guest blog

I can't help but re-post this blog I read this morning from a young woman whose faith and walk with Christ continues to reach in and grab my heart. Younger than me, and a single mother of 14 daughters in Uganda, she is yet another example that truly anything Jesus asks of us is possible. When He calls; He also equips. He has used her story to get my attention, today being just one of the days...

It can be found here
( The Journey; www.kissesfromkatie.blogspot.com/)


“Jesus! Mama, baby Jesus! I want to see! I want to see Jesus!,” shrieks my littlest darling.

How can I refuse? I lift her, for what seems like the hundredth time this morning, to the manger scene on the living room bookshelf. She gazes in wonder, oohs and ahs, gingerly fingering the cornhusk baby in his twig and banana fiber trough.

“Jesus, Mama,” she whispers.

And so, the nativity scene that once was packed away each year after Christmas remains on the bookshelf still, because my darling baby, in all her wondrous excitement reminds me daily of who I want to be, the kind of life I want to live.

A wide-eyed, expectant child, gazing in wonder on a beautiful Savior.

In the middle of a broken, sin-crushed world, my soul cries out, “I want to see! I want to see Jesus!”

I want to see Jesus.

My darling Karimojong sister Maria, who is battling severe, gripping alcoholism, and her sweet baby are living with us still. People wonder, even gasp, that I would let her join us at our table. Isn’t she a poor example? Why would I subject my girls to that?

I want to see Jesus.

Newborn baby Noah snuggles to my chest as his mother lays dying in a hospital bed. He cried through the night and I feed him and kiss his pink toes and pray over his little life. Why do I do it? Don’t I have my hands full enough already?

I want to see Jesus.

Zulaika, her severely malnourished baby and her 8 year old daughter move into our home while we teach Zulaika how to care for her children and find her a job so she can continue to do so. They have lice. They do not bathe. Fear creeps up the back of my throat and I wonder, what if all my children get sick? But we have taken in sick people before, and each time He hedges us in protection. People ask, do I feel that I am being responsible?

I want to see Jesus.

Jane and her birth mom spend the weekend in our guest room. I figure if I cannot parent this my daughter, the least I can do is teach her mother about our Savior, invest time in their lives, pray over them while we love them. My heart breaks in two as her high pitched, breathy giggle once more fills my home and the pain threatens to paralyze me, but I won't let it.

I want to see Jesus.

Strangers eat at our table, bathe in our showers, sleep in our beds, share our everything. And I fleetingly wonder if it wouldn’t be better for my girls if I maintained some semblance of normal, but He shows me that HIS definition of family is not at all limited by my own.

I want to see Jesus.

I want to see Jesus and if I don’t step out, how can He come in? If I don’t give all of myself, my home, even my family, how will He be magnified?

Do I want my children to be safe? Absolutely. Do I want them to have a “normal” family dinner sometimes and be healthy and not be subject to the rage of an alcoholic or the hurt of friends dying and siblings leaving? Of course. But more than that I want to take a cue from my baby girl.

I want to whisper to them excitedly each morning, “Look, Jesus.”

I want them to see Jesus. In my life. In my actions. Lifted High. Magnified. In our neighbors, no matter how sick or dirty. In our home.

I want the best for my children, I do. And I believe with all my heart what is best is for them to have a mother – a crazy mother even – wide-eyed in wonder, recklessly chasing after her Savior.

More of Him. We want to see Jesus.

just writing...

‘For the Lord hears the cries of the needy; he does not despise his imprisoned people.’ Psalm 69:33

Over the weekend, I met a young woman who shared her story with me. She saw the cross tattoo on my foot, and asked me if I was a Christian. Me too, she said. And so we began to talk…I learned she has been a Christian for 10 years. She first learned about Jesus when she was living in her home village, as a child. She has a two-year-old son, and is already widow; at twenty-six years old. Her son lives with a relative a few hours away. I didn’t understand why, but perhaps she isn’t around enough to care for him. She works from 9am to midnight; everyday of the week, every day of the month- with one day off each month. She earns $40 a month, giving massages to foreigners. She has worked this job for the past two and a half years. It’s difficult though, she says, because she is the only provider in her house, and rent is $35 a month. The only way she can provide for her family is through her tips. On an average day, she says she has 3-5 customers. She is the sole provider for her mother and young brother, whom she shares the house (one room) with. Her father was killed during the Khmer rouge.

She wasn’t looking for pity. She wouldn’t say she was going without and she actually has many good things in her life, she said. She communicated with me not feeling sorry for herself, just openly sharing the facts, and seemed more than happy to chat with an interested stranger.

I am still thinking about her. Her story is not unusual. It is all too ordinary. Long hours. Low pay. Working every day. Poor and often illegal working conditions. Children being cared for by someone else. Families separated. Loss of a spouse. Day to day survival. No money saved; no extra money at all…

I wonder what it means for her to follow Jesus. I wonder how she understands His promises differently than I do. I will never understand why I am in the place I am, and her daily life often seems like a half a world away; even as we converse in the same room. Hers is a life I can’t even fathom, honestly. I do know, though, that I am deeply responsible and accountable for how I love and care for her and those like her. And I want to learn and understand more about what this responsibility means, and what it looks like practically. This is one of the difficulties and yet indescribable privileges to living in Cambodia for me. What a joy it was for me even to be able to have this conversation. What a joy it is to get to meet and know people here, and listen to their stories. And I will continue to struggle though the thoughts and questions and prayers, which don’t often have answers. But I want to be aware. And I want to remember those I am surrounded by who have struggles that I may never understand.

‘He will rescue the poor when they cry to him; he will help the oppressed, who have no one to defend them.

He feels pity for the weak and the needy, and HE WILL RESCUE THEM.

He will redeem them from oppression and violence, for THEIR LIVES ARE PRECIOUS TO HIM.’
Psalm 72: 12-14

'but I trust in your unfailing love. I will rejoice because you have rescued me.' psalm 13:5

life these days

I have wanted to write for over a week. I don’t really have inspiration to write, but I will try anyway. I have moved; again. My third big move in the past year, even if this time it is back the city I first moved to, and within the same country. What a crazy past year it’s been. I was looking at pictures on my camera and recalled that during this week last year I was at the ocean one day, the next day skiing in the mountains~ and now, I am here in Asia. That ocean is far away, and instead I am surrounded by dry dusty plains, gravel roads, palm trees, and open fields. On an evening run I see the hazy pink sun going down, and I get love from giggling children who run after me barefoot until they tire. I no longer breathe in the congestion of the city streets, instead it’s the dust of the country roads. But I will take it!

It has been a pretty good past two weeks. Jesus is reminding me what dependence on Him really means and what it looks like. I feel like there isn’t much I am capable of without Him.

I still don’t know much about what life will look like here as the weeks and months go on. But for today, it looks like getting to meet with a few Cambodian teachers who are really excited to study English. Spending an hour reading a few pages of a book, because I am a slow reader. Meeting lots of new people. Playing ping-pong with some really eager to learn young women. Learning my way around; again. Learning how to drive a motorbike. Meeting the (new!) neighbor kids. Finding the market; again. Finding new places to run. Learning some new medical words in Khmer. Learning my way around a new clinic, and even getting to practice some old skills like giving IM injections!

Looking forward to see what the Lord has in mind for this next chapter of life in Cambodia…