For a quick few minutes, before chaos reenters, I walk through an almost clean dining and living room (it won't stay this way for long). I'm thinking about a talk I'm to give this weekend. Worrying about it, actually.

I usually look forward to these things, sharing stories about our life, our children, our work and our future. And I have a somewhat general idea on what I am to share. A loose outline. A verse here, a deep thought there. But really, it's all jumbled in fuzzy pieces. The image is not yet clear.

For nothing is impossible with God.

The verse for the year. A grand thought.

What is it about this verse that stumps me? I feel uncomfortable with it, like I don't really believe it. I've heard of it and read others testify to it, but I don't think I've seen it. Or rather, maybe I have, but it's not been impossible enough for me. Maybe I've been ignoring it, unaccepting of it, afraid of it.

So I read it from the Message:

"Everyone called her barren, and here she is six months pregnant! Nothing, you see, is impossible with God." And Mary said, "Yes, I see it all now: I'm the Lord's maid, ready to serve. Let it be with me just as you say." Then the angel left her. Luke 1:36-38 MSG

I think it's not the impossible I'm to talk about. It's Elizabeth's story. It's the waiting.

When He calls us to wait
calls us to be still
calls us to be with Him
rest in Him
trust in Him
for the impossible.

What if the staying, the waiting
is what allows us to see, to receive
the impossible?

We have no idea what God is saving us from, saving us for.

Joyful, painful ancitipation. A hopeful longing.

Have you been here? A hopeful longing for the impossible? Or do you "see it all now?"

the spiritual ramifications of The Everyman's job

Your net worth is not your worth.

This was a brilliant line in an equally brilliant sermon this morning on the meaning of work. Usually I tend to just flit over the spiritual ramifications of The Everyman's job because the spiritual nature of our job should be, well, kinda obvious.

Though actually, it's not particularly obvious at the moment. Things are a bit haphazard, not ideally where we would like to be or what we'd prefer to be doing.

Husband is gone a lot, sometimes doing ministry-like things of sharing our work or meeting with supporters or anointing babies (ok, so that only happened once, but it was a fairly significant event for our gypsy souls). Other times he's working booty off in the lawn & garden section, carrying fertilizer or helping an old lady find the right mower for her back. In the meantime, I'm doing all sorts of mom things in mediocre fashion, like making truly terrible alfredo sauce or losing my cool during delayed bedtimes or giving my child an iPod Touch to watch cartoons on when he wakes up before 6 am.

Yep. I'm not feeling like a very good employee these days. My bosses are impatient with me. I slack off on the job. My retirement is not accruing anything, at all, ever. And I keep waiting to be transferred to another department. Same job title, different description. These daily chores don't feel very... important, special... eternal.

So I paid attention this morning. And the pastor said things like this:

"If God kept His Son Jesus in a carpenter's shop for 30 years, that was important work."

or

"God may not need your work, but your neighbour does."

or

"Your work..." (lawyer, burger guy, secretary, mom, church planter) "...is your contribution to the breaking-in of God's Kingdom on earth."

As I walk around in these achey mom shoes, feeling too tight and clumsy and not at all comfortable, I am breaking-in pieces of the Kingdom. Here, on the stained carpet of our living room floor. Gentleness, kindness, patience... sacrifice, generosity, grace... hope, faith, and love.

That's gold right there.

We're cultivating, he and I and you. Even when we don't feel very nimble with our shears and a bit overzealous with our watering cans. While we wait for the transfer, sigh under the weight of daily tasks, heave another bag of fertilizer and praying under our breath for that one person (or two, or three, or 10) we miss over there... there is a grand design to it, greater than we can see.

It is greater than retirement accounts and mortgage refinancing and diversifying investments. Those are all the ramifications, the after-effects. They're not the goal, not the purpose, not the soul of work.

Your net worth is not your worth.

Oh, I'm so glad it isn't mine.

***

So, do you feel like you're breaking-in the Kingdom today? Cuz you are, and I wanna hear about it.

On not being the very worst, when you were afraid you were.

It's quiet in the house (boy is gone with husband, wee lad is asleep, the girl is at school - yes, her spring break is not this week but next week. duh. of course). I should be working on the bazillion St. Patrick's Day cards we'll be sending out to our ministry partners a/k/a Support Squad a/k/a Prayer Posse, but instead I'm perusing a site I recently discovered and only just now had the chance to sit and read: http://www.theveryworstmissionary.com/.

Yep, this blog exists. And sadly, it is not written by me. I regret to inform you that the bad missionary blog niche is taken, so I'll just have to keep posting here as a lazy mom, missionary, and occasional freelance writer addicted to diet coke who isn't so great at transitional homemaking but tries hard anyway, sometimes.

But all that to say is: I'm so glad this blog exists because I really thought it was only just me. I really thought that I was the only person in the world who has found herself in ministry, doesn't know how she got there, lives for it and stresses about it and is slightly afraid of it, and also hates to ask people for money. But I'm not! There's someone worse than me! But she's also gorgeous, too, so I'm assuming that her being the very worst missionary is predicated on this fact. So, I mean really, she can't be expected to excel at everything.

My cousin Danielle and I, both missionaries, but Danielle is much higher on the scale than I am.
Because she lives in Africa. And homeschools. And is just all around amazing. True story.

So I salute you, Jamie @ The Very Worst Missionary. You are funny, smart, and braver than I to let the world in on your little secret with such aplomb and grace. Though I would've gone the anonymous route, but whatever. Sincerely, Your newest fan and Sis in Christ, Karen @ The River Into Words (soon to be trademarked).

Busy bees

I'm sitting here at the coffee shop trying to get my thoughts all lined up nicely in a row for a hefty load of talks/studies/presentations I/we are giving this week. It's missions conference time and we are not want for opportunities to share about our lives and work in Ireland.

So what's the problem, you ask? Well, like before, all I've got on my nice word document page is "Ireland". And nothing else. There's so much to say, share, pray for, hope for... I honestly have no idea where to start or how to shape the ideas for a week's worth of gatherings.

Help?

Also, where the heck did March go?

AND my coffee's gone.

Those who can't write, edit and design

Grateful to still be able to work for the Evangelical Alliance Ireland, even from over here.

Hoarding regret

Today we spoke about our life and work in Ireland to a church that has supported us immensely for the better part of a decade. I love talking about Ireland. I love sharing the names and the faces with old friends who really do care about what's happening on the other side of the world. It makes me smile, swells of love fill my heart, and I think, "Yes, it really is worth it."

Of course, talking about Ireland and the past two years there brings about a couple of other feelings too. There's homesickness, of which I've already written about. And then there's a good bit of regret. You see, there were hard times (shocking, I know!). Days we questioned the task and the job and the God who brought us there. There were some roles we were given that didn't seem like a good fit from the start and which may not have been handled the best way possible. At the time, I was sure we were handling it the best way possible. And I was also sure that we were being wronged in some way, not given a chance, belittled and denied. Even on this side, I see that in all likelihood, we were wronged a bit. But we were not blame-free. And with that last realization, comes the regret.

This type of regret clutters my life. I have it in almost every distinct era in my life. I look back on a time, see all the crap I left behind, bunch it all up and brood about it, and then I shove it into a dark corner where it awaits its moment of reveal. This usually occurs after a random memory eeks out or a name is seen on a mass email or a slight comment is made by an acquaintance. It's as if a used candybar wrapper from 1982 has slipped out from behind the (stuffed) closet door and mocks me for a long-gone moment of failure.

In reality, I know that with experience, comes teaching, and with teaching, comes lessons, and with lessons learned, comes wisdom. And with wisdom, comes spiritual maturity. So on the whole, I can't help but praise Him for those experiences and teaching and so forth. But still, I can't help but cringe when I really look back and take stock. I wonder why I can't just love perfectly all the time. I yell at my pride and tell him to take a backseat next time. I look to God and say, "So I guess I'm still a mess... so how exactly do you plan on using me?"

On this side, I know that His plans are perfect, even if I am not. And in that not-so-perfect experience, I have learned and grown (even if that growth wasn't witnessed by anyone). I see that He didn't mean for us to be in that exact place forever, or even very long. And if the birth of the wee lad hadn't given me an easy out, I would've clawed my way to freedom anyway. What I can do now is stop hoarding regret. I have to clean out and give away the should'ves and could'ves. In the clutter-free zone, when there's nothing left to mask or hide my true self, I may even have to accept that I'm not perfect - and no one else is, either. 

And I can hope for grace... so that when we do return and run into that old crowd, we can smile and talk and forget about all that rough stuff. Come to think of it, I better start practicing that grace straight away. Grace would be a good thing to hoard.

Now for some fun

So I went all crazy working on that project these last two weeks (I refer to it as a "project" because just calling it a "flyer" makes it seem so mousy and easy, when in reality... well, you read the post). Now, the craziness is over, the printer has taken over, shiny new flyers will be posted to teens all over Ireland inviting them to a youth retreat, and I bask in the glow of a job finally done and being able to be just a tiny part of God's bigger plan.

Now, for some fun. Me mum has arrived from the States for some good times with the grandkids, and perhaps a few girls-day-outs.  I'm going to take a wee break from work for a few days, and then, on to the next project! 

 

And now, a fun pic for your viewing pleasure. Sometimes it really is all kicks and giggles.