On Questions

     Matthew 14:25-31

     In English the definition of crisis is: a time of intense difficulty, trouble or danger.  But in Chinese the word for crisis is wei-ji (or chi).  Wei meaning 'danger' and ji (chi) meaning 'crucial/critical point'.  I love the Chinese definition because it is not simply a moment fraught with fear and danger, it also holds the potential for growth and change.  If one is at a dangerous critical point it implies they have a decision to make and that decision may fundamentally change their future.  So a moment of crisis becomes a moment of opportunity.  It still possesses potential for failure and loss but maintains a hope of something better to come.

     I have been considering this word crisis in relation to one's spiritual life.  There is a tendency to see a 'crisis of faith' as the worst possible thing that could happen to someone.  As if when faced with such a crisis the person is doomed to utter loss and ultimate failure if those who are of strong faith don't forcibly pull them into safety. I would argue that thought process is believed to be based in love, but is truly based in fear.

     In my minds eye I see the iconic image of a fishing vessel tossed about on the waves of a great sea by an endless storm.  Inside of the boat is safety and security and outside of it is what appears to be certain death.  The majority watch the storm, looking to help pull to safety anyone who is trapped in the merciless waters below, but a few look out and wonder, "Is the storm truly that bad?".   Perhaps someone, whether drawn away and blinded by their own desires or called to accomplish something the others cannot yet see or understand, steps out of the safety of the vessel into the wildness of the crashing waves.  Out of love and concern those still within the ship call out, cry, beg and grasp for their loved one...afraid they will never be seen again.  Afraid they should have done more, should have seen them walking to the edge and given warning sooner.  Perhaps they have been calling and holding on for awhile, to no avail. 

     I wonder when Peter walked to the edge of the ship...what were those with him thinking?  Were they confident with the knowledge that Christ was in power and would keep Peter above the waves or were they thinking and telling him he was crazy and should never step out into certain death?  Did they warn him to stay in the safety of the ship or encourage him to follow their Savior?  He asked The Lord for something greater and was given a calling that required all of his focus and faith to accomplish.  It required him seeing and believing in something greater than the security of what he understood as safe and best.  He was in a moment of a great 'crisis of faith' and he had to make a choice.  On the one hand his current level of faith and understanding and on the other hand the potential for death or spiritual growth that would fundamentally change the course of his life. 

     Peter did not walk on water, he stepped out and was instantly overcome by the strength of the storm surrounding him.  In fear his faith wavered and he began to sink into the depths of the sea.  What were the thoughts of his brothers still in the boat I wonder....I can imagine what my thoughts would be.  A combination of terror for his safety and smugness in knowing I was right that it could not be accomplished and he should have stayed where he belonged.

     The thing is...even though Peter immediately 'missed the mark' (side note: the word sin in Hebrew means to miss the mark) and began to sink, he also knew who to turn to for help.  He cried to his Savior to lift him up and save him.  Immediately Christ was at his side raising him from certain death.  Here's the kicker, after bringing him up out of the sea Jesus did not chide Peter for asking to step into the storm and walk on water.  He only chided Peter for failing to believe He had all power over that which could destroy him.  He didn't say, "Peter you idiot why would you ever think you could ever step out of that boat and overcome the wind and waves, you are not the Son of God." instead he said, "Peter why would you doubt my power to hold you up in the midst of this storm?".  He wasn't upset that Peter had a 'crisis of faith' he was upset that Peter did not trust Him during that crisis.

     I know there are many of you who are or will be going through your own 'crisis of faith'.  I have mine just as you have yours.  I cannot decide for you and get you through them any more than you can for me.  What I can do is assure you of what I believe is true.  Your Heavenly Father is not afraid of your questions, nor your 'crisis of faith' in fact, I believe, He welcomes the opportunity to help you grow stronger through them.  As long as you are asking His direction through them He will show you when and where is the right time to step out in faith.  As long as you know to call out to Him for salvation when you miss the mark, He will lift you out of the waves threatening to cover you.  He does not expect you to remain in stagnant safety and security forever, He expects you to seek His guidance and believe that He has all power to hold you above the storm. 

The Gift of Healing

     Were you aware that prior to the mid 1800's it was a common belief and understanding that spiritual gifts like speaking in tongues, miracles, healing and prophecy no longer existed?  That our Heavenly Father did not directly communicate with and bless His people as He had in old times?  Check any church history prior to 1830, the concept of an active and participatory God who spoke to and through His children was nonexistent during the 18th and into the 19th century.  Oh, don't get me wrong there were many good and God fearing people with great faith.  They just didn't believe the gifts of the spirit were in existence.  And, barring some isolated incidents, I believe they weren't.

     Then in 1830 Christ re-established the fullness of His gospel on the earth.  And now, 183 years later, it is common in those of all christian faiths to believe in the active gifts of the spirit.  Prophecy, miracles, healings and speaking in tongues are all known and recognized gifts of the Holy Spirit that are understood to be active in the earth.  It is an amazing contrast that I cannot ignore.  What is my point?  Well, really that is just a tangent to my main purpose today.  I want to share with you a gift of healing I was given last night.

     So, about 5yrs ago I obliterated my ACL while skiing.  The injury required surgery and several months of rehab before I was moving normal again and unfortunately you can't sustain that much damage to a joint without weakening the entire thing which means that knee is forever my 'weak' knee.  People ask me which is my 'bad' knee...folks I don't have a 'bad' knee, just one that is weaker than the other.  It functions as it should, I just have to be more careful with the amount of stress and strain I put on it.  If a knee holds me up and functions it is not 'bad'.

     Anyway, awhile ago I learned the hard way that if my foot is planted solid and my upper body turns quickly to the right it sets off a painful chain reaction in my left knee.  I forget what the physical therapist said it's called, but essentially my MCL becomes inflamed and angry and refuses to fully extend or bend without severe pain.  apparently the pain is similar to actually tearing the MCL so it takes a week or two for them to be able to tell if it is just inflammation or something more severe.  (basically if it gets better with therapy its minor, if it doesn't get better...to the surgeon you go.)

     Last night after doing my workout I sat on the floor playing with my dog for awhile.  As I began to get up from the floor I felt a familiar stab of pain in my left knee.  Yep, it was that simple.  I was sitting and moved to a squatting position and instantly my outlook on the day darkened.  I attempted to put my full weight on my left leg and was met with such blinding pain that I literally cried out.  I knew immediately what part of my knee was angry, what I didn't know is how bad it was.  I stumbled into the kitchen grabbing chairs and counter tops for support as I went.  Each step brought forth a new cry and by the time I made it the twelve feet to the kitchen sink I was sobbing.  A combination of nauseating pain and paralyzing fear that something was horribly wrong dominated my being.  I took some ibuprofen and got my ice pack out of the freezer then moved with the speed of a half paralyzed zombie into the bathroom to get a wrap.

     Once set up on the couch with my leg up and on ice I began praying and begging God.  Please help this to calm down, please don't let it be bad.  I sent a message to my three best friends asking for prayers that somehow it would be okay.  About ten minutes into my misery one of my roommates came home.  She asked what happened and I could barely answer through my deluge of tears.  I told her I didn't know what was making me cry more, the pain or the fear that I had sustained a severe injury.  She made the decision that I needed administration and called for two ministers to come. Buckle up, this is where it gets really good.

     My neighbor (who is a minister in my church), his wife, a friend and another minister from a block over all showed up at my front door within ten minutes.  My neighbor's wife had just had surgery the day before and felt the need for administration as well.  We had a season of prayer after which both of us were administered to.  As the ministry laid their hands on my head and began to pray I immediately felt an overwhelming peace fill my body.  My muscles, tense from fighting the pain, fully relaxed.  My breathing became deep and even and my heart became calm.  As I spoke in my heart to my Heavenly Father, He answered through the prayers of his servants.  No joke, no exaggeration here.  EVERYTHING I asked Him for in my mind was immediately spoken of or referenced by the ministry in their prayers.  Before they even finished praying, I knew my knee was fine.  When they said amen they moved to my sister and began administering to her, and I took my leg down and bowed in prayer.  No pain when I moved, NONE!

     When my sister's administration was over I stood up and walked into the kitchen.  There was some pain as I fully extended my leg and placed my full weight on it, but I was walking around the house with only minor pain!  Not even a half hour before It took me ten minutes and significant pain/tears just to get ibuprofen and an ice pack.  The miracle of healing folks.  There are no two ways about it.

     Perhaps you chose to see my testimony as only a coincidence.  After all....the pain isn't entirely gone and I will have to baby my knee for a few days until I am 100% again.  Shouldn't I be perfectly fine and able to run a marathon if I was healed?  Well, I can't tell you what to believe only you can do that.  I can only tell you what I know.  I know that at 9:30pm last night I wasn't sure If I would be walking normally again without surgery.  After being administered to I was walking around my house with only minimal pain and this morning I was able to take my niece to school and take a trip to the grocery store.  That my friends is absolutely nothing short of a miracle.  That my friends is the power and gift of healing.  Take a look through your scriptures, where are we promised perfection?  We are promised to be given what we need, nothing more.  I am going about my day because He has healed me, the little pain that remains is only there to remind me of His gift. 

            

The Coupon

 Think about how a coupon is redeemed.  You purchase a newspaper and in that newspaper is a coupon for a free box of Cheerios.  You drive yourself to the grocery store and take a box of Cheerios to the register.  The cashier says that will be $3.26 with tax and you hold up your coupon saying, “No, this one is actually mine.”  You walk out of the store having redeemed the cereal for your own.  Well, that’s kind of how I see the redeeming love of Christ.  You see, before Christ came God’s people had to offer up sacrifices to God to cover their sin.  When Christ came and died on the cross He became the final and perfect sacrifice for sin.  It is His sacrifice that covers our sin and allows us to return to the presence of God when this life is over.

When I die I will stand before God and have to make an explanation for all of my actions that went against the law of God.  Because of my sin, I would be consigned to be separated from God for all eternity.  But, because I have chosen to be baptized and follow Christ I am covered by His sacrifice.  This is how I imagine that day:

 I imagine myself standing before the throne of God, remembering how I have failed Him and realizing I stand no chance to be allowed into His presence.  I am soon kneeling on the floor; my head is bowed because I am ashamed and scared to look at my God.  In my heart I am consigning myself to the fact that I have failed, when from somewhere behind me Christ walks to me and lifts my chin.  He looks into my eyes and I know that He knows me…I am His.  He looks at my Heavenly Father on His throne and lifts up a piece of paper.  As He hands the paper to my God and King He says, “She is covered.  I have claimed her as my own through my sacrifice.” When my Heavenly Father takes the paper in His hands I see that on it is written my name…in the blood of Christ.  Then Christ lifts me to my feet and I hear, “Welcome home my good and faithful servant.”

The thing with the plan of redemption is it only applies to those who desire to follow and belong to Christ.  He cannot cover the sins of those who do not desire to have a part of his sacrifice. 

On Being a Fool for Love

This is a moment of confession.  If you don't wish to see that I am made of flaws then you should go back to whatever you were doing before opening this page. (unless it was illegal or immoral, in that case please just keep reading)  However, if you are brave enough to love me flaws and all and would like to learn from my failures please continue reading.

For the past seven years (seven already?!) I have made my home in Phoenix, Arizona.  I love living here and have met many dear friends who have been a great source of strength and growth in that time.  I would not go back and change my decision to move.  That being said, seven years ago I left Missouri and my dear family and friends who are a huge part of who I am, and while I don't necessarily miss Missouri, I do miss my loved ones terribly.  So, I do my best to get back when I can and for as long as I can.

Anyone who has moved away from 'home' knows that you cannot successfully visit and spend enough time with everyone you want to.  Your time is spent a flurry of running from visit to visit trying to squeeze as much love into each moment you have.  Invariably you hop on the plane or into your car (why is it on a plane, but in a car?) happy with yourself that you have succeeded in spending time with everyone most important to you only to be hit with the realization of the one, two or ten people you failed to see.  So you make a plan for 'next time' to ensure those individuals get their proper amount of attention. (after all relationships, as anything else that grows, need time put into them or they wither and disappear)

In the past year and a half or so I have traveled back to Missouri about four times, and a couple of those trips have been for a good week or so which gave me time to reconnect with loved ones whom I had missed in previous trips.  It has been lovely.  My Aunt and Uncle (they are home to me in MO) live about 40min out of the city which was perfect because driving into town and back allowed me time to reminisce about days gone by.  For the last few trips as I drove past a particular exit in Blue Springs I felt a tug on my heart pulling me northward and I would ignore it.  "I have to be ..... in 15minutes to meet ..... I don't have time."  If I had followed that little tug, that whisper in my heart, it would have led me on a pretty winding road northward into a lovely subdivision and to the door of my dear friend Janice Welch.

A contemporary and friend of my mother, Janice seemed to always have been a part of my life.  When I moved to Missouri at the age of 15 her kids were around my same age and I became friends with them through our church youth group.  I was always in awe of Janice.  She was always  a smiling presence in church, but I feared she did not like me at all.

You see, when I was about 12 I had misjudged packing church clothes for a reunion and  ran out of things to wear.  Not wanting to wear dirty clothes I wore shorts to church and she gently reminded me shorts were not the appropriate choice for church. She was not rude or mean or harsh about it at all, but I was a very shy and diminutive thing (hard to believe, but it's true) who assumed everyone disliked me in some way. So, in my unreasonable 12 year old mind Janice would always see me as 'that girl who wore shorts to church'.  I never once thought to explain that it was done out of need and not disrespect.  Silly 12 year old girl.  So from that day forward I assumed I would never be worthy in her eyes.  And to me she was the pinnacle of what a lady should look like and say and do, a pinnacle that I would never get close to achieving.

Thanks to the grace of God that all changed when I was about 16.  I had been diligently seeking what in my heart needed to change in regards to my relationships with others and I knew this seed of doubt needed to be put to rest where Janice was concerned.  I felt convicted in my heart that I needed to just sit down with her and talk over how I felt.  I was terrified.  What if I had been right and I would always be 'that girl' to her?  Regardless of my fears, I realized it was not fair to her for me to assume she did not like me.  If I was not willing to give her the benefit of assuming her love then I was not worthy of her love.  So, one Sunday afternoon I pulled her aside.  She was floored.  She had not even remembered the incident from four years before and had no idea I had any reservations of her love.  That day Janice and I formed a bond which I am so thankful for.  A bond which helped show me the strength of love, the importance of communication with those you love and the beauty that comes in a relationship with another human being when you are willing to be terrifyingly open with them.

As I traveled the highway to my given destinations last year I remembered all the joy and love I shared with Janice and her dear family in their home.  The nights playing games, barbequing, singing together or watching movies.  The laughter and joy flooded back to me each time I felt that strange pull, the quiet whisper 'just go stop by and see if they are home'.  Each time I would tell myself no, "I'm sure they are busy," I would think, "They have their own lives to live, they are probably busy or tired and I don't have their phone number to call first.  I can't just show up, that's rude and they probably aren't even home."  And while I drove on my heart kept calling me back, "just go, you know you want to go.".

I wish I could tell you I listened.  I wish I could say I made that attempt.  That I stopped by out of the blue, ignoring social norms just because I wanted the chance to see Gary and Janice and hug them and tell them what they mean to me.  What a blessing God gave me in having their influence in my life.  Because you see, Janice has been battling cancer, and this past Monday evening the Lord healed her by calling her home to Him.  So I cannot plan to give her time on my next visit.  I cannot hug her one last time and make sure she knows how precious her influence was to me.  All that time my heart knew and pulled at me to go, but because of a fear of seeming foolish or socially inappropriate I ignored my opportunities. 

I am not writing this because I want you to have sympathy for me.  Don't waste your emotions on being 'sorry'.  I know that Janice now knows all things and knows how much I loved her.  She did not lose out on that knowledge, I missed out on the opportunity to share it with her.  Take this as a warning lesson.  Love is not about social norms or appropriateness.  And love comes in all forms, not just the romantic kind.  So think about who you love in your life and what they mean to you.  Have you gone out of your way to tell them?  Do you feel that quiet pull in your heart to say or do something that may seem foolish or out of the ordinary? DO IT, SAY IT!!! Don't fail in showing the love for someone that is in your heart.  

On The Women Who Made This Woman

"The aged women likewise, that they be in behaviour as becometh holiness, not false accusers, not given to much wine, teachers of good things; That they may teach the young women to be sober, to love their husbands, to love their children, to be discreet, chaste, keepers at home, good, obedient to their own husbands, that the word of God be not blasphemed." -Titus 2:3-5-

Yesterday I went rock climbing with my Colorado family.  If you have had the opportunity to meet them you know without my saying how awesome an adventure we had together.  I will not go into the details of our fun as that is not the point of this post.  The point is how my interaction with my Meah got me to thinking of all the women in my life who have helped to shape the woman I am today and what a great debt I owe to them for fulfilling their responsibilities of being a Godly example. 

I will start by saying that I battle with a fear of heights, it's enough to slow my adventurous spirit but it's mild enough it can be ignored when I am faced with the proper motivation to push through.  I was belaying Meah on one of the lower level climbing walls and right as she got to the point where I personally had felt terror trying to overtake my body she said she was done and ready to come down.  I complied and helped her to the ground and within a couple minutes she wanted to go up again.  I looked her in the eye and said, "I will belay you only if you push through your fear and go all the way to the top."  She assured me she would and got about halfway up the wall when she said she was yet again ready to come down.  "Come on Meah you've got this, I was scared right there too, just focus on where you are going to move next and you will make it."  Slowly she climbed her way to the top as I talked with her giving her pointers on good foot/hand holds.  When she tapped the top of the wall I couldn't help but let her know what a superstar she was.  By the end of the two hours she was climbing up several different walls and having a blast and even going out of her way to encourage me up one wall.  Toward the end of our climbing time she looked at me and with all of her 9yr old sweetness said, "Thank you for helping me climb and calling me a superstar.  It really helped and made me feel safe." 

I have been contemplating our exchange throughout my morning scripture read and was brought to remembrance of all the wonderful women who were, and still are, an example shaping and molding me into a better woman.  Essentially I just want to give a shout out to you all.  Some of you will know what you have meant to me already, but sadly some of you I may never have told and it is only right you should know your example has been seen and followed and become an intricate part of who I am.

So...to my mother who has ever been an example of giving 100% of herself in love, to my Aunt Bonnie who has been to me a second mother, to my grandmother who showed me the beauty of loving without using words, to my Aunt Eva Lyn who made me believe I can accomplish anything I decide to do, to my Aunt Leah who taught me hope is just as necessary and strong as faith, to my Aunt Bethany who taught me the importance of enjoying every minute you have with those you love, to my Aunt Lisa who taught me that sometimes a little bit of crazy is a good thing, to grandma Case who taught me that quiet is not the same as boring and everyone can benefit from a ladylike quiet, to Uncle Donnie's Bonnie who taught me you can be goofy and still be a lady, to Lana Hill who taught me the beauty of being a faithful wife and mother, to Aunt Linda who taught me the importance of love and patience in a marriage, to Aunt Paula who taught me that faithful doesn't mean pushy, to  Debbi Vogel who taught me what it is to put others first always, to Manon Lawrence who taught me that praising the Lord is a personal thing and not to think of what other's opinions are of my gift to God, to Janice Welch who taught me what it is to forgive and make amends with those you love, to Wanda Jo Eddy who taught me the strength in being humble, to Carrie Gier who taught me that a happy attitude will change your outlook on things for the better, to Chris Moser who taught me the ability of a mother's heart to love all who come her way, to Debby Brown who taught me the importance of having an open home and heart, to Kathy Ely who taught me what it is to love without losing hope, to Betty McIndoo who taught me what it is to love your children and family....Thank You.  More than I can say, thank you.

You should know this is not a comprehensive list, and I hope it is one that will keep growing for as long as I am alive.  That I will ever be learning and growing from the example of the women I know and love.  I hope and pray that I will live worthy of the women who's examples have touched my life, and someday my Meah will be able to look back and say that I was a Godly example and source of strength in hers. 

Shower of Sorrow

I am about to relate to you a very personal and traumatic experience.  It has taken me several weeks to recover from the trauma sufficiently to share.  Some things are just too life altering to process all at once, they are moments you never fully recover from.  I am afraid this was one of those moments. 

To set the scene for you I must give you an idea of what my morning schedule consists of.  I work five days a week at one of the best jobs ever.  Sadly, it's a 40 minute drive from my house and when you add on a 9hr work day I find am not prone to working out at the end of my shift.  To avoid ballooning into a smurf like character and to avoid valley traffic I wake up around 4:15 in the morning and get on the road by 5am.  This allows me about 45minutes to work out prior to my 7am on duty time.  Not wanting to be sweaty and gross all day I take a shower before changing into my work clothes.

Normally this entire process, besides the waking up part, is a relatively easy and stress relieving part of my day.  The morning work out puts me in an awesome mood and gets me ready to face the day.  Typically by the time I am taking my shower I am awake and happy enough to be singing along to my workout music. (that's right folks, I sing in the shower and feel no shame over it) 

Tuesday morning two weeks ago, instead of singing I found myself weeping like a child who just found out their favorite vanilla ice cream had been replaced with horseradish sauce. (I'm sorry I ever played that trick on you Kat.) Here's what happened...

I had an awesome workout and was feeling particularly beasty.  I hopped in the shower and started singing along with Beyonce like any other day.  Mentally I started going over my 'to do' list while going through a quick shower process. You know....face, hair then body. (I like doing things in a specific order as does anyone with a type A personality.  Don't act like I'm the only weirdo out there, I know all of you type A's are secretly thinking of your particular shower order as you read this.) Anyway, I had just gotten to the hair part and Put a nice dollop of shampoo in my hand with which I fully intended to scrub my scalp. (This is where things get ugly)

I remember lifting my right hand up toward my head when all at once I felt what can only be described as an intense and literally blinding pain shoot through my right eyeball.  While my vocal chords were straining with a blood curdling scream of pain (it went something along the lines of, "grrraaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh, oh God, oh God, please help me, aaaaaarrrrrrhhhhhh") my brain, scrambling to process what just happened, realized I had just dropped that entire dollop of shampoo into my eyeball. 

Eyes closed I threw myself against the tile wall of the shower for support while trying to force my eye open.  The pain was like a thousand paper knives slicing tiny paper cuts onto my eyeball while a giant lemon squeezed itself over my bare cornea.  I couldn't make my eyelids open. While trying to force my eyeball open I started yelling and whimpering all at once, "Oh, God what am I going to do?  I can't see, I can't see!! Oh Lord, it hurts so bad, it hurts so bad. Okay, Laura just breathe, your okay, it's going to be okay, just breathe.  Aaaaaahhhhhhh I hurts so bad, Oh God it hurts so bad!!"

In my mind I vaguely remembered my mother trying to rinse something out of my eye once and my reaction being somewhat similar.  Her voice rang somewhere in my head, "Laura if you don't rinse it out it's just going to hurt worse and worse.  You have to rinse it."  With my left eye opened I looked at the water blasting out of the shower head in front of me.  The terror I felt at the thought of holding my eye open under that deluge made me more sick than the shooting pain through my eyeball.  You have to understand, this shower is not typical.  The water pressure coming out of this shower is almost enough to blast the hair right off your legs for you.  Typically I keep myself moving around as I shower because the pressure is so high that to stand in one spot for too long would be asking for a surface abrasion on whatever part of your body was unfortunate enough to be subjected to your foolish stillness.  Knowing the pain this water pressure can cause on my skin I was less than excited at the prospect of opening my eyeball so it could be blasted by the liquid needles flying out at me.  But....I knew it had to be done.

Taking a deep breath I raised my face and felt the blades of water sear my skin as I slowly pried my eyelids apart. "Aaaaaahhhhhhhhh, it hurts so bad!" I screamed as I slammed my eyeball shut again.  Unfortunately shutting the eye hurt just as badly and I quickly peeled it back open yelling, "My eye, my eye it hurts so bad!!!"

Six times I went through this process trying to rinse all the shampoo out.  Halfway through I felt something on my upper lip that I thought was soap lingering on my face.  As I reached up to wipe it off I realized it was snot pouring out of my nose almost as quickly as the water was pouring into my eye. "Uuuuggggghhhhh gross, what the thunder is going on?" All I could think was the water was running right behind my eyeball and washing out my sinus cavity.  As if being blinded wasn't bad enough, now I had to be all gross and snotty on top of it?!  Was there no end to this horrendous episode?  Was I going to trip and knock myself out next?  Seriously!

After about six torturous washes under the shower I tested my eye out and found I could actually control my eyelids on their own and had a partially blurred view of the shower wall.  Good enough to stop with the water torture.  I quickly rinsed the last of the snot off my face and slowly, carefully finished my shower and got myself ready for the day.  As I looked into the mirror before heading out of the locker room I saw my eyeball was a beautiful red splotch that seemed to scream at everyone who might give it a second look, "She did this to me, she tried to kill me!".  Silently I wondered if the blurriness would go away as the day went on or if I would need to make a visit to the optometrist.  Thankfully I did not have to seek medical attention.

What is the point of this long, winding and embarrassing story?  Well, let my woes be a lesson to you.  When you are putting shampoo in your hair, you should keep your eyes closed.  And for the sake of your eyeballs....check your water pressure people, check your water pressure.

Chapter Three: Lost

     International travel today, while still exciting and scattered with various hazards, is not what it was in the mid 80's.  During the 80's both Mexico and Central America were dealing with civil unrest and guerrilla warfare was a daily reality.  The mountains were littered with tiny guerrilla camps whose entrances were easily mistaken for the poorly signed and maintained roadways.  Even major roadways were typically two lane pot holed nightmares with little or no signage. On top of those hazards many maps during those days were missing roads between smaller towns making it far too easy to lose your way. 
     In the early years of our travels my father spoke no Spanish and my mother precious little, which meant making our way through the country was as much a mastery of Spanish Sign Language as it was the ability to read maps and road signs.  I have no doubt it is a miracle we did not drive off the edge of some unmarked cliff somewhere.  What did happen, many times over, is we often became lost and had to back track to the nearest village where my mother would use her blend of Spanish and simple Sign Language to glean some idea of where we went wrong and where to go next.  Typically the answer was, "Aya" (over there) accompanied by the amazingly unhelpful lip purse.
     Those who have ever seen me give the lip purse will know automatically what I am talking about, but for those of you who are unfamiliar here is a visual example for you.  If you would please purse your lips into almost a pucker, now point those puckered lips in any given direction...that's it.  That is the Latin American lip purse, and it is given as the answer to any question involving directions.  "Where is the central park?", you ask a gentleman waiting for a bus, "Aya", he replies with pursed lips pointing somewhere behind you.  Needless to say, my family became very skilled at reading lip directions.
     I don't know if it was our first or second trip to Honduras, I was somewhere between 4-6yrs old, but I do remember we were in the Chiapas region of southern Mexico.  The area borders Guatemala and is very mountainous.  I know that during that particular time period the Zapatistas, a guerrilla group creating civil unrest in the area, were very active and had kidnapped a few missionary couples who had been held for ransom.  There was not any open fighting between the Zapatistas and the local or national government at the time, however several small scrimmages had been known to have occurred.  We were heading through the Chiapas region toward Guatemala and, as usual, we became lost.  I don't know how late it was at night, but it was well past sundown.  I believe my parents were attempting to get to the nearest large town to stay the night when we became turned around.  My brothers and I were all bedded down in the van and I was lying on the bench seat directly behind my parents.  I remember I was staring out at the trees and stars in the sky as we bumped along the back roads. 
     We came to a small village where my parents got directions back to the 'main road'.  Several minutes after heading back out I heard my parents discussing our location.  My father did not think the man had given us the right directions and they were deciding whether to keep going or turn around again.  As they debated the pros and cons I began to fade into sleep and did not realize we had come to a check point. Check points were very common and frequent in every Latin American country during that time period, however we were in the middle of nowhere in the mountains.  The military had no reason to put a check point on a tiny road that did not even connect to a large town.
     In my half sleep I felt the car had stopped moving and I struggled through my tired stupor to open my eyes.  When I did I found I was looking up at the stern face of a man in full military garb.  He was wearing a ballistic helmet and had a rifle strapped to his shoulder.  His eyes were hard and calculating as he met my gaze.  I looked up at him and stared straight into those large brown eyes.  I remember the rifle was startling and scary but I wanted somehow to make him know I was glad to see him.  I gave him my biggest smile and waved hello, all the while staring straight into his eyes.  His lips faintly curled into a smile of his own as his eyes became softer and his hand waved hello in response.  Slowly he turned toward my father's window and began speaking.  He gave my parents perfect directions back to the main road where we were able to move on to our final destination for the night.
     It was not until years later that I learned how terrified my parents had been that night.  How we were not at a sanctioned military check point, but at the check point for a guerrilla camp.  It was not until I became an adult that I fully comprehended how much potential danger we were in and how our lives were literally in the hands of that one man.  I tease my parents sometimes and tell them that I single-handedly saved our lives by smiling and waving at that very moment and in a sense I do believe that is true, however as I had no knowledge of it I can't really take any glory for it.  What amazes me about that night is how God can use the perfect beauty and innocence of a child to soften the hearts of men.  How one simple gesture of love and friendliness can change the course of time and events.            
     Mostly though, it is a testimony to me that no matter where we are or what circumstances we may be in, the Lord knows and is in full control.  He is faithful to keep His promises.  Promises to protect and watch over His children wherever they may be.