Faith Infused Life

I am an inept tech.  Inept means insufficient, maybe even incompetent.  Tech means having a special skill or practical knowledge.  In so many ways, with technology, I am completely inept.  We have a caddy of 6 remote controls, in my living room, that mystify me. Never have I had the experience of choosing the right one and successfully using them to complete a task with our tv and stereo, and I  avoid the challenge.  I’m not a complete dope — I just leave the task up to those to whom it comes naturally, which does not include me.

My husband is a computer systems engineer.  He excels in the technical area, keeps our home computers humming along, is always ready with a quick answer when someone asks about their systems, and I willingly let him speak for our equipment.  Would you trust the health of your computer to me or to Dan?

So, just to remind us that God has a sense of humor, I have experienced a transformation in my role at church from song leader to tech.  Yes, that’s right, I am responsible for the lyrics on the wall with fancy moving backgrounds and with operating the music.  Don’t laugh.  It’s true.

So you know, don’t you, that God delights in taking people that are so NOT something and crafting them into that something He wants them to be.  Well, that’s me, and that’s what He’s done.  So now there is no way that anyone can say, “Gail does such a good job because she’s just brilliant like that.” Or, “Gail has a Ph.D in media technology.” Oh no. I am an honest God-grown media tech with no prior experience to brag of.

A couple years ago, with an end looming to my role of choir manager and song leader,  there was a need.  Our church had outgrown its simplistic Powerpoint lyrics on the wall method, and the new pastor asked me to investigate available programs to integrate lyrics with backgrounds, audio, announcement loops and videos.  I dutifully downloaded 3 programs tailor-made for churches, test drove them, and chose one.

Now, first I must say that what is out there is amazingly elegant.  There are companies whose entire focus is providing a program so that churches may seamlessly conduct a worship service, flash up notes for the pastor’s sermon, and provide background music for worship following the service.  These programs are made, presumably, so that volunteers can run them.  I did not choose the simplest, however.  I chose one with potential for fancy enhancements so that whoever ended up operating it could do more, the more they learned.  It was my full intention to choose, then pass this task on to someone else.  That is not, in fact, what happened.

Here I am, a few years later, having worked through a myriad of technical issues, and as a result, grown tremendously in the tech department.  How did that happen?! God has His own plans and they differed from my own.  How funny that I thought I’d just pick out the program, train someone else, pass it off and then go work in the nursery or something.  That is so not happening.

It was only recently that I looked back on my intentions, traced my path since then, and realized that my own agenda was scrapped long ago.  Now, if the answering machine needs programming, I’m called.  I implimented a church one-call announcement system and now maintain it.  I am going to be programming our new electronic sign.  This is hilarious when you look at where I come from.

So, there you go, God.  You won’t share your glory with another — I get that.  There’s no glory to be had by me in this situation — it’s all Yours.  The implication here is that those who find themselves faced with a need will be equipped by God to fill it, if it’s His will that they fill it.  This is twice in my life now that I’ve been given a task for which I was not already equipped, and God proved to me that His grace was sufficient.  Don’t be afraid or count yourself out of service just because you have no natural ability or previous training.  God’s training is the best training.

You don’t get a promotion you’ve been wanting for years, a job you felt you were perfect for.  Your daughter doesn’t get into the school she applied for.   A relationship comes to an abrupt end and it seems there’s nothing you can do about it.

“Who can understand the ways of God?  As Solomon noted, “A man’s steps are directed by the Lord.  How then can anyone understand his own way?”  (Proverbs 20:24) .  The truth is that you and I – if we see anything at all – perceive only the dimmest outline or shadow of God’s plan and purpose.  His ways are often mysterious, and it’s beyond our capacity to analyze His actions or predict what He might do next. “  Joni Eareckson Tada, A Place of Healing: Wrestling with the Mysteries of Suffering, Pain, and God’s Sovereignty .

If you pray and seek God on a regular basis,  you have a confidence that not everyone has.   Either what you did not get was not the best for you – God has something better in mind; or your loss can develop your character in such a way that nothing else would ever have precipitated; there could be some way in which God plans to show His glory, but it involves you not getting exactly what you want now; it could be that only someone who has been through the valley you are in can minister to others in the way He wants for them.  There are so many possibilities, but they are not for us to see and understand now.

We see through a glass darkly (1 Cor. 13:12.) God is pulling the strings, and we have a perspective that does not allow us to predict His next move of the strings.  We can trust Him, though, that He has a plan and purpose for us. All things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose (Romans 8:28.)  Hold on to that when life is not going the way you plan.

“For My thoughts are not your thoughts,  nor are your ways My ways, says the LORD. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are My ways higher than your ways,  and My thoughts than your thoughts  (Isaiah 55:8-9.)

A friend recently commented that she could not believe what was happening — that she has received news that three people she knows have become very very sick, all in the space of a few weeks.   This has been true for me as well.  My mind struggles to make sense of what’s happening — I just can’t imagine a world that is not complete, with all of those I love in it.  It is the stuff of dramas, films – not of my life, which I prefer to go on the way I’m comfortably used to.  Day to day, doing everything I do to fill those days, everything that remains to be done — I’d just as soon continue on without having to confront the perplexity of a life of loss, of a space that I’d lulled myself into believing would never be empty.

This is, of course, the reasoning of one whose feet are planted firmly in this world, as if this is all there is, that I must hold tenaciously to everything that is familiar to me. Once ripped away, the loss seems forever.  But that is not what I read in the bible.  As I read of the final passing of Abraham and Moses, I am struck by the very clear explanation of God that each one of them, in death, is about to be gathered in the arms of his family who went before him. (Genesis 25:8, Genesis 15:15,  Abraham; Genesis 49:29, 33, Jacob; Genesis 35:29, Isaac; Numbers 20:24, Aaron; Deuteronomy 32:50, Moses;)  This is a very different scenario than this life on earth being all there is.

We spend our lives trying to grow and preserve and protect all that we have here, reaching for that moment when all will be right and orderly and just.  Somehow, it is always a fingertip’s breadth beyond our reach.

Ken Gire, in The North Face of God, addresses the transient nature of this world.  “Every sorrow, every tear, every loss, every death reminds us that this is not our home.  Every ache and pain whispers to us, “You were made from dust, and to dust you will return”  (Genesis 3:19.)  We long for the promise of security, but we know it’s a promise that nothing on this earth can fulfill.  Like the children of Israel, we long for a Promised Land where we will be safe and secure.”

Meantime, Paul reassures us in 1 Thessalonians 4:13-16, concerning those who go before us, that in Jesus Christ we have hope that we will be rejoined with them later.  Life consists of loving each other.  We will all fight to prolong the lives of all those we love.   And love means unavoidable grief when facing loss.  But amid the grief there is hope.  Death is not an end, but a comma in our lives, as it has been in the lives of those who have gone on to the other side before us.

My grandmother is 99 years old.  She’s a southern girl from Mississippi, her musical voice engrained in my childhood memories of long days swinging in her hammock in the shade behind her home on Marlborough Point.   Granny Mary didn’t just talk – she sang.  She sang when she greeted us, sang when she’d talk to us, sang when she called her cat, Kilroy.

We would visit her in the house on Marlborough Point where a breeze off the water meant it was never hot.  We’d go down the hill to the water and wade along the shore picking up handfuls of sediment looking for “periwinkles” and sharks’ teeth.  Occasionally we’d go out on the boat with her and my grandfather.

My memories back to the years on Marlborough Point are few.  I remember a box of neglected toys in the closet in the utility room that she’d keep for our visits for the rare times we couldn’t find anything to do.  To get to them, sometimes I’d have to tiptoe past grandad, who had a cot set up in that room that he’d nap on – I’m not sure why he didn’t go to his room – maybe it was cooler in there.

I remember her lovely sitting room, where I could literally smell the piano as I entered.  The room was full of dark wood furniture, with huge windows all around looking out toward the water.  I would go in there and play on the piano for hours.

Mary fussed over meals — I don’t think she was used to entertaining, but she did her very best.  We’d come, a family of 6 and whatever visitors we might have brought along, and Mary would fix a very sufficient meat and potatoes meal with all the food groups covered, and often including something a little strange, like tomato aspic.  We’d pull extra chairs from all over the house into her small kitchen, and I remember once having so many people that I was required to sit on a stool.  Unbeknownst to us, this meal would become one of my most prominent memories of that house and my grandmother.

That year, we had a foreign exchange student from Argentina named Alberto.  He was a senior in high school and I was in 8th or 9th grade.  Alberto picked on me just like I was his little sister – there was a continuous kidding session going on between us. Seated at the table eating our meal, the adults deep in conversation that eluded us, Alberto and I across from each other began to play footsie. We managed to continue this activity for some time, the adults completely oblivious to what was going on under the table.  Finally, with a triumphant smile, Alberto grabbed my foot and pulled.  Down I went under the table onto the linoleum floor.  Mary went into orbit apologizing over and over for having placed me on a stool instead of a chair with a proper back.  Alberto just snickered across the table while I tried to tell Mary that it wasn’t her fault, but you know, I don’t think she ever registered that there was anything improper going on in that room.  Mary really never did ever — she was a southern genteel lady who ignored any impropriety as if it did not exist, and usually it ceased, consistent with the implied expectation.

Mary played the piano, mostly for her own enjoyment.  I’d sit by her and turn the pages for her as she’d play. When I grew up and had my own daughter, we set up piano lessons for her with Mary.  Meg took those lessons for maybe half a year, after which Mary set up a piano concert and invited all the family and some neighbors across the street.  We have video of that day, Meghann dressed in a long dress, her long curly hair down her back.  Her little cousin sang while she played the piano duet with Mary.

One time, Mary invited my two stepsons and daughter to visit with her in a summer home she bought in Lake of the Woods.  She took them fishing and played games with them at a time when their parents were busy just getting food on the table and working long hours.

In 2003, my grandmother began to show signs of short-term memory loss.  This came to a head when she was sick with pneumonia and could not remember if and when she had taken her medicine, and she ran a dangerously high temperature.  It became obvious to us that she had to have help to care for herself, which ultimately resulted in us moving her into assisted living.

Mary has slowed down now.  Her voice doesn’t have the range of singing it used to have.  Her tendency to thank people over and over whenever they do anything at all for her has endeared her to everyone who works with her.  She suffers from dementia, often stays up much of the night, and therefore sleeps the afternoon away.  In addition to her visits to my mother’s home for family events, occasionally one of us will pick her up for a drive.  She rides hunched over, the result of osteoperosis, and looks very small in the seat beside us.  She appears to be in her own world, talking very infrequently.  We drive to Carls’ for ice cream where she gets a dish of vanilla.  She used to ask for a cone, and my mother would cover her with napkins, the ice cream flowing down her arms and face as she ate.  Now she’s finally decided to ask for a dish which she handles very well.

After ice cream, we drive around town, pointing out places that Mary often remembers from her many years in Fredericksburg.  She is thankful for the memories and the opportunities to enjoy them.  We weave all across town, in and out of neighborhoods, exploring, remembering, talking.  Mary is perfectly contented just to ride.

When we take her back, no matter how short or long the visit was, Mary is so grateful.  “Let’s do this again sometime!” she says, over and over, forgetting that she already said it.

Today, I’ll go to see Mary.  When I arrive, I fully expect her to be fast asleep, a result of last night’s insomnia.  She’ll say, groggily, “Well, how wonderful!  So happy that you’re here!”  She’ll get up very slowly and cautiously, plant her feet on the floor and wait to get her bearings.  Then she’ll stand up unsteadily and slowly toddle to the bathroom to comb her hair. “Does my hair look alright?” she’ll say.  Of course, I’ll say, with a quick comb of the back for her.  I’ll wheel her out of the facility, everyone she passes saying, “Miss Mary! You going for a ride? Have fun!”

So it’s been about 2 weeks since I published anything of substance, and those two weeks were very full of real 3D living. Some of you may recall my challenge to find clothing to wear to Dan’s off-site training/conference/banquet, when I payed entirely too much for clothes that fit perfectly.  My shopping debacle was corrected, I returned the ridiculously priced clothes, prayed for better prices, and hit a sale at Kohl’s, very successfully, thank you Jesus.

Well, we attended that function during this time, and it went very well.  Off we went to Williamsburg Lodge to spend a week’s end – Dan in meetings, me reading and sight-seeing – and attending various gatherings throughout, including the awards banquet that I told you about where usually everyone dresses to the nines.  I fit right in and I have my God to thank for it.  First, they relaxed the dress code a bit, and 2nd, Kohl’s seems to be right about me — the more I know, the more I Kohl’s.   I found things that fit so well, and that were so reasonably priced that I packed away what I’d been wearing and lately I’m looking pretty new.

Then there was the stretch of birthdays.  Summer is birthday season for my family, with one following another in quick succession.  We had Charlie’s 16th in the end of July, with a Switchfoot album cover on his cake, musical notes decorating the house and blue streamers and balloons.  Charlie’s all about the music, has been for the past four years or more, so this fit him perfectly, complete with a balloon fight filling the entire great room. Sam and Claire perched themselves far above on the plant shelf, (meant for nothing more than plants,) contributing to the battle from there.  Then followed a pretty aggressive game of spoons punctuated with loud grappling for the last spoons, a couple scratches on arms from the struggle, all the while attempting not to wake the baby.  Angela and I hung out at the other end of the room during the spoon struggles getting a rare bit of girlfriend time.

The next weekend, there was Dan’s 50th birthday party, with his guitar cake (betcha didn’t know he plays. But he’s a side-of-the-bed-before-bedtime player – I suppose I should feel special because I’m usually the only one who ever hears him play, as he strums me to sleep every night) with yellow streamers and balloons.  We rarely give Dan a party, but the 50th — well, that one cannot pass by without a very special celebration!  We had tacos and special friends and family, yes another balloon fight, and we got out the marshmallow guns.  That was an aggressive experience as well, with guests learning to hold a balloon up in front of their face to shield themselves from the mini-marshmallows that were launched. (Did you know that even marshmallows, at high velocity, hurt?)  This coming weekend will be Sam’s 15th birthday party, Invader Zim/Gir style, and I expect more of the same zany activities.  A few days later comes my birthday, probably with a nice dinner out, which is fine by me because by that time, I’m birthdayed out!!!  But this string of celebrations is one of the year’s highlights, enjoying the company of family and friends that we might otherwise not see for weeks or months.

Finally, last week was Vacation Bible School at church — Pandamania! which my friend Katie coordinated, and we did our best to help out with.  This involved harvesting probably 50 trees of bamboo from my sister-in-law’s bamboo stand in her back yard, which I thought would be a cinch.  The first trip for bamboo, I did alone, figuring to drag it to the top of the hill and then later get my men to help me trailer it off to the church.  Oh — my — gosh it nearly killed me.  I sweated gallons dragging maybe 20 pieces to the top of her steep hill alone– do you know how TALL bamboo grows?!?!  I did it, and they helped me cart it off, but it wasn’t nearly enough for our large (relative – to – bamboo – needs) church.  We cut 10 feet off the bottom of every tree just so we could get it into the trailer.  I got more help for the 2nd load, which involved an assembly line up the hill, a superior plan.  The bamboo was placed all along the sides of the sanctuary, as if it had grown there, with it’s graceful greenery at the top towering toward the high ceiling.  It was lovely, some church members requesting that it be left to continue to grace our sanctuary.

Charlie and Sam helped to lead worship in VBS, which they prepared for for a month ahead, learning, from Mercy, the choreographed very physical workout she’d planned, which opened and closed each day of VBS.  By the Thursday parent night, they were exhausted, having to do it 3 times in one day, but the kids in VBS LOVED it, as well as all their adult leaders. Sam wore her fur suit throughout VBS, even during worship, filling the role of Amanda, the red panda, and got about a zillion hugs from adoring children.  I ran the media for worship and the Bible stories.  It was an active, rewarding, entertaining, tiring and successful week.

So today, as I plan Sam’s birthday party and last summer Hoo-rah, I also allow to cross my mind that, yes, I must now acknowledge the coming school year.  Books must be gone through, inventory taken, decisions that have not been made yet made, a few new ones ordered, and my sweet, now crawling, Rachael comes this Thursday for me to watch while Meghann is preparing her kindergarten classroom for the year.  But I am also determined to get back into the saddle with this blog, following the longest lull of writing since I started writing in earnest last year.  I’ll be up each morning with my coffee after Dan leaves, plant my bottom at my desk, and share what’s in my heart.  This has been a wonderful summer in some ways, sad in some ways, but the love of my God is there throughout.  His grace is new every morning.  May every move I make, every project I embark on, every decision I make be pleasing to Him and consistent with His plans.  And I pray that this blog bless you at times, because in a thousand ways he has abundantly blessed me.

Life is happening at a quick pace, so I will not be posting much at all for about 2 weeks. BUT I WILL be back! Keep on enjoying your summer and let no one say, “Back to school”! Those are bad words!

before the silver cord is loosed
Or the golden bowl is broken
Or the pitcher shattered at the fountain
Or the wheel broken at the well
Then the dust will return to the earth as it was
And the spirit will return to God who gave it.  Ecclesiastes 12:6-7

Don’t put it off. Know your Creator.  Know His son, Jesus Christ, who came here to join us together with our God.  Accept His free gift of salvation to all who believe in Christ as their Saviour.  Ecclesiastes, written by King Solomon, says, “Remember now your Creator in the days of your youth, before the difficult days come.” (Ecc. 12:1)  There is urgency in that verse.  “Remember now your Creator….”

I just finished reading the book by Mary Beth Chapman, wife of Steven Curtis Chapman.  Her daughter, Maria, was just 5 years old when she was taken from this earth into her Heavenly Father’s loving arms.  No one expected it.  It was a  normal day of many events going on in their big family’s lives.  It was a terrible accident in which one child ran over another in his car. Just two months before, little Maria had knelt and asked Christ into her heart.

I’d had too much iced coffee the other night, and I was up until 11:30 reading this book, crying like a baby. But it brought home to me that no one knows. No one knows when their earthly life will end. It may happen in a time that makes no reasonable sense to us whatsoever. We can not afford to ignore the existence of our God and Creator.  This life is brief, but eternity is forever.  It makes sense to be concerned where we will spend it.

I am getting to the age now when death is not as unfamiliar a concept anymore.  My father has passed; my stepfather; almost all my grandparents.  A very good friend in high school passed in her early 20′s leaving behind 2 babies.  My mother’s best friend, who was like a 2nd mother to me, passed a few years ago.  There are more, but I think you get the point.  It is at this age that many of us begin feeling our mortality, and I am not exempt.

I feel completely secure in my relationship with my Creator, and I know exactly where I am going once I pass.  The only thing that concerns me now about dying is the ones I would leave behind.  I just don’t want to cause them pain, having to adjust to a new life, new routines.  But all of my children know that I will be somewhere where my feet won’t hurt; I’m hoping my family and pets that have passed on will be there; the food will be magnificent! Judging from the beauty of the mountains here, the waves dashing against the lava-strewn coastline of Hawaii, the beauty of the landscape of Iceland, all acts of our Creator; I can only assume that Heaven must be phenomenal.  And I’ll be praising God in His glory.  Travel won’t depend on a car that breaks down or a plane that could be hijacked.  I’ll see my dad again, so I can tell him I love him, and my granddad, and Harry and Dorothea and Pattie.  There will be no more death.  Think of the possibilities.  We really can’t even imagine what God has prepared for us.

“Remember now your Creator in the days of your youth, before the difficult days come.” (Ecc. 12:1)  Aside from the security in knowing where I will be when my last day comes, knowing my Creator now means He’s there to guide me when life itself is difficult.  If I wait until life becomes difficult to know Him, I am a step behind.  I must know Him now so I will recognize His voice when I reach out for help; so I can intercede for my loved ones when they go through difficult times and prayer is the very best thing I can give them.

So I don’t put it off.  I will seek Him now.

The early days of marriage are very distinctive in that it feels like you’re not a unit yet.  Your house is not yet a “home,” in comparison to the house of your youth; you still have goals as individuals that haven’t quite been worked out as mutual goals; the yearly traditions of home have not yet formed.  We know marriage is to make us “one,” but for awhile it seems to elude us. The passion that brought you together and made you feel as if you are meant for one another softens after a period of time, and you begin to notice that “one-ness” has not really occurred.

What’s gone wrong? We have circumvented the purpose of marriage by the trends in our culture.  God placed everything in us to achieve His purpose.  He placed the attraction to come together, the energy to work to support ourselves and each other, the desire to be intimate, but we, as a culture, effectively stop the progression that leads to His purpose: we are one for the purpose of producing Godly children.

But did He not make them one, having a remnant of the Spirit?  And why one?  He seeks Godly offspring.   Malachi 2:15

In the early days of my marriage, prior to the arrival of my Meghann, I felt this way — as if nothing I did truly made my house a home.  I was self-centered.  What was important to me was how I felt about things, which I took to be the guage of the health of my relationships, and the state of my life.

I recall joining a group of women who came together weekly to learn about becoming a Godly woman.  Proverbs 31 always comes up in these programs, and it had the opposite effect on me than learning to be Godly.  It intimidated me.  All the words I read made me feel my inadequacy.  In no way did I resemble that amazing sample of God’s glory.  I wanted to be her – I just had no earthly (we do live on earth, you know) idea how that transformation could ever take place.  And I knew one thing, I was so very far from it at that point in my life.  I drifted away from that group, feeling even more down on myself.

Then came along a little baby who depended on me for her every need.  This little baby changed everything.

I became focused on her needs, needs that did not stop with her as an individual, but branched out to her family unit — she needed her mother and her father in order to be happy – I supported her relationship with her father.  Her home needed to be clean and safe to crawl around in — I cleaned.  She needed friends — I sought out friends for her, and friendships with mothers of friends.  She needed Godly training — I sought a Christian preschool.  The traditions began to take root.  The security she needed formed. These were not so much conscious decisions, but drives, that spoked out from the center of my God-given purpose in that time of my life, which was to raise a happy healthy child to serve God.

Since came along two more children who had even more security from the start, and who benefit from an even greater determination in my true purpose of raising Godly children.  The relationship between myself and my husband is a vital part of that purpose.   The Bible says that if you deal treacherously with your spouse, God will not listen to your prayers (Malachai 2:13.) There is a direct relationship between the way you treat your spouse and the outcome of your prayers!  I did not know that before recently, but it makes perfect sense.  God ordained marriage for the purpose of bringing up Godly children, and when you work against His purpose, it displeases Him.  I don’t know about you, but I want God to hear my prayers and respond in a way that blesses my family.

Many years have passed since that difficult pre-children period and the selfishness it consisted of.   My children became my mission, and my home became my focus, my husband worthy of my respect, love and support, as my partner in this endeavor.  There are many little issues that have needed to be worked out, but the greater goal remains in focus, with less focus on self.

I would say to the bride that becoming a Godly woman is a process.  Proverbs 31 is not there to discourage you.  Don’t compare yourself unfavorably and then give up.  God has given you everything you need to become that woman, but it is a matter of slow and steady growth, not overnight transformation.  He teaches you with experiences and places desires in your heart, much like those described above that accompany the experience of motherhood.  He seeks every opportunity and avenue to draw you close to Him, so that even those who are not in the faith experience many of these same drives to care for and defend their offspring vehemently.  It is His plan for all of mankind, not just for those who happen to know Him at this period of time.

Delve into His word: it’s the best book you’ll ever read to counsel you in your marriage.  Allow Him to teach you with every experience he brings you through.  Look for what He wants to teach you in every situation you face.  Thank him for His blessings and His teachings. Be conscious of this as a constant process that will go on throughout your days on earth for as long as he sees fit to leave you here.  Look forward to your growth and your “becoming.”  It will happen if you keep your eyes on Him.

Even Silence Has an End, by Ingrid Betancourt, takes Ingrid from her vehicle while on the campaign for the Columbian presidency into the depths of the jungle.  She is held captive year after year, the whole time unable to conceive that she will not either escape or be released within months. The minutes and hours are endless, her freedom even to speak to her captive companions denied.  Ingrid is treated especially badly, as she is their most valuable prisoner, their trophy, as her captors thirst to wield their power on their weakened and bound captives.

Ingrid describes the psychological effects of numbers of prisoners forced to stake their claim to very small spaces and very limited resources.  Ingrid has her faith, and crafts a rosary out of wood to help her through her days of abuse.  She endures chaining, endless forced silence, and deliberate separations from those companions in whom she finds comfort. Shifted from one area to another, hiking long journeys through the jungle, boatrides exposed to the rain storms, as her captors attempt to keep one step ahead of the Columbian military,  Ingrid still manages to reach out and become close to a handful of people who support each other throughout their captivity.

I was truly worried about Ingrid, and every day when I had time, I had to catch up with her and find out how she fared.  I grew to love her companions, one of which seemed to be a representative of Ingrid’s father, whom she learned died while she was being held.  Ingrid so regretted not being with him, and in Lucho, she found someone who was loving, and whom she could look after.

Ingrid planned or attempted escape several times, suffering great abuse when recaptured; but it did not quench her spirit, as she continued to be aware of her surroundings each time they changed camps, and would begin to plan again.

Ingrid spent 6 1/2 years in captivity.  The narrative she was able to write was informational, well organized, and drew me in to her world.  When it was over, I found I wanted to know all about how she merged back into civilian life, rejoining her friends and her family.  I looked her up online and found interviews and pictures.  Ingrid Betancourt is a remarkable lady, and her book is an interesting and informative read.

Overdoing it.  It’s so easy to do. I find there are so many wonderful things out there to be done, and I have, in the past,  strived to do them all.  Jack-of-all-trades, master of none — is what I will become if I don’t respect my boundaries and limitations.  I’m not even interested in humanly choosing my priorities.  I want God’s priorities for my life made plain.  Only then can I give every one of them the attention He intends.

I went to the first meeting of volunteers in July, and a fair number of people attended to volunteer.  The leader later shared with me that nearly no one was willing to take on a leadership role in even a small area of VBS, which leads us to an unfortunate fact: the world is full of followers, and not many willing to be leaders.  I found this to be the case when I led a homeschool enrichment group, and when I managed a choir with many committees.  Organizations rely on people taking just one small part and leading with their best effort, and it is not that hard! Really it’s not!

This is the role I chose to take on in this summer’s VBS: providing and running the media for worship and the message. Many willing leaders of small things add up to a successful program.  We should be brave – the world would say “No guts – No Glory.”  God would say, “No guts-No glory (for HIM!)” : missed opportunity to serve and glorify God in one small element of His purpose.