Dave and the team made it safely to Africa.

We were able to chat last night for me/this morning for him via FaceTime.

Kayla told him about the faux gold nuggets that Pop Pop gave her yesterday.

And asked if there were goats there.

Gold and goats.

That’s about right.

Ashlyn asked if he got his shots yet.

She wanted to go with him until she heard about the vaccination requirements.

Lightweight.

God is doing amazing things in Sudan.

I love that I can kind of see it.

And I can’t wait to hear more when they are home.

I went to a funeral on Saturday.

For a dear soul that taught Sunday School in the church that I grew up in.

I was blessed to have her.

And blessed by the Jolly Ranchers she gave me when I memorized verses.

Her family spoke of her devotion to Christ and His Word.

How they would recall hearing her pray out loud, early in the morning.

Very often she had her bible in hand.

Any time she talked with you, she looked you in the eyes and gently grabbed your arm.

I remember that about her.

And she did not have an easy life.

Much harder than mine.

Yet she remained loyal.

Devout.

Committed.

On the drive back, I got to thinking.

What will my kids remember about me?

What will they say after I’m gone?

That I always had my bible in my hand?

Or that I was always holding my phone.

Am I praying out loud in the morning or ever?

Am I intensionally teaching them?

And, more importantly, am I LIVING what I’m teaching them?

Or just surviving until bedtime.

A good dose of conviction was received on the 505.

And one I’m going to listen to.

I want to be remembered for my devotion to Christ.

Not the things of this world.

Now hear me.

Obviously, technology is not evil or bad.

I actually think it’s a gift from the Lord, if used rightly.

Fellowship on steroids.

I love it.

I have no plans to give it up.

I just want to use it less.

I don’t want to be remembered for it.

Even if I really, really, REALLY love it when we’re 9077 miles apart.

Thank you, 505 and your 8 zillion bugs.

Thank you, Dorothea Jacobs.

God used you to teach me something.

Unrelated.

This.

Link up.

When Dave gets excited about something, he gets chatty.

Baseball season about to start?

Chatty.

The Niners potentially (and unsuccessfully) acquiring Manning?

Chatty.

Sovereignty of God, predestination, propitiation, etc.?

CHATTY.

He’s also one of those weirdos that likes being convicted.

Which means he’s chatty about his convictions.

Which means I get convicted.

Which means I. LOVE. BEING. A. PASTORS. WIFE!!!!!!

Kidding.

I really do love being a pastor’s wife.

He shared about the above verse last night at prayer meeting.

And I can’t stop thinking about it.

It’s so easy to be a hearer, right?

We are trained to be hearers.

Listen to your parents.

Listen to your teachers.

Listen to your pastors.

Listen.

Listen.

Listen.

All good.

We need to learn.

But what are we DOING with that knowledge?

Are we taking risks?

Sharing Christ?

Filling a need when we see one?

Coming alongside those who are lonely?

Coming alongside those who are burdened and/or overwhelmed?

It’s so easy to go to bible studies.

Stay held up in our little groups.

Noses stuck in our bible, dictionary and/or concordance.

Marinating on the Greek and Hebrew.

But never DOING anything with all that He teaches us.

Scripture is clear.

Our works do NOT save us.

Our works, through the power of the Holy Spirit, show the world WHO saved us.

So when your husband says, “Hey babe, Can I go to Sudan?”

You say, “OK.”

To see convictions made real?

Nothing more awesome.

Even when your mom calls in a panic to tell you about a friend of a friend’s daughter’s sister
who got attacked “somewhere in Africa.”

Thanks, Mom.

So Dave is convicted.

I am convicted.

And now hopefully YOU are convicted.

Have fun.

Kayla’s home “sick.”

And was miraculously cured a few minutes ago.

So we’re off to go wash the dog.

In years past, it’s always been about us.

Dave and I.

Making plans.

Making reservations.

And scrambling to find the last available sitter.

This year was different.

An outpouring from our hearts that reflects Who we love and serve.

An emphasis placed on what matters.

During church service on Sunday we spent some time praying for these precious women.

Women who have seen their Valentine go to be with Jesus.

Far right is my grandmother.

After service, we visited a local nursing home.

Hope Kids passed out flowers and handmade Valentine’s.

And gave treats to the nursing staff.

Ashlyn wished ever single resident, asleep and awake:

“Happy Bahhh-lentine’s Day!”

KK diligently prepared Valentine’s for her classmates.

“Fun Dip for the girls because they are fun.”

“Nerds for the boys because, well, you know…”

I kind of hope she always thinks that way.

And stays little forever.

My friend hosted a party for the kids on Tuesday.

Shirt and cookie decorating.

Red and pink food and treats.

So sweet and thoughtful.

Thank you, Carrie!

This Valentine’s Day I was reminded that Christian love is about sacrifice.

We’ve been given so much.

We’ve no choice but to give back.

It’s not enough to have the right words.

Or perfect behavior.

But we must LOVE.

And care for God’s people.

In word AND deed.

I plead with Jesus on a daily basis for compassionate hearts in my children.

And I know they learn by watching me.

So I am continually challenged to live accordingly.

To find creative ways to show God’s love to God’s people.

On and around February 14th.

And other days, too.

Sometimes I wonder if it was all our fault.

And we made shirts.

WITH. HIS. FACE. ON. THEM.

I still get a little sick to my stomach when I think about it.

Soon thereafter, he announced a sabbatical, went all Francis Chan on us and disappeared off the face of the earth.

And I can’t help but wonder if our mad screenprinting skills made this humble, simple preacherman run far, far away.

Anyway, he’s BACK!

Tweeting.  Preaching.  Blogging.

And I’m about as happy as my husband in this picture.

Because I adore him.  But not more than Jesus.  Promise.

________________________

And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks by night.

An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them.  They were terrified.

But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid.  I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all people.

Today, in the town of David

a Savior has been born to you.

He is Christ the Lord.  This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.

Luke 2:8-12

The view out our front window this morning.

In a few short weeks, the leaves will be gone.

Trees will be bare.

Storms and winds will come.

The vibrant, beautiful color will have disappeared.

To make room for another round of color.

I think back to where I was a year ago.

Missing the structure and security of our old church.

Missing friends that thought we were making the wrong decision.

Sad.  Lonely.  Fearful.  Frustrated.  Misunderstood.

Clinging to Christ with everything.

I can remember Dave saying

“next Christmas will be better…”

All will have changed.

And it has.

It really has.

We had dinner with friends last night.

3 families.  3 pastors.  3 different churches.  5 little girls.

3 parallel lives.  Crazy, busy lives.

Nights like these do not happen as often as we’d like.  But we pray for each other.  And we pray often.

Help these sweet girls.

Help them, in the midst of the crazy busyness.

Help them to know that their identity is never to be found in being the daughter of a pastor.

Help them to understand that they are daughters of a King.

Our country changed forever.  And,  the following December, so did I.  Post-Katrina, Dave went to Mississippi 4 times.  First, in April of 2006 to organize the logistics  of bringing a group to help with the restoration of the devastated area.  He returned with teams in August of 2006, December of 2006 and August of 2007.

I was able to go once.  I was 6 months pregnant with Ashlyn and spent much of my time sifting though the rubble of destroyed homes, searching for  missing treasures and lost heirlooms.  Work that could only be done by one so disconnected from the memories that it was not overwhelmingly painful to find them all broken.

We spent much of our time at Paul and Stella’s house.  As the others worked to build a drainage trench around their property, I began sifting.  Stella told me stories about her family, her grandchildren especially.  About the fact that her husband, Paul was a writer.  And about her famous french onion soup she had served every Christmas Eve in beautiful cobalt blue soup bowls.

Most of what I found that day was small, shattered and unrecognizable.  But I continued to sift and dig.  Later that afternoon, I saw a teeny, tiny piece of cobalt blue buried in what used to be their vegetable garden.  I assumed it broken, but to my surprise, pulled out an entire soup bowl, perfectly in tact.   The most beautiful soup bowl I had ever seen.  I called over to Stella and she was thrilled.  We hugged.  We cried.  She ran it back to her FEMA trailer, excited to pair it with its’ top that a neighbor had found many months earlier.

We did other things that week.  More important things.  Like electrical work and fence repair.  Lots of yard clean-up and debris removal.  We sheet rocked and painted.  We dug lots of trenches to prepare for their rainy season.  But Stella and her cobalt blue soup bowl, I will remember forever.

God taught me many things in Mississippi.  Earthly treasures can be gone as quickly as they come and it is important that I not find value or identity in them.  I learned that every person has a story and if we claim to care for them, we need to listen.

And, I was reminded that it is  not about what we DO.  It’s not about the scope or size of our job or how far we travel to complete it.  It is not about our talents and abilities.  We do not gain favor in God’s eyes or earn our way to heaven by DOING.  As Christians, we are saved by grace, not by works.  In our good works, we show our appreciation for the grace we have received and our love for Jesus.

“For by grace you have been saved, through faith.  And this is not your own doing; it is a gift from God.  Not a result of works, so that no one may boast.  For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.”  Ephesians 2:8-10

“Resolved, to improve every opportunity, when I am in the best and happiest frame of mind, to cast and venture my soul on the Lord Jesus Christ, to trust and confide in him, and consecrate myself wholly to him; that from this I may have assurance of my safety, knowing that I confide in my Redeemer.”

“Resolved, to cast away such things as I find do abate my assurance.”

“Resolved, to study the Scriptures so steadily, constantly, and frequently, as that I may find, and plainly perceive, myself to grow in the knowledge of the same.”

“Resolved, to ask myself, at the end of every day, week, month, and year, wherein I could possibly, in any respect, have done better.”

These are just a few of the 70 resolutions written by theologian Jonathan Edwards in 1772-73 at the ripe old age of 19.  Yes, I know he has been dead for a LONG time.  But his words, once you get past the snoozey old English, still ring true.   And are powerful and beautiful.

Last Friday, a group of 25 of us traveled down to Palm Springs to attend Pastor John MacArthur and Grace Community Church’s 6th annual “Resolved” conference which honors Edwards and his deep realizations penned centuries ago.  We were blessed to sit under the teaching of MacArthur, Rick Holland, Steve Lawson, C.J. Mahaney and Al Mohler.  All super smart dudes.  Not as smart as Jonathan Edwards, but still smart.

The theme this year was Jesus.  Simple yet SO complex.  Mohler (although he hurt my head) and Mahaney were my faves.  Mohler is the president of Southern Baptist Seminary and likely more intelligent than all the students and professors there, combined.  I was able to hear one of his sessions on Revelation 19 and Jesus as the “Lamb who would be King.”  He taught on the manner in which Christ left this earth and the way He will return.  Heavy stuff regardless, but especially when coming from such a brainiac.  Mahaney, president of Sovereign Grace Ministries, spoke on the book of Jude and how, as believers, we are to continually contend for the faith by preaching the gospel to ourselves daily, praying and waiting on the Lord.  And the worship, led by Enfield was spectacular.

In case you were wondering, Palm Springs was HOT.  We rented a large house about 5 miles away from the conference center.  An interesting pad.  Definitely built in the ’80′s with a picture of a very dark semi-naked man above the fireplace which I found odd for a rental.  Kayla and Ashlyn spent much of the time in the pool and semi-nakey was put in the pantry to avoid causing anyone to stumble.  Conference sessions were in the morning and evening so the girls had lots of friends to swim with during the day.  This made them quite happy.  And one of them quite tan.

We also celebrated a few milestones.  Birthdays for Elizabeth Carter Still VII and Timmy.  For the record, cake decorating is not one of my spiritual gifts.  Safe to scratch creativity off that list, too.  And photo editing.

Also, Miss Cindy Steiger received word that she passed her boards and was offically an RN.  And Dave was officially really mean.  Ellen has yet to officially forgive him.

Around 1 pm each day, the outside temperature neared unbearable (109 degrees on average) and we headed inside to the air conditioned ’80s palace.  We also engaged in a few scandalous activities of which Mohler and MacArthur would definitely not approve.

Like margaritas for the children.  Thank you, Betsy.

Tattoos.

And no age limit high stakes poker.

Whew.  Now that I got that off my chest, let’s discuss bugs.  They were INSANE.  Really.  Yes, that is a black widow on the left.  On the right we have the largest grasshopper in all creation.  Absent for picture day, a family of cockroaches living in our coffee pot, a hummingbird moth near the hot tub (you can guess how it got it’s name) and horrific, nasty crickets that scurried around like roaches near the tennis courts.  It was all very traumatic.

Speaking of traumatic, let’s also discuss the car ride home.

Here we are, pulled over on Hwy 5 in 90 degree heat because my husband “thought he could make it” even though the gas indicator said we had 0 miles left.  Oh, we were close.  See 152, there.  But not close enough.  Luckily, Patrick saved the day.  Not only did he go get gas for us, he acted as safety patrol with a bright yellow folder courtesy of Cindy, RN while Dave and Philip (mostly Philip) filled the tank.

And the rest of the caravan was clearly concerned.

Overall, a really fabulous and fun trip.  Already looking forward to next year.  And “resolved” to find a bug free house with no nakeys.  And to make my husband fill up when Timmy does.

As I look at this picture and think about the people in it (excluding  the  ancestors… great grandma Ware and great, great grandpa Rudd, I think), I am reminded of something very important.  Church is not about a building.  It is about glorifying Christ through His people.  This is accomplished by our love for one another as we are unified by our love for Him.

One of the many joys of ministry is the blessing of this love shown to my babies in abundance.   Betsy, holding KK while sincere prayers are lifted up on her behalf (she turns 7 on Thursday).  Kim, for thinking to take this sweet picture.  Ellen, keeping Ashlyn occupied as we prayed.  And many, many others.  It does take a village.  A Godly village.