Bride's Room Revisited

I have been in some weird and awkward places.  I’m in another one.  Last night I settled in, alone, at a house intended for use as a retreat and event center, focusing primarily on weddings.   Yep, I slept in the Bride’s dressing room.  So appropriate for those of us who just completed the study, “Attending the Bride of Christ”, but I digress…

The advertisement for the location says it is decorated with stunning antiques, and is filled with rich character and charm.  Very true.  It is also filled with white candles and white flower bouquets and white candle stands and lovely wooden chairs with velveteen brocade seats.  Out back is “8+ wooded acres” of cedars.  Out front is a lovely fenced yard separating the house from the road.  The kitchen is stocked with dishes and a tea kettle, which made it nice this morning when I heated up some water to make some (delicate shudder) instant coffee to go with my cold cereal.  It kinda feels like being at a very fancy summer camp or a very solitary women’s (woman’s) retreat. 

I came here instead of sleeping on a sofa at the very busy house of my friend.  I thought I would miss the early morning hustle and bustle of getting a house full of children off to school and get a chance to sleep in.  I haven’t been sleeping well for a week or two as hacking up a lung all night long isn’t too restful.  At any rate, I got here in the dark of night and discovered that, although the adjoining powder room had electricity, the bedroom didn’t.  There was also no radio (forget television) in the room and for someone who is used to sleeping with background noise, but is now alone in a very dark, unfamiliar retreat center/house, that’s uncomfortable.  I scouted around and discovered a small stereo system in the kitchen around the corner. I found a station that plays contemporary Christian music and cranked up the volume…there!  All that was left to do was to go to sleep….but it was really dark and I don’t even have pepper spray with me, much less  my gun (anyone who has ever been a cop will wonder why…I have no concealed permit in this state), so I did the reasonable thing and turned the bathroom light on!  Why?  I have no idea.  I’m not afraid or paranoid of the dark.  I understand a bathroom light will not offer more protection than the locks on both doors accessing the house.  Still, it felt good and I was able to finish my daily reading (I’m in the book of Job).  I adjusted the mattress setting on the Sleep Number Bed control , fluffed the pillow and drifted off to sleep.

I woke up at 6:30 a.m., looked at my watch, told myself that sleeping in was not defined as waking up at any hour before 9 a.m. and went back to sleep—until just prior to 7:30 a.m. when the loud pounding on the other side of the wall from my head strangely woke me.  I wasn’t aware that when my friend mentioned the cement flooring still needed to be poured for the indoor chapel (converting the garage), that meant it was to be completed this morning.  To be fair, once I found her on the phone, she didn’t know either; I figure it’s just one more example of God’s sense of humor!  Anyway, the previous night I had stopped to get the aforementioned instant coffee, milk and cereal to have an easy breakfast.  I decided I should get up and get dressed (before some construction worker came in to use restroom or something—that’s the awkward part) and enjoy my leisurely breakfast before going out into the real world to find an internet connection and better phone reception. 

I had just poured the boiling water into my recycled Dutch Bros. cardboard coffee cup when I looked at the window and noticed a large truck backing into position outside the “chapel”. I opened the door and asked the guys if my vehicle was in their way.  The presumed crew leader said that he forgot he was going to ask me about that.  Turns out the rig, which I saw on closer inspection was a cement truck,  was going to be off-loading cement and I was about to be blocked in for about an hour to an hour and a half.  He asked me if I wanted to move immediately, but I had just poured the milk on my cereal and I saw no other space to park, so I said I could stay.  

A little over one hour into it, they faked me out when the truck left.  But it, or its twin, returned quickly, presumably with another load of concrete, and I was blocked in again.  I finished some writing I needed to do, polished off another cup of coffee, took a phone call (complete with static and dropped words), made a phone call (better reception that time, score!) and now, two and ½ hours later…the truck just drove off…I better move quick before it returns! 

Stoked to be Stepping

We’ve all heard it…today is the first day of the rest of your life—clearly stated by someone with a flair for the obvious. 

Nevertheless, I invite you to journey with me on this first day of the rest of my life as I am stepping into the abyss.  I need to preface this by explaining  that I believe fervently  in El Shaddai; in fact, more than merely believing, I have trusted my life, my existence to the hands of  the Creator of the Universe,  the Father who knit me together in my mother’s womb.  I am madly in love with my kinsman Redeemer.  There may be someone reading this who doesn’t believe in this God.  I hope that doesn’t stop you from traveling with me.  Many men have asked, “What is truth?”  I may not know your truth, but I assure you, this trip will always reflect the truth I experience…come along and feel free to climb aboard or to stop the train and challenge what you don’t accept.

There are too many words needed to give all the details, so a short statement for background:  My day started about 3-4 months ago, really, the day I first heard about Point Hope, a foundation set up to help forgotten children.  I was pulled in by the passion of the founder and the love she and God have for children, specifically for His children who fled genocide in Liberia and landed at a refugee camp in Ghana.  I have thought of going to a lot of places, many in the area of the Mediterranian Sea.   Never have I had a desire to go to Africa, yet within three months I was flying over the Med Sea, stepping off of a plane and into Camp Buduburam, Accra, Ghana, West Africa.

That led me to today.  I got into a little white Sunfire and drove north to start working for Point Hope.  I don’t know where I’ll be staying.  I don’t know my job description or title.  I don’t know where I’ll be working.  I don’t know what or when I’ll be paid.  I do know God knows.  I do know I will have a place to lay my head.  I do know I will have food and drink.  I do know I will have more than many in this world have.   I do know God has called me for such a time as this.  I do know I have a passion to be the hands and feet of Christ.  I do know I feel so privileged and honored to be allowed to be on this path, trusted enough by my Father to be permitted to represent Him to as I work with others to find the answers to  a myriad of concerns. 

Okay, what else do I know….

The United Nations has been pulling out of the camp, bit-by-bit.  Liberia now has an established government and other needs of the globe are pressing.  The fact that it is still not safe for many of the refugees to return or that they have nothing to return to is not going to be enough to stop the termination of the supplemental feeding program which provides rice, corn and beans to approximately 10,000 disadvantaged at-risk persons, including the elderly and disabled and women and children.  The neighborhood watch team, security for the entire camp which is run and staffed by volunteers, may lose the $15.00 a MONTH they each receive from the UN.  Their limited uniforms are in tatters, they have no weapons or tools to perform their duties, they haven’t received any training for many years, yet they are called upon by the local police daily, often to catch and secure violent people who elude the police and hide in the camp. The farm, all five acres, isn’t producing the volume it could and should to feed the camp.  The women’s empowerment program has taught the women skills and tradecraft, but there are presently insufficient outlets to sell the merchandise to provide them a self-sustaining future.  Property purchased for the construction of an orphanage, senior center, clinic, trade school compound has been illegally resold and is not recoverable, yet no appropriate replacement property has been found.   At the local orphanage,  babies from birth to three years of age sit in cribs night and day, only being picked up for diaper changes and feedings  because there are too many of them and not enough hands to hold them, laps to bounce them on, or hearts to care.  Oh, there’s more, but you get the idea.

At any rate, I feel as though my Boss has called me into His office and said, “You have done well with the previous assignments I have given you.  I have noticed you and your efforts and I am pleased.  I realize at times you didn’t feel capable of completing some of the assignments I gave you.  You doubted yourself and wondered if I knew what I was doing.  In spite of your misgivings, you moved forward and completed them to the best of your abilities and you trusted that I would fill in the spaces where your abilities alone would not be sufficient.  Now, I am giving you a new assignment.  You will again, at times, feel inadequate, incapable and will wonder if I know what I am doing using someone like you.  I ask you to continue to trust Me, to step forward in faith, certain that I love you and believe in you.  I am asking you to step into the abyss and know that My right hand will guide you.”

So there it is…why I’m stepping into the unknown and why I am so stoked to be stepping!