Sunday, March 31, 2013


What a day that was!!  I was one of the first arrivals... since I'm just a couple blocks away and Rupa's aunt had come to my house about 10:00 to dress me in my sari.  Sure can't do it myself!!  When Dil Maya and I walked up the street and into her apartment, one of her nephews held my hand and walked me across our busy street -- it's crossing the lanes and getting on the median between lights; not overly intelligent to do that, but saves about 2 blocks of walking.  I was there about 10:45.

So here's my first picture of Rupa and Nima.  They were down in the fellowship hall putting some of the small bits and pieces on the cake table.

Gradually, others arrived that were involve in one aspect or another, of course.

Originally, the plan was the wedding would begin at noon.  WELL, there was no rehearsal, no chance to practice almost anything. Why?  Almost no one was there on time, and it just couldn't be done. 

My husband arrived to play for the wedding, but all he could do as he had time was some extra practice. 

One of my blessings was that Nima would occasionally just come and put his head on my shoulder.  Once I gave him a kiss on the cheek.
Now I'm officially his grandma. And I love him dearly. 

Now it will mostly be photos.  The first two are ones I took of Rupa and Nima at opposite parts of the church, just officially wedding dressed.  Love it.

 Then the pre-wedding photos of them, their family and friends in their ceremony, that began around 1:00. 


Then the "married-now-and-forever" one.

I took about 80 pictures yesterday.  Not nearly enough, of course.  But couldn't not share a few with you.  The photo of Dave and I with Rupa and Nima will be sent to us through their official photographer; whenever it shows up, I'll have to pop it into your eyes.  [BTW, the photographer is my church friend who became very involved with Rupa's family when they arrived from Nepal, late Feb., '11.   Stephanie was one of the EBC-ers who provided what they needed then.  Now she and her husband truly are family for them and Rupa, individually, truly became one of their daughters.  Stephanie and Joe helped choose and purchase the wedding gown, which is a real treat!]

The wedding planted blessings into the hearts of Christians and seed into the hearts of family and friends who are [still] Hindu and Buddhist.  But many came to the service, heard the Word, heard the Truth, and saw it in the hearts of these young ones and their many family and friends.  I don't know enough of Nima's history, since he arrived here a few months ago and has been working so many hours, but I DO know the approximate time that Rupa officially came to the Lord which was not long after she arrived from Nepal.  Spring of '11.  Her first communion was at our church for Good Friday service, and I helped her go forward for communion and Dave stepped aside and held our hands and prayed.   And now he played for her wedding. How cool is that?

So... YES, it was a wedding.  But, in my heart it was far more than that!  Knowing where Rupa came from and where she has grown and now who she is with that will be a continual blessing for her, well, it just is filling my heart with joy.

Tell Me a Story

Friday, March 29, 2013


Even in this day of His sacrifice for us, forever and ever, I have my mind filled with Him, His thoughts, His kindness, His instructions.  To focus on Him, moment-by-moment, is my forever hope, both on our earth and throughout eternity.  [I'm so very (VERY) grateful for His sacrifice!] 

Thursday, March 28, 2013



Wednesday, March 27, 2013



Tuesday, March 26, 2013

PSALM 113:3


Every second, minute, hour, day, week, month, year --
our life-long time
to rejoice and praise HIM!!

Monday, March 25, 2013


It was over.  The agony and the rage she'd felt during the crucifixion were gone.  In fact, everything was gone.  Nothing but the empty cross outlined starkly against the dark sky.  Joseph and Nicodemus had already removed the body.  Jesus' mother and John had left.  She didn't know where the others had gone, but they had.  Only she had stayed.

As she stood staring blankly ahead, a soldier came.  He was overseeing the removal of the thieves' bodies, and wasn't at all pleased with the day's strange events.

"Woman," he growled, "leave!  This so-called King of yours is dead.  He should have left well enough alone and let Caesar be God."  He swore under his breath.  "These wretched provincials.  What a god-forsaken land...a god- forsaken city."

He continued muttering and Mary turned and walked down the hill.  She was actually happy that someone had told her to go.  Vaguely, she wondered how long she might have stayed, otherwise.

As she walked,  she immediately was filled with confusion about where she could go.  True, she had a family and a home.  But without Jesus in their heart, too? No, she couldn't go there.

She tripped over a rock, and, as she stumbled, a hand steadied her.  She looked, startled, fearfully, to see who this was.  

It was James.

"Mary,"  he said.  "I have been looking for you.  When his mother and John reached our home, I asked where you were.  They looked stunned.  They said they were sure you had left before them.  So, I came to look for you.  My heart is truly for you.”  He said very gently, looking into her eyes, “I know how much you loved him."

She pulled her arm away and exploded.  "No one knows how much I loved him... He was all I had to love...the only reason for loving.  He even helped me to love myself.  And now...there's... nothing."

James was uncomfortable.  He loved Jesus, too.  He was heartbroken and was ashamed of himself for his desertion of his Friend and Master. 

But his heart broke more as he watched Mary.  He remembered the first time he had seen her.  She was so brazen, so cold, and he wished she would leave them alone.  And now, all he wanted to do was make her hurt less, and there was simply nothing he could do or say to make that happen.  If she would cry, then he could handle it.  But she wasn't crying.  She wasn't doing anything.  She seemed frozen.

Finally, he gently said, "Come stay with me...with us.  It will help if we are together.  Besides, his mother needs you.  She has been brave throughout this trial.  And now a caring woman can be more help to her than any men.  Jesus was kind to send her to be John's mother.  Since our mother died, he has been very lonely.  He misses the gentle touch of a woman.  And their insightful wisdom.  I know he will love her and care for her, too."

Mary was too distraught to smile.  But she was aware that a little of Jesus had been left behind in James.  He now had more compassion and understanding of people than she had thought he ever would.

"I don't know how long I will stay, but, yes, I will stay with you.  I don't want to be alone; I was alone for too many years.  I don't want to be with anyone who did not truly know Jesus and love him as we did."

James was grateful.  He touched her arm, and gently walked her to his home.

When they walked inside, she saw Jesus’ mother.  And she saw the anguish on her face, the fear in her eyes, the pain in her heart.

And the woman called The Magdalene, the Woman of the Hard Heart, wrapped her arms around the Mother of Jesus, and together they wept. 


Tell Me a Story

Friday, March 22, 2013


While driving to a mall, turning onto another main street, I saw so many clouds just like this, I immediately pulled off the road into a Catholic parking lot.  Cold as it was outside, and windy, I could not just sit in the car and look out the window.  I popped out, ran around the lot and took several photos.  Always thought of just this... God was breathing, it was being shown to us.   We can count on Him to breathe through, for, over, us with His Word, His Spirit, His Protection, His Grace, His Power, His LOVE.

Who else ... what else ... can count??

Tuesday, March 19, 2013


I’ve never been a II Timothy fan.  A few verses, of course, such as:

1:7  --  For the Spirit God gave us does not make us timid, 

                but gives us power, love and self-discipline.
1:12 –  That is why I am suffering as I am.  Yet this is no cause

           for shame, because I know whom I have believed,
              and am convinced that he is able to guard
                what I have entrusted to him until that day.

2:11-13   Here is a trustworthy saying:
            11 -- If we died with him,
                     we will also live with him;
          12 -- If we endure,
                     we will also reign with him.
                  If we disown him,
                     he will also disown us;
          13 -- If we are faithless,
                     he remains faithful,
                     for he cannot disown himself.

   :15 -- Do your best to present yourself to God as one

          approved, a worker who does not need to be ashamed
              and who correctly handled the word of truth.   

    :22 -–  Flee the evil desires of youth and pursue
              righteousness,faith, love and peace, along with
                those who call on the Lord out of a pure heart.
3: 16 -- All Scripture is God-breathed and is useful for 

             teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in 
  :17 --  So that the servant of God[a] may be thoroughly 
             equipped for every good work.

4:   7-– I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race,
             I have kept the faith. 
    :8 -- Now there is in store for me the crown of 
             righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, 
             will award to me on that day—and not only to me,
             but also to all who have longed for his appearing.
Since coming to the Lord and beginning to read the Word about 47 years ago, I read II Timothy many times, but now, finally, saw it deeply.

But, overall, during those years, nothing jumped out at me.  Oh, except Paul asking Timothy to pack the books and coat and get them to him in this late stretch of prison.

Why did it finally hit my heart?  Well, I ain’t a young ‘un any more.  I look out at our world’s choices, our present-day events, and I become teary.  [I can’t/won’t list them here.  Don’t want to start an argument or a fight with anyone.]

Paul, in prison, in Rome, being martyred in A.D. 67, had no cell phones, no iPads, computer, instant news issues, full newspapers.  But, knowing the world as he did,
he was heart-aching.

Those of us in our present time see news bits from our local areas and around the world in a few seconds, a few minutes.  For instance: the rape-death in India; the hundreds of battles in Syria, thousands and thousands of deaths; the two who died while rescuing a 6-year old boy in Sioux Falls, South Dakota at a lake; and, on the East Coast, roaches on a Greyhound bus.

We hear/know everything now that can break our heart -- or cause us to want to grab any possible insect-killing stuff to be sure our house wouldn’t be poured with roaches unexpectedly.

Life has been filled with information for us since the Word went from Genesis to Jude.  The only Book I can’t always fit in at every present-day moment – although it ranks right up as a favorite – is Revelation.  The day will come when I will truly understand that one.

So – I read posts of my Facebook friends and Blog-friends. I look at the neighborhood houses, rejoicing over some, concerned over others.  I drive ALL OVER and I see much on our highways, towns, states -– some “loverly”, some practical everydayness, but, some heart, soul, and spirit crushing.  Not as Paul was, in physical prison and heading for martyrdom, I AM sometimes in spirit-crushing prison.  It often -- day-by-day, moment-by-moment --  creeps in.

OH, am I filled with joy, too?  YES!!!  Focusing on my Lord, thanking Him for my dear ones, thanking Him for breaking through my hard heart to Salvation.  Yes, there’s JOY!!   And I look forward to heaven .. for .. JOY!!

Monday, March 18, 2013



She sat on a stool in a corner of the room watching the guests eat their supper.  She was SO comfortable in Lazarus' home.  Always a loving host, but now experiencing  a new life, he overflowed with joy.  The guests in his home smiled, or chuckled, or laughed with him.  Jesus' eyes twinkled as he watched the antics around him, like a patient schoolmaster with happily rowdy children.

Then the mood changed.  The laughing and loud talk had gradually diminished until it ceased altogether.  Lazarus' sister, Mary, stood behind Jesus, and, as if in a dream, she broke open a bottle and poured its contents over his head.  In waves the musky fragrance of nard invaded the room.

Most of the onlookers were embarrassed--for Jesus, for Mary, even for Lazarus as host.  Judas' reaction, however, was more beyond embarrassment.  He..was..furious.  His eyes filled with disgust and he blurted out in a loud whisper to no one in particular, "What a waste!  If she wanted to DO something she could have sold the nard and put the money in the treasury.  But this?!..."  And while Judas clucked and shook his head, the Magdalene watched from her vantage point in the corner, and knew the words he said didn't match the itchy fingers he hid in the folds of his cloak.  Momentarily, she wondered why Jesus kept Judas as a disciple, even honoring him with the responsibility of the treasury.  However, in the midst of these thoughts her attention was riveted to what Jesus was saying. 

"She is anointing me for burial...
 she will always be remembered."

The Magdalene shuddered in the chill, and noticed others doing the same.  What did he mean, "burial?"   His popularity with the people had never been greater. 

Yet in her heart she knew he spoke the truth, and filled with an inexplicable sadness, she stared into the fire's dying embers and quietly wept.

Tell Me a Story


Well, the original plan, organized and put on my plate a couple weeks ago, started off good.  Sharmila's parents were arriving from Nepal and she was very excited.  She had told me that her dad couldn't walk very much. That was all I knew. I looked forward to greeting them and giving them their granddaughter that I had helped deliver about 2 months ago.  Thought that would be fun.

They were going to arrive on Thursday, the 14th, at 10:00 PM.  That would be good in my schedule, since I was having my neuropathy ankle/foot shots on Friday.  To have them home and settled in the night before seemed like a good idea. Took pressure off me.

Thursday evening I was called.  They weren't coming until 8:00 PM on Friday.  I hoped my feet would not be numb by 7:00, ready to pick up Sharmila and others and head for the airport. My hubby would drive and I'd ride along if my feet weren't working, yet. THEN the timing changed ... 10:25...10:43...12:08.

I rushed up the street to pick up family about 11:30.  Instead of my van being filled with men and women,  I ended up with Sharmila, her mother-in-law, Dil, and a "cousin" -- all nice, but not-strong ladies.  Didn't know that would be an issue, so wasn't concerned.

We got to the airport and a few minutes later they arrived. Her Dad was in a wheelchair; an airport lady worker was pushing itThe Mom was walking, but struggling a bit after all those hours and extra days during the move from Nepal. Sharmila burst into tears when seeing her parents, and threw her arms around them.

A few minutes later we crossed to the parking area to my van.  Then something I could have never have anticipated took place. A leader from a local organization that was to help greet, make certain re: their location, meet them there and, even in the middle of the night, and get all the paperwork in place... disappeared.  He and a friend took a couple girls who had also arrived from Nepal, grabbed their bags and headed out.  I didn't know that until I got to my van.  These men weren't there to help load my van, etc.  AND, when Dad was in the wheelchair, the airport lady and I ended up being the ones lifting him out of the wheelchair and up into my van.  Sharmila and Dil put the heavy duffel bags in.  I pulled into their compound about 1:00.  Guys in the family came out to help carry Dad in and walk Mom in.  The gals carried the bags in.. and they were so heavy, I was shocked.  I realize a lot of lack-of-help was because it was middle of the night and people were either sleeping to head off for work early in the morning or were at their jobs until about 2AM, such as Sharmila's husband, one of my dear ones.  He had time-off on Thursday for their arrival, but, when it was cancelled, he couldn't do it again.

Sharmila went across the compound to her apartment after her parents were inside Dil's, so she could get some Nepali food and bring it over.  I was in Dil's apartment, too, for a few minutes, ready to make sure Dad and Mom were settled and I could greet them, welcome them, nicely now -- not quite the same rushiness as the airport situation.
Suddenly, I asked, "Where's the baby?"  Dil pointed to the couch on the other side of the living room where the baby blankets were covering her.  I said, "Her grandparents need to have her!  Give her to them!"  Dil laughed and rolled her eyes at me, picked up Sofia, and gave her to them.

Today, I dropped in to see them.  They had been shifted to Sharmila's apartment across the compound from Dil and Ravi's.  They were sitting on their bed.  Mom and Dad looked much better and were very happy to see me.  Rangit, Sharmila's husband, wanted to take a picture of all of us together, so I had to climb onto the bed.  What a treat.  [Dad is NOT walking, so I don't know when/how this is going to be handled through the caring organizations, refugee doctors; it will be, though.]

Dad and Mom are my new "Brother" and "Sister".  They are Christians and have the same Heavenly Father -- we don't speak any of the same language, but it's obvious we have the same hearts.

[And I'll be calling the organization, b/c their man  was supposed to make sure we were doing well when leaving the airport, and  should have helped put Dad in the van. I've  watched this helpfulness for nearly 3 years.  It's the first time I've seen anyone not step up to do their kind job.  He left Dad in danger -- we two not-strong ladies could have dropped him.]

Tell Me a Story

Saturday, March 16, 2013

PSALM 8:3,4

That is where my heart-thinking has been today.
He is an amazing Creator to put up with us,
the puny people,
 who so often fail to place 
an honorable moment-by-moment
focus on His life.

Friday, March 15, 2013



This is one of my favorite songs.  I worship by singing it in the middle of the night while suddenly waking; while driving here, there, and everywhere; while cleaning house; while walking in prayer sites the Lord has laid on me.

AND how could I NOT sing it while walking through our wonderful zoo and seeing His creativity over and over, glorious before my eyes.

[Can hardly wait til May when I'll do it again and, this time, take HUNDREDS of photos, since photography is now my addiction. Well, one of them, anyway ... blog-friendship is the other main addiction.]


Thursday, March 14, 2013


                                NEW HOPE UGANDA

Huge, beautiful, flowery trees... lots of seed.
Not long after our return from Uganda in February, 1991, knowing we were “called” to be there in the future, we didn’t know where we’d live, what we’d do,  so we began to make some plans, and prep and, in my case, focus on learning some basics that would help us.

And, among everything else, I wanted to become very informed about gardening, so I took classes based on horticulture at UNO. 

UNO class at Nebraska Prairie
I learned so much about seeds.  For instance, some seed is easily and gently blown, gently touches, and seems to grow almost by magic, even though I rarely use that word.  Other seed-growth takes significant effort, barely blows, but does break through and grows beautifully in time.

Costa Rica Rio Negro, hard seed, "hard" monkeys
Here are my personal seed examples.    I've mentioned before, many times, that I was basically a 1960's street-attitude kid.  Very rough on the outside, very hard seed.  Over a period of 2 or 3 years, God used people in the work or living places in Seattle and Tacoma, friends [such as Susie] or through the Catholic, Lutheran, and Baptist churches to break through that outer shell.

Here are two God-seed-planting examples.  Both unusual.  One man lightly scattered seed into my heart, the other forced, SLAMMED, it in.

1) I was doing my delivery job ... carrying title insurance papers to companies in downtown Seattle.  In one large building,  I was waiting for an elevator.  A tall man walked through the lobby and, seeing me with an armload of business-related envelopes, stepped beside me.  “Excuse me.  I am trying to find this building.”  He showed me the address.  “Do you know where it might be?”  I immediately recognized it and told him exactly what direction he should go – only a couple blocks from where we were.  When I finished, he touched me on the shoulder and said, very gently, “Thank you.  God bless you.”

Seed was planted.  Soft, gentle seed ... that has never left my life. [I truly want to meet that man in heaven.  But, was he only an angel God dropped into my life to begin a change?]

THEN, there was the other one.

In Seattle, I usually walked as directly as possible so I’d get the paperwork delivered quickly enough to the companies who needed it for their property.  However, on one of the main corners downtown, near 3rd and Madison, seed was planted that scared the tar out of me.  A Black man, wearing a white suit, stood on the corner, holding his Bible, and hollering:   "If you don't know Jesus, you’re going to go to hell.”

My reaction?  He could be heard more than a block away, and I would walk a couple blocks out of the way to avoid him.

But, yes, the seed was planted.  I never forgot those words. The seed was planted deeply in me, whether I would ever had desired that.  The spiritual planting by them and many others over short times and long years, came forth April 15, 1966.  That day the Lord officially, drawing me to such a blessed life, drawing me to my Salvation through Him.  Been there forever, will be forever.

Now, am I a good seed planter?  I truly, truly try to be a soft one that gently flows into an even hard life.  And that usually has been the case.

However, in Uganda, because you can be as frank as needed, I have, a few times, spoken very bluntly.  For instance, when I had met someone who was worshiping the wrong god, acting in witchcraft, heading for prostitution or addiction or tribal death, basically, I said the same thing.  “Straighten up now.  Turn to the Lord.  He has called you.  And if you do not, you may be in hell.”  They understand that. [Do I know for sure if they have turned to Him?  No, I don’t know.  I left Uganda.  But they DID know the Word, before I came into their lives, and they heard it again when I was dealing with this.  Hopefully, they will be my friends in heaven.]
Seed planting is a good God-job.  Ain’t always easy, aren’t always loved.  But the consequence can truly be worth the hard work.

Light-seeded flowers at Mt. St. Helens in the hard, hard lava.

Now, I am a seed planter, a seed-blower, a seed-crusher-into person.  Fit into any of the “seed” aspects.  And I want to be in that role, one way or another, for my whole life as a servant of the Lord.

And I am grateful for the ones who the Lord used to place seed in me.  And it continues... I must continue to grow, COLORFULLY.

TUMUHAIRWE ... more info

Our son, Sam, not knowing I'd made this post, sent an email to me.  Thought I'd share it, just to give more info to those who would like to know.  Years ago, believe me, we wouldn't hear much very quickly.  AND, in those days, burials were usually within a day, two at most.  For them to be putting it off for an extra 3 days for a daughter to arrive from the States is pretty amazing.  Life has changed.  I'm happy for her to be blessed like that. 

Oh, and Robert's son was the one taking the cobra home for dinner.


Good morning mom,

I am not sure whether you have already know by this time – but Robert Tumuhairwe died Monday morning of a cardiac arrest. Burial has been delayed to this Saturday because one his young daughters has been leaving in the States and they wanted to wait for her for that. He has had high blood pressures and a few other complications here but nothing major.

When he left New Hope, he first worked at the Deliverance church as a church administrator and then worked with the compassion project in the same church as their project director for a few years. He resigned that and went back to Mbarara to establish a farm and spent most of his time there though he would be coming to Kampala frequently since his family had stayed in Kampala. He moved back to Kampala and by the time he died he has been pasturing a church which had started in his home as cell-group.

Have a good day,

Would love to be there for the burial.  If for no other reason, it would be to see, hug, hold hands with so many of our dear ones who would be officially saying "Goodbye" to Robert.  So many we love, so many we miss.