Ch-ch-ch-changes …

From 3000 square feet to 1300 square feet. What a change, eh? Look at that monster on the left. That was our house before. And that sweet little cottage on the right? That's where we're living now. (It has a palm tree! Can you see it??)

The variety of questions and responses from friends who heard about our move is interesting. Some think we're heroic for "giving up" our house. They surmise that we might have moved to pay for the kids' school or for some kinda spiritual reason. Sorry-nope. :P

We didn't move to be heroes. The economy changed for a lot of people and we sold rather than dealing with the pressure of payments. We didn't feel like we really cared about owning anymore—we just needed to be able to pick up and go whenever we needed to. The people who bought our home gifted us with freedom.

I asked our family in the car the other day if they really missed the space. I got some pretty ho-hum answers. The "new" house (built in the 70s) is all tile, so the floors are colder. (My youngest has made rugs out of blankets.) The walls are thinner. (Spinning gerbil kept mom and dad awake at first.) We had a big pool right outside the front door at the other house. (This one is half the size and down the street. Horrors!)

I hope you're laughing. We're still in the category of the richest people in the world just because we live in America. We got rid of a lot of unnecessary stuff. I clean less. (Hooray!) And no one's particularly impressed by the size of our house or our fashionable location. So?

Yes, I cried when I first learned we had to move. We gals get pretty "married" to our living quarters. That big house was really pretty, and we've moved a lot. We had no plans to move again. The girls' rooms had been decorated really cute and they mourned losing black dots on pink walls and dolphin wallpaper.

But life sure isn't about houses, is it?

Now we have to holler less to get attention. "It's cozy," I heard one daughter say. And the other doesn't mind at all the fact that the piano landed in her little bedroom where she can play anytime she wants. My husband has taken over the extra room for a studio and seems to get just as much work done as before. I'm surprised by own my lack of feeling "loss" in the matter. I still can make beauty here. And did I mention I clean a lot less?

One treasure of this place is a little screened in porch off the bedroom where I parked the two white rockers from our roomy front porch at the other house. And I've sat outside with some low music playing lately, Bible in hand, and felt pretty downright content. What is that verse? "I've learned to be content in any situation, whether in plenty or want."

We haven't reached "want" yet. But we are happy where we are. Thanks for asking!

In Life, We Will Have Trouble

Especially when we’re trimming the dog’s nails.

Our dog’s history is unclear to us as far as nail-trimming—yet one thing seems certain. At some point, she decided that she did not like it. Jack Russells have personality enough to begin with, but when they decide they don’t like something, they will have none of it, no matter how loyal they are to you.

In our case, we tried trimming nails in the bathtub, which made it harder for Chloe to roll and thus kept her from getting as many nips in. I spent afternoons petting her and sneaking in a clip now and then, trying hard not to appear nervous, which makes the dog nervous, and of course she can sense you are nervous, and so she bites, and being bitten can’t help but make one more nervous.

But the other day I had just had enough. Not enough to be cruel, but enough to be able to say “In life, I will have trouble. This dog is never going to allow me to cut her nails without a fight.” Therefore, I donned heavy gloves, attached Chloe’s leash to her collar, and with love and firmness and no room for question hauled her up by her neck for a moment at a time to trim her nails. It took about half an hour and I got away with only a couple major scratches, two bruises, and one bite that went straight through my pinkie nail.

I held onto patience and took deep breaths when she gnawed on my hands and yanked her up when there was no other help for it. I did cut too close on one nail, and blood spurted all over the carpet, after which I calmly tied the dog outside and got a cold, wet rag to sop up the mess before the carpet was stained, carrying on the rest of the endeavor outside.

After the fiasco I vacuumed the crumbs and allowed Chloe and myself a break from each other, after which she stayed even closer to my side and begged to be petted. It’s as if she knows she can’t help herself.

Life can’t help itself, either. In life, we will have trouble, and I think I’ve spent most of my time here trying to avoid it. But the other day while I was cutting Chloe’s nails I leaped into the trouble and throttled it. I remembered how I had worked with my hands many times on the farm as a child and endured worse injuries than I had with this one difficult hound. I forgot my fear of being bitten and let my fingers (albeit sheathed) be chewed. And I thought, “This is life. Que sera, sera.” (Whatever will be, will be.)

How many times have I longed for a certain peaceful perfection and in the doing so missed the chaos that was more meaningful? How many times have I driven myself nearly to madness in longing for order when I could have napped peacefully in the disorder and the world (and those around me) would have been better for it. Life IS chaos. If I want to get around it, I had better pray for death.

I don’t fear death, but I don’t want to die just yet. And while I’m living, I want to live fully, leaping into unavoidable trouble, not recklessly, but with the abandon that says, “Teach me. I’m ready to learn.” May it be so whether I am trimming the dog’s nails, weathering a spousal disagreement, dealing with loss or disappointment or simple daily chores.

In life, we will have trouble. When trouble finds me, may I welcome it and be the better, the richer, the freer, the more alive because of it. And may I find conversely that trouble is life, and find joy even there—perhaps especially there—for I have not experienced as many “perfect” memorable moments as I have truly life-changing moments of imperfection.

May you find the same, and cherish them!

Twenty-five years.

That's our anniversary this year - amazing! I hesitate to say how happy we are because I think everyone will be jealous. But it would also be wrong not to celebrate everything that God is accomplishing in our lives. I'll try to find a balance here, okay?

This year has been a breakthrough year for our marriage. We have gotten rid of a good bit of negative baggage, and the payoffs have been terrific. We're still struggling to pay bills, but we're happier together than ever.

Our beautiful kids are awesome. Our eldest came home from camp this summer a changed young woman, and I have watched her selflessly serve around the house and apologize at least every other day for something she said thoughtlessly (I know - miraculous!). She is a terrific example to her sister and others around her, and her faith and leadership is rock solid.

Our younger daughter is loving baking and certain that she wants to pursue a career as a pastry chef. She starts high school this year with the goal of "all A's so I can go to school free"! What else could we ask for? Her musical and comedic/dramatic gifts keep us in stitches. Both our daughters are just delightful.

More creative projects than ever are on the horizon with a couple of new books finished and ready to publish, a movie in the making and other things on the farther horizon. The future is bright.

Now … please let me explain that this is an extraordinary year. Past years have not been so great. In fact, some have been awful. There has been chronic anxiety, pointless arguments, little and larger deaths and points where I felt all hope was gone. Day-to-day life is still far from perfect. But our family is in very good shape. So we are happy this year, although next year may hold new challenges we don't know of yet.

Please let me encourage you if your anniversary wasn't as full of good reports. Rejoice with me, will you, and hope for better years ahead? Life will have its trouble, but sweet surprises are also undoubtedly in store, because Someone amazing never grows tired of doing good to us. We are never alone, no matter what happens. Thus, when a perfect day does explode into our lives, we can only be glad, glad, glad …

Beginning to Let Go

My eldest daughter is gone - not for good, but she's serving at a military academy this summer, a few states away, for six weeks.

Can I say without fear of reprisal that I am so glad for her to be where she is, though it's not here, and I miss her?

The place she's chosen not only requires extremely high standards of modesty, discipline, godliness and respect - it's peopled by some rare individuals who are devoted to faith, family and our country in a very unique way. Not only that, but some of our good friends live nearby and are more than willing to take her into their homes on the weekends. These families are also models of love, support and high standards.

My oldest daughter is an Amazon of sorts, full of strength and beauty, "woman in all her glory." I guess any sadness may be tempered by the knowledge that she would explode if she didn't get out of here! She wanted to go to Honduras with an experienced team when she was 13, and we let her. She was ready. I think she's always been more ready to go than I was to let her at the time.

There are days when I have mourned her leaving long before this. What a privilege to parent such a creature as my eldest daughter! Passionate and brilliant, she has challenged me to my core, broken my heart, and won it all over again. I get the feeling sometimes that I don't really know where she came from at all. Is she even meant for this human tribe? She is ever so much more.

Sadness did come when I saw her little sister mourn for her. Parting was very emotional for her, a milestone that read, "Your turn to grow up now." No chores the eldest did for the younger will be done on her behalf in these six weeks. So much the better, as we watch the younger rise to the occasion, seeing her as for the first time again, her own beauty and grace and settledness (and unsettledness) within herself. She is not a driven thing, like her sister, but knows how to relax into all she is, unconcerned with other people's "norms." She will be banging on her guitar and kneading homemade bread when my eldest is running her own company. And yet they will both be amazing.

A year or so ago I found myself mourning my girls' loss. I know that was just the tip of the iceberg, and there is more to come. So I try to let go. God is their Father anyway, and will do even better than their earthly dad, who has done a marvelous job. His humor and caring will be the wind beneath their wings their whole life long.

But soon they will step out of our grasp, maybe not at one specific moment, but in many ways as the days pass. And in the meantime I rediscover my husband and the wonderful things that will also take place in the season of the empty nest that looms ahead - the babies to bounce, the new creative efforts to be made, the opportunity to sing our song and write our story louder and better than ever before.

And our girls' voices will be in there, too, along with the voices of our history and the voices of those to come, all part of a beautiful orchestra that only God could direct in our family bloodline.

Isn't life just entirely amazing, a miracle? Not perfect, no, but a beautifully woven tapestry, whose holes and unravelings we will someday understand in fullness. I wrap this blanket of comfort around myself and I am safe. Though tomorrow may bring unexpected dark hues of thread, I can know they are all part of the whole. I can see that from the blackened sections of the past that have knitted themselves into the bright colors of this moment. Nothing will be wasted.

I am glad and very, very thankful. As for the tears, let them come when they will. They are all part of the whole magnificent picture.

"Married couples should attend a retreat every year." So says the Kathy family of Chik-Fil-A fame, and I heartily agree. A getaway may not always be as organized as theirs, but time alone is vital to everyone.

I had never been to a WinShape retreat, but since the Chik-Fil-A folks sponsored it, I should have known it would be good. Chik-Fil-A does just about everything well. This gorgeous property (a renovated dairy farm with cow pictures everywhere - how could this not work for a farm girl??) serves all kinds of groups, but what we attended was called a Courageous Hearts weekend.

Yes, and the courage began before we even got there. We got into a fight (loud discussion, whatever you want to call it, it's all the same) in the car on the way about some overseas stuff I want to do. I started off depressed - "What are we doing here?" But our amazing speaker (with some help from the Almighty, of course) started by talking about "scripts" and the fights we have over and over again, and the root causes, pretty much defining everything we had just done!

Needless to say, the weekend got better, and after more teaching and conquering the ropes course with a group of friends (twenty feet in the air with a wire, rope and your spouse will do wonders for your trust issues), we felt much better.

We heard some of the most practical teaching on marriage we had heard in a long time at this retreat, ate some of the best food we've ever had, and stayed in some Class-A accommodations. If you need to pursue a retreat, check it out. We also read Donald Miller's A Million Miles in a Thousand Years on the way, which is a life-changer, especially for creative people like us.

We all need time away to clarify, fall in love again, learn more about caring for each other - so much to learn in so little time on earth. Marriage takes work. It's painful sometimes, it's no Cinderella story. But it makes us into better people, better parents, more capable of changing the world and living with purpose. If you're married and you don't have a retreat scheduled for this year, schedule one now. You'll be glad you did. We are. (:

Waiting

Last night I was gifted by a friend with the opportunity to see Amy Grant in concert. Though she personally moved me with her approachability and comfort in her own skin, a young man opened for her that I also enjoyed very much.

Caleb Chapman exudes the "real-ness" that his father, Steven Curtis Chapman, has come to be known for. After sharing the story of tragically losing his younger sister, he sang a song about waiting—in the good times and in the bad.

Seems like everything I see is talking to me about waiting lately. I'm drawn to Sanctus Real's lyrics from "Whatever You're Doing:"

Whatever You're doing inside of me
Feels like it's chaos, but somehow there's peace
It's hard to surrender to something I can't see
But I'm giving in to something heavenly

Hmmm. I'm waiting in a host of ways, glued to the place I am by circumstances I can't control. I have fought it for awhile, but I'm tired now and don't want to fight anymore. Like Joni Eareckson Tada, I'm finding that God is still with me in my paralysis, maybe even moreso because of my inability to move.

To borrow a picture from Ken Gire, I have been like a cornered kitten, fighting and spitting to avoid being grasped by the giant hand coming for me. God's hand can be pretty intimidating. But as I've fallen forward in exhaustion, God has wrapped His huge, soft fingers around me, and I have felt comfort, peace and safety.

What are you fighting? Are you willing to lay down the sword and just wait? Not that we don't need to battle real and valid enemies, but can we recognize and admit when the enemy is us? Can we simply wait and not try to manipulate things to fit our perceptions of success? Our perceptions of our families or spouses? Our perceptions of spirituality? Our perceptions of God?

Maybe finding God is simply about sitting still long enough for Him to catch us. We're not so good at that anymore, but we can learn.

That's what I think I'm doing. I'm learning (again) to wait.

JURY DUTY: No Whining Allowed!

This past week I served in the District Court. I had been called to show up for jury a week prior, but had excused myself due to guests from Ukraine, thinking they might just pass on me altogether. Instead, they scheduled me the day after my guests left. When I called in, they rescheduled me to a day later. I called in again. I wasn't needed until the following day.

After a week of tiptoeing through my schedule ("I can be there … maybe"), I was a little irritated. Not that I didn't want to serve. I've always wanted to, but being called seemed always to happen at the worst times. This was no exception. My work seemed to be a shambles after all the postponing, and the anxiety of trying to arrange car availability "in case" got to me after a bit.

But I have to look back, and even with the "awful" timing, say, "That was really cool!" It was a civil case with a wonderful judge who taught us so much in the process that I felt I should have been paying her. It was an honor to be invited as a good citizen to have a part in the settling of an important dispute. It was rewarding to see justice done and to know I had a part in it.

Not that it was all easy. My heart broke for the party who lost the case. The individual was obviously in a terrible mess, and yet it was obvious that the case could not be decided in that person's favor. I begged my fellow jurors to pray if they could, that the person would find the healing and help they so desperately needed.

This balance between justice and compassion struck me. Aren't there times in all our lives where the "cases" may not be decided "in our favor"? And yet we are needy in ways we can't even see. We make a case to God and the prayer isn't answered. Yet He is perfectly just and will provide exactly what we need in spite of ourselves, as no earthly judge can do.

I think I have been making some cases that I ought to drop. The odds aren't in my favor, and I may be barking up the wrong tree. Best to withdraw and wait for justice to be done as God sees fit.

And if you get called to actual jury duty, please don't whine. How many countries actually give their citizens a chance to make their nations more fair and just, to actually take part in this process? It's an honor and a great way to learn more about the court system. Next time I know I'm going to whine even less. (:

Makeup and Stuff

Yeah, I like this picture, too. I had just come from a TV interview and had a professional do my face. She did a great job, right? But I never quite feel myself in all that goop.

I struggle over the makeup thing. Sure, I want to look good, but whose "good" am I using as a standard? As a business woman and an author/speaker, it's kind of the required thing to do. I honestly feel just as comfortable in no makeup at all, which is why I probably love going to Africa - no one makes me wear the stuff there. (:

But I understand the need to look polished, too. I just couldn't be one of those folks who has to wear makeup to the grocery store. (I went to a seminar where they said you should because you never know what contacts you might make there or who you might meet! Too much pressure for me.) I've never been quite sure I could trust a "friend" whom I had never seen without makeup.

My husband loves the stuff. He gets a little frustrated with me when I want to attend an event "au naturel" face-wise, and he's wanting to "present" me. But he says I'm beautiful even when I don't have makeup on. We just have different opinions about when it's necessary, and frankly, he likes looking more business casual than I do at almost any point. I heard a friend say once that her husband had never seen her without makeup. I can't imagine that - especially with a community pool outside my front door!

I guess the most important thing is to remember that when it comes to makeup, the face having it can't improve the condition of the heart beneath. I've made the mistake before of equating beautiful features with a beautiful heart, and been terribly disappointed. What was I thinking? Americans are so concerned about appearances, but not nearly so concerned about their inner lives and character.

I have a bunch of Bible verses on our bathroom mirrors, written in lipstick. Maybe I'm trying to even out the time I spend on my face with the time I spend looking into His face. Not a bad idea when I'm paying attention (emphasis on the WHEN). It's my heart I'm really concerned about, and I'm very aware of how much more obvious the condition of my heart is versus the condition of my face. If that's in order, I don't mind putting a little goo on for my husband. OK, Honey?

What about you? How's your heart today, makeup or not?

My eldest daughter just got her driver's license, and I've made all the obligatory jokes with my friends about moving their mailboxes.

As the oldest drives off proudly to youth group, the youngest is whipping up angel food cakes from scratch, and is pounding away at her guitar, writing her own songs.

OK, they're still my children, but it's time to think about letting go.

My reaction to my new licensed driver surprised me. Did I think I would cry like the first day she was sent to school? We pulled into the driveway after the test, and she hinted, "The first place I want to drive is to the church."

I knew it was now or never, and so I pulled out my keys and handed them to her. The delight on her face was obvious. "Really?"

As she pulled out of the driveway, a fierce calm settled over me. I knew she had driven to church a bazillion times with me in the car, and she knew her way. When I realized she was staying at the church longer than expected, I took the next step and called her to ask her to pick up her sister from orchestra practice (sis is the accompanist now—at 13!). My words to her were, "Remember one thing … you and sis are the most precious things in my life, and you'll be responsible for them." I could hear the smile AND the seriousness in her voice when she answered, "I know, Mom."

Last night the eldest drove to youth group, and the youngest and I stayed home and worked together on that angel food cake I mentioned (egg whites—soft peaks—you bakers know the drill). I did a lot of the cleaning while she measured intensely and covered herself with flour. Then I left her to finish up and went out with some friends. I got three calls while I was out—two questions on baking, and one to let me know the elder was on her way home. (Insert sigh of contentment here.)

Not every day is that easy. I keep telling the oldest how hard it is to let go, and she listens good-naturedly and smiles, and the youngest laughs when I say, "You'll know how this feels when you have kids!!" But the truth is, I think we're ready for this. We've been becoming ready for a long time.

During the driver's test, my daughter had an administrator who kept her talking the whole time about her faith and why she believed what she did. They were comparing philosophers and getting into some pretty deep stuff, but she shrugged her shoulders later and said, "He's an agnostic, from what he told me." Didn't affect her faith in the least.

Yep, she's ready, inside and out. Not perfect, but ready.

My life is moving on, too. New opportunities as a writer, new venues for existing stories, a growing not-for-profit (please visit www.purityworks.com if you haven't already), a husband leaving a day job and into the life of a musician again, a friend moving out and onward to a new stage of life …

And it feels good. Not perfect, but good.

I think I'm ready, too.

May you feel secure as well in whatever you've been prepared for today.

OK, how can a cute little doggie like this do any wrong, huh? Chloe is the darling-est dog ever to be found at a rescue, well-trained, usually fun and obedient - I've been calling her a "miracle dog." So how today does she come to be the dog from the flames?? Lemme tell ya - (I posted this to a friend and wasn't going to share it, but it's just too funny - you have to laugh.)

Our tragicomedy begins while we were having a nice walkie, Chloe enjoying some time off the leash, which she is not bad at. She loves to chase lizards, and so when she jumped into some ground cover I didn't think twice about what she was after. In a moment, she was rolling back and forth in the plants, just lovin' life (I thought). ("What a cutie" is going through my mind UNTIL …) I realize her white coat is turning brown in the process. What? Is this mud? Oh, noooooooo. Chloe has covered herself and her collar head to toe in another dog's poop! She stinks to high heaven!

I promptly snap on her leash, getting the rank stuff on my fingers as I do, taking care not to be mean as I know she is wondering why I am spoiling her fun, and race her back to the house. Trotting her quickly across my somewhat clean floors and carpet, I am praying, "Don't roll! Don't roll!" and I make it to the master bathroom, which, thank God, has a garden tub. I close the door to keep her in (not easy since she abhors baths) and whip off my shorts so I can get in the tub with her.

After two shampoos, with the dog wrapped in a towel under one arm so she won't shake, I put my shorts back on with one hand (yeah - nice), tote her out to the back porch and attach her to the BBQ while I rinse out her collar with vinegar and water.

At least I got a bucketful of hair out of her while I was toweling her down - she's shedding like crazy!

She also peed on the rug today and pooped in our room which is usually off limits. She nipped me when I put her in her crate.

Now, I know she's adjusting to us being gone during the day, school starting and all, and me having to work when I am home, but isn't this JUST A BIT MUCH??

OK, ha-ha, now you're laughing, and you should be. The REAL miracle is, I did not kill the dog. We have made up and are playing fetch in the hallway. I must be insane.

Moral? Poop happens. And I actually laughed (and sweated) all the way through it. A friend told me today that every household needs a dog … hmmmm…

Book signings are always fun for me, and humbling. This year The Princess and the Kiss: The Three Gifts of Christmas will be appearing in August. My publishing house is excited, and since I've worked with most of them as an editor in the past, I enjoy my time with the staff so much. Even better, the bookstore owners who were at the event this weekend (Denver International Christian Book Something-or-Other —ICRS to industry folks—see how much I know?) have such great stories. They're still excited about the impact The Princess and the Kiss is making, and they say so. 

I can't tell you how this encourages me. Being at the forefront of a new approach to purity definitely takes its toll. I get a lot of looks like I have two heads. After all, who thinks a kiss is really precious anymore? It's no big thing. And being a virgin at the altar? Unheard of. Impossible. 

Baloney.

But I digress. I was talking about the signing.

I learned long ago that signing books is not an opportunity to be a star. It's an opportunity to talk one-on-one with people I would never otherwise meet, whose children will be deeply affected by these books. It's a chance to pass on the encouragement that they are not alone, and that the virtues still apply in this integrity-hostile culture, and all over the world. And it's a chance to be reminded that I am not alone, either, and that I am making a difference. I am part of a global community that longs for a return to REAL traditional values.

Please don't let anyone tell you you're old-fashioned because you believe in goodness, in nobility, in integrity and sexual purity. Don't be discouraged if all your friends around you are divorcing, and you're hanging in there. It's worth it. Don't take it personally when your child rolls his/her eyes at you. You're the parent and they're bound to be unhappy with your decisions sometimes. Set limits on technology and entertainment. The diet of the heart feeds the character, and junk food will yield sickness, just as good food yields health and strength.

You're not alone. There are plenty of others out there fighting for the values that hold lives together and make our world great and our citizens noble. Find them and build a community of encouragement and action.

If my books help us find each other, then I'm grateful and humbled. Let's not just huddle, but get out there and change things, starting with our generation of young people. Thanks for being a part of an answer we all desperately need.

After a trip home to Ohio, I'm always reflective. This has a lot to do with the cultural shift from major metropolitan area to farming community. In seminars I talk sometimes about trying to cultivate simplicity in our families' lives. Traveling to and from the farm reminds me to follow my own advice.

A few months ago a tornado took the roof off Dad's ancient barn, and so he and the local nephews and son-in-law have been having a blast rooting through years of stored up farm goodies—steel scraps, wood leftovers for the new barn's furnace in winter, odds and ends that I can't even name—all saved by my father, who is extremely resourceful and inventive.

For the purpose of tearing down the actual barn, which is too old to warrant repair, Dad bought an elderly excavator. Those of you who have never driven one are really missing out! It's a big, big toy that's relatively simple to run and can dig and destroy things in record time.

Probably the height of our visit was the afternoon we lined up to learn how to steer, turn, dig, lift and dump.

It was so terrific to get out of my office, writing and speaking element and do something really fun and so different. The day also had no strict schedule. We were messing around and we had time to mess around.

How many of us can say that? How I long for the days of my childhood when summer seemed to last forever and there were no set plans! Every day was a discovery, and I wasn't bored either (well, most of the time—I was a kid, after all!).

A rural community makes it a good deal easier to move more slowly, drive less often, and spend more time talking or digging in the woods or puttering in the garden. At Dad's house, we have resident hummingbirds and finches that entertain us nearly every day, and the TV seems a real "boob tube" in comparison (except for Jeopardy—that's an evening ritual at the farm).

No matter where we live, it's vital that our lives aren't stolen away by technological entertainment, too many classes, too much schedule. To live, we need variety, physical involvement, and time to mess around.

I challenge you to find a chance to let go of some things in your schedule this month. Maybe you don't have a farm to go to and an excavator to drive, but say "no" to something that isn't THAT important and say "yes" to goofing off. You'll be glad you did. Be like a child and recapture the wonder of childhood. And if you have kids, just hang out and follow their lead. You'll be goofing off happily before you know it!

Sometimes a vacation is just a vacation—and then sometimes it's much more.

Our family headed to the Dallas area to stay with some new friends in Tyler. The weekend prior I had flown there to be present at a play based on my children's books on purity. The performance included Irish dancing, excellent swordplay (with sparks!), a smoke-breathing dragon … not to mention wonderful efforts by 70 home schooled kids. Their efforts were amazing—a regular Cecil B. DeMille production which was attended by 1000 area folks.

Becky (the playwright) and I had become good enough friends (or maybe Becky was just taking a wild risk) that she allowed our family of four to share their home during our vacation a week later. After a long drive that gave our bunch time to reconnect from our busy lives, we arrived in a home of southern hospitality and love.

My husband cooked some meals, and Becky cooked some meals, and we all cleaned up. Our kids hung out with the kids from their homeschool community. We ran to Wal-Mart, shopped for Texas belt buckles, read books and had long talks around the kitchen table. We rode horses, fed chickens, and the girls learned to sword fight from a marvelous teacher who bases his methods on character-building, not just ability. We attended high tea at a friend's house and a cast party for the play where we hooted and hollered at clips from the event.

Some of the kids from the play came along to the Dallas Christian Book Expo to do sword demonstrations and pieces of the drama along with my readings. I never heard them complain about the long drives or … anything. All I heard was, "Mrs. Bishop, we love you. Thank you so much for letting us be a part of your play. I hope we can do more." Wow—are there still high schoolers like this in the world??

Of course, none of them saw this in themselves. They were confident, but not cocky, unaware of their rare qualities, or of how many families wished for that kind of community or that quality of relationship and character.

There was a pall in the car as we left for home, and tears were shed. It wasn't just a sadness over an ended vacation, but a true mourning for parting from such dear friends. And in Orlando, our transition was difficult. Back to our schedules, our cell phones, our work and school, longing to somehow keep hold of the community we learned from. Thank goodness for Facebook!

Maybe you are totally unaware of what you have to offer in your community. I know we must have offered something to our friends in Tyler, but I have a hard time seeing it in light of their gifts to us, and maybe that's just as well. But we are all influencing someone by virtue of just being here. My thought after this vacation is , "How can I do it better?"

Thank you to all our friends in Tyler—we are praying for you to keep pursuing your big dreams, and we're praying to come back. Thank you for opening your arms to us, and giving us the opportunity to reevaluate our lives. And if you're ever in the Mickey Mouse area—well, you know who to stay with!

Can I confess something as a mom? I struggle with putting my kids first. I don't imagine any of the rest of you do. (smile)

But really—there are so many fun and exciting things to do, and we live in a country where it is so easily all about ME—I deserve this, I ought to take advantage of that—and sometimes walking kids through their personal "stuff" isn't too much fun. That's probably when I most tend to turn into an "escapee," dwelling on the importance of my trips or speaking engagements or even an appointment to the hairdresser (which in itself isn't bad—we all need care—it's just tempting to schedule extra opportunities to leave the house sometimes for no really good reason). Luckily I'm not an avid shopper, or I'd be in extra big trouble.

We've just been through a tough season with our 15-year-old, and we've survived, and healing has come. The relief in the household is palpable. So I'm just beginning to bask in the joy of our time together. It's great, just great.

At the same time I've been so excited about a trip to South Africa to teach purity in a couple of churches and work in a really distressed neighborhood in Cape Town. Those of you who know me know how excited I get about the African countries, and how much I look forward to going.

Then they scheduled the dates, April 17-28. My daughter's sixteenth birthday is the 17th. AND my 12-year-old turns 13 the day before.

Now, don't shun me, but at first I thought, well, my gals are so flexible and strong and independent, and we celebrate a lot of birthdays before or after the day because of travel. No problem. We'll do something special the weekend before. My husband, bless his wonderful, fatherly heart, seemed hesitant about the plan. In fact, he was supposed to go with me, and then  bowed out, even though the worship team there was really looking forward to him coming. He made a strong statement about needing to be with the family (hint to wife!), but said no more, except for a few funny looks. (:

So I started making my plans and finding another partner to be my right-hand gal, and meeting with the team leader. It wasn't until a few weeks later that something in my heart screamed, STOP!" and I realized that (can I write this?) I was more excited about that trip than I was about my daughter's sixteenth birthday.

This revealed something about my heart that humiliated and disturbed me deeply. I knew that I knew that I knew that I could not expect real blessing from my efforts if I didn't put my girls first. I had known it before, but now I was called upon to really put it into practice.

I wrestled for a bit and asked if they could delay the trip out, but yesterday got word that it wasn't possible. I would have to step down. I cried tears over it and was ashamed of myself, but today I feel more peaceful. I know it's the right thing. It isn't worth missing a sweet sixteen.

As I give myself the grace I need to, I recognize that many other parents need the same grace. Even when we have raised our children well, when we have taught them what it means to pursue purity, when we're doing all the right things, our priorities can get tangled up. We can be distracted. We can forget what's really important.

I will likely get another chance to go to Cape Town, but even if I don't, it's okay. Right now it's my own heart and my daughters' hearts that are in need, and I can't go doing the other stuff if I can't do it right at home. My heart needs the pain and turning of this sacrifice that shouldn't have felt like a sacrifice in the first place.

Are you in a similar position somehow? Don't beat yourself up. Make the hard choice, give yourself a day or two to recover, and move on. Choose to turn your heart towards home. You don't want to regret a thing the say you die. 

When I thought of lying on my deathbed, I knew that I might be disappointed if I hadn't spent time in Cape Town. But much more than that, I knew that I would be telling myself, "You weren't even there for her sixteenth birthday." Then the choice was clear—a lot of things are like that when you look at life from end to beginning.

But I'm not going to dwell on that now. I have a party to help plan, and I'm really looking forward to it. In fact, I'm going to allow myself to be consumed by it. It's going to be a BETTER trip than Africa even could have been.

Just ask my husband. He knew it all along. (Thanks, honey.)

Visiting Ukraine for the fourth time felt a lot like coming home. Kiev is familiar and we don't feel as though we are so easily lost (misplaced, my husband calls it). I'm still stunned by the beauty of the ancient buildings and churches, and the statue of "Mother Russia" still takes my breath away, even though I know some of my Ukrainian friends have reason to wish it was gone.

We stayed at the Music Mission Kiev offices behind the opera house, which is close to the metro that we're getting pretty comfortable taking to get around. I'm able to read some Russian now, though I can't translate it all. Our friends Sasha and Olya have a new baby, so much of our time was spent traveling to their house and finding excuses to sit Marta while they had some time to themselves or just some help.

I'd like to describe just one special "God moment" from this trip, though. As with many of these "windows of the soul," it happened when I was least expecting it. We were rushing through the constant stampede of the metro through the underground passages full of shops, noise and movement, bundled up in our furry coats, when I saw an old woman standing by the stairwell leading up to the main street. 

This is not uncommon in Ukraine. The number of poor widows is astonishing, and many of them beg with paper cups in the subways and on the streets when it is warm enough, just to survive. Randy and I have gotten into the habit of dropping anything we have into their cups as we pass by, and I personally take time to touch their faces or arms, look into their eyes and bless them. This is always a holy moment.

But I could feel this particular woman's misery. She had a scarf and coat, but she was shivering with cold, her eyes closed, not even speaking. I was drawn to her like a magnet. Randy handed me an especially generous gift, and I went back to put it in her empty cup, touching her arm and rushing back into the crush of people. I didn't get to see her response.

As we mounted the stairs, I felt my heart physically breaking for this woman. I haven't felt such a sensation since my mother died. I started to weep, and couldn't stop for blocks. We climbed some very steep streets up out of the Maidan square, and Randy kept asking me if I needed to stop. But in my heart I was seeing every scrap of poor and needy humanity in every country and dark corner of the world, my heart going out to them, my mind again asking, "And why am I safe and warm?" I could feel God's heart for these unseen people who are passed by every day by others more fortunate. I could sense their questioning what their lives were for, and I wondered myself.

Most importantly, I knew in my heart that those lives were important to God, and if God were to ask me to serve tea to those ladies in the subway for the rest of my life, I could be happy doing it. What a small thing to ask in light of what He's done for me. What a joy it is each time I look into one of those ladies' eyes.

I remember another time I felt that kind of joy. My mother was in the hospital with cancer, and I stayed in the room with her one night. The chair I slept in was the slipperiest chair on earth. I simply could not find a comfortable position, and when I did, I practically slid to the floor. I even slept on the cold, hard hospital room floor part of the night because it was easier!

But that discomfort was almost non-existent in the light of being with my mother. The privilege of her presence made me laugh at my circumstances. What a joy to suffer a slippery chair on her behalf!

What joy should come to us as we suffer on behalf of any human being in need. Whether we part with money, give up our spot in line, sleep in a smelly orphanage or a slippery chair, we can do it with joy and feel just an iota of what Jesus must have felt, even in His dying for us. May He daily give us that kind of love for others, that serves out of a heart of joy and gratitude. And may your Thanksgiving be filled with such feelings, friends …

Saturday is usually housecleaning day here, but with all the travel we've been doing lately, it hardly needs it every week. So this was a great time to help some friends who are starting a new season in life. A family with a tragic background, the grandmother had lived in a section of the house, shutting herself off and barely talking to the rest of the family for years. She had recently left, and the bedroom suite she had occupied was filthy, as though she had never made an attempt to clean it. 

Marie, 18, is now settled in the master suite with new paint, clean carpet and new bedroom accessories from her birthday and a modest shopping event to Ikea. But she had one more obstacle to overcome - the bathroom. Most Americans probably haven't had to deal with a bathroom neglected for sixteen years. I can only compare it to the toilet I saw in Ukraine in a 100-year-old orphanage that was shared by 150 orphans.

This is where I thank God for my mother and her thorough cleaning methods. I knew what to do with that bathroom and it had my name on it. After we announced to our good friend Frank that we were on our way over to do battle, I loaded a large basin of my farm wife grandmother's with a host of cleaning rags and sprays and a big bottle of bleach. 

For hours yesterday I stripped layers of crud and hair from the floor of that bathroom, scrubbed huge patches of mold from the shower over and over with mold and mildew remover, wiped down walls, and scoured the toilet inside and out, top to bottom. We took out the sheet of plastic that let in sun from the skylight and dumped the dirt and bugs outside, leaving piles of black paper towels in our wake. I swept out drawers and cabinets and wiped down every inch, sometimes surfaces covered with caked-on dust.

Never mind the question, "How could someone live like that?" The more important question is why anyone would undertake such a project. My husband, daughters, and our friend Robin scrubbed down the kitchen, bought supplies, trimmed curtains and worked until they were exhausted, too. But our mantra was, "We love Frank and Marie." We were erasing the past and letting in the future. They are coming out of darkness into a season of light, and we are so excited to be marching forward with them.

But doesn't God do this and so much more for us? That bathroom is nothing in comparison to what my heart looked like to God when He started on me. Some days it still looks that bad. But he goes on scrubbing. I blush and sometimes fall apart when he uncovers another filthy corner, another disgusting wad of hair, a dead rat in the recesses of my heart. But He doesn't give up because he loves me.

I was reading an Oswald Chambers devotional yesterday that, interestingly enough, talked about our lives no longer being private once God's love has hold of them. God evidently wanted to really drive that point home with me, because my day didn't end there. My Hindu neighbor, who has become a good friend, had invited me to the Hindu New Year's celebration at the temple near our home. I had been looking for the opportunity to connect with her and to show an interest in her faith with the hopes that I could also share mine.

Going to the temple was like stepping out of America and into India. The gorgeous saris the women wore, the incredible smells of the spiced food, the amazing fireworks and the beauty of the temple itself were breathtaking. I asked questions about the Hindu deities and nodded politely, not understanding much of what I heard, and reading translated excerpts from the Bhagavad Gita posted on the walls.

Yup, I guess my life really isn't mine anymore. This week includes training for Orlando parents of troubled teens, a trip to Texas to talk to moms and daughters, and two days later, a two-week stint in Ukraine, our family separated again. I go back and forth between thinking it's a privilege and a virtual impossibility. My faith is still growing. But I remember the bathroom, and I remember God's redemption, and I know that my life has a purpose. Pray that God strengthens our family in the midst of all our "housekeeping," would you? It's an amazing journey, and a small price to pay in comparison … (-=

Forgive my blog today if it's a little foggy. I'm still recovering from jet lag, and a 32-hour trip home - oh my goodness! I can't believe how long it takes to get to Namibia - it's one of those "you can't get there from here" things. I keep telling everyone that it's like having a baby—the day after you say you'll NEVER do it again, but then a few days later you start to reconsider. We had such a huge response that I imagine we WILL reconsider for next year, but hopefully with the family so we aren't separated, and with a few stops in between to make it more tolerable.

This trip was so different because we worked in the developed areas of Namibia—modern cities where we held conferences in churches just like we do here in the US. The difference was in the hunger of the people and their true desire to be different. It's hard to find that kind of passion in America.

And it was so COLD at night. It was winter in country, and we just really couldn't get our heads around how bone-chilling it would be. Our first stop was at a mall to buy long-sleeved shirts! Our hosts also bought us jackets and electric blankets - their hospitality was amazing, and they treated us just like family. Everyone we met was warm and friendly, a true joy to know.

I spoke and spoke and spoke until I felt like I couldn't give the message any more! Two sermons, umpteen youth groups and schools, two full conferences and everything in between. Our team was probably sick of hearing it by the end, but we had some other great opportunities, too, interacting with the poor in a squatter's camp and contributing to families' incomes by purchasing crafts and jewelry, passing out books and gifts and blankets and shoes, learning from missionaries Lon and Val Garber in rural Namibia, watching children in public schools being taught biblical truth (heartbreaking that we can't be as outspoken in our own "enlightened" country), our teen girls working with poor preschool children …

But we also got to do some amazing things on a couple of days off, like climbing Dune 7 (it's like being on a dinosaur's back), riding the dunes on quad bikes (something my mom would NEVER have let me do), and a safari where the rhinos got so close we could have touched them. African wildlife is always awe-inspiring.

African community is such a blessing to me. It's one of the things that makes coming home so hard. By the time our visit is over, I can hardly bear to leave the sweet family that we've come to know and love. We are already sending emails back and forth and looking forward to more fellowship next year, as well as publishing our materials in the area so they can be available to EVERYONE.

Have I said before that everyone should go on a trip like this? I say it again. Don't put it off. Get out there!

Thanks to so many of you who prayed and contributed and followed our blog and sent emails—you are so dear and you made an impact on hundreds of lives that are thinking differently today about purity and becoming newly committed to living that truth. Because of you, some of these new friends will not contract AIDS, and that is a reason to celebrate and continue to partner with our brothers and sisters in Africa. Purity works! We saw it in Namibia and continue to see it every day …

A winding, whirling vortex of suitcases, clothes, passports, gifts, teaching materials and power converters surround us. We're going back to Africa!

If you don't know anything about Namibia, don't feel bad - neither did I. Go to your movie store and rent the Disney film "A Far-Off Place." That will give you a feel for the desert part of the country. We will see some of that, but most of our time will be spent in towns, training in Planned Purity in the African country with the fifth highest occurrence of HIV/AIDS. 

I'm not feeling the sense of "overwhelmedness" that I have in the past, although that may come as July 1 nears. Maybe we're getting better at this. I think the thing I wish most is that this time we could go as a family, but the costs of the trip prevented that a long time ago. Just my eldest daughter and I will go this time, and the timing is good for us. It will be a great chance to bond (and drive each other crazy!). I recognize more and more the short time we may have left with our daughters.

If you would, be thinking of my husband and youngest daughter while we're gone (through July 17). We'll miss each other a lot. But we're always strengthened during these times, too. It's as though we're reminded that our connections are stronger than distance, that our prayers and love can cross oceans and continents.

And it is a big ocean that we will cross. 17 hours in the air will get us to Cape Town. On Sunday we were commissioned at church and they showed on the big screen a moving picture on a global map from Orlando to Windhoek. Wow! Never been that far from home before, and a couple of us will be crossing the ocean for the first time. 

Have you ever done something that seems so beyond yourself, so different from what you ever expected to do in your life? If you haven't, find a way to do a thing like that at least once. Your whole perspective changes. Your definition of "impossible" changes. And your thoughts of "what can one person really do?" DEFINITELY change.

We're looking forward not just to changing the world with AIDS prevention training—we're looking forward to being changed ourselves. And we're looking forward to the stories to tell when we get home. Be waiting for us, will you? We'll try not to show too many slides …

All right, girls, I just have to brag about my treatment this Mother's Day … I was awakened (twice, I fell asleep again) to a beautiful strawberries and whip cream'd waffle on the back porch with no less than a mimosa on the side, there to view my gorgeous gift, a beautiful bird feeder for the back yard (yes, Susan, you gave me the idea!).

All was lovely until the community irrigation system kicked in. Having no control over the misting, I enjoyed a lovely pre-bath rinse and then rescued the feeder, which was being soaked by the water. (Moldy bird food is no good!) Need to overcome that obstacle. Anyway, it makes a great story. (-= The waffles, by the way, were prepared by my daughters, who are being trained by their father to be much better in the kitchen than I will ever hope to be (those of you who know me, stop laughing.) Randy had already left for worship team warmups at Northland.

Church was great and the message very timely as God always seems to have it, and can I just tell you that I love watching my husband up there singing with those awesome performers? He is rediscovering his voice, which he has never thought was his best quality, but those Disney guys up there like it just fine. Who knew? (Me!) And guitar will certainly be an opportunity for him, in time. He loves what he does and he worships with all his heart, just as he always has. I got to go back to the Green Room and be introduced to the singers afterward as a "special" treat, which actually made me very nervous. Too much talent in the room!

At home, I was sent to my room (yahoo!) while the kids prepared some of lunch and Dad finished second service. I was escorted out by Christianna, whose introduction was every bit as entertaining as Chaucer in A Knight's Tale. Cracked me up!

The kids had accessorized with as much gold as humanly possible and made a beautiful table, along with tall candles and pictures of Mom, which made for a few tears and more I didn't want to shed at the time. Mom would have been proud of them.

And she would have loved the beautiful food, too. Scallops, veggies and mushrooms in an alfredo sauce over pasta (to die for) and salads with not just iceberg, but European lettuce (I couldn't tell which was which). My favorite el-cheapo spumante was a perfect compliment, with Spanish flan and Cool Whip (the kind with real cream!) for dessert. You know me, just back up the whipped cream truck! Spoiled!

I needed this kind of a reminder that mothering is worth it this year. This has been the hardest year of all, with the beginning of teen emotions and the involvement of another family and boy with very different ideas about relationships. I never knew being a mom could hurt so much. My eyes have sometimes ached from crying, and I miss an openness in my daughter's eyes that took a vacation when we cut the unhealthy relationship off. Will she ever look at me that way again? That's in God's hands.

At the same time, Pastor Joel encouraged me today with the word that our job as parents is to put our teenage children's bodies in the right places at the right times, even if they don't necessarily follow emotionally at the time. That's what we've done and now we pray. And pray. If you're in a similar place, my heart goes out to you. God is faithful, let's keep reminding each other!

On a lighter note, I'd like to share with you the words on my Mother's Day card:

M is for the moments you didn't smack me when you could have.

O is for the outrageous things I did I never should have.

T is for the tribulations mothers have to live through.

H is for the heart attacks I sometimes tried to give you.

E is for expressions you taught me NOT to say, and

R is for the great respect I have for you today!

(I don't deserve such a wonderful mother!)

To which we all would shout, "Amen!!" (-=

Loving all of you and wishing you a lovely day, with all its emotions.

Note: I just found out you can see the fountain on the web site: www.canaaninthedesert.com! Just click around to find the info on the fountain, and there's a picture of it with running water on the front page!

A week in the desert—sounds lonely, but it's not bad when it's in Scottsdale, Arizona. I was beset with cold/allergy symptoms when I got there, and then realized that everything was in the height of its blooming season. So I got to SEE a lot, but I also sneezed a lot. (-=

I grew up in the Midwest, so Saguaro cacti only existed in cartoons for me. I guess it takes about 100 years for one of those puppies just to grow an arm, as my AZ friends informed me. And where's the grass? There just isn't much, and it takes precious water to keep it alive. But the rock gardens are gorgeous!

We visited a place called "Canaan in the Desert" that's a prayer garden cared for by a group of nuns. Beautiful, fascinating place under Camelback Mountain. Blooming prickly pears and other kind of spiky things I can't name, some of them bigger than I've ever seen. And then the walk through the stations of the cross, the story of the death of Christ. Little quail running everywhere. (Have you ever seen a quail with that funny little question mark feather sticking up off the top of its head? They're so funny and interesting!)

But the coolest thing was a fountain in the garden, a large bubbling fountain in the middle of the desert. The pool beneath the fountain had seven sides, and each named a quality of God the Father: Father of Comfort, Father of Mercy, Father of Faithfulness, etc. That was meaningful enough, but then we realized that each side had a spigot, and there was a little cup dispenser out there and a little instruction book that offered the experience of drinking from each spigot as you walked around the fountain, meditating upon that quality of God as you drank.

The picture of Him as Living Water and the only Source in the desert of our lives was poignant, meaningful, and joyful. It really made an impression upon me, especially with my physical ailments during the trip. Wow!

I spoke to three MOPS groups (mothers of preschoolers) at the church, La Casa de Cristo, a beautiful mission-style Lutheran Church of about 1200. We taught on the five doors of the heart and introduced a new booklet with six scripted lessons on the subject for moms to use with little ones. It should be available on the web site soon. The moms were delighted!

Come to find out that this church has the biggest presence  of all at the National MOPS convention! I didn't know that when we booked this event. God is obviously in the business of networking. So many other contacts have pointed me in this direction that I feel pretty sure I'll be headed there in time. There also seems to be a great chance of returning to Scottsdale for a full conference, so it was a very productive time.

On the flight home, we hit a thunderstorm on our way to Memphis. Some of you know how terrified of flying I've been in the past. Well, I am here to tell you that I bumped around in that little plane like a cork in the water and almost fell asleep. I'm not kidding! Walking through that fear has released me from it almost completely. I'm so grateful for that, and for the Source that pressed me to face the fear.

He's the only place to get life. He's the only place to get water. When you've suffering or struggling, picture yourself sitting next to that fountain I described, and a breeze blowing a mist of water over you, right over the wall that says "Father of Mercy." Ask for His help, and He will be there, watering your heart and giving you strength for the journey. He sure came through for us this week, and I'm so grateful!

Egad! What a rollercoaster lately. A sick child, a restless husband, a stubborn teenager, a picky editor (jk, Robin). AND my own issues, of course, up, down, all around. Too much in the schedule, not enough to keep me busy. When will I ever learn to be content?

At the same time, I knew getting into the issue of purity was stepping onto the front line of a battlefield. At times we are definitely under fire. The chinks in our armor are exposed. We snap. Someone acts thoughtlessly, and I get a burr under my saddle. I want to give up. I can't understand why everyone else is so … whatever they are. One by one, little bad things happen, until I'm sure that, if I turned around, I'd see red horns and a forked tail.

Is he real? Of course he is. But he isn't as big as my Boss. I should know that, no matter what happens.

But then there's a day like today, when a friend calls a friend in another state whose daughter has been pulled into deep trouble on the Internet. The daughter is getting counseling and the technology has been removed from her life, but the family is still looking for help and support. And so a person from Florida calls a friend in Kansas and mentions this friend who has been talking to her lately and has this purity thing. The friend in Kansas looks up the web site, and his wife writes. 

The friend who has the purity thing calls some friends who are great encouragers in Kansas, who happen to live about 20 minutes away from this family. In fact, the dad of the daughter in trouble even knows someone from their church! The encourager friends are delighted to help, and so the purity gal calls the dad who is now receiving help and support from others who have attended purity conferences and can help get the family exactly what they need.

Is God real? Gosh, yes. And what an A-class Networker He is. And He's bigger. Don't ever doubt it.

In trekking to an new area of Orlando, we found another great opportunity to share the message of Planned Purity. Foundation Academy in Winter Garden hosted us for a conference with a group of parents of elementary children—exactly the demographic we look for—and it was great! Not only was the hospitality team amazing, taking care of our every need, but the parents responded very enthusiastically to the material. I know we left them with tools that are going to make huge differences in their family lives and in their children's successful pursuit of purity of heart and body.

There are days when I kind of get in God's face and say, "I didn't choose this!"—but every time we do a conference we get better, and every time we come away affirmed in the fact that this is what we are supposed to be doing—and I really do love it—the writing and speaking, that is. The business end seems like a necessary evil, and the ever-unpredictable amount of funds available—well, I'm getting used to it because I've committed in my heart that this is what I'm going to do and nothing is going to change that.

You know, so much of life we spend worrying and trying to keep up with human systems that in the end won't make a hill of beans of difference anyway—when the real value is in the relationships we nurture and the lives we affect and change. Not that we shouldn't be responsible, but what kind of "responsible"? I believe the most responsible way to live is in the palm of God's hand, trusting Him for everything. I haven't gotten it down yet, but I do believe it with all my heart. I am moving forward into those places He wants me to go, no matter what …

The other day we met with a national group that looked at our work and said, "You're exactly what we're looking for." Huh? Half the time I wonder what I'm doing, and then I hear comments like this that assure us we're doing something very important. Please keep praying that we will continue to believe that and not give up. And you keep believing, too - for whatever God has given you to do.

Arkansas! I love it there. Not only because of the beautiful countryside, but because there are some folks in Fayetteville that I dearly love. They are passionate about parenting and purity, and we're watching the incredible effects of their efforts to bring Planned Purity to life in their congregation.

Steve Alberts, the youth pastor I work with, loves to do drama. Last year they did The Princess and the Kiss in a dinner theater format, and had such a great turnout that this year they did a version of The Garden Wall. 

I really don't have words to say how much the play meant to me. If you've read the book, you know about Seth and Petra and the garden they're building for Petra's future husband. But Steve wrote in a modern element of Grandmother Petra telling her granddaughter (who is in a risky Facebook relationship) about her relationship with Seth. There were strokes of genius in the way Steve related the story and built on the few words I could cram into a 32-page children's format. But the most wonderful part was how the play affected me personally.

I have an almost 15-year-old in a relationship right now, and it's rocky going. Daily we are struggling to set boundaries, to talk, talk, talk (without driving any of us crazy) and to navigate the bizarre waters of young relationship. But the play reminded me of the important things—why a young woman must tend her garden and why a young man must decide that he will protect that garden at all costs. And all that was accomplished in the context of FRIENDSHIP.

As my daughter gets older, I get more and more flack about "why she doesn't date," "what's the big deal about holding hands," etc. I'm amazed at how casual we are about relationships in which our teens participate. It's so easy to just do things a certain way because "everyone is doing it." It's so hard to set a new standard. And it's hard to explain boundaries to a teenager when they've never felt "these feelings" before—even when they're a committed to purity as my daughter is. But I'm not giving up—and you shouldn't, either.

In the drama in Arkansas, the couple who played Petra and Seth were 17 and 18, and they were in a relationship, also with very clear boundaries. I was delighted to see the chemistry between them in the roles, which was portrayed with honor and innocence. Absolutely beautiful. I also told Steven (Seth) that I had fallen in love with him and didn't know what to do! (-= We had a good laugh about that.

Everyone served Robin and I as though we were queens. This congregation knew how to serve and how to work hard. They love their families, and I saw some beautiful marriages. I also met some new and old friends like Shannon, Brook, Holly, Susan, Sherri, Lolly (who gave us a tour of the amazing city library where they donated some of my books) and Mary Lynn, our intrepid chauffeur who ran us all over kingdom come with her ridiculously well-behaved, Irish-dancing daughters.

You know, not everyone can call themselves "Razorbacks" and be proud of it. (Mary Lynn actually has a red boar-shaped sink in her guest bath - no kidding!) When I saw the Italian Russian boar sculpture on campus, we all hooted, but I thought, "Now here are some folks who really are comfortable with themselves. And now I am, too. I have a genuine red "WOO PIG—SOOOO-EEEEE" pin to prove it!

I could go on, but suffice it to say that as I talked to the parents, the teens and the church as a whole, I was blessed, privileged, and felt very much at home. I'm trying to find an excuse to get our family there for a vacation (don't tell my metropolitan area-loving husband—ha!) just so they can be friends with the wonderful friends I already know so well.

Purity is alive in Arkansas, and with the help of all of us, will keep spreading to the far corners of the world. SOOOOO-EEEEE! GO PIG!

Please be praying for the upcoming conference here in Winter Garden, March 7, as well as people to accompany us to Namibia and Ukraine this year. I'll try t keep my end and write on this ol' blog whenever I can —

Love, Jennie

Have you thought lately about how every day of life is a gift?

With some ups and downs emotionally for me lately (anxiety issues, raising a teen and a preteen, financial pressures, ya da, ya da …) I find that I need constant reminders of this. Sometimes it's as simple as watching a comical squirrel peek out from behind a tree, hanging by one arm, as I'm being a good girl and taking my morning walk.

Sometimes it's sitting with my nearly-92-year-old aunt and making her smile with a bunch of posies and a couple of crossword puzzle books. 

Sometimes it's being surprised by questions about the "birds and bees" in my own home that have me cracking up downstairs in a room downstairs later on.

Whatever it is, the reminders are always there. I just have to notice them.

We saw August Rush, the movie, last night, and Evan Taylor made a similar statement: "The music's always there … if you're listening."

My music today is the sound of the washer. It reminds me that I have a husband who needs clean clothes … and that I don't have to use a bucket like in Nigeria! 

My music today is the sound of a teenager coughing upstairs. I get to serve her today because she is off school sick, but she is looking up her homework online because she hates being behind.

My music today is the clouds and the blue sky and a practically perfect Florida day. Though I'm indoors typing, I have a great view.

What's your music today? Can you find it? Take the time to listen and find the rest and peace you need. It's always there, waiting …

Blessings,

Jennie

Well, I'm in Florida again after a month back home on the farm in Ohio. It was a packed trip, with lots of time with new and old friends, a couple of conferences (one rural, one in-city), and a number of speaking engagements, interviews, events, etc. There's a lot of interest in purity no matter where we go, and because this was my home setting, there a number of people interested in coming to see what we were doing.

One particular event was very moving and meaningful to me. At the Fort Wayne conference, I had friends offer to help out who were college friends, old band members, fellow missionaries and small group members from way back, a radio host, an editor, house mates and new Florida friends - what a diverse group of people! I was not only blessed by their help, but by seeing the amazing people we have become, and having the privilege of being a part of that group.

Secondarily, these great friends taught me an important lesson.

We learned as we approached conference time that numbers were very low, and I was sitting in that place where I had to decide whether to go forward or cancel. I thought that God had opened a number of doors that no one else could have and wanted to go forward, but didn't want to tank financially, so I called my friends and said, "What do you think?" They all pooh-poohed my doubts and said, "This is what you're supposed to do. We're doing it!" (One friend wasn't there when I called - I left a message and called her back later. When I mentioned the message, she actually said, "Oh, that silly message!" Can you believe the nerve?? (-=)

So we did the conference for a group of about 30. But my friends backed me entirely, because they were not putting their faith in me. Instead, we were all putting our faith in God. No one was counting on me to fail or succeed. They were counting on God to be faithful as we were obedient to whatever he asked of us.

This was a very great freedom - to be loved so dearly and to know that no one was putting pressure on me to perform. Everyone should have friends like that.

Going back to the farm is always healing for me. Only farm kids understand how connected you become to the land that your family grows up on and works together on. And the grass is so much nicer to walk on. (Our whole family goes on about "pointy" Florida "grass.")

If you saw the news about the plane crash in Sanford, that awful accident was in the subdivision just next door to the one we used to live in. I just ache for those families. What must it be like? And I remember Vashti being so nervous because of the flight path overhead - was she sensing something ahead? Who knows? But please be praying for those folks. We were actually looking at houses in that division, and now I'm so grateful to live here - to be safe - to have been safe in Ohio -

But you know, there isn't anywhere safe, except the hand of God. We have to make Him our dwelling place. Anything can happen anytime, but we are safe under His wings.

I'm glad to be home, and aware that nowhere is really home until I move on from this earth. May we all live each moment in that knowledge and hope. Have a wonderful summer!

Thanks to all of you who have asked about our recovery from international travel and moving into the new house. We're happy to report that we're back with very few problems, despite the difficulty of reentry into American life. The girls did great (thanks to Mary and Tom!), our daughter's ballet performance was wonderful, and birthdays have been celebrated. Last night we hosted a dinner for all the movers who took our stuff from one house to another during our trip. It's hard to express our gratitude for the kindness they showed, kindness that made coming back so much easier.

Our trip to Nigeria was very productive for us personally and for our purity efforts. I don't think you can go into any new culture and not be changed, unless you're really hard-hearted. When you look at the problems of other nations and recognize the fact that God chose to plop you in the USA, you wonder why you were so lucky. The answer is that God is expecting you to responsibly share your liberty and material goods with others. I want to challenge every American reading this letter to pursue that with your whole heart. If this country would return to a definition of liberty as "the freedom to do what's right" instead of "the freedom to do whatever I want," what a different world this would be.

In Nigeria, we saw a government too corrupt with money and power to care for its people, much like in the Ukraine. Modern conveniences exist in the cities, but they aren't managed well and so fall into disrepair, like the boulevard we traveled full of streetlights without bulbs. Dishonest groups of men set up checkpoints along roads between cities to ask for nonexistent papers and to demand money or goods. Registration to vote is difficult and groups actually invite others from outside the country to come in and vote for their candidates! Nigeria is trying to model a democracy after our nation, but it's tough going.

And of course AIDS is rampant. Everywhere we traveled we had individuals come and literally beg us to send purity materials and to return to teach purity. We're looking for money and information right now to provide those opportunities - we'd like to return early next year.

But on a personal basis - besides being constantly aware of the poverty, the overcrowding, the risks and the dangers and the heat - it was very healing for us to return to the African continent. In this culture, people always have time to spend. The mundane tasks of life, here necessary for survival, take on new meaning. Even washing clothes in a bucket becomes an enjoyable task.

Yes, I was away from the responsbilities of home and children, and that can be very freeing for a few weeks. But I was also drawn back to the importance of simple things - to the fact that God, family and people are the only things that make life worthwhile. That the day-to-day tasks of housekeeping and business in America are my offerings to that family and to God. That the things that stress me out aren't as important as I make them.

I'm sitting in my own office now in a beautiful home of our own (thanks to God!) in central Orlando, and they're about to open the community pool right across the street. But on my computer, I'm corresponding with friends in the Ukraine and in Nigeria who are waiting for me to help. What will I do about this? The vacuuming can wait another day. I can put off furniture for books sent overseas. And I can remember that all this comes from God and is mine to steward and not to hoard.

I want so much to transfer aspects of life lived in Africa to my life here in the US, but I know I won't be able to do it as thouroughly as I would like. May God help us all to remember what's really important in the process, and to be productive to him, not becoming well-traveled and numb, but becoming more willing to trust Him with all because of the faithfulness He's shown us.

Here's to Nigeria, Ukraine and the world celebrating liberty in the same way we can, through purity and truth. May it come to be!

Hello, folks … and see you later! We're on our way out of the country on Wednesday to Nigeria and will be counting on all of your prayers as we separate for a time as a family to do what God's asked us to.

In the meantime, a great group of friends is moving us completely out of our rental and into our new house - exciting and VERY chaotic! But I think the peace of mind I feel in general is proof positive of God's work in my life—a couple of years ago I couldn't have handled so much upheaval.

The chaos and pressure that God allows in our lives is so clearly for our growth and productivity. I have known this in theory, but this year I am learning it with my life. It actually may have begun when we lost our mom to cancer and my "charmed" sort of life went out the window. I am growing in the awareness that I am simply human and therefore a mess, and that this allows me to experience God's truly amazing grace. (Have you seen the movie? It's very good!)

Instead of worrying about all the disorder around me, I guess I have resigned myself to it. I'm not yet thrilled about it, but I can coexist with it, at least for periods of time. And I'm not defined by it. I am a woman who is strong and capable, fragile and messed up, broken and mended, a mass of contradictions. But God is strong, and can be strong in me when I let Him. He can also be strong in my children and husband and others, and we can grow together in our messiness.

Nigeria is bound to be messy. We will not be sleeping in fancy hotels, we will be washing clothes by hand, we will be sweating profusely in 100 degree weather. We will be painting buildings and bouncing along in Jeeps and in regional airplanes (yikes! God is in control!), being stopped by real guards and fake guards who might take our money and cameras.

But God will be there. And in Psalm 91, He tells us all we need to know. HE is our dwelling place, no matter where we are. And when we live in Him, we are safe.

We're so looking forward to telling our stories when we return (maybe after we put a few dishes away). Know this: every one of your prayers are appreciated for us and for our children and for the people of Nigeria, who so desperately need the friendship and help of those who are able.

I will try to write a blog if we can get to an internet connection. If not, I will report after Easter sometime. We love you and appreciate you all. (-=

I have an acquaintance who says she gets stir crazy when she has to visit family in Ohio, but for me, it's just what the doctor ordered. I was with my dad for a week, visiting friends and updating them on our lives and what's going on at PurityWorks, shopping with my sister (finding cute shoes for $10 a pair!), and generally "hanging out with the folks." Can't say I wasn't glad to get back to Florida weather, though. It was about 21 degrees when I left and 77 when I got home - whew!

You know, I just haven't thought enough about how important it is to stay connected to my "roots." Moving to Florida really isolated us, coming to a place with no friends, having to explain our life story over and over, wondering how to "break ground" in new relationships. It was so nice to be able to sit with people who already knew me, who celebrated success with me and cried with me over heartaches. Life is all about relationships—so why is it I get so caught up in tasking?

Today our DSL connection was down for awhile, and I immediately started to consider the possibility that I wasn't meant to do work online for a spell for good reason. I just got four more letters from orphan friends in the Ukraine, and spent some time writing back to these precious girls. Four letters off to the translator again, a teenage Ukrainian who makes $5 apiece for getting my letters into a condition where they can be read by the kids. Time well spent.

My head is divided in so many pieces right now. While I'm writing to Ukrainians, I'm considering the wardrobe items I still need for Nigeria in a few weeks. I called the hospital this AM to figure out how to get my malaria meds. I have a little girls' ministry event next Saturday and am organizing (with my ten-year-old, who is sometimes enthusiastic, sometimes more interested in XBox) supplies, schedule, and help.

AND we just bought a house! Can you say "finally"? It's down the street from our main church family and in a new community right across from the pool (not to mention it's a "Steinbeck" model—how can a writer beat that?). Yea! Hello, equity, goodbye, money-down-the-pipes! Now, if I can just get over the fact that we have to move right after we get home from Africa, when I have jet lag, a major ballet production and two girls' birthdays. (Aaaaah! Make it stop!)

Truly, we're blessed. God continues to teach me to "walk on the waters of my chaos" and look at Him, always at Him. All this will pass, but when we look back we will remember the incredible richness of our lives (OK, not financially, but it's not all about money, is it??).

Keep praying for us. Obviously there is a lot going on, and there are always more surprises when you wake up in the morning and say, "What today, God?" But we know it's all good, and part of accomplishing His purposes in our generation.

And a great big "hello" along with big hugs for all the friends from Ohio and Indiana. You are truly precious to us. May God watch between us until next time! Much love -

OK, so this week I learned a good lesson about the dangers of packing my schedule too tightly. I had been tracking some mood changes that seem to be appearing in connection with certain changes of life, and recognized that I was going to be in my "vulnerable time" (that's a nice way of saying it) during a week fully loaded with women's events, appointments with doctors, editors and business people, a birthday party for my 91-year-old aunt and all the lessons and details that are simply part of day-to-day life with the Bishops.

For five days, in between and during these events, I was foggy, tired, emotional, angry, on edge, overwhelmed, depressed and uptight (I know, because I wrote all these words down as I was feeling them just to remember that they had actually happened).

Good advice from a friend comes back to me: "All these symptoms are a natural part of getting older. Your best defense is to track them if you can and prepare for them by keeping your schedule easier during those days."

But doing this makes me so mad. I used to be able to do so many things at once—now I can forget the smallest, or most obvious details. I feel betrayed and rebellious. I don't want to have to slow down!

This all feeds into my lack of understanding when it omes to what rest is and why I need it. Rest? Why? There is so much to do and I just don't have time for it! But at this stage of life, my body is telling me, "Rest, or you're going to be in bad shape before long!"

So I am learning. My next "vulnerable time" is during a trip home to Dad's, and I'll have plenty of space there to avoid over-scheduling. But in another month, I'll be in Nigeria while I'm experiencing symptoms. Great fun! Hopefully just the "knowing" that the moods and restless anxiety will pass will help as I muddle through whatever speaking or travellng or sleeping (or lack thereof) I'll be doing at the time.

Last night my oldest daughter and I came home from dance class to find Dad and Sis ready with a beautiful meal and classical music playing on the Internet. We sat around the table, talked and laughed, and had a wonderful time that made me once again aware of the great family life I enjoy. After supper, I did some dishes and listened to my husband strum a new dulcimer (the latest addition to his instrument collection) while my daughter got cleaned up fom dance class. I put on a kettle of water, and got out the tea set. It was time to initiate that Ukrainian tradition again of sitting around in the evening drinking tea.

A pot of tea (the tea a gift from a Ukrainian friend)and many Oreos and tea cookies later, it was bedtime, and all four of us bundled into our bed for the last chapter of Wind in the Willows, which we've been picking up at bedtime lately. We work crossword and sudoku puzzles afterward, reading the Bible, saying good-night prayers, mom drifting off first and ordering children to bed. What a wonderful evening of rest and true contentment. (Before you start thinking we're the perfect family, I must interject that nights like this are, for us, rare. Many more nights have been spent in front of a screen or running around Orlando like chickens, and collapsing, exhausted, into our beds.)

If you're familiar with Wind in the Willows, you'll know that Toad is quite a character, pompus, impulsive, greedy and unwise (and thus so much fun to read about!). But in the final chapter, Toad makes a change. He begins to turn over a new leaf and really think of others first after years of selfishness. But he had been as he was for so long, that the reader still feels suspicious of his new attitude. Change is desperately hard to accomplish, for Toad … and for us.

But if there's hope for Mr. Toad, maybe there is hope for me. Maybe I can rest. Maybe I can put up with the changes of life and even be able to be thankful for the new perspective. Maybe today I can take one more step towards contentment and away from the rat race. May it be so, for me and for you, with God's help.