My Fifth Day

Saturday, November 19, 2011

Ah! I got up this morning and actually prayed, and I felt like a chain had been broken that had me tied to the flesh’s way of doing things. Praise God!

I was struggling between getting up and yielding to sleep. Oh, I almost, almost yielded. But everything put together, all that God has been doing…Ah! He succeeded!

The Lord reminded me of the picture I had first seen a long time ago: Christ is in the midst of the fire, and he beckons me to come. The flesh refuses, flees, resists, but the Spirit is made of sterner stuff and resolutely steps forth into the “certain death” that the fire threatens. However, the spirit is made of inflammable material; only the flesh burns up. That’s why the flesh didn’t want to go there and why the spirit didn’t mind.

So this morning when I sat up and partially emerged from the covers and a blast of cold air hit me, I very nearly turned back to warm, cozy comfort. But the Lord whispered a thought to me that was enough to tip the balance toward obedience: “It’s a very cold fire this morning.”

(Ha! I like that on so many levels. God, I was just wishing for an intellectual conversation with someone and didn’t see any potential immediate source—but I forgot about YOU! You—who can meet me exactly on my level, converse intelligently and knowledgeably about any topic (!) and always have something more, something tantalizing, something so cool and multifaceted and satisfying to think about—YES!)

So I had 45 lovely minutes of communion with my God, my love, my Savior, my life, the Spirit that lives in me and works His mighty wonders according to His will.

Glory!

We had breakfast a little later since it was Saturday. Devotions were simply gathering in the salon, saying a simple prayer, and scattering to our separate jobs.

U came up to me at breakfast and said, “Can you cook?”

“Yes,” I replied.

So I got assigned to cook lunch, with A2 as my helper.

U said it was “stewed meat and potatoes,” any way I wanted to make them. The meat was lamb ribs, about 10 pounds, which I had no idea how to make, but I just cut it up into chunks, made a broth, made twice-baked potatoes and a salad…and it turned out fine.

As I was cooking, there naturally were things to hand wash, but I couldn’t find any soap. “They must have it around here somewhere,” I thought. “Don’t tell me they wash the dishes without soap.” Finally, I asked one of the girls, and she said, “It’s right there,” pointing. “Oh. This.” I said. It was toilet bowl cleaner. “Okaaaaay—we wash the dishes with toilet bowl cleaner,” I thought. I fought down a rising sense of grooooooosss.” Gulp. I forged ahead, squeezed the toilet bowl cleaner into the sponge, and washed the dish.

One curious thing about cooking lunch was how much time I had to do it. I started at about 9, or a little after, and I had to have it ready by 3. However, all the time I was thinking it was supposed to be ready at 2, and even still, I felt like I had tons of time.

A2 made a soup and cleaned the pantry somewhat and disappeared. D, who is Polish and barely speaks any Spanish, finished what she was doing and came to help me. She has only been in Betel for 2 weeks and misses her home terribly. She also doesn’t like to get bored and tends to stay active doing something or other.

While D was cleaning out the refrigerators, working very fast and being as efficient as possible, I kept hearing U say to her, “D—we’re not in a hurry. D, tranquia. I was trying to be fast and efficient in the kitchen, too, but when I heard U saying this to D, I thought, “I’m going to have to calm down, too, if I’m going to get this food made slowly enough.” What a curious thing to have to do!

After we ate lunch, the girls brought in all this food that they had gotten through recuperación (pickimg up food donations at grocery stores, butcher shops, and bakeries that donate to Betel. They had to open up all the bags and put the food away. This included organizing all the meat so that similar types of meat were stored together and so forth. Y (not my old roommate) was taking notes on everything we had, E was cutting up leeks and filling freezer bags, O was cleaning little sardine-sized fish, and the whole kitchen and dining room area was a swarming bustle of activity.

It was R’s turn to wash the dishes, and I offered to help. “You can dry and put away for me,” she said. “Here’s the towel.”

I looked at it with what must have been an obviously disapproving gaze. That towel had been used for everything from a potholder to a hand towel since I had been in the kitchen, and it was already damp when I arrived, so who knows what it had done before that.

“What, is it not clean?” R asked.

“Not really,” I said. It was damp all over and streaked with visible dirt.

R took a closer look at it. “It’s fine,” she said. “Go ahead and use it.” So I gingerly dried the dishes using the least possible contact with the cleanest part of the towel I could find.

When the dishes were done, I helped R take out the garbage to the van, where they were going to take it to a dumpster. There was a ton of garbage, from a broken exercise bike to a broken dresser to full, stinky bags from the kitchen trash to bags of stale bread that we hadn’t eaten. We filled up the entire back of the van, which was about the size of the area in our 15-passenger van when the two back seats were taken out, and drove off.

When we got to the dumpster, we unloaded all our stuff into and around it. It was empty when we started, and it was full to overflowing, with stuff piled on the street beside it when we finished.

Later I found out that what we had done was illegal. Apparently you can get a big fine for filling up a dumpster that isn’t “yours.” So that’s why they were in such a hurry to dump the trash. But I guess they do it every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday, looking for a different dumpster each time.

After taking the garbage, we drove over to Betel’s mechanic shop for some work to get done on the van. I guess it’s always using water. On the way to the shop, R pointed out several groups of girls who were standing in roundabouts and said they were prostitutes. How sad!

We drove back to our house in another van that had followed us to take us home, and I got to talk with Lucy all the way back. She is just wonderful, and we had a great conversation.

We got back to the house and I helped R hang up some laundry. Then I went to our room and watched Q for a while. She was playing with her hair and some makeup samples, because she’s going to church tomorrow, and she’s quite excited about that. She wants to look pretty.

At 9:00, it was time for dinner. Marlene and Lucy had made homemade Mexican taquitos, which were really yummy.

Then we went to bed. 

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My Fourth Day

Friday, November 18, 2011

I think I’m starting to get the hang of this.

Get up at 7. (I set my alarm for 6 but slept through it again. The night before, I had the firmest of resolutions to get up in the morning, but Q had to go to the bathroom twice, and as she’s not allowed to go by herself, she woke me up to go with her, and the blast of cold air that hit me each time I got out of bed was enough to knock the sleep out of anyone. Of course, I was able to fall back asleep…just not stay mostly asleep during the trip to the bathroom. The first time it happened, I said to myself, “Ohhhh…I’m going to be tempted to not get up in the morning now.” The second time it happened, I said to myself, “Ohhhh…How am I ever going to get up?” And when the alarm rang, it was theh same old line I always fall for: “Just do your prayers in bed for a few minutes. Then you can wake up.” Eyes closed, head on pillow, “Dear God…” and Boom! The next thing I knew, it was 7:00.)

Anyway—Get up at 7, eat breakfast at 7:30 as fast as you can (4 galletas and a glass of water, for instance), have devotions at 7:45, leave for work at 8:30.

My assigned job was the kitchen in the Betel center with M and O, and we drove there without any incident.

Oh—Let me back up—my roommate Y and another girl left in the morning to go to thei airport. They are returning to their home country, Bulgaria.

In the kitchen, O set me to work washing and breaking up lettuce for salad. Once that was done, I asked what else I could do.

M, who was in charge of the kitchen, seemed to be thinking. “I guess the kitchen seems pretty relaxed today,” she finally said.

Well, this simply wouldn’t work for me. “Can I clean anything?” I asked. “Sweep the floor, wipe the counters, clean the fridge?” (I had noticed that a sign posted on the wall said that the Friday job was to clean the fridge.)

“Okay, I guess you can clean the fridge,” M said. O showed me where a bucket and a rag were, and I began wiping down the inside and outside of the fridge.

At some point during the morning, M got a call that P, A’s fiancée, had come out of the coma. “Wow… I thought. “What is God doing?”

M, the head cook, was preparing garbanzos and quail and chorizo and salad for dinner, which would be at 2:00. After finishing with the fridge, I asked her if I could help clean the quail, of which we had about 60, and they still had all the insides in them. After they were cleaned, M laid them out in a big sheet pan with some seasonings to bake in the oven.

While O was putting the chorizo (typical Spanish sausage) on a cookie sheet to go into the oven, she offered me a piece to taste.

“Um, it’s raw, isn’t it?” I asked.

“Yes, but this kind is okay to eat raw,” O said. “Here, just try a little bit.”

She cut off a slice and I said, “Okaaaaay…” and ate it. Maybe it’s like summer sausage that you can eat as is, I thought. It tasted fine…actually it was quite yummy…so how could I know?

Just then, M walked in. “Why are you eating that chorizo raw?” she asked.

“Oh! Is it not okay to eat it raw?” I asked.

“You’ve got to be careful about things like that,” M continued.

I turned to O and said, “Are you deceiving me, or what?”

O showed M the kind of sausage she had given me. “Ohhh,” M said. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

Whew. What a relief.

We ate lunch and then I had about an hour and a half to get on my computer and write home. I updated my blog and wrote as many emails as I could. I had at least 20 messages in my inbox. YAY!

Then it was time to clean up the kitchen, which O and I did together. We talked and she told me some of her story.

It is amazing to see the transformation God has wrought in these ladies’ hearts. O is the most cheerful, positive, giving person you could meet. You would never know that she had a messed-up past just by meeting her. There is a sparkle in her eye and a kindness in her voice that shows what a profound work God can do in a heart yielded to Him. I love her laugh, and she’s always laughing.

After we cleaned up the kitchen (which I did with much energy, due to a cup of coffee I drank just before starting), I had about 2 more hours to get on my computer, which was great! I almost got caught up on my blog.

Towards the end, I started talking to a woman named Mercedes who told me some of her testimony. She was not a Betelita but attended the Betel church and apparently knew many of the girls. Her story was very interesting.

At exactly 8:30, the church service started and went until…I didn’t check when…probably 9:30. The songs were all so meaningful, it brought me to tears. The Lord really touched my heart regarding getting up in the morning.

We went back to the house, ate dinner about 11:00 pm, and turned out the light at midnight.

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My Third Day

Thursday, November 17, 2011

We got up half an hour earlier than usual (6:30 instead of 7) to get ready and have breakfast, because instead of having devotions at the house, we were having them at the church (which is about an hour away). So I set my alarm for 6 in order to have time for my devotions. It went off, but I didn't get up.

The devotion was excellent...about moving away from what is comfortable and familiar in order to have a wider range of service and usefulness, with the illustration of the hermit crab, which has to leave its comfortable shell in search of a larger one, and some striking personal examples from her life.

After devotions, I got back in the van. I was paired with U, and several other ladies also came with us. First we dropped J off at the bus station. She is going to lead the women's house in Sevilla until the new year.

Then we went to the grocery store to pick up food donations. We filled the back of the van with what they ave us, and then we brought it to the rastro (secondhand store) where we unloaded it into their food bank.

Then we went back to the house, where R, Lucy, U, and I made some crafts to sell. I was doing the lettering on some plaques that had artwork depicting a certain verse.

The new girl, Q, joined U and I in the afternoon, while R and Lucy went to clean the school that C and I had cleaned the day before. We let Q paint on a plaque, and she asked me to write her daughter's name on it with a verse she had selected. I did, and she was inexpressibly happy with it. Her daughter, Mayte, is 10 and lives with her grandparents.

Curiously, a few of the plaques I was supposed to write on disappeared at some point during the time we were sitting there.

One interesting thing that happened was that suddenly a bird flew up from the floor and crashed into the window, trying to get out. U got up to try to catch it, and so did I, but it flew up from the corner where it had fallen and crashed into another window. Then it flew down the hall. I opened two outside doors and followed it down the hall. I found it on the ground, so exhausted it didn't make the smallest protest or struggle when I picked it up. I took it outside and it seemed half-dead. It was sort of laid stiffly over on its side with its beak open. U came out with me and I asked her where I could give it a drop of water before I let it go. She turned on the hose and wet her hands and held some water up to its beak, at which point it flew over to a bush. It clung there, almost upside down, still panting. Then it darted into a thick evergreen bush, and U and I went back inside.

When R got back from cleaning the school, she was unhappy that we had made the plaque for Q's daughter. She explained that no one was allowed to make personal gifts, because these crafts were things to sell.

Later, she discovered that the few plaques were missing, and that became a pretty big deal. I said that they were there, and then they were gone, and the only person who was there with us was Q, but she never...well, I never saw her take them, so I didn't know if she did it or not.

R said to me, "You don't know us. All of us have had to survive on the street. I could leave you without clothes without you knowing it." I burst into a laugh.

"You don't believe it, but it's true," O said.

"I could get your necklace off just walking by you," R said. "I could get all the coins out of your pocket without you feeling it."

"No, it's not that I don't believe you," I said. "It just gives me such a vivid mental image."

"Q has been here before," R said. "And you have to realize that we know her and what she's like. She has sticky fingers. This is why we can't leave her alone, ever."

"Okay," I said. My whole sense of safety was being shattered. Not just Q, but all these women knew how to do this. And I was about as innocent and unsuspecting a target as they could wish for. Most of them were already changed through the work of God in their lives, but I realized that the only thing standing in between me losing my stuff was each woman's self-discipline, inhibitions, and responsibility. And that invisible barrier surely lay in a different place for each individual. And I could not possibly know where that was for any person. For that matter, the only thing that stands between me and any kind of crime by any person in the world is that person's inhibitions. Self-discipline is where the rubber meets the road. No matter what the law says. All my life I have been around people whose barrier of "What I Will Not Do" is approximately equal to the Biblical standard (and approximately equal to my own). Even general American society, Christian or non, is more restrained (and therefore "safe") than most other countries. But suddenly my assumption was shattered that any given person would have that invisible barrier, this internal impediment to, say, stealing, lying, or committing a violent assault, against whoever they wanted, at any time they wanted.

R came back in with Q, and Q started telling me that the two plaques she had painted were not the ones that were missing. I said, "I know. I know you painted blank ones. But do you remember the 4 or 5 that were sitting right here? One had two flowers, one had a gold ring around the edge, a couple of oval ones and a couple rectangles?"

"No. I don't know what you're talking about. I've never seen them." Q said.

"Remember how you pointed to the two blue flowers and showed me?" I said. "You pointed at the flowers and said you wanted to paint some flowers."

"No, I have no idea," Q said. "I never saw them."

R broke in and said to me, "Okay. Until Q behaves herself, she has lost her bookshelf. She will have to keep all her books in a drawer from now on until she can show us that she can be trusted. And we can not ever allow her to be in our room alone without you or I present.

I nodded my understanding, and Q, who was standing there, understood, too, by reading R's lips.

"I don't care if she gets mad at me," R continued. "That's not important. What is important is that she learn that things don't work that way around here. This is for her own sake, for her own good."

"Okay," I nodded. "Yes, I agree with you."

So R took away Q's bookshelf and she had to move all her books into the salon. There were two little leaflet-type booklets, maybe 24 pages or something, that were hers, and these she took and ripped out the first page, which had her name written in it. "Here," she said sarcastically. "You can have these. I can't have books anymore--If I can't have a shelf, I don't want them. So you take them. They're for you."

"No," I said mildly. "Don't do this to your books." But she crumpled up the ripped-out pages, threw them in the trash, and stuffed the booklets in with my books on my shelf.

About 10:00 pm...or after, I'm not sure... A got a phone call and burst into tears. I was just passing through the hallway where she was when she got the call, and the look of agony and pain on her face was unforgettable.

R and O got one each side of her and they went into her office and closed the door.

When O came out, she whispered to me, "Su novio" (her fiancee). I had heard the girls praying for a "P," and I had asked who he was. "A's fiancee," they told me. "He is a Betelito, too. they had a wedding date set and everything, but then his kidney got really bad and he's waiting for a transplant."

News trickled out little by little that he was now in a coma and wasn't expected to come out of it. Most of us girls went into the salon to pray. We prayed fervently and unitedly for healing for P, and strength for A, who had left for the hospital.

At one point in our prayer, I had a curious, but definite sensation that God had answered our prayer and granted healing. I felt a peace, and an assurance that was so deep, the natural thing to do would have been to break out into rejoicing over God's answer. But I didn't, because I felt like, "Am I hearing right? Is this really God? How do I know?" So I kept it to myself. But the feeling didn't go away, and I decided, "Well, at any rate, I'm just going to give in to it and believe it's true and see what happens. What do I have to lose?"

After our prayer time, everyone was very quiet and we tiptoed to our beds.

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My Second Day

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

I slept from about 11 pm to 6 am overnight, which I considered pretty incredible, considering my long afternoon nap. I got up at 6:30 and went to the salon grande to do my devotions. I read the Bible for about 25 minutes and prayed for about 5 minutes. Then it was time to get dressed and ready.

Breakfast was at 7:30 and consisted of pastries, cereal, coffee, and galletas (slightly sweet crackers or lightly sweet cookies, however you want to look at it.) I had time for about 3 galletas, a pastry, and half a cup of coffee before breakfast was over. That was the worst way to break a fast I've ever tried. I was jittery, slightly dizzy, and slightly nauseous until at least noon. Oh well... I had determined I was just going to eat what was served without making them give me special treatment. But oh, it sure makes me miss a nice omelette or my usual bowl of oatmeal.

I was assigned the job of "campaña" with C, who had led devotions the day before. Everyone said C was the best at campaña, which consisted of going from shop to shop and soliciting donations from the shopkeepers for a calendar.

After devotions, I boarded one of the white vans and we headed out. I sat next to Marlene, who is here as a short-term missionary from Mexico. She and I had a wonderful conversation. She is 22 and is full of power in prayer.

I kept paying close attention to the roads so I would know how to get to the Betel center, but then our driver dropped us off at a Renault car dealership. "Oh, so much for that," I thought.

Oh! But on the way, along the highway, we got pulled over by the police for speeding (7 km/hr over). While we were sitting there, someone looked back and a second Betel van was right behind us, pulled over, too. Later, we found out that a third Betel van had gotten pulled over right behind that one. Whoever is driving the Betel van has to pay the fine for speeding or parking tickets...not the Betel office.

Anyway, we walked into the Renault dealership. I was with C, my roommate R, and E, who is the youngest girl in the house (17) and doesn't come from a background of addiction, but from an abusive family situation. We sat down in the waiting area because there was no one at the reception desk. I assumed we were starting there to do our campaña. The other 3 ladies got a cup of coffee, I got a glass of water, and we sat around waiting for about 15 minutes. Finally, R got up and went to the bathroom. When she got back, we waited some more.

Here we are waiting around.

A little later, 4 or 5 guys arrived in the reception office, and R went to talk to them with a calendar in her hand. She came back, still with the calendar, and I thought we would be moving on to the next office. But she said something like, "It's not done because the tracks aren't working." From this rather cryptic message, I finally gathered that we were there to get the van we were supposed to drive to our campaña site. More than an hour later, the guy came up to us and said the van was ready. We got up and went outside to wait for it.

It seemed like we stood there for about 20 minutes while we waited for them to bring the van out. All that time, C and R were discussing something in rapid-fire Spanish that I could only follow insofar as they were figuring out what to do and had some sort of logistical considerations that I didn't know about, so I just kept my mouth shut. Finally, the van came and we drove off. If they had come to a conclusion during the discussion, I don't know when, but as we drove off, they both knew what they were doing. (Maybe they knew all along and were just arguing about it to pass the time. It's very Spanish to argue just for the sake of arguing.)

We dropped off R and E on a certain street, and C and I drove a few streets over, where we found a parking place. By then, it was 12:00, and we only bought a parking pass for one hour, because we figured we had to leave by 1:00.

I followed C from shop to shop, listening as she said, "Hi, we're from Betel, and we're doing our calendar campaign like we do every year. Would you like to collaborate a bit to help people from the street, abused women, and drug addicts?" Everyone said no, and we would go to the next shop. Finally, C turned and looked at me and said, "Ahora--tu." (Now--you.) So in the next shop, I  greeted the guy, said basically what C had said, only in worse Spanish, and--he gave us a euro! I was pleasantly surprised, as I didn't expect a success on my first try.

So we went from store to store, and every now and then, C would turn suddenly to me and say, tu (you). And I would talk there. but mostly, she did the talking. We got 10 euros all together (about $12) in this way.

By the time we got back to the van, it was 1:15, and we had already gotten a ticket for parking there past the time our pass expired. C went to pay the ticket, which was 3 euros. Then we got in the van and drove off, but C almost immediately exclaimed, "Oh! I forgot! We were supposed to stop at the pharmacy!" There was no chance to park again, but at the next intersection we saw a pharmacy at the corner. Carmen stopped at the red light, put on her flashers, hopped out of the van, held up her index finger at the driver behind her, and scooted over to the pharmacy. Of course the light turned green while she was in there. It was only a 2-lane road, and our vehicle and a hill impeded the view of the drivers behind us from taking the opposite lane, so no one moved. Then I saw flashing police lights behind us. "Aaaah!" I thought. "Three times in one day! What am I going to say to the guy?"

The police car was about 3 cars behind us, waiting at the red light, and he had merely turned on his lights in order to make a Y-turn and go back down the street in the opposite direction. What a relief! How curious, too, that the policeman just took our little Stop In The Middle Of The Road as a matter of course, not worth bothering about. As soon as he left, a great honking of horns commenced, and little by little, the traffic trickled around us, braving the unknown in the oncoming traffic's lane. C came out and had to wait a minute before she could get back in the car, because there happened to be quite a flow of cars going by just then. I wouldn't have liked to have to face them.

We drove into another confusing maze of streets, and C stopped to ask two people where a certain street was. When we got pretty close, she parked in a handicap spot and left the engine running while I waited. Of course, by now, the whole time, I was looking for someone giving out tickets, but no one came. She went down the street and came back and said, "They don't have it."

"They don't have what?" I asked. "La colonia," she said. I thought colonia meant "colony," but that must have just been a false cognate.

"What's colonia?" I asked.

"Un perfume," she said.

"Ohhh... colonia = cologne. Makes sense," I thought.

C continued, "But they have it at Mercadona."

"Okay," I said.

"We might be late for lunch because we have to pick up the cake, too," C said.

"That's okay," I said. I didn't know what cake, but I was already lost a long time ago and just decided to go along for the ride.

We went to Mercadona and looked at the cologne. I guess it was more expensive than C wanted it to be (16 euros), and she called A to check if it was okay. It must have been, because we bought it and two cakes.

"What is this for?" I asked.

"For J's birthday," she said.

"Today?" I asked.

"Yes," C said.

Oh. Shows how much I knew.

We got back to the house at 3, and I ate a quick lunch. It was lentil soup, curry chicken, and bread. Yummy!
At about 3:15, we both lay down for a short nap, and C came to wake me at 4:00, because we were supposed to go together to clean an elementary school at 4:30.

C told me that there was a pretty landscape on the way to the school, and when she got there, she stopped the van so I could take a picture.

I love the Spanish village with all the red tile roofs. (Click on the picture to see it better.)

Then we got to the school, just a little village school with one classroom for each grade. We went first to the utility closet, where C showed me how to fill the mop bucket and spray bottles with the right stuff. It was all the same pink soap, just with more or less water added, that we used for everything from mopping floors to wiping tables to cleaning chalkboards.

There were no whiteboards or smartboards in this school--but the other educational materials they had and the kids' projects on display made me think the kids were more advanced than our kids at the school where I worked.

C said we would work together on the first classroom, and then each do our own once I knew the routine. We sprayed and wiped down all the tables and chairs, putting the chairs upside down on the tables. Then we swept, and there was quite a lot of sand everywhere.

"Do they clean here every day?" I asked.

"Yes, but thee play area is sandy," she said. (Later I saw it. There was no grass, just some sandy ground and a concrete patio that could be used for basketball or soccer.)

Well, to make a long story short, I ended up crying because I couldn't do it exactly how C said, and she kept correcting me even though I thought I was following her instructions precisely, and that frustrated me.

Then we went to the Wednesday night service at church, and the girls asked me how I was, and I started crying again.

I felt stupid for crying over such a stupid thing. Stupid and weak and ridiculous. But oh well, it happened...

So we showered and went to bed.

Oh, but I do have to tell this little detail. When I went to clean a classroom by myself, C said, "Oh, by the way, I noticed that there's a rug in that room. Just make sure the mop is kind of dry when you mop over the rug."

So... I mopped a RUG. :-)

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Betel: My First Day

Note: Names are abbreviated or changed to protect privacy.

Monday, after arriving at the Betel headquarters, eating lunch, checking my email, sending out an update, and receiving a brief tour and orientation, we returned back to our house.

A, our house leader, is diminutive in stature, but quite a firecracker. She showed me to my room and I met my roommates, R and Y. R is about 50 and is from Madrid. She goes around singing through the house and has great skill with crafts. Y is from Bulgaria and has been in Betel about a year.

I had gotten mostly unpacked when it was time for dinner. Dinner was a sort of noodle soup, salad, potatoes, and little fried breaded things that had sandwich meat and cheese inside of them.

I gave out the flower pens after dinner and everyone liked them. Y took one and put it behind her ear. Then she got another one and put it behind her other ear. "I'm taking two," she announced.

"But everyone just gets one," I said.

"Well, then how can I have one for each of my two ears?" she asked.

"Well, you can only write with one at a time," I said.

"Oh, no, I can write with both hands simultaneously," she assured me with mock seriousness.

"If you take two, there might not be enough for everyone."

"Yes, there will," she said.

I hesitated between making her give it back and yielding to the generous impulse to let her keep it. "Okay, if there's enough for everyone, then you can have it," I said. After all, it's just a pen, I thought. But then she danced around triumphantly, flourishing the pen and singing, "Na, na, na, na, I have two! I have two!"

I sighed. I didn't think of that. Now everyone is going to be jealous. Generosity to one provokes jealousy in the rest. I should have said "no" on the grounds that there weren't enough for everyone to have two. Live and learn. But after all, it is only a pen. And she's my roommate, so better not to get off on a bad foot.

Actually, I think I already got off on a bad foot with her. In the van on the way home from the Betel center, I asked her, "How did you come to Spain?"

"By plane," she answered.

"No, but--why?" I asked.

"For drugs," she answered.

"Really? the drugs are that much better in Spain than in Bulgaria?"

"But I don't want them anymore!" she protested.

"I know. I believe you."

We weren't understanding each other very well. English was my native tongue and Bulgarian was hers, and we were both speaking rather bad Spanish. I should have dropped it right there, but I didn't.

"So, is it that drugs are legal in Spain and not in Bulgaria?" I asked.

"I told you, I don't want them anymore!" she exclaimed. And we fell silent the rest of the trip.

Oh, Lord, please help me to show love to her!

I took a shower, unpacked, and went to bed right after dinner. I guess I went to bed at 11:00. I set my alarm for 6:30 and didn't get up with it. then we had to get up at 7. Alas! Another day in which I said no to God.

(Interesting. I can't find it in me to say no to a girl I've never met, who is expertly preying on my generosity, but I so easily prey on god's generosity and forgiveness, and say no to Him without a thought.)

My Bible reading happened to fall in the book of Jonah, and I felt very strongly God's call to repent, mourn before him, and turn back to His ways. I had a vision of myself three months from now, cold, dry, and spiritually drained, all because I didn't seek God for His help, direction, and power daily. So I determined to fast and pray today.

It seemed so ironic to me that the one on whom the judgment of God fell was Jonah. He accepted God's merciful withholding of judgment happily enough when it was his own case--God rescued him from the fish's belly, and he was grateful. What a contrast between two: Jonah, the individual, apparently righteous (he was God's prophet, after all), callously disobeys god and falls into judgment. Nineveh, that great city, terribly wicked, tenderly responds to God's warning and is spared. I determined not to be like Jonah--obedient only after compelling circumstances convince him to follow God's plan--and to be like Nineveh--terrible track record, yes, but still not beyond God's mercy.

In the morning, I helped my roommate R to fix a mirror and hang it up in our room. the women who stayed in the house were mopping and cleaning and I was trying to stay out of the way. I went back to my room to finish my Bible reading and fell asleep at about 10:00 am, not waking up until 4.

"Whoa!" I thought. "I didn't know I was that tired!"

Just about when I was getting up, U came in and said a new girl had arrived. She would stay in my room, which had 4 beds, only 3 of which were occupied. U had me move to the top bunk, giving the bottom bunk to the new girl, so I moved all my sheets and blankets up top.

Shortly after that, U came in, the new girl right behind her. She was tall, with short, curly, brown hair and glasses. I welcomed her in the Spanish way with a kiss on both cheeks, smiled, and introduced myself. When they were about to leave the room, I called after her, "What is your name?" She had already turned towards the door, and she just kept walking without responding. U leaned over to me and said, "She's deaf-mute." My eyes widened in comprehension and I felt a rush of emotion wash over me. For the last two years I've been working with special-needs kids! It all felt so random then--but here I could begin to see that there was a purpose for all that training. I instantly felt a bond with her, a determination to communicate, a resolve to make her feel loved.

U set up some sheets and a blanket on a couch in the salón grande (living room), and I went with Lucy to sit with the new girl, who I learned was named Q. As soon as she got snuggled into her covers, she fell asleep, and Lucy and I talked. We talked about lots of things in our Christian experience, family background, and so forth. It is good to have an English-speaking friend here.

Q woke up and noticed that I was writing in my journal. She asked to see--I quickly found that she was deaf, but not mute, and actually had a pretty impressive ability to pronounce words and make herself understood. As soon as she saw the page, she exclaimed, "¡Que letra mas bonita!" (What beautiful handwriting!")

"Well, thank you, I responded. Then she noticed that the flower in my hand was actually the pen I was writing with. A look of wonder spread over her face. I said, "I have one for you. Would you like one?" She nodded "yes" and I went to get my bag. She picked an orange one and gave me a big kiss on the cheek.

Things started off well with her, at least.

One thing I did in the morning that I forgot to mention was take a photo tour of the house. Here a few photos.

The outside of the house - front entrance

My bedroom

Dining room

Living room or salon grande. We have our devotions here.

This is the first post in the series. 

Next post: My Second Day

Update time!

Let's see how many journal entries I can get posted before I have to go back to work!

Today I ate rabbit and quail for lunch. Haha... fun foreign food all the time! :-)

But let's back up and go to the beginning...Pictures to come!
Rebekah

Some of my travels

First leg of the journey: Fly to Chicago. My flight left at 6:00 am and I slept like a baby the whole entire way. I don't have any pictures of that.

Once in Chicago, I had about 9 hours to kill. I enjoyed visiting the Urban Garden they had there in the airport.

They use these herbs and plants in the restaurants in the airport. What a great concept. 

Second leg of the journey: fly to London. I had to laugh when I saw this sign on the airport wall:

Third leg of the journey: Fly to Madrid. I was greeted by two girls from the house where I will be living, and they brought me back to the Betel headquarters in a big white van similar to this one. 

Now I'm in the dining room of the Betel center, where I have eaten lunch and now I'm just sitting around doing my emailing and blogging for the week. 

I don't know when I'll have my next internet access, but I'll keep track of what I'm doing in a written journal, and then perhaps do several days' worth of blog posts in one chunk. 

There will be more photos forthcoming! 

The Journey Begins

I'm sitting here in the middle of the bustling London airport. It's 8:30 am local time, but my body tells me it's 3:30 am. I just ordered a bowl of British porridge for breakfast and consumed it slowly, blissfully. My standard for oatmeal will forevermore have a new definition.

The sounds of muffled polite conversation, squeaking escalators, and final boarding calls surround me. People of every nationality and costume and accent walk by me. A British mum with two little girls was ahead of me in line at "Pret" (where I got my porridge) and I just had to smile at how darling the girls' accent was.

People watching is better than usual here. What are women wearing? How do they cut their hair? How do they do their makeup? No more of the heavy Southern eye shadow in vivid hues, that's certain. Can I tell if this or that person is a foreigner? The minute they open their mouth it removes all doubt, but I've lost my touch at judging it just by sight. Except for the tennis shoes. That's still a dead giveaway. And the shorts.

Soon my gate will be announced for my flight to Madrid, and I will be able to walk down to wherever it is. My foot aches from where I broke my toe a couple of weeks ago. All this walking on hard tile floors has been hard on it. How grateful I am for my comfortable tennis shoes. Let them give me away as an American. I would not be able to bear the agony of a pair of cute boots right now.

On the flight to London, I sat next to a delightful elderly couple on their way to a cruise in Athens. They were Christians and had been on several mission trips themselves, mostly with Josh McDowell (whom they happened to know personally) and with Campus Crusade.

After we had exchanged initial pleasantries, I asked Gail a question (something like "Are you going to see the Parthenon when you go to Athens?"), which she referred to her husband, saying, "I'm not really good at listening and following a conversation." Hmmm...I hadn't noticed, I thought, but all I said was, "I'm sorry."

We continued talking, and the rest of the flight was a curious mixture of lucid conversation and random, surreal statements. For instance, we talked about the 5 Love Languages book, which she had at home, and neither of us could remember the author's name. Much later, after I had fallen asleep and awoken, she said, "I asked my husband. Gary Smalley is the name of the guy who...does the cursive writing." I knew what she meant. Another time, upon seeing the bright white light at the end of the wing, she said, "Look at that lone car out there, driving."

Ah, life. How it spices up our existence with unexpected, unpredictable things.

Video mystery

I took this video about 8 years ago in Wisconsin. Does anyone have the slightest idea what in the world this is?

Look in the middle of the photo for a view of what it looked like (click on the photo for a larger view). You can see it is an oval shape with bands of darker gray at each end. The size of it was smaller than a pea. You could pick it up and put it in your hand, and it would jump around your palm, but if you blew on your palm, it wouldn't roll or move over unless you blew really hard. It stayed around in the dirt patch where we found it for a few days, and then it disappeared and we never saw anything like it again.

The Countdown continues...

2 MORE WEEKS!

"Joy shall be in heaven...

...over one sinner that repenteth." Luke 15:7

Joy is in my heart, too! I went out to lunch with a friend today, and she prayed with me to accept Christ! PRAISE THE LORD!!! The Lord allowed me to share the gospel with her, and she understood it for the first time. Glorious is our God. :-D

Movie Review: Rio

As a bird lover, I was prepared to love this movie. I had seen the preview and thought it was funny, and I was mesmerized when I watched the first half of Rio at school one day, so I rented it and watched it this week. A little blue parrot is snatched from the Amazon jungle by smugglers, ends up in snowy Moose Lake, MN, and is rescued by a little girl. The girl is just like me--loves books, loves birds, wears glasses, happily single...okay, not exactly like me (she doesn't like to travel and is ridiculously fearful of Brazilian food--dumb girl--missing out on the BEST food on the PLANET! Ah!), but that's beside the point.

The point is, I was profoundly disappointed in the message behind the movie. Movies (just like good stories) are all about character development and change. You start a movie out with a character who has a bunch of things wrong with him, and then you show the transformation of those characteristics by the end of the movie. In Rio, the parrot, Blu, starts out as a slightly pampered, slightly annoying, slightly nerdy bird who can't fly. He falls in love with the girl parrot, Jewel, starts to think of others, and learns to fly. That's all well and good.

It's the story of Blu's owner, Linda, that plays out in the second half of the movie and left me disappointed. Linda travels with Blu to Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, in order to meet Tulio, an ornithologist who has arranged the plan to mate Blu and Jewel. Linda and Blu have just landed in Brazil, and Tulio picks them up. They are driving in a jeep in the streets of Rio de Janeiro, when some people dressed for Carnaval cross the street in front of them. "Whoa, what's going on?" Linda says. "You have arrived in time for Carnaval, the biggest party in the world," Tulio replies. A provocatively dressed woman dances her way across the street in front of them.  "Tomorrow night," Tulio continues, "Everyone will be dressed like this." "Not me," Linda replies.

First red flag: Carnaval is merely "the biggest party in the world," according to this movie. As a Christian, I can't buy this innocent-sounding description. What's wrong with a big party? Plenty, if you know what Carnaval stands for. My Brazilian apartment mates described it to me as the biggest sin-fest in the world, a time to revel in unbridled lust, promiscuity, drinking, and drugs. Okay, so it's a kid's movie, and to them it's just costumes and music? Well, if you buy that one, you probably buy the one about Halloween being just about costumes and candy, too, but that's a topic for another time. My problem is that kids are introduced to Carnaval as something innocent and harmless, when it is neither.

The story continues with Blu and Jewel getting stolen by smugglers the first night they are left alone at the bird sanctuary. Then Linda and Tulio have to go on a wild chase to find them, while the birds go on a wild journey to get away from the smugglers and the villain of the movie, an evil cockatoo named Nigel.

(Nigel is another disappointing character. He is ruthless, malicious, and bent on making others as ugly as himself. Why is he so evil? Because once upon a time, he had a TV show, fame, and popularity, and then one day someone replaced him with a parakeet. Therefore he became a monster. Really? Is it just me, or is that just shallow? Okay, it's just a kid's movie. But look at the villains on Pixar films. They succeed in making them bad while giving them depth.)

The roads are closed for the Carnaval parade, and no one is allowed through the checkpoint except for performers, so Linda and Tulio don bird costumes in order to get through. Linda's costume is a skimpy blue sequined bikini with large blue wings and a tail attached to the back. She and Tulio come out of their separate changing rooms. "I look ridiculous, don't I?" Linda asks in a dejected voice. The picture switches to Tulio's face, lit up with delight. He assures her she looks great. Then, through a misunderstanding, Linda gets put in the parade up on a platform where she is supposed to dance. A guy is yelling at her in Portuguese, and Tulio translates. "Linda! You have to shake your tushy!" "NO!" Linda exclaims. "We don't shake our tushies in Minnesota!" But as she tries to get down off the stage, she happens to pull some moves that cause the crowd to roar its approval.

Okay. Hold it right there.

First of all, yes, people DO shake their tushies in Minnesota. It's not being from Minnesota that makes one reluctant to dance. It's having conservative values that come from a Christian worldview, which may or may not exist in people from Minnesota. Fundamentally, though, the conflict creates a sharp contrast between the more conservative midwest and the more free-spirited South American culture. And where did that contrast come from? The Judeo-Christian ethic, that existed strongly in the U.S. and has only been more recently introduced to Brazil. But the movie wipes this all off the slate and creates a false reason why Linda refuses to "shake her tushy," which makes her conservatism look ridiculous and nonsensical, and causes the viewer to root for her to just loosen up. Strike to the grain of what Tulio and the crowd are calling for Linda to do. "Shake your tushy" is a soft way of saying, "Be sensual," "Arouse my sex drive," "Move your body where it really counts." So...I don't do that because--I'm from Minnesota (or Wisconsin, or Tennessee, or Timbuktu)? No. I don't do that because--I don't know how? Maybe, but it goes deeper than that. I don't do that because as a Christian, I choose not to move my body in a way that deliberately provokes sensual thoughts in others. Why? Because lust is enough of a battle as it is without me creating more issues for my brothers and sisters in Christ to deal with. And I know well enough that dances involving  shaking my hips or my bust are designed for one single purpose: to arouse that pleasurable feeling in the opposite sex.

Furthermore, did you notice Tulio's reaction to Linda in a bikini? The smile that spread across his face and the pleasure in his eyes was nothing more than an expression of unbridled lust, the kind that Jesus warns against when he says, "Whosoever looketh on a woman to lust after her hath committed adultery with her already in his heart." (Matthew 5:28) When godly Christian guys see a scene like this, they battle valiantly to NOT lust, but the movie portrays Tulio's lust as something normal, a natural enjoyment, the way a kid's eyes would light up at a lollipop. (Why is there a difference? Is there a difference between a woman and a lollipop? Only in the Christian worldview.) Again, Linda's comment comes across as incomprehensible and irrelevant: "I look ridiculous, don't I?" OF COURSE a guy isn't going to think that looks ridiculous! Her reluctance to go out in public in a bikini is passed off as being a mere fear of looking ridiculous. This fear being overcome (thanks to Tulio's approval), there no longer seems to be any reason to be reluctant about it. How easily the viewer swallows this scene, digests it, and feels in himself or herself that Linda is wrong to be so straight-laced about wearing something skimpy. My problem is, this movie opens a door for girls to change their minds. Once you feel like Linda is in the wrong, you also feel like you would be in the wrong to maintain a conservative dress standard. The difference is, Christian girls who know why they dress conservatively know that they do not do it because they would feel uncomfortable or ridiculous in public if they wore something immodest (although that may be the case). They do it precisely because they choose not to place a stumbling block of lust before their brothers' eyes. (Most Christian girls, however, do not know why they dress conservatively. If they do it, they do it because their parents or leaders make them, and it is these girls who are easy prey to the kind of thinking this movie conveys. As soon as they are out from under the rules, goodbye, modesty.)

Here is the heart of why I didn't like the movie: Linda's change went exactly the opposite way from the way it should have. In the Christian worldview, the promiscuous girl, who dresses immodestly and is a little loose around guys, needs to change into a modest, respectable girl who behaves with honor and decency. In the movie, Linda went the other way. The theme of lust is out of place in a children's movie, even if they treated it in a way that earned it a G rating. Ah... G-rated lust. How nice. Start them off young before they even know what it is, and they'll never feel it when it enslaves them.

Now, before you jump all over my back and tell me what I already know...
--I know that this is just the way our culture works nowadays.
--I know I can't expect a movie to reflect my values.
--I know that Hollywood is not going to portray conservative values in an honest light.
--I know that I can't change moviemaking with a negative movie review.
--I know that Christians will watch Rio and not lose their faith.
--I know that other Christians will like the movie.
--I know that to most people in the world, including many Christians, my views are incomprehensible. I may be labeled straight-laced, prudish, or kill-joy. That's fine. Your views are incomprehensible to me, too.

I'm just telling you why I didn't like the movie. (And revealing much of the way I think and analyze things in the process.) I'm not saying I wasn't entertained. I was. I laughed all the way through it. I'm just not one to check my brains at the door and get them back when the movie is over. I think. I reject what my reason tells me is not wholesome. I hope others will do the same (think for yourself, that is, not reject the movie just because I did).

The Countdown Begins...

ONLY 3 MORE WEEKS!

A Promise

This weekend, I went out to lunch with some old family friends, and they were asking me about Betel. The wife asked me, "How do the staff at Betel keep from burnout? Do they take lots of breaks? Do they only last for a few years?"

"That's a good question," I said.

"I think all the staff should have regular counseling," she continued, "so that they can deal positively with the draining aspects of their work."

"Well," I answered, "The neat thing about God is that when He gives you love, it is a supernatural love. He is able to keep on loving people through you, and it's like a fountain of water that's always gushing up."

This answer was more in faith than anything, because, after all, I haven't actually been through it yet to see how to deal with burnout.

However, the very next day, the Lord brought this verse to my attention from my daily Bible reading:

"And the LORD shall guide thee continually, and satisfy thy soul in drought, and make fat thy bones: and thou shalt be like a watered garden, and like a spring of water, whose waters fail not." Isaiah 58:11.

How encouraging! It felt like a promise spoken exactly to me, that God would not only sustain me, that I would not merely endure, but that I would thrive and really experience His love springing up in my heart. 

Thank you, God!

Faith that Moves Mountains

This is an amazing story that reflects God's power, the faith of a simple shoemaker, and triumph over evil. If you only have a short amount of time to read, scroll down to where it says "The story gets good here."

From The Travels of Marco Polo, Book 1, chapter 7-8

Terms:
Baldach = Baghdad
Saracens = Muslims
Tartars = Asian Empire under Kublai Khan. The four Tartar princes mentioned (Mangù, Alaù, and 2 others) were Kublai Khan’s sons. Genghis Khan was the son of one of these princes.
Cathay = China

Chapter 7: Of the great city of Baldach or Bagadet, anciently called Babylon—of the navigation from thence to Balsara, situated in what is termed the Sea of India, but properly the Persian Gulf—and of the various sciences studied in that city.

Baldach is a large city, heretofore the residence of the khalif of all the Saracens, as the pope is of all Christians. A great river flows through the midst of it, by means of which the merchants transport their goods to and from the Sea of India; the distance being computed at seventeen days’ navigation, in consequence of the windings of its course. Those who undertake the voyage, after leaving the river, touch at a place named Kisi, from whence they proceed to sea: but previously to their reaching this anchorage they pass a city named Balsara, in the vicinity of which are groves of palm-trees producing the best dates in the world. In Baldach there is a manufacture of silks wrought with gold, and also of damasks, as well as of vests ornamented with the figures of birds and beasts. Almost all the pearls brought to Europe from India have undergone the process of boring, at this place. The Mahometan law is here regularly studied, as are also magic, physics, astronomy, geomancy, and physiognomy. It is the noblest and most extensive city to be found in this part of the world.

Chapter 8: Concerning the capture and death of the khalif of Balach, and the miraculous removal of a mountain.

The above-mentioned khalif, who is understood to have amassed greater treasures than had ever been possessed by any other sovereign, perished miserably under the following circumstances. At the period when the Tartar princes began to extend their dominion, there were amongst them four brothers, of whom the eldest, named Mangù, reigned in the royal seat of the family. Having subdued the country of Cathay, and other districts in that quarter, they were not satisfied, but coveting further territory, they conceived the idea of universal empire, and proposed that they should divide the world amongst them.

With this object in view, it was agreed that one of them should proceed to the east, that another should make conquests in the south, and that the other two should direct their operations against the remaining quarters. The southern portion fell to the lot of Alaù, who assembled a vast army, and having subdued the provinces through which his route lay, proceeded in the year 1255 to attack this city of Baldach. Being aware, however, of the great strength and the prodigious number of its inhabitants, he trusted rather to stratagem than to force for its reduction, and in order to deceive the enemy with regard to the number of his troops, which consisted of a hundred thousand horse, besides foot soldiers, he posted one division of his army on the one side, another division on the other side of the approach to the city, in such a manner as to be concealed by a wood, and placing himself at the head of the third, advanced boldly to within a short distance of the gate.

The khalif made light of a force apparently so inconsiderable, and confident in the efficacy of the usual Mahometan ejaculation, thought of nothing less than its entire destruction, and for that purpose marched out of the city with his guards; but as soon as Alaù perceived his approach, he feigned to retreat before him, until by this means he had drawn him beyond the wood where the other divisions were posted. By the closing of these from both sides, the army of the khalif was surrounded and broken, himself was made prisoner, and the city surrendered to the conqueror.

Upon entering it, Alaù discovered, to his great astonishment, a tower filled with gold. He called the khalif before him, and after reproaching him with his avarice, that prevented him from employing his treasures in the formation of an army for the defense of his capital against the powerful invasion with which it had long been threatened, gave orders for his being shut up in this same tower, without sustenance; and there, in the midst of his wealth, he soon finished a miserable existence.

I judge that our Lord Jesus Christ herein thought proper to avenge the wrongs of his faithful Christians, so abhorred by this khalif. From the time of his accession in 1225, his daily thoughts were employed on the means of converting to his religion those who resided within his dominions, or, upon their refusal, in forming pretenses for putting them to death.

The story gets good here.

Consulting with his learned men for this purpose, they discovered a passage in the Gospel where it is said: “If ye have faith as a grain of mustard seed, ye shall say unto this mountain, Remove hence to yonder place, and it shall remove,” (upon prayer to that effect addressed to the Divine Majesty;) and being rejoiced at the discovery, persuaded as he was that the thing was utterly impossible, he gave orders for assembling all the Nestorian and Jacobite Christians who dwelt in Baldach, and who were very numerous. To these the question was propounded, whether they believed all that is asserted in the text of their Gospel to be true, or not. They made answer that it was true.

“Then,” said the khalif, “if it be true, let us see which of you will give the proof of his faith; for certainly if there is not to be found one amongst you who possesses even so small a portion of faith in his Lord, as to be equal to a grain of mustard, I shall be justified in regarding you, henceforth, as a wicked, reprobate, and faithless people. I allow you therefore ten days, before the expiration of which you must either, through the power of Him whom you worship, remove the mountain now before you, or embrace the law of our prophet; in either of which cases you will be safe; but otherwise you must all expect to suffer the most cruel deaths.”

The Christians, acquainted as they were with his merciless disposition, as well as his eagerness to despoil them of their property, upon hearing these words, trembled for their lives; but nevertheless, having confidence in their Redeemer, that He would deliver them from their peril, they held an assembly and deliberated on the course they ought to take.

None other presented itself than that of imploring the Divine Being to grant them the aid of his mercy. To obtain this, every individual, great and small, prostrated himself night and day upon the earth, shedding tears profusely, and attending to no other occupation than that of prayer to the Lord.

When they had thus persevered during eight days, a divine revelation came at length, in a dream, to a bishop of exemplary life, directing him to proceed in search of a certain shoemaker (whose name is not known) having only one eye, whom he should summon to the mountain, as a person capable of effecting its removal, through the divine grace.

Having found the shoemaker and made him acquainted with the revelation, he replied that he did not feel himself worthy of the undertaking, his merits not being such as to entitle him to the reward of such abundant grace. Importuned, however, by the poor terrified Christians, he at length assented.

It should be understood that he was a man of strict morals and pious conversation, having his mind pure and faithful to his God, regularly attending the celebration of the mass and other divine offices, fervent in works of charity, and rigid in the observance of fasts. It once happened to him, that a handsome young woman who came to his shop in order to be fitted with a pair of slippers, in presenting her foot, accidentally exposed a part of her leg, the beauty of which excited in him a momentary concupiscence; but recollecting himself, he presently dismissed her, and calling to mind the words of the Gospel, where it is said, “If thine eye offend thee, pluck it out and cast it from thee; for it is better to enter the kingdom of God with one eye, than having two eyes, to be cast into hell fire,” he immediately, with an instrument of his trade, scooped out his right eye; evincing by that act, beyond all doubt, the excellence of his faith.

The appointed day being arrived, divine service was performed at an early hour, and a solemn procession was made to the plain where the mountain stood, the holy cross being borne in front. The khalif likewise, in the conviction of its proving a vain ceremony on the part of the Christians, chose to be present, accompanied by a number of his guards, for the purposing of destroying them in the event of failure.

Here the pious artisan, kneeling before the cross, and lifting up his hands to heaven, humbly besought his Creator that he would compassionately look down upon earth, and for the glory and excellence of his name, as well as for the support and confirmation of the Christian faith, would lend assistance to his people in the accomplishment of the task imposed upon them, and thus manifest his power to the revilers of his law. Having concluded his prayer, he cried with a loud voice: “In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, I command thee, O mountain, to remove thyself!”

Upon these words being uttered, the mountain moved, and the earth at the same time trembled in a wonderful and alarming manner. The khalif and all those by whom he was surrounded, were struck with terror, and remained in a state of stupefaction. Many of the latter became Christians, and even the khalif secretly embraced Christianity, always wearing a cross concealed under his garment, which after his death was found upon him; and on this account it was that they did not entomb him in the shrine of his predecessors.

In commemoration of this singular grace bestowed upon them by God, all the Christians, Nestorians, and Jacobites, from that time forth have continued to celebrate in a solemn manner the return of the day on which the miracle took place; keeping a fast also on the vigil.

God of the Impossible

Has it ever seemed to you that God intentionally brings a situation to the brink of impossibility, and then pushes it over the brink? Have you ever noticed that God sets up impossible-seeming situations to prove Himself the God of the impossible? Consider how God gets more glory when he pulls off an impossible solution than when He does something that everyone thinks they could have done themselves.

For example, look at Gideon. Midianites were already Israel's conquerors, so it already seemed impossible to get out from under their oppression. Then God calls Gideon. "Gideon, blow the trumpet and gather an army."

32,000 men gather, and God pushes the situation further into impossibility. "Send home anyone who is afraid." 22,000 soldiers leave, and the 10,000 who remain are expected to go up against the Midianite army of 135,000.

Then God pushes the situation over the brink. "Make everyone drink water, and only those who lap it up a certain way can stay. Send the rest home." 300 men get the lapping thing right, and everyone else goes away.

Impossible, right? Beyond impossible! Yet God pulls it off! He gives the victory to these 300.

Gideon is not the only example. Look at the children of Israel before the Red Sea. Look at Israel just before the conquest of the Promised Land. Look at the promise to Abraham that he would have a son, and then the command to take Isaac and sacrifice him on the altar. Look at the crucifixion and death of Christ. Think of what would be going through the disciples' minds: "Our promised Messiah and deliverer! Oh no! Now it's impossible for Him to save us!"

God gets more glory for doing an impossible thing than for doing a difficult thing.

I have noticed that in my life, He intentionally pushes me past the point where I think things are possible, and then He comes through gloriously on my behalf. I am facing one or two impossible-seeming situations right now, and one of them was just compounded by the fact that I broke my toe yesterday, making the completion of one of the tasks look that much more unlikely. But my impossible-working God has proved Himself ABLE too many times for me to be daunted or discouraged by facing the impossible. On the contrary, it's just that much more exciting to see what He is going to do and how He is going to achieve the victory. I trust him to emerge victorious. I don't need to question that. I don't need to wonder if apparent impossibility is going to thwart my God. He is the God of the impossible!

So bring on the obstacles! Throw as many roadblocks as you like! Blanket me with chains and nets! Throw urgent stuff at me until I don't have time to do it all! Let me be as weak and in pain as I can be! But it will never stop God from accomplishing His purposes, and I will rejoice to see Him break through all the bulwarks that are cast up against Him.

His grace is sufficient for me. His strength is made perfect in weakness. He has triumphed gloriously. I need not worry or get frustrated or fear. I never even need to wonder, "Is this going to work out?" What God has called me to do, He will empower me to obey, no matter what impossibilities I face. Thank you, Lord!

A "little" sewing project

I sewed myself a bridemaid's dress last week.

(How simple to say, and how little that reveals about how much it was on my mind, every single minute until I got it done.)

It all started out with a dislike of every bridesmaid's dress in every dress shop in town, and a gorgeous pattern that captivated my imagination.

Vogue V1162

A masterpiece, no?

But Rebekah wouldn't be Rebekah if she didn't have to branch out and do her own thing, now would she?

Salient points that dictated my alterations of the dress:
1) The dress must be orange.
2) The dress must be floor length.
3) The dress must FIT.
4) The flower-sleeve part must be a versatile accessory that I can pair with all kinds of other outfits.

First order of business: design the bolero jacket that would feature those sleeves. Using and adapting the pattern pieces from the dress and from a bolero jacket pattern, plus creating some pieces of my own, I cut one out and sewed it from some navy blue scrap fabric.

My room became a grand central station of sewing patterns, fabric, machine, and notions. It's a wonder I was able to keep all the pieces straight!

Then I didn't like the design, prompting a redesign, which I still didn't like, but I had already cut it out of the "real" fabric and sewed the framing pieces together, prompting a minor trim of the pattern pieces. Good enough.

Then I had to make my own pattern pieces from a dress I bought at a yard sale that fits me quite perfectly. My thanks go to my friend Cora who showed me how to do this and suggested I obtain a copy of the book Patterns from Finished Clothes by Tracy Doyle.

Armed with my Dritz sewing board and a roll of parchment paper, I set to work.

The method involves pinning the fabric down to the board and using a tracing wheel to go over the seams, leaving holes in the paper where the pattern piece edges are. You then go over these holes with a pencil or marker, add seam allowances, and voila! You have pattern pieces!

 Pattern pieces made, I then proceeded to cutting out, then to sewing.

Notice the large coffee mug. I only got 5 hours of sleep or less for a week, but time was still running short. I had only just finished installing the invisible zipper when it was time to leave for the wedding. So I packed it all up in Matilda's trusty trunk, sewing machine, fabric, pattern pieces, and all, and headed to my cousin's house where I would spend the weekend.

The wedding would be on Saturday; I arrived Thursday night. I got to work as soon as possible and sewed until 2 am. Friday I was still cutting out facing pieces and fusing interfacing to them. Of course it would happen that I accidentally fused one of them to the towel instead of the pattern piece. Oops! Fortunately I was able to tear it off the towel while it was still damp, and happily, it still stuck to the dress fabric when I re-ironed it the right way.

Friday night at the rehearsal dinner, the dress was still not finished. I returned to the house and got to work, accompanied this time by my amazing sister, who is the most talented seamstress EVER! She sewed until 5:00 in the morning. I sewed all night. In the morning, we worked together to put the finishing touches onto the dress.

This is the morning of the wedding. The wedding takes place at 10:00 am. This is probably 8:00 am.

Victory is in sight! Possibility is attainable! But it never would have been possible if it weren't for the efforts of my amazing, selfless, expert sister. THANK YOU, ROSIE!!!!

Just moments before the wedding, I took my last stitch, donned the dress, and headed out to the chapel. Ahhhh, sweet success.

You wouldn't know these were the same two girls who were busily humming away on that sewing machine just that morning, would you? (Funny how we just happened to match, too!)

My Prayer Letter

Dear friends, prayer warriors, and supporters,

Truly "This is the LORD's doing, and it is marvelous in my eyes." (Psa. 118:23)

The Lord has opened up the door for me to go to Spain! In November, after 3 years of waiting on God's leading, I will be heading to Madrid to do a 3-month internship with a ministry called Betel. Then I will travel to Birmingham, England, where will spend 3 more months at Betel's international headquarters, returning home in May. This short-term opportunity will lead to a long-term possibility if God should so direct, which I would pursue upon completion of my trip.

Betel is a ministry that works with drug addicts, introducing them to Christ, getting them off their drugs, separating them from their friends, giving them a very structured home environment, and training them to work. I will be going on this trip as a learner and a servant. I will be living with the Betelitos, abiding by their same rules, and having their same schedule. I will go to work with them, go to church with them, and just accompany them through their daily lives. My goal will be to shine the light of Christ to them and show them God's unconditional love, communicating the Gospel with both my words and actions. For those interested, more information about Betel can be found on their website at http://www.betel.org.

It has been a delight to see God fulfilling the desire of my heart in allowing me to go back to the mission field. Through the past three years since I came back from Spain, I have learned to follow, not lead, the Good Shepherd into the paths He has for my life. How do I do that? Simply by getting to the place where God alone fills all my vision. As I pursue Him, seeing nothing but Him, I am inevitably led where He wants me to go. It's like when you follow closely behind a semi-truck on the highway. You can't really see the road ahead or much of anything else except for the back of the truck, but you’re definitely going somewhere. While I wouldn’t advise anyone to drive that way, I can wholeheartedly recommend this life of faith, knowing that God will protect and guide me as I follow hot on his track.

Please pray for me as I go! I greatly desire your prayers and value their importance. I would love to know who is praying for me so that I can keep you informed with specific prayer requests. Please leave a comment or email me if you would like to join my prayer team. Also, if you would like to receive my email updates, please give me your email address. I hope to stay in touch!

In Christ,
Rebekah