There's No Place Like Home

Hebrews 10:24-25English Standard Version (ESV)

"24 And let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works, 25 not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day drawing near."

I recently read a great article about the meaning of Hebrews 10:24-25 and what is meant by "not neglecting to meet together".  Reading the article stirred up a lot of thoughts for me about church.  You can read the article here.  It is lengthy but well worth it.  This is one of my favorite quotes:  "If you are absent, and others do not know where you are, but they are not surprised by your absence, you are probably out of the will of God on this matter. If you can miss church without being missed at church, something is missing. And if you can miss church without missing church, something is missing." 

When I was a little girl, growing up in my home wasn't easy.  It's safe to say I probably had more bad memories than good.  That's not to say it was all bad and that's also not to say that there were never any good memories.  Have you seen the movie "Inside Out"?  When I really think about it, some of the best memories I can recall with my family were the rare occasions when we had family game night.  We would play Boggle or Yahtzee or cards most of the time and it was so fun!  I remember the laughter...one time, we were playing Yahtzee and in that game you have a cup that you throw dice in to shake them up before rolling them out.  Well, my Dad always had a cup of pop next to him and he had a blue plastic cup filled with ice and pop that looked similar to the Yahtzee cup and one time he chunked the Yahtzee dice into his cup full of pop.  We all laughed so hard!   One of my other favorite memories of growing up was when we sat down as a family to share a meal together.  It didn't happen often and less and less as I got older.  My Dad would sometimes, unknowingly to the rest of the family, set a cassette tape recorder in the corner of the kitchen nook with a blank cassette tape inside and he would actually record our meals together.  Sharing stories, laughing...it was great to listen to those cassettes years later.  I wish I knew where they were now.  Like I said though, it didn't happen regularly so I think in a way, that's what makes it stand out in my memory...that's what makes it special.  Me and my sisters are nearing our 40's and 50's and we still talk about "The Food Fight" we had one time at the table growing up.  It was epic.  We all remember the menu that night...fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans, or was it corn?  If you ask us, we all have the same memory...the chicken leg hitting the window and the mashed potatoes on the wall.  Makes me laugh just thinking about it.  

I recently watched the movie "Burnt".  It stars Bradley Cooper who is a chef.  In fact, he is a two-star Michelin chef trying to get his third star.  He is an angry individual whose anger has cost him jobs and friends.  The decisions he's made in his life have landed him in his current situation.  Later in the movie, you find out why he's so angry.  Someone close to him explains that he had a rough upbringing.  His parents were divorced and he got shuffled around with other family members to raise him.  In the kitchen of the restaurant where he works, at the end of every shift they have a "family meal" together but Bradley Cooper never participates.  They invite him to come eat with them and he always declines and just stays in his office.  He places himself on the outside of his work "family" because that's the way he feels on the inside...like an outsider who wouldn't know what to do with a family if he had one.

Over Spring Break, I had a conversation with a teenage boy to ask him how things were going in his family.  His parents are divorced and on the weekends he is with his dad and during the week, he lives with his mom.  I asked him how things were going at home.  He said when he's not there his stepdad takes the family out to eat, or they cook a big meal at home, or his stepdad takes the family bowling.  When he's home though, his mom does not cook, they do not sit down and eat together or do anything fun, and they usually eat fast food.  I talked to another kid from a divorced home and he said his mom hardly ever cooks and he doesn't like being at home.  The general consensus from the two boys I spoke with was "home is not a fun place to be".  Nobody eats together, there's no fellowship, no sense of community, nobody seems to care if you're there or not.  

When Justin and I first started dating, I was serving as the youth secretary in the youth department for Sunday School at our church.  Once we became a couple, we wanted to do everything together including Sunday School so we decided to begin attending the Adult 2 Sunday School class of young married couples.  It was great.  Everyone was our age going through the same life stages together.  We had women's Bible studies in each other's homes and we read books like "Twelve Extraordinary Women" and "Bad Girls of the Bible".  We prayed together, shared struggles together, we did life together.  After a few years, our Adult 2 Sunday School teachers formed a "home group".  There were 4 couples (8 adults) and their children in this home group.  We would trade off hosting in our homes and we shared meals together, studied the Bible together, split off into men and women's groups and we would share prayer requests together, hold each other accountable...we did life together.  We were wives and mom's raising our children together and sharing all our struggles together.  This home group made church come to life.  We were connected to the Body.  We were eager to meet together again each Sunday.  We looked forward to it.  It was communion and community and life-giving and life-sustaining.  To me, it was a picture of the way church is supposed to be and how it is supposed to function.  It was Hebrews 10:24-25 in real life action.  It was Scripture lived out and fulfilled.  To me, it's what the writer of Hebrews meant when he said, "don't neglect the habit of meeting together".

When I consider all of this, the article, my best memories growing up, the movie I watched which in the end was about "family", the boys from the divorced homes, and the picture of the way church used to be for us...it makes me question, "Can I call my church Home my Family?"

Some of my other favorite quotes from the article:  "Specifically, our text teaches that you need to commit yourself to some local assembly of believers, so that you can submit to the accountability and responsibility that will help you to persevere in faith." 

"So when the winds blow, the redwoods stand, because they are linked and locked to each other, holding one another up. That is the way Christians stand against the storms of life that assault our faith in Jesus Christ: We hold each other up."

"You must set your mind on the Person and Work of the Lord Jesus Christ if your faith is to be strong, stable, and secure. But our text teaches us that Christians should also set their minds on one another. And this verb “continue” is in a grammatical emphasis that denotes continual or repeated action. Literally, the reading is, “And let us constantly consider one another…” Just as we are to always be thinking about Jesus, we also are to always be thinking about one another. The important point to get from this term is that Christian fellowship is – primarily, essentially, and ultimately – an internal reality. Fundamentally, our fellowship is not geographic, social, organizational, institutional, or programmatic. It is an internal disposition of care, concern, and compassion for one another that results in words, decisions, and actions that express the love of Jesus Christ."

"True Christian love will not only lead you to attend and participate in corporate worship, it will also lead you to prayerfully consider the needs, growth, and concerns of your brothers and sisters in Christ even when you are not physically together."

"Likewise, your true friends are not the people who always agree with you, cosign your agenda, and stay out of your way. Your best friends are the ones who make you better. That involves times when friends put a supportive arm around your shoulder and times when they put a scolding finger in your face. You need both the comfort of tender love and the confrontation of tough love. You need to be with brothers and sisters in Christ who think enough of you to stir you up to love and good works."

"But corporate worship is not a spectator sport where you simply show up, receive the ministry of others, give an offering, greet a few acquaintances and friends, and then go home thinking and talking about how whether the service suited your tastes, touched your emotions, and met your needs. Corporate worship is three-dimensional. God blesses us and we bless God. But it doesn’t stop there. In corporate worship we also bless one another by saying and doing those things that stir up love and good works."

Life After Death

"13 Brothers and sisters, we do not want you to be uninformed about those who sleep in death, so that you do not grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope. 14 For we believe that Jesus died and rose again, and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him.15 According to the Lord’s word, we tell you that we who are still alive, who are left until the coming of the Lord, will certainly not precede those who have fallen asleep. 16 For the Lord himself will come down from heaven, with a loud command, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet call of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first. 17 After that, we who are still alive and are left will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. And so we will be with the Lord forever. 18 Therefore encourage one another with these words." 1 Thessalonians 4:13-18 (NIV)

My first two posts were very factual.  I was processing through memories and simply relaying them.  As I read back over them I realized they lacked a lot of spiritual content.  Reflecting back over a year, what have I learned?  When I think about what my Mom went through in her life, how has it affected me?

My Mom was the one that God chose me to have, we don't get to choose our parents or the families we are born into.  It was for a reason, why?

Having the family I had growing up has given me a passion to grow a new branch in our family tree.  There's a lot of brokenness, divorce, addiction to alcohol and smoking...and I want to change all that.  I don't want to be anything like that part of my mother.  I think more than some other parents, I want to be different and I want to be better.  I want to raise my children differently and make better choices for me and the direction my family goes.  I have a deeper passion for this because of what I went through.  I am committed to stay with my husband and committed to our marriage.  Let me just say we are NOT perfect and I'm not trying to be.  We've made a lot of mistakes, we lose our tempers and yell, we fight in front of our kids, we've been through marriage counseling before, but we're committed to making it work.

One thing about having a Mom like I did, it has been hard for me to have healthy female friendships.  I am just not sure where to place the women in my life or how to take care of them.  I'm just plain bad at it.  Because I was so close to my Dad, I've always gotten along with guys better and have had a lot of guy friends growing up.  I guess I feel safer with them than women, sounds weird I know.  I'd love to try to improve in this area.

What has God taught me?  I learned more from my mother in those 24 days than I ever did from her my whole life.  I saw the strength and bravery she had when she faced death.  I realized I'm stronger than I thought I was...but it all comes from God.  He allows sickness and cancer to happen.  I believe for my Mom, taking her when He did was the most loving thing He could have done.  I learned to depend on God in a way I never would have had the trial not come when it did.  Being the youngest in my family, I get the unfortunate task of watching all my loved ones die.  God proved very real to me and my family during that time and He held us all in His loving arms.  The hardest part is when it's all over and I mean the funeral, the burial, and weeks pass and people leave.  People stop calling and stop texting and stop letting you know they're praying...that's when the real loneliness sets in, but God is still there.

I have hope I will see my mother again.  I know she is perfect and healed and happy.  I do not want to walk around as one without hope.  I want to point people to the Hope that I have.  My Hope is in Christ alone.

Wake Me Up When It's Over

Tuesday, October 14, 2014...my husband rented the movie "Heaven Is For Real" with Greg Kinnear and I watched it with my family and children.  It's a true story about a child who has a near death experience and visits heaven while he's in the hospital.  On Wednesday, I went to church and youth group like normal.  Our youth minister preached about Johann Sebastian Bach and about how before he sat down to compose a masterpiece, he would write J.J. on the work which translated to "Jesus, help me..." and when he was done, he would write S.D.G which stood for Soli Deo Gloria, "To the glory of God alone"...I remember everything about that week.  After youth, a young lady gave me a precious vial of frankincense oil as a gift.  On Thursday morning, the first day of Fall break, I found out why...

Thursday, October 16, 2014
First day of Fall break, I'm sleeping in...I had a dream that I was sitting on a couch watching a movie with my Dad.  On the screen was a woman floating up to the sky.  She was sort of dancing and floating...kind of like Cirque du Soleil or something.  Then, we were watching her float through the sky and wispy clouds and my Dad said, "That's her, it's her time to go." and in my dream he hugged me and rocked me back and forth and we both cried.
Phone Rings...wakes me up...
It's my Dad.  He says there's something wrong with my Mom and she's acting the same way she was acting when she went to the hospital via ambulance for the overdose last January.  During the overdose the January before, I had just been at the hospital with friends who were going through a miscarriage.  I had just been at the ER.  My sister was trying to call me from Tulsa to ask me to check on my Mom.  I didn't.  I thought, "I've been through this before with Mom...I've taken her to the ER before and left her there..." It was like, "Oh no, not again."  This time was different.  I knew I needed to go.  I got to my Mom's house and talked to her, she was in pain in her stomach.  I asked her if she wanted me to call an ambulance, my Dad had offered, but she refused.  She asked me to call 911.  It took them forever to get there because there was another accident that morning on Southgate road and the other ambulance was tied up.  When they got there, the fire department was the first to arrive, and they asked her how she felt, she said, "I feel like I'm dying..."  We started to tell them about her prior overdose because we didn't know what was wrong.  They started looking around at her medications and saw she had taken a lot of Tramadol for pain.  I followed them to the ER and my Dad went to work.  My Dad assumed it was like before and he was just going to wait for an update from me.  I talked to the ER doctors and told them the same thing about the prior overdoses and by then, they could see her records on the screen.  They noted when they listened to her stomach though, there weren't any bowel sounds, it was silent and they said that wasn't normal.  They took her for a CTscan and I left to grab a quick shower at home, change clothes, and grab a quick bite of cereal at home.  My husband stayed home with the kids and I headed back up to the hospital.  The doctor was very concerned.  He told me that the scan revealed an intestinal blockage and infection as well as several large masses on her liver.  It took me awhile to understand what he was saying, but after awhile of trying to explain it to me, he just finally said, "All I'm trying to tell you is that whatever is wrong with her is nothing of her own doing." which meant she hadn't overdosed, those masses could possibly be tumors and the tumors could possibly be cancer although he could not confirm that then.  They said they were admitting her to ICU and I went to the ER waiting room and called my family and cried.

What then ensued was a hellish 24-day ride.  They initially diagnosed her with intestinal ischemia in her colon which meant that part of her colon had calcified, broken off, lodged into another part of her intestine, and part of her colon had died and that's what caused the initial infection and pain.  The second issue were the tumors.  A surgeon did emergency exploratory surgery on her and did a colostomy.  She had a colostomy bag and while he was in there, he discovered a grapefruit sized tumor on her liver and an orange sized one next to it.  She woke up after the first surgery in ICU and overheard the doctors telling my sister about her "tumor markers".  She then told my sister she was "done" and she was "through".  She motioned for her to shut everything off and unhook her from everything.  She was giving up.  She didn't want anything done.  She couldn't really truly verbally communicate with us though, so we wanted to wait until we could really talk to her before we told the doctors anything.  The first surgery did not work as she got ischemia in the second artery and it turned gray and we almost lost her in a matter of days.  My sister talked to my Mom and asked her, "Mommy, do you know Jesus?  Do you know if you died that you would go to heaven?" and she nodded "Yes".  The doctor had to come on a Sunday night and ask us what we wanted to do.  We had a dilemma because we knew our Mom had already expressed she was done.  We knew she had cancer.  We thought, "Do we do the second surgery, she is already so weak from the first surgery, will she make it through a second surgery, is she strong enough, will this kill her?"  All these questions.  On the other hand, "We want more time with her, we want to talk to her, are we just extending the inevitable?"  We asked the surgeon what to do and he said, "I can't tell you what to do, I can only give you my professional, medical opinion."  He said, "My professional medical opinion is that if I don't operate tonight, she's got no shot...she's maybe got 24 hours."  So, we all lined up to tell her goodbye before the surgery.  I remember telling her I loved her and that they were going to fix the pain in her tummy and make her feel better.  She nodded her head.  So, he operated on her at 9:00 at night.  We got some time.

Later, the oncologist came and told us she had metastatic poorly differentiated carcinoma of the liver.  Metastatic means it moves around from organ to organ quickly, and "poorly differentiated" means they don't know exactly where it originated.  They think GI tract.  He said she was in Stage 4 and she had 3-6 weeks, 3 months at the most.  God gave us 24 days from October 16th to November 8th, the day she died.  It was FAST.  I have talked to people who have battled cancer along with their loved ones and have watched them suffer for months or years.  Some even said they prayed for God to take their loved one so that they wouldn't have to watch them suffer.  We got 24 days.  It was a gift of grace and mercy from God.

All I can say to describe how I was feeling through all of this is to say, I sort of wasn't feeling a lot.  I just mean that instead of taking on all the weight of it and feeling the full brunt of it, I was too busy going through it to really stop and think about how I felt.  Numb at times, broken and crying at times, trying to go on with life with my husband and children at times, and just toughening up to get through it.  You sort of do whatever you have to do to get through it.  Like gird yourself for battle so to speak.  You keep waking up, you keep going, you're not really hungry but you eat, you're not really sleepy, but you sleep.  Like my Dad says, it was a "whirlwind".  The doctors initially told us not to talk to her about it because they didn't want the stress of the news to hamper her healing from the surgeries and infection.  So, we didn't talk about it with her.  She knew, and the surgeon told her, but we didn't talk about it with her.  We all sort of pretended it wasn't happening.  At one point, a nurse came and showed me and my sister how to take care of my Mom's colostomy bag "for when she goes home".  Later, this made me angry because I thought, "Why did I even have to learn that if she was never going to go home?"  Initially, the only dream I ever had about it was being home with her taking care of her colostomy bag.  Also, early in the process before the official diagnosis from the oncologist, a case worker with the hospital came and told us about my Mom's home care "when she is discharged from ICU".  Why did they talk to us about that when she was never going to make it home?  Also, when she was intubated, the tube was crooked in her mouth and pinching the side of her mouth and caused a sore and part of her skin to be ripped off when they moved it.  This also happened when they took the tape off by her ostomy opening.  Later, this made me really mad and I thought, "She was already in so much pain, why did they have to hurt her more unnecessarily?"  Just some crazy things that upset me for weird reasons.

When the day got closer, things really started to change.  She stopped eating, she started sleeping a lot more, she was in a lot more pain.  She didn't really know who we were anymore.  She talked to people who weren't there.  She would be talking to us, then she would close her eyes and say out loud, "No, I can't go with you right now, I have to stay here..." or "I'm not going over there right now...I'm staying..."  The time I remember the most is when she did this while I was talking to her.  I was getting ready to leave, she said something and I said, "Mom, are you talking to me?" and she shook her head "No" and then I started walking away and she closed her eyes and I heard her say, "That's it...I like it when we go back and forth, and back and forth, and back and forth..."  She literally had a foot in each world.  Later, the hospital staff gave us a book about her transition into death and what to look for and to explain how we were supposed to let go.  It was written by a hospice nurse who knew all the signs.  My Mom would get tremors and her muscles would spasm.  Her fingertips started to turn purple.  She refused to eat.  She slept all the time.  One night, my sister said my Mom opened her eyes, looked up, raised her arms and her feet made the motion as if she was running to Someone.  Amazing.  It was beautiful.  But it's hard to get left behind.

I remember watching TV with her and looking in the mirror across the room and trying to memorize her face in the bed.  I can still see it.  I remember how she reached over the side of the bed to hold my hand for awhile.  I loved my mother's hands, and now I wish I had a picture I've seen some have of holding their mother's hand.  I talked to her a lot.  I told her I wished I was a better daughter and I was sorry for not seeing her more and spending more time with her.  I thanked her for taking care of me when I was sick.  My Mom was sick a lot and she was in the hospital a lot, but not all the memories were bad.  She had well days, well months, and well years.  She held my hair back when I threw up, and she gave me a cool wash cloth when I had a fever.  Before she had her stroke, we used to go on long drives together.  We'd drive out of Enid on 412 listening to Magic 104.1 or KXLS.  We'd do the request hour late at night and her most favorite song to request was "Careless Whisper" by George Michael from WHAM.  I remember listening to her records in her bedroom.  Her favorite was "The Proud One" by The Osmonds.  She loved watching old black and white movies and her favorite movie was "Somewhere In Time" with Jane Seymour and Christopher Reeve.  She also loved Elvis Presley and Elizabeth Taylor and epic movies like "Cleopatra" "The Ten Commandments", "Ben Hur" and "Gone With the Wind".  She also loved horror movies and I saw every single one growing up, "The Howling", "Fright Night", "Dracula", "Silver Bullet", "Halloween", "Nightmare on Elm Street", "Friday the 13th"...you name it, we saw it.  We had family game nights sometimes.  My Mom loved to play cards...rummy and gin rummy.  My sister Kim bought her some cards in the hospital but they never got to play.  They also talked about going for a drive, but they never got to go.  One day, a little over a week before she died, my Mom said to me, "Your birthday is coming up..." (Christmas Day) and she asked me what I wanted....I told her maybe a cookbook or some cooking supply things.  Then, I turned around and tried not to cry in front of her...I somehow knew she wouldn't be there for my birthday.

The closer it got, the more I began to detach.  When I was a little girl, any time there was a storm or tornado coming, I would want to go to sleep and pretend it wasn't happening.  I would want to get in my bed, throw the covers over my head, and wake up when it was all over.  Growing up, our basement would often flood and my Mom would take us to St. Mary's to hide in their basement until the storm would blow over.  She freaked out over severe weather and tornadoes and would go to the bank, withdraw some money, and head for cover at the hospital.  I grew up being afraid of storms.  Well, this was a storm and we were already at the hospital, so where was I supposed to go?  I stayed home.

November 7th, 2014 I saw my Mom for the last time.  I visited for about 2 or 3 hours, my sister called and asked me what her vitals were, they tried to take them from her leg and they wouldn't even register.  When I came in the room, I kissed her and she was warm and golden.  When I left, her color began to change...like a shadow came over her face and she was ashen and cooler when I kissed her goodbye.  I told her it was okay for her to go and I was ready.  I walked away, turned around, took one last look and thought, "That's the last time I am gonna see her." and I left.  That evening my sister called and said, "So do you want to be here when it happens or do you just want me to call you?"  I said, "I don't have to be there in order to have closure...I think I just want you to call me."  Then I battled with the entire decision.  I should be there with my dad, sister, and grandma.  She called back later to give me an update and to say, "I am going to pick up grandma to bring her up here, Dad is on his way..." and she asked to talk to my husband.  He said, "Honey, you don't want to know what is going on now. You're not going up there."  I said, "What? Why?" and he proceeded to tell me that since her body was shutting down and due to the nature of her surgery, she was basically vomiting excrement out of her mouth and nose.  I said, "No, I cannot handle that. I will stay home."  Later my sister texted and said my Dad was wondering where my husband was, so my husband went up to the hospital and stayed with my family until my Mom died the next morning.

I hunkered down in bed with my children and tried to fall asleep.  I talked to my sister in Edmond, I texted with my sister in the hospital and with my husband.  I asked him to play some worship music for my Mom.  He played the same CD that I played in the delivery room as both our kids were born.  It's sort of a lullaby CD.  Later I asked him what song was playing when she died and he said, "Jesus Loves Me".  I fell asleep around 2am and woke up at 6am with a start and looked at my phone, no news.  I texted my husband and said, "What is happening?" and he said, "Soon." and he said, "Probably in the next 30 minutes or so." so I actually set my phone for 30 minutes and started the timer.  I said, "What's going on?" and he said, "Her breathing is different." and I said, "Different than when you first got there?" and he said, "Yes, very different."  Then I got stomach cramps and felt like I was going to throw up...he called me not even a minute later and said, "She's gone."

He came home from the hospital, my daughter ran to give him a hug and she said, "Daddy, you smell like Grandma!" and then she said, "Daddy, heaven is for real!"

When we went to see her at the funeral home, the first thing my son said was, "She looks healed."  Yes son, she is.  She is finally whole, finally free, her mind is perfect, and her body is healthy.  She is fully known by the One who made her.  She is in the presence of Love.

Growing up I had a lot of dreams of being lost inside a hospital.  I think it's because my Mom was sick so much and in the hospital so much.  After she died, I had the same dream again...my Mom was looking for me and asking the nurses where I was.  I really think I was dealing with a lot of guilt and regret from not being there with her.  What I am dealing with now is guilt and regret from not spending more time with her when I could.  If she were here now, I'd still be neglecting her, forgetting her, and staying away from her.  What is also hard now is my Mom went away a lot when I was growing up, but she always came back.  It's like I'm still waiting for her to come back.

The Story of My Life

I haven't wrote much about my Mom since she died.  It's been almost a year.  A friend gave me a book after she died that said I should journal, and I really haven't much.  So, here goes...this is the story of my Mom.

My Mom was physically and sexually abused by her father and her brother as a child.  When my Mom was 15 years old, she dropped out of high school as a sophomore at Enid High and ran away from home.  She also started drinking and smoking as a 15-year old.  When my Mom was 19 years old, she was raped in a bar and that is how my oldest sister was conceived.  She never knew her father.  My Mom was married 6 times before she met and married my Dad.  I have two older half sisters who are half sisters to each other and never knew their fathers.  I have one "real" biological sister and we are very close.

My Mom was an alcoholic until I was 5 years old.  She physically abused my oldest two sisters, especially the oldest one.  I remember them running away as a child and I remember my Mom violently spanking them with a belt.  One vivid memory I have is of the day me and my sister ran away when I was only 5....same age as my daughter.  My Mom had ordered pizza from Pizza Inn and back then you could order a 6-pack of beer with it and she did.  I remember when I saw the beer I was afraid, "Mommy gets mad when she drinks..." I thought.  So me and my older sister made a pact at the front door, "If Mommy drinks the beer and gets mad, we run..." and I remember standing at the front door holding onto the handle with my sister and we looked at each other like, "If you go, I go...we're in this together..." and we did.  My Mom came through the dining room to the living room yelling, and we ran.  We ran all the way up Tyler street to Oklahoma street and stopped near the intersection of Cleveland and Oklahoma by Oklahoma Floral.  That's when the police car drove up next to us and the police officer took us home.  I don't remember what happened after that.  I do remember having many dreams as I was growing up that I was running away from home and my feet were like mush and I could hardly run.  My Mom went to AA meetings down the street at the Tyler House, it's still there.  I remember her taking us to a Halloween Party there once and we bobbed for apples and a woman showed us some cool art with her cigarette lighter and fire on paper.  I remember after my oldest sister moved out on her 18th birthday, a DHS lady came to our house.  I remember she wore a tan long coat and she talked to us in the backyard and asked us if my Mom ever hurt us or if we were afraid to live at home.

Growing up, I didn't really realize there was anything wrong with my Mom until I was about 8 or 9.  I knew my Mom got "sick" a lot and was in the hospital a lot.  My Mom was probably in every mental hospital in Oklahoma and surrounding states.  My Dad tells stories of her running away a lot.  My sister remembers a time when my Mom tried to drive us across the border to Mexico and my grandpa and Dad had to come get us in Laredo, TX.  My Dad remembers too.  I remember some of these times vaguely.  Little did I know, she was actually off her medication.  She would drive to a place, abandon the car, and hop on a bus to the next town my Dad says.  Sometimes she was gone for days.  I remember going to look for the car one time and finding it along a dirt road in a field, but my Mom wasn't there.  I remember going to visit her in the hospital and we'd have to drive a long way to get there.  I remember when she went through a phase of drawing tornadoes all the time and writing strange poems.  These pictures and writings were all over one of her hospital rooms.  I remember as a child thinking that when my Mom came home from all these places, she was better, she was healed, but it would never last.

The worst memory I have growing up was my Mom's first overdose.  I was 8 or 9 years old and my Mom was homeschooling us at the time...I was in what was supposed to be 3rd grade I think.  I woke up for school and my sister told me to go back to bed because Mom wasn't feeling well so we weren't having school today.  I remember hearing the sound of my sister vacuuming the floor.  Then, I remember her waking me up telling me that "mom fell down and was shaking".  My Mom was having a seizure.  I remember waking up and walking into the living room and my mom was laying on the floor between the living room and dining room by the furnace.  I still remember the shirt she was wearing.  I remember looking at her and seeing what looked like blood coming from the corners of her eyes.  I really don't know if it was or not, but it's what I thought I saw and it's what I remember.  My sister and I were completely panicked and especially since we did not have a home phone at the time, it got cut off.  So, my sister told me to stay with my Mom and she ran out the back gate of our backyard and over the hill to the convenience store Bill's on the corner of Van Buren and Garriott to call my Dad at Durheim's where he worked.  To this day I still wish I would have been the one to run and call Dad.  My Mom ended up waking up and getting up and walking around.  She was very disoriented and it scared me to death.  I remember that she picked up my toy plastic blue phone and put it in the dishwasher and I was so scared because I thought, "Something is not right with her."  Then she walked to her bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed and picked up a wire hanger and started to try to comb her hair with it.  I was totally freaked out, but I said, "Do you want me to comb your hair Mommy?" because it was something we did for her a lot after she would wash her hair.  She got up and about fell down again so I said, "Mommy, why don't you lay down Mommy..." but I was too young to know that is probably the worst thing you can do, I needed to keep her alert and awake.  My sister came back home and said my Dad was on his way.  He got home and he tried to convince my Mom to get in the car to go to the hospital.  At first, she did not want to go.  We were all packed in the car, me and my sister in the backseat.  I remember all the way there, my Dad was looking at my Mom and saying, "Stay with me honey, look at me, stay awake Amy, stay awake..."  We drove to St. Mary's and waited in the ER while my Dad went in with my Mom.  He came out and told us that while she was sitting on the examination table, her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she fell off the table and had another seizure so they asked my Dad to leave.

Shortly after that, I remember my Mom being in Meadowlake Hospital, back then it was for adults.  I remember going to visit her there and eating with her in the cafeteria.  I remember going to the big house out front for a meeting with some doctors and psychiatrists.  That's when I remember hearing the words "bipolar disorder" and "schizophrenia" for the first time.  They talked to us about all of her pills.  My Dad remembers them telling him, "It's not your fault, there's nothing you can do."  ...  ...  I still remember the names of some of her medications.  Halcion?  Haldol?  I still remember the name of one of her doctors, Dr. Robert Adleman.  Basically, in the 80's mental health had not advanced very far.  They didn't know as much as they know now, but all they knew to do was medicate.  They made a guinea pig out of my Mom and tested her on all of these medications.  Meanwhile, her children and her family had to deal with all of the side effects.

I remember my Mom sleeping all the time.  When I came home from school, she was sleeping.  My Dad took me to school every day.  My Mom never did, not once.  I can count on one hand the number of times my Mom picked me up from school.  My Dad usually picked me up or I walked, but I rarely walked.  My Mom was always up late at night and she slept during the day.  I remember she used to talk in her sleep.  She would yell my name, I would ask her what she wanted, she'd ask me to fix her a Coke in her cup, it was pink with a white rim (stained from Coca-Cola) and then she'd wake up later and say, "Why is this Coke all watered down?" and I would say, "You asked me to fix it for you earlier..." and she'd say, "I must have been asleep..."

I remember watching her sleep and checking to see if she was still breathing.  I remember one time I didn't think she was, so I went and got my sister while she was sweeping the utility room floor, and I said, "I don't think Mommy's breathing..." so she took my hand and we went to check.  I remember trying to wake my Mom up and having to drag her across the floor off the couch to get her to wake up.  I remember her dumping 13 pills out onto the bed and taking them all at once.  I remember the kitchen counter looking like a small pharmacy.  She would come home from these hospitals with 10 new medications and ask us to make a list of all their names and when she was supposed to take them.  She had those daily reminder pill boxes everywhere with the NMTWRFS on them for the days of the week.  She had bottles of pills everywhere...all over the kitchen, all over her bedroom, all over her bathroom, and all inside her purse.  I remember asking my Mom for toys at the store and she would tell me "no" and then she would ask me to go grab a carton of Winston cigarettes for her for $27-$36 a carton.

When I was in the 8th grade, my Mom had a stroke.  She forgot who I was, she forgot how to write, she couldn't drive anymore.  I got my first F in school that year in Math.  I grew up being really angry.  I was angry that my Mom was sick and I was angry that she couldn't take care of herself or me.  I always thought, "If you really loved me, you'd get better."  Then, as I grew up I always held onto the hope that she would be well someday.  I was angry that my Mom was different and not like other people's moms.  I never brought my friends over to my house because I was embarrassed.  I know my friends knew something was wrong with my Mom, but I never really told any of them everything.  No one understood.  All my friends knew was that they never met my Mom and that I loved music so much because it got me away from home.  Growing up, I had a hard time picking out Mother's Day cards for her in the store because none of them said what I felt.  I didn't have a Mom like the one described in the cards.

In 2000 my Mom was seeing a psychiatrist who started taking her off of all her meds.  Her mind became more clear and she told me that when I was 9 months old, she and my Dad got a divorce.  Because they lived together for six months after, they were common-law married.  She told me this when I was 21.  She showed me the court documents she had saved in a drawer.  It was true.  I moved in with a friend and my mom had a sheriff visit me while I was working at a daycare and serve me papers that said I had to get all my belongings out and stay away from her, and shortly after that I moved to California for six months to get away from it all.  I got married on October 11, 2003 on my Mom's birthday and did not invite her to the wedding, we were estranged at the time.  In August of 2005, my Mom went to jail for trying to hit a police officer with a car when he asked her to move it from in front of our house.  She was off her meds.  My son was born in 2009 and I thought, "Surely she will get well for him."  She didn't.  In fact, she spent time in Fort Supply and in the hospital for pneumonia, and rehab, and nursing homes.  She was well for a few years, and then the same cycle continued about every three to four years.  In the hospital, out of the hospital, on the meds, off the meds.

My Mom had her final overdose in January of 2013.  She overdosed on valium...or Diazepam.  After that, she went to a nursing home in Tulsa where one of my sisters lives.  She came home after 5 months.  She was on oxygen for COPD and emphysema due to a lifetime of smoking.  She also walked with a walker due to osteoporosis.  She was in prison in her mind and her body.  She was a slave to prescription drugs.  I finally had to realize she was not going to get well on this side of eternity.  After a lifetime of being in and out of the hospital and after several medical emergencies with my Mom, my family was not prepared for what happened in October of 2014...

To be continued...

Reconciliation

Okay, so the other day I was scrolling through my Facebook News Feed and I saw a story posted by NBC News:  http://www.nbcnews.com/storyline/transgender-kids/transgender-8-year-old-makes-grandpa-congressman-mike-honda-proud-n345731?cid=sm_fc. It is a story about a transgender 8-year old.  After I read it, I had to put my phone down and walk away for a second.  I turned everything off, I was home alone, and I just sort of paced around and stopped in the kitchen.  My mind was swirling with a million thoughts and I just wanted one of them to land, so I just started speaking them out loud to try to wrap my mind around what I read.  

Let me let you in on my thought process:

"Okay, this child was born a boy physically...but believes he's a girl..."  Why?  Kept coming up with the question, why?  I thought, "As is true with many homosexual persons, maybe they're missing a mother or father..."  Nope, not in this case.  I thought, "Maybe he only has sisters..."  Nope, two brothers.  Then I thought, "Maybe when the mom was pregnant, she really wanted a girl...she had two boys and maybe she desperately wanted a daughter..." And I guess the main question I have is "At what point did this child's gender actually get changed?"  It obviously started mentally and emotionally before it began physically.  I then thought, "I could go totally old school black and white and say, 'This child is physically a boy, formed with the DNA and chromosomes of a male...he should therefore be raised as a boy..."  It's like the sky is blue, the grass is green, up is up, down is down, this shouldn't be that hard...so why is it?  Why would the parents go so far to get the child's blood work done to start them on hormones to literally change their gender.  It didn't make sense to me.

So first I took it to a personal level.  "What if this was my child?"  "What if my child were born with all the physical parts of a boy or a girl, but grew up wanting to change it?"  Then the question became, "Why would they want to change it?"  Or more "Who told them that the gender they are is wrong?"  You guys, at this point, I completely broke down in my kitchen in tears.  Face in my hands and I literally wept...loud.  I work with children, youth and teens.  I could not imagine who would tell a child that they aren't okay being who they are and they wil never be accepted like they are so they have to change it.  On the other hand, the children who feel "trapped" in the wrong body or forced into a life that they don't belong in to the point of being in such an internal war inside that they want to commit suicide and many have.

How did it get like this?  Why is this happening?

I have so many questions and I'm trying to reconcile it in my brain and I'm trying to understand.  While I was wrestling with all these questions, I caught the last 30 minutes of the Bruce Jenner interview and have seen many clips.  I sincerely want to understand this better.  Forget political, left vs. right, liberal vs. conservative, or NBC vs. CNN or FOX News.  I really want to know from a psychological perspective, "When does a thought even enter a persons mind, 'I was born the wrong gender'?"  

In my attempt to reconcile this in my brain, I took it back...way back.  Let's get a big picture perspective of where this might originate.  Like, you have you, wherever you're sitting in your house, you zoom out, your neighborhood, city, county, state, country, keep zooming out, the Earth.  For crying out loud on an issue like this, let's go to space.  Picture a picture of the Earth from space.  How in the world did we get here?  Who made us?  Where did we come from?  Where are we going?  Does anybody have an answer?  Well, I have what I believe.  I believe in a Divine Creator who created man in His image and then He created a woman.  The only way any of us got here was because two people procreated...not just two people...a man and a woman.  It's the only way procreation happens.  Does that make sense to everyone?  Children aren't made any other way.  So God creates the first two people.  Then what?  Doesn't take long for Evil to enter the scene and what happens?  He lies.  4. little. words. and our world has been changed forever.  "Did God really say?" As soon as Satan spoke those four little words to Eve the world was forever changed and this is how we got to where we are today.  Everyone believed the lie at one time or another in some way, big or small.  "Did God really say you should honor your mother and father?" "Did God really say you shouldn't kill?" "Did God really say you shouldn't lie?" "Did God really say marriage is only supposed to be between a man and a woman?"  Those four little words placed one seed of doubt in everyone's mind and look where we are.  I believe God set up a divine order and we have strayed so far from God's original design, but my hope lies in the fact that one day He will set all things right.  To me, changing your gender is a huge slap in the face of God.  It's a direct denial or direct disrespect of God's creation.  If you change it, you're taking the control out of God's hands.  You're literally looking God in the face and saying, "You did this wrong."  Who has the guts to do that?

Here's the thing.  The majority of the world doesn't regard God or the Bible in this way.  So, I can't expect the world to hold themselves to this standard or expect everyone to think like me.  I'm really just trying to understand.  From the moment a person is born, to the time they die...what lfe experiences shape them?  Mold them?  Make them who they are?  I really want to understand people better, find out where they're coming from, find out what made them that way...learn their story.  I'm sure we'll be hearing many more stories in the years to come.

My Heart of Worship

I want to tell you a story about the night I was saved.  First, I need to tell you about my relationship with music.  I come from a long line of female drummers.  My mother was a drummer, my aunt was a drummer, and I had two older sisters who were drummers.  Percussion runs deep in my veins and I believe it's somehow ingrained on my DNA.

When I was in 6th grade at McKinley Elementary, I started on the bells.  I had a set of bells and plastic mallets that came in this long, heavy carrying case.  This was my instrument.  All the percussionists started on the bells.  Halfway through the year, all the percussionists move up to snare drum...but not me, I stayed on the bells.  At 6th grade graduation, I got the Outstanding Band Student Award from Leon Jewell, my first band instructor.  I'll never forget all the boys hassling me and saying "You got the award and you're a BELL PLAYER?" like it was the dumbest thing they'd ever heard.

So, I played "the bells" from 6th to 12th grade.  Actually, I played the bells, the crash cymbals, the triangle, the gong, the chimes, the bass drum, the snare, the tympani,  the xylophone, the vibraphone, and the marimba.  When I got to high school, I began playing the marimba and took private lessons for three years.  I.  LOVED.  IT.  I did the 4-mallet method and this was my forte.    My home life was not great and music was my getaway.  It understood me when nothing else in my life made sense.  I poured my heart and soul into it.

When it came time to decide on a college, that decision was easy for me.  I was going to attend Oklahoma State University in Stillwater and major in Instrumental Music Education and become a band director.  This was my dream.  After all, ALL my band friends from high school were going there and I wanted to stay with them.  The last thing I wanted to do was follow my two older sisters to UCO in Edmond and continue to be known as the tag-along sister for the rest of my life.  I desperately wanted to chart my own course and do my own thing.  I wanted to rebel and get away.

So, I auditioned at OSU for the head of the music department, Wayne Bovenschen.  I auditioned with my three contest pieces on snare, tympani, and marimba.  I had been getting "1's" on all of these solo pieces at all of my contests all year and was certain I would ace it.  The exact opposite happened.  I totally bombed the audition.  I was devastated.

So, I took the same three pieces to my second-choice audition at UCO and they gave me a full ride.  They gave me a full-tuition, 4-year PAID scholarship to the Instrumental Music Education program.  So, I got the major I wanted and God got the school.

My freshman year I was enrolled in music theory, band, class piano 1, recital attendance, applied percussion, and like one regular class...wellness and positive lifestyle i.e. health.  At first, I did well.  Then, music theory turned into math class when we got into diminished fifths and thirds and intervals and I started failing.  I came to a crossroads early of "Either I have to love this with EVERYTHING I have inside and out and give my whole life to it, or I don't."

At the same time I started failing theory and skipping percussion lessons, I began attending the BSU and church with my roommate and older sister, Chantel.  The first event they had to welcome new freshman was a praise night.  So, I went.  I walked in and sat on the back row.  There was a praise band there called "Little Us" and they sang a bunch of songs I had never heard before.  I didn't sing much, I mostly just sat on the back row and listened and observed.  I still remember the songs that they sang and the words to many of the songs.  They sang "If I Could Just Sit With You Awhile" by Dennis Jernigan.  It says "If I could just sit with You awhile...if You could just hold me, nothing could touch me though I'm wounded though I die...if I could just sit with You awhile...if You could just hold me...moment by moment 'til forever passes by" and then they sang another song, "O Lead Me" by Delirious.  It says "O lead me, to the place where I can find You. O lead me...to the place where You'll be. Lead me to the place where we first met, draw me to my knees so we can talk, let me feel Your breath, let me know You're here with me..."

And I remember thinking to myself, "Wait a minute...what do they mean 'hold me' and 'sit with me so we can talk'?" And I remember actually picturing in my head, sitting with Jesus like underneath a tree and talking to Him.  And I thought to myself, 'Can you really sit and TALK to Jesus like that?? Like...He's really there?? Like knee-to-knee or shoulder-to-shoulder like a real friend?? Does He talk back to you??" And as the praise night went on and I looked around the room at the people singing, I thought again to myself, "Hmm...they actually look like they're talking to Someone. Like Jesus is really there. Like they believe they're talking to Him. Like they really have a relationship with Him." And I just kept thinking about the words to the songs and then they sang THE song...the song that played when I got saved.  "Rest Easy" by Audio Adrenaline.  "Rest easy, have no fear, I love you perfectly, perfect love drives out fear. I'll take your burdens, you take My grace. Rest easy...in My embrace."  They sang it over and over and over and over.  The more they sang it, the more exhausted I felt, so I just sat down in my chair and began to talk to God.  I said, "God, I'm tired. I'm tired of living my life on my own. I don't want to make another decision without You. I don't want to say another word without You. I don't want to take another step without You." And I asked Him to hold me.  I had heard it all night so I asked Him to prove Himself to me.  I don't know how else to explain it except to say that I felt arms go around me.  I believe all my life I was falling and at that moment God caught me.

Not long after that night, God woke me up at 3:30am in my dorm room and I couldn't sleep.  So, I walked out of the dorms to the sand volleyball courts right outside the room I shared with my sister.  I sat down at the edge of the court and began playing with the sand.  I thought, "If I hold onto this sand real tight, it doesn't fall through my fingers...but if I begin to open my hand, the sand falls through and I can't hang on." And I realized...I had God in one hand and music in the other and God was opening my hand and He was beginning to take music away from me and it hurt so bad.  I began mourning over my lost love for music and I realized then what an idol I had made out of music.  God told me then that He didn't want me to give music the credit for making it to school, but to give Him the credit and the glory!  God told me then that I would not be happy, satisfied, or fulfilled in life unless I was serving Him 24/7.  He was calling me to fill both of my hands with Him and join Him in creating the beautiful sand castle He was forming out of my life.  He told me He was taking music away from me, but He promised me He would give it back...I just didn't know how or when.

That was the moment I believe God called me into the ministry.  I gave up my scholarship and never finished school.  I had my plans made and my life all mapped out, but God had a better plan.  I joined the BSU praise band playing tambourine and I joined a singing group called "PROMISE".  In October 1999, I went to a Point of Grace concert and heard a girl play the guitar for the first time.  I thought, "Hey, I'd like to try that..." So I got a chord book and started on a mini guitar and played until my fingers bled.  Then, I began writing songs.  I went with a group from the BSU to Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary in Fort Worth, TX to search out God's call for my life.  I picked three sessions to attend.  I naturally thought music ministry was it, but then I went to a session for youth ministry and also one for Christian counseling and felt a call towards working with youth.  I met my husband who was a youth minister at the time in a praise band at the BSU in Enid and the rest is history.

Today I am still working with youth and still leading worship.  If I can impact someone through music and worship lyrics in the same way I was impacted, then that's my heart.  If I can lead someone to Christ through worship music, then that's what I want to do.  God did give music back to me, but not in the way that I imagined.  I never imagined I would be playing the guitar in front of students in a church, but I wouldn't trade God's plan for anything.  It's better than I ever could have dreamed...I can't wait to see what He has in store next.  Here is a song I wrote about what God did in my heart that morning at 3:30am:

“By Your Grace” –music and lyrics by Wendy Mae

Verse 1:

Lord, You are shaping and molding my life

After Your ultimate plan

Sifting and forming You take precious time

With every grain of sand

Lead-In:

And though I’m not able to see Your design

‘Cause I have a limited view

I trust in You with my heart and my mind

My soul finds faith in Your truth

In Your truth…

Precious truth…

This I know:

CHORUS:

That by Your grace You have saved me

And by Your blood You forgave me

And by Your hand You have raised me

And made me new

Lord, I’m new…

Yes, I’m new…

A brand new creation

Verse 2:

Lord, You are leading and guiding my life

Gently taking my hand

Slowly revealing one glimpse at a time

I’m starting to see who I am

Lead-In:

And though I’m not able to see through Your eyes

‘Cause I have a limited view

I trust in You with my heart and my mind

My soul finds faith in Your truth

In Your truth…

Precious truth…

This I know:

CHORUS To End

Ephesians 2:8-10 “For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith --- and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God --- not by works, so that no one can boast. For we are God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.”

Completed 11-7-03

Mission Trip Over Spring Break

"Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. I thank my God always when I remember you in my prayers, because I hear of your love and of the faith that you have toward the Lord Jesus and for all the saints, and I pray that the sharing of your faith may become effective for the full knowledge of every good thing that is in us for the sake of Christ. For I have derived much joy and comfort from your love, my brother, because the hearts of the saints have been refreshed through you." 

~Philemon 3-7

Praise God!  He is awesome!  I just returned with our youth choir at church from the mission field in Arlington, TX.  We had a share service on Sunday night, but I didn't get to say everything I wanted to and figured this was the easiest way to tell everyone at once about the trip.

We went down to Arlington, TX to work with Mission Arlington.  Mission Arlington was started in 1986 by Miss Tillie Burgin and her family.  She and her family were missionaries in South Korea for over 10 years.  The Lord gave Miss Tillie a burden for her home and He told her, "If you can be a missionary in South Korea, what's stopping you from being a missionary at home?"  On August 1, 1986 Mission Arlington began.  In 1990, the Mission Metroplex was formed and operates as a food ministry, a clothing ministry, and simply a meeting needs ministry.  It is the heart of the ministry to take church to places and people who might never go to church otherwise....to literally be the hands and feet of Jesus in the community.  One way they have done this is through apartment ministries. They have partnered with several apartment managers across the city and formed relationships to establish apartment churches and begin meeting needs.  

So, this is what our youth choir did from Sunday through Thursday.  Every year over Spring Break, they hold a backyard Bible club called "Rainbow Express" and conduct it like a VBS in all of the apartment complexes in the community.  Due to the size of our choir, we formed two separate VBS teams and Natalie Nagel and I were the VBS directors for each of our teams.  Each team member had a job to do and a role to fulfill and we spent many training sessions the weeks before we left learning our roles and our positions.  These positions ranged from Large Group Leader, to Memory Verse Teacher, to Games Leader, to Puppet Master, to Attendance Taker, and Small Group Leaders.  Some of the kids were in charge of inviting and some of them were in charge of setting up.  We made sure EVERYONE had a job to do!  :)  Everyone partnered up with someone to lead a small group study, Bible story, and craft each day.  Mission Arlington provided crafts, but we let them know that an awesome woman back at our church named Jennifer Kisling set us up with all our crafts and taught them to our youth according to the age groups they would be teaching before we left.  

So, here's how our week went.  On Friday night we checked into a hotel for our fun day on Saturday at Six Flags.  Before we went to Six Flags, we went by Mission Arlington to find out where we were going to be staying.  Let's just say this was a trip of total faith and reminds me of Hebrews 11:8 where it says "By faith Abraham obeyed when he was called to go out to a place that he was to receive as an inheritance. And he went out, not knowing where he was going."  None of us knew where we were staying.  We had heard several possibilities that it could be a church, or a set of vacant apartments, or an empty office building.  I must admit, we were all pretty worried about it.  We finally found out we were staying at a church, the Fuller Street Fellowship and home of a Hispanic congregation in a Hispanic community.  I don't think any of us knew what it would be like, but 95% of the people we met and spoke to were Mexican.  Many did not speak English at all. Anyway, I'm jumping ahead.  The pastor of the church was SO very sweet and gracious.  They had many groups stay there before.

So, after we unloaded all our stuff, we went to Six Flags.  It was fun, but got rained out near the end and we left two hours earlier than expected but had been there about 5 hours.  

Sunday morning we had a quick orientation at Mission Arlington with Miss Tillie and she led us all in the song "This Little Light of Mine" (which was VERY touching, awesome, and sweet) and then it was off and running to serve at apartment churches.  There were 30+ groups from all over the nation to serve that week at Mission Arlington.  We had NO IDEA what to expect.  Every morning they requested our leaders (Marty & Jake) go to the back for a meeting and get our assignments.  The rest of us sponsors stayed with our group.  Our leaders came back and basically said, "Okay, you're with me, and you're with him..." and we numbered off into two groups.  We were given material to lead a Bible study and basically conduct a church service at a common area in the apartment complex.  WOW.  Okay, so we are going to a place we've never been to meet people we've never met and knock on their doors and invite them to church.  So, we had about 30 minutes to knock on the doors and invite.  It was COLD. And WINDY. And COLD.  So, we knocked and knocked and knocked and found out very quickly that many people did not speak English and we got very little response.  So, we gathered by the pool and prayed.  Then, we had a worship service.  I pulled out my guitar and we sang a song.  Then, we walked and sang and stopped and sang and prayed some more and prayer-walked and sang all throughout the complex.  It. was. awesome.  Nobody came to our church service, but little did we know that this was one of the apartment complexes where we would lead VBS that week, so prayer-walking was the most important thing we did.  Then, we went back to our van and our youth minister led us in Bible study and church right there in our van!  Sunday afternoon we had orientation for Rainbow Express from the VBS leader, Matt Hart.  Matt also did all of our morning and afternoon devotionals.  He. was. AWESOME.

Our typical daily schedule went something like this:  

7:15am - Breakfast at our church (Fuller Street Fellowship)

8:15am - Worship Service at Mission Arlington  

10:00am-1:00pm - Work Project

1:00pm - Lunch back at our church (Fuller Street Fellowship)

2:15pm - Worship/Prayer to Prep for Rainbow Express at Mission Arlington

3:15pm - Depart for Rainbow Express

4:00-5:30pm - Rainbow Express

6:30pm - Dinner at our church (Fuller Street Fellowship)

Fun activity in the evening (Chuck E Cheese, Putt-Putt, ice cream, etc.)

So, Monday our work project was picking up trash at local apartment complexes. We went back to our same apartment complex and picked and picked and nit-picked and prayer-walked and picked.  Then, Mr. Marty brought us some gloves after our first round!  :)  Then, we picked and picked and picked some more. As soon as I would call Jake with an update and say, "Okay, we're done..." he'd say, "Nope, I got more where I am, come here..." and then again, "Alright, we've finished that, we're done..." and he'd say, "I just found more over here, send the kids my way..." and we picked and picked and scoured and picked up some more.  The kids did such a good job and it was really something I never thought I'd do, but they totally did it to the glory of God!  Our first day of Rainbow Express was pretty scary and we forgot snacks, but thank the Lord, Marty brought us some.  My team was pretty nervous to start, but I was SO PROUD of them for just jumping into their roles and being brave.  We only had two little kids show up at the very first, and Brady, my Games Leader just started playing a game with the two of them right away....like a champ....so proud.  On Monday night, we did two choir concerts at two different apartment complexes.  Marty presented the Gospel at both of them and 7 people were saved in all!  At the second location, at first we thought we might not have electrical capability to set up, so we played the first few songs acoustic and the sun was going down and it was getting dark and cold, but the people came and worked together to help us set up and we sang a few worship songs to improvise during set-up and people came and sat on their cars and brought chairs out to listen and one young man got saved!  Praise God!  

Tuesday, our work project was to do a clothing ministry at a local apartment complex close to where we were staying.  We loaded up four HUGE bags and boxes of clothes and went to a common, open area in the complex and laid out a tarp and sorted clothes into men's, women's, and children's.  Then, we knocked on doors to let them know the clothes were there.  Then, we helped them shop!  I got to use a lot of Spanish that day and was very thankful for the Duolingo App on my iPad that I practice Spanish with so I could tell the women who came, "mujeres, hombres, ninos" (women's, men's, children) so they could find the clothes they needed.  It was awesome to watch our kids help men and women shop....so special.  When Tuesday rolled around, our team felt a lot more comfortable and more and more kids came!  It didn't take long for us to bond with them and for us to learn each other's names.  Such a blessing to see their smiling faces every day and I miss them so much!  We started with a Welcome, we did some songs, we learned a memory verse, a student gave their testimony, and then we did Bible stories with puppets, and then split up into small groups by age and taught the Bible story again and let the children ask questions.  SO PROUD of our youth for sharing their faith, answering questions, talking about God, talking about the Bible...they did SO WELL!  I told them during training that everything they had learned up until that point in Children's Church, Sunday School, AWANAS, and in youth from Marty, Jake, or their Sunday School teacher they were going to have to put to use on a team in Arlington.  THEY DID and they did GREAT!

On Wednesday, our work project was to hand out flyers at a different apartment complex about an event that Mission Arlington was having coming up. Wednesday was the day we presented the salvation bead bracelets in our small groups at Rainbow Express.  Before we ever went, since we got done with our work project early, I took some time to teach our kids about the beads in the Sanctuary at the church where we were staying.  Some of them had never done it before or presented the Gospel that way.  We had an awesome time of prayer before we went!  Every day at 2:15, we had an AWESOME time of prayer with ALL the churches who were there at Mission Arlington to be dispersed to different VBS sites. We prayed in small groups with and for each other before we left.  We had several children pray to receive Christ in our small groups during VBS! PRAISE GOD!

On Thursday, our work project got cancelled so we went back to the church where we were staying and picked up trash and cleaned and packed since we were leaving that evening.  We had family groups who prepped and cleaned up after meals, and family groups who had bathroom clean-up and van clean-up throughout the week.  We did face painting at our VBS at the end and our kids got COVERED in face paint by the little children!  :)  Also, that was the day we had a Muslim family come and join our Rainbow Express for their first time all week.  I think they spoke Arabic.  I was not aware in the Muslim culture that the women cannot be addressed by a male who is not their husband...that it is considered disrespectful so I got to address them and the children and ask if it was okay if we painted their children's faces.  Later, the husbands joined us and watched from afar, but we got to give them some Bibles (with their permission) before we left.  

I was very sad to leave the children and the apartment complex.  We prayed for them and the apartment complex before we drove away.  It was so fun to see them jump up and down when they saw our van driving up every day in the parking lot.  It's amazing to think how fast someone can work their way into your heart in such a short amount of time.  I will never forget their faces or their names and we hope we can go back to see them again next year!

36 people were saved between our two VBS sites and our concerts on Monday! The Lord's light truly shone through our youth choir and they all led and served so well and so faithfully!  It was an unforgettable trip!  Please keep praying for the ministry of Mission Arlington!  I heard "God of This City" as my Pandora played while I was folding laundry this morning and the tears just flowed as I thought about the lost people in Arlington.....my heart is definitely still in Texas.  There's lots of other stories and things I could tell, but those are the highlights for now. We left after VBS at about 7:30pm and returned at 1:45am on Friday morning. Matt urged us to not let the mission end when we left.  He said even though we were leaving those people, they had to stay...he encouraged us to stay on mission everywhere we are.  Please pray for me as I continue the mission in my heart and life in my own neighborhood and community where I live each day.