Zion

Good things grow in barren-looking places.  In the crevices of the red red rock sprouts life abundant, pressing out through where there is no soil to where there is only glaring sun.  Hanging from the rocky ceiling, the gardens creep along the cracks fed by misty drips from the last rain. 

I am reminded of home, where maybe it sometimes seems like no good thing could grow but a where really a veritable garden of good things are rooting and pressing upward and outward.  

Taken on our trip to Zion National Park in April 2019

front lines

I feel a little like I might be limping to the finish line of our ministry-laden March, but we are certain to finish it out in due course, right?  

There are things about working in ministry on the Rez that are really difficult to put into words but I know they must be real because I'm not the only one who experiences it.  Sometimes I think, "I really want to write about this" so I can share and hopefully encourage and challenge others to see God's faithfulness, but when I try to write, the thoughts and concepts are so tangled that I don't often know where to start. {And in my effort to be realistic, I also sometimes feel like I end up with a "downer" of a post, or that I'm going to sound really depressed when I'm not.  After gradually easing into the knowing of these things you kind of learn to live with the knowing of them without being constantly devastated by the brokenness it reveals.}

 Someone recently said to me, "I did not know what true spiritual warfare was until my first trip to the reservation."  Whew!  Sometimes I convince myself I am imagining the dark cloud of difficulty or even sorrow that gathers.  Sometimes the struggle is my own doing, consequences for choices I'm making about my sleep, my attitude, my habits.   Sometimes it's sorrow directly related to sorrow over things I carry now, things I know. Sometimes the struggle is clearly a direct attempt to discourage and disable: opposition.  

We know that as God's children we have an enemy.  We know that when we are engaging in the front lines of ministry the enemy would surely rather us not be successful.  We know that the enemy of our souls prowls like a lion seeking to devour.  We also know we have nothing to fear because of the lover of our souls.  Here on the Rez we are without a doubt on the front lines of the Kingdom of God.  Our lives intentionally center around serving and loving "the least of these" within a people group that is so marginalized that many people talk about them in the past tense. "When the Indians lived..."  "The Indians did..."  

I believe God protects our church family mightily from deep darkness all around.  I believe He completely controls the suffering His children encounter and experience.  I believe He means all of the things we walk through to be for our good - no, not an abstract version of "good"-  He has in mind the deepest, most beautiful healing of our selves.

Bear in mind that as I write these things I am thinking of children I have seen recently with suspicious bruises.  Of a child who never has adequate clothing for the weather.  Of a young mom I came in contact with today who told me her brother passed away in a fatal car wreck in her own car last week.  I'm thinking of children who haven't got any running water at their house; of a family with several precious children that didn't even have a door on their house for a significant part of last year; of a couple that lived in a tent last summer and now live in an RV with a leaky roof.  

I'm also thinking of how the Lord has met each of those scenarios with His love now and His promise of care for the future.  How the children I worry over have tasted the goodness of His love and safety through the church.  How the mother got a listening ear and got to see her young children having fun in a safe place today.  How the children without water have had showers and care at the home of some of our friends.  How the missing door was replaced by some of the men from our church, and how the man and woman in the RV can have a double understanding of what it is like to be cared for by the Lord, an understanding I may never fully grasp in this lifetime.  His healing touch is merciful and perfect in His time.   

I can say that all our experiences are meant for the healing of our souls because He promises it, not because I never doubt it.  Sometimes I can't touch that in my mind, sometimes my heart is too broken to land on the truth of His goodness, and then I do sob.  But soon the reminders come: This world is not our home.  This sorrow is fleeting.  Jesus knows our every weakness. Jesus loves the little children.  Jesus suffered first for us. Joy comes in the morning.  

"Come then, my beloved, my lovely one come.
For see, winter is past, the rains are over and gone." (NJB Song of Solomon 2:10)

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I am working on Lyddie's Suzanne sweater in KnitPicks DK Swish.  Her chest measurement is small so I am knitting a smaller size but forgot to adjust the sleeve length and just had to rip it back to increase the length of the sleeve.  The multicolored yarn was a beautiful gift from a sweet reader here and I can't wait to plan a project for it - possibly a sweater for Millie next.  

God's love never fails

There's this song we sing at church:  "Your Love Never Fails."  The chorus goes like this:

"Your love never fails

It never gives up

Never runs out on me

Your love never fails

It never gives up,

Never runs out on me

Your love never fails

It never gives up

Never runs out on me"

My daughters and all the other children at church love this song, with its simple but powerful chorus.  It is often a bedtime lullaby in our home although it's not a quiet soothing song and all three end up belting out the words along with me.

Tears always trickle down my cheeks at church when we sing it.  I can't help it.

Almost every member of our congregation comes on a bus or van that we send out every week into the community.  Most of our congregation is under age 12 and come without an adult.  Many don't have an adult at the home that are actually caring for them, which makes them functional orphans.  When I am teaching the preschool class we sit together in the front row of the church service as a group, like a little family.  Behind us are the rows of older children sitting in their groups.  When we reach the chorus, suddenly the voices of all the children behind and around me go up with nearly a shout and I tremble to hear the voices of children who face such suffering in their daily lives cry out,

"Your love never fails, it never gives up, never runs out on me!" The fervor and joy evident in singing of His love reminds me that it never fails me and reminds me that it will never fail the children whose voices I love to hear.  "Why should I gain from His reward?  I cannot give an answer.  But this I know with all my heart: His wounds have paid my ransom."

 

Easter Sunday with part of the preschool class

Neena, Emily, and I take turns teaching preschool at Hope Fellowship

I can never express how much I love teaching preschool at Hope Fellowship in White Swan.  I love getting to spend time with the littlest crowd who comes.  It seems such a small thing, but is one of the few specific ways I am able to serve outside of the bounds of my own home right now and it brings me such joy to minister to (and truthfully to be ministered to by) the giant souls who fill these little bodies week after week.   Children who, when they first appear at our church, are reticent and untrusting, blossom like a flower in the love of God that I have to believe reaches out through the hands, arms, smiles, and tears of His people.  Some of these babes blossom fast and bright and others slowly and delicately.  Some seem to close up again when the night falls but carefully they unfold and look up into someone's loving eyes and even sometimes a smile crosses their lips before they can check it.   It is a safe place and I don't think an exaggeration to say often the only safe place for the children and youth of our community.  God's love never fails. 

Happy Easter from my heart to yours.  I hope it was filled with the things and people God loves.  I hope it was filled with the truth that God's love will never fail you either. 

Unripe Raspberries

Those raspberries up there... see all the orange ones with stems included?  They are my reminder for today to savor the imperfect. 

Yesterday I brought home a little boy from church.  He asks most Sundays if he can come home with us for the day.  He loves Legos and I love him.  So we swung by his family's house and asked if he could come play for awhile in the afternoon and they agreed. 

A little later, Jesse called and asked if I wanted another kid for the day.  I chuckled at first, thinking he was making a joke but he wasn't; he had with him a little girl whose house was empty when Jesse's bus swung by to drop her off after church.  It is unnecessary to explain all the details, but at the end of it all, a little girl came to stay until we reached a family member.  

Sometimes you just move when the Spirit says move. 

She stayed close by my side all day and into the evening.  No one was home there in the evening when Jesse stopped by, and I cuddled her to sleep.  She stayed close by my side all morning after waking up, but when she saw Lyddie and Millie with bowls out in the raspberry patch, her face lit up and she immediately asked for a bowl and we went out to help.  Her sweet fingers joined the other girls' in plucking tender berries from the brambles, and in her eagerness, orange berries and stems were tugged off and planted in the bowl with such joy.  I just smiled and handed her a ripe one to munch on while she continued to help pick.

I took her back to her mom earlier this morning and she laid her head on my shoulder as I carried her up the walkway.  The door swung open and little girl wrapped her arms around mom's neck, standing there in the doorway, and proudly grinned to catch a glimpse of the little bowl of raspberries she was bringing back with her.  

It is complicated to write about some of the stories of my life here, and I find myself backing away on this blog to the simple beauties I see around me because at least those ones I can process, at least those ones have straightforward emotions attached.  There is nothing wrong with that in one sense, but I keep feeling prickles of conviction to share just a little deeper, to venture just a little further into what makes up  my life and walk with the Lord.  This paradox of beauty in imperfections, of Holy God in the broken places- these stories are important to share for those who will listen because they are the a big part of my life and God's work in it, even if they are messy.  I approach them with a light touch and some trepidation because I feel I tread holy ground to open these doors of glimpses into my life and the lives of the people we live and work with in this beautiful place called The Rez.  

Life these days

This blog is akin to the journal that sits on my kitchen counter, open and ready for scribbled thanksgivings.  It is a reminder of all the beauty around me, the moments that might otherwise pass unheeded.

Like the moment when the kids found the sprayer and hose after daddy finished washing his car and no, I didn't interrupt the fun even though I was well aware that they were splashing in what was dirty dish-soapy water.  It's better to grab the camera.

Or the moment when the sun, bright on the horizon, lit the undersides of all the thunderheads, and the pale rainbow arched above the apple trees.  And as I walked back to the house from the glistening rose bushes, Rosie peeked out her window from her crib and danced with joy.

And that time when Hope fluttered on the breeze.  And the fringe sailed through the air in dance and song.  And when that girl, long prayed over, ran behind me and threw her arms around my neck,  so happy to be at Kid's Club at the start of summer, the only "church" some children have ever yet known.  And when the sprinklers came roaring on in the middle of Kids Club and children and adults alike hollered and shrieked and ran for dry safety, except the game of kickball, which went on much the same as before, only wetter. 

Ah.  Summer. 

Tidbits

 Lyddie took all of these pictures a couple weeks ago and I thought it would be fun to share them.  I think they're quite good!  The one of the red clover strikes me as really interesting, and I love them all since they allow me to see the world through her eyes.  The one she took of Alma is incredible.

Some other random tidbits...
Sickness in our house; Lyddie has had a fever today and Jesse is down for the count with a stomach virus.  I woke up with a headache that wouldn't disappear which made it difficult to accomplish anything as quickly as I usually do.  I am hoping tomorrow Jesse will be on the mend and that Lyddie would feel better too.

Please pray for little Alma, for her mom, for their family, and for our family!  We love them both so much and long to see them both healthy and established in the love of Christ. Everything we do in our relationships with them both is to that end and I covet your prayers that God would do mighty things in their family.  The power of prayer is a beautiful thing to witness and something we here on the Rez do get to see since it is so vital to our life and ministry here.  The growth of His kingdom here can be specifically attributed to the faithful prayers and giving of God's children all over the country, and, in my opinion, the specific prayers for the different children, youth, and adults who need to know God's saving love and power, or who do know Him but are still faced with undeniably difficult situations every single day.  So, if you are already one of the prayer warriors for Hope Fellowship and Sacred Road (and it is true that you are fighting a battle with us even from afar), thank you and don't stop!  We are so thankful for you.