My dear friend, Melissa, went to be with Jesus yesterday.

Brokenhearted doesn’t really begin to touch the way we’ve all been feeling.

Our group of friends has fought with her for nearing 2 years now.  We’ve watched children, and taken meals.  We’ve been on our knees… praying and texting scriptures with truth and encouragement between us for months.  And Melissa has been the most valiant warrior through it all.  She held on to hope and to Jesus the whole way.  She’s been strong and courageous and spunky.  She inspires us all with her faith and her fight.

I am privileged to call her friend.  Privileged to journey with her…to do life with her…to adventure with her…and to fight with and for her.  Truly…it’s been an absolute honor.

And now…she’s doing great!  She’s healed, and whole, and dancing with Jesus.  She’s celebrating in heaven!

But there are those of us left behind.  There are these sweet little people who will do life now without this incredible woman around.

There’s her strong and courageous husband who will learn how to tie hairbows and match shoes.  Who will do the work of 2 as just one.  Who will raise these 3 sweet children without his best friend and wife of nearly 19 years.  He will go this journey without her, but he will not be alone.

Her parents have lost a daughter…and 2 amazing women have lost their sister.

And her friends…we’re here…and we miss her.  We asked her to share her heart for her kids with us, and we committed to her to pray HER heart for HER children their whole lives long.  So while Melissa isn’t here anymore with us…she will NOT be forgotten.  And the legacy that she created and lived will long surpass her too-short 40 years on this earth.  Long surpass.

Melissa shared recently with my friend Milly how she wanted to have a party sometime with the song from the movie Rio playing and everyone dancing.  The Lord gave Milly a picture that she shared with us last night of Melissa whole and vibrant in heaven…a flowing colorful skirt, a flower in her hair, and a smile upon her face…dancing and twirling around to the song.  So Milly looked up the words to the song and downloaded it for us all to hear.

It was the first time I’ve ever imagined the party in heaven with such vibrancy.  I guess maybe I always imagine some angelic choir that’s peaceful and stunningly beautiful.  I’ve never thought of it as tribal and exciting…but last night when I heard this song…and thought of Melissa and her love of birds…I saw heaven with new eyes.  And I saw her dancing and twirling and pain-free.  As we listened to Milly read the words, and then heard the song…I saw it all…and while this heart of mine misses my friend, and aches for her family…there is a part of me that sees her now at the greatest party of all…that you won’t find anywhere else.

All the birds of a feather
Do what they love most of all
We are the best at rhythm and laughter
That’s why we love carnival

Possibly we can sing too
Sun and beaches, they coo
Dance to the music, passion and love
Show us the best you can do

Everyone here is on fire
Get up and join in the fun
Dance with a stranger, romance and danger
Magic could happen for real in Rio

All by itself, you can’t see it coming
You can’t find it anywhere else
It’s real in Rio, know something else
You can feel it happen, you can feel it all by yourself

All the birds of a feather
Do what they love most of all
Moon and the stars, sun and guitars
That’s why we love carnival

Loving our life in the jungle
Everything’s wild and free
Never alone ’cause this is our home
Magic can happen for real in Rio

All by itself, you can’t see it coming
You can’t find it anywhere else

Here everybody loves samba, I like the samba
Rhythm you feel in your heart, I’m the samba master
Beauty and love, what more could you want?
Everything can be for real in Rio

Here’s something else
You just feel it happening
You won’t find it anywhere else

Cheers to you Melissa!  I raise a glass and my heart and I thank you for how your friendship has changed me…and how it will continue to change me.  I love you my friend, and my heart soars when I think of the dancing that you are doing now.  Kiss my babies in heaven for me?  We’ll be loving on yours here.  I celebrate your wholeness and your dancing.  You fought the good fight…and your legacy is an enormous footprint in the Kingdom of Heaven!

*Please pray for Melissa’s family?  Lift them up to heaven?  Pray comfort and peace and understanding over them?  Pray strength and wisdom over her husband?  Pray for sweet memories of their mother to stick hard in the minds of these precious little ones?  For confidence that they each know how deeply they were loved and cherished.  Join me to pray for this family…for my friends.

Now close your eyes and listen to this song…imagine heaven maybe like never before. A carnival! It’s so so good…

My friend Katie always says, “While we breathe, we hope.”

So that’s what I’ve been doing around here lately…breathing…and hoping.  And all of that breathing and hoping is the reason that I’ve been quiet around these parts.

After returning home from Bangladesh, I was surprised that it took me almost 2 full weeks to really recover from the jet lag.  Maybe it’s that being Mommy doesn’t exactly afford one the chance to ease back into life that had something to do with it too.  I don’t know.  But I do know that since exactly a week after I returned home, my life has been in a bit of some chaos.

And I’ve been quiet in this space, because I’ve been trying to figure out how to process it all.  I’ve been trying to figure out how to sow into my family well, and be the friend that I am called to be.

Somewhere in here, I’m planning Allume too.

A week after I got back, the pastor of my church stepped down.  I realize this stuff happens, and pastors get tired and God calls them to other things, but this one has hit me hard.  It’s hard because our pastor, and even more so, his wife, is a really dear friend of mine.  She’s among the group of my closest friends…the ones I do life with, the ones we raise kids with, and walk through fire with.  And stepping away into the knowing that God has called them into something else, leaves a void…both in our church body, and in potentially the future of our group of friends.  Because sometimes, when God calls people away…he calls them away from home.  And aside from the questions about our church body, truly, I just don’t want my friend to go away.  I love her.

And then there’s my dear friend Melissa, who’s been battling cancer for well over a year and a half, and about 2 weeks ago took a turn for the worse.  She has continued to battle this beast, and it’s been getting the best of her.  We’ve watched it taking the best of her.  Watched it steal her hair, and her strength…robbing her of her capacity to care for her family the way her heart longs to care for them.  We’ve watched it rob her of joy of living and seen how it poisons her body.  And she is so strong.  She’s been fighting so hard and so long, and we’ve been fighting with her.  We’ve been the Aaron’s who held up Moses’ arms when he was too weary to hold them himself.  We’ve taken meals, and cared for kids, and prayed like I’ve never prayed before.  And still…this damn disease goes right for the jugular to rob my friend of the will to live.  And she does want to live….she wants to raise her 3 young children, and grow old with her husband.  She wants more girls nights with friends, and time spent with family.  And she deserves that!  She’s young…and she’s full of life…and she breathes Jesus on people in her life.  And right now, I’m honestly just pissed.  I want to cuss.  But more than that, I want to keep hoping right now.

Because I believe in a God who can snap his fingers and Melissa can pick up her pallet and walk.  And as one of the friends who has lowered her through the roof to sit her before Jesus to claim her healing….I want to see it.  I want to see His Kingdom come, on earth as it is in heaven.

There is no cancer in heaven.

I want to see that reality invade.  I want to see that Kingdom flex its muscles.  And even if it doesn’t…even if God doesn’t…I still believe that he can.

And aside from the questions I’m asking God about why he doesn’t just flex his muscles and hasn’t yet healed my friend, truly, I just don’t want her to go away.  I love her.

I am blessed with really amazing friends.  And for right now, the walking out of life that I’m doing is with these people in my here and now.  And that’s where my energy is being spent.

It’s the right place to spend it.  Of that I have absolutely no doubt.

And while I struggle through this stuff along with my amazing friends and community, I do know that God’s word is true.

Always…

1 Cor 4:20 – For the Kingdom of God is not a matter of talk, but of power.

Matt 14:14 – When Jesus landed and saw a large crowd, he had compassion on them and healed their sick.

Mark 3:10 – For he had healed many, so that those with diseases were pushing forward to touch him.

Bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me, bless his holy name!

 Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits, who forgives all your iniquity,

who heals all your diseases, who redeems your life from the pit, who crowns you with steadfast love and mercy,

who satisfies you with good so that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s. – Psalm 103:1-5

So when I’m silent now, please know that I just don’t have the words…and that the only ones that give comfort or provide wisdom, sure as heck aren’t my own.

And truth be known, my own voice just isn’t the one that I need to be hearing right now.  So I breathe…and I hope…and I cling to the One who is the very breath of hope…the breath of heaven.

By the word of the Lord the heavens were made, their starry host by the breath of his mouth. – Ps 33:6

Through him we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God. Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us. – Romans 5:2-5

I wanted to share something with you that was just sent to me today.  This is pretty much a glimpse into what we saw in Bangladesh. My friend, Max Dubinsky, who was on the trip with me, shot this throughout our time there.  It is just beautiful and such a picture of the land and people.

The video is about 4 minutes long.

I started crying about 45 seconds into it.

Enjoy, my friends.  And whether you sponsor a child through Max’s link  or mine, we don’t really care…we just want you to help…and to rest assured that it actually does.

Four days ago, I waved goodbye to Bangladesh.

I’ve been back for a couple of blurry-eyed days now.  Glad to be home, I fell into bed and hardly emerged for honestly almost 2 days.  The jet-lag is still kicking my butt today as I get back to my normal life routine of early-morning carpools, fixing lunches, menu planning, and laundry.

Amidst my kids arguing over who-knows-what yesterday, I found myself wondering if I’ll ever get to be a part of such an epic adventure again?  I LOVE my life, don’t get me wrong, and I missed it like crazy while I was gone too, but there are moments upon return where this “verbally processing mom” (as my friend Daniel called me) begins to wonder if I’ll ever get to do life so big again.

I want to matter in this life.  I want to matter well with the little people around me, and I want to make an indelible stamp on their lives, so that their hearts long for making a big difference too.  I want to matter well with my friends and my husband…encouraging and inspiring them to reach higher and farther and deeper.  And this past week, I realized that I can matter globally too.  I guess I’ve never so much realized my capacity to do that before. To matter big before.  I mean, I invest in worthwhile people and causes who are making global impact, but this time it was my voice that the Lord was using to make a difference.  And honestly, that feels good.  It feels good to think that I can be that instrument of change.

Maybe it’s a good thing?  Maybe it’s addictive?  Maybe it’s egotistical, or perhaps it’s just a taste of the things that the Lord really does want to use me to do?  I don’t really know, but I do know that the things I learned in Bangladesh need to be the things that stand taller to write my story, than my own new-found need for epic-sized matterings.  That if I come home and worry more about mattering big again than I do about loving well in my everyday moments, I may have missed the point.  If I start to look for the next big thing to focus my attentions on instead of on the next small face in front of me, I’ve lost all that I learned.

I want to matter big again, but the truth is, that we can’t ever learn to matter big if we can’t matter small first.

It’s the readjusting to the small that I think just might prove to be a part of the whole lesson.

It’s 4 in the morning here in Dhaka, Bangladesh and I’m wide awake on the one day that we actually have time to sleep in.  Isn’t that the way that it goes?!  We’ve heard about the tornado-forming storms crossing the east coast of the United States, and I can’t help but wish that despite my hatred of bad storms, I want to be home with my family to weather it.  But I’m not, and I won’t be for 2 more days, so I sit here clear across the world in the dark room, holding my computer tight as I view the red tornado warnings for home…and my friends and  family held loosely in hands towards heaven.  Father, please cover my family and my home with your protection and your presence.

It’s all a trust fall.  Coming here has been a trust fall.  You take one look behind you to make sure that someone is back there to catch you, and you lean in with all that you are to a fall that hopefully doesn’t leave you flat on the ground, aching and hurt, and doubtful of trusting so fully again.

It’s happened to us all…the lean and trust and fall onto the ground. So we know that it can happen, but I remind myself of the character of my God, who has goodness and mercy for me.  One who loves so much that he put his own son on a trust fall high in the air on a cross.  His own son who looked and fell backwards into the arms of His Father all for me.  I know He is good…but it’s still hard to be far from the things most precious in one’s life.

I was talking to my amazing new friend, Lauren, last night at dinner about how now is the time for she and her husband, Max, to travel, to explore, and to try new places and things. Not that you can’t do it once you have kids….obviously, because I was sitting in an Indian restaurant next to her halfway around the world from my family as I said it, but that once you do, your heart feels it all differently.

When I actually get out of bed, it’ll be Thursday and we’ll be leaving in less that 12 hours to begin the insanely long journey home.  On the way here, we somehow completely lost a Friday into the vortex of time travel it seems.  On the way back, it seems that we’ll pick up an extra Friday along the way.  So weird.

I’ve been trying to process all that I’ve seen and done here.  Processing the women who have been given hope and education through the presence of FH in their villages.  Processing the children who, because of the FH child sponsorships can now get good education and eventual jobs to better their lives and the lives of their children.  Thinking of young girls, who because of this incredible organization, have hopes and dreams to make something of themselves…and parents who don’t want to push them into marriages and family life before their young bodies are even ready.

I’m processing women who’s native tongue is so foreign to me, but who’s eyes I’ve learned to read like never before.  We’ve talked over explanations of bamboo handicraft making…

And they’ve shared with me about their lives.

They’ve told stories of loss and harsdhip, and of hope and education brought to them by a bunch of foreigners who for some reason even bothered to care.  I’m not sure that they still even fully know why we care, but they are all….ALL…grateful that we do.

And in this community we visited yesterday where 2 years ago, FH finished the process of education and empowerment of the locals to run these new programs themselves.  We saw people who’s lives had improved, and continued to do so because of the things that FH was able to teach and share with them.

I keep wondering about the big personal “take-away” for me from this trip.  The thing that when I come home makes me want to be different or live differently.  And I can’t help but think that maybe there’s not a thing I take from this, or an idea so much to be different.  Maybe now, I just am different.  I feel different.

Before this trip I found myself asking the Lord to “open the eyes of my heart” to see the things that He had for me here.  And throughout this week, and even reading back through my own blog posts of this week, I see the process of how he has done that.  He took a woman who felt somehow out of place and trapped inside of the way he made me, and showed me that he brought me here to be the way that he made me.  And in celecrating who He is to me, and how he’s created me to be…to love, and to sow into people…I’ve begun to see people like I never have before.

I have found that when the walls of language are built between us, the walls of the heart must come down if we want to connect.

And so we look deeply into the eyes of people who’s mouths we don’t understand, and somewhere in the gazing…somewhere in the moments of fixation, it’s like something snaps…something changes, and I can see them.  I really see them, and they see me.  And somehow in just the exchange of looks and expressions, they know that I care.  They know that I love.  And whether I have had the chance or not to tell them that I love, because HE loved…they still feel loved.

I think that’s why I came here.

To love.  To relearn what that looks like when you strip everything else away.

And to look deep into eyes, and to see souls, and to tell stories of this beautiful people that I have so much more in common with than one might think at first glance.

Our language and our dress, our customs and our landmasses, are all so different, but in the end, we all have hopes and dreams and struggles and triumphs.  We all want to love and be loved.

This week, I’ve been able to be a part of that process.  We’ve seen the processes and methods that FH brings to impact entire communities.  And, I am astonished by the needs these Food for the Hungry programs meet, the hope that they bring, and the ways that they show love and are the hands and feet of Jesus in real, life-altering ways.

But I’ve realized it’s not just that Food for the Hungry is engaging in processes of information or of learning with people.  The process that we’ve been a part of entering into here is really the human process.  It’s the process of people.  It’s the way that we love and the ways that we can tangibly enter into a place to show love.

That’s what we’ve done here.  That’s what Food for the Hungry is still doing here.  And I for one, will be forever grateful for this opportunity to be a part of that process.

And it’s funny as I have the clarity, that sometimes only comes in the middle of the night, to realize that our final day, we shared a hilarious experience with friends both Bangladeshi and American that I think is symbolic maybe for me.

We met a precious woman named Eti yesterday who’d had a bit of a rough go in life.  Married at 16, she was arranged into a really bad marriage.  Her husband left her for a period of time, and during that time FH staff sowed into her children, and into her and her education as well.  She became a part of a local village savings group, and through connection and investment with these women and training provided by FH staff, she was able to start her own business.  She realized what would have been an otherwise impossible dream, and my new friend Eti opened her own beauty salon.

We were able to talk to her and learn her story, and in doing so, we learned about some of the services that she provides in her shop.  She told us that she does hair and makeup.  She paints fingernails, and does facials, and threads eyebrows.

WHAT?!  Threading?!  I’ve heard of that before! So I asked our translator, and Bangladeshi best friend Shefa, to ask Eti if she’ll do the threading on me.  My eyebrows were getting a little raggedy, and it opens your eyes up so much more when they’re not creeping down towards your eyeball!  Eti made the cutest face and then said she’d do it!

WHOOT!  We ask one of our leaders if we had time and he said yes and then left.  Afterall, a salon is a place for girl time!  Plus, i figured that the worst thing that’d happen would be that I’d come home without eyebrows.  A small price to pay for an unforgettable adventure.

So I hopped in Eti’s chair and she got down to the business of threading…

Please forgive the awkward angle of my 17 chins!  But really…seriously… don’t my eyes look so much more opened up?!

We had such fun doing my eyebrows, that we engaged Eti’s services for all of the girls on our whole team!  And it was an absolute blast! Eti became more and more animated with each subsequent threading, and before long we found ourselves all laughing and connecting despite the language barrier!

And somewhere in the threading…amidst laughter, and compliments, and Joy’s uncontrollable tears and facial contortions during her session, we bonded with each other and with these 3 women from this beautiful foreign land.

In the process of eyebrows…in the process of “opening up our eyes”….the Lord did just that.  He opened our eyes and opened our hearts to one another.  And I hope that when I get back home, I keep on living with those same eyes wide open.

** I know that we can’t all visit Bangladesh, but we can all be a part of the human process that is happening here with these incredible people through Food for the Hungry child sponsorship.  Please join me…it’s a small price to pay for a great adventure in learning to really see people with the eyes of our hearts!

Click HERE to Sponsor a Child with Food for the Hungry!

I love meeting new people.  It’s kinda just a thing I really enjoy.  And today I met a new person who I think may have changed me forever.  Her name is Ritu and she lives in a tiny village in Bangladesh.

We drove probably an hour and a half outside of Dhaka past rice fields and brick makers.  Smokestacks for giant brick kilns lined the landscape as far as the eye could see in some places.  I watched people pushing carts of clay and making bricks by hand.  I saw men and women with water and mud-covered ankles as they stooped over to plant and harvest rice.  Bamboo poles and nets shot 8 feet into the air from the wetlands…set for catching fish when the rainy season comes and the waters rise dangerously high.  Dust settled on giant palm branches so thick that it made them look brown. It was beautiful land.  Foreign soil with a beauty all its own.

Our van pulled into the dirt road community and stepped out to more curious faces greeting us.  When I later asked Ritu and her family if they’d ever met anyone from America, the answer was no.  And from the fascinated stares, it seemed obvious they’d likely never seen anyone with light skin before either.  One question and answer later, and my suspicion was confirmed.  I bet that the indigenous people felt the same way when they saw Christopher Columbus in America.  I guess I just never considered that 500 years later, I might be Christopher Columbus.

Before we broke off to go and meet our sponsored children, we met with the local FH staff for some introductions, devotions, and tea.

Shortly afterwards, we split into groups to head out to the different parts of the village to the homes of our sponsored children. We drove a bit to get to Ritu’s house and then walked down a sandy road and wound through some narrow carved out dirt passages until we came to her home.

This is Ritu’s house.  It was made from corrugated tin and the ceilings inside were draped with fabric. The floors were concrete, and there was one large bed where the children slept.  Ritu’s parents sleep on the floor.

(Something strange happened in the panoramic action of this photograph, so please excuse that it appears that my face might peel off at any moment.  I wanted you to get the picture of her whole house though, so just know I’ve sacrificed my entire face for the sake of the cause here.)

I immediately picked her out of the crowd that had gathered.  She was even more beautiful than her picture.

But I tell you what, there was definitely a crowd gathered!  I’m not even kidding, the entire neighborhood turned out.  I was Christopher Columbus, the event!

Sweet Ritu, who’s just 7, was obviously nervous to have all eyes on her.  I’m not sure how they all expected the visit to be, and I’m not entirely sure that I knew either, but I can say that after the past couple of days observing the dynamics of communities and families here, I should have realized that this was going to be a major group event.  Maybe somewhere in my mind, I had a picture of Ritu and myself sitting together coloring while her mother adoringly looked on from the side or something, but I’m pretty sure I had never imagined sitting on a blanket surrounded by 40 additional people who were in awe of my general foreign-ness.

I shared the letters from my son’s first grade class, 

and gave the crayons and paint that my boys wanted me to bring for her.  She’d never seen watercolor paints before, so I unscrewed the cap of my water bottle, poured a little bit in, and showed her how they worked.  Immediately she drew a picture of her house and began to paint.

At the end of our visit, she tore it out and gave it to me.

There are so many beautiful things about this visit.  Ritu showed us her home…where they sleep, where they eat, where they cook.  Her father, a musician, played his trumpet for us.  And I took a video.

They showed us how they make a fire in a clay form above the ground, their stove of sorts, for cooking.

Ritu’s maternal grandfather made hats for a living for the rice farmers.  He just died 3 days ago, but before he died, he made a hat for me.  I am honored to have such a lovely hat.  They wanted me to put it on and make a super happy face…so I did!

I loved my time with them.

They showed me such love and hospitality.  I can’t believe that our family has the gift of being able to love another family so far away in such a tangible way for them.  When I left, they invited me to come back to visit with my family.  I told them that we will pray for them, and write to them, and that we hope to be friends for a long time.

They said the same.

It’s not just something we can do or money that we can give….this sponsorship is about giving life, and love, and building friendships.  It’s showing the love of Christ by loving others.

Sponsor a child today?

*First 2 photographs by Esther Havens, all the rest by the very talented Daniel White (who really didn’t mean to make me look like a muppet in the panoramic one)