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

On Final Days....

My final days in the Philippines were filled with such sweet sorrow. 'Babies' I welcomed, now children, walking, talking, so grown up! Friends and co-workers who have become like family to me, goodbyes... some that will never be 'hello's again in this life. On my last Sunday I wrote this:






Crawling to the throne of Jesus,
Lying at His feet in silent plee.
Surrendered, Surrendering, Empty.

Empty as I should be.
No plans, no control.
Offering me, it's all I have.
Waiting for His dreams to take root in my heart.

Lying prone, the ultimate surrender.
He may do what He will, I offer Him control
This prison of freedom to which I've succumbed.

And yes, its uncomfortable.
But oh! Such peace.
That His will may be my goal.

Then a wonderful visit in Manlia with these friends and their children. I jumping off point, a last, sweet farewell until the next country that brings us together. A Sunday church service. A heart's prayer in the form of a song.

Jesus at the Center
This has become my song and prayer for this next, uncertain season. Jesus, be the center of my life.

On The Importance of Things....

I've been thinking a lot about the emphasis we place on different things vs. their actual importance. It's actually a really depressing train of thought. It doesn't take one long to encounter things in society, the church, and more alarmingly, in one's self that are really poorly prioritized. Not all of these apply to every person, and each of us have blind spots, but I just have some questions.

When did modesty become more important than poverty?

It seems every week I see some new blog post from a guy, pleading with his Christian sisters to dress modestly. I see pricy swim wear, which could double as a snowmobile suit, and another link to another sermon about the importance of modesty. I think I've been to more camps and conferences that touch on modesty than ones that touch on poverty too. To go to such and such a camp, you must wear clothes within certain guidelines, but they never talk about how much of your income you should give to the poor. Modesty is important, but scripture has two verses about it, yet the gospel was DESIGNED for the poor. How does this work?

How does 'raising a good family' take precedence over evangelism?

'Right now we're just focused on raising our family.' 'My ministry right now is my children.' May I make an observation? Is it possible that it is IMPOSSIBLE to raise a godly family without an emphasis on evangelism? Maybe sheltering our children is doing more harm than good. If our youth see sin as sin, in the context of reaching sinners, maybe it will look less attractive to them. If they are constantly renewed in the joy of their salvation by sharing that joy and truth with others, maybe it will sink in and stick around. Perhaps it is the wisdom of God that He commands us to make disciples. Nothing beats discipling for keeping one on one's toes spiritually.

A baby from last March

Why do we think it is more important to get to church on time, than to live the gospel?

How is it that we'd rather create family discord, ignore the stranded commuter on the side of the road, and skip sharing with the gas station attendant in order to get to church on time? It might be more holy to live the gospel, than to go to church. And maybe we'll be radical and strange, but possibly that will make Christianity attractive and authentic. Maybe if we give up 'saving face' at church and focus on saving souls, the Christ will be more accurately represented. He often stopped to talk with a blind man, or paused his 'schedule' to make time for the children.

When did our needs become more important than the church?

Why is it now legitimate to stay home from church because you 'didn't have the energy'? And at what point does the excuse, 'I'm just not being fed' need to be turned into the question 'Who are you feeding?" Yeah, church requires energy, and many times, may I say MOST OF THE TIME we will feel like we are doing more giving than receiving. But when did this become all about us? Can the hand say to the mouth,"I feel like I'm doing more giving than receiving?" Where is the concept of laying down our lives for our brethren?

Why is it ok to debate theology at the risk of unity?

When did Christians get this concept of needing to be right, and to make sure everyone else is too? Maybe its time we realize that we've all got a few things right, and a lot of things wrong, and are probably completely ignorant as to which things fall into each category. Possibly it would behoove us to see that music styles, preference on alcohol intake, and handshake vs. holy kiss are not salvation issues, and don't need to be matters of division. Even 'more major' issues SHOULD NOT come between two people who believe the basics of the gospel. Maybe the diversity in beliefs and traditions is actually a beautiful statement about how big God is, and how He loves variety. Maybe different denominations each represent a different aspect of a massive God as each has understanding to do. And since people are to know us by our love one toward another, lets allow that to cross denominational boundaries.

Why is it ok to buy a $5 coffee, but financially irresponsible to give generously and live by faith?

Why can people 'go out' after church events, but missionaries are ill-funded? When some people drive an old car, rent a small apartment, and spend a lot on missions work, I have heard them described as 'unstable' or 'financially irresponsible'. Yet when the next person over has a $5 per day coffee habit, is making car payments, and does not involve themselves in missions, I hear them described as 'trying to get ahead' and 'settling down'. We have this backwards. Investing in eternity is wise, no matter the cost. Investing in this life is dangerous. Where our treasure is will dictate where our heart puts down roots.

Please, dear reader, do not take all of these thoughts in a wrong way. I'm asking questions. I'm processing. I'm preparing to come back to a life I once knew, but with a completely different perspective and as a result, I'm questioning values I once held and actions I once justified. Yes, there are two sides to all of these issues. And yes, I'm offering one perspective. But these are my raw thoughts based on life as I see it right now. Will they change over time? I hope so. I welcome your thoughts as part of this process. Peace out.

Who am I?

Who am I?

It's like the great question of all time. I think most people spend significant portions of their lives trying to figure this out. What people don't seem to 'get' is that in real, alive people, that is constantly changing. So is our image of who we want to become. Sometimes we don't realize how much it is shaped by our decisions as well as the influences in our lives. And how little we really do understand ourselves.

Lately, I have been going through an identity crisis. I'm just putting that out there, all honest and stuff. See, my time here is wrapping up, and while I still see my life calling as one of missions, does one really identify as a missionary while between assignments? And if not a missionary, what? I have no job, no distinct social group, no permanent location.... so many of the little identifying details of my life are in limbo right now.

So there will be people who tell me, "your identity is in Christ". Yes. That is true, but only so helpful. Because while Christ is the core of my being, He has also made me a goal oriented person. And honestly, most of the time people say things like "You don't have to be yourself, you just have to be like Jesus" or "Your identity is in Christ" , what they are really saying is, here is my perception of Christ-like behavior, and a church you should probably identify with. That isn't a criticism. It is simply a very human trait of projecting our expectations onto other people. We all do it.

Who am I and what has become of the Melissa I used to know? Sometimes I wonder. I love my life here, but it is surrounded by people. I am never alone. And the super friendly, always smiling, energetic, ready-to-meet-new-people version of me has necessarily adapted. I'm like a laptop on battery settings.... I am conserving energy. Is this who I've become, or is it just a phase? Eh.... we'll see. I still dance and sing and smile, it's all good. Life is a process of becoming.

I was reminded the other day, of when I graduated from college. I clearly remember saying, "I once again find myself in the very healthy but uncomfortable position of having absolutely no clue what is next." And I thought of the last three times I found myself at that place. As Psalms encourages us to do, I remembered the goodness of the Lord at all those times. I remember how God placed opportunities in my life that were beyond belief, and how my life just kept taking amazing turns. And it gave me hope. I should probably have this down by now, but if I'm straightforward, I still like to feel like I'm in control.

Controlled, risk-free surrender. I think that is what I want. It's a total oxymoron though, so that is another thing I'm going to have to let go of. I'm actually a little afraid of coming back to the US. I'm afraid that everything will have changed, and at the same time, that nothing will have changed. I'm afraid of getting too comfortable, I'm afraid of not finding a niche, and I'm afraid of leaving somewhere that has been so wonderful and transformative. Actually, maybe those fears apply to anywhere, ya know? Because humans are humans no matter where we are. We sin, we lose focus, and we sometimes get so caught up in 'Christianity' that it is an act of habit, not an act of love.

So basically I've concluded that moving back to the States is outside of my comfort zone. Ah, a perfect place to be. I expect that God will shake me up a bit, and root out a few things that have settled in too deeply. I don't really know what else to expect. To date, I've had no supernatural revelations of how I should direct my steps. But oh! The mercy of the Lord as we daily rely on Him for every decision. So yeah, on a lot of levels I am trying to answer the question, "Who am I?" just like everybody else is.

I revel in the fact that God is the same, no matter which country I serve Him from. It seems incredible to me that He is big enough to boggle our minds, and yet He is unchanging. And I find myself astounded at the great wisdom of a God who understood how important it would be for us to know, "I am the Lord, I change not". Maybe who I am isn't all that important as long as I'm sure of who He is.

Some Super Things....

My last post was rather depressing. It was where I was at the moment, feeling very discouraged and a bit alone. The thing is, although I was facing quite a conglomerate of impossible-seeming situations, God never failed in His faithfulness toward me. He gave me a lot of super things in life this last two weeks.

Time with a super baby

Time with a super food (can anyone say Wasabiiiiiiiii!)

 This baby is probably the cutest baby I ever saw in my life. Please don't take offense if you also have a cute baby, but she was just a sweetheart, and snuggles from her came at just the right times. She made all sorts of hilarious faces, and brought a bright bit of joy to my difficult days.

Time with a super woman

 
It may seem insignificant, but even in a land filled with delicious foods, familiar flavors are such a comfort. I found the supplies for making California rolls, and some Wasabi powder at the grocery store. This was a first for me, constructing my own rolls. As one of my roommates put it, "The wonderful thing about eating Wasabi, is you're never quite certain you'll survive."




I also have some pretty great friends. Friends who really helped me out when I wasn't feeling the greatest, and who brightened my days and pointed me to Jesus. Friends who helped me achieve my New Year's Resolution of earning 2 free Gelattos with my customer punch card. Who let me cry in front of them, and process things a million times, and prayed for me, and checked on how I was doing. Friends who walked with me through some difficult choices and difficult days.

Time with a super man

I'm so thankful for a Super God. He has provided the finances I needed for my NARM exam, the final step in my program journey here. He provided encouragement through my church here. Also, He has begun to put some vision in my heart. The transition ahead of me feels daunting, but I have hope resting in the fact that God has really ordained this time in my life, and will direct my steps. He has also continued to restore my body and my strength so that today I am walking in health that was not mine just 2 weeks ago.

Actually, make that two super women

God has provided for my friends as well, lining up jobs and opportunities for them as they also plan to return to countries of origin. He has blessed a few friends in the States with beautiful babies of their own. He has given Joy instead of Mourning, Gladness instead of Heaviness, and Hope in the place of Despair. He has blessed my studies, my relationships, my work, and my health. Blessed be the Name of the Lord, who has made heaven and earth. Blessed be His Glorious Name. It's pretty Super to have a God of the Universe looking out for a soul like me.

Just a lot.....

There's been a lot going on recently.... just.... a lot. All sorts of things, some better than others.
Here are some things that have happened.

• I came to the end of my academic coursework

Yep, two years of study and stress has finally wrapped up, and my focus shifts to solidifying all that I've learned in hopes of passing a board exam when I return to States. There is a lot pivoting on that crucial exam, so the pressure is on in a whole new way!

• I had two visitors from the States

Mrs. Eide and Michelle came to visit, and got a week-long taste of my life here. They came during the time we were having 4-8 hours of power outages daily, so they really got to experience the heat first-hand. It was so good to see familiar faces.

• 3 of my co-workers have been hospitalized for crazy, life-threatening things

It is a tad stressful, to say the least, when co-workers are hospitalized. We take turns staying with them 24-7, and that adds to the craziness. God has been faithful, and all three are on the mend. But a crazy autoimmune thing, appendicitis, and a very complicated pregnancy and delivery were all a bit touch-and-go for a while there.

• One of my babies required 5 minutes of resuscitation after birth 

This is just stressful no matter how you look at it. Thankfully, that baby is breathing on his own now, due to be released from the hospital where we took him after we got him going.

• I am feeling weary, and my body is begging me for a break

It is the proverbial crash at the end of a really crazy few weeks, months, or maybe years. My body has betrayed me, and I am struggling to keep up with basic life.

Honestly, friends, I am weary and in need of prayers. I see God's hand in my daily life, and I am assured of His kindness toward me. But my human frailty is daily before me, and tonight, more than usual. I covet your prayers, dear people. I need strength and wisdom and clarity. I need a peace that passes all understanding.

There's some straight up mission-field honesty for ya. Humanity and frailty at its finest. Thankfully, God is near to those who are broken, and strengthens the weak. Grace and peace to all of you.
Love,
Miss-o-wissa

Now what?

I go to seek a great perhaps....

I really like that quote, because it is just what every missionary does. It is not the perhaps of God's sending, or of his ability to remain faithful to those He's sent, but the perhaps of just what, exactly, may come of that single act of obedience. GO.

Perhaps it will result in the saving of many souls, and perhaps it will primarily contribute to the saving of our own. Instead of the images of revivals and church planting that frequented my daydreams, I find myself pitifully pleading God for His continued grace and sustenance. I find a new relevance in the verse that talks about 'working out my salvation with fear and trembling". And I increasingly realize the degree of grace necessary to not only sustain mission workers, but also to produce fruit through them.


Perhaps it will be a clearly marked path, and perhaps we will feel as though we are following God with a blindfold on. "Marco"... "Polo"... "Marco" .... "Polo".... Wait, how did God end up way over there? I was so sure I was following Him when I headed in this direction. But perhaps, if God had made that path clear to me from the beginning, I would've dismissed it. Maybe I would have shrunk away in fear, or maybe I would confidently have stepped out, unaware of my human frailty. So I see His plan is perfect, even when our resultant paths look a little jagged.

These are not my feet

And then there are the times. The times we just have no clue which way our path will next veer. When we feel a bit lost, and excited, and afraid, and eager. It is hide and seek, but we've yet to find. Those crazy moments when we realize that all we have been working toward for weeks, months, or years has been accomplished and we do not yet know our next goal. That panic-y feel when we must recreate our normal.

I find myself in this position over the next few months. I'm seeking a great perhaps. As this season of my life begins to wind down, my heart is dreaming, my feelers are out, and I ask myself... "Now what?" It may be a bit premature, but my heart is seeking a new dream to chase. 5 months from now I will get onto an airplane back to the US, back to a great perhaps. I'm I am asking for the nations, but I'm not sure which one yet.

I am praying for direction. These feet want to go, these hands want to serve, and this heart wants to love. Perhaps God will act quickly in cultivating a new dream in my soul, or perhaps He will lead me into another period of waiting. Either way, I'm determined to be content. Now what? Now I am determined, by the grace of God, to live well no matter what the path before me may be.

On Spiritual Suicide....

"I'm beginning to wonder if its not a bit like committing spiritual suicide to go off on the mission field alone."

His words rang in my ears with a truth I might not have agreed with even a year ago. We met up in December, he taking a bit of a break from his overseas work, and I having a little more time on my hands due to winter break. We were discussing life away from the spiritual infrastructure we have thus far known and enjoyed. Friends, family, and church who normally sharpen us, hold us accountable, and lift us up are no longer near at hand. Suddenly, we are almost entirely responsible for our own spiritual well-being. The results shocked us.

It is truly amazing how much the choices and actions I have thus far made in my life are influenced by the people around me. Nothing like leaving everyone and everything you've ever known, culture shock, and a high intensity overseas lifestyle to bring you face to face with who you are.Whatever came with you is your 'junk'. I must admit, I shocked myself with some of the choices I made. I became unpleasantly aware of my deepest weaknesses.

There is a lot that can be excused under the label of 'cultural adjustment'. In my down time, I turned to movies, which had formerly been a rare treat in my life. Then in a classic move of stupidity, when movies failed to bring the entertainment and cultural reprieve I sought, I added more of the same. It took quite a while for me to come around and realize that what this heart was really yearning for was more of God.

Why? Why does a girl who's heart is turned toward God move overseas to do His work, and realize herself such a miserable failure? Why, when I should be at my spiritual highest, do I find that there are still the same old struggles of setting aside quality time, rather than plowing through 'devos'? What is the secret to the secret place?

Now please don't read the above and think I've given up. There could be no falser statement. But I am honestly working through the reality of my own humanity and my desperate need of grace. I'm learning to identify and find ways of meeting my own spiritual needs. I'm leaning on God to shape me into who I ought to become. It seems that the expectations I and others had of me are not completely right or helpful.

So what is the right way to do this? How does one survive spiritually when removing themselves from much of their spiritual support, and placing themselves on the front lines? In this place I have some friends and a church, but will the next place I go have even that? When we clearly know that 'it is not good for man to be alone', why do we send them to places where they are spiritually, culturally, and emotionally alone?


Is it spiritual suicide to send even the most passionate people to the mission field?

How Do I.....

Hi, I'm 27, and I'm not fully grown. Nope, I don't have lots of physical growing to do, I have a list of things I'd like to learn. Wisdom doesn't grow on trees, but it does grow in the hearts of those who submit to and fear God. So I'll just make this an open discussion.

How do I go about becoming fully consecrated to God?

Yeah, pray more, read more, spend time with God.... but at what point does full consecration occur? I mean, we still really live in this world, and some of our thoughts and actions will necessarily facilitate basic survival. We are also called to reach the lost, which obviously necessitates a lot of time spent pursuing them. Also, God created many things for us to 'richly enjoy'. He created smiles and laughter and recreation. He designed our bodies to need rest. My mind doesn't have a good grasp on an accurate balance for this conundrum.

How do I change the world?

Some of you will automatically say that changing the world is a human-centered goal. But I'm pretty sure Jesus did it, and I'm supposed to be like Him. Where to start? What to do? I see plenty of needs, plenty of opportunities, and I have some ability to respond. But what is right? Is there really one specific set of actions that is designated exactly for me, or should I look for need and go work where I see God working? I'm a bit afraid to take hasty action, but I may be more afraid of doing nothing at all for fear of doing the wrong thing. Again and again Jesus 'was moved with compassion' and then acted. That is the main thing we're told of His prompting. Compassion alone offers a pretty broad spectrum of ministry opportunities. How does vision become focused?

How do I go about making and keeping good priorities?

To put others first seems to be a good priority until the moment you realize that in so doing, you've reduced your devotion time to a chore. On some level, serving is LIVING the heart of Jesus and I have found it to be a very real way of worshiping God and understanding His grace toward me. Yet at some indistinguishable junction I seem to cross this invisible line between sacred worship/sacrifice and distracting busyness. Inevitably, the less of Him you have, the less you have to share.

How do I feel the weight of compassion without being crushed to pieces by the sorrow all around me?

I long to empathize with people and to help bear their pain. The ugly side of pain is that each of us has about as much as we can handle. To take on that of another can be crushing. Also, there is no use in a person who is completely immobilized by the crushing weight of sorrow. How old will I be before I finally learn the balance between feeling enough and feeling too much? How much grace is required to lift someone up and take part of their burden simultaneously? At what point have you done all you can, and when is it necessary to become refreshed in your own heart? Can anyone actually give me practical advice on what it means to 'Cast my care upon the Lord"? 

How do I release others from expectations?

I would love to believe that I am strong and wise and not one bit petty. The ugly truth, however, is that I still have some very immature emotions and expectations of those in my life. Somehow, even from the other side of the world, I still manage to feel entitled to a certain level of friendship. I feel hurt over things that are unintentional, and I have unrealistic expectations of friends and family. How do I stay close to people, offer them all of who I am, and still release them from expectations? How do I adjust to a long distance relationship with every person who has been any significant part of my life?

How do I balance faith and action?

Why are some types of action considered compatible with faith, and others are viewed as its antithesis? Why is it alright to work as a means of providing for yourself, but not to make needs known when paying work is not an option? Why is the admission of unfulfilled desires akin to a statement of faithlessness? Where is the balance between relying on God for the future and proper stewardship of all He's given us? Is it possible that this balance is delicate, situational, and personal? Could God really be pleased by different combinations from different people at different times?

As you can see, I have a lot of growing up to do. I lack answers to most of my questions, and I question the answers I do have. At times I feel closer to God now that I don't know completely what I believe than I ever did when I thought I had it figured out. Possibly this is just where He wants me.... depending.

A Tribute....

... To a life that wasn't.

I cry for you, little boy.
For the fact that you have no name.
I cry for your mommy's empty tummy and empty arms.
For your daddy who came in after you were born.
He was wearing my shoes.
I cry for the aunty who examined you before I covered your still face.
And I cry for your 3 brothers and sisters who will never know you.

Little boy, your face was perfect.
Your mouth was a little 'O'.
You looked like you were sleeping, once I wrapped you all up tightly.
You had ten fingers, but they will never grasp your mamma's nose as she laughs.
You had little knees and elbows, and black hair, of course.

The silence, little boy.
It was loud. So, so LOUD.
Louder than any newborn wail.
I couldn't shut out that silence, little boy.

Your midwife was so strong, little boy.
She bravely helped you out into the world.
She told your mamma, softly, that she had done well.
I was so proud of her for being willing.
Willing to feel the pain of a life that wasn't.

I tried to be gentle, little boy.
Gentle with your mamma when I told her she had a son.
Gentle with you when I wrapped you and laid you beside your mamma.
And later, when I covered your face.
Gentle when I laid you to rest in your little box.

Little boy, you were so fragile.
So delicate. So tiny.
The box we brought for you was small, but you fit.
My hands shook as I cared for your still form.
I didn't know how to do this, little boy, I hope I did alright.

Life is a gift, little boy.
Yours was so short.
7 months or maybe 8.
I cried for you, little boy.
And in a prayer, I sent you back to the Giver of Life.

To The One Who is Struggling...

To The One Who is Struggling,

I don't know what it is that leads you to read this letter, but we all have struggles. There is no such thing as a silly, or insignificant struggle. Sometimes the 'little things' destroy us faster than the big ones. I want to offer you encouragement. You may be the main cause of your own struggle, or it may be someone or something else. That doesn't really matter. It's real, and it needs to be faced.

They will try to tell you that it could be worse.... and they're right. But it could be better too. And while we must focus on thankfulness, it is also important to face our difficulties, not to stuff them. Think and pray through your struggle. Take responsibility for what you can change. If you cannot change it, let it go. Put it in the hands of the loving Heavenly Father and let it go. It is not necessarily dis-contentment to realize that whatever you're going through isn't ideal. Sometimes that's really healthy.

They might not even recognize that you are struggling. It's ok to let them know. In fact, it may be the very strongest thing you could ever do. It takes courage to admit that you're not ok, and that you need somebody to lean on. That is being vulnerable, but you may actually be giving your friend a gift..... the gift of going second. It is always hardest to be the first to admit your weaknesses. Offer them a chance to be used by God to speak into your life. It will be good for them, and good for you. Do it.

They will tell you it's just part of life. Loneliness, sorrow, an unclear life path, a bad mood, the perpetual cycle of besetting sin, hurt from others, disappointment with yourself..... And it is. But guess what. Life is hard. We're not supposed to do this by ourselves. That is the purpose of the church, the Holy Spirit, and scripture. It may be 'normal life', but we cannot even do that by ourselves. It's ok to have a hard time, even with standard struggles. We're humans in a fallen world. Don't let yourself become isolated in struggles because they feel too small to share. Chances are, the person you share with will have some experience with the very same things you're going through and some godly wisdom to offer.

They will tell you to find yourself so you can help others. I cannot possibly think of a worse piece of advice. If you are struggling, most often the best thing you can do is to reach out to someone else. Not only will you find joy in service, but you will take the focus off of yourself and your problems for a while. The struggles of others will force you to cry out to God for answers, and in the process, you may find some for yourself. You will form your character into a more Christ-like image in the process, and maybe, just maybe you will come to a more full understanding of the gospel.

They will tell you to hang on for a while.... life will get better. There is no assurance of this. Struggles do tend to ease as we become familiar with how to approach them. But sometimes they stack up all at once, and things seem only to get worse. Sometimes, when we struggle, we're really in it for the long haul. They will give you the same three commonly-quoted, generic, "trials" verses. Sometimes the attempted comfort just makes things worse. It intensifies the isolation as people try to put a band-aid on a ruptured appendix instead of finding the problem and going through the whole mess with you. Know that it may take a while. There may be no quick-fix, but sometimes it's ok to be broken. Humans want to fix things, but God accepts us broken. Sometimes, these periods of prolonged darkness are the times that we most come to know God. Because He's all we have.

They will try to place blame. Sometimes that feels like the easiest thing for anyone to do. It's how we understand things for which there is no explanation. Whether the finger is pointed at you or elsewhere, please remember, it's mostly an exercise in futility. No matter what your struggle is, the gracious Father has allowed it for a purpose, and without exception there is some construction project that needs to be done in your heart. Beg God to show you. No matter how innocent you are, there is always something to be learned. A wise man will seek for that project and submit fully to it.

You will most likely feel the need to beat yourself up. You will feel like you are not growing anymore, you're just surviving. You may not even feel like you're doing that. Please, this is not the time to evaluate that. Visibility in a storm is not usually very good. Hang on to the basic truths. Trust that God is responsible for your growth, and you are responsible for clinging to him, and submitting yourself to his strong, shaping hands. Continue to make wise choices such as worship, the word, fellowship, and prayer, but don't be so presumptuous as to think you have that much control.

To the one who is struggling: I cannot promise you relief. I cannot prophecy the duration of your struggle. I cannot take away the troubles you face. But I can offer you wisdom and hope. Hope that life is short, and eternity is long. That joy and suffering are not mutually exclusive. That God does indeed know what He's doing. He is the one who tells storms to be still. That at some point, He will make all things beautiful.... But that will be in His time. Until then, let go of everything but God and hold tightly to His truth.

May your day be filled with peace and joy in knowing that He is in control, so you don't have to be.
Love,
Missowissa

Of a Sudden....

It came to me of a sudden....

I am not who I want to be. I am not good. I am not noble. I am not
a self-sacrificing, humble, diligent, wonderful person. I am not fearless. I am not sinless.

In me there is no good thing....

After a busy week of work, learning, late nights, and coffee, I was living on the spiritual energy of weeks past. My times of devotion were motivated from habit and discipline rather than from passion and love. Again my depravity slapped me in the face. My priorities took a nosedive and my choices became sickeningly self-centered.

I cannot do what seems right...

I find myself making choices that do not live up to my standards. I discern in my voice and actions attitudes that I despise. Entertainment becomes a substitute for godly joy. Somehow, just as physical hunger pains vanish after three days without food, godly appetites tend to disintegrate on about the same schedule.

Shifting perspectives creep up on me....

Suddenly, without my knowledge, I'm looking through life's binoculars the wrong way. Everyone and everything that should be important seem distant, and at once, I find that I am the biggest thing in my life. My own self is so grossly out of proportion that I find it frightening.

The realization overcomes me....

I'm humbled. Astounded. Once again caught off guard by this sinful, human heart that cannot, of itself, seek God. Shattered. Realizing again the critical role that sustaining grace plays in every moment of my life. Incredulous. Trying to comprehend the sort of love that sustains a relationship which, if viewed honestly, consists of one Great God giving, and one lowly human taking. There is no balance in this relationship. No give and take. All giving and initiating from one side, all responding and receiving from the other.

And yet He persists.

Confessions of a Missionary

Today I slept until 2pm. After that, a friend and I went to an air-conditioned coffee shop for a few hours. Later, I got together with friends and ate pizza, salad, and chocolate brownies, followed by coffee and good chats. I came home, watched two movies with another friend, and now I'm headed to bed.

I call myself a missionary.

So I could justify.... after all, I did stay up all night catching a baby and caring for a few other laboring women, so 2 pm isn't so outrageous. I did study at the coffee shop, so it wasn't wasted time or money. My host provided the American-style food, so that little pleasure wasn't my splurge. And the movies were a fulfilled promise to a friend.

But I call myself a missionary.

One day I ate an entire chocolate bar just because. Two days ago I got a pedicure. I have wifi in my house. Earlier this week I went out for ice cream. I own a computer and a camera. I have nice clothing. I own a bike.

And I call myself a missionary.

I haven't seen my family in 3 months. I recently spent 24 hours at the clinic with my patient who was in labor. My niece and nephews are growing up, and some of them won't remember me when I see them again. I have missed the weddings and funerals of several close friends. I get stared at everywhere I go because I'm white. It's been ages since I drove a car.

Yes, I call myself a missionary.

Sometimes I just want to speak English. Sometimes I stay home because going out requires so much effort. Sometimes I want to hug my sister, or exchange witticisms with my dad. Sometimes I miss snow and fall leaves. I get sick of sweating. I don't want to wait for absolutely everything anymore. I am tired of things scurrying away every time I turn a light switch on.

And I call myself a missionary?

More than all of these things I want to see souls saved. I want to accurately state, "And they praised God because of me." I want to see prisoners set free, broken healed, and light and life in the eyes of the hopeless. I want Heaven to have more occupants. I want the name of Jesus to be lifted. Lives saved. God's love spread abroad.

So I call myself a missionary.

I don't always know how to justify things. I don't find justice in the duplicity of life here. I don't know how to feel about days that are filled with things like laundry, coffee shops, movies, and wifi. I don't understand how to balance the mundane with the eternal. I don't understand why to half of my people I live a life of sacrifice, and to the other half, a life of luxury. After all these months, it's still a bit of a conundrum to me.

Still, I call myself a missionary.

Continuity.... Continued

Continued.
 

So, after my first weekend of continuity patients and my mid-week birthday celebration and catch, my schedule was full of baby checks. I figured, since both of my other patients had almost two weeks until their due dates, that I'd buckle down and get some learning done. But babies are really surprising creatures, and they tend to come at the most unpredictable and unexpected times.

 Complicated.

After a late night with a heartbroken friend on Friday, I expected to sleep in on Saturday. Carl Wesley (pictured above) had another idea. He was planning to show up before his mother expected him, and before his daddy could get off work.

Unexpected.

At about 9 am I got a text. Ma'am, the pains have started. I really think this is labor. That's the rough translation. Since Carl Wesley is Rosalie's fourth baby, I decided that it would behoove me to believe her. I packed up a bag, and continued to text Rosalie as I prepared some lunch and dinner. I figured it would be best to be prepared, as I had night shift Saturday, and I might be at the clinic for a LOOOOOONG time.

Hurried.

Rosalie showed up at the clinic, and it was pretty obvious there wouldn't be much time before we met baby. I put on gloves and assessed her. She wasn't quite ready, but her body was in a hurry. With the next contraction, her bag of waters broke, and the following contraction resulted in the birth of a screaming baby boy. All of the sudden, he was here, and the rush and hurry was over. About two hours later I biked home at warp speed to get in a quick shower before my night shift started in 20 minutes. A long night full of a beautiful family. And they named him for a friend of mine.


Surprised.

That's how I felt the next evening when I got another text from the clinic. Melissa, your patient is here, and she's active. I asked if I might get a ride, but they told me to hop on my bike and ride like mad. I arrived at the clinic just minutes before the birth of this little girl, Joylyn. I had taken her momma as my patient because she was so young, and so lost seeming. Yet even in my wildest imaginations I couldn't have guessed her whole story.






Grieved.

My heart was broken as more and more of the story unfolded. At just 14 years old my patient had become pregnant. Just a child herself. Worse, the father of the baby was 46.... and married. A series of poor choices, and several lives forever changed. A little girl, confused about her identity, choosing a lesbian lifestyle. A drunken evening. A fight. An 'understanding' neighbor man. And at the end of those choices, she was pregnant. Scared of the father of her baby.... and rightly so.

Crying.

It's what I felt like doing every time I walked into her room. Every time the father of the baby asked me creepy questions, and touched his daughter. Every time the mother of my patient looked at me with worried eyes and tried to understand what had happened to her little girl. It's what I did that night when I got home, and the next few days after every checkup.There are no words, no scalding, salt-water drops, no heaving sobs that could express the sort of heaviness and pain.

Amazed.

This describes me as I held Joylyn about 2 hours after she was born. She looked at me, and she was so alert. Suddenly, I wanted to protect her from all the ugly her life may hold. I told her how she will serve the Lord. I told her how it doesn't matter that she was conceived in rape, or that her father is dishonorable. It doesn't matter that her mother is still a child. It doesn't matter what her life may hold, all she is belongs to God. I spoke over her that she will be a strong woman of God, a prayer warrior, and a testimony of His grace. As I spoke, she just stared at me like in these two pictures. As though she UNDERSTOOD. And there was rest in my soul.

Tired.

It's how I felt after my whirlwind 8 days in which 4 babies were born into my waiting hands, 5 women were coached through labor, and countless hours were spent at the clinic. It's how I felt when I thought about the world and how many tragic stories it contains. It's how I felt when I curled into my bed in the wee hours of Monday morning. Tired, Fulfilled, Sad, Happy, Peaceful, and finally.... Relaxed.

(Pictures of Joylyn's mamma will not be posted due to the sensitive nature of her story. I would, however, love if you will continue to join me in prayer for her dear little heart.)

On Continuity...

Continuity.

It's a word used to describe the type of care we give to some of our patients.Sometimes we adopt certain patients and really give them all their care. Some are because we need the experience, and some we adopt because they need us. We come in for every prenatal visit, and we spend weeks glued to our cell phones, just waiting to hear that they're in labor. And the last 8 days have been rather... well....

Crazy.
 
They told me I was when I took 4 continuity patients in the middle of September. But either I needed them, or they needed me. Maybe both.  And although their due dates spanned 19 days, they all gave birth within 8. I'll have to tell you the stories over the course of 2 posts, because it'll get rather long. First, let me tell you about Claire, the cute little girl in the picture above. 

 

Long.

That's how her labor was.... really, really long.  She had a good attitude, and we spent a lot of time walking, swaying, and sitting on an exercise ball. Finally, after 12 hours of hard work on both of our parts, she had to be transported. Her body was just not progressing as quickly as it needed to, and she was now outside of the normal time limits for giving birth. The hospital was now a better option for her, as they could handle out-of-normal births.




Sad. 

The feeling rushed over me as I prepared papers for transport. As I crawled into bed around 4 am, I prayed that God would watch over her and her baby.  I slept deeply, only to wake up to a text at 11am. "Maam, my panubigan is out na. I think paglabor ko".

Upset.

Because her bag of waters had already ruptured, she was on a 12 hour timeline to give birth at our clinic.  Since she hadn't texted me right away, we only had 6 of those hours left. For a first baby, that's pretty fast. I knew her chances of getting transported were pretty high. Just 8 hours after my last patient as transported, I was prepared to feel devastated. But the shift was busy. Crazy busy. And one of the babies was born with some of its organs in the umbilical cord. Like the one in the illustration here. My supervisor let the mother kiss the baby, then she and I jumped into the ambulance within seconds of the birth and rushed her to the hospital, praying for all we were worth. She hung on for 4 days and one surgery, but she's gone now, leaving her family with a gaping wound.
Determined.

Both of us were. I rushed back into the clinic and my patient was still there, dancing with her husband. Slow dancing. He turned on music for them. Tenderly, he swept the hair back off her forehead and kissed her gently, murmuring in her ear. I recall the day she came into prenatals and giggled as she smoothed out a paper on the bed next to where I was writing. Her marriage certificate. "This past July, ma'am." She was shy, but so happy. And I knew I just LOVED her!

Loving.


It was the feeling in the cubicle. Between her husband, the other midwives and I, the woman was well cared for.  The supervisor gave her more grace with the time than expected. Her husband held her, pushed with her, and encouraged her after every contraction. We told her she could, and then a look of confidence would come over her face, and she would try again. And as her baby was born, the whole room erupted in praise to God, congratulations, and cheering. The baby took a bit to start crying, and again, cheers as the first sweet cries were heard. The dad held his cell phone up to let the caller hear the baby.

Intense.

That's how  the whole shift was. Intensely happy, intensely sad, intensely fearful, intensely loving. It was intensely busy, intensely tiring. And all in all, it was intensely wonderful.

I Have Decided...

 In the absence of inspiration, I have decided to re-post something I wrote about three years ago.

I Have Decided

I have decided. I will not be dissuaded.
I have determined. I will not look back.
My path is set, my course, established.
...and yet, I know not what it is.

This I know.
God is good. His ways are good.
God knows the end from the beginning.
He has determined my course.

I know I'm walking a road of death.
But this death leads to life.
The death of me results in the life of Christ.

I know I'm choosing a life of pain.
Because I'm seeking the Healer,
Not the approval of man.

I know my path is that of rejection.
Because I've been accepted.
And they rejected Him.

I understand that I will be hated.
Because I am loved.
And I will love in return.

I know I've chosen to give up my dreams,
In order to fulfill my dream.
To know and be known of Him.

And yet, I've decided.
I've said "yes!"
My life is no longer my own.

I take you, Jesus, to be my King.
Whether in life or in death,
For richer or for poorer,
In sickness or in health,
For better...
Even when worse is the temporary result.
Because death will not part us.
It will be our wedding day.

 Ephesians 5:27 That he might present it to himself a glorious church, not having spot, or wrinkle, or any such thing; but that it should be holy and without blemish.

Philippians 3:7 But what things were gain to me, those I counted loss for Christ.
   8Yea doubtless, and I count all things but loss for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord: for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and do count them but dung, that I may win Christ,
   9And be found in him, not having mine own righteousness, which is of the law, but that which is through the faith of Christ, the righteousness which is of God by faith:
   10That I may know him, and the power of his resurrection, and the fellowship of his sufferings, being made conformable unto his death;

Not Every Day....

Not every day is a good day.
Some contain tears.
For others
For myself.
Not all tears are bad.
But sometimes.

Not every day is a good day.
Some contain disappointment.
With others.
With myself.
And disappointment can crush.
Even resilient hearts.

Not every day is a good day.
Some contain goodbyes.
To others.
To myself.
Goodbyes are necessary.
Hellos are better.

Not every day is a good day.
Some contain mistakes.
Of others.
Of myself.
Mistakes can change lives forever.
Even innocent ones.

Not every day is a good day.
Some days are.
For others.
For myself.
Good days should be cherished.
Especially on bad days.

On Losing My Faith...

I think I might be losing my faith.

Not my faith in God, nor many of my convictions. But I think 'faith' as I used to understand it, may be due for an obituary in my life. I don't think I'll purchase a headstone, I've no wish to honor the ugly bit of pride I used to exalt in my life under the surname "Faith".

I don't know what I believe.

Yes, some things feel very sure to me. Yet, as I grow older, see more of the world, and watch God work in diverse ways, I realize more and more how very little I know. I increasingly believe that there are many ways to live a life that pleases God. And there are many things that are NOT outlined clearly in scripture.

I grew up knowing it all.

I had millions of hypothetical answers to hypothetical situations. I had scriptures to back it all up. Yet most of it was not actually true belief. It was idealistic hogwash. And I judged those who disagreed with me. I had tunnel vision, and a narrow stream of logic to back it up. Somewhere, at the source of that stream, was an obscure scripture or two that I thought proved me right.

I put God in a box.

Because I 'knew' what faith was, and how to have it, I actually limited the ways in which God could work in my life. I gave him only the options that fit into my tidy little view. It was important to me. Growing up in a Christian sub-culture that self-identified as 'the faith camp', I'd have to say that this is an issue I've heard a lot about.

And rightly so.

Without faith, we cannot even please God. So.... yeah. It should be a big deal. But I don't think the measure of our faith is defined by the results our prayers get. And some of what has been prescribed as 'walking by faith', or not seeking the 'arm of the flesh' may not be found in scripture at all. And other times we find that our lives do not line up with our understanding of scripture, even when our actions do.

Faith is vital.

But in some ways, it was made an idol. Faith was the end goal, not God. Faith made you good.... better.... more enlightened than others. Faith, defined by a specific group of people, by a specific set of actions, and a distinct way of speech. Not only by things revealed in scripture, but by rules made up by a man. My heart was lifted up with pride, and my soul was not tender toward His voice because I knew the textbook answer.

It settled my religious need.

I began to think of Christians in terms of the 'haves' and the 'have nots'. And honestly, I usually put myself in the 'haves' category. It felt good, and I had a group of people who agreed with me. I could defend my ideas down to the last jot and tittle. My sheltered little life fit my framework, and I never humbled myself to ask God if I was on the right track.

But it wasn't faith.

Really, it was religion. Pride. A superiority complex. Naivety. And God had to shake me. He had to break me. He had to turn different parts of my world upside-down and inside-out, and twist them a few times. Until I didn't know what I believed. Until nothing fit. Until it was just God, and clinging to him, giving Him everything, and trusting that what He did was right and good.

And guess what?

I'm losing my 'faith'. I am questioning everything. I find that a lot of my previous beliefs and standards for life are actually not anywhere to be found in scripture. It is completely revolutionizing the way that I think. Some of these thought patterns are so comfortable to me.... It is hard to let go. I'm finding myself concerned about whether my new ideas will be approved of by people I respect.

My motives are out of wack.

Instead of asking, "Is this scriptural?", or "Is this godly?" I have been comparing myself to man's ideals, and seeking their approval. It's so wrong. God is gently teaching me to look only to Him. Not to compose a four-step plan to multiple hypothetical situations, but to know Him and His word so well, that I behave in a way that pleases Him when these situations arise. To be humble enough to not know the answer.

So yeah, I think I'm loosing my faith. But you know?.... Maybe I'm just now beginning to find it.

Homecoming Dance....

I leave this country in 8 days. That creates mixed feelings in my heart. I actually have to be completely honest and mention that I'm not really doing a homecoming dance. I feel really torn.... Because as much as I love all my friends and family in the states, this place here is SO RIGHT for me. My heart is settled here, and I love every moment. I really have waves of joy and excitement multiple times per day when I think about how God has placed me here. I grin like a fool often.

This is my life!

 

It's so hard to believe. After 8.5 years of waiting, I have my first 'field assignment'. I feel that every one of my dreams has been handed me on a platter. The words of a song I sang in gospel choir run through my mind. "God Favors Me". My life is unmistakeably directed by a loving author. I feel that God HAS given me the desires of my heart. He has both shaped my desires, and then fulfilled them.

It is incredible.


It is just so impossibly perfect. I was created for this place, and it was created for me. The colors, music, the emotion, the friendliness.... I love every minute of it. It is like living in a musical. It's ok to sing and dance at any emotion, in any location. So clearly, I fit in perfectly. It is ok to wear bright clothing and bright lipstick. It is ok to laugh often and uproariously. It is ok to be openly affectionate with friends and co-workers.

 I love this place.

  I feel that I daily glimpse parts of my future, I regularly see ways in which God has prepared me for this place... All my life. The excitement of being here, and the anticipation of where God will take me next are overwhelming at times. I cannot even comprehend the wonderful things which He has prepared for me. I pinch myself all the time, just trying to realize this whole wonderful thing is true.

But I'm torn.

I have such wonderful people in my old life in the States too. This godly family who all love me so much. A church full of people who love God and inspire me to godliness. A group of friends who stand beside me, pray for me, and send me uplifting messages here on the other side of the world.

I am so blessed.

I look forward to returning to my childhood home, but I have two homes now. I really have a home here as well, and I look forward to returning to this home as well.  To a new place that my heart has found refuge and comfort. A new place my heart has found people to love. A new place where I belong.

I belong.

So yeah, I'm excited to visit the States, but that's exactly what I feel that this is.... a visit. I don't quite feel like I'm coming home. It is a bit confusing to my heart. The reverse culture shock, all the hello's and goodbye's, and the extreme month of transition... it feels a bit daunting. Yet I'm happy. I'm so excited to see all of you. To hug you, to laugh with you, and hear what God is doing with you and in you. It will be a new and different experience for me.

A whole new adventure.

Meaningful Moments....

Her labor just wasn't progressing normally. We had tried every trick in the book, but after hours of labor, her body was still not ready to give birth and she was so, so tired. Because of this all, our supervisor decided that we should transport her to the local hospital where they have a greater ability to deal with labors that are not progressing normally.

She was scared.

She had cooperated so well during labor. We had danced together, swinging our hips to help that baby scoot down. We'd climbed the stairs so many times, and we'd tried every position in the book, and a few more besides. Her husband was there every step of the way, massaging her back, lending a supporting hand, mopping the sweat off her forehead. We were a team. I felt anguished as I gave her the news that she'd be transported.

Panic registered on her face.

Here, where hospitals are frightening, disease-filled places. Where people go to die. This was her worst fear. I took her hand in one of mine, and laid my other hand on her beautiful, round belly. "Pwede ko magampo para sa ikaw?" (is it ok if I pray for you?) YES! She squeezed my hand as I closed my eyes to pray. I placed her in God's hands, asking that He watch over her and give her body strength. I prayed over that baby too, and asked for a miracle. I reassured her that her baby's heart was still strong and normal.

Tears ran freely down his face.

The husband was just unashamedly crying when I looked up. They both were; scared, touched, and so caring of each other and their little unborn baby. I felt my own tears prickle at the corners of my eyes as I walked them out to our ambulance. I held her hand the whole way to the hospital, crying with her and telling her how God would take care of her. My heart was full, and I was floored that I could love someone so deeply after having known her only a few hours. It took all I had to walk away from her after I endorsed her to the doctor on duty. It was my own version of faith.

And I left her in God's hands.