I'm always humbly reminded I serve a sovereign God when things like this happen.

I was pondering over thoughts from Ed Welch's book When People are Big and God is Small, today. My fiance and I read this book at the beginning of this year, and were both thoroughly enriched by the biblical truths within its pages. It provided some convicting and lightening conversations. We learned more about our own sinful hearts, and about each other.Today, however, the extent of my thoughts would not go very far, as I seemed to get stuck somewhere in the process of sorting out the mess my head created of itself today, but I knew I was not loving God rightly, and I had a hint of a feeling that it was because I was loving people incorrectly. 

I became rather frustrated with my own inability to sort out what I was thinking and feeling, so I turned to my iTunes library for some sermons resources. Sadly, it's very small, and none of the Keller sermons were what I was looking for, as great as they may have been. Normally, my next option would have been to find something online, usually at http://www.marshillchurch.org. But I wasn't looking for some urban, contextualized hype about how wretched the immorality in America is (as much as I love listening to Driscoll yell at his Seattle congregation). So, rather randomly, I went to my church's website-- something I've only done about twice (what I mean to say is I don't know why I went there) and came across this sermon. The title of it, Welch's own book title. God is good. Since Rev. Walicord expresses truthfully what I was trying to sort out in my thoughts and heart, I'll leave the rest of this post blank. Listening to this sermon would be 32 minutes well spent.

The quest for true femininity is difficult in a culture full of emasculate men and chauvinistic women, who hardly understand their gender, let alone that consequent role. There are a lot of characteristics Christian women strive for that are certainly important: modesty, gentleness, hospitality, submission, contentment, graciousness, &etc. But during a family meeting this evening something my father said struck me in a new way.

Our family discussion this evening led to the responsibility of older children to encourage, correct and especially to lead younger children by example. The respect and privileges that you naturally gain with age are also accompanied by responsibility. Taking up to that responsibility, having the courage to lead, and the discipline to resist the temptations and allurements of the world takes what my dad referred to as toughness. And he was not just talking to his sons!

Think of Rahab, hiding those spies in the basket, while soldiers from the king demand she hand over the men they knew had come to her. I do not imagine she stood in her kitchen anxiously wringing her hands behind a dish towel, and biting her bottom lip while she lied to those men. I do not imagine that Abigail wasted time nervously fretting about how to approach David and his men when the Bible tells us “Then Abigail made haste and took two hundred loaves and two skins of wine and five sheep already prepared and five seahs of parched grain and a hundred clusters of raisins and two hundred cakes of figs…”. And somehow, I do not really believe that the Veggie Tale version of Ester accurately displays the young queen’s emotions, as if she was nervous and shaky, and terrified. Could a faltering woman put the kind of fear into Haman that we’re told she does in Ester 7:6 when just after revealing his plot Haman “was terrified before the king and the queen.” (emphasis added)

Boldness. Courage. Strength.

Totally, completely, entirely feminine toughness.

So here’s a news flash: Tough is not Angelina Jolie as Mrs. Smith (Mr. and Mrs. Smith), or Franky (Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow), it is not Kurtz’s African Mistress in Joseph Conrad’s The Heart of Darkness, or Agent 99’s stubbornness. Tough is not found in enduring a 10-hour workday. You don’t need a gun, a sword, success, power, or even army greens to be tough. You don’t even need bulging biceps or thighs of steel. Toughness is not only physical.

Webster says it is: “demonstrating a strict and uncompromising attitude or approach.”

It’s a characteristic that every Christian needs. Even women.

Or perhaps, especially women, because we’re emotional, and fragile and need to be protected; because we are divinely deigned the weaker vessels; and because there is something in us that is more easily swayed in the midst of adversity of any kind. Because God created us feminine, beautiful, gentle, sweet, and lovely.

In so many ways toughness seems to be a contrast to what we would expect biblical femininity to be, but in so many more ways I think it beautifies true femininity.

This for a moment of what would happen to our families, our churches, and our culture if we had truly beautiful women demonstrate a strict, yet gentle and uncompromising attitude toward godliness? What would happen to our families if we had godly, beautiful wives demonstrate an uncompromising approach to submission? To gentleness? To contentment? What would happen to our churches if the young girls took an uncompromising approach to purity and modesty?

Toughness is not masculine. It’s not rough. It’s not dirty. Toughness is a firmness of mind, conviction and spirit that every Christian needs. Perhaps the apostle Paul is admonishing us to be a little tougher when he tells us in Ephesians 6 to stand firm.

We live in a postmodern world swayed by a relativistic philosophy that has caused even good Christians to lower their standards of godliness and Christian living. Perhaps we’ve not completely lost our sense of good and evil, but so many things have been lost in a hazy fog of “grey.” We’re no longer tough. We’re weak and flimsy, and easily swayed back and forth by every contemporary fad that catches our eye, or pulls our heart strings.

And where’s the beauty in that, I’d like to know? Dad hit it home with a brief touch on personal responsibility and Christian toughness. Girls, we can’t be truly feminine if we aren’t able to stand firm.

“Finally, be strong in the Lord and in the power of his might. Put on the whole armor of God so that you may be able to stand against the schemes of the devil.” (Ephesians 6:10-11)

I've had the Steven Curtis Chapman hit "Cinderella" stuck in my head all day. These particular lines struck me as I was watching Anna related in her 2-year-old way the cares and burdens of dressing her dolly. I don't think you have to be a father to appreciate the words of this song. In fact, I know you don't even have to have children of your own, because as I looked at her, and her sweet baby face, I couldn't help but sigh, knowing that soon enough she'd be grown.

She spins and she sways
To whatever song plays
Without a care in the world
And I'm sitting here wearing
The weight of the world on my shoulders

It's been a long day
And there's still work to do
She's pulling at me Saying "Dad, I need you
There's a ball at the castle
And I've been invited
And I need to practice my dancing
Oh, please, Daddy, please?"

So I will dance with Cinderella
While she is here in my arms
'Cause I know something the prince never knew
Oh, I will dance with Cinderella
I don't want to miss even one song
'Cause all too soon the clock will strike midnight And she'll be gone....

...Well, she came home today with a ring on her hand
Just glowing and telling us all they had planned
She says, "Dad, the wedding's still six months away
But I need to practice my dancing
Oh, please, Daddy, please?"

So I will dance with Cinderella
While she is here in my arms
'Cause I know something the prince never knew
Oh, I will dance with Cinderella
I don't want to miss even one song
'Cause all too soon the clock will strike midnight
And she'll be gone.

Then I found these pictures of our own sweet Cinderellas. Our darling princesses. And I couldn't believe how much they've grown. The words of that song rang true-- all too soon the clock will strike midnight.

Aliza at one week

Aliza now- 4 years old

Anna at one week old

Anna now- 2 1/2

I still remember the summer Aliza was born- the day she was born, even. We'd gone 13 years without a baby girl. Needless to say we were all quite smitten with our little bundle wrapped in pink (not to say we still aren't-- it's very curious how a blond-haired brown-eyed beauty can manage a household if you let her.) We would all rotate walking her up and down our street for hours in the afternoons. Dressing her morning, noon, and night was a delight as well, and Mom soon complained of all the laundry we were going through for one little girl (and she still does, by the way :-)). She quickly became the life of the household, our little Rosebud, Princess and Poppet.

Anna's birthday was quiet and peaceful, and she was here before any of us had time to wonder how much longer we would have to wait. She was sweet and smiley when she wasn't sleeping. I took to calling her Sunshine before she was a month old, and it has stuck. She still is a little sunbeam of happiness wherever she is. She puts us to shame sometimes with her sweet, helpful ways, and the willingness she has to help anyone with all the mundane task around the house. Her own little personality is starting to shine more brightly as she gets older. Just last week she was caught talking on her plastic cell phone-- not to grandma, or daddy, but to "Ty-ler" who happens to be an eligible 2-year-old from church. :)

And I suppose if my mom read this post she would smile and say I've forgotten that not so long ago I was the 2-year-old running around in diapers. Well, this picture is for those memories...

Angela and me- 1 and 3

I recently read this story, and couldn't help but pass it on. It brought tears to my eyes, and I was convicted. Prayer does not need to be a complicated ritual that interrupts the motion of our days, rather, it's a simple act of faith: God, I believe. Help me in my unbelief.

He really can move mountains.
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Uganda, A Bet, and a Prayer

Note from Doug Nichols, International Director for Action Team World Wide.

Uganda is back in the news these days because of elections and problems within the nation. While praying for Uganda, I was reminded of a story I read several years ago. I found it and wanted to send it to you to encourage you in your prayer life, and to remember the great nation of Africa in prayer. I trust this story will encourage you, not to make bets on God answering prayer, but simply trust in the sovereignty of God! Let's trust Him to move in the hearts of men and women throughout the world.

In December 1994, Doug Coe, who is a remarkable man of faith working and living in Washington D.C., told this story about his friend, Bob Hunter. Bob was a new Christian, searching about to understand what it all meant. One day he asked Doug, his good friend: "Doug, do you really believe what the Bible says about moving mountains when we pray?" Doug thought about it, and answered "sure." Bob was rather incredulous, and asked him, "Do you mean to say that you believe that if I prayed for a mountain to move, that it would move?" Doug thought for a while and the conversation went something like this:

"Let me put it this way. I not only believe it, but I'll make you a bet. A $500 bet. Bob, what do you know about Africa?"

"Nothing."

"What do you think about when you think of Africa?"

"I think about monkeys swinging from trees."

"Then here's the bet. I want you to pray for 45 days. 'God help Africa.' You can't miss a single day. And that's all you have to pray, 'God help Africa.' At the end of 45 days, you be the judge on whether any mountains have moved. If you think a mountain has moved, you pay me $500. If you don't think a mountain has moved, you just tell me, and I'll pay you $500, no questions asked."

Bob, being an astute businessman, rather liked the odds. He accepted the bet. And he began to pray daily, "God help Africa."

Just a few days later, he was at a dinner, and sat next to an elderly lady. In the course of the conversation, he found out she lived in Uganda, and ran an orphanage there. He began asking her a number of questions about Uganda and Africa. After awhile, she finally asked him why he was so interested in Africa. To which he responded, with some embarrassment, "You'll never believe this, but I made a bet with a good friend," and proceeded to tell her about his bet with Doug Coe. By the end of the evening she invited him to return to Uganda with her in a few days to visit the orphanage. He accepted the invitation.

You can guess that when he visited the orphanage in Uganda, his heart was touched by the orphans. After coming back to the U.S. he got a few friends together and bought a load of toys and clothes, and sent them to Uganda. The following week, he got a phone call from the woman at the orphanage: "Mr. Hunter, the children are so grateful for what you did, they would love it if you could come again so they can make a special presentation to you to show you their appreciation. Can you come?" He accepted the invitation, and was off to Uganda again.

After a very heartwarming ceremony at the orphanage, there was a phone call for Bob from the President of Uganda. He had heard about the gifts and called to thank him personally and on behalf of his country, for what Bob had done for the orphans. He also invited Bob to visit him that afternoon.

When Bob arrived that afternoon for his appointment, the President was just in the middle of rushing out of his office. He apologized that he had to go off to some appointment, but invited Bob to come along, so they could get acquainted in the car. Bob accepted. Along the way, at one of the stops, Bob looked out the window to see what appeared to be a stockyard; only this was a stockyard not filled with cattle, but with men. Bob asked the President what he was seeing. The President responded that it was a political prison, and those men were his political enemies. The conversation went something like this:

"But Mr. President, that's not right to have men living in such horrible conditions. You must let them go."

"But those are my political enemies; men who have tried to subvert my authority. I cannot let them go. That would be foolish."

"You have to let them go; it's just not right that human beings would have to live in those conditions."

The conversation did not last long, and shortly thereafter Bob was back home in the U.S. About a week after getting back, he received a phone call. This time it was the State Department asking him to come to a meeting with the Undersecretary for African Affairs.

Rather puzzled over the purpose of such a meeting, he nevertheless went to the appointment. At the meeting, the Undersecretary of State for African Affairs and Bob had a conversation along these lines:

"Mr. Hunter, on behalf of the Government of the United States, I want to thank you for what you have done in Uganda."

"What? The U.S. Government is thanking me for sending some toys to some orphans in Uganda?"

"No, Mr. Hunter. It is about the political prisoners."

"What about the political prisoners?"

"The President of Uganda recently released the political prisoners, which is something our government has been trying to get him to do for years, without success. He told us after taking this action that he was doing it because of what you said to him."

"What I said to him?"

"Yes. What exactly did you say to him?"

Needless to say, Bob Hunter was flabbergasted. But the story doesn't end there. After the State Department meeting, the President of Uganda called Bob over the phone, and asked him to return to Uganda to help him form a new cabinet for his country.

"But Mr. President, I don't know anything about your country or the people who would best serve in your government. I'm just an American businessman. How can I possibly help you choose a cabinet?"

"Mr. Hunter, I trust you. Please come."

Bob went. And did what he could to help the President select his new ministers. And since that time, a close friendship has developed between Bob Hunter, American businessman, and the President of Uganda. The President even stays in Bob's home in the D.C. area when he visits the U.S.

And you can guess, after those 45 days of praying "God help Africa," Bob Hunter sent Doug Coe a check for $500.

That night in Gig Harbor Doug Coe proceeded to tell us that he told his story later to a group of around twenty very successful business executives, all members of Young Presidents Organization, an international association of business people who have become the chief executives or owners of companies above a certain size by age 40.

After he told the story at this YPO lunch, 13 of them came up to him and asked him if he would take on the bet with them. Swallowing hard, after doing some quick math, he nevertheless accepted the bet. He laid out the ground rules for them, that they had to pray every day for 45 days. They did not have to tell him what they were praying for, and at the end of the 45 days, it would be entirely up to them to decide whether a mountain had moved as a result of their prayers.

After those 45 days, Doug received 12 checks for $500 each. A while later, he received the 13th check, accompanied by a letter that said something like this:

"Doug, my mountain did not move. But the discipline of praying every day for 45 days has changed my life, and so I feel I owe you this $500."

While staying in Budapest for a week we had the opportunity to sail down the Danube and learn some of the history of Budapest.

The Parliament, one of Europe's largest legislative buildings.









The Royal Palace


















Chain Bridge and the Hungarian flag.

It's interesting, the things that can try one's patience. But I've found that on rough days, picking up the dolls for the 13 hundredth time, and wiping the kitchen table for yet another, and folding I- don't-know-how-many loads of laundry that my patience often wears rather thin.
And then I pray for patience, as the two year old comes in crying because the dog has just eaten her Popsicle.

And for the last 2 and a half weeks I haven't had a doll to pick up, a kitchen table to wipe down, and the laundry and dishes have been comparatively low. I've had a lot of time to read, and relax, and site see, and talk, play Scrabble, take pictures, and do things I don't often do regularly at home. It's been nice, and I've enjoyed every minute, but this morning when I read an email from my sister, who is thousands of miles away keeping up with life in our home, helping mom, fixing dinner, and even learning to do the laundry ;-), on top of trying to plan a wedding, something struck me.

Her email ended...Well, I've gotta go. Annie spilled water right on the carpet... (and I know I could add an "again" in there without exaggerating- something about that child loves to see liquid spill out of containers to places it does belong. :-))

And I smiled. Patience tested. Battle won. Sometimes lost, it's true. But in the end, life is beautiful. Spilled water, and all. I'd give anything to clean one of those up right now. And you know what makes me heart ache? In all too little time, she'll be the one cleaning up the water spilled by my little girls, and I'll wonder what happened to all those precious years.

But just thoughts for now. Thought I'd throw that one out there.

I leave for Europe in less than a week and I will be gone for nearly 4. It just struck me how terribly I am going to miss my family, especially this one... I do not play favorites, but she's my favorite.

This was one afternoon Angela had taken them out to pick flowers. The little black dot on her chin is a piece of the fuzz from a dandy lion she had tried to eat. :) I love those thick, long eyelashes, and those perfectly puckered baby lips.
I know for certain that when I come home they'll all be so much sweeter.

While fixing dinner this evening I caught sight of a wandering Nolan. Wandering boys are not usually good, so I picked up the sheet of paper with his memory verses on it and began prompting him with references.

Eager for an activity he gave me his full attention, but I continued to bustle about the kitchen, as I listened to him recite.

About half way down the sheet of 8 verses he broke down in tears, frustrated that he could not think of the word, and irritated because of all the commotion around him that was causing distractions. I turned away from the stove and looked at him, repeating the first half of John 3:16 in hopes that he would recover. He refused to try.

"I just can't think! My mind... it's..." He grabbed his head, while streams of tears poured down his little face.

Finally understanding what the trouble was, I took him into another room, and we sat on chairs facing each other. I had his full attention- and he had mine. We started from the beginning, fresh thoughts and no distractions.

I was amazed at how quickly he now recited the verses, and how much happier he was executing his task. I realize then something about his personality. What I had first been frustrated with, I was now pleased to recognize. Blessed with a brilliant mind, Nolan easily learns any new task; but his sensitive personality, and disposition made him overly-conscious of the noise and bustle about him.

He has a humorous side as well, and as we were working on Matthew 19:14 (Let the little children come to me and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.) He paused near the end, pondering the last phrase. He looked at me and grinned mischievously, "..for the kingdom of heaven belongs to a sucker like me."

I could not help but laugh. And the best part: at 7, he already understands the first point of Calvinism pretty well. :)