I looked out on the crowd at church from my corner where I sit and watched her stand; a woman who usually is isolated to her wheel chair, she is the first to stand up and sing this song.

“I will rise when He calls my name, no more sorrow, no more pain.”  (Tomlin, Giglio, Maher, Reeves)

Watching her worship brought tears to my eyes.  Her small frame, recently disabled by a disease she didn’t ask for, her hands held high toward Heaven, her face beaming, her eyes closed, she smiles as she reaches for His presence.

Monday afternoon

I hear news today from one of my very best friends in the world.  “I have cancer.”

She doesn’t have all the answers yet, she needs to go in for surgery, but this news distracted me all day and I am upset because I can’t fix it.

Yet, she shares these words from her devotions this morning.

“Lift up empty hands of faith to receive My precious presence”

Between the Superbowl parties, the birthdays, the travels and the lessons of life, I often forget to lift up my hands to receive His precious presence.  Why is it in our pain we are reminded to do this? 

And as the sun sets on another day of life, I look out on the sky tonight from my office… which also happens to be Isabel’s bedroom, and I am reminded that each day, each and every day is such a precious gift to be lived out in the fullest.

With our breath, our bodies, our minds and our spirit, and every ounce of living we have, we need to LIVE in the big open space of His precious presence.  Oh His mercies are new every morning and His grace is sufficient and wonderful and His presence brings us comfort, peace and strength.

I get so busy sometimes ya know…I spend time doing stupid things or I forget to find meaning in the tasks that truly are important, like looking in the eyes of my girls, or holding Stephen’s hand.

And when we reach for His precious presence…I believe that HE swoops us up like a child an embraces us. Don’t you just want to be held sometimes?

Psalm 57:10 For great is your love, reaching to the heavens, your faithfulness reaches to the skies.  (NIV version)

It is so easy to get caught up in the way of the American life. Buying, watching, time consumed. My week has been filled to the brim with home work, auditions, and school. I have been struggling to have time to think about my trip and what I have learned.

Did you know that Hindu’s have over 330,000,000 gods and goddesses?

I’ve been learning that we as Americans have just as many. We call ours TV, books, computers, facebook, food, money, friends; I’ve been learning that we have just as many gods. I don’t bow down to them or sacrifice animals to them as I saw them do in India, but I spend more time thinking and spending time with them than God.

I’ve been learning  that I need to be a “spiritual firework”.

There are some pretty dark places in India from my perspective as a Christian. We went to the temple for the goddess of death and destruction and it was a very hard place to be in. A place that showed me just how much people need hope in their lives. It reminded me that this hopelessness and “darkness” is everywhere.

In India, we saw so much darkness and it weighed heavy on our hearts because of the incredible poverty and oppression. We went to a church that was in the middle of a neighborhood surrounded by religious strife. Hindu’s on one side, Muslims on the other and the  church right in the middle. Yet, despite the religious strife, the church was reaching out to it’s neighbors like spiritual fireworks to bring hope.  Seeing the kids in this project was life changing.

Then I met the beautiful girl, Rubina, who lived in a home with no roof, in a neighborhood that was violent against her faith. Her family was so joyful despite the circumstances and they were a light to their neighbors and brought hope to a dark place. Her family was like a spiritual firework.

Then there is my sponsor child, Remya, who is the most joy filled person I have ever met. She is loving, and funny, and her smile can light up a room.

But even here, there is darkness. Her brother is recovering from Polio and has a hand that he cant use. Her dad works cutting coconuts down from a tree for a dollar per five coconuts and her situation is hard, yet, because of Christ in her life she lives with joy.  She is like a burst of spiritual fireworks that lights up a dark night.

Darkness isn’t hidden India. It is everywhere.  I saw it in the streets, I felt it in the temple, I experienced it the night we went to church and the lights went out while we sat there.

We hide it in America. We hide it in our “gods”, and say its the stuff of movies or ghost stories and we ignore it.

But its real, and it’s everywhere.  At school it’s in the depression and the confusion, the lies of society and the hurt of the lonely.  We search for something real, but the darkness keeps us from finding it.

But if the light of God can shine in India, penetrating the darkest neighborhoods and the worst conditions, where the devil runs wild; why don’t I shine my light that bright here? Why have I not been the “spiritual firework”?

It’s time.

In the midst of all this joy and pain, in a little home about a 5 minute walk from the church lives the most beautiful girl in the world.

Her name is Rubina. Her brother is a sponsored child and so we were brought to his home. Our group crouched through the 4 foot tall door into their mud walled, thatch roofed home and we were stunned that such beauty could live in a place like this. She smiled with love and greeted me with a “Hello sister!” She could take anyone’s breath away with her smile alone.

Her father spoke, he began to tell us his testimony. He told us that while working, he fell off of something and became paralized. The doctors told him they couldn’t help him. For 6 months he was paralyzed. His son then went to the Compassion project and asked the staff to pray over his dad. The staff went to his home and prayed over his father. The dad said, I then believed in Jesus and I was healed. It took six months to fully heal, but he knew it was Jesus that healed him.

We asked him what struggles their family faced, and he explained that their roof leaked because it was made of thatch. They wanted an asbestos roof instead. Rubina smiled as he told his story.

Among all of this hardship, this beautiful girl could smile and say that one day she would be a bank manager, and her brother would be a computer engineer.

I struggled with how this beautiful creation of God could live in a home without a proper roof. How she could stand and say, in perfect English, that she would not only be a banker, but manage the bank. She dreamed sky high while surrounded by complete darkness, and told by her culture’s religion that she was worthless.

Why was I allowed to be born in the United States? Why were His plans for me to live in the US, instead of Rubna? I doubt I will ever know.

We asked the father what we could pray for. He, without hesitation said, “Spiritual growth. We must grow in our relationship with Jesus. After that, God will take care of the rest of things like the roof and other needs.” I can only pray that I have half of the faith that that family has, and dream half as much as that beautiful girl.

Meeting her was eleven years of anticipation and expectations. And that day blew them all out of the water. If ever a day was perfect, it was yesterday.

She held onto me the whole day, we went to a zoo, the kind where the monkeys ran free, and goldfish were so unheard of, they were in the aquarium. We had pizza for lunch, her first slice of pizza. Then we went to an old Buddhist temple where the monks used to live. Small square rooms carved out of a rock hill. Remya and I climbed to the top where we could see all of Bhubaneswar. We sang her happy birthday.

We went back to the hotel and talked some. As we asked questions, we found that her oldest brother had just started to recover from Polio this year. Her mother has no work, and her father cuts down coconuts for a living. He receives about twenty cents per coconut. That is what the family lives on. I had no idea that her situation was that rough, it was hard to hear.

Remya handed me a photo album. She had pictures of her family, and the first pictures I had sent her, from when I was very small. It was funny to see all of the history between us. She also had pictures of her friends the “Sixen Beauties”. I had sent her a picture of me and my best friend in a field a while back, which she had photo shopped over, so that it was her in the field with me. We got a big kick out of that. I learned that she wanted to be a teacher for computer sciences.

Remya had also brought her file with her. Every Compassion child has a file, it includes their grades, their medical records, and every letter she and I had ever written to each other in it.  It was overwhelming. It was both of our histories, all of the pictures we drew, all of the questions we asked. It was amazing to see.

Throughout the day I really fell in love with this wonderful girl. I loved how she wouldn’t let go of me, I loved how she loved my “fish eyes”, I loved how she cried as we said goodbye and she held me tight, I loved how she could only say “I love you so much” through her tears, I love how her mother grabbed my chin and smiled as she said I was like another daughter to her. I loved that day, and I love Remya. Words really can’t describe my day with that wonderful girl. God really did put us together for a reason. She has been my “special friend”, and a huge part of my life. One day, after eleven years, was worth all of the goodbye tears at the end, all of the sponsorship money. This relationship is priceless.

I have come to terms now that this will be the last time my family or I will get to see her, that we only have one more year to write letters before she graduates from the program. But I know that one day, I will see her again in heaven, my Kingdom friend. And it will be a joyous day, because we won’t have to say goodbye. I can’t wait till then.

“Mom, I just can’t blog about my day yet.  It’s too much.”

She would try to tell me stories of her day with her Compassion child, Remya, but I could recognize that her  11 year relationship with Remya, living oceans apart, sharing faith and friendship through many letters,  being teenagers together, being of the same faith, brought a deep sense of God’s grace and mercy into the lives of these girls.

God orchestrated this day in His perfect timing; Remya’s birthday on Friday, Stephen needing to build this trip during this time of the year, and both girls getting close to finishing high school.  Julia needs to take a moment to process what God brought today.  Why this bond? Why this love?  A holy day.  God was in this day, and no doubt the day was pure joy, but parting was bitter sweet.

As I lay awake all night, waiting to hear how the day was going…like a good movie or a book, when the skype call came in, I dove for the computer, but my girl had no words, she just shook her head and wiped the tears.

Last night I had the joy of skyping with Julia and Remya before they set out on the day.

I have met her and her mother, and I love them like family.  I don’t understand this love being that they aren’t family and we have never spent much time together.  So all I can attribute it to is something deeply spiritual that God has done to give us a glimpse of His love for us.  His sacrifice.  And when I think of the two of them being together, sharing letters, time and tears, I have to ask myself, was it worth the money we gave all these years?  11 years, and over $5000.  I remember this little girl of mine at age 5 coming to me with Remya’s picture begging to sponsor her.  Was it worth it?

Did God ask that question when he sacrificed for us?

Money is nothing when you have these moments.  It is more than worth it. And somehow I don’t feel like we sacrificed.  It was in our giving we received the blessing, and today Julia encountered the blessing of the gift.

Yesterday was crazy.  One minute I am skyping with Julia and Remya with tears in my eyes, the next moment I am taking Grace to Urgent Care for an infection.

In the rush of life, I pause this morning to recognize the beauty of the holy moments, grateful that my baby girl at age 16, shared it with her Kingdom friend.  Possibly they will meet again, possibly not.  But something beautiful happened and I look forward to hearing her story…and I’m praising God for blessing that came to my baby girl today.  It was worth every cent.

Julia will post soon so stay tuned.

At five months old, doctors found that he was born with Thalassemia. Thalassemia is a hereditary blood disease that makes an abnormal form of hemoglobin. Because of this, every six weeks he needs a blood transfusion. The disorder is very costly, especially to a family bellow the poverty line. When he was diagnosed with this disease, his mother and father abandoned him and married other people. He has not heard from his parents since then.

His grandparents took Deep in and raised him. Every six weeks, Deep’s grandparents take him to the doctor to get his blood transfusion, which costs 1600 rupees, equivalent to 31 US dollars.

Deep’s grandfather drives a rickshaw; on good days he makes about 50 rupees.

Deep’s grandmother is a housemaid. She makes about 700 rupees a month.

If you try and do the math, Deep’s transfusions cost roughly 80% of the families income.

Deep sat playing with a little strip of fabric as his grandmother told us of their struggles. We sat on the bed in their two-room palm frond walled home and looked at that adorable little five-year-old, shy as could be, and I wondered how he was still alive. We asked the grandmother how they managed to pay for his transfusions, she replied that Compassion International paid for all his medical needs, and so in the Lords name, Compassion saved this adorable little boy’s life.

After this, we asked the grandmother what we could pray for, she said to pray for healing in Deep. So we prayed over Deep, we prayed for healing in his blood.

While we were leaving, the grandmother looked me in the eye and took my hand in both of hers and told me to come again. I can’t explain why this was so powerful to me, but I knew that it was completely genuine, and I could see the love in her eyes. What an amazing woman.

Please pray for Deep and his loving grandparents.

We were welcomed to the rural project by the mothers of the babies, dressed in the most beautiful, colorful, saris. They threw yellow and purple flower petals at us as we came in. What a welcome.

The mothers sang to us and gave us coffee and a gift, it was all very touching. Then we had a chance to play with the babies. We blew bubbles and I have never seen children so giddy. They were jumping and dancing and screaming with laughter. They were all so beautiful, the mothers and the children, their smiles could melt anyone’s heart.

We were also able to deliver 35 pairs of baby shoes to the project! So amazing.

After long five and a half hour drive back and we are still all in one piece. Thank you for your prayers.

Yesterday my mom and I were looking through my file of Remya’s letters and old pictures, and we found that her birthday will be on January 20th, the day before I meet her! How exciting is that?! What a cool birthday celebration.

I cant wait to get there and see everything!

Thanks for the prayers! I’ll be posting my all of my adventures.

~Julia

Last night we sat around our dinner table and she couldn’t help herself from tearing up. I couldn’t understand, because I will be going with my dad and I will be safe with him. She knows that. So she shouldn’t be worrying. However, she explained to me that she wasn’t worrying. She was just sad that she was missing this experience with her daughter. I realize that this isn’t a small thing, I am going half way across the world to a place where darkness is everywhere, I am going to see God in ways I never have, I’m going to meet people who’s lives depend fully on the Lord, and I am going without my mommy.

Let me tell you a great memory that I have of my mom. In the eighth grade my family went to Kenya, I had refused all week to put my hair up. Well, one of those days, I found my head itching uncontrollably. I asked my dad to look at my head and sure enough, there were cute little lice jumping all around my head. My mom and dad had sat down in their room and they pulled the little creatures out of my hair and I had the pleasant job of squishing them. Yay… Well, that night our trip leader went out and found some lice medication (a lot like pesticides for your hair), and my mom sat in the bathroom that night and rubbed that nasty stuff all over my head. The next morning I woke up lice free. She helped me fix my hair up everyday on the trip. Every night for a couple weeks after that trip my mom would straighten my hair and pull the dead lice eggs out of my hair. She had been there the whole time helping me patiently, and kindly. It was an experience that we both shared and can look back with a (sort of) smile together.

Throughout the planning process of the trip, my mom has been crazy, and I didn’t know why. She constantly told me about the things I would see, and how I would feel about things, how crazy the airports were, how I would love this or hate that. I was going nuts! Everyday she asked me how I was feeling about the trip, one day she asked me at least three times within just a couple hours (believe me, after a few months of this you would go crazy too).

But my mom wasn’t trying to pester me, she just wanted to experience this all with me, like she had in Africa, or the Dominican Republic. She wanted to be able to see her daughter change, and be able to understand why. And now I see why she tears up when she thinks about me leaving. And I know now how much I will miss her when I’m gone. Because lets be honest, there is absolutely no way that my dad will ever help me fix my hair!

INDIA, Six Days…by Julia

In six days I will be waking up at the crack of dawn, heading to the airport, and boarding my flight to India.

Eleven years ago, I was standing at a little Compassion booth that was set up in my church. My dad told me to pick a little girl that was born the same year I was. I found a packet with a beautiful girls picture adorning it.

Her name was Remya, she lived in India; I told my dad that I wanted to sponsor her. I wrote my first letter and sent it off. That day was the start of a beautiful friendship.

In 2009, my mom had the chance to go to India, and on that trip, my mom met Remya.

 On the day my mom met Remya, I received a phone call, my mom told me that Remya was right by her and wanted to say hello to me. She handed the phone to Remya. I could practically see the smile on Remya’s face the way she was giggling. I couldn’t help myself from crying. Tears poured down my face as she told me that she loved me. I told her I loved her too. I knew at that moment that I had to go to India to meet this giggling girl. I had to see her and hug her and tell her just how much I loved her in person. I had to tell her how beautiful she was and how much God loved her. When my mom came home from the trip she looked at me and said, “We have to find a way to get you to India, you will adore her.”

My dad planned the trip and here we are, heading to India in just six days. But now that the trip is almost here, I don’t know how to feel. Thoughts and feelings are racing through my head a mile a minute, trying to distract me from God. There is a spiritual battle going on in my heart. Worry and anxiety are in the place of peace, fear and premeditated failure in the place of excitement. I think over the smallest details, like, what if I can’t think of anything to say to Remya? I would laugh if someone else had expressed that anxiety to me, just out of the sheer stupidity. I would tell anyone else that they were worrying about something preposterous, that when the time comes, God will give them the words they need to say, I would tell them to have fun and let go of expectations. But I find myself worrying anyway. Don’t get me wrong here, I am extremely excited to go on this trip, I just have my moments of worrying.

Last Sunday, my pastor called my dad and me up to the stage, for the congregation to pray over us. I asked that they pray over our hearts, as India is a dark place and no doubt we will be vulnerable to the devils attack. Knowing that I have people who are praying over my dad and me, even before this trip, has helped put my mind at ease. It has helped me focus on preparing for the trip and setting my heart on the Lord.

Tonight I’m feeling excited, ready to go. I’m wishing that the trip would start tomorrow. I’m glad to have more time to prepare logistically and to prepare my heart. But I do feel a lot like a kid the week before Christmas. These are going to be a long six days waiting to go.  Waiting for this moment I have thought about for many years.  6 more days.