Did I dream that? -- The God of the supernatural

This is a piece of a conversation I recently had with my brother in India. It's mid-conversation so my first sentence doesn't make much sense out of context, but keep reading:

Readers guide:

emiti = "What"

yela =  "How"

dhanyavadalu = "Thank you"

• Jeanette Poteet
  

  
  

  OK, I have so many dreams now that it is hard to know what is reality.

  about 2 nights ago, you came to me in a dream telling me you had discovered a very sickly baby and it's brother or sister.

  I woke up wanting to ask you about it and I had to remind myself many times it was only a dream.

  I even saw emails in my dream, where you emailed me the children's pictures.
• 

  5:02pm
  

  Parimi John Pradeep
  

  
  

  wow glory to God
• 

  5:03pm
  

  Jeanette Poteet
  

  
  

  It was only a dream...
• 

  5:03pm
  

  Parimi John Pradeep
  

  
  

  but you can see them
• 

  5:03pm
  

  Jeanette Poteet
  

  
  

  If you had actually discovered a child like that and not told me, that would be miraculous.

  This is just made up things it seems.
• 

  5:04pm
  

  Parimi John Pradeep
  

  
  

  yes, there is a child

  but i never told about him
• 

  5:04pm
  

  Jeanette Poteet
  

  
  

  emiti?
• 

  5:04pm
  

  Parimi John Pradeep
  

  
  

  and i do not know what is his sickness

  he is 4 years old
• 

  5:05pm
  

  Jeanette Poteet
  

  
  

  does he have a brother or sister?
• 

  5:05pm
  

  Parimi John Pradeep
  

  
  

  yes

  a sister
• 

  5:06pm
  

  Jeanette Poteet
  

  
  

  yela old?
• 

  5:06pm
  

  Parimi John Pradeep
  

  
  

  both of them have no parents

  4 and 6
• 

  5:06pm
  

  Jeanette Poteet
  

  
  

  Where are they then?
• 

  5:07pm
  

  Parimi John Pradeep
  

  
  

  i think her father was died and mother was somewhere working, she is not with children now

  i did not know much about them, but i just heard from one of our pastors
• 

  5:09pm
  

  Jeanette Poteet
  

  
  

  Interesting. So there really are two children..
• 

  5:09pm
  

  Parimi John Pradeep
  

  
  

  when you are telling me about your dream, i am remembering this
• 

  5:10pm
  

  Jeanette Poteet
  

  
  

  When you talk to that pastor again, can you find out how they are being cared for?

  Is it possible to place them in the children's home?

  (if no family is willing to care for them)
• 

  5:10pm
  

  Parimi John Pradeep
  

  
  

  sister, i will see
• 

  5:11pm
  

  Jeanette Poteet
  

  
  

  dhanyavadalu

Thankful for the anti-blessings

I've watched my facebook blow up this month with so many friends, or I guess I should go ahead and add the quotation marks "friends" (because everyone knows no one can have 231 actual friends :)  ) anyway, all of those friends are posting every day in November what they are thankful for.

Completely unconnected, I saw someone else mention how their daughter had won an award, and they mentioned "we are blessed".

The two things came together in my mind and I'll admit that I'm likely going to write the next paragraphs with tears rolling down my cheeks.

Tonight, I'm thankful that my beautiful/wonderful/priceless Bella (a foster child that I had a great honor to love for a short time) is no longer with me. If she were with me still, there is a good chance I would have made different decisions, rather than following this crazy path God has allowed me to travel. I'm thankful for the week of absolute torture she and I went through together. I learned more about Gods love and mercy during that week than at any other time in  my life I believe.

Tonight, I'm thankful for years, horrific year after year after year of debt. If it weren't for those years, I wouldn't have had the pleasure of witnessing Gods miracle of getting me out. That miracle was part of the confirmation I asked of God so I would know that He really was asking me to adopt Precious.

Tonight, I'm thankful for a courtship that didn't work out. I am completely confident that walking away  was God's will for me.

There are more, oh there were more. Just living life for a few years as an adult would leave no doubt of that. But these three are the top, largest most unique failures in my list.

Some of my best blessings in life are the things that didn't work out. The ones that left me in tears, and aching in ways I sometimes didn't think I could breathe through. But like I quoted recently, "I would choose no other life, than the life I have had." (C.S. Lewis - The Last Battle).

There were many roads, some beautiful and promising and full of hope. But they weren't my road. At least, not the road God has chosen for me. The other roads wouldn't have been bad. They just wouldn't have been God's.

If there is one prayer that I hope God will always answer, it's that He will protect me from myself. From the bad decisions, and even the seemingly good ones. And that even the bad decisions He will use to teach me of His faithfulness.

How failure is my biggest success...

In a lot of things, I love failure. Oh, not in the big things like parenting, or loving others, but in simple things, day to day things, I've learned to love failure.

In my failures I've found God to be strong.
In my failures I've found the joy of figuring out the important from the unimportant.
In my failures I've figured out what God has talented me for, and what He hasn't.
In my failures I've learned to try, even though I might fail.
In my failures I've learned that failing isn't the end of the world.
In my failures I've come to see that God isn't affected by my failures.
In my failures I've come to see how God loves me, period, failures and all.
In my failures I've seen, (hindsight being 20/20), how I stepped into directions God didn't want me in at all.
In my failures I've seen how merciful my God can really be.

If that isn't a measure of success, I don't know what is.

I wouldn't let a 2 year old run in the street.

I've never been a good Bible teacher. I'm horrible at remembering verses, or where they are found, and so often I just don't see the amazing connections that other  people find in the Bible.
But here's what I can do - I see, constantly, examples of God in the mundane.
If it's my only talent, it's one I'll keep.

Some of the things I see are so special to me (and possibly only me). Yet, usually, they are utterly simple.

Tonight, I took the girls to the nursing home to visit someone. As I pull 2 yr old Precious out of the car I tell her to "Stay put" then I reach for 1 yr old New Kid. As we start walking towards the nursing home I'm adjusting New Kid in my arms when Michaela reaches out and says "gotta hold my haaaaaaaaaaaaand". She's right. I remind her (though apparently she doesn't need reminders) that anytime we're in the street or a parking lot we need to hold hands so she won't be hurt.

Suddenly, flashing through my mind come all the times I'm willing to let go of her hand, and all the times I require her to hold my hand. If I know it's a safe environment, I let her go and hope that she stays near to me so I don't have to tell her to stay near, or go searching for her.
If we're in a crowded environment, or surrounded by expensive things, or places that are obviously dangerous like the streets/parking lots I guarantee you I'll be holding her hand. I also hold her hand in unusual circumstances that I think she'll be nervous in, so she'll feel more confident.

It was in the middle of those thoughts, I wondered about how often God holds our hands. How we feel so much closer to Him in the middle of trouble (because He's holding our hand), and how we're more likely to stray from Him when things are good (because He's let go of our hand in the safe areas). And how in the safe areas, He too calls us to stay close to Him.

It was poignant to me. Just how clearly it all fit. Precious doesn't want to hold my hand in the safe areas, but those are also the times she's more likely to get into trouble. But trouble/fear is usually what drives her to my side, holding my hand.

If it weren't for valuable troubles, I wonder how fewer Christians there would be in the world.

All these thoughts simply left me wanting to be more childlike, yet as a very obedient child that likes to stay by her Fathers side.
Jesus, Hold my hand.

A month to remember

I drove home tonight, from my brothers house, with my two precious girls. Their smiles, their words, their attempts to do things they're unable to do, their quick words when they're caught doing something they shouldn't - it blows my mind sometimes that I'm a mother. I did nothing typically necessary to become a mother. I simply was a single girl wanting to help children and years later I'm looking into two adorable faces and thinking "wow".

But tonight especially, bringing them home, changing diapers and putting them to bed, I couldn't help but think how things have changed in my home in the last few weeks.

I don't want to freak anyone out now, but I don't believe that you can believe in God without believing also in the devil. I think the Bible is giving a warning when it says in Ephesians 6:12 "For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, and against the worldly governors, the princes of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness, which are in the high places."

It's not pleasant to imagine, and we typically don't talk about an "enemy" anymore, but I believe we have one. And very shortly after meeting our brother in India so we knew exactly where we would be going next year, it seemed like life just completely crashed. So many things were wonderfully joyful and exciting: talking to our new brother, gaining so much insight into the culture, learning the language, and simply talking with a brother, a true brother that was serving God... it was wonderful and like a breath of fresh air in a poorly polluted soul.

But...

Man... like I said, life just crashed. One of the things that happened was that my home became a very difficult place. My daughters began screaming, crying, tantrums like I'd never seen before, actual "blood curdling screams" over simple things like "go get your jacket". It was... insane. I can't even begin to tell you the number of times I said "I think they've lost their minds". I knew I was losing mine. All I could know was that I was a horrible mother, what would India think of me when I show up with these two screaming kids? How are we going to survive whatever behavior issues these are? I'm used to 2 yr old tantrums, but this was a horse of a completely different color. I'd never seen either of them, especially not my oldest, behave this way. 

I'd honestly just chalked it all up to "My kids have lost their minds and I don't know what to do!!" until tonight when I realized that just as quickly as my home had gone crazy, it had been put to rights. We were back to our standard crying jags, and random bouts of poutiness (it's not a word, but it should be) and tons of smiles and obedience. And I thought about other struggles I'd faced in that month as well: within 1 months time (all within meeting our brother in India) our family structure (with not just my family but my brothers family also) had been in jeopardy on two separate occasions. We'd no sooner get over one serious issue than another would appear. Each situation was one I'd never have considered happening in my family. And that's when we realized "Hey, this is an actual attack of the devil."

I'm pretty careful with those words - I don't think every negative thing is an attack of the devil. I think being a Christian (a true Christian that teaches Gods words and not the smooth words that the world is willing to listen to without offence) is going to be rife with struggle. It's just simple fact. Or it should be anyway. But in this, I feel completely convinced that those two events were genuine attacks of an enemy.

When I realized tonight how my home was completely back to normal I couldn't help but think that the past month had been an attack as well. It made me so angry to know that my daughters had been through this horrific month of whatever emotional turmoil they'd been having in order to scream and act out like they had. 

That said, I don't know why things have stopped. I don't know why we're one big happy family again with everything and our family all one happy unit. Except for the grace of God working in our lives. The power of God helping us and delivering us from an enemy who could easily crush us - except for the fact that we are children of a living and mighty God.

I believe in an enemy. But I also believe in a friend, a God, a Lord and Savior who is greater than my enemy. If I didn't have that - moving to India would be too scary, too impossible. But no, my God has proved Himself to be the God of the impossible. I'll remember this past month. But I'll remember it and know that the devil tries to stop and hurt and frustrate those that follow God. So surely, as frustrating as this last month has been - I must be on the right path.

Thankful my last opportunity wasn't my last.

"How was your day today?" I asked. Mildred responded, "Well, not very good. I died today." 

"You died today?"

"Yes"

I turn to look at Mildred, a very old, a very tired, a very lovely woman laying in the fetal position in her nursing home bed. "What makes you think you died today Mildred?"

"Well, I think it, because I'm dying."

3 times a week my daughters and I go to the nursing home to visit this woman with such incredible stories. She's been to all 7 continents and after her children were raised she went back to college and got her Masters degree in business and became a college professor at CSU, her stories range from her neighbors giving her a llama as a child to watching her parents dance in the living room to the radio. She also tells a story about narrowly escaping a major Colorado flood while wearing a square dancing dress and climbing up the side of a mountain for safety - but I'm pretty sure her confused mind made that one up.

For the next hour during our visit all she talked about was her death. Her wishes that people wouldn't bring flowers, her hopes that little children would come to the funeral. Most noticeable was her lack of regrets. She had nothing to say to anyone, no fears that I needed to calm. Nothing. Just a general acceptance that she was dying. Possibly she was too tired to care.

When I asked if she was ready, if she knew that her sins were forgiven, she said something I'll never forget, "I just haven't planned that far ahead."

Tonight, I think I'm more anxious than she is. Seeing her so tired, and so focused on death, I can't help but wonder if she'll be there when I go back. Does she have enough clarity, will God give her enough clarity, for that one last decision she needs to take care of. Did she make that decision long ago and she's just not able to articulate it to me now?

So many think they will wait for that last moment, but watching her and her confusion, I can't help but think how many of us outlive our own minds.The time we think we'll have, isn't guaranteed by any means - even if you don't die suddenly.

Looking back at my own life, it's easy for me to think that so many years were wasted. The years I struggled, the years I doubted God and had only the religious experience of being a person who goes to church, the years I just didn't care. I want to wonder at how different my life would be had I served God with all my heart from the very beginning.

Regrets.

But I can't change the past. And I'm not guaranteed one more second, much less one more day. So tonight, tonight is what I have. So if I really want to serve God, to find some way to bring God glory with my life, I guess I need to do it now. And every "now" for the rest of my life.

Projects and prayers

There was once a time in my life when I wanted the things that I did to matter, but I didn't know how. I didn't know what to do.
I became a foster parent because I knew God was leading towards that. But it's funny how, even though everyone tells you that you're doing a wonderful thing for God, it can be such a selfish enjoyment of loving the children that it doesn't feel like it's for God at all. It wasn't enough to satisfy my longing to give God my everything, my every moment, my every day.
I adopted my girl. My Precious. Again I was told "It's a wonderful thing you're doing." But it only felt wonderful to me, I kept expecting that giving God my everything, my every day, my every moment, would somehow be more difficult.
Now some 11 years later, I'm on my 10th foster child, working on adopting her too, and about to move to India to help with a Children's home, and assist 13 pastors and their wives as they minister to at least 30 area villages.
And again, it's so exciting a thought, right now, that I can hardly imagine that this could be the challenging, fearful life of giving my Jesus everything of me. I keep waiting for it to be hard.
But each step has been the easiest decision of my life, and in every case so far - they have been the most joyful, most poignant, profound, "truly feel like I'm alive" experiences.

So today, in trying to do things that matter, the list is too long. I know things that need to be done but there is just not enough time or money to accomplish them all in one fell swoop.

Project 1 - Sending 100 Bibles in the Telugu language. I eventually want to have placed 3 separate orders for 100 Bibles, but in the interest of getting the Bibles there quickly I need to make small steps. Currently, when pastors go to a village and preach if a new believer asks for a Bible so they could read the scriptures for themselves - none is available, or sometimes only a New Testament.

Project 2 - 15 Sewing Machines. The pastors do not take a 2nd job. They do this so that they are able to daily minister to congregation(s) - often it is plural because each is usually responsible for more than one villages church since there are more villages than pastors. Their churches are NOT run like ours!!! They sometimes have 3-5 services a week, plus random "memorials" (a prayer meeting with a short sermon) if someone in the congregation wants to hold a memorial for someone on the anniversary of their death. They do many other things as well, including street preaching and hospital visitation. Since the pastors do not take a 2nd job, they live solely off the tithes that come in. In the small villages of poverty stricken India - often that means the pastors could live off as little as $80-$100 a month. The sewing machines will be for their wives to be able to sew clothes and earn a bit of extra money for their family.

Project 3 - Esther. She's a young girl living in the children's home. Loves to sing and has a beautiful heart. She is very nearly blind, with only about 20% of her vision. She needs a surgery (which we think will cost around $500). It won't fix her completely, but it will take her from nearly blind, to about 60% seeing, which, considering the hardships she will already be facing trying to live and support herself (I don't even see how she can??) in India, this is very important. So this surgery is necessary, and the sooner the better, to help her get her education and better herself as much as she can.

There are many other projects that don't have fully formed plans yet. There is land needed to be able to plant crops so that the children's home could be a bit more self-sustaining. There is a need to help the children once they've finished their basic education to hopefully move into higher education so they can move beyond the hunger and poverty they have grown up in. There is a need to provide certain village families with seeds or sheep/goats or a buffalo to help them be able to meet their most basic physical needs with a small business. There is also a need for teachers to teach the children in the children's home so they will receive a good education without trials - currently, since these children are of a low caste considered "untouchable" when they go to school they are made to sit separate from the other children and are not even allowed to drink water from the barrel the other children drink from (sound familiar to anyone out there?).

And I'm only getting started.

There are so many needs that prioritizing has become necessary. Before, I prayed to know how to spend my life, my time, my money, desiring earnestly to give them all to God. Now I have more needs than there is of myself to expend. I would feel overwhelmed, but I can only imagine that this just means God will make more of me than I imagined.

Tonight, as I posted yet another item onto Craigslist, I typed out the poem written on a blanket I was selling. The last stanza reads:

Oh Lord, I ask for guidance
In everything I do,
And pray You'll make my music
An instrument for you.
(R.K. Cecil)

It hit home tonight how God has been answering this prayer for the last several years in ways I never imagined. Events that only time could show the outcomes, leave me looking back in amazement. And while my music has slowly faded, with little opportunity to play anymore, I've changed the words
"my music" out for "my life".

I pray You'll make my life
An instrument for You.

God bless,

The story of how a debt was purchased.

The story came to us on a Sunday night.

My brothers family and I all gathered around Skype and watched as Pastor John showed us the beginning of the construction of bathrooms and a kitchen for the children's home. The children's home had long since been built, but only now was there enough money to build bathrooms and the kitchen. So we watched as the children smiled at us, and some man I don't know, in a country I've never been to, dug in the ground to begin the work.

As the children smiled at us, one child was specifically introduced. His name is Prasad. He is 10 years old, thin, and his already brown hair looked dusty. His arms were hanging straight down, but crossed together in front of him as though he just couldn't help but be shy now that the camera was pointed at him. Exactly as you see him pictured again on your right. He smiled. And ohh what a smile it was. A beautiful smile with white teeth showing, and eyes that will one day melt the heart of his very blessed wife.

And Pastor John explained for him. All the children are about to go to school - except him. A year ago Prasad's mother had died. His last remaining parent. He had only his grandparents who couldn't care for him and so they sent him to live in Pastor John's children's home. They also could not afford the funeral for the mother though. So they went to a rich man in their village and took a loan.

1 year later, the rich man comes to them and they still cannot pay back the loan. So they gave Prasad to him. He lives at the children's home, but for the past 20 days, instead of going to school, he had been working for this rich man. His job? He is a buffalo shepherd.

Through my mind rolls my one time seeing a buffalo. I was in a minivan with 2 other adults and leaving our campground in South Dakota. The buffalo was rolling in the dirt next to the stop sign, giving us a fantastic view. I was well aware he had the power to decide to mess up my van, us, and anything else he got it into his head to mess up. I was awed, and a little afraid.

Yet here was this 10 yr old charming boy... an unwilling, debt-paying, buffalo shepherd.

It helps only slightly that once I googled "Indian buffalo" I found out that theirs are not as intense looking as ours, but I still wouldn't particularly want to make one angry with me.

The saddest part is the debt. This great debt that kept this boy from his education? It was 7000 rupees. Approximately $115 US Dollars.

I talked to Pastor John and ask him to make the child free.

So what does it take to make a child free?

He had to talk to the rich man, who demands an extra 1000 rupees for the loss of his help.
He had to fill out legal papers so he was essentially buying the loan, so that the grandparents are now indebted to him - this protects Prasad from being sent to work off any other debts the grandparents might decide to take on.
Then he takes pictures, beautiful pictures of a smiling face. A charming boy who looks very happy. It's been 25 days, and on Monday, Monday this child will become a child again. Not a buffalo shepherd, not someone paying his family debts, just a child. A child who needed parents to protect him.

It's been so profound thinking about this child. I've been using the word "redeem", and Pastor John used the word "deliver". But whether Prasad was redeemed or delivered, the significance doesn't change. He could do nothing to help himself. His life was not his own to live. But then he was redeemed.

He can only know that someone paid his debt for him. Someone took that debt.

Sounds like another story I've heard...

 For he hath made him to be sin for us, which knew no sin, that we should be made the righteousness of God in him. 2 Corinthians 5:21

God has redeemed us. He has delivered us. He has set us free.

Prasad says "Thank you." He's the one way in the back, blue shirt, big grin.

How do you give God your life?

I've heard all my life that I need to "Give God my life". And I would say "Yes, that's something I'd like to do." but how on earth do I do it?

Can I just say "God, here's my life?"

It is, in a sense, just that easy. The problem is when you say that and then you sit down to watch something Jesus wouldn't watch. Or you go participate in an activity He would hate.

Unfortunately, when we offer our lives, we seem to immediately forget the idea of "No take-backs!"

For many years I desperately wanted to be used by God. I looked into several things I thought He would like, and nothing came of them. I did other things and they succeeded, just not nearly as quickly as I would have. Other things, happened quicker than I expected and took me completely by surprise.

Overall, I vehemently objected to anything that looked like "doing nothing".

And I made a lot of mistakes.

This past year, deciding on India has been the easiest decision I've ever had someone else make for me.

I knew I was going somewhere.. but not where.

I prayed God would show me where.

God had the words India come out of my mouth.

I prayed if India was it, He'd confirm it.

God confirmed it, but we didn't know where in India.

We started praying for an exact location in India, God gave us "Pastor John"

Who is not only going to be our exact destination, but the help we never imagined in order to make it there.

In all this time there was no rushing, not anxiety as to "what am I going to decide to do for God" just a simple "wait... God will tell me."

All I had to do was be still, be quiet, and listen.

I play the piano with my 2 1/2 yr old Precious. She sticks out her pointy finger and I cover her hand and finger with my own, and we play a song together. It never starts out easily. She's always too excited to be playing. She yanks her hand from me sometimes to pound the keys, she'll keep control of her hand and while I"m trying to move it her hand is stiff because she's trying to hit another note instead of moving on, sometimes she just wants to use her whole hand instead of the one finger I'm intending to control.

It usually takes a couple of attempts before she finally settles down from the excitement that has her yanking around, and allows me to simply "have" her hand and her finger. And we play. That's when her sweet voice almost always announces "I'm playing a song mommy!" 

She doesn't say that while we struggle. Even though we're hitting notes and mangling our way through a song... she doesn't ever say "I'm playing a song" until she's given over her hand. Not until the melody becomes sweeter as she allows me to play through her tiny little finger.

I learn so much from watching my children. God is not like me. His love is different, His thoughts are different, His ways are MUCH different. But I still think I get a glimpse of Him, and of how to be a good child of God, by watching my daughters.

I recorded the following video several days ago, almost immediately thinking about how to write this post. It wasn't until a bit later that I realized the significance of the specific song that we ended up playing.

You want to give your life to Jesus? Say the words "All to Jesus I surrender. All to Him I freely give. I will ever love and trust Him; In His presence daily live."

And mean it.

But be aware, that "all" means, well, it means ALL: Children, family, time, energy, love, hopes, dreams, hobbies, money, pride, peoples good opinions, and so much more.

But when you let go, and you simply rest in His presence, confident that He will open the door to the next destination, decision, direction that He wants you in and that all you'll have to do is listen to Him in order to find it? Let me tell you friends, it's a pretty sweet spot to be in. And you find that the important things you put 2nd to God, only get better, richer, sweeter, happier. And you'll also find that the unimportant things tend to just fade away. And life becomes more full and wonderful than ever before.

Surely I should be more miserable.

188 days till I move to India and life changes dramatically. 

I'm giving up my house. It has a backyard, paid water, and low rent for the neighborhood and quality of house.
I'm giving up my BBQ grill, my piano (again!) the couch God gave me 12 years ago and my big fluffy brown chair.
I'm giving up my pictures on the wall, the few pieces of art I've really enjoyed through the years, the poster I designed that a friend I worked with 2 years ago had HER friend make for me out of sermon notes.
I'm giving up the picture of the man standing in the rain with the words "HOPE CAN SET YOU FREE". I've had that picture over 15 years, and small children ripped the bottom of it so I had to cut the letters out and glue them to make the picture what it looks like today. I'm not artistic, so this picture always makes me proud I can do something and not have it turn out looking like a pre-school project. I also like that it makes me see hope every time I look at it.

I'm giving up my country. America. Where I can hop into my minivan (that I'm also giving up) and buy a hamburger anytime I want, 24  hours a day, 7 days a week. I'm giving up knowing the language and culture around me. I'm giving up knowing what's expected of me and how to not offend people. I'm giving up knowing what is good manners and what is bad manners. I'm giving up the freezer aisle at Wal-mart.

I'm giving up my city that sprays for mosquitoes.

And I could be wrong, but I'm pretty well sure I'm giving up warm, buttery, yeast rolls.

And a few people have told me how hard it will be, that I don't know what I'm doing, that I'm not doing right by my children because of this, or that I'm such a good person for being willing to go. I've been told I shouldn't be going without the backing of an organization, and that odds say I will fail at what I attempt without the training an organization would have required.

The odds are even good that I won't be able to afford the plane ticket home if I did fail.

It seems like the situation couldn't get more dire.

Except...

It's not.

It's not dire at all.

It's so far the opposite of dire that I could fill the next  2 paragraphs with different adjectives describing how "undire" it truly is. And yes, I know undire is not a word.
Boundlessly wonderful - those are real words. It's boundlessly wonderful.

The things I'm walking away from are so small compared to the joy that is waiting for me. A family, a family of Christians. A family of Christians that LOVE each other like no one I know loves people. They actually are concerned if you're unhappy. Whether happy, sad, sick or healthy - when they ask "Yela Vunnaru?" (How are you?) They actually want to know the answer.

I have the profound honor and joy to be asked by God to go somewhere. I'm so excited at the people, the children, the culture, the joy...

A cause.
A purpose.
Used for Christ.
Sheesh, I might even be living in a palace. (The house our friend in India has found that he is wanting us to take is... beyond our imagination.)

I'm breathless. When I stop and think about the future, it takes my breath, my eyes fill with tears, and I wonder how it's possible to be so very happy. Our countdown is at 189 days right now. 189 days till we go. It seems so long.

I am so thankful to live this life. To be able to walk THIS walk. I've written in this blog for many years now, and many many changes have come since the start. But when I started this blog, I never imagined what God could have in store.

It reminds me strongly of a song we used to sing in church that says "No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has known what God has in store."

I feel like I must be living someone elses life. This is too good. I know the person I once was. Goodness, I know the person I am now. No way am I good enough, smart enough, loving enough, Christian enough to have God send me to these wonderful people. Me Lord? Surely God is only proving His loving kindness and mercies.

Which brings me to the title of this article - I'm not miserable enough. I thought when I gave God my whole life, and He sent me off to some foreign place... surely I'm supposed to be sad, distraught, challenged, fearful, worried. Surely, I like Jonah, am supposed to run in the other direction. It seems I would feel more "Christian" if I didn't want to go but did so as a great "sacrifice" for my King. I feel utterly selfish and as though I am tricking people by doing something they think is so...hard... when I'm so utterly happy about it. So over my heels with happiness, and joy, and as a enthralled child being told that her Father wants her to go to Disneyland.

If this is giving your life to Christ - by goodness - every single person I know that has not done this is an idiot. Give it to Him. Give Him your every day, every moment, your rest of your life, your school plans, your dreams, your hobbies, your bedroom furniture. Whatever it is.. give it. He takes it, makes something mind-blowingly wonderful and leaves you astounded.

At least that's what He did for me.
I am so thankful for Jesus.

My daughter loves me.

Precious is two years old now. She is... a bundle of personality, and hair, and a vocabulary that sometimes leaves me wondering what on earth she might say next.

She's also in that little section of life that some mothers might call the "terrible two's". I'm trying to not use that word around here much.

But.. um.. wow... she's...possibly losing her mind.

I love her dearly, and wish I could figure out what all is going through her head when she looks me dead in the eye and begins screaming bloody murder because I asked her to take off her shoes, or sit down, or go to the car. 

I've tried every cure I know. I've time-outed, I've given her a small swat or a pinch on the leg, I've even tried ignoring it, I've also tried the screaming "YOU WILL NOT DO THAT AGAIN YOUNG LADY!!!" that I never thought I'd do. Still.. the insanity continues. Sometimes it's stubborn willfulness. Other times, there's legitimately something causing a problem for her. Sometimes it's because the light is off and she's scared of the dark, or.. of course, she's scared of the snow and doesn't want to walk to the car by herself (I didn't say the legitimate reason was rational). But sometimes there's something...

Meanwhile, I'm the crazy mom. The one who starts on with the "You're about to die" voice that tells her the behavior is inappropriate. I'm the one who puts her in timeout until she thinks she'll die in the corner. I'm the one who refused to give her another food of any sort until she finished her broccoli.

I'm also the mom she loves.

I've realized something about that.. it's not about her making a decision to trust me. It's not about her being okay with all of my choices while I stumble through this thing called "motherhood". She just loves me.While we both lose our minds. 

I love her too, but I was the guaranteed love. Hers is the one I always wonder about if I've "earned" it.... but while I've failed hundreds of thousands of times in her short lifespan, I'm the one who loves her most on this earth. I'm hers. And she loves me.

So for all my failures, my love her for is what sticks. That's the part that sinks into her little skull in a way that "Don't poke your sister in the eye" doesn't. For the billion and one lessons I show her each day, the lesson she learns best is the hug in the morning, the kisses and tickles at nap time, and the countless squeezes all through the day.

Being loved is enough to change your life. To change your heart.

All that to say that tonight the words are ringing in my heart:

"Oh how I love Jesus

Oh how I love Jesus

Oh how I love Jesus

Because He first loved me."

When God says move you move.

It has been a long time since I last posted.
And there is so much to write to update this blog on what I've been doing.

It's now October 11th. I'm still as unemployed as I was the last time I wrote. Somehow, all this time, God has provided money for us - despite the fact that two different people that owe me money each month have failed to pay me. EVER. My God is so good.

But here, is the true story that I want to tell

When we moved to Colorado, I felt very confident that we were not here to stay. I didn't even entertain the idea. This was short term.
Months went by and I continuously felt the urging that we would be going to a foreign country.
The main countries that we had contacts with were Uganda, and Haiti, and I was also interested in Liberia. But for some reason, none of those ever felt right. I sat back and just waited. I knew when God was ready to tell me where to go - He would.

Then one day I was talking to myself and I heard myself say that if Jennifer (a friend I have witnessed to -a lot - didn't get saved, she wouldn't be able to go with me to India.

I stopped - what??? India?

I knew nothing of India.

A month or so later, it happened again. Out of nowhere, India came out of my mouth.
Ok God - if it's India it's India.

I'm moving to India?

But God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise; and God hath chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things which are mighty; (1 Cor 1:27)

So on June 27th I emailed my brother. And I said, other than the countries we've been talking about, has any other country come to your mind?
Nothing had that he had recognized as a future destination.
Then, on July 7th, both our families sitting around the oblong tables of Pizza Hut, he leaned forward and said "Hey, do you know David I*****? He's been posting on Facebook that he's needing workers to come to India and help him."
My heart stopped for just a moment. Is this for real?
I explained that India, was the country I had been asking him to confirm just a week or so before.
Next, I emailed a trusted former pastor of mine. I told him my story and said "I don't know anything for sure, but please pray." The next weekend he kept trying to call and we constantly missed each other. I almost emailed him to make sure he knew that everything was ok and I was not planning on shipping off to India next week, but something kept stopping me. In my mind I kept laughing at the idea that was stuck in my mind "No.. he needs to call me because he's going to call me back and tell me that he knows someone going to India".
Then finally his call came through. I waited for the words...
Sure enough. He tells me that just a week or so ago a family friend come to his church and she spoke about her upcoming trip to India.

Next, I went to a Christian bookstore and rented a movie called "This Is Our Time". It's a movie about 4 college students graduating and searching for Gods purpose in their lives. I sat and wept as I watched 2 of the people sit down and tell their friends that God was calling them to India.
It was hard to breathe.
Could this really be true?

I'm moving to India?

And base things of the world, and things which are despised, hath God chosen, yea, and things which are not, to bring to nought things that are: (1 Corinthians 1:28)

I'm Jeanette...crazy girl... pastors daughter...someone who fails...A LOT... no way God would bother calling someone like ME to another country of all places. Right?
Wrong.

I'm moving to India.

That no flesh should glory in his presence. (1 Corinthians 1:29)

So we all started making plans. It's a big country.. where to go? So we aimed toward Chennai and started planning. All the while, I kept praying for the next step of direction. We need someone to work with. We need someone in India. We need someone to help us. I didn't want to just "go to Chennai" because I had no other idea where to go. Where Lord?

I went to a website, and I searched for people in India. I found a man who said he lived in India and loved the Lord. I sent him a message and said I was looking for someone that could answer a few questions about India and moving and the culture there.

What I got was above and beyond my wildest expectation. The man was a leader of about 20 churches, with only 10 pastors. He is the coordinator/originator of a children's home that currently has 18 children in it. He's been praying for help for many years.

He's also spent the last month teaching us the language (Telugu), he's answered hundreds of questions about the pastors, culture, customs, clothing, food, church, and so much more.
He's worked incredibly hard to help us Skype our way into participating in 2 of his pastors meetings.

Tonight, before laying my daughter into bed, I held her in my arms and rocked her. We sang our ABC's, Twinkle Twinkle, and then a children's song in Telugu. It was heart stopping to me how my life was about to change.

I'm moving to India. 

But of him are ye in Christ Jesus, who of God is made unto us wisdom, and righteousness, and sanctification, and redemption: (1 Corinthians 1:30)

I'm going to encourage people that need to be encouraged. I'm going to help those that need help. I'm going to love people who, from what I've seen so far, know how to love better than anyone else I've ever met. I'm giving away, selling away, discarding all of my worldly goods (Except for about 3 suitcases full) and I am going to gain something so profoundly valuable. Another family. A large family that loves God and lives out their faith in the truest sense of dying to themselves every single day.

 I wish that you could hear them speak. I wish you could listen to their blessings and prayers. I wish you could know how my heart catches to know that their every celebration is filled with prayer. I wish you could know the encouragement it is to see pastors, living on so little, yet serving God with all their hearts every single day.

I'm moving to India!

That, according as it is written, He that glorieth, let him glory in the Lord.(1 Corinthians 1:31)

I offered my life to my God, and He has accepted it. I will never be the same.

What a good blueberry has to do with Jesus Christ.

Years ago someone told me that this particular company had frozen blueberries that were simply delicious. I love fruit, and had somehow never tried a blueberry before so I went to the store and purchased these "best blueberries" I'd been assured of. I took them home, let them thaw for a short time and then tossed one in my mouth expecting glorious, delectable, blueberry juice from heaven.

Instead, I frowned, made a face, and decided to let it thaw some more in case that was the problem.

It wasn't.

Over the years since then, I've tried several more times. I see them in the grocery store, so expensive - which surely means they taste better than most fruit right? So gloriously blue - which surely means they're perfectly ripened, right? And so utterly good for you - which... well, that part might explain the bad taste. :)

I do still enjoy blueberry "things". Blueberry-Grape juice is terrific, and I've recently learned how to make blueberry muffins from scratch with fresh blueberries - Delicious. But, I'd rather eat my fruits in their most natural form as much as possible thank you.

But, since I can use blueberries for other things I recently found myself with nearly 5 lbs of blueberries (nothing like a good sale, and friends that think of you when they see sales too!), and I, once again, popped a "nasty" blueberry in my mouth just-to-see. Only this time I was completely surprised.

The nasty tart flavor I'd come to expect was completely replaced by a strong, bold, but sweet and very satisfying blueberry flavor. It was a strong flavor, but man...sweet and delicious. And I have to tell you, I was absolutely surprised and I said "THIS? THIS is what a blueberry should taste like?" I wish I had known all along the real flavor of a blueberry!!

And, as someone who has just recently faced some pretty bitter church experiences, my mind immediately put the two pieces together.

I've been to so many churches and walked out with that "nasty tart" taste in my mouth. Passionless churches with no joy or excitement for Christ. Crazy "show" churches with lights and blaring rock music, people jumping and bouncing but I can't hear myself think, much less hear Christ speaking to me, or even the words to the song. Churches that preach a doctrine but when anyone questions it they're persecuted, and anyone who supports the questioner are not welcome in the church either. Churches that teach you how to live your "Best life now", or how God wants to prosper you with blessings if you'll only give your money to this church. Churches that teach that you're worthy of Gods love - not that you were a sinful wretch and how great is the love of Christ. Churches that focus in on marital issues, divorce, get togethers, singles, grief, drug/alcohol recovery and teaching our kids to be friendly and color within the lines.

Every day people are walking up to those "Christians", every Sunday they are walking into those "Churches" and walking out going "Oh, so that's what Christ is like... I guess I don't like Him after all."

Instead of tasting the bold,amazing flavor, the sweetness and stain your fingers goodness of a true, fully ripened and mature "Church".
A true Christ-flavored Church is one that the experiences with it change your every single daily life. One that convicts you of sin, but also offers you the blood of Jesus Christ as supernatural power to overcome that sin instead of asking you to "fix yourself." A church that gets in your business and says "Hey, what you're doing is sin..." A church that offends you by making sure you understand that sinners do indeed go to hell, and refuses to preach your uncle so-n-so into heaven when he dies. A church that grabs a book like Jeremiah and asks it's people to search their hearts for the idolatry that has been happening in their own homes by love for children, tv, food, self, that has surpassed our love for Jesus. A church that ignores the 10% and boldly, and excitedly says "JESUS WANTS IT ALL" and surrounds you with people desperately asking God to help them give it all. A church that tells you how a life with Christ brings persecution and offense to most of your friends, but it also brings life changing joy and peace, access to the Father and a closeness with a God that is so vast and incomprehensible, yet simple enough that a child can understand and embrace.

You walk out of that church, healthier, challenged, and thinking "Wow, is that what Christ is like? Gimme some more!"

I haven't found any good churches yet, but I've still tasted enough of Jesus Christ to know that He is good. And I want some more.

I'll never look at a blueberry the same way again.

The God who gives us Sweet Peas

Tonight I pulled out my "mom knows best" card. Of course, I'm just like most mothers and I'm not nearly certain I'm not traumatizing my kid, instead of doing "what's best" but I pretend I'm confident.

So as I handed my newly turned 1 yr old ONE small, round, sweet pea and she turned her up nose at me, I rolled up my sleeves.  Screaming and doing her best to twist her head away from me, I managed to get that ONE small pea into her mouth. She promptly spit it right back out and, my hands dripping with spit and drool, mom and baby engaged in hand to mouth combat.

Finally, showing me with her red face how angry she was with me, the pea was down her little gullet. I, because I tend to be overly optimistic and stupid, put 5 or 6 more peas on her plate while I slowly ripped apart a piece of bread into little bites for her.

This child, who had so adamantly informed me that she DID NOT LIKE NASTY SWEET PEAS ANYMORE NO NO NO NO NO, immediately went at the peas. The peas. She happily started eating the peas. Ignored the bread. And she loves bread. But no, she  wanted peas.

I knew she liked sweet peas, because she'd been eating the mashed up jar food for a while now. But she didn't seem to know the small round things I was handing her was the better version of what she'd been eating.

And after swallowing back the guilt that I was traumatizing her by not letting her just say "Mom, I don't want a sweet pea, thanks." there was something very profound to me as this little angry face became a smiley face once again and sat there happily eating her peas.

How many times has God dished something out to me that I just didn't think I wanted? How many times did I cry and pray that God would take something away from me. NO God, I don't want to move away from my family since mom's Alzheimer's is getting worse. NO God, I don't want to quit my  job! NO God, I can't afford to give that kind of money away.

And yet, after He insists, here I sit with two precious babies, unemployed and deliriously happy. Eating my peas.

So many times it's easy to forget "Father". But as I continue to mush around in this role called "Momma" I see the Father at work in my own life; past and present. Watching my own happy, goofy, tearful, angry, crying, stubborn girls - I see myself. Messy and in need of discipline before the only Father who can bring out in me the end product that only He can see.

God is so good.

Fear, Faith, and the Vacuum Cleaner

38 days I've been unemployed.

We are still thriving and have food on the table, and more than enough.

My minds eye wanders down the road 4-5 months or so though and wonders what is happening then; but right now I'm doing my best to simply focus on the fact that God has already worked so many little miracles for us that it's hard to believe.

One of those miracles just happens to be my upcoming move. We will be moving to another home next month. One larger, with a garage and backyard (which we don't have now) and amazingly enough it's less rent than what I'm paying now. So next month will be occupied with moving about. I'm thankful and confident that this is just one more way in which my Savior and King is providing and responding to my daily needs.

Which brings me to something that seriously caught my attention tonight. I love finding God in the unusual or the things that don't seem to have anything to do with God at all. and tonight, as I vacuumed my house I couldn't help but be struck by something my soon-to-be-daughter did.

My "New Kid" is now 10 months old. Precious is 2. Precious wanders around the house while I vacuum. She follows me and alternates between holding her ears and picking up the cord to hold it. New Kid is a completely different story. She screams. Screams in utter, ear splitting, I can't breathe, I'm panting and quaking in terror and I'm utterly completely terrified.

I've tried multiple things to help, sequestering her in another room, holding her, nothing really works. And holding her tends to slow me down which just makes the whole, apparently terrifying, process take longer, so I leave her alone and just vacuum as quickly as I can.

Can you imagine what she does as I vacuum? I can't even describe the screams.. it's far different from her typical cry. It's a special gut shaking cry that only comes out for the vacuum cleaner. But while she screams.... she gets as close to the vacuum as she possibly can. Why? Because that's where I am.

I still don't understand it. In logic I'm telling her to go hide by the couch, I'll be done soon...and she's so completely consumed with just being as close to me as she possibly can that half the time I'm trying not to run over fingers and toes with the vacuum - which certainly wouldn't help abate this fear.

It takes awhile to vacuum the whole house so by the time I was finished I was utterly gripped by her approach to the terror. And as I contemplated it I could only think of how as illogical it was, yet if she knew her only hope, her only faith was in me eventually making this awful moment end and picking her up she was going to be right there at my feet, possibly clutching my leg when I was ready.

Sitting here, eyes welling up with the implications of it all, I know I haven't truly earned that trust. She hasn't even been here 3 months yet. Yet her only hope, her only confidence was in me.

In the last years Jesus Christ has earned that confidence from me.

If I'm going to crash and burn in this unemployment thing, I'm going to do it as close to His feet as possible because I understand math. And $0 - $1200 doesn't get my rent paid, my kids fed, and my water running. My only hope, my only confidence is in Jesus Christ. He is able.