3 Goals for 2018

Wonder Woman inspired me when we were together over the holidays! 

She ran down the hill singing at the top of her lungs, "And no one knows how far it goes!"

We hunted butterflies, searched for tigers, and avoided the 'pokey' weeds as we played in the park before her bedtime. 

Watching her imagination at work flooded my spirit with joy. 

I am beyond grateful for her influence in my life.

Confidence, determination, and a strong spirit of adventure all wrapped up in a two year old frame. 

I listened to her declarations of what she can do and then watched her show me that she could do it. She has an inner strength that many women I know would envy...starting with me!

Time spent with her confirmed the word God gave me for 2018:

'Courage.'

Courage in Hebrew is 'Chazak'. Which means 'to be strong'. 

The verse that is guiding me this year is Ezra 10:4 and includes three imperatives: 

1. Get Up
2. Be Strong (chazak)
3. Take Action

Meditating on those three statements convicts me to take them on as goals for the year. 

I have new music I've written that needs to be recorded. I have new goals that I've set as I seek to learn and grow this year. I have new responsibilities to live up to. In each instance I must Get Up, Be Strong, and Take Action. 

My little Wonder Woman didn't care who was watching when she ran down the hill singing, she was doing what she felt compelled to do. And I'm grateful to have learned that lesson from her. 

Strong women boldly follow their God-given instincts.


Do you have a word or phrase inspiring your goals for this year? If so I'd love to hear it!


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Word of the Week: Understanding

As I was out for my walk this morning I meditated on the word ‘Courage”.

As I got close to a house that is under construction I could see that I would have to walk between two cars and several groups of men.

I thought, "now is the time to practice being courageous!"

A narrow path in the middle of the road was all that was left between the two parked cars.

Taking a deep cleansing breath I braced myself for whatever comments these men might make and determined in my mind to ignore whatever they said to me.

After successfully passing through that gauntlet of men suddenly, 8 highly agitated workers were running toward me, alternating between covering their heads and waving their arms, and screaming, “Abejas! Abejas!”

I know a bit of Spanish but not enough to know what they were shouting about. I slowed down somewhat but kept advancing forward in my effort to get home in time to shower and get to bible study.

In the distance I can see a neighbor heading home with six dogs on leashes. I thought maybe the men were afraid of dogs. His dogs have never bothered me so I continue walking, ignoring the men’s frantic cries.

One of them comes closer waving his arms yelling, “Señora, abejas!” Three of them are now in front of me yelling, “Abejas” and I yell back, “I don’t understand! No entiendo!”  

My lack of understanding collides with the fervency of their efforts and slowly increases my annoyance as I fight to remain calm.

One man turns the direction I’m headed and pointed at a tree up the road. I still don’t know what I’m supposed to be seeing and I’m in a hurry so again I let them know that I don’t understand.

One of the workers held out his hand motioning me to stop,  looking exasperated and desperate to get his message across, he took his phone from his pocket as the English word finally came to him, and he shouted, “BEES!”

Now I get why they were frantically running, why they didn’t want me to walk any further, and why they were passionately trying to get me to understand.

The man with the phone makes a call and asks me to wait “for safety”.

A few minutes later a truck pulls up driven by a man dressed in protective clothing. I get into the vehicle and he drives me past the tree to the corner and I’m able to finish my walk from there.

My head and heart had prepared not to trust these men. I’ve become so accustomed to taunting whistles, crude comments, and uncomfortable stares from construction workers that initially I didn’t respect their genuine concern for my welfare. And I was so determined to practice being courageous that I was willing to ignore whatever they were saying and just keep on walking.

Psalm 119:34 says,

Give me understanding and I will obey your instructions;

I will put them into practice with all my heart.

I have lost count of the number of times I’ve ignored God’s warnings because I cannot see any danger ahead and I don’t understand what He is trying to tell me.

I’m grateful for the lessons that God brings into my life, the spiritual and the practical. This morning He mercifully showed His willingness to protect me by any means possible and as a bonus He taught me the Spanish word for bees!

Word of the Week: Relearning

It was a bright cold day in April,

and the clocks were striking thirteen.

~George Orwell, 1984

Looking around the international airport in Moscow, Russia, I watched a clock strike 13.

Well, the clock didn’t literally strike, it was digital. Large red numbers proclaiming 13:00. Russia uses a 24 hour clock.

Instantly transporting me to my childhood and reminding me of my father’s military days, he would often use military time to tell me and my little brothers when something needed to be done.  

“Police your area by 0800 hours!”, he would command. In English that meant our rooms needed to be cleaned before 8 am.

When I saw that it was 13 o’clock I had to think for a minute or so until it came to me. It’s 1 o’clock in the afternoon.

Dread mixed with fear filled my stomach. Fighting back tears acknowledging that not only did I need to learn a new language but I also needed to learn how to tell time.

Everything I thought I knew would need to be relearned.

Gone were the days of grocery shopping with a list and coupons in Southern California. Needing a list remained but coupons were replaced by a Russian/English dictionary.

Something as simple as asking for 2 lbs of ground beef transformed to asking for a kilo of farsh. Numbers, weights, measures, time, words, sights, sounds, facial expressions...everything overwhelmed and yet excited me.

An adventure that began as words God whispered to my husband, evolved into a dream, and were brought to reality when the plane landed. Over the next five years our family would learn to navigate this new world.

I never expected to live among the adversary. Growing up in a military home on various Air Force bases in the eastern part of the US, Russia had been our cold war enemy for my entire childhood.

How was this a part of God’s plan? Needless to say my patriotic father, the career soldier, was not thrilled when we announced our plans to move to Russia. However, my mother’s comment, “You got your orders so you have to go.” was typical of a military wife.

God’s orders, His calling, took us on a life altering journey. And His guidance and strength continue to propel us in our ministry life.

I wish I could say that each day as a missionary is profoundly meaningful, filled with glorious insight, and bathed deeply with inner peace. Most days back in Russia and now here in Belize are fairly ordinary.

For every believer, each breath, each lesson, each and every tear, and each peal of shared laughter hold a touch of the divine.

It’s been many years since that clock at the airport awakened me to a new reality. I’ve realized that each stage of life requires learning a new skill no matter where you live in the world.

You don’t have to see 13 o’clock to catapult you into a new way of thinking. It could be something as simple as a wedding, the birth of a child, teenage drama, an empty nest, a new job, the loss of a parent, each experience- the good, the bad, and the grace-filled, all provoke change and growth.

With each stage of life everything I thought I knew needed to be relearned.

Have you had to face a time of relearning something you thought you knew? I’d love to hear about it!

Eyes of Compassion

Head tilted back with sunglasses balanced on his upper lip appeared to be a new game he’d just discovered.

A nudge and a sharp look from his sister and immediately he put the glasses back in their proper place.

He couldn’t have been much older than four. Running to catch up to their mother, whose eyes were also hidden behind dark glasses, they slipped into an office.

It wasn’t long before they were escorted back outside and told to wait. Their deception was unacceptable. Those with pink eye will not be attended to.

My stomach sank. There were two empty seats beside me.

The mother took one and the girl pulled her brother onto her lap and took the seat closest to me. I reached for my hand sanitizer as the red-tainted eyes of the little boy followed my every move.

One by one the security guard questioned each person in the crowd wearing sunglasses. He made it clear that anyone with pink eye should leave now and not come back until their eyes were clear.

My attention went back to the red-eyed boy. I saw his pain and his sadness. I sanitized my hands again, smiled politely, and went back to reading my book.

I’m against public shaming and should have felt some degree of empathy for them. But with the thousands of cases of pink eye here in Belize my compassion has worn thin and I felt angry that the mother put everyone around her at risk.

My mantra has been “keep your hands clean and don’t touch your eyes”. So far I’ve been successful in avoiding this modern day plague.

I long to be like Christ and look at others with eyes of compassion. But, some days are harder than others. And I have to confess that day was hard. A five hour wait at a government office drained all the compassion out of me.

Before the pink eye family sat down near me I was wedged in between my sleeping husband on the right and an American woman who was talking loudly while clearing her throat of phlegm every third sentence on my left. Behind me was a Spanish speaking gentleman who kept bumping my chair. Each time we go to the Immigration Department it’s a lesson in endurance, humility, and patience.

I’m grateful that God’s love is unfailing, that His grace is sufficient in my times of weakness, and that His mercies are new each morning.

I’m grateful that no matter what illness, bad attitude, or frustrating situation I find myself in, God’s compassion is still available for me.

And just as I used sanitizer to cleanse my hands from germs, I can confess my sins, be made clean, and find peace in His presence once again.

Lessons Learned From Looking Back

“Forty is the

old age of youth,

fifty is the

youth of old age.”

These words of Victor Hugo came to mind today as I was working on a new song for a Christmas project.

Each time I step up to the microphone I realize I’m no longer a skinny little 10 year old standing in front of the mirror singing into a hairbrush.

Childhood fantasies become realities

when you jump at opportunities.

I wrote my first song at age 50 after crying out to God in despair. My children’s childhoods had officially come to an end. Both are now adults making their own choices and living out their own dreams. The time had come for me to find my way back to mine.

Being in the youth of old age means that I can look ahead and know that the time is short. And at the same time I can look back and benefit from lessons that only experience can teach.

The benefit of looking back is found in a few of the lessons learned along the way.

1. Life is short, it’s up to you to make it sweet.

Each one of us is responsible for our own lives. God has a plan and a path for each one of us. There are times when He will use someone else to open a door or provide a helping hand. But, He expects each one of His children to pick up their own spoon and taste Him for themselves. My husband’s favorite baked treat is cinnamon rolls but mine is sweet potato pie. If I eat from his plate I’m not getting the sweetness I crave, I have to accept what he’s chosen.

2. Life is hard, but God is good.

The New Testament makes it clear that we will have troubles in this world. But, we can take heart and have the courage to face whatever comes our way because Jesus overcame every weight that has the power to hold us back from the life God designed for us.

3. Life is not a competition, it’s about connection.

Each one of us has our own race to run. Social media causes us to criticize, compete & compare. We have a tendency to compare our worst to someone else’s best. All of those activities are distractions that can lead us to veer out of our own lane. We must connect with what God has gifted us to do and not with someone else’s calling.

I wrote a song last year that I thought would be perfect for this Christmas project I’m currently working on with my friend Mervin. He writes songs that get people to jump up and down. I confess that I have compared myself to him. I even tried to put together a song similar to his style but I fell short. My husband listened to it and didn’t get it. It wasn’t me and I had to let it go.

I have a new song coming out near the end of the month. It’s a reggae worship song. I remember telling a dj about it and she said, “sometimes you want to move from side to side instead of jump up and down”. Since that conversation I've noticed that each time I’ve performed the reggae song I see people swaying side to side! Her words opened my eyes.

Serving God should not be a competition.

If we connect with God, with ourselves, and with others, we can all move forward in cooperation with one another.

Mervin and I both have goals of pointing others to God. And we’ll be more successful in reaching our goals through connecting and cooperating with one another.

I’m grateful for the lessons He’s given to me. What lessons have you learned from Him?