When God Talks

It is the wee hours of the morning. The house is quiet and silent, and I am the only one awake. It is a time unfettered with schedules and the busy-ness of ToDo lists. I might have liked to sleep in a bit longer, but God called; so I am ready for God to reveal to me why he woke me up.  When He first began to awaken me early, I heard him clearly say, “Get up. I have something for you.” And when I did, there was always some gem or nugget that He wanted me to know. A bit of scripture or sometimes just, “Do you know how much I love you?”

Then the message changed. I’d hear Him say, “Come talk with me.” That felt different. It was like in those early days He was teaching me to know His voice. This new message said that He wanted me to know Him personally, and He called me into a new relationship. I remember thinking that maybe it was just my imagination. A sleepless time in the morning where my mind was overly active. Then in a devotion I was having in a car driving from New Orleans to Appleton, WI, I read Psalm 27:8, "My heart has heard you say, "Come talk with me. Any my heart responds, "Lord, I am coming." Thank you for your assurance, Lord! Now when He calls to me in the wee hours, I get up. Who can turn down such an invitation?  

It is not that I am special. I believe that each of us who know Him can listen and He will speak. He’s our Father, sitting beside us and longing for us to talk with Him, share out day, our observations, our longings, our failures ad successes. What parent doesn’t want to spend one-on-one time with the kids? This is how it must have been in the Garden when God walked beside Adam in the early evening after the day’s labor. “So tell me about your day, Adam.”

This morning at 4:30 I awoke without hearing him. But I knew He was calling. He put the words, “It is the wee hours of the morning.” In the darkness, I pulled out my notepad and wrote them in a scrawl large enough to be sure they hit the paper in the blackness. Then I put the pad aside and tried to get back to sleep. Nope. This wasn’t for my ToDo list, but for right now.  Write it now and I’ll put my words in your heart.

So here I am at the kitchen table typing to my blog. And the word God is speaking to me today is, “Write.”  That’s it.  “Write what I tell you, and I will do the rest.” So here it is. I wrote it, and you are reading it. It is just how God wants it. He is speaking to you now.  He wants you to come talk with Him. He also wants me to ask you for your prayers for Bud and me. Next Friday we will be in Knoxville at Two Rivers Church attending Quiet Waters as part of their listening prayer team. Please pray for us that we will be attuned to hear his voice, and that He will use the prayer teams in a mighty way.

AS FRANK SINATRA SAYS...

Lois here: At ReachGlobal Crisis Response we value each individual knowing who they are and how they are gifted, believing that self-awareness is important to effectiveness.  One of our tests is called the DISC personality profile. It assesses your behavioral style and preferred environment. I took it back when we were first coming into the ministry.  When I got the results back I was horrified to see a bid "D" after my name. D as in Dominance! I did my best to keep that information hidden. It just sounded like something one wouldn't want to be. I wanted to be I (Influence) or S (Steadiness) or C (Conscientiousness). I barely even registered the latter 3. And there is Bud...Conscientious steadiness. It asked us to answer as we are in our workplace. Dang! That was supposed to be me! Oh, how I burned with envy. I read words like...domineering. I don't want to be domineeing. And people would say things like, "You D's are hard to take sometimes." Ouch.
     So, I figured that having been a teacher ruling in my classroom all my life had tainted how I answered the questions and who I really am. So I took it over, determined to have a different result.
     So I uploaded the test and started answering. The problem is that I am totally driven to do things right. So I honestly answered the questions. I hit the send button and it replied that my results were winging their way to my email. So, with eager anticipation, I hurried to gmail and opened the message. And there is was...I was more D than before. I wanted to cry. And then I realized that I am who God made me. Why do I want to be different from that? I should celebrate who I am. So for the first time I actually read the report in detail. It said that D's like to challenge the status quo and want to get things done. D's like challenges and getting things done. They like opportunities to challenge themselves and individual accomplishment. Seek new and innovative problem-solving methods. Well, gee, I could learn to live with that.
     You see I made the huge mistake of looking only at one word and applying in a negative context to the whole person. Wrong. Doing that I missed the good stuff. Soooo. I have decided to embrace my D. Temper the bad aspects and be aware of if it is coming out too strongly. Yeah. I can do this. So, like the words of Frank Sinatra...I gotta be me. Thank you God for investing in my so many rich characteristics that I can use to serve you. Frank would be proud.

You've heard of the Dog Whisperer and the Ghost Whisperer? Well, we have a new hero down in New Orleans and he lives in our midst. It all started last week when it was announced by David, the Tool Man, Sweetland that there was a substantial black furry creature making its home somewhere in the warehouse.  Lee Ann, our Head Cook and Hospitality guru reported an immediate surge of yucky feeling as she often comes through the warehouse in semi-light headed to the back food shed. This was NOT a good situation.
    The furry miscreant put in another appearance this week when everyone was off in Kansas City helping host 5000 EFCA youth at Challenge 2014. Still hadn't seen the varmint, but he had left evidence of his visit...a whole carton of chocolate cereal nibbled on. So Bud pulled out a "live" trap, baited it with chocolate cupcake Little Debbies, and set the door to snap shut when the little whatever it was stepped on the metal spring pad to get the food.
    The next day Bud discovered the trap had been triggered, but the feller was gone. Aha! It was a ghost critter. The trickiest kind. Well, Bud examined the trap and realized he had set it incorrectly, so adjusting it and reloading it with more chocolate Little Debbies, he replaced it in the tool crib.
   No more had he turned and walked away than he hear a loud "crack" and realized the trap had been breached. And there he was. But what was he? He was black all over, about the size of a small cat. But the face was not a cat. It was all black with a large white tuft at the back. Kind of a critter mullet.
   Our first thought was that it might be a skunk, but there was no stripe. And, more importantly, there was no odor. History tells us that even skunks not spraying can be pretty darn smelly. While I took pictures and checked online to see what it might be, Bud began considering how he was going to get rid of it. It wasn't like it was a dead body...it was quite alive and unharmed.  We learned that it most assuredly WAS a skunk.
   Now the big consideration was how to get it out of the warehouse without it blasting the tool crib. Unfortunately the area it was in housed all the power tools. The prospect of a whole lot of  saws and drills that smelled like skunk was not a pretty one, not to mention all the wood shelving that might carry the scent a loooong time.
    Bud got a paint roller with a long stick, hooked the handle on the cage, and slowly started dragging the trapped skunk out of the bay. Little by little it moved forward until it was out in the middle of the warehouse and finally outside. Every time the little varmint lifted his tail even a bit, Bud stopped. Actually, the skunk raised his tail but never shot a single drop of smelly. He just kept munching on the chocolate he had given everything to obtain.
   By now it was starting to rain a bit. Still unfazed, the skunk seemed not to notice. No harm; no foul. So still using the paint roller, Bud gently lifted the cage onto the back of Bertha (the truck he was driving) and drove the unwanted diner to another spot a distance away.  Bud reported that the moment he opened the trap, the critter shot out like a bolt and disappeared into the brush.
   We can only hope that the skunk has seen the error of his ways and no longer chooses to sup at Cafe Crisis Response. We have no idea why the skunk didn't spray. He'd been cooped up in the warehouse a while and should have been fighting mad. He was locked into a cage, dragged across the floor by a paint roller pole, dripped on, hoisted into a truck and set free in an unfamiliar environment. But not a hint of stink juice. The Lord was certainly protecting the skunk as well as us and the warehouse. But if the little fellow chooses to make his way back into our vicinity, he now knows who he can go to...Bud, the Skunk Whisperer, who will help him go to the light.

LINDA & MINNIE

We certainly weren’t expecting company when we answered the front door that evening at 8. Not the usual time for people making house calls.  Opening the door we met a small-framed blond woman wearing shorts and an LSU T-shirt. She nervously explained that she lived a few doors down and had been looking for her yellow cat. She knew that we had left around the time he disappeared and worried that he might have jumped in the back of our truck when we left.  Maybe we’d seen it or had found it in our truck.   She was grasping at straws, but we understood perfectly how it feels to worry over the loss of a beloved pet. Wringing her hands, she explained how she had searched the surrounding area for six weeks, looking in garage windows, calling his name, and always scanning the streets she drove hoping against hope to spot an orange streak or hear a familiar meow.  We were her last hope to shed some light on his disappearance and give her peace to move on. Finally we asked if we could pray with her. She was more than happy to. She told us Linda. And her cat was Minnie (yes, she knew it was weird that he male cat was called Minnie, but she’d thought he was a girl when she first found him).  So we stood there on the porch, mosquitos buzzing around us, and prayed for Minnie and Linda.

   The whole encounter lasted only about ten minutes. It wasn’t earth-shattering or anything big.  And yet it was important to Linda.  It doesn’t take long or a great effort to simply listen to someone. It doesn’t require much more than asking, “Could we pray with you?”  Jesus commanded us to show love to one another. To take time to listen to their hurts. To celebrate their happiness. To pray with them. To dry a tear. To give a few moments of time so they can grieve and maybe begin to heal.  As missionaries, it is easy to get caught up in crossing the causeway into the “hood” to gut and build and win souls. And that is gloriously exciting stuff, but it really is about living each day on the lookout for the Lindas who just need a moment of our time. 

Monsoon Season in NOLA

Rain, rain, go away...come again another day. Well, it has been raining and raining and more raining ever since we returned to New Orleans. Oy vey.  Just Friday, we returned from working at the warehouse, and wouldn't you know it...it rained cats and dogs. Bud let me off to pick up the trash can and as I approached the drive at Haindel house where we live, I discovered the circular driveway was flooded on both sides. I picked up the mail then realized that I had no way to get  to the house without walking in water. Hmmm. I looked down at my new Tom's canvas shoes, deciding that I really didn't want to get them wet. I considered taking my shoes off, but considering that the drive is gravel I reconsidered walking on hard, pointy stones with nothing but my delicate tootsies. Soooo I decided to take the lesser of evils...and walk in the grass. NOT! My first step into the grass and my shoe sank deep into water. Dang. It didn't seem to make a lot of difference which way I went. There was NO way to get to the house without getting my shoes soaked.  Had I been a 6 year old, it would have been really fun splashing my way to the house. But I am not 6, and the prospect didn't excite me at all. I stepped into the water, and it came up to my ankles. What the heck. It is what it is. You know, I just figure that a pair of shoes are a small thing in the scope of things. My belly is full. I have a solid roof to sleep under. I am on the mission field with the best man I have ever met. I have the support of friends and family in my endeavors. So I have a soggy pair of Toms. There are worse things in life. How simple life is if we can just put things into perspective. My shoes are dry now and feel no different on my feet than before they were soaked. So what was I so worried about? Wet shoes or dry, God is still Lord of all, Jesus is in control, and the Holy Spirit lives within me. Is there anything more that I need? Life is good.

Well, May is drawing to a close. Bud and I began the month in Louisiana, spent a week in Minneapolis, helped fellow missionaries pack up their house to begin their journey to New Orleans,  hit Appleton to be with family and friends there, now we are in Richmond,IN, spending a few days reconnecting with friends in this area, and tomorrow night we will sleep in our bed back in Mandeville, LA. Whew. Funny how tiring it can be.
    In ReachGlobal we call what we are doing Missionary Partner Development (MPD). Somehow that just sounds too ordinary and high-falutin for what it is in our minds and hearts. We prefer to call it Friendship Renewal Time. Many of the people we have been visiting are far more than just missionary partners and we aren't out to develop them. We have known them for years. They are people we have attended church with and served with and had fun times with. They have helped us in life and had a hand in molding us into the people/couple we are today. When John calls emails Bud weekly to let him know that John is praying for him, well, that isn't just a partner. When Paul and Carol invite us into their home it isn't about our being missionaries, it is about many years of time and caring. Going to church in Appleton is warm and familiar, and hugs are plentiful at First Baptist in Richmond even though we haven't been attending there since 2005. Talking and connecting with everyone we haven't seen in too long just lifts our spirits immensely. It is amazing how little time it takes to be right back into catching up on families, joys, sorrows, and old stories of shared events.
   We were sitting out at a lakeside restaurant last night enjoying the warm evening weather with Paul & Carol and Ron & Karen.  They weren't missionary partners last night, they were old friends. As we linked hands to pray a blessing it felt like we'd always been in that moment, doing life together.
    It has been a good month of friendship renewal, but now we are headed back south to renew our friendships in Louisiana. Seems like forever since we walked into the office at ReachGlobal Crisis Response, but we know that we will be welcomed back, and our lives will fall back into its regular pattern there...until we go home the next time. That is just the way it is in God's family.

OK. I keep saying that I hate our blog. It is really ugly. So I started a new one. Do I look like a blog designer? Absolutely not! I'm just a 60+ grandmother and retiree who happens to be a missionary in New Orleans. So what am I doing designing a blog? I have no idea. But I am learning to trust that no matter what, it is all good and good enough. I know I have promised to do a better job of blogging before and met with total failure. I know I have promised to remember where I put my blog and what my password is. And met with total failure. So here I go again. Please stick with me, and in spite of the fact that I will probably fail again, at least you will know that I am totally human (not to mention incompetent). But such is life.  Was it Thomas Edison who said that failure is the opportunity to begin again with wisdom or something like that?  So here goes...words of an inveterate blog failure but hopeful writer.