Confession #5: I hear voices (They're quiet, but very strong.)

It was a difficult weekend. Finding out someone you care about has passed away is never easy, but to make things worse I choose to be a selfish jerk-face to my husband two days before that even happened.

Sparing you the details (and hopefully preserving a tiny bit of my dignity) it boils down to this: I brought insecurities into my marriage. I'm typically a fairly confident person. I have my parents to thank for that, they raised me to be strong, to believe that I was created "imago dei" (in the image of God), and to believe that I am worth the respect of myself and others. But it is pretty easy for me to get caught-up in the enough whispers.

You don't know what the enough whispers are? Well, please, allow me to enlighten you. They are the little whispers in my head that say, "I'm not...

pretty enough...
thin enough...
funny enough...
responsible enough...
disciplined enough...
healthy enough...
successful enough...

and sometimes, just plain "I'm not enough."

Sound familiar? I'm pretty sure the enough whispers have made their rounds with most humans, but that doesn't make them any less of a reckoning force in our lives.

This past weekend I chose to believe the enough whispers over my husband. My sweet, gentle, patient and loving husband. I wasn't feeling like I was enough for him, and he straight up told me, to my face, with all the sincerity he could muster in his voice that that was not true.

You know what I did?

I looked him in the eye and said, "I can't believe that." Like a big jerk-face.

I had plenty of reasons why I knew he had to be lying to me, just telling me what he thought I wanted to hear. (Please note the sarcasm.) So I put up a little emotional wall to punish him and made the weekend difficult for us both.  We still did fun things together and really did enjoy ourselves, but it could have been much better.

The thing is, he wasn't lying. I was choosing to trust myself, my enough whispers, over my husband. It really hurt him and made me miserable.

I had to ask him to forgive me. Man that is so hard! Even when I know that I was wrong I would much rather just let time take care of it. But that is not what we are called to do in relationships, especially in marriage relationships. So I swallowed hard, and told myself, "When this episode is over you're need to talk about this."

After about two more episodes, (Netflix! Your automatic "Play Next" feature did NOT help me at all!) I told him I knew I was wrong and asked him to forgive me.

You know what that hunk of a man did? He hugged me, said, "Of course I forgive you!" We talked over the situation together and then later when we were praying together he asked God to help him become a better husband to me. I know that I am so lucky blessed to have a man like that. I know that that is not always the reaction we get when we humble ourselves and ask someone we've wronged to forgive us and I am so grateful to have such a gentle and graceful man in my life.

I decided to air out some dirty laundry and write this post for two reasons:

1) I think lots of us have enough whispers that we deal with. They really get in the way of life if I choose to focus on how I feel and not what is true. My former pastor, Brent Prentice, often reminded us that we should always allow truth to dictate our emotions and not the other way around. When I let the enough whispers dictate my truth it is easy to begin believing that I am not enough and that my husband, friends, parents, etc. are lying. But when I force myself to focus on truth my emotions have no choice but to follow suit.

Truth like:
"I am fearfully and wonderfully made." (Ps. 139:14)
"I am His workmanship." (Eph. 2:10)
"The Lord God rejoices over me with wild excitement." (Zeph. 3:17)

and...

2) Asking for forgiveness is super hard! Again, I know that my husband's reaction was more graceful and merciful towards me than many would be, but we have to do this. It is absolutely necessary for restoring healthy relationships. If my little story gives someone the courage or conviction to humble themselves and ask for or grant forgiveness in their situation... then it's worth you knowing some of my dirty laundry.

Confession #4 : Crying means you hurt.

I was on top of a 10 foot rolling scaffolding device with Becks (one of my trusty bridesmaids) when my phone rang. My wedding was in 2 days and I had been screening my calls/text messages. If it wasn't one of about 4 people it could go to voicemail and I would deal with it in an hour. I looked down.

Wanie

Not one of the four, but also, not a call I wouldn't take. As I raised the phone to my ear Becks shot me a look. We had just been talking about how I would 't get anything done if I took every call as it came in.

"Hey Wanie! How are-" She cut me off.

"Karen May. I need to know that you have spent some serious time on your knees over this man."

I laughed. No time for small talk, my future was apparently at stake. "Of course I have Wanie! He is amazing. He loves Jesus and he has such a servant's heart!"

"I need to know that you have no doubts what-so-ever that this is the man God intends for you to marry."

One reassurance wasn't enough. So again I smiled and told her that I was positive, that I had no doubts that he was the one for me and that I couldn't wait for her to meet him. Over Facebook she had been giving us a hard time about dancing on a Sunday and we knew she was going to try to come to the wedding.

"Well then. That's enough for me. Your mom loves him and so does your dad, so I guess I'll trust you all's judgement."

We laughed and she told me she just needed to hear it from me, that she thought she had things worked out and was going to try to be there in 2 days. She said that she knew I had things to do so she'd let me go.

She didn't know I was currently perched 10 feet in the air trying to tape a 50 foot plastic sheet to a cable, but I think if she had known she would have been proud of Becks and I's "lets do it" & "make it work" attitude.

You see I learned that attitude at Camp Nunny Cha-Ha. Camp Nunny has a very special place in my heart. My mom was a staffer there in her college days under the direction of Lawanna Roberts (affectionately known by our family as Wanie) Mom loved camp so much she and dad postponed their wedding so she could work there one more summer. Wanie was the leader of the gang that followed mom and dad to their wedding night hotel to decorate their car and was also at the hospital when I was born. I'm pretty sure she invited mom and I to come to Mother-Daughter Camp right there in the hospital.

Not that next summer, but a year before I was old enough to attend Mother-Daughter Camp Wanie invited mom and I. And then a year before I was old enough to attend the week-long camp Wanie asked me if I wanted to come for the week or do one more year of Mother-Daughter Camp. My mother was hoping for one more year together, but she had unfortunately raised me to be fearless and I was all too excited to get to go to camp for a whole week all by myself.

Next was an invite to be a CIT (Counselor in Training), you guessed it, one year before I was old enough. I was not able to take her up on that invitation due to a previously planned summer mission trip. (That was slightly ironic because my love for missions started growing early in my heart at Camp Nunny Cha-Ha.)

Then I was a CIT for one summer and then a camp counselor for 2 years after that. One of my last years as a camper my mom and I were in Wanie's room talking on pick-up day. Wanie asked me if I would want to work a camp someday. I remember telling her that not only did I want to work at camp, but that I wanted her job. She would tease me about that for years to come.

I was asked to be a unit leader, but other summer plans (mainly mission trips to Estonia) got in the way of that. Even though I never got to participate in camp again, that hill is in my blood. My love for it's director and the part she played in my mother's and in my life will not fade away.

Unfortunately Wanie was not able to attend my wedding. She had been living with a nasty disease, that I have a special hate for, for several years. I haven't been close with Wanie while she struggled with it, but I am very close with someone else who has the same disease, my dad. It is a horrible thing that doesn't show itself. I know she lived in a lot of pain because I know my dad and the unfair rhythms of RA so well.

When I saw the Facebook post that Wanie had died in her home during the night my heart sunk. About 2 years ago another woman who had a big influence in my life died suddenly in her home and I found out over Facebook. They had different influences over me, but both women shaped who I've become by their relationship and involvement in my life.

Yesterday our pastor preached over John Chapter 11. The story of Jesus bringing Lazarus back from the dead. God was preparing my heart with two truths I would need to hold on to into the afternoon. 1, Jesus has power, the final say, over death. And 2, death does sting, here on earth, and thats okay.

I know that Wanie is in heaven. Jesus has the final say over death. Wanie believed that Christ actually, physically, came to our world and paid the penalty she had earned for her sins. Wanie was welcomed into heaven by her family and friends and she is enjoying the reward seeing the eternal impact her life made. I can't imagine the sea of people (from so many nations) who are there because of her obedience to Christ. I personally know 4 women who are living their lives overseas as missionaries who were influenced in part by Wanie and Camp Nunny Cha-Ha.

Secondly, I know that it is okay to cry. While I have hope that Jesus holds power over death, and as Paul says so eloquently in 1st Corinthians, "Death, where is your victory. Death, where is your sting?" He is talking about the eternal picture. In the story of Lazarus Jesus was deeply moved and wept over Lazarus's death right before he brought Lazarus back to life! It doesn't mean you don't have enough faith when you hurt over lost loved ones and friends. It means you are human, you are hurting, and your emotions are working properly.

So even though I know the eternal picture, I have hope that Wanie is with Christ and I will one day get to hug her neck again and tell her about how she shaped my life, it's okay for me to cry now. Crying just means you hurt and Jesus understands that.

Mom, Darlene & Wanie.

Above is my mom with some of her Nunny buddies, and below is me with some of mine.

Note: When I started this blog I intended it to be a humorous look at mine and my husband's life. I know recently the post haven't been too funny, but I think it is important to write about what is real in my life right now. Hopefully soon there will be stories to make you laugh.

Confession #3 : Dirty Feet. (A story from India.)

I'm not much of a girly-girl. Anyone who knows me can verify this fact.

In middle school I was way more likely to be up in a tree than painting my nails. I wore boy jeans and adopted boy clothing styles for most of high school because I didn't like the way girly clothes were so fitted. I really didn't start wearing make-up (occasionally) until I had graduated college.

But there is one thing about me that has been girly for most of my life. I hate dirty feet. Just my own. I really don't care what state your feet are in... but mine... HAVE to be clean... and soft.

I spend a lot of my summers at various camps and I keep a washcloth by my bunk so I can wash the dirty camp floor gross-ies off of my feet just before sliding them into my sleeping bag.

Because of this single bit girly-ness and my love for missions I have always really liked Romans 10:14-15. The verse talks about sharing the love of Christ with those who have never heard the Gospel and it ends with the oh-so-popular line, "How beautiful are the feet of those who bring Good News of Good Things."

Beautiful feet. ::sigh:: I get a little relaxed just thinking the phrase. Beautiful, clean, soft, perfectly pedicured feet. With dainty toes, probably a brightly colored polish and a cute design on the big toe. Ahh.... :-)

During this past trip to India God allowed me a little object lesson about the way He and I see things. You see, I was pretty crabby one day. I was very hot, very tired and was at the point where everything seemed to annoy me.

AND... my feet were nasty! In India it is respectful to remove your shoes before entering a building. (In some places we would see piles of shoes in the street next to a shop door.) So everyday when we arrived at the church to do ministry we would remove our shoes and spend the day barefoot. My feet were gross. Even with washing them when we got back to the hotel and again before I got in bed, they stayed pretty nasty for most of the trip.

  

During my little crabby afternoon I put myself in time-out. When I was younger my parents used to inform me when I needed an attitude adjustment. Now that I'm an adult I occasionally need to inform those around me that I need an attitude adjustment and put myself in time out for a little while.

While I was in my self-imposed time-out my stream of consciousness went something like this, "I'm hot! I'm so tired! My feet are SO gross! (Whine, whine whine.)"

Then I started pray-whining. (I know, it's super lame, but this is what happens inside my head.) "God, I'm tired. Why did you let me get sick yesterday? My feet hurt and are really gross, God. Why do we have to take our shoes off? Couldn't you just let them not be offended and we keep out shoes on? We're here to do this for YOU anyway."

Then I recalled the Romans verse which I like so much. This part is super lame... don't try to use God's Word against Him... it just rarely works out the way you want it too.

"God you said people who do missions would have beautiful feet. My feet are not beautiful!"

Then something happened. In what I am learning is His trade-mark-gentleness I felt the Holy Spirit whisper in my chest. "They are to me."

Whoa! What?!? I was having a perfectly good little pity-party and then my thoughts were forced to other bits of scripture that I couldn't use against God.

David, the shepherd boy that Jesse didn't even bring into the house when Samuel came looking for the next king. I imagine Jesse might have said to himself, "David? David is not King material."
"He is to me."

The little basket of fish and bread. The disciples are looking for food and this little guy tugs at their robes. "Jesus can have this." Peter smirks, "Kid, that's not enough to feed me, let alone all these people." I wonder if Jesus grinned,
"It is for me... Hey Pete, watch this!"

Then Isaiah 55:8 "My thoughts are not your thoughts, your ways are not my ways."

So, do you want to know what Romans 10 beautiful feet look like? To me... they look like this:

But to God, I think they may look like this:

My mom snapped this pic on Sunday morning. It is the feet of a young Indian woman who is kneeling in prayer during church. I wonder if to God beautiful feet are feet that are submitted to Christ. Feet that look for ways to take His Name to places that haven't heard it. And I'm just not sure it is possible to do that without getting them dirty.

India '14 Update 4 : 70,000 Words

I sincerely started this post by trying to select 10 photos that would encapsulate our entire India trip. I tried, really. But when you are a photographer who happens to love missions... and travel... and experiencing completely different things... and has over 1000 photos from India... it's REALLY difficult.

Then I had an epiphany. If you don't want to look at all 70 of my photos... you don't have to! The wonderful (and sometimes difficult) thing about blogging is that I don't have a captive audience. So I decided to share my 70 favorite photos and if you don't want to see them... that's okay. We can still be friends.

We made it back Sunday evening and travel wasn't super to Zac and I so we've been recovering. Even though we're back there are still things we want to share about the trip, so I'll have a story or two from India yet. But for now... here are lots of images.

Sunday Morning we worshiped with the believers at Mizpah Christian Fellowship.

Sunday Evening was Night #2 of the Youth Ministry. Side Note: The Blindfold Baby Food Feeding game works well with India Girls... not so well with India boys. We almost had a fight on our hands! LOL!

We made rubber band airplanes to remind us to listen for God's voice. Especially when we are going through a storm.

Monday Morning was Day 1 of the Women's Ministry.

Justin, Zac and some of the young men from the church played with the kiddos that came along with the moms.

So that the mom's were free to focus on the teaching.

Day #1's craft was bead making.

Day #2's was cute encouragement sign making.

Fruit Stand.

Typical sight in India. "Family of four? Yes, we all ride one motorcycle together."

Bananas anyone?

There is a Hindu custom that practices shaving one's head as a sacrifice to one of the gods. I'd bet money this little kiddo has been sick recently so mom and dad sacrificed her hair in hopes of receiving a blessing of good health.

Hindu Shrine on a holy day. All that colorful artwork is made of flowers that have been placed in a screen. Similar to greek life's pomping at homecoming.

The Shrine as crowds wait their turn to bow and say a prayer to the concrete idle set up inside.

If I hadn't been snipeing photos out the car window I would have loved to walk up to this guy and say, "No more rhymes. I mean it." (200 points to whoever can comment with the correct response.)

This is where the street sweepers live. Yes. I said, LIVE. These are homes in the middle of a highway median.

Selling motorcycle helmets. Note he is missing a hand.

Another Hindi Shrine, or maybe temple. Not sure if this one is big enough to be a temple of not.

At the Leper Colony we did a single day VBS. Some of the adults came and sat at the back to watch. 

Kiddos listening to the story of Jonah and the great fish.

Dad and a beautiful young lady who is interested in ministry and has a heart for the kiddos in the Leper Colony telling the bible story.

The great fish is feeling sick...

Oh! And it just puked Jonah up onto the shore. Funny stuff... especially the way Dad tells it.

More adults watching what we're up to with the kids.

We've learned from past years that the adults will come and want to take part in the craft. So this year we came prepared. Mom is tying on a bracelet of color-changing beads to this older woman sitting in the back.

Look at this face!! :-)

Handing out plates of rice to the kids. These people have the assembly line down to an exact science!

My grandmother makes bags to send with us. We loaded the Leper Kid's bags up with some candy, string for a game, a balloon and a glow stick.

We were also able to purchase and pass out a toothbrush and tube of toothpaste to all the kiddos that came that day. :-) Yeah for hygiene!

This kiddo remember my parent's from last year. One of the reasons I am an advocate for short term missions to the same place over and over again. It lets the people you see know they are important enough to see again and again.

The woman who was getting her bracelet tied on earlier asked me to take her photo in front of her home. The room behind her is about a 12x12 space. and she lives there with at least 2 other adults and 1 or 2 children from what I could tell. Hauntingly beautiful.

Hindu Temple.

The Leper Hospital.

Dr. Suji in the Medical Clinic. :-) Even though we didn't do anything medically related, it was cool to get to visit again.

VBS! Noel (Pastor Babu's oldest son) is enjoying dad's re-enactment of Joshua going out to meet the Angel of the Lord.

Zac says, "Stir that Gak!"

So Fun!

We gave the children "horns" for marching around the walls of Jerico. They were supposed to be handed out as they left the church, but that got lost in translation. So... we got to hear Jerico being blown down for the ENTIRE last 45 mins of Bible School. Kids are fun! Loud... but also fun.

Two amazing women. If I can be even a little bit like either of them as I grow up... I will have lived a meaningful life for Christ's Kingdom.

The teachers always had a special song prepared to preform for the kids that recapped what was taught the day before. Very neat idea!

Suji is laughing because dad wanted her to translate the sound effects. :-)

I think Peter is about to step out of the boat... the suspense is killing us!

I don't think it is theologically sound to have VBS without this game. ;-)

The "fishes" were having almost as much fun as the "fishers."

Even the littles got a turn!

Jesus walks on water puppets.

I'm not sure what is going on here, but I promise, my husband never punched anyone in the face.

Joining the assembly line.

A lot of signs and advertisements in Bangalore are in English. I thought this one was funny because I would have chosen a bit harsher of a word than "resist." To their credit, we saw another on later on that said, "Stop crimes on women."

 Don't mess with India women... they are tough!

Sometimes dad took a nap during the teaching time. ;-)

Or maybe he just told the story of Samuel hearing his name called while he was sleeping.

VBS worker group picture! :-) I love these people!

So I guess the "concentration tounge" is an international thing. I thought it was just my mother and husband.

Coffee filter butterflies!

Our "Goliath" tying on bead bracelets. 

The ladies at the church brought henna to do my hands for me. :-) I really enjoy this custom! And have some ideas for next time I get to go back!

At a good bye ceremony for the team. The women all wore their traditional South India Sarees. They were beautiful!

Look at my shy, reserved, doesn't speak much husband speaking to the entire group! We know for sure, for sure, for sure that Zac was supposed to be on this trip.  (A "confessions" post will be coming soon on why we know for sure, for sure, for sure.) I watched him step up into a new leader role that I've never seen him take on before while we were in India. Everyone noticed. Mom asked me, "Are you a little surprised by your husband this week?" Babu said to me, "Zac is really taking charge. He is very good at leading." Dad said, "Your husband is leading songs!" :-) 

I couldn't be more proud of this man, or more grateful that he has such a servant's heart, or more happy that I get to spend the rest of my days with him! I am one lucky girl!