Leftover Pizza

She-would-not-let-go... like, for anything. I mean, she fights for 42 inches of height and we were in a 6ft. deep end, after all. Her grip was so tight I think I still have finger prints around my neck and this was two days ago. Because when the water around you doubles your height and you're too terrified to swim, you grab on for dear life to anything. Anything that will float and keep your head above water. When I stopped pulling at her small waist and she stopped screaming "Noooooooo!!" she heard me whisper calmly, "Azah. You have to stop holding on so tight and trust that I will not let go of you."
In the middle of all that quietness, I heard Him whisper too. Pretty much the exact same sentence, just insert  "Ashli." Like usual, I went on with whatever was in front of me - in this case, an innocent little black girl horrified of the countless gallons of water surrounding us. He'll be sure to bring it back up, He always does.


We were on our first family-that's-not-really-a-family road trip. Me + 3 African American children + no wedding ring = a whole lot of funny looks and a whole lot more fun.

 Brian

 Azah

Meikayla

Without the gory details, we were staying in a super fun hotel on the Mississippi River. Literally, on the river. It was complete with an indoor/outdoor restaurant/lounge with quaint outside seating on the riverside and an indoor pool for times like these. Three trips to the pool in two days ... we clearly took advantage of this indoor luxury. (Thank you Wal-Mart for having $6 swimsuits in the middle of January.) Our second night at the pool, we ordered pizza and cheesy-bread which only took Papa John's one hour to deliver, but who's counting when there is pool water, better yet - hot tub water, to be had? 

[Obviously, Meikayla (the eldest) was more concerned with the "cold pool" which had the "deep waters." Much too old and mature to be in the "kiddie pool" or "the hot one" which most of us ridiculous people know as a spa/jacuzzi.]

Now where was I? Oh yes! The pizza that we couldn't eat all of. Never fear; Cold pizza is better the next day, anyway. Regardless, we had big plans the next day! That's right... a basketball game. Apparently it is completely unacceptable for 8-year old Meikayla to share delicious cheesy nachos with me and 5-year old Azah. I'm 25... and the one paying... but what do I know? So, TWO orders of $4 nachos, please. (And bring on the jalapeños para mi, gracias!) Her "I want everything and I want it now" attitude didn't stop her from being one of the three most precious children in the place, though. Just check out these school-spirited outfits.... 

Speaking of an attitude-of-want, Meikayla thinks she is supposed to eat every. single. hour. (A not-so-great characteristic she got from her not-so-biological mother... aka: me.) Annoying as it may be, we carry it none the less. Which makes perfect sense for her to beg me for a piece of the leftover pizza every other time the clock strikes a new hour. At this point, we are on our way home. Allow me to use this time to let you know that our 150 minute drive home took a whopping FIVE hours. Yes, your read correctly. Due to my lack of road knowledge and apparent inability to listen to the GPS/ on my handy dandy Galaxy S, it took us just that long to get home. Read and follow road signs? Who does that? Not a chance...

Sooooo, where we should have been home by 3:30pm, we were still on the road at 5:30pm. And if you have done the math, you know that Meikayla has asked for pizza at least three times since lunch at noon. 

[Approximately 5:00pm] - something kinda funny happened. this is how it went down: 

MK:    Ms. Ashli, can we have some of the leftover pizza from yesterday? (As if this is a new         

question and I don't know to which pizza she is referring) 

Me:     Meikayla, what have I told you the last three times you asked?

MK:    That I need to wait til the next meal.

Me:     And is it time for our next meal?

MK:    Ummm? It's 5pm.... ?

Me:     Oh. Ok - if you will wait 30 minutes - just hold out a little longer- we are going to have a really, really good meal. Much better than leftover pizza ... a really good, hot meal. Just trust me on this one.

Silence. 

I thought to myself: "Gosh, kids are so much work. If only they could see the big picture. Then they would know that something better was waiting... and only 30 minutes away. I mean, that's right around the corner. Just be patient, for the love of Moses!!" 

Then I heard Him whisper, "Oh hey. You get that concept now?"

Silence. 

In retrospect, did God really just equate my desire for safety and comfort to clinging to ANYTHING that will float in the deep end? I think yes. And my desire for self and instant gratification to leftover pizza? I think yes. Did he really just teach me two important lessons about trust .... in one weekend.... with children... out of my own mouth? I think yes. 

At times I wonder if they are actually my words coming out. 

And like usual, I go on with whatever is in front of me. Paying attention to the shiny toys I crave more than I crave  time with Him. But He'll be sure to bring it back up.

He always does. 

I will say of the LORD, "He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust." Psalm 91:2 

What Happened?

Oh, here we are again. 


And surprise, surprise! I don't know where to begin. You could have guessed that one. 


Not only do I not know where to start this blog, but I don't know where to start much of anything. 


I'm something of a New Testament Paul in Romans 7. 

"I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do. And if I do what I do not want to do, I agree that the law is good. As it is, it is no longer I myself who do it, but it is sin living in me. For I know that good itself does not dwell in me, that is, in my sinful nature. For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing. Now if I do what I do not want to do, it is no longer I who do it, but it is sin living in me that does it. So I find this law at work: Although I want to do good, evil is right there with me. For in my inner being I delight in God’s law; but I see another law at work in me, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin at work within me. What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body that is subject to death? Thanks be to God, who delivers me through Jesus Christ our Lord!" 

Hm, I'm not sure if I should say more. Need I?


You must excuse my wandering mind which fuels my typing. What's the word? I need an adjective. A descriptive word to tell you how I feel. One that will make you really understand the chaos, no... conviction, in my head and heart. 
I'm uneasy. No, I'm confused. Concerned? Guilty? Not. Ready. For. Life.  ... broken? What's the word you're feeling when your spirit is broken? Except not really broken. Ohhh, you know... when you should be wrecked.


shattered.


trashed.
and I don't mean with alcohol.


That season in your life when you know what's right- you just don't want to do it. And quite frankly, you don't. You know the wrong choice and  you choose it anyway. And, what's worse? You don't care. At least not in the moment. Because sin is attractive. Think of Eve. Remember her? Sure you do. That darn fruit was just way too juicy. Way too tempting. Too attractive. And when you're eating a big fat juicy apple, nothing else matters but the flavor savoring on your taste buds. So maybe it took a few sentences, rather than one informative adjective. The question remains: How the heck did this happen? See, this is hard ... because I fear what you may think of me. 


"Ashli, get it together. You serve Jesus. You love the Jesus you serve. And? You tell  people of this love and service. You describe Him and the way He gives you life and the way He makes you feel and your passion is not a secret and...." - - - - - -


"The person you are describing sounds legit. She sounds unmovable. Unshakable. Confident and holy in all her ways. She sounds so... passionate? That's not you."


Did I mention there are two people in my head? They literally go back and forth all day long. It's this sort of conversation that will drive a girl nuts. Sometimes I think there is an angel with a halo on one shoulder and a devil in a red suit on the other. For all intensive purposes, there are. 


What happened to my strength? Where did my assurance go? What about the times I could melt in His peace? And the countless hours I could sit .... with Him. Just sitting, and chatting - mostly listening for me. His words are more precious, anyway. What happened to His voice? Scratch that ... what happened to my ears? Where went the times of my hearing Him clearly and obeying? Oh, I hear His voice. I just don't want to. For in my sinful desires I want to ignore Him. I want Him to go away and I want to carry on about life serving me and my desires. So:


Here are the things I've noticed:

• I, Ashli - the human, crave pleasure. 
• I, Ashli - the human,  am unbelievably selfish with my time and who I want to serve with it
• I, Ashli - the human, have been worshipping religion - not Jesus

Here are the things I know:

• I, Ashli - the Christian,  crave His presence
• I, Ashli - the Christian, want His approval and want to serve Him with my time
• I, Ashli - the Christian, needn't attempt this temporary but relevant life on my own. 

I think if you're honest, you'll find these times in your life as well. In which case we can pray for one another. Heaven knows I need it. I'll even make you my best friend if someone, anyone, will humbly remind me that I-am-normal. Also? I'm just the kind of wretch a Perfect King would be crucified for. 


This is not a cry for help. Ok, yes it is. Because everyone knows that the scariest part of a Christian's walk is not facing storms or trials. It's not even facing death. But the scariest place a Christian can be in their walk is when they allow their flesh to defeat their spirit. Please, sweet Jesus help me. Please, precious friends and beloved readers pray this with me. And if, by chance, a connection is found between yourself and these transparent words... by all means let.a.sista.know. For we must intercede for one another. 


Oh my Father, I am desperate for you to save me from this. I am desperate to be desperate for You. Thank You for new mercies every second of every minute or every hour of every day. We need them all.

For Heaven's Sake

As I ramble on trying to get this post started and make you understand the power of the God we serve, a million thoughts fly out of my brain as quickly as they came into it. So I will just start with the middle of the story - that, after all, makes the most sense, right?

Two times in my 25 years I have seen my father cry: (1) the night I received Christ and (2) one afternoon when he spanked me. I looked up at him crying and said, "I still love you, Daddy." Perhaps that was an 8-year-old's tactic to avoid the next form of punishment. Regardless, I saw the tears in his eyes when he looked down and said, "I love you too, baby." However, the morning I said good-bye to my parents at the New Orleans airport, I saw his eyes start to turn red and I had to walk away. For I knew what would follow and I did not want to be there to experience it. Besides, I had a plane to catch - a very important one, at that! As I rushed to my gate I realized I was the last passenger to board so I quickly found my seat and began to settle in. I suppose that was when it all started. A day from hell, and I don't say that with a sacrilegious, sarcastic tone. 

For the next 75 minutes to Miami, FL I prayed "harder" than I had my whole life up to that point. My guess is that all the "God is with me, I'm not traveling alone" saga was just words I spoke out loud to convince myself and others that I was okay with the faith-stretching adventure God was about to send me on. Upon landing in FL, our captain came over the intercom and said that we needed to be towed into the gate. So we waited.... and waited.... and waited. For an hour we sat on our aircraft waiting to be towed to our gate. Once I finally got off the plane (I was sitting in the back) and found out where the TACA counter was, I hiked it a mile through the airport. The not-so-sweet lady not-so-nicely informed me that, although my plane started boarding in 25 minutes, I should have been there an hour ago because now it is too late to go to my gate and they would not let me board. (Special thanks to Miami airport employees for the speedy towing service.) It was then that I trekked back  to the American Airlines counter and stood in line behind 34 other people to figure out my next move. And yes, I counted the 34 people in front of me. While in line, the woman in front of me thought it would be a fun idea to let her 3-year-old daughter straddle her suitcase and ride on it. It worked for about 3.5 seconds until the girl's weight pulled the luggage backwards and she went tumbling on the floor, hitting her head on the cement. Screaming is an understatement. The young man behind me almost punched a man for accidentally running into his mom. And by "almost punched," I mean people around us had to break up the confrontation. I, on the other hand, just wanted to get on a plane to Costa Rica.

After 20 minutes at the AA counter,  I got my new boarding passes and headed toward my gate. I had about 10 minutes to spare before my group would start boarding at 7:05pm. One hour and 30 minutes later,  first class passengers began to board. You guessed it, my flight was delayed. Knowing that my phone would not work once I landed in CR, I tried everything I knew to get the message to the rest of my team traveling from other states. The message that I would not be there to meet them when I was supposed to. AA sent the message to Delta, I witnessed it. Delta, however, failed to pass it on. Needless to say, they were clueless the whole time. I expected my luggage to be on the carousel because AA in Miami told me that it went straight from New Orleans to San Jose. That, however, was not the case.  After filing a missing baggage claim, getting through Customs and wandering around outside the airport, my group was no where to be found. My phone didn't work - neither did theirs. After several minutes of controlled panic and broken Spanish phone calls, I found my group. Well ... they found me, rather.

I was told my luggage would be delivered the next day to our hotel. And whatever you are picturing as our hotel, forget that image right now because it's probably not right. Thankfully I had 2 extra sets of clothes in my carry-on because my mother in her infinite wisdom has always taught me this. The day came and went with no delivery of a suitcase. My team and I prayed continuously for my luggage. It may sound tedious to pray for such, I know, but at that time it was a need. A big physical need. And as far as we knew, God was the only One who knew where my bags were. I remember praying the next morning (Sunday) with the rest of the team: "God, I am frustrated. I am so frustrated. I need my luggage but more importantly I need You to take this distraction away from me." Sunday came and went and all day long our local pastor's wife tried calling about the location of my bags but there was never any answer. 

As we drove up to the reception area of our hotel after a very long, exhausting day, I said to the people sitting near me on the bus, "You know what would be amazing? If my baggage was just sitting there waiting for me. It won't be though, we have been calling all day and they are closed on Sundays." The words were not out of my mouth for 4 whole seconds before we saw it. There it was. My luggage, in all it's glory - just waiting for me to come get it and pull it up the monster hill to my cabin-thingy. Tears of gratitude may or may not have filled my eyes. 

The next day (Monday) was our first day of ministry. I could not wait to start the sports outreach because that is right up my alley. Once we got to the field and started setting up, myself and a couple of the translators started kicking the soccer ball around. Trying to perform a trick with the ball, I jumped in the air and came down in a hole. My ankle sprained and popped. I felt it. I heard it. My whole body went down, of course, and I could feel the pain throughout my leg. That was the end of walking for me ... let alone anymore sports. So I thought.... God, on the other hand, had other plans. Not only was I able to walk on it for the whole week, I even played some soccer our last day there. (That probably was not the best idea considering the extra swelling it caused, but it felt right at the moment.)  If you saw a picture of my ankle (facebook/older blog post) then you can tell I should not have been able to walk. But like I said, God is bigger than any plan of satan's because walking was our main form of transportation and indeed, I walked. Not on water, but barefoot on rocky roads.

All in all, getting to Costa Rica was an adventure in itself. I learned so much about our Father in just 12 short hours. Lessons I won't forget for a long time. I can't wait to post more later so you can see the tangible proof that I saw... proof that we serve a Mighty, Mighty, Wonderful Counselor and Friend.

I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should

 go; I will counsel you and watch over you. Psalm 32:8 

Peace, Love, and Hermit Crabs

While I promise to tell more about God's work in Costa Rica, tonight I want to share about God's work in Mary's kids. (If you don't know who Mary is, scroll down a few blog posts and you will see her story and pictures.)

I haven't talked about them in several weeks but I haven't seen them any less. I still see them every Friday for Backpack Buddies and my heart still skips a beat every time they run into the classroom screaming my name and jumping into my arms for a huge hug. And by huge I mean death grip. At then end of October, we took them to the Fall Festival at our church where we consumed way too much sugar, rode the mechanical bull like champs, and got our whole faces painted to match our costumes. 

After a long night of games, food, candy and prizes we loaded up to go home. Thank you, Ms. Erin for all your help. You're always a delight! :)

On the way home we learned about love. "Love is patient... love is kind... love does not envy." I asked them questions like, "What are some ways you can show love to you mom?" and "What is patient? What does it mean to be kind?" Although Azah had a harder time recalling the order of the verse, they were very excited to memorize the descriptive words for love. I knew they may never remember those words after that night. But, for at least the cold night in October, they knew what love was. 

         

This afternoon after school, we took the girls home to change clothes before our weekly afternoon outing. Today was going to be an exciting outing because, they didn't know it yet, but KK and I were taking them to the mall to let them pick out the hermit crabs they wanted! Before we could go to the mall we had to wait for KK to get off work so we killed time with Nick, Rickia and Nike at Sweet Peppers. Over a nice big bowl of rotel and chips, this conversation happened:

Me: Azah, do you love me?
Azah: Well, yeeaaahhh.
Me: How much?
Azah: 16 and 100
Me: Really? Wow. Is that a lot?
Azah: Yeah. It's a lot of dollars.

Sweet heaven, can I have her?

Before we revealed the great surprise, which was not so great, the littles needed to use the facilities. While helping Brian do his thang, I heard Azah start to recite something I hadn't heard in while. My heart smiled and I couldn't have been more proud. "Love is patient ... love is kind ... love does not envy. Ms. Ashli, love is kind and patient and not envy. You hear me, Ms. Ashli? Love is kind." Wow. In that moment, God reminded me of the power of words. Speak truth to people. Even if they can't recite it back to you perfectly - even if they don't get the order of the words correct every time - even if they don't want to hear it. Speak it. Speak it boldly, for it is truth. 

We returned to the table where the others were waiting and I began to explain to the girls that I was going to buy them a hermit crab for Christmas. Simultaneously:

Meikayla: "Noooooo! I'm scared of crabs!!"

Azah: " Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!" 

Azah, fearless by nature, bolted to the booth near our table to pick our the crab she would take home. After much consideration and almost choosing the blue shell with Batman, she settled on the yellow shell with Spongebob. By the end of the night, however, Meikayla and Brian were sold on the new, low-maintenance pet idea and both wanted one. I suppose we will be making a trip back to get them each one.  

Azah needed a new coat and Gap Kids had a sale so we couldn't resist the magnetic pull. When I tell you these girls are divas, do not underestimate that word. They are not only the opposite of camera shy, but they will pose anywhere, anytime, for anyone. AND they have a model face. Prepare yourself for this. 

Modeling their new boots :)

I told you .... divas. 

When KK and I told them we were out of quarters to ride more toy cars in the mall, Azah thought it would be appropriate to ask the gentlemen next her (who was already funding the rides of his son) to support her spending habit. KK stopped her and she said to him, "Well you said y'all are out of money!!" After all to a child, it's only logical to ask someone else for quarters when you run out yourself. 

It's amazing what God will show you through 5 and 8 year olds. Even Brian who is 2. I'm humbled and honored that He has entrusted these three young vulnerable souls to my teaching. I pray they learn as much from us as we do from them.

"Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres." 1 Corinthians 13:4-7

? No hablo Espanol ?

If I told you everything about Costa Rica, and believe me - I want to, you would get tired of reading before I got finished typing. In my last post I said, "I won't pretend like its ungodly hot or the poverty here is overwhelming. We are ministering in a part of town that has running water and most of the time it's hot."


I was, however, overwhelmed. I was taken over with exhaustion, pain, and the idea that the family down the street didn't know Jesus. Neither did the lady next to them. "We can't go down that road," my national told me, "we may not make it back out." As my eyes raised up from the street to see which road she was talking about, I saw the groups of guys standing outside their houses. They sold drugs and they were dangerous. So dangerous that the police drove by that road as quickly as they could. As we continued to walk, I felt it. It pulled my back like a magnet. I couldn't stop thinking about it. God wanted me to pray for that street, I was sure of it. I kept walking with my national and tried my best to ignore it because well, in that moment, I wanted to resist the Spirit.

(this is not the exact one. as you can imagine, 

I don't have a picture of that road.)

Boldness is not something we have on our own. Sure, some have more than others and for some of us it comes more natural. But when it comes to the Gospel, there is only one source of boldness and courage: God Almighty. This little boy received Christ, and the next day at school shared the Gospel with 8 of his friends. Ironically enough, his name is Christian. Thank you, Father for reminders like this precious boy.

Our second day at the local church, I saw a lady outside the gate. I knew she cooked for the church so I went out to let her in but she told me she didn't need in. Between my broken Spanish and her slow words, I figured out that she was going to the doctor for her heart. I grabbed a translator because I wanted details. Her heart was 80% bad and she was going for a check-up. "Can I please pray for you," I insisted. "Of course," she smiled. I prayed. Hugo translated. Christina cried out to her Healer. Christina left. I went on about my day. Hugo went back inside. The next day I saw Christina at the church and she had something for me. It was a beautiful heart necklace and she said, "Thank you." When I asked about her heart, she smiled and joy filled her face. She doesn't need to go back to the doctor until a year from now because her heart is fine now. The necklace was to remember her. This is Christina..

As much as I shared in Costa Rica, I learned a whole lot more. My team was mostly made up of people from PA but also Houston, TX, Phoenix, AZ, Chattanooga, TN and then me... Hattiesburg, MS :) I taught Emmie that it's ok to walk barefoot and we have the pictures to prove she lived through it. (She thought she wouldn't.) 

I learned (1) to wrap my own ankle and (2) that God's building of His Kingdom does not stop for a twisted, bruised body part. This is a few days after it happened and it actually looks really good here. There is no way I should have been able to walk around all day on this bad boy but like I said - His Kingdom stops for no one. HE is my healer. HE is my sustainer.

 I added a lot to my Spanish vocabulary.

I learned what it means to serve others selflessly. I also learned that I absolutely cannot do that without the power of God living inside me. 

I learned to love these girls!! 

 I learned to sleep where ever I could find a place to be still. 

I learned to appreciate my comforts back home.

I learned to walk in the rain, arm in arm with the ones who mean the most :)

 I learned what it means to fall in love instantly with a group of people you do not know - but we share one thing: we need Jesus.

 I learned that using a translator effectively is harder than you think.

 I learned to zipline hundreds of feet in the air over God's amazing creation. 

I learned that I can fly/travel alone because I'm never really alone anyway, I now appreciate a meal without rice and beans, and I learned to not flush toilet paper... gross, I know. 

Sometimes, when I think about it long enough, I could cry because I miss them so much. The memories I will forever cherish make my heart smile when I remember them. Thank You Lord for choosing me. Thank You for equipping me. Thank You for allowing me.

To Prayer Warriors and supporters,

I wish I could tell you exactly what your support has done for my recent trip, but words will never suffice. We serve a truly indescribable God and because of you, I was able to experience Him a thousand new ways in Costa Rica. I can say "thank you" every time I see you- but your true reward awaits. During our short stay we saw miracles, healing, restoration, new hope, and salvation all distributed from our Father. We saw people's lives change in an instant right before our very eyes. One thing is for sure: God has NOT forgotten Costa Rica. And because of you and God Almighty's grace, I was allowed to witness it all. 

I will never forget your love,

Ashli  

It's Different Here...

They told us before we left to clear our expectations. To not expect anything because anything can happen. How right they were.

I won't pretend like its ungodly hot or the poverty here is overwhelming. We are ministering in a part of town that has running water and most of the time it's hot. The air in the mountain (where we are staying) is cool and at night I can hear the wind beating fiercely against my window. Although it's sometimes scary, I wouldn't trade it for heat. Even when we go down to the city, it's not too bad. The ride is bumpy and I want to throw up every time. But once we get there and I see Saraita running toward me with candy or ice cream or whatever she bought me that day, I forget that my stomach is still settling from the bumps and holes in the road. This is Sarita:

My ankle is still swelling by the day and turning funny colors but our Father has provided for me to be able to walk. I was playing futbol (soccer) in a field when my foot planted in a hole and sprained my ankle. This  is the soccer "field" we were playing in:

And this is Chad wrapping it. Such a good Sports Outreach Coordinator (or whatever his official title is)

My translator is awesome and my national is amazing. It's no wonder the pastors here are so burdened for their country. The people are so sweet. So open. When I ask someone how I can pray for them, sometimes I get more than I wanted to know. This would never happen in the states. We're way too put-together to let anyone knock on our door, tell us about their God, and then tell them about all the problems in our lives and how they can pray. Oh, but here.... here it different. Here, there are lost people everywhere you turn but they are hungry. They are hungry and receptive. They cannot wait to share their new hope with their friends. It's not like that at home. But here... here is different. 

At home I'm intimidated to share Jesus with some people. Will I embarrass them? Will my words be persuasive enough to make them want to live for Him? But not here, here is different. In Costa Rica, people talk loudly and they don't care who hears. My nationals are bold and have courage like you  have never seen. 

I'm sure I will eventually tell stories of my time in Costa Rica. Many people I have met are story-worthy. But for now, as I soak it all up and take it all in, one verse is so relevant for everything happening here. 

"But you belong to God, my dear children. You have already won a victory over those people, because the Spirit who lives in you is greater than the spirit who lives in the world." 1 John 4:4

Painting Finger Nails

* this post is actually from yesterday but I, obviously didn't have internet access when I wrote it *

today is the day. it's not just talk anymore. it's normally a rather long process - dragging me out of bed. oh, but not today. for today is the beginning of a beautiful adventure with my Savior.

as mom paints my finger nails, i wonder how long these coats will last before i have to touch them up again. before i have to fill in the parts that scratch or peel off. as i look down at my freshly pink finger nails, i'm pleased. because my mom, who is a master nail painter, has done well. in my bedroom is playing david crowder's musical stylings of "like a lion." as i approach my door i can feel my adrenaline start to rush. "my God is not dead. He's surely alive and He's living on the inside roaring like a lion." oh, dear reader, our God is certainly not dead. He is living in us- in the deepest parts of us that no one ever sees and the parts we hope no one ever will. i cannot wait to tell some costa ricans how alive He truly is.

as i finish packing my last minute items, i think about how God must look at me the same way i look at my newly decorated finger nails- pleased. for He has taken off the old color, buffed and filed away at the edges, layer one... layer two... top coat. He has prepared me for what's to come in the following days. layer after layer He has poured out His wisdom and love on this helpless sinner and sealed it with a top coat. as mom painted on the last layer i commented, "the clear coat always makes it so much better. so shiny and pretty." and at the end of the manicure, i suppose He looks down, and is pleased. for He is a master at what He does. and He, the master refiner, has done well.

knowing that i will undoubtedly scratch and peel some places off and He will have to touch them up. still, He paints happily. for He is a mater at what He does.