A Calling Fulfilled

As I sat praying this morning the Lord reminded me of something.  A time way back when.  A time when my children were still small and we were still young.  A time when I wondered--have I made a mistake?  Yes, I wondered--for a short time--if I had married the wrong person.  Are you shocked?  So was I.

You know that portion of Scripture (Phil 2:12) where it says that we work out our own salvation with fear and trembling?  Yeah, that one.  Only it wasn't my salvation that I was trying hard to work out.  It was my husbands.  And although he had been raised in a Christian home, I found out after a few years of marriage that he was grappling with his own salvation.  He had questions, many questions and honestly it scared me to death. What in the world, I wondered, had I gotten myself into?  How had I not seen this coming?  Was I so totally blinded that I missed this seemingly huge hole?  And what about the fact that I thought, no I had been sure, that I had heard from God about marrying him?  He was the one, my true love, my soul mate--but, what about now?  What about this?  What about his relationship with my God?  My heart was breaking as reality was setting in.

It seemed that after almost 10 years of marriage and 3 children later that my husband had come to the conclusion that he wasn't quite as sold on this whole religion stuff (his words) as I was.  As he sat there confessing his disillusionment with the church, with God, and with all of religion in general, I sat there with tears spilling down my face, wondering--what now?  Just what do I do now?

So what did I do?  I prayed.  I prayed probably harder during those few months than I had ever prayed in my life.  And now that I think about it, I don't know if I've ever prayed as hard since--for several reasons--one being that now, through the trials and tribulations of my life, I have learned to pray and then leave it at the feet of Jesus.  At that time though--I fell completely apart.  I had no one to talk to about this new development, and really no one to trust.  And two is that I was afraid of being judged and condemned, and also very afraid for my husband.  So, praying about it was my only release and also, my only solution.

Months passed, and then one day one of my closest friends called and asked if we wanted to go to a  service at a local church that evening, it seems they were having a guest speaker who was pretty interesting to listen to.  I knew my husband would laugh it off and not want to go, but I prayed about it and asked him anyway.  And much to my surprise--he said yes.  So much for my faith!  We all got babysitters, went to dinner first, and then off to the service--all 6 of us.  3 couples in all, 5 witnesses to later be able to share what happened that night.  For that night was a night to remember, that's for sure.  That night my husband met God in a way he had never encountered God before.

Really, this is his story.  I'll have to change modes now and just tell it from my viewpoint.  One day he might want to share it in his own words.  However, this is what I saw.  This is what happened on that fateful night almost 30 years ago.

I was sitting next to a man (my man) who sat there with his arms folded tightly across his chest.  He had a look on his face that said--there is no way that I will believe anything you have to say.  He actually was scowling.  And I was embarrassed.  So very embarrassed.  However, this man of God--preaching, teaching, and sharing the Lord, was looking at my husband the entire time and the look on his face was one of love, he even smiled a couple of times.  In other words, he knew in his heart what was going on in my husband's heart.  And after he was done speaking he looked over at my husband and asked if he could pray for him.  After swallowing my heart and wiping the sweat from my brow--I began to pray.  Please God, let this man get through to my husband.  And surprisingly, my husband said sure, you can pray for me, however, he didn't say it in a very nice way.  More embarrassment for me.  Much more.

When my husband walked up to the front of that little church, something began to happen.  The pastor began to pray for my husband, he never laid a hand on him, he never prayed loudly, all he did was stand there and quietly pray.  Minutes ticked by and he still prayed, and then all of a sudden my husband's hands reached into the air.  Actually, both arms shot into the air like arrows.  I almost fainted.  I couldn't believe my eyes.  What was happening?  He then asked me to come up front too.  I went up there and instead of praying for me, he gently took my hands and began to speak to me, softly--saying, something new is happening.  Your husband is going to begin to grow in Christ-like you've never seen before.  His growth will be so fast, and so quick, it will shock everyone who knows him.  You won't be able to keep up with him.  You will have to be very understanding and patient with him.  Let him work this new relationship out with the Lord at his own speed.  And most of all be kind.

When the pastor was done praying for us and with us, we walked back to our seats and sat down.  I don't know exactly what my husband was thinking, but I can tell you what I was thinking.  What the heck just happened?  Is my husband a real Christian now?  Did he just get saved?  Am I dreaming this?  Yes, those questions and a million more flitted through my brain faster than a speeding bullet.

That was 30 years ago.  And guess what?  Everything that happened that night, every word that was spoken, every prayer that was prayed--happened just the way it was told to us.  Every single thing.
My husband grew in his new relationship with his God.  He began to study the Bible like nothing I had ever seen before.  He changed so completely that within 6 months time, he was no longer the same person whom I had married.

And today?  Well, today he is in Africa, on a missions trip--just him and his God.  Ministering to whoever God calls him to minister to.  And me?  Well, I am home praying and blogging my heart out.  And thanking my God every step of the way.  God is good.  God is faithful.

Congo Part 2

I'm not used to this.  The part where there might be danger.  I am used to my husband traveling, however.  To Europe, to Asia, to South America and all over the US.  He has traveled for his company all our married life, so I am used to that.  But Africa?  No.  And every so often--I'll admit, my stomach clenches a little when I think that he might be in harm's way.  I am not a worrier by nature.  I am a warrior by nature.  A prayer warrior, an intercessor, a pray-er.  So I am surprised when suddenly out of nowhere a feeling descends upon me that at times takes my breath away.  Emotions wash over me, thoughts invade my brain and I find myself momentarily paralyzed.

It's over quickly however as I immediately begin to pray.  My first thought is that God will protect them, wherever they are--He is there.  I begin to relax, I take a deep breath and I am ready for phase 2--trust.  Complete trust that God is in control of this endeavor of theirs.  An excitement slowly builds as I realize that they are most likely having the time of their lives.  They are functioning in their calling.  And believe me--there is nothing better.  To be walking in complete obedience to God--well, nothing compares to that.

I am so thankful for my friends here.  I can feel them praying as I am praying.  I know they are praying not only for him and the team but for us that have been left behind.  One of my friends actually started a schedule of people praying during specific hours.  Yes, that little team is covered by our prayers.

My husband has been able to periodically keep me up to date.  For example, I know that at one airport they sat on the tarmac for a couple of hours while their plane had to return to the gate twice for mechanical repairs.  I know that they barely made their connection in Brussels.  He also was able to video chat with me while on the plane for a couple of minutes after landing in their first African city.  He and his team had the biggest smiles I've ever seen.  They were in their element.  They were giddy with excitement--they were in Africa.

I received one more phone call once they were at their destination.  They had just finished packing up the caravan of cars with the trunks and goods they had brought from the States when guess what happened?  A flat tire!  Oh well, that was easily repaired.

We said our goodbyes, again.  We said our I love yous, again and then we hung up.  I don't know when I'll hear from him next.  So I will pray.  And pray.  And pray.  For him, for his team and for the people of Africa.

Congo Part 1

I'm not too sure how these new few blogs will develop.  I will write about some things that are most likely--not very blog worthy.  And yet, they will be important for me to remember.  Yes, at some time in the future I will want to look back on these few pages and reminisce.  So, I shall begin with Day 1 of being and feeling utterly and completely alone.  No, that's not true, not at all.  I am not alone.  For my God, my savior has moved me into a little town, a little church and a little community that takes care of its own.  For example, guess how many emails, text messages, invitations, and so on, that I have received?  Just guess!  I know one thing for sure--I will be so busy this next 2 weeks that I will fall into bed each night tired and ready to peacefully sleep.

Back to the beginning--I drove my husband and one of his team members to the airport yesterday.  I was supposed to be going alone.  I knew in my heart though that I would cry the minute I dropped my husband off--I knew there would be many tears.  Funny though how God works--as it turned out, the other wife wanted to ride along.  Ride along?  Then how would I cry?  How would I be sad?  It posed a conundrum.  I had no choice, I had to be strong, I had to act like I was perfectly fine with the Congo team flying for more than 24 hours, making several flight changes, and landing in a dangerous country--yes, I had to "act" completely OK with that.  But was I acting?

Out to the airport, we drove all 4 of us.  The guys talking excitedly about their trip, the women sitting rather silently listening to them, our thoughts running wild.  We dropped them off, said our goodbyes and then headed back home.  To life without them for the next 2 weeks.  Both of us, it turns out are used to our traveling husbands--they travel for business.  However, we are not used to them traveling to Africa--to danger, and to the poorest of the poor.  No, we are not used to that.

When I returned home I had some cooking to do--fortunately.  I was invited over to some friends house for a lovely bar-b-que.  We ate, we laughed and I was wonderfully distracted from missing my husband so badly.  Yes, it was a great afternoon with friends.  By the time I returned home, I was tired and spent the evening with my dog curled up in front of the TV.

That was day one, I will write more as the trip progresses.  Hopefully our friends and family are praying for this team.  I know I am.

Humble My Heart

My song to God in prayer this morning--I found myself singing this over and over and decided to write it down...


Oh hear the cries of my heart oh my Lord
Oh hear the prayers of your daughter

My heart cries out for you oh my God
My heart breaks for your people

Oh hear their cries their pleas oh my God
Oh heal the hearts of your people

I give you praise for you are my God
My heart belongs to you oh Lord

Oh hear me, Father, hear my call
Hear the voice of your daughter

Hear my cries and answer all my prayers
Humble my heart before you oh my God

Oh please humble my heart before you...

Your Time Starts Now

I keep thinking about college testing.  Little blue books, number 2 pencils, and silence.  I would look up at the clock in the room, divide my time according to how many questions I had to answer and then after double checking the clock, it would begin.  The professor's voice would speak out--your time starts now.  Usually, I would have about 50 minutes to complete the test to the best of my ability.  Being an A chaser by nature, those 50 minutes divided equally amongst my questions were extremely important to me.  I had to know--just how long would this test take?  How much time did I have?

Which is why I have been thinking of those tests now.  You see, the countdown has begun.  In a few short days, he leaves.  He goes to Africa, to the poorest nation on earth, to a dangerous place, to a place where I am not.  So, as I was praying this morning it hit me.  I have so many days left to pray, only so much time left--and my time starts now.  I must pray for the Congo team, for my husband, for their safety, for their well-being--emotionally, physically and spiritually.  They will need my prayers.  They will need your prayers.  For their lives are about to be changed forever.

This is a test--for me and for him and for them.  I am an A chaser, are you?  I will pray.  My time starts now.  Hopefully, prayerfully, yours does too.  Our time starts now.

Rough Weekend

I rode a roller coaster this past weekend.  No, not a real one.  Never a real one.  An emotional one.  That's about as real as I get when it comes to roller coasters.  Yes, this weekend was a true ride of emotions for me.  I guess it really started on Thursday night.  We had our bi-monthly Stephen Ministries meeting.  While there, our group leader asked if we might all share just how we came to know Christ.  And of course, I cried as I shared just a short very condensed version of how I came to know Jesus.  I left feeling a little spent.

Friday wasn't too bad of a day.  Oh, who am I kidding, yes it was.  I had my normal Friday morning coffee with friends.  We laughed, we shared, we figured out the world's problems and then my husband and I met with our attorney.  I honestly didn't think this little meeting was going to bother me.  I was wrong.  It bothered me--only I didn't know it at the time.  We met her to set up a trust.  Yep, a "just in case"--you know, just in case one of us kicks the bucket.  With my husband leaving for Africa soon, he was eager to get this little appointment over with.  We talked about a lot of things that afternoon, sitting there with our new lawyer, talking about houses, cars, jewelry, handbags (hey, don't judge) and various other items.  Who to leave what to, who should be the trustee--yes, I learned a lot that afternoon, more than I ever wanted to know.  We're all set now.  If something happens to one of us--we are as ready as we'll ever be.  I left feeling a little spent.

Saturday was a fun day. We went to a little town recommended to me by a friend.  It was awesome.  Quaint little shops full of vintage treasures, and a cute little tea house for lunch to finish off the day.  We had fun.  I needed that day.  A day with my husband--wandering, exploring, daydreaming, planning, coffee, lunch, and memories.  I think I was storing up.  For what?  I don't know yet.  I left feeling a little spent.

When Sunday morning rolled around, I was done.  It was Mother's Day.  Can I admit something here?  I kind of hate Mother's Day.  I have for the last couple of years anyway.  You know how I am by now. Honest.  Especially with my thoughts and feelings.  I am not a fan of Mother's Day.  I no longer live in the same city with my mother nor my children.  So, for me, the day is a complete bust.  I wake up depressed and have to do a ton of praying to even get motivated enough to get ready for church.  However, being the tough cookie that I am, I do it.  I suck it up and I go.  And, after a bit, just standing in the presence of my God and worshipping, I relax.

My husband always takes good care of me.  He knows how these holidays affect me when I'm not with my kids, so he pampers me.  He took me to lunch and then when we got home we went for a bike ride.  Not just any bike ride.  Nope, this one was quite special.  Why?  Well, let me tell you why.  This year for Mother's Day, my husband turned my cute little teal colored Dutch bike into an electric bike.  He bought a new wheel with a motor on it for the back tire and also a battery pack.  It's awesome.  He did all the work himself and spent hours working on it several nights a week.  It can go for about 25 miles on a charge.  It just purrs right along with barely a whisper.  We decided to ride to our little downtown, we stopped for coffee and did a little shopping and then motored on home.  He was "a huffin and a puffin" while I motored on by--not the least bit sweaty.  I hate sweat by the way.  So for me to get home feeling not one bit sore or tired or sweaty was nice, very nice.  He had spent weeks working on that cute little bike of mine.  It was my Mother's Day gift.  He knew it would be a hard day for me--without my children.  So, he turned it all around and put a huge smile on my face.  We had fun.  Still, after the long day of trying hard to not think about Mother's Day--I left our little downtown feeling a little spent.

Yes, this was a rough weekend for me.  I miss my kids.  I miss my mom.  I miss my grandchildren.  However, I am very thankful--for an understanding patient God and for a kind and loving husband.  I am glad that Mother's Day is over.  I don't have to think about it for another year.  I can now relax and move forward.  I can ride my bike, look at my cards and flowers, and live a thankful, grateful, fearless life--no longer spent.  I woke up this morning feeling fine, looking forward to the day--lunch with a new friend, dinner later with my husband.  Yes, glad that this weekend is over, glad that there is a new year ahead of me.