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I’ve been dealing with some very important business in Kenya for the last 48 hours.

There’s a new man in my life.

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It’s obviously been very exhausting work.

I introduced you to Maureen more than 5 years ago, the day I met her in a Kenyan slum and my life was turned upside down. She was a part of my undoing. Wrecked. Little did I know she would become the courageous Kenyan woman who would partner with me to help rescue impoverished and oppressed pregnant teens in her country.

You joined Maureen and I four and half years ago and believed in an impossible dream to start Mercy House.

You rejoiced at her marriage engagement.

You donated money to save her mother’s life and you grieved with us when we lost her..

You celebrated her marriage.

And now . . .

 

 

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Before I catch you up on (or introduce you to) the amazing progress of the maternity homes Mercy House supports here in Kenya this week, or introduce you to our young pregnant residents, or the dozens and dozens of women being employed by Fair Trade Friday in the countries we are visiting…

I had to introduce you to my newest love.

I’m sure you understand.

 

photos by my friend, Suzanne Box

Facing Fear: What Scares You the Most?

I found the lump unexpectedly a little over two weeks ago.

In my abdomen, rolling under my fingers like it wanted to be found.

Fear covered me like a heavy blanket.

Terrell confirmed the golfball-sized mass and I made a doctor’s appointment.

We have several friends battling malignant tumors right now and immediately my mind starting asking the “what ifs?”  I didn’t realize how much I feared discovering something like this until I did and dread filled every corner of my heart.

I had to wait a very long three days for the appointment and I constantly pushed the thought I have a tumor out of my mind. I reminded myself over and over again that nothing had changed. God was still the same. He is writing my story and I love living it. I wouldn’t change it, even though I don’t know what the next chapter holds.

But y’all, I was so afraid.

My doctor confirmed the mass and was concerned at the size. She scheduled an ultrasound, blood work, and a cat scan in case the results showed abnormal tissue. Another long wait.

That night, I filled up the tub with hot water and played the worship song “You Make Me Brave” over and over.

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And I sobbed.

I did my best to act natural around my kids. I pushed bad thoughts away and continued to work and every time a negative thought entered my mind, I would pray. I’ve done a lot of praying lately. We went ahead with our scheduled Groupon trip to Washington D.C. (I can’t wait to tell y’all about it) last weekend.

I’m not sure when my teen daughter developed a fear of flying, but her white-knuckled grip on my arm and panicked look in her eyes, told me it was real.

The flight to Washington DC was turbulent and I felt my stomach roll with the lurches, but my daughter felt more than queasiness, she was deathly afraid.

“I’m so scared,” she whispered.

I tried to sooth and remind her that God holds us. Always. I tried to sooth myself with my own words.

“Don’t you ever get scared, Mom? What are you most afraid of?” she asked.

I couldn’t help but think of the paralyzing fear she didn’t even know I was living. I’ve never been a brave person. I’ve always struggled with worry and doubt.

“I’m most afraid I won’t be here for you and your brother and sister,” I could barely get the words out.

“I’m not afraid of death, you know,” she assured me. “Just the process.”

I had to laugh a little. I love honest kids. “Me, too,” I assured her. “Honey, sometimes we have to look fear in the face and remind ourselves God is in control. Someday, we just may face our greatest fear, but even there in that desperate place, God is with us. He loves us and He is glorified in our lives.”

We survived that bumpy flight and had a mostly-worry free, fun getaway Easter weekend.

But every time someone commented on how tired I looked (which was more often than usual), I just smiled. But I wanted to scream “You would look tired too if you were dying!” (Women, let’s not say that to each other, okay? It’s really a passive aggressive way to say “you look really terrible.” If we notice a friend who looks exceptionally tired, maybe we should say “Can I bring you dinner?”)

Monday afternoon finally arrived, I faced my fear and as the ultrasound tech measured the mass visible on the screen, I prayed.

Tuesday, I waited for the doctor to call all day long. And as my fear mounted, I pursued peace. But I discovered one is easier to find then the other.

I don’t think I knew how burdened I felt until I heard the doctor’s words, “Kristen, this mass is benign. You’re free to go to Africa tomorrow.”

I cried at the instant relief. I thanked God. And I continued packing.

Good news. Bad news. We don’t know what tomorrow holds. But we know who holds tomorrow.

I don’t know why we go through scary times or just the fear of them, but I know God loves us and He is in control.

Today, my teen daughter and I are getting on another couple of planes and going to Ethiopia and then Kenya. We will be meeting with Fair Trade Friday partners and new residents at Mercy House and celebrating Maureen’s newborn son. I hope you’ll check back in to read the updates, see the amazing pictures and join us in our yes to God.

We are going to a country that is experiencing random terrorist attacks.We are both facing our fears because we know who holds us.

What scares you the most? Say it out loud. Leave it in a comment below. Name your fears and believe that He is greater than all of them.

Because He is. No matter what the next chapter holds.

An Opportunity To Become Part of a Good Good Friday Story

Today, I want to tell you a story.

It has been lived at great risk.

And it comes to you at a great cost.

It’s about a woman we will call Mary. She was just a young woman when she moved into her aunt and uncle’s home. She went for love and acceptance, but she left pregnant with her uncle’s child. He threatened to kill her if she told. When her aunt discovered her secret, she was beaten until she miscarried.

This woman lives in an oppressive Middle Eastern country with few rights. Ultimately, she was rejected by her family.

If it sounds like a horror story, it is. It’s hard to even imagine what she or thousands of women like her endure every day in a country where Muslims who convert to Christianity face great prejudice and often opposition.

Mary visited Hope House, a hospitality home that offers refuge to women needing help, escaping violent marriages, seeking freedom. As you can imagine, there could be danger in operating a home like this.

At great risk, she left her religion and decided to follow Jesus.

Following Jesus is sort of an Easter Sunday thing in our culture for so many. In other parts of the world, it could be a death sentence.

My story intersected with Mary’s in an unlikely way, in the middle of my small town outside of Houston. I met Linda, a 75 year old grandmother and fireball. She is a part of East West Ministries and she works closely with the ingenious women who run this house of hope.

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Several months ago, I sat at her kitchen table and we talked about Fair Trade Friday and product and we came up with an plan to help women who’ve never created product before, do just that, as a way to sustain this refuge to oppressed women in the Middle East. We talked about earring ideas for our Earring of the Month option and how we might accomplish it.  Communication is tricky and so is partnership.

So, when I received word that silk clutches had been made against all odds, I was amazed.

Mary made these bags. 95 of them.

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They have come at a risk, smuggled in suitcases. Mercy House bought them, so we could sell them to you and support Mary and many women just like her, receiving comfort and the opportunity to meet Jesus at Hope House.

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When all you know is oppression, you risk your life for freedom. What better way to celebrate Easter and the price paid for our freedom than by supporting someone oppressed in a place that lacks freedom? Today, we can become a part of the story with a simple purchase.

These are more than clutches made from satin, it’s the picture of hope. And freedom. And mostly, Easter.

And that makes them priceless.

(Click to purchase and become a part of this story)

Learn more about Hope House and consider a donation to their work here. (names have been altered for protection)

10 Fun Ways to Keep Easter About Jesus

The Easter Season is the perfect time to practice intentional parenting. It’s more than bunnies and baskets and golden eggs-it’s an opportunity to teach our children about the most important event in history.

If we didn’t have the Cross, we wouldn’t have forgiveness.

If we didn’t have the Resurrection, we wouldn’t have hope.

If we didn’t have Jesus, we wouldn’t have anything.

 

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Here are 10 fun (and easy!) ways to keep Easter about Jesus:

  1. Read The Parable of the Lily and plant (or force) a lily bulb
  2. Create this easy, beautiful watercolor Cross Art
  3. Plant an Easter Garden 218495019391568479_3wI73Ndz_f
  4. Dye/hunt eggs. Share the reasons behind the traditions
  5. A Sense of the Resurrection - a great ebook to help little hands (ages 3-6) grasp the meaning of Easter.
  6. Make Resurrection Eggs. Read Benjamin’s Box: The Story of the Resurrection Eggs
    along with it.
  7. Bake Hot Cross Buns on Good Friday
  8. Fill Easter baskets with something meaningful (a new Bible, a cross necklace, eggs with Scripture)
  9. Make Resurrection Rolls for Easter morning breakfast
  10. Have a family devotion together and talk about the meaning of Easter (this is a good one)

updated post from the archives

The Hard Prayers of a Mother

We stand toe-to-toe.

Just like we did when she was a strong-willed three year old only I’m looking up at my teenager instead of the other way around. The argument has changed, but the passion and determination are the same.

I remember rubbing my hand over my swollen belly so long ago -praying that my daughter would be strong. I prayed that she wouldn’t give in to others, that she would fight for what she believed in.

All I can say is God answers prayers. Just usually not how I thought He would.

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When my kids were babies I prayed I could sleep. (Very holy prayers like, “Dear God, (yawn) Zzzzz.”)

When they were toddlers, I prayed they would sleep. (“Dear God, Is it actually wrong to turn the doorknob around?”)

When they are in school, I pray for summer. Halfway through July, well, you know…

When they were little, I prayed God would get me through the exhausting moments.

Now they are bigger and I pray He gets me through the emotional ones.

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When my kids make a great choice and put someone in front of themselves, my prayers become praise.

When my kids slam their doors, roll their eyes and push back, I mostly pray for me. (“Dear God, protect my children from my wrath.”)

Nothing could have prepared me for the hard prayers of motherhood.

One minute I’m beseeching God for wisdom, the next I’m telling Him I’ve got this.

One minute, I see a scary glimpse of rebellion, the next, revival.

For one child, I pray for kindness. For the other I pray for courage when kindness is absent.

For one I pray for goodness, for the other meekness when goodness is present.

And I pray for patience and self-control all the time for all of us.

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I have cried over harsh words and willful behavior and we both know I’m not talking about the kids’.

I have offered prayers of thanksgiving when they offered unprompted gratitude. (“Dear God, I am doing a fabulous job here.”)

I have sat next to their bed in the middle of the night and whispered broken prayers over them.

I have wept at their loss, their pain, and begged God to fix all that I couldn’t.

I have rejoiced at their wins, their gain, and praised God in the moment.

I wrapped each of my new babies up in blankets and offered them to God on a Sunday. He gave them to me and I gave them back. And I’ve spent nearly every moment since trying to figure them out.

Lately, I have whispered the hardest prayer of all: “Dear God, Break my children. Break their heart for what breaks Yours.  Do what You need to do in their heart and lives to draw them closer to You. They are yours.”

Maybe these are they hardest words a mother prays for her children? Or maybe just letting go of our illusion of control never gets easier.

But it’s this place that is my undoing: uttering these hard, gut-wrenching prayers when I don’t know what else to do.

Because I know He will answer.

All these things I pray and whisper over my children? He says them over me.

(“Come to me, Kristen. Give me that hurt, that burden, that sin. I discipline you because I love you. I break you so you will heal stronger.”)

I found Jesus when my life was wrecked.

And when the last thing a mother wants to pray over her child is chaos, so they can know peace, humility instead of pride, forgiveness instead of bitterness, joy instead of loss, it’s probably time she did.