“Shushing up and slowing down”

“Shushing up and slowing down,” writes Kelly Balarie, “is paramount to God working in us—and strengthening us. . . . God is ready to hit us with unfathomable new perspectives—ones that redefine our past, present, and problems if we will only stop, receive, and consider. Will we? Will we walk unafraid into His presence? Into God’s rhythms? Not cowering from mysteries?” (Fear Fighting: Awakening Courage to Overcome Your Fears)

Sometimes God urges us to come closer. It’s almost as if we hear Him calling us by name, inviting us to quiet ourselves and deliberately listen to Him.

He summons us to a thin place where we mortals experience a sacred intimacy with Him.

That’s what happened to Samuel one night while he was lying down, perhaps trying to fall asleep. We picture a scene without noise or hustle or bustle. And out of the hush, God called his name, “Samuel!”

And in that thin place, alone with God, Samuel answered, “Speak, Lord, I’m listening.”

So, God spoke. He told Samuel to pay attention, because “I am about to do something in Israel that will make the ears of everyone who hears about it tingle” (1 Samuel 3:11, NIV). Samuel was going to receive an important message from God, and, because of his readiness to listen, Samuel didn’t miss it.

How easy it would be for us, in our cluttered, clanging lifestyles, to miss hearing God’s voice. That’s what Kelly Balarie meant when she wrote of the importance of “shushing up and slowing down.”

Sometimes God catches our attention on busy days, within complicated chapters of our lives. Unlike Samuel, Moses was at work, doing his everyday duties—herding his flock on Mt. Sinai (Exodus 3:1-5)—when God called to him, “Moses, Moses!”

“I’m here,” he answered.

Then God said, “Take off your sandals—you’re standing on holy ground.”

And in that thin place, God revealed His identity to Moses (the mighty “I am who I am” in verse 14) and gave him life-changing information for not only himself but for all Israelites.

When God invites us to focus on Him, He longs for us to respond the way Moses did when He called him—but He gives us a choice. (Our loss if we turn Him down!)

God wants us to experience an intimacy with Him, a quiet space where we’re aware we are standing on holy ground. He invites us to worship, pray, reflect, enjoy Him, and pay attention to Him—because like with Samuel and Abraham, He has important information for us.

If God calls our names in the midst of our busy duties, like he did with Moses, what are we to do if we simply can’t drop everything and walk away?

One option is to schedule time to meet with Him every day, such as setting the alarm clock 45 minutes earlier than usual. Another option would be getting out of town for a weekend in-depth personal retreat.

But even if we can’t change our schedules, we can change our mindsets and deep inner thoughts. We can be conscious of God’s presence throughout the day, hear His words, and carry out conversations with Him.

In his daily devotional, Bread for the Journey, Henri Nouwen ponders Psalm 46:10, “Be still and acknowledge that I am God.” 

He writes, “These are words to take with us 

in our busy lives. 

We may think about stillness 

in contrast to our noisy world. 

But perhaps we can go further 

and keep an inner stillness 

even while we carry on business, 

teach, work construction, make music, 

or organize meetings. . . . 

This still place is where God can dwell 

and speak to us. . . . 

Within that stillness 

God can be our gentle guide 

in everything we think, say, or do.”

God wants us to be sensitive to His nudges and whisperings, to ponder His Word in light of our own situations. He welcomes our thoughts and questions, He hopes we’ll be open and transparent, and He wants to give us insight and encouragement and direction.

He can do that best when we set ourselves apart with Him and listen.

Let’s remember what Kelly Balarie said:

“God is ready to hit us with unfathomable new perspectives

—ones that redefine our past, present, and problems

if we will only stop, receive, and consider.

Will we?

Will we walk unafraid into His presence?

Into God’s rhythms?

Not cowering from mysteries?”

(from Fear Fighting: Awakening Courage to Overcome Your Fears)

When you have a desperate need to spend time alone with God

I have a hunch you’ve experienced life spinning out of control—maybe a time when the opinions and wishes of those closest to you pulled in one direction and then yanked you the opposite direction.

And in the midst of all that, you had your own opinions and wishes and plans and dreams. Life can get ragged, can’t it?

That’s where I found myself at the beginning of my memoir, Please, God, Don’t Make Me Go. Dave was certain we should move our young family to Lomalinda, a mission center in the wilds of Colombia, South America, but I strongly opposed that.

Here’s an excerpt from Chapter 1:

  The worst part of moving to Lomalinda, the part I couldn’t bear to put into words, was separating my kids from their grandparents, aunts, and uncles. The thought of that crushed my soul. Matt and Karen were part of those folks. And they were part of Matt and Karen, and of me, too. We defined ourselves within our family circle. Children thrive when surrounded by relatives who nurture, love, and shape them. With all my heart I believed yanking out our roots and moving to Lomalinda would hinder my children’s well-being, and that conviction made me the most obstinate.

  Dave subtly persisted. But so did I: Please, God, don’t make me go!

And as if that conflict wasn’t bad enough, my mother fiercely disagreed with my husband and, uncharacteristically, in sheer panic, with the profound protection mothers always feel for their kids, she pressured me to side with her.

It would’ve been easy for me to take her side because, after all, I agreed with her. But my heart told me my loyalty had to remain with my husband—and that was wrenching because everything within me rebelled at Dave’s plan.

The strain between Dave and me continued for weeks, even months. Life went on pretty well, but we avoided talking about moving to Colombia, and I knew Dave had not budged a fraction of an inch.

In truth, my heart was broken. Shattered.

I wrote this in Chapter 2: 

Those were numb days. I looked west at my Puget Sound and Olympic Mountains, and east at Lake Washington and the Cascades, and tried to imagine living in a place without their timeless beauty.

  But even more painful, those days I looked at my parents and Dave’s through different eyes—stinging eyes. And I looked at our brothers and their families, and I tried to picture living on a faraway continent where all those precious faces would be only shadowy memories—for me, yes, but especially for my kids. How could I agree to leave?

Eventually, a holy discontent with the situation overcame me. Something had to give. I longed for relief from the stresses and pressures.

   I needed clear direction and, at a time like that, religious platitudes wouldn’t cut it. Pat answers and black-and-whites—useless. I longed to enter a still place and hear what God had to say—not Dave, not my mother, only Him. And I sensed Him saying, “No hurry. Take as long as you need.”

   Despite my duties with busy kids and husband and home and ministries, I found a thin place where my heart stayed alert, listening for God night and day. (Chapter 2)

I yearned to hear God’s still small voice, to dwell in a quiet place where I could hear His ongoing whisper. I needed His wisdom, His direction. I wanted take comfort in His presence.

And Amy Carmichael writes this reassurance about praying to God our Father, “. . . there is no need to press Him as if He were unwilling.” (Isn’t that a lovely, comforting reminder?) And indeed, I did feel welcome and safe in His presence.

I prayed something like David did in Psalm 27: “Hear me as I pray, O Lord. Be merciful and answer me! My heart has heard you say, ‘Come and talk with me.’ And my heart responds, ‘Lord, I am coming” (verses 7 and 8, NLT).

Like David wrote in another psalm, I said, “Yes, my soul, find rest in God; my hope comes from him.” He continues, “Truly he is my rock and my salvation; he is my fortress, I will not be shaken. . . . Trust in him at all times, you people; pour out your hearts to him, for God is our refuge”(Psalm 62:5-8, NIV).

Lloyd Ogilvie reminds us of our “primary commitment to put God first in our lives.” He says, “A constant surrender of our minds to think God’s thoughts and our will to do His will will give us the moment-by-moment discernment about what we should do.” That’s what I wanted.

And so, I prayed and set my heart to listen for Him—to listen to Him. I lived out one of my favorite passages in the Bible, Habakkuk 2:1, “I will stand like a guard to watch. . . . I will wait to see what the Lord will say to me” (ICB).

Perhaps today your life is in turmoil, stretched and pulled

almost to the breaking point.

Maybe you are at a fork in the road, like I was—

at a pivotal point, a defining moment.

Hear the words, “Come away, my beloved”

(Song of Solomon 8:14).

Step back—even if only in your heart and mind—

from the noisy crowded busy life all around you

and be still in God’s presence

and know that He is God (Psalm 46:10).

Pour out your heart.

Be intentional about watching and waiting,

for as long as it takes,

to hear what the Lord will say to you.

Two extreme (perhaps life-changing) opportunities for you!

I’m so excited to tell you about this fantastic opportunity!

To many readers of my memoir and blog, Bible translation is a mysterious job and, frankly, it might seem pretty weird. Certainly, the task can be daunting—the lifestyle, the long years of work.

But here’s an easy (and relatively painless) way to learn more about the big picture of translation—as well as the smaller nitty-gritty details, too.

And you can do it right here on U.S. soil.

This five-day event is called Explore Bible Translation Extreme and it takes place near Charlotte, North Carolina, October 28 through November 2.

Participants will spend five days in a simulated village setting with up to 25 others. They’ll sleep in hammocks and live in typical huts (champas) five feet above the ground.

They’ll have a fire to cook meals and gather around at night to hear veteran translators explain their work.

Morning and evening sessions around the campfire will offer interactive learning opportunities.

And I guarantee they’ll also hear stories of some amazing, even mindboggling adventures. Unforgettable stuff.

Participants will learn about:

• Wycliffe’s history and vision for the future,
• why people need Scriptures in their own languages (rather than languages foreign to them),
• how that changes lives,
• and of the many roles individuals play in carrying out the Bible translation task.

Like Wycliffe’s website says, 

“It all adds up to a memorable week of learning, 

exploration and fellowship!”

Keep in mind that my husband Dave and I did not carry out translation itself and did not live in remote settings such as participants of Explore Bible Translation Extreme will experience.

Instead, as support personnel, we lived at a missions center with lots of other Wycliffe workers and filled behind-the-scenes roles which enabled translators to do their jobs. For example, Dave taught those missionaries’ kids, and I worked in the administration office helping oversee the translators’ projects and progress.

Other support positions include pilots, doctors, nurses, accountants, mechanics, radio operators, maintenance staff, secretaries, technicians, administrators—the list goes on and on.

So if YOU are thinking of working with Wycliffe, keep in mind the two types of workers: (1) translators, and (2) support personnel. Both fill crucial roles in Bible translation. The Explore Bible Translation Extreme will introduce the first type, translators, but would also be significant for those interested in working in a support role.

Does Explore Bible Translation Extreme seem too adventurous for you?

If so, here’s an alternate (and really easy) opportunity for you. And you can stay in the comfort of your own home.

Wycliffe has compiled a list of documentaries introducing you to different cultures and people groups. 

They’ll open your eyes and touch your heart and, 

if you’re like I used to be, 

they'll help you inch closer to saying, 

“Yes, I think I could do that.”

To learn more about the reason Dave and I worked with Wycliffe, and to explore whether God might like you to work with them, look into these two resources:

Explore Bible Translation Extreme

Documentaries

Not “ding-a-lings by nature, but by choice”

My most passionate goal in life was raising top-notch kids, creating for them a stable home filled with love for God, their family, and others.

And while that was a noble goal (and one I’d still choose if I had it to do over again), otherwise I just let life happen around me. I paid attention to things like fashion styles, home decorating styles, and newer model cars—and craved better fashions, home, and cars than I already had. Dave and I were just getting started in adult life and I just knew someday I’d wear better clothes, fix up the house, and drive a newer car.

What I didn’t fully grasp or appreciate then was that my husband, Dave, took deep looks into life and spiritual matters. He was an analyzer, a questioner, a free spirit. Dave thought big and dreamed big dreams, but I thought small and dreamed lesser dreams.

I lived a shallow life.

I wasn’t thinking about life’s real meaning.

Or life’s real purpose.

It never occurred to me that God

was offering me a life

better than what I’d planned.

He wanted to plop me into what would become

the three most vibrant, rich, 

adventuresome years of my life.

But I was blind to that. Instead, I was clinging to the conduct, patterns, practices, and expectations of this world as described in Romans 12:2. “Don’t become so well-adjusted to your culture that you fit into it without even thinking” (The Message).

Chuck Swindoll writes about people like me, those who “look but don’t really ‘see’ . . . they observe the surface but omit the underneath . . . they focus on images but not issues . . . vision is present but perception is absent.” (from Growing Strong in the Seasons of Life by Charles R. Swindoll)

He went on to say, “Those without insight dwell mainly in the realm of the obvious . . . the expected . . . the essentials. The dimensions that interest them are length and width, not depth.”

Chuck calls such people “blunt-brained.” Ouch.

He says people like that are not “ding-a-lings by nature, but by choice.” Ouch.

He wrote of people in Hebrews 5 who’d had lots of training in spiritual matters. They’d had opportunities to put those teachings into practice but, instead, they became “‘dull of hearing’—thick, lazy, sluggish, lacking insight.”

Chuck also described it as “unnecessary blindness.”

He was describing the twenty-something me—even though throughout my life, our family’s activities had centered around our church. I had enjoyed a very active youth group, Sunday School, and summer camps. I’d participated in Bible studies, women’s groups, and had multiple fellowship and ministry opportunities.

But I was lazy—I wasn’t thinking deeply about what I was hearing. I was not applying it to my everyday living, goal-making, or the dreams I had for myself and my family.

I’d have been content to live on the distracting, trifling surface, decade after decade, chasing the American Dream.

I wish I’d had access to Chuck’s wise words back in 1975 when Dave got the idea to move to South America. Perhaps then I wouldn’t have begged God not to make me go—or, at least, not beg Him as urgently as I did.

“Open your eyes!” Chuck Swindoll hollers.

“Think! Apply! Dig! Listen!”

Romans 12:2 goes on to say, “. . . let God transform you

into a new person by changing the way you think” (NLT).

That’s what I needed to do—let God change me

into a new, thinking person.

Have you recently evaluated how you are living?

Is there something you need to ponder?

Explore more deeply?

Do you sense God urging you to push beyond the trivial, superficial stuff?

If so, let Him transform you and the way you think.

Ask God to give you a holy discontent

with things that are not right in your life,

and a holy discontent with the ways of the world.

Ask Him to create in you a spiritual hunger and thirst

that nothing else can satisfy.

Grab hold of the abundant life He offers you.

I’m quite sure it will be

wonderful beyond what you can imagine right now.

Finally! Amazon now sells my e-book! (and other good news)

Whew! It has taken close to three months, but finally Amazon is selling the e-book version of my memoir, Please, God, Don’t Make Me Go: A Foot-Dragger’s Memoir.

A special thanks to Barnes and Noble for selling both the print book and e-book from the very beginning, June 4. Because of that, I’ve been referring everyone to them.

Amazon has sold my print book since day one, but I had to fight one battle after another after another to get Amazon to (1) sell my e-book and (2) install the “Look Inside” feature.

And if you missed it, I was pleasantly surprised and so grateful for the endorsement I received from Vicky Mixson, Executive Vice President and Chief Communications Officer for Wycliffe Bible Translators USA. Take a minute to read Vicky’s kind words: Click on A special endorsement: Laughter and tears, cute stories and heartaches.

Also, many thanks to memoirist Kathleen Pooler who left a five-star review at Amazon and Goodreads. Check it out at this link.

Thank you to everyone

for the nice comments you’re making about

Please, God, Don’t Make Me Go.

I hope you’ll think about

doing what Kathy Pooler did—

leave a review on Amazon,

Barnes and Noble, Goodreads, etc.

Reviews are like a much-needed

pat on the back for weary authors!

Whose idea was this? God’s? Or was it that of a dangerous dreamer of the day?

Since before I spoke my wedding vows, I knew Dave was a think-outside-the-box guy.

While in most ways he was a traditional husband, father, churchgoer, and American citizen, he also had an independent streak that sometimes sent him down a road less traveled, marching along to the beat of a different drummer.

So, perhaps I shouldn’t have been surprised when he told me he wanted to move our young family to the middle of nowhere in South America so he could teach missionaries’ kids.

But let me back up.

Here’s an excerpt from Chapter 1 of Please, God, Don’t Make Me Go: A Foot-Dragger’s Memoir:

We’d met when I was fourteen and he was sixteen. His charm and humor captured my heart. A witty guy, he entertained people with jokes, puns, songs, and stories. But there was more to him than that, much more. He had a sharp mind and a reputation for being honest and dependable. His quiet confidence and leadership skills impressed me. Tall and strong, he played football, basketball, baseball, tennis, and golf. He introduced me to good literature and classical music. Dave had a nice voice and accompanied himself on the guitar and, later, after high school, he sang in university choirs. He also introduced me to new ways of thinking. He looked at everything—life, faith, politics—from unique angles that often left me surprised and challenged.

Shy, I’d always lingered close to the sidelines and watched life from there, but Dave gave me glimpses into new ideas and worlds and opportunities. I couldn’t have found the words at the time but, looking back, I now realize I wanted to be like him.

A few years later, I married that think-outside-the-box guy. He posed questions few people would ask, and the answers gave him a holy discontent that led him to make choices most people avoided. I was proud of my husband, proud that he was a scholar and philosopher—until he also wanted to be a doer and his goals ran contrary to mine.

Dave couldn’t drift through life without wondering about his higher purposes. He shunned going along with the crowd, especially in spiritual matters, and grew impatient with the prevalent assumption that Christianity embraced the American dream. He resisted focusing his life on buying houses and cars, and then buying bigger houses and better cars. And yet, Dave sensed our young family heading toward just such a safe, suburban American Christianity, and he longed to direct us away from that.

Since before we married, I had known he opposed settling for a watered-down life. He wanted to keep growing and learning and stretching. He longed to chase after deeper, higher, wider dreams—to make a difference in God’s broader scheme. Dave thought big and dreamed big dreams. I thought small and dreamed lesser dreams.

“All men dream: but not equally,” said T. E. Lawrence (Lawrence of Arabia). “Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds, wake in the day to find that it was vanity: but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men,” he said, “for they may act on their dreams with open eyes, to make them possible.”

My husband, one of those dangerous daytime dreamers, planned to sign on the dotted line with Wycliffe, known as the world’s leader in Bible translation.

Let me say it again: 

I was proud of my husband, 

proud that he was a scholar and philosopher—

until he also wanted to be a doer 

and his goals ran contrary to mine.

Moving to rural South America was

the last thing I would ever want to do.

But what if the idea was not only Dave’s,

but God’s, too?

Had God given Dave that lightning-bolt of inspiration?

That longing in his heart?

To my way of thinking,

moving to Lomalinda was such a bizarre idea,

so outrageous,

that all I could do was pray,

“Please, God, don’t make me go!”

But if moving to Lomalinda was also God’s idea

—if He said, “Go”—

I knew I was in for a wild ride!

A special endorsement: Laughter and tears, cute stories and heartaches

I just received this lovely endorsement from a special person:

I read [Please, God, Don’t Make Me Go: A Foot-Dragger’s Memoir] over the weekend and had a hard time putting it down. 

At times I found myself laughing out loud, especially at some of the cute stories you include about your children. 

Other times I read through tears, imagining some of the heartache the Lomalinda team endured. 

Your writing style is engaging and descriptive. I also enjoyed looking at the photographs you included. 

Thank you for your Wycliffe service and for saying “yes” to God’s call on your life. 

Blessings,

Vicky Mixson, Executive Vice President and Chief Communications Officer, Wycliffe Bible Translators USA

I told you it was from someone special!

Now, on a related topic: If you’ve been hoping to buy the e-book version of Please, God, Don’t Make Me Go: A Foot-Dragger’s Memoir, you still won’t find it on Amazon. I’m not sure what the problem is.

However, you can buy the e-book from these wonderful booksellers:

Barnes and Noble

Apple Books

Rakuten Kobo

Bookshout

P.S. Reviews are nice!

Part 2, Missionaries: hairy, dirty people who live in huts, wear outdated clothes, and eat things no one in his right mind would eat

As for missionaries being hairy and dirty (continuing from last week), well, once in a while some of the men let their hair and beards grow—my husband included. I’d forgotten about that until I recently saw a photo of him proving it.

And dirty? At times some of them, out of necessity, couldn’t bathe for a couple of days.

Take, for example, the time my friends Dottie and Fran, working down in the jungle, had to flee for their lives when rifle-toting guerrillas threatened to kill them. (You can read about it in Chapter 39, “We’re coming back later and if you’re here, we’ll kill you,” in Please, God, Don’t Make Me Go: A Foot-Dragger’s Memoir.)

It took a couple of days for them to reach a safe place. First, they hitched a ride in a canoe full of pigs. Next, to find a way to continue up the river, they had no choice but to seek help from a drunk man.

Dottie and Fran spent the night in a storeroom. The place was dangerous, but they barred the door with heavy boards. They didn’t get much sleep that night.

The next morning, they flew to safety in Lomalinda, thanks to one of our brave and talented pilots, George DeVoucalla, who had spotted them along the river.

You’ll read more details about Dottie and Fran’s escape but here’s my point: The ladies might have been “dirty” when they landed in Lomalinda—wouldn’t you and I have needed a shower and change of clothes?

Routinely my missionary friends were bathed and well-groomed even when their clothing might not have been the latest style.

And then there’s the notion that missionaries eat things no one in his right mind would eat. That impression can be correct.

Even I—the coward, the one who resists adventure—ate some curious stuff: piraña (piranha), boa constrictor, caiman, dove, plátanos, ajiaco, and cinnamon rolls seasoned with dead weevils.

A friend offered me grubs, but I passed on them.

I drank chicha (wait until you find out what that is!), and tinto, and warm bottled sodas, sometimes with bugs inside. At times I gagged or nearly fainted, wondering what I’d gotten myself into. (You’ll find that in Chapter 42 of Please, God, Don’t Make Me Go: AFoot-Dragger’s Memoir.)

Now, looking back, I admit those were FUN experiences!

But back in the very beginning of this whole adventure,

when my husband surprised me with

his wish to move the family to South America

so he could teach missionaries’ kids,

 it seemed that

both God and my husband

wanted to make my life terrible.

I wish so much I’d realized the truth

of what Samantha Conners writes:

“God doesn’t call us to do things

in order to make our lives terrible.”

(from “5 Lies People Believe About Missionaries”)

It took me a few months in Lomalinda 

to figure out that living and working there 

would be far from terrible—

in fact, it would turn out to be a highlight of my life.

Looking back now, I can say from experience

that Jeremiah 29:11 is true:

“For I know the plans I have for you,”

declares the Lord,

“plans to prosper you and not harm you,

plans to give you hope and a future.”

Or, here’s the way The Message words that verse,

“I know what I’m doing.

I have it all planned out—plans to take care of you,

not abandon you. . . .”

And He did what He said. Oh, yes, He did!

Missionaries: hairy, dirty people who live in huts, wear outdated clothes, and eat things no one in his right mind would eat

What do you think of when you hear the word missionary?

“Twenty years ago,” writes Samantha Conners, “. . . in my mind, missionaries were hairy and dirty, wore clothes that were outdated and odd, ate things that made my stomach turn. . . .” (from “5 Lies People Believe About Missionaries”).

I, too, had a quirky view of missionaries. Never in a million years would I have guessed my husband would want to move our family to an outpost called Lomalinda (Spanish for “pretty hill”) and work among missionaries.

Back then, when I thought of missionaries, the first image that came to mind was that of a pudgy older woman with gray hair pulled up in a bun who told stories I couldn’t really grasp. Probably that was because I wasn’t interested in what missionaries had to say.

I figured they were just plain weird, and I didn’t like my husband’s idea. I mean, really—live in South America and hang out with weirdos??

I felt so different from missionaries—of course, I wasn’t a weirdo—and I just knew I wouldn’t fit in.

I wrote in my memoir:

“Missions work was too radical for the circles I ran in. Counter-cultural. Downright bizarre. My parents raised a non-daring, non-adventuresome girl—the wrong kind for the mission field. They prepared me to lead a conventional life and working in Lomalinda was the least traditional existence I could imagine” (from Chapter 1, Please, God, Don’t Make Me Go: A Foot-Dragger’s Memoir).

Also, Samantha points out many people suppose missionaries live in huts.

I was one of those people. Here’s another excerpt:

“What kind of house would we live in?” I asked [my husband]. I pictured a hut with a dirt floor. 

“I don’t know,” he admitted. 

“What if we had to build our own house? And with what? Bamboo and palm leaves? Besides,” I heard my voice getting shrieky, “we don’t even know how to build a house.” 

My mind went wild. “Would we have to grow our own vegetables and meat? What about eggs? And milk? The kids need milk, you know. Would we have to get a cow? I bet we wouldn’t even have electricity. And what about water? Would we have to haul our water?” (from Chapter 1, Please, God, Don’tMake Me Go: A Foot-Dragger’s Memoir).

Those were only two of the imaginings that worried me about moving to Lomalinda. The list went on and on.

For example, there was the notion that missionaries wear outdated clothes. I would learn that, yes, sometimes they did. But considering Lomalinda folks had no local clothing stores, and considering they returned to their home countries only every fifth year, it’s true that their wardrobes didn’t keep up with the latest trends.

But since we lived at the end of the road in the middle of nowhere, no one knew what the new fashions were anyway.

Come back next week and we’ll talk about whether missionaries are “hairy and dirty” and eat things no one in his right mind would eat. 

You’ll be surprised to learn what I—even I, 

the coward, the unadventurous—

ate and drank!

But in the beginning, when my husband first announced he wanted us to move to Lomalinda, I didn’t know all the good that awaited me there, and I rebelled.

I could do only one thing,

and that was to pray:

“Please, God, don’t make me go!”