this has nothing to do with Kenya.

I don't get it. It's beyond me, always... Every single day it brings tears to my eyes to remember His grace to me. I am HIS and I did nothing to deserve that. In my finite mind, it's the most irrational thing I can try to wrap my brain around--Him choosing me. John Piper's words speak what my tongue cannot express before the lump in my throat arrives and prevents me from finishing.

"That God in eternity looked upon ME-foreseeing my fallenness, my pride, my sin and said "I want that girl in my family! I'll do anything to get her in my family! I will pay for her to be in my family with my Son's life!""

That is Love.

I know it's a random thought, but run with me for a second. If we submitted resumes to Him in order for Him to 'pick us' or 'not pick us' for the role of being His beloved children..... can you even imagine? Maybe we'd try to pretty it up like we do with real resumes and try to use some grandiose verbiage to make ourselves and our endeavors more appealing than they are. We would put it on the finest paper and make sure the corners were crisp and uncrumpled. We would deliver it to Him in a timely manner and with the most professional, confident follow ups with His secretary regarding His eagerly awaited reception and review. While we waited, we would compare ourselves to the others who were applying and encourage ourselves by zooming in on their shortcomings and highlighting our strongsuits. We would cover up our known difficulties with colorful words that aim to prove it's actually not a failing at all, but a camoflauged strength. We would be our biggest advocates, naturally. We would stop at nothing to fight hard for ourselves so that the Interviewer would see through our same lens--we are obviously the best pick. We owe that to ourselves, right? No one else can do it for us. Read any interviewing advice, it's all there. It's rational. It's logical. It makes sense.

I don't think it's low self-esteem. I don't think it's that girls are more prone to this or that I have a negative self-image. I don't think it's something that requires counseling and a newly instated daily practice of looking in the mirror and telling myself how great I am until I start to believe it. "Love yourself" is written all over the walls of this world... maybe moreso in a female's world, but I see it everywhere. I hear it from pulpits as much as I hear it on Oprah and the Lifetime Network.

I think it's crap. Everyday I spend around myself, I am convinced it is crap. I know that is an unpopular thing to say and maybe you are all going to get together and plan an intervention where you converge to send me to a "Positive Self-Image" retreat or something. Maybe I need that, I am open to Him completely changing my heart on this, but for now--I do believe He has whispered this in my ear so I will shout it from the rooftops with confidence in His speaking, not my hearing.

The only thing I can love about myself is that He loves me and has made me lovely. Any night I am able to spend in an orphanage, my favorite nighttime ritual is snuggling up on the floor with our bare and dusty feet on the cold stone ground as we read the Bible together. I am not positive it's this exact quote, but the Jesus Storybook Bible re-emphasizes one point over and over. He loves us and that makes us lovely. We are lovely because He loves us.

I cannot convince Him to love me. I have nothing in my arsenal that makes me worthy. If you know me, you know I love a good competition. I am good at being over-confident and egotistical about my abilities (especially when completely unfounded), or more just my persistence that will stop at nothing to get my way. But listen... even if I am 'competing' with prostitutes, child molesters, murderers, thieves for His love-- not a thing in me elevates Annie Coppedge above a single one of them in His eyes. I am just as dirty and sinful and lost without Him as they are and this is the Gospel. Grace doesn't go to those who deserve it. It goes to those of us that can put up a solid argument as to why we are the least-deserving.

I could give Him a trillion reasons NOT to have picked me... it's like knowing you suck at kickball and when they're picking teams in PE, you almost want to tell the captains it's in their best interest not to pick you, you can't really add much to the team but you'd be happy to fill up water bottles. Not a day goes by that I don't question His judgment in letting me be loved by Him--in not letting me go when I prove to Him over and over again that I am incapable of deserving Him. But that has made me rejoice in Him all the more!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! My personal life and also my life with orphans is founded around PROCLAIMING His love and desire for myself and for them... I can show you verse after verse about His love and concern for you and that's the point--none of them are about our own personal loveliness, they're about HIS crazy love for us even when we screw things up miserably. We are lovely because He loves us. He is not drawn to us because of our loveliness apart from Him. It doesn't exist. We're supposed to notice this. Noticing this is not the definition of self-hate and emotional instability, it's recognizing GRACE. It's receiving Grace.

Look at the 'heroes' in our Bible. They have horrible resumes... Listen to Paul!!!

"I thank Jesus Christ our Lord, who has given me strength, that He considered me trustworthy, appointing me to His service. Even though I was once a blasphemer and a persecuter and a violent man [insert your own], I was shown mercy because I acted in ignorance and unbelief. The grace of our Lord was poured out to me abundantly, along with the faith and love that are in Christ Jesus. Here is a trustworthy saying that deserves full acceptance: Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners--of whom I am the worst. But I RECEIVED MERCY FOR THIS REASON: THAT IN ME, THE WORST OF SINNERS, CHRIST JESUS MIGHT DISPLAY HIS IMMENSE PATIENCE AS AN EXAMPLE FOR THOSE WHO WOULD BELIEVE IN HIM AND RECEIVE ETERNAL LIFE. Now to the King eternal, immortal, invisible, the only God-be glory and honor and for ever and ever. Amen."

It's for a reason!!!! And I don't think we're supposed to forget it. Yes, I know we're made new and we're beautiful in Him and all of that. I am a girl and have had it drilled into me since I was little, thankfully. But y'all, there's a reason He saved us and pulled us out of the nasty pit we were in. It's so people in the same pit of sinfulness and desperation can come to know Him who loves to get His hands dirty in pulling us out. It's for His exultation and glory and honor. Forever. So if forever really means forever, it's not a one-time praising when people are saved. It's supposed to go on forever... and ever... and ever. Amen. Let it be.

Claim it. Go and sing it from the rooftops...in your home, in your church, in the streets of your city, in the brothels, in the prisons-- it's not a depressed, self-loathing song that is only for those with emotional stability and high self-esteem, it's a JOYFUL song. THE MOST JOYFUL SONG... sing it. We were meant to sing it.

baby Ashley--pray please

There is a lot I've been meaning to write about but it will all have to wait because today happened and I want you to pray with me for a new friend and her baby...

Today my calendar (which doesn't really exist, rarely actually matches what the day holds, and is usually decided upon only hours before the day is reached-as anyone who has tried to plan anything with me (especially while in Kenya) can attest to) told me I'd be shadowing my friend Joseph, a medical student in Nakuru. I had mentioned my interest in labor and delivery several months ago and so he kindly offered to let me come and experience my first (and hopefully second, third, fourth, etc) Kenyan birth. We spent several hours in the Maternity Ward (which is accustomed to about 30 births a day) until we had seen all of the patients and it was clear no one would be delivering anytime soon. I was a bit disappointed that I had finally taken the time to come and shadow and of course, happened to pick the one day of the entire year that moms were not popping out babies every hour.

We stopped in several wards on our way to lunch and when we entered the 0-2 year old ward, it was clear they were overwhelmed. I have been in plenty of third-world hospitals and I promise I had never seen anything like it before. I think your stomach would turn like mine did when I entered, if only I could share the sounds of that room with you. Hundreds of babies crying sick and pain-filled tears whose different, but similar, noises echoed in the eeriest way. They were laying everywhere... on tables, in chairs, on laps, on backs, in beds with other babies. Several babies lay sprawled on top of a set of drawers, all hooked up to one oxygen tank.

My heart said to do something but my mind told me I wasn't qualified to. The heart won quickly and I found productivity in swatting flies from sleeping/oxygen sucking babies faces, removing the clothes of febrile little ones (a 2 week old having febrile seizures with a temp of 105 and no healthcare professional has told her to take off her onesie, tshirt, sweater, jacket, 2 pairs of pants, hat and thick blanket.... ah!!), rubbing heads, patting moms on the back, nagging nurses to pay attention to the ones who looked sickest, and praying for any little life my eyes found in that busy room.

As I said, the room was filled up to overflowing with desperate cries--hundreds singing distress in an unsettling harmony, so it is only God who directed my attention to the one baby in the room who was unable to make a noise come out of her frail body. The doctor was trying to get an IV started and had failed repeatedly due to this baby's critical condition. As he pushed and pulled the long needle in and out of her head, I watched in horror as her entire body cried, but no noise was released. I have never seen pain like that in my life. I cried heavy tears for her in that moment and her worried mother joined me. This baby needed help immediately. She was not getting it here.

I wrestled with the Holy Spirit for about 30 minutes, watching as my friend Joseph did whatever he could to move this child along in the process to receive the care she needed. I will be honest, the pain in my own heart was so bad at this point that I think I chose to get her out of that situation for my own benefit. I was so disturbed that I physically ached. I talked to the only doctor I could find in the large room and he agreed they would not be able to give this baby the care she needs to survive and supported our request to take her elsewhere. About an hour later (which is actually kind of fast for a public kenyan hospital), we were on our way... Joseph had gotten in touch with one of his professors (on a Saturday, Hallelujah again!) who is one of two pediatricians in Nakuru. He agreed to meet us and was able to admit us to a private hospital nearby, where he promised to provide the care Ashley needed himself.

The day was scary and hectic and I found myself praying often that He'd keep her alive long enough to reach our next destination. He did. He has, for today... I ask for your prayers that He continue to hold little Ashley tightly. She is very sick. At 10 months old, she weighs 9 pounds. She is severely malnourished and dehydrated on top of having a very serious case of pneumonia. Watching her chest rise and fall brings a new reason to rejoice 34 times per minute--she is still fighting.

Taking pictures seemed so odd and disrespectful, but I wanted you to be able to put a face with her name, a face with the statistic (15 million die of hunger each year... every 3 seconds), and a face on one of your sisters that you have yet to meet. They were taken this evening once Ashley was stabilized. Please continue to pray for Ashley and the doctors as they work to get this child back to health by re-feeding, hydrating, and controlling her chest infection. Please pray for her sweet mother Mercy whose ache for her child far exceeds my own small taste (so I cannot even imagine how bad it hurts). As the sun went down, we talked about how sweet Jesus is to have brought us all together. We thanked Him for loving Ashley more than we do and for answering her mother's wordless groans for the child He has entrusted to her. As I get ready to sleep, I am thanking Him that He lets us hear Him and never stops being faithful and true. I am thanking Him that we can say yes to Him even when we don't know how on earth it will work. I am thanking Him that we don't have to be rich or knowledgeable or experienced for Him to use us. I am thanking Him that we get to love people hard and deeply and painfully because He first loved us that way (but more) and He supplies the strength to keep on going. Thank you for praying. You are loving my friends by doing so and that means the world to me.

He is everywhere

Jesus was especially sweet to me the week leading up to my journey back here to Kenya. I crave Kenya so bad when I am not there because it is where I see Jesus the clearest. It is not hard to spot Him and whether I am rejoicing or weeping in response to where I do or do not see Him, He is close by always. Night after night in Kenya (when I am living with the kids), I go to bed completely exhausted--spent in every way and absolutely requiring the mercy waiting for me in the morning and the rest of however many hours of sleep the night holds. My daily prayer that I would be "spent" (Isaiah 58) seems answered every day, more than I'd like oftentimes.

Admittedly, I dread American life for this very reason. Maybe it's because I have to squint harder to see Him there, have to be more intentional about seeking out opportunities to serve Him, or have to be obedient to His demand to love family and friends and strangers even when they are less small and cute and innocent as my Kenyan babies. Going to bed "spent" on others is an uncommon occurrence in my American life. I am super aware that I am only taking care of MYSELF when I am in America. I am responsible for no one else and I hate it most days.

This past week was different... in preparation for Kenya, I started praying the prayers I pray when I am here. Bold prayers, though they do not seem so bold when I am in a country with so much hurt--a country where my eyes will inevitably meet a sick, hungry, poor, abandoned, unloved, orphaned, unsaved person at almost every turn in the bumpy roads. The joy He gives when we spend ourselves is an absolute gift that is intended to give us the fuel to keep going... read Isaiah 58 if you don't believe me. :) Or even if you do, it's good stuff! God answered... He showed Himself like crazy. Literally, about every 10 minutes, He did something that left me laughing and shaking my head as I looked up at Him and called Him crazy or ridiculous or some completely inadequate word to describe His goodness. I slept about 3 hours a night but had more energy and joy than ever in my life... I was afraid to stop running and take a moment to stop because I feared to remember that sinful desire to serve myself above all others.

He blew me away with the graciousness that is so much a part of Him, in relationships more than anything; people whose faces shined Him so brightly I had to squint (now for a different reason). Old familiar friends whose hearts knit together in the perfect places to glorify Him through living in community and new friendships that made me wonder how He could possibly be so good to add them to my family.

Nothing about this has ceased... He is here just as much as He is there. He was there just as much as He was here (when I believed and lived and prayed otherwise). The hurt that helped me find Him/need Him here in Kenya is just as much a part of America. It wears a different disguise oftentimes, but it is there. He is my (OUR, I pray) deepest longing and so it is our desire to see Him everywhere. We look for Him... and when we see Him, we need to jump and shout and rejoice! I am constantly hearing it and constantly asking for it myself, "Jesus, come..." whether it is us inviting Him into our worship services (HE IS ALREADY THERE) or inviting Him into our circumstances (HE IS ALREADY THERE) or inviting Him into our pain (HE IS ALREADY THERE) or inviting Him into our joy (HE IS ALREADY THERE), we should ask believing and expecting!

Seek Him while He may be found!!!!!

I can tell you from personal experience (mostly from my experience in the inverse), Hebrews 11:6 is TRUTH. He wants to be seen and exalted and is incredibly generous to give us joy and increased faith in exchange.

I always wish that a song could play in the background of life; I'd definitely pick "We the Redeemed" by Hillsong if it was up to me. Luckily, we have this to look forward to in Heaven, but until then... I know I'd live a bit differently if this song was dimly playing as I walked through life. "We the redeemed, hear us singing--You are Holy, You are Holy." Let our everyday lives sing this to Him, whether we are doing laundry or paying the tollbooth guy, or talking to our parents, or holding an orphan, or eating lunch with our co-workers.

‎"Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, YOU ARE THERE; if I make my bed in the depths, YOU ARE THERE. If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, EVEN THERE your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast." ~Psalm 139 : 7-10

He is there. Jesus is in the mansions on Riverside Drive and Jesus is in the slums of Nairobi, Kenya... these are some of the places I've seen Him these past couple of days:

in a game of soccer at a special needs school--where He let me be the legs and feet for an incredible soccer star who will someday walk, I believe!


in this game of Duck Duck Goose at a deaf school... the most silent game of Duck Duck Goose in history, but so much fun.


in this place where making relationships had to get creative... the comfort and ease of speaking (either Swahili or English) was stripped away with hearing and we were forced to fight hard to love each other.




in these sweet faces who exuded joy and love and were so quick to open their hearts to us.


He is everywhere. Now let's find Him and celebrate His presence as the gift that it is... glory to God that He may be found!

the why

why why why why why why? -- something people ask often and I respond to with shrugged shoulders. Now my answer is Jesus and I realize it always should have been...

I want them to know Him. Knowing Him is everything... knowing Him is a million times better than being cured and knowing Him is a trillion times better than a heart that rarely aches and knowing Him is a kazillion times better than having a mom or dad and knowing Him is a bajillion times better than having a full stomach and warm bed and education and clean clothes. So. much. better.

I am not okay with this earth being the best they know.

I want the things I rejoice in every single day to be the same source of praise and joy for them.

I want to sit beside them in their hurt and cling to the hope of future glory, hand in hand.

I want to be able to cry with them over the hurts of this world and proclaim the promise that the tears will be wiped from our faces when we join Him in Heaven.

Of course I want them to be fed and loved and clothed and fought for and adopted and respected and healed, but more than anything--I want them to be saved, to be redeemed, to KNOW HIM.

I think we are all called to surround ourselves with the poor, dirty, broken, hurting, and sick and if we do, our eyes will see a lot of pain. Hopefully even more than seeing it, we will feel it as our own. My prayer is that we see Him as both our chief need as well as theirs. That we would be slower to prescribe 12-step programs and faster to share the gospel. That we would be slower to hand out a quick meal and faster to sit down and make relationships over dinner. That we would be slower to diagnose their "needs" and faster to remember it's Jesus.

He answers prayers. My heart is in pieces over orphans and the sick and oppressed--He has already convinced me they are worth giving my life for, but now I am praying a bit differently. I am praying my heart aches first and foremost for the ones who do not know Him as I do.

The image of Carol, Lucy, the children that fill orphanages and others I know who have endured such deep pain on this earth rejoicing when they meet Him is something that makes my heart almost explode. John 16 is the sweetest truth--they (we!), if followers of Jesus, will remember the anguish we endured on earth NO MORE!!!! The joy will so far exceed any pain of the times before that remembering it is not even an option. "In that day you will ask nothing of me"... all of our needs will be met, forever. No more hunger, no more sickness, no more fear, no more loneliness--only joy. JESUS.

I want that for the man digging through the trash in downtown Atlanta and I want that for the orphan who silently cries herself to sleep each night and I want that for the cancer patient who suffers alone in a hospital room and I want that for the woman selling her body on the streets and I want that for the man who beats his wife and I want that for for the innocent child who inherited illness in his blood and I want that for the ones who buy and trade human lives like they are pieces of meat and I want that for the 'rich young rulers' of today and I want that for those of us who don't even know we're sick and needy.

So, that's why. No other reason.

"I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us. For the creation waits in eager expectation for the children of God to be revealed. For the creation was subjected to frustration, not by its own choice, but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay and brought into the freedom and glory of the children of God. We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption to sonship, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what they already have? But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently." ~Romans 8:18-25

Lotus buds

"All souls are His, all flowers. Neither souls nor flowers are his who did not make them. They were never truly his. They belong to the Lord of all the earth, the Creator, the Redeemer. The little Lotus buds are His--His and not another's.

So now we go forth with the Owner Himself to claim His own possession. There is hope in the thought, and confidence in the purest inspiration. And, stirred to the very depths, as we are and must be many a time when we see the tender Lotus buds gathered by a hand that has no right to them, and crushed under foot; bewildered and sore troubled, as the heart cannot help being sometimes, when the mystery of the apparent victory of evil over good is overwhelming: even so there will be always a hush, a rest, a repose of spirit, as we stand by the Lotus-pools of life and seek in His name to gather His flowers."

--Amy Carmichael (on the children she spent her life loving in India)

They are HIS and that is so much better than being mine.

Let the children come

It just hit me like a ton of bricks as I read about Jesus rebuking His disciples for keeping the children away from him in Mark 10. It happened about a month ago, but the Holy Spirit has brought what was hidden from my eyes to light and I am thankful, however painful it is to look at.

We were in a hurry, not only because dark clouds that promised to wash out the roads and leave us stranded loomed overhead, but because we had a long and difficult journey back to Nairobi waiting to begin. We had bought just about everything the small store had, at least all that was edible. Fruits of every kind and vitamin and mineral enriched porridge flour for the children of Loikas, a slum/village in Maralal. The three of us (Grace, Phoebe and I) struggled to carry boxes and bags of food we planned to give as we visited the neediest families in the area. I would say that every single person living in this village is hungry and trying to prioritize who needed the food the most seemed futile and heartless from the get go. With only what we could carry, as cars cannot pass through the narrow walkways, we set out to find several children whose weak bodies and expressionless faces had been burned into my mind months prior. We did not find them all and until I lay eyes on the weakest of them, I must assume he eventually died from malnourishment. It wasn't a very "rewarding" visit. Deworming the kids with visible signs of worms and providing minimal food to the malnourished babies seemed like barely brushing the surface (not even faintly scratching it) and I was frustrated.

It was one of those days I hated the color of my skin even more than usual. I usually love the crowds of children who are drawn by their curiosity of all things new and different, but today I wished to blend in and be camouflage from the millions (well, it felt like it) of children who were slowing us down--crowding the narrow path we were walking, quickly draining my supply of fruit, and giving me less time to find the children who I had decided needed the small things I had "the most".

I don't remember her name. She ran to us the instant she saw us from atop the hill where she lived and insisted upon holding my hand throughout the entire journey. I was annoyed. As I said, I was on a mission and time crunched. The paths were only wide enough for one set of feet and dodging human poop was a fairly high priority of mine--one that she was threatening by holding my hand and pushing her way in beside me. She was older than the usual insistent hand holders (who I adore on most days)... somewhere between eight and ten, I'd assume. She stared at me the whole time, another thing I sort of hate. I was taking any chance to awkwardly (and unnecessarily) hold my heavy plastic bag with two hands so that my obligation of dragging a ten year old through this maze of a village was over. Phoebe could tell I was annoyed (I'm not even a little bit good at hiding it) and politely told the girl to give me some space. I was relieved. But man, she was persistent. If she wasn't holding my hand, she was two inches behind me, still staring. I remember the conversation in my head with the Holy Spirit... it went something like Him telling me "just hold her damn hand. you can do it."

I am not sure the Holy Spirit speaks this way, and mean no disrespect, but sometimes that is how He seems to best communicate with stubborn me. Or maybe it's just how I translate it, but regardless, I still chose to resist. I think I responded with a sarcastic, insensitive "I think she'll survive."

As far as I know, this story does not end with the girl dying that night and me regretting my small act of withholding love for the rest of my life; maybe that would make a more compelling story (maybe even worthy of becoming a forwarded email that ends with a harsh warning to send to all of your friends or you will be hit by a bus) or maybe it would deter me from letting the same thing happen again. I am guessing she DID survive her encounter with a grumpy white-skinned person and is doing just fine right now, but looking back-I know my disobedience pained Him. In that moment, I withheld HIS love from her. Not that He didn't love her without me, but gosh... I could have loved her on His behalf and I gave up that opportunity in order to focus on my narrow, narrow view of what I thought He had on tap for the day.

I imagine the inquisitive kids that gathered around Jesus slightly outnumbered the ones that met me in Loikas that day. :) I can envision Jesus being elbowed and shoved and prodded as He tried to maintain His footing in a crowd of small, but mighty when on a mission, kids who were eager to get near Him, if for no other reason than to stare. I can also see his well-meaning disciples responding to this in the way that they did... rebuking the kids in order to regain order to a now chaotic environment (kids are so awesome at creating those out of nowhere :)). And Jesus was "indignant." Really? Indignant? At least let the disciples gather them into a single file line and bring their voices down a notch. Prioritize them by needs and send the ones who are not sick or hungry home for the day. Let them come with a parent or guardian and please make sure none of them get back in the line after they've already been through once. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . He said to let the children come!!! Stop hindering them and let them continue being who He so perfectly created them to be--the very characteristics that lead Him to remind us again and again that we should aim to be more like them. "The kingdom of Heaven belongs to such as these."

So here I stand, humbled and repentant. Knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that Jesus would have at least taken a moment to look into this girls eyes and hold her hand as He journeyed towards those with "greater needs." I am no Bible scholar, but if I am correct, the children Jesus was referring to in these passages in Mark 10 and Matthew 19 were not even sick. What? I am definitely the disciple who is advising Jesus that His schedule is pretty full, so better just lay hands on and pray for the sickest and poorest and hungriest kids. I probably would have even suggested a good, solid group prayer for all, to hurry along the process. Especially if I knew someone "worse off" was waiting for Him.

Looking back and recalling how unsettled I felt as we drove away from Loikas just as the rain drops became heavy, I am sure that feeding those babies and killing the worms in their bodies was not the primary reason He brought me there that day. I guess He just wanted to pour a little extra love on that girl and He gave me the chance to feel the skinny brown fingers wrapped tightly, trustingly around for Him. I thought surely He sent me to fill grumbling bellies and improve sick children's health. Oops.

Wonderful news though.... He's forgiven me and I am sad I hurt Him, but thankful for the grace to try again tomorrow; the mercy to keep my eyes open; the Holy Spirit to keep my heart willing to love whoever is in front of me.

Yes

Today as I watched people pour down to the front of the sanctuary of Mt. Bethel as a result of their Holy Spirit inspired “yes” to add a Kenyan child to their lives, I was overwhelmed with happiness. For once, it was not because I was happy for the children who were now promised enough food and clothing and school and love. Not even because I was happy for the families who were now connected to a little life across the world. Even still, my happiness was not attributed to the joy I know my parents and others who have put their hearts and souls into this ministry were feeling as they watched the children they fight for receive sponsors. My heart raced and my eyes filled with tears because what God did today was rich, rich love poured out on one of His faithful servants. It was His way of fulfilling His promise to her (and all of us) that He would provide if she would continue saying yes to what He asked of her.

Her name is Grace and if anyone is more deserving of such a name, I have not met her yet. Her life is about recognizing God’s grace, rejoicing in God’s grace, and praying for more of God’s grace. It began with one child, one yes, one mouth to feed, one deduction from a paycheck, one extra heart to fit into her life. Over the past five years, this woman has given more and more until it became everything to take care of just one more. Anyone you ask will tell you she's crazy... "she takes on too much, she doesn't get enough sleep, she needs a break, she gives too much, she is spread too thin, she is too ambitious, she never stops moving."

I think she is crazy too sometimes when I hear what she says yes to and never really hear a "no" exit her mouth. The rich know her, the poor know her--the Christians know her, the non-Christians know her. She is known and respected because of the way she loves generously, even where tribal barriers try to hinder this exchange. I think she has a more accurate census of who is admitted at the District Hospital than the nurses do. I am pretty positive the restaurant she and her mother own gives out more food each day than they sell. The doctors in town know and expect her to be bringing sick children to them at any hour. She is the first phone number dialed when a baby is abandoned at the hospital.

She is not using her precisely calculated "leftovers" to serve the children in her community, she is giving EVERYTHING SHE HAS to serve them, maybe even at the expense of her own family. She has traded what could have been an extremely comfortable and cushioned life (because she is entitled to this--right? if she works hard and is wise with her money, one might assume) for a life of complete dependance that if He does not provide above and beyond, her family will not eat.

Give give give and don't cling to a thing... trusting that He'll give more to fill in the gaps. He has. For the past five years, the 40-something kids in her care have been fed and clothed and loved. It didn't come easy though. They have known nights of praying alongside Grace that God provides food because the storehouse is empty and they have known nights of grumbling tummies because they ate a bit less than their bodies required to stay full until the morning. They have known tea without sugar and beans without salt and lunchboxes without lunch. Their toes have poked out of the holes in their shoes and their patched clothes have lost their vibrant colors. And they are grateful... they are so grateful because they know that God has brought them far.

I am rejoicing today because I can hear the sigh as Grace gets word that all of her children have been sponsored and looks upward in awe of God's goodness. I can almost see inside her heart as God takes her back to that first simple "yes" He asked of her and gives her a quick slideshow of how much GLORY He has received from that point on--not just through the pretty, the hard too. God loved and cared for and provided for these kids before Project 82 existed and before you decided to sponsor... He did it through this woman and others who came alongside of her. And now He has chosen to involve others--shoes without holes and untattered clothes and access to water (we pray) and more than enough food and wonderful schools and love in relationships are in their futures.

And even though a good bit of the financial weight of caring for 40-something children will be lifted from Grace now that her children have sponsors, I have a hunch that the way she lives her life will remain the same. I trust that she and her family will still reside in the humble 3-room home they live in. I trust that she will still "work too hard" and "not sleep enough" and "give too much of herself" because it is what God asks. Glory for God not just for what He has done today, but what He has done that led up to today, and what He will continue to do from this point forward. Glory to God for the "yes's" today that will have an eternal impact in the days and years to come and Glory to God for letting us be a part of caring for His children.

"Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen: to loose the chains of injustice and untie the cords of the yoke, to set the oppressed free and break every yoke? Is it not to share your food with the hungry and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter when you see the naked, to clothe him, and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood? Then your light will break forth like the dawn, and your healing will quickly appear; then your righteousness will go before you, and the glory of the LORD will be your rear guard. Then you will call, and the LORD will answer; you will cry for help, and he will say: Here am I.

If you do away with the yoke of oppression, with the pointing finger and malicious talk, and if you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry and satisfy the needs of the oppressed, then your light will rise in the darkness, and your night will become like the noonday. The LORD will guide you always; he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land and will strengthen your frame. You will be like a well-watered garden, like a spring whose waters never fail."

--Isaiah 58:1-11