The earliest of autumn’s crispness set into the evening air. Most likely, this was a one-night phenomenon, with many long, hot days to come in-between here and the shorter, colder days of fall.

Still, mama knew.

Change was coming. Change had already come.

And uncertainty was most certainly all around.

Mama just heard of a great actor and comedian’s passing. Suicide they suspected. And she couldn’t get over it. She couldn’t let it go. Because this great artist, this human being of a different kind made mama laugh, made mama cry. His portrayal of a great physician in Awakenings awakened her to life not once, but many times over. It was one of her favorites, a gentle-spirited movie about waking up to your life, capturing moments while they’re still in your grasp.

She was a little distraught about this passing. But she bathed her babe anyway.

The days since babe’s last bath had passed in a flash. After one glance at babe’s dirt-filled fingernails and brown-stained feet, mama knew it was time for that bath.

“My got my diaper off! My ready!” shouted babe as she waited for mama to fill the tub.

Mama turned on the water. Not too cold, not too hot. She threw in the bath toys – puppy dogs and fish-catching nets, wobbly-weebly people made for miniature yellow boats.

She watched as babe lathered up soap on a washcloth and scrubbed her body, her baby doll, her wobbly-weebly people, and even the bath ledge clean again.

Don’t we all walk ledges – longing for better days, opportunities to start over, desperate for someone to see us for who we are instead of the mask we’ve been? Don’t we all sit on ledges – waiting to feel clean, whole, restored to brand-new condition, free again?

Mama thought hard as babe scrubbed the bath ledge. She wondered how it could be that a celebrity, a comedian, a great artist of our time could be so desperate, so filled with pain, so wanting to leave this world.

The pain fell like a curtain. She felt all the pain of the world in that moment. And she wondered why moms and dads take their lives, why babes suffer beheading, why kids cross borders alone, why Ebola strikes ebony and threatens to spread like a deadly wildfire.

Babe continued to wash the bath ledge new.

Dad and son watched the Matrix in the other room.

And mama thought of Jesus. Jesus on the cross. His pain. His suffering. His crossing every border because of us. His name that spread. Like wildfire.

So mama decided. She couldn’t push away the joy because of the pain. And she couldn’t push away the pain because of the joy.

Babes take baths. And babes are beheaded. Children frolic in sprinklers. And children watch parents fall ill and pass in a matter of hours. Children are safe and sound in the comforts of home, and children are sent afar, alone, to cross borders in search of freedom. Children experience lifetimes with mommies and daddies, and children live orphaned because mommy and daddy couldn’t bear the weight of this world anymore. All under the same sky. All under the great canopy provided by God himself.

She didn’t understand. She didn’t grasp the purpose of this pain. She couldn’t fathom the point of it all, couldn’t reconcile this good and evil under the same blue sky.

So she asked, yet again, one of the greatest questions she’s ever asked God. Why must babes, innocent children suffer? And why is it that some humans sneak by with mere inconveniences, while others are bathed in blood, pain, trauma, poverty and the like?

Mama had to let it go. She had to release it to Jesus who suffered the greatest pain of all, to God who created it all. For us. For all of us.

So mama washed babe’s hair and smiled at her big. Because babes need encouragement if they’re to live upright in a culture that can feel completely hopeless. If we’re going to fight this fight, we musn’t give up. We must prepare our generation, the next generation, as armies of brave warriors. Warriors armed with belts of truth, breastplates of righteousness, and swords of the Spirit. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.

She bundled her babe in a plush pink towel, and pulled out those pink pajamas with the frog on front. She read babe a book about the animals of the world. And she brought babe a glass of water before turning on the white noise.

Downstairs she went. She felt directionless, like her cares were nothing compared to the weight of this heavy, heavy globe called Earth.

Mama got out the vacuum. The floor was a disaster. Then she got out the mop. Because the vacuum hadn’t cut the grime. This mopping wasn’t as easy as it looked. She pushed hard, and while the floor was still dirty, she couldn’t bring herself to finish. Because it still seemed pointless compared to the world’s greater state of disaster.

It was then that she really heard, really noticed the girls out on the front porch. There were six of them, to be exact. Binders and bows, brushes and blow dryers laid on the table. A big bucket of clean water served as their source for making all things new in regards to their hair. They’d created a hair salon and were busy bees prepping and primping one another.

Mama addressed the first thing any mama would think of when it comes to homemade hair salons. Don’t share brushes. The girls already had that taken care of. They’d already gone home to get their own.

As mama lingered with the girls for a few quiet moments, she continued to have a hard time reconciling all this innocence with all the world’s tragedy.

She asked the hard questions. Again.

Why do these beauties have the privilege of creating a hair salon on a porch, while others equally as beautiful sit on a mountain top afraid for their lives?

Why do these beauties get to primp and play, while others equally as beautiful walk miles to cross borders into the unknown?

Why do these beauties have a clean bill of health, while others equally as beautiful suffer death?

Why do these beauties wonder whether their daddies will arrive back home at 5:00 or 6:00 tonight, while others equally as beautiful discover their daddy’s decided it’s the last night he can hack this world?

It’s hard to understand why God would allow all of this.

Hard questions don’t have easy answers.

But by the supernatural grace of God, powerful words came to mama’s mind.

For God is not a God of disorder but of peace.  1 Corinthians 14:33

Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.  Romans 12:21 

 You are of God, little children, and have overcome them, because He who is in you is greater than he who is in the world.  1 John 4:4

Then, mama decided she simply had to trust. That He’d take care of it all. That the world’s weight wasn’t hers to bear, but His.

So she let it go. As much as she could. She gave it up. To the One and only One who knows the purpose of all our pain, who knows the story He’s writing.

Two girls danced in the driveway with caps on their heads to protect the beauty they’d made. And one little girl came to mama needing help with her headband. Mama helped the little girl put on hope in the form of a butterfly, and sent the six beautiful warriors on their way.

The bikes swished and swooshed down the street.

Mama stood alone with the bowl of clean water.

Truly I tell you, anyone who gives you a cup of water in my name because you belong to the Messiah will certainly not lose their reward.  Mark 9:41

Mama couldn’t help the world, but she could help those she was called to help. For tonight, the gift had been water. The washing of water over a warrior babe in a bathtub. A glass of water before bedtime. A bowl full of water for warrior girls who know that it’s glimpses of beauty, glimpses of gratitude, glimpses of the Divine in the daily that make the world go round.

It occurred to me last summer as I walked into that home daycare for a little speech therapy. It was a revelation, really. Then, and only then, did I start seeing my job in a whole new light. Perhaps God was using these 14 years of home visits to prepare me for something else. Maybe that something else wasn’t about speech therapy at all, but more about helping fellow human beings discover their voice. Maybe it wasn’t so much about articulation as it was helping others articulate their best selves. Perhaps it wasn’t so much about language as it was about breaking down language barriers so the heart of human souls could be revealed. Perhaps it wasn’t so much about pragmatics and social communication as it was about developing authentic relationship.

I knew it right then and there.

The Lord had invested years and years into my adult life so I would be prepared. For moments like this.

You see, He knew from the very beginning. He placed a yearning in my little girl heart. A longing to love on others in far off places. A longing to do something for little ones in need. A longing to step right in the middle of extreme poverty. A longing to look long, stay long with the faces and know they were real, live human beings with hearts and souls, burdens and dreams.

He fed my little girl longings in the oddest, most unlikely of ways. Television commercials. Memories of those television commercials are the only way I know today, that this lifelong dream, this current reality is from Him and Him only.

For years and years, those television commercials continued to pop through my screen as I watched Little House on the Prairie and ate cupcakes with pink frosting, potato chips with french onion dip. In-between scenes of Laura Ingalls with Pa and Ma, the Lord showed me faces. Faces of a little girl with a pink shirt, boys walking through a dump, and a man with a gray beard who reminded me time and time again that I could sponsor a child in that far off place. Sally Struthers told me I could sponsor one child for “just 70 cents a day.” The date on that commercial is 1987. I was 11 years old. God was working already.

The years passed.

My little girl heart grew into a mama bear heart.

But the longings never left. Never.

Sally Struthers had long been replaced by new familiar faces. Brighter, more brilliant campaigns dazzled the television screen to fight global poverty. But the celebrity faces didn’t really faze this mama bear heart. Because a mama bear heart knows what a mama bear heart knows. Those commercials? Those kids living in extreme poverty? They were still speaking to me. God was still using them to remind my little girl heart what it yearned for most.

That is, until He spoke through a different screen.

Yes, He knows me best. Introverted. Visual. Communicates best through writing. Moved by emotion and story.

So television commercials turned into Twitter in August of 2010. Because God’s timing is perfect.

It was Ann Voskamp’s blog post in September of 2010 that changed everything. Ann was in Guatemala with Compassion International, visiting her sponsored child. She wrote this post, “How to Make Your Life an Endless Celebration.” And it wrecked me. Tears streamed down my face as I read her post. My little girl heart came alive in a new way. God began whispering. This is the way.

From then on, I was sold out for this organization called Compassion International. I believed in their mission to release children from extreme poverty and I knew this was a match for my little girl heart. So signed up to become an official Compassion Blogger. I also became a fiercely loyal follower of Compassion’s blogging trips to visit sponsored children all around the world. And somewhere along the way, I began dreaming that maybe one day, some day, I could go on one of those trips, too. Maybe one day, some day, I’d use my blog to be a voice for children living in extreme poverty.

I wrote that defined dream on my heart, in a journal, and later in a private document titled “A Possible Calling” that detailed all of my God-sized dreams.

Our family sponsored a little girl through Compassion International in August 2012. In December 2012, we became correspondents with a little boy who has since joined our growing family of sponsored children.

I began to feel a call on my life to do something more.

So on July 1, 2013, after much prayer, conversation, and financial consideration with my husband, I clicked a button that meant I would be traveling to Haiti in February 2014 to visit our two sponsored children through Compassion International. The sponsor trip was marvelous, beyond my wildest dreams. It fulfilled every longing my little girl heart ever had. Because of God’s faithful provision, I’d stepped into a world of extreme poverty and became a voice for the voiceless through my daily blog posts.

But He who begins a good work will carry it out to completion. God was not finished with me yet. In fact, He’d just begun.

On July 1, 2014, exactly ONE year after I’d clicked the registration button to travel to Haiti, I received a personal message from Compassion International. They wanted to verify my email address. They needed to send me something. I opened that message as I was getting into the car after a speech therapy home visit, and didn’t have time to respond because I was on my way to the daycare where I’d had that revelation last summer. So I made my way to the place of revelation. Tears streamed and holy goosebumps popped as I thought up all the amazing reasons Compassion might be contacting me on this seemingly random summer day. But I didn’t let myself get too excited because I am a realist, after all. Perhaps Compassion was contacting me in July because they needed me to pull something I’d written about the sponsor trip I’d taken back in February?

I got myself to a public library as quick as I could, and responded in the most proper way possible to verify my email address. I received an email back from Compassion International within an hour.

“We are all so grateful for your commitment to release children from poverty in Jesus’ name. [We] also wanted to invite you on a sponsor tour. Another one…” And later in the email, “There are so many great stories that occur during the week of a sponsor tour, as you know, and we want to start exploring what it would be like to capture those stories through our bloggers.”

My heart raced.

This was nothing but God’s pure grace, divine favor, a miracle. Compassion International just celebrated five years of blogging trips, and now they’re beginning another adventure, inviting bloggers to join a sponsor tour.

I’d been chosen to be a part of this new adventure.

As I sat there in the car reading the words over and over again on my tiny iPhone screen, all I could do was pray over and over again “Dear Lord, I am humbled and grateful. Dear Lord, I am humbled and grateful. Dear Lord, I am humbled and grateful.”

After gathering myself, I texted my husband and asked him to “call me right away if you have time!” “You’ll never guess,” I said when he called. “You’ll never guess.”

God’s grace.

His favor.

A Miracle.

Most definitely, yes.

I’ve been keeping this secret since July 1st. It’s just been me, my husband, Compassion and God himself that have known. I shared the news with one sweet soul one week ago, our parents yesterday, and my prayer and support team yesterday afternoon. And now, today, it’s your turn to know. It’s time to make the news public!

I’ve been invited to travel to the Dominican Republic with Compassion International and join a sponsor tour in January 2015. I’ll be traveling with a bunch of sponsors and TWO other bloggers. Kris Camealy, Sandra Heska King, and I will share stories throughout the week on our blogs. We’ll travel the beaten down, graveled up roads our sponsored children travel. We’ll see Compassion’s Child Survival Program in action, we’ll visit homes and Child Development Sponsorship Program projects, and we’ll see the most amazing fruits of Compassion’s efforts when we meet young adults enrolled in the Leadership Development Program. But most exciting of all? We’ll meet our sponsored children. We’ll meet them face to face. In fact, we’ll witness a whole host of sponsors meeting their sponsored children. And it will be beautiful, divine, holy.

The moments will be orchestrated by God himself. The stories, prepared in advance for us to tell. May our words be a vessel through which He speaks truth about the value of every human life.

As I drove away from that daycare yesterday, I remembered the revelation I had at that same daycare one year ago. Perhaps God’s been preparing me with these 14 years of speech therapy home visits. He’s wanted me to learn what it takes to enter in to others’ private space, others’ holy space and bring voice to the voiceless. He’s prepared me for a lifetime, really. My little girl heart has grown up into a great big mama bear heart. He’s fulfilling the promises He set in me from the beginning. That makes my heart beat hard, takes my breath away, gives me holy goosebumps. And brings wells of tears to my eyes. Because God is good. His promises ring true. Always and forever.

Similar to every major series I write on this blog, this post will serve as the landing page for my Dominican Republic trip with Compassion International in January 2015. All the posts I write about the trip will be listed and linked here, at the bottom of this blog post. You’ll find this Dominican Republic graphic displayed on the right sidebar of my blog homepage. Click on the graphic anytime, and you’ll be brought right back here where you’ll find all the blog posts in one place!

Other posts in the series about my trip to the Dominican Republic:

The Sweet Girl I’m Going to Visit in the Dominican Republic

I’m Empty. Apparently That’s the Way God Wants Me.

Bonita y Muy Guapo

Giving and Receiving Through Child Sponsorship

A Best Friend for Eternity

How a Formerly Sponsored Child Taught Me Anything’s Possible

A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words

Have you always dreamed of sponsoring a child? Why not do it today? I promise, it’ll be one of the best decisions you’ll ever make. Maybe Dominican Republic’s your place? Or perhaps you’re feeling called to Africa, Asia or elsewhere. Check out Compassion’s website by clicking right here. A whole host of children are patiently waiting for a sponsor. If you could meet them face to face, I just know you’d understand what an honor it is to release them from poverty and give them hope for a better tomorrow.

 

 

July 30, 2014, marked Divine In The Daily’s two-year blogaversary! The day came and went without any fanfare, but I most certainly did not forget the occasion. After all, how could I forget the day I finally started getting all those words out of my head and onto the screen so they could be useful to someone besides me?!

So today, I want to step back and celebrate this blogaversary by honoring four special people who have been a tremendous blessing to me in regards to this blog – Brenda, Shalon, Monica, and Tom. From day one, these individuals were there to pray, support, encourage, and love. Better yet? They’re still hanging in there today, and I don’t see them hitting the road anytime soon. For that, I am so grateful.

Let me tell you more about each one of these beautiful people, may I?

BRENDA

I served on a board of directors with Brenda’s husband for three years, so I’d conversed with her on several occasions. We were very familiar with each other and enjoyed one another’s company, but never had that much time to chat at length. I respected and admired her fiercely as a wife, mother, and fellow human being. Let me tell you, Brenda is phenomenal. I will never, ever forget the way she’s blessed me and this blog.

On July 30, 2012, the day I launched the blog, Brenda called and left a message on my phone at 2:24 p.m. I will always remember the moment I listened to her voice mail, and have it saved on my phone to this day. I was at the beach with my kids, sitting on the sidelines watching them frolic on the shoreline. It was then that I heard Brenda’s words, “Read your blog posts on your new blog and I just had to call you. I am so blown away and impressed. I just wanted to chat with you about that for two or three minutes.” Needless to say, I called her back immediately, right there at the beach. After some conversation about my new blog and her new photography business, Brenda shared that she felt compelled to offer prayer for me and the blog. I obliged, of course. So there on the beach, a phone separating the two of us, we prayed for this blog.

Brenda is a pivotal person because she took a risk and stepped out of her comfort zone to cover this blog in prayer. She most definitely didn’t have to do it, but she did it anyway. And she continues to pop in to the blog to this day to show her ongoing love and support. Thank you, Brenda.

SHALON

My, oh my. Where should I start with sweet Shalon? In April 2012, I made the decision that I would be launching this blog, Divine In The Daily. The blog I began in January 2010 never really launched, so I knew I wanted to do this blog right from the start. With that in mind, I was certain of a few things. I wanted to hire a custom blog designer. I knew I wanted a ProPhoto Blog so I could have lots of options for beautiful photography on the site. And I needed to find someone whose design style complemented my personal style. Oh yeah, and I knew the designer would have to be patient with my perfectionistic tendencies. Fortunately, after hours of online research, I “met” Shalon!

Shalon is a blog and graphic designer at Pretty Lovely Design. I’ve worked with her for 28 months, and it’s been an incredible ride. Pretty much anything visual you see on my blog? Shalon designed it. Together, we’ve customized everything to my liking.

I was impressed with Shalon’s service from the beginning. She had me complete an extensive background form which detailed everything I wanted in the blog, down to minutia details such as fonts, accent colors, and white space between blog posts. Shalon has been ridiculously patient with me throughout the whole process. In fact, she’s been so patient and gracious with me that I can’t even begin to explain. But here’s one example – I made countless revisions to the blog header before the blog was launched in July 2012, and then in July 2013, she helped me redesign the header to fit the feel of the blog one year in. Shalon’s designed business cards and graphics for me, and has helped problem solve various technical problems on the blog as well.

I’m excited to work with Shalon in upcoming weeks. She’ll be updating my logo and business cards, will be creating Facebook and Twitter covers for the blog, and last but not least, she’ll design my #31Days graphic for 2014!

I’m pleased to call Shalon a pivotal person because she’s not only met my expectations, but has exceeded them in regards to all design aspects of this blog. I couldn’t be more pleased. Thank you, Shalon.

MONICA

Monica’s been a faithful reader of the blog since day one. She’s also one of twelve individuals on the Divine In The Daily prayer and support team. Words don’t adequately describe how important Monica has been to the life of this blog. May I suggest she’s been one of my blogging lifelines? I’m pretty sure Monica’s read most, if not all of the blog posts I’ve ever written. For that, I’m grateful. Because she knows and cares about my heart.

In the early days, when barely anybody was reading, Monica was there with a Facebook like or sweet comment on the blog. She’s the one that’s sent me Facebook messages and emails letting me know how much various posts have moved her personally. She’s one that’s encouraged me with texts when I’ve been discouraged. She’s the one who reminded me that one thoughtful comment has the potential to turn the blog into a space for rich, meaningful conversation, just the way I’ve always dreamed it could be. She’s the one I’d trust with the biggest and best news this blog’s ever had…before anyone else. She’s the one that knows what this blog means to me and how it fits into my life, and I’m pretty sure she’d do just about anything to show her support.

It’s my pleasure to call Monica a pivotal person in the life of this blog because she’s probably the most grace-filled, loyal and intuitive readers I’ve ever had. She makes me feel like my writing is worthy and worthwhile. Thank you, Monica.

TOM

Tom has been a faithful reader of my blog from the start. He’s also one of twelve on my prayer and support team. If I ever named a Godfather of this blog, it would most definitely be Tom.

Tom is the most loyal male reader of my blog besides my husband. Yes, as much as I want this blog to be for men as it is for women, my readership continues to be about 80% female. So having Tom’s predictable male presence is greatly appreciated and never, ever taken for granted.

Tom plays a similar role to Monica on this blog, only he’s male and is probably closer to my dad’s age than my age! As you might be able to tell, Tom and Monica have pretty much covered the bases for the life of this blog in regards to support, love and encouragement. When the blog was fresh and new, and only a handful of people were reading, Tom was there with his Facebook likes and encouraging comments. When I need a little humor, when I need a dose of reality, when I need encouragement, fact checking or history buffing, Tom’s my man. When I sent out an email to the prayer and support team with prayer requests last spring, Tom responded with insight and a prayer I needed more than anything. I’m not sure how he identified the most pressing prayer request of my life without me ever saying it, but he did. Not many people REALLY get me. Tom does. And I’ve only met him once.

For Tom and his unwavering presence, I am beyond grateful. I respect Tom immensely and pray he’ll never leave this place I call my own. Thank you, Tom. You have most definitely been a pivotal person in the life of this blog.

I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling the love today. Love’s all around. It’s my greatest desire for you to feel welcomed and known in this place. So please, make yourself comfortable here. Take off your shoes and stay for a while. Make this place yours as much as it is mine.

But before I go, there’s one more thing I want you to know…

There are so many more who I could’ve honored today. Heck, I could write a week’s worth of posts on all of you who have been supportive these past two years. Whether you’ve been around since week one or just discovered my blog last month, I’m happy and blessed to have you here. There’s one thing for sure. I wouldn’t be much of a writer without readers. So thank you for reading, thank you for responding, and thank you for engaging in this place. Your love and support has been tremendous. Your willingness to have fun, go deep, and be vulnerable has been incredible.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

With a grateful heart for the two years that have passed, let’s kick off year three! It’s going to be grand.

 

It’s as if her 9-year-old eyes suddenly opened wide to the world of women, to the world of other mothers this week.

“Why don’t you dress sporty, like her?”

“Why don’t you like iced coffee, like her?”

“Are you a crafty mom? I want you to have a bead room like that. I bet if you were a crafty mom I’d want to do a project every day. I’d want to make a bracelet with beads every single day.”

I explained why I only dress sporty when I work out and not every day like she wishes I would.

I explained why I don’t like iced coffee, why I don’t like any kind of coffee at all.

I explained that I’m not much of a crafty mom, why I probably won’t ever have a bead room.

It’s all really a matter of fact. But my explanations seemed to fall short.

I wondered if I’d let my daughter down a little when I explained why I’m not any of those things.

That 9-year-old of mine – she wanted me to be more of a sporty mom, she wanted me to be more of a hip iced coffee drinking mom, she wanted to know if I’d ever identify myself as a crafty mom. And I told her no. On all three accounts.

I let myself go down that ugly, ugly road of lies for just a moment. You know the lies…maybe I’m not the kind of mom she wants, maybe I’m not the kind of mom she needs, maybe I’m not the kind of mom she secretly wishes she had. Ugh. Ugly lies. Ugly, ugly lies.

Perhaps my matter-of-fact 11 1/2-year-old son got it right when he responded bluntly to my daughter with this…

“She’s not a crafty mom, SHE HAS A BLOG!!”

Yep. He got it right, didn’t he?

I’m not a sporty mom, I’m not a hip iced coffee drinking mom, and I’m not a crafty mom. But I am a bloggy mom.

These conversations got me thinking about something I’ve thought of many times before. One of my greatest dreams as a mother is for my adult children to look up to me and think of me as beautiful, classy, wise, faithful, patient, loving, and kind. I want them to come to me for advice. I want them to know I’m an open book, here for them anytime. I want them to look at me and see what strength paired with humility looks like. I want them to see a servant heart in me, and I want them to think that’s so, so cool. I want my children to see me living out my dreams, living out my calling, and I want them to be empowered to do the same. And when it comes to my daughters, especially, I pray they’re honored and proud to call me mom.

So I quietly beg God, plea with God, ask Him to pour His grace and favor on me in regards to these matters of the heart. Help that 11-year-old heart, 9-year-old heart, and 2-year-old heart grow to see me for WHO I AM rather than who I’m not. And help me be the mom I want to be for my children, because it’s not always as easy as it seems.

Before we wrap up that conversation about me not being a crafty mom, I encourage her 9-year-old heart. “You know, when you’re a mom, in fact, maybe even when you’re just a little older, like in high school or something, you can be crafty if you want. That would be awesome. You can pick whatever craft you’d love to do and you can get really good at it. I think that would be great for you because I know you’re really creative and you like to do creative things.”

“Ya,” she says. “Ya.”