Mother's Day Prayer

It has recently come to my attention that Mother's Day is not a happy day for many people.  There are countless reasons why this is so, but it is my hope that today we will do our best to remember everyone, especially those who approach this day with dread and sadness.  May we remind them that they are not alone, nor are they forgotten by us or our heavenly Father.

 

 

God-

We thank You for Your word in Isaiah 49:15 that says, “Can a woman forget her nursing child, or lack compassion for the child of her womb?  Even if these forget, yet I will not forget you.”  Today, we rejoice in and hold on to the fact that You never forget us.  No matter our circumstances, we are never forgotten by You.  Today, on Mother’s Day…

We pray together for the children whose mother was not able to love them well.

We pray together for the mothers who entrusted their children to another mother through adoption.

We pray together for the adoptive mothers who received those children and love them so well.

We pray together for the mothers who never met their babies or got to see them grow up, whether by choice or not.

We pray together for the mothers who long for a child and ask that You sit with them in the waiting.

We pray together for the mothers who have buried their children, and we wonder how You willingly gave us Your Son.

We pray together for the mothers whose children are hospitalized, and we pray especially today for Katherine and Wyatt Church.

We pray together for the mothers of children with physical or mental limitations, and we ask a special blessing over them.

We pray together for the mothers of children who struggle due to mental illness or addiction, and we join them in praying for healing and wholeness.

We pray together for the single mothers who strive so hard and devote all they have to their children and still feel they are never enough.

We pray together for the mothers who struggle to provide for their children, and we ask for Your extra provision today.

We pray together for the step-mothers who care for another mother’s children as their own, and we thank You that we are all adopted into Your family.

We pray together for the grandmothers, aunts, friends, teachers, and others who step in and mother in order to share our joys and lighten our loads.

We pray together for the house mothers who courageously love another mother’s children and provide a desperately needed sense of security and belonging.

We pray together for the mothers who have good relationships with their children, and we thank You for the love and comfort they provide.

We pray together for the mothers who long to have better relationships with their children, and we ask for Your redemption and restoration to come swiftly.

And lastly, we pray together for all those who have lost their mothers, either physically or mentally, and long to be with them again.

God, today, we thank You for all the ways we have been loved and mothered along our life’s journey.  We thank You for creating the concept of motherhood and for all the different forms it takes in our lives.  We thank You for these women we call mothers.  We thank You for walking with us through it all, and we thank You that we are fiercely loved and never forgotten by You.  In Jesus’ life-giving name I pray, Amen.

 

*Inspired by posts I’ve read from Jen Hatmaker, Glennon Doyle Melton, and Sarah Bessey over the years and a few visits to the Catholic church with my husband’s family 😊

 

On Being the Witness

D.L. Mayfield lives and works with refugees, and her book brought some much needed relief, perspective, and camaraderie of shared experiences to my soul.  Working with refugees adjusting to life in America is very rewarding, but it is also hard, sometimes frustrating, and difficult to explain to people who haven't lived it.  I gained a lot of wisdom and comfort from her book, and she helped me make sense of some things and see others in new ways.  She validated the ministry of presence as opposed to the ability to "fix" things.  I want to share one of my biggest revelations with you through her words, some songs by Christa Wells, and a little reflection on my part.  This post primarily focuses on grief and brokenness because those are the vehicles God has most recently used to speak life to me, but I want you to know that working with refugees (or any other marginalized group) includes seasons of joy as well.  I have surely experienced both.

From the chapter entitled "The Ministry of Cake"

(italics are hers, bold print is mine)
Image courtesy of Amazon

"Some of the most unrecognized ministries are my favorite kind...

The older I get, the more I realize that the ministries I once thought so trivial I now think are the most radical.  I have spent the past few years being stripped of anything that would make me feel lovely to God, and I came out a different person.  As it turns out, I never did magically turn into one of my missionary heroes.  Instead, I'm just someone who likes to bake cakes.

I used to want to witness to people, to tell them the story of God in digestible pieces, to win them over to my side.  But more and more I am hearing the still small voice calling me to be the witness.  To live in proximity to pain and suffering and injustice instead of high-tailing it to a more calm and isolated life.  To live with eyes wide open on the edges of our world, the margins of our society.  To taste the diaspora, the longing, the suffering, the joy.  To plant myself in a place where I am forced to confront the fact that my reality is not the reality of my neighbors.  And to realize that nothing is how it should be, the ultimate true reality of what God's dream for the world is. 

Being a witness is harder than anything I have ever done.  And he is asking all of us to do this task, to simultaneously see the realities of our broken world and testify to the truth that all is not well.  To be a witness to the tragedy, to be a witness to the beauty.  Jesus, the ultimate witness of the love of the Father, heart of God, shows us the way.  He put himself in situations where he was constantly confronted with brokenness: death, disease, sickness, greed, pride.  And Jesus ran toward those people, so confident was he in a God who sees...

I see it all, the God of the scriptures says over and over again.  I see it all, and my heart is torn in two.  And he is asking people like me, the very nonspecial, the bakers and the questioners and the fretful sleepers, to allow ourselves to see it all too.  The prodigals and the older brothers, the lost sheep and the sheep who were too scared to ever leave the pen.  There is a place for us all here, the call for all of us to be present and be a witness to the realities of the world.  To live in a place where neighbors will move away, again and again and again, to keep showing up on couches and sitting wide-eyed, to sit and say 'I'm sorry.'

He is asking us to drop everything and run, run in the direction of the world's brokenness.  And he is asking us to bring cake."

This idea of being the witness has stuck with me.  I do not know about you, but I have heard about "witnessing" to others most of my life, and I typically felt like a failure in this regard.  I don't think this is anyone's fault because I did not grow up in a judgmental church or one that put a strong emphasis on witnessing to others.  I think I was just prone to perfectionism, and I wanted to do everything right so I could feel worthy of God's love (clearly, this is not the way it actually works☺).

But this idea of being the witness- I can do that.  I am doing that.  I used to want to fix things, but now I am learning that I can't actually do that a lot of the time.  But, as D.L. Mayfield says above, I can show up and sit on couches and say, "I'm sorry."  I'm sorry things are hard right now.  It shouldn't be this way, and I wish it wasn't.  I have been amazed at how easily some people are comforted.  I thought I would need to bring answers or solutions to problems, and I initially felt ill-equipped to meet people where they were, compounded by the usual language barrier.  But I have found that the hardest part, which is actually not that difficult at all, is the going and the listening and the sitting with the pain.

Every single time I visit people from Syria, without fail, they want me to come in and sit.  They want to feed me.  They want me to visit.  They love me and my children and they embrace me warmly and kiss both of my cheeks.  It doesn't matter that I know approximately 5 words in Arabic and they are still learning English.  They just want me to see them and sit with them and try to talk to them.  They want me to be a witness in their lives. 

I could spend a lot of time worrying about bills and health problems and jobs and schools, but I am learning to take it one day at a time, one thing at a time.  I used to want to do everything for everybody, but I am learning that I can't.  It is simply not possible.  For a while, I thought if I couldn't do everything for everybody, I could at least coordinate it so someone would do it for them.  Alas, not surprisingly, that idea failed as well!

Now I am trying to take hold of the small victories and the one thing I can do right now that brings comfort and bears witness.  I help one man navigate the process of applying for a motorized wheelchair.  I take one mom to register her kids for school.  I take one family's kids to the park with mine.  I take that one family to elementary school Open House.  I ask a dentist at my church to see one little girl who has a lot of dental issues and would otherwise have to wait a month to be seen at the Medicaid clinic.  I go to the emergency room and sit with one young man.  I make *many* appointments.  I talk with one school nurse, visit one family (who makes me a delicious lunch, I might add!), and hand deliver that one family's shot records back to the school.  I print one picture of sweet children to give to their parents.  I take one winter coat and scarf to a newly arrived lady for her first winter here.  I visit one person to figure out why he is afraid to walk home from work.  I take one pair of crutches to the hospital.  I sit with one man and his friend after surgery, and they are so glad I came even though we can barely communicate with words. 

I am well aware that working with refugees is not everyone's cup of tea.  I am thankful to God that it is mine and He has allowed me to find it and do it.  What I do believe I know is that everyone has a group of people that is tender to them- the elderly, pregnant mamas, the bereaved, single parents, low-income kids, orphans, people in prison, people who are homeless, people with mental or physical challenges- the list is endless.  There are so many groups on the margin, and God created us all in His image with different gifts, passions, and interests.  Go find your group.  Go run your race.  Go bake that cake.  Go sit on that couch.  Go be the witness.

I want to close with two songs from Christa Wells that have really spoken to me lately.  Click on the titles to hear them as you read the words.  The first one validates the truth that God uses everything, even our brokenness and our being the witness to other people's brokenness for His glory.  The lines, "He writes my story into his song, my life for the glory of God," are so sweet and tender to me.  Tender is the newest word I think of when I think about God.  Even our emptiness can sing of His goodness.  Even our willingness to sit quietly and be the witness for other people's grief can sing of His goodness. 

Christa Wells

"How Emptiness Sings"

from the album How Emptiness Sings

Brother, he’s suffered like a tree taken down

Wept as he witnessed his dreams carved out
And how can a man just keep walking around
With his heart full of holes

But ooh,
His bow is on the strings
And the tune resonates in the open space
To show us how emptiness sings:

Glory to God, Glory to God!
In fullness of wisdom,
He writes my story into his song,
My life for the glory of God.
Hmm, hmmm

Sister carries her loneliness
In a hidden hollow inside her chest
And sometimes all that she wants is an end
To the long, long night

But ooh,
Her bow is on the strings,
And the tune resonates in the open space
To show us how emptiness sings:

Glory to God, Glory to God!
In fullness of wisdom,
He writes my story into his song,
My life for the glory of God.
Hmm, hmmm

I haven’t been asked yet to walk the hard roads
Still there’s a sense of deep loss in my soul
In the middle of a party, I’ll just want to go
Home.

But ooh,
My bow is on the strings,
I’m beginning to learn where to find the words
To the song that emptiness sings
Ooh, bow is on the strings:

Glory to God! Glory to God!
This is how emptiness sings, oh,
This is how emptiness sings
Hmmm, hmmm

Christa shares how this next song was inspired by a book called To Make a Life by Dan Walser.  He is writing from a father's perspective who lost children through miscarriage, an interrupted adoption, and a stillborn baby at nearly full term.  He is writing about that experience, but Christa responded with this beautiful song about our choice to either respond or not to someone in heavy grief.  You can listen to Christa share more of Dan's story by clicking on her name below.  That link also includes her singing the actual song, but the sound is not great, so you can click on the song title underneath to listen to a better recording of the song.

Christa Wells

(Click her name to hear Christa sharing Dan's story)

"Come Close Now" 

(Click the song title to listen to a better recording of the song)
from the album entitled Feed Your Soul

I’m afraid of the space where you suffer

Where you sit in the smoke and the burn

I can’t handle the choke or the danger

Of my own foolish, inadequate words

I’ll be right outside if you need me

Right outside

What can I bring to your fire?

Shall I sing while the roof is coming down?

Can I hold you while the flames grow higher,

Shall I brave the heat and come close with you now?

Can I come close now?

So we left you to fight your own battle

And you buried your hope with your faith

’Cause you heard no song of deliverance

There on the nights that followed the wake

We never though to go with you

Afraid to ask

What can I bring to your fire?

Shall I sing while the roof is coming down?

Can I hold you while the flames grow higher,

Shall I brave the heat and come close with you now?

Can I come close now?

Lay down our plans

Lay down the sure-fire fix

Grief’s gonna stay awhile,

There is no cure for this

We watch for return,

We speak what we’ve heard

We sit together, in the burn

What can I bring to your fire?

Shall I sing while the roof is coming down?

Can I hold you while the flames grow higher,

Shall I brave the heat and come close with you now?

Can I come close now?

I am still learning how to make time to go sit on the couch and be the witness in the midst of family life with two young kids.  I am also still learning the lesson that most of the time my presence is the only thing I need to bring to the fire.  These are probably the most freeing lessons I have learned in all my years.  I pray you will find the group of people that speaks to your heart and go sit with them in the fire.  I do not think you will regret it.

Full Circle

I am at my desk in Mrs. Murray's third grade classroom.  I am looking at the cover of this week's Weekly Reader, and I see an African child with a bloated belly and fly-covered face.  I have never seen anything like this before, and I struggle to understand. 

Fast forward many years.  I am at a Sara Groves concert.  I hear of a group called World Relief that resettle refugees in High Point.  I wonder what this is.  A seed is thrown on dry ground.

Fast forward again.  I sit in Jewel Cooper's Diverse Learners class in graduate school and listen to book talks.  I am intrigued by one called The Middle of Everywhere: The World's Refugees Come to Our Town by Mary Pipher.  I choose to read that book, and my soul is deeply moved and troubled.  Her stories sadden my heart, but I move on.  A seed is thrown on rocky soil.

Fast forward many more years.  I am a stay-at-home mom of two and I need something else.  I timidly, awkwardly sign up for a volunteer orientation and training session at World Relief in High Point.  I hear they also resettle refugees in Winston-Salem sometimes.  I am intrigued by what I learn, but I have two young children and I live 30 minutes away from their office.  What can I do?  A seed is thrown but struggles to take root because it is not yet planting season.

Fast forward 6 months.  World Relief is opening an office in Winston-Salem.  I apply for a job and think this is it!  But then I don't get it.  I am sad, but I know God is in control and I trust him.  The timing must not be right.  I learn that my worth is not determined by how much I do in the coming months.  I needed to learn that.  A seed is thrown but struggles to emerge because the time is not right.

Now things start to move quickly.  Fast forward one month.  My pastor asks me and the deacon outlook chair if we would be interested in befriending a refugee family in the coming year.  I call and say yes!  We meet and I share what I know about World Relief.  A seed is planted on fertile ground. 

Fast forward another month.  My pastor asks if I would be interested in going to an all-day conference in Illinois about the church's response to the global refugee crisis.  I think he sends the email on a whim, as he later says he knows it's hard for a mom of two young children to travel that far.  I smile and tell him this stay-at-home mom would love to go!  A seed is watered with showers from heaven.

Fast forward another month.  I go with a dear friend from church to the conference, and we are both blown away and inspired.  I never knew so many like-minded people existed.  It is literally one of the best days of my life!  I come back with a new, special friend and a strong desire to educate and engage.  A seed is nourished by the noonday sun.

Fast forward 2 months.  I encounter some resistance from a few to befriending refugees.  I think it is based on fear and a not knowing.  I have not encountered resistance in my beloved church before.  It throws me off for a time, but then I remember, "Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven (Matthew 5:10)."  I can barely call this persecution, but it gives me strength to keep on.  I also remember Jen Hatmaker saying that some people will not like it when you stand with the marginalized and it doesn't mean you're doing something wrong; it means you're doing it right.  We keep on and educate and World Relief answers our hard questions with candor and grace.  There are no hard feelings and love wins.  A seed finally sprouts and emerges through the ground.

I use what I've learned and been given to create a presentation.  I share with my Sunday School class first, and 4 people want to get involved!  We offer classes to educate our congregation and invite a refugee to share his story.  More people come than I imagined, and my heart skips a beat.  It is exhilarating.  The new seedling grows taller and reaches toward the sky.

I am unsure, but I apply to intern at the Winston-Salem office in the summer.  I think this will help me know my next step.  Do I really want to do this?  

I am accepted and excited to start at the end of May, but will I like it?  Here goes nothing. 

Nine people from my church attend training and decide to start a Good Neighbor Team to walk alongside a newly arrived family, to befriend them and teach them.  Is this really happening?

Present day.  I have interned for 4 weeks, and I now know the blessing of finally, finally doing instead of talking.  I needed the talking because it prepared me for the doing.  At the conference, Bill Hybels said people go through three stages: Awareness, Education, and Engagement.  I needed those words to give voice to what happened as new people first heard.  Those words helped me be patient and understanding because I remembered the long road I travelled to get to this place.  And now those same words are coming back to me as I begin to engage and remind me of my journey.

For 4 weeks, I have filled out job applications, entered data, filed papers, met people from all over the world, looked at potential houses for them, shopped for their first groceries, gone on factory tours with them, driven them to appointments, used my training to communicate with my hands and my smile what words can't convey.  I have trained them for their first job in the United States, and my mama's heart has hoped and prayed they successfully navigated the bus system to make it to work on their first day.  I have rejoiced with them at their first job and at learner's permits received.  I have made it my mission to show them how to use a dishwasher and given them dishwasher soap!  I have been given the seat of honor and more food and drink than you can imagine.  I have also seen and experienced the mystery and joy of what it is to work with other like-minded believers.

But yesterday was the greatest gift.  On a day I don't intern, I took my boys to play with a Syrian mama's children.  She made us lunch and dessert and gave us Oreos.  Her husband had marveled the night before at her homemade dessert, but she said, "No!  This is for Anna!"  We talked and did our best to communicate, but mainly she showed hospitality and I received it.  I have met her three times, and now when we depart, we embrace and kiss cheeks.  The young plant's leaves begin to unfurl and glisten in the morning sun.

Earlier this week, I met the only 4 Somalis who have been resettled in Winston-Salem.  There are more Somalis in High Point, but not here.  These three siblings and one nephew range in age from 18-21, and they live and work together.  I helped them apply for a better job this week, and we were able to converse some in English.  I found out they could not speak their native language to anyone in Winston-Salem.  They have been here for 3 months, and I wondered how hard it must be. 

The young Somali woman was so sweet and seemed interested in going to the World Refugee Day party at the High Point office on Friday evening.  I knew they didn't have a car, so I asked my sweet husband if we could offer to take them and he agreed.  I asked their case manager to extend our offer to them, and the Somali woman said yes!  My heart hoped there would be more Somalis at the celebration.  We went to pick her up and ended up taking her and her nephew to the party.  A prominent realtor who befriended them after picking them up at the airport drove the other two Somalis.  When we arrived and started eating and talking, we met some Ethiopians who spoke the same language as my new Somali friends.  (The Somalis had moved to Ethiopia before coming to the United States.)  I asked them if they would go talk to my sweet friend, and they did and they even exchanged numbers.  This sweet, shy, young Somali woman sat with other women and talked in her native language all evening long, and my heart sang.  The new plant's roots stretch deep and its body soars to the heavens.

At one point during the evening, people danced and sang songs from their countries.  People from Bhutan and the Congo and perhaps other places performed.  Everyone gathered round and clapped and some even went to the middle of the circle and danced.  Everyone came to watch as others performed and cheered them on, regardless of where they were from.  My heart smiled as I saw my Somali friends film a Bhutanese girl as she performed a dance. 

As I looked around that circle of people from all over the world celebrating together, I thought to myself: This is what God's true family looks like and how long I have missed the awareness and beauty of it!  How happy and proud He must be tonight to have all his children singing and dancing together!  This is what Heaven must look, sound, feel, and be like.  And my heart was thankful for this glimpse of the kingdom of God on earth.  I think this moment will forever be etched in my mind.  I certainly hope it will be.

After a game of soccer we drove all 4 Somalis home, and we laughed as Lincoln called the young lady "Nemo" instead of her actual similar sounding name.  I told them Finding Nemo was a movie here and showed them who Nemo was on my phone.  When we got to their apartment, they thanked us and we shook hands with the men.  I embraced the young Somali woman just as I'd embraced the young Syrian woman earlier that day and I wondered how God allowed me this much goodness in one single day. 

This morning a woman awakens early and an image from a third grade Weekly Reader comes to her mind.  She has not thought of it in years, but she can almost make out the small child on the cover.  At first she struggles to remember if the child was Ethiopian or Somali, but then she realizes that it doesn't matter.  It doesn't matter anymore because she has felt the pleasure of God as she watched all His children dance and sing together.  She stops and thanks her God for allowing her this full circle joy.  Flowers burst forth in brilliant color in the noonday sun!

Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen:
to loose the chains of injustice
and untie the cords of the yoke,
to set the oppressed free
and break every yoke?
Is it not to share your food with the hungry
and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter—
when you see the naked, to clothe them,
and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood?
Then your light will break forth like the dawn,
and your healing will quickly appear;
then your righteousness will go before you,
and the glory of the Lord will be your rear guard.
Then you will call, and the Lord will answer;
you will cry for help, and he will say: Here am I.

If you do away with the yoke of oppression,
with the pointing finger and malicious talk,
and if you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry
and satisfy the needs of the oppressed,
then your light will rise in the darkness,
and your night will become like the noonday.

-Isaiah 58:6-10

Refugees: Terms, Myths, and Facts

If you read my last post, you know I have a strong desire to educate people about refugees.  There is so much I want to share, and I have struggled deciding what to share first.  I think the relevant Scriptures are very important, and I will share those soon, but today, I want to share some terms, myths, and facts.  I have taken all of these from a document that World Relief called A Church Leader's Tool Kit on the Syrian Refugee Crisis and it can be found here.

Relevant Terms (italics added):

Refugees: those who have fled their country of origin because of a credible fear of persecution on account of their race, religion, political opinion, national origin, or social group

Internally Displaced Persons: those who have fled their home but stay within the boundaries of their country

Asylum Seekers: those who flee their country for the same reasons as refugees but do not prequalify their claim.  Instead, they file a claim for asylum after they arrive in their destination country.

Migrants: those who leave their country due to poverty, natural disaster, general violence, or opportunity

Undocumented Immigrants: those who live in another country without legal authorization

Immigrants: inclusive of all of these above

Myths and Facts (italics added):

Myth: Refugees resettled into the United States are "unvetted."
Fact: Refugees undergo a multi-layered screening and vetting process, which occurs entirely before the individual is allowed to enter the U.S. and which generally takes at least 18 months, that is more thorough than that to which any other category of immigrant or visitor to the U.S. is subjected.

Myth: The recent terrorist attack in Paris exposes that the U.S. is also vulnerable to terrorist attacks from refugees or those posing as refugees.
Fact: The situation facing Europe-with nearly 1 million individuals arriving and seeking asylum just in the past year-is vastly different than that of the U.S. refugee resettlement program, which aims to accept a maximum of 10,000 Syrian refugees this year.  Asylum seekers arriving at Europe's borders or shores can only be vetted and processed after entry to the European continent, whereas the relatively few refugees admitted from Syria to the U.S. are allowed in only after a thorough, multi-layered vetting process that lasts at least 18 months.  Furthermore, all attackers identified thus far in the Paris attacks were European citizens-not refugees.

Myth: The recent terrorist attacks in California exposes that the U.S. is vulnerable to terrorist attacks from those posing as refugees.
Fact: Neither of the two alleged terrorists implicated in the tragic attacks in San Bernardino, California underwent the thorough, multi-layered vetting process of the U.S. Refugee Resettlement: one was a native-born U.S. citizen and the other entered on a fiancée visa, which involves a screening process that is significantly less rigorous than that required for refugees being considered for resettlement. 

Myth: All (or most) refugees are Muslim.
Fact: Last year, more refugees admitted to the U.S. were Christians (about 45%) than any other religious tradition.  The U.S. Refugee Resettlement Program presents a vital lifeline for persecuted Christians (as well as persecuted individuals of other faiths).

Myth: All (or most) refugees are from the Middle East.
Fact: About 25% of refugees admitted to the U.S. last year were fleeing situations in the Middle East, but most actually come from other regions of the world.  More refugees came from Burma-where most admitted refugees are persecuted Christians-than from all of the Middle Eastern countries combined.

Myth: All (or most) Muslims are terrorists, or at least sympathetic to terrorism.
Fact: While there certainly have been high-profile cases of terrorism committed by Muslims motivated by extremist ideologies, the vast majority of Muslims reject those views.  For example, a recent Pew Research Center survey conducted in Muslim majority nations found, across the board, that the vast majority of Muslims with an opinion about ISIS had a negative view of the group.

Myth: Refugees are responsible for most terrorist attacks in the U.S.
Fact: Of more than 3 million refugees admitted to the U.S. since the late 1970s, none has ever perpetrated a terrorist attack within the U.S.  In fact, according to New America, the majority of jihadist terrorism cases in the U.S. since September 11, 2001 have involved U.S. citizens, most of them born in the U.S.

Myth: Most Syrian refugees coming into the U.S. are young men.
Fact: Of Syrian refugees admitted to the U.S. thus far, 70% have been women or children under the age of 14.  The U.S. Refugee Resettlement Program prioritizes those cases it deems to be the most vulnerable for resettlement.

Myth: There are 200,000-250,000 Syrian refugees about to enter the U.S.
Fact: Since 2011, less than 2,500 Syrian refugees have been admitted into the U.S. through the U.S. Refugee Resettlement Program, and the State Department has indicated a goal of admitting no more than 10,000 in the coming year.

Myth: Refugees are a drain on our economy.
Fact: Most economists believe that refugees, like other immigrants, have a net positive economic impact: one study suggests that, in the long-term, refugees may actually perform better economically than economic migrants.  Another study, of refugees in Cleveland, Ohio, found that, despite some initial costs related to refugee resettlement, in time those refugees accounted for more than ten times that amount in positive economic impact.

Myth: The Bible has nothing to say that would inform our response to refugees.
Fact: The Hebrew word for a resident foreigner, the ger, appears 92 times just in the Old Testament- very often in the context of God commanding the Israelites to love and seek justice for these vulnerable immigrants.  The Bible commands us repeatedly to practice hospitality-literally from the Greek of the New Testament, philoxenia, the love of strangers.  Welcoming refugees present an opportunity both to live out the Great Commandment by loving our neighbors (Luke 10:27) and the Great Commission, by making disciples of all nations (Matthew 28:19).

My next post will focus on what the Bible has to say about refugees. 

My One Thing

I had the great privilege and honor of going to the GC2Summit near Chicago, Illinois this past Wednesday.  Debbie Niblock and I went from our church, and we had the most amazing time learning an unbelievable amount about refugees, the conditions and journeys they face, the resettlement process, and what the church's response should be based on Scripture and the life of Jesus.  To give you a glimpse of what we heard, I have listed the topics and some of the speakers who presented at the bottom of this post.



 

There is so much information to share and to be honest, it is kind of overwhelming to know where to start in sharing the information, let alone in doing the work of helping refugees.  But there are a few things that stand out in my mind as the right places to start.

Jenny Yang, Vice President of Advocacy and Policy at World Relief, gave 3 clear places in which to start.  The first is educate your congregation, and that is what I hope to do in the coming months.  The second is build relationships with refugees in your community, which I also hope to do at some point in 2016.  We are fortunate to have a World Relief office in High Point and a newly opened office in Winston-Salem that is always looking for Good Neighbor Teams to help walk alongside newly arriving refugees for six months to a year (or more!).  The third is to pray and advocate on behalf of refugees.  Jenny said to advocate means to be good stewards of the influence God has given us.  She also co-wrote this book with another presenter, and I am starting to read it.

 



The other thing that stands out in my mind is a chart that I can not seem to find in my 14 pages of notes, so I may not remember it exactly correctly.  But it goes something like this: There is a continuum with 3 points on it, and we are all at different points along the continuum.  The first point is awareness, the second is engagement, and the third is investment.  We all started at awareness, and some of us have moved beyond that point, but we need to be respectful of those who are still there.  Bill Hybels urged us to remember that we can't expect other people to go from "here" to "there" overnight.  Many of us who attended the summit are further along toward "there" based upon the simple fact that we were interested and came to the summit.  Now it's our job to help energize people and give them opportunities to move from "here" to "there" in a variety of ways.

 

They had these yard signs at the summit, but we didn't think they would fit in our carry-on bags!



One opportunity I'm offering to help move people along the continuum is this blog post and some website links to further information.  Another opportunity is collecting gently used toys and books for World Relief (see requested items here).  I will collect them through Sunday, February 7th and then take them to World Relief's Winston-Salem office.  Our church is currently investigating how to become a Good Neighbor Team with World Relief as well.  World Relief's website has a lot of information that can help you learn more.  Another website that is full of factual information to read and share with others is We Welcome Refugees.  Lastly, World Vision also has a wealth of helpful information. 

*I am writing this post in response to one by Lori Harris, who is one of my absolute favorite bloggers.  She is encouraging her readers to share about the one thing you are doing right now to love your people and serve your place.  After going to the GC2 Summit and being so encouraged to find other like-minded, incredibly intelligent people, I think I have found my one thing right now!

GC2 Topics and Speakers

 

The Role of the Church (Dr. Jamie Aten, Humanitarian Disaster Institute, Wheaton College)

Domestic Refugee Resettlement (World Relief employees Maggie Konstanski, Matthew Soerens, and James Misner)

The International Crisis (World Vision employees from different areas)

Videos from Dr. David Platt, Dr. Jo Anne Lyon, and Rick Warren

Welcome (Dr. Ed Stetzer, Senior Fellow, Billy Graham Center for Evangelism)

Why the Refugee Crisis is a Key Justice Issue for the Church (Christine Caine)

Understanding Islam and Isis (Dr. John Azumah)

Video: The Crisis in Europe (Phil Metzger)

The Crisis in the Middle East (Fayez Ishak)

The Migration Crisis and The Great Commission (Stephan Bauman)

Story of a Syrian Refugee (interview with an actual refugee)

Domestic Refugee Resettlement (Jenny Yang)

Justice Fatigue (Dr. Vincent Bacote and Ken Wytsma)

Leading Through Crisis (Bill Hybels and Rich Stearns)

On Becoming Free

My thoughts often turn to her when I'm driving on the interstate alone.  Sometimes it's the smell of a skunk because she always yelled about how much they stunk.  Other times it's the sight of a horse trailer, and I can almost audibly hear her yell, "Horse trailer!" in that excited way she did.  And then I see her smile and her blue eyes, and I see her face like it was yesterday even though it's been 15 years.

Losing her was the hardest thing I've ever been through.  Of course, there have been other hurts.  Losing my first love, homesickness, but all of those invariably healed over time.

It's different with her.  I still feel the pain of her leaving, although it has numbed considerably and I rarely let it out.  But on those long drives on the interstate, it often comes up to the surface and begs to be seen.  Maybe it was because she was one of the first people to take me places, to show me the world beyond my hometown.  Maybe it was because she took me to work with her and opened my eyes to new things. 

I often wonder if she knew how much she meant to me back then.  I hung on her every word and I wanted to be like her in every way.  I wanted to write like her, I wanted to dress like her, I wanted a car like hers, I wanted a life like hers.  I even wanted dogs like hers.  Her favorites were my favorites.  When she left, I didn't even know what my favorite color was because it had always been hers.  I remember buying the same shoes she had and being afraid she would wish I hadn't.  I looked out the window, sat on the porch, and waited for her almost every evening.

It was a Friday when she told my parents she was leaving.  I was not there, but I remember myself back in that Sears' dressing room the next day when my mom told me she was leaving.  I remember time slowing down.  I remember the shock, the disbelief, the wondering, the listening to my mom attempt to explain that which couldn't being explained.  I remember my world changing that day, that moment in time in which my world split in half.  I remember the visceral need I felt to see her, to talk to her.  I remember calling and leaving a message that I wanted to see her when she got home- not knowing then that she was out telling others she was leaving while I was waiting for her to come home.

I waited for her that night and then I saw her, but I don't remember anything she said.  I just remember seeing the hurt.  I remember seeing the sheets that showed he was sleeping downstairs while she was sleeping upstairs.  I remember her saying we could get ice cream the next day, on Sunday, one last time before she left on Monday.

On Sunday morning, I remember my youth minister pulling me close and enveloping me completely when I fell into her arms and told her what was happening.  I remember crying and feeling like my world was crumbling beneath me. 

I remember sitting on a picnic table getting ice cream together that Sunday afternoon, just the three of us, one last time, but not feeling like we used to.  I remember seeing a made-up mind ready to move on and a broken heart not even knowing how to move.

I remember looking out the window Monday morning, seeing her parents' car there to pack her up and take her away.  I remember wondering how all that could happen in one day. 

I remember sitting on my best friend's couch saying it was the worst one of my life when her mom asked how my weekend was.  I remember thinking that was a first!

I remember the grace of a sweet card from a friend the week after she left.  That friend was sorry for my pain, and that card stayed on my dresser for months.  It was a gentle reminder each morning that someone saw and cared about my pain and that there was still some good in the world. 

I remember checking on him in those first days and weeks and I mostly remember silence and emptiness and wondering if things would ever be okay.

I remember learning of the pictures he sent with her so she would remember the life she left behind.

I remember thinking lots of homework was a good thing because it gave me something to focus on other than her.

I remember letters eagerly written and sent with my love and adoration for her professed.  I remember waiting and waiting for replies.  I remember letting my dad hold me like a baby in the recliner one evening as I cried.  I remember his smell and I remember feeling safe.  I can't remember if it was because there was no reply or because it hadn't been what I'd hoped. 

I still have those letters in a box under my bed.  They have moved with me umpteen times.  I think there are three of them, and I sometimes wonder what it would be like to read them again after all these years.  Would I read them differently now, as an adult, with so much time gone by?

I remember calling once, in a desperate last attempt to see her after an unanswered request.  I can't remember if I cried on the phone to her mother or not.  I remember learning in a letter that she had been out of town and unable to visit as I had hoped. 

I remember going to a family dinner with him at a nice restaurant, the first one without her, trying hard to be okay and have fun. 

I remember my mom cooking for him and the three of us going on walks in the evenings.

I remember the encouragement of a sweet friend who urged me to talk to her and share my feelings when I would see her in the fall to try to get some closure.  I remember seeing her that one time in the fall, hoping for answers, but not really getting any.  I remember her telling me the reason she didn’t call or write often was to make it easier for me.   

I remember standing in my freshman dorm room when she called to invite me to her wedding.  I remember where the phone was and what the room looked like and what I felt standing there.  I remember it feeling surreal that she was talking to me like everything was fine and that she hadn't stopped communicating with me two years earlier.  I remember feeling it would be disloyal for me to go.  Besides, it was miles away, states away, and I was in college.

I remember learning of a friend who had stopped her parents from separating and feeling like I should have done more.  I remember thinking if I had stayed close to her the last years she was there that maybe she would have stayed.  I remember thinking I should have pitched a fit and begged her not to leave.  I remember thinking that in some small way it was my fault or that at the very least I could have prevented it.

I remember inviting her to my wedding and getting no response.  I remember this being the last time I tried.  I remember getting a card a month after my wedding from her with his name, too.  I remember thinking it might have been better if I had gotten nothing.

I remember talking to two different counselors about her, about the possibility of contacting her.  One said I should let her know in advance and asked me what my expectations were.  Years later, the other one said she may not have known how important she was to me, and I may not have been as important to her as she was to me.  She said that in the midst of all she was going through at the time, she probably wasn’t thinking much about me.  She said if she hadn’t initiated contact, she had probably moved on.  I think those were the hardest words to hear.  How could she not have known?  How could I not have mattered to her as much as she mattered to me? 

Four months ago, when I wrote this post, it ended here in this sad place.  It ended with me wanting to know if I ever even mattered to her.  But the Lord in His graciousness wouldn't leave me there.

Now I can see that she was swept up in other things and other people.  Now I can see that none of that minimizes the close relationship we had in previous years.  Now I can see that she probably loved me in her own way, even if she didn't express it well.  Now I can see that I am not responsible for her choices.  Now I can see how it would have been hard for her to keep in touch with me.  Now I can see that as a child, I could not understand everything that was happening.  Now I can see that people aren't meant to be saviors.  Now I can see that it was never God's desire for me to be hurt by her.  (A sermon here by Jen Hatmaker on 9/6/15 helped with this.)

Many years have passed, and I have grown in a lot of ways- in relationship ways and in spiritual ways.  I used to need validation and approval from others to feel okay.  It has taken such a long time, but I do not need those things anymore.  I can treasure my friends and family and the good times we have without needing them to make me okay.  I can accept them wholly- with all of their strengths and shortcomings.  I can appreciate them more readily and forgive them more freely.  My happiness is not dependent on their performance. 

I have finally, finally found my worth in Jesus.  I have had a relationship with Him since I was 13 years old, but I tried to earn His approval the next 18 years of my life.  It has just been in the last few months that I have taken hold of the truth that Jesus is my righteousness.  I can not be good enough, do enough good things, or try hard enough to earn God's favor or approval.  I actually already have it because I trusted in Jesus to forgive me and make me clean back on that hot July night when I walked down the aisle and sang, "I Have Decided to Follow Jesus."  Jesus stands in my place and He is all that God sees when He looks at me.  I am so, so thankful to God for revealing this truth to me through Scripture, song, Bible study, and discussion with other believers.  I think my 32nd year is going to be my best year yet because I am finally, finally free.

Click here to listen:

Before the throne of God above

I have a strong and perfect plea

A great High Priest whose name is love

Who ever lives and pleads for me

My name is graven on His hands

My name is written on His heart

I know that while in heaven He stands

No tongue can bid me thence depart

No tongue can bid me thence depart

 

When Satan tempts me to despair

And tells me of the guilt within

Upward I look and see Him there

Who made an end of all my sin

Because the sinless Savior died

My sinful soul is counted free

For God the just is satisfied

To look on Him and pardon me

To look on Him and pardon me

 

Hallelujah, hallelujah

Praise the One, Risen Son of God

 

Behold Him there, the risen Lamb

My perfect, spotless Righteousness

The great unchangeable I AM

The King of glory and of grace

One in Himself, I cannot die

My soul is purchased by His blood

My life is hid with Christ on high

With Christ my Savior and my God

With Christ my Savior and my God

 

Hallelujah, hallelujah

Praise the One, Risen Son of God

"Before the Throne of God Above"

Shane and Shane arrangement

Acoustic Cover by Jason Waller 

 

Strangely Ready

I have interviewed for two jobs in the past month and received neither one.  I handled the first rejection well.  I had been a little worried about how my sons would do and the longer it went on, the more prepared I was to hear that I was not the one they had chosen. 

The second one moved a lot quicker and I was more excited about it. Maybe this was why I hadn’t gotten the first job, I thought.  I wasn’t nearly as worried about my sons this time because I knew it would be meaningful work for me.  I still haven’t heard for sure, but the day they were to make a decision has come and gone, so I’m fairly certain I didn’t get it either. 

Our lesson at Bible study this week was on the first 26 verses of Philippians.  Paul was in prison, but he sang and worshipped anyway.  His greatest desire was for people to hear about Jesus.  While he prayed, the jail doors were opened, but he stayed so the jailer wouldn’t get in trouble.  The jailer and his family became believers and were baptized because of the way Paul handled his misfortune.  Even though he was in chains, he was encouraged that the imperial guard had all heard about his Jesus and other believers were more courageous in sharing their faith, all because of his imprisonment.  This was the lesson on the day I didn’t get the second job.



Truth hanging in my kitchen

I did not envision my life turning out this way.  When I was younger, I did not think I would be a stay-at-home mom.  I thought I would have a fancy job that really helped people.  But then I did not get the Z. Smith Reynolds job that sounded really impressive.  And then my job at Goodwill Industries helping people get jobs fell through the day I was moving to Winston because they lost their funding.  And so I got a job in the Food Stamp Department because I had done an internship there.  I learned a lot, but I did not really feel like I was helping people.  I decided to go back to school to be a teacher because maybe I could help kids who were still in their formative years.  I chose to work at a hard school, and I did it for 3.5 years until my son was born.  But it was much harder than I ever thought it would be.  I do think I helped some kids, but I don’t know that I was cut out for that kind of work.  It was so, so hard and overwhelming to me, and I don’t think I handled the stress or the discipline issues super well.  I looked forward to the day my son was born because I would finally get to meet him, and I would get to leave my job. 

Then staying home was hard, too, in a different way.  It was isolating because I didn’t know the importance of getting out and being with other moms, and I was hesitant to leave my firstborn with others.  By the time he was 7 months old, I was ready to go back to teaching part-time at an easier school.  I loved my job, and my son adjusted fairly well.  He was worn out by the time I picked him up at 1:00, but he enjoyed preschool.  This was a pretty good balance for us.  I worked there for a year and a half, and then along came baby boy number two.  He was a pure delight!  I kept my word and went back to finish out the year after my 12 weeks of maternity leave, and my mom came to keep my little one until school was out.  I thought I would be ready to go back after the summer, but then I wasn’t.  My little one was so easy and cuddly and sweet.  I decided I wanted to stay home with him.  I knew he would nap better at home, and I wanted more time with him.  The second one always grows faster than the first, you know. 


Snuggles with Mom, yogurt on face, on a rare day that this little one didn't nap :)


I stayed home with him and now he is twenty months old, and I thought I was ready to go back to work.  But work hasn’t seemed to work out for me. 

And now my firstborn isn’t napping.  I kept fighting and fighting it, but I’m finding it’s easier to release it.  He simply isn’t going to sleep most days, and it's not worth the battle.  He is very active and he wants to be doing.  So now he has quiet play time in his room instead of napping, and it’s going better because we both stopped pretending he was going to nap. 

My ever-helpful husband suggested a routine, a schedule of sorts for the afternoon, and I liked his idea.  I had hoped a job would solve this problem, but it looks as if that isn’t going to happen.  So I checked out books with ideas for preschoolers and went to Hobby Lobby and got lots of craft materials, and we’re getting there.  I am learning how to adjust and let him create and have fun with it.  I always loved crafts as a child, so why not have fun doing them with my son now?  The cashier at Hobby Lobby commented on how crafty I was and how much he'd love doing them, and I told her I'd never been very crafty but that I was going to try! 

My firstborn, who is all too much like me!
 

At first I wanted to fight it, not just the loss of the nap, but this whole season.

But then I didn’t anymore. 

I want to live the best way I know how with the gifts I’ve been given, including my gracious husband and both of my sons, with all of their sweetness and joy and challenges and tantrums (from my sons, not my husband!).  I have to lean into all of it if I am going to relish it and savor it.  Even when it’s hard and I sometimes wish it were different, it is still very good.  I have to remember that I can embody my Jesus to all three of my boys, and that is a very important job indeed.  Staying at home sounds small, and in many ways it is, but I’m learning that being small is a good thing.  The kingdom of God has always been upside down.  The weak will be strong and the last will be first.  Less of me and more of Him.  Let it be so.   

I'm strangely ready for what comes next,

I'm strangely ready,

It’s hard to describe 'cause it makes no sense.

I’m strangely ready for what comes next.

Count it faith, I got up.

Nothing left for me yet but a longing with trust.

Was it faith?  I don’t know.

You just lifted and led me and I had to go.

Now I’m strangely ready.

 

- from "Strangely Ready" by Sara Groves