Today's to-do --- FLY HOME

It's 4 am, the morning of the day we fly “home” to America. The need for a solid night's sleep before 24 hours of travel is crucial. But the body's rest passed quickly as the mind's workings would not stop. I've prayed, and pondered scripture; i've scolded worry and tried to drive it away. Have i remembered everything i need to carry back home? And, all the details of leaving our home here for 3 months... are all those details in order? And prayers, prayers for the many i carry in my heart ---- those prayers can roll into worry if i'm not very attentive to controlling my thoughts. Do your thoughts run out of control in those early-morning-wrestlings too? Sometimes it's best to just leave the horizontal and “stand”.

I'm not... worried...

truly --- i've wrestled it out enough to see it's not worry that's robbed me of sleep.

Rather, it's the whirl of soooooooo many emotions.

Thankfulness is at the top, right on it's heals comes a sense of unworthiness and inability. So i'm stopping that flow by going vertical under the stars. Even the birds outside my window are not ready to start singing this morning --- i can sense them squinting out of one barely opened little eye wondering what their mzungu is doing up so early.

So i make a cup of java (coffee), and thankfulness whispers Jenn's name to me, she's the friend who fills my cup with VIA. I pour the warm “good morning” in my beautiful cup, and thankfulness whispers Maggie and Ray to me, they sent me the cup for mother's day last year. I sit down to read from those much wiser than me, and thankfulness whispers Byrdie's name to me, she gave me the devotional book 14 years ago. And i wrap a soft, green blanket round my chilled self as thankfulness whispers my sister-in-love's name to me, Ann gave me the blanket many Christmas's ago. (or was it my mother-in-love, Mary, ah, they've both been so good to me...)

I pick up my Bible, i bought it from Angie at Heavenly Dove, she engraved my name on the front. Thankfulness brings tears as i run my fingers over the bronze lettering, and i sit my cup beside my journal, Denise made sure i had a special journal.

Oh Lord, is it possible to be overwhelmed with too much good?...?...?

You see when the sun rises just a few short hours from now i will make biscuits and gravy for my faithful husband and my healthy last-born-son. And i'm almost paralyzed with thankfulness that i GET to make breakfast for them. Just days ago, 147 college students were murdered, no one gets to make breakfast for them this morning ---- i will not be morose in my thoughts, but i will not overlook the GIFT of getting to sit at a table with him this morning. (God help the parents who...)

...and... may i never, ever again overlook the smallest of gifts ---- i have a table to sit at, a chair under me, food will fill the table, and a fork will be in my hand. I'm spoiled beyond reason because i'll have another cup of coffee and a napkin will wipe my lips...

Oh Lord, there are too many who will have NONE of the things listed in my last gush of words.

I'll do the part i can to bless their lives ----- but first i'll control my heart and head to be grateful. Nothing good comes on it's own. Nothing good is free.

Everything good comes from Your hand Abba. Everything good has been paid for by s-o-m-e-o-n-e. The secular world would say, “Yea, your friends and family pay for what you enjoy...” But my heart cries out meekly, “It was Jesus who first paid ALL, and now HE let's His goodness flow through them, and i'm stunned at the doubling flow of it all...”

My first waking thoughts (about 2 hours ago), were of my parents.

That's common for me, i think of them and the many i love when my eyes first open.

I'll get to see them again in about 36 hours. Oh my heart...

(...and my fingers can not resist the sharing that comes below --- my parent's usually want their goodness kept private, but today mom and dad, i simply must share of it...)

Last week my first-born-son had a wreck. It was a rainy day on an unfamiliar road. He looked down at his GPS for just a second to get clarity on his next turn. The car in front of him stopped abruptly... Mike did not stop as quickly... airbags deployed, scrapes came, metal bent wrong, sirens screamed.

Three cars were involved ----- no one was seriously injured. Thankfulness brings tears again even as i type.

Mike was the only one scraped up a bit, but no hospital was needed.

Police were gracious as they did their job --- Oh GOD, thank you for good police officers – there are so many who are good.

Mike's first phone call ------ was to his Papa and Nana.

My parents.

And while Nana prayed, Papa went straight to him.

Straight to him... prayers... presence... the gift of “you---are---not----alone” flooded 'round my son.

Mike texted us, we called him immediately.

We could not be there ---- but we were not needed to be there ---- God had other plans ---- and they were/are good.

What followed was beautiful. Papa and Mike together attended to the necessaries that follow a wreck, and then made their way home to Nana.

Mike's words later filled the air with such goodness when he said, “Mom, i was feeling so down over the mess of it all, but when i saw Papa's face and when i walked in their house, i felt so much love. And while Nana doted over my small scrapes, i wondered if they both knew how thankful i was for them.”

Nana and Papa have a mission field of their own --- right there on Castleberry Road in Cumming, Georgia. It's about loving well and leaving a legacy to their kids and grandkids and any who come near them.

It's about showing love to others --- HIS love flowing through them.

That is THE mission field.

His sister, Maggie, came by to check on him. Sisters care.

Then my sister, Kathy, came by to double check everything. She texted to reassure me his injuries were minor and all was well.

Two more on THE mission field...

Later that night i ached over not being able to be there, struggled over not getting to be a part of the love-flow-in-person. Worried over the thought that my parents were doing what i felt i should be doing ---- taking care of and supporting my son... ya' know the accuser of our souls isn't going to let it pass by without trying to wound.

So i prayed --- thankfulness ---- and then asked for my Father to tend to the lies of the accuser.

And His words flowed into my heart ---

“my little donna, you do worry too much sometimes. And while I tell you and all my children not to worry, I also understand that in this world there will be troubles that can make you worry and bring you down... on your way down, come all the way down to your knees, I'll meet you right there, and cover you with my Grace. You know... my Grace is sufficient, it's enough, it's what is needed, and it defeats the lies of worry, if you'll let it, it's what I want. Listen to me daughter... I, God, have placed you where you are. You are to obey Me and serve ME in the place I put you. The accuser is a liar... you are wise to always remember that he lies each time he opens his cracked-evil-crusted lips. You are not a bad mother and your parents are not being over-taxed as they care for your son. Don't forget ---- he is their grandson, their blood is in his veins, and they are even now doing MY good work in the place I have put their feet. They are my servants, they are well-suited to serve ME in this beautiful way. What they are doing for Michael is pleasing to Me, and I, GOD, will bless them for letting my love flow through them. So donna, don't let “self” get in the way here. You do what I've called you to do each and every day ---- and you let others do what I've called them to do. Today, Mike didn't “need” y-o-u. Today, Mike needed ME, God. And I WILL CHOOSE who I use to flow through today, tomorrow, and the day after that. You, momma-to-Mike, are not “needed” ---- I, God, AM NEEDED. Always remember that donna ----- never forget. No one needs “you”, everyone NEEDS ME. And I will be found ministering to those who call on Me, sometimes through parents, sometimes through grandparents, sometimes through aunts or uncles or sisters or brothers or strangers. But always --- always ---- always ---- it will be ME choreographing my love flow. So donna, don't get discouraged when I ask you to flow in one direction but you'd rather get to flow in another. I know what is best. I promise, I always work to do what is best for My children. And one last very important point to remember daughter ---- if you had been there, then Mike would have missed something very important today. He would have missed the tripled portions of love he felt flowing through his grandparents, his sister, his aunt... you see, if you had been there donna, you would have stepped in and taken care of things --- and the single love flow would have seemed like enough. But that's not how I do things donna. I'm the One who gives generously ---- in double portions. Today I called on your parents to work for Me, I also called on you to work for Me, but in another place. Don't doubt Me, don't question My plans, I am God, I am to be obeyed and trusted and revered and honored.

Thank ME for your good parents.

Thank ME for the protection that surrounded Mike.

Thank your parents for loving ME enough to do my good work ---- right there at home.

It's part of their mission field.

Not yours...

And -------- I cover all.”

And peace... comes... down.

“Hebrews 10:38, The just shall live by faith...”

When I can not enjoy the faith of assurance, I live by the faith of adherence. (Matthew Henry)

...and then i find myself back on the solid ground of gratitude.

Gratitude that many are called to do God's good work, and many are busy at it. It's weak emotions to bemoan where we serve --- faith calls us to fly above the fowler's snare, his snares can too easily capture us if we fly too low. Faith says, trust God, obey Him.

The sun is beginning to peek through the acacia trees now. The birds are waking and singing. I'll finish packing, walk to the lake, and thank the One who is gracious enough to let us go home for a visit. 

...and i'll hug that son and daughter long, and thank my parents for much...

©2015 donnataylor-ReachingfortheRobe

Ask...

Samuel was the son of Hannah, the barren woman, who prayed to God asking for a child. She gave birth to a son. Hannah had promised God, “if you will bless me with a son, i will give him back to you”. She kept her promise.

Samuel grew up living in the temple of the Lord, under the care of Eli.

These chapters in 1 Samuel have been the focus of my readings of late, there's so much to learn here.

This time around it's the wisdom of “questions” that is on the class syllabus. In Samuel, we see many questions placed before the Lord. It begins in 1 Samuel chapter 3 when the Lord first speaks to the boy Samuel in the temple. Waking the child from his sleep, the Lord calls, “Samuel”. And Samuel's response, “Here I am...”

These are the first recorded words of Samuel the servant boy who would become a powerful prophet of God.

“Here I am...”

These 3 words ---- change lives.

There's an eagerness in them, can you hear it too?

A whisper unspoken that says “yes... what is it...did you call me...what would you ask of me?”

And these are the first words God chose to let us hear come from Samuel's mouth.

It's at the beginning of Samuel's days, serving Eli in the temple, with a heart asking... “what would you have me do?”. His mother Hannah taught him early, you were born to serve the Lord.

Before serving, we must “ask” to know what is needed, we must ask to know what God wants.

Little is known of the “boy” Samuel. 1 Samuel 2:18 – 21 gives us a glimpse of his life. And in verse 26 we read that he grew taller and in favor with the Lord and the people.

Then in chapter 3, those three words come.

“Here I am...”

He didn't hide in fear.

He didn't yawn and roll over.

He didn't strut with self-worth.

He didn't yell back with rebellious attitude.

He was “clean” and able and willing. No “dirt” of self held him back.

He was eager and ready ---- for whatever would be asked of him.

Samuel thought Eli was calling out to him. He would not presume the Lord would be speaking to him. For in those days the voice of the Lord was not heard often. (3:1)

So when the voice awakens him, Samuel runs to Eli to ask, “did you call me, what do you need...?”

Eli had not called him, Samuel was sent back to bed.

Three times this happened in the dark of the night until finally Eli realizes the Lord is calling out to Samuel. He guides Samuel to respond the next time, “Speak Lord, your servant is listening”.

That's Samuel. A boy awakened from his sleep by the voice of God.

The surrendered son who served.

The boy who became a prophet and spoke over the heads of earthly kings, because he served One who was higher.

We read further in the book, and find the story of Saul and David. How Samuel was instructed by God to anoint Saul to be the first king of Israel. And then David, the shepherd boy who played the harp to calm the fretful king Saul. David who killed Goliath with one smooth stone. David grows in the favor of the Lord, Saul does not. Saul disobeys God's guidance to him. The tension grows in the king's palace as Saul's jealously increases. He wants David killed.

Then we come to Chapter 23 --- David is hiding from Saul, Saul is pursuing him with plans to kill him. And the powerful lesson of questions comes front and center. (NOTE: all parenthesis w/comments, bold font, and underlinings added by me)

“1 When David was told, “Look, the Philistines are fighting against Keilah and are looting the threshing floors,” 2 he inquired of the Lord, saying, “Shall I go and attack these Philistines?”
The Lord answered him, “Go, attack the Philistines and save Keilah.” (question 1, answer 1)
3 But David’s men said to him, “Here in Judah we are afraid. How much more, then, if we go to Keilah against the Philistine forces!” (no question, just a telling – no answer from God)
4 Once again David inquired of the Lord, and the Lord answered him, “Go down to Keilah, for I am going to give the Philistines into your hand.” (question 2, answer 2)
5 So David and his men went to Keilah, fought the Philistines and carried off their livestock. He inflicted heavy losses on the Philistines and saved the people of Keilah. 6 (Now Abiathar son of Ahimelek had brought the ephod down with him when he fled to David at Keilah.)
7 Saul was told that David had gone to Keilah, and he said, “God has delivered him into my hands, for David has imprisoned himself by entering a town with gates and bars.” 8 And Saul called up all his forces for battle, to go down to Keilah to besiege David and his men. (no question, no guidance from God)
9 When David learned that Saul was plotting against him, he said to Abiathar the priest, “Bring the ephod.” 10 David said, “Lord, God of Israel, your servant has heard definitely that Saul plans to come to Keilah and destroy the town on account of me. 11 Will the citizens of Keilah surrender me to him? Will Saul come down, as your servant has heard? Lord, God of Israel, tell your servant.”
And the Lord said, “He will.” (question 3, answer 3)
12 Again David asked, “Will the citizens of Keilah surrender me and my men to Saul?”
And the Lord said, “They will.” (question 4, answer 4)
13 So David and his men, about six hundred in number, left Keilah and kept moving from place to place. When Saul was told that David had escaped from Keilah, he did not go there.
14 David stayed in the wilderness strongholds and in the hills of the Desert of Ziph. Day after day Saul searched for him, but God did not give David into his hands.”

Saul searched...

Saul could not “find” what he wanted, he wandered, he was unsuccessful...

Saul had not asked God.

David asked.

David was “hidden” from those who pursued him.

David trusted GOD more than he trusted his own judgement.

David asked for God's guidance 4 times, he received 4 answers. (in 14 verses)

Do we ask?

Do i ask?

Do we fear asking because we don't think God will answer? -- is He there? -- does He care?

Or do we not ask because we want our way, and we're afraid God won't give the “right” answer?

Or perhaps we don't ask because we don't realize our need for help. We think “we've got this”.

Doesn't that have the bad-smell-of-Saul?

He thought he was clever enough to know what he needed to do ----- he thought he didn't need to ask.

And as a result ---- he got neither answers nor guidances from God ----- and he “searched” but did not find...

The dirt of the slum seemed worse somehow; the smells stronger and the drunks were out. There were too many puppies and ducklings and children and babies and too much filth. My heart twisted inside me and my words went flat. The children's hands were stickier and their grasp was not gentle as it so often had been, instead it felt... more... desperate.

More roofs and walls and locked doors were needed. Eleven new huts were being built to replace the last of the trash dome houses. SO many people had come alongside the work, it was all God's work, we could claim not one speck of it. The much needed moneys had been generously given. The physical work was being done by Kenyans. It was a partnership choreographed by the One who loves.

Much more was in the works --- concrete floors for every hut, then jigger treatments for each and every sufferer. And finally shoes for every bare foot.

Many people heard about it, and ---- they ---- cared! They gave.

In less than 5 months every needed dollar was donated and ready.

Our task shifted from raising the needed funds to insuring the wise, proper allocation of them.

Today we visited to see the progress and hold everyone accountable to honesty. Too many thieves live in this place, accountability is a priority.

At the first new hut we were greeted by a drunk woman and my heart sank low. She twirled about in her drunken state asking us to take her picture. Her posing was disgusting and my ugly-flesh wanted to shake her hard. Her children ran around the almost finished hut, excitement gushed from them. Reality was coming too quickly to process. The drunken mother was demanding my attention, but the squealing children was where my focus wanted to be. They were happy beyond words that someone cared enough to build them a place to live; a place with walls and a metal roof and concrete floor and a wooden door. They felt loved and cared for, they felt seen...

Beside me danced the drunk momma who should have been providing this for her children, but instead she had chosen the brew that was rotting her mind and helping her forget. Forget where she was and what she had endured.

And my ugly flesh wanted to judge her...

Oh God --- i wanted to mentally convict her and lock her out of my mind and heart.

And so... i did just that.

My focus lingered only on the children and i prayed for them. They need so much that their mother can't give them --- can't, or won't --- or couldn't, or just doesn't --- confusion comes with poverty, and i was standing in the place where confusion and poverty had won.

We have to choose to not be devoured --- we have to choose to focus on what is true and noble and right and pure... excellent... praise worthy... (Philippians 4:8) The impact of those words comes close when the drunken mother has not kept her focus where it should have been ------- but the children dancing around her wobbly legs are still trying to. And my heart crashes over it all. It's a crash and burn moment that no one can see but my Father.

And my soul erupts in the middle of the filth and i ask, “Lord, HOW COULD SHE possibly keep focus? How much suffering has pressed in on her to wipe away any glimpses of what is right and pure and lovely and... Oh God, it's a pit that sucks-in those who come near... maybe that's why most DON'T come near this place of sin-filled-stench. I feel myself sliding ---- Lord, we need to get these kids OUT OF HERE. Before they get pulled d-o-w-n into the pit that has already taken their mother's mind. Oh God, what are we doing here? ...”

...and then...

We walked on to the next hut, just sticks and a roof so far, but 3 layers of mud were soon to come. I was despairing in more ways than words will fit into. The children still clung to our arms, their dirty feet leaving muddy footprints on my once-clean-shoes. And my soul asked again, “Lord, are you SURE you REALLY want this work done here in this slum? Are you really certain this is the right thing to do? GOD, i must hear You speak or i'm going to run... LORD, shouldn't we use the dollars given to rescue these children OUT of this horrible place??”

Then the gentle-faced young mother carrying her swaddled newborn baby walked humbly to the door, looked me in the eye and said, “Thank you so much for this home, God bless you and those behind you.” It came out in Turkana, but my heart knew what she had said, even before it was translated for my ears. Her eyes spoke it perfectly...

She was the second momma of the day. The momma of the second house. She was young and barefoot and as she unwrapped her precious child, i could see just how “new” it was. Her whole face gleamed through her shy demeanor as her every move and gesture conveyed love and care.

PEACE was present.

And the confusion in the filth was washed instantly --- the reassuring answer came to my soul---

As 3 powerful words spoke in the middle of a slum ------

HERE...I...AM...

“donna, see... i love her d-e-a-r-l-y. I love them d-e-e-p-l-y. My love is NOT altered by where my children are or even by what they choose to do. My love is abiding and near --- and I want this one to know i'm w-i-t-h HER. I am God and I will NOT be chased away by evil. I will enter into the places where darkness torments ------ I would have My love brought to the places where no love is found. donna, don't doubt what I've told you to do, just do it. It doesn't make sense... I know that full well... the outcome might not “work” in your eyes... but it will accomplish the plans I have. Don't question MY plans donna, just obey Me, and love, love, (wash your hands lots) and then love some more. You can trust Me donna ---- this is My work, My plan, My love, and MY WAY.”

And in the middle of Kipsongo slum, Samuel and David and Saul flooded in just as if they might be found around the next stream of mud huts.

Samuel... “here i am Lord, speak Lord, your servant is listening...”

David... “shall i attack ?... Go, attack ---- and save ----.

And then the thought of Saul --- who didn't ask --- but he only did what seemed right to him --- and he wanted, he wandered, he was unsuccessful...

God says ----------------------------------------------

“Ask...

I'm God, ask Me...

I'm listening to you...

I am with you.

Ask Me.

I will answer.

In my way, for my purposes (not yours, but mine)... for the good of many (and for you ----- but --- not just you).

Ask – I'll answer --- and the outcome will be mine, I'll take responsibility for how it “looks” and what it accomplishes --- you take responsibility for whether you believed ME enough to obey Me.

Saul searched, but did not find. (He didn't ask God...)

David asked, and got answers, and was rescued from his enemy.

Samuel began his discourse of life ----- asking, responding, serving, and getting answers.

-------------- and the Lord called out, “Samuel!” --- and Samuel replied,

“Here I am Lord.

Speak,

your servant is listening.”

©2015 Donna Taylor Reaching for the Robe

Do Lord... Do remember me

She sat still and sang loud, the little girl in Sunday School. The tune had a strong, easy flow. The kind of song that makes you feel like you're getting something done even sitting still. A tune that makes you smile from your toes up, and has a strength that lifts heaviness up and off weighed down shoulders... weighed down minds...weighed down hearts.

The teacher smiled as the children sang; singing in that uninhibited childhood abandon that doesn't worry what others might think or who might be critically watching the free flow of LIFE.

We grown ups worry though don't we?

Some do.

We hold ourselves carefully, move not too much, clap when others clap, sit when others sit. We don't want to “distract” those around us, we wouldn't dare want our LOVE FLOW towards the Lover of our Soul to “embarrass” anyone watching us. Once a friend who was dear to my heart failed to hide her critical eyes towards my arms-wide-open worship of the Savior. It embarrassed her, and her husband too. It drew too much attention.

Only took a few Sundays until the seats beside us were no longer filled by them.

It was a grievous thing to my heart, but then, so like God, those seats were filled by souls who wanted to know more about this One we loved so deeply. They wanted more of Him, they needed more of Him. And the criticism of one was replaced as the goodness of the Cross came near for another.

Too many of us grownups are too careful when we let LOVE FLOW through us.

Oh but not a child...

Sparks grow into flames as air passes over them.

A spark never grows larger, if air doesn't rush over it.

Blacksmiths can only forge metal on super heated flames. The horseshoe will never take good shape, the blade will never hold a good edge, and the temper will not set in the metal, unless the fire heats them deeply and the hammer lays them well. Air in lungs used sparingly lends no strength to whatever comes from them. Just as flames unfed by air will never give strength to the fire's forging ability.

My great grandfather was the town Blacksmith many by-gone years ago in the county where i grew up. His daily work involved fire and metal, air and water. I'm told he was a gregarious man who loved life, loved the Lord, and loved to work. He knew the importance of billows filled with air pressing strength into flames. From my Daddy's stories of him, it's most likely he also knew the importance of lungs filled deeply with that same strengthening air flow when lifting up his voice to the One who gave him both lung and air. It's just a strong guess, but it's safe to say those sitting near Pastor Porter on Sunday mornings knew how much he loved his Lord when he opened his mouth. In my mind i can imagine those walking past his blacksmith shop might had heard it through the week as well. Air from the billows heating the fire for the metal; air from his lungs pressing out worship while he hammered the metal into submission. I don't know this is true, but I'm allowed to indulge in the hope of it.

It's an odd sort of thing to ponder when singing to the Lord. Who thinks of billows in the long-lost days of Blacksmith shops when they're filling their lungs for another pressing out of love?

The little girl does. The one encouraged to sing it loud by the Sunday School teacher who smiled at the strength of the love flowing in the tiny block wall room in the basement of the little country church. And that little girl grew into a woman who navigated past the awkward teenage years of wondering who she was and why worship meant so much. She grew into a woman who came to realize worship is for the One being worshiped; worship is for Him alone. That woman knew the ONE she worshiped would carry her children from birth to death and hold them in all the hills and valleys in between their beginning and end. She knew the One to whom she let the air flow strong from her lungs and plink words of praise off her vibrating soul, was the Savior, the same One who had given all, so she could have all ---- all that was worth having, all that mattered. She was the trembling lady who knew her need, and found her peace when she closed her eyes and let the air flow strong against the soul-sparks the world had tried to doused again. And the rush of worship-air rose up to the air-Maker, and the flames were fanned and strengthened for another surge of life's forging.

What my much-loved-friend was missing was the simple, solid fact ------- worship is for Him. How it sounds, how it looks, what it says, how sincerely it's given ----- it's all only for Him. To pause long enough to even consider the others who are present, is allowing something else to be worshiped in His place. What? Seriously?

Yes.

It's a soul-serious-thing.

When we think of what others might think, and we hold the free-flow of LOVE back, then we are worshiping the opinion of others more than the One who is jealous for our praise. Or it could be that we are worshiping ourselves and how we look or sound rather than

the One who truly did hang on a cross

after having the flesh peeled off him

never pausing in those painful moments to consider

how He looked or sounded.

He was too busy thinking of us.

What others thought of Him did not matter.

We get tricked into thinking it matters what we look like. What others will think, what others might whisper about us behind our backs.

And it's a lie.

What others think is only reflective of their soul.

What others say are words heard most loudly by the One who loves us.

And HE will defend us if we need to be defended.

But what our Savior thinks, what our Savior says, has the ring of eternity to it.

The faithful Sunday School teacher with her 60's stylish attire and her cat-eye fashionable glasses led the little warriors in tiny wooden chairs as they sang a tune first sung by slaves in fields crying out to be remembered by the Lord. The song was easy to remember, the words flowed just right:

“Do Lord, oh do Lord, oh do remember me,

Do Lord, oh do Lord, oh do remember me,

Do Lord, oh do Lord, oh do remember me,

Look a way, beyond, the blue.”

It rolled into verses like:

I've got a home in Glory land that outshines the sun...

I took Jesus as my Savior you take Him to...

and even, Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord...

(the lady who wrote Do Lord, also wrote the Battle Hymn of the Republic, Julia Ward Howe)

If you knew the song as a child, and if you paused a bit to read over the lyrics above, i bet your foot is at least wanting to tap along to it again.

It's been years since the old song has curled through my mind. But then last week, in a bathroom stall in Nairobi, someone began humming it nearby.

I was sick. Had run to the bathroom, and thanked God during the sprint that there was a bathroom to run to. Forgive my transparency, but it's shared with good reason. You see it's when we are lowest that we hear best. When we're down we can see better. When we're sick, we feel our need and when we're sick on a toilet, we can't be distracted by other things (hopefully we're in there alone).

I'd been sick for a few days, off and on. It wasn't anything serious, but i was not well. I was alone. Hurting. And so, i began to pray. (Imagine the One i worship is also the One who will stay with me even when I'm confined to a restroom stall. He truly does not care how things look... He does not worry over what others might say.)

As i prayed, time passed by, and i began to wonder if i was ever going to be able to leave the unwanted seat i had been assigned.

Then the humming started. Not from me, from someone nearby.

Ever so faintly, almost distant in it's sound.

My mind began clicking trying to find the familiar tune from the files of my childhood.

Slowly the words formed.

Some sounded wrong, i struggled to correct them.

...look a way, beyond, the moon... no... it's not moon...

...look a way, beyond, the sun... no.. ah yes, it's the blue... look a way, beyond the blue...

...do Lord, oh do Lord, ...remember me...

The quiet lady, whose job is to tend the bathroom, was humming in the gentlest of ways. A song from my childhood, in a toilet on the other side of the world.

My stomach slowly gave up its struggle, my head focused on the tune.

She never uttered a word, but just hummed as my mind sang along with her.

Day after day, she sits in the restroom, cleaning up messes left by others. No windows, no fresh air, just white tile floors to clean and toilet rolls to fill. But as she did her work, she hummed. What a humble position she has in this world.

But, she doesn't seem to care what people think of her.

She seemed thankful to have a job; she can feed her children.

What others think just doesn't measure up to that.

And this grown up little girl was taken back to the days of shiny black shoes and frilly socks when momma and daddy were just down the hall and sister and brother were polished up and sitting smart in their Sunday best too. Where everyone knew her and they'd cared when she knelt down on her skinny knees, struggling to believe, that the good One would remember her, that the kind One would want her.

And now she was thankful a second time for the tissue paper, this time it was was needed for her tears. For they flowed sweetly over the way the One who remembers us always, came flooding in again.

His Robes brushed by ------ even in a bathroom stall ---- you see His girl was there, and so He would be as well.

The song was originally sung by suffering slaves at work in the field.

(Oh God, how cruel this world can be.)

Then it came to children in pretty country churches in settings fit to be painted.

Now it's hummed by a dear, silent soul working in a tucked away public toilet.

And You use it again, to remind me that ----- YOU REMEMBER me.

You remember us in the fields, when fresh lashes glimmered wet blood.

You remember us in classrooms, where You were first introducing yourself to little ones.

You remember us in the places no one notices, where no one wants to stay for long.

You remember us when we're sick, and tired, and weak.

We are smaller than the tiniest fleck in the vastness of the worlds You have made.

But still, You remember us.

So God, i'll remember You when i'm in the field working. No blood glimmers on my back, but may it always sparkle in my soul.

I'll remember You when i'm in the classroom of this life, still getting to know You and Your ways.

I'll remember You in the places i find myself, where no one else is near, no one would want to be.

I'll remember You when i'm beside the sick ones, the tired ones, the weak ones ------ i'll remember You to them.

You're the only thing i have that's worth remembering to them.

You're the wonderful One i have, they need to know you remember them.

Gathering myself together, i emerged from the bathroom stall. No one was there, but i could hear the humming from the hallway outside. With hands washed and gratitude spoken in the mirror, as my reflection and me, thanked the One who met us in this unpleasant place, my footsteps went straight to her. She smiled, looked down, and waited for me to pass.

“Were you just humming a song?”

“M-hmm, i was.”

“What is the song called?”

So shyly, not sure of herself at all, “It was Do Lord”, do you know it?”

“Oh yes, i think i do, does it go like this...”

and i began to sing. Softly at first.

Her face lit up and quietly she sang as well.

Then i felt the billows blowing inside. My great-grandfather blacksmith would have smiled i'm sure, but more importantly, i could sense the nearness of white robes.

So i sang a bit more loudly.

Her smile grew as did her volume.

And by the time we reached the end, we were singing like Sunday School girls in frilly white socks, letting the flow of life echo off the cinder block walls around us. Our names, our jobs, our color, our pains ----- they didn't matter. The One who remembers us both ------- was the only thing on both our minds.

And we knew ------- He does remember us.

Perhaps that's what matters most.

Is that when others see us, when others talk about us, when others remember us ------

may they be stuck with nothing more to say than ------ “she loves that Lord of hers...”

©2015 Reaching for the Robe. Donna Taylor

Changing-my-focus-and-thinking of you...

Are we getters or givers?

Do we wake up to bless or be blessed?

What's sitting at our bottom line?

Are we going through the motions of just another day? Silently working to get, do, have, become what we think matters most. 

Is today and tomorrow about us and ours?

Or ------- is it about Him and them?

Long ago a friend told me, “donna when you are struggling (over hurts of the heart) the best solution is to turn it outward. Turn your eyes and your heart to look in front of you and SEE someone else. Don't look in the mirror. Don't look inside yourself. Just fix the eyes of your heart on the someone God brings in front of you ----- and then do something about what He lets you see.”

It might look like a plate of cookies or a note, it might be an invitation to dinner, it might be a text or a call. It might be a prayer. A real, heartfelt, changing-my-focus-and-thinking-of-you prayer. It might be that the simple act of praying for someone is the best thing you can do for them (and oddly enough for yourself too). It's one of those “double portion things”; your giving-out gives a good splash back.

But it all revolves around what we choose to do with “self”.

Do we think more about ourselves and our wants than we do of the other person and theirs?

Do we even pause to honestly assess this part of our lives?

Jesus said we should consider the interests of others, their needs, their pain. We should also care for ourselves, we are not told to ignore our own selves. (Philippians 2:4)

But the order is crucial.

If we “look to our own interests” first, we are compelled to linger at that level. “I” is too powerful, it demands much and is rarely fully satisfied.

The One who made us knows. We are selfish and self-centered by nature. So He asks us to consider others, look to the interests of others, care-----for------others.

So do we?

In the mornings when we open our eyes, what are our first thoughts? Do they go to others? Or do they begin with “I”? What I need to accomplish, what I want to get, where I need to go?

Or are our first thoughts “help them Lord, help me Lord”... remembering that He knows the plans HE has for us in the day ahead. He knows what opportunities will stand in front of us. He also knows what hindrances will come. 

And sometimes we are our own greatest hindrance.

Our insides are so bare in those sunrise moments. We haven't had time to cover them up yet.

And if we don't choose well at the beginning, how can we imagine a good end?

Recently i asked someone, “Do you wake up to be a blessing or do you wake up looking to be blessed?”

...and the question sat long in the air between us.

Blessed by God yes, but i wasn't talking about that.

Do we wake up wondering in the corners of our minds who might do what for me today?

The old phrase, “What's in it for me”, becomes the wake up revelry for the person whose self has become too important.

Self wakes up wanting more.

It's appetite is insatiable.

New carpet today only leads to new drapes that then must have new a couch and then certainly a rug.

The new fishing pole needs a better tackle box, and if I'm going to do this right, a new boat...

Taking better care of myself means a gym membership which requires new gym clothes and then who could bear to look at those spider veins on my legs, so I might as well get those fixed, and while I'm at it shouldn't I just go ahead and get that tummy tucked too.(Ignoring the fact that the money spent on self-image alone could make a life-difference for those who will never need a tummy tuck because their stomachs stay empty day in and day out --- oh GOD!)

After all, we work hard right? We've earned it. You only live once and someday we'll wonder why we didn't get it while the gettin' was good.

Oh Lord ---

what are we thinking?!!!!

We forget that someday we will wonder about the choices we will make today.

We will --- wonder...

What of the mother whose daughter is watching, silently ---- learning from what she sees more than what she's told.

A dear friend recently shared her heartbreak after chauffeuring a group of young teen girls around for a weekend of church activities. The car fairly vibrated with giggles and chatter. One topic led to another until all were in the air. And my friend was grieved to hear the jibber-jabber over the recent release of a movie that twists and contorts intimacy. i don't even want to type the title here, but sadly most readers will know of the movie the girls were talking of. They were curious, they had heard others talk about it. Their mothers had talked with friends about it, in ways that didn't turn the girls from it, but instead drew them towards the dark mystery. Mothers speaking openly of their own fantasized intrigue only spoon fed their daughters an invitation to darkness. Mothers, thinking of themselves and their dissatisfaction, but forgetting the beautiful young eyes watching them and listening to every word.

Mothers who have perhaps slept with a self-absorbed husband who cared more about himself than the one in his arms, have perhaps responded with their own self-absorbed desires, and would consider reading a book or watching a movie to spice up their bedroom moments (with their husband or...) have too carelessly guided their girls to become curious to see something that is hell's best shot at self-consumption. The destroying of another in order to feed the beast of self.

Careless words spoken by mothers who are teaching those watching.

Someday we will realize the impact our choices had on those around us,

and on ourselves,

and on the work of Heaven.

'Cause yes, the work of Heaven or the work of hell ----- they are both watchful for moments to flow through us to those in front of us.

But we forget.

Jesus said it clear ---- “Thy Kingdom come, they will be done.”

The Kingdom of Heaven is to come here, 

to be with us now, 

and that happens when the Father's will is being done ------- here ------- now.

I'm not speaking of the eternity we are promised in Heaven (for those of us who believe).

I'm speaking of the work of Heaven now ---- that opens hands/hearts towards the Heaven to come.

We are not actually wired to wake up thinking this way. If we were, it would be automatically accomplished in each of us, everyday, and life would be sweeter to drink.

Instead, it is a choice. It's something we are given the chance to do. We can open our eyes and choose to think of others, love God, live well, bring laughter, think with purpose on how to live today so that tomorrow is set up for beauty and goodness.

The enemy of our Lord knows this full well. Even if we choose to ignore or overlook it. He doesn't.

And his dark scheme is to distract us in any-every way possible. One of his favorite tools to distract us, is the “self” that we live with. If he can just keep us focused on ourselves, our wants, our “needs”, our desires, our image, our happiness, our sorrow, our emotions, our hurts... well then, he's got us beaten before we even get out of bed in the morning.

If we focus on self -------------------------- well then, Heaven won't be flowing through us that day.

But he knows we are clever enough to catch on to his dark plan eventually.

In those moments when we wonder why our friends (the real ones) aren't coming around anymore, or our kids don't linger once they're able to stand alone, or the one we are married to finds other places they need to be, or the earthly beauties around us seem lost and unfocused. Or when something is said or read or sung that gives us pause, and we begin to wonder... why do i feel so empty and alone?

It's then he will slide in the thoughts of “self” in another frame ----- “look at all you've done..., you're a good person, you do this and this and this..., you can't do 'that', don't feel badly, after all you can only do so much...”

-----and we are unknowingly pacified to not realize how self-absorbed we truly are and how much is being lost in that place of self-worship.

Erik Erikson speaks of the last stage of human development as being the time in life when we face either despair or ego-integrity. Ego-integrity means the acceptance of life at the approach of the winter of our lives. When we face the victories and the defeats and allow ourselves no excuses or explanations. We see the true value of what we have accomplished and the grave loss of what we have not. Those last days, those sunset years, when we no longer have the energy or time to blame others or give justification for what we did or did not do. Because in those last days, we know. We know what we've really lived for.

Those who have lived with integrity and life-giving ways, they can turn to the face of impending death and smile.

But those who have lived for “self”, know they've wasted the thousands of sunrises and overlooked the beautiful sunsets, and wrestled with life around them to give them what they wanted, and in the end, it wasn't enough and it only has left a shadow of failure. The money, the house, the clothes, the status ----- none of it matters when those last breathing moments come.

But what we've done for others ---- how we've loved others ---- why we've loved others ---- when and where and how often we've loved others ------ and the warmth of love-glow it showers back on us, those are the moments that will make us smile as we breathe our last earth-air.

If our outflow to others is rich from the Heaven-flow in us ----------- then God waters our garden so that others can have flowers aplenty on their tables. (and maybe food too)

Are we getters or givers?

Do we wake up to bless or be blessed?

What's sitting at our bottom line?

Are we living today in ways that will give us the ability to truly smile when our last words come and our last breath goes out of us?

We get to choose ---- today.

Self MUST decrease ----- He must increase ------ it's a choice ------

a choice that will bring more life, more satisfaction, more peace and good ---- 

than the self-inside could ever dream of.

Nevertheless, we must run aground...

Paul stood in the courts of the Sanhedrin, falsely accused.

They plotted to kill him and he was taken away in the night to Caesarea to stand trial before Felix the governor. Two years later, still being held, Felix was succeeded by Festus, and Paul stood trial again. Festus, not wanting trouble with the Jews asked Paul to travel to Jerusalem to be tried. Paul, pressed back by appealing to Caesar. Since he was a Roman citizen, this required he be taken to Caesar, in Rome, for trial.

The voyage from Caesarea to Rome is chronicled in Act. 27,28.

It reads like a novel. What a story.

But it's death-defyingly true and fascinating at every turn. Paul and God against chains and storms.

The events that transpired on that voyage could be cliff-noted in this way:

• sailed for Italy... slow headway for many days and had difficulty
• wind did not allow to hold on course
• moved along the coast with difficulty
• much time was lost
• sailing became dangerous (because of winds relative to the time of year)
• Paul warned others, “the voyage is going to be disastrous and bring great loss”
• the centurion, ship captain, and ship owner did not listen, pressed ahead
• hurricane force wind, “northeaster”, swept down
• ship caught in storm, driven along out of control
• hardly able to make the lifeboat secure
• passed ropes under the ship to hold it together in the storm
• let down the anchor, ship driven along by winds
• threw cargo overboard
• neither sun nor stars appeared for many days, storm continued raging
• gave up all hope of being saved
• many days without food
• Paul admonished those who had ignored his warning but then encouraged them to “keep up your courage, because not one of you will be lost, only the ship will be destroyed”
• “nevertheless, we must run aground”
• cut ropes that held lifeboat, let it fall away
• lightened the ship further by throwing all grain into the sea
• cut loose the anchors, left them in the sea, hoisted the foresail, made for the beach
• struck a sandbar, ran aground off shore
• 267 on board, most prisoners, some soldiers
• soldiers planned to kill prisoners to prevent their escape
• the centurion spared Paul's life, kept soldiers from killing prisoners
• finally ashore in Malta (still far from Rome), Paul gathered brushwood to build a fire
• viper crawled from the wood/fire and bit Paul's hand
• Paul shook the snake off into the fire, suffered no ill effects
• 3 months later sailed on another ship for Rome
• 3 days after arrival Paul preaches again (under guard)
• some believed, others did not – they disagreed among themselves and left
• Paul remained in Rome for two more years --- rented a house there --- and welcomed all who came to see him
• “Boldly and without hindrance he preached the kingdom of God and taught about the Lord Jesus Christ.”

Paul was busy obeying what God had commanded him to do. His transformational moments began on the road to Damascus when Jesus came to him with a bright light and spoke. Jesus said to Paul, “I am sending you to them to open their eyes and turn them from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan to God...and receive forgiveness...” In those moments everything changed in Paul's world.

He obeyed.

But Paul's obedience did not shield him from the ways of the world that had not been changed by the Light of Jesus.

The words came too harsh, too strong, too draining.

I was busy obeying what i had been commanded to do. Love --- care --- hear ---- speak Truth --- pray ---- decrease me, increase Him ---- doing the work of Holy with skin covered hands...

What the words were, who said the words --- it's irrelevant. Why? Because the liar is the one who wants attention in the moments when wrong words go deep and weak knees crumble under the load of them.

In those moments, the one tossing words carelessly is only being used by the one who uses and abuses and lies and deceives. (and afterwards that same liar will drown them in shame and guilt if he can)

We go down in those dark places.

We wonder ---- why has this come to me? This is only hindering me from obeying you Lord... why have you allowed this ravine to be washed out under my feet? We feel like Paul on the windswept seas...

For some, it's the moment they hear their daughter say, i'm pregnant... or their son say, i'm in jail... or the police say, there's been a accident... or their husband say, i'm not coming home, ever again. Ground gives way and we fall hard in the moments we hear words like, you're rent is 3 months overdue, you have 3 days to get out... or i failed my classes but i found cocaine... or the tests results show there is nothing more we can do... or bombs have gone off and we're not sure if there are any survivors...

Life on this rolling sphere is not designed to be easy.

After all --- we are literally on a dirt ball suspended in infinite space dangling the perfect distance from a flaming ball bigger than ours ---- and we have NO CONTROL over the mystery of the universe that surrounds us.

Most of my footprints have fallen on peace-filled, cared-for places. Some have not, but most have.

When i was a child sitting in Sunday School class and we'd read of Paul's perilous voyages and beatings and imprisonments... i wondered about that man on those pages.

For my experiences had not gone beyond the quiet farm on Union Hill Road. Our church was our neighbor with my grandparents between us. My voyages had been on a big yellow school bus, and while they were challenging, we always made port.

So how could i have understood of the thoughts of Paul or the reasons he would press ahead through hurricane winds and raging waters?

Live long enough ------

and the remembrance of Paul's courage and perseverance will feed in much needed ways when the plate on the table before us holds unexpected, scary, unfamiliar, strange, seemingly unhealthy servings.

How beautifully Elisabeth Elliot writes it when she reflects on Paul's shipwreck in Acts 27:26, “Nevertheless, we must run aground on some island”. (NIV)

She writes:

“Have you ever put heart and soul into something, prayed over it, worked at it with a good heart because you believe it to be what God wanted, and finally seen it 'run aground'?

The story of Paul's voyage as a prisoner across the Adriatic Sea tells how an angel stood beside him and told him not to be afraid, for God would spare his life and the lives of all with him on board ship. Paul cheered his guards and fellow passengers with that word, but added, 'Nevertheless, we must run aground...'

It would seem that the God who promises to spare all hands might have 'done the job right,' save the ship as well, and spare them the ignominy of having to make it to land on the flotsam and jetsam that was left. The fact is He did not, nor does He always spare us.

Heaven is not here, it's There. If we were given all we wanted here, our hearts would settle for this world rather than the next. God is forever luring us up and away from this one, wooing us to Himself and His still invisible Kingdom, where we will certainly find what we so keenly long for.

'Running aground,' then, is not the end of the world. But it helps to make the world a bit less appealing. It may even be God's answer to 'Lead us not into temptation' --- the temptation to complacently settle for visible things.'”

(“Keep a Quiet Heart”©1995 Elisabeth Elliot pg.28)

But it's too easily forgotten isn't it?

We think we are home. We think if we work hard enough and try and do all the “right” things, then we can create a heaven all our own around us where we are. It makes logical sense doesn't it? Work hard, obey, love God, and all will go well with you and yours... but it's not true, it is a falsely lit lying torch from the one who works to distort the plans of the One who loves us most.

We should not try and have Heaven here ---- it's not here ---- it's There.

But while we are here, we should live and love in ways that allow those who face hell, to actually hold the invitation of Heaven in their tired, trembling hands.

“Lord, you have assigned me my portion and my cup; you have made my lot secure.” Psalm 16:5

Ahhhhh, peace in the knowing...

Like Paul, we might end up on a ship that's certain to run aground, but God's still there.

We might hear those most painful words imaginable or walk in excrutiatingly hard places or face unbearable moments --- when the winds are too hard and we're trying to hold our ship together with ropes wrapped round it. But, GOD, the ONE who loves us most is the same One who has already assigned us our portion and our cup ---- and HE has already made our lot secure.

My portion, my cup, my lot ----- is what is in front of me ---- what will be, what will come, what i'm made for, what i will be strengthened by and sustained with, what will bring me to my knees, what will come, what will go, what will remain ------- and the One who made me has already assigned it all ----- and will keep it secure. Not me.

Not my plans.

Not what i think or feel or want.

But it's already been assigned, and it's already secure in His hands.

Peace... in the surrender... i don't have to MAKE IT work out ---- He already has.

“Make the most of all that comes and the least of all that goes.”

--Sara Teasdale (and then often said by Ruth Bell Graham)

Why call it Christmas???

Christmas... we call it Christmas... why?

It's a question we might not stop to ask. We might think we know. We might not care.
But for a lover of words-used-well, it's a normal wondering of my mind.

Turns out, there are quite a few answers, depending on who you ask.
Some say the word Christmas is a shortened representation of Christ's Mass, a practice of the Catholic church.
And what of those who shorten it completely and rather than write Christmas, they only put the energy forth to write Xmas? For years it has frustrated me to see this shortcut. For if we're going to cut anything short in the word it certainly should not be the "Christ" part. At 54 years of age, i've finally learned the reason behind this practice. The X in "Xmas" is the Greek letter chi, which is the first letter of the name "Christ" in that language.
For decades it's rubbed-my-fur-wrong when someone "left out Christ" in the writing of Christmas by shortening it to Xmas. Thank goodness for a quick internet search that has brought a digestible answer to that confusion.
Yesterday i sat in church and heard yet another sharing of the reason we celebrate the season. It's the same wonderful story ----- it does not change ----- it's worth celebrating.
But goodness knows without the Christ part, it would simple be a man-made-holiday.

Christmas is, as someone has said, when God came down the stairs of Heaven with a baby in his arms.
Could we just let that image settle in our minds, soften our souls, and set a right pace for the season?

Whether we know the true origin of the word, or write it in full (that's my camp) or shorten it with the Greek sign for Christ, X, there's so much more to ponder in the fullness of the word itself.

So i've played with it a bit, as i re-share a writing i posted two Christmas's ago.

In truth, we call it Christmas because -- when Christ was born so much happened.
How could that manger have held it all?

Christ  --- m _____  a ______  s _______

Christ ...meets all suffering

...masters all storms

...merges all saints

...mashes all stubbornness

...mends all sufferers

...makes all see

...meets all sinners

...magnifies all sanctity

...maintains all sanity

...maximizes all sacrifice

...memorizes all souls

...maneuvers all sciences

...matures all seasons

...materializes all sanctification

...merits all soldiers

...meanders among sinners

...manages all sheep

...mentors all shepherds

...models all scripture

...motivates all sunrises

...masters all sunsets

...mingles among survivors

...moans amidst sufferers

...mutilates all strongholds

...mocks all sorcery

...matures all seekers

...marinates all stonehearts

...manufactures all salvation

...matches all smiles

...maintains all stars

...mandates all salvation

...measures all sadness

...memorizes all souls

...mothers all sanctuaries

...molds all strength

...makes all sufficient

...models all submission

...melts all self-sufficiency

...mitigates all stings

...mocks all schemers

...moves all seas

...mystifies all skeptics

...motivates all simplicity

...maintains all shorelines

...monitors all secrets

...muddles all schemes
...makes a solution

Christmas, why call it Christmas ?
----- what better name could there be?

For it is the way God chose to show the world that

Christ – makes – a – Savior.

Merry CHRIST – m – a – s!!!!!


©2014 Donna Taylor/Reaching for the Robe

She's afraid of the truth today... but

She's too afraid to know, she's scared of the truth today.

We sat in the doctor's office and she shrank.

She's a thirty-two year old momma who's given birth to five and raised them without the man who should have been caring for them all.

In just 3 decades of living, she's seen too many battlefields where no medals are given for valor and no purple hearts awarded for bravery and courage. But the first day I met her the One who made her walked her right into my heart, and I knew, she was a much loved daughter.

Her name is Carol.

Tall and slim with round, soft eyes, I look at her and think, if you lived in another country, you'd be called beautiful. But here, she's just one of the many who have been wounded and are lost in the sea of dark skinned lovelies trying to care for their children.

She's sick... very sick.

Her cough would clear the room in more sterile, clean places. And she hurts each time one comes.

On her throat is a growth, bigger than it was when I met her, but small enough to cover with a scarf. And that's what she did in the beginning. Now she feels me as a sister and doesn't work so hard to hide what is less than perfect.

During my 42 day visit back home in America, she came to my mind each and every day, and so prayers for her came quickly each morning. The One who loves her most talked of her often.

After my return to Kitale, I went to visit her. Two of her beautiful daughters were outside, sitting on wooden stumps beside ash covered ground. It's their kitchen and dining room, under an old, scarred fig tree, where they cook and take ugali and githeri and kenyan tea. 

Eyes adjusted to darkness entering her one room hut. A twin bed, a wooden coffee table, the wooden frame of an old couch with cushions so old the 4 inch foam had shrunk to one inch. A big, old purse hung from the corner of her bed holding her treasures. No dresser or side table or chest of drawer, just that old purse and 3 bags slid neatly under her one bed. The mud walls had been smeared smooth and painted white. Now, red dust lay on the uneven places and it had a mysterious, enchanting sort of look to it and I thought to myself, “back home”, we work to age our furniture and weather our bricks and lumber to give it a used, mysteriously old look. Here, it's real------ oh what a strange world it is.

With eyes adjusted, I saw her smile and looked into her eyes, and I repented again for all my selfish ways as she shared of the weeks past while I had been away.

The growth on her throat had swelled and had temporarily taken her voice away, leaving her with a sore throat. Then the fever had come. A week later the cough began and the next week she was too weak to rise from her tiny bed.

Each night her two youngest daughters curl into the tiny twin bed beside their sick mum, while the oldest lays on the barely-there-cushioned-rock-hard couch. All together in this one room with dusty, dirt floors and two tiny window openings. To open the “window”, you swing the little wooden door open, there is no glass or even screen. But even in this little, dark room, there was a goodness found.

Kind greetings were followed by words that opened up the Heavens into this little dirt room.

She told me how very sick she had been and how very alone she had felt. How she had looked at her girls and knew she had no way to stop the death-beast walking towards her door. How she'd prayed and begged the only One who could save her, and wondered at why no Savior came. But instead the liar moved in and hope moved out ---- or so it had seemed.

She had become angry with God. Very angry. She had railed against him and wept in wails.

She felt fully abandoned and in the end could no longer even remember the promises she had clung to from His Word.

Then the ladies from our Bible study had come to visit her on her worst day. They had come with tea and love, prayers and hope. They had laid their work-worn hands on her exhausted shoulders and prayed long. And the liar shrank.

We prayed again on this visit, just four days after the others had prayed, her beautiful daughters joined us today.

The next day, oranges were delivered and taken. Strengthening the body and letting the mind and heart feel love flow in those Vitamin C filled juices. She needed a day of nutrition and Vitamins before even trying to rise from her bed.

By the next morning at 9:00 I found her dressed and sitting on her bed, she knew I was coming, we were going to the hospital. We moved slowly through the day as doctors examined her, gave shots, x-rays and ultrasounds completed, blood-work drawn, and finally the results. 

It was pneumonia, not TB (oh thank you God!). But still, it was serious.

She has a growth on her thyroid gland, a cyst, not thought to be cancerous, but it has to go, it must be removed.

Then the doctor spoke privately with me. Asking me to do what I could to encourage Carol to be tested for HIV. She had dropped her head when offered the test, fear had been thick in the air as she nodded and whispered, “Hapana”. (no in Swahili)

An abusive, unfaithful husband had abandoned her years ago, she had known it was possible, but she did not want to meet that unwanted intruder face to face, she knew he would bring words of death.

Meds were prescribed and given.

She would spend two weeks recovering and then return to the hospital for surgery to remove the cyst.

Carol was exhausted, helping her to the Lori-car, we sat and talked inside.

I explained everything to her slowly and carefully. She had not understood all that had been said. I was taken back to when my little ones had been sick and we'd gone to the doctor and we'd get to the car afterwards and i'd tell them, in children terms, what had just been said in doctor words. She was understanding now, and her shoulders were beginning to relax.

“You will have this surgery dear Carol, God has brought you this far. He has heard your prayers and you will be cared for so you can live and love your girls for many more days.” She dropped her head and wiped her eyes. “But Carol, I must ask you to pray long about something.”

We talked about HIV and the truth about the virus.

“The only way to fight it is to know if it is hiding inside.”

Just like the cyst, if we ignore it and look the other way, it will grow and damage the healthy body parts around it and eventually what could have been taken care of earlier will bring an early death if left unchecked.

She said, “i'm just too afraid to know the truth... if I have it shame will kill me before it does.”

We talked long. Tears laced with words, and prayers covered it all.

“Carol, God's Word says, 'the Truth will set you free'. It is the liar, the one who speaks lies to us that tells you to hide from the Truth -----the Truth of our Father's love and the truth of every other thing. Truth lives in the light, in the places where we can see. Lies lurk in the darkness, those places where we can't see and we're scared of what might be hidden in the corners.”

She began to hear.

“On this matter dear Carol, if you let the liar win, it could kill you. But the Truth will save your life.”

i've let my mind sit with it all --- since my time with Carol in the car ---

Knowing the Truth saves us ---- but if the liar wins, it kills us.

It's true in matters of health.

It's true in matters of the soul.

It's true in our marriages, our homes, our hearts, our minds, our friendships, our work.

In our day to day thoughts ---- the truth might be painful to hear, but it is the only way to life.

We might be more comfortable to wrap ourselves in the tattered blanket of familiarity, thinking, we'd rather hold on to what we have known, even if it is a lie, than lay it down and try and get comfortable in the scratchy, new, unsoftened blanket of truth. But the wrap of Truth has no holes, it's complete, and it can shield us from the hard winds of destruction that come at the end of the lie.

As i've prayed for Carol, it's settled so deeply inside, speak the truth in love ... the Truth will set you free ... surely you (God) desire truth in the inner parts... speak truth to each other... He will guide you into all truth...

Ephesians 4:15, John 8:32, Psalm 51:6, Zechariah 8:16, John 16:13

and what happens, really, when we do not cling to what is true?

“They exchanged the truth of God for a lie, and worshipped and served created things, rather than the Creator --- ”

Romans 1:25

Exchanged the truth for a lie – and served created things rather than the Creator --- things like familiarity in what we can see and what we think is the right thing to do and who is around us (our children perhaps) and what we eat or where we sleep or … too many things can too silently slide into a place of importance ---- a place of “worship” in our lives. We push back and say, no, i'm not worshipping it --- but when it prevails over the Creator and what HE SAYS --- it has taken His place of worship in our lives. And He is clear on this point ---- He will not share His throne.

Oh God helps us understand where we have worshipped created things rather than You.

God's words here are speaking of the Truth of our souls, but it is also true for the truth of everything.

Sometimes we realize ----- we do not know the truth of a matter---- and we are too scared to face the light that will reveal that truth. (fear from the liar is winning in those moments)

Sometimes we don't even know we are being deceived. We think we are right and all is well. Only the Word of God will open our eyes to know if we are truly, really, honestly walking in the light.

If we don't sit with and in His Word ----- we are easily deceived.

And the greatest victory of the enemy is keeping eyes so accustomed to the darkness, they don't even realize what they are “seeing” is only shadows and shades of dark.

For Carol, there are medications that can help her fight the virus. Many who might have died years ago, have lived long, because of the meds (ARVs) now available. Years ago, an American president pressed to alot millions of dollars to pay for ARVs to be made available for FREE to Kenyans unable to pay for them. IF Carol is positive, she can receive the needed medications for free, at the district hospital just a mile from her one room home. (Thank you America!!!)

Fear is the barrier that wants to keep her in the dark ------ and make her daughters orphans.

I'm praying.

God is working.

The lamp of Truth is ready to shine.

What blessed, blessed, blessed kids we are ----- our Abba wants truth in our lives.

He is the Way, the Truth, and the Life... (John 14:6)

And the beauty of the Body of Christ (the children of the Father) came shining through so brightly I covered my face with my hands and tears rolled down...

Knowing the cost of the surgery was beyond what we readily had in hand, I sent an email message to over 400 dear ones --- asking for help for Carol.

I prayed over the words, asking the One, before I hit send to ask the many.

Then I went for a walk with my youngest son. As the sunset, we talked of his world and while listening closely to his every word, I also held my asking cup up to the Father on behalf of the email I knew many would be receiving.

Our walk ended (what a blessed momma I am to get to walk beside my son), and I went to my email just to confirm it had actually gone out. And within that short hour, 4 people had already responded... 1 saying they would cover the entire cost of the surgery... (my heart froze)... and 2 giving half of what was needed (tears gushed)... and 2 more giving $50 and $75 to be a part of what God was doing. I hit the floor and thanked the One who moves the hearts of His children.

Then quickly sent another email to let everyone know ---- IT WAS DONE!

I sent emails to try and stop others already trying to give as well (one willing to pay the full amount needed as well) ---- no more money was needed, but the beautiful generosity of love was flowing strong. More gifts came, another $15, then $200, then $100, like a strong flowing river the love would not be stopped quickly.
Oh my heart... how beautiful are His kids.

So now ----

Carol's surgery is funded not just with the amount needed -------

but it is funded for over double of what is needed!

And I remembered --- there is a verse about God giving a double portion --- grabbing my Bible, it was quickly found ----

“Instead of your shame you will receive a double portion, and instead of disgrace you will rejoice in your inheritance. And so you will inherit a double portion in your land, and everlasting joy will be yours.” Isaiah 61:7

Oh God ---

for the woman who lives on the dirt floor and sleeps in a tiny bed with children piled on top of her, for the one who shrinks from the shame that the truth might bring, but is praying and asking for courage to know, for the dark skinned beauty you see and love and have your eye on ---- your Holy Word speaks today just as it did through Isaiah in the 8^th century before your sent your son...

...instead of your shame Carol, you will receive a double portion...

and instead of disgrace Carol, you will rejoice in your inheritance... you will receive a double portion in your land... and Carol, I, God, will give you everlasting joy.

And “i delight greatly in the Lord; my soul rejoices in my God.”

Isaiah 61:10a

The One who calls us into the Light of Truth ----- is the God of a double portion.

Carol is in front of Maggie and Ray, wearing the black and white wrap (covering the cyst). Beside her is Eve (middle) and Matilda (left) -- this was taken August 22nd after Bible Study, we were headed back home and giving lifts to the ladies.

Thank you in advance for praying for Carol --- and thank you to those who shocked us all with your quick, beautiful response to the need of one who is surely among “the least of these”.

Oh --- thank you so!

I hope you feel His great smile over you – it is surely there.


©2014 Donna Taylor/Reaching for the Robe