The South African school year just ended, but it ended extra early for my differently-wired son. His sparkle has been losing its luster since the middle of this year. School breaks, weekends, and our family's accommodations brought no relief or restoration. He loves his school, family, soccer team, and the church community growing around him more than you've ever seen a six-year old love. But even good old-fashioned childlike zeal costs him much…

Last week, I marched into my kitchen and announced, "I will not utter a SINGLE grumble or complaint for an entire month. I won't think one. I won't say one. There's no venting. There's only gratitude." My husband hadn't had his first sip of coffee yet. His eyebrows rose to his hairline as he wondered what had his wife riled up so early in the morning.

It didn't feel early in the morning for me. I'd been up for a long time with a sick child. Beyond that, seismic concern for my son with special needs was rising.

There have been a few seasons in our missions career when we didn't have enough money to buy makeup. I only keep a few, inexpensive cosmetics products on hand, but it's a little thing that makes me feel like me.

Almost ten years ago, I held an almost-empty bottle of makeup and looked at its almost-empty companions. I prayed, "God, please don't let me run out until we can buy more." Maybe it was ridiculous. Maybe it was vain. But God answered that prayer.

It's almost 11pm on Thursday night. I've been trying to write this call to worship all week. There were some curveballs. But more than unforeseen events, my body was just not on board. I woke up daily with an unexplainable sense of panic and a mind that refused to stay engaged. I couldn't sleep, and, when I did, it seemed to only make me feel more tired. Overwhelm was a storm cloud above my head, following me wherever I went.

I tried to understand what was going on while I drove to the gym one morning…

If you saw last week's Call to Worship, you might have picked up that I was going into the weekend overwhelmed and undone, capsized by life's chaos. I was also heading into a weekend away for the women's Alpha course I've been leading. It was just seven women, a house in the mountains, and an exorbitant amount of snacks.

I think I ate three weeks of calories in two days and caught up on a year's worth of laughter. Peace-filled silence and open skies recalibrated my soul's rhythms. Time stood still. My nervous system healed.

Many years ago, I had a profound encounter with God that's stuck with me. My loving Father said, "Daughter, you never have to live in chaos." Simultaneously, a picture flashed in my mind of myself in a room with laundry spread out, toys strewn recklessly, and a complete absence of order. I hadn't even met my husband yet, and the picture didn't match my life at the time. But it often does now.

I once heard a pastor talk about hiring a media consultant. His church was one of the fastest growing churches in America at the time, and social media wasn't yet as popular as news or TV interviews. I can't recall the details of the event that led to the pastor seeking professional advice, but I remember his church breaking the mold in a lot of ways at the time. A public outreach had unexpectedly made national news, and the young pastor was being chased by the media. He was facing a very different audience and knew many interviewers weren't looking to build the Church.

My husband and I sat in a crowded auditorium this week for our oldest son's high school valediction. The headmaster's final address to the students encouraged them to shape their lives around generosity and connection. He spoke of Nipun Mehta's "Karma Kitchen", a generosity experiment that has become a global chain of restaurants.

My sons are 17, 6 and 3 years old. One is preparing for the last exams of his high school career; one is practicing subtraction; and one is learning to sing the ABC's. Almost every evening, all three brothers gather around our low coffee table to play dominoes. The oldest makes sure both of his brothers get a win, but all three are completely unified in purpose and passion. The proverbial "playing field" is leveled by their brotherhood.

This week we asked, "Why did Jesus die?" in the Alpha course I am hosting. This story was part of the lesson and has been on my mind all week…

Corrie ten Boom was a Dutch Christian who hid Jews during the Holocaust. Her whole family was arrested and imprisoned. Her sister died beside her in Ravensbruck concentration camp just ten days before Corrie's release.

Three years later, ten Boom went to Germany to speak about God's forgiveness. Her message was put to the test as soon as she delivered it. Torment resurfaced as she recognized one of the cruelest guards from Ravensbruck approaching her.

This week contained enough material for many calls to worship but did not leave me with margin to write even one. Today, I'm sharing from page 17 in my "Called to Worship" book, originally shared on 6 August 2021.

…

Hurricane Ike devastated the Gulf Coast of Texas in September 2008. Three years prior, I lost my childhood home to Hurricane Rita in the same area.

My eyes are my greatest insecurity.

I underwent surgery for infantile esotropia (crossed eyes) when I was six months old. Early surgical intervention gives young eyes a chance to develop binocular vision (eyes that work together, but the effects "wear off" in time.

Over the last decade, I've lost binocular vision, and, consequently, developed severe eye strain, visual impairment, and loss of eye control. I stay mortified in every moment of eye contact (even with my husband), appearing on videos, or standing in front of crowds.

This week I read an obscure story with a familiar plot.

Ezra 4-6 recounts one episode of God's people returning from a 70-years exile. They faced immediate opposition in rebuilding the temple. Politics, persecution, and twisted truths made it seem there would never again be a place to meet with God. But an extraordinary plot twist came by decree. Enemy accusers received royal, irrevocable notice to stop opposing the temple rebuild. They would face their own demise if they did not also foot the bill and provide for temple sacrifices.

It's our 10th anniversary! Want to hear what happened right before the wedding?

One week prior to our big day, we were en route to a ministry retreat when rioting broke out in a community we were serving. From the road, we managed to have a Ugandan pastor moved from xenophobic uproar into the townhouse we would move into after our wedding.

We returned a few days later with massive sinus infections and discovered our pre-wedding housing would not have electricity for the week.

We used to sit next to Uncle Lindsey on the front row at church. He and my husband often huddled, head-to-head, in prayer. Every Sunday at church and Friday after the Call to Worship, Uncle Lindsey would tell me what he was going to do when he got out of his wheelchair. He couldn't wait to glorify the Lord with his healing. The man had a plan to dance, and no one doubted he would.

Uncle Lindsey shared his life story with me a few years ago...

As a child, I learned the stories of God on Sunday school flannelboards and the Word of God through songs. In high school, I was enveloped in a community of Godly families and a Methodist church youth group that showed me what God looks like. I went on mission trips, was introduced to Christian music, and learned to hear God's voice on a youth trip.

I'm compelled to reach out to those who sowed seeds in me that are now sprouting on foreign soil. Who could have known those first mission trips of sleeping in another church's fellowship hall and doing odd-jobs for community members would culminate as a lifetime of foreign missions?

If you were born in southern America in the 1980's, and if your parents took advantage of every summer Vacation Bible School in your hometown, you can probably finish the following lines without thinking twice:

"God is good..." (All the time!) "All the time..." (God is good!)

Merchant vessel, The Nantucket, rammed into steamship, The Monroe, near the Virginia coast on a foggy January night in 1914. In the trial that followed, Nantucket's captain, Osymn Berry, admitted to many negligent decisions and was arraigned accordingly. The cross-examination of Monroe's captain, Edward Johnson, revealed he navigated with a steering compass that deviated as much as 2° from the standard magnetic compass. The trial ended with two burly sea captains sobbing on each other's shoulders with the reckoning that their carelessness and misorientation cost 41 lives…

Our six-year olds's auto-immune condition has been flaring up. My nerves crackled and popped all night last Friday from the intensity of caring for him, and I couldn't sleep at all. On Saturday, we watched a medic team carry my oldest son off the rugby field on a stretcher. My three-year old and I rushed to the hospital to open his file while my husband rode in the ambulance with him.

You'll never believe what happened next... I LOCKED MY THREE-YEAR OLD IN MY VAN IN THE HOSPITAL PARKING LOT. My sleep-deprived, nerve-frazzled, broken heart was just about ready to stop beating at this point.

We are doing a lot of vocabulary shaping in our house right now as our youngest boys absorb the lingo of the world around them. I'm reminded of my oldest son coming home from primary school years ago, echoing his peers by starting every sentence with, "The problem is..."

“The problem is there’s not enough…” “The problem is that he always…” “The problem is we can’t….”

Yes; there's great value in identifying problems you're trying to solve. You end up with much bigger problems, however, if you stop there.