ADHE, MY DAUGHTER

In 1999, Dave and I went to Uganda for the wedding of Sam, our Ugandan son. When he and his fiancee picked us up at Entebbe airport, Adhe walked into our hearts. She was a lovely and sweet girl, 23 years old.

During the 3 weeks we were in their area, we had a lot of time with them, except for their honeymoon days. Dave and I were involved in the wedding preparations, we planted gifts in their house where Sam had been living for some time. We brought some items from our home and bought some over there. It was very exciting for us. So happy to see Sam so blessed, so content.

When the four of us were in Kampala, walking through one of the market places for electric bits and pieces, while Sam and Dave were hitting the shops, Adhe and I stayed outside, and she always had her arms around me and her head on my shoulder.

Over time, she talked about her life, and it was a heart toucher.

She had been abandoned by her mother very shortly after birth and left with her dad's family. That grandma, her dad's Mom, loved her and took her into her place and cared for her. One day some robbing thugs came into the village and, at some point, Grandma, inside her home, was shot. When folks came to check on Grandma the next day, she was found dead... Adhe, about 2-years old, was wrapped on Grandma's back, not injured, but now deprived of that love.

After that she was shifted from family to family. When about 8, Compassion International took her on as a child. This gave Adhe schooling and helpful support. As a result, she has been a social worker in the Bush near where she lives, giving her life and time beyond belief in serving Compassion, grateful for all they did for her.

After that shopping stretch in Kampala, we were riding back to the orphanage where they lived [where Dave and I had worked when missionaries]. Dave and Sam were in the front seat. Adhe and I were in the back, and she laid down with her head in my lap and just clung to me during that long drive. Dave and I were leaving the next day.

She didn't say anything about her feelings at that moment, but wrote a letter after we came home. I still have it. In it she described what she had been sensing and going through when Dave and I entered her life. She thanked Dave for being such a good Dad and showing Sam how to treat his wife... opening doors, holding hands, helping in practical ways... not always a "Ugandan" way of life. Sam had lived with us over there, which was how we met him when he was the House and Yard Boy on the property we rented near Kampala in '94. Then, when, in '96, miraculously the Lord provided a visa for him, and he lived with us here for 2-1/2 years, while we put him at a community college. During those years, both there and here, he saw how a man should treat his wife. ANYHOW... she was one grateful young lady and very appreciative.

What she said also in the letter, buried her in my heart in a way I had never expected, ever, ever...

The reason she had clung to me at the market and in the car was because she now knew she had a Mom.

Believe me, she does.

Right now she's suffering with migraine, and my heart wants to be in Uganda so I can just hold her, be with her. I know others are caring for her, and I'm not particularly skilled with their way of cleaning and cooking, so I couldn't step up and do a lot of practical help for her ... but that doesn't mean my heart isn't there. That I don't "see" my arms around her.

She is 36 today. And I wanted to share about her. She's special... and the amazing part? She thinks I am. She respects and loves me no matter how I'm acting or what I'm doing or saying... or not.

And why?

Because I'm the Mom God has given her.

What a blessing to me.

"ASTONISHED WITH A GREAT ASTONISHMENT"

For years, just like many of you, of course, I've read the story of Jairus' daughter whom Jesus healed and then told her to "Get up!" And she did and began to walk around.

Somehow, I have just skimmed past what the parents thought or said or how they reacted. I was reading it in the KJV today and just had to laugh. Their response: They were astonished with a great astonishment.

When I checked other versions, it's pretty much the same, of course, but this had jumped out at me.

Now, of course, they were astonished. This much-loved 12-year old was already dead, according to those involved in their home. Wouldn't we be crushed at the loss, and then astonished at that glorious change?

What it made me wonder today was, even though I've not walked through anything like this, has the Lord made me "astonished with a great astonishment"?

The answer is YES!!

In April, 1966, He broke into my life when there was no "logic" for it, and because of that breakthrough my whole life is different, drowned in hope instead of buried in hopelessness.


He healed my heart twice in two different churches here in Omaha -- Oct., '84 and Feb., '85. I was headed towards stroke, heart attack or death in my late 30s... and He touched it twice in 4 months and the pain and abnormal heartbeats stopped. I was very "astonished with a great astonishment". Doctors, meds, nothing made a difference. He did.

He dropped Dave into my life in May, 1985. I would never have imagined a man like him. When we were casually talking one day, even though I was very frank with him about my background, he didn't even blink. He was much younger than I -- 14+ years younger -- was a youth leader, highly respected at church, a wonderful pianist, and a giver beyond belief, both then and now. Since Day One, he has always treated me with great respect. He appreciates me, and expects nothing. He wants me to be "myself", whatever that might mean, wherever I might be in life. He wants me to serve the Lord the way He calls me, period. For nearly 27 years, these never-anticipated-in-my-life years, I am often "astonished with a great astonishment".

A major blessing: Traveling to Uganda, Morocco, Costa Rica, England, Paris, Canada...and all around the U.S. since the late 1980s. Previously, I was rarely able to travel outside the nearest locations wherever I was living, because of poverty and responsibility. But missions and serving was laid in my heart when I was 10 years old and Jim Elliot was killed in Ecuador in January, 1956... I read it in the newspaper on the floor in my living room in Tacoma, WA, and the desire to go and help piled into me then. I had very little knowledge of the Lord at that time. SO, from 10 to 42, I traveled very little... then that exploded in both time and distance. To having traveled, ministered, given, shared, loved... and been loved... I am overwhelmed with the kindness and joy that the Lord has placed in my life... "astonished with a great astonishment".


And I could place a mile-long list of wonderful friends and family the Lord has dropped into my life. The only reason I can't put too many details is if I forget someone, somehow, they might be hurt; and, if I mention someone who wants to be kept in the background they might be hurt... so I can't risk it. But, considering my former horrible behavior and my ugly lifestyle and the stresses even after the Lord broke into my life, to be blessed, loved and cared for by so many "sweethearts".... I am regularly "astonished with a great astonishment".

And how did this pour into me today?...

"Mark 5:40 ... he [Jesus] taketh the father and the mother of the damsel, and them that were with him, and entereth in where the damsel was lying. 41 And he took the damsel by the hand, and said unto her, Talitha cumi; which is, being interpreted, Damsel, I say unto thee, arise. 42 And straightway the damsel arose, and walked; for she was of the age of twelve years. And they were astonished with a great astonishment.

TITHING......TIME

One of the first books I remember reading after coming to the Lord was The Cross and Switchblade by David Wilkerson. I don't remember how it landed in my hand, but I arrived in East St. Louis in February, 1967, and a month later would lay on the floor by the heat vent in the bathroom in the middle of the night and read this book. [The apartment didn't have any other doors, and light in the other rooms would have kept my roommate awake.]

So much of it stood out to me. I have read it many times over the years and given it away to new Christians, especially if they come from a tough background. It really is an amazing story. [Since reading the book I've been involved with Teen Challenge, a ministry developed by Wilkerson about 50 years ago.]

One of the aspects of the book that was laid on me was what the Lord laid on Pastor Wilkerson: to daily tithe his hours. This meant that, in spite of the hours serving the Lord in church, he would spend 2-1/2 hours reading the Word and praying. It usually was pushing midnight before he could finish. And, in time, through this obedience, the Lord dropped a newspaper article into his life and he felt called to go to NYC. Much of what happened seemed very insane to many people [including himself], but the door opened and his whole life changed.

Occasionally, the "tithing time" aspect is dropped onto me. Not often; just sometimes. The "call" to do so might last for a year, or only a few weeks or months. There's usually a change coming in ministry, family, lifestyle... a door opening or closing that I am not aware of or prepared for, and this always is a help.

Well, it hit me again last week. The first time in several years. The focus is to read devotionals, spiritual warfare books, prayer books, the Word, and worship and pray.

I'm not a "Resolution" person. Partly, because I'm not focused enough; easily side-tracked or drawn away from my "good intentions".

However, when this enters my life, I truly do try to be faithful in the reading and worshiping. Going beyond the "tithe" time occurs occasionally and I'm overwhelmed by the presence of the Lord in the everydayness of life.

This isn't a very exciting post. Possibly boring. But I felt led to share this with you. Not that I'm telling you to do this, too. AIN'T!! But some of you who are friends and family or "God-family" can be accountability partners for me. You are free to ask me any time regarding my commitment. And I promise to be honest.

HIS HAND... HIS LOVE

He gave me His hand and led me

Across stream,
and River,
and Mountain.


He gave me His Spirit to draw me
To the Wonderful
sin-cleansing
fountain.


He gave me His Grace and Compassion
His Joy, His Righteousness, too.


He gave me His Love and Mercy
And created a life wholly new.


He gave -- I received --
........Eternal Peace.
He gave -- I received --
.............Love never to cease.

BREAKDOWN... and then...

"You can wait in here." The nurse showed us into a small office, smiled cheerily, and left us alone.

For a few seconds I lost control, clung to my husband, and cried. Then I pulled away, wiped my face, sat in one of the blue vinyl chairs, and, with a heavy sigh, stared at the wall.

It seemed my whole life was spent studying walls. Counting nails or tacks, bricks, concrete block, or following the flower patterns in wall paper. Especially when I was being assaulted with no way out. And now I was studying another wall, nubby plaster painted institutional green, willing myself to be somewhere else, to not think about what was happening, to not feel.

My husband stood behind the chair and put his arms around me. "Please try to relax, Honey. It'll be OK. You'll see."

I couldn't say anything. So I didn't. But I sure thought a lot. Mostly questions. How did this happen to me? I had always been strong, surviving hell, first as a child, and then again in a disastrous first marriage. Now, for the first time, during the past couple years, life was good – really good – and I was falling apart.

The crisis reached a peak two days earlier. Dave and I were attending an outdoor concert on a hot, humid, late summer day. Suddenly my heart started racing and I had the sensation of my body separating from my "self." Never having died before, I wasn't certain, but I was pretty sure that was what was happening. My mind flooded with insane, inane thoughts. "I can't die here. It would be so embarrassing. It would ruin the concert for everyone else." I willed myself to pull back together, but the line between life and death seemed very fragile.

That evening I tenuously suggested I might need "a little outside counseling." Relief flooded Dave's face and he said quickly, "We can call and check some hospitals on Monday." Inside, I panicked! "Hospital?!" I thought, "I don't need a hospital. Just a little help."

Sunday morning started out OK. I felt rested. Half way through the church service, though, I lost control again, and ran out of the sanctuary crying. I sat outside on the steps and sobbed. Dave followed me out and held me. All I could do was ask over and over, "What's wrong with me? What's wrong with me?" He didn't answer because, of course, he had no answers.

And now it was Monday morning and I was staring at a wall. In a hospital.

A short rap on the door was followed by a soft "Good Afternoon." I turned to look in the direction of the voice and saw it belonged to a pleasant middle-aged black male face. He shook hands with us and slouched comfortably into his chair, sifted through some papers on his desk, and brought out a file with my name printed in the corner. All I could think was, "They're quick. Doesn't take long to become a number in the computer."

He looked at me. I tried to maintain eye contact. I wanted to at least look like I had some volition in this decision. But, seeing the compassion in his eyes, mine filled with tears and I immediately shifted my focus to a point just south of his chin. "Joanne, your intake information and evaluation conference indicate you are in the midst of a severe depressive reaction."

I shot a sharp glance up to his face and thought rather than said, "Bright deduction. I knew that much."

He continued. "We will be exploring several areas during your stay, not the least of which is the abuses of your childhood..."

I interrupted. "What possible bearing can my childhood have on this situation? I handled all that a long time ago."

He smiled indulgently and I could almost sense him patting my head. "I think you're wrong. I believe you'll discover your childhood is handling you." He paused. I clenched my teeth exhibiting the characteristic "tight jaws" defense I used when I felt backed into a wall.

"Anyhow," he said, "we'll find out in time. Two of our programs are Codependent and Adult Children of Alcoholics. As a child, the life you live in doesn’t go away just because you grow up and leave home. Even if, as you have said, you became a Christian 21 years ago, not all the needed healing was immediately poured into your life.” He paused, then continued, "Just as I went through as a child, and then when I came to the Lord as an adult. And I’m still not perfect.” He smiled. “Just ask my wife.”

I was quiet for a moment. Then asked, "How much time? My daughter is in a program at college in ten days and I need to be there."

"I'm sorry, but you need to stay with us for four weeks. Minimum."

Once again panic struck. "Four weeks?! Oh no, I can't possibly be here that long. I have a house, you know... and responsibilities." I stood up. "We'll go home and talk about it."

Dave stood then, but did not start for the door. He touched my arm. I turned to see his eyes flooded with tears and anguish in his face. "Please ... please stay. If not for yourself, do it for us."

I cried then. How could I refuse him? Dave loved me. He treated me kindly, he cared for me. "I'm so scared...so scared," I sobbed out.

Our tears mingling, he kissed me gently and said again, "It'll be OK, Honey. It'll be OK."

I stayed.

It was.



I recovered.

==========================================
When I saw the Carnival blog and "Recover" was the Word, immediately this story, previously written, fit the context. Other than being poured into one room at one time, it is all true -- believe me, I can recall every detail of that stretch of life.

Recovery did come... not immediately, but it DID... through certain people-- especially my dear husband and the counselor -- and the grace, kindness, mercy and blessing of our dear Lord.

[I was admitted to the hospital on Labor Day, 1987; our 2nd anniversary was September 21st. I was released October 7th.]

SING OF CHRISTMAS

There was a star that shined the night
that Jesus Christ was born.
It shone so very 'specially bright
with twinkling, brilliant sparks of light,
The night was bright as morn.

Chorus:
O Sing, O Sing of Christmas,
The time of Jesus' birth.
The time when we recall again
God sent His Son to earth.

The Angels sang their joyous songs
on that first Christmas eve.
"Alleluia, Praise the Lord"
Rolled 'cross the fields in sweet accord
And spread the news,
"God's Holy Word has come; O please believe."

Chorus.

The shepherds in the fields by night
heard the angels sing.
They heard the songs and left the sheep,
they did not stop to eat or sleep,
They hurried on through darkness deep,
They ran as if on wings.

Chorus.

The Wise Men came from parts unknown
upon their camel's fleet.
They'd seen the star shine in the East,
they'd come to share a royal feast,
with the Baby, God's High Priest,
And worship at His feet.

Chorus.
======================================
I wrote this at Christmas, 1972. First as a poem, then while in the bathtub [as crazy as that sounds] a few days later, the melody went through my head and never left. That year, I sent out the poem as my Christmas card. Eventually, the music was written, and in the late '70s I sent it out again, this time as a song. One evening my dear friend, Susie, called. She played the song on the piano and her family sang it to me over the phone as a Christmas gift. That was truly a sweet present.

I haven't shared it for years. But wanted to post something Christmasy and decided this would be fun to do.

QUEEN FOR A DAY

A couple weeks ago, my Bhutanese grandson, Sai [bottom photo], told me that someone was bringing fabric from Nepal so a dress could be made for me for Christmas. He said they wanted purple [they know it's my favorite color], but knew that was not always easy to find.

Last Tuesday, Sai took me to his home and his mom, wife, and aunt pulled the fabric out and I was just amazed at the color. And it was yards and yards and yards ... I couldn't imagine how it would become a dress. Then Sai and his aunt took me to an ESL sewing class so I could be measured. I kept telling them I needed an extra bit of sizing in case I gain any weight again. I don't think they understood English very well. They pulled the measuring tape really tight. I was told the dress would be ready by Friday.

Well, I didn't hear anything. So when I showed up at the Christmas party at their church on Sunday afternoon they were excited when they saw me and pulled a large gift bag out and handed it to me. Two ladies pulled me to a room and started dressing me.

Let me tell you, it is one difficult project. The small, and very non-roomy, short-sleeved "blouse" is well above the waist -- and I better never gain an ounce or it won't fit. Underneath, there is a full-length "slip"-oriented skirt. They made me tie it a bit below my waist, around my hips. THEN, they started taking all those yards of fabric and stuffing at the top of the slip, circling, angling, and hanging around my body. [And the front and back both show "skin"... in the middle of winter, that's not so comfortable!]

I was just amazed. Couldn't believe how lovely I came out.

OK.... now the fun begins.

I walked into the fellowship room, and everyone started laughing and clapping. Then when I went upstairs to the sanctuary for the special service, a number of teens and adults and kids all did the same. One of the Bhutanese men, a good friend of mine, non-English speaking, looked at me with a big grin, said, "Oh, NEPAL!" And did a big thumbs up.

Dave came a couple hours later, and loved how I looked.

There were a number of other ladies in these dresses, but somehow, I was the Queen of the Day. [Maybe because they saw me in jeans most of the time.]


You know, none of us ever know how the Lord is going to bless us, whether we are "missionarying" here or other places. My Bhutanese families have always blessed me, but this event was overwhelmingly glorious.

I'm planning to wear the dress to church on Christmas Eve... hope my church can handle it... but, to do so, a couple of my girls need to come here and dress me. Ain't no way I can do it myself.

If nothing else, just use this as an example of how kind our Lord is.