Posted by Lisa Laree to Beer Lahai Roi
Once a year, Philip Cameron brings a busload of kids to our church. These are kids who didn't grow up with Saturday morning cartoons, or McDonald's Happy Meals, or electronic toys, or even Crayola crayons and Pink Pearl erasers. These are kids who have come from horrific conditions and have survived and are now in safe houses where they are learning that they are important, that they are loved, and that they have a purpose.
These are the kids of Stella's Voice.
We have been connected with the Moldova ministry really from the beginning, sharing in the task of renovating the orphanage at Cupcui so that there were indoor toilets, hot water, and roofs that didn't leak. When the first group of girls moved into the first Stella's House, so they could go to high school instead of being shipped off to nowhere, Philip brought one girl over to the States. Her name was Constantia. (Here is her story ) During that first summer, Constantia surprised Philip by requesting to be baptized. This is a very unusual thing, because for someone in Moldova to be baptized they are considered to have rejected the orthodox faith of the region. It is often cause for estrangement from family and friends. But she had made up her mind, and when Philip came to us that summer she came with him and was baptized at our church.
I can't describe to you the impact it made on me to see this young lady so determined to follow her faith, making a statement with something that we in America almost take for granted. The smile on her face as she came up out of the water was absolutely dazzling.
I came home that day and sat down to my sewing blog to do my weekly post about what I'd worn in choir. Now, there's nothing wrong with that, since most of my sewing is related to what I need for choir and this is my chance to show how these wardrobe pieces are working together. But that day it felt so...superficial.
That was the day the idea for what became Beer Lahai Roi was born. It was a while before I settled on a name and actually started it, but that was the day I decided it needed to happen.
Constantia was with the group today; she'd spent the summer in Moldova, working in the orphanage (which has been completely rebuilt as part of the Stella's Voice ministry), but she was able to join the group for the tail end of the tour. She is in her early 20's now and incredibly beautiful. Since she was baptized, a number of other of the kids from Moldova have been baptized at our church, all at their request. It is profoundly moving. The kids all approach it somberly; they relate what God has done for them, and they come out of the water smiling.
It is hard for them to repeat the things they have gone through. But they do. They take deep breaths and fight back the tears and they tell their stories - neglect and abuse as a way of life. Hopeless despair. For some, attempted suicide. But now, life is different. They have met people who care. They have heard of a God who loves them. They are getting educations, they are helping others, and they have started a church.
And, God willing, they are going to change their nation.
Sunday, August 19, 2012
Friday, August 17, 2012
Snapshot 8/17/12
Yesterday was our 32nd wedding anniversary.
32 years is a lot of years; hard to believe it has been that many, or that our kids are as old as they are.
Makes that line in 'Sunrise, Sunset' really profound, talking about kids, 'I don't remember growing older; when did they?'
I'm still playing catch up from two-out-of-three weeks of travel in July, both at home and at work.
And the Girl's Ministry advancement/awards celebration is Wednesday night; we're about to start again with a bunch of fresh faces in the classroom.
Which is already full.
Gonna be interesting.
Got one more weekend trip coming up next week; The Princess and I are going back home to attend my niece's wedding.
Also gonna be interesting.
Maybe by Labor Day weekend I can actually catch my breath...
32 years is a lot of years; hard to believe it has been that many, or that our kids are as old as they are.
Makes that line in 'Sunrise, Sunset' really profound, talking about kids, 'I don't remember growing older; when did they?'
I'm still playing catch up from two-out-of-three weeks of travel in July, both at home and at work.
And the Girl's Ministry advancement/awards celebration is Wednesday night; we're about to start again with a bunch of fresh faces in the classroom.
Which is already full.
Gonna be interesting.
Got one more weekend trip coming up next week; The Princess and I are going back home to attend my niece's wedding.
Also gonna be interesting.
Maybe by Labor Day weekend I can actually catch my breath...
Saturday, August 11, 2012
No Thru Traffic, part 2
A bit of revelation about the change in roadway I lamented a few weeks back ...
I heard an explanation for the removed bit of road when I was at my class reunion... several years back, there was a horrific accident at that first stoplight past the overpass: an eastbound trucker apparently missed the signage stating that the interstate traffic should exit onto the southbound loop and came over that overpass with no idea that he was no longer on the interstate. With the early morning sun in his eyes, he didn't even see the stoplights and plowed into several stopped cars at full speed.
Something like 6 people died.
I see now why all traffic must exit.
And it's still a good spiritual analogy...what we think is a roadblock may actually be a protection from something we can't even imagine...
I heard an explanation for the removed bit of road when I was at my class reunion... several years back, there was a horrific accident at that first stoplight past the overpass: an eastbound trucker apparently missed the signage stating that the interstate traffic should exit onto the southbound loop and came over that overpass with no idea that he was no longer on the interstate. With the early morning sun in his eyes, he didn't even see the stoplights and plowed into several stopped cars at full speed.
Something like 6 people died.
I see now why all traffic must exit.
And it's still a good spiritual analogy...what we think is a roadblock may actually be a protection from something we can't even imagine...
Friday, August 10, 2012
Reunion
Posted by Lisa Laree to Beer Lahai Roi
Class reunions...folks I haven't seen in years and year showing up like strangers, then something happens... a turn of phrase, a characteristic gesture...and suddenly the focus shifts and I know who I'm talking too. Yes, there have been changes, but , really, how could I not have seen that right off?
I floated around from group to group; catching them in a break in conversation or the moment when one person moved away and left a place for me to step into. I really thought I was going to be able to talk to everyone, because the attendance was small...but after it's all over I realized there were folks there I never managed to catch, including one who apparently left before dinner. Rats.
But there was one....
She came late, as we were finishing dinner and gnoshing on the excellent desserts that one of our classmates had created. I saw her and her companion come in and didn't recognize either of them. In fact, I didn't realize which one of them was our classmate until I saw her greet someone, hugging and petting as if he had been her most cherished friend. Those of us at our table looked at each other. "Do you recognize her?" No one did. It wasn't surprising; years of abuse of one kind or another had left visible evidence. I expected her to be one of the classmates that had attended the other elementary school; nothing about her was familiar at all.
I watched her out of the corner of my eye for a while, still trying to see that clue that would tip me off as to who she was. Nothing.
Finally, as I was chatting with folks who'd organized the event, I asked if anyone knew who she was.
They did, and my jaw hit the floor. We'd been in class together since 4th grade. If I remember right, we'd even worked together briefly at the local ice cream shop. I remembered talking to her at the 10 - year reunion 25 years ago; she'd surprised me by being intentional about talking to me.
One of the guys in the group commented, 'Oh, but that's what reunions are for, right? Talking to your old classmates?'
I knew that she was one person I had to speak to before I left.
And it was just before we left. Standing in the hall, knowing it was time to go but not feeling quite like I could yet, she walked by and I said her name. She turned and looked at me, then saw the name tag and exclaimed, "Oh! I was hoping to run into you!" I got the embrace, the hair petting, the kiss on the cheek. 'Oh, God is so good!' she told me. Then she launched into an apology for the person she'd been in high school. As she talked, I looked closely, still trying to see a shred of the cute gal she'd been. A bit of something about her eyes was all I could perceive; it might've been a mask she was wearing for all I could see that looked familiar. If she had been intentionally parodying Jack Sparrow, it might've been funny, but the speech patterns, the memory lapses and the fidgeting all told me she wasn't playing. My heart broke for her.
And her apology was earnest, almost desperate. In truth, I couldn't remember her doing anything worse than following the crowd, but I knew the power of forgiveness. And I held nothing against her; I could look her in the eye and say with all honesty, "I forgive you."
She repeated how glad she was to see me. 'I think about you all the time,' she said. 'I have dreams about you."
We really had not had that much interaction in high school. In elementary, yes, because we were all in one classroom, but after that...we went into separate tracks. Why I was important to her...I have no idea.
It occurred to me that she could very well be saying the same things to everyone she talked to that night. And being as truthful as she could. She was trying to exorcise something that was tormenting her.
But the pain, the horror of whatever she'd walked through since I last saw her was so clear that, I'll be honest, the altar worker training kicked in. What do you do with pain like that? You take it to God.
And she had already mentioned God. That she felt God had connected us.
I consciously decided not to listen to the voice that hollered 'You're at a class reunion! Not church! That's crazy!' and said..."Let me pray for you."
I got about 3 sentences in, simply asking God to wrap His arms around her and remind her of how much He loves her, and she stopped me. "No!" she said, tears slipping out of her eyes. "I'm not worthy of your prayers...you don't know...I'm not worthy...it's been so hard...I'm so tired..." then she shook herself, wiped her face and said, 'Come on! Let's celebrate!'
She pulled me back into the party room, to the dance floor. The band was good...loud, but good...and she wanted to dance. I tried. For her sake. I couldn't brush her off. But I'm no boogie dancer. I tried to laugh it off, but I felt very awkward. After a couple of minutes, she leaned over and said, 'I think I've apologized to about a thousand people tonight.'
I looked at her and answered for myself, at least. 'It's ok. Really. It's ok.'
And she hugged me once more, 'I love you!' she said... and flitted off to another classmate.
And suddenly I felt cleared to go home. My Sweet Baboo, who only knew a couple of my classmates because they'd gone to college together (one of whom had introduced us), was waiting patiently in the hallway, and it was pushing towards midnight.
As we left, we passed her companion, smoking a cigarette in the parking lot. He asked us what time it was, and we told him. "Oh, I gotta go get my girlfriend," he said, stomping his smoke and heading back in. God, I thought, protect her.
I hadn't thought of her in years; now daily I'm asking the Father to bring her deliverance and peace and healing. To restore the years the locust has eaten. To assure her that 'worthy' doesn't matter. She is loved.
Class reunions...folks I haven't seen in years and year showing up like strangers, then something happens... a turn of phrase, a characteristic gesture...and suddenly the focus shifts and I know who I'm talking too. Yes, there have been changes, but , really, how could I not have seen that right off?
I floated around from group to group; catching them in a break in conversation or the moment when one person moved away and left a place for me to step into. I really thought I was going to be able to talk to everyone, because the attendance was small...but after it's all over I realized there were folks there I never managed to catch, including one who apparently left before dinner. Rats.
But there was one....
She came late, as we were finishing dinner and gnoshing on the excellent desserts that one of our classmates had created. I saw her and her companion come in and didn't recognize either of them. In fact, I didn't realize which one of them was our classmate until I saw her greet someone, hugging and petting as if he had been her most cherished friend. Those of us at our table looked at each other. "Do you recognize her?" No one did. It wasn't surprising; years of abuse of one kind or another had left visible evidence. I expected her to be one of the classmates that had attended the other elementary school; nothing about her was familiar at all.
I watched her out of the corner of my eye for a while, still trying to see that clue that would tip me off as to who she was. Nothing.
Finally, as I was chatting with folks who'd organized the event, I asked if anyone knew who she was.
They did, and my jaw hit the floor. We'd been in class together since 4th grade. If I remember right, we'd even worked together briefly at the local ice cream shop. I remembered talking to her at the 10 - year reunion 25 years ago; she'd surprised me by being intentional about talking to me.
One of the guys in the group commented, 'Oh, but that's what reunions are for, right? Talking to your old classmates?'
I knew that she was one person I had to speak to before I left.
And it was just before we left. Standing in the hall, knowing it was time to go but not feeling quite like I could yet, she walked by and I said her name. She turned and looked at me, then saw the name tag and exclaimed, "Oh! I was hoping to run into you!" I got the embrace, the hair petting, the kiss on the cheek. 'Oh, God is so good!' she told me. Then she launched into an apology for the person she'd been in high school. As she talked, I looked closely, still trying to see a shred of the cute gal she'd been. A bit of something about her eyes was all I could perceive; it might've been a mask she was wearing for all I could see that looked familiar. If she had been intentionally parodying Jack Sparrow, it might've been funny, but the speech patterns, the memory lapses and the fidgeting all told me she wasn't playing. My heart broke for her.
And her apology was earnest, almost desperate. In truth, I couldn't remember her doing anything worse than following the crowd, but I knew the power of forgiveness. And I held nothing against her; I could look her in the eye and say with all honesty, "I forgive you."
She repeated how glad she was to see me. 'I think about you all the time,' she said. 'I have dreams about you."
We really had not had that much interaction in high school. In elementary, yes, because we were all in one classroom, but after that...we went into separate tracks. Why I was important to her...I have no idea.
It occurred to me that she could very well be saying the same things to everyone she talked to that night. And being as truthful as she could. She was trying to exorcise something that was tormenting her.
But the pain, the horror of whatever she'd walked through since I last saw her was so clear that, I'll be honest, the altar worker training kicked in. What do you do with pain like that? You take it to God.
And she had already mentioned God. That she felt God had connected us.
I consciously decided not to listen to the voice that hollered 'You're at a class reunion! Not church! That's crazy!' and said..."Let me pray for you."
I got about 3 sentences in, simply asking God to wrap His arms around her and remind her of how much He loves her, and she stopped me. "No!" she said, tears slipping out of her eyes. "I'm not worthy of your prayers...you don't know...I'm not worthy...it's been so hard...I'm so tired..." then she shook herself, wiped her face and said, 'Come on! Let's celebrate!'
She pulled me back into the party room, to the dance floor. The band was good...loud, but good...and she wanted to dance. I tried. For her sake. I couldn't brush her off. But I'm no boogie dancer. I tried to laugh it off, but I felt very awkward. After a couple of minutes, she leaned over and said, 'I think I've apologized to about a thousand people tonight.'
I looked at her and answered for myself, at least. 'It's ok. Really. It's ok.'
And she hugged me once more, 'I love you!' she said... and flitted off to another classmate.
And suddenly I felt cleared to go home. My Sweet Baboo, who only knew a couple of my classmates because they'd gone to college together (one of whom had introduced us), was waiting patiently in the hallway, and it was pushing towards midnight.
As we left, we passed her companion, smoking a cigarette in the parking lot. He asked us what time it was, and we told him. "Oh, I gotta go get my girlfriend," he said, stomping his smoke and heading back in. God, I thought, protect her.
I hadn't thought of her in years; now daily I'm asking the Father to bring her deliverance and peace and healing. To restore the years the locust has eaten. To assure her that 'worthy' doesn't matter. She is loved.
Saturday, July 28, 2012
Snapshot 7/28/12
I keep thinking I'm going to have a chance to catch up on...lots of things...once I get past (fill in the blank).
Only that stupid blank keeps updating.
Survived a fundraiser cookie baking marathon today.
Did you know there are actual adult American women who have NEVER baked cookies from scratch?
One of them can no longer say that after assisting us!
Our teen girls clubs baked well over 1,000 cookies today; they're in 500 sandwich bags, with anywhere from 2 - 6 cookies in a bag.
Depending upon how big the cookies were and who was bagging them.
We're hoping that we'll have 500 folks at church tomorrow who are willing to donate a buck for a bag and support one of our own young ladies, who is going to be spending a year with the girls at Stella's Voice in Moldova.
We had a little mixup with the ingredients; one batch of chocolate chip cookies got made w/instant bananna cream pudding instead of instant vanilla pudding.
It took us a while to figure out why they tasted funny; ultimately a quick check of the trash can confirmed the suspicion that it was the pudding.
Sometimes those things happen when multiple folks are buying ingredients.
But they actually aren't too bad, once you know what happened, and we now have a new exotic cookie flavor...'Banana Chocolate Chip'.
Which we have packaged at 4 or 5 to a bag.
Can I just say that one of these is very helpful when making quadruple batches of cookies?
Pity the only apron I could lay my hands on was the Christmas one...
Only that stupid blank keeps updating.
Survived a fundraiser cookie baking marathon today.
Did you know there are actual adult American women who have NEVER baked cookies from scratch?
One of them can no longer say that after assisting us!
Our teen girls clubs baked well over 1,000 cookies today; they're in 500 sandwich bags, with anywhere from 2 - 6 cookies in a bag.
Depending upon how big the cookies were and who was bagging them.
We're hoping that we'll have 500 folks at church tomorrow who are willing to donate a buck for a bag and support one of our own young ladies, who is going to be spending a year with the girls at Stella's Voice in Moldova.
We had a little mixup with the ingredients; one batch of chocolate chip cookies got made w/instant bananna cream pudding instead of instant vanilla pudding.
It took us a while to figure out why they tasted funny; ultimately a quick check of the trash can confirmed the suspicion that it was the pudding.
Sometimes those things happen when multiple folks are buying ingredients.
But they actually aren't too bad, once you know what happened, and we now have a new exotic cookie flavor...'Banana Chocolate Chip'.
Which we have packaged at 4 or 5 to a bag.
Can I just say that one of these is very helpful when making quadruple batches of cookies?
Friday, July 20, 2012
A Blessing for the Flute Player
When she was in band (her PE substitute), she switched for a bit to a school-owned piccolo. And she absolutely loved playing it.
But she had to give it back last year, as her schedule didn't allow her a slot in the day for band.
She's kept playing her flute, but she has frequently lamented that she missed the piccolo.
She dropped great hints that she wanted a piccolo for Christmas, for her birthday...but, wow, have you ever priced a piccolo? Even a well used one?
$$$
Then, this past Sunday, she talked to an older friend who owned a piccolo. And the friend suggested she check Craig's List.
So, while she was sitting in the sound booth in the children's sanctuary waiting for her sound cues, she cruised CL via her iPod and found a piccolo, listed in 'excellent' condition, for the astonishing price of two hundred and fifty dollars.
Which, owing to her saving Christmas and Birthday money for a fall church trip to Disney, she had. And she declared that she would rather use it for a piccolo, that she would have forever, than a trip that would last a few days and then be over.
So, while she was at camp, My Sweet Baboo made the arrangements to meet up with the seller and purchase the instrument.
He discovered that it had been listed on Craig's List once before, but no one had responded to the ad. She'd just relisted it Sunday morning. They'd purchased it used for their daughter when she was in High School, and now were selling it for college funds.
MSB dropped it off at the local instrument store/repair shop for a check up, where they consulted whatever the equivalent to a Blue Book for instruments is and learned that this particular model, in that condition, was worth, well, a good bit more than 250 bucks. My Sweet Baboo said that he kinda felt bad for the lady who sold it...but if it had been any more expensive, the Flute Player could not have purchased it.
I think it's an interesting detail that he actually picked it up for her on her 16th birthday.
But she had to give it back last year, as her schedule didn't allow her a slot in the day for band.
She's kept playing her flute, but she has frequently lamented that she missed the piccolo.
She dropped great hints that she wanted a piccolo for Christmas, for her birthday...but, wow, have you ever priced a piccolo? Even a well used one?
$$$
Then, this past Sunday, she talked to an older friend who owned a piccolo. And the friend suggested she check Craig's List.
So, while she was sitting in the sound booth in the children's sanctuary waiting for her sound cues, she cruised CL via her iPod and found a piccolo, listed in 'excellent' condition, for the astonishing price of two hundred and fifty dollars.
Which, owing to her saving Christmas and Birthday money for a fall church trip to Disney, she had. And she declared that she would rather use it for a piccolo, that she would have forever, than a trip that would last a few days and then be over.
So, while she was at camp, My Sweet Baboo made the arrangements to meet up with the seller and purchase the instrument.
He discovered that it had been listed on Craig's List once before, but no one had responded to the ad. She'd just relisted it Sunday morning. They'd purchased it used for their daughter when she was in High School, and now were selling it for college funds.
MSB dropped it off at the local instrument store/repair shop for a check up, where they consulted whatever the equivalent to a Blue Book for instruments is and learned that this particular model, in that condition, was worth, well, a good bit more than 250 bucks. My Sweet Baboo said that he kinda felt bad for the lady who sold it...but if it had been any more expensive, the Flute Player could not have purchased it.
I think it's an interesting detail that he actually picked it up for her on her 16th birthday.
Saturday, July 14, 2012
Drinking Coffee Again
I've referred, once or twice, to a dream of mine that's been on hold for a while. Last year, it looked like it might be time for it to come out into the light of day and, well, be something.
So I sent a text message (or an email, I honestly don't remember which) to the person I needed to speak to about it, offering to to buy coffee for us both to sit down and have a chit-chat.
As I hit send, I heard a paraphrase in my spirit. Remember Jesus telling his disciples that he wouldn't drink wine again until He drinks it new, in the kingdom with them all? Well, I heard 'Don't drink coffee again until you drink it at that meeting.'
So, ok, I knew the summer was a busy one so I figured it be a month or two. But before much time had passed, there were developments in other areas and it became evident that the opportunity for the dream to come out was not going to happen at that time at all.
So I debated my little coffee fast. And I decided that the fast wasn't for that one opportunity, but to get a resolution to the questions I have about that dream. Is it a God dream? Have I heard aright, or have I been fooling myself? These questions have really been plaguing me.
So I decided to keep up the fast until I had the chance to present the dream.
Now, I don't want you to think coffee didn't pass my lips during the fast; I don't think fasting on a feast day is appropriate, so I did break the fast on Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter. But the rest of the time, when I wanted a cup of coffee or I walked by a brewing pot and it smelled so good, that was my cue to pray.
I didn't pray heavily anointed, passionate prayers. Mostly, my prayer was, 'Lord, You know.'
It was a year to the day. We'd had meetings scheduled, but things happened and they got postponed. Which was fine; I didn't want to rush it. When the meeting finally came about, and I was in Starbucks buying two lattes, extra hot, I had the oddest feeling. Part of me really didn't want to go there; I was FINE just praying and not drinking coffee, because as long as I was at that point, there was the possibility that it might be a real, God dream.
But once it really comes out into the light, then the judgment is coming. And it might turn out that I have been distracted, self centered, elitist...whatever...and the dream was not from God at all but a product of my own ego. And I really saw that in the meeting. I could be wrong. And if that's the outcome, then that's it. Move on.
But, you know what the coffee fast did? It gave my dream some credibility. I know that it is honestly being considered; I know if it doesn't go anywhere, it is not because I didn't try or because I missed something somewhere. If it doesn't go anywhere...it's because it's not supposed to.
So, now, I'm enjoying my morning cup again. Strong, sweet, creamy. And every time I pour a cup, I find myself praying, 'Lord, You know!'
So I sent a text message (or an email, I honestly don't remember which) to the person I needed to speak to about it, offering to to buy coffee for us both to sit down and have a chit-chat.
As I hit send, I heard a paraphrase in my spirit. Remember Jesus telling his disciples that he wouldn't drink wine again until He drinks it new, in the kingdom with them all? Well, I heard 'Don't drink coffee again until you drink it at that meeting.'
So, ok, I knew the summer was a busy one so I figured it be a month or two. But before much time had passed, there were developments in other areas and it became evident that the opportunity for the dream to come out was not going to happen at that time at all.
So I debated my little coffee fast. And I decided that the fast wasn't for that one opportunity, but to get a resolution to the questions I have about that dream. Is it a God dream? Have I heard aright, or have I been fooling myself? These questions have really been plaguing me.
So I decided to keep up the fast until I had the chance to present the dream.
Now, I don't want you to think coffee didn't pass my lips during the fast; I don't think fasting on a feast day is appropriate, so I did break the fast on Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter. But the rest of the time, when I wanted a cup of coffee or I walked by a brewing pot and it smelled so good, that was my cue to pray.
I didn't pray heavily anointed, passionate prayers. Mostly, my prayer was, 'Lord, You know.'
It was a year to the day. We'd had meetings scheduled, but things happened and they got postponed. Which was fine; I didn't want to rush it. When the meeting finally came about, and I was in Starbucks buying two lattes, extra hot, I had the oddest feeling. Part of me really didn't want to go there; I was FINE just praying and not drinking coffee, because as long as I was at that point, there was the possibility that it might be a real, God dream.
But once it really comes out into the light, then the judgment is coming. And it might turn out that I have been distracted, self centered, elitist...whatever...and the dream was not from God at all but a product of my own ego. And I really saw that in the meeting. I could be wrong. And if that's the outcome, then that's it. Move on.
But, you know what the coffee fast did? It gave my dream some credibility. I know that it is honestly being considered; I know if it doesn't go anywhere, it is not because I didn't try or because I missed something somewhere. If it doesn't go anywhere...it's because it's not supposed to.
So, now, I'm enjoying my morning cup again. Strong, sweet, creamy. And every time I pour a cup, I find myself praying, 'Lord, You know!'
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