We're Going to Thailand!

Hey! We're going to Thailand!!!!! Click on the letter below to read about it.  See afterward for prayer and support info!

Please be praying. If you'd like to receive video and email updates, please send your email address to: ttaylor@imconnected.org

If you'd like to support our team, go to www.imconnected.org and click on "give" in the bottom, right-hand corner. Thanks friends. We're excited to see what God will do! 

(Click here for highlights from last year's trip!)   Love,  D&T

Wrestling to Rest: mommy heart

I won't give it a label. Because right now it's not what's important. Suffice it to say, it's this season's struggle for him. My oldest baby. My little man. My buddy.

School.

He's bright - even "brilliant" my counselor friend says. It's that aptitude that keeps him buoyed academically. The other obstacles pull at his ankles as we do our best to toss life preservers and call out swimming strategies.

We could just pull him out of the water. But we know that is not the best option. Not for him. Not this season.

And every day my heart screams. And some well-meaning person says, "Op! His nose dipped under." And I think, "Yes, I know. And if he stays under I'll dive in after him, but right now he's still fighting."

And every day I pray. And some days there are glimpses of hope. A strategy here and there that brings success. And other days there is the teasing. The tears. The look in his eye - the frustration in his voice. The anxiety that exacerbates it all.

The other week I sent him, again, into what often feels like the lion's den. And I cried and begged YHWH to please protect him, please shield him, please help him to thrive.

Then my Still, Small Voice whispered, "Beloved. How many times have you prayed - even before he was born - that I would raise him up to be a great man of God? How can that be accomplished if he never has anything to overcome?"

So I writhe in the arms of my Love. I stay my enabling hand. Aiding, but not rescuing - though every fiber of my existence wars against me. Because greater than my frail, fixing love for this prince is the love of the One who created and died for him. Because he is already precious and amazing - but overcoming these waves will make him great. And because he has a Savior who can teach him how to walk on water.

Jesus, help me wrestle to rest.

Job 9:5-8 It is God who removes the mountains, they know not how,
         When He overturns them in His anger;

Who shakes the earth out of its place,
         And its pillars tremble;

Who commands the sun not to shine,
         And sets a seal upon the stars;

Who alone stretches out the heavens
         And tramples down the waves of the sea;

No Offense to the Neck . . .

A week or so ago, we were talking with friends about the statement, "The man is the head, but the woman is the neck and the neck can turn the head any way she wants." (quoted from MBFGW)

It gave me pause for at least twenty four hours thereafter.

Because, really?

1. It's false. The brain moves the head (and everything else, truthfully).

And 2 . . . the neck HAS no brain (of its own - the brain doesn't tend to fair well outside the head). Rather, the neck is a mindless tool which serves its purpose but mainly takes orders from the brain and houses the hoses that move things from point A to point B. Not to mention the fact that it tends to get "wrenched" easily. Do you, as a woman, want to be associated with that? Not me.

I'd rather be the heart. :)

Farewell 2012

As another year draws to its end, I find I am chershing different things. We, like many families, have had both joys and struggles. 12.21.12 didn't happen - so there was that . . . :) Still, tragedy continues around the world and in our own back yard, so each day we remember the treasure it is that our boys are still with us and growing. Having turned 9, 5 and 4 this year, they step closer still toward the little men they were created to be. It’s been precious to see the faith we have prayed and spoken over them begin to pour out spontaneously.

Dusty and a team went to Thailand this summer to help our missionary friends there. When he returned, Daxton began to ask really deep questions about missions and worship. He feels that God is talking to him about things, and wonders if he may some day have a call to vocational ministry. It’s hard to believe he is in third grade. Sometimes I think he should be younger. Other times it feels as though his soul predates our own, so deep are his musings.

Draes is our little prayer warrior - launching into long and heart-felt discourses with heaven over any need, from dinner to diseases. He started Kindergarten this year and instantly became a budding artist and illustrator - constantly drawing. At one point, he was even “selling” his picture books to people to save up money. He was diagnosed with Asthma in July, but it has not slowed him down. He’s anxiously awaiting the start of basketball in January so he can play like his big brother.

Dezdin turned four in November and quickly became the authority on all things - logically. :) He is very bright, teaching himself in both math and reading to the point his dad and I are a little concerned how long we’ll be of value to him. (ha ha). He is also a little singer - often asking us not to sing so he can. He does, however,  concede to let us accompany him. :) His heart for creativity and discovery is astounding. And, every once in awhile, he will break from his conquests to give me a hug or a snuggle. I’ve learned to breathe those moments in and marvel at his very logical approach to life - even God. One evening at dinner he announced, “Guys. God is just protecting us.” “From what?” I asked. “From bad guys,” he stated obviously. 

We thank God each day for who they are, pray for who they are becoming and praise Him for what He teaches us through them.

Dusty continues to lead Connections in the vision to be a Body of believers who rise up to do ministry. It is not an easy model, but God continues to do powerful things in us and our fellow ministers. He plugs away at marketing, real estate and coaching on the side. Last year, the team won the sate 2A trophy! He really enjoys his head coach and the guys on the basketball team. And it’s fun for the boys and I to go with him to games and see him pour in to others in that capacity. As I mentioned, he spent two weeks in Thailand with our team over there. We are hoping to go back this year - maybe even take Daxton. Overall, he is just a great husband, friend, father and provider. We are very grateful for him.

I (Tam) finished writing a novel this last year and joined a writing/publishing group pursuant to some long-term goals and dreams I have. It was exciting to finish. I’m leaving the next steps in God’s hand and time as I really feel my purpose for these days is to pour into the boys as much as I can for the Lord and be a friend and support to Dusty. Being a homemaker and mom can seem so menial at times, but I’m reminded of the precious moments and memories of my childhood that shaped who I am. The Holy Spirit is ever near and constantly reminding that He is with us and has called us. With 2013 upon us, we continue to surrender to His leading and endeavor to listen for His whisper at our every step. We are confident He will be with us. 

May the presence of Christ be with you in the coming year as you seek Him with all your heart (Jer. 29:13). If we can be of any blessing to you or pray for you, please let us know. 

Love, 

Dusty, Tammi, Dax, Draes  and Dezdin

15

THANK YOU . . .

For making me second in your heart. From our first conversation there was a part of my spirit that recognized you belonged first to Jesus, no matter what. Playing second to Him has not always felt logical, but always yielded fruit. I think of the times when my whims or emotions would have led the way. Looking back I'm so thankful. If I were first in your heart, we would likely have had less struggle, but we would also not know the joy of risk and obedience to His heart. There's no question you would do anything for me, but the fact that I know you are His means I would never ask you to do less than His will.

THANK YOU . . .

For living in honor. As mind-boggling as it is for me when you speak well of those who have bad mouthed you for the "ump-teenth" time, or treat kindly someone who views you with contempt, I am reminded it is that grace which has kept our hearts as one. I know my name, as well as that of one who would call you "enemy" is safe on your tongue. You are the champion of every man's character, slaying each criticism with blessing.

THANK YOU . . .

For denying the existence of the mold. It would never occur to you to do it the way it has always been done. For that reason you will undoubtedly change the world. You have already changed mine.

THANK YOU . . .

For pursuing your boys. There is something in the heart of a mother, like an emotional umbilical cord, always tied to the heart of her child. And so, we sometimes believe we could do better for them than any other, even their fathers. But in having boys, I have realized how much they need you. Your love manifests more in presence and experience, in action and stability. They will be great men because they have you.

THANK YOU . . .

For living truth in dark, shadowed moments after the babies came and my mind and body betrayed me. When I could not see to hope, you spoke the truth aloud until I could hear. You asked for truth until I could speak it. Then you lived the truth until I could walk in it. I do not know if I will ever have to be strong for you the way you were and are for me. I do not know how you bore it, but you were my rescuer: God's grace reaching out in flesh to carry the fire until I could see the light again.

I have always known our life was not just about you and me. But "you and me" has become such a beautiful treasure from God as He continues to reveal His grace and plan. It is only fitting that He be glorified, and that you receive my gratitude. THANK YOU . . . for all these things and for making this half of my life more amazing than I ever could have imagined. Happy 15th, Dusty.

Salvation or Self?

It's a constant struggle: chasing the Kingdom of God while living in the kingdom of the American dream . . .

We live in a nation of "I deserve,""I've worked hard for" and the "self-made man." No, I'm not making a political statement or attempting to sound unpatriotic (though I will confess these days I ascribe much more to a King and a Kingdom than a flag and a country); I'm simply asking us to compare.

Consider those three statements against these of Jesus: "Blessed are the poor in spirit for theirs is the kingdom of heaven." "Blessed are the meek for they will inherit the earth." "Blessed are the peacemakers for they will be called sons of God." (Go read all of Matthew 5:1-12 - so sweet to the soul).

I must look in the mirror and ask, each day, "For which am I striving?" Because we try, right? We have great plans to submit our hearts to God - but we get distracted. Just like the Pharisees as they built a box around their God, one new law at a time. Just like Judas as he treasured the thought of a kingdom in his heart over the love of a King. The siren song of prosperity and our nation (yes, even this holiday when we try so desperately to keep the Jesus lid glued atop the increasingly loud return to pagan roots) tugs at us and lulls us, blurring the lines between being in the world and being of it.

Going about during this time has been hard! My spirit is heavy - and I think it is because the Spirit within me grieves over the desperation of the masses, snatching angrily at things, traditions and expectations which will not, cannot ever satisfy. And He cries, "Listen to Me! Hear Me! Come to ME! All you who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest."

And am I any better, when I stand in a line annoyed with the caustic people around me or begrudging the time wasted, than the woman who drags her tantrum-throwing child across the asphalt or who snaps rudely at the cashier because she did not grab the correct sale item?

Am I any better, when I hold people at arms length to keep my heart from being slashed, than the knife-wielding woman flailing frantically in her dark despair, aching for freedom and healing, reaching for the name of Jesus even as she bloodies those who would help her?

I am not. But I have within me a Spirit. I have interceding for me a Savior. I have ordaining me, a Father. And I will overcome. I will let Him change my heart - even as I stand - and sing with my child instead of stewing in frustration. I will enable to him to open my arms, even if the knife pierces me before her head hits my shoulder. I will choose to walk in salvation and not in self.  Jesus help me. May the grace and courage you embraced as you stepped into our frail humanity - in its most vulnerable form - envelop us as we wait for You.

Gray is My Favorite Color (no, not 50 shades)

I am a melancholy. I know. I've tried to run from it. I don't always seem so in public because I was trained  by ministry to be "on" for others, but I am a melancholy.

My favorite color is gray.

I love  moody music (well, lots of music, but the moody stuff makes me creative).

I FEEL EVERYTHING to the depths of my spirit and will cry over someone else's plight as easily as my own.

And the personality tests say so, so - who argues with those, right?

Being melancholy used to be a burden. As a child I was hurt deeply and often by (possibly) well-meaning people who too readily shared their disapproval or simply did not share enough approval.

As a teen I developed my hatred for injustice and, because injustice ABOUNDS, I became a dark, brooding herald of all that went awry in the world. I was the face and the attitude for outcry in my circle of influence. And as ugly as it probably was on the outside - the inside felt more dismal still.

I was negative. I was a complainer. I was bitter. I was judgmental. I was scared. I was sad. And it was "everyone else's fault."

Then I met a man. Well, I had really met him YEARS before. I guess it's more accurate to say I got to know him.

Jesus had been in my life since childhood. I knew He was the means and the end to this life. But I had not answered the beckoning of the Spirit. He drew me - but I had not learned to submit to Him. At about age 18 I began to hear the voice of God in my Spirit - not just sense His presence, but feel direction. "Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you saying, 'This is the way; walk in it' " (Isaiah 30:21).

It did not happen overnight, but as I began to submit my heart, my will and ESPECIALLY my thoughts to the Spirit, He started to unwrap the gift of my melancholy. Yes, I said gift. (Psalm 68:18)

I began to see that my pain was a call to run to His arms - a call to love others as deeply as I needed to be loved (something I can only do by His power). Clouds lifted and I understood that my terminal burden for the brokenness and malfeasance in the world was a call to pray and act, not simply sulk, stomp my feet and give up.

And with each revelation came another beautiful tag: freedom, joy, life, breath, hope.

Sometimes healing is not a taking away, but a transforming. And we find that His grace is sufficient and His face is BEAUTIFUL and His love is enough.

However you were created (Psalm 139:14) and whatever your "gift" is - whether it feels like your oyster or your cross to bear - if you will give it to Him, daily, and seek His mind and His heart (Isaiah 55:9), He will reveal the joy of its purpose. And He will give you peace (Number 6:24-26) (Isaiah 26:3).

Gray is still my favorite color. :) And I have become increasingly aware of how it's naturally null shade tends to bring out vibrance in the colors around it: the verdant hues of the pines against a thundercloud; the brilliance of vermillion, gold, amethyst and salmon as the sun breaks through after a storm!

Whatever your "favorite color" - it was given to you by your Creator, and He alone can make you shine in the rainbow of His Promise. Chase His heart. (Philippians 2:12-16a) (Jeremiah 29:13).

Love to you.
Truth in love,
Tam