The latest.

I have been a bad blogger. Really bad. As you can very well see. The thing is the last, I don’t know, 6 months of my life I think is safe to say, has been pretty intricately personal. It’s like a mixture of heart surgery, recovery and then more surgery. I know. Sounds pretty fantastic right? But honestly it has been. I have grown so much since the fall that I can honestly say, I am different.

I always say, “Change is good because it brings growth”.

Those would be my infamous lines to friends in passing or family or whomever needed a bit of a boost but when it came time for me to live by these very words, things were not so fluffy and uplifting. I grappled. I struggled. I moaned and I ached. AND. I. LEARNED. And I developed and I worked muscles out that have not been used in years. Muscles of my heart so to say.

So that’s what I have been doing. Transforming.

I kept thinking though, I need to write. I need to write. And I have been, as much as I could but on a completely different avenue than the blog. As many of you know I have set out to complete a memoir of sorts. A story of me as a girl to present and all the wonderful, dark, nasty and beautiful happenings that came along the way. I just want the world to know that all is never lost. That God, the Jesus that I know and love and passionately pursue and live my life to know and glorify, He is the one that has restored things that should never have been stolen, never had been lost and redeemed a girl that was so far from herself, she barely could say her name without feeling the weight of shame and guilt and loss of life.

Everything has its time though and I am chasing down the dreams I feel He has planted deep within my heart. The dreams only He can lead us to fulfill. On that note, I am so happy to introduce what else I have been working on. Photography.

I love pictures. I love the way they say a million things in their silence with their colors and smiles and shades. I love how they freeze a moment in time and I love the way, if done well, can capture the heart of its subject. That is what I call the art of photography, to capture the subjects heart. And so I am stepping out on the water here. I feel that I have sort of been backed into a corner by God and he is telling me, run or fly. So I am choosing the latter and stepping onto uncharted territory to live my dream.

Well, you have yourselves a delightful, day or  night or morning or whatever it is your a having and keep on keeping on. For it is written,

“I know the plans I have for you says the Lord,

plans to give you a HOPE and a FUTURE”…

 

 

Tempted to make my own fire…

“Behold, all ye that kindle a fire, that compass yourselves about with sparks: walk in the light of your fire, and in the sparks that ye have kindled. This shall ye have of mine hand; ye shall lie down in sorrow” (Isa. 50:11).

What a solemn warning to those who walk in darkness and yet who try to help themselves out into the light. They are represented as kindling a fire, and compassing themselves with sparks. What does this mean?

Why, it means that when we are in darkness the temptation is to find a way without trusting in the Lord and relying upon Him. Instead of letting Him help us out, we try to help ourselves out. We seek the light of nature, and get the advice of our friends. We try the conclusions of our reason, and might almost be tempted to accept a way of deliverance which would not be of God at all.

All these are fires of our own kindling; rushlights that will surely lead us onto the shoals. And God will let us walk in the light of those sparks, but the end will be sorrow.

Beloved, do not try to get out of a dark place, except, in God’s time and in God’s way. The time of trouble is meant to teach you lessons that you sorely need. (this smoked me)

Premature deliverance may frustrate God’s work of grace in your life. Just commit the whole situation to Him. Be willing to abide in darkness so long as you have His presence. Remember that it is better to walk in the dark with God than to walk alone in the light. –The Still Small Voice

Cease meddling with God’s plans and will. You touch anything of His, and you mar the work. You may move the hands of a clock to suit you, but you do not change the time; so you may hurry the unfolding of God’s will, but you harm and do not help the work. You can open a rosebud but you spoil the flower. Leave all to Him. Hands down. Thy will, not mine. –Stephen Merritt

HIS WAY

God bade me go when I would stay
(‘Twas cool within the wood);
I did not know the reason why.
I heard a boulder crashing by
Across the path where I stood.

He bade me stay when I would go;
“Thy will be done,” I said.
They found one day at early dawn,
Across the way I would have gone,
A serpent with a mangled head.

No more I ask the reason why,
Although I may not see
The path ahead, His way I go;
For though I know not, He doth know,
And He will choose safe paths for me.
–The Sunday School Times

Guest entry….

I know, it’s been forever. Anyhow, a friend of mine, who I just happened to have known for almost 13 years decided to sit down and let God get some things straight in his heart. What produced was beautiful. Here it is….

Dear 18 year old me,
Aaron. Oh, Aaron. If I didn’t know your future, I would take this time to scream warnings at the top of my lungs, plead with you to listen to the voices of reason surrounding, and beg you to turn away from the sounds of death and destruction that swallows the space in your ears. But I know, so I will breathe.
You should know though, that while I would not change a thing about what is about to transpire in your life the next eight years or so, I am now aware that you are about to inflict pain on a lot of people. Friends. Family. Acquaintances. And strangers. None of which are deserving. It’s so easy for people to say they “wouldn’t change a thing” or “I wouldn’t be where I am today if it weren’t for…”, but, what about the damage, The collateral damage you’re going to cause? I’m fussing. I digress.
You are about to embark on a despicable journey. You will embody the definition of debauchery. So many people will be hurt. Some physically, some emotionally. All unsolicited. You are going to lose so much. So many of the friends that you cherish right now will die.
Craig, your best friend, is going to get into a head on collision and die. He will be intoxicated on the drugs that you sold him at the time of his death. This will torment you for years to come. Timothy will also die. Dwayne will die. Butch will overdose, and die. Kendall is going to commit suicide in the parking lot at his mothers bar. She will be the one to find him. Mike will also kill himself. So many more people you know will die.
Horrible things are going to happen. Two of your friends are going to murder someone during a fight. A fight that by the Grace of God (you’ll understand this later) you weren’t a part of. One will do 7 years in prison, while the other gets life behind bars. And a family will mourn the death of their teenager forever.
Two more of your close friends will be arrested and convicted for the overdose death of Timothy. They will go away for quite a while.
You will witness acts of violence with your eyes that no man should ever see. This will change you forever.
You will pump countless amounts of poison into Baton Rouge. Poison in the form of narcotics. But I bet you already suspect that that’s where your life is headed. Right now, you feel bulletproof. You’ve already been run over by a truck, shot at, been in countless physical altercations, and none of this has slowed you down. You are stacking money… fast, untaxed, and blood-riddled money. You’ll make drug runs to Mexico, bringing back colorfully packaged death to sell to your peers. You’ll take part in the actual manufacturing of narcotics, affecting countless people that you will never even lay eyes on. Surely, there will be some that will suffer from your hand, or worse, and you will never even know the role that you played.
But what you will know, is that the “sex drugs and rocknroll” will all be crashing down on you at some point. There is going to be years and years of a slow, downward spiral. You are going to slowly crawl onto the other side of the fence. Your partying, your fast lifestyle, it’s going to shift. It’s going to bite you.
All throughout this period, great people in your life will attempt to save you, and throw you undeserving lifelines. They will attempt to motivate you with your potential. Take you to church. Do anything in their power to offer you alternatives to your choices. You will refuse. You’re going to hear Gods word, and actually be touched by his tangible Spirit, YET you’re going to ignore it, and go back to the streets. This is where your life changes drastically. This is when you become Aaron, the full blown junkie. You are going to begin a journey to near death in the form of intravenous drug use. And it’s going to be ugly. Robbing people, burglarizing homes, stealing from your family, even stealing from your own nephew. (I’m going to breathe again, instead of throwing expletives at you aggressively right now)
You’re going to be caught doing criminal activity, and be sent to East Baton Rouge Parish Prison. You will then be sent to a place that will save your life. The Home of Grace. How appropriate. That will be the place that you find God, again, and this time you will not refuse. This is when you learn about that aforementioned Grace thing. Mercy poured out. Guilt melted away. It’s gorgeous. And its forever.
Your struggles won’t completely end there, but you will never lose sight of who you are and what God has called you to be. Don’t I wish your struggles end there. But by that time, you will be able to withstand anything.

On a brighter note, you will do some amazing things! You will meet and befriend some amazing people. Life long friends. You will shed some old friendships, while rekindling others. You will grow close to people that you are beginning to vigorously push away. Mom. Dad. & Your brother.
You will see God move in peoples lives in ways that you would laugh at in disbelief if I told you now. I’ll save these gems for you as a surprise.
Your heart, it will break. And it will mend. And it will break again. And it will be ok. You are going to be prepared for loss, and for suffering. And your life will go on. You will lose another friend. A friend that never played with fire. A friend that never tempted fate. A friend deserving of a million lifetimes. A friend named Jordan. You won’t understand why this isn’t such a tragedy until you get to God, and His Word. So don’t worry, Jordans story will touch the masses, and your faith in his salvation will soothe your broken heart.
God is going to work through you to help others. Did you hear me: HELP others! I know, it’s weird. You’ll be addicted to this as well. And that will be ok. It will be a testimony of what God can do to and with people, people from all walks of life. Even people that once hurt people. You know how you think you’re this big bad dope dealer right now? Well, You will actually one day be employed at a chemical dependency treatment center, helping others to get out of their addictions and work towards a new positive way of life. Crazy, right?! A lot of surreal things like that are going to occur in your late 20′s. Bask in them. You’re going to get plugged in at a great church, and actually work for them at some point, helping victims of violence at their inner city ministry! Victims of violence?! I know, I know. Wow. “for such a time as this”…you’ll understand the reference later on.
You will be misunderstood by a lot of the “religious”. Don’t worry about all that. You focus on you, and your walk with God, and let the chips fall where they may. Trust me. This too will be ok. And don’t be freaked out by all this “God-talk”. It won’t be strange to you eventually.
There is so many questions I have for the 40 year old “us”. Who will I marry? How many kids? What city is God going to have me doing His social work? Are my parents still around? Is Nathan Robert a pastor at his own gigantic church yet? And things of the like.
But what I can tell you (and me) is that the troubles of today are sufficient, and the tomorrows will come, and you will deal with the days as they jump on your back. And it will all be ok. Most will glimmer, some will burn. But, all will count. Never forget that.
Oh, and one last thing,
I love you. I do! You don’t love yourself right now. You don’t even believe anyone can truly love you. But they do. You’ll see. I Promise.
You will be Found. To God be the Glory.

Bits & Pieces: 1

I am going to attempt an ONLY fruit and veggie diet for 28 days. I know, pray for me. I figured its a good way to stop my hot chocolate in the morning addiction I have absorbed since the holidays.

 

I came up with a genius idea for some internet guru: what if you could take a picture with your phone and send it to a site that could give you its full description, history, uses, etc… I was staring at this drink can and wandering what the heck it was and where it was from… I’ll take royalties.

 

I was writing a book until sometime in Novemeber when it overwhelmed me to the point of not looking back since. I plan on typing again on the 11th of January when I get back from out of town.

 

Speaking of out of town, I am leaving tomorrow AM for San Antonio for a friend of mine’s wedding. Highlights will be a 8 hour car ride with a best friend, seeing a long lost sister that I met in Africa and have fallen more in love with since we left, wedding cake and the Alamo.

 

My birthday is January 9th. I do not know whether to cry or blush. I always said, “age is just a number” but that was when I was not so close to the big 3 zero.

 

I was intrigued by Lee Michaels marketing this year and last year as well. They went with the “Every Box Has a Story” number and I was hooked. This year they said, “Great Things Come In Small Packages”. I truly grasped that theme when I sat at dinner with close friends and shared stories with them, had a quiet evening with my older sister whom lives in California and came in for the holiday, received a surprise gift from a friend that was a bracelet I wanted to buy but my budget would not allow.

 

Peppermint syrup in coffee is close to heaven on earth for me.

 

I have been working at a yoga studio since December and love getting to workout for free.

 

Found out that Hope is vital for my livelihood.

 

3rd year in a row I went to the play a Christmas Carol. I hope every Christmas holiday has that story in it for me. The part that smoked me this year was Marley telling about the chains he collected through his years on earth. Makes me want to evaluate.

 

I really think grocery carts, some people say buggies, should have drink holders.

 

My word for 2011 is EXPECT. God told me not expect x, y, or z but to EXPECT Him because He is bigger, grander and more wonderful than anything I can think or imagine.

I want my life to be given to Him but I keep insisting some things being my way.

“God can do more with your palm open than with your grip closed”.

I know that so many times I want things “my way”. Not even on purpose, but most of the time on purpose. I know that God wants the contrary but I can’t seem to stomach that so I continue to hold onto the things I know He is asking me to release from my grip.

I hate that death grip but I know it’s what makes me feel secure (even if it is false). I like to feel that safety of those wonderful plans, purposes, and people just the way I like them in my world. But that is not how it works- AT ALL.

I began to notice this when all that I thought was right began to be thwart and frustration was more prevalent that peace and joy. But I suppose some people live in this constant state of discontentment and know no better. But for me, I do, I know that life is not supposed to be one frustration after another and even if frustrtations do come, there is peace in them if God is in the midst.

The other week however, He was not in the midst, no peace was, no joy was, nothing. It was all Natalie which is usually a big anxious mess. When it came time to pray in my Connect Group one of the girls mentioned letting go of all the “plans, ideas and problems” that we are holding on to and really giving them to God to have HIS WAY.

I laughed as I thought, “heck that’s my whole life I would have to hand over to Him”. And so I did. And again, today, I am handing my life over to Him. No matter what it means to my plans, heart, ideas, future, momentarily happiness/comfortableness. It’s all His.

Lord help me let You have my ENTIRE life.

“Where is my Hope? My Hope is only found in You O Lord” Psalms 39:7

The brilliance of Yeats and Eldridge

If I make the lashes dark
And the eyes more bright
And the lips more scarlet,
Or ask if all be right
From mirror after mirror
No vanity’s displayed:
I’m looking for the face I had
Before the world was made.
(“Before the World Was Made” from the poem “A Woman Young and Old”)

Yes, that’s it. When we take a second glance in the mirror, when you pause to look again at a photograph, we are looking for a glory you know you were meant to have, if only because you know you long to have it. You remember faintly that you were once more than what you have become. Your story didn’t start with sin, and thank God, it does not end with sin. It ends with glory restored: “Those he justified, he also glorified” (Rom. 8:30). And “in the meantime,” you have been transformed, and you are being transformed. You’ve been given a new heart. Now God is restoring your glory. He is bringing you fully alive. Because the glory of God is you fully alive.

“Well, then, if this is all true, why don’t I see it?” Precisely. Exactly. Now we are reaching my point. The fact that you do not see your good heart and your glory is only proof of how effective the assault has been. We don’t see ourselves clearly.

(Waking the Dead , 78-79)

Blink.

It was Tuesday. I had just left the Children’s Cup office in Prarieville. I had a meeting with the director, Ben Rodgers, about a television spot I would be filling in for him this coming week on Channel 9 about the Kids Christmas Parties we throw in Swaziland. We know a gal that works for Channel 9 from Healing Place and she is doing a mini interview to push the Christmas Parties for awareness and funds support. Ben and his family will be in Disney World and he asked me to do the broadcast because he and his brother-in-law, who would normally cover such things, will be out of pocket. I obliged for 2 reasons. The first is I never tell Ben “no”. Not for the reasons that I tell other people “no” but because he is the single most incredible man I know (in the most little sister, love him and his family like their my very own flesh and blood loving way). Secondly because I find it is in the most uncomfortable moments that we grow in life so I decided to be uncomfortable for a couple of days and stretch myself.

I had a great meeting with him. He is one of those people that I can talk about the broadest of ideas with- global issues, current affairs that are stemming from personal agendas, individuals soul repairing, and a hundred of others. He will run off on tangents of poverty stricken areas of the world and our small part in it or entertain me with the various situations he is struggling with God through and grappling with Him to believe for which always propels me in a new, brighter direction by the end of the whole scene. I love him for that and a thousand many more things.

I was leaving out the driveway when I saw a gal named Julie that I love very much as well. She owns her own landscaping business and hires recovering drug and alcohol addicts to work for her. I met Julie at a Homeless Breakfast Outreach (at Healing Place) and she stole my heart. She is Italian which might be one of the reasons I love her but she also challenges me in ways I rarely find in most other people. She has zeal for life and serves others in a way completely unmatched by anyone I know. She spurs me to be my best and give my all, which I very rarely do in every situation and she most certainly does with every breath. I took my sandals off and ran through the yard to see her. (You can call me a hippie at this point) She laughed and started telling me how she was tired and barely got any sleep the night before and I just beamed from ear to ear and listened like a towel collecting water- soaking up my every second with her.

To my surprise I turned to see Susan and Kayla approaching us. They had driven up the drive and saw me frolicking through the yard to see Julie. They were as ecstatic to see me as I was to see Julie and we all laughed at how much joy was flowing through our conversation and moment with one another. “A little bit of sunshine to brighten my day” Susan said to me as she twirled her leg back and forth the way she does in excitement. She really has no clue how she does the very same to me but we play a great game of trying to express this mutual affection for one another; which always makes for a great argument of who loves who more.

We reveled in the moment, took some pictures since I had my friends most wonderful camera in my car and then said our goodbyes. In a long, lingering sort of way. I was off to the next spot. My day being scheduled down to the minutes these days, I was off to drop my friends camera back off to her at the church and then head to get some writing done at the coffee shop.

I called Leugh to come and meet me when I hurriedly pulled up to the Arena. I sat my computer on the table and put all the pictures I took on her camera onto my computer. We chatted about what we were both doing for Thanksgiving. Her going to her families lunch and I going with my grandparents to Alexandria, population 15 with a Waffle House in the next town and possibly a Kmart if you keep driving through to the next one. It is a terrible place but it is for the family and its the holidays and all. I hugged her bye and that is when I started heading out the door to the next spot.

I was hastily walking past the chairs in the Arena, all strategically and meticulously placed in their correct spots. This familiar song was playing in the background and I heard the lyrics saying,

“slow down… slow, down…

It happens in a blink, it happens in a blink

and I do not want to miss a second more of this.”

I almost could not take my breath in right. I felt so convicted, so naked before the Truth of the words. Like a man from some audience pointing his finger at me and saying, “hey you, I am talking to you, can you hear me? SLOW DOWN”.

Like a child being caught for running by the pool, I did just that. I literally slowed down my pace, to half the speed I was going. I looked over my right shoulder to the clock by the soundboard and it read 11.23.2010 space 1:43:43. I looked at the clock in just the knick of time to see it read 1:43 and in a second it clicked to 1:44 then 1:45. (You know my story of 1:43). I almost fell over. My whole self became aware that I was not in a rush at all. In fact, why was I hustling to get out of this moment and into the next one anyway? I was fully aware that the only place I needed to be was right where I was right now. It was a beautiful moment and I let myself take it fully in, knowing that in an instant it was going to be the past. I cherished that whisper of 1:43 and realized that indeed my Father can talk to the me at any point in a thousand ways in every moment of my day.

I got into my car with my mind mulling it all over. I turned the radio down to silence and I repeated the song in my head over and over….

“Slow down, slow down…

Before today becomes our yesterday”

“It happens in a blink, it happens in a blink”

I realized I have this awful complex of not enjoying my moments and of wanting to be places I am not and of wanting to not be places I am because I think I need to be in other places.

It is terrible. Like when I was in high school and wanted to be in college and then in college I wanted to be in a job and then I was in School of Ministry at Healing Place and I thought I needed to be doing something different with my life and then when I lived in Swaziland and I would see some Indian person walking by and wanted to be in India instead of on the mission field right where my feet were planted in that moment., that season. Then getting back to America and wanting to be back in Africa and then working in Donaldsonville and wanting to be back in Africa. And on and on. See! Where’s the dang contentment? Where’s the fulfillment in where I am RIGHT NOW, with WHO I am with and DOING what it is that He is leading me to DO right NOW?

I must be missing a thousand moments wanting to be in one that does not exist.

Like this book I am writing for instance. One would think I am thrilled. That I am overflowing with Joy and barely able to sleep at night because I am writing a book of my life and the story of God that has been laced through my entire being day in and day out for the last 28 years but noooooooooo, I want to be a ninny and be thwarted with why I am doing this and others are doing that and how I feel less than because it all looks so different. BULL! Since when is what God tells me to do supposed to be cleared through the rest of the population. And since when has what He commissioned me to do not been “good enough”. One would think that if she has a season to do what makes her come alive most (writing) then she would just be happy as a fat kid with cake. But nooooooo, discontentment wants to rule.

I wonder what makes me this delusional person that is misguided by her ideals and lacking sight of what’s real? (not abiding in His presence) That very real ideal that is perfect for her right now- is the NOW that is right where she is, not a step forward or back or to the left or to the right but right here and now, in this place in time- that is the perfection that she has been searching for.

I do not want to miss ANY moment just because I am itching for something, anxious or misguided by the inclinations of others. What a terrible thing, to miss the moments He has for you because of wanting what others plan for you or what you feel is best for you- disregarding what is right in front of you.

Lord I pray that you would INGRAIN THIS INTO MY VERY BEING. TATTOO IT ON MY HEART. TO JUST BE WITH YOU NOW.

SELAH!

Goodness.

Wait, patiently wait,

God is never late;

Thy budding plans are in Thy Father’s holding,

And only wait His grand divine unfolding.

Then wait, wait,

Patiently wait.

Trust, hopefully trust,

That God will adjust

Thy tangled life; and from its dark concealings,

Will bring His will, in all its bright revealings.

Then trust, trust,

Hopefully trust.

Rest, peacefully rest

On Thy Saviors breast;

Breathe in His ear they sacred high ambition,

And He will bring in forth in blest fruition.

Then rest, rest, Peacefully rest.

to Know Him.

Dr. Joseph Parker once said: “If we do not get back to visions, peeps into heaven, consciousness of the higher glory and the larger life, we shall lose our religion; our altar will become a bare stone, unblessed by visitant from Heaven.” Here is the world’s largest need today- men whom have seen their Lord

From Lost Art of Meditation

I am an avid supporter of the old get on your face and seek God till you get enough in your soul to move forward. However just because I am a supporter does not always means that I doer, sort of like being a Christian. There are thousands to millions of people that call themselves Christians and never open a Bible or walk through church doors even though those very things add an extra to life that can not be substituted. However you never meet sports fans that never go to their teams events or at least watch them do you? Or music fanatics that never go to see their favorite acts while they pass through the local bar scene? But this is not my point here at all.

My thought is this, how is a relationship developed, strengthened and ultimately, held together without continually being reinforced?

Quality times with one another, walking in the park together, drinking coffee with one another. Sharing moments with one another most certainly is high on that list I would assume but there are others ways as well. To Joseph Parker, as stated above, it is in those uniquely intimate moments that cultivates a bond of love that is unwavering and rich to the full. Not some passerby moment in which glances are exchanged and laughs shared, although good, but barely something to build something lasting upon. Would you not agree?

I think of my moments with God and wander how to make them more this way, more intense and wholehearted. It is terrible that I have to schedule in times with Him in the midst of hustle and bustle but it is indeed the way it has always been through the centuries and even more so in our present day. In addition I find it is these intimate moments in which we see and hear things that would otherwise be missed and there again, fallen by the waist side, and just pushed to the side as what other people receive from Him, not me. “That is what the pastor is for or that is only for those people who live in caves to experience God that way” I could hear a justifying voice say.

I have had these precious and sacred times and know certainly that without them, my heart would be less and my soul unsatisfied. It’s a hard thing to explain to a person who feels he has everything he needs, materially speaking that is, which does suit ones soul well but leaves it still void of a rich whole fullness that is impossible to describe unless one is familiar with metaphors and analogies that paint pictures of God’s secret spiritual insight.

I am glad I know my need. I am glad I have a healthy realization that I can not do it on my own, I was not designed to at that. I have known my need for years now. I remmeber being reckless and rebelling at the ages of my young adult life and seeking my hearts fill on all that came across my path. I knew then what I remind myself of often, “that nothing in this world can satisfy a person that was made for another world.” We were made for Eden, not America, not Africa, not Australia- for Paradise lost. Like my dear CS so finely says,

“If you find in yourself a desire in which nothing in this world satisfies, the probable explanation is you were made for another world”.

It is written that “eternity is placed in our hearts” and I believe I was graced with a hunger then that allowed me to search for something eternal. God chases us down and then He allows us to engage in getting to know Him. That is the essence of relationship is it not? To know one another from the inside out. The deepest parts of Him to the deepest parts of you.

No need to worry, He only gives us as much as we can handle. All the Wonder and Glory that we only can take away bite size pieces of, for the whole is too grand, too complex and magnificence.

Dreaming.

I have been spending an inordinate amount of time thinking about dreaming.

I think about the ones I feel only God Himself could have conjured up in this heart of mine. Things grander and livelier than I could dare to imagine. I have more than a handful of times been told that I will work with children. This alone surprises me because I have yet to spend much time with them in any season of my life. Even people whom I highly regard have told me my work will be with the poor and with children. Over and over again.

I dream about that day when I see what has been told come to life. Once when I first began to live this life of mine with God as my Guide I dreamed of children all around me. Small ones, about the age of 3 to 9. All of them surrounding me as I walked through the sea of faces. They were in love with me and I with them. I remember seeing a large cross pass in front of my view and then an overflow of faces- some tan, some black, some white. I remember distinctly the one I passed close to had a scar on his head. I touched it as I kept my pace with the crowd.

I dreamed that dream years ago.

And as I danced and sang a song with all my might the other day, I saw again those very faces, those individually chosen and called by name faces.

As my eyes welled up with tears I remembered that dream that I dreamed so long ago. And thanked God with a heart that was full to overflow. That He did indeed still dream that dream for me even though I have forgotten it in the midst of the by and by, and the go, go, go.

Look around you and see,for all your children will come back to you.
As surely as I live,” says the Lord,
“they will be like jewels or bridal ornaments for you to display.

Isaiah 49

I have learned that even though a dream tarries, you wait on it. This piece of Scripture on waiting is one of the many that I refer to in this time of my life. I wait so patiently to see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the Living and the longer I wait the more I see of many who are waiting with me.

Waiting for the right spouses, waiting for their husband to leave alcohol alone, waiting to fall in love with their spouse again, waiting for an answer, waiting for an answer to come to fruition. Waiting for health, waiting for a season to come, for a season to go, waiting for the next step or maybe any step, maybe just waiting to not be waiting.

I long to see the dreams that we all dream to come alive. I yearn within me to see those passionate substances in our hearts come find there place in this world of ours. To birth and grow and share and love and spread and be.

The challenge to me has been to not lose Hope in the wait. In Psalms 39:7 David puts it perfectly as he is speaking out of his woes,

“O Lord, where will I put my Hope,

My Hope is only in you my God”.

What I know now that even if the times are grim, the politics are dirty, the sky might be grey and the heaviness might have followed you into another day, I say, when all else seems frivolous to Hope in, put your Hope in Him alone and you will certainly be sealed with all that you need.

All around us we observe a pregnant creation. The difficult times of pain throughout the world are simply birth pangs. But it’s not only around us; it’s within us. The Spirit of God is arousing us within. We’re also feeling the birth pangs. These sterile and barren bodies of ours are yearning for full deliverance. That is why waiting does not diminish us, any more than waiting diminishes a pregnant mother. We are enlarged by the waiting. We, of course, don’t see what is enlarging us. But the longer we wait, the larger we become, and the more joyful our expectancy.

Romans 8- the Message

Holy Smokes

I think I just threw up. I looked at my blog and saw that it had been three days over a month since I wrote anything.

What a load of garbage. And I call myself a writer. Ha! Someone should fire me! Haha, that’s the beauty of writing, you are your own boss and frankly I like myself too much to let myself go right now.

Truly though I just feel like I need to write something, anything to us over from this dry spell.

A close friend of mine whom I do not get together with enough always sees me and says, “tell me everything” and since I am way literal and always overwhelmed with the large amount of info that I could spill that has occurred from point A to point B- she just looks at me and says, “just start with the present” and so that is what I will do now… the present…

I am writing a small project. I have read studies lately that say when you speak about things and yet do not “do” them, they tend to never materialize. So I have been saying that I wanted to write all these stories about all of what God is doing in so many lives but what I was missing was that God wanted me to write “my story” first before anything else happened.

You can tell how excited I am right?

First off it took me over 6 months to even stomach the idea of this being a possibility. Lots of people know lots of parts of my story but only a handful know every bit of it and that is what makes me want to hurl again, for the second time on this blog entry.

Since my last entry God had to do some speaking or maybe some would call it “yelling” to get His point across that this was indeed a great idea, to tell my whole story and all. I have since complied and have been working diligently at the piece of work since. I started it on the last week of August at exactly 11:43 am- if any of you know me, you know how uncanny it was that at exactly 11:43 I opened and labeled the Word doc. for my story to be written.

I have this thing with 143 you see. Instead of my mom and dad writing out “I Love You” they would just sign their notes 143 (I=1 letter, Love=4 letters, You=3 letters) So I have had this fascisnation with 143. I love it. It makes me think of mom and dad and it makes my heart warm and fuzzy and all those wonderful things. As if that is not enough though, God goes and LOVESSSSS the heck out of me in 2009 and starts pointing out the time to me every time it was 10:43, 12:43, 1:43 and so on and so forth. Trust me it was obvious. When I first started catching it I would be like, Whoa! 143, thanks Dad, that is nice to see. But after weeks to months of it I was like I GET IT… Well, I guess I did not get it because He kept showing me and showing me and showing me. So that’s the story of 143.

And so after almost 1 year of Him teaching me the value of Story and addressing the idea of storytelling as an art and valluable resource I was like, I get it!!! I will write my story!!! And so that is what I have been focusing the past month or so.

Also, my grant ended at the end of September and I have to say that as much as I thought there would be something waiting for me the day after that ended, nothing was and the only thing I do keep hearing is “write, write, write”. So I am focusing on that while I wait for Him to open another door or tell me another step to take. I am completely content in this process however which is so not my temperament at all but have chalked it up to, “I don’t want to just run out and do something because I am anxious, I want to be effective and obedient and right now at this point in time I know He is telling me to WRITE!

 

Desire. By John Eldridge

The longing for life within us seems incongruent with the life we find around us.

What is available seems at times close to what we want, but never quite a fit. We must journey to find the life we prize. And the guide we have been given is the desire set deep within, the desire we often overlook, or mistake for something else or even choose to ignore.

The greatest human tragedy is simply to give up the search.

There is nothing of greater importance than the life of our deep heart. To lose heart is to lose everything. And if we are to bring our hearts along in our life’s journey, we simply must not, we cannot abandon this desire. And so Gerald May writes,

“There is a desire within each of us, in the deep center of ourselves that we call our heart. We were born with it, it is never completely satisfied, and it never dies. We are often unaware of it, but it is always awake? Our true identity, our reason for being, is to be found in this desire.”

My story lately.

I have heard it said that, “Nothing happens unless first we dream.” Lately I have been asking, “Do my dreams merge with God’s desires and how do I know they are one in the same? Is the answer to just start walking in some direction?” The results seem to be one of two options, to strike gold or to strike out. What I have learned is they are both essential to the journey and thus should not be viewed as end points but as mile markers.

I have been on several missions’ trips to Africa in my 28 years but in May of 2009 a dream was planted deep within my heart. I was with a team from Healing Place Church from Louisiana and we were on a 2 week stint to help assist at a pastor’s conference for our church campus in Swaziland.

I was in the kitchen brewing my 100^th cup of tea for the day when in walks Dudu- a precious 40 something that resembles Jesus in a skirt. She has a brilliant smile that reaches both ears and at first glance you would never guess she lives in a mud hut and is living with HIV and tuberculosis. By day she sells crafts at the local market and in the eve she is a permanent fixture at the church. On a good day she makes 20 Rands which is equivalent to 2.5 US dollars.

She walks to the corner of the room and starts to cram a juice box into her purse that came with her volunteer lunch. I said, “Dudu what are you doing?” She looked at me with those large brown eyes and said in her sweet Siswati accent, “Awe Natalie, when I receive something, I like to think of my children. See they go to bed at night and their bellies are so empty they cry in pain.”

In a matter of seconds I was immediately aware of the constant abundance that cushioned my entire life. Starvation and poverty was in the life of a friend and not just some number on a page. Dudus’ story did more than move me, it changed everything in me in a moment.

I walked back into the sanctuary but my mind was still in the kitchen. Pastor Ben was giving a debrief talk to the teams. I remember sitting as far back in that room possible and I heard him say so clearly, “Now that you have seen all this in Africa you are responsible. You are responsible to be their voice. What are you going to do?”

Life could no longer stay the same. I knew I had to be a voice. I knew stories like Dudus’ needed to be heard and needed a solution. How could lives be changed if their stories could not be heard? I went back to the States wanting to generate change for individual stories.

Within days one thing after another pertaining to story began to unfold. I heard about it from teachings, on the radio, in my sleep. The more I prayed about it the more creativity arose and the more confirmations appeared. It was as if a symphony was warming up, everything was random and sporadic, but I just knew God was about to step up and start the show.

The idea of a non-profit seemed like the next step. I had made a t-shirt for myself with the Scripture Isaiah 61:3, “I will give them a crown of beauty for ashes, a joyous blessing instead of mourning.” It’s God’s promise for my story. Everyone asked me where they could get one so I made a batch to sell and raised funds for a mission trip. I figured the non-profit could do the same, we could raise awareness and funds through storytelling, and we could help write a better ending for stories like Dudus’.

The dream began to morph. Not only did I think the story projects were essential but I could not get away from the idea of having a collection of stories for people to see and read. In a world inundated with bad news I wanted to share the contrary, the good news. Being that I am not business savvy the non-profit seemed daunting. As confirmations came so did fear. I started wondering if the pieces would even fit together, maybe they were just for a shelf or worse of all, what if they were only part of my imagination and my dream and not Gods’ desires at all.

Months faded into the fall of 2009. You might as well call it stars aligning when I ran into my lead pastor, whom I highly admire since the passing of my own father. When he asked about my life I told him that I could not shake this idea of telling the stories of God in individual lives. He immediately invited me to go and represent our church at a seminar in Chicago called Story.

Although it was more waiting I felt that God orchestrated the whole meeting and wonderful gift so I prayed for patience on the birthing of the dream. The conference was stunning. It broadened my scope for telling the greatest story ever written and challenged me to chase down the dreams that were making this heart of mine beat. I knew without a doubt that I was supposed to be writing the story of God in this moment of history.

Moving forward was not optional it was imperative. I gave God an ultimatum. I said unless He stopped me, the next week I was going to set up the non-profit. Something happened after I spoke those words however. He stopped me.

I was sitting in a staff meeting the next day and pastor challenged us to not leave Jesus behind like His parents did in Luke 4 at the Temple. After 3 days of prayer and fasting about not leaving Jesus out of this story pertaining to the dream and non-profit, I went to a church service. At the end I ran straight into my pastor in a room of five people. I let my passion guide my words and told him I felt led to set up the non-profit as soon as possible. With little to no hesitation he requested a 1-page proposal and a meeting to discuss it at length.

Waiting for the meeting seemed the natural thing to do since I had told God the ultimatum and all. I plowed away at the dream. I was meeting with people, listening to their stories, writing, even raising funds for a story in Africa that was in desperate need of housing. This process could only be paralleled to the speed of molasses.

I was desperate to see the dream alive but could not get past the whole waiting bit, which seemed to be God anyhow. If the dream was to be birthed from my church, the stories closest to me, then why was it so hard to gain an inch of ground? What was it supposed to look like anyway? I wanted to put my own website together but then I had no audience. At moments I thought the whole bit was a mirage. I would get close to something and then it all seemed to fade into thin air and I would start off in the direction of another blur of a vision.

The one thing that remained were the stories. They were real and concrete. They kept me grounded. I was meeting with people that overcame life-controlling addictions. I listened to women that won against eating disorders that had grossly blinded their entire lives. I met gentlemen that lost their wives to cancer, with families that almost fell apart but by God’s strength managed to survive even the darkest of days. Across the board I was seeing living, breathing proof that God could take the most incredibly despairing stories and bring life again.

My meeting with pastor finally came in Feb. 2010. The unimaginable happened. He offered for me to return back to Africa to live. More resistance. Just when I was thinking the dream was possibly being written into the fabric of our church, I was asked to move to another country. The meeting I had invested all my hopes in crumbled in a matter of seconds.

I learned a valuable lesson that day. My hope was to be in God alone and in what He was speaking to my heart. The meeting was not a total wash. I told pastor my heart was still to tell the stories of the people and until God told me other wise, it was the call I was answering. He said we could meet again with other pastors to see how we could better implement this storytelling idea within our church.

So now, a year and 4 months later, I have 13 stories of God’s undeniable touch on individual lives and several stories footage for video production. Also a family in Africa now has a cinder block house because I took their story, put it on a t-shirt and asked people to be a part of the solution. 3,500 dollars was raised through t-shirts.

After over a year of waiting, forging through fears, facing resistance and being led to a greater understanding of who I am in Christ and not by what I do for Him, I am daring to chase a dream into reality. At the end of September my current ministry position on a grant for abstinence will run out. My possibility is to take a part-time job to be able to pursue the desires God has written on my heart, storytelling.

His handwriting is clear and precise but I have not a clue as to the end result and thus fears and uncertainty still rise up. I am on uncharted territory and Lord knows I like my road maps. I will have to give up all logical plans and trust this desire that is resounding from every corner of my life. This is why I want to be in Portland in September. I want to tell the stories of God in individual lives but I want to tell them unlike they have ever been heard.

As Eugene Peterson said in his intro to the Book of Exodus in the Message Bible “It is significant that God does not present us with salvation in the form of an abstract truth, or a precise definition or a catchy slogan but as story.”

I want to change the world through telling our stories.

______________________________________

This post is for a contest that Don Miller is offering.  He is hosting a seminar at the end of September for all things story related. If you love to write and want to live a better story and enable others around you to do the same, you might consider this investment. For the details of the event look here….

www.donmilleris.com/conference

And for information on the contest you can watch this…

Two ways of deriving passion

“Don’t tell men to go into the woods,

Chop down trees, make lumber and build ships.

Don’t do that.

Instead tell them stories of the sea.

Then you capture their heart and guess what?

They will deeply desire to see the sea

and thus, go to the woods, make lumber and build ships.”

– Eldridge, Ransomed Heart Ministries

Hope in the Wait.

“For we through the Spirit by faith wait for the hope of righteousness” Galatians 5:5

There are times when things look really dark to me- so dark that I have to wait even for hope. It is bad enough to wait “in” hope, to see no glimmer of a prospect and yet refuse to despair; to have nothing but night before the casement and yet to keep the casement open for possible stars; to have a vacant place in my heart and yet to allow that plave to be filled by no inferior presence- that is the grandest patience in the universe. It is Job in the tempest; it is Abraham on the road to Moriah; it is Moses in the desert of Midian; it is the Son of Man in the Garden of Gethsemane.

There is no patience so hard as that which “endures” as seeing him who is invisible, it is the waiting for hope.

Thou hast made waiting beautiful; Thou hast made patience divine. Thou hast taught us that the Father’s will may be received just because it is His will. Thou hast revealed to us that a soul may see nothing but sorrow in the cup and yet may refuse to let it go, convinced that the eye of the Father sees further than its own.

Give me this Divine power of Thine, the power of Gethsemane. Give me the power to wait for hope itself, to look out from the casement where there are no stars. Give me the power, when there are no stars. Give me the power, when the very joy that was set before me is gone, to stand unconquered amid the night, and say, “To the eye of my Father it is perhaps shining still.” I shall reach the climax of strength when I have learned to wait for hope. _George Matheson

Strive to be one of those- so few- who walk the earth with ever-present consciousness- all mornings, middays, star -times- that the unknown which men call heaven is “close behind the visible scene of things.”

______

This comes from a devotional I basically live by called, Stream in the Desert. It was written in the early 19th century and has since been revised and editted, like any great work, and seems to have made its way into the deepest part of my heart- the cherished portion.

Out of all days to read this particular day, this one was the one that I needed it most. Although life seems so decent and wonderful at times, never doubt that within every persons heart lies wanting and questions that stem from every sort. Today God has comforted me in knowing that He knows even when I can’t seem to see the Light, the star light that is.

Resistance in our seasons.

Professionals vs Amateurs _War of Art (pg 62)

A spring artists defeated by Resistance share one trait. They all think like amateurs. They have not yet turned pro.

The moment an artist turns pro is as epochal as the birth of his first child. With one stroke, everything changes. I can state absotlutely that the term of my life can be divided into two parts; before turning pro, and after.

To be clear: When I say professional, I don’t mean doctors and lawyers, those of the “professions.” I mean the Professional as an “ideal.” The Professional in contrast to the amateur. Consider the differences.

The amateur plays for fun. The professional plays for keeps.

To the amateur, the game is avocation. To the pro it’s his vocation.

The amateur plays part-time, the professional full-time.

The amateur is a weekend warrior. The professional is there seven days a week.

The word amateur comes from the Latin root meaning “to love.” The conventional interpretation is that the amateur pursues his calling out of love, while the pro does it for money. Not the way I see it. In my view, the amateur does not love the game enough. If he did, he would not pursue it as a sideline, distinct from his “real” vocation.

The professional loves it so much he dedicated his life to it. He committs full-time.

That’s what I mean when I say turning pro.

Resistance hates it when we turn pro.

What a wake up call! I feel drawn to be the professional and all the while I have the tendencies of the amateur.

I believe that seasons of life are distinct, adding value, molding character and play a defining role in our stories. Saying that, this particular season of waiting has made my mental state step up and fight back against some pretty lofty lies. I find that the more I seek, the more I do find- Truth that is, peace and goodness you see. So for the past weeks to months I have had no other choice but to seek, it was how I have flourished in a season of waiting, in the midst of the scenery that I wish to have changed months ago.

Your too serious Natalie is what I know some of you have to be thinking. Ha! Maybe so. But the fact is, there is a real Enemy out there who would love more than anything to take the ground any one of us have gained and do one of those linebacker assaults to keep us from moving a toes’ legnth forward.

That’s why I love this book by Pressfield. He is familiar with Resistance. He knows what it is like to live a life that has seasons heavy with the weight of its’ body. He knows that to be moving forward means strengthening all that is within us, around us and touching us to prove to Resistance that we do indeed mean business.

WY: Days 5-9

Lander- no one on God’s green earth could have convinced me that Lander would be worth my second thought. No one! Not even the president of Lander. It has that sort of name that propels me to boredom immediately. Here in Wyoming the state is known for being the least populated with about a handful of towns sparsely strewn between the desert, mountainous backdrops. Lander is one of those fortunate cities with a population of around 7,000.

Krissy and I had been on the road about 4 hours before we pulled into this scanty make of a town. And from the past 2 towns that we had just driven through that topped the charts with a population of less than 40, I was barely hopeful that Lander would satisfy any sort of adventure seeking spirit that was running through our bones.

As we drove in, judging the old book by its cover we laughed as we saw the 1880s gleam from every corner. At first sight of our hotel, the RodeWay Inn, I almost turned the car around for the comforts of Cheyenne a good 4 hours backwards. Onward we drove though, all 16 blocks of town. After our rendezvous we decided to settle in the room and then head to the coffee shop that was said to host the many outdoor enthusiasts that attended the local outdoor training school, Nols.

FolkLore was the name of the spot. The word itself invoking mystery and my favorite, “story”.

The name added western zest to the place and invited us in with every piece of eclectic decor. I realized we had just made the best decision of the entire day by walking through those doors. Greeted by Daniel, a local, whom was the barista, we ordered our decaf and headed to the couch. Krissy and I soaked up that place like a sponge to water.

This “selah” was in addition to our many other reflection spots about, dreaming and life and passion and all those things that make your day worth living. As we sat across from one another and exchanged thoughts and ideas that would otherwise be considered silly and unattainable, I realized that life is more than I had been making of it. In WY, all things seemed attainable, all my dreams seemed right around the bend. The open ended skyline combined with inescapable beauty was inspiring for anyone who had breath and brought life into perspective with every dawns’ break. And for Krissy and I it awakened something deep down inside of us both, something that had long been asleep, maybe even not alive at all.

After the shop we headed over to Gannet Grill which was recommended for their amazing salads and pizza. Little did we know what surprises were waiting for us there. As we waited for our order I let my eyes wander around the cabin sort of building and land on the various western decorations that were all strewn about. A huge Wyoming sign was nestled in the corner of the room and pictures from the original town square were on the wall behind me. Dinner came and conversation ceased.

The table next to us had caught my eye upon our entry. One gal with red hair that was as long as it was beautiful was journaling. And her friend, whom was a brunette seemed to know a lot of the people in the place cause she moved from one conversation to the next. I wanted to meet them. The gal writing was intiguing and the way they conversated with one another, I could tell they had adventure pumping their blood.

“Hi”. I said as I heard their talking pause. They both looked over in a startled way. “Hi” I said again. “I just wanted to meet y’all, are you from here?”

And that is when destiny entered the moment.

We sat in those chairs for the next 2 hours exchanging stories and tales of life. Madison, the red head was 20 yrs old. She was so mature for her age with a desire for art history and heart for ranching in WY, she quickly stole Krissy’s and I heart. Michelle was the brunette. She was almost finished law school and about to start practicing when her lack of contentment and zeal for ranching life propelled her to do something her family and friends never deemed appropriate, she left the firm she was working at and started looking for jobs in ranching. They chased their dreams all the way to WY.

So the two gals found the same ad on Craigslist and had accepted the job on the ranch just a little over a month ago.

We exchanged numbers and made a plan to meet again tomorrow for a tour of the ranch. We went back to our hotel inspired, changed and in awe. The conversation lit us up like a Christmas tree. We all left revved and thankful for what I like to call a “God collision”. Krissy’s deepest desire for this trip was to see a ranch, to meet a real cowgirl/boy and learn what it took to be a real life rancher. In the matter of one dinner conversation all 4 of us had received something that we never imagined possible in the midst of strangers, we gained life.

I couldn’t sleep at all that night. All I thought about were the “desires and dreams” that were deep within me that I had felt were impossible to carve out. God challenged me that night. Like He whispered to me just days before,

“Natalie, dream as BIG AS THE SKY”.

Really? I mean, the sky, it’s so big and all those what ifs.

“Natalie, dream as BIG AS THE SKY”

I heard Him whisper to me again. And same with this night as I laid there wide eyed and expectant. I knew it was time to “live”. To really live like I had nothing else to do but passionately pursue what He had chiseled in my heart.

The next AM I woke with no problem. I was out the door and running up the streets of Lander within minutes. It was probably a light 60 degrees and it felt great to be up so early. We hit the coffee shop up and headed to the ranch. This is where our hearts desires became reality. We had breakfast on the porch with our new friends and even a surprise visitor, Eyore, one of the 5 horses at the ranch.

The rest of the afternoon was spent in an old miners house that we made up stories about and of course shooting guns, which only I seemed to have loved so deeply. Here’s a short clip…

The day was divine. Heavenly and without a fault. I left that ranch a different person. The conversations were laced with talk of dreams and desires and how if one wants, one works and aims straight,  then that one shall not miss her mark. Challenged and lit with excitement I was ready for the world. I was ready for anything. The gals left a mark on my heart that was hard to shake. They were strong, spirited and headed in the direction of their dreams. I knew it was no coincidence that we met here, that we were drawn to each other like a moth to a flame. There was something so much bigger behind our time together and it was just another piece to the puzzle that God was putting together called, our lives.

Our next spot was Yellowstone and Jackson Hole… writings to come…

Be gone expectations, be gone.

Be gone expectations.

Be gone.

Your limits suppress me, they hold me behind lines and keep this heart from reaching far beyond.

Be gone expectations.

Be gone.

There are things that this heart must delight in but with your grip it can never happen.

So just go!

Just let me and all my Dreaming be.

Give me back those things you want to take with you- that hope and strength and costly veneer.

Be gone expectations.

Be gone.

You cloud out what is true and give me a shabby second hand wish of a view.

How limiting you can be to little ol me.

Be gone expectations.

Be gone.

WYs Adventures 2010!

This is the small downtown of Cheyenne, WY where Krissy’s parents are living…

They are real country western out here…. and I realized how “city” I am….

This was the first hike we took in Estes Park. That place is fabulous… Filled with majestic beauty… it’s tucked into the bottom corner of CO right along the Rockies. It has mountains for days. Wild horses, camping for everyone and of course trails that will bring you winding and twisting through the endless ravines, valleys and mountains of the area. I have never been so FULL of Gods’ majestic goodness walking through these woods.

I asked Jesus for Velveteen Elk and sure enough He delivered. We were heading to the summit of the Continental Divide that sits more than 10,000 ft above sea level and  with one turn of Ranger Greg’s truck we were staring at this mighty animal munching on his dinner. There was a whole posse of them. Some just eating, one doing his best to show us what he was able to do by jumping and prancing over the area.

Side story:

The 1st night of camping left Krissy and I to change our plans for the rest of the vacation. You see we were just star gazing at the massive night sky. If you know me at all, you know that my favorite thing in the world is stars so I rearranged my sleeping bag to be poking out the front of the tent so I could gaze till I fell asleep. Well the mosquitos were relentless and within a half hour I was back in the tent, zipped in my sleeping bag, head next to Krissys’ and trying to fall asleep. Which is a hard gig while YOUR ON THE GROUND!

Some expertise nature lovers bring blow up mattresses but for us city slickers we were not as resourceful. Neither one of us were sleeping as we heard some shuffling going on around the right side of the tent. All of the sudden we see a shadow RIGHT OUT SIDE OUR TENT, like something approaching us.

I am thinking, “who the heck is by our tent and is he going to harm us?” In the same moment I looked up to see a FREAKIN BEAR!

I KNOW!!!!!

I yelled and then Krissy chimed in as her head bobbed up and she saw the furry creature sniffing the ground where MY HEAD JUST WAS!

It was awful.

We woke the whole neighborhood I am sure but namely mom and dad whom were sleeping right next to our tent under a overhang. Mom saw the bear but dad was dead sleeping and as he rolled over to see what the matter was, calmly said, “it was probably a raccoon”.

NO DAD, IT WAS A BEAR.

Let’s just say we did not sleep that night and we have since made arrangements for a hostel for the remainder of our outdoor activities.

I will never forget SEEING A BEAR!!!!

The next day we went to the Ranger station to get directions and the gal there said,

“Oh, how lucky that you got to see one!!!”.

Really? These people breathe adventure.

Funny.

I have these friends of mine, Chris and Meghan Matt. They are a great duo that has this uncanny resemblance to each other. I find that tends to happen to people that marry, they some how start to morph into the other person in respect to their looks. This is not across the board but I dare so 80%.

Chris and Meghan work at the Dream Center in Baton Rouge. They have recently taken on the role of “Children’s pastors” for the 6 to 11 age group. I had the opportunity to visit them on Father’s Day the other week and share with their kids about “Immanuel, our Heavenly Father”. It was a great time of learning about when the kids feel alone, how they can implement “God their Father” into those moments.

This is about a story of Chris however.

The other afternoon in the park, Chris was hanging out with some of the kids that he works with. They were sitting around eating lunch and Demarcus, one of the boys, looks at his daughter Presley and says, “is that your daughter?” and Chris said, “yep”. And then Demarcus looks at his son Moses, whom they just adopted from Ugnada and say, “is that your son?” And Chris responded, “yep”.

Demarcus looked confused for a second but then in a moment with relief on his face he said,

“OH, so you have a BLACK wife and a WHITE wife!”

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

Not really Demarcus but good guess!