I go to Honest Chocolate Cafe every year on my birthday. The darling courtyard in the middle of town holds a special place in my heart. It’s in walking distance to the lawyers offices we’ve frequented - physical spaces that symbolize years of pursuing justice and breakthrough. We always stopped by Honest Chocolate for a taste of chocolate-flavored redemption after a heavy legal appointment.

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?

We are so excited for September 1st! Church Home is having another gathering at Gangstar Cafe. Pray for us as we reach out and invite people. We believe God has us here to create a safe place for people to experience Jesus and His Church. We’re taking it one step, one day at a time, and seeing what He does.

I LOVE this promo video Chris made. I think it captures the heart so well. Make sure your sound is on!

Here’s the next thing coming for Church Home! Check out this invitation and video from Chris (and Wyatt and Frank). And PRAY with us. After our first Good Stuff night on September 1st, we’ll start gathering in small groups. And let’s see what God does from there!

This familiar passage in Isaiah 43 was part of my Bible reading plan yesterday. I made a note on the page on the second day of January this year.

We were chest-deep in unknowns then. It was a season of practicing daily forgiveness and trusting whispered promises in the midst of loud realities. Silencing the noise in my head was a daily discipline. The Word spoke to me that day... “Forget the former things. Do not dwell on the past.” Just a verse or two before, God was reminding us of what He had done and announcing who He is. I wrote, “Remember who God is.” It was a turning point moment for me.

My neurodivergent six-year old is into creating nonsensical trivia. A recent car ride went something like this...

Him: "What color is an oval?"

Me: "Green."

Him: "NO! PINK! How many bricks are in a wall?"

Me: "Probably 96."

Him: "You were SO CLOSE. But sorry, it's 89."

I’m shivering on the sidelines of a Benjamin’s winter soccer clinic. I started feeling sorry myself here for a frozen, raining moment. The other 24 moms dropped their kids off, but I remain, with toddler in tow. I stay visible, available - an ever-present external nervous system. And did I mention it’s cold?

But as I pull my thick hat over my ears, perspective warms me. I don’t have time to rattle off how glorious it is that Benjamin is thriving here on the soccer field, or that he is dancing like a deeply-loved goober between goal posts with his best friend right now. That’s for another day.

My husband and I went on an evening walk a while ago. We rehashed a painful season we'd traversed in the previous months and marked how God had used it for our good. The conversation went deeper as we turned a familiar corner in our neighborhood. Yes, we have successfully navigated external hardships... but what about the ones woven into our family DNA? My husband worried aloud,"Your personality has changed. You were so bubbly... laughing all the time.. and now I can see how heavy life is on you." I conceded that the relentless spiritual warfare, crippling corruption, decade of distance from family, and special needs parenting has dug deep, rugged trenches in my formerly light disposition.

We've been asking God for a particular miracle for a long time. Last week, another "not yet" hit hard, so I searched "miracle" on my old website. I borrowed hope from my own stories as I re-visited scenes where God met me. Today's call to worship is a miracle lesson I wrote to myself from the mission field in 2011.-----------

We started feeding orphaned and vulnerable children in a nearby community- a handful became hundreds in eighteen months. Last week, an unspeakable amount of hungry children came for hot food and hope...

My husband and I have the unique privilege of gathering with missionaries around the world. This week, we were on a call with our friends serving the deaf in Jamaica, internationals and locals in Haiti, the church in Europe, community development in Northern Africa, and the front lines of the war in Israel. We celebrated baptisms, breakthroughs and the ways God keeps showing up for our families. We supported one another over the inglorious strains of living abroad and raising children in foreign countries.

Corrie ten Boom was born on Good Friday in 1892. Her family's home in Haarlem, Holland would become part of the underground movement for Jewish people during World War II.

The story goes that Corrie's father comforted his daughter while she cried over a broken heart before the war began. "Corrie, love is the strongest force in the world, and when it is blocked that means pain... We can kill the love so it stops hurting. But then of course part of us dies, too. Or, Corrie, we can ask God to open up another route for that love to travel..."

Lately, I've felt like all that I have just isn't enough for some big, hard things. But I already know what to do... Remember. This isn't the first time I've not been able to see the way. Today, I'm remembering how God showed up in November 2014, when I wrote this story from a rural village.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO... I stepped foot on South African soil for the first time with a sparkle in my eye and a six month plan to save the world.

I always knew God made me to strengthen families. The way I see it, strong families make strong churches. Strong churches make strong communities. Strong communities strengthen other communities. And, slowly but surely, the world is transformed for the glory of God.

We've heard stories of oceans parting, bones dancing, blind seeing, and the Redeemer resurrecting. Yet I still squirm when I'm the one that needs the miracle. I know God CAN do it... I'd still praise Him if He didn't do it... But having a need there's no way we could ever meet on our own is a very humbling thing.

We asked God and His people for funding for our boys' 2025 school fees. It was not a small ask - almost $13,000…

It seems like modern society is more sensitive to accessibility than ever before. Smartphones come with features to support visual and hearing impairments. There are laws for structures and hiring to give every person an opportunity to access life in the fullest way possible.

We make decisions in our family to help our autistic son maintain access himself and important relationships. Even Christmas is accommodated so he can stay fully-engaged and our other children can enjoy him, each other and the reason for the holiday throughout the entire day.

Want to hear some good news!?!

Two week ago, we put out a big ask with a LOT of prayer. It will cost $13,400 to send our boys to school in 2025. We need help to make that happen - we explain why in this video. The good news... Lifa and Wyatt’s school fees are covered IN FULL! We are over halfway there.

Our lawyers told us today that they weren’t surprised that Benjamin’s 🇿🇦 visa application was rejected because at least 70% of them are. I had called to understand our options. The options were there was no option except to bring him in this afternoon to the visa processing center to appeal.
We showed up at the end of an already-tricky day and found an over-crowded room that flabbergasted even the center’s staff and our legal representative.

This week has been full of sinus pressure and extra evening events. Frank, the very large puppy, has decided to follow me through the house, only stepping in the exact places I step at the exact time I'm stepping there. Benjamin and Wyatt have started sneaking food off each other's plates and battle-throwing it on the floor instead of eating. This is Lifa's last week of grade 11 before he starts writing exams. THEN IT'S HIS LAST YEAR OF HIGH SCHOOL, AND IS ANYBODY ELSE FREAKING OUT!?!

In 2010, I found myself on a bumpy, creepy-crawly 18-hour bus ride from Lusaka, Zambia to a remote village on Lake Tanganyika. I saw the brightness of the stars in the complete absence of electricity for a month. I learned to "grocery shop" at the market, and how to turn two skinny, living chickens into dinner for 20.

Lifa is halfway through 11th grade and thinking about what comes next. Benjamin and Wyatt are ever-changing whirlwinds of personality and preferences - full of tackling, tickling, and tantrumming. We are going deeper and wider all at once at church and working through a missionary kind of sting we’re encountering for the first time after 14 years. Oh, AND, I’m learning how to cohabitate in my own body with an ever-present and absolutely crazy companion called perimenopause.