You Can’t Make Me
We spent a lot of time in the car when I was a kid. Hour after hour after day of nothing but road rolling on as we traveled the States, visiting churches and partners who supported my parents’ ministry in the Philippines. We were good little missionary kids. The kind who whined and fought in the sanctuary while our parents set up for their presentation. And when we got back in the car, my mom would put our little brother between me and my sister as an attempt at keeping the peace. So naturally, we would turn our focus on torturing him. First it was tickling. Each of us on one of his sides so he had no direction to lean to escape. And when the laughter became cries for help and our mom turned around and said, “You keep your hands off your brother!”… Then… Then the...
Read MoreWhen the Rain Does Come
It’s a grey and wet day, the fifth day of rain this week. For long, dusty months we’ve been praying and watching the sky as our water tanks empty and the river runs low. So this is welcome. But the mud and fog look different than what we’ve gotten used to. When black clouds roll in pregnant with precious rain, and the cracked ground softens and the dirt roads run like muddy streams, the world changes for a while. No sunshine. No birds singing. All the colors somehow sharper against the dark sky. And when the rain comes especially hard, sometimes the world changes permanently. Landslides happen and bridges are swept away. And we are left feeling disoriented and unsure of how to get where we’d been planning to go. The rain is a gift, but it’s one that changes the...
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