tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18568537574342897692024-03-05T05:15:11.763-06:00BefriendOne Savior. Two Friends. Multiple Adventures on a Journey Shared.~Sarah~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18419381243159798351noreply@blogger.comBlogger140125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856853757434289769.post-46896282813700340762010-08-17T01:14:00.004-05:002010-08-17T01:57:22.708-05:00Making MemoriesOur week together has come and gone.<br />It flew by more quickly than I could even imagine possible.<br />There was laughter. There were tears.<br />There were long talks & quiet times, late nights & early mornings, times of reminiscing and, of course, making new memories.<br />It was wonderful. I am incredibly thankful for it; already dreaming ahead, as I smile, looking behind.<br /><br />~Heather~Heather~http://www.blogger.com/profile/03204663381708459474noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856853757434289769.post-73020496364362838722010-08-16T01:48:00.001-05:002010-08-17T01:54:14.037-05:00A glimpse...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMaq2WmCx-hNzvTv-A30-2xkACRWW5RTRISHtku53m_ZCTz_vV6vMT49jFnUFBwgqJZgCNu8GaA1ABP81jF1UrPKkBEOYsGnuKT2iGhFK4k6ZFYE29IHz2xd1Vq-mAEJMb-oq4EjUzHrU/s1600/ro.JPG"></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB-B1y9FHlMCQyaWNrX1Fb80nQaVITjJop0Hd_ZWVaQVIQ3hRFicjkcO8o6k7CsOcSKiZ7tMxdtLTUy-BIy1c3aqGU4O_i4AZWO36gAbzJtADJJvFM1jEh0XxOnWNZ7sgop5ySGY7Ds-A/s1600/palace.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 209px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506267837500292098" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB-B1y9FHlMCQyaWNrX1Fb80nQaVITjJop0Hd_ZWVaQVIQ3hRFicjkcO8o6k7CsOcSKiZ7tMxdtLTUy-BIy1c3aqGU4O_i4AZWO36gAbzJtADJJvFM1jEh0XxOnWNZ7sgop5ySGY7Ds-A/s320/palace.JPG" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF6ea3BCEzCZEjiDnUEfycNzLxw1zhvNqN34Ri9DSYYkSkKzOMdjQOLhBn6c6dNy8NyIWcT6r5gvgsEr9nphbeHrYn5rVehQ4os-GZlL-Ox6xo1V34yM2iaCNky6VZJIO8qXZF8BXBuok/s1600/in+car.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506267826185706834" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF6ea3BCEzCZEjiDnUEfycNzLxw1zhvNqN34Ri9DSYYkSkKzOMdjQOLhBn6c6dNy8NyIWcT6r5gvgsEr9nphbeHrYn5rVehQ4os-GZlL-Ox6xo1V34yM2iaCNky6VZJIO8qXZF8BXBuok/s320/in+car.JPG" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSCd_8AuXfNNoNMK68fO_iMkpLtz6Yp95ho7LtyV7gEPcpcBagWciMPMnN6pH0M-GSgB9JJa-lKoy0r5j_70JpnRe2VIOLUJNpb24X5JrUL3tjSXyTiQrmPXLSfP-FjGfeoURIRt1wWCo/s1600/boat.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506267820624406242" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSCd_8AuXfNNoNMK68fO_iMkpLtz6Yp95ho7LtyV7gEPcpcBagWciMPMnN6pH0M-GSgB9JJa-lKoy0r5j_70JpnRe2VIOLUJNpb24X5JrUL3tjSXyTiQrmPXLSfP-FjGfeoURIRt1wWCo/s320/boat.JPG" /></a> </div></div></div>~Heather~http://www.blogger.com/profile/03204663381708459474noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856853757434289769.post-82066779038072029022010-08-08T05:38:00.002-05:002010-08-08T05:55:01.500-05:00Eager AnticipationI'm honestly not sure how to feel or what to think. I have known for months now that today would come. But, now that it has arrived, I still don't think my heart knows what it means.<br /><br />Sarah is due to land in Delhi in about 4 hours. What will it feel like to see her today? What will my reaction be? What will I think? What will I do?<br /><br />Amidst all the uncertainties that are floating around my mind, this I know for sure: The Lord is good. He created a friendship between Sarah and I in a way that only He could. His plans are perfect. As I look back I see His unfailing love and faithfulness through each and every journey. I can hardly wait to see what He has in store for the days ahead! I smile as I wonder of what our days will include. I plan to savor each moment. What an amazing Father we serve.<br /><br />As I sit and wait, eagerly, with great anticipation, I am in awe of all that the Lord chooses to bless me with and count it pure joy to be His daughter, His princess.<br /><br />~Heather~Heather~http://www.blogger.com/profile/03204663381708459474noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856853757434289769.post-42633561992536733942010-08-07T09:55:00.002-05:002010-08-07T10:05:26.018-05:00To India I Go!This morning I sit less than 24 hours shy of stepping foot out of the country for the first time. I am not sure my mind has completely wrapped itself around the adventure that awaits! <div><br /></div><div>I think its funny that I am going to India, right now, when the world, and Julia Roberts, are so interested in eating, praying and loving in and around this country. But, I am not jealous of the adventure portrayed there. I am not longing to go to some spiritual country to find myself. I have already been found. Actually, I have been adopted, bought with a priced, sealed in a covenant with Christ. </div><div><br /></div><div>On the ground, in India, waits my best friend! That is why I am going. I am going to see a friend. Friendship is priceless. I spend a lot of days thanking the Lord for my singleness. Through singleness I have learned the value of a friend - both how to be one and what it is to have one. No ring on a finger to demand commitment, no DNA to require loyalty. Just grace and love - because He first showed us grace and love. </div><div><br /></div><div>Thank the Father with me for friendship. For His ability to sustain it. For allowing the plans He has for each of us to intersect, to weave in and out, and come together again. </div><div><br /></div><div>Pictures to come!!</div><div><br /></div><div>Sarah</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>~Sarah~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18419381243159798351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856853757434289769.post-54022803866995608022010-08-07T00:16:00.003-05:002010-08-07T00:35:57.521-05:00The Story of Katie Rose<span style="font-family:times new roman;">Storying!</span><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">This summer I fell in love with storying! When I first got my project confirmation email, and caught the title of it- "Storytelling Gurus" -I was a bit taken aback and afraid. What had I gotten myself into?</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Upon arrival in India, I became excited when I recived the storying materials. As I started learning stories, they came oh so naturally. I mean, one might expect that, because they are stories we grew up with, but I didn't expect to be so confindent. Usually I stumble over words and such, but once I learned these stories, all I wanted to do was share them! </span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">To watch the women learn as we shared was amazing. As they listened, despite the millions of constant distractions (kids, animals, etc), their eyes would light up as they began to truly understand who Jesus is and what He has done for them. And then to see some of them deciding to share the stories with others, as well! </span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">It is really rewarding when you are storying- you learn, you teach, God joins in, they learn, they share with others. God has truly blessed my life with this experience of storying. </span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">In fact, that is how I open when I speak with a group. I tell the story of the Great Commission, and say, "That's what I did... and this is what happened!" Because God is truly using these stories- His stories- to draw for Hinself a people for His own possession! I was so glad to be part of it!</span><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">~Katie Rose (a summer M-town guest)</span>~Heather~http://www.blogger.com/profile/03204663381708459474noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856853757434289769.post-22929870990188555952010-08-06T07:15:00.000-05:002010-08-08T07:26:43.529-05:00Prowling around like a lion..."Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour. Resist him, firm in your faith, knowing that the same kinds of suffering are being experienced by your brotherhood throughout the world."<br />1 Peter 5:8-9 ESV<br /><br />The Father is at work in and around M-town!<br />Therefore, the enemy is on the hunt in and around M-town.<br /><br />The Hindi is being learned. The stories are being shared. The light is being shone in the midst of great darkness.<br /><br />~Heather<br /><br />*Would you plead with the Father not to allow the enemy to be a discouragement, an obstacle?<br />*Would you ask Him to give His servants courage and boldness as we continue to seek to serve and share Him?~Heather~http://www.blogger.com/profile/03204663381708459474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856853757434289769.post-69517285282654596292010-08-06T06:17:00.001-05:002010-08-08T08:04:55.163-05:00J-NagarMy heart loves to teach. My heart loves a classroom setting. My teacher's heart is filled each time I get to visit J-Nagar.<br /><br />As the afternoon comes, I'm tired. As I think about boarding the hot bus, I'm exhausted. As I walk to the gate, I'm dragging.<br /><br />As I open the gate and move into the yard, 25 to 30 bouncing children rise to their feet to eagerly greet me. Somehow I'm not quite so tired. From somewhere comes a smile and an excitement, as I reach for my chalk.<br /><br />These children, who live in a slum and some who have never been to a formal school, take out their tattered notebooks and broken pencils. Somehow, over the months and through my limited Hindi, they have learned to read and write English.<br /><br />Their smiles beam as I praise them for a job well done. Their notebooks wave in the air, as I hear "M'am, Ji! M'am, Ji!," to receive my glance over their work and a word of approval. Their faces light up with understanding as they now sound out words to read a story from the chalkboard. "This is a true story from God's word," I say as I begin with the story portion of our lesson.<br /><br />These amazing children are learning stories from God's word in their heart language, reading and writing them in simple English, and blessing my sandals off while they do so! How I praise the Father who ordains our days.<br /><br />~Heather<br /><br />*Would you ask the Father to show the children of J-Nagar His truth through His stories?<br />*Would you ask the Father to draw these children and their families to a saving faith in who He is?~Heather~http://www.blogger.com/profile/03204663381708459474noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856853757434289769.post-17529320360299292352010-08-06T05:55:00.000-05:002010-08-08T06:15:51.965-05:00K-VilleAbout halfway between M-town and a smaller nearby town, sits a little village. K-ville is a place that only by the Lord's divine provision did we ever happen upon. Logistically, it makes no sense as to why it appeared on our radar. But, the Father is at work in K-ville.<br /><br />The first visits to K-ville included a few of the M-town summer guests, who call themselves the M-Girlz. They fell in love with this little place. They met a brand new sister who was excited to learn more about being a true follower. The M-Girlz visited in her home 5 or 6 times, sharing stories, singing songs, praying for neighbors and friends.<br /><br />The Father led me to accept the task of continuing visits to K-ville, to story, and to share His love and truth. Each week, I call our K-ville sister to let her know I am coming. Each week, she has not been home upon my arrival.<br /><br />However, the women of K-ville greet me, and beckon me to sit with them, to share a story, to sing His praises, to pray with them, and to help them in seeking Him. These women have not yet chosen to call Him, Father, but I trust that day will come.<br /><br />As I sit cross-legged on a rope woven cot pearched on a roof, I share God's story and see eyes and hearts engaged in soaking up His love and truth. Oh, how I long for the day that these women would choose to call Him, Father, and take His stories into the places that have yet to hear them.<br /><br />~Heather<br /><br />*Would you ask the Father to draw the K-ville women unto Himself?<br />*Would you ask the Father to allow my Hindi to continue to improve, to flow smoothly, to not be an obstacle in the understanding of His story?~Heather~http://www.blogger.com/profile/03204663381708459474noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856853757434289769.post-50614786006546303762010-08-05T07:14:00.000-05:002010-08-08T07:25:09.535-05:00My Heart's SongMay we run this race, may we keep the faith;<br />may our eyes be fixed on Jesus-<br />That we'll not lose heart in our struggle with sin,<br />and through suffering know endurance.<br /><br />May we arm ourselves with the mind of Christ-<br />To rejoice in trials and be not surprised.<br />May our hearts be so consumed by You,<br />That we never cease to praise!<br /><br />May our compnay be the saints you've called,<br />May we all stand firm in one spirit.<br />That the gospel's truth may resound on earth,<br />that all living things may hear it.<br /><br />May the fruits of faith mark the path we trod,<br />through the life of Christ to the Glory of God,<br />May our hearts be so comsumed by you,<br />That we never cease to praise!<br /><br />May the words we share be Your grace and peace;<br />May our tongues speak Your proclamation-<br />That the many parts of the body of Christ<br />be affirmed in their right relation.<br /><br />As we long and wait for the groom to come,<br />May we learn to love, and spur each other on.<br />May our hearts be so consumed by You,<br />That we never cease to praise!<br /><br />When that day arrives, and their race is won.<br />When our griefs give way to deliverance.<br />We will fully know as we're fully known,<br />All our groans will end as new songs begin.<br /><br />And a multitude from every tribe and tongue,<br />Wearing robes of white, will stand before Your throne,<br />And our hearts will be so consumed by You,<br />That we'll never cease to praise!<br /><br />~Heather (borrowed lyrics)~Heather~http://www.blogger.com/profile/03204663381708459474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856853757434289769.post-2647162210682812692010-07-27T08:56:00.006-05:002010-07-27T09:20:46.227-05:00Praising HimThere are so many people. There is so much darkness. It is easy to believe there is no one who truly believes, no one who praises Him with all their hearts.<br /><br />But, there are. They are here. They are singing His praises and seeking to share His name, to be a light in such a dark place.<br /><br />Worshipping in a second language and culture has always been somewhat difficult for me. I struggle to keep my mind engaged. I struggle to understand all that is taking place. It is just one of my hard things.<br /><br />Sunday, I worshipped with a group of fellowships. They meet together every couple of months, and meet in small groups for worship and fellowship weekly.<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498585120034923442" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWjP3_iwiDpVmfQQcscha614kyWWq1auY5VxJtjxj4bnH3ke5V15VPGkUbtY_hfIaSMXKsnZ4xs-V2SNTc8FYPQOjZws0Kk6Ihey7D7hM8DWiwFfSBh5F27k74ZDsKs2_y45iamd-i_2o/s320/IMG00029-20100725-1039.jpg" /><br /><br />Let me tell you, these brothers and sisters have a great time praising our Father. I have begun to learn their songs of praise and follow along as the message is shared. This sweet fellowship has allowed me to be part of who they are and what they do. It is so much fun!<br /><br />On a weekly basis, we are around 25 or 30, but this week, as we met as a group of fellowships, there were 300 or 350, maybe more. Weekly we meet on the front porch of a school, but this week, a building was provided. Let me promise, it was tight in there, with no room to spare (well, actually, there is always room for one more).<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498585124826355522" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBgRs1JNxAeCswBX_s75LY81goMMMlRjDWJOhFIUz-hf5b6y1EcPmrXibQSZ5yUefT3ZLh-nWX2NAY7FsnHYohO4N9w0OTRH-LGblyKyGU69WB5JYMQN-Q1ufElgo-qZt0td_F51JJDrY/s320/IMG00024-20100725-1026.jpg" /><br />I love to sing out praises to our God. I love for my voice to get lost in a sea of voices singing out. Oh, how my cup is filled to overflowing as our amazing God gives so much more than we ask. How I praise Him for the blessings He bestows.<br /><br />~Heather~Heather~http://www.blogger.com/profile/03204663381708459474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856853757434289769.post-84705240721961580582010-07-24T11:25:00.003-05:002010-07-24T11:28:21.406-05:00It's Raining! It's Pouring!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPH-B11o7RzxVAHOGyeVKLz_Oj9PcvEAHfVn8KAII337JwV_JUHTbUClGAwH-28K28W1rFqhyphenhyphenX8Nw3hJWcZBo2QAEzNYIvSHFRZy5nSZ32v-lzrWvEmZtSH4GuXkul65j99HqbMp5f68M/s1600/IMG00019-20100724-1720.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497510024064049762" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPH-B11o7RzxVAHOGyeVKLz_Oj9PcvEAHfVn8KAII337JwV_JUHTbUClGAwH-28K28W1rFqhyphenhyphenX8Nw3hJWcZBo2QAEzNYIvSHFRZy5nSZ32v-lzrWvEmZtSH4GuXkul65j99HqbMp5f68M/s320/IMG00019-20100724-1720.jpg" /></a> <div> </div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBiDWNzWs-yrzuafvAxYXqqP6L4_8XA3_wnQpB8vshipzoHLpQzgsC12IyFYbayG8lLFnpgx-Q-MhFD96k2Fnswscu12KorK6Ff9EbPmTGrov2S8isp-N3X1oKH11TQAla2u_SPd9UeXk/s1600/IMG00021-20100724-1745.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497510014765703282" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBiDWNzWs-yrzuafvAxYXqqP6L4_8XA3_wnQpB8vshipzoHLpQzgsC12IyFYbayG8lLFnpgx-Q-MhFD96k2Fnswscu12KorK6Ff9EbPmTGrov2S8isp-N3X1oKH11TQAla2u_SPd9UeXk/s320/IMG00021-20100724-1745.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p>~Heather</p>~Heather~http://www.blogger.com/profile/03204663381708459474noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856853757434289769.post-59966672003144442022010-07-22T05:11:00.003-05:002010-07-22T05:16:49.070-05:00Pothole LaneA glimpse of what Pothole Lane looks like today:<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn56nYoikswD4sIdaQo4EAwyEir1C5RI1H_kmSgVcq2FFFZakoTJoVn7id18GS0JNExfv1VhknPof-jX3PomdtJEsOEUs0g7yM0BMHZo6hKFsj-OSfF10v8rcd424_fNsA7SnotX40HqE/s1600/IMG00017-20100722-1534.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496671909409941570" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn56nYoikswD4sIdaQo4EAwyEir1C5RI1H_kmSgVcq2FFFZakoTJoVn7id18GS0JNExfv1VhknPof-jX3PomdtJEsOEUs0g7yM0BMHZo6hKFsj-OSfF10v8rcd424_fNsA7SnotX40HqE/s320/IMG00017-20100722-1534.jpg" /></a><br /><div>It is certainly holding up to its name! Just getting home is an adventure.</div><div> </div><div>~Heather</div>~Heather~http://www.blogger.com/profile/03204663381708459474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856853757434289769.post-88631001096444003682010-07-13T12:04:00.004-05:002010-07-13T13:00:40.014-05:00Summer BlursThe summer season has given way to monsoon season.<br /><br />I don't really know where the summer went. It whizzed by in a blur.<br /><br />I do love the rain that has now come. I do not love the humidity or ants that it brings, but I do love the dark clouds and the sounds of children laughing and playing as the rains fall.<br /><br />This summer has been like no other. It has been absolutely incredible. It has been absolutely exhausting. The Father is so faithful. He is at work!<br /><br />My summer included many guests. Some came for a couple of weeks, others for a couple of months.<br /><br />They persevered. They served. They loved. They encouraged. They shared stories to those who had never heard. There is nothing more I could have asked.<br /><br />They were truly a delight.<br /><br />~Heather~Heather~http://www.blogger.com/profile/03204663381708459474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856853757434289769.post-5259064907650743822010-07-12T12:47:00.002-05:002010-07-13T13:04:56.925-05:00villages<div align="left">I love my time in the village. </div><div align="left">I love telling stories. I love hearing stories. </div><div align="left">I love a slow paced lifestyle. I love that no one knows what time it is. </div><div align="left">I love that people are patient with my limited Hindi. </div><div align="left">I love that they are eager to hear the stories of truth, stories they have not heard before. </div><div align="left">I love that the Father is at work.</div><div align="left">I love that the Father is drawing these people unto Himself.</div><div align="left">I love that the Father is increasing His number daily.</div><p align="left"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ58hRq0d6ooQTPblnVW3j9fgMjM87y7aJblfO9rOfZ8QgUcE3HqU6awjf8SXKpWu39krb3fYooZ02mea4Rnm-3sOKIGPKzHtdyXfyBteDcVIA6z2oMwCJNumXXUgwMROd5cAvgGOrOV8/s1600/DSCN5132.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493449904365718034" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ58hRq0d6ooQTPblnVW3j9fgMjM87y7aJblfO9rOfZ8QgUcE3HqU6awjf8SXKpWu39krb3fYooZ02mea4Rnm-3sOKIGPKzHtdyXfyBteDcVIA6z2oMwCJNumXXUgwMROd5cAvgGOrOV8/s320/DSCN5132.JPG" /></a> Most villages have a tube pump that supplies water for the entire village.</p><div align="left"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF9qG8oiHPWs2VGiS20XMzSbrOxvIGrnJwWi57bQX1WaWNacM5P4QBMQ-uNUBCxQC6VeZG8KRRexVBCY62fJRk200HiWrwi1Lo3VlcfAV53BnqGMRSrECUGzMZDcQzp1a1fxyVQSTNHX0/s1600/DSCN5013.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493449902435162978" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF9qG8oiHPWs2VGiS20XMzSbrOxvIGrnJwWi57bQX1WaWNacM5P4QBMQ-uNUBCxQC6VeZG8KRRexVBCY62fJRk200HiWrwi1Lo3VlcfAV53BnqGMRSrECUGzMZDcQzp1a1fxyVQSTNHX0/s320/DSCN5013.JPG" /></a> The girls love to draw on my hands with henna, </div><div align="left">creating designs that serve as a temporary tatoo which lasts for a week, or so.<br /><br /></div><p align="left"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeLwOegD_qb93ogqSWnxqtuHYq-bkLL366pYpaRLqpHEBVVhVdY8h27UcYMtmNGviIlQOpmU5v4cC2u7YHhxi2E0YQjhxN02BhjRIE9RM4SR6pJ49sv4GpDt7cYd-Pzcu8LL2Zgl15bfs/s1600/IMG_0800.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493449887901220146" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeLwOegD_qb93ogqSWnxqtuHYq-bkLL366pYpaRLqpHEBVVhVdY8h27UcYMtmNGviIlQOpmU5v4cC2u7YHhxi2E0YQjhxN02BhjRIE9RM4SR6pJ49sv4GpDt7cYd-Pzcu8LL2Zgl15bfs/s320/IMG_0800.JPG" /></a><br />There is never any telling who will join you on village visits.<br />( I laugh as I write this. There are pigs 50 yards from my front door now. Sometimes I think I live in the jungle, or on the farm, or at least in a zoo!)<br /><br /></p><div align="left">~Heather </div>~Heather~http://www.blogger.com/profile/03204663381708459474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856853757434289769.post-45069781639928936232010-07-12T12:31:00.001-05:002010-07-13T13:05:57.841-05:00transportationThere was quite an array of modes of transportation as we trekked out to villages each day this summer.<br /><br />We rode bus, lots and lots of buses, with lots and lots of people.<br />We rode bicycle rickshaws.<br />We rode people movers, which are golf cart type structures in which 10 - 12 people pile in.<br />We rode ox carts and buffalo carts.<br />We rode on tractors.<br />We rode on anything that was moving in the right direction and allowed us to hop on.<br />And, the Indian philosophy: There is always room for 1 more passenger, always!<br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmjyQiLI4oYgMF3lDXr5IlxkXthLrshZb1z-bTT4jD8sEFt8nULpOfZoUBTOqqoIyybfgmOI6e_5gGB_SGf_0e8xt5Lz4a03RH3_lgmiQU0ezr5utN_fcahhKnA2W-AXXuPp2uDcyLu44/s1600/DSCN5124.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493445872941450674" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmjyQiLI4oYgMF3lDXr5IlxkXthLrshZb1z-bTT4jD8sEFt8nULpOfZoUBTOqqoIyybfgmOI6e_5gGB_SGf_0e8xt5Lz4a03RH3_lgmiQU0ezr5utN_fcahhKnA2W-AXXuPp2uDcyLu44/s320/DSCN5124.JPG" /></a> We rode on horse carts </div><div align="center">(which was the roughest ride I have ever had, </div><div align="center">but that may have had more to do with the condition of the road...).<br /></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQrEGivOfUCJvBPOeDpbR70iAE2S7YE4mkrKglhM5a2FEOG2ZvsYgTzX6YFHkrDJnL6juW5ua2XpsMLfD93gHlnGN-IOOo-heT02ilahYyZdwCgc7TGVua6LqdZptpSKMky5ne9GoGTFo/s1600/IMG_0804.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493445859085049666" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQrEGivOfUCJvBPOeDpbR70iAE2S7YE4mkrKglhM5a2FEOG2ZvsYgTzX6YFHkrDJnL6juW5ua2XpsMLfD93gHlnGN-IOOo-heT02ilahYyZdwCgc7TGVua6LqdZptpSKMky5ne9GoGTFo/s320/IMG_0804.JPG" /></a> We rode on cable cars.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOZAt4Pg_Wy5Yzh-eDVSHe345X9zlo9-osxZ4-dhDvs1H2YNCzWNJ2sbBEyl3ooT0wWbRIvhRW1bDoB8jTA9LeHpebzZ90z-0OGWH8JY_2sGYNMSpuM4KwMMoxVSdx4T7_YVbqMqm_Nz8/s1600/DSCN5016.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493445857957993586" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOZAt4Pg_Wy5Yzh-eDVSHe345X9zlo9-osxZ4-dhDvs1H2YNCzWNJ2sbBEyl3ooT0wWbRIvhRW1bDoB8jTA9LeHpebzZ90z-0OGWH8JY_2sGYNMSpuM4KwMMoxVSdx4T7_YVbqMqm_Nz8/s320/DSCN5016.JPG" /></a> We rode on these trucks, standing in the bed of the truck with 50 (or so) other passengers.<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinvL900SbZU9Kv7R37AB8XehA4EGllqSH1stkWn08NsG-pKPFukjQSM9MsT70JaqjmYQe7kQrBrg6LW6Mpv34iW6oux-xa_YXxQykzI6ZA7ZFL4p3I_8OJzNx73Ocx8mOGfZZ_aRDTdQE/s1600/DSCN5108.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493445848533129650" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinvL900SbZU9Kv7R37AB8XehA4EGllqSH1stkWn08NsG-pKPFukjQSM9MsT70JaqjmYQe7kQrBrg6LW6Mpv34iW6oux-xa_YXxQykzI6ZA7ZFL4p3I_8OJzNx73Ocx8mOGfZZ_aRDTdQE/s320/DSCN5108.JPG" /></a> But, mostly we walked, and walked, and walked, and walked.</div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">~Heather<br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div></div></div>~Heather~http://www.blogger.com/profile/03204663381708459474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856853757434289769.post-38948864616903936352010-07-12T12:26:00.000-05:002010-07-13T12:31:39.671-05:00A day at the Ganga<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIAOxe5CQE2RLrg5qMVWodDsjvzY_laCU_C3PUipc7FDe57EsbsNvsrs1Afi0OS9M3i3b76MYqqeOaKiwEnpTERk1k4I1OijVuSGeMBheYDQB0lZfK0D6MrDiF2ArMQRlXtZdGQFzbPgE/s1600/IMG_0881.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493443729591942562" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIAOxe5CQE2RLrg5qMVWodDsjvzY_laCU_C3PUipc7FDe57EsbsNvsrs1Afi0OS9M3i3b76MYqqeOaKiwEnpTERk1k4I1OijVuSGeMBheYDQB0lZfK0D6MrDiF2ArMQRlXtZdGQFzbPgE/s320/IMG_0881.JPG" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmbGBerZM58X6P35tSS3CZAgu2GXwqUzJuBOBKcYKBexQKEjxPaXonWv4A0Yjzl_vOoq2H4F4vy3LRzgmBXBc1mqW2Wxxy-PckQdb_kfZKY7GYBptpDnHqeOD8lomuCpfn5jpvAzuchKY/s1600/IMG_0855.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493443718657467970" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmbGBerZM58X6P35tSS3CZAgu2GXwqUzJuBOBKcYKBexQKEjxPaXonWv4A0Yjzl_vOoq2H4F4vy3LRzgmBXBc1mqW2Wxxy-PckQdb_kfZKY7GYBptpDnHqeOD8lomuCpfn5jpvAzuchKY/s320/IMG_0855.JPG" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQh4e2RiFAPC_KivFAlLMiopbb0PzJ-1P-XaI__ZG8pUgSUUVWgLPZXpvvYEKLlFvAhiT-wBIK6t8rMfGPcIWBNmW4Pox_uqCPdQZ9_LEKjcWmdv5pdCOz9OQou5VPjjqgX43CkPUxbIY/s1600/DSCN4932.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493443708274074562" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQh4e2RiFAPC_KivFAlLMiopbb0PzJ-1P-XaI__ZG8pUgSUUVWgLPZXpvvYEKLlFvAhiT-wBIK6t8rMfGPcIWBNmW4Pox_uqCPdQZ9_LEKjcWmdv5pdCOz9OQou5VPjjqgX43CkPUxbIY/s320/DSCN4932.JPG" /></a><br /><div>The worship of a river is something I will never be able to wrap my mind around. There were more at the Ganga on this day than I had ever seen before. The fire and flowers are a form of worship. Baths are taken in the river with the belief that the water will cleanse people from their sins. May these devoted worshippers come to know and worship the Creator.</div><div> </div><div align="right">~Heather</div></div></div>~Heather~http://www.blogger.com/profile/03204663381708459474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856853757434289769.post-20152897742523062322010-07-12T12:22:00.000-05:002010-07-13T12:25:55.415-05:00Sending them out 2 by 2<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFCwomjwcpZU00OjLq9VrdUQf0W2DcNopG9okTOQ291EJj51BI7euZug7Lq-av_hdf799KTpk6q0qNFMPbsnk_B4Q2EusjRXeb-7jUOp6U2pYUA6LOXeTKnQ4ZVTOmim7jnUdmfmhkJSE/s1600/DSCN4667.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493443127976079922" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFCwomjwcpZU00OjLq9VrdUQf0W2DcNopG9okTOQ291EJj51BI7euZug7Lq-av_hdf799KTpk6q0qNFMPbsnk_B4Q2EusjRXeb-7jUOp6U2pYUA6LOXeTKnQ4ZVTOmim7jnUdmfmhkJSE/s320/DSCN4667.JPG" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNZPIWoelhbQemWJBQIpWAWbu9RVuFciwqGQGZWMuNF6-wzlkgpvoXBsZSwRddJ8m9I70yJ9tPifc3INahHcFBKYTBY9tjGndVQTrXdPC_7SL089z6sKG4RGSAXHiP4sc_-GPXcsbGJFo/s1600/DSCN0237.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493443117879167586" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNZPIWoelhbQemWJBQIpWAWbu9RVuFciwqGQGZWMuNF6-wzlkgpvoXBsZSwRddJ8m9I70yJ9tPifc3INahHcFBKYTBY9tjGndVQTrXdPC_7SL089z6sKG4RGSAXHiP4sc_-GPXcsbGJFo/s320/DSCN0237.JPG" /></a> ~Heather <div></div></div>~Heather~http://www.blogger.com/profile/03204663381708459474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856853757434289769.post-32332771274936490552010-07-12T12:15:00.000-05:002010-07-13T12:22:12.409-05:00Village Wedding<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgixzQOvZvqwZJ-uom2KHDsn_-mCuEfoGMKb8WyOm4v0iPdoe60zzqmGRtBysZf8XNAD6Lr-SjlegY65JDeZ1UIEXwkKhXFKSn9okSbEZIZlJpDq38gJmFLYnRf9foLwhIk7iUPImyiZ38/s1600/DSCN4755.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493441602736303794" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgixzQOvZvqwZJ-uom2KHDsn_-mCuEfoGMKb8WyOm4v0iPdoe60zzqmGRtBysZf8XNAD6Lr-SjlegY65JDeZ1UIEXwkKhXFKSn9okSbEZIZlJpDq38gJmFLYnRf9foLwhIk7iUPImyiZ38/s320/DSCN4755.JPG" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMOv4JrMkxBbhq30UiCXAPKP2SmWhTEV8PZmiLND8IWeor1p69Bs53C8MdxT4qthOPfTO1K1IZel57dtXsGpbkoc3NQSQ-S6Bnon316QRNh0NII3HA_cjHg1wcBVWM4-4rNNZcIH-buXk/s1600/DSC01229.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493441596517963250" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMOv4JrMkxBbhq30UiCXAPKP2SmWhTEV8PZmiLND8IWeor1p69Bs53C8MdxT4qthOPfTO1K1IZel57dtXsGpbkoc3NQSQ-S6Bnon316QRNh0NII3HA_cjHg1wcBVWM4-4rNNZcIH-buXk/s320/DSC01229.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin_LB8pqhQvhSEuiWJIXrNbhC4H5Wb-z3_bKvSu2H2Wy2shQ3F3ad-hlYhjaIxQJ2Mb1xjFipbHxD2GAlFd_k3McCS478mwXSTIxGlrlR1kBIgaY4iEiTCahyphenhyphenvQOzXn6yWKrXa-9wP4bI/s1600/DSC01211.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493441574248373714" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin_LB8pqhQvhSEuiWJIXrNbhC4H5Wb-z3_bKvSu2H2Wy2shQ3F3ad-hlYhjaIxQJ2Mb1xjFipbHxD2GAlFd_k3McCS478mwXSTIxGlrlR1kBIgaY4iEiTCahyphenhyphenvQOzXn6yWKrXa-9wP4bI/s320/DSC01211.JPG" /></a> ~Heather <div></div></div></div>~Heather~http://www.blogger.com/profile/03204663381708459474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856853757434289769.post-75878616750919455372010-05-09T17:14:00.010-05:002010-05-12T07:09:29.153-05:00Moses' Mother<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; ">"The woman conceived and bore a son, and when she saw he was a fine child, she hid him for three months. When she could hide him no longer, she took for him a basket made of bulrushes and daubed it with bitumen and pitch. She put the child in it and placed it among the reeds in the river." Exodus 2:2-3, ESV</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;">To hold something tightly, clinging to it, protecting it, is a natural reaction. We all can name items, people or memories that we have held onto with a death grip. Laying those things down, offering them over, as sacrifice, to the Lord, is a completely different action. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Luke, recording Stephen's speech, in the book of Acts, notes that when Moses was born he was "beautiful in God's sight." (Acts 7:20) He was a precious child, indeed. He would go on to lead Israel out of slavery. He would be a conduit, through which, God preformed miracles, signs and wonders. Moses' mother saw that he was fine. She saw more than the beauty a mother finds in the face of her every child. She saw more than her eyes, his father's hair, ten finger, ten toes. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">For three months, this precious woman, quietened her beautiful baby boy. Kept him closely to her, out of sight, rocked and loved him in secret in order to protect his life. The writer of Hebrews notes that Moses' parents hid him "in <a href="http://www.esvstudybible.org/search?q=Heb+11%3A23tp://"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#6600CC;">faith</span></a>." </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">What happens next is remarkably fascinating. With resolve, Moses' mother begins to make a basket. A task she has surely done before. She begins to weave and paste, weave and paste, a basket for precious cargo, for sacrifice, for faith. This time she would not carry bread to a neighbor. She would not return with a basket full of produce from the market. She would not carry flowers from the field to grace her home. She would place her son in this basket. This son, beautiful in the sight of God, was no longer small enough, quite enough, to keep concealed. Still, the child was fine. Still, Moses was to be used by the Lord. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Did she cry? As she placed this beautiful boy in her handmade basket, did she shed tears of sorrow? Did she quietly kiss his cheeks and sing to him the song she had sung all her children? Did she give him one last squeeze and smell his hair? </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">She placed Moses in the basket, the basket in the river, and her hope in knowing what Moses found would be better than the death that awaits him, in her home, should he be found out. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">If you continue to read, you will find that Moses' was found. He was spared. And, his mother? She was paid to nurse and raise him. In giving up her son, she received him back with blessing. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I do not have children. I am not a mother. I am content in my station in life. I love that the Lord has led me into families to love and care for their little ones. My heart is overjoyed when I get to love on, teach, discipline and watch these precious people learn and grow. But, from time to time I feel the desire to one day have children of my own. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I do not ponder this desire long before I am reminded of Moses' mother. I think about her resolve, her understanding; and, mostly about her faith. To construct a basket, knowing is was a boat, and walk to the river, holding a child. To then kneel down, prepare the basket, love her son one last time, and lay him down. To walk to the river's edge, wade in just a bit, so as to make sure she can gently place the basket in the water.....and release her son to the sovereignty of God. This is motherhood. To know the child your bore is not yours, but the Father's. To know that you have been called to present this child, this gift, back to Him, for His purpose. To recognize the beauty of the child lies in what God has fashioned for their future. To hold a child so closely, so protectively, and let him go at the same time. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I do not merely want to have children..... I want to be Moses' mother. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Happy Mother's Day.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">~Sarah</div>~Sarah~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18419381243159798351noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856853757434289769.post-4444315267555276312010-05-04T20:29:00.003-05:002010-05-04T20:50:48.920-05:00Help Tennessee<div><br /></div><div><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Georgia, serif;font-size:130%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Helvetica, serif;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;"></span></span></span></span></p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Georgia, serif;font-size:130%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Helvetica, serif;font-size:100%;"><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><img src="webkit-fake-url://EB5ACD39-F5D1-4F4D-BC2C-3D3CE84E0E36/photo.php.jpg" alt="photo.php.jpg" /></p></span></span><p></p></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>It seems the time has come to help because its the right thing to do. The opportunity has risen to help because you know that should you find yourself floating in a boat, outside your home, you would want someone to empathize. The time has come to realize that devastation knows no tax bracket, industry, neighborhood or people group. Now is the time to help without the prompt of media, movie star or philanthropic trend. In the past few days, cars have been submerged in Wal-Mart parking lots, a portable school building has <i>floated</i> down the interstate as though it were a houseboat on the Cumberland, and people have lost immeasurably. In the past few days, Middle Tennessee has needed our help; but, we have gone largely unaware. <div><br /></div><div>Please take the time to do what you can. </div><div><br /></div><div>www.middletennredcross.org</div><div><br /></div><div>www.hon.org</div><div><br /></div><div>www.secondharvestmidtn.org</div><div><br /></div><div>www.cfmt.org</div>~Sarah~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18419381243159798351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856853757434289769.post-83541600029011764852010-05-02T04:18:00.002-05:002010-05-02T04:22:29.393-05:00surrender<em>Lord, today I present myself to you as a living sacrifice. I long to be a vessel of honor, sanctified for your use, so today I surrender to your transforming, immeasurable, undeserved love, grace, and forgiveness. I commit myself to live in obedience to your will.</em><br /><br />~Heather~Heather~http://www.blogger.com/profile/03204663381708459474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856853757434289769.post-21517993096790276982010-04-24T21:59:00.010-05:002010-05-11T11:37:28.989-05:00Guinevere<div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-STYLE: italic; BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;">(I have to give props to a college classmate of mine for the template of this post. Melissa is journaling through </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-STYLE: italic; BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;">life and country lyrics for a year. Recalling memories, brokenness and recurring question, she highlights the </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-STYLE: italic; BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">existential underpinnings of a country song. Check her </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><a href="http://www.365daysofcountrymusic.com/">blog</a></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> out!)</span></span></span><br /></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;"><i><br /></i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;"><i><br /></i></span><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px"><span class="Apple-style-span">I love m</span><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">usic - songwriting to be exact. In life, there exists themes,events,thoughts,feelings,hunches, understanding, truths beyond the bounds of grammar and proper punctuation. Its a shame we do not appreciate the artistic brethren among us. People in the arts, at times, communicate elements in life that seem to evade our limited language. It's not solely in the words said, or the melody composed, the stage set or dance moved...its the whole lot of it put together at once, in cadence, syncopated, metered, segmented only to rise, fall and come together leaving you hanging on a note, a word, an idea. It's the expression that captures what we all want to say - what we know, but are at a loss to expound upon. It's as if those in the arts understand certain things better that the rest of us - like they can see in ways others cannot.</span></span></span><br /></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1px"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">A few days ago, my local country music station played the newest Eli Young Band </span></span><a href="http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/s/Guinevere/2fF7X2"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">single</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">.</span></span></span><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-STYLE: italic; BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;">She's got a bumper like a billboard</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-STYLE: italic; BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;">Covered in stickers of her favorite bands</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-STYLE: italic; BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;">She's got a handful of records that she turns to</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-STYLE: italic; BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;">When she needs to land</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-STYLE: italic; BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;">She's a saturday night parade through the streets</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-STYLE: italic; BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;">That all eyes come to see including me</span><br /></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;"><i><br /></i></span><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-STYLE: italic; BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;">She carries memories around like souvenirs down in her pockets</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-STYLE: italic; BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;">She should have let some go by now but can't seem to drop it</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-STYLE: italic; BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;">Says forgiveness ain't nothing but a lifeless tire on the shoulder of her soul</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-STYLE: italic; BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;">That never rolls</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;"></span></span></span></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"><em>For as much as she stumbled she's runnin'</em></span></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"><em>For as much as she runs she's still here</em></span></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"><em>Always hopin' to find something quicker than heaven</em></span></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"><em>To make the damage of her days disappear</em></span></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><em>Just like Guinevere</em><br /></span></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-STYLE: italic; BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;"></span><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-STYLE: italic; BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;">She don't hold on to nothin' new for very long</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-STYLE: italic; BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;">She writes you in as just one more tale and then you're gone</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-STYLE: italic; BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;">Cause she once fell hard cause she dropped her guard</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-STYLE: italic; BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;">And no one gets to stay</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-STYLE: italic; BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;">It's just too late</span><br /></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;"><i><br /></i></span><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-STYLE: italic; BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;">For as much as she stumbled she's runnin'</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-STYLE: italic; BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;">For as much as she runs she still here</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-STYLE: italic; BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;">Always hoping to find something quicker than heaven</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-STYLE: italic; BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;">To make the damage of her days disappear</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-STYLE: italic; BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;">Just like Guinevere</span><br /></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;"><i><br /></i></span><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 16px; WHITE-SPACE: pre; BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;">Listening to this song, I was reminded of why I desire to counsel. There exists all around us beautiful </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 16px; WHITE-SPACE: pre; BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;">people carrying around </span></span></span></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 16px; WHITE-SPACE: pre; BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;">eclectic hurts in blue jean pockets. Men and women holding onto to life's </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 16px; WHITE-SPACE: pre; BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;">experience for meaning, trusting the feeling of song</span></span></span></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 16px; WHITE-SPACE: pre; BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;">and living under the power of their brokenness.</span><br /></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 16px; WHITE-SPACE: pre; BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 16px; WHITE-SPACE: pre; BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;">People. Its about people. People who are loved or not. People who parade through life, elusive as the </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 16px; WHITE-SPACE: pre; BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;">summer day is hot. People</span></span></span></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 16px; WHITE-SPACE: pre; BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;">whose mess is hard to avoid or whose pride sops it up as best it can. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 16px; WHITE-SPACE: pre; BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;">People who run long and hard and wake up to find they are </span></span></span></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 16px; WHITE-SPACE: pre; BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;">in the very spot they have tried for years </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 16px; WHITE-SPACE: pre; BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;">to leave. People looking for a quick fix, an infomercial for happiness, a drive thru menu </span></span></span></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 16px; WHITE-SPACE: pre; BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;">of solutions</span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 16px; WHITE-SPACE: pre; BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;">to life's problem. People, just like Guinevere, are a beautiful mess.</span><br /></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 16px; WHITE-SPACE: pre; BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 16px; WHITE-SPACE: pre; BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;">Yes, its about people. The real kind. The kind that are only beginning to realize their messiness. The kind that </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 16px; WHITE-SPACE: pre; BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;">are eclipsed by their brokenness. </span></span></span></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 16px; WHITE-SPACE: pre; BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;">The kind that have a heart full of questions. The hurting. The unsure. The all</span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 16px; WHITE-SPACE: pre; BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;">of us kind.</span><br /></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 16px; WHITE-SPACE: pre; BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 16px; WHITE-SPACE: pre; BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;">All of us. Its about all of us and our broken, fallen, sinful state. It's about the Savior who came to walk through </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 16px; WHITE-SPACE: pre; BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;">all earth has to offer. </span></span></span></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 16px; WHITE-SPACE: pre; BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;">It's about Him making it through this earthly life unstained. About Him taking </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 16px; WHITE-SPACE: pre; BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;">our stain, our sin, upon Himself. About Him taking the</span></span></span></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 16px; WHITE-SPACE: pre; BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;">ramification of our mess upon himself. About Him </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 16px; WHITE-SPACE: pre; BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;">making peace with God, bringing redemption, a chance at new life, through his sacrifice </span></span></span></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 16px; WHITE-SPACE: pre; BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;">for people everywhere,</span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 16px; WHITE-SPACE: pre; BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;">just like Guinevere.</span><br /></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 16px; WHITE-SPACE: pre; BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 16px; WHITE-SPACE: pre; BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;">I stand five classes and eight months shy of a Master's in Christian Counseling. As I ready myself for the </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 16px; WHITE-SPACE: pre; BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;">last leg of this race, I listen to </span></span></span></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 16px; WHITE-SPACE: pre; BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">this song over and over increasing reminded of the adventure the Lord has begun to take me on. It is my prayer that the Guineveres </span></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 16px; WHITE-SPACE: pre; BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">placed in my path will write me in their tale long enough to see that Christ wants to stay.</span></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 16px; WHITE-SPACE: pre; BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 16px; WHITE-SPACE: pre; BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 16px; WHITE-SPACE: pre; BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-size:small;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 16px; WHITE-SPACE: pre; BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">~Sarah</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-family:verdana, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="BORDER-COLLAPSE: collapse; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 1px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 1pxfont-family:verdana;font-size:9;"><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: right"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 16px; WHITE-SPACE: prefont-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div></span><br /></span>~Sarah~http://www.blogger.com/profile/18419381243159798351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856853757434289769.post-40848594111635337102010-04-23T06:10:00.006-05:002010-04-23T06:20:07.767-05:00every hour<div align="center"><em>I need Thee every hour, most gracious Lord,</em></div><div align="center"><em>No tender voice like thine can peace afford.</em></div><br /><div align="center"><em>I need Thee,</em></div><div align="center"><em>Oh, I need Thee,</em></div><div align="center"><em>Every hour I need Thee,</em></div><div align="center"><em>Oh, bless me now my Savior,</em></div><div align="center"><em>I come to Thee.</em></div><br />~Heather~Heather~http://www.blogger.com/profile/03204663381708459474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856853757434289769.post-43237994327181527052010-04-21T12:13:00.006-05:002010-04-21T12:29:44.797-05:00SOPI is coming! (or, has come...)SOPI is the language assessment that determines the level at which Hindi speaker is performing.<br /><br />As I was hurrying on my way to catch the bus to teach in the village, I was stopped on the road by a polite young man on a bicycle. He asked, in his very best english, if I was the named person on the envelope. And, since Cathy & I are the only foreigners in the area and Heather is certainly not a Hindi name, he had a 50/50 chance. I quickly signed for and accepted the envelope, and headed on my way. I stuffed it into my bag and went on with my day.<br /><br />Once I returned home from the day's adventures, I found the light yellow envelope I had stuffed into my bag only a few hours before. It still remains unopened on my table. I know what is inside. The SOPI arrived today. So, I will complete the SOPI on my Friday afternoon, that is American Friday, April 30th, morning.<br /><br />Any and all prayers would be greatly appreciated.<br /><br />I do know that I will indeed survive this time, however, I would very much like to do very well (as some of you may know, I am a little bit of an over-achiever sometimes). The Father has already taught me so much and shown me more of himself through this intensive language learning time. It is my deepest prayer that he will allow me to more fluently share who he is with those around me.<br /><br />~Heather~Heather~http://www.blogger.com/profile/03204663381708459474noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1856853757434289769.post-25652327775760011762010-04-21T10:57:00.003-05:002010-04-21T11:17:25.260-05:00A Different Kind of ClassroomToday was one of the days I look forward to. After language, I headed out to the village where I help to teach now and then. It is a long, hot bus ride, but once I have arrived, that doesn't seem to matter to me anymore.<br /><br />I'm pretty sure that the children teach me more than I teach them, anyways!<br /><br />I was warmly (and loudly) greeted by the children as I went searching for my glasses, and hankie to wipe my face. We all settled in and began our usual English lessons. These children have learned so much. I am so proud of them. They were sounding out sentences today, which is a long way from only knowing letter names of capital letters a few months ago. They were even telling me the meaning of the sentences in Hindi to show that they were not only reading, but comprehending! It was a good day.<br /><br />After I had written a sentence on the chalkboard that was propped against an outside tree stump, I gave the children a few moments to write the sentence and look at the words before we read it together. My mind began to reflect on my previous teaching eperiences and how today was so different from any I have had before.<br /><br />The children age from maybe 5 to 12 or 13 years old. They are dressed in clothes that have been discarded by others. They were only able to write the sentences I gave them because I also supplied the pencil. The chalk almost allowed me to write legibly on the chalkboard. There was at least one puppy that ran between my feet and the underside of an old couch that had been pulled up. One of the students, who is likely 6 or 7 years old, had to bring her 2 year old brother with her because he was her responsiblity today. He was not planning to sit quietly while we all had school, to say the least. The teacher's almost 3 year old sang songs from a few feet away from the make-shift classroom, and the teacher nursed her 5 month old baby girl. All this in the hour and a half that I taught English, Hindi and Math!<br /><br />Is this the classroom I dreamed of as I studied at Auburn? It isn't even close. But it is the one the Father had planned for me today, and there isn't anywhere else I would have rather been. How he blesses us far beyond anything we could ask or imagine!<br /><br />~Heather<br /><br />*Thank the Father for such an amazing opportunity.<br />*Ask the Father to allow these children, and their families, to come to know and trust only him.~Heather~http://www.blogger.com/profile/03204663381708459474noreply@blogger.com0