Thursday, September 27, 2012


One of my recent projects the Lord laid on me ... months ago ... is to scan all the photos we have in our lives. THOUSANDS! In lots of albums.  I'm trying, but can't say I don't get sidetracked ... one of my character defects 

Occasionally, when scanning, something hits not just my eyes, but my heart.  Today that happened... and I'm still a bit sad as I'm prepping this post.

In January, 1991, when we left Omaha for Uganda , it was our first check-out time to see if the Lord was laying this nation on our hearts, as we thought was taking place.  And, while there, during that 5 weeks, we had some stressed times, scary times, and immensely blessed times.  And we wanted to go back forever and ever. That wasn't God's long-time plan, though, so, over the next several years we had short-ish stretches, either several months or weeks.

One of my favorite open-door opportunities in Uganda during the first visit was to preach and teach. During our 5 weeks, I preached 3 times in 3 different churches in 3 different towns -- and taught kids, too. 

This church held service at a school; gives another indication of what money was available in other than churches. The ceiling and piles of chairs were a real shock to us when we had arrived.

It was my first phase of life to be interpreted, which took a bit to learn re: when and how to move forward quickly enough, but not TOO quickly.  I did OK.

Now, when our church leaders try to fit piles and piles of money into the budget for beautiful flooring, ceilings, and re-building way beyond "practicality", it drives Dave and I nuts.  Why?  Most Ugandan churches, occasionally only able to deal with the basic basics, even after all these years, still are common. 

  I spoke during my last time -- November, '03, teaching re:
a particular portion of spiritual warfare at a pastor's conference.
Would I return to Uganda?  Oh, YES!  Still love it and adore my many dear ones. 

And I dearly miss being blessed to preach and teach!

Tell Me a Story

Monday, September 24, 2012


One of the most amazing experiences I had in Morocco during our prayer walk/ride was the Palm Sunday service in a hotel in Marrakech.  What we were told was that this was the first time a Christian service had been publicly allowed in that nation.  Approximately 400 of us were in the large hotel convention area.  The nations involved were from Europe, Africa, and North America.  Occasionally, out of curiosity, a tourist would pop into the side door .. sometimes bikini-style swimmers.

The service was put together by a spiritual partnership.  The sermon by Pastor Steve Hawthorne from Austin, Texas.  The worship leader?  It was Graham Kendrick from the U.K. [co-founder of the March for Jesus and author of "Shine, Jesus, Shine".]  I would never have imagined this. During the service, the congregation was divided.  One part singing "Hosanna, Hosanna, Hosanna" while the other part "wailed" "Save Us! Save Us!".  Mix that with dancers and banners, children with palm branches, and circle-the-room processional, and you have the makings of a spirit-enlivening experience.  We KNEW beyond doubt that this was a monumental landmark in the life of Morocco - and ourselves.

In my case, as I thought of it, I attended the most significant service I had in my 35 years with the Lord. [Are these photos good?  No.  The lack of light and movements kept them from being accurately taken.  Oh, well... but wanted to share what I had.]

Now, what do I have left over from it?

We were given side-gifts.  The Underground Church, for want of a better word, made bookmarks from pieces of local cloth and beautiful Christian symbols sewn on them.  Then another gift immediately entered my heart.  When arriving home, I planted that cross-gift into Joseph's arm at a Nativity set.  It hasn't been damaged and it hasn't been moved.  I love it.

This Nativity set is never removed from my curio cabinet.  So every moment-by-moment of every day of the year, Joseph is seen carrying the special cross from Morocco.  Nothing could make me happier.

Tell Me a Story

Friday, September 21, 2012

JAMES 1:17



I took these photos in Tacoma, WA, at Wright's Park where the Chihuly glass art was combined with the flowers inside a conservatory.  I'd always loved his art work; this mix was glorious. I've wanted to post that Scripture for some time and also show some of the art.  This evening the Lord laid the combination on me.  What a blessing!! [For me, at least.  Hope you like it, too.]

Wednesday, September 19, 2012


I was cleaning my curio cabinets today, and decided to share this bit.  Now, the cup was Made in China.  Do we become annoyed with this so often?  Yep, we sure do, and we should be.  [At least that's my opinion, for what it's worth.]

This, however, is different.

Joe led the praise singing at our wedding, 27 years ago on this coming Friday, September 21st.

Later, he was heavily involved in a local Bible school. At one point, he brought a Ugandan pastor to our house for a pizza dinner.  Joe intended to go to Uganda.  Dave and I intended to go to China through an international computer company he worked for in those days.  [I had studied Chinese missions for about 25 years by then and had a real heart to go over there and serve God however it could be worked out.  Dave, obviously, was more than willing, too.]

Well, life went opposite.  In 1991, we ended up in Uganda to make our first short-term checking-things-out-stretch.  The main reason: Because the Ugandan pastor, when visiting in '89, was used by the Lord to plant that into our hearts.  About the same time, after Joe had joined YWAM, thinking Uganda was his direction, he ended up in Hong Kong.  He and another worker created YWAM - FEET.  [Far East Evangelism Teams.]  

Even though Joe comes to town once every couple years or so, because of various schedule issues on our plates we rarely see each other. We miss him a lot.  If nothing else, we have much of the same spiritual warfare on our hearts.

After he had been there for about three years, he came home with gifts for his friends and family.  He came to our house and gave us this cup. 

We have had it ever since.  I used it for tea for a while, but then I set it aside, because I don't want to crack or break it.  

It was Made in China, and brought personally from Hong Kong...

And it always makes me smile.  Because of Joe.

Monday, September 17, 2012


Today I was doing some of "Spring" cleaning, and a friend from church came to help me wash windows.  While we were moving a window table, a Ugandan carved dish was knocked over.  And what was in it and was scattered on the floor?  My special souvenirs. And for the rest of the afternoon I kept smiling about the souvenirs and where and why I had them.

So, here's the story.

One of the most surprising events that ever happened to me was a 2-1/2 day time in Paris.  Dave's computer co-worker was from western Africa, was really neat, and he and Dave got along great.  Then Patrice moved to Paris.  

A few months later, we were going to Uganda to attend our son, Sam's, wedding.  

We had been invited to visit Patrice and his wife.  We worked it into our "on the way home" schedule. When we reached London, we had arranged a 3-day layover. We didn't fly to Paris; we went on the Eurostar train.  To be under the English Channel I would normally have been terrified.  BUT too much fun was on the plate and I couldn't allow the fear to win.

We stayed at Patrice's apartment not far from the main downtown area.  Could walk nearly anywhere, climbing the arches,

 a long walk on Champs Elysee, so many lovely shops, nice people.


And this is what I brought home as my souvenir:

The chestnuts were in a grassy area near those rocks that I loved so much [wish I could have brought them home].

The next day was our 14th anniversary.  We went to the Eiffel Tower ... 

and even as terrified I am of heights I couldn't possibly not go up.  And it was beautiful.

After that, we went on the Seine River.
And it was a "normal" tourism experience.

The amazing part?  I was looking at the river and suddenly I burst into tears.  Dave was horrified.  He came and held me and asked what was wrong.  I said, "I'm so happy.  I never imagined being here."

Dave felt so blessed.  He truly appreciated what the Lord had done for me through him.  [I had been so lacking in money, from childhood forward, even without basic needs, until the Lord gave me Dave and my whole life changed.]

Our 27th anniversary is this coming Friday.  I'm hoping to bless my husband in some significant way. Wish I had a billion dollars to give him... he's more than worth it.

Tell Me a Story

Friday, September 14, 2012



Wednesday, September 12, 2012

9/11 ... THE CHILDREN...

10,000 ...


        lost one or both parents at one time and place.

10,000 ...

      saw, or will see, played or replayed,

10,000 ...


        the time and place their parents died.

How many will hear
    the commentators –
        voices filled with horror --
               speak of the

   “scores leaping/falling/flying to their deaths" --
                      and wonder --
                              was “that” mine?

How many nightmares are ahead for those children --
         and the many thousands of others --
             who no longer are innocents?

We can no longer protect our children --
    could we ever? – or was that, too, an illusion? --
         from the horrible realities of life. 

 Innocence was blown away --
              collapsed --
                     with the “icon” in New York.

And now we wait

            -- who will win? 
                            Can anyone win?

Terrorists don’t care;
    willing to lose all 

-- their lives, countrymen, women, children --
        chattel and chaff to a war
             won only in heaven.

     the ones who know God,
        who have trusted Jesus --
                   are in His presence.

     -- we can hope and pray --
        many had a moment
               to seek and hear

                and speak truth 
              in those last minutes,
                      or seconds.

           No “fox hole atheists”. 

     God’s grace covered the destruction --
         like a feather curtain, a mist --
    and provided just that moment of reality --
         before the end --

         For the Beginning.

The terrorists? 

       Feel sorriest for them.
                   They were sold up the river,

                                     sold a bill of goods,
                  hoodwinked by the Master Deceiver --
                     and promised a piece of Paradise

                        if they’d destroy the Infidels.

     in the same instant they destroyed all those lives,
                    they discovered the truth.

      Jesus said to the thief, 

           “Today you will be with me in Paradise;

     The Counterfeiter said,

           “Today you will be with me” --
                and neglected to tell them
                    how quickly their 

                     would become

Depression had hit me over this whole national/world-wide event, and I needed to "run away from home."  Dave and I decided I could go to the North Shore of Lake Superior, drive the van so I could sleep in it, find a campground, and stay as long as needed.  I reached there at October 1, and I was only there for four days. It truly became a spiritual healing time.

I've posted a number of my poems, etc., before, but never one of the very intense and filled-with-fright poems/proses.  Decided this should be added today  -- I couldn't yesterday b/c of the Bhutanese baby's birth and my exhaustion.

Transferring it from my North Shore book, I lost most of the line set-up I had... had to adjust.  Sorry if it's not organized, but I tried.

Tell Me a Story

Tuesday, September 11, 2012


As I posted about this yesterday, connected also to a First Responders event on Sunday, this birth was on my plate.  It finally occurred at 2:02 A.M. today.  This was the result of approximately 30 hours of labor.  It was one LONG and tiring event, for all of us.

For me, this is Bhutanese grandchild #5 -- a boy.  My heart is so surprised that the Lord dropped this "ministry/job" into my life.  I always say I am not a medically-oriented person. I would never have expected this new care-giving aspect, even though it entered my life about 16 months ago. One reason I'm continuing is because the Bhutanese are convinced that I will be their helper, and I am approached again when a baby is on the way.  So much has changed, too, and I sometimes have to laugh.  For instance, when I first began, during the delivery stretch, I was touching Mandira's hand and soothing her forehead, simply encouraging her.  NOW?  I'm holding their legs, pushing and pushing,  being very intense during the contractions, my arms and legs worn out from that delivery "exercise" pressure.  Even the nurses and doctor have become accustomed to my presence and ask me for more help during the whole labor and delivery process.  And I've begun to LOVE it!!!  WOW! ==

Yesterday, the time went quite well in some personal ways.  During those many hours of waiting and hanging out, Laxman and I talked about their cultural situations in Nepal, how they dealt with India and Bhutan, ways to adjust to our country aspects [cars, various types of insurance, taxes, jobs, how to move closer to the Lord with what's on our spiritual plate here].  His mom, Dil, was with us; a real treat and one of my favorite Bhutanese sisters.

I'm living in exhaustion today.  Not enough rest since Sunday morning.  Truly hope I sleep well tonight.

I'll show a few photos.  The last one was taken today when I went to the hospital to check in on them. I wanted to see how they are doing and how Bisant looks after being bathed and dressed.  One of my biggest joys is having a newborn child holding my finger.  Makes me grin.

Now I'll shut up and go away and you can see my dear ones... Laxman, Dumbari, Dil, and Bisant.