Sometimes the Best Gift is Nothing At All

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I’ve been working on a missions project lately with Global Partners, the mission arm of The Wesleyan Church, recently, and in many ways, my project has brought my grandmother to mind. My grandmother passed away on Easter of 2009, but left a legacy in her love for Christ and her heart for missions.

I never lived close enough to my grandmother to see her on a regular basis. There were many holidays spent together, and the occasional family reunion, but not the consistent contact that many grandparents have with their grandchildren. I don’t feel like I knew her well, or was especially close to her. But I do remember how I felt about her when I was small.

I remember as a child being annoyed that my grandparents didn’t shower me with gifts, or cash, or much in the way of tangible items compared to what many of my friends received. I got cards containing sentiments, but not cash. Presents, if any, were simple and wrapped in used paper. Every penny was counted, none were wasted. There was no cable television at their house. The air conditioner would not be turned on in the car. Even flushes of the toilet were carefully guarded. As odd as it may seem, that is what I remember most about my grandmother as I was growing up.

As an adult, and loving geriatric patients, I now understand a bit more about my grandmother, having gone through the Great Depression in her young adulthood. Being frugal had become a lifestyle that would not be erased over time. Her excruciating frugality was a difficult and chosen lifestyle, which I can now appreciate (even if I’m not as good at emulating it).

It wasn’t until her funeral that I found that there was even more to Grandma’s frugality. She gave sacrificially to missions, not just financially, but in hours spent at the typewriter writing letters. She took extra jobs cleaning boarding houses or picking berries to earn money for mission pledges. In fact, we found that my grandfather had saved money secretly for retirement, because if she had known about the money, my grandmother would have given it away, especially to missions.

Looking back through the lens of time, I realize that the birthday cards that didn’t carry cash, the simple Christmas gifts, the carefully counting of pennies weren’t because of a lack of love. They were because there were people around the world who needed what little money she had more than I did, and her few dollars helped to bring the gospel to those who needed to hear. How many souls is she meeting in heaven now because of her frugal generosity? I’m quite certain there is a long line because indeed, Grandma died rather penniless.

So Grandma, thank you for all the empty cards, the crumpled wrapping paper, and the meager gifts.

It was money well spent.

What I Did On My Summer Vacation

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As a Physician Assistant Professor, there is a constant tension that I feel. I love what I’m doing, but  I’m not doing what I’m teaching. I don’t teach clinical courses, but foundational courses. I do practice some in the clinic on campus, but the vast majority of my job is away from patient contact.

Once every six years, Physician Assistants have to retake a certification exam, which is based on clinical information. This is on top of the 100 hours of continuing medical education we must complete every 2 years. It is required for certification, which is required for my job — or any job as a PA.

This is my sixth year.

I had actually intended to take my boards last summer, but then I got a unique opportunity to have a part-time clinical job, which took up any study time. Following that, we started foster parent training. I went about six months without a single day off.

I scheduled my boards for the day after Easter this year, but disaster struck, then rescheduled them for June 30th, because I thought I was going to have a lighter academic and administrative load this summer.  I was wrong. I had to reschedule them for next to the last day possible for me to take them: August 29th. School started August 30th.

So, as I finished the summer semester, I had a week to study the equivalent of about 80 hours of continuing medical education. And that was just to get through the material thoroughly one time. I felt like I had to get through it at least ONCE, but that was pretty much going to have to be it. I was out of time.

I finally took my recertification exam on Monday. But then they have to grade it.

The rest of my week has been spent trying to unbury myself from the stacks that were created while I was studying for and taking my boards, which are required for my job. I finally got my score Friday morning.

I scored an 800, which is 80 points higher than the 99th percentile. Higher than my original board scores, in fact. It feels good to know that I’ve not lost touch with the vast amount knowledge that I must maintain. It feels better to know that I can keep my job.

But boy, am I tired.

Bragging Rights

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A guest post by Ken

“As long as it is day, we must do the work of him who sent me. Night is coming, when no one can work.” (John 9:4)

 

The best stories belong to those who took the risks.

In heaven there will be centuries of stories to tell. That may sound boring to you. Not me! Think about sitting there listening to Daniel talking about staring a lion in the face. Peter telling what it was like to step out onto the water. Mary as she entered the tomb to find it… empty.

I expect that plenty of us will be star-struck in heaven. Joan of Arc, Francis Xavier, Brother Lawrence, John Wesley, Amy Carmichael, Deiterich Bonhoeffer, Billy Sunday, Mr. Moody, Mother Teresa, George Whitefield, Sadhu Sundar Singh, Watchman Nee, Corrie Ten Boom, and that’s just to name a few.

Sadly, some of us will sit there in awkward silence. We won’t have much to talk about and only then will we realize that it’s too late. Never again, for all of eternity, will we be able to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, help the sick, or speak out in Jesus’ name. Our work is over.

I want to have PLENTY to talk about. I’m not special, but He still chose my hands and feet. I didn’t always get it right or even was obedient the first time, but I want to be remembered for trying my hardest and doing my best.

When I die, I want to be exhausted and broke. I don’t want to leave a thing behind me. Don’t even waste time with a funeral. If you have something to say to me, do me a favor: save it and tell it to me in heaven.

I want to take chances. I want to live a life that matters to the kingdom. I want to be generous with my time and my money.

When you get to heaven, if you want to be part of the celebration, then take the risks here on earth and someday you’ll have the best stories to tell.

May the God who gives you strength
      bless you and keep you in His will.
May you die exhausted, broke and with nothing left unsaid.
And may you live eternally with the knowledge
      that you did all you could, with all you had, for as long as you had!
 

Sushi Wimp

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After an exceptionally busy week last week, we finally had a chance to celebrate Ken’s birthday, in some other way than getting injections, by eating at our favorite sushi restaurant. For those of you who don’t like sushi, Wild Wasabi is the perfect sushi restaurant for you.

My favorite rolls are the Maui and Hawaiian, which have no raw fish, but instead have either cooked shrimp or crab, cream cheese, rice, etc., wrapped in soybean paper, and most importantly topped with FRUIT. It is so delicious! Ken got a “strawberry sweet” roll, which was similar, but did have some raw salmon in it. It was scrumptious!  He also got a “couple roll” which was way out of my league in the sushi category. Raw fish, seaweed, and I don’t know what else because while I can handle one or the other, the combination of the seaweed and raw fish is too much for me. Call me a sushi wimp. No, call me a fruit sushi wimp.

One of the best aspects about going to Wild Wasabi is the wait staff. There is one sweet waitress who remembers us, always asks us about hockey, and usually gives us a free appetizer. When she found out it was Ken’s birthday, she went to the back and brought out a gift for him — a box of chrysanthemum tea wrapped in a gift bag. Hmmm. I think she just outdid me as far as birthday gifts go . . . 

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Most of all, it was nice just to be able to finally have a couple of hours to spend together after a hectic summer and a crazy busy couple of weeks!

A Tale of Two Tails

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A guest post by Ken

It’s interesting how Buddy & Holly’s personalities affect their perspectives.

Holly is the lead dog and she has to be in charge. She likes to stay busy. Whatever Buddy is playing with, she needs to have it – right now.

Buddy is the affectionate and laid-back one. He’s the snuggler. He follows his sister’s lead and is quite content with whatever comes his way. Except for squirrels – they still drive him nuts.

But both our dogs like to chew anything and everything: toys, sticks, shoes, towels, and furniture. So it only made sense when we had t-bone steaks to give the bones to Buddy & Holly. They each were given a bone to enjoy. Their responses were interesting to me.

First, I approached Holly, but as I drew near she tensed. Pulling the bone away and turning her back to me, her body language clearly said, “Please don’t take this away. I’m really enjoying this and I don’t want you to ruin it.” I was tempted to chastise Holly, “I don’t want your bone. I gave you that bone. I just want to be with you and make you happy.” 

I was cautious as I moved toward Buddy. I didn’t want to spoil his treat. But I didn’t need to worry for long. As soon as he saw me he crawled forward with the bone still in his mouth. His tale started wagging furiously. He proudly held up the bone in his mouth as if to say, “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! This is so great! Would you like to have some? You gotta try this!”

Don’t get me wrong: both our dogs are great – even when they are running around the house with muddy paws. Yet the puppies reminded me of the importance of my outlook on life. I wish I were always like Buddy when God draws near: “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! God you are so great! Thank you for all you’ve done for me!” But in my honest but “less spiritual” moments I find myself afraid and agreeing more with Holly: “Lord, please don’t take the good things in my life away.” or “I’m really enjoying this moment God and I don’t want you to ruin it.”

Lord, forgive me for doubting your goodness. May I welcome you in and invite you to enjoy both the good and the bad in my life. Help me to trust you more. I realize that every good and perfect gift comes from you so… when I am chewing on a bone, may my tail always be wagging!

Hunting for Contentment

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I must admit, I love HGTV. I’m pretty sure what Ken is to hockey, I am to House Hunters. There are no car chases, risque scenes, profanity. Just household decor, real estate, and and down-home reality. Clean, guilt-free, family-oriented entertainment.

Right?

The only problem with HGTV is that it perpetuates a system of false beliefs.

You want more. You need more.You deserve more.

After watching families choose between homes with granite countertops, gigantic decks, and park-like landscaping, my house seems to feel, well, a bit small. A bit simple. And compared to the homes House Hunters International? Don’t even get me started.  I feel like we’re a candidate to be rescued by one of those TV shows where they arrive at your door, send you to Disney or a spa while they totally redo the inside of your house. I wonder how you apply for those things anyway . . .

And there goes my contentment. Lost in a sea of desires for what HGTV tells me I need to have.

I Timothy 6:6-10 NIV says, “But godliness with contentment is great gain. For we brought nothing into the world, and we can take nothing out of it.  But if we have food and clothing, we will be content with that. Those who want to get rich fall into temptation and a trap and into many foolish and harmful desires that plunge people into ruin and destruction.  For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil. Some people, eager for money, have wandered from the faith and pierced themselves with many griefs.”

And I see those temptations waiting to trap me. Trapped into a larger mortgage, so that we have no opportunity to be generous, even if we wanted to. Trapped in the desire for more things — nicer furniture, newer appliances, better floors, a finished basement. Trapped into needing to work more than we want to afford the stuff that fills our house to the point that we need a bigger house just for our stuff. More. More! MORE!

But the truth is more is never enough. There will always be one more thing to buy. There will always be another something that is nicer than the something that we already own.

More is never enough, until we declare God to be all that we need.

And maybe that means selling our possessions and moving into a ghetto in India. Or maybe it means living in a house that is less than what we could afford, so that we can work where we feel called to, not where we need to in order to pay our mortgage. Or maybe it could even mean someday living in a home featured in a magazine for its glory and grandeur.

But God gets to decide, not us, and I’m content with that.

This Just In . . .

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We received notification today in the mail today for our appointment for fingerprinting! Immigration orders us to appear at a certain time, and our answer must be, “Why yes, we’d love to!” Fortunately, we don’t have any schedule conflicts!

What does this mean? From our understanding, our process goes something like this:

Our fingerprints, which we will have taken on September 22nd, are required before our file is complete to receive pre-approval from the US government to adopt internationally. Once we receive this approval, we’ll be able to send off our paperwork to the Democratic Republic of Congo.

After our paperwork is received by the Congo, our case goes to court, which takes 1-3 months. Then there is a 30 appeal period. Once the appeal period is up, the case should be approved by the Congo.

Then we go back to get final approval from the United States, which takes 3-8 weeks.

After that, we apply for visas for emmigration, which take 1-2 weeks.

Then we travel for our Embassy appointment, and to get our kids and bring them home!

We were told a last month that the our expected timeline was that we would travel by the end of this year, or the beginning of next, but given where we are and all that has to happen, I don’t see how it will be possible for us to travel by the end of the year. While disappointing, since I hoped to combine my Christmas break with travels, and get an extra year of tax benefits, the process is still going remarkably fast by international adoption standards.  Most importantly, every minute that a child — our children– spend in an orphange is a minute too long.

But we celebrate every small step, and each day that passes, because we’re one day closer to bringing our family together!

Wrong Thinking

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A guest post by Ken

I have a bone to pick with David Platt, the author of Radical Together. Our church is going through his book during our Sunday school hour. Today we did chapter four, The Genius of Wrong. BUILDING THE RIGHT CHURCH DEPENDS ON USING ALL THE WRONG PEOPLE.

“Too often churches in America focus on performances, places, programs, and professionals. In Jesus’ simple command to “make disciples,” he has invited every one of his followers to share his life with others in a sacrificial, intentional, global effort to multiply the gospel through others. This includes not just the “right” people (our most effective communicators, most brilliant organizers, and most talented leaders and artists) but also the “wrong” people (those who are the least effective, brilliant, or talented in the church).” (Radical Together, Platt)

I guess my issue with David Platt is this: Who ever said that the pastors (professionals) are the “right” people?

If anyone thinks I’m the “right” kind of person, I would say to them, “wait until you get to know me.” I certainly don’t want to be on some pedestal. I know I don’t have it all together and I definitely don’t want to act like I do.

When David, a scrawny shepherd boy killed Goliath, a giant and professional soldier, no one thought that it was all David’s doing. They knew God had worked a miracle. And that’s the point. Basically the Bible is all about “wrong” people being used by God. Abraham, Moses, Gideon, and Jonah. Wrong, wrong, wrong, and very wrong!

And if God only uses “wrong”, then I don’t want to be “right”.

I know why God has called me to Hermitage Church. It’s to make a point. No one would ever look at my ministry and think, “those people are there because of that charismatic leader.” It’s silly to even think that.

One of the things that I love about our church is that those of us on staff are all the “wrong kind of people.” I love the pastors I work with and have nothing but the utmost respect for them, but we’re still “wrong” people and we all know it. Numerous times Pastor Howard has shared his story from the pulpit and has talked about his struggles and the challenges he has had to over come. I respect that and I love a pastor who can identify with those who are hurting or struggling. On more than one occasion, I have thought during one of his messages, “Wow, if God can use Pastor Howard, then I might just have a chance.” I appreciate that.

I get Platt’s point: it’s got to be more than a church staff doing all the work. But I just take issue with the assumption that he, or any one else thinks pastors are “right”. The first step in becoming a Christian is realizing “I’m not alright, and I can’t fix that on my own.” Heaven help us if somewhere along the way we think we don’t need Jesus anymore.  
 
If God only uses “wrong”, then I don’t want to be “right.”
 

Such a Strange Way to Celebrate a Birthday

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Ken turned 40 years old yesterday, and when I considered having a birthday party, I realized that almost everyone that I would invite would be at Chick Fil A on Wednesday for our Gettin’ Chikin’ for Adoptin’. After getting permission, we decided to celebrate at Chick Fil A with mini-cupcakes!

Thanks to my stockpile from couponing, I was able to make approximately 230 mini cupcakes for less than $6. I arranged the cupcakes to form the shape of Africa (a few are missing from the picture, and you’ll have to use your imagination), but it was a fun way to celebrate both Ken’s birthday, and our adoption. There were yellow cake with lemon icing, devil’s food with cream cheese icing, yellow cake with chocolate icing, and white cake with lemon icing. Considering that we only had a couple dozen left out of more than 200, I think I estimated pretty well!

Friday morning, we started another process toward our adoption travels: vaccinations. Of course, our insurance doesn’t cover the vaccinations, which cost almost $1200 plus the cost of medications that we need to take with us! Ouch! (In more ways than one!) We took half of the vaccinations yesterday, and will take most of the rest next month, with one last dose in six months to confer lifetime immunity (so we won’t have to get the vaccinations again).

I realize that getting shots wasn’t such a fun way to spend a birthday, but in the end, it was great to take another step closer to the Democratic Republic of Congo to bring our kids home. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad way to celebrate a birthday after all!

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What I Learned from Stan, the Ocoee, and a ‘Hole’ Lot of Water

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A guest post by Ken
 
The Ocoee River is not a place for beginners. It has a powerful and unforgiving current with large obstacles purposefully placed to instill fear and excitement. Recently I experienced both.
 
It doesn’t help that we put in and immediately experience a class four rapid called “grumpy”. I think I would have preferred it to be called something a little tamer like “Sneezy” or “Doc”.
 
I have done this annual trip four or five times before and every time I do it, I promise myself that this will be the last. 
 
As I stare at the first set of rapids thoughts and questions raced. “What have I got myself in to?” “I’m too old for this.” “How much river will I drink this year?” These doubts rattled around inside my rafting helmet and only served to make me a little more anxious.
 
It’s not that I am new to paddling. I grew up canoing and more recently have taken to kayaking (thanks Tom & Jake). But this is the Ocoee. It is to be respected. It was the site for the 1996 Atlanta Summer Games (whitewater slalom event).
 
The students with me grinned ear to ear. They seem genuinely excited to be doing this. I forced a smile and tighten my life jacket. 
What was it that they knew that I didn’t? Did they not know how big the rocks were, how powerful the current was or how much water can be drank in mere seconds? I am quite certain they were aware of all of these facts.
 
Then it dawned on me. I was only thinking about myself. I thought my life was in my hands. I knew I did not have nearly enough experience or skill to successfully navigate this aquatic ordeal. 
 
If I were in charge of the boat we were all doomed. 
 
Thankfully I was not the one in charge. There was another who would be interpreting the flow of the river and barking orders to help us safely navigate the hazards. Stan “the man” was his name. He had twenty-two years experience leading groups down the Ocoee River. Stan was not only our guide but the Trip Leader as well. He commanded all the boats that day. 
 
Once I was able to transfer my reliance off myself and onto Stan, I was free to enjoy the day. Suddenly, rapids that had looked menacing now were inviting. There was still a healthy sense of fear, but I knew as long as I listened to my guide and did my part, our boat would be fine. 
 
There were spills along the way, but Stan kept a cool head and we safely made it down the river.
 
Later as I reflected on how happy I was to be alive, I also thought about how the rafting experience was much like my life. When I think everything rests on my shoulders, fear and anxiety start to take over. But when I realize that there is someone greater than me who is in control and who has been through far worst, I can relax and trust in Him.
 
God is in control. He knows what the future holds and He has promised to be with me. There are still scary times or things that seem unfair or out of control, but none of those things catch God off guard. 
 
It might have been coincidental, but the final set of rapids we did that day was nick-named “hell hole”. Even after experiencing the mighty Ocoee for over an hour, they took my breath away. But interestingly enough, immediately following “hell hole”, the river widened and it grew calm. There on the other side of the river we would safely pull out boats out onto shore.
 
Perhaps that’s how life is meant to be. God prepares us for some of our greatest challenges so that we will learn to trust Him. And after going through all that this world has to throw at us, we experience the calm. We land on the far shore and have great stories to share. 
 
One of the things that I look forward to after this life is sitting down and hearing the stories. I am certain of this: the greatest stories will come from those who risked it all and trusted in a loving God. On that day, I want to have a story or two to tell about how God used me in spite of my fears.