Back From Peru

I just realized that this didn't go through when I tried to publish it! This is the beginning of the posts about Peru.


Now I can talk in English, and you all can understand me!

Here are some pictures and short videos from my Peru Mission Project. Enjoy!

More Pictures From Peru

Sorry it's been a while, I have been so busy. If you read my Mom's blog, you know that we are in the middle of moving, which I plan to blog about soon. Anyway, here are some more pictures:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Humble Mission

This mission doesn't preach to thousands, it attracts little hands to work alongside mine. It doesn't speak eloquently, but draws my siblings and I to spend some quality time together. So far, it hasn't changed the hearts of hundreds, but it has softened a few, including mine. No emotional tears yet, but a couple delighted smiles.

This mission is called raising an herb garden. Starting in probably January or February, I was ignoring the icy temperature outside with my nose stuck in a gardening magazine. Wow, it had everything I never knew I always wanted! They almost had me convinced that I really could grew exotic coffee plants and dwarf pomegranate trees in Wisconsin.

Then I came to the page with herbs. I recognized a few plants whose names matched the spice bottles in the cupboard, and I started to think: what if I grew these things? My Mom, a dreamer the whole 9 yards, shared my excitement and went into a spiel about how much better home grown food is, how much healthier fresh herbs are than dehydrated ones, how everything had medicinal qualities, etc., etc. Instantly, I was lit up about it.

As this was not the first dream I've had, Mom instructed me to study about the plants for the months between then, with two feet of snow outside, and the warm planting weeks. As usual, I dived into research, trying to find out everything I could about every herb I had time to study. It turns out that this dream was not a passing whim as the other ones were of keeping guinea pigs in my bedroom, raising Angora rabbits (even though I'm a terrible seamstress), or being a fashion designer. This dream was one worth following through on.

When May finally came, my Mom fulfilled her promise to get me going on my herb garden. She gave me two small strawberry beds that had been idle for over a year, and overrun with weeds. Even though it was a job, weeding those beds did something really good for me: it showed me that dreams can and do come true, but you need to go out there and make them come true: get your hands dirty. Literally.

At last, the wonderful day came to begin picking out herbs. God provided every step of the way: the day we happened to start looking for plants was the day the store had herbs on sale. My eyes have rarely been wider then when I was rushing through the greenhouse, smelling and touching and choosing the best mint, basil, chamomile, etc.

Everyday, I still consider the fact that these plants are alive and flourishing a miracle. For a long time, the tiny plants were puny, weak, wilting, and pathetic. Most of them that look great now are the ones I feared most for. Come on, just make it one more day! But now, it looks like I'd have a hard time killing them if I wanted to. A wonderful dream come true!

Sure, this is a decent and useful dream that I have enjoyed, but what is it's point eternally? Why would it count as a mission? That was one of the reasons I wanted to do it, actually. Often times, I see women leave their own families to someone else's care, some even for the sake of mission trips. But I ask you, ladies: where else can you possibly have the biggest effect on anyone as much as you have on your children? Where is your influence, if not in the home? Where can you see faces brighten as much as when your kids smell the fresh cookies you baked just for them? Where else can you demonstrate God's love as much as when you are changing diapers, playing with your kids, and tucking them in at night?

It took me a long time to realize that as the big sister, my greatest influence is right here, at home, living and loving my siblings. They are the ones who see my bad side, my failures, my struggles, my bedhead. They are the ones who need to know most that God works through sinners like me, and gives them mercy.

Mark 9:35, 'Sitting down, Jesus called the Twelve and said, "If anyone wants to be first, he must be the very last, and the servant of all."'

Matthew 20:25-27, 'Jesus called them together and said, "You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their high officials exercise authority over them. Not so with you. Instead, whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first must be your slave - just as the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many."'

For a long time, especially since Trent's death, I have wondered how to connect and spend time with my siblings. It was easier when we were younger and could play tag, dolls, coloring, etc., but how does a 17 year old and an 11 year old spend the afternoon together? A lot of compromising has been going on lately. God has helped me to love my brothers and sister more than ever. We have played in the sprinkler, baked goodies, went on bike rides, and stuff like that. It's so profound, but it's not all about me. To love, you need to put others before yourself.

I know it sounds strange, but the herbs have drawn us together. 8-year-old Micah and I have more than once ran out to the little garden, plucked a few choice leaves, and stirred up two-serving sized batches of iced tea with a tint of mint, lemon balm, or pineapple sage (that really does taste like pineapple!) He proudly claimed his place the other day as my right hand padawan (a Jedi apprentice in Star Wars) and that we were in it together. Now, I stop and think about how we are enjoying each other and having a lot of fun just doing something together. And something useful that benefits the whole family! Lately, my family and I have enjoyed spaghetti with fresh parsley, herb butter on french bread, and tea. Soon to be added will be mint candies, sweet basil vinegar, artificial sugar, and dried spices.

Yes, it is humble, but this is a home-based mission focused on bringing us together and adding a little bit of homegrown sunshine to spice up our lives.

What is your humble mission?

2nd Year Anniversary

 

 

 

Monday was the 18th, the 2nd year anniversary of Trent's death. There was a lot of anxiety and emotional attacks the two weeks before. Those were the two toughest weeks I've had in over a year as far as dealing with Trent's death.

I imagine my sweet 12-year-old brother with his eyes all sparkling as we would talk about God. His eyes only went gaga about three things: hunting, fishing, and God. Every night I remember, we would talk into the late hours -- sometimes about Narnia, sometimes about anger, about the trials of teenage lives, crushes old and new, struggling with sin, ice fishing, etc. But whatever we started out talking about, it always wound up getting related to God.

Then we would really talk! I don't even remember much about what aspects of God we talked about . . . . God's Sovereignty? Grace? Mercy? His Word? His working in our lives and the lives of those we love? I'm not sure. I just remember the sparkle in his eye and excited, trembling wonder in his voice as we talked about the Bible. Well how could this be? So that was God's plan!? That's awesome! But when does this happen? Was it a foreshadow or a fulfillment? But what about -- what about, what about, what about?

Of course, now he wouldn't be twelve anymore, but nearly fifteen. I know fifteen year old boys -- they are chasing the world as hard as they can, not concerned about God, sitting with glazed eyes when faced with God's Word, but shivering in delight when you mention paint balls, guns, biking, working out, sports, canoeing, fishing, hunting, and, well, everything the world has to offer. Well, what would Trent have been like?

It's hard to explain what losing a brother is like. Trent was no ordinary kid, God saved him! I am extremely glad that he is in Heaven, without a possibility of ever sinning again. Yet at the same time, we are here -- I am here. I still grieve. I grieve for myself -- I am here, not in Heaven! I miss my brother who loves Jesus. I miss the gentleman he is. Emotions have been kind of scattered everywhere lately. The poor kid who opened the door for my friend and I nearly had a crying girl on his hands.

Some of my friends went on a skiing trip this year again. Some of them had gone on the one that Trent never came back from. I have stared at them many a time wondering, "How can you not remember? How can you not think about God and eternity and reality?" I find that clearly shown spiritual blindness reminds me of how I was before I came to God: blind and unconscious to God. Jesus turns my mind from what is not at the moment given to them, and what has been given to me: salvation from the just wrath of the Holy God.

I cannot say that grief has always been easy because of God. Grief is not easy, even when both people involved are saved by God. But I can truthfully acknowledge that through every step of the way, Jesus has walked right beside me and never left me, as he promised (Hebrews 13:5). It is in the worst moments when I am hiding away from the world with tears streaming down my cheeks that I can imagine best the scarred hands of my Savior who carries me every step of the way he has chosen for me.

One of my greatest comforts through this process of missing Trent is God's Word. This one verse has helped me through many trials: Isaiah 63:9, "In all their distress he (God) too was distressed and the angel of his presence saved them. In his love and mercy, he redeemed them. He lifted them up and carried them all the days of old."

The more broken you are, the higher you lift your hands in desperation for a Healer.

Though family and friends can help, they are never always there when and how you need them to be. Finding myself crying alone is not uncommon. Envying the comfort of friends God has blessed others with through grief, I asked him one day, "God, why did you give her people to comfort her, but I am all alone?" I felt a very clear answer by remembering how much more God has allowed me to know him, trust him, and love him because of this. He is still teaching me to depend on him only, and as a first resort, not the last. God reminds me that he is the Potter, I am the clay. I am no one to speak back to Him, nor to say, "What have you done!?" (Romans).

Yes, God has given me friends who help me. But he often gives me an even greater gift: suffering alone. Why? Because then it is Jesus who is my all in all, not a part of the balm. Grief is hard, but God is good -- and He continues to remind me of pressing and striving toward the goal: Heaven, eternal bliss where I will walk with Jesus and talk with him face to face!

Peru Mission Update

My team and I met together recently for another Peru missions project meeting. At first, these were awkward: I half knew half of the kids, and the other half I didn't know at all. But as we've met together a few times now and are talking about practical things and details about the trip, I feel that we have really connected and are started to be a real team. Many of my questions being answered there was a big relief as well!

So now for the update. The two ways I have asked people to help me are: #1, to be prayer partners praying for my team, me, our leaders, long-term Peru missionaries, and those we will be witnessing to, and #2, financial partners who give as God calls them with cheerful hearts, for "God loves a cheerful giver." (2 Corinthians 9:7).

First I want to update you about prayer partners. God has wonderfully blessed me with three very faithful prayer partners: my Mom, my Dad, and Brenda. I want to thank each one of you for obeying God's calling to you and impacting many for eternity! You are a gift from God to our whole team.

About finances: whenever I tell anyone the total cost of this trip, they gasp, get big eyes, or, you know: the look a 6-year-old gets when you tell them you make a hundred dollars every day. God has, from the beginning, given me a great peace about the price, and he has made trusting him for it easy. This is completely his work alone! I am already 1/3 of the way to reaching my goal -- and I have not yet sent out my mission letters. Rejoice with me, our God is great!

This missions project has made me better understand what treasures in jars of clay mean. God is the awe-inspiring treasure, beautiful beyond measure. I am the jar of clay: not anything special, expensive, sturdy, or worthy of myself, but only looked at because of the great, undeserved gift from God: salvation to a wretch like me. Rejoice with me, for our God is merciful!

The Dish Cloth Ministry

There is a lady at my church who lost her husband a few months ago, and God has really connected us since then. For just a few minutes after the sermon, we talk and encourage each other before going on with life, and those few minutes have meant so much to me lately -- I have known a friend who acknowledges my grief and cares enough to ask about it.

When this lady heard of my going to Peru this summer (Lord willing), she offered to make me and my friend dish clothes to sell as fund-raisers. Well isn't that sweet? I didn't think until she gave me the first few how she had to buy the materials and utensils to make them, pick a design, sit down and knit or crochet them for a good chunk of her day, and then simply offer these beautiful pieces to me free of charge; investing in me and the kingdom of God, and gaining eternal rewards. But even more amazing and special than these dish clothes is the miracle God has done: he took the heart of a sweet lady and broke it, asking her to trust him, then through the pain caused her to reach out in a gesture to further his kingdom and help someone else, me. We serve an awesome God!

My family has purchased a few dish clothes, and me being the 24/7 family dish dawg, I love using them! Although I loved the ministry from the dish clothes, I was at first leery of actually using them. I am picky when it comes to dish clothes, but when I used these, I instantly fell in love with them! They are a little bigger than usual, but thick soft. They also wash well and still look pretty! Apart from the practical sense is my favorite aspect of the dish clothes: as I wash dishes (I have a bit of time into it being a family of 7), God reminds me to pray for the lady who made them, my team of youth going on the mission trip, our leaders, the full time missionaries in Peru, and the people we will me witnessing to: people who need Jesus just as much as I do. I wind up praying most of the time doing dishes, spending time with God and thinking of others as I do a simple, domestic duty.

Now I am passing the baton: if you have been reading this blog and are interested in helping to send this missionary to Peru, to tell others about Jesus and bring glory to God, I am putting up dish clothes for sale from this post. There are different sizes, designs, and colors, and they do the job well. I was originally planning to put pictures of them on this post, but the camera broke, so I'll be a little delayed. The price of the dish clothes are $5.00 each, with no shipping charge due to their small size and weight. The rewards from God are eternal. I want to ask anyone purchasing them (as well as anyone reading this) to take a moment and pray for me, my team, our leaders, and the Peruvians.

If the lady who made these dish cloths happens to read this, I want to say thank you so much for this ministry, not only to others, but also to me. Who would have ever thought that God could do a miracle in hearts partly because of a dish cloth?

I Am 16, Going on 17

With my 17th birthday coming up, I want to take a while and reflect on what being 16 years old is like for me, and some of the highlights.

It was very scary at first, for two reasons. Reason number one is because as a young girl (and even still), I enjoyed watching Sound of Music. Retaining none of the history, not much of the plot, drama, characters, or inspiration at the age of about 9, the one thing I understood was the scene where the mail delivery boy, Ralph, visits Leasle and both are so in love. One of the repetitive lines in the song they sing is, "I am 16, going on 17," and also stood out to me. As such, I had got it into my head that 16 was supposed to be a deeply romantic age. Well, that's not exactly how it's been turning out! It was God's grace that showed me first to save not only my purity, but also the fullness of my love only for the man I marry, if God so plans. Rather than a year of careless dating, this has been a year of careful conduct. To tell the truth, I am very happy to be nearly at the end of being 16 years old just to get over perhaps a small fraction of hormones jumping off the charts and the increasing obsession that was cemented this year, but completely absent the rest of my life: fashion.

The second reason I was so afraid to turn 16 was because I was terrified at the thought of having my first birthday with Trent being dead. The scary thought of growing older without my closest in age brother right on my heels into the land of teenagers was creeping in my mind. I was being pushed farther from my brother. But I am reminded of something my Mom told me that was very true and, well, weird, "Don't worry about forgetting the details (about Trent) here: you will have an eternity in Heaven to get to know him again." How true! Lately, eternity is seeming to take forever to start. But once is starts, it will never stop. To think of it logically, would I obsess about worrying about the smallest detail of remembering my brother if I knew I would be apart for a while, but see him again in a few weeks? God has carried me through all of the tough and painful grief every single step of the way. I cannot explain it too well, but it seems like even at the worst points of not understanding why it must hurt this deep, feeling like I'm losing the battle, and like I'm all alone, I constantly have this heart-knowledge that God is right here, even though he may feel a hundred miles away. Sometimes the mental picture comes to mind of my crying literally in God's mighty hands (his Sovereignty), and seeing my hot tears fall into the creases of his fingers, bottling them up. Yes, grieving will be worth it, and it is not unbearable through him who gives me strength (Phillipians 4:13).

A few highlights of the year have been these: attending a two week leadership training camp, serving as a co-counselor in a Bible camp, writing two children's books (which I really do plan to write about!) signing up for a missions project next summer, and preparing for a half-homemade Christmas. My family decided to make half the gifts we give each other and buy the other half. I would tell you what I made and how, and even add pictures, but my family sometimes reads my blog and I can't have them snooping!

God has really grown me in my faith this year too. I am realizing the depth of my sin more, and the glory and majesty of Jesus my Savior more too. Being emotional was not a big part of my past, it took a lot to make me cry. But now with Trent's death, the tiniest thing sets me off. I am glad of it though: God has, in a way, increased my compassion through it. Sanctification is tougher the farther you get! You also get a bigger glimpse of God's glory through it.

I started with sharing of the wanting to be 16 years old, and now here are major thoughts on being 17. First, I am a little afraid of being 17. It is the last birthday anyone gets as a kid, and oh, I loved my childhood! Great family, good friends, beautiful memories. 17 is near the last age of transitioning into a young lady, and is a little sad. But there is also joy. Cooking, making soap with Mom, and even doing dishes have been so enjoyable this year, and even more so at the thought that maybe one day I, too, will be a mother. I am very excited about becoming a mature young lady for God, and seeing what he will do in my life for the fame of his name and the good of his people, as he promised.