Showing posts with label lessons being learned. Show all posts
Showing posts with label lessons being learned. Show all posts

29 November, 2016

Secure

Yesterday I went with a staff member to visit a neighbor of ours. Upon arriving we exchanged the normal greeting of “Tudo Bem?” “How are you?” – and our neighbor, an elderly lady replied with, “Good… no, actually I’m not. Lately I have not been well.” 

She began telling us of how her heart was beating at an accelerated rate and that she had scheduled an appointment in January (the soonest she was able to).

Honestly, I was worried, and still am. How is she really? Is she going to be okay? Is she resting? (She's a "go-getter" and I find it difficult to believe that she would sit still for very long.)

With assurance and peace evident in her composure and voice, she said, “My heart is in the hands of Jesus, the most secure place to be.”

I almost cried thinking about and seeing how much faith she has. She truly trusts in Jesus. 

God is continually nudging my heart, showing me that my faith and trust aren't truly in Him. Rather, I've put my trust in people, my own strength and my own self, plans, my thoughts, what's happened before and makes sense. I don't truly trust Him like I say I do. And I want to. 

I want to be able to say, just like my dear lovely neighbor, that my heart is in the hands of Jesus, the safest place to be. I want to say it with conviction. My head knows this fact, but my heart hasn't caught up yet. 

So along with chopping down banana trees, I'm learning hard things. Deep heart things. This journey is far from over, but it will continue. Until Completion. 

02 November, 2015

Coffee and The Gospel {Questions to Ponder}


In the last week I’ve had the opportunity to meet a man who is living without a permanent place to lay his head, unable to find work because of his past, one who’s life has been marked by tragedy and redemption.

I’ve wondered, over the past 30 hours, if perhaps God put this man into my life, not so I could help him, but to challenge everything I’ve thought, wrestled with, and am still wrestling with in regards to Jesus’ command to us.

I met Larry outside of the Barnes and Noble in my hometown. I had just driven back from a day in San Francisco and thought I would grab a coffee and spend some time reading before picking up my younger brother from work and heading home. As I drove into the parking lot, I noticed a shopping cart with signs, its lettering indistinguishable from the distance, filled with belongings. I immediately felt I should buy this person, to whom the shopping cart belonged, a coffee as I bought mine. I hadn’t even seen his face yet.

I parked and headed towards the cart. Upon getting closer, I read the signs that lined 3 sides of the shopping cart. “Homeless. Willing to work.” The signs read.  Later, I took note, one of the signs also read, “Need to buy new frames for glasses.” I came upon the man, an older gentleman wearing a hat, sitting on the bench besides his cart, with a huge book open in his lap; he sat there hunched over, reading.

“Excuse me sir, I don’t have anything, or work to give you, but I was going to get a coffee. Would you like one?”  I asked. The man looked up, “I’d sure appreciate that. God bless you.” He said.  

I walked away to get coffee and as I brought it back, I was wrestling inside with an internal debate. Should I give him the coffee, ask for his name, and if I could pray for him? I felt like I should try to start a conversation with him. Honestly, I just wanted to give him his coffee and go inside to read. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I wanted to be alone with my thoughts. However, I felt as if there was more. I needed to talk with him.

Handing him the coffee, I asked him his name. “Larry.” He replied.

Larry. No longer was he a stranger.

We began talking, I asked him what book he was reading and asked if I could pray for him. Larry told me, “Of course.” and told me he believed in God and was a Christian. He told me bits of his testimony and of how God touched his life. “I didn’t believe in the power of God, until I experienced it for myself.” He told me how members of his family would tell him they were praying for him and he would tell them not to. One day, he ended up at a sort of prayer meeting or service and was prayed for. Jesus came into his life and began helping him turn it around. That’s just a miniscule part of his story…

Over the next hour and a half, I learned more of his story, what he’s planning on doing next, we prayed one for the other, he encouraged me and spoke to me and reminded me of things Jesus has been telling me, we prayed again, and as we wrapped up our conversation, I asked him if I could share a bit of his story and ask my friends to help out with providing money for a new set of frames for his glasses. His frames are held together by tape and held to his head with a rubber band. Larry agreed, I got his phone number and we parted ways.

That night, true to my promise, I posted on Facebook about my new friend Larry. I asked for people to pray and I asked for help in buying new frames.

The next morning, I had comments of people praying and messages offering to help buy the frames. To say I was overwhelmed by the response of friends would be an understatement. This… what do I say? It’s the church in action. It’s… it’s beautiful.

I arranged with Larry to buy the frames Saturday afternoon (a couple days ago). On Saturday morning I woke up and had a voice message from Larry. He told me he had been up all night, vomiting. He was sick, didn’t know what happened and wasn’t sure how the day was going to work out.

I was torn. What was it that I felt?

Deep down, when I talked with him for the first time in front of Barnes and Noble, and he told me he showered using a hose, in between two dumpsters and that was how he washed his clothes as well, and how he longed to sleep in a bed… Oh my heart, it felt like it could relate- the luxury of a bed! And a shower! I love my daily showers that not only wash away the day’s dirt and grime, but also seem to wash away the worries and feelings of ingratitude as I am rejuvenated and feel ready to start again with a fresh perspective on life! There has been so many times as the water pours out, I thank God, with a deep, heart-felt, gratitude for the beautiful gift of a shower.

Basic needs- A bed. A shower. What beautiful things!

That night I wondered if there was a place where he could at least take a real shower...

So, on Saturday when I heard he was sick, oh, I think that’s when I was reminded of – of what? That he was in need of such basic things… How could I go to him, with new glasses, as he lay on the concrete, sick? How could I just go give him soup, pray for him, and leave him?

Was it enough?

Who gets to say it’s enough?

My heart, torn. I prayed. I pulled out my journal and began to write,

“Jesus- I want to help him. I want him to be able to take a shower, wash his clothes, rest in a bed or on a couch (though a bed would be nicer).
Can I just go, give him tea, soup and crackers, medicine and bananas, pray for him and that’s it?
God, I don’t think I can.

But questions of,
‘How will you do this?’
‘Where? Who?’…
‘Is it wise?’
…I don’t know him. But you do.

I wonder and question, how much of this is and was,
‘I wanna change The World!’

and how much of this was never my idea.
Is it yours?”

The verse that wouldn’t leave my mind is where Jesus said, “Whatever you did for the least of these, you did for me.” (Matthew 25:40)

I called Larry and told him I would still come by and we could figure out what to do.

Still torn and trying to figure out a way to get Larry to a shower and possible place to sleep, I contemplated, debated, and grew upset- I knew, oh how I KNOW it is not “wise” to take someone you just met into your car and drive them somewhere; especially as a young woman, but…

Sometimes what the world (people) think as foolish, is not, or God uses what is foolish to confound the wise. (1 Corinthians 1)

But…

Jesus calls us to be shrewd (wise) as serpents and as gentle (innocent) as doves. (Matthew 10:16)

But…

Didn’t Jesus tell us to feed the hungry, clothe the poor, care for the sick?

But…

Having already had an internal debate, a war raging inside my heart and conscious, for about an hour, I went to my father.

He echoed, that no, it would not be a good idea to take someone into my car as a young woman. I could bring him something; I could contact someone else…

I needed to hear, the reassurance and “No.” from my father, because deep down I didn’t have a peace about doing it alone, but I so wanted to DO SOMETHING!

I was told I had done enough…

Oh! But, how is “enough” measured?

And, a question- oh a question I’ve been putting off to find an answer to for a long time- surfaced again, asking to be answered and made at peace with.

How many times have I failed to do anything because the solution to the problem is “unwise,” “unsafe,” “audacious,” “unconventional,” or because I’ve been worried about how it will be looked at and what people will think?

As I write this all out, I’m seeing something else, how many times have I failed to do anything because, for one reason or another, I don’t ask for help.

I like how a fellow blogger put it here,
“To ask for help is to admit inadequacy. Exactly. And to receive help is to welcome a gospel-like gift: an empowerment of grace, a reminder of our need, and a humbling image of salvation.”

And what about when there’s not help?

Friends, I don’t have answers… I would love to hear other people’s thoughts and hearts on this. Please comment below and let’s get a conversation going.

In this particular situation, I do have help. My father agreed to go with me.

This story isn’t over yet, in some ways I think it’s just the beginning…

I’m coming face to face with burning questions. I’m learning that it’s okay to ask for help. I’m witnessing people being the hands and feet of Jesus. I’m finding that Jesus calls me to love the one He puts in my path.

I’m learning to a greater and deeper extent the beauty of The Gospel.

To give without expectation of return, to those who haven’t earned it, but also to receive when I myself don’t deserve the gift I’m being given.

For it is God who GAVE His son; it is Jesus who GAVE His body, so that I might RECEIVE the benefits of a restored relationship; that I may receive eternal life, though I could do nothing to earn it, and never did anything to deserve it. Jesus still gave.

As I read Matthew this morning, the words seemed to jump off the page and catch my attention in a new way.

“For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.” ~Matthew 25:35-36 (emphasis mine.)

“I was a stranger and you invited me in…” This hit home for me.

My year in Brazil, I was an “estrangeiro,” a “stranger” and so many people invited me in. They fed me; they clothed me, and looked after me when I wasn’t doing well. In doing this, they lived The Gospel, of giving something that is needed, though undeserved or unearned.

This Gospel, that is not just for Larry, but is for me. And it’s for you.

May we, in light of The Gospel message, receive from Christ the gift of undeserved salvation, and may we turnaround and offer it, give, it to others.

So, questions to ponder and comment on below:
~When do we ask for help?
~When is “enough” enough?
~What do we do when we need help, but none are available or willing?
~Is there ever a situation where doing something that would generally be considered “unwise” or “unsafe” is okay? How do you determine this?  

24 July, 2015

a little girl and her Daddy

I saw a little girl; she was holding the hand of her daddy as they were walking on the beach. Her little dress was flowing in the breeze.

I saw their feet; her tiny two or three year old little feet.

Stumbling

 Tripping

Struggling to walk in step with her daddy. Walking in the sand can be hard… she was trying to keep up with him.

I saw the daddy take the little girl’s hands in his and swing her up, putting her on his shoulders.

He carried her on his shoulders.

There she was, arms outstretched, feeling the breeze on her face, enjoying the ride; her eyes were closed, no longer worrying or needing to worry about keeping up with her daddy.

She was with him.

God’s been reminding me that I need to rely on His strength.

I need to take the focus off of my struggles and allow Him to carry me on His shoulders. It’s there I can see the bigger picture- I see what He sees.

It’s there I am truly free.

Secure.

I no longer have to worry.

I am carried on my daddy’s shoulders.

30 November, 2014

Thanksgiving in Brazil

If you’re wondering whether or not I got to celebrate an American holiday, here in Brasil, the answer is yes. I was invited over to an American/Brazilian family’s house for the evening to celebrate with them and a bunch of other Brazilians.

The best pumpkin pie I have ever had. No kidding.
FOOD!
The food was pretty much what you’d see at a typical Thanksgiving dinner: Turkey, stuffing, pumpkin pie, green bean casserole, all made from scratch and appetizers such as deviled eggs. The only non-typical food was that of a Brazilian favorite- coxinhas (basically a shredded chicken mixture, rolled in dough, which is then fried- delicious, then again, what fried thing isn’t delicious?) We didn’t have the typical cranberry sauce or anything made from sweet potatoes as those things cannot be found here. Even with all the great food however, I still found myself thinking of rice and beans (only briefly, though).


My favorite part of the day however was when Ramona (another American missionary- who has been here for 30 years, more or less, and is married to a Brazilian) told us that if we wanted to, we could write out what we were thankful for on a paper leaf and hang it on the tree she had made from a branch (my mom does this!) I love stuff like this. Traditions like this where we stop and take time to reflect, together, on the goodness of God.

 




This Thanksgiving, what am I thankful for?

Praying before our meal.




1. FAMILY here and there. I’m thankful for the “family”- being defined as families and people that have adopted me and welcomed me, and of whom God has given me here in Brasil and I’m thankful for my family in the states who will always be there for me with whom I can talk to about the spectacular and mundane.

2. PORTUGUESE. Honestly, sometimes I don’t want to speak or try to understand and though, at first, I thought of it an “injustice” that we would be celebrating Thanksgiving, an American holiday, in Portuguese (I was being a bit dramatic), it was a lovely thing. Though it’s not always easy, it is a part of my life now, each day I’m learning, and not just the language itself.




Youngest and the oldest.

Love these faces!
"Britt, we haven't played football for the last 5 years." was the response I got after asking if they had continued our family "tradition" of playing (American) football every Thanksgiving.

3. This SEASON OF my LIFE- Specifically in being single. (I wrote about this same thing almost exactly a year ago...)

While at the Thanksgiving dinner, missing familiarity and family, I looked around and found myself wishing I was like the young married couple sitting across from me- wishing I had someone to hold onto and an “automatic” person with whom I could turn to or talk with.

I looked to the left of me to the family with two young kids and found myself wishing that I was even like them- with children to look after and care for. God challenged me to not look around me and wish I had something I didn't but to see the beauty and the things I could be thankful for in being single.

Once I opened my eyes, my perspective changed. I saw that I could easily insert myself into any of the conversations going on, or I could choose to be a “fly on the wall” and quietly observe all that was going on around me. I could dismiss myself easily to go Skype my family and I could be lost in my own thoughts and talk with God about them. This is a beautiful season.

~*~

It was a great Thanksgiving spent in Brazil, I would love to hear how yours was spent and what you are thankful for during this season!

Now it is time to start thinking of Christmas... ;) What are your plans?

02 October, 2014

different

For the last month and a half, since being in Brazil, I have been pondering off and on what to write “back home” about.

How do I describe what has become so “normal” to me?

Yet, at the same time, or at times, feels so incredibly foreign?





The truth is,


This is different.



Brazil                                                                            America

Food, culture, language, land, thought processes, church, people, traffic, roads, dress, houses, ways of cleaning, laundry, ways of relating, names of guitar chords…

Everything.

Yet, again at the same time, it’s not so different.

*A note on the word different- when I say “different,” I am not saying “bad.” I’m not even saying, “better” or “worse.” I am simply saying

different.               

At times these differences make me grin so wide and laugh to myself that I wonder what those around me are thinking and if they think I’m crazy.

Other times these differences overwhelm me and I begin to long, even more so, for “home,” in this case, being the place of familiarity.

So how would I describe Brazil?

One thing is for sure- a simple blog post cannot describe the intricacies of a culture I am just beginning to know and the depths of my heart and feelings in reaction to this understanding.

As I sift through these things I’m experiencing, both similar and different, I will do my best to write about them, so that hopefully you can see a bit more of this adventure we’re on together.

If you have a specific question, please don't hesitate to ask, just comment below or send me a message. :)

26 August, 2014

Where's your heart? A Change of addresses

A couple weeks ago I went to the DMV (Department of Motor Vehicles) with my mom to add her name to the title of my car. When I received the paperwork to complete, one of the questions I most dread was asked of me. Staring at me, refusing to let me bypass its glare, read the word

Address

Why do I hate this “question” so?

I hate this question because it reminds me of the unknown. It takes what I thought I had finally come to terms with and had found an answer to and reminds me of how I really don’t know the answer at all.

When you ask me my address, I immediately understand that to mean,

“Where is home for you?”

A question I've been struggling to come to terms with since my first adventure in missions when I was 16.

In the last two years, Chico had become my home, but now I was moving to Brasil… with a heavy heart I put the address of my parent’s home. Fighting back tears, I heard God speak to me,

“Brittaney, where’s your heart?”

We've heard it many times, the saying, “Home is where your heart is.” With a tinge of frustration, I answered God’s question with, “My heart is in Chico, in Brasil, and in India for that matter!”

“No, Brittaney,” God gently replied “Your heart is with me.”

My heart is with God. My home is with him.

In a world of unknowns, where nothing is constant, and where even stability is insecure, I will rest in him, my Jesus, clinging to him with all I have because he is constant, he is stable, and he never changes.

May God’s peace that surpasses all comprehension, guard your heart and your mind in our precious Christ Jesus,*

Brittaney :)

*Philippians 4:7