Miraculous Relationships

This has been one of those weeks where running away would be the easiest thing to do.  I've already discussed my propensity to "flight" here, so I won't go into detail.  I like change.  I like adventure.  I like to be mobile, transient, if you will.  It's a good thing God gives me the opportunity to be new each day, right?

“That is why we never give up. Though our bodies are dying, our spirits are being renewed every day.  For our present troubles are small and won’t last very long. Yet they produce for us a glory that vastly outweighs them and will last forever!  So we don’t look at the troubles we can see now; rather, we fix our gaze on things that cannot be seen. For the things we see now will soon be gone, but the things we cannot see will last forever.”  2 Corinthians 4:16-18

Jesus is always bringing me back to Himself.  He sweetly draws me in and then brings me to a place of stillness and peace.  He has this way of sending me little love gifts throughout each day.  This week my gifts came in the form of "former youth kids."  I put that phrase in quotes because proximity to my kids doesn't seem to matter.  He reminded of some miraculous relationships and I want to share about how they came about because I'm so thankful for the ways He continually affirms my role in ministry.

In 2009 when I came back from Uganda, I was asked to help out with the youth from what I used to call my home church.  It had been many years since I attended regularly.  (After college I took a job in a church about 15 miles from my home church, so it wasn't until I got back to the States years later that I decided to attend that church again.)  The first evening of youth group that I went to was so intimidating.  I had been gone from that place for so long that I hardly knew any of the leadership and all of the kids were new to me.  I was about 10 years older than the seniors which means even when I did attend before graduating high school, all of those kids would have been 8.  I would have had no interactions with them at all.  It was decided that I would direct the youth worship team.  So the first kids that I really connected with were the ones who wanted to be on the team.  As we studied the Word together and practiced our music, we became a tight-knit group.  Through that group of kids I was able to start connecting with many of the others.  The seniors that year became the group that I spent most of my time with.  There was one girl in particular who seemed to keep me, and nearly everyone else at a distance.  (Btw, I know she'll read this and if she disagrees with anything, I'll fix it.)

God has gifted me in relationship building and I knew He was asking me to connect with her.  One day, on a whim, I decided to take the train into the city to wander around.  I texted this girl, not expecting a positive response since we'd only hung out in groups prior to that, but before I knew it I was picking her up and we were heading to the train station.  That day changed everything.  Something clicked, God moved, and we connected.  We spent the next 6 months or so hanging out, sitting outside the church chatting and getting eaten alive by mosquitoes until 1 in the morning.  It was clearly a God-ordained relationship.  God had brought me back to that church for just that time to be with those specific people.  I've seen those kids struggle and fall away and I've seen them grow and make great strides.  

The miraculous part of this all is the very little time I've actually spent with them.  I was only there for about 16 months before leaving to go back to Africa.  In the grand scheme of things, 16 months is incredibly short.  (Also in that time many of them left for college, so our time together was even less.)  In those short months, God built some incredible relationships.  So much so that two of those kids came and spent 3 weeks with me in Uganda.  It's amazing to me, not only that they wanted to come hang out with me, but also that their parents had so much trust in me.  We're talking two 19-year-olds traveling 9,000 miles, alone, to Africa.  (There is NO way my parents would have let me do that when I was their age.  They had a hard enough time with it when I was 27.)  AND when they got to Uganda, one of them had requested that we be reading through the New Testament while they were there.  Um, what?  Yes, please!  It was an amazing 3 weeks and such a privilege to show them the place I love so dearly.

But wait, there's more.  When I got back to the States again, I was only in Chicago for 6 months before I moved here.  In those 6 months, God opened even more doors and added to those relationships.  There were a few newer girls who had come on the winter retreat with us right before I left the year before who were now a huge part of the group.  They just kind of fit right in.  One day one of them sent me a text asking if we could grab lunch and talk.  I didn't know her very well at all, but I knew that God was going to do something with our meeting.  I remember praying for the Spirit to lead our conversation as I drove to meet her that day.  I'm glad I prayed... she was seeking some very serious counsel and for some reason God had led her to me.  We talked things through, we probably prayed together too, and then we were one our way.  

As I quickly approach two years here, I realize that I really and truly have not been around those kids hardly at all.  Of course I've seen them every single time I've gone home and we've kept up via facebook and skype, but even those times are few and far between with most of them.  That same sweet girl just asked me to formally mentor her.  Again... um, what?!  Of course!  

So my gifts this week as I struggled along were each of these kids.  I had my first mentoring session via skype with the one student.  What an amazing honor and responsibility to be asked and trusted to mentor this sweet girl.  We even reflected a bit on how God ordained this new aspect of our relationship because logically, it just doesn't make sense.  Only God could have made it so based on our lack of time together and and the fact that we really don't know one another well at all.  Then a day later I got to chat on the phone with one of the ones who came to visit me in Uganda.  I haven't been great at keeping in touch with him and he's more of a "here and now" type of kid, but it was so refreshing to chat with him and hear about his life.  We even talked about him coming out here for a visit, which would be a huge blessing.  Seriously, the fact that he'd be willing to fly out here speaks loudly of God's workmanship in that relationship.  And last, but far from least, is a skype session with the first student I mentioned.  She is also one that came to Uganda.  She's been out here for a visit already and another one is in the works.  Amazing.  Thanks, Jesus.

These interactions have been beautiful reminders of the fruits of my labors.  They have encouraged me to keep going when I just want to run away.  What a cool way for the Father to show me that the work He's called me to is never ending and I need to keep pressing on.  The best part is that it's not only been reminders from "former kids," but from current kids as well.  I've seen so much trust from my students and their parents this week.  That's what keeps me going.  These students matter to me.  Their hearts and souls matter to me.  Their lives outside of the church matter to me.  All because Jesus says they matter.

I've been so privileged to interact with so many different people from all over the world and "here and now" is no different.  The evil one will keep trying to hinder... he'll even bring me to the point of wanting to run, but Jesus is relentless.  He will not let up.  The ministry that He's given me will move forward in His name and for His Kingdom's sake.  I will keep working to set myself aside and allow His light to shine.  

"He must become greater, I must become less."  John 3:30.  That is my prayer tonight.

Surgery and The Least of These

When I last left you, I was stuck in Chicago, but scheduled to leave on Monday, January 6th.  That didn't happen, but I finally made it home on Tuesday afternoon.  Quite the adventure, that's for sure.  If you read the last post, I mentioned not wanting to miss an important appointment for Tuesday the 7th.  I did miss it, but was able to reschedule for this past Tuesday.

The important appointment was with a surgeon.  About a month and a half ago I met with a doctor to address some pain I'd been having and she sent me straight to the surgeon.  After meeting with him, we decided that I could wait to have surgery when I got back from Chicago, though he encouraged me not to wait too long.

Well, I had surgery this past Tuesday.  All went well and there's no question about a full recovery.  The problem that I've been having is following doctor's orders.  Not being allowed to drive for a week and being told to lay down as much as possible doesn't sit well with me.  I've addressed this control issue a bit in the past... here and here (and there are probably others).

My bff was able to take me to and from the hospital.  She also stayed with me most of the day and spent the night.  I'm incredibly thankful for her and her servant's heart... especially looking back at the week, realizing how bad a patient I am.  She wouldn't let me do anything.  I wasn't allowed to get off the couch unless I needed to use the bathroom.  For someone as independent as me, that's frustrating.  I like to do things on my own.  I'm not good at accepting help from others, especially if I feel like I can do it myself.

Wednesday was much of the same.  I was still on the "good stuff" so I was on the couch all day, in and out of consciousness.  That night I had a prayer meeting with my senior pastor and my friend, Allan.  We meet pretty regularly to pray over the Yield service and though I don't remember a lot about that meeting, Christ does, and that's what matters.  They graciously agreed to meet at my house so I could remain horizontal.  Allan even ran a quick errand to the convenient store to get me some juice since I wasn't supposed to do that on my own.  My senior pastor told me I was "grounded" from the Yield service this week so that I could rest, but that just didn't sit right with me.

Thursday found me on the couch again.  My pain was getting more manageable and I was taking less meds.  Thursday night is when we have worship team practice and since I had rested all day, I decided I could go to practice for a little while.  We prayed before practice and I got a sense that God was telling me to go home, but instead of immediate obedience, I pushed it.  I didn't make it very long before I could hardly stand.  I was dizzy and in a lot of pain.  Too much too soon?  I think, yes.  Nothing like trying to push yourself against EVERYONE'S orders.  That's that stubborn, hard-headed Italian thing.  :)

Friday was a really long, difficult day for me.  I hadn't eaten very much all week, even though I was taking such harsh medicine, but I hadn't been affected by it... until Friday.  The anti-nausea meds that they gave me had apparently worn off and I was sick!  It was awful.  That's the one kind of sick that has the ability to drop me to my knees and make me cry.  Ugh.  By about 7pm I was finally starting to feel a bit better, but there was no way I was going to take any more of the good meds.  It was during that dark time of icky-ness that I felt God was asking me to speak a very specific message at Yield on Saturday (even though Allan had already planned on using his wonderful, God-given gifts to lead the congregation in my absence).  I had already made the decision in my mind to be at Yield, whether I was going to participate or not.  God's word made the decision to speak an easy one.  I didn't have to prepare much for it, it was to be brief, very simple.

So yesterday we started working on music early, around 1.  I told Allan that I was going to help lead and that I also had a word from the Lord that I needed to share.  I knew, going into the day, that I was going to end up in pain, but that didn't matter to me.  As we put the final touches on the music and people started arriving for worship, it was exciting to see a couple of faces I'd never seen before.  We greeted everyone and introduced ourselves to the newbies and then started the service.  After a few songs we explained that worship was going to look a little different than normal.

One of the newbies was a middle-aged man. He wasn't your "typical" church-goer.  He wasn't super clean and he wasn't very put-together, but he was lovely in the eyes of the Lord.  In fact, he may not have had any experience in church whatsoever, but praise the Lord, he had made it through our doors last night.  It was beautiful to watch him sing the songs of worships... songs he'd probably never heard before.  When it came time for prayer requests, he spoke up.  He spoke with humility and was very genuine.  He was really seeking God.  It was clear to me in that moment why God had given me such a specific word to share.  The word was for him.  God was nudging this man and he responded by walking through our doors.  He saw a sign... it says "come as you are," and he did.  Glory to God in the highest!

As the service ended we all stood around chatting and hanging out, and the man made an effort to ask about us.  He didn't just come and leave.  He participated; he wanted to be involved; he wanted to know more.  Our regular congregants welcomed him warmly and I really believe he left church last night having experienced the love of Christ.  Even as the last few of us left the church and headed to dinner, I felt led to pray for our new friend, so we did.

First of all, I'm so thankful to God for such clear leading!  I'm thankful that he directed my words to be the words that this man needed to hear.  I'm thankful that Allan is so good at choosing such beautiful music... and not just choosing it, but practicing it well and making it sound his best for Jesus.  I'm also thankful that when an unkempt man walked in, he wasn't ignored or tossed aside... he was welcomed with open arms.

“The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’”  -Matthew 25:40 (emphasis mine).  Watching those words played out was nothing short of awesome.

Sitting in service was very difficult for me this morning.  I hardly got any rest all day yesterday (partially my own choice, but partially divine).  I'm in a great deal of pain today, but you know what?  I'd do it all again, every single day.  (Although I may also listen to the doctors a bit more and rest and allow people to do things for me without me complaining or feeling so useless... maybe.) 

Oh God, keep interrupting my plans... Your's are so much cooler!!  This song is my prayer today... Build Your Kingdom Here by Rend Collective Experiment.

Cancelled

Family and friends time has been great.  There have been many noteworthy hangouts and lovely experiences to write about, but today I'd like to paint you a little picture of the last few days.

By the time Thursday arrived, I was ready and quite anxious to get home.  The weather in Philly wasn't cooperating, so that flight was cancelled.  Luckily it was cancelled early enough that I hadn't headed to the airport yet.  I booked the same flight for the next evening.  This is where our story really begins.

Friday morning I got up, got ready, and packed early so I could spend time with a dear friend.  I had heard on the news that Southwest was having issues and the storm in the northeast was causing problems as well.  All morning I checked my flight.  The 2 flights before me were delayed, but mine was still good to go when it was time to leave for the airport.  I checked the flight along the way to the airport only to discover that mine was delayed as well and the 2 scheduled after mine were cancelled.  Dressed in leggings, a shirt, a fleece jacket, and boots, I pulled my bags out of the trunk.  It was bitterly cold, about 1 degree.  There was a huge line of people waiting for curbside check, so I thought I'd ask why they were all out there.  Turns out that Southwest's operations problem meant that the bag checking process was hours behind.  I could wait inside in a 3.5 hour line, or outside for at least an hour and a half.  Even with the slight delay of my flight, I would have to wait outside in order to make it to the gate on time.  So I made my way to the back of the line, and hunkered down.

After about 20 minutes, I had no feeling in my hands or feet.  My thighs were frozen, yet on fire.  I checked the flight status via my phone after about 45 minutes to see that it had been delayed even further.  At that point I was shivering so hard that even trying to hold my phone for that info was nearly impossible.  If I left that line to go inside, I'd have to start over.  There was no way I was leaving at that point.  The pain was becoming intense in my toes so I just started praying to distract myself.  I've never in my life been that cold.  It had overtaken every part of my body.  My mom called at one point, not knowing I was outside, and was alarmed at the tremor of my voice.  To hold the phone to my head, exposing my hands to the wind was awful.  I explained that I was outside and couldn't talk, but that I'd call when I could breathe without pain.  Just talking to her made me want to cry, but I knew that that would be counterproductive and tears would just make things worse.

2 hours in, it was finally my turn to check my bags.  I couldn't even pulled the ID out of my wallet because my hands weren't functioning.  The Southwest guy was able to get it out just as another employee went past announcing that about 50 more flights had been cancelled.  I asked the guy to tell me if he honestly thought my plane would get off the ground and he said it was worth a shot.  At that point I could only think about getting inside, out of the wind.

I've never felt sweeter relief than stepping inside Midway that day.  Walking was painful as my legs and toes thawed out.  The pain I was experiencing harshly reminded me that there are people all over the world without homes, suffering every day.  As I thought about how my body felt, I couldn't imagine making it longer than I did.  That one horrible experience has brought me to my knees for my homeless brothers and sisters.  Sure, I wasn't dressed properly to withstand that weather, but I'm not sure there's a proper way to be dressed for weather like that.  Knowing that the high temp of the day tomorrow is supposed to be -15 with wind chills of -50 makes me sick for these people.  Come Lord Jesus, come.

I'm assuming they saw how pitiful I looked as I approached the security check point so they sent me down the pre-check line which meant I wouldn't have to take off my coat or boots.  Praise the Lord.  What a simple, but wonderful gift.  I was through security in no time and at my gate with hours to spare as they had just delayed the flight even longer (which meant I could have stood inside from the beginning).  With all that time to spare, I went and got a table at Harry Carey's and slowly began to warm up as I ate lunch.  I checked my flight periodically throughout lunch, just to stay on top of things.  Right after I paid my bill checked the flight yet again... a mere 10 minutes later, only to find that it had been cancelled.  Cancelled?!  Are you kidding me?!  After I stood outside and froze for 2 hours??

Livid, I called my mom as she was just leaving work, so she started heading towards the airport.  I went down to baggage services to figure out what to do, but since so many flights had already been cancelled the line was VERY long.  I waited in that line for about an hour and half.  When it was finally my turn, the woman took my luggage tags and confirmed that they had not gone to Philly (Um, duh!  Nothing was going to Philly!) and then told me that I should go sit and wait an hour or two for them to sort the bags and check them back in.  At that point I was beyond annoyed and the thought of having to stand in another line on another day to check my bags again was almost too much.  I asked if I could just leave them there and have them sent to Philly without me.  She seemed a little relieved at that and said she could definitely do that.  My mom picked me up, and we made it home.  By the time I tried to get a flight for Saturday, they were all booked up.  Of course I could fly stand by, but since no flights had gone to Philly in 2 days, there was NO way I was hanging at the airport with the hundreds of others trying to get on the same flight.  Then on Saturday, the storm began.

So here I sit (on Sunday) in my sister's pants, my dad's shirt, my mom's socks, and my brother-in-law's sweatshirt while my clothes run through the wash.  I have my computer, phone, tooth brush, and purse.  My flight is supposed to take off at 9am tomorrow.  As I type this, I just checked that flight status... which says "unavailable," even though the flights before and after it say "on time."  I have no idea what's going on.  My hope is dwindling and I'm more than ready to be home.  I really am so thankful for my family and a place to stay.  My own bed sounds like a dream right now.  I miss my dog too.  And normal life... that was fun.

I'd appreciate prayer.  I have an important appointment I really need to keep on Tuesday.  With tomorrow's wind blowing today's foot of snow around and the subzero temps, I don't know what's going to happen.  All schools and many businesses will be closed because of the weather tomorrow. It's as though people from here are shocked that temps get so low.  They forget they're from Chicago.  Sissies!