Giving Thanks in All Things.....

Giving thanks for ALL things.........
Learning to focus on the small graces of each day.....
A friend back in the states calls this looking for the God moments....
They are all around us.....

how easy, when wearied by the battle, to lose focus of God's mercy and grace....
the learning to give thanks in all things in a learned habit....

JR Miller states: "Christian thanksgiving is the life of Christ in the heart -- transforming the disposition and the whole character.

Thanksgiving must be wrought into the life as a habit--before it can become a fixed and permanent quality. An occasional burst of praise, in the midst of years of complaining, is not what is required. Songs on rare, sunshiny days; and no songs when skies are cloudy--will not make a life of gratitude. The heart must learn to sing always. This lesson is learned only when it becomes a habit which nothing can weaken. We must persist in being thankful. When we can see no reason for praise--we must believe in the divine love and goodness, and sing in the darkness. Thanksgiving has attained its rightful place in us, only when it is part of all our days and dominates all our experiences." J. R. Miller, 1912

Are you, like Paul, learning to be content whatever the circumstances? Philippians 4:11

I know I am learning....
There is joy in the journey.........

and the deliberate giving of thanks in all things is an on-going learned habit..............

49 and going strong!

My husband is 49 years old today!

My Programmer husband tunes his heart to God; diligently seeking first HIM in all his ways.

He is a good daddy.

A blessing to others.

I'm thankful for my husband!

Happy Birthday, Honey!!!!

For everything God created is good, .......1 Timothy 4:4


Have you read the book "One Thousand Gifts" by Ann Voskamp?
I have to admit I have not read it in its entirety yet...yet already in the first few chapters, I know I need to learn the secret of 'eucharisto' - Thanksgiving......'charis' which means grace; 'chara' is joy....

Paul learned this secret when he confidently said (and challenged all believers to come to this point too)......
10 I rejoiced greatly in the Lord that at last you renewed your concern for me. Indeed, you were concerned, but you had no opportunity to show it. 11 I am not saying this because I am in need, for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. 12 I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content
in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. 13 I can do all this through him who gives me strength.

so in the dailyness of life....changing a 4 year old special need son's diaper, sweeping the floor, folding the seemingly unending pile of laundry, making bread and meals,.....all is to be done in an attitude of Thanksgiving.....

just as God tells us in Psalm 50....
14 "Sacrifice thank offerings to God, fulfill your vows to the Most High,
15 and call on me in the day of trouble; I will deliver you, and you will honor me."

At times, giving thanks does feel like a sacrifice....other times the thanks roll with such ease.....

but in all give thanks.....this is the joy in the journey.....

Now thank we all our God, with heart and hands and voices,
Who wondrous things has done, in Whom this world rejoices;
Who from our mothers' arms has blessed us on our way
With countless gifts of love, and still is ours today.

O may this bounteous God through all our life be near us,
With ever joyful hearts and bless├Ęd peace to cheer us;
And keep us in His grace, and guide us when perplexed;
And free us from all ills, in this world and the next!

All praise and thanks to God the Father now be given;
The Son and Him Who reigns with Them in highest Heaven;
The one eternal God, whom earth and Heaven adore;
For thus it was, is now, and shall be evermore.

5th Anniversary

Today marks our 5th anniversary of being here in the Philippines.
In some ways it seems we've just landed - the cultural learning never ends! But mostly it seems like we've been here a life time.

A few days after we first arrived here

We have traveled many hard, dark roads yet we have traveled closer to our Father's heart.
We see His provision and grace.
We are stronger in our faith and love
and yet
in many ways, more shattered

and isn't that paradox the paradox of Christ?
He, King of Kings and Lord of Lords, Creator of all
came humbly to earth a lowly baby, a servant King
"For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its
shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God."
(Hebrews 12:2)

He is our Prince of Peace, our Wonderful Counselor

I love the chorus of Michael Card's Song
"There is a joy in the journey,
there's a light we can love on the way.
There is a wonder and wildness to life,
and freedom for those who obey."

We have this gospel ministry in jars of clay to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us. We are afflicted in every way but not crushed; perplexed but not driven to despair.
(2 Cor. 4:7-8)

Our calling here has been one of joy and struggles ever drawing each of us closer to our ABBA's heart. He upholds all and leads us on in His way.

Pray for us as we continue our journey here. Because of the adoption process we will not be furloughing until June of 2013. We will have been here seven years by then with only one short 8-week 'vacation' furlough.
To be honest, a few of us are more than ready for a break of even just a few weeks to visit our home land and relatives.


We are thankful to be here. Thankful to be used by God for the advancement of His Kingdom; for the spread of His Gospel.

Thank you to each of you who pray and financially support us.

There is a joy in the journey.

A Bruised Reed

I wanted to share an article with you all from the "Women of Harvest" e-zine - a journal for missionary women. Sometimes it is hard to describe to others the joy and struggle involved in life on the mission field. I think RH (the writer of this article) did a good job verbalizing what I am learning and experiencing here.

There is joy in the journey. There is struggle. And our faithful Abba upholds all who are falling and raises up all who are bowed down (Psalm 145:14).

"I had always sworn that I would not let my children become "MK casualties," but my eight-year-old son is an emotional and spiritual mess. It is a wild concoction of deep loss, painful and anxious cultural experiences, intellectual giftedness, spiritual warfare, absence of real friendships in his life, plus what we all deal with: sin.

Our son is a highly gifted, perfectionistic, anxious, deep kid whose loss upon leaving the United States at age three-and-a-half we underestimated, and who was targeted in just about every possible way by the enemy of our souls upon our arrival here in China five years ago. After five years of maladjustment to the culture, language, and food; numerous and frightening injuries and illnesses; and a barren friendship landscape (he has been unable to find one good, close friend with whom he feels safe to be himself), our son is hurting.

"Why is God doing this to me?" he asked as I was preparing dinner in the kitchen one night recently. The one friend with whom he had just begun to connect was leaving suddenly to go back to the United States with his family. What does a parent do with that kind of question? The "right" answers all taste pretty hollow and even bitter as I look into his face.

I look at my son and feel a heavy ache as I see his nervous gestures, his clinging to his securities and routines. I hurt at how he is daily frustrated by the diminishing of his dreams,

unable to explain for him what I am just learning:
that shattered dreams can bring us deeper into God's heart.

Every day he seems to feel cheated of some way his life is supposed to be. Everything he has to settle for daily seems paltry. His loss, fears, and unmet longings rule him so often. It sometimes seems a gargantuan effort for him to remain emotionally balanced throughout the day.

Occasionally the facade cracks and a terrifying torrent of rage or sorrow explodes, completely out of proportion to the event. Then he screams the most piercing words--"I wish I'd never been born!" or something like it--and shakes in all his limbs. There is no talking him out of it, no praying him out of it. Sometimes he will lie quietly, his head tucked under his covers, wanting me to hold him, but unable to speak, for a long time.

I often find myself walking on eggshells around his fragile self, trying to determine when he is hiding, when he is controlling because he feels out of control, when he is desperate for love and affection, when he is hurt and so becomes hurtful. I want to explain him to himself, but I cannot. I carry prayers around with me all day, unspoken groans that Abba somehow understands.

At times the hurt stops my breath as I realize that there are no guarantees for him. Things could get worse, a lot worse. He could lose the battle. His anxieties and obsessions could become more and more debilitating. He could get angrier and angrier at God, at us as his parents. He could become a social outcast, bitter, hiding himself away from the messiness and pain of human relationships. He could opt out of life.

I just finished reading Larry Crabb's Shattered Dreams: God's Unexpected Pathway to Joy (Waterbrook Press), and it describes this pattern I see in my life: as I have walked a number of dark nights of the soul now, I realize again that my trust deepens each time, often in direct proportion to my sorrow. I am realizing that this trust is trust in God for who He is, not for what He does for me. The ache I feel because I cannot make it all right for our son brings me to trust again and again, even when I am angry at my God.

Sometimes I scream at God: Hasn't he had enough? Mercy, Lord!

Paraphrasing Crabb: Do I really believe that knowing God could bring more pleasure to my soul than seeing my son straighten out? I pray that He grants me the trust to say yes.

I do not get it. I can handle it, though, with the faith I have been given; I can walk through the murky mess with my faith intact. That is a gift from God; it is not of me. But this little boy? This bruised reed, this smoldering wick?

I want to say all this when I sit with friends, when we move deeper in conversation, but each time I hold back, even when I hint at the pain. I want to feel like another is carrying part of the load, but I always stop short of giving words to the ragged ache. It seems to be a mixture of fear of response, and weariness at the thought of trying to explain. I have to fight against the impulse to flatline, to withdraw. Sometimes it is all just too much.

This side of death, Jesus' life was left unjustified by the Father. There was no rescue. He died in despair and rejected. But then: glorification, a new body, victory. I know. I do not know, however, that it will be that way for my son. Others have left the faith and have lived with feeling betrayed until their death.

I want to be able to say, without shocking or shaking the faith of another, that this is hard and that I feel frightened, that my longings for freedom of soul for my son are suffocating in their presence, in their heaviness. I want others to understand that it is understandable for me to feel it all this deeply. I need to grieve the loss of my dreams for him having a carefree, happy childhood, the as-yet unfulfilled dreams of seeing him thrive in life, in light, in grace. We are not always able to wrap up the loose ends of our lives in a neat little knot; this is one that I have to leave dangling for now."