MY 3RD YEAR BHUTANESE ANNIVERSARY

... Well, it will be on Wednesday, May 8th.  It was on May 8,

2010, when I was standing in my living room by the entry table that the Lord said, "Walk up to Benson."  [That's our area's name from over a hundred years and  it was a small town before it was taken into Omaha.]  I thought, "OK."  Figured there was someone or something that 1/2-mile-or-so away.  So, I popped my cowboy hat and shoes on and hit the sidewalk.

A couple blocks away, on a main Omaha road, passing a park, I walked passed a short Asian-looking couple.  I thought, "Hmm.  Are they Burmese?"  I knew there were quite a number up the street, but kids had told me the adults didn't speak English.  These were the first adults I had passed who seemed to fit into that category.

I stopped.  I turned.  I asked, "Where are you from?"  They turned their heads back and forth, looked confused.  So I asked again.  And they caught it and said, "Nepal."

"Oh," I thought, "their not Burmese."  Then I asked, "How long have you been here?"

Again, they looked confused, but then, answered, "Ten months."

I asked other questions, such as whether they could understand our language, do they have family here, and where in the apartment complex they lived.  Well, we got it handled in just a couple minutes.  I told them I enjoyed seeing them and would try to find them soon.

Then, I turned away, walked a few feet, stopped suddenly, and turned around again, and asked, "What do you worship?"

Again, they looked eye-blinky, confused.  So, I said, again, "What do you worship?", but this time, I lifted my arms to the Lord.

They said, together, lifting their arms, "Oh, JESUS!"

I said, "OH, JESUS!!!"  And we stood on that main road area, lifting our arms to the Lord and worshiping and laughing together.

=================
A week later, after connecting to the former Omaha missionaries in Nepal who were with the Bhutanese refugees [from Nepal] here in town and were leading them at a church fellowship hall just a couple blocks from my house, I went to their church.  The couple I had first met on the street were Ram and Dawa.  Their son, Phurba, was the pastor.  Their daughter, Tshering, attended.  Phurba's wife, Nar, was there, but busy with other things, so I didn't meet her the first time.  Nar quickly became my daughter, though.

Anyhow, right after church, Ram, Dawa, Phurba, and Tshering came down the street to my house so they could see where we lived and I took a photo.
 
Life began.

Now I have more than 60 "family" members.  I am now the Mom, Aunt, Sister, Grandma, Great-grandma.  I have helped at the ERs, hospital stuff, helped deliver 6 babies, fixed apts and house, protected re: the language differences when cars were hit or something happened in their nearby situation and the police were coming.  DAVE has taught piano, fixed computers, MADE computers, and given to them, and recently played at a wedding.  We don't do a lot every day all the time... but...

February, 2012, Baptism

we are now missionaries.  Again!  What a treat!

SEED PLANTING -- PART 1

The Lord has laid it on me recently to share thoughts and lessons and testimonies of what seed planting can accomplish spiritually.  I’ll be teaching about the combination of various natural seeds and how that fits into our spiritual world, but first it will be some Asian history.  Then it will be my personal “seed” story.

 Shortly after I came to the Lord, in 1966, a friend in my church loaned me a book. Even though I’d been a big reader since early childhood, I had never read anything about missionaries or international ministry.  The book was "Let My Heart Be Broken... with the things that break the heart of God", written by Richard Gehman, published in 1960.  World Vision Organization began in the 1950s and this was written so more people would understand the foundation and hope of that ministry. Didn't share a lot of cultural history, but focused on and talked to missionaries in Hong Kong, Korea, Thailand, India, Japan, and a variety of territories and islands.  It touched my heart;  has never left it.  Many years ago, I bought one of the original books and I rarely loan it; sure don’t want to lose it.

Not long after reading that book, I began to read many others connected to China Inland Mission.  Hudson Taylor became my first Christian hero.  I saw so many examples indicating spiritual seed was planted into hearts, many of whom had never even heard the Lord’s name.  Other CIMs, such as James O. Fraser and Isobel Kuhn, two of my other favorites, drew people from the Western world to Asia to serve as missionaries and, with them and their families and friends, led many, MANY in the southwest Chinese tribes to the Lord and gave them the training and teaching that they needed.  As the sharing of those tribal members at village marketing, and the missionaries traveling further and further, the Word began to reach to Thailand and Burma and northern India, through valleys, over rivers, and across mountains.  It simply spread and spread. 

In approximately 500 years many God-servers in Asia have died from spiritual warfare.  In the past 60 years, for instance, many CIM's and other missionaries and many Chinese Christians died through disease, execution, wars, or religious murder.   But their seed did not die, just because their body had.  Their spiritual blood ... connected to our Lord's Blood ... soaking through the land, did not disappear.   Couldn't be seen by eyes, understood by normal minds, but couldn't be destroyed .  Why?  Because the spiritual strength of our Lord is far above the everydayness of life.

In our present day —  MY present day — I am blessed to hear stories from the Bhutanese refugees whose families were forced to flee from Bhutan about 25 years ago.  After living in Nepal for those years, more and more of them, from seed having been planted there, came to the Lord.  Some of them, especially the young ones, some of my “kids”, want to leave Omaha and return to Nepal.  They want to spread the Word, plant the seed, more and more, in Nepal, India, and, when possible, IF possible, in Bhutan.  They, because of their cultural understanding, can share about Jesus, in the towns, villages, and refugee camps.  They want to share the Word more, show the Truth more deeply.  Be Servants -- teaching, nursing, child-caring. They strongly believe that the Word will spread through the rivers, over the mountains, across the borders.  They truly believe they can do it more effectively than most of us Westerners could, because they know the culture thoroughly, having been raised there, understanding the spiritual differences in approach, mostly connected to Buddhism and Hinduism.  I believe they can do it. 

Seed, historically, was planted by Catholic priests in the late 1500s as they traveled back and forth through Nepal from Tibet to India.  The first tiny seeds were planted.  Since then it’s been a little here, a little there, and sometimes — many times — buried under the surface for many generations.   Now, for decades and centuries it was very difficult for anyone outside of their country to ever enter and speak outside of their national Hinduism or Buddhism.  Miraculously, in the 1950s, Western doctors and nurses, in particular, were able to bring more of the Nepalese to the Lord.  Seed was planted.  Now, even with the national leadership often wanting nothing to do with Christians, the Bhutanese/Nepalese  can share, touch, bring healing, and help in any way possible. 

I could talk/write for HOURS about how I've seen seed planting in a spiritual manner for more than 40 years.  And I've been blessed to see the results.

I often think that when I am dying one of the main blessings buried in my heart will be that my spiritual seed has been planted, people will turn to the Lord, I'll meet them in heaven, and we will hug and dance and jump up and down with joy.

Yep, that's what I want.

                     =====================

Part 2 will tell how good and or bad seed was planted in me shortly before I became a Christian ... and both of the seeds BY Christians.

An indicator of how we should pay attention to what seed is being planted in us ... and what we are planting in others.  For good, bad, or indifferent [or ugly].

LINDA'S GIFT ... PORTLAND

On one of my last days in the NW this Fall, I went to Vancouver, WA, to meet with my friend Linda.

April, 2011  -- Our first re-visting time since high school.  A treat!

To start with, I met her for lunch on November 1st.  We were waiting for Elizabeth, my new "facial" blog friend.  We thoroughly enjoyed our time with her.  

After that, we headed for Linda's home.  I was staying there for the night.  My next plan was to leave her place about 8 or so on the 2nd.  She wanted to have breakfast with me, and I thought that would be a great way to begin the trip. Then I'd be heading for Tacoma to see my missionary friends visiting from Uganda, and then, after lunch with DeVores, I'd be hitting I-90 ASAP.

Had a great time with Linda at her place.  We yammered and laughed and shared and munched and crunched lots of good stuff.  And then bedtime hit about 11:00.

At 3 AM, I woke up.  I had been upset during a phone call that evening and it hit my heart, again.  I couldn't get back to sleep.  I tried to not make too much noise in the living room; her bedroom wasn't too far away and her door was open.  Well, Linda woke up at 5, which she had scheduled. I definitely AIN'T an early waker-upper unless there's an issue of some sort.

SO, because I was awake for so long, I told her I would leave earlier than I'd planned.  I'd hit the road about 7, and, even with rush-hour traffic, I could make it north and then visit Ron and Shirley near Tacoma for a brunch instead of lunch, and head east.  Would miss having breakfast with Linda, but reality was important to me, too, and it just seemed practical to head out earlier.

Well, Linda said that I shouldn't leave early, that we were going to breakfast in Portland and she had a gift for me.  Also, that we couldn't be there before 8:15 and I could leave about 9:00, which was the original plan.

I decided I'd do what she wanted.  Had no idea what her gift was, and didn't want to hurt her feelings.

We started the drive, me staying on her tail, and, although this next bit has nothing to do with the reality breakfast, the scenery almost made me drive off the highway, even while crossing the bridge from Vancouver to Portland.  WHY?  

 My photo of Mount Hood in'08

Mount Hood was very clearly seen that morning ... no fog or rain or clouds, which was not normal at that stretch of time during the Fall ... AND the golden sunrise view profiled the whole mountain.  I could only see it in my rear-view mirror, and could hardly stay in my lane.  Linda told me later that when she saw the mountain she knew Joanne 'd be trying to figure out how to stop and take a picture.  I sure wanted to.  I loved it so much... and would've if I could've ... but didn't want to cause a crash and die in it or end up in jail for breaking the traffic law.  Oh, well.  

I followed her to a Sheri's Restaurant not far from the bridge.  When we went in, she requested a 4-person table.  I thought, "Hmm. Now what?"

A few minutes later 2 ladies came in and I immediately recognized them... in spite of the fact that I hadn't seen them personally for 49-1/2 years.  We were in high school in Klickitat and graduated in '63. 

What a treat!  We shared, we talked about serious situations and funny ones.  We showed caring.  We left after sharing, hugging, encouraging.  I would love to see Petra and Johanna again.  Oh, and Linda, too, of course!

It was fun to send the photos to Susie. There were only 11 graduates in our class... small school, doncha think?... and with the four of us and Susie, now "seeing" each other, that covered a good percentage of the class, obviously.

It was a treat to be so beautifully treated.

Thank you, Linda.

 ==========================================

[Maybe 2 more NW stories in the next few days and I'll be done -- finally.  It was a wonderful, joyful, blessed 3-weeks travel-time.

 Can't ignore the people and the places and things.]     

  

DOING GOOD...GOING ABOUT.

In Spring, 1967, I was staying in East St. Louis and beginning to work at the Lessie Bates Davis Neighborhood House, 

based on helping the impoverished and gang-struggling people.  It was also supported by the National Methodist Church organization.

When I was in the manager's office, glancing at her desk, there was a small piece of paper under the glass cover.  It said this:

I read in a Book
    That a Man called Christ
        Went about doing good.
It is very disconcerting to me
    That I am so easily satisfied
   with just
           Going
                       About.

For all these years, various times I have had this in a purse, or in a Bible, on a wall, on the fridge.  I have also given it to others.

Until this very moment, I had no idea who had written it.  I put part of the phrases on Google, and found the story of the author.  I was very surprised.

The man who wrote it, Toyohiko Kagawa, was a Japanese Christian pacifist.  He had become a Christian as a young man through Presbyterian missionaries that were teaching him; he was an orphan and they took him into their homes.  He went back and forth between Japan and the States and to a variety of theological colleges.  He chose to live in poverty and he worked however he could to provide for the poor.  He tried to draw more Christians to care for others.  AND he was in prison at least twice while standing up for changing that was needed in Japan.

He wrote more than 150 books and was nominated for both the Nobel Prize in Literature [1947,'48] and the Nobel Peace Prize [1954, '55].

He died in 1960, 7 years before I saw this quote.  And, 45 years later, I finally know who said it.  [The author was  "Anonymous".]

What a surprise and a blessing to know his story and his history.  And he ain't just a poetry-oriented person.  He truly knew what people in many circumstances were forced to walk through... and he wanted to walk with them.

I'm impressed.  I'm touched.  I'm convinced it is going to continue to be one of my main forever-loved proses.

A STORY: THE NILE RIVER.

Cary pinched her arm and twitched.  “Yep, proves it.  I’m not dreaming.”

A young Luo tribesman in Uganda looked at her quizzically.  “Madam, I see you are not asleep.  Why did you try to hurt yourself?”

Cary laughed.  “I need to do that every once in a while here in Africa.  I’m still so amazed that God has allowed me to be in this wonderful place and meet so many lovely people.”  She tapped his arm.  “And you, Simon, are one.”

“But dreaming about Africa instead of being here when you are?  Why?”  He stopped and pointed at the shore.  “Oh, Madam!  See the elephant across in that tall grass — near those trees?

That does not happen very often on these rides.  God must be giving you a gift.”

Cary grabbed her camera and took a photos.  All she could think of while she kept looking around was how blessed she felt.  On a tourism boat to the Murchison Falls on the Nile River with a short-term team from the orphanage where she worked,              

looking at the elephant, seeing wonderful eagles,

crocodiles all over the river banks with birds walking around next to them, hippos in and out of the water,

an isolated wild ox with a beautiful small white bird, the ox's friend to chomp at the bugs that would irritate his old and tired body.  

And Cary’s thoughts went on and on and on, with great excitement and joy.
 
Simon touched her.  “Madam, I must ask you again.  Why did you pinch your arm?”

“If we can talk and look around at the same time, I’ll tell you.  Is that OK?  You can interrupt me any time you see something I might miss.”

“Good.  I want to know.”

“When I was young, I read many, many books about many, many places in the world.  I loved thinking about going places and meeting people and seeing things that are beautiful or exciting.  But I was raised in a poor family, and we looked pretty scruffy much of the time.”
 
Simon stopped her.  “What is ‘scruffy’?”

Cary chuckled.  “Sorry.  It means not very clean and not dressed very nice.”

“But you are from America.  Everyone in America has everything they could ever want.  They do not have to work.  They can eat anything they want, always.  And ... ”

Cary shook her head, and Simon stopped.  “Not true," she said.  "We do have more materials than most people in the world, I’ll admit.  But most Americans also work hard on their jobs and around their house and yard.”

Simon had a puzzled look on his face and shrugged his shoulders a little bit.  He said, “Well, that is not what I have ever heard, but if you say it, it must be true.”

“I hope the day will come when you can know for sure.  In my case, believe me, I was poor compared to many others.  And I truly wanted to see the places I had seen in the books."

"So, Madam, you are here now.  How? When?”

 "I was forty years old before I could go almost anywhere, even near my home.  I was too busy with my jobs, and my kids, and didn’t have enough money to allow the trips.  Then I married my dear husband and everything changed.  And five years ago, we were surprised, because the Lord dropped Uganda into our lives suddenly.  We had never thought we would be coming to Africa, but we were invited and asked to help other missionaries."

"Madam, did something special happen when you came?”

 Cary winked at Simon.  “Do you know that GOD knows more than I do?  What I have learned is that He has always needed to plant certain people in my path, so we could encourage or help each other.  That wouldn't happen until exactly the right time.  Obviously it has, because I have now met you, my first Luo friend."

Simon smiled.

As the boat passed close to the bottom of the falls that were about 140 feet high and the river roaring through the narrow gap and water spraying all around, it was too loud to talk.  Cary just let the water drench her and loved every second of it.

When the boat turned around to head back up to the dock, with an hour left for the tour, she and Simon just talked a bit, but mostly looked at the scenery and he pointed out different animals.  “I wish we had giraffes  here, but you'll see them

tomorrow during your drive through our park.  An armed guard will go with all of you on the lorry because there have been reports that the Kony rebels are not far away.  You will see places where resort hotels used to be, but the buildings were destroyed during our civil war. 

You might even be able to walk through the ruins.” He paused.  “But be careful.  Sometimes snakes will be laying out on the bricks.”

Cary cringed.  “Don’t worry, Simon.  I’ll be more careful than anyone has ever been in history.  I’m terrified of snakes. Period.” 
 
Simon nodded, as he, like many Ugandans, understood that feeling.  “However, Madam, you will see many other animals ... monkeys or baboons,

 

antelopes, wild boars, wart hogs.  

I am certain you will have a very good time.”

“I’m very sure I will, too.  What’s funny is that I could go see almost all of these animals at the zoo in the town where I live, but coming here, ten thousand miles away from home, and seeing the animals where they live and watching them move around together and — like the crocodiles and hippos and birds all being in one place at one time and none of them fighting or trying to kill each other — that’s a whole different picture than I would have expected.  And, seeing the land, and being on the Nile River with friends and with a guide like you... I couldn’t ask for anything nicer.”

Cary gave Simon another gentle squeeze on his arm to say “thank you” and then said, “Now I just have to prove to myself one more time that I’m not dreaming...” and she gave her own arm a quick pinch and twitched...

And they both laughed....

================
This is a portion of a Grandma Cary story about this Murchison Falls National Park trip in Uganda.  If confusion hits you re: those last photos... they truly were taken the following day during our truck drive through the other portion of the Park.  And the armed guard was with us with an AK-47, always on alert.  The trip was a treat!  The cost for me for the whole safari?  $15.00.  Not a bad deal, right?  Here's how I looked when we reach back at the orphanage about 100 miles later on dusty roads. I had 3 showers before the layers of dirt were removed.  What a hoot!

MOROCCO "ALMOST MIRACLE" #2

One evening in Marrakech, we were downtown eating at the outside food stall that was known by our main leader, Chris, a YWAM-er from California who had been to Morocco several times. He liked these men and they were very friendly. 

They obviously enjoyed having tourists hit their bench.  They were very nice to us and the food was great!

Now, backing up.  The day after we arrived in Morocco and began in Casablanca, we had a meeting with all the various people who had arrived from the States and Europe, about 200 folks at this beginning phase.

Other than those of us who were visitors and going to be on our prayer-buses, there were "missionaries" who met with us.  As some of you might know, missionaries are not received in this country by title.  Some people who come and take on businesses or jobs, also use this as an opportunity to encourage the Believers that are in place already, many underground. This couple, Don and Rose Johnson, that I connected with for a few minutes, had been in Morocco for about 20 years.  They were in their 70s.  He was a veterinarian in Rabat.  We didn't discuss about where they had lived in the States; we were much more intense covering many serious issues.  All of us newly arrived folks were so busy and learning so much, we hardly had time to talk to anyone outside our bus group.

I saw this couple again a few days later in Marrakech.  We were having a Palm Sunday service at a hotel.  Not only the first approximately 200 of us, but many more Europeans and some Africans arrived for the weekend bringing the total to about 400 people.  According to the government representative, who sometimes gave us information or instructions, this was the first time a Christian worship event in public had been allowed.   [Believe me, it was an amazing service!  I've never seen anything like it.]

After church, I took a photo of them.  Never, ever, thought I would see Don and Rose again. 

THEN the almost-miracle occurred.  That Palm Sunday evening in Marrakech, after we had eaten that great meat at the food stall, my church friend, Kathy, and I were rushing around the other outside sales areas and tourism shockers.  [We DID avoid the snake charmers and magic circles, believe me.] 

Our bus had arrived a few minutes earlier, was parked on a main street, and its allowable time to be there was limited. We were all supposed to hit it quickly.  Kathy and I are pretty rules-oriented and didn't want people to be upset with us.

We had been walking quickly through the market place, headed for the bus area, thousands of people around us, and suddenly the Johnsons turned around from a dessert stand.  We were suddenly face-to-face.  And smiling Big Time.

I was so happy to tell them goodbye.  Then, for some unexpected reason, since Kathy and I were supposed to be focusing only on the bus, Johnsons and I suddenly talked about where they went when in the States for a break.  If only the bus wasn't a serious issue, I would have jumped up and down and hugged Don and Rose a million times.

Because...

when in the States on vacations, they attended my husband Dave's family church in St. Paul, MN -- North Heights Lutheran. Dave had been there since he was about 10 years old, and this church was one of the most significant charismatic churches in the whole Midwest.

Within a minute or so, Kathy and I rushed away. Everyone else was on the bus already, and people had seen us and were hollering.  I was disappointed.

But, on the other hand, I have never forgotten Don and Rose.  To have them dropped into my life 3 times, and the last one being connected to both me and my husband, I did rejoice.

[And, BTW, the team on the bus forgave us when we explained what had happened.  That was a good thing.]