Prayers for Ukraine

Just as I am finishing getting Treasures in the Sawdust in Ukraine ready for publishing, 

we keep hearing rumblings about the escalating tensions between R u s s i a and its neighbor Ukraine.

There were more than one prayer this morning in church for Ukraine and for God's hand to be over everything happening over there. 

We have personal friends there, including a special pastor, Pastor Roman and his wife Nadia and family. Roman had just called Jonathan a week ago.

Last Sunday, Jonathan and I and three of our children had the privilege of visiting a Slavic church near Denver. Back in October at the Denver Airport on our way to Salem, OH, we met several men from this church. After hearing them talking in Russian and seing one praying over his food,Jonathan had greeted them in Russian, and of course, they clustered around and we got just a bit acquainted before they had to leave for their flight. But we had asked them about their church, given them one of my new books, and now we finally had a chance to visit the church.

 

Inside we were welcomed and told that it was a "special service," i.e. the monthly communion service. I thought that most Slavic churches have communion the first Sunday of the month, which is one reason we picked this last Sunday of the month to go up. I knew communion services are extra long!

The church provides ear phones for guests who need someone to translate. So we were led up to about the fourth row of seats from the front, and then given 5 sets of ear phones. This church has a choir which filed in just before service.

There was a beautiful shiny black grand piano, and wonderful musicians, as well as singers. You can pretty much count on beautiful music at a Slavic church of any size. They sang with piano some, and some a capella. Two songs were familiar, including "Near the Cross," which was familiar enough that Jonathan and I were able to follow the Russian words on the screen and sing along. I was transported back to Kiev where we used to sing that song a lot in Ukraine, especially on communion Sundays. Carrie noticed the minor chords in most of the Russian songs. The two choir songs were beautiful.

But what brought tears to my eyes was when the congregation, after praying aloud together (they all lifted in prayer together rather than one praying while others were quiet as was typical in Ukraine) began to quote the Lord's prayer together in Russian. All of a sudden, I understood the words and was able pray along with most of it, if I could stop crying long enough. It was so precious to hear our dear brothers and sisters in Christ praying in our beloved (albeit difficult)  Russian language.

 

There were at least four or five men who spoke in some way up front, usually with prayer and a song in between. Hannah counted that we prayed nine times! The pulpit was over to the side, as usual, in Slavic churches. One leading man came back and let Jonathan know that if our hearts were ready, we could participate in the communion service.

 Anyway, then there was a final prayer, and I thought the service was over, but  then everyone sat down. There was more speaking, and more singing, and then there was another prayer, with everyone kneeling, facing forward instead of burying their heads in the chairs, just as they did in Ukraine. At one point there was a benediction, but then we sat down again. Then there was a long, long, long list of announcements. And then anyone who had greetings to share from other churches or people could do so. Then  final prayer. And then FINALLY, about 12:30, we were actually dismissed.

 The three children who went with us got a real taste of what a Russian-speaking service is like.

And I got a little taste of my beloved Russian-speaking brothers and sisters in Christ once again.

Pray with us for the safety, courage, and peace of our brothers and sisters in Christ in these Slavic nations.

Horses and Holiness--a Mother's Meditation

Yesterday Rose drove our van on our way home from taking supper in to Jonathan's dad. Since Rose and I were the only ones in the van, I decided to just ask a little about her life lately and how things have been going with her following her farrier friend around, working with horses. 

Horses is one of Rose's first loves. And next week she's starting an intensive 6 or 8 weeks of farrier school. Being a farrier means you take care of horses' hooves. (We won't discuss how much farrier school costs, but Rose has been industriously saving up for it.) She has to drive an hour and a half Mondays through Thursdays to attend. This means she has to have her own vehicle. 

Happily, about a week ago, she was able to purchase an old pickup that delighted her in many ways. Pretty teal color, running well, pristine condition on the inside--which looks good to a girl that has shared vehicles with working construction guys like her father and brother, and a big family van that gets trashed within a single trip to town, no matter how hard her mother tries to insist on gathering up the apple cores and orange peels and water bottles and boots and papers and books. 

But then three days after Rose purchased this old truck, someone who had been stopped behind an accident in the exit lane pulled into her lane on the interstate. Another vehicle was to the left of Rose, and there was nothing to do except brake and wait for impact, which happened very close to simultaneously. She and her truck are waiting on insurance issues right now since it was the other guy's fault and he has another insurance company than our good one. Wait, wait, wait. 

Meanwhile, I am seeing what is happening and thinking back to only a couple weeks beforehand when I had a prayer between me and the Lord. Trained in Bible college, and having a dad who insisted that every one of us nine children attend Bible College and prepare for full time Christian service, I can't completely erase that from my mind. How I would love for all seven of my children to attend Bible College and go into full time service for the Lord!

But guess what? Sam is in construction and volunteers as a fireman. Carrie loves to milk the cow and raise puppies and do anything but study at Bible College. And Rose is following her dream of working with horses and is starting into farrier school next week. 

Me? I'm going to my sunny bedroom window and laying a prayer out before the Lord: "Lord, if You don't want Rose to go to farrier school, would You close the door?"

And then she crunches her truck that would take her to farrier school! 

Yay, Lord! Closed door! Whoopie-pie, she will now realize she really needs to be in Bible College, right? 

I couldn't help remembering my prayer when Rose and Jonathan (who was directly ahead of her on the interstate that evening) told us about her accident. 

But Rose knows how to pray, too. She might not be going to Bible College, but she knows how to pray. Her truck was all messed up, and now she was praying pretty desperately. And just like that, we get a call from an old friend who is a truck driver and needs someone to keep his pickup running every little while. Could our family keep it out here and use it every once in a while? 

Rose was elated! This truck is even standard shift, her pride and joy! So the truck is out there waiting for its first trip to farrier school Monday. God answered Rose's prayer, and the door to farrier school stayed open.

And then today I flip our Charles Spurgeon daily calendar and am caught by the title, "Horses and High Priests."

"On that day HOLY TO THE LORD will be inscribed on the bells of the horses." Zech. 14:20 

The horse was an animal used for commerce," wrote Spurgeon. Yet the prophet foresees a day when the same insignia will be on the horse as appeared on the most sacred garments of the high priest. 

The time approaches when ordinary things shall be consecrated things. In Christ all things become new. Even now, I may perform my daily labors as to the Lord. My meals then become sacraments, my house a temple; my table an altar; my speech incense; and I myself, a priest."

"Yes, every pot in Jerusalem and Judah shall be holiness to the Lord of hosts," wrote the prophet.

Not just preachers, pastors, missionaries, evangelists, Sunday School teachers, and Christian school teachers will be holy; but every ordinary worker, every common housewife, and every child. 

Not only temples and churches and altars and sacraments will be holy, but even horses and homes, pets and pots, dishes and dogs.

"Your presence at this table makes of our home a holy place,

dear Lord, and all outdoors is the house of God." 

In His Time--After the Waiting and the January Mondays

Yesterday was another January Monday--but that is okay--

except that January is flying by awfully fast!

It's a quiet Tuesday now, with the whole family gone, some to work and some skiing with friends.

Jonathan and I just got back from a quick weekend trip to South Dakota to survey some mission projects, help on Saturday, and other things.

I got to spend Saturday helping in the office--typing and editing articles for the next Indian Vision paper (particularly articles focusing on the life of Frances Montour who, with her husband Raymond, founded SIM and passed away last year), and helping Alanna Lavery get their family newsletter ready to mail. At just age 16, Alanna is a huge help to her parents' ministry--operating the folding machine, the envelope addressing machine, and checking the addressed envelopes against a list.

I stuffed about 342 folded newsletters into envelopes and helped to seal them. 

(And secretly thought how very much I love to help in an office--anything having to do with writing, paper, letters, articles, books--and words!

Words!

This morning in my devotions, some words spoke to me. 

They weren't just my words or the words of a family member or friend or preacher or missionary.

They weren't a missionary newsletter or a sermon.

They were God's words. 

I was reading Psalm 75, and it said, "When I choose the proper time, I will judge uprightly."

"When I choose the proper time..." 

The proper time. 

The right time.

So much hinges on the right time.

At the right time, this Psalm tells us, God "is the Judge; He puts down one, and exalts another."

"For exaltation comes neither from the east nor from the west nor from the south."

The judgment, the putting down, and the exaltations all come from God--

in what He deems to be the proper and right time. 

It's likely to not be our time, since His ways are so different than ours. 

But it's in His time.

He will judge.

He will work out the things that need to be worked out. 

As I scrubbed the crockpot and milk pans and the rest of the huge stack of dishes this morning, I found myself starting to sing a tender chorus that came to me, inspired by the verses I'd just read.

  

I ended up sitting at the piano and playing it through as I sang it over again--not too well, you understand, since I can't play really well in the key of D.

There are exactly two sharps in that key, and that is way too many for my unmusical brain.

But there I sat, trying to get the sharps right while I tried to pay attention to the words.  

"In His time, in His time.

He makes all things beautiful in His time.

Lord, please show me every day 

As You're teaching me Your way,

That You do just what You say

In Your time.

In Your time, in Your time, 

You make all things beautiful in Your time.

Lord, my life to You I bring;

May each song I have to sing

Be to You a lovely thing

In Your time!"

 

Our times of waiting, of boredom,

of failures,

of struggles,

of wilderness or dryness--

these times are not in vain.

They are not necessarily fruitless.

In these tough times God is teaching His children lessons--

lessons of faith, patience, trust, 

of letting go and relinquishing control,

of being brought down so that He and not we receive the glory. 

In His time--after all the wilderness wandering,

after all the January Mondays,

and after all the hours, days, months, and years of waiting,

God will judge,

bring down,

and lift up.

In His time!

Heather Durham's New Book--Her Grief Journey--a Tender and Beautiful Story

 Less than two weeks ago, I received in the mail my order of a new book by our missionary friend, Heather Durham.

 Ed and Heather Durham were fellow missionaries with us the entire time we worked in Ukraine from 1995-1999.

It was only a few months after Jonathan and I had begun to work in Ukraine, and were back in the US for the birth of Crystal, that we heard the tragic news of the Durhams' eleven-year-old daughter's death as the result of a sledding accident. 

We traveled all the way up to Canada, since the Durhams were Canadians, for the funeral.

I tell a little bit about this missionary sorrow in my book, Sunshine and Shadows in Kiev, in chapter 21.

Young Janet was a conscientious, tender-hearted Christian girl whom everyone around knew loved Jesus.

My baby Crystal was only a few weeks old when we got this news. 

How my heart prayed that my own wee daughter would grow up to love Jesus, too! 

 

About the same time I am writing my own books about our experiences in Kiev, Heather began writing her own book which is now published. 

It is a beautiful, tender story, of the grief journey she and Ed have traveled.

It is honest, poignant, and vulnerable.

That is what helps people most. It is not preachy, although she shares lessons she and Ed learned through their sorrow.

It is mostly an honest story, with comfort and encouragement and gentle lessons woven throughout. 

I loved how she wove details about the whole story into every chapter, because if you know me, I like stories, and I like details!

And of course, I'm extra interested since we were fellow missionaries, and I really never knew most of the details in her book.

Definitely a page turner along with being a helpful reaching out to others in painful grief journeys. 

 

One of my favorite parts in the book is the description of Janette's beautiful eyes.

But further on toward the end of the book, what really spoke to me was in her chapter titled "Adjusting Our Expectations."
What she wrote is a help to even someone like me who has not yet experienced a really close death, but who has experienced other griefs.

"By continuing to view our life through a negative lens," Heather wrote, "we also rob those around us of experiencing a life of hope, joy, and fulfillment. When Janette died, we had to shift our focus to concentrate on building a rewarding life with Alicia rather than pining for something that would never exist. It was a commitment Ed and I took seriously. 

Some people unsuccessfully attempt to fill the void left by loss with something else.

Instead, I decided to embrace the void. In my mind, my life had a hole smashed through one wall when Janette died. Nothing will adequately fill that space because nothing will replace her. 

So, my rebuilt life has an archway that I have created from that broken wall, and it leads to a beautiful garden filled with flowers and butterflies. It is my garden of memories from those years that Janette graced our lives with her buoyant personality. I didn't seek to fill the void she left with something else. Instead, I chose to allow the beauty of our shared past to continue to permeate those places that were left empty.As I look back over the years since Janette's death, I am reminded that the ability to adjust our expectations gracefully is a key to surviving the lifelong journey of grief..It is a continual adjustment that we make."

I also liked the bit of humor in the next chapter called "Focusing on the Positive," where Heather quotes another author, "Being negative only makes a journey more difficult. You may be given a cactus, but you don't have to sit on it."

In the chapter, "Everyone's Unique Journey," Heather shares a struggle that Ed had with panic at losing things and not being able to find them at times, after Janette's death. 

It took some time to figure out and understand how the panic was related to their losing "something of utmost value that was impossible to replace."

Subconsciously, this really affected Ed.

Heather had other types of struggles along this line.

It was encouraging to me to read how they strove to look for the root behind the new struggles they were experiencing so that they could understand them, and hopefully overcome.

This is a lesson that we can all learn, regardless where we are in any journey of loss, pain, or grief.

This book is just good!

If you would like to order this book, here is the link to where you can order online.

It even has free shipping!

 

https://www.heatherdurham.net/product-page/an-unexplained-endurance-book 

The Goats' January Christmas Treat!

We left our Christmas tree up longer this year than we ever did before. After Mama Lucas's death, and other deaths, and a big round of sickness, we just didn't feel like taking down the lights yet.

But finally it was just time to take it down and get the Christmas decor back into the attic.

Something nice about taking the Christmas tree out is that it doesn't go to waste around here.

Does anything at all go to waste around here? 

Not even the garbage! Between chickens and dogs, our garbage is all eaten up.

And so it goes with the Christmas tree! The goats and calf about went nuts over those delicious green needles! So the stable animals had their special Christmas treat in January!

On a January Monday

January is a common season for doldrums--

when there has been next to no measurable snow for several months, and everything is dry, dusty, brown, and sad.

That is made worse when our home has been deluged with weeks of sickness--one person after another coming down with whatever is going around, and myself spending two weeks sick or trying to  recuperate.  

And then you have Monday on top of January. 

But at least in Colorado, most Mondays are sunny--even if that contributes to the dryness and dust.

Yesterday was Monday, which for me is laundry day.

And I was just thankful to have the energy to hang laundry again after weeks of sickness.

I hadn't been to church for three Sundays--except online services at Beavertown this last Sunday.

It was good to soak in some Vitamin D from the sunshine.

 

And even though it was a federal holiday, we did school anyway. Next week the children want to take a day to go skiing with friends, so this holiday school work will make up for that.

Monday morning or afternoon, I can't remember which, I was looking out Hannah's window and discovered some green things in the fodder house! 

 Rose has been growing fodder this winter to feed our chickens, horse, and cows and goats and maybe rabbits, too. And she started a couple pots of lettuce, too!

s

We sold the double barrel heater which was way too big for the fodder house, and instead use a little camping wood stove that works perfectly. 

And the huge window on the south side of the fodder house (gotten free from one of Jonathan's work sites) lets in lots of sunshine.

 Here Rose is spreading grain to sprout in the trays. 

 Well, Rose came up with the menu for a chilly Monday evening--biscuits and gravy, using leftover elk from the Sunday roast.

And Hannah made an apple salad, and we made sauteed green beans with a bit of bacon, and had pickled beets, too. 

 A close-up of one of Rose's crusty, golden biscuits!

 So on this Monday, besides school and laundry and foddering and such, I made a new batch of granola. 

That granola goes into a big jar. 

And then I strain the goat milk after Danny milks that evening, and he and Hannah play a game of Ticket to Ride.

And so goes our January Monday! 

God Is My Rock!

                   God Is My Rock!

(A poem I wrote in my prayer journal almost exactly ten years ago.)

God is my Rock, a living stone,

Hearing my prayers before His throne

Before all hope within me dies,

This Rock has ears; this Rock has eyes!

This Rock supports my flailing soul

When o'er my heart the high waves roll.

A fortress from the devil's darts,

Hiding the treasure of my heart.

This Rock's a firm place on which to stand,

A shadow in a sun-parched land.

Yet is this Rock alive and feels

The pain that makes my heart to reel.

A Rock that feels, one that can touch,

A living Rock--this is too much

To understand, and yet I know

Beyond a doubt, beyond my woe,

This living Rock, this living Stone

Is God my Savior, all my own.

Rock of my heart, I do, I must

Place upon You my hope and trust!