Blessed to be a blessing... and blessed again

Our purpose going to Lusa today was to bless the children…and bless Mama Yoba with about $500 to finish her house, along with 300 meters of wire and a whole lot of window putty (two of the remaining needs). (Click here for that story) But I think every person with us today would agree that we left with more than we came with.

As our three vehicles turned off the tarmac into sloshy mud puddles, bumping along to Mama Yoba's house, I was overwhelmed with excitement about the gifts for Mama Yoba.  But, we decided we would give the gifts to the children first, and then surprise Mama Yoba as we prepared to leave.

When we arrived, 92 children were seated at tables,patiently waiting and separated by age. Regina told me some of the kids arrived as early as 6 a.m. (We arrived at 10.). Several of our friends from the mine came along, including four children.  The kids handed the small packets of candies and toys and noise makers to the community children. The Lusa kids waited patiently until everyone had their gift and I told them to open the goodies. Almost immediately, the whole room broke out with the sound of noise makers.  After a few minutes,Mama Yoba quieted the kids, and then had them sing to our group what has come to be one of our favorite songs.

“Come and see, come and see, come and see what the Lord has done; come and see what the Lord has done…”

handing out the gifts

Moses, son of Jillian - love this family!

Mama Yoba giving necklaces to the kids with our group

Mama Yoba prayed in Thanksgiving, and then I was confused as she brought in a small box.  Inside were several child-size necklaces that she and Regina must have made since I was last there on Thursday.  She then went to each of the children in the group we brought, and with a young Zambian girl, handed out the necklaces and helped the kids put them on. I just wanted to cry.  That woman just amazes me and I think that small act made this one of my best Christmases ever.

As our group prepared to leave, I told Mama Yoba we had a surprise for her.  As we handed her the supplies and the money, I have to say, it was the first time I've seen her speechless (anyone who knows Mama Yoba knows she is never at a loss for words).  She thanked each person in our group and just had a look of shock on her face.  Then Luke and I pulled our TV out of the trunk.  One of our friends at the mine blessed us with a really nice television a few months ago.  Immediately we had decided to pay it forward,so we had told Mama Yoba that we were going to give her our TV – but only when her new house was finished (extra incentive to get it done!).  Today, we took it with us, and I told her that it was because she should have everything she needs to finish her house now. 

Window putty for Mama Yoba's  new house

Now I just have to prepare myself because she’s been saying from the beginning that when her house is finished, we have to go out there and stay up all night praying and blessing the house and celebrating…. 

When Two Worlds Collide

I remember the day well. Luke and I were at Lusa teaching a Bible study and nutrition lesson to members of the community. The rain started coming so violently that our voices couldn't be heard over the pounding on the aluminum roof. So we sat, waiting out the storm. As we yelled to each other occasional thoughts or questions and cooked some pumpkin seeds over a brazier (as we had just taught on their nutritional value), we began to wonder where Mama Yoba was. I walked to the front veranda as lightning struck somewhere nearby, to find her mopping the veranda, catching buckets of rain water, tirelessly working to take advantage of the “free water” – all while singing a song.

I asked her what she was singing and she told me it was a song she learned in grade one at a private school in Lusaka. She went on to tell me that she didn't stay at that school because she was diagnosed with Type I (Juvenile Onset) diabetes at a very young age. Her father didn't think she would live long, so he decided to not “waste money” paying her school fees.

But she’s outlived most of her family, managing her diabetes through diet and the occasional trip to the clinic to have her blood sugar checked - and she still going strong (though her blood pressure shoots up any time she gets stressed).

So she has spent her entire life trying to give others a chance, people who've otherwise been written off as hopeless, useless, “too sick,” “too poor,” and so on. She defied the odds and knows that sometimes those who have to prove themselves in life are the ones who go the farthest. There’s a saying in Zambia that says “those who go alone go fast, but those who go together go far.” She dedicates herself to helping others go far.

Many nights she doesn't sleep, delivering babies in the community, making jewelry to sell to help fund Lusa, or worrying about her family and community members. Lately, she’s been worried about her house caving in while she’s asleep. 

You see, Mama Yoba has been building a new house for more than 20 years.  Many times when she had a bit of money or a stack of bricks ready to use, someone would come and ask for assistance: pastors needing bricks for their homes, friends needing money for medicine or funerals, or even repairs needing done at Lusa that in her mind, were more important than her own house. She’s a firm believer that when a man asks you for your tunic, you give your cloak as well. 

And through all this, you would think the community would absolutely adore her, but on the contrary, many talk about her because of some unfortunate circumstances that happened regarding an outside organization helping at Lusa a few years ago. Many only come to her when they’re in need, and often do so demanding her help. When her husband died, his family came and ransacked her house for her belongings (which is a fairly common occurrence here). She’s even been taken to court for “Satanism” and when the judge ruled that she clearly was not in the wrong and suggested she sue them for defamation, she stood firm on her beliefs and simply “turned the other cheek.”

Mama Yoba and Regina making jewelry
in their current home (taken in 2011) 

Don’t get me wrong – sometimes Mama Yoba is downright stubborn. But overall she is one of the most giving, selfless, strong individuals I know. And we hate the idea that every time it storms, there's a chance her house could collapse.

But her new house is almost done. Luke and I have really encouraged, challenged, donated, and even pushed her to finish this year. Bit by bit, brick by brick, she’s getting there. And when I went last week, she was down to countable needs – a few sheets of glass and putty, wiring, a few pockets of cement….

Enter story number two (I realize this is getting long…). Our involvement with the expat community has often provided great benefit to Mama Yoba and the children and benefactors of Lusa. We often take them carloads of gently used clothing and toys from friends at the mine – bringing such joy and meeting great needs. Our friends are glad to donate to a worthy cause and we’re glad to create a bridge between two very different communities. Rarely, though, do the two worlds actually connect (with the exception of craft markets where Mama Yoba and Regina and I sell the jewelry).

But this Christmas, our friends at the mine wanted to teach their children about giving. This week the kids and their parents got together and put together 100 sachets of candies, pencils and small toys to give to children in the community.  And we knew of no better place to distribute these special gifts than at Lusa. So as the emails have gone out inviting participants to come out to Kimasala on Christmas Eve and I've made the arrangements with Mama Yoba, we asked our friends if they would be willing to help Mama Yoba finish her house. And the response has been amazing. Emails went out beyond our church community and donations are coming from people we've never met. Tomorrow after church we are collecting several hundred dollars worth of kwacha, to present to Mama Yoba, who thinks that we’re coming purely to the benefit of the children.

And I feel like the greatest Christmas blessing for us, aside from the birth of our Savior of course, will be having the opportunity to bless Mama Yoba and Regina, our special friends and amazing examples of generosity and humility, in this awesome way.  

Selling Lusa jewelry at a craft market at the local mine

Merry Christmas everyone!
Click here for the rest of the story

and the inner Cookie Monster comes out...

With Christmas coming quickly upon us, I thought it mostappropriate to start our “Best Recipes of 2012” with cookies.  I make a lot of cookies.  And we eat a lot of cookies.  And thanks to a little secret I'vediscovered, our cookies are fairly guilt free.

Meatball Cookies

Okay, so it’s not that big of a secret.  Basically, butter is crazy expensive here andI don’t much like baking with it anyway, because, frankly, I want to be able toeat a gajillion cookies without feeling too bad about it…. So I use mashedpumpkin.  I’d tried bananas.  I’d tried applesauce.  But things usually turned out kinda funky andI wasn't keeping hubby happy either. J  But pumpkin is amazing.  In pumpkin season I bake several of them,mash them, and then freeze two-cup portions for pie and smaller portions forsubstitution in baking.  And it works –for oil, butter, margarine, shortening – I substitute baked pumpkin 1:1.  Great for cookies, cakes, and breads. Infact, Luke actually prefers some recipes with the pumpkin over the oil. If youuse pumpkin, though, baking times will vary andyour treats will be best if kept refrigerated.

Now that the secret is out, on to the recipes.  Of all the amazing things we've tried thisyear, we've narrowed it down to these top three new cookie recipes.  And let me tell you, we made the peanutbutter chocolate chip ones just last week, and could not keep our hands off ofthem!

(I've noted mypersonal changes in parenthesis)

Peanut ButterChocolate Chip Cookies (courtesy of a Tasteof Home magazine from 1997)

½ cup butter or margarine, softened (use pumpkin!)
½ cup sugar (or Splenda)
1/3 cup packed brown sugar
½ cup chunky peanut butter
1 egg (or large egg white)
1 tsp vanilla
1 cup all-purpose flour
½ cup old-fashioned oats
1 tsp baking soda
¼ tsp salt
1 cup semisweet chocolate chips (I used 1/2 cup m&ms my mom sent –becauseapparently that’s all that comes in a single-serving bag anymore, and ½ cupmilk chocolate chips)

Cream butter and sugars, beat in peanut butter, egg andvanilla. Combine flour, oats, baking soda and salt and stir into the creamedmixture. Stir in chocolate chips and drop by rounded tablespoonfuls (I didteaspoons – makes way more!) on an ungreased baking sheet.  Bake at 350 10-12 minutes or until golden brown.  Cool 1 minute before moving to a wire rack.

Incredibly addictive…

And number two, which Luke probably wouldn't have put onthis list because he’s not much on meringues, but I absolutely love these (andcan’t make them this time of year because the humidity is crazy intense)….

Double ChocolateCloud Cookies (From a cookbook called “Light Cooking”)

3 egg whites
1/8 tsp cream of tartar
¾  cup sugar
1 tsp vanilla
2 Tbsp cocoa powder
½ cup mini chocolate chips

Preheat oven to 300. Place parchment or silicone baking matson cookie sheets.  In large metal bowl,beat egg whites and cream of tartar until soft peaks form. Gradually add sugarand vanilla, beating until stiff peaks hold their shape, sugar is dissolved andmixture is glossy. Sift cocoa over egg white mixture is glossy. Sprinkle cocoaover egg white mixture; gently fold in until combined. Fold in chocolate chips.Drop by teaspoonfuls onto cookie sheets. Bake 20-25 minutes until dry (or turn the oven off at 20 minutes and letthem stay in as long as you like while it cools). Peel the cookie s off thepaper/mats and cool on wire racks.

This recipe calls for a chocolate drizzle glaze on top, buteven being a chocolate lover, I don’t find it necessary.

Meatball Cookies (fromAllrecipes.com)

Don’t be put off by the name! Or the look! These. Are.Amazing.

3 cups all-purpose flour (or 1 ½ white, 1 ½ wheat flour)
2/3 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
1 ½ tsp baking powder
½ tsp baking soda
1 tsp salt
1 cup chopped walnuts (I can’t remember if I skipped this completely or did ½cup peanuts…)
1 tsp ground cloves
1 tsp allspice (which I don’t have, so I just threw in a bit of ginger, andextra nutmeg, cloves and cinnamon)
1 tsp cinnamon
½ tsp nutmeg
1 ½ cups white sugar (or use Splenda for part)
3 eggs (or 2 large egg whites and 1 egg)
½ cup butter, margarine or shortening (or pumpkin!)

Glaze: (this makes A LOT – more than you really need for thecookies – feel free to halve it)
2 tsp vanilla
4 cups powdered sugar
¼ cup cocoa powder
½ cup milk

Preheat oven to 350. Spray cookie sheets with nonstickspray. Cream the fat (or pumpkin!) sugar, eggs, and vanilla.  In a separate bowl, stir the flour, 2/3 cupcocoa, baking powder, baking soda, salt and spices.  Add this to butter mixture.  If too sticky, add more flour. If too dry,add a little milk – you want it to be a consistency that allows you to roll itinto ½-1 inch balls.  Add nuts (optional)and mix with hands.  Roll into balls,place on the cookie sheets and bake 10-12 minutes or until cookies arefirm.  Don’t overcook.  Remove from the oven and let rest for a fewmoments.  Remove to wax paper or bakingmats. Combine ingredients for the glaze and when cool, pour a small amount ofglaze over each cookie.

And remarkably, they do look like meatballs, but taste oh somuch better. 

Close runner's up included Rocky Road Cookies, Iced Pumpkin Cookies, and Gingerbread cookies (that tasted fantastic but wouldn't roll worth a darn).

Cooking School

Just to be clear, I'm not pretending to be like Julie in the movie Julie & Julia as I tell you about a little challenge I took this year... Especially because:
A. French cuisine looks kind of gross - other than the desserts, many of the foods in that movie made me want to gag
B. Julie lived in New York, and had access to whatever she wanted for cooking, and
C. I failed to post progress through the year so I probably won't remember most of what we tried and you won't hear the stories of taffy that wouldn't pull or upside down cake that didn't fully cook.

That being said, my New Year's goal for 2012 (yes, I said "goal" - a little less binding and sure to fail than a "resolution"), was to try at least one new recipe every week. Even with trips to Thailand, Ethiopia, and all around Zambia (essentially putting us away from home for 8+ weeks), I can say we tried well more than 52 new recipes this year. Some weeks, that's all I made! Leaning on a stack of cookbooks, the good ol' Internet, and a few fun recipe apps on my phone, I set out to keep hubby well-fed while not making the exact same meals week after week.

Was it challenging? Sometimes. Finding substitutions for ingredients is always an interesting experiment. Unexpected power outages didn't help much either. More than anything though, it is probably one of the few tangible things I could cling to through some rough patches of emotional blah this year. Add to it our weekly "alphabet date nights," themed around a letter of the alphabet, and we've eaten some fun, usually tasty (with a few flops), and creative meals. Luke and I will probably disagree on our favorites, but in the following posts, I'll provide some of the "best recipes of 2012" - at least in our minds.

Dig in!!

(pictured: ratatouille-stuffed pepper halves, a recipe that I wasn't even going to try to feed Luke, but I absolutely loved it!!! )

Things You Don’t See Every Day… But We Do

 There are a lot of times we think we have nothing interesting to say – that you all would be bored with our stories, pictures, and anecdotes from every day life here.  But lately we have realized that some of what we now consider everyday life is incredibly odd/foreign/interesting to the western world.  Things that might seem “old hat” to us now, were fascinating when we arrived.  So in an effort to appreciate life around us and keep you all amused (not all our posts can be super deep and spiritual), here are a few standard glimpses of Zambian life (photo illustrated where possible).  And if you comment and share your thoughts and reactions, we may just post more like this in the future…

The only way to transport heavy goods

Unless you have a bicycle, in which case, you transport pigs (or goats) by bicycle.
 Or 300+ pounds of charcoal.  Or full size iron roofing sheets.

Locals supporting your favorite teams -
with no idea they're doing so.  Thank you
used clothing market...

Funny-shaped eggplant

Mosquito nets

Christmas candles - melting in the sun

Incredible teaching

People, shops, street vendors, cars... everywhere

Rainbows and Waterfalls!

Women working with a baby on their backs

Anthills. Huge anthills with trees on top.
Dug out to make bricks

Mango Trees!

Pineapple plants! Did you know they
 grew out of a "bush?"

Amazing sunsets

Preying Mantises

Fun signage

Crushing rocks by hand for foundations, etc.

Traveling in Style

Oxen and ox carts (puts "unequally yoked" into perspective)

Baby Zebra! (In protected areas)

Tetanus risks...

Groups of people from all over the world hanging out together.
Countries represented in this picture: Canada, Zimbabwe, Ghana,
Australia, South Africa, India and the US

Strange Abnormal Loads

Other things we see every day:

People sitting outside Shoprite selling the fruit, vegetables, bread and eggs they bought inside

Soccer balls made of scraps of material

Men peeing by the side of the road

Trash flying from car windows

Shelf-stable boxed milk and un-refrigerated eggs

Unsupervised children everywhere

Burning fields (slash and burn is the typical agricultural method, though groups are currently trying to teach against that)

And for now, I've probably used up my entire data bundle uploading pictures, so I have to stop here. More to come in future posts!

Giving Up Everything

Often when we hear people marvel about how we "gave up everything" to move to Zambia as missionaries, we kind of shrug it off, almost feeling bad that they think that. This isn't sacrifice! I mean, we love so much about life here. We love how on a given Sunday we may be worshiping with people from as many as 10 different nations. Getting to a recipe calling for lemon juice and we just grab the fruit from our tree. How the air drops from a hot, sunny 100+ degrees to 60 and stormy in seconds during the rains. How everyone in our growing town, from the post office to Shoprite to the marketplace, knows when we've been traveling (and asks what we brought them). Walking everywhere at all times of the year. The friendly, relaxed pace of life. How Luke and I have been forced into a stronger relationship because sometimes we're all we've got. Seeing genuine change from things we've taught. And how when you're where God wants you, there's just a peace about life.

But then there are times when we long for life stateside, feeling the "sacrifices" just aren't worth it. Being a target for lewd comments and demand for handouts wherever we go. Not being able to take a peaceful walk through the neighborhood holding my husband's hand. Power cuts, plumbing problems, and frightening roads. Lack of quality healthcare and screening, especially as we try to start a family. Pouring ourselves out spiritually without a fountain from which to drink. Injustices and inefficiencies in policies and policing. The inability to use reason to solve problems with processes, bills and the above inefficiencies. Times when there seems to be zero fruit from all the ministry efforts. And missing important milestones, family events, weddings, funerals, reunions, and all our friends and family back home.

Usually the good outweighs the not-so-good, but as we've noted in our last two prayer letters, sometimes the bad just mounds up in a giant pile of stink (like the trash in one of the compounds we walk through each week). Those are the times when we find ourselves thinking maybe it's not worth it. Life would be "so much easier" back home. We tried and that's enough, right?

But what if Jesus had said that? When he didn't feel like his disciples were "getting it." When his own mother made selfish demands of his time and ability. When the need around him was too much. When everyone wanted to take, take, take and his strength waned. When one of his best friends betrayed him. When the stones were thrown. What if Jesus had given up and gone back to life as a simple carpenter, because it would be easier?

I for one am glad he didn't. Think of the pile of stink we'd all be in if Jesus had given up on the road to Calvary - turned around, and gone home - because saving us from the debt of our sin wasn't "worth it?"

And so we remember why we're here. Not for some romantic, idealistic aid project. Not for the accolades of others (though the affirmation is certainly nice sometimes). Not because life is easier or inherently more enjoyable in this hemisphere. But for God's glory. Because of Jesus' death on the cross and resurrection for our forgiveness. Because many millions of people haven't heard this Good News of forgiveness. He said we were worth it. He also said to take up our crosses and follow him - not because it would be easy (in fact he says it may be downright difficult) or because we would receive earthly treasures - but because He's worth it.

So we may have given up a lot to serve Him here. You may be giving up a lot by supporting us in that work (thank you thank you thank you!). But, it's all so little compared to what he gave up for us, and all so worth it.

"What is more, I consider everything a loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them garbage, that I may gain Christ" (Philippians 3:8 NIV)

Growing Pains

Solwezi is growing. By a couple of hundred people every day according to someestimates.  In some places in the world,the streets are apparently lined with gold. In Solwezi, they’re lined with people selling, people walking, peoplesitting, people driving, people biking, people peeing.  And by streets I mean street.  One. Singular.  The same street used bythe large copper mining trucks, buses coming through the country from Lusaka, mini buses, taxis, funeral caravans, and anyone in the entire province who needs to buy groceries at our Shoprite – the only grocery store within two hours drive any direction.  One street, on a sort of ridge between valleys, with every storefront, shack and market along the street, because anyone who visits can easily see that this booming mine city was never intended to be more than a small stop along the main road.

And it’s only going to get bigger.  The Kansanshi copper mine is already one ofthe largest and busiest in the world – and expected to double in size this year, adding the biggest copper smelter to facilitate outputs from several mines in the area.  Currently underway some kilometers out of Solwezi is Trident, a trifecta combining smaller mines into one huge one.  Where there are mines,there are jobs, and where there are jobs, there are people.  “If you build it, they will come” has never been more real. 

Westerns depicting the American Gold Rush would be very fitting for the situation here: promises to make it big and get rich quick are transplanting whole communities and families to the point that we can hardly call this “Kaonde country” anymore.  Traditional values and conservative dress are being replaced with cheap pornography and skinny jeans.  Bars and taverns (or tarvens, as the signs usually say) and swanky guest houses are popping up all over town.  Alcohol consumption and prostitution are increasing simultaneously, especially among transient truck drivers, leaving a devastating number of unwed mothers with STDs.

Where does this leave us? Living a block away from the one real street has its benefits.  For example, stocks run out fairly quickly at Shoprite when there are 50 million transactions a month, but we’ve learned which days the vegetable trucks are unloaded and know that if the eggs are gone today, we can stop by again tomorrow.  The increase in mine activity also means an increase in expatriates, many of whom have become dear friends through a small church fellowship we’ve helped to start.  They are also great contacts for the who, what, how questions in the way things work here.  Additionally, though we’ve spent a lot of time on our Kikaonde, the influx of people from all over the country (and world) means we are able to function almost entirely in English within town.

But there are a lot of downfalls as well.  Be it in a car, on a bike, or walking, the roads are frightening (we’ve found walking to be the safest, though not always the sanest).  When we first visited in 2009, things were so much quieter, and we just thought we’d bicycle everywhere when we moved here long term.  Not a chance.  Additionally, there are regular gas shortages and cars will line up waiting to refuel.  Whereas even 12 months ago we had extremely reliable power and water, the only consistency now is the inconsistency.  We’ve had some weeks in which we’ve lost power every night just around dinner time. The electrical infrastructure of the city can’t handle the load.  This was really the tipping point as we became overwhelmed by stress last month.

On a deeper level, the increase in transplanted families from other tribes is something local Kaonde churches for the most part aren't prepared to handle.  Add to that Jehovah’s witnesses, Muslims, and various “natural healers” and “Chinese medicine practitioners” handing out pamphlets and invitations and this little big town in a nominally Christian country is becoming confused. Especially confusing is the increase in access to Western television, music, Internet and culture.  For years many Zambians have assumed that what is American or European is Christian.  After all, the first “bazungu” (white people) to come to Zambia were missionaries.  We’ve had several conversations with Zambian friends here recently who were convinced that all Americans are Christian, and therefore every music video, fashion trend, televangelist, politician and even Peace Corp worker they are exposed to is also “Christian.”

A few months ago one of our older missionaries who has been here most of her life said, “things are a lot harder than they used to be.”  Yes, there is far more available when it comes to food choices, airlines in and out, technology, etc., but those are all things you can work around and or live without. The quiet life where everything was simple but simple made sense once you learned the system is a thing of the past. 

I’m not sure where I’m going with this, other than to ask that you pray.  Pray for Solwezi, that evil and corruption will have no power, and that the Lord will bring about a revival for His truth.  Pray for the churches here, that they may find innovative and inviting ways to reach out to the increasingly inter-tribal and international community around us.  Pray for the missionaries as we discern what and who to pour our lives into, as we react to the changes around us, and as we seek to maintain a moral standard and serve as an example to our brothers and sisters here.  And please pray for us as we respond to lewd comments and begging, intense foot and vehicle traffic, inconsistent utilities and other “growing pains.”

Lost in Translation

Sometimes it seems there are a hundred English words for every one Kikaonde word.  Seriously.  Take mambo for example… it can mean affair, fact, matter, or it can be used for reason, because, regarding.  It’s often used for sermon, speech, word, or TheWord.  But then, it can also mean sin, guilt, fault, offense, or trouble. So we use the same Kikaonde word to describe sin as we do for The Word.  Riiiight. Something was lost in translation.

Granted, the meaning of most words are fairly easy to figure out based on their context (though kesha, meaning either yesterday or tomorrow will forever confuse us), but it certainly makes translating Sports Friends materials into Kikaonde interesting.  And I’m realizing that English speakers like to say what is essentially the same thing multiple ways.

Whenever Regina, my friend and language partner, is free, I hike off to Kimasala to sit and pour over the stacks of pages Luke has asked me to translate.  Sometimes it is straightforward – but more often we find ourselves in lengthy discussions as I explain the context of a word’s use and try to think of every English synonym for it hoping we’ll find the right Kikaonde word to fit. 

Here’s one of Luke’s sentences we just kind of had to laugh at:

“To minister”literally means “to care for” or “to serve.”  

Imagine our difficulty when all three of those words are best translated into the same Kikaonde word. Luckily we found another way to say to serve and didn’t have to scrap the line completely.

It was an easy assumption to make that my Kikaonde and Regina’s English would greatly improve as we work through these materials.  What I did not expect was the spiritual growth that would result.  The first two sets of information we worked through were Bible studies Luke wrote based on the goal and training statement of Sports Friends.  As I was focused on plowing through the documents, I didn’t realize at first the way Regina was soaking in each scripture, question and reference.  One day I suggested we stop so I could start my walk home, and she wanted to go just a little bit further because she wanted to know what was next! 

“This is very interesting and I’m learning so much,” she said, expressing that the studies will definitely lead to spiritual growth for their intended audience.

And apparently for an unintended audience.  It’s amazing what the Lord will do beyond the scope of our plans and ideas.  What I thought would be a simple time of translation of materials for future Sports Friends coaches and church leaders has actually become an opportunity to cultivate growth in my translator.  God’s sovereign plan is never lost in translation.

The Devil is a Liar

Living halfway around the world, I often find myself incredibly grateful for technology.  Being able to keep up with the lives of my friends and family via facebook and email can be such a blessing.  And by posting about our daily adventures, it helps me to feel that we won’t be forgotten by everyone back home.

But it can also be such a stumbling block.  You know what I mean: one friend has pictures posted from an amazing vacation; another talks of a huge job promotion; another is competing in a super fun triathlon; and another is pregnant… again.  And I think…

“I wish my life was that glorious!” 

“Look at what they’re doing – I’m such a failure in comparison!”

 “Why didn’t anyone tell me about that?” 

“He loves her SOOooo much – what a romantic!”

“Such a cool adventure!  I could never be that brave!”

“I’m probably letting so many people down!”

The devil is a liar.  Constantly convincing us that we can’t possibly be happy in our present situations.  That we “deserve more” or that we “aren’t enough.”  Sometimes I really do start to believe that the grass is greener on the other side.  I find myself longing for someone else’s life.  The craziness of it all is that I absolutely love my life!  I am living the very “adventure” that others might be longing for.  My life is glorious (at least I think so!).  I live in Africa!  We may not be rich, but I could care less about riches.  What many of us long for is richness of life.  And Satan is out to make us believe that our lives are horribly devoid of the very riches by which we are surrounded!

I realize there is a balance – that we’re never supposed to be “too content” with where we are or how we are living, for fear that we lose dependence on God and hope in what is to come.  But that is a different kind of discontentment than that which comes from the devil.  May I even be so bold to describe such as envy, jealousy, or even greed?  Jealous of a friend’s spontaneous nature.  Envious of an experience had by a family member.  Even coveting the walk another person has with the Lord!

 I stand convicted.  Deceived by the great deceiver.  Robbed of the joy of the fullness of God because I’m swayed toward discontentment.  I so often listen to the father of lies (John 8:44) rather than hearing the glorious words of my Father in Heaven, who not only brings us great peace, but also the promise of an amazing eternity with Him in a place with the greenest of grasses.

So I ask two things of you.  First, please forgive me for sinning against you – for seeing your pictures, your posts, these snapshots of your life -- and responding with thoughts of jealousy rather than celebration or simply just being happy to stay in touch.  Second, please don’t be jealous of us.  We are living our dream – God’s dream for us.  He has a different plan for you completely.  Find it.  Follow it.  If you have done so, don’t be deceived or swayed by the one who comes to kill and destroy as I so often am.  May we all recognize the richness of our own lives in Christ – and stop wasting time sulking over a life we were never created nor intended to live!

“With this in mind, we constantly pray for you, that our God may count you worthy of his calling, and that by his power he may fulfill every good purpose of yours and every act prompted by your faith.” – 2 Thessalonians 1:11

A Moses Moment

I feel a bit like Moses, but not so much in that good, saw God’s face, led His people out of slavery sort of way.  More like in the being used by God can be difficult and confusing, especially when you try to do it on your own sort of way.

In Exodus 17:1-7 we read that, after wandering out into the wilderness, the Israelites began grumbling because there was no water to drink.  So, God told Moses to go before the people with a group of elders, and, using his staff, he was to strike the rock.  Moses did as the Lord commanded, and water flowed from the rock.

Fast forward 40 or so years.  The Israelites are on the edge of the Promised Land, and again they are without water.  In Numbers 20:2-13 we read that Moses and Aaron again asked God what to do.  He told them to go before the people, taking the staff, but this time Moses was to speak to the rock, not strike it.  So they go before the people, and look what Moses does starting in verse 10b:

“[Moses] said to them, ‘Hear now, you rebels: shall we bring water for you out of this rock?’  And Moses lifted up his hand and struck the rock with his staff twice, and water came out abundantly, and the congregation drank, and their livestock.”

God told Moses to speak to the rock.  But Moses, finding himself in a similar position to one he’d been in before, took it into his own hands.  He knew that the last time he was supposed to strike the rock; why would this time be different?  So, rather than relying on God and trusting His guidance, Moses did what he thought was right.  He struck the rock.  And water came flowing out.

Before moving on, I can’t help but notice that, despite the disobedience of Moses, God still provided for His people.  Blessings flowing from our actions do not indicate that God is pleased with us or that He is condoning or endorsing our ministry.  A growing ministry is not necessarily one that has been given God’s stamp of approval.  He might choose to bless the people despite our disobedience or shortcomings, but we must never mistake this for God’s approval of our actions.  He will always act so that He receives the most glory, whether we are obedient or not.

Look how God responded to Moses’ actions.  Yes, the people got water, but look at verse 12:

“And the Lord said to Moses and Aaron, ‘Because you did not believe in Me, to uphold Me as holy in the eyes of the people of Israel, therefore you shall not bring this assembly into the land that I have given them.’  These are the waters of Meribah, where the people of Israel quarreled with the Lord, and through them He showed Himself holy.”

Their disobedience was not without consequence.  Because they tried to do it on their own, Moses and Aaron were kept from entering the Promised Land.  Yes, the people got water.  Yes, Moses and Aaron got punished.  Most importantly, God used this event to show that He is holy.  He made sure that He – not Moses – received the glory.

Why do I use this story to illustrate how I feel like Moses?  Because my actions seem to mirror his.  When we started our first Sports Friends team in Kimasala, we bathed our efforts in prayer.  We prayed for a coach; we prayed for kids; we prayed for the ministry.  And we saw God do amazing things.

Now, three-plus months later, we are looking at starting another three teams.  Yes, we have prayed about it, but with a level of prideful confidence.  I “know” what works in getting a team started.  I’ve seen it work before.  So I’ve tried to replicate those steps with these new teams.  I’ve tried to do it the way I think God wants it to be done, but I’ve assumed God wants to do it the same way.  The thing is, I’m trying to rely upon my own efforts rather than God’s actions.

And what has been the result of my efforts?

Failure upon failure.  Frustration upon frustration.  The first team started in less than two weeks; we have not seen a new team form in almost two months of trying to get one started.  Not only that, the coach of the first team recently moved away, leaving us with no active teams at all right now.  We’ve been working at this ministry for months now, and we have nothing to show for it.

Because, despite trying to say otherwise, I’ve been seeking the glory that only belongs to God.

As with Moses, God has put a big task before me and called me to lead under His guidance.  Like Moses, I have seen God do amazing things.  And like Moses, I try to take things into my own hands and rob God of the glory due His name.

Hopefully this time I actually learn the lesson and rely upon Him.

Change Takes Time

“We can make an envelope for the cash box for the renewal.”

Surprising words to come from Mama Yoba’s lips.  A year ago she didn’t like the cash box.  She didn’t think it would work, and she really didn’t like that she didn’t have access to it.  If the money went in the cash box, she didn’t think she would be able to give to help friends when there was a funeral or get anything done that she wanted.  If she received money for things at Lusa, she would use it as she saw fit instead of putting it into the cash box.  In fact, she even asked Luke one day if we didn’t trust her with a key.  Granted, Luke just responded, “If that’s true, they must not trust me either, because I also don’t have a key!”

Change takes time.  When we started the “envelope system” at Lusa, it was a sort of experiment.  An experiment Regina was willing to try.  We created 10 envelopes, labeled with things like “feeding program,” “Zesco/Mema house” (electricity/water), “chickens and agriculture,” “teacher supplies and stipend,” “savings,” etc.  The idea was that each time any income was generated, through craft markets, handmade jewelry sales, donations, or other means, that money would be divided among the envelopes and documented on sheets of paper in each particular envelope.  This idea is very foreign in a culture where people are quick to spend any money they have so that they do not feel obligated to give it to family or friends in need.  While bank accounts exist here, the majority of account holders have zero balance until pay day, at which they immediately withdraw the entire payment sum and spend it.  Others live too far from town for the accounts to be practical for every day use.  Lusa has a bank account, but putting small amounts of cash in an account five kilometers away and then withdrawing said cash for a few dollars here and there for charcoal or tomatoes became a bit irrational.

So we started the cash box – kept hidden in the office at Lusa – with Regina holding the only key.  In the last year since starting the “experiement,” the electricity has never been turned off as a result of delinquent payment, the chicken house has been completely wired for electricity, the doors have been replaced, the teachers have received occasional stipends as gratitude for their hard work, and the children have received a nutritious meal almost every week that school has been in session. 

There have been times that Regina had to stand up to her mother when Mama Yoba wanted to give large amounts for funerals of community members or wanted to buy something for the hall on a whim rather than considering the true needs.  There were times when community members and volunteers questioned the system – hoping to pocket some of the money for themselves.  But after a year, Mama Yoba is on board.  If there is a need for which we don’t have an envelope (like renewing the organization’s certification with the government), she suggests we add one so we can start saving toward said need.  If she receives money, she now gives it to Regina to distribute through the cash box.  And just this week, Mama Yoba repeatedly told me, “thank you.” 

The reason I write this is not for my own accolades.  I got the idea for envelope budgeting from Crown Financial’s Money Matters radio program I used to listen to in the States.  No, the reason I write this is in recognition of the fact that change takes time.  We could probably raise a bunch of money and build fancy buildings and hold special events and be able to create a grand list of all the things we’ve “accomplished” since coming to Zambia, but without working side by side with our brothers and sisters here, without cautious, diligent, and sometimes painful teaching, those “accomplishments” wouldn’t really “accomplish” anything in the grand scheme of things.  True, lasting change… takes time.

And in order to introduce change – to experiment with new ideas and go new directions in ministry – we have learned that we have to start with the youth.  In a culture where everything is tied to tradition, relationship, and the “way it’s always been done,” the youth rarely get a voice.  But they are eager to learn; eager for responsibility and trust; and eager for change.  Regina took a risk standing up to her mother, but now has the respect of Mama Yoba and several others in the community because of that stand.  She’s also learned how to budget and wants to teach others in the community and put what she’s learned into practice in her own business and personal efforts.  In the last year, we may not have built fancy buildings or touched hundreds of lives, but by pouring into one person at a time, over time, change happens.

The cash box is a very tangible example, but we see the same impact on a spiritual level.  Regina has grown to be an incredible, devoted woman of God, and is leading young girls and others in the community in the same direction.

We look forward to seeing the same kind of changes and growth in the young men and women we work with as coaches for Sports Friends, who will then become leaders and role models for the children on their teams.  Life on life, day by day, disciple-making.  And in the long run, that is far more satisfying – and glorifying to God – than fancy buildings or numbers on paper. 

From Football to False Prophets - a Conversation

“So, what are you doing here?” asked the young man I was driving from Kimasala to town.

An appropriate question to consider a year and a half after moving to Zambia.  My response would have been different a year ago, 9 months ago, even 6 months ago.  Much has changed in our plans and in our ministry.  So, I answered him according to the most recent development.

“We are working with local churches to establish sports ministries.  I help to train sports ministers from the church to start teams with the children in the community, build relationships with the kids, and then share Christ with them.”  I probably wasn’t so eloquent, but it was along those lines.

As I drove down the pot-holed road to town, we started talking about the churches in Zambia.  I explained that we had planned to join a local church when we arrived, but found a great need for a church among the non-Zambian community, many of whom do not leave their secluded, fenced, and guarded golf estate on the edge of town.  My passenger seemed intrigued by this and asked a few questions before dropping an unexpected one.

“Are you a Christian?”

My first reaction was to say, “Uh, duh.”  But, I’ve learned to be a bit more polite than that, so I answered with a respectful, “Yes.”

“I mean, are you born again?” he asked.

“Yes, sir.  We wouldn’t be here if we weren’t.”

And this is where it started to get interesting.  This young man – a teacher at a local school – began to tell me that church leaders need to be more powerful, and that churches will continue to fail unless the leaders start doing miracles.  He went on to tell me that performing miracles is a sign of a true believer.

“Just look at TB Joshua,” he said.

I didn’t know how to respond to that last comment, and before I had the chance to come up with anything, I came across a local pastor I’ve been working with to start a team at his church.  When I stopped to offer the pastor a ride, my first passenger hopped out of the car and walked off, leaving the conversation hanging and me pondering his comments.

That was Saturday.  Now, three days later, I still can’t wrap my head around this conversation.  Not because he made solid points.  I got lost somewhere in the middle of his monologue.  What I am struggling with is the amount of bad theology prevalent in other countries that is finding a strong foothold here among the churches of Zambia as well.  The prosperity gospel, which teaches that, if you believe in Jesus Christ, you will be blessed with health and wealth, and, subsequently, failure to have health or wealth is a sign of lack of faith, is a growing trend here, only exacerbated by the large (and wealthy) churches that preach this belief.  Similarly, the “God-olatry” of the name-it-and-claim-it teachers is ravaging the spiritual lives of many here and at home.  There is a fine line between praying in faith that God will act, and TELLING God what He is going to do, and I fear that the line was crossed long ago.  Then there are the TV personalities like “Prophet” TB Joshua, whose “acts of healing” and “prophecies” have repeatedly been proven false or staged, yet who still command a massive international following.  If somebody claims to be a prophet, speaking the very words of God, and then those words turn out to be untrue, does that not mean that he is a false prophet?

If you were expecting me to conclude with some great theological statement, I am sorry to disappoint.  If nothing else, this episode has forced me to refocus my eyes upon Christ and Christ alone, and it has reminded me that, just because there are churches at every corner does NOT mean that the Gospel is proclaimed throughout this land.  There is still work to be done here.

And we feel so blessed to be a part of it.

When there’s nothing you can do

Helpless.  So many times in the last year and a half I have just felt helpless. 

Today I went to Kimasala with one purpose – to encourage Jillian.  Jillian’s grandmother brought her to Lusa Home-Based Care about a year ago to see if Mama Yoba would be willing to allow she and her three precious children to stay in one of the small houses on the property.  Jillian had recently been hospitalized – the HIV had so crippled her immune system that she nearly died of sickness.  While in the hospital, her husband walked away, and married another woman.  Staying at Lusa would mean Jillian would be closer to the hospital, providing better access to ARVs and proper medical care. 

A few months into her time at Lusa, Jillian gave birth to her fourth child, Moses.  So afraid she would be kicked out (abandoned once more), Jillian didn’t tell Mama Yoba (a certified birthing assistant and champion against the spread of HIV) she was pregnant.  Mama Yoba only learned of it when she was called on in the middle of the night to deliver the baby.  Praise the Lord that Moses is a growing, (seemingly) healthy boy. 

In addition to watching Moses and his siblings grow over the last year, I have had the joy to get to know Jillian – to see her body grow stronger, to be humbled by her hard work and servant’s heart, and to see her spirit grow in maturity in Christ.  While she has been afraid of being “chased” from Lusa, we all see her as a vital part of the ministry there.  Though her mother pulled her from school in grade nine so that she could get married, she is incredibly intelligent.  Though she has been raising four children tirelessly, she also helps to cook for, teach and love the many children we serve at Lusa.  She has built friendships and become “part of the family” in so many ways.

Jillian helping make jewelry to sell

So I was quite surprised at our ladies Bible study on Thursday to find her distracted, tired, and generally just “off.”  The children were dirtier than usual and the light was gone from Jillian’s face.  Midway through our study, a woman came around and was yelling at Jillian and she got up and went to speak to the lady.  

Afterward, Regina told me the story. Apparently the woman was her mother, who had been coming by the center for several days.  At first she went only to Mama Yoba, telling her it was time for her daughter to return to their village.  Mama Yoba did not want Jillian to feel she was not welcome anymore, so she told the woman that she needed to talk to Jillian herself.  From what I understand, people from her village had told Jillian’s (ex) husband that she had survived the near-death hospital stay, had another child (his), and was happy and thriving at Lusa.  They told him what a hard worker she is and how he would be better off with her than with the “replacement” wife.  So he went to the mother to convince her to bring Jillian back.  Both her husband and her mother had been coming by Lusa over the course of a week or so and trying to convince Jillian to go.  Jillian was feeling obligated (and I have little doubt the man was forcing himself on her when he would come around), but yet knew she would be leaving the love, safety, provision, and family that had surrounded her at Lusa.  So yes, she was distracted, torn about what to do and unsure the way forward.

Big mess.  I had a heavy heart leaving Regina’s home that afternoon.  We talked about ways to encourage Jillian – to let her know what she means to us and to speak truth into her heart of her worth as a Child of God.  We talked of having her on a regular teaching schedule with the kids, and really trying to spend time with her so she’s not trapped by the burden she’s carrying.  Later at home, Luke and I talked about having her come stay at our house for a bit so her husband couldn’t find her.  We thought of going to the mother to try to “talk sense into her.” But culturally, things are so different, and we really didn’t know what to do.

Knowing Regina and Mama Yoba would be out over the weekend through today, I went to Lusa to see Jillian, stopping to buy some bread rolls and bananas on the way for her family.  When I arrived, I arrived to an empty room.  She had gone back.  My heart sank.  And I walked home – helpless.

Helpless.  Like when little Chris ran away from Lusa and we couldn’t just call up Missing Persons and send out people to find him. Like when the dog and cat have been so sick and we couldn’t rush them to a veterinary hospital.  Like when Luke was stuck on an airplane for 30 hours trying to get home to see his grandfather one last time.  Like when the truck came flying out of the grass toward our vehicle and there was nothing we could do...

Except turn to Jesus.  In those moments of helplessness - complete vulnerability; those times when you’ve exhausted every possible answer and resource; when the problems seem too big…He is there.  Cry out to Abba Father and pray.  As an older missionary recently said to me, “some problems are best solved on your knees.”  The way I see it, some problems are only solved on your knees.  In our weakness, He makes us strong.  In our helplessness, He is the Helper.  When we have nothing left to give or are absolutely unable to move forward, He will carry us.  When we step out of the way, He solves the problems in ways that supersede anything we can do in our own strength.

It’s at those times that I’m reminded that as sinners, there is nothing we ourselves can do to make things right with God.  We may exhaust every option – good deeds, sacrifices, turning to false gods and idols – but we are helpless.  Until we turn to Jesus.  Cry out to Jesus, whose death on the cross was the only option that could rescue us from our brokenness – to restore humanity to eternal life with the Father. 

So tonight I’m praying for Jillian, knowing she’s in God’s hands and He can protect her much better than I can.  I’m also praying for you.  That you’ll allow Jesus to heal your broken heart, to rescue you from helplessness, from brokenness. 

Because sometimes, that's the only thing we can do. 

Getting the Ball Rolling

From the moment I returned from the States in mid-February, I have been running.  And I just realized that it’s May, and I haven’t touched the blog since I got back.  Woops.

So what has kept me so busy?  I’m glad you asked.

You have probably been following our recent adventures, including a trip to Ethiopia, then another one to Thailand.  But these trips weren’t just for vacation; they were for training (sort of).  God has opened the door for us to bring Sports Friends to Zambia, and so, before we started, we had to learn about the program.  So we went, and we learned.

And now we are doing it.

The day I returned to Solwezi I received a call from a local pastor asking if I would be available the following morning for a visit.  Somewhat reluctantly (I was really tired), I agreed to meet with him.  When he came in the morning, we talked about how his church could help us start this ministry by forming our first model team.  We asked him to identify a male and a female sports leader who we could then train to coach but also, and more importantly, to minister.  He told us he knew just the people, and he set up a time for us to meet them that coming Sunday.

So we went to this meeting, and there we met Larry.  He’s 18.  He loves sports.  And he is passionate about Christ.  We asked him to pray about whether or not God would have him lead this ministry at his church, and then set up a follow-up meeting for Thursday of that week.  If God wanted him to be a part of it, he would come; if God had other plans, then he wouldn’t come.  Simple as that.

Thursday arrived, and Larry came.

That was March 1^st.  The next day I went with the pastor to the local school and got permission to use their football (soccer) pitch (field) a few times a week.  Meanwhile, Larry identified six boys age 11-12 from the church, and then asked them to each bring a friend.  Then, on Tuesday afternoon, we held our first official practice.  It was chaotic.  There were 100+ schoolchildren wanting to join in during their break.  I realized how bad my Kiikaonde really is.  But it was fun, and now, two months later, we are beginning to see some fruit.

For about an hour and a half every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday, Larry has this group of 12 pre-teen boys at the pitch.  They play football.  They joke around.  Larry teaches them about sharing, or teamwork, or respect, or perseverance, or whatever else might come up.  He is building relationships with each of the boys, and they are learning to trust him and look at him as a positive role model.

But it isn’t just a ministry to the kids.  Part of our ministry involves developing leaders.  Once a week, usually before we have practice with the boys, Larry and I sit down and do a Bible study, discuss plans for developing the team, and pray for the boys.  It is an opportunity for me to pour into Larry, to encourage him, and to equip him for ministry, as he is the one really on the front lines working with the kids.

And that brings us to May, and the next steps for Sports Friends Zambia.  Over the coming weeks, we plan to meet with several more churches in the Kimasala area.  Our prayer is that we can help start 4-5 more teams like the first one, providing ministry to around 60 more boys, plus ministry training for a handful more coaches.  There are days when I am completely overwhelmed to think about what lies ahead, but I know that the God we serve is much greater than any obstacle that can stand in our way.

Grace - Car Crash Revisited

This has been a long time coming, but I thought I would post some excerpts from my journal shortly after the car accident I was in February 5…

February 7, 2012

“So I think we were talking about running – marathons and ultramarathons and training and injuries and good ol’ runners talk.  I had met Sharrone 30 minutes before as my taxi arrived to meet my ride to Ndola at a gas station on the edge of Lusaka.  Squeezed in the back seat between two booster chairs, I was in charge of holding the portable DVD player while the two young boys looked on from either side of me.  The Watts were heading home after a swim gala and were gracious enough to let me tag along for the ride.  About 10 kilometers or so out of Lusaka on the Great North Road, everything changed.

You know how in books and movies people talk of their ‘life flashing before their eyes’ in accidents and near-death experiences? Well, as the truck flew at us from the tall grass along the edge of the road and impact was made, I just remember closing my eyes and waiting for everything to go still and black.  I thought that was it.  As the car rolled and I heard the crunch of the roof, I was convinced that I was going to lose consciousness and never wake up.

The stillness came, but the pain and blackness did not.  As we rolled to a stop on the passenger side of the car, I was in disbelief that I was okay – and scared to death the kids were not.  But God is good. 

Within moments we all realized what had happened.  Before I knew it, Zambians were standing above us offering to help us out.  I helped unbuckle Sammy and Joel and was the last to climb out – after making a quick desperate search for my phone. And I could still hear the portable DVD player somewhere in the car. Once we were all out, the car was rolled right side up. 

I remember Sharrone telling the onlookers to please not steal from us – as many collected our belongings that were scattered along the roadside and field.  One of the women took it upon herself to comfort the boys while Sharron and Charlie desperately tried to get things under control. We searched for the DVD player to help placate the kids, but it was nowhere to be found. The cooler bag I had disappeared completely, and the contents: apples, carrots, koala crackers and a busted jar o strawberry jam stretched along for 100 meters or so.  I just wanted to find my phone.  Here I was with relative strangers desperate to reach Luke or my parents or someone I knew.  I felt like it was all a weird unreal situation that I mistakenly entered – like a scene in a movie and I was an unscripted ‘extra’ who snuck into the shot. 

My hand was bleeding and shoulder tender, but nothing as bad as it could have been.  We were all safe.  The other driver didn’t even look shaken – dressed in a tie and vest and calm and completely unmoved by the whole situation.  As friends of Sharrone were called from her phone, I kept desperately searching for mine.  I tried to get online from Luke’s computer which was unscathed by the accident, but there was no signal where we were.  I felt so lost – like no one knew where I was and there was no hope.  Sharrone had one contact in her phone that I knew, so we called my friend and she called some others from the mine to let them know what happened.

Eventually, “rescue” rides showed up to take us back to Lusaka and the police came to write reports.  As we gathered all of our belongings from the roadside, the police woman insisted we take everything – even the car CD player, the broken wheels, etc – knowing that the car would be stripped for anything worth anything. 

My ride back to Lusaka happened to be with the Flying Mission director, which was hugely comforting because of his relationship to SIM.  We went to his house and he called our deputy director while his wife fixed up my hand.  One of the couples there was going back to Ndola and I decided to go along.  Their willingness to let me ride, let me use their phones, and then to stay at their house was amazing.  They arranged to take me to the clinic for a checkup the next morning and were incredibly gracious to me – a perfect stranger.  Other friends arranged rides back to Solwezi the next day.  I was so afraid driving – terrified of another accident – and when we almost hit a goat, I think my heart stopped. 

I am back now.  I was able to communicate with mom and then Luke and then our director on the ride to Ndola, and have since been overwhelmed with the outpouring of prayer and support from friends.  One friend brought by a basket of groceries and others called and e-mailed.  Our director even graciously met with the man who found my phone to get it back (who insisted he be paid for his finding).

Most of all, I am overwhelmed by the grace and goodness and mercy of the Lord Jesus Christ.  There is no reason we should have exited the car without horrible wounds, but He protected us.  I know my purpose here on earth is not finished and the Lord has wonderful plans.  I pray I am worthy of His calling and an instrument of His grace.  Praise God.”