midwife is a hard job.

And then, we could see the head. Slowly, slowly, and after plenty more work, it was here... and turning purple. The shoulder was stuck. But on the way to the birth, God had spoken to the heart of one of the midwives, and she knew to be prepared for this. A few proper moves and 30 seconds later, here was baby. Cord spiraled around her neck, body, and leg, which explains why she had a few incidents of sounding stressed. The focus was untangling the cord, and oops! Maybe we should get that second leg born. Then a deep breath, a snuffle, and a cry. So many lumps on that poor, misshapen head from her difficult escape from the inside.

New baby is a hard job.

Finally everyone was here, happy, and healthy. Grandmother was so relieved, and so proud of her daughter and granddaughter. Labor was over. Mother was curled up with her new little girl, admiring all 9 pounds and 8 ounces of her. Daddy was beaming and making sure morning chores were done. Midwives were planning to sleep cleaning up, filling out paper work, and answering questions. Baby was being cute, the way new babies should. All that to say that sometimes, it takes five people a day and a half to introduce a new baby to the world.

One Baby at a Time...

That's how I'm seeing the world. One baby at a time. When I left the Philippines and entered another season of waiting, I prayed that God would provide opportunities for me to serve His people with midwifery. A week after that, I had the privilege of attending the birth of my friends' firstborn son. Three weeks later, I was in Honduras for a birth.

December found me in Georgia with dear friends, welcoming their daughter, and January has had me working alongside a midwife in Kentucky. Has the Lord answered my prayers? You be the judge.


I received the message below from a patient in the Philippines. These are the sentiments that make my job worth it.

jan, 19 2013 ur my midwif of my child,, now my child is 2yrs old ,,thank u u are the 1 helping me in my labor,,

Laura is the other midwife in a headband.

And now, I fly again. To a new continent and a new country. To a family in Chad, who is bringing Jesus to their neighbors. To a Momma who needs a midwife for her 6th baby. The plan is that I will travel with a good friend who worked alongside me in the Philippines. We plan to visit several other teams in the country while we're there. Both Laura and I are praying about whether God would set either or both of us in a team there.

So I'm off to see another part of the world. Tour de Bebe. To see another set of prayers answered for myself, Laura, and the family to whom we are sent. 20 days from now, I will board a plane for 1.5 months of Africa. Blessed be the Lord, who fills my heart with desires, and then grants me the desires of my heart.

The In Betweens....

The in betweens of life are the times we seem to want out of the most. They're the times in which we feel suspended, lost, and lacking direction. The times we spend pursuing a degree, waiting for a dream job, forming a little one within us, growing up, figuring out our next steps.... the becoming that we lose track of for always pursuing the end goal. The cliche journey vs. destination conundrum.

But I think these in-between times make up most of our lives. I'm coming to believe we need to embrace these times the most closely, because they make up so much of our histories. This is the stuff lives are composed of. To find joy and contentment in the in-betweens is a delight few know and many should learn.


This thing called waiting is one of those lessons I keep getting. Either I've failed to learn, or I'm failing to retain, but it seems to come around at least as frequently as the purposeful, intentional, goal-focused living that is the stuff people think life is made of. Yet that elusive dream of a structured life so often keeps me from living well the pieces that are set before me.

Pastor Jerry in the striped tie, now with Jesus

I'm reminded to enjoy the in-betweens as I grieve the loss of one of my Philippine pastors, Pastor Jerry. He turned 50 at the beginning of December, and he is survived by his wife of 2 years, and his 1-year-old baby girl. If he'd waited for those monumental things in life, rather than living his in-betweens, there wouldn't be so much living to his life. Who knows when our time is up and our name will be called? How can we measure the importance of our lives in events, achievements, and goals?






In so many ways I find myself in a major in-between time just now. I'm striving to live each day thoughtfully, purposefully, and prayerfully. I have hopes and dreams which may develop into goals and achievements, but I'm insistent upon living the now with intention. While idealistic thoughts and dreams for the future should drive me forward, they are actually a hindrance when they interfere with a fruit-filled today. So while I plan to keep dreaming and anticipating, I'm also learning to make the most of my in-betweens.

I must work the works of Him who sent me while it is day. The night cometh when no man can work. John 9:4