Chasing Sunsets

You cannot really chase a sunrise. As you move toward it, it responds in kind, and the two of you become like long-separated loved ones, hurrying toward each other until you meet in the bright embrace of a new dawn. No, if you find yourself chasing the sun… you are likely chasing a sunset.

Lately, I find myself chasing sunsets. Often. I think it began when my momma passed. I remember getting the call on my way up the mountain. I was headed to a leadership retreat when my sister phoned. “She’s going downhill fast. You decide.” I remember crying out to God on that narrow two-lane road.

“Jesus, if You want me to turn around, You have to provide a place.” I was pressed between a steep incline to my right and a raging river to my left. Rounding the next bend, I glimpsed an alcove just large enough to turn the car around. The Spirit confirmed His direction, and I raced down the hill... chasing the sun.

I think my idealistic mind assumed His leading meant we would arrive just at the right time to whisper our sweet affections and have our beautiful, cinematic moment of farewell. But the sun descended as we hit the highway, and just two hours into our frantic journey, we got the message, “Mom passed away at 9:10 pm… so drive careful…no rush.” 

I stood incredulous, staring at the words. It was surreal. I did not truly believe it. For the remainder of the 10-hour drive, I wrestled between sleeplessness and the skittering hope that she wasn’t really gone.

In truth, I am not sure what I had hoped for. We had said our goodbyes each time we had spoken over the last six months. No “I love you” or “I’m so proud of you” was left unuttered. I had been present with her as much as I was able, with the life God has called me to. I had laid in bed with her, held her hands, kissed her forehead, and reminded her what an amazing mother she had been when she expressed fear that she hadn’t done well. There were no regrets. No questions. Yet, it simply was not enough. Like the ache of reaching the horizon only to watch helplessly as the light sinks anyway, the whisper of her spirit disappeared behind the veil - out of my grasp.

I heard a pastor say once that death hurts so much because we were created for life. I believed him. I hold to that truth still. “I am the Way, the truth, and the Life,” Jesus said, “No one comes to the Father except through me” (John 14:6). He is the life. And so I know my mother’s sun has not truly set, for she is present in eternity with THE SON! 

There are days when it feels as though someone has reached in and stripped out a strand of my emotional DNA - like there is a part of me, not gone, but inaccessible for a time. It is a pang that veterans of loss tell me never goes away; we simply learn to live altered. The beauty in my faith, however, and the metaphor God gave us in the science He created is that the sun rises again! Now living with a piece of my heart in eternity or “one foot in heaven” as my sweet friend Sara says it, I so much more appreciate the symbols of the heavens. 

The moon is an effulgent reflection of the true light we long for. The stars are a glittering indication of and drawing to all that awaits beyond. This life is the night, but the Son will dawn again. “And there will no longer be any night; and they will not have need of the light of a lamp nor the light of the sun, because the Lord God will illumine them; and they will reign forever and ever” (Revelation 22:5 NASB).

As I have taken to chasing sunsets, God has brought back to me a sweet memory of my mom. I was about three or four years old, and we were at the family camp we attended each year. The buildings of the camp are constructed all throughout the elevations of the land which is nestled in the Black Hills. My mom had dropped me off at the children’s class to be occupied while she and dad attended the evening service. I recall I watched as she walked the path of the red-clay hill toward the tabernacle, and I began to panic. With resolute silence, I tried to follow her. I would have succeeded too, had not a pesky, responsible, teenage helper snatched me up and returned me to the children’s building. I remember the image of my mother’s back as she ascended - unaware of my heartache - totally focused on her necessary destination.

Nearly forty years later, I can return so easily to the emotion of that tiny heart. I find myself behind the wheel of my car, often driving south and west in pursuit of the fading light, and it feels like I am seeking to follow her up the path. As I sit on whichever distant hill I can reach, my precious Savior meets me in that space - the only one who can see both her soul and mine. As we tarry there, watching the dimming light - He whispers to me of bloodlines and generations, both spiritual and physical, the tapestry of an eternal Kingdom I can neither see nor grasp… barely glimpse. Before I turn the car around and head back toward the emerging of the stars and the moon, I consider this. Just as I grew to meet her in places of womanhood and motherhood, and even climbed that very red-clay path as a mom myself, I will one day grow to ascend the hill on which she has preceded me. I think back upon missing her “sunset” and realize with assurance that we did not arrive too late. She did not need me there. She saw where she was going. She knew into Whose arms she ran. She had finished her good work on this side of eternity, and she ascended with confidence toward her eternal sunrise. And in that thought is a great joy. There is a time coming when our hearts will no longer be inaccessible to each other. And on that day, I will have no more need for chasing sunsets.

The River and the Chainsaw

I love the Bible. Every time I read it, I discover a new secret about God and His heart for His creation that had previously eluded me.

So it follows that I get ridiculously excited to share and process God's Word with my kids. This week we have been memorizing and discussing Ephesians 4:29, "Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen." 

I learned this year that the impulse section of our brains ("fight or flight," "my way or the highway," etc) is fully developed by age TWO. Our frontal cortex, however, (the impulse-managing-rational-choice-making-is-this-a-good-idea section) can reach full development as late as TWENTY-FIVE!! 
Thus, while I'm not so idealistic as to believe it will be a fully-functional strategy with my kiddos for some time we do want them to have the practical foundation. So we memorize and discuss. And - as is common - they blow my mind. 

Dezdin: "So, when we use kind words, we're kind of like the river that runs along the roots. But when we use hurtful words we're like the chainsaw."

There had been no discussion of trees up to that point, but all at once our little six-year-old had painted a powerful picture of the effect words have. And I was convicted. My thoughts had been on the external - keeping focus on using light words and not heavy. Dez, though, cut straight to the truth of the matter - how our words impact the soul. If the heart of our words is to build others up, we are like the river that refreshes and nourishes the roots of the tree and brings growth. If, however, the heart of our words is pride and selfish gain (being wise in our own eyes, putting others in their place, etc), we become the chainsaw that cuts them off at the stump. Can they grow back? Yes. But it can take years to recover from a comment that levels the soul. Have you found that to be true?

I turned the focus of our thinking from, "What words are we saying?" to "What are my words DO-ing?" As we get loaded in the car, walk through the grocery store, get ready for bed, clean up the table and on and on and on - am I the river or am I the chainsaw? Oh, Jesus, let me be the river!

Spirit, put a guard on our mouths, that we can love in word and action. That the fruit of our lips is truth in love and grace in all. Let us nourish the seed You have planted, and may the heart of our words be love!

Postscript: Today some harsh words were begin exchanged...
mom: "Hey bud, that tone is kind of rough."
brother 1: "I'm sorry I chainsawed you. You're a really great brother."
brother 2: "I'm sorry I chainsawed you too. You're a really great brother."
Then they commenced dancing around the room like growing trees. I love how God waters the seeds He's planting!

Overwhelming...2014 in Review

Greetings Friends and Family!

Wow! It has been quite a year. We bid 2013 farewell with the happy news that we were expecting baby number 4! Then 2014 came in like a flood...

In January, we found out our little would be a girl, but that she had a condition called polydactyly - which could mean as little as extra digits and as much as only surviving hours outside the womb. For months we prayed, wrestled and waited surrendering to the sovereign heart of God again and again. It was, in a word, overwhelming.

In May, as we waited for our daughter’s arrival, my (Tammi’s) mom landed in the hospital with stomach pain. Exploratory surgery discovered stage 3, peritoneal mesothelioma. Originally, they gave her 4 to 6 months to live. It was devastating, overwhelming. 

During that same time, a pastor and friend of ours approached Dusty about merging our two church plants. He and his wife had been called to the mission field and did not want to leave their grace-filled community in the hands of just “any normal pastor” (I believe that’s how he put it. Ha ha!) Combining churches, visions, people...? Overwhelming.

How often do so many of us find ourselves - as we walk this life - in similar situations with circumstances and questions so daunting we scarcely know how to step, let alone survive? We pursue happiness praying it will bring with it the joy that staves off despair only to discover that trial always seems to find us. How grateful I am, when I consider the life of Jesus, that He was no stranger to the overwhelming nature of this life. 

Think of the circumstances surrounding his arrival: A mother with a highly suspect explanation for how she could be a virgin and “with child” simultaneously. A betrothed with an equally implausible argument as to why he was standing by his girl. An unlikely audience of shepherds composing terror at the sight of heavenly messengers (Oh to be thus terrified!). And a delivery, surrounded by livestock and hay! We sing “Silent Night,” but I dare say...overwhelming.

Then consider the state of his departure: Falsely accused. Wrongly convicted in unlawful trials. Abandoned by those who swore devotion. Cursed on a tree even in His innocence. Broken for those whose sin demanded his life as ransom for their redemption. OVERWHELMING.

And when we sit with him in the quiet of our desperation and become, as He was, acquainted with sorrows, our hearts are suddenly permitted to draw further in to His heart. We taste sweeter the peace of His presence. We are filled more deeply from the well of His love. And His strength is made perfect in our weakness. 

Life can feel and be overwhelming. Sometimes we are struck by and must stop in the enormity of its moments. And yet life does not stop moving, and God does not stop sustaining, amazing and, yes, overwhelming - by his goodness, his comfort, his assurance, his grace and his love. 

Our little Taelyn entered this life on May 15th, healthier than we had dared hope. She had extra digits on three appendages, but no other complications. She is growing, learning and lighting all of our lives. OVERWHELMING!

My mom got a second opinion at MD Anderson in Houston and qualified for radical surgery. On July 23rd, she underwent a ten-hour procedure which extended her prognosis from a few months to 8 to 15 YEARS! Her journey has opened a new door for her to minister to others with cancer. She has introduced several hopeless people to MD Anderson where they, too, have found greater victory over the disease. OVERWHELMING!

In August, two little church plants started holding services together. In September, Revive Church launched anew: two stories, two backgrounds, two hearts becoming one just as the Lord our God is ONE! I have been amazed and healed as I watch this group of people extend such grace and hope toward one another. God continues to say, “Keep watching! I’m going to do things you have never seen and could scarcely imagine!” OVERWHELMING!

In the midst of all that, Dax turned 11 this year. He is in 5th grade, almost as tall as I and growing into such a young man. He has been a life-saver with Miss Taelyn. During all the crazy and transition, he has stepped up to help both his dad and I carry the load. He is such a great big brother (I call him my “manny”), and his sister adores him. It has been fun watching his heart for the Lord grow. He reads his Bible independently and applies the stories he’s read to situations we face. That’s been cool!

Draes turned 7 in June and is in 2nd grade. He continues to blow our minds with his compassionate servant’s heart. We were overjoyed when he chose to be baptized this year in Revive’s first baptism service! His passion for justice and truth is a bright spot in the world. Once recently, as we were discussing whether it was the best choice to give money to people panhandling, he quickly decided we should build them a house and give them his bed instead. It’s pretty humbling to raise such a kid.

Dezdin turned 6 in November and couldn’t be more proud. He is all humor and logic, so when I get little stick figure drawings with hearts, the “I love you” sign or he asks for a snuggle, I soak it up. He is thriving in Kindergarten and seems to have found his niche in school. His greatest goal, currently, is to get to first grade so he can eat lunch at school like his brothers. “Mom, how many days ‘til I’m in first grade?” is a weekly question. He constantly causes me to shift my perspective and see the world from a new angle.

Taelyn is 7 months old as I write this. She is beginning to push up on her knees, but not sitting or crawling yet. I have a sneaking suspicion once she starts moving, I won’t ever get to stop. She loves people and the din that surrounds them. It’s a beautiful thing to watch her place her fully-extended, six-fingered hand against someone’s cheek and bury her head into their neck. As her name intended, she seems to bring beauty and light wherever she goes. We are humbled and grateful to know her.

Dusty... ha ha, well, I say it every year, but he continues to spin circles around us! He remained rock solid through all the questions surrounding Tae, my mom’s cancer, and - with the great help of the Holy Spirit, our friend Dennis and the amazing people of Revive - navigated a merger this year! I’m always amazed at the sheer amount of what he can shoulder.

Alas, I (Tam) cannot measure my accomplishments by completions (unless you count mounds of diapers changed, meals consumed, dishes done, loads of clothing laundered or tender, loving moments shared. :) But the Lord never lets me far from His assurance that this is an important job, and that he handpicked me to be heart and hand for this not-so-little family. My prayer is that you can embrace the same assurance for your current season of life.

So as another year closes - a blip on the radar of our loving Father’s eternity - I feel compelled to rejoice and give glory to our OVERWHELMING GOD! Because His “overwhelming” overpowers all the circumstances of this life. 

I leave you with HIS indelible words: “I have told you these things so that you will have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” John 16:33

Virago

One of my screen savers is a succession of floating vocabulary words. Lovely letter combinations in fading shades of blue and white cascade across the screen, one stopping now and again to be joined by its dictionary definition. Who doesn’t need to expand their vocabulary, right?

One particular morning the defined word resting in view when I sat down was “Virago.” It is defined as follows:

vi·ra·go

vəˈrägō,-ˈrā-/

noun

noun: virago; plural noun: viragoes; plural noun: viragos

1. a domineering, violent, or bad-tempered woman.

   synonyms:

   harridan, shrew, dragon, termagant, vixen; More

   • archaic

     a woman of masculine strength or spirit; a female warrior.

Origin

Old English (used only as the name given by Adam to Eve, following the Vulgate), from Latin, ‘heroic woman, female warrior,’ from vir ‘man.’ 

The initial definition saddened me. Do you ever feel that way, like a “domineering, violent, or bad-tempered woman”? I do - more often in my own mind than out, I hope. But in or out, the masked spirit is still ugly. 

But it was the deeper definition that struck a cord. In its origin, THIS was the word given to Eve BY Adam Vir ‘man’ - originally it meant a heroic woman, a female warrior. My English version of the Bible says he named her this because she would be the mother of all living. It takes a hero, a woman warrior to mother all of humanity - ha even ONE of humanity. 

Can you imagine this definition? Can you embrace it? Envisioning us at the beginning of beautiful creation, before we had fallen to the first of many missteps in which we would trust our own minds over the heart of God?

And is it that action, the taking of matters into our own minds, into our own hands, that transforms us from “heroic, woman warrior” to the harpy creature defined as “domineering, violent and bad-tempered”?

My prayer is that as I daily submit my heart and mind back to the One who designed it, like Gomer choosing finally and forever to stay faithful to Hosea, my heart and countenance will shed their warts and rantings, letting them fade into the lovely, yet fierce image of a woman at the dawn of creation. The crown jewel of all God had made. 

Who knew vocabulary could lead to spiritual transformation?!

Teaching me . . .

She’s in there. Her soul. If you can catch her ever-shifting focus and hold it just long enough, you can slip behind the veil and draw her out.

There’s that smile! There’s my girl! But, boy, she makes me work for it. She’s got places to go . . . if she could just get those appendages to obey. She’s got people to see! Well, not so much because she just wants to get to those places and touch those things and see more, do more, grab more, drool on MORE!

I enjoy her every minute, but the thing that makes my heart thump is that SMILE. Her eyes light up, and I get a peek into the girl I’ll spend the rest of my life getting to know - a little piece of her daddy - a little piece of me - everything she was made to be.

And as I chase her darting eyes, push past those cheeks, lift that chin, make ridiculous noises, I’m saying, “Hey! Hey! I’m here. Check me out! I want to know you. Let’s be friends (aside from the whole parenting thing ;)! Let’s do life!"

It’s not so different with you and me, is it? I see so many women driving - driven - sullen-browed and focused, their eyes darting across faces and souls in order to GET THE NEXT THING DONE (pant, pant, heave, sigh, huff). People to compete with, places to go, pinterest projects to. . . ogle. (Maybe just me - hee hee)

Am I missing the living for the life? Like the forest for the trees...

Because I’ll bet if I could just push past your agenda and follow your frantic, darting gaze until we lock eyes (creeped out as you'd probably be) I might just see into your soul. And you might recognize mine. And it might feel good to be known, to be friends, to do life.

Only two months old and she already teaches me. Every day.

Psalm 133:1 How good and pleasant it is    when God’s people live together in unity!

Between Faith and Fear

Tears gushed, relentlessly, carving red, saline paths down my cheeks, splashing salt across my tongue and smudged wet and sticky across the back of my hands as I flailed to wipe them away. "Idiot! You're in a supermarket parking lot! Turn it off!"

I was waiting for my mom. They had come into town after Christmas to celebrate the holidays. She was buying the necessary items to fondue at my sister's house that evening. It was also the week we had found out we would be having a baby girl and that she had genetic complications which could mean as little as a few extra digits or as much as a non-viable trisomy - ending her life moments or days after she left the womb.

I had traversed all the stages of grief in a short time. The last couple days had been spent threatening God - that if He were to take my baby from me I would walk away from ministry, from His call. I had informed Him that I had endured enough for ministry, and this would be the last straw.

But as I sat in the car that afternoon, the song "Oceans" by Hillsong United came over the radio. It was the line, "I am Yours, and You are mine," that opened the floodgates. So many times over the years as I have faced trials or fears He has whispered, "You are mine." And in that moment His heart said, "Wouldn't I be enough? Even if she were taken from you, am I not enough? Are you mine?" And I broke under the truth that He would still be my God - even if I had to go through the worst pain I could imagine. I would still serve Him and He would be ENOUGH. Big enough. Strong enough. Present enough. Patient enough. Loving enough. Healing Enough. Lord enough to take me through. "I am Yours. You are mine." And so there, in that supermarket parking lot, waiting for my mother, I surrendered my baby girl to the will of my loving, sovereign Abba Father.

Little did I know that just months later my heart would walk a similar path, this time with my mother.  Stage 3 mesothelioma. Rare - incurable. Months they gave her at first, but the specialists knew more and were performing cutting-edge surgeries. They could offer her years. YHWH has opened doors and gone before us. He has given us hope and assured us of His hand. And yet, the flames of fear lick the bottom of my heart, searing my psyche. Ten hours of surgery is a long time for any healthy person. Tomorrow will feel like forever. But today I heard it again - the song. "I will call upon Your Name, and keep my eyes above the waves. When oceans rise my soul will rest in Your embrace. I am Yours and You are mine."

This time the words that stood out were, "You've never failed, and You won't start now."

Tonight thunder shook the world outside my tiny window and lightning traced lines across the sky so bright I wondered if one might not enter the room and leave an angel standing at the foot of my bed. I felt the heart of God reminding me of what He has done, who He is and whose I am. So, holding my healthy baby girl in my arms, I surrendered my Mommy to the hands of my Savior.

For, just as I, she is His. He has never failed. He has never abandoned. He has never betrayed. And He is enough. Holy. Worthy. The final step in the dance between faith and fear is surrender. We take it many times in this life - but the first breath after that seeming defeat is sweet, sweet peace. And He is still on His throne.

By the Seconds

"Mommy! I can't tell time by the seconds because they keep moving on!" Dezdin uttered in frustration toward his watch.

Dusty and I shared a knowing look over the dinner table at the profundity of his statement - no doubt lost on his five-year-old perspective.

Seconds ticking by. Monumental moments passing.

Six: The number of months we waited to meet our little girl - not knowing fully what that would mean.

Three: The number of days after my mom was supposed to be here for Taelyn's arrival that we found out she had rare and terminal cancer.

Twenty-six: The number of nights (sometimes LONG) we have held our little gift, praising God for how healthy she is.

Eight to Ten: The number of years they now say Mom could live if her surgery goes well.

When life, and eternal life are laid on the scales and the line, one starts to count time differently. It becomes less about accolades, accomplishments and entertainment. EVERYTHING becomes about moments when you know not what the next one holds or how many remain.

Counting time by seconds. By breaths. By glances and meaning. Then releasing each one to the promise of forever and cherishing the fact that you were able to hold it in your hand - in your heart - for any time at all.

Infinite: The depth and height, length and width of God's love for YOU - for me - for each of us.

Eternal: The moments we will have to rejoice in His presence if we will receive the gift of His grace through Jesus, by the Spirit.

Life is a precious vapor and a dim reflection of what we hope for. May it be that we, by our hearts though not our watches :), begin to "tell time by the seconds."

A Tribute to my Mom

Happy Mother’s Day Mom!

Been thinking about you so much in preparing for this little girl. I think about how young you were when you lost your mom - physically. How much younger you were when you lost her, as a mother, to her illness.

It makes each day we have had and will have that much more precious. I remember the times in helping us conquer new milestones (weddings, births) when you would humbly say, “I’m not sure how to handle this. I didn’t really have a mom.” She was sick so much of your life. You took your care of her and turned it into a career of compassion.

She wasn’t able to experience so many things with you. You took that and turned it into a life of absolute involvement in your kids’ and grandkids’ lives.

You raised 4 girls. We’ve all raised boys. And now this little anomaly. . . I think you’re going to need to write me a manual. :)

Thanks for loving my dad and honoring a vow you made for 49 years now. Thank you for holding up the standard of Truth and doing ministry even when it hurt. Thank you for loving the unlovely and teaching us to have compassion for those who go unseen. Thank you for working the background when few others would. Thank you for doing right even when there was no glory, no credit, little hope.

God has pulled so much out of your heart because you surrendered it to Him. You have fought demons and insecurities then promptly handed us the tools to take the battle farther.

It’s a truth we have always seen, but today I need the rest of the world to know. Your children rise and call you blessed. Your husband also, and he praises you. (Proverbs 31:28) Glory to God for the amazing mother you are. I love you. 

Tammi Lynn

Anticipating Arrival

She is supposed to be here soon.

It was not our plan. I had finally told God I was content with my 3 (even though something in my spirit had always felt like we would have 4).

It was not our timing. I had hoped to be finished having kiddos a few years ago - DEFINITELY before 35.

It has not been our way. From the shocking moment when they revealed she would be a little girl (What? We don't MAKE baby girls!) to the quieting realization moments later that not all was "normal" on the screen we have fallen more and more on unanswered questions and the faith that sustains just beneath.

The beautiful reality surrounding this little girl, though, is that all along she HAS been and WILL be . . . HIS.

The reality that he put #4 in my heart so many years ago... The truth that we would not have pursued having another... The absolute discomfort of not knowing, yet having no option but to look into His eyes and focus on His voice, "Do not fear."

I have never been so overcome with anticipation for the unknown. Lost. Excited. Anxious. Waiting. Resting. Wrestling.

We still have little idea what to expect. Genetic tests would not have changed our course and weren't a real financial option. AND we didn't have peace to pursue them. All I know certainly is that she is coming, and she is HIS.

Her room is being made ready. She is on our tongues at every other conversation - already a part of the family and our hearts. And yet she remains ... with us and not simultaneously.

For the first time I feel a practical understanding for how we are to watch and prepare for the return of Christ while still LIVING in this world. Being in but not of - "One foot in heaven," a friend has said.

Of course she is no messiah - no savior. And yet, there is something - a promise - a purpose - more we will see once she is here.

Thank you to those who have been praying. We ask continued prayer for her, God's will concerning her and for peace. As we wait in anticipation . . .

The "No Complaints" Challenge (For Women Only)

Here it comes! February. A month of hearts and chocolate, flowers, the color red and, for many of us, disappointment. If you’re single, this month can make you feel flawed, broken or abandoned. If you’re in a relationship, you may face the sting of unmet expectations as the culture around you pumps harder the “need” for the high they insist should come from “romance.” 

This year, spurred on by the story of my good friend Laura in a book she has written, I feel led to pursue the challenge of contentment. A.K.A. the “No Complaints” challenge. How many times a day do we notice, point out or pout about what is wrong with the picture of our lives - even if that’s in the mirror?

What if the greatest Valentine we could give to a spouse, our kids, friends, Savior and even OURSELVES is to stop complaining and truly seek to be content?

Here is how it works:

1. I’m going to choose a bracelet, or maybe a ring.
2. Every time I allow something negative or critical to come out of my mouth, I slip that ring or bracelet off and move it to the other hand.
3. I’m even bringing my kiddos in on the challenge because sometimes what I think is constructive or factual is actually critical. They can help me see that. (The husband? Maybe asking him to ride along will be his Valentine. I’m a little more sensitive to his scrutiny. Baby steps people. Baby steps!)
4. My hope is that every time I execute that switch I will become more aware of my thought patterns and as I look at and touch that pretty, little ornament, I will choose to pursue the beauty of contentment and encouragement.

Now, I still plan on being honest! It’s ok to say, “Today has been rough,” or “I’m really hurting.” But those are vulnerable statements and a far cry from, “This house is always a mess,” or “No one listens to me,” etc. 

Think of a day in which every word from your mouth was a blessing and not a curse (Deut. 30:19-20). Can you imagine the outcome? Sweeter than candy! More fragrant than any rose!  So, join me if you’d like love to outlive February.

Here’s the link to our facebook group. (Click anywhere on that last sentence.) Find the page, then private message me if you’d like to join.

"I know how to live on almost nothing or with everything. I have learned the secret of living in every situation, whether it is with a full stomach or empty, with plenty or little. For I can do everything through Christ, who gives me strength" (Philippians 4:12-13).

Gifts and Surprises - A Taylor 2013 Recap

"Every good thing given and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shifting shadow."

I am not a gift-giver. Ha ha. I would LOVE to be - I'm just bad at it. This time of year is always a mental marathon as I try to decide what or how to give and to whom. What will be meaningful, but not wasteful? It's by and large because I'm not a "stuff" person. I value time. Want to give me a gift? Take me to coffee; let's have a philosophical conversation about ... well ANYTHING, really :D.

And then there is Dusty - the EPIC gift giver. Oh! And not only will he give the perfect gift, he'll have seen it materialize out of thin air for 25% of what one would normally pay for it. Ya. He's amazing.

All that and the focus of remembering Christ's entrance upon the stage of our planet - the gift and surprise of grace that His presence, life and death would bring - turns my mind to gifts at year's end. We have been given a great many gifts and surprises this year. Even struggle, I have come to see, is a precious gift from the Father as His hand curves around me and draws me into His side, under His wings.

Dezdin turned 5 in November. His life continues to be our favorite surprise to date. He is self-motivated, independent and a deep thinker. I'm often blown away by his assessments of the world around him and the depth of his spiritual questions. Though he would LOVE to be in school, the deadline holds him off until next fall, so he has been my little sidekick as we navigate the day. I've enjoyed teaching and prepping him for school this year and having the time to get to know him better - just us.

Draes turned 6 in June and is a delightfully-wrapped package of service and encouragement. Anyone who has met him is nodding as they read this. Dusty and I stand in awe at the ability he possesses to just pour love on people. It's amazing and humbling to unwrap aspects of your children you KNOW you have not passed on or cultivated. Every day, he teaches us what it is to find joy in serving and edifying others. My favorite thing is seeing the surprise and joy in a stranger's face when he randomly blurts out, "You're really smart! Have a great day!"

Daxton reached double digits this year. I can remember how terrified I was to be first-time mom. Now I wake each day to the gift of this young-man becoming. He's still very "kid," but has crossed new barriers of confidence and leadership this year. It's such a treasure to enjoy my time with him and realize with anticipation that I'm excited to be his friend one day down the road. His dad and I had the privilege of taking him with us to Thailand in August. We have always wanted to begin young laying a passion in our kids' hearts for missions and service. It was amazing to watch him adapt so effortlessly into a foreign culture and love the people like they were merely new neighbors (click for more!).

Dusty . . . I know I say the same thing about him every year, but it's true. He is like whirling, highly-productive tornado navigating ministry, (click to see Dusty!) business and family. I marvel at the way he relates to the boys - so thankful. Though I can meet their emotional needs, I cannot understand their "manliness" as he does. It's fun to watch their esteem and sense of identity grow in his presence. I don't know how, but in addition to all that, he still finds time to be my friend and do some of the things he loves. This month we are releasing a new album (click to link): songs he wrote sung by several members of the Connections worship team. I have loved watching him take songs that came from his heart and share them - even ownership of them - with others for their joy, worship and experience. We were also able to collaborate with some of our prior bandmates again. That is always a gift.

I (Tammi) have unwrapped a great deal of joy this year. The first gift being my precious family, I have also been able to watch God bring healing and freedom to many people through transforming prayer. Having journeyed - and continuing to walk - this healing road myself, it's cathartic to bear witness with others as the Spirit leads them into truth and sets them free. I have learned not to run from pain, but rest in it and let the Lord use it to knit my heart more fully to His (sounds churchy, I know, but it's the picture in my mind) and heal through it toward greater freedom. I experienced this in a very real way in Thailand - you can read that blog by clicking here. I've also learned that as difficult as it is, healing is highly preferable to "running" on a broken leg. After returning from Thailand, I was ill and in bed for close to a month. Thinking it was just jet lag ... led to wondering if it was a parasite ... led to scheduling a doctor's appointment ... led to realizing we were actually PREGNANT! Yup! Surprise! Ha ha. So although IN THAILAND I had told God my heart was content with three kiddos, He laughingly revealed #4 was already on the way. He does that with me - puts things on my heart so the crazy timing won't completely uproot me. Didn't plan to have a baby this close to 40, but we trust Him and know His gifts are more than we can ask or imagine.

I am thankful for this - that while I am not a great gift-giver, He is. And His gifts (even when they are packaged in ugly wrapping or come, seemingly, too early or too late) are true and lasting... even eternal in the case of Jesus. And we are grateful for another year of gifts AND surprises. Our prayers are with you and yours. May you have eyes to look back on 2013 with gratitude and ahead with hope and anticipation in the One who holds all things and from whom comes "every good and perfect gift" (James 1:17).

All our love,

Dusty, Tam, Dax, Drae, Dez and TBA Taylor ;)

Today

I apologize for my silence the last couple days. I've been wrestling with some things and not sure how or what to share.

At this moment, it is 3:45 am. I am sitting in a hotel in Bangkok, waiting for the taxi to take us to the airport. I am overwhelmed. As Brittany's alarm went off this morning to the song "Restless" by Switchfoot, I was overcome with tears.

How do I go home? I am not the same. (You never are after experiences like this. I knew that was coming.) I know I am not called here full time, like some. But I am not the same Tammi I was. It will affect everything. I will return to my life somewhat an alien. And I don't want to go back and just add this to a list of photographs in the mental album of my life.

But in my devotions, God led me to this:

"Behold my servant whom I have chosen; M beloved in whom My soul is well-pleased; I will put My Spirit upon Him and He shall proclaim justice to the [Thais]. . . A battered reed He will not break off, and a smoldering wick He will not put out until He leads justice to victory. And in His Name the [Thai People] will hope." Matthew 12:18-21

He is the victor. He will hold my heart and lead me, as a new self, through a life full of patterns and relationships that must be navigated anew. He is the author and finisher of faith. And HE will bring the Thais to hope. The work is His.

Praise Jesus.

Days 11 & 12

Saturday, I was still in a great deal of pain, so Dusty and Dax went to teach English. Ros said in the slow season the people have more time to come so they make themselves available more often. The location teaching (at McDonalds) is relatively new. She used to simply walk the streets and teach whomever was interested.

Pain is a distractor. I'm frustrated that it is keeping me either down or unable to invest my whole self. But, today I found a Thai New Testament. Long story, but I feel like . . . no I KNOW God is telling me to give it to Thom (recently realized I was misspelling his name :/ ). Perhaps the pain will last just as long as it takes to deliver it to him???

Saturday night we gathered in our room for team worship. James and Gail (Irish friends Jeremy and Lisa had met when they were here) had arrived and joined us. It's a precious, crazy-amazing thing to gather as the Body when there are so few of you. I feel like I understand better why such amazing things happened in the Acts church. Of course they wanted to fellowship and break bread together EVERY DAY. Of course they soaked up the apostle's teaching like sponges. When those who share your faith and values are less than 1% of the population, having time with said saints is a deep breath of pure oxygen.

This morning we had ACC and shortly after were scheduled to head out to another village to teach English. I was concerned about the time frame. Since God had made the directive clear that I was to give a New Testament to Thom, and because my neck really needed to be worked on again, I wanted to get to the #10 hut before we left. "Lord, help it to fit," I prayed. Interestingly, the resort where we meet asked us to end early that day due to other events going on! Hmmm. I thought. I had spent the better part of service (yes, while listening ;) ) searching my Bible for salvation scriptures and then, by counting books, locating them in the Thai New Testament and underlining them. I figured, if he only thumbed through it, these might catch his notice.

I hurried slowly to the spot. "Interestingly" again, the gentleman who did my massage worked almost exclusively on my left side (where my injury is) without my ever mentioning it. Then I gave Thom the New Testament. When I said, "Praht Jao tell me give this to you. You read? Praht Jao uay pan!" He looked at me like I might be slightly mental . . . he's not entirely wrong, ha ha. But I also imagine his gods don't speak to him, so that would be new. It was kind of refreshing, though, that I felt out of my element sharing it with him - much like I feel sharing with people in the states. It reminds me I'm doing what I've been commanded, not what is comfortable. And while that is unsettling, it is also strangely securing. Please pray for the Spirit to draw Thom.

I got back just in time to change and meet the team to head to Kru Salee's village (Jeremy's Muay Thai trainer). They have a beautiful clearing just behind their village where we were able to gather, play games and sing songs to help teach them English. It was extraordinary. They are such a sweet people.

From there, much of the team went on to do manual labor for another ministry in a Sea Gypsy village. Do you know what a sea gypsy is? Yup, me neither. I'll probably google it hereafter or wait for the team to get back and explain. The work their doing is a bit dangerous - working in dirty sea water - so children were not allowed. Between Dusty and me, I suppose they got the better deal.

I ask for your prayers for complete healing of this pain soon. I would like to finish well. It is a great struggle to be effective in this condition. Thank you!

Days 9 & 10

It's interesting what snags you come across on the mission field and the extra mental acuity it seems to take to convince yourself, "It's all okay!"

Thursday morning the rain kept us from group prayer time. The sun was shining again just in time for meeting up to teach English. That has been a blessing and a constant each week day. We are never certain who is going to show up, but we always know God has ordained the time.

After lunch we walked to the beach for a team meeting to discuss plans for the next several days. Ros and Ed have a spot they frequent, and, since many of us are without phones and a way to communicate, it's always a good place to find one another.

Nopparattara Beach is speckled with Thais, each peddling his or her particular massage hut. The salesman or saleswoman rarely administers massages. Rather, he or she tends to be the best English speaker and most able to engage foreigners to come make a purchase. I had asked Dusty to take the sand and not the road because I wasn't in the mood to reject the kind advances of all the salespeople. But suddenly he was upon us. Hustling across the sand, "Tom" - likely not his given name - offered us sliced pineapple, handed us a flyer and proceeded to walk us down the beach all the time chatting us up about where we were from, if we liked the sun (because of our white skin lol), explaining how the Thais prefer the rain, etc, etc. I'm an easy mark. I think my demeanor screams, "Pick me. I won't say no." But that's why we're here, right? To love on the Thais? Yes, it is! So I listened and questioned him back. He is from the Northeastern part of the country. He came here three years ago to earn money, some of which he sends back to support his family.

Then the conversation became instantly spiritual. He told me sometimes he must go to the temple and give offerings so the gods will bless him or give him luck. I listened for a bit, praying all the time, then asked if I could share what we do. I explained in broken English with one or two Thai words that we pray to Praht Jao (exalted God) and Praht Jesu. That we don't have to worry because He loves us and provides all we need. When we reached our stopping point, I told him I had to meet friends but would try to come back tomorrow and that I would pray - that God would show him His love and blessings.

As if to force me not to abandon my oath, I woke this morning with horrible pain in my neck. After taking several ibuprofen to no avail and being tired of lying on my back, I decided to go see Tom's people and run the risk that a massage would bring more healing than harm. I had the opportunity to chat with him a little more, and I am praying God reveals Himself to Him in a dream or vision. I'm not sure what God is going to do there, but I know He cares for Tom.

As I walked home I thought of Tom and O-ay, Nok, Booee, Camel, Chrishna, Sah . . . the list of faces that surpasses the names I can recall. My heart broke as I considered leaving them. I know my calling is not to be here permanently, but the thought of them being stuck here in the dark as I return to so much light is terrifying. Were it not for Doc and Zina, their family, Ed and Ros, Ong and his family, Chris and April, Jason and Kezia and the few others shining the light in this spiritually opaque land, I would have no hope.    Romans 10:14-15

Day 8 - Spirit and Truth

I wrote back on August 7th about idols - my concern that I not be self-deceived into thinking I am "above" worshiping falsely just because my idols are not visible.

Every day, here, we face graven images first hand. It is so in-your-face, but I'm still a little startled each time. There is one on a building across the street from where we are staying that just exudes evil. I know that sounds weird, but I pray against it every time I notice it.

Today we hiked Wat Tham Sua. One of the verses God had given me before we left was Zechariah 4:17 "What are you, O great mountain? Before Zerubbabel you will become a plain; and he will bring forth the top stone with shouts of 'Grace, grace to it!' " Of course, at the time, I felt it was YHWH's confirmation to us that He would remove obstacles from our path by His power (one meaning of the word "grace"), but you had better believe I spoke "grace" to that mountain as I climbed all promised 1,237 steps (Lisa says it's more like 1250-something). It was especially empowering against certain stairs that were practically knee high!

At the top it's impossible not to be awed and saddened by the magnitude of these creations they have erected to a non-living god - especially when one of the Buddha's final commands ordered them NOT to build idols to him, but to seek the "ever-living" God. I use a capital "g" because I know the deity of whom he spoke even if he was never sure. ;)

Doc referenced Elijah's "battle" with prophets of Baal - when he teased them, "Shout louder. Perhaps your god is sleeping or relieving himself . . ." (1 Kings 18:16-39). The heart-breaking difference is that those worshippers of Baal had known Jehovah. The Thai people have no concept of a Lord who loves them. They only know silent gods or, worse, demons who torment them and keep them from the rest that might give them relief to hear truth.

On the streets there is a sarcasm and a desperation - survival emotions bred of a belief in karma - and as the sun goes down the darkness is palpable. Hatred, lust and apathy leer at me from behind broken eyes. I wish I could reach inside, pull out the Spirit that I have and hand it to them.

And the thing is, friends. I think the Lord is less grieved by their idolatry than by ours. In the West, we do not carve images and seek their favor, or place them on our mountain tops, but we fashion objects in our hearts. We look to each other to make us "happy." We resent one another and abandon promises when we are not satisfied. We even worship God in idolatry sometimes. Just like the Thais with their gods, we seek Him only for His favor or for protection from the things we don't want to face. But do we worship Him in Spirit and in Truth? Do we lay down our lives for others the way He laid His down for us? Are we daily seeking HIM - not just our understanding of Him? Are we surrendering our agendas and comforts each day that  His kingdom might come?

I sit on the beach here and cry that I am SO blessed to have been drawn at a young age to a God who loves me. That I do not have to climb a mountain to worship. That I do not have to build a spirit house to know my God is with me. Rather, He has come down the mountain to me (Oh Jesus, I am so unworthy of Your love!) Rather, His Spirit has made his HOME IN ME!!!  Father, help us who know you to WAKE UP and worship you, as Jesus said, in Spirit and in Truth that Your Spirit may be free to move through us and touch lives. That through us Your fire might fall and people will cry, "The Lord, He is God! The Lord, He is God!"            http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=03YxgFrDreg

Days 6-7

Yesterday was hard. I woke up with a burden I could not shake.

We started, as always, with prayer time together. A little relief came when I confessed the fear out loud.

We taught English. I had the honor of teaching a muslim woman Ed and Ros have befriended (her name escapes me just now). Most of her face is badly burned and reconstructed with skin grafts. And yet, there is a light inside her that shines when she hears "Gang Mahk" (you're good at that). She is doing wonderfully, and last week accepted a New Testament from Ros. Even with that amazing knowledge, and the hope of her life right in front of me, I was distracted.

We took a few hours to "meditate or pray or seek the Lord" Ros said, in preparation for walking the streets that night. It was wonderful - full of truth and connection with another team mate. But I couldn't shake the heaviness.

As we began walking, just Dax and myself, I struggled to help him understand what we were doing. "It's God's work," Ros had said. "What happens is His; what doesn't happen is His. We are just trying to be faithful and obedient to where and to whom the Spirit leads us." But even knowing that . . . I was terrified.

The enemy just seemed to hover over my head with questions I could not fully hear or fight over the chaos and darkness of the streets here. "What are you doing?" "You don't even speak their language." "How will you explain Jesus to them?" "What good can you really do?"

It makes sense that Ed and Ros, Doc and Zina, Jeremy and Lisa could make a difference. They were here day in and day out. "Mama Ros" is known all over the street. They see her coming and their faces change from tired, hopeless or predatory to hopeful, vulnerable and childlike. It's . . . unlike anything I've ever experienced - except perhaps the rapture on a child's face when he or she sees "Mommy" returning.

But what could we do? We met a few people - entered their shops - learned their names. Foundations. Next time we see them, we can reach out further. The heaviness didn't really lift until this morning. Even now, I can't say it is fully gone, but I take that as my continued call to prayer. It is His work.

Today was better. Daxton asked specifically to teach English to Chrisna today. It's fun to see him making connections with our brothers and sisters here. We walked the streets and met more future friends - doing all we can to show love and grace.

Pray for your missionaries - here and in other parts of the world. Even when you have a small network, it can be such a roller coaster of joy and grief as people come to faith, but wickedness continues to claim hearts and hopes. And even still, He is One. And the work is His.   Psalm 115:1

Day 5 - Every Tribe and Tongue - the family of God

I saw her again. The muslim woman. She and her family "happened" to have breakfast at the same place we were dining. We shared a bright smile - like a brilliant confirmation of all God has planned in her life. I spent the rest of breakfast noticing the similarities and differences in our families. I wanted to know if she wore her burka joyously or if it was a bondage. And I searched my heart with the same questions. A heavy burden rolled over my spirit like a cloud: "How do I pray for someone when I am so far from knowing her or comprehending her situation? I don't even know her name."

"Don't try to understand. Just pray." Came the answer.

During service at ACC, Dusty challenged us to hear the smallest voice of God. I wondered in mirth if the Thais and Nepalis present thought he might be speaking in tongues without an interpreter.

At discussion time, Rosie (Doc and Zina's daughter) relayed how they had liquidated their life in America in about two weeks, acquired their passports in eleven days and come. Then "Susie" began to share. In broken English mixed with Burmese she told the Paulean story of how God called her to Thailand with little money (about 1200 bat - or 36ish American dollars) and no contacts. Her family thinks she's crazy. She sometimes wonders if it isn't true, but God leads her and provides for her and gives her opportunities to minister. Even though I caught about every fifth word, I understood. As we held hands, she apologized that she could only pray in Burmese, but we all agreed - the Spirit interprets for us. So we prayed for one another - sisters of different circumstances chasing the same Heart. It was beautiful.

At 1 o' clock we piled into two different cars . . . And, yes, I literally mean piled. Six of us smashed into the five-person cab and four more sat in the truck bed. "If we were in America we would SO be getting arrested for this." Anyway, the caravan made its way to Krabi Town to celebrate with Pastor Ong, his little family and their church as they had their first, fully-structured service in his new home.
"Check out THAT cross!" Jeremy crowed as we turned onto Ong's street. Probably four or five feet tall, constructed INTO THE SIDE OF THE HOUSE in glass tile, was Ong's cross. I marveled at the thought that when the sun goes down in Krabi, the True Light shines through. :D

EVERY person who claims the name of Jesus should pursue AT LEAST a short term mission just for the experience of worship. The song sheets were graciously printed in Thai and English. We all exulted later at how otherworldly it was to sing the same song in at least two different tongues - at the same time! Then pastor Ong shared about God's justice and mercy (Matthew 20:1-16) while Pastor Chris interpreted (Chris, his wife April and their girls were Thai missionaries who came back to South Thailand last year - for such a time as this).  They spoke about how Thailand is so steeped in the concept of Karma [Whatever your circumstances are you deserve them. You must have done something in a previous life to earn them (we in the West really need to stop jokingly using that term. It is a sad, hopeless thing to believe)] - that the Grace of God and the mercy of God are absolutely unknown to them. They cannot even hope for such a love. So when we as believers walk in these places, we truly carry the Light and the Hope. As I listened to the English and Thai and Burmese spoken and sung today...  As I looked around at my brothers and sisters from, Thailand, Burma, Nepal, Georgia, South Africa, Virginia and, yes, Idaho :) I was reminded of Revelation 5:9 "And they sang a new song saying, 'Worthy are you to take the book and break its seals; for you were slain, and purchased for God with your blood men from every tribe and tongue and people and nation. You have made them to be a kingdom and priests to our God; and they will reign upon the earth.' "

Pray for your family across the world, and ask God when you are to GO. "Please send young people here to learn and speak Thai," April pled. "It's really had!" And she laughed. Pray, Connectors - and anyone reading this. When it comes to missions, we are all called to go. It's simply a matter of to where, when and for how long. Begin the ask - He will provide the details. Your family misses you. Come for a visit. ;)

Thailand Day 4 - Unlikely People. Unlikely Places

7-11
We are NEVER awake at 5 in the morning. NEVER. Perhaps that's why we lacked the common sense to realize that feeding him our favorite Thai snacks from 7-11 was less than wise.

Sugar + 9-year-old, empty stomach = jittery at best.

It was 5 a.m. Surely there is grace for that?

At prayer time he flicked and twitched, scooted his chair loudly, broke my reverence by lovingly touching my arm and urged me to stop crying . . .
"AGH! Sugar. Empty Stomach!" I shook my head. "Lord, how do we help him see the magnitude of all this? Is it possible?"
". . . by my Spirit, says the Lord," came the whisper. (Zechariah 4:6)

Mcdonalds
"You very good teachah!" the young, Nepali man encouraged Dax as they poured over the children's book between them. Camel (my own student) laughed along. Dax and I guided their pronunciation of tough words like "through" and "bear" (Bhalu in Hindi. Yup should have remembered that one!) and they giggled at our attempts to mimic their native tongue. They shared with smiles the sad details of having to live here, alone, to find work. Ed and Ros teach them English - which raises their value at the Indian Restaurants where they're employed - and the love of Jesus.

Daxton flicked and twitched, scooted his chair too loudly, laughed with his new friends and reiterated God's love through his time and his presence. He asked them crazy, seemingly-irrelevant questions, and they all snickered together - connected by some global level of boyishness. The Spirit is vast, beyond mere "sensibility" or convention, and He is good!

The Strip
We walked the street, following Ros's lead as she called to the locals.
"Two minutes? Five minutes?" She asked in her sweet, South African cadence. They call her Mama or Madame and take their smoke breaks to read through a children's book with her.
"How much?" One taxi driver asked. His face flashed astonishment when she told him it cost nothing. In a land where Westerners come mostly to use and take, Ed and Ros shine brightly. Brittany and I sat, transfixed as she shared story after story of the Burmese, Nepalese and Thais she has ministered to: Nok - who accepted Christ just a month ago and has already led 7 or 8 others to the Lord ("That I know of," Ros laughed). The young man Dax had taught earlier - who just days ago said, "Mama, I no more Hindu. I Christian now."  The ten-year-old, Garoob, who is living and working here ALONE! His mother is back in India, and he works twelve to fifteen hour days!
"I really hope Dax can meet him," she said. So. Do. I.

The Restaurant
I had to sit on the side of the bed and pray to surrender my spirit again. I don't love performing in my country - and here we were going to sing in front of people, many of whom do not even speak our language. Insecurity. Fear of seeming arrogant. Whatever it was, I gave it to Him and walked down the stairs to meet everyone else. It was during "Say Your Name" that I saw them. Just before the chorus where we break into an intense cry of the name JESUS, I locked eyes with the brilliant smile of a Muslim woman! Tears overtook me as I sang His Name - now with my whole soul and prayed she and her friend and their precious boys would hear His heart, His Spirit in His Name. I wondered if they would walk away when they realized who we were singing about, but they stayed. Rachel blasted her Celtic fiddle down the strip and the little boys danced. Zina busted out gospel tracks and shared the love of Jesus. Still they stayed. After we had all finished, Ed came to me.

"Tammi, these ladies are from Dubai. They are leaving in the morning, but wondered where they could find your music." With a humble heart I sat across the table from these two beautiful Muslim women and shared our information with them - wishing desperately I just had something to put in their hands. "It's such a blessing we heard you tonight," one of them said, "we leave for home in the morning. Your husband has such a melodic voice!" He laughed out loud (awkwardly so) when I told him she had said that. Dax held my hand as we prayed the Spirit of Christ would continue to draw them and that they might become ministers of the gospel of peace in their circles of influence.

Doc said it well tonight, "I've just learned, God doesn't usually make sense, but 'trust not in your own understanding.' " And as my boys would quote it, ". . . in ALL your ways, SEEK HIM, and HE will direct your paths." Even when you've had little sleep and too much sugar! Oh amazing, equipping and exhausting Presence of God - where will you lead tomorrow? . . .