For good and glory.

 "Not to us, O Lord, not to us, but to your name give glory for the sake of your steadfast love and your faithfulness!" (Psalms 115:1 ESV)


There will always be things in life that you don't see coming. That smack you square in the face and leave you stunned silence. And sometimes it seems like a gamble, whether or not those things turn out to be good or bad.

But, regardless of how we perceive those things to be, God always intends them for our good. For our good and for His glory.

Tuesday I held on to that promise for dear life.

It started out an average day. There was a group of teenagers helping to put on a sports camp for our kids in the morning. We laughed, played, and cried when contact was made between rogue Frisbees and faces. And as I was being joyfully distracted by my kids, I noticed that there were two young girls I didn't recognize sitting off to the side.

I found out that they had been dropped off the day before by a woman who had been caring for them, who wasn't their mother. They seemed to forlorn, although who can blame them? As I was looking at them, their faces suddenly lit up, and they were off in a dead run.

They collided in an embrace with an older woman I didn't recognize. It was their guardian, who had come back to sign some papers.

My heart sank as I realized that these young girls thought they would be going home with her that day. When, in fact, they wouldn't be.

They accompanied the woman to our financial office, and then, all too quickly, it was time for her to leave. Again.

They clung to her as she tried to pry them off and leave through our gate. It was clear that none of the three of them wanted to be parted. Deepak, one of our house dads, had come to help with the situation. The woman who had looked after these girls was his mother.

He grabbed the youngest girl, who is maybe 5, and tried to hold her with one arm as he reached for the older girl, who is no more than 9. He quickly realized that he couldn't hold them both, and his mom desperately needed to put an end to this situation.

He called me over and asked me to grab the older girl.

Not what I signed up for when I came to Nepal.

But I did what needed to be done. I circled her waist and pulled her back, so that she was sitting in my lap, on top of my folded legs. She screamed.

And screamed. And screamed.

And I just held her, unsure of what to do next.

There was nothing in English or Nepali that I could have said to make the situation any easier. And even if there had been, I wouldn't have had the presence of mind to speak it. Her cries wrenched my heart clear out of my chest.

Deepak and I sat there for what seemed like an eternity. Truly, it couldn't have been more than 10 minutes.

We tried to give them something to drink. Something to eat. Anything to distract them from their anguish.

After several valiant attempts, Deepak walked away with the younger girl to try and put her to sleep. I was left alone with a slip of a girl who I didn't know. Whose face was twisted up and stained with tears.

I'm not sure that I've ever felt quite that helpless. So I did that first thing that came to mind, the only thing that I thought might offer a small amount of comfort.

I sang her a song.

The first song that came to mind was the River Lullaby from The Prince of Egypt. I don't know if it was because I find the song soothing, or if God spoke to my conscience. But I didn't have time to stop and think.

"Hush now, my baby. Be still, love, don't cry. Sleep as you're rocked by the sea. Sleep and remember this lullaby, and I'll be with you in your dreams."

As I went on and sang the other verses, slowly rocking this young, hurt girl, I couldn't believe what my ears heard.

 Nothing.

Silence. Save for a few sniffles and sighs.

She had stopped crying.

It worked! It really worked! I could have cried myself. Even though she couldn't understand the English words, and I was singing just louder than a whisper, it worked.

I finished the song, repeating the last verse... "God has a plan just for you." When I was done, we sat for a few more minutes. Then I stood and took her hand and led her over to Deepak.

His frazzled look mirrored my own. We both took a deep breath, I gave her hand to him, and I walked away.

Not what I signed up for when I came to Nepal.

I never expected to be holding a young girl back form, quite possibly, the only woman who ever cared for her. I never expected to be the one thing that stood between two people who clearly needed each other and wanted to be together.

It's not a position I would wish on my worst enemy. What I experienced are not emotions I would want anyone to feel.

There are some things in life that smack you square in the face. Tuesday, I desperately needed the promise that God works all things together for the good of those who love him. Not only for those little girls and their guardian, but for myself.

For our good. For His glory.

Wowed and oh, so proud.

"And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up. So then, as we have opportunity, let us do good to everyone, and especially to those who are of the household of faith."  (Galatians 6:9-10 ESV)


Do you ever have those moments when you think your heart might burst? I've had a few of those this week. But don't worry, they were all good moments!

This past week we had a team from Australia in the city putting on a vacation bible school for the kids at our campus. It was so much fun. The kids had a great time singing, learning about Jesus, and playing games. And the team really began to bond with some of our kids!

And it was during the second day of VBS that I felt my heart beginning to swell.

I saw Sujan, one of our older boys, seek out and walk over to the only guy on the team from Australia. He proceeded to exhaust his English knowledge having a conversation. And that was a sweet sight. But what impressed me the most, and made me most proud, was that he walked away from a group of the other older boys who were playing a game together.

He left something that he enjoyed in order to care for someone he barely knew.

How often do we do that? Stop what were doing (especially something we like to do) to make sure that someone feels loved and important. I know that I don't do that nearly as often as I should.

The next day it swelled a bit more. I saw Saroja, one of our teenage girls, give her craft to a younger girl who didn't get one. Soroja had worked hard to make her craft, and she was very proud of it, showing it off to the house moms and me. But as soon as she saw the downcast look of Sapana, she walked over and gifted her the craft.

When is the last time you gave something to someone who had nothing? Whether that's one dollar of the fifty you have in your wallet, or the last cookie in your pack of Oreos. Something so unimportant as that seems to be hard for most of us. Let alone something that is important to you, like Saroja's craft. I'm learning little by little the importance of sharing the blessings that God has given to me.

And I thought it might actually burst on our last day of VBS when I saw Premshila, one of our older girls who is a constant inspiration to me, helping one of our new little boys with instructions for a game they were learning. So simple. So easily unnoticed. But so important.

I can't remember the last time that I stopped to help someone who didn't understand what was going on. I tend to find it frustrating, and I don't help them with a kind heart. I do it out of selfish intentions. What a lesson I learned through Premshila.

These kids are always teaching me something. Always giving me little glimpses of Jesus. Always showing me how to be a better person.

I could not be more proud of who they are choosing to be. And I hope that someday I can be just like them. I can take the time to make someone feel important. I can give, not just out of my excess, but out of my everyday necessities. And that I can take the time to make sure someone who is falling behind begins to understand.

I want to be like these kids when I grow up. And I am beyond blessed to play a very small part in their growing relationships with Christ.

It's pretty cool.

The least of these.

"And the King will answer them, 'Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.'" (Matthew 25:40 ESV)


These past few weeks have been filled with a flurry of activity. A lot of work, a lot of planning for my next VISA, a lot of trying to have some semblance of a social life. Honestly, a lot of trying to keep my eyes above the waves that are valiantly trying to swallow me.

A lot of my focus the last few weeks has been on me. Me, me, me. Where I need to be next. Who I need to call next. What I need to do next. And it finally dawned on  me this week how many "least of these" I have passed by without a second thought.

I'm not sure what's in the air, but it seems as though this last week everywhere I looked there were people begging on street corners. Out in droves. Every time I left my flat, I encountered at least three beggars on my way to wherever I was headed.

There was a mix of small children, women, and women with small children.

And I found myself brushing by them. Not looking at them or acknowledging that they were there. Not taking the time to care about anyone except myself and what I needed to accomplish right then.

Until my roommate and I were out grocery shopping and a young boy, maybe 7 years old, came up to us. He was wearing tattered rags for clothes, he had discolored skin due to malnutrition, and his stomach was swollen from hunger. He wasn't invasive. He didn't cling to us like most children in his situation do. He seemed resigned to the fact that no one was going to help him that day.

And I was ready to walk right past him, just like every other beggar I had seen the past week. But my roommate looked at him differently. She saw a hungry boy who could use some cookies to brighten his day. So we took him to the corner store and bought him some overpriced Oreos. On the way there, we asked him his name and how old he was. We talked about his hat, which he was very proud of. Then we gave him cookies and sent him on his way.

I know it's not much, but it was a much needed reminder that they are people, too. They are "the least of these" that God calls us to care for.

So the next day when I was out and a young boy came running up to me, I didn't look away and pretend I didn't see him. Before he could say anything, I greeted him and asked how his day was. I asked him if he liked fruit, or if he would rather have some juice. I bought him an orange and asked him to sit with me while he ate it.

I asked him if he went to school. He said no. I asked him if he lived nearby. He said no. I asked him where his mom was. He didn't say anything. I asked about his dad. Nothing.

I'm not sure what his story is, but whatever that young boy has encountered in his short life, it has led him down a path I wouldn't wish on anyone. The pained look that crossed his face when I asked about his family was almost enough to make me bring him back to my flat and keep him forever.

But instead I just put my arm around him.

And we sat. Not talking. When he was finished with his orange, I took the peel from him, gave him a hug and told him that I needed to get home.

My new friend stayed on my heart for the rest of the week. I prayed for him often. And whenever I saw another person sitting on a street corner, I remembered that young boy. I remembered that they're people, too. That they hurt.

And I know that oranges and Oreos can't change their lives, but I do know that it can brighten their day. It can remind them that some people do care. And that's a start.

I didn't give those boys food to make myself feel better. And quite frankly, it made me feel worse, being that much closer to the gravity of their situation. I didn't do it to make a show in front of the Nepalis who were around. Their stares made me a bit uncomfortable.

I did it because I believe that's what Jesus would have done. He would have seen those boys and dropped what he was doing to give them a little love.

And I want to be like Jesus.

I know that loving on those who don't receive much love was a big part of Jesus' ministry on earth. Think of Nicodemus, and of Zaccheus, of the bleeding woman. People that were dismissed, maybe even despised. Jesus took the time.

I want to take the time.

I'm not on a crusade to rescue every beggar from their current lives. I'm not trying to change the world. I'm simply trying to love like Jesus did. Like Jesus does.

To see all these people through Christ's eyes.

And I hope that you will all take time this week to do that too.

The begging man on the Seattle street corner... ask him his story. Buy him a coffee.

The musicians playing on plastic pales outside the mall... stop and listen. Be interested. Give them a tip.

The single mom at your church... offer her free child care for a night. Help her buy some groceries.

The young man with a disability... be his friend. Get to know him.

Take the time to love people like Jesus loves them. Take the time to care for "the least of these."