Things Learned on Moving to a Foreign Country from a C-Minus-Missionary

Ok...

Many of you have been asking for a blog post since I arrived here in Mexico.  There have been so many things to write about rolling around in my sweaty, dehydrated head that I didn't know where to start, so I'll just start here--with some things I've learned from moving to a foreign country thus far.

1.  Stop signs and traffic signs don't always mean what they say.  In fact, they rarely mean what they say. For instance, I've realized that stop signs actually mean: don't stop.  They actually mean:  keep right on driving through this intersection at whatever speed seems right to you without regard for whoever else might be coming through and for heaven's sake, if a silly mislead gringa stops at one of these tricky red octagons, lay on your horn and go around her because WHY in the world would she stop like that???

2.  Same goes for conversations, they don't always mean exactly what was said.  Sometimes they mean the opposite.  Like, if you are talking to someone and they said, "Sure, I can come Friday!"  Well, you may think that means that they can come Friday.  That would make you a poor, silly fool.  That means that only maybe they can come Friday.  It may only mean that yes, they have heard that Friday is an actual day of the week.  It could even mean, that no, under no circumstances will they come Friday because their sister's friends's dog is having surgery on Friday and they will most definitely not be coming on Friday.  It's just a wait-and-see kinda thing. Like, on Friday, you just sit there and wait and see......

3.  God's greatest gift to humankind, after Jesus, was most definitely air-conditioning.  I mean, I feel really sorry for my kids and husband right now....really sorry.   If they thought hormonal Amy was a force to be reckoned with, how about sweated-all-day-and-night-heat-rash-hormonal-Amy???  She's scary, man.  Real scary.  But there just isn't any way around it, sadly.  Being hot makes me angry.  Cameron keeps telling me I'll get used to it, but every time he says that, in my mind I'm hitting him in the face with a tire iron.

4.  I love me some spicy food...but apparently not as much as Mexicans.  Because in Mexico, chile comes on everything. Ev-er-y-thing.  Want chile flavored ice cream?  Check.  Chile flavored gum?  Yep.  Oh, you want chile on your lollipop?  Well, you're in luck because that's just about the only kind I've seen. And of course, it goes on all your fruits and veggies.  All the samples of pineapple and cucumber and what-have-you in Walmart?  Bright red from so much chile.  Tums are our new best friend.  Well, along with Maalox and Pepto.

5.  Feeling conspicuous is just our new normal.  I didn't anticipate how much this was going to bother me.  I knew that the boys would probably get a bit of attention for their bright blonde hair, but I didn't really think I was going to stick out that much.  But, I was wrong.  For instance, I was wondering around Walmart looking for something, and my friend Carlos asked why I didn't just ask someone that worked there.  I said, "Because every time I ask them something, they literally just stare at me and don't say a word."  He laughed and said, "Yeah, that's because you are from another planet."

So, we are adjusting.  Slowly.  Actually, the boys haven't skipped a beat, I think probably I am the one adjusting the most slowly. But you know what, life is life no matter what country you are in.  The kids still fight.  You still have to wash dishes.  You still just want to go to Starbucks, alone.  But by the grace of God, we are learning to live down here, and I think despite all the ways that it's harder, falling in love with Mexico and her people a little more each day.

Missionary boys

Tonight is the last night my babies will sleep in this house.  Tomorrow morning will be the last time they wake up and come down these stairs, dragging their bubbies (favorite blankets) with sleepy faces and crazy hair.  It's been their home, our home, for all of Graham's life and most of Hudson's.  There are so many happy memories here and I have loved this house.  It is not new and not fancy and has had plenty of problems, but I have loved it and I have loved our time here.

This has been a difficult journey already, and I have blasted worship music while I packed the house and cried  and told Jesus that every task I was doing and every movement of my hands was a love sacrifice to him.

But this seems to be the most difficult milestone of the journey thus far, because now it is really getting down to affecting my babies.  And I guess that is the way that it must be for all mamas.  Someone, I can't remember who, said to remember that God not only called Cameron and I, but also Hudson and Graham.  So I am praying, and asking you to pray, that God would show me how to lead them and love them through this transition.  To show them that God has called them to something incredible and exciting and worthy of our effort and sacrifice.  To remember that material things are worthless and people and souls precious.  To live lives worthy of Gospel and of our Jesus.

So, if you see me tomorrow dropping the boys off for their last day of school and I am stumbling around the halls crying like the sentimental, basket-case that I am--don't be alarmed.  Nothing is wrong. I will just be dying to self a little bit in my silly, melodramatic way--just avoid eye contact with me and say a prayer for my sweet baby boys :)  XO

A Memory, Bottled Up...

So, since I have begun writing this blog a group of friends and I have gotten together and formed a 'writing group.'  Because, we are that awesome.  Actually, we are all really quirky mixes of nerdy and awesome and Jesus-loving.  (With maybe a touch of prissy in there?? Shannon Owen, I'm looking at you ;)  So we get together and talk about our writing, and what we want to accomplish with it and how we want to write and what are the important things that merit being written about??

One of the things we have decided to do to stretch our writing has been to write using prompts, and then get together and critique/discuss each other's responses.  So I have been mulling over these prompts for a month now, feeling like I had nothing of interest to write in response to any of them.  When God lead me to start this blog, I told Him from the beginning that it would be a mouthpiece for Him, or nothing at all.  I would write about things He wanted me to write about, say the things He wanted me to say, and shut up the rest the time.  For those of you who know me, you know how very hard that is for me...

One of the writing prompts included a quote from my ALL-TIME favorite fiction book.  Or, at least, my favorite book from adolescence, Rebecca by Daphne Du Maurier.  I must have read it 20 times alone in the 7th grade.  Here it is: 

"'If only there could be an invention,' I said impulsively, 'that bottled up a memory like a scent.  And it never faded, never got stale.  And then, when one wanted it, the bottle could be uncorked and it would be like living the moment all over again.'"

The prompt then guides you to discuss which memory you would bottle up and why, and to describe the memory in vivid detail.  

I turned this concept over and over again in my mind for a month.  Nothing stood out to me; of course there are the typical memories that most people would think of:  babies being born, your wedding day, the first time you met your spouse, etc.  But God wasn't speaking to me through any of those memories, so I thought, "Well, if God doesn't give me anything to say, then the deal was I wouldn't say anything at all!"  

Fast forward to this morning.  I was at the YMCA for my kiddos swim lessons, and these were the first lessons ever for my 2-year-old.  The instructor wasn't ready yet, so I told my 2- and 4-year-old that they could sit on the steps of the pool until she came over.  I pulled a chair up to the edge of the pool and sat there watching them splash around with adorable, infectious, small-child enthusiasm.  

After a couple of minutes my littler boy, Graham, stood up on the second step with the water up to his tummy and I guess he lost his balance...he began to float backwards out to the deep water...

He bobbed underneath the water, little arms flailing and little legs kicking.  Little chubby fists desperately grasping for something that would hold, that he could use to pull himself up to air.  So completely helpless.

This probably went on for a flat 2 seconds, but in my mind, this image is burned.  And in my mind, it goes on for an eternity.  If you have seen your child struggle to break the surface of the water, you understand what I mean.

I promptly jumped in, fully clothed, with my shoes on, and scooped him up.

He was completely unfazed, which is an endearing characteristic of his, and the swim teacher came over just after that, so I recovered fairly quickly and we went on to the next task.  

Then this afternoon, the prompt resurfaced in my mind.  But this time, the memory that was fresh on my mind was the memory from this morning.  "Lord, why would I want to bottle that memory up??  That's a terrible memory.  Why would I want to relive that?"  And as I dwelt on those questions, God began to speak.  

"Amy, do you remember how you felt when you watched Graham this morning?"

"Yes, Lord, it was horrible.  I was desperate, I would have done anything to save him."

"Amy, I watch my children drown every day.  I watch them struggle, and flail, and reach out for anything that will save them...and I watch them go under.  I watch my own beloved children drown every single day, helplessly, hopelessly."

Heart-broken.  That feeling that I had to deal with for a sheer couple of seconds, He deals with every day, all the time, as He watches another of His children spend their lives struggling in pain, only to end up eternally separated from Him.

"Bottle it up, Amy.  Relive it.  Remember it.  When you see those around you, my beloved children, when you see them struggling, jump in.  Go all in.  Go in with your clothes, your jewelry, your shoes on.  Don't hesitate for even a second.  Go all in.  Just like you did for Graham.  That is what I have called you to do as Christians.  I will do the saving, you just jump in."

This is the reality of life; they are drowning in a much more consequential way that Graham was.  They are drowning in the currents of a life without Jesus.  A life without hope, meaning, love, comfort.  An unbearable life that will lead to unfathomable pain in the end...

Okay, Lord.  When I need to be reminded of how much you love us, and what our mission is here on Earth, I will uncork that bottle.  I will relive that memory and remember what you said:

Go all in.

How Can They Believe in the One of Whom They Have Not Heard?

Since my last post many things have happened.  Ben, whom I wrote about here, went to heaven.  His widow, Lisa, carries on his legacy and is utterly inspiring.  (Read more about them here.)  I've had some dear friends miscarry since then.  One almost identical to what happened to me.  I was praying so much for them, so much.  I ache for them and grieve with them.

And you know what all these things make me wonder?  

How do people make it through life without Christ?

Because you know what all those events I spoke of are?  Common.  They are all common.  Families grieve over loved ones who lose the battle with cancer every day.  Mamas' and daddies' hearts are broken over never getting to hold their baby every day.  Infertility sears red and  painful wounds in hearts every day.  Sometimes I don't know how people do it with the love of Christ holding them up, but the ones who don't even know it exists?  How do they do it?  It makes me sad.

Which brings me to my next point:  Cam and I are moving to Mexico.

So this was my anything.  Leaving the life I know and love, the friends I love, the family I love, to tell those who don't know Jesus about Him.  So they don't have to suffer in vain anymore.  So they don't have to live a life, that is to the best of their knowledge, cruel and meaningless.

Cam is skyping with a missionary down there right this moment.  

All the things I want to say about this....this process....this sacrifice....this privilege, I can't seem to formulate right now.  I don't know how we'll do it. I'm not sure when.  

But I do know why.  

When those people that we will encounter in Mexico hurt, I want to tell them who the true Comforter is.  When those people wander, I want to tell them who the only Compass is.  When those people struggle, and suffer, and feel pain and realize that this life in ends in Death, and I want to tell them that I have the Cure.

"How, then, can they call on the one they have not believed in? And how can they believe in the one of whom they have not heard? And how can they hear without someone preaching to them?  And how can anyone preach unless they are sent? As it is written: “How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news!”

                                         --Romans 10:14-15

I want to bring the good news.  I want them to know Christ.  I want to have beautiful feet.

And For When the Answer Is No

"Naked I came from my mother's womb, and naked I will depart. 

The LORD gave and the LORD has taken away; 

may the name of the LORD be praised."

Job 1:21

Sometimes, in this life, the answer is 'No.'

In the same way that I struggle to teach this to my 2- and 4-year-olds, I believe that God struggles to teach this to us.

I read an amazing book, one of my all-time favorites, last year called 1,000 Gifts by Ann Voskamp.  It was an incredible, life changing book.  The biggest challenge of this book is to look for the goodness of God's hand in all circumstances.  Every single one.  And not in some each-cloud-has-a-silver-lining kind of way.  Not in a trite, generic "Well, at least we aren't as bad off as those people," kind of way.  In a genuine, real, "Wow I can see God's beautiful hand in this and he is wise and he is love," kind of way.

Like seeing the redemption of her own family's story when she was 4 years old and watched her baby sister die.  Like seeing the redemption when her own little boy's hand was mangled in a farming accident.  Seeing the love of God even in situations like this.

I begged God for faith to see things like her.  I wanted to have that gut-level conviction that no matter what may come in this life my love for God and trust in Him would not waver.  And He is granting that request.  Because, that's His will for me.  And that's His will for you.

He is teaching me this in lots of ways, but most recently it was in the loss of a baby.  We prayed and believed and trusted and waited.  He held us in His hand the whole time.  He chose to keep that baby in heaven with Him.  I will bless the name of the Lord.

I will not look for silver linings.  I will look for God.  I will look for the love of Christ holding all things together.  I will receive His answer to our prayers, and trust His plan.  That doesn't mean it's without pain or grief or longing, and it doesn't mean that there haven't been tears shed.  But it does mean there is not despair--there is hope.  There is not only mourning, but there is comfort.  And most of all, there is Him.

Here is  a quote from a funeral I attended a while back when my friend lost her full-term baby:

"The amount of time on earth matters very little: a man can live in greed and pride 90 years and never find God, know Him or accomplish His Plan. A stillborn baby on the other hand, teaches people to love, brings people to the Lord, teaches us the tenuous nature of life and teaches us a faith that those who have not suffered loss can never know. A child not even breathing for an hour, can have an impact greater than a famous preacher. The purpose of a life is not ours to decide nor in our hands: it is brought about by God" 

                                                                                     --author unknown

Even though our baby was not full-term or stillborn, I am asking God to let our little one have that same kind of impact.  Let others who are mourning know where to find comfort through our story. Let those who are doubting see in our story that God's love pursues, no matter where we are, no matter what we are going through, and no matter how angry we are at Him...

Lord, that our loss would point others to You.  That our suffering would make us more like You.  And that we would see the redemption of this story in this life and the next.

Blessed be the name of the Lord.

Tiny, little anythings

(Disclaimer:  I have not even told my friends about the following.  When God told me to write about it this evening, I said, "Um, no. Too raw.  Too recent.  Besides, I haven't even told anyone...."  Truth is, I didn't really even want to tell anyone.  But I've come to realize that there is no use in arguing with God, and that even if there were I don't want to anymore.)

tiny, little anythings

When I wrote about 'anything' in my previous post, I was thinking of big things...Not just big things, but mostly big things.  The big things that people (including me) have a hard time giving to God.  Your house.  Your wealth.  Your life-long dreams.  I didn't realize that maybe one of the hardest things to give up would be tiny...barely the size of a bean.

The other day my mom and I were having a conversation about 'anything.'  She said something along the lines of, "How can you pray 'anything,' Amy? Do you want to give up your kids?"  And I of course said, 'No.'  I said I didn't want to give up my kids.  I hope I never had to.  But if God asked me to walk through that, I would--hopefully with my faith in His goodness and His love for me in tact.

Last week, with much surprise, I found out I was pregnant.  It came as quite a shock, because the timing didn't seem feasible.  It didn't seem like I could be pregnant.  But I was...I had a counter full of pregnancy tests to prove it.  It was such a gift.  Not only for the obvious reasons, but because of the struggle I had been having that same exact week.  

I knew I wanted to adopt for quite a while.  But, I also desperately wanted to have one more biological baby.  The plan had been:  one of each.  One more bio baby, one adopted.  Perfect.  Then last week, I started questioning that.  I said to Cam, "Is it selfish of me to want one more baby when there are so many babies that need mommies right now?  Is it God's will for you and me to create another child, when no one is taking care of those children?"  

I was not making some blanket statement about how everyone needs to quit having children and adopt, but I wondered if God was asking me specifically to make that sacrifice.  Sacrifice the heart-wrenching desire to feel another baby kick from inside of you, to hold the brand-new baby in your arms, to know their every detail from the first breath they take.  Their smell.  Their nose, their lips, their toes.

"Okay, God. We won't try for another one.  I'll sacrifice that.  I'll give that desire to you."  Sadness.  Don't look at baby stuff on Pinterest.  Don't read that friend's birth story.  "You are worth it God, you are worth it.  You are worth it."

Imagine my surprise when three days later, there I am standing mouth agape in the bathroom, staring at a positive pregnancy test that seemed an impossibility.  

But, my joy was short-lived.  There was bleeding.  Dr's office on Monday.  Possibility of miscarriage.  Wait.  Pray.  "God, why give me this miraculous pregnancy, this gift after the struggle, just to take it away?"  Dr's office on Thursday.  99% chance miscarriage.

Flashback to the conversation with my mom.  Would I give my child to God?  Would that be an 'anything' I was willing to walk through?  

"God, I want this baby.  I want THIS baby.  THIS life that is inside me right now.  But I will trust your hand in either outcome...I will pray 'anything' in this."

I have always wondered about the grief felt when someone miscarries early on.  I don't want to sound harsh, but I wondered if it was more for time lost--like wanting a baby immediately, but instead having to start the process over again.  Or was there already a connection between the soul of that baby and that mama?  I have friends who have lost full-term babies.  The grief is real, and huge, and unfathomable.  

But, I found out there was a connection.  I wanted that little life inside me.  I wanted to know that baby, to raise that baby.  I don't care about having to start the process over again--that's my baby, half me and half Cameron and I want it.  I want it, Lord.  I still do.

I have friends who have struggled with infertility for years.  I can't actually imagine anything more heart-breaking than their struggle.  To yearn with all of your broken heart for a child and to have to face defeat and despair every month, every year.

I feel like I can relate to them a very small amount.  I count it is a privilege to share in their suffering.  "Lord, I will share in their suffering...just please let it ease their suffering.  Don't let it be for nothing.  I'll take some of their suffering, take a little off of them and put it on me."  Philippians 3:10-11 says "..that I may know him and the power of his resurrection, and may share his sufferings, becoming like him in his death,  that by any means possible I may attain the resurrection from the dead." 

We are supposed to take joy in suffering.  To take joy in sharing in His sufferings.  And you know, it hasn't been that hard to find joy in this.  I could feel the love of God more tangibly surround me as I drove home from the dr's office yesterday than I ever had before.  I don't wonder if He is a loving God...I wonder at how much He loves me even now.

As far as science is concerned, this baby bean is dead.  As far as science was concerned, Jesus was dead too.  The text I sent from the dr's office said, "Dr. said there is only 1% chance of viable pregnancy.  But our God is the God of the  universe, of babies and of embryos.  He is not hemmed in by percentages given in dr's offices.  I will continue to hope for the best until next week."

Since we are believers in Christ, we are a part of the resurrection.  I wonder if God will show his glory and resurrect this baby bean.  I wonder if when I go in for the final blood work and ultrasound next week if there will be a miraculous little baby in there with it's little baby heart beating.  I hope so, so much.

But if there is not, Lord, I will continue to give you the big 'anythings' and the little, tiny 'anythings.'  I will look forward to holding that baby on the other side of eternity, along with so many of my friends who will be holding theirs for the first time too.

I will not forget your love for me, and how you grieved the loss of your child too.

"For even if the mountains walk away, and the hills fall apart,

 my unfailing love for you will not be shaken nor my covenant of peace be removed," says the LORD, who has compassion on you.

Isaiah 54:10 

Anything...

From the insane amount of issues in the swirling vortex in my head, there is one resounding theme right now--

Anything

 This is the one that always separates itself from the rest, the one that wakes me up in the middle of the night, the one that I see when I open my eyes in the morning.  It has been something that has been presenting itself to me for acceptance or rejection for years now, ever since I got real in my quest to follow Jesus.  

Anything is just another way of saying 'everything.'  If you tell God that he can have anything, then you are telling God he can have everything.  Nothing is off-limits:  your wealth, your family, your comfort....your life.  

Anything was always such a scary concept to me.  I always knew it was what was required of me--the only thing required of me.  God didn't require some skill, he didn't require anything I was able to do for him, he just required that I give him all of me.  Because he knew that if I didn't, I wouldn't really know him.  I wouldn't really know joy. 

And, if we won't give him anything, then there is very little chance that we are going to help others know him.  And that's the only other thing he wants from us:  he wants us to help him rescue everyone else.  So that's two things he wants--he wants us, and he wants everyone else.  

Isn't that just like God?  Sometimes I feel like he is so selfish, wanting me to give him my comfort.  Wanting me to give him my American dream.  Wanting me to give him all my plans.  But really, it's for my benefit.  It's because he knows good and well that my weak heart does not have room for those things and him.  And he knows that as long as those things rule my weak heart, that I will not be able step out on the street and tell another soul about him.  God wants me....but he wants that soul too.  He is willing to sacrifice our comfort so that another of his children can receive his grace.  And we should be willing too.

So when I stumbled upon the book Anything by Jennie Allen I ordered it on the spot.  I read it in a couple of days, mostly over Easter.  It was the struggles of my heart inked on a page.  It was exactly and profoundly what I have been pondering, wrestling with, meditating on for the last few months.

Anything is about the moment Jennie comes to the point in her life and in her relationship with the creator that she tells God he can have anything.  She asks him to just tell her, just point to it--what does he want from her?  He can have it.  It's the moment that she really got real with God, and it tells about everything that led her up to that point.  And the beautiful story that God has written since.  

I loved this beautiful quote from her life before she prayed the 'anything' prayer:

"As I stand back and look at myself as I was, sitting in the counselor's office whining and crying after years of chasing things that were supposed to work for me, that were supposed to make me happy here, that God was supposed to do, I see that my ache was actually his mercy showing me that everything I loved other than him was never going to work.  It was never supposed to work."

Y'all, that's truth.  That's truth wrapped up in grace and tied with a bow.  The reason we feel empty, and the reason this life feels mediocre is because that's what we have filled it with--mediocre, vain pursuits.  Vanities.  And God is so merciful that he doesn't leave us there.  He continues to talk to us in that small aching voice, assuring us there is more.  Not letting us sit content with rubbish.  Reminding us that we will never be fulfilled with anything other than him.

It's funny that one of the things that I read at the beginning of my 'anything' journey, is one of the same things that began Jennie's. It is the story of an amazing girl named Katie who at 18, left her safe, cush, comfortable, well-off life and moved to Uganda.  Alone. Worked at an orphanage, loved on kids.  Then adopted, like, a zillion of them.  By herself.  I seriously have lost of count, I think she has legally adopted something like 14 or 15 little girls.  

Here is a quote from Katie's book Kisses from Katie that I read a couple of years ago, that was also in Jennie's book.  It is a quote from Katie explaining her choices:

"All my life, I had everything this world says is important.  In high school I was class president, homecoming queen, top of my class.  I dated cute boys and drove a cute car.  I had supportive parents who so desired my success that they would pay for me to go to college anywhere my heart desired.  BUT, I loved Jesus.  Jesus says to Nicodemus that in order to enter the Kingdom of Heaven, one must be born again.  Check.  Jesus says to another guy that in order to enter the Kingdom of Heaven one must sell everything they have and give it to the poor and then COME, follow Him.  Oh...I realized that I had loved and admired and worshipped Jesus without doing what He did.  So I quit my life.  Originally it was to be temporary, just a year before I went back to normal Brentwood life and college.  It wasn't possible.  I had seen what life was about and I couldn't pretend I didn't know.  So I quit my life again, but for good this time.  I quit college, I quit my cute designer jeans, and my little yellow convertible.  I quit my boyfriend.  I no longer have everything that the world says is important.  BUT, I have everything that I know is important.  I have never been happier, and I have never been closer to the Lover of my Soul and my Savior.  JESUS wrecked my life, shattered it to put it back together more beautifully.  I am in LOVE with Him.  Period."

There just isn't any arguing with that.   Jesus' plan for our life is SO much more beautiful than which schools our kids get into, than which drapes we decided on, than whose name is on our shoes.  Jesus' plan for our life is more beautiful than the noble things we hold on to, too.  His plan is more beautiful than everything, because his plan gets Him us, and gets Him others.  All of those beautiful little Ugandan girls would not have had a mommy, especially not a mommy that told them about Jesus, if Katie had said 'No.'  If she had said that her car, house, comfort, friends and family were more important than Jesus.

Jennie says in  Anything "Until there is total surrender, there is no vision."  Until we decide Jesus is worth our 'anything' then I don't think we will know his plan for our life. We won't know what ministry he has called us to, we won't know his perfect plan.  He isn't going to give us a sneak peek so we can see if it is worth it.  We have to go all in.  We have to open up our sweaty palms and release the two-year-old-like grasp we have on our stuff.  

Ben and Lisa Morrell are a couple who have been in my Sunday school class for the last few years.  They came to Houston to receive treatment for the cancer he was diagnosed with just a few short weeks after they were married.  A couple of weeks ago, they headed back to Seattle.  They are living the rest of the time that God has given Ben at home.  With hospice.  As of yet, there has been no miraculous healing.  

Their 'anything' is probably the reason that most Christians won't pray it.  Their worst-case scenario has been coming to life in front of our very eyes.  But Ben and Lisa's journey has undoubtedly shown God and his grace to countless unbelievers.  Their stalwart faith in God and his goodness every step of the way has illuminated God and his love for us.  Their positive, yet realistic attitude every day has been....unreal.  I look at their status updates on Facebook and the peace that they have chosen to hold on to during this time points to a God who holds them in His hand, and to a plan that ends gloriously.

I don't know your 'anything.'  I am just beginning to see mine.  But the reality is, that if we are not willing to tell God that he can have anything, then we are settling for a dull, mediocre shell of a life that had nothing to do with God and nothing to do with eternity.  I don't want to go out like that.  I want to chase after what will still be around in eternity.  I want do what the God of the universe wants me to do, because you know what?  He knows more than me.  He knows the pain of giving up mediocre in this life will be miniscule compared to the joy of what we will gain, in this life and eternity.

And on the heels of Easter, it all of the sudden occurs to me that Jesus prayed 'anything' too. In the Garden of Gethsemane.  He cried, and he sweat blood and he prayed 'anything.'  Praise God, he prayed 'anything'.  Now we have the chance to, too.

Ben and Lisa will spend eternity with Jesus, be it in two months from now or fifty years.  And I have faith that they will have brought others there with them because of their love for Jesus and their agreement to his plan, to their 'anything.' Because their 'anything' showed Christ to those who hadn't seen him yet.

Katie will spend eternity with Jesus, and will undoubtedly not just have 14 or 15 beautiful Ugandan girls there with her, but hundreds or thousands of Ugandans AND Americans who were touched by her love and came to know about Jesus through her.

I will spend eternity with Jesus. I hope when I get there, I have more to tell him about than shoes and drapes and how comfortable I was.  I hope I can lay a life of the Gospel lived out at his feet.  I hope there will be others there with me who came to know Jesus because I lost my life and prayed 'anything.'

I hope that for you too.