Good Bye and God Bless You, Kallevig Family

Last Thursday evening our family went to say hello and good bye to a family in our area. About 8-10 years ago I served on the steering team for our local Mothers of Preschoolers(MOPS) group. It was there that I met Kelly Jo. Even though Kelly Jo and her family live in the area, about 8 miles from us, we never saw each other again after I left the steering team. Life gets in the way and we just never connected in person. We had spoken on the phone a few times over the years. I remember one time was when she and he husband were in the process of adopting from overseas at about the same time we adopted our daughter. Another time we spoke was when I found out, about 6 months after Shannon and I knew we were eventually moving to Tanzania, that Kelly Jo and her husband were going to moving to the mission field of Zambia. Zambia is located on Tanzania's south border so we will, even 8,000 miles from "home", be virtual neighbors once again.

So, anyway, last Thursday we picked up pizza and stopped to see the Kallevig's in their sparsely furnished home. Nearly everything they own had either been shipped over to Zambia many months ago or sold on recent garage sales. It was fun for me to see Kelly Jo again and for the Shannon and Brian to get a chance to meet. I know Shannon and I enjoyed spending some time with people who truly understand our feelings about our upcoming work in Africa. We felt a definite connection with Brian and Kelly Jo and we talked about many things-international medical insurance, raising financial and prayer support and what to ship and when to ship and how to ship. We talked about prep such as MTI-missionary Training International, ECHO-Educational Concerns for Hunger Organizationand other things. Our 5 children and their 6 played well together while their 7th, a new baby, took turns sleeping in people's arms. After several hours together, knowing we could have easily visited all night long, we prayed together and said good bye joking that maybe in a few years we will vacation at each others African homes.

Please visit Brian and Kelly Jo's blog and say a prayer for them. This will be a tough week of good byes and last minute packing leading up to 30 hours in the air or in airports with their 7 children beginning on Friday.

Brian and Kelly Jo, thanks for taking the time to meet with us before you leave. We wish your family safe travel and true joy in serving God over in Zambia.

Hearing the Voice of God

For those of you unfamiliar with Beth Moore, she is an incredible bible teacher. She has written many bible studies, mainly for women, although Shannon loves her teachings as well. Anyway, I have been facilitating her bible studies at our church for several years now. Her studies are great ones to "lead" because leading basically consists of keeping the women on track during discussion time and then pushing the play button on the VCR. In a recent study, she shared the following story on video. It was great to see her tell the story. Just yesterday my aunt sent me the email of the story and I thought it would be a great one to share here. It's a long one but well worth the read.

April 20, 2005, at the airport in Knoxville , waiting to board the plane, I had the Bible on my lap and was very intent upon what I was doing. I'd had a marvelous morning with the Lord. I say this because I want to tell you it is a scary thing to have the Spirit of God really working in you. You could end up doing some things you never would have done otherwise. Life in the
Spirit can be dangerous for a thousand reasons not the least of which is
your ego.

I tried to keep from staring, but he was such a strange sight. Humped over
in a wheelchair, he was skin and bones, dressed in clothes that obviously
fit when he was at least twenty pounds heavier. His knees protruded from his
trousers, and his shoulders looked like the coat hanger was still in his
shirt. His hands looked like tangled masses of veins and bones. The strangest part of him was his hair and nails. Stringy, gray hair hung well over his shoulders and down part of his back. His fingernails were long, clean but strangely out of place on an old man.

I looked down at my Bible as fast as I could, discomfort burning my face. As
I tried to imagine what his story might have been, I found myself wondering
if I'd just had a Howard Hughes sighting. Then I remembered that he was
dead. So this man in the airport..an impersonator maybe? Was a camera on us
somewhere? There I sat; trying to concentrate on the Word to keep from being
concerned about a thin slice of humanity served up on a wheelchair only a
few seats from me. All the while, my heart was growing more and more
overwhelmed with a feeling for him. Let's admit it. Curiosity is a heap
more comfortable than true concern, and suddenly I was awash with aching
emotion for this bizarre-looking old man.

I had walked with God long enough to see the handwriting on the wall.
I've learned that when I begin to feel what God feels, something so
contrary to my natural feelings, something dramatic is bound to happen.
And it may be embarrassing.

I immediately began to resist because I could feel God working on my spirit
and I started arguing with God in my mind. "Oh, no, God, please, no." I looked up at the ceiling as if I could stare straight through it into heaven and said, "Don't make me witness to this man. Not right here and now. Please. I'll do anything. Put me on the same plane, but don't make me get up here and witness to this man in front of this gawking audience. Please, Lord!"

There I sat in the blue vinyl chair begging His Highness, "Please don't make me witness to this man. Not now. I'll do it on the plane." Then I heard it..."I don't want you to witness to him. I want you to brush his hair."

The words were so clear, my heart leapt into my throat, and my thoughts spun like a top. Do I witness to the man or brush his hair? No-brainier. I looked straight back up at the ceiling and said, "God, as I live and breathe, I want you to know I am ready to witness to this man. I'm on this Lord. I'm your girl! You've never seen a woman witness to a man faster in your life. What difference does it make if his hair is a mess if he is not redeemed? I am going to witness to this man ." Again as clearly as I've ever heard an audible word, God seemed to write this statement across the wall of my mind. " That is not what I said, Beth. I don't want you to witness to him. I want you to go brush his hair."

I looked up at God and quipped, "I don't have a hairbrush. It's in my suitcase on the plane. How am I supposed to brush his hair without a hairbrush?" God was so insistent that I almost involuntarily began to walk toward him as these thoughts came to me from God's word: "I will thoroughly furnish you unto all good works.'" (2 Timothy 3:17)

I stumbled over to the wheelchair thinking I could use one myself. Even as I
retell this story, my pulse quickens and I feel those same butterflies. I knelt down in front of the man and asked as demurely as possible, "Sir, may I have the pleasure of brushing your hair?"

He looked back at me and said, "What did you say?"

"May I have the pleasure of brushing your hair?

To which he responded in volume ten, "Little lady, if you expect me to hear
you, you're going to have to talk louder than that."

At this point, I took a deep breath and blurted out, "SIR, MAY I HAVE THE PLEASURE OF BRUSHING YOUR HAIR?" At which point every eye in the place darted right at me. I was the only thing in the room looking more peculiar than old Mr. Long Locks. Face crimson and forehead breaking out in a sweat, I watched him look up at me with absolute shock on his face, and say, "If you really want to." Are you kidding? Of course I didn't want to. But God didn't seem interested in my personal preference right about then. He pressed on my heart until I could utter the words, "Yes, sir, I would be pleased. But I have one little problem. I don't have a hairbrush."

"I have one in my bag," he responded.

I went around to the back of that wheelchair and I got on my hands and knees and unzipped the stranger's old carry-on, hardly believing what I was doing. I stood up and started brushing the old man's hair. It was perfectly clean, but it was tangled and matted. I don't do many things well, but must admit I've had notable experience untangling knotted hair mothering two little girls. Like I'd done with either Amanda or Melissa in such a condition, I began brushing at the very bottom of the strands, remembering to take my time not to pull. A miraculous thing happened to me as I started brushing that old man's hair. Everybody else in the room disappeared. There was no one alive for those moments except that old man and me. I brushed and I brushed and I brushed until every tangle was out of that hair. I know this sounds so strange, but I've never felt that kind of love for another soul in my entire life. I believe with all my heart, I, for that few minutes, felt a portion of the very love of God; that He had overtaken my heart for a little while like someone renting a room and making Himself at home for a short while. The emotions were so strong and so pure that I knew they had to be God's. His hair was finally as soft and smooth as an infant's.

I slipped the brush back in the bag and went around the chair to face him. I got back down on my knees, put my hands on his knees and said, "Sir, do you know my Jesus?"

He said, "Yes, I do.'"

Well, that figures, I thought. He explained, "I've known Him since I married my bride. She wouldn't marry me until I got to know the Savior." He said, "You see, the problem is, I haven't seen my bride in months. I've had open-heart surgery, and she's been too ill to come see me. I was sitting here thinking to myself, what a mess I must be for my bride."

Only God knows how often He allows us to be part of a divine moment when we're completely unaware of the significance. This, on the other hand, was one of those rare encounters when I knew God had intervened in details only He could have known. It was a God moment, and I'll never forget it.

Our time came to board, and we were not on the same plane. I was deeply ashamed of how I'd acted earlier and would have been so proud to have accompanied him on that aircraft. I still had a few minutes, and as I gathered my things to board, the airline hostess returned from the corridor, tears streaming down her cheeks. She said, "That old man's sitting on the plane, sobbing. Why did you do that? What made you do that?"

I said, "Do you know Jesus? He can be the bossiest thing!"

And we got to share.

I learned something about God that day. He knows if you're exhausted, you're hungry, you're serving in the wrong place or it is time to move on but you feel too responsible to budge. He knows if you're hurting or feeling rejected. He knows if you're sick or drowning under a wave of temptation. Or He knows if you just need your hair brushed. He sees you as an individual. Tell Him your need!

I got on my own flight, sobs choking my throat, wondering how many opportunities just like that one had I missed along the way all because I didn't want people to think I was strange. God didn't send me to that oldman. He sent that old man to me.

Slow Fade

I have fallen in love with this song. It's kind of sad but it is so true that people don't usually fall off of a cliff but they just slowly fade into negative choices. I was thrilled to hear the song was in the soundtrack for Fireproof. Check it out.

Slow Fade by Casting Crowns

Be careful little eyes what you see
It's the second glance that ties your hands as darkness pulls the strings
Be careful little feet where you go
For it's the little feet behind you that are sure to follow

It's a slow fade when you give yourself away
It's a slow fade when black and white have turned to gray
Thoughts invade, choices are made, a price will be paid
When you give yourself away
People never crumble in a day
It's a slow fade, it's a slow fade

Be careful little ears what you hear
When flattery leads to compromise, the end is always near
Be careful little lips what you say
For empty words and promises lead broken hearts astray

It's a slow fade when you give yourself away
It's a slow fade when black and white have turned to gray
Thoughts invade, choices are made, a price will be paid
When you give yourself away
People never crumble in a day

The journey from your mind to your hands
Is shorter than you're thinking
Be careful if you think you stand
You just might be sinking

It's a slow fade when you give yourself away
It's a slow fade when black and white have turned to gray
Thoughts invade, choices are made, a price will be paid
When you give yourself away
People never crumble in a day
Daddies never crumble in a day
Families never crumble in a day

Oh be careful little eyes what see
Oh be careful little eyes what you see
For the Father up above is looking down in love
Oh be careful little eyes what you see

Copyright Casting Crowns

Look what we found!

On Saturday Shannon went to check on the chickens and he found a cute little brown, farm-fresh egg in one of the nest boxes. Here is a photo of it next to a store bought size large egg.

So, for lunch on Sunday, when we made scrambled eggs for brunch, our one little egg got added to the others bought from the store. Here is a photo of it on the right, next to a store bought on the left. You can see it is quite a bit smaller as they are when the chickens first start laying. You may also notice that the yolk is darker. That is because our chickens eat much better than caged chickens. They eat greenery from our yard as well as lots of leftover fruits and veggies from our kitchen.

Since the first one was found we have found three more so our girls are finally starting to figure it out. As far as we can tell, all the eggs have been laid by different chickens. All 4 eggs are different sizes and colors-the first was brown with dark brown specks, the second was a light tan, the next was a pure dark brown and the next was a lighter tan than the second. We aren't sure who's laying but are excited to see some results from our efforts.

I recently ordered a book called "The $64 Tomato." It is about a man who starts a garden and figures his tomato cost him about that much to grow. WE have been joking about the cost of our eggs and are excited that with each egg that appears our cost per egg goes down. Right now with all expenses including set up, the building and fence and feed and other supplies I'm thinking each of our 4 eggs(so far) cost about $100 each! Keep laying ladies!