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It is my mother’s birthday. The one who gave me life and dreams and many other amazing things. Life. Love. I will celebrate her from another country. I expect a tres leche cake is somewhere in my day! (We have a habit of celebrating birthdays whether together or apart). I was thinking about the fact that we are all born into specific families and countries. From there we find ourselves in specific cultures, neighborhoods and church families. Some of those placements are dark and destructive. Some are beautiful and encouraging. We all have issues…as families do. Today I celebrate how blessed I am with my mom. She always believed in us and accepted each one of us. She never tried to convince me to be anyone other than my strange self:) She did not always agree, but she always loved each of us exactly where we were.
When I needed a mother to feed me and dress me, she was there. When I needed a mom to guide me and teach me, she did it with determination and grace. When I became an adult, she set aside the “responsibility” of raising me and embraced me as a person of spiritual depth with whom she could share the deeper places of her soul. Not every mom can make that transition. I have never stopped needing and appreciating the love of my “mom”. But I treasure the spiritual friendship of a woman who grows spiritually and can share that with me. She teaches me, challenges me – and even learns from me, as I continue to learn from her. She inspires me, always!

You Gave Her…
You gave her Grace; she gave me wings
You gave her Wisdom and she sat quietly with it
Then without notice… when most needed,
it became the melody
she sings
to me.
You filled her with Love; she overflowed to me
You gave her Determination, so she lived it loudly
Then without warning…when most needed,
It became the encouragement
that set my dreams
free.
You gave her Peace; she used it to show me the way
You gave her Prayer, she faithfully shared it
Then with loving intention….when most needed,
it was the power and substance
that grounded our stay
through valleys and
mountain tops.
Thank you, God, for creating such an
Amazing woman. My mother. No other.

There is an angel outside my door; I am told it is the angel Gabriel. Maybe. It looks like the pictures of the Archangel Michael.  Whoever it; it is good.

When I come to this land I am reminded of how much I am separated from as I go about my days. The richness of history is tangible in cultures where antiquity still exists.  Here, the blending of traditions as generations upon generations have expressed their faith holds its own.  San Simon has a spot by the cross with Jesus.  Angels and Marias, saints and warriors guard the doorways. Is this Santiago? Joseph or Francis? I can’t ignore that much of this existed way before my world formed, even my faith tradition. I love believing in Jesus. And I wish, sometimes, that our history would be more tangible than a class in school too many years ago.  Today my steps took me to places that rekindled memories of the Salisbury Close in England. Walking and listening. Resting and preparing. Hearing ghosts and voices of current day. Face time, Viber and oh yes….the cobblestone streets of ancient days. Be humble and walk lightly…others have come this way.  Guards and angels…

Psalm 91:9-13

If you say, “The Lord is my refuge,”
    and you make the Most High your dwelling,
no harm will overtake you,
    no disaster will come near your tent.
For he will command his angels concerning you
    to guard you in all your ways;
they will lift you up in their hands,
    so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.
You will tread on the lion and the cobra;
    you will trample the great lion and the serpent.

When I wrote my final thesis for graduate school it was titled, “Running Out of Joy!”  Running because the joy contained inside requires running; running to recapture any Joy that has leaked out and needs restoring.  Today my joy is not about running;  it about simply living.  Like the orchid that waits for the perfect timing, setting and care to show us with all of its beauty….this is my JOY!  Today I have unrestrained joy. 

My first real encounters with orchids was in Nicaragua in 2004. I had never seen such gorgeous flowers.  A friend, Coach Kathleen, sent me an orchid when I was ordained. It still lives. Other friends have continued to send orchids. They are unrestrained Joy to me. Orchids remind me that when we are able to embrace life “as is” and unleash (with time, setting adn care) what is inside…God has something beautiful to share with the world around us.  Here is to unrestrained Joy and all the ways God brings it into our lives. Praying you get a glimpse of yours today. 

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My mom used to make this amazing dessert called “Sour Cream Coffee Cake”. It was highly favored in our household. It started out as a special coffee cake she prepared for mornings of celebration. My dad loved it! All three of us kids loved it. And eventually it was not limited to “breakfast and coffee”.  It was the “go to” cake for all occasions…church dinners, birthday requests and always when company was coming. I know I used the recipe many times after growing up but it has been years since I even thought about it. You know how a recipe can be so loved, but then over time other great tastes come into the mix and you just forget about it?  That’s what happened to me and the Sour Cream Coffee Cake. I just forgot all about it.

Until now.  Until I found myself sitting at the table of my neighbor. I never take these tables for granted; they are holy places where we are invited into God’s grace. Every table; every meal shared…holy space.  So when the cake was served after a fabulous feast, I recognized the taste as something wonderful and familiar.  Our conversation was so full that I didn’t take time to ask and I also didn’t see the care package prepared for me until I unpacked the sack later in my kitchen. Inside the bag – yes, a big hunk of that lovely cake! I’m not a big sweet eater so I wasn’t sure what would happen with it.  I even worried that it was so good I might be tempted to eat the whole thing.  And then my sister came by for a visit.  The cake was served, and almost as if a light turned on, or a door opened, she said, “It’s so good! It’s Mom’s sour cream coffee cake!”  Aha!  That is why it is so wonderful and familiar!   A flood of memories poured into my soul. Memories that bless me. Memories that remind me of the table my mom prepared for us each day. Tables of love, tables of grace.

I love the way God opens our eyes and reminds us of things we never need to forget.  You know the way it happens….a song that takes you into a moment, a scent that beckons you, the feel of a fabric or the touch of rain drops hitting your face.  My blindness shows up in such funny ways. I’m grateful to know that God still heals me of those blind spots.  I’m intrigued by the ways we are connected across cultures, families and life experiences.  And yes, even recipes and tables. What recipe or meal has ever opened your eyes to such grace?

Once I walked here to survive the days of being broken. I noticed the fallen trees, broken limbs and all the while, I could see new life emerging. I learned then how to move forward from watching the creation God spoke into being. A creation that lives out loud. A creation that dies, renews, struggles and rises.

I watch the ducks and how they gather with such excitement…huddling together like only best friends tend to do. And just as easily one breaks away and swims swiftly to a place of solitude; resting in still water. I wonder…is this duck reconnecting with the Creator who made it?
I see two trees that are clearly separate, even of different types. Yet, one of them has gently reached to wrap around the other. One seems strong and able to bear the leaning today. The other is vibrant and growing; it seems comforted by the one sharing its weight. They grow together. A bit like friends and lovers will do.

Today I just come to give thanks. I walk where the ice still lingers in crevices the sun (Son) has yet to touch. Someone who cares has placed fresh woods chips on the trail. Trees that fell in the path have been cut for firewood and sawdust remains. Dust….dust that a snake would love if it were warm enough to slip through and let it massage old scales away. Isn’t it wonderful; the provision!

This is a listening place. Birds sing the melodies of their Creator and somehow the songs match the one singing in me today. Let it be.

I ache for you
As much for me
Watch you bend
Beneath the tree
The weight so heavy
Upon branches
Of faithfulness
Proud and strong
Ice covering your limbs
Lean and long
Unexpectedly
It came.
Like the crash of heartache
Hovering over your canopy
Not counting the stakes…
Wounds, disappointments,
Betrayals, attacks…
Joys and celebrations
And random things
You can’t take back…

I ache for you
As I hear the sound
Of cracking boughs
Falling to the ground
Settling there and
Waiting
for what comes
Next.

Like the crack of a heart
That doesn’t see it coming
Finds itself falling
And suddenly wondering
When spring arrives…
will I be alive?

I ache for you
I join with you
Cry in your falling
But rise to your waking
Spring comes
Ice melts
You grow new limbs
Watch me, you will see!
Hearts repair
Wounds heal
Burdens grows lighter
Spring draws nearer
We live it together
Creations of God
Shaped of fragile clay
Made new against all odds.
Amazing Grace on a
Winter’s day.

The connections across the world in the United Methodist Church amaze me.  I am not an “institutional” person.  I have a free spirit. I find it difficult to follow God when other people are setting the rules; my obedience has to come from a deep and personal relationship. At the same time, I learned at a young age that if I want a deep relationship with the one who created me and Christ who walks with me, I would have to have practices in my life that helped me seek and care for that relationship. The church is the foundation for that journey in my life.  It is where I meet up with others who are called to seek and serve together…as the body of Christ.  My journey in this relationship quickly spilled out of the walls and into every place I go, but the church has remained the foundation for coming and going.  It is a place of common grounding and worship in community. 

There are many reasons why people have given up on the church. It is a house of imperfect people. Sometimes terrible things are done “in the name of God”.  Everyone who says they are a “disciple” is not, but the title sure seems good.  The building and the programs can easily become the focus (rather than the means we use) while the life of really following Christ is going to happen “when we have time”.  AND……….

….AND…the church is also full of people who are following God and getting involved in the presence of God on earth.  It is full of people like Dan and Rachel who do everything they can to make sure homeless families have a warm place to sleep on cold winter nights.  It is full of people who give free air miles so someone can fly to another land for mission. It is full of people who make meals and deliver them to those who are confined to their homes.  It is full of people who love without question and follow God with reckless abandon. 

When these people cross paths it is powerful because God honors wiling hearts and open spirits. We attended the Annual Conference of the Nacional Metodista Iglesia de Guatemala this week.  There I was amazed to see friends and meet new people. It opened my eyes even more to the connection of the body of Christ everywhere we go.  The “Methodist” connection provides a common bond of grace, service and love.  

This morning we found ourselves in a conversation with a woman named Ruth who is married to a Methodist pastor. We had no idea!  She showed us the church where he served for 14 years in the little town where we were. He is now retired and she is  teaching women how to make jam and other healthy food products so they can help support their families. It is a mission of empowerment of the local people, local land and local economy. This is an incredible ministry for, by and with women. 

The stories of connection are unlimited. We also met with a lady from Maryland today…a United Methodist lay person who has been volunteering her time to help the VIM office of Guatemala with a current website and adding communications that will help everyone connect where resources meet needs and God is guiding.  There is a surprise of faithfulness in all of the encounters. Each day reveals more and opens our eyes more to the true faithfulness of God.  

Keep your eyes open.  Allow your hearts to be changed by the miracles surrounding you today. The Spirit of God is strong upon the earth. Let it be. 

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On my grandparents farm in Western Kentucky there is a modest farm house where we gather for stories, food and encouragement.  In the earlier days, there was a back room distinctly named “the girls room”.  About 2 hours after arrival a whole pack of people would be “missing” from the living room and that was a sure sign that there was a meeting in “the girls room”.    

Last night I was taken right back to that memory as I sat up late telling stories, laughing, shedding a few tears and being overwhelmed by the friendships formed over the past 8 months.  Irene has known my church for many years, but we have only truly discovered one another on our own. She and her sister, Lucia, have become my “Guatemalan sisters”.

 Like my Pincho (my sister, Liz) and I, there was once a brother in the trio of children in their family; we share a similar grief and we share a similar joy.  God brings people into our lives with such grace.  I hope every family has a spot for telling stories and sharing life. I pray every person is open to the people God brings so carefully and beautifully into their life.  

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It started several weeks before Christmas…and it continues.  Be aware to follow…and like the shepherds, the “wise men”…all those seeking, simply follow where the Spirit leads. Today we followed the star. Steve had an agenda (Steve being the lay person from my church who is here and planned the agenda) and although it was all created in a state of constant revision, when we began today we just agreed to follow it.  Following proved to be the right thing to do. 

Zunilito. It’s hard to explain but this certain Methodist church is on the priority list for the country. We simply went to see.  The “church” is not discoverable from the road.  We found it after Adolfo went on a little hike with a local stranger and then came back for us. We trailed down a little jungle path and tucked inside the huts, homes and flora, we emerged in a tiny spot of bamboo walls, beautiful art and a pulpit: the church. 

What happened next is just a move of the Spirit. A woman came and she immediately sent for the pastor. She was a lay person of this church with a spirit so strong and courageous there are not words to contain; I will not try.  What I will say is that God is so faithful and the prayers said today were beyond any of us…beyond words, beyond cultures, beyond everything we are, and totally everything God is.  

After the Spirit visited us in there, we had great conversation and sharing. It was a blessing and an encouragement to all of us.  Thankfully Adolfo and Chester were both with us to witness the good happening among us and to help as we shared.   As we walked back up the path we all were certain of what we had heard and seen. It is nice when things are clear.  We will be back to Zunilito. 

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How do you package the joy of girls giggling in “pillowcase” dresses?  How do you write the gratitude in the smile of a child who knows someone truly cares about their dreams?  How do we fail to dream when God is so faithful to bring about the impossible?  We experienced all these things today (Monday) and more.  All I can feel is that the love of the church called Franklin First United Methodist is spilling all over Guatemala today. 

We learned of the pastor in a local Metodista church who recently died.  We were told his wife was stepping up to lead the church.  So we ventured into the neighborhood in hopes of making a brief visit to express sympathy and offer encouragement.  Thankfully, they welcomed us with stools to sit upon and sharing even their heavy hearts.  The wife was away – attending a conference of pastors; two of her daughters (and their children were home).  It was a little covey of 10 children – the other 5 were somewhere else today.  Oh my!  About 7 or 8 little girls flurrying around and they have no idea (nor did I know I would need them so badly!) that my backpack is full of pillowcase dresses.  

Before we left that home the girls were donned in dresses that were made with pure love.  Those dresses today were like prayer shawls being wrapped around a child of God where grief had tried to lodge but “love is stronger than death”.  I don’t know why Solomon’s song comes out …it is a spillover.  Prayers, tears, laughter and peace are here.  We share it all. 

Our visits to Halo Guatemala over the past three years now have been increasingly joyful.  It began with Ezekiel but, of course, now it is much more than one child. It is the school, the vision, and the special way God is offering light and love to these children.  Their mothers wait expectantly and full of hope as their children receive an education that will allow them to participate in the fullness of life.  We were able to see them sing their national anthem, say the pledge and engage in their classroom studies. Awesome. 

Herencia de Vida is a foundation here through which our church is sponsoring nine children.  Monday was the annual day of gathering for all of these students (about 60 students) here at the Bambu.  It was wonderful.  I have never had the opportunity to meet one on one with these students as this is an unexpected sponsoring that emerged last year.  What fun!  Discovering each one of them and meeting their moms.  Shared stories and dreams.  And lots of friends in that room full of people – from La Toma, San Antonio and even Xela.  God is so good.  

The Dickson Team (team 1) is here so we enjoyed devotions with them last night and a great supper.  Hospitality and grace. We are thankful for all. 

There was more in this day…a visit to La Toma, a palm farm drive through adventure and more than time allows for me to share. We are on “spillover”…it is a time to simply follow and trust in the Spirit’s river flow. 

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