Daily Prayer Guide for Ethiopia Medical & Pastoral Team Mission 2007
Yabelo, Ethiopia - February 1st to 17th
NO NEWS IS GOOD NEWS!! We will not have access to email or phones so I'll write more once we get back. Thank you all so much for your phone calls and notes! God bless!
Ethiopia!!
So many people have been asking questions about the trip--which is wonderful, thank you! It's now days away-which is so hard to believe! Until recently, the most inteligent thing I've been able to utter in response to most questions was "Mmmm, I'm not really sure". The fact that I've known so little, really hasn't bothered me-which is shocking to some of you, I know! :) I have this incredible peace; it goes beyond packing lists, medical supplies, politics and fears of getting sick. I know this trip is beyond anything I can conjure up in my mind so it's easy to just go with it...especially when you know so little!
Over the past couple weeks I've received frequent emails from Sam Molind, our team leader and the medical director for Global Health Outreach. The following is an email I received today from him. Please click on the link he provided and it will bring you to an article about where I am going. It was written in 2002--which sounds terribly out-dated but he tells us the climate of the region is very much the same. I will post again soon with the prayer guide he emailed us. Please pray. I've realized in preparation for this trip, that the very same fervor with which we pray about the details of this mission should be no greater and no less than the way we approach prayer in our daily lives. It's not about one mission trip; or acts of service; it's not about taking up a cause for a day or a week or a year. It's not about how loud you shout about the issues. In fact, it's not about us at all. We all have the same purpose and mission-whether we are waking up in the US or in Africa or anywhere else. Nothing of consequence in our daily living is possible without His Spirit.
Here's an excerpt from the email. Prayer guide to come soon!
love, megs
Ethiopia Team,
Here is a report from 2002 on the area where we will be serving in Ethiopia. It is still a forgotten and destitute area with needs that are of such a great magnitude that only the Lord can provide.
Yabelo, Africa-article
In the Yabelo Health Clinic some progress has been made now there is intermittent electricity and some running water and few more clinic workers. Love and compassion are something that they have not seen in this forgotten area - especially the love of Christ and so they may not respond to our efforts as we would expect. Often they can develop the mob mentality with a fear that they will not be seen and that this may be there only chance. And yet we may see some of the people carrying their family members or friends for care.
Editors note:
it seems I was mistaken. Last night, as we watched the Colts play, something happened to my husband. It started with some loud shouts of disgust during the first 1/2 of the game. He was not in a good mood. No love for wifey; not at all amused by her ploys to get his attention. And then it happened somewhere at the beginning of the second half. Kyle got the crazy eyes that I've seen in the men of my family while growing up. He was on his feet, he was yelling at the boys; he was cheering, pacing, complaining of 'tension in his neck and shoulders'.
And then, the heavens opened up, God smiled down--the Colts had it in the bag-they were officially super bowl bound! Kyle had been standing for the last 3 minutes of the game but then to my amusement, he started a victory dance I didn't know he had in him. There he was, shaking his rear end at the TV, clapping and carrying on like you wouldn't believe.
My heart swelled with pride.
The Roehrig clan's got nothing on him.
GO COLTS!!
So, I may not qualify as a die-hard football fan. Actually, I'm far from it. In all fairness, I do rank higher than many-especially with regards to the ladies out there but it's not really the football that gets me revved up. (which completely disqualifies me as a true fan, I know). I'm all about the food and mood. Today, I will pull on one of Kyle's big oversized colts sweatshirts. I'll grab the coziest blanket in the world and I'll curl up with husband & stinky on the couch. Kyle's made some chili in anticipation of the big game and we have wood to burn in the fireplace. mmmm. Doesn't get much better, does it? A friend or two may join us--and company is always something to smile about.
Now this is different then Packer games at Grandma's. There's not as much racket with everyone yelling and clapping (or, occasionally cussing) at the TV. The spread on the dinner table is not nearly as varied or as tantalizing to the tastebuds. And sadly, there are no big, thick white flakes falling from the sky-which is what is happening in my home town today. But, the mood of the night is delightful--just like it always was on game day in the frozen tundra.
I'll play the part of a football fan for the rest of my days. it's just that good.
“So, tell me why you’re here.”
Staring down at my feet, I tried my best to formulate an answer. I squirmed a bit in my seat knowing that he was waiting for my response. I felt swallowed up by the oversized chair I was sitting in. The office was dimly lit in an attempt to make it feel less threatening. Nonetheless, I felt like a child in the principal’s office. The room had the distinct, mildly nauseating air of a clinic. My mind was reeling and I felt my heart pounding in my chest.
‘Why am I here?’
Generally speaking, I'm a 'glass half full' kind of girl. :) However, a number of months ago, the world felt terribly dark and I wanted to hibernate day and night under the covers. It was unfamiliar territory for me. I was sad but I didn’t know why. I dreamed, and talked, and wrote about freedom because it felt so terribly far away from my reality. Like a caged bird dreaming of open air, I longed to get out of the prison I found myself in. It was as if all of the painful parts of life were catching up—threatening to overtake the false sense of peace I created in my heart. And while the solitude of the covers felt safe, I hated being alone. I wondered on a daily basis if I would feel this way forever.
So, one day I found myself in that room, sitting on that slick, oversized chair, wishing I could be swallowed up. ‘why am I here?’ On day one, I simply followed orders. “Go see a counselor” occupied a single line on a script of things I ought to do in order to feel better. And so I went, dragging my feet-staring at the ground, feeling somewhat ashamed. But as it turns out, I was meant to be in that chair and every day I've returned since then, I’ve gone in pursuit of something greater.
I know many of you are very much aware that this has been part of our journey over the past few months. Not typically the type of thing one blogs about…right? The thing is, it’s been good. Not fun, not painless, but real...and real, is good. The door to that lonely cage has opened up and now I feel like I’m sitting on a threshold. Soon the time is coming where I will make a choice: leap or retreat. This girl wants to test her wings.
“Slow down Child. At this pace you will not be whole. Wholeness takes time with God, letting Him bind us up from the bruises and bumps of inevitable living.”
It’s amazing how we slap band aids on bleeding wounds and leave them unattended, to heal on their own. Eventually, the band aids aren’t enough. You can go to all of the counselors in the world, you can share your story with a handful of others, you can cry and make resolutions to do better or to be better but if you don’t get on your knees and let Him have your broken, sinful heart, you’ll always be a dreamer. Freedom will always elude you. Wholeness takes time with God. Period.
I’m thankful for that stiff, uncomfortable chair; for compassionate counselors and friends who pray. I’m thankful for medicine which promotes sleep and takes the edge off of my grumpiness. (cheers to that, right, Kyle?) But above all, I’m thankful for a God who meets us where we’re at and that He doesn’t allow any of the above, apart from Him, to take away the hurt.
Jane, Karen, and Lindsay
Rebecca, Tony, and John
Jim and Kyle
Recently I sat in a crowded auditorium, snuggled up against Kyle, listening to a Christmas concert by Andrew Peterson and friends. It's the most amazing show to be a part of. If you've been to one of Andrew's concerts you know it's not about the lights or special effects or even the people singing. It's about Truth & passion in the form of song.
Sara Groves was a featured guest this particular evening. There was a tremendous amount of talent that quietly took the stage over the course of the night but she told a story and sang a song that I cannot seem to forget. Sara described being inspired to write a song entitled "Why it Matters". She wrote the song after learning about a man who lived in a war torn country. She told us that every day he would get up, as war waged around him and he would take his solitary place on the street. While destruction ensued all around him he played his cello, day after day. It was his peaceful protest: a thing of calm beauty in the chaos; a bit of life among the dead in spirit. After sharing the story with us she went on to sing 'Why It Matters'. The song references the man and his music but uses the symbolism of a tall statue that stands like a pillar in the center of town. It was the kind of song that takes you to a different place. As I sat in the auditorium that night, I felt like I could see the silhouette of this man playing his cello on war torn streets; with shattered buildings and shattered lives in the streets around him. For some reason this song penetrated every bit of my being. What motivated him to get up every day to take his solitary place on the street? Does one man and his cello bring peace to his war enraged country? Does his song make the slightest difference in the grand scheme of things?
As the story plays out Sara sings, "with it's protest of the darkness; with it's beauty, how it matters.
How it matters."
Since that night, I've listened to that song countless times. For whatever reason, it's become personal. One man gifted the world with his song. In the midst of our mountains and sunsets, the flowers and the rain, war rages around us and within us; the temporary and eternal clash and chaos is all around. But then there's that person-or persons-who seem to bring light into our lives-- into the dark. Some teach, some create, some build, some sing, but our lives are meant to be light; protests of the darkness; a constant melody.
I want my life to be like that of the man who made music in those war torn streets. I want to be motivated by His Spirit to get up and to go out, day after day. Did one man's music affect the outcome of the war? Not likely. But I bet it mattered to different degrees for those who were close enough to listen. Maybe it calmed them or comforted them; maybe it even gave them hope: a thing of beauty in the darkness. I believe his music mattered to the One who placed the song in his heart. And much like the man and his cello, we too, are called out-each with our different gifts and our different stories to bring beauty and music into a broken world.
Stand apart; shine like stars; sing.
"Like a single cup of water, how it matters.
How it matters."
MERRY CHRISTMAS!!
ahhh. It's been that kind of weekend.
It definitely didn't look so promising when we decided to head north for the holidays. Kyle's mom spent 1/2 the week in the hospital terribly sick with the flu or food poisoning. Tom, Kyle's step dad, spent a couple days in the hospital room right next door to her recovering from surgery on Tuesday. Riley, our niece, had her first bout with the flu this past week. And Jim, our Brother in Law, followed suit. Needless to say, we thought we were a little bit crazy when we packed up the car (with our sanitizer in tow) and headed toward the land of sickies. Fortunately, everyone was feeling a bit better by the time we arrived. We got to Kyle's parent's at 2 am on Saturday morning and were back on the road headed in the direction of home Sunday afternoon. Once upon a time, I might have said it's way too much traveling for such a short trip but this was not the case. It was so good to be together. If only I could bottle everyone up.
With that said, a piece of me was with the Roehrig clan at Grandma's on Christmas Eve. I missed the laughter, the caroling, the paper fight, the feast and the football. Another part of me was in AZ watching movies with mom. It's hard having those that we love so far away. If only it were possible to be in 4 different places at once.
Today, Kyle and I spent the day together. It's our only Christmas that I can remember where we had absolultely no agenda. Friends ever so graciously extended invitations to join them but today felt like it was made for just the two of us. And it was good. All in all, it's been a weekend that's been full of the things we most love and we wish all of you, the same.
Happy Christmas sweet friends and family!
I admit it. I love the rush that comes when I'm searching for that perfect gift. I even enjoy the crowds, the bustle, the same old Christmas tune repeatedly playing overhead. I like the way Christmas lights soften and warm a room; having friends over for a fire in the fireplace and a toast for the season. I love the snow and the cold because without them both, I wouldn't appreciate hot chocolate and a warm blanket or good book. The season is full of so many fun, beautiful, warm things...but sometimes they distract me. I didn't even know until last night how far my heart had drifted from the truth of Christmas.
Last night I walked through the doorway of a home I had never been to before. It was late, and I was tired. I was cursing the beeper in my pocket that kept going off, ultimately taking me farther and farther away from my bed and pillow. The home was located in the projects and I had already heard bits and pieces about the man I was to see. As I walked through the unfamiliar doorway and into a small living room, my eyes adjusted slowly to the dim glow. A haze of cigarette smoke hung in the air. Across from me stood a small brightly lit, tinsel strewn Christmas tree that illuminated the crowded room with color. To my left lay a dying man in a hospital bed. Scattered around the room sat various people; most of which were homeless--as was the man I had come to see. They gathered together, in the home of a friend, to take care of this man who once showed them how to survive on the streets. Around his bedside, they shared their stories with raw humor and brutal honesty; some had visible wounds fresh upon their faces. It was, as one of my co-workers said, one of the most profoundly beautiful and painfully sobering things to behold. On one hand, I observed this eclectic group of men and women living not as individuals but as one tightly bound body. I watched as they demonstrated selfless, shameless love for the one in greatest need. They wiped his face, they turned him, they gave him water. On the other hand, in the midst of this love and by the glow of the christmas lights, there was palpable pain; fragmented lives.
For a couple of hours, I was a part of a community that I have never before been in. In so many ways I did not belong. I didn't talk like them or dress like them. My stories were nothing like the ones being told and yet, I might have been the only one who noticed. For a couple of hours I was far removed in mind and spirit from the bustle and activities of which so recently consumed my attention. As foreign as this living room and the people within it's walls felt to me, a part of me longed to stay. I was afraid I might not have this experience ever again-or at least for a very long time. Although no one ever mentioned God I felt Him in the room. I wondered if He was in the hospital bed. As I stepped back into the dark, into the cool of night, I was quieted in my soul by what I had just been part of.
This was what was missing. Jesus. He came for this-for them-for me.
In the midst of the bustle I hope we become people who are caught up in His Spirit. I hope that we intentionally invite strangers in and gather together to meet the needs of each other. I hope that we unashamedly wipe the brow of one who needs it. May we live and breathe and love by the beat of His Spirit. He's the reason everything is so sweet.
I think the sparkles, lights and snowflakes are because He likes to leave us breathless.
a kiss by the tree!
Ryan and Tara on Thanksgiving
Riley!!
The past few weeks have flown by but they've been full of really, really good things. :)
1. a trip to Indianapolis--We finally had time with our niece who we couldn't possibly love anymore than we already do. We are currently referred to as "Munga and Ki". Munga is a new one for me...I've been around a lot of kids and never has my name come out quite like that. I'll admit it doesn't exactly have that lovely roll off your lips kind of ring to it but at the same time, when she says it I think it's adorable. :) We also spent an evening with Marcia, Greg, and Ava. A cozy fire in the fireplace, cocktails and hours of conversation was more than I hoped for. Between them and Kyle's family living there too, we have plenty of incentive to move north. Marcia, if you read this, thanks for taking time to hang out. We love you guys.
2. Thanksgiving with Ryan and Tara (and Tara's mom and sister Sarah). We got to spend the holiday with some people we love the most. We laughed all the way through dinner-and enjoyed a movie with full bellies. good stuff.
3. It's a wonderful Life at the Barter Theater. This past Saturday night we went on a real date to see a play at Barter Theater. The play was wonderful and it felt good to get dressed up, and to go somewhere special. We had coffee afterwards in this quaint coffee shop. We stayed all warm inside despite the cool temps outdoors. The drive was beautiful with the first glimmers of Christmas lights winking at us from the side streets.
4. Another Thanksgiving day dinner with Em and Jody. Yeah, we've eaten well this past week! We had a lot to celebrate with them since they recently found out they, too, are pregnant. yay! It's always good to be around them. They make us laugh; they love each other well.
Those are the highlights but even in the middle of all of that there have been more sparkles of good.
Wishing you the same!
we decided this is a turkey bulge not a baby bulge...nonetheless, it's a preview of coming attractions!
Ava! (Marcia is the pro on the other side of the camera) 
Marcia and Ava
With a room full of eyes upon me, I took my turn twirling around the cafeteria of the assisted living center. The man who had me by the arm was doing his best to chorale me in a graceful fashion. I was bumbling around; it was obvious he knew what he was doing and, hopelessly, I did not. 5 minutes prior to our impromptu rendezvous, he proposed to me over pureed turkey, mashed potatoes and ensure. I held up my hand and flashed the bling. With a shrug of his shoulders and a smile that would break your heart he decided to settle for a dance instead. With the record player crackling out a tune from long before my era, he tilted his head to the side and extended his aged hand with eyebrows raised. "Oh, Lord, please no" was the silent cry that raced through my head. I tried to laugh his request off. I looked around the room for support-or better yet, for another victim to sic him on. He was not deterred. And then, to my horror, the whole room started cheering us on. He was suddenly on his feet and standing before me. As color crept into my cheeks I knew I wasn't going to get away without a spin around the floor. And so, there we went. Hand in hand. This 20 something year old girl with cheeks ablaze and this 80 something year old man reveling in the spotlight. He led without skipping a beat-I’m not kidding, this guy was smokin. Our knees knocked together a time or two as I tried to go one way and he tried to go the other. It was quite a spectacle. All around me were men and women in wheelchairs, smiling big unrestrained smiles-they'd be dancing if they could. They unpacked their pride a long time ago. Everyone clapped; everyone cheered. And this is just a guess but I don’t think they were cheering on my lightness of foot. As the last notes of our dance melted into the noise of the crowd, I got one of those cheek kisses that older people are always a bit overzealous to give away. And then he smiled a big genuine smile that managed to make up for all of the embarrassment I had just endured on his behalf. I went back to my seat and attempted to resume the process of feeding the woman whom I was sitting with. I had one of those moments that occasionally creep up in perplexing situations when I can't help but wonder "what. just. happened?" Marriage proposition over a denture friendly diet, dancing my heart out in the cafeteria to a man with tan, leathered skin and a toupee. If only my friends could see me now. :)
I have a promise coming.
In the daily routine of living, the getting up and lying down, the individual rhythm to which I move about my day; I have a promise coming. In the days or weeks or seasons of life when nothing feels easy or rehearsed; I have a promise coming.
How can there be peace, joy and hope in the middle of darkness? Because on the other side of 'it' is a piece of our promised land. Faith fights. God conquers. We have to press the thing through in order to reap and savor the benefits. I serve a God who is mighty and able to deliver us from any and all pain but He desires to turn our weakness into strength. He desires to see us through. Why? Because we have a promise coming. And there is nothing small about His promises.
The Master Builder
It's hard to see things grow old. The town in which I grew up is growing old....Some of the buildings are boarded up. Some of the houses are torn down....The old movie house where I took my dates has "For Sale" on the marquee....
I wish I could make it all new again. I wish I could blow the dust off the streets...but I can't.
I can't. But God can. "He restores my soul", wrote the shepherd. He doesn't reform; he restores. He doesn't camouflage the old; he restores the new. The Master Builder will pull out the original plan and restore it. He will restore the vigor. He will restore the energy. He will restore the hope. He will restore the soul.
-The Applause of Heaven
Romans 15:13 :)
"May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.
I'm afraid pictures of fall never seem to do 'fall' justice. Nonetheless, here's a couple shots off the porch. The color's not quite as bright here as it was in NC but no complaints, as it's still so beautiful!
Also, here's a couple pictures of some of our new friends from Ghana. They are at ETSU getting their masters in Chemistry...so brilliant! We are trying to help them find a car--so if you're local, and know of anything, please let us know. They want to find a car for under $2,000. 
It's been a good weekend. Kyle made it home safe and sound from CA with plenty of stories to tell. I will try to write and update more later when I have a few more minutes. A big shout out of 'Congratulations' to Kelli and Andy. 16 hours of labor and one cesarean section later, we have another baby to love! :)
Who needs kids when you have Oliver?
About two weeks ago Kyle's favorite dog and most beloved pet, began to snort and choke anytime he got the least bit excited. At first I was alarmed. I jumped to my feet ready to come to his rescue. Airway obstruction?! I wondered if he'd finally managed to swallow the right combination on inedible objects to be the death of him. If you could see all of the things our dog has managed to digest in his short life, it's a wonder we haven't had to do canine CPR a long time ago. Recovery, on this particular day, came a few short minutes later. After a few days of more of the same, Oliver's new found habits turned from alarming to annoying. He'd circle around our feet carrying on in such a way that it stopped conversation dead in it's tracks. I have been told he might have allergies and that over the counter benadryl is often effective. So we tried it. No such luck...still snorting. A bit more sedated, which has its own perks but the breathing issues remain. Around the same time the snorting started, Oliver also started to lick his paws incessantly. Yesterday I came home and he was hobbling all over the house on three paws. He's about licked one of his paws raw. Lovely. So tonight I must wrap his paw. And give him his benadryl. And keep him calm as to prevent the snorting cycles. And, yes, we will be going to see the vet before he manages to chew off any more appendages.
Come home soon, husband!
blessings.
I've mentioned this before but there's this amazing cabin in Blowing Rock, NC that has become an oasis of sorts for a small handful of ladies. Last weekend, Kathy, Brenda and I loaded up Kathy's SUV and headed east to our weekend retreat. We left after sunset, with the moon large and rotund overhead. I stared out the window with the same sort of fervor I do when I can see the depth and height of the mountains in plain view. This time, however, the darkness was a calm companion. I was very much aware of what lay hidden in the dark; it's awe was not lost by the mask of night. As we drove, we each took turns weaving our thoughts together. Three separate woman on separate journeys yet ever so tightly bound. Sandra McCracken serenaded us as we weaved and crawled up the mountain.
Once at the cabin, we each claimed our respective beds and the conversation continued for the next couple of days. On this trip, I listened a lot more then I normally do. It was good, to listen. I realized I don't do that nearly as much as I should. It blessed me to hear the inner workings of their hearts. I learned about faith that fights and the conversation of prayer. We returned to Johnson City the same way we came, only this time we were blanketed in a cloud of fog. Every now and then the fog would lift and color would shout at us from the tree tops. There we were-with our eyes fixed on the hazy horizon-in anticipation of those fleeting moments of breath taking clarity, with Sandra McCracken still singing softly in the background, and our conversation quieter, more relaxed in the knowing of each other's souls.
Work was busy this past week. I have found that when I first started working with hospice I always felt this need to come home and digest some of the things that happened--especially deaths. Early in the week I realized that somewhere over the course of the past few months I've come to a place where I can come home without feeling the need to blurt out "someone died today" the second I come through the door. I'm not sure if this is a good thing or a bad thing. Just an observation; although I'm leaning towards 'good thing'. Maybe I'm finally beginning to realize it's not about me. Not even in part. What I do know is this: there is a Holy balance in this type of work. I have the privilege of walking on sacred ground every time I go into a patient's home. People who live with the awareness that they are dying, generally live at a whole different level. Being around them changes everything.
And then, finally, we had a visitor this weekend! My mom came to East TN for a few days and she came at just the right time. We again went to Blowing Rock and words cannot describe the beauty of the leaves. It was a kaleidoscope of color! We did a little shopping, we looked at homes and strolled around Jonesborough, and we had dinner with some friends. It was a calm, enjoyable, relaxing weekend. Oliver was most amused by mom and her antics...and vice versa. Kyle tried to get mom to take Oliver with her but she said we couldn't pay her enough. My poor dog.
Kyle leaves for Newport Beach, CA this week! He too, has been so busy. He's been a rock.
blessings are everywhere: in the dark. in the color. through the fog. in the quiet. in conversation. in the living. in that final breath.
may we each have eyes to see.
Another week come and gone! I've said before that sometimes "life as usual" makes me feel like I have nothing of any significance to say or update. When I think back over the past couple weeks though, it's safe to say that besides the day to day routine of things, life has been anything but usual.
The same might be said for the weather!! Fall is in the air! I drove to Mountain City a couple times last weekend and as I passed by the lake, I noticed small patches of color, bubbling up into the vast expanse of green. In a matter of a few short weeks color will be everywhere. Lucky us! The weather is such right now that you can't help but step outside and take a deep breath; inhaling life and God and wonder all mixed beautifully together. Kyle is dying to get a camping trip in before the weather gets too cool. We didn't do very well at all in the camping department this summer. Poor guy. We may have to resort to pitching a tent in the back yard...our neighbors might make fun but we'll be the ones with the memories. :)
Kyle has been keeping busy working on a few projects. It's exciting to watch him create art with his gifts and passion-all within the walls of our home. The other day I asked if he is loving his new career and he continues to say, with a smile, "It doesn't feel real yet". Nonetheless, our spare bedroom is being transformed before my eyes into a makeshift office and I can tell that even though it may not feel completely real to him yet, he is in a good place with his chosen career.
Things we're contemplating: Kyle is reading "Sailing between the Stars" by Steven James. Steven and Kyle have worked together on a couple of projects. Steven is a talented guy with a huge gift for storytelling. I haven't read this book yet but I snuck a peek at a few pages and I can tell I'm going to love it. He paints incredible imagery with words. He writes the way I long to converse. The national storytelling festival is in Jonesborough next weekend. A longstanding tradition of the festival is that one night the town is lit with teaky torches and people congregate with their lawn chairs and bug spray to be lulled and enchanted by world renowned storytellers. It's one of those events that make the world feel just right.
Things brewing in my heart: a lot of inventory is taking place these days. Ever feel like you have a vision of what you hope to be someday--and it feels terribly far off from your present realities? That's where I'm at. When I think of how I want to grow, I have visions of a person who lives in the daily grace and freedom of Christ. What does that look like? Alive, congruent, relational, full. Having nothing to do with circumstance. It would make no difference if we had 3 kids, 5 kids, or no kids; if we are rich or poor. Sounds idyllic right? Who doesn't want to live there? But I look around me and I wonder, "How many people do?" We dream God sized dreams but we go on living the same ways day after day until one day we're grown up and the dreamer in us has long been put to rest; the wounds of our youth still bleed; we still blend into the crowd wherever we go because we never let God's love fill us to the point of not caring what other people think. I have no idea what it means to really live in that kind of freedom but I do believe we were created to abide in that place. I know I've mentioned all of this before and I don't mean to bore you with repetition but I can't stop. I believe we are meant to be free. I've seen a handful of people who are daily being transformed by God's grace and I long for that kind of living. Life is exhilarating AND painful right now. But at the end of day, I'm glad.
We can't help but post a picture of our adorable niece...they don't get much cuter, do they? We miss you Milzareks!! Give her a kiss for us!
Happy Birthday, Lara!!
We miss you and hope you've had a wonderful day!
"God is calling our hearts to remain warm, exposed, and pulsating with new life."
It's been a crazy week. No. It's been a crazy month. Change is everywhere and most days it's all we can do to hang on. Don't get me wrong, change is good and there is much to celebrate but in the midst of it all, I've lost touch with some of the things that matter most. I suppose that might be why I feel so overwhelmed; too much hanging on for dear life. It's time to let go; to breathe. I've been working somewhat frantically trying to control things that at the end of the day, I'm thankful I cannot. It makes me wonder what my world would look like if I really could control it all. I can see it already: my tiny little box, shared with just a few people who won’t shake things up too much. Far too safe and predictable. Bor. Ing. As wild as things are right now, I know God is orchestrating every detail--so I remind myself to take a deep breath, be still and be glad.
I started writing this blog a few days ago and oddly enough, every topic I've encountered in church, small group and bible study since then has been about relationship/community. It's not a new topic; in fact it's one I feel strongly about. However, if there's one thing I know all too well about me, it's that when life gets overwhelming or painful, I retreat. This faulty 'coping mechanism' that I've developed seems to defy everything I value. Nonetheless, while tucked away within our man-made walls I'm blissfully under the illusion that I am capable of filtering out any unwanted demands that could be placed on me. Not only is that an illusion of sorts but I can't figure out why the very notion of such mindless solitude is appealing to me. I don't want to be alone. A battle ensues between my flesh and the Spirit.
Wednesday night, I was exhausted and I longed for the comfort and mindless solitude of my couch. But, since neither Kyle nor I had been to bible study in weeks, we felt we should go. The last part of that statement makes me cringe because if you knew these amazing people that we have the privilege of meeting with, it wouldn't make sense for me to feel this way. Obviously it's not a statement about them; it's a reflection of the condition of my soul. People have needs; people are wild and unpredictable; people require us to be engaged. All of those traits are exhilarating and wonderful unless you're running on empty. Therefore, by default, when life gets crazy or painful, people get filtered out. God gets filtered out. This sinful soul wants to go at it alone.
"There’s no healing when you're hiding." I heard those words in church today and they gave me pause. There's comfort in being 'too busy' for God and for others. Not only does it eliminate potential demands but it allows us to go for days or weeks or months without tapping in to the deepest parts of who we are. The empty parts, the bleeding parts, the sinful parts. So very unhealthy. There have been times when I've laid my broken parts out for people to see. To my surprise, the world didn't stop; they didn't walk away; God didn't strike me down. The 'problem' was, they loved me anyway and they want to walk with me towards healing and freedom. The fear that propels me toward the couch rather than to community group rests in this: what happens after I lay it all out there? What then? That's the scary part, isn't it? Accountability? Follow up? It's not okay to stay broken forever-and most of us are comfortable with our brokeness. Healthy community should always move us towards healing.
I am still confident of this, that I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Psalm 27:13
I dream about heaven a lot-probably more than the average person my age-I suppose it comes with the kind of work that I do. I dream about what freedom we will know; to be in the Holy presence of God!; joy beyond our wildest comprehension; beauty beyond beauty. But, I continually remind myself that God promises us all of those things with each breath He's given us. We have been given life to live in the here and now. God is about the business of restoration. The goodness of the Lord is in the land of the living! He shines brightly in those with whom I lock eyes with. He's in the sunset, the mountains, in every created thing our eyes take in. We all have broken parts. Fellowship is God's gift to us; He calls us to have hearts that are "warm, exposed, and pulsating with new life". May we become catalysts for each other as we lay our hearts open and invite God to move.
So what happened when I got off the couch and went to group Wednesday night? We were met at the door with kind faces and open arms. We were serenaded with a round of happy birthday and enjoyed birthday cake. I laughed real, heartfelt laughter and felt an awakening in my tired spirit. I listened to people's prayer requests-some were courageous enough to put it all out there, we studied scripture, and I lost that self absorbed frame of mind I was basking in pre-group. That night, around our table, I saw the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living and at the end of the day, I couldn't imagine why I would have ever picked solitude on the couch over all of that/them. Or Him. And that's the thing about community that I forget when I disconnect. I'm always healthier when I'm engaged-with God and with the people He's put in my life.
Roots
Despite having been in TN for almost 10 years, there's no denying my roots. Oddly enough, I have to admit I feel some strange element of pride each time I cross over the Wisconsin Stateline. I know most people out there aren't clamoring for bragging rights over cheese, the cold, the cuisine, or (let's be honest), even the Packers these days. But, nonetheless, going home always feels so good to me. Despite my protests of the blistering cold, I like that we 'survive' the winters; that our wardrobes reflect our preference to be 'warm and frumpy' than 'cold and fashionable'; and that every Sunday during football season is a reason to congregate at Grandma's. I even feel the tiniest bit of acceptance over the animal skins and stuffed birds that dad is beginning to display all over the house. Creepy at times, yes, but enduring in it's own Wisconsin-ish way.
I mentioned briefly that my dad invited the whole Roehrig clan over to his house one evening while Kyle and I were home. As I sat in the midst of my relatives and listened to their laughter, it felt good to be a part of them. I love that they enjoy being together. With Kyle and me living far away, I sometimes forget how it feels to be with them. It isn't until evenings such as this, when I am once again a part of something bigger that I feel that satisfaction and that ache. I love that these people are my family and that one's hurts are the hurts of the whole. I love how they care for each other.
There is one constant that colors every single event for which we have gathered together over the years. It hasn't mattered if the occasion was happy or sad. Even in the midst of loss and grief, I have witnessed how laughter permeates everything. As children, Chris and I used to get sent to our rooms when we'd become hysterical at the dinner table. I could not, no matter how hard I tried, keep the laughter (and at times, the milk) from hurtling past my tightly pressed lips-and when it finally burst forth, it was uncouth, occasionally messy, and always unrestrained. At holidays when we all journeyed to Grandma's, the exact same thing would happen to dad and his siblings with my Grandma (Olga) being the ring leader. The only difference between their outofcontroledness and mine, is that somewhere along they way they all mastered the art of laughing silently. Guests always remark on how everyone's shoulders shake incessantly around the table-the only audible noise is that of people coming up for air. Chris realized early on, that if he could make me laugh when we were fighting, it ruined everything. Surrender always came in the form of one unsuppressed giggle. Therefore, fights typically never lasted long because once I cracked it was over--and I always cracked.
My brief trip home reminded me that I'm proud of where I come from. Sitting outside at dad’s that night as one small part of the whole, filled me up in a place that I’d forgotten. There’s satisfaction journeying across the Stateline because it means coming home to my camo clad family who always make time for each other and who are never without a reason to laugh. Perfect, we are not, but the first time my kids spray milk all over the room in a fit of laughter I’ll see evidence of where they come from and for that, I’ll be proud.