This is an issue so deeply ingrained on my heart, I think about it constantly. Lately, I wake up in the middle of the night trying to process a dream I just had (and most people who know me know I don't remember my dreams) and then try to get back to sleep as my mind tells me "somewhere... right now..." and I weep at how ineffectual I feel. I want those who hurt these women, children - boys & girls and even men (usually labor slaves) to be stopped, to be shamed, to be thwarted in every possible way. Some of what I read about this issue just boggles my mind. People are cruel to other people - that's been going on since the fall (think Cain & Abel) but what boggles my mind is HOW people are cruel to one another. It's as if they can't stop coming up with new ways to torture others, to take advantage of those who are weak or just weaker than they are. And children...how do you hurt children and sleep at night? Yes - I know - money (that was a rhetorical question). Grrrr!!! I can physically feel my frustration.
With that...what do I do? I continue to read and educate myself, no matter how many tears it causes me to shed, no matter how hard it is to take in because these trafficked victims are people. They have hopes, dreams, they love, they smile...and that shouldn't be taken from them. If it is, we should do everything we can to give it back. I know the only One who can make them whole again but we are His hands and His feet on this earth and it is our job to love them, protect them, help them whenever and wherever we can.
I pray. That may sound like a cop out (after all - how often do we say "I'll pray for you" and then not?) but I do. I pray constantly and I know God is preparing the way for what He wants me to do. Then I pray more because no matter what I do, it is Him who will be glorified and I have to remember I don't do this to further me at all. That creeps in there on occasion and I have to search my heart again, make sure no impure motive has crept into my heart.
Before continuing: if you are my niece or nephew - ASK YOUR MOTHER BEFORE CLICKING ON THE LINK!!!!!!! I love you more than words and don't want you to look at this stuff or read this stuff alone, ok? You need (and yes, Jonathon - this means you!) an adult to talk to about this. Not an impersonal blog. Trust me on this and respect me enough to listen to me, 'k?
http://sharedhope.wordpress.com/
This link takes you to a blog - it's full of information, links to articles, videos, etc. If you want to learn more about this issue, please - feel free to check it out. I feel very restless today. It's the kind of day that makes me want to do something reckless (like quit my job and volunteer myself full time on this) but I won't... I'll pray. And read. And prepare myself for this next week. It's a big one. Sunday is my first devotions at the shelter and then Sunday afternoon I head to Vancouver. I have to work down there on Monday but Tuesday morning I'm going to meet with someone from Shared Hope, tour their offices and get more ideas of what to do next.
I'll keep you posted here. I met with some folks from other area churches this past Monday and we're talking about forming a coalition. We'll work together, fight this horror together. We have a few ideas of what we'll do, directions we'll take, etc. Keep tuned!
6.05.2008
6.02.2008
Balance Somewhere
I've been reading a blog recently. It's a beautiful blog because it is full of hope. There is, however, immense sadness in this blog as well. The woman who writes it and her family recently lost their daughter/sister who lived just over 2 hours after birth. This same woman is friends with a woman who, along with her family, lost her son/brother about 1 1/2 hours after his birth and then on May 27th, this woman's sister-in-law and her family lost their 2 month old son/brother to SIDS.
The thing is - you can't help but cry when you read this woman's words. I don't cry much but this is tears pouring down my face crying. You wish you had arms big enough and strong enough to hug them all until their pain just went away - or you absorbed it - because it doesn't seem right that one family should have to deal with so much in such a short period of time. On top of that, you sit there amazed because it could just as easily be your daughter, son, nephew, niece, brother, sister and it could be your pain and you wonder if you would be as hopeful, grateful and comforted as this family is.
Their faith in the One who created this world is astounding. They know that He allowed all of this to happen and they don't begin to try to answer the biggest question of "Why?" Of course, the constant question of "Why does God allow these things when He could just stop them?" always comes up but they know there are reasons beyond their knowing, plans beyond their thinking and love beyond their feeling that has all of it balanced and under control. They don't have to know all of the answers, even though they would, of course, like to - they just have to have faith. And they do. They still cry out to God, they are still angry, hurt, anguished beyond comprehension but the comfort from their faith encompasses them in the way that people only wish we could - the hug that relieves the pain just a bit, gives them hope enough to put one foot in front of the other for one more day comes from El Shaddai, Mighty God.
In the midst of it all, they lean on Him - over and over they turn to His Word, His love... Him. They know they can't do it, they know that if they allowed themselves to turn from Him, they would be swallowed up in a blackness so deep they may never see light again.
There isn't too much to add to this. I wonder if I would be as gracious to God if it were my children. I think so and I hope so. My life is what it is because I have put my faith in God, turned my life over to Him. It's not perfect, that's for sure (I still have plenty of mean, petty thoughts and say & do mean & petty things) but I was such a miserable, lost, mean person before I realized there is One who loves me perfectly and started living for Him instead of for me. He isn't surprised by the depth of this sadness at the loss of these children. He gave His own for all of us and He did it so we could be right with Him. And He allows us to come into His presence even though we had so much to do with His Son's death... That never ceases to amaze me, either - the depth of His forgiveness and love.
The thing is - you can't help but cry when you read this woman's words. I don't cry much but this is tears pouring down my face crying. You wish you had arms big enough and strong enough to hug them all until their pain just went away - or you absorbed it - because it doesn't seem right that one family should have to deal with so much in such a short period of time. On top of that, you sit there amazed because it could just as easily be your daughter, son, nephew, niece, brother, sister and it could be your pain and you wonder if you would be as hopeful, grateful and comforted as this family is.
Their faith in the One who created this world is astounding. They know that He allowed all of this to happen and they don't begin to try to answer the biggest question of "Why?" Of course, the constant question of "Why does God allow these things when He could just stop them?" always comes up but they know there are reasons beyond their knowing, plans beyond their thinking and love beyond their feeling that has all of it balanced and under control. They don't have to know all of the answers, even though they would, of course, like to - they just have to have faith. And they do. They still cry out to God, they are still angry, hurt, anguished beyond comprehension but the comfort from their faith encompasses them in the way that people only wish we could - the hug that relieves the pain just a bit, gives them hope enough to put one foot in front of the other for one more day comes from El Shaddai, Mighty God.
In the midst of it all, they lean on Him - over and over they turn to His Word, His love... Him. They know they can't do it, they know that if they allowed themselves to turn from Him, they would be swallowed up in a blackness so deep they may never see light again.
There isn't too much to add to this. I wonder if I would be as gracious to God if it were my children. I think so and I hope so. My life is what it is because I have put my faith in God, turned my life over to Him. It's not perfect, that's for sure (I still have plenty of mean, petty thoughts and say & do mean & petty things) but I was such a miserable, lost, mean person before I realized there is One who loves me perfectly and started living for Him instead of for me. He isn't surprised by the depth of this sadness at the loss of these children. He gave His own for all of us and He did it so we could be right with Him. And He allows us to come into His presence even though we had so much to do with His Son's death... That never ceases to amaze me, either - the depth of His forgiveness and love.
5.29.2008
Birthday Stuff
We headed to Oregon last Sunday. My brother is turning 40 early next month, my nephew turns 10 Saturday and my niece turns 7 on Sunday. They always do the kids' birthday party on the Sunday before Memorial Day and this year my sister-in-law surprised my brother with a party, too. It worked - he had no clue. We had a great time, even with the rain and cold. It was a bit hard to drive home since we had just driven down there Sunday morning. I haven't been up past midnight in I can't remember how long! We stopped several times on the way home so I could stretch my legs and keep myself awake.
Monday we headed over to visit some friends in Port Townsend. I am not unique when I say if I had the money, I'd buy their place today. Most of their friends and family have said the same thing. It is on the market and it is one of the most peaceful, beautiful places I've been in a LONG time. I hope we can go back before they move to Texas!
That was our Memorial Day weekend. The traveling part of it, anyhow. We did see the new Narnia movie. Loved it. I'm already looking forward to adding it to the DVD collection. There was one part I could have done without and I can see why our friends covered their sons' eyes. Other than that, though, it is really good!
5.19.2008
Clothing/Blanket Drive
A friend of mine has come up with an awesome idea to hold a gently used or new clothing and blanket (manly, only, please) drive for the Everett Gospel Mission's men's shelter. If you would like to contribute, please let me know.
The biggest need at the men's shelter is jeans. They need as many pairs of them as they can get. Also, since its coming up on summer time, shorts and t-shirts are great, too.
Additionally - blankets. Most of you know about my recent tour of the Mission and how affected I was by the fact that so many of the men sleep under blankets that have cartoon characters on them or the hardest to see was the pink blanket with the daisies on it. So, we'd love to donate comforters or blankets that are a bit more manly. Twin and even "extra long" twin would be great.
If you'd like to contribute, just get in touch with me and I'll figure out a time to pick up your donation.
Thank you!
The biggest need at the men's shelter is jeans. They need as many pairs of them as they can get. Also, since its coming up on summer time, shorts and t-shirts are great, too.
Additionally - blankets. Most of you know about my recent tour of the Mission and how affected I was by the fact that so many of the men sleep under blankets that have cartoon characters on them or the hardest to see was the pink blanket with the daisies on it. So, we'd love to donate comforters or blankets that are a bit more manly. Twin and even "extra long" twin would be great.
If you'd like to contribute, just get in touch with me and I'll figure out a time to pick up your donation.
Thank you!
Books Read
I spent some time reading this weekend. It was a bit different because I really haven't come across too many books that are "can't put them down" type of books. The last time I can remember reading a book like that was about 5 years ago. However, in the last couple of weeks, I learned about two of them. Since I don't have much stop-at-the-store time and add to that the fact that I don't even LIKE to shop in stores, I ordered them online. They both showed up last Thursday. I read the first one on Friday (Under the Overpass) and finished the second one (The Shack) about 6:15 this morning. The Shack, the one I finished today, I started reading yesterday morning and it touched me so deeply, I was awake at 5AM again today to finish it.
Under the Overpass (http://www.undertheoverpass.com/) is the work of a young man who, with a friend, chose to live homeless for five months. They travel through six different stories and the book is a journal of their time on the streets, their experiences, the people they met, those who helped them and too many who didn't. Some of the response they received will leave you slack-jawed in disbelief, even though you already know how non-Christian Christians can be.
Then there is The Shack. I wish I was more eloquent in my written expression but this book, if you choose to read it, will give you such an incredible volume of "stuff" to think about. It is incredibly difficult to read in some places, I had tears streaming down my face for the last several chapters. It does, however, challenge every (or almost every) thought, perception, idea you have about God - who He is, what we mean to Him and how He, Jesus and the Holy Spirit relate in the Trinity and what They want for us. It's not a "feel good if you only love Jesus" book and it's not a self-help book at all. It's fiction and needs to be read as fiction but its thought-provoking fiction and I, in all of my normal cynicism and pessimism, have yet to figure out how it's "wrong." I have already started reading through it for a second time. It's that good.
One thing I will say, if you choose to read either or both of these books - let me know what you think, what strikes you, what you want to do next, etc. I'm curious to see if anyone is as affected as I have been.
5.12.2008
Just... Wow!
Sometimes I find myself so incredibly busy that I go through life mechanically. Half the time, I can't remember what I've said to whom when or what I've done. I try to be "present" when I'm doing something but afterwards I'm often left trying to remember exactly what happened and then frustrated with myself that I apparently wasn't paying as close attention as I thought. Not so with this past weekend, though. It's all still whirling around in my head and while all of it was awesome, only one part seems to want to sit and stay a spell in the "mulling over my memories" section of my brain. Saturday morning I went to a "Meet the Mission" event at our local shelter and it was an amazing experience. Eye opening, too, in many ways.
I ended up at the meeting because I plan to start volunteering twice a month doing devotions at the womens' shelter (Technically, I was only going to do it once a month until I spent 2 hours at the shelter on Saturday. I'm fighting the urge to say every Sunday just because I know better than to trust myself with that kind of commitment right away!) and they ask that you attend the meeting to familiarize yourself with all they do.
We all know how large a problem homelessness is and there are so many levels of opinions regarding the homeless themselves. What gets me, though, over and over again, is how close I came to being on the streets myself. For me, I didn't have an addiction and I have a family who was willing to take me in and didn't want to see my son end up sleeping in a car. The people I met over the weekend, though, don't have those luxuries. They didn't wake up one morning and set out to become an addict, lose everything they had, put their own and their children's lives in jeopardy, become a "burden to society," deal with the constant rejection of having people not even willing to look them in the eye or even refer to them as real people. That wasn't a dream they had, they didn't aspire to be the lowest of the low. Yes - there are those who choose to live on the streets but they are not the majority. Our host on Saturday told us of a woman who, when she was in a group at the shelter and introducing herself and telling her story started by telling of her mother who gave her & her siblings drugs when she was 8 years old to keep them quiet. That woman didn't choose addiction - it was chosen for her and for a good part of her life, she didn't even realize there was an alternative that she was entitled to live.
My heart aches for these people. C.S. Lewis once said "It will not bother me in the hour of death to reflect that I have been "had for a sucker" by any number of imposters; but it would be a torment to know that one had refused even one person in need." My experience in San Francisco has been a torment to me. There isn't a single day that goes by where I don't see that woman holding her sign saying she is hungry and this not two minutes after I left 1/2 of a club sandwich sitting on my plate in a restaurant.
Today, too, I read an article about Irene Sendler. She was often referred to as the "female Schindler" and she worked to save thousands of Jewish children out of the Warsaw ghetto in Poland during WWII. What got me, though, was her refusal to allow anyone to call her a hero. As much as she had done (over 2,800 children saved by smuggling them out in suitcases, boxes, etc. and then placed in homes all over Poland), she felt she should have done more. She was arrested by the Gestapo, tortured and sentenced to death. She survived because a community organization in Poland at the time was able to bribe a guard and helped her escape. She was left in the woods with both arms and both legs broken. At great cost to herself, she did what would seem to be impossible and because of her so many children survived the horror of the Holocaust.
I don't want to be a hero, I don't want any kind of recognition - I absolutely can't stand attention and do everything I can to avoid it. What I want is to stop turning my back. To stop pretending the problem is someone else's, that I can just write a check and have done my part. It's not enough.
I ended up at the meeting because I plan to start volunteering twice a month doing devotions at the womens' shelter (Technically, I was only going to do it once a month until I spent 2 hours at the shelter on Saturday. I'm fighting the urge to say every Sunday just because I know better than to trust myself with that kind of commitment right away!) and they ask that you attend the meeting to familiarize yourself with all they do.
We all know how large a problem homelessness is and there are so many levels of opinions regarding the homeless themselves. What gets me, though, over and over again, is how close I came to being on the streets myself. For me, I didn't have an addiction and I have a family who was willing to take me in and didn't want to see my son end up sleeping in a car. The people I met over the weekend, though, don't have those luxuries. They didn't wake up one morning and set out to become an addict, lose everything they had, put their own and their children's lives in jeopardy, become a "burden to society," deal with the constant rejection of having people not even willing to look them in the eye or even refer to them as real people. That wasn't a dream they had, they didn't aspire to be the lowest of the low. Yes - there are those who choose to live on the streets but they are not the majority. Our host on Saturday told us of a woman who, when she was in a group at the shelter and introducing herself and telling her story started by telling of her mother who gave her & her siblings drugs when she was 8 years old to keep them quiet. That woman didn't choose addiction - it was chosen for her and for a good part of her life, she didn't even realize there was an alternative that she was entitled to live.
My heart aches for these people. C.S. Lewis once said "It will not bother me in the hour of death to reflect that I have been "had for a sucker" by any number of imposters; but it would be a torment to know that one had refused even one person in need." My experience in San Francisco has been a torment to me. There isn't a single day that goes by where I don't see that woman holding her sign saying she is hungry and this not two minutes after I left 1/2 of a club sandwich sitting on my plate in a restaurant.
Today, too, I read an article about Irene Sendler. She was often referred to as the "female Schindler" and she worked to save thousands of Jewish children out of the Warsaw ghetto in Poland during WWII. What got me, though, was her refusal to allow anyone to call her a hero. As much as she had done (over 2,800 children saved by smuggling them out in suitcases, boxes, etc. and then placed in homes all over Poland), she felt she should have done more. She was arrested by the Gestapo, tortured and sentenced to death. She survived because a community organization in Poland at the time was able to bribe a guard and helped her escape. She was left in the woods with both arms and both legs broken. At great cost to herself, she did what would seem to be impossible and because of her so many children survived the horror of the Holocaust.
I don't want to be a hero, I don't want any kind of recognition - I absolutely can't stand attention and do everything I can to avoid it. What I want is to stop turning my back. To stop pretending the problem is someone else's, that I can just write a check and have done my part. It's not enough.
Even this is incomplete. The thoughts, the ideas, the frustration at having to be at my job instead of off volunteering somewhere - all of that keeps me from focusing right now. Perhaps in a few days, few weeks, when I have settled down a bit. We'll see. I'm just going to go to work and see what happens next, see where God leads me.
5.01.2008
Birthdays
Yesterday was my birthday and it's now official - I am "in my 40's." Ugh. I'm not sure how I feel about that yet. I'll have to let you know. I flip back and forth - sometimes I wish I was still in my mid-20's, I don't feel like I did enough with my 20's & 30's and other times I think 40's aren't too bad. I don't care about the same things I did when I was in my 30's and it's a bit liberating to realize what really isn't all that important.
My husband took me out to dinner and we had a wonderful couple of hours just us. I love spending time with Aaron. He is an awesome man in more ways than I could mention here and I still can't believe I am so blessed. He has to be an awesome man - he puts up with me every day (and says he likes it!) and he irons for me whenever I wake up late for work (which is, by the way, almost every single time I need something ironed...). AND he cooks... to me? That's better than gold!! Yesterday he fixed the grill and the lawnmower, cut most of the front yard, took Christopher to baseball practice and still managed to get home in time & ready to take me out to dinner. Yup - I'm blessed.
My oldest son watched our youngest as we went out to dinner but before I left, my youngest gave me my bir
thday present. Its the paper flower pot you see in the picture (the other one, the cherub holding the heart with the ivy in it was my Valentine's gift from Shortstuff). Christopher spent days planning this out and then making it. It is probably one of the best birthday gifts I have ever received. Aaron told me last night Christopher had come to him several days ago telling his Dad what he was going to make me. Today I asked him to make paper flowers for the box because the live flowers can't get water (it being paper and all...) so I can take it to work. I want to look at this thing every single day. Christopher tells me he can do that - he has some scrap paper he keeps in his backpack in case he comes up with a project idea. That made me laugh. He's 8 and he carries around different scraps of construction paper just in case he wants to make something. Our "little creator." He loves creating things - one of the requests for his birthday was yarn, shoeboxes, tape and just... stuff. Things he could use with his creations. Such an imagination, too! He has built a closet for his Build-A-Bear clothes, robots, windmills, he loves origami... He loves golf & baseball, too. We're going to sign him up for soccer in the fall. This is what I miss about Chris. His not being a kid and enjoying all of this stuff. My adult son is contemplating joining an adult basketball league. I hope he does it and I hope I can go to some of his games. I miss watching him do the things he loves and is good at. Chris on the basketball court was a wonderful thing to watch. All determination and happiness. You could see his love for playing on his face. I wouldn't mind watching that again.
I'm a rambling mother at the moment... I think I'll stop for now. I'm headed down some rabbit trails and who knows what I'd type. Hope you have a glorious day!
My husband took me out to dinner and we had a wonderful couple of hours just us. I love spending time with Aaron. He is an awesome man in more ways than I could mention here and I still can't believe I am so blessed. He has to be an awesome man - he puts up with me every day (and says he likes it!) and he irons for me whenever I wake up late for work (which is, by the way, almost every single time I need something ironed...). AND he cooks... to me? That's better than gold!! Yesterday he fixed the grill and the lawnmower, cut most of the front yard, took Christopher to baseball practice and still managed to get home in time & ready to take me out to dinner. Yup - I'm blessed.
My oldest son watched our youngest as we went out to dinner but before I left, my youngest gave me my bir
thday present. Its the paper flower pot you see in the picture (the other one, the cherub holding the heart with the ivy in it was my Valentine's gift from Shortstuff). Christopher spent days planning this out and then making it. It is probably one of the best birthday gifts I have ever received. Aaron told me last night Christopher had come to him several days ago telling his Dad what he was going to make me. Today I asked him to make paper flowers for the box because the live flowers can't get water (it being paper and all...) so I can take it to work. I want to look at this thing every single day. Christopher tells me he can do that - he has some scrap paper he keeps in his backpack in case he comes up with a project idea. That made me laugh. He's 8 and he carries around different scraps of construction paper just in case he wants to make something. Our "little creator." He loves creating things - one of the requests for his birthday was yarn, shoeboxes, tape and just... stuff. Things he could use with his creations. Such an imagination, too! He has built a closet for his Build-A-Bear clothes, robots, windmills, he loves origami... He loves golf & baseball, too. We're going to sign him up for soccer in the fall. This is what I miss about Chris. His not being a kid and enjoying all of this stuff. My adult son is contemplating joining an adult basketball league. I hope he does it and I hope I can go to some of his games. I miss watching him do the things he loves and is good at. Chris on the basketball court was a wonderful thing to watch. All determination and happiness. You could see his love for playing on his face. I wouldn't mind watching that again.I'm a rambling mother at the moment... I think I'll stop for now. I'm headed down some rabbit trails and who knows what I'd type. Hope you have a glorious day!
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