Openness

As Christmas time has drawn near, I found it fitting that our next Adventure Missions novel be “Lottie Moon” from the Christian Heroes: Then and Now series by Janet and Geoff Benge.

I have heard the name Lottie Moon passed around the Baptist church and even stamped on their Christmas offering, but had never personally read an account of the missionary’s life. Most are familiar with Lottie’s bold letters detailing the realities of the conditions faced in the late 1800’s and early 1900’s of Chinese missionary work. Lottie’s frank depictions of the disease and hardships mixed with her perseverance for Christ inspired many Christians into the mission field during her forty-one years of work in China. I wanted to share an excerpt with you from one of the last chapters of the book.

Where we pick up in the chapter, the Baptist Foreign Missions Board’s budget fell short of $56,000 in 1912 and therefore they were unable to send more funds and missionaries to aid in the work in China.

“The needs of the local people, however, were great because of the continuing famine, and Lottie was unsure what to do… Given the crisis, Lottie decided that every penny not spent on her was a penny she could give to help someone in need. Her old cook still made meals, but Lottie preferred to go out into the yard and give her portion of food to some passing emaciated child rather than eat it herself. Slowly, and without anyone realizing it, Lottie Moon was beginning to starve herself so that she could feed others.

By the time one of her fellow missionaries noticed what she was doing, Lottie weighed only fifty pounds. “

She was immediately sent off to a fellow missionary Dr. who decided that the best thing for Lottie was to return to the US to receive proper care for her 73 year old frail body.

“On December 13, 1912, Lottie was carried aboard the Manchuria, which was bound for San Francisco via Japan… Once Lottie was safely in bed in her cabin (on the ship), Lottie’s trunk, which had accompanied her on earlier journeys home, was placed at the foot of the bed. In fact, the trunk was empty. Lottie had given away everything she owned to needy Chinese people and had brought the trunk along only for appearances when she arrived in America.”

So why do we take a Lottie Moon offering at Christmas time?

Lottie Moon died on her return voyage to the US… she died on Christmas Eve, 1912.  The annual Christmas Offering for Foreign Missions was titled in Lottie’s honor during the year of 1913 and later in 1918 it was permanently renamed in tribute of Lottie Moon’s devotion. The missionary who was to accompany Lottie Moon to America and witnessed her last breath, Cynthia Miller, penned in the final sentence of her account of Lottie’s final journey,

“It is infinitely touching that those who work hardest and make the most sacrifices for the Master should suffer because those in the homeland fail to give what is needed.”

Her trunk and her frail body spoke and speak volumes of her heart for the lost and dying world.

May we have such an open heart in us.

– Praying we meet our goal for Missions giving this year… that more would be called brothers and sisters in the Kingdom.

*** Quotations from “Lottie Moon: Giving Her All for China” by Janet and Geoff Benge pages 194, 197, 200. Copyright 2001 by YWAM Publishing.

How to Live

Sometimes when you feel that “gotta buy something new for this house” bug bite you just gotta rearrange the furniture. I’ve found it makes things feel fresh and gives me a renewed appreciation for what we have.

– Living within your means and finding contentment in what you have = financially savvy.

The Click of the Track

It’s like sitting at the top of the roller-coaster hill: the excitement, the unknown, the holding your breath before the rush… just waiting for the back of the train to push you over and the wildly wonderful ride to really begin.

Tomorrow when our county worker comes we will be notifying her that we’re ready to take a placement. Then we’ll be waiting (maybe for only a few days, only God knows) to see who God invites into our home through a foster placement phone-call. It could be before Christmas, or maybe afterward. But regardless, our hearts are and have been opened to sharing our lives because of the Greatest Gift of All coming down to visit us… in the depths of our very beings. Who knows what baggage they will carry, what hurt or what loss. But Jesus has and will continue to compel us to love deeper and walk this road with the American orphan.

We love you, precious child (or children) from a depth we did not create, but Christ created in us.  And we have so prayed over your coming.

Please… feel welcome, even if only for a short stay on your journey… come in and rest. You are safe here. You are so loved.

– God, please help us lean on You throughout this journey of loving the American orphan. And if it would be Your will, please bring a child home to stay, should they need a family. Lord, please give us the strength to bless and release and exercise forgiveness, should we get the opportunity to come alongside a broken family as they learn how to parent, love and protect. And please, Lord, I pray for our girls… God that You would open all of our hearts to Jesus along this path. Thank You for Your Hope and the opportunity to come alongside the American orphan, learning what it is to daily love a child (or children)…. from right where they are. Please help us to feel Your direction when the phone-call or phone-calls come in. May we say yes when You desire it and not only when we feel it’s the safest or most comfortable move. Please, Lord, I pray… speak and help us to obey with joy. I love You. In Jesus’ Name.

Fa Zhou’s Blossum

I enjoyed watching Mulan with the girls last week.

This is by far one of my favorite scenes of a parent’s relationship with their child.

I think I like the scene so much because it’s so easy to see my Matthew saying something like this to one of our little girls.

=)

Without Holding Her

Little Hannah turns 3 months old tomorrow. Funny how the time flies and yet feels so slow in other moments. I continue to delight in her little fingers and toes… that “You’re my Mommy” smile… the running in place with excitement.

Miss Big’s been sleeping consistently through the night for 8-9.5hrs. It’s been six days now so I’m hoping this trend is here to stay. But with the trend of sleeping through the night, she still has yet to break her sleeping through the morning and the early afternoon phase. So with a few less moments of eyes at night, I actually find myself missing her more during the day. I’ve been encouraging her to sleep in her bouncer or a swing or her bed instead of in my arms since she was about a month old (I had to get my snuggling in before then. 😉

And while little Miss Sleepy is sure racking in the shut-eye, I’m hoping this “all day” sleeping is a closely fading phase… because I miss her. She slept down the hall in her bed two nights ago, cutting her bedtime about an hour earlier than usual, and leaving me awake without her nearby. Then she slept in her bouncer in the girls’ room while we did homeschooling the following morning. She looked so peaceful and I didn’t want to move her, risking waking her up. But I missed not glancing over at her every handful of minutes.  Hearing her breathing so close.

Maybe it’s because I see Abi’s independence, creating the bittersweet reality of no longer having a hip-riding snuggler. Maybe it’s because I hear Rachael’s “don’t tickle me” moments, when she’d rather just be quiet and “alone”. That bittersweet reality that holding your babies changes with time and growth. And while Rachael enjoys for me to hold her with my words instead of my arms sometimes, I still love how she just wants snuggled while watching a movie or reading a book.

It’s in those thoughts that I find myself wondering back over to the bassinet just to look at her…

just to watch her breathing…

her precious face…

 

And I’m grateful that she’s still a hard sleeper…

who doesn’t wake when I just can’t stand being so close…

without holding her.

18

– Thankful, grateful and blessed.

It Caught Me

There was something in her stale eyes, dirt-clod mouth and blank expression that caught me.

One of those messages on facebook hit me this morning as I scrolled through my friends’ thanksgiving gratitude posts. You know, those “hit share if you feel some emotion” posts with someone’s story and a picture. Seeing so many of those things posted on my wall, I usually just breeze past them – maybe I’m just a victim of over-sharing. But I couldn’t scroll past this one. It hit me as such a stark contrast.

An eerie expression of a buried baby, with only her face uncovered. My stomach churned. [And thus is why I am choosing not to attach the story to this post.] A discomfort made me read the attached story below the picture. I was almost drawn to that painful terror, praying for the evidence of some hope in the storyline.

The story unfolded about an Egyptian father (self-proclaimed Muslim) who buried his two daughters (8 years old and an infant) alive beside his recently murdered wife whom he caught reading the Bible. The children reported, when discovered 15 days later, that “A man wearing shiny white clothes, with bleeding wounds in his hands, came every day to feed us.” Even explaining that the man woke up the children’s mother to nurse the baby. The eight year old identified the shining white man as Jesus on national television, broadcast to a predominantly Muslim nation.

While this story could be a testimony of Christ’s miracle, the repetitive image of a discarded life was etched into my mind. The horror of it all. Those stale eyes, dirt-clod mouth and that blank expression…

Maybe it’s because I see how easily she erupts in a radiant smile. Maybe it’s because I delight in her two month old coos. And the light in her eyes. Those wiggling arms and legs as she spots Matt and I coming near. Her delight. Her utter joy. And the beauty in her eyes…

And then to see this little one’s face… the distrust and broken pain in her listless figure.

I don’t need to watch horror movies, there is living horror all around us. People can do such terrible things to each other. Sin can sure corrupt in unimaginable ways. And while the depth of the pain, hurt and despair can feel endless, my heart yearns for the rescuing arms of Christ. I don’t ask to be rescued from witnessing the monstrosity in this world… no, but the depths of my soul groans and yearns for a rescuing Savior who marches into that brothel and grabs up His bride.

The inner needs for God’s justice for those who have been cast aside as unwanted and expendable…

“Oh that You would rend the heavens and come down (today), that the mountains would tremble before You! As when fire sets twigs ablaze and causes water to boil, come down to make Your name known to Your enemies and cause the nations to quake before You!” – Isaiah 64:1

 

*** I was informed by my dear aunt that this story in itself was reportedly untrue. While this certainly makes my heart feel better regarding the poor lives of two innocent children, the reality that things like this happen in the world of child abuse and sinful acts parents do to “the least of these” is very much true in this world. And while this picture may not have been attached to a true story, the picture of a child’s face being found buried in the ground is sadly more common than we may want to admit. Again, I am relieved that this story was not true, but cannot rest in the naivety that these kinds of stories do not exist. It’s just that these kinds of monstrosities tend to not be widely publicized, just as mass genocide is not easily found in history textbooks.

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