Tag Archives: Lord

Raising sons with a spiritual heritage when you didn’t have any

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As I watched my orange hair, freckle face OS read Psalm 110 before the congregation today, I couldn’t help but wonder how a formerly agnostic, almost atheist, feminist, existentialist, abortion rights activist (yep) could find herself in a moment such as this.

This is one of my sons’ Bibles. I never owned one when I was his age. I’m amazed at the Lord’s kindness to give me children who seek God’s Word.

A few weeks ago, at Moody Bible Institute in Chicago, sitting in Ernest Gray’s The Gospel of John class, the same thing happened. Another surreal experience as my middle guy Aaron casually pulled out his Bible and it was filled with notes in the margins. What am I doing here, I thought to myself.

A redeemed mama and a cherished olive shoot just before class. So proud of this olive shoot/sugar boy.

And then there’s Nate, the 2012 West Point guy who has Scripture engraved in his graduation ring. Sometimes when he calls and is struggling, without hesitation, I will just break out in prayer. Not because I’m an amazing mom (fail miserably) and not in a speaking tongues, snake handling way either for those who might have been totally creeped out imagining this. Just a real and honest exchange of a mother and son speaking to the Father and the Son. Kinda cool actually.

3 John 1:4
I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in the truth.

You see I did not grow up in a Christian family. The only time I remember seeing the Bible was after my dad died. Oddly enough, we were looking for some verses to use at his funeral. We picked some fishing verses because my dad like fishing. Not because he was a fisher of men actually he was a fisher of fish(!), trout exactly, but I digress. From my recollection, the Bible was retrieved from underneath the bed. That was where it was kept for safekeeping as to not be scorned by my dad when he was on a spiritual tirade. His understanding of Christianity amounted to watching the Jim and Tammy Faye Baker show on tv or some other wild evangelist while waiting for the next episode of Soul Train. Not joking. To him, the Bible was a source of mockery and pity, something a strong man would never rely or depend upon. But I have to tell you, it’s still weird for me seeing my family so comfortable with God and Jesus. I’ve been a Christ follower for 15 years, a church attendee for over half my life but I remain awestruck to dwell in a home with men who earnestly live their faith.

For more than half my life, I thought the Bible was for sissies. You only pulled that thing out if times were REALLY bad and you needed a crutch. Maybe if you were dying or needed to slay someone verbally who called you out on sin but other than that, normal people didn’t read the Bible. It was only after I began dating the Hubs that I realized that real men can actually admit to believing every word contained in Scripture. The Lord had some work to do on the Hubs but he was a genuine Christian guy who actually OWNED a Bible and it even had his name on it! WOW!

While dating the Hubs, I sheepishly asked him what was up with the guy holding the John Three Colon 16 sign up during a football game. He’s always been a person I can trust with embarrassing spiritual questions since I do not have a rich Christian heritage. I never learned the Sunday School songs, the hymns or the Bible stories. At best, my religion was dogma and rules that did not match up with my sinful lifestyle.

Before my precious grandma died while she still lived by herself in Florida, I remember her proudly stating to me that her Bible had dust on it. She thought that was a good thing. It wasn’t. There was no way she was going to just randomly open it so she didn’t. This broke my heart as I pleaded with her to give God’s Word a read.

So seeing my children, sons, no less, actively pursuing a life of faith in Christ grabs a place in my heart like nothing else. Watching one of my bairn at ease with proclaiming God’s Word as truth is like a bowl of slightly warmed vanilla ice cream with caramel topping and multi-colored sprinkles served with a non-sticky spoon. I don’t deserve this. We fall short. I stumble. My olive shoots are not perfect. The Hubs snores. But yeah, today I saw my youngest  reading Scripture with reverence and maturity.

This is my prayer and it’s for you, random reader or sweet friend too. May images like this emblazen hearts forevermore. May we never grow tired or bored with seeing our family seek God’s face. Lord, if it’s in your will, give us more of this. Glimpses of grace and faith. Rays of hope and redemption.

As Jesus did for me, I pray for the Lord to speak into your life.  I know for some of you all of this might sound awkward and feel uncomfortable, yeah, I’ve been there. God changes things. He transforms people. He heals. He redeems. He blesses. How do I know? I’m living, undeserving proof.

My Soldier wearing his new cav hat! He loves El Salvador (the home of his bonita) and Jesus, they both hold the key to his heart.

I realize not everyone owns a Bible, it was a big decision for me. I remember being scared when I bought my first one! Here’s what I’m wondering – if you have a Bible, do you ever read it? Did you grow up in a family where the Bible was read? Can you relate to my story in any way?

Five Minute Friday – Look

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LOVE this, join us! http://lisajobaker.com

It’s a “flash mob” of writers. Every Friday at 12:01am a few hundred (or is it closer to thousand?) women pop on over to Lisa-Jo’s page to find out what the word of the next 5 minutes will be.

No over thinking.

No editing.

No extreme planning and linking and photographing.

Just FIVE minutes of writing to see what comes out.

Ok, here’s my FMF…

Who knew Ohio could be so scary? Long regarded in my mind as a place of beauty and Americana, nothing prepared me for the treacherous journey the orange hair, freckle face olive shoot and I would have both coming and going to Chicago.

Fog hung in the air like mucus and there was no relief from the patches of blindness. I couldn’t pull over because I couldn’t see any exits and I was terrified to stop my car off the side to the shoulder because I was certain a truck would plow through my vehicle. Only a rail would have possibly shielded Ike and I from driving off the deep ravines but I’m not even certain there was a rail. It was only after telling a friend of my harrowing travels that I learned there was something like this on the stretch of highway. I’ve been driving since I was 16 years old and never been more frightened behind the wheel in my life. (This experience was only matched by the drive back from Moody Bible Institute and I’m not prepared to write about it yet).

My nerves were frazzled and we stopped after the fog had cleared. Hungry and needing a potty break, Ike and I paused at a restaurant at a nearby exit. I had forgotten that we had entered Amish country but judging from the simply clad little boys in the front of the restaurant and the young lady working behind the counter, I soon realized seeing me with my pink highlights surely gave them reason to pray.

Praising God for THIS rainbow in the sky!

As we returned to our car, it was my sweet Ike who pointed in the sky…”Look, Mama! A rainbow!” Sure enough off in the distance that beautiful reassuring arch (not McDonalds!) blazed through the powder blue sky.

I had been seeing gray patches of nothingness that only held fear and pending death. My son had been in the car with me and I was gripped with anxiety. It was when I paused, physically and emotionally, that the Lord provided a symbol of His presence. God knew at just the right time when I needed to see a sign of His glory.

Five Minute Friday – Race

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The view from our 10th story apartment

While watching the Chicago marathon from the 10th story of Jenkins Hall, I was inspired.

One of my favorite signs!

But when I went downstairs and came face to face with the thousands of runners, I was overwhelmed. Tears welling up in my eyes and throat, I know I’m an emotional person but it surprised me the wave of feelings that waft over me.

I just imagined being one of those runners and having legions of people cheering me on. Honestly I need that kind of encouragement in my daily walk of mortal life let alone a 27 mile run which will never happen this side of heaven. Hearing someone calling my name, seeing a sign with MY name on it, or a treasured friend or family member, I’ve never done a marathon but seeing the Chicago marathon up close and personal tugged my spirit. We all need a pep squad to help us run physically, emotionally, spiritually. When we’re downtrodden, discouraged, beaten up, don’t we all desperately want someone to say, “Hey, you matter! Go, you! You can doey it!”

It was so awesome how the announcers just randomly picked out names they spotted on the runners’ jerseys and encouraged them! Loved the Moody Mile!

On this blustery fall morning, as we were getting ready to meet Aaron and the other two OS going to Aaron’s new church in downtown Chicago, I witnessed these people, every hue, body type and outfit race past us. I heard praise music filling the streets, everyone was of one accord motivating the runners to keep going. Tears.

The most awesome writing gig on Fridays! Where a beautiful crowd spends five minutes all writing on the same topic and then sharing ‘em over here. Join us!

What got me the most emotional was the encouragement. As the runners jogged by the Moody Mile, they were greeted with cheers, posters and horns. It felt like a New Year’s Eve celebration. The announcer randomly called out names of some of the runners, I saw signs in many languages, what must this have been like to among the crowd? I felt blessed, moved and stirred. Lord, help me run THIS race of life…

Here’s a snippet of the event…

Something NOT to debate about…updated

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I’ve been driving for two days to get to Chicago. I’m exhausted and crabby. Spending two days in an SUV, I can say with great authority, everyone is talking about the debates. I can’t take it anymore. Who’s going to win? What does BHO have to say to the American public? How about WMR, what strategies must he employ to garner the country’s confidence? Blah, blah, blah.

1LT Samuel Van Kopp

As you are listening to the debates tonight (or not), I have a challenge for you. Pray for this guy. According to all sources, including my oldest OS, 1LT Samuel Van Kopp was a gifted orator.

But now this West Point ’10 grad, has been critically wounded. On September 26th, during his tour of duty in Afghanistan, a suicide bomber detonated an explosive-ladened vest. Shrapnel hit Van Kopp in the head.

Frankly, I don’t care what your personal opinions are about the war. Not today. I’m tired and don’t have the patience to argue. We probably agree on many salient points anyway. Considering I have a son who is in the Army and a cousin, an Army Chaplain who just returned from Afghanistan, I’d say my family has a lot of skin in the game. Each time I hear of another casualty or serious injury of someone serving in harm’s way, I sink literally. Part of being a West Point mom is the tragic realization that these things hit very close to home and heart and will get even closer as my 2LT and his buddies set to deploy in the near future.

When I hear of a West Point grad being killed or injured, I always ask Nate, “Do/did you know this person?” His voice is heavy and somber as he replies and sometimes sadly I must offer yet another condolence to my young olive shoot. This time when I asked about Sam, Nate said, “he was a really good debater.”

Lord, please sustain and restore this young man to full function for your glory and honor.

As I listened endlessly to BOTH sides speak about the debates, Sam came to my mind. I sprinkled in a sermon, an audio book, a few songs and a smattering of bickers with my orange hair, freckle face OS too for good measure. But I kept thinking of Sam each time I heard the word “debate.” How about if we all prayed for Sam and his family each time we hear the word “debate” in the coming days? Pray for Sam and his family. His mom is like me. She has three sons! Surgery is planned for Friday at Walter Reed National Military Medical Center in Bethesda, Md., to remove pieces of Van Kopp’s skull from his brain.

God bless you and heal you, Sam. May you feel Jesus’ presence with you at this very moment and be reminded that the God of All Comfort is your Rock, the Great Physician and your ever present help in times of trouble. Amen

For more information about 1LT Van Kopp, click here. Here’s a more current update. Praise the Lord 1LT Van Kopp is improving.

Also, if you are so inclined and have words of encouragement for Sam and his family, send them here…

Get-well cards, starbucks cards (for mom) and letters to for 1 Lt Sam Van Kopp, USMA 2010.
Walter Reed Army Medical Center
8901 Wisconsin Ave
Bethesda, MD 20889 under the address put:
1 Lt Sam Van Kopp, Building 10, Ward 4 East

Five Minute Friday – Grasp

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2/3 of my olive shoots live elsewhere. At 22, my oldest has graduated from West Point and is doing officer training at Fort Benning

Being the mama of a Soldier means I grasp pride – tightly

Nate in a tank. He isn’t deployed yet but he’s still in a tank.

And when he sends me pictures of him in a tank, that word grasp (and gasp) take on a whole new meaning

Jesus, hear my cries for his safety and for all those who serve

The other is 18 and a freshman at Moody Bible Institute in Chicago

He desires to be a bi-vocational pastor

This means that I grasp fear because I see how congregants can be so cruel to a pastor, how we in the pews can quickly judge, how those in leadership can go astray, become arrogant or lazy

And when he boards the train

and heads out to Kedzie each Friday

from about 3-7pm

to work with inner city boys,

he journeys to a part of Chicago where guys of his meager melanin level usually go only to score drugs and get high

That’s when that whole grasp thing is magnified for me as a mom too. Father, extend your protective hand to my/our precious child.

Taking the train in Chicago

Use Nate and Aaron today in their respective lands to do good for your kingdom.

Take their hands through the challenges they will face and the people they will encounter.

Even though they are young men, I know they will allow you and only you to grasp their hands just like I did when they were younger.

And while you’re at it, hold my hand too after all, because I’m their mom.

The coolest writing gig on Fridays! Join us! http://lisajobaker.com

Are you a Soaky McSoaker?

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“The treadmill routine of the week is: washing, baking, ironing, fixing dried fruit, airing clothes, sewing, cleaning, baking and cleaning again. So it goes week after week. Eating and drinking, cooking and cleaning, scrubbing and scouring we go through life; and only lay down our implements at the verge of the gravel!…You bake, and boil, and fry, and stew; worry and toil, just as if the people’s principle business in this world was to learn how much they could eat-and eat it.” Jane G. Swissholm, Letters to Country Girls, 1853.

I love Helen Nearing’s book Simple Food for the Good Life. Filled with recipes and pithy sayings, I selected the above quote from Nearing’s book because it sums up my average day. I try not to find drudgery in homemaking and consider a skill, a privilege and a science. Our world has belittled the career of motherhood and domesticity. Most of us don’t teach these skills to our children and then don’t understand why our kids can’t take care of themselves, eat horribly and have homes in disarray when they are older. My three sons are ages 22, 18 and almost 16 and they know I’m on a mission to change that. They make a mama proud. God gave me three olive shoots for a reason and in general, I like how they’re sprouting up to be competent, Jesus loving, strong men who can also throw down.

But today I want to write about pre-soaking grains and seeds literally. I am a total neophyte in this arena. A caveat, please correct any of the information I am going to share as my desire is to contribute to the discussion. Add to the conversation also, I want to learn.

But first, did you know about 15 years ago, I had a funny flax seed story published in a book? It’s true! I shall soon share. It’s about Nate, brownies and a little bit of trickery on my part.

Do you want to hear a super creepy story in the interim? I had a friend whose boyfriend had his wisdom teeth extracted. He ate pizza a few days post-surgery. A few days after that, the guy went into the bathroom and screamed to his girlfriend to come right away. She rushed right in and there he was mouth agape. He said, “@*&@!!,” pointed and she spotted it. Back where one of the wisdom teeth had once lived, a tiny sprout had grown in its place! Can you imagine what it would have been like to pull a small plant out of a hole in your mouth! I would have Instagrammed it.

If you thought the only time you sprouted a seed was before you planted it or following dental surgery (!), here are some things to know.

Sprouted seeds

Sprouting biologically activates the seed and makes the plant proteins, essential fatty acids, starches and vitamins bio-available.

Flax seeds are hard for our body to digest. They have natural enzyme inhibitors which prevent digestion. There is much to love about flax seeds – their crunch, color, flavor, even tactically, put your hand in a bag of flax seeds before and after you buy them from Whole Foods and you’ll notice their silky texture. Let’s just say I “know” someone who does this. You’d really like her. 😉

Despite a flax seed’s many attributes, though I don’t need a stomach ache. My family will usually try anything I make but if they have a bad reaction or don’t like it, I’m done. They won’t revisit it. Ask them about kale cake. Gigantic epic fail. If you’re sensitive or allergic to certain grains, soak your whole grains beforehand, in a salt brine, anywhere from 7-24 hours and it will probably lessen the symptoms. Oh, and don’t ever make kale cake. Ever.

Use warm water. It coaxes the enzymes out of their little crusty shell. Don’t soak them too long or they will grow bacteria. I think I did this for you, so trust me. Last year I made a batch of granola. I was a Soaky McSoaker and soaked the oats in a mixture of keifer, coconut oil, butter and water. Recipe said overnight but I pushed it a little. This resulted in a granola which brought facial expressions reminiscent of kale cake. I fed the trash can, not the Hubs or my OS that time. Duly noted.

SueGregg.com puts it this way,  pre-soaking, “allows enzymes, lactobacilli and other helpful organisms to not only neutralize the phytic acid, but also to break down complex starches, irritating tannins and difficult-to-digest proteins including gluten.”

Here are some great websites with additional information. I’m giving them mad props for their discoveries and information. They’re not quite as humorous but super helpful.

Passionatehomemaking.com

The Nourishing Gourmet

and in case you’re interested in soap nuts, which are not edible but organic, biodegradable and incredible, 100% natural laundry soap, there’s always

Olive Shoot Institute!

Let’s be Soaky McSoakers, kk?

An American mom wonders about voting

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I have some sincere questions about voting. To me, voting is a privilege and a personal responsibility but I’m really struggling about something. Maybe you can help.

“Voting is a big decision,” Ike contemplates the significance of his choice.

Cue reverse time travel machine…Twelve years ago, I took my three OS with me to vote. Our county had a kids’ voting program which I loved. It was truly adorable to see each of them check off the candidates they wanted to be in public office. Of course at the time, I influenced their decisions. They wanted my opinion which I offered but I also reminded them that it was THEIR vote ultimately. They could check any boxes they liked but just one per political office. Nate, Aaron and Ike were 12, 6 and 4 respectively and it was a big deal. We celebrated the right we ALL had to vote.

Now I have two OS of voting age. As many of you know I have a 2012 West Point graduate who is an officer in the Army. He’s also a comparative politics major. For Nate, politics is the intellectual equivalent of a bowl of slightly melted vanilla ice cream with warmed caramel sauce and sprinkles on top or a massaged kale salad depending on how you roll. I roll both ways sometimes during the same day.

And it will be Aaron’s first time voting as an adult! Not that he is especially excited about either of the presidential candidates but we have long taught our OS that they must vote. It matters. I’ve been on both sides of the political aisle. The Hubs and I have cancelled each other’s votes in the past. (That doesn’t happen anymore, we are both in agreement on most political issues). I wear the “I Voted” sticker all day with pride and have even transferred the sticker to another shirt if I spilled something on the previous shirt just so everyone would know that I had declared my preferences. Dare I say, I have choked back a few tears as I have left polling places, I’m not exaggerating. My grandma worked at the polls for years and instilled in us the importance of voting. She was quite proud of herself and I loved that about her.

I’m just so confused about why we don’t have to show an ID when doing this. The first time I went to vote here in my hometown, I was ready to produce my ID. It took me aback when they told me there was no need. How could that be? Couldn’t someone pretend to be me and just show up and take my “voice” away? In this digital age, it seems easier than ever. If you have to show an ID to board a plane, pick up a prescription, heck, get a Sam’s Club card, why shouldn’t people wishing to vote be required to show a picture ID?

“One day I’m going to West Point and be a comparative politics major and have huge muscles!”

I understand that a homeless person might not be able to vote if s/he didn’t have an ID. That is unfortunate. I want people who have polar opposite opinions to be able to put their voice in the mix. Still though, a homeless person would have to have some kind of identification if s/he needed social services, right? What am I missing? I just don’t get it.

Everyone should be able to vote but it’s baffling how producing a reliable form of ID prohibits a person from doing so. Honestly I see it as the opposite. Using a form of identification allows MY voice to be MINE. Your voice to be yours.

Respectful thoughts most welcome…

One foot forward – update on Nate and then some

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img_20111025_111305Originally published Oct. 25, 2011 –

There’s nothing more annoying than someone stealing your spotlight.

Not to be outdone, my tibia decided it was sick and tired of Nate’s ACL getting all the attention. So yesterday my left leg became encapsulated in an orthopedic boot for the next three weeks and I’m only to walk a total of one-two hours A DAY. That’ll teach Nate and his so-called ACL repair…OY!

Seriously though, my oldest OS is doing so well.

The Hubs went to visit him during a business trip and they bravely went to New York City.

It’s scary enough walking around the Big Apple as an able-bodied person but as you will soon see in this video clip, my OS took on NYC like a BOSS.

I love how the lady by the curb doesn’t even step aside as Nate comes barreling through. Nice. Thank you Mobilegs for making such a great product, your crutches have made such a difference in my son’s recovery.

img_20111009_1132461That awkward Cinderella moment between brothers – the shoe fits!

When Aaron and I were at West Point, I observed brotherly love in a fresh way.

Five years ago, almost to the day, Nate had his first ACL surgery.

Aaron and Ike attended to Nate in the manner fitting of a then 12 and 10-year-old.

One of the post-surgery highlights was when the two guys competed each day to see which brother could collect the most wee-wee from the urinal. Such a proud mommy moment.

Thankfully everyone has matured. My orange haired, freckle face almost 15-year-old stayed behind for driver’s ed but loaded up a box of treats for Nate replete with a funny card. He spoke to him regularly and showed sincere concern.

It was my middle OS that displayed such a servant’s heart, I found myself nearly thankful for Nate’s injury.

When Nate’s surgery was scheduled first thing in the morning, Aaron cheerfully awakened to join me at the hospital.

Anything Nate needed, Aaron offered to help.

Anything I needed, Aaron was equally joyful to do.

Fill Nate’s ice machine, get him fresh water, fluff his pillows, Aaron literally poured himself out to his brother and he was remarkably patient with me.

My boy sacrificed his own Fall break to help Nate and then only three days after getting home from New York, Aaron was the patient. He had wisdom teeth surgery!

It was my middle OS that displayed such a servant’s heart, I found myself nearly thankful for Nate’s injury.

When Nate’s surgery was scheduled first thing in the morning, Aaron cheerfully awakened to join me at the hospital.

Anything Nate needed, Aaron offered to help.

Anything I needed, Aaron was equally joyful to do.

Fill Nate’s ice machine, get him fresh water, fluff his pillows, Aaron literally poured himself out to his brother and he was remarkably patient with me.

My boy sacrificed his own Fall break to help Nate and then only three days after getting home from New York, Aaron was the patient. He had wisdom teeth surgery!

img_20111010_1011532It’s not the best quality picture but I captured a tender moment when it was time to say goodbye.

Of course, the lacrimal glands were activated as I hugged my boy’s neck.

We had such a treasured time together.

There was another WP mom picking up her son by Grant turn-around and she wiped tears from her eyes at the sight. Aaron carried his big brother’s laundry and stuff as Nate crutched back to life at West Point. Yes, I was crying.

But then I really lost it as Aaron accompanied Nate to the barracks.
Nate was limping along on his Mobilegs as Aaron carried Nate’s stuff back to his room.

Two beautiful, godly young men and brothers displaying love and gratitude.

They are there for each other.

They share joy and sorrow, struggles and success.

Neither distance, nor disability of any kind or length, nor differences will separate my three OS from each other. Ever.

Let it be so.

Five Minute Friday – Wide

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I will cherish this moment always

I think most of us have had a few bad church experiences. Some are worse than others. Some people never set a foot in a place of worship again until they’re dead. This must really anguish the Lord. One of my sayings is, “We’ve got to be better than the bar.” I mean, I have got to find more support, love and encouragement in church than if I wore a too short mini-skirt and a too-tight tank top and bellied up to the bar with all my troubles and woes. It’s one of my finest sayings! 🙂 I never hung out much at bars and no one ever came up to give me a drink when I did but getting back to the point, it is so sad when people mess up God’s plans.

So I contemplate the word “wide” on Five Minute Fridays with a sense of trepidation. The word “wide” feels sad to me right now. Deep fissures have erupted in places that mean a lot to me. I don’t want to be too specific but if you know me and there is a pang in your heart as you read this, you have correctly identified one of the “wide” areas in my life. I pray to the Holy Spirit for guidance. Without the Lord, I’m sure to botch things and sadly still stumble even though Christ lives in my heart. I love the idea of how God’s forgiveness is “wide.” I even accidentally made a Guinea Pig Girl Doll to unintentionally demonstrate that. But I prefer closeness in most other aspects of my spiritual, emotional and physical life.

This world is not my home

Many years ago, before I came to know Jesus, Mark and I were attending a church. Mark was on the “Board” at the church and they had monthly meetings. We got a new pastor and he said something one day in a sermon that offended me so much, I told Mark, probably during the service, I had it. I’m never going back to that church again. I didn’t care if he went or if he was on the board, Nate and I would never enter that church again. I meant it. I never did go back though I think I let Mark take our toddler with him a few times. Obviously, this created a lot of strife between the two of us and I never had closure. Eventually Mark left the church. It was awkward, I can’t remember if the pastor wanted to talk to us/me before the final departure. Regardless it never happened. Honestly I’m not sure if the pastor said the same thing now if it would tick me off given where I am with the Lord. I don’t think I made the right decision, I created the rift in a sense.  The Hubs and I needed to be of one accord and we weren’t.

Tabitha who is now living in Nepal reminds me about Psalm 103 “For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his steadfast love toward those who fear him; as far as the east is from the west, so far does he remove our transgressions from us.”

So this is what I pray, “Heavenly Father, could you fill this wide gap over here and the chasm over in this other place? You never disappoint and your ways are always true. Not with the spiritual equivalent of a gin and tonic but with something good and real and true? I pray this not only for myself but for the many I know and love who are also hurting. Amen.”

Thoughts?

The girl with the funky arms

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Karen and her hubs

Karen is packed and ready to go to Nepal today.

Tabitha, an “ambassador” for the Guinea Pig Girl doll collection, is with her which is super exciting.

But Tabs (as her friends like to call her), almost didn’t go and that’s because she has funky arms.

I was piecing Tabitha together and fishing her legs and arms out of the side of her fabric frame

When suddenly I see her funky arms

“CRUD!” I think to myself.

Tess the original Guinea Pig Girl doll and Tabitha spend cherished time together before Tabs goes off to live in Nepal.

She looks double-jointed

Seriously

They are so funky Tabitha could be at a state fair in one of those sideshows

or a performer in Cirque du Soleil

“Wow. Tabitha’s got funky arms,” I mutter to myself.

Sitting there on my couch, fairly disgusted at my lack of sewing prowess, crestfallen.

How can I give her to Karen?

But then I heard God’s whisper as He reminds me of a truth. Karen was just a regular wife and mom and now she’s also an anti-human trafficking agent. Through Tiny Hands International, (please, please click here to read about this incredible organization), my friend will encounter many broken people. Tabitha will fit right in.

And then the Lord assured me, I’m a broken girl too. So is Karen. But we are redeemed, precious in His sight. Blameless. Holy. Pure even. In God’s eyes we are saints in fact which is quite surprising considering I’m quite familiar with my flaws. At times they are more obvious than Tabitha’s two funky fabric arms. So it’s all good.

“Let her go,” God said.

But the Lord wasn’t done with me so I espy Tabitha again.

Karen kindly offers Tabitha a few nights in her house to help transition to life in Nepal. Since they will be traveling together, it might be nice to get to know one another. Good thinking, Karen!

“Daughter, look at her funky arms and remember me.”

For as high as the heavens are above the earth,
so great is his steadfast love toward those who fear him;
as far as the east is from the west,
so far does he remove our transgressions from us.
As a father shows compassion to his children,
so the Lord shows compassion to those who fear him.

Psalm 103:11-13

Now I see this Guinea Pig Girl doll differently. Tabitha’s arms are open wide, really wide for a reason. She and Karen must to go to Nepal. Tabitha’s funky arms might bless a tiny hand. Their plane leaves in just a few hours.

Please pray for those I care about specifically Karen and JD as they are traveling to places far away this week. May their arms and hearts be stretched wide open to offer love and compassion. Let all who encounter these folks find ultimate freedom and redemption only Christ can give.

Thank you, Heavenly Father for teaching me something again today through sewing. I’m no longer embarrassed by Tabitha’s funky arms.