I’ve been chewing on some rather rough thoughts lately.  My mind has been working some serious overtime to try to figure things out… to make sense of things… to make the chaos fit into a logical thought pattern.  And, I simply cannot do it.  I can’t make insanity make sense.  I have found myself spinning.  And searching.  And seeking. And screaming. And sobbing.  And finally – surrendering.

I like for things to be predictable – to go the way they “should” go.  For example: Christmas gifts.  I was always a sucker for beautifully wrapped gifts.  In my simplistic mind, I deduce that beautiful wrapping = amazing gift. (Turns out, that isn’t always the case.)    If you need proof, just check my Dirty Santa resume… I’m always the girl who leaves with a plunger.  After 36 years on the planet, you’d think that I would learn to expect the unexpected… but, I have not.

Often, my adventures in the unexpected are humorous.  A few weeks ago, after several weeks of non-stop chaos, my sweet husband planned a surprise date- night for us.  I love it when he has those really thoughtful moments, so I was PUMPED!  I was even more excited when he revealed that we would be heading up to  Hope Church in Memphis to a Third Day concert.  Because the date-night was a bit impromptu and time was quite limited, we opted to grab  a to-go “supper”  from our kitchen and head straight to Hope Church.  Who cares that the only “to-go friendly- food” we could find was a couple of bananas and some rice & bean chips???  We were going to a concert!!

Imagine our confusion when we pulled into the church parking lot and saw vast emptiness.  No. One. Was. There.  Not Third Day.  Not a ticket taker.  Not a fan.  Not a single soul.  After a few moments, we finally pulled out the tickets and closely examined them.  No worries!!  We had simply arrived early.  Very early.  A month early, actually.  The rest of the night was a comedy of errors – every restaurant that we selected happened to be closed, every turn we took was wrong, every contingency plan failed….  So what did we do?  We ran to the mall, picked up a shirt that we had ordered months ago, bought a new pair of sneakers for Vance,  wandered through the aisles at the Brookstone store (I wandered… Vance tried every single gadget in the store), headed back home, and went to bed at 9:30.

Phase One of our contingency plan for our date: Find a new healthy restaurant to enjoy… After, 19 tries- and repeated failures, I finally snapped a picture. Yep, It was closed.

Phase Two: Run to the mall to pick up a shirt and purchase shoes.

Phase Two and a Half: Brookstone… The pictures don’t lie. He was having a blast!

Our date night was certainly not what I expected.  It was not bad – just not what I expected.    And, that, my friends, is what the Lord is teaching me lately.  I. Am. Not. In. Control.  But, He is.  I can choose to question every single thing, OR I can choose to praise Him and serve Him – in every moment- especially the unplanned ones.

Our date night was an unexpected breath of fresh air.  But, those fresh breaths have been scarce lately.  The Lord has placed hurting people in our lives a lot lately- people with hurts so deep,  so unimaginable,  that we struggle to come to grips with the reality of their suffering.   Their pain and their struggles are sometimes so overwhelming that I almost feel that I am suffocating- choking.    Most of the situations are so tragic that I have not even been able to find the words to write or speak about them.  To add to the pain that we feel for the people we serve, we have had more than our share of personal pain lately.  It has been almost unbearable.  Hopeless.  Heart-breaking.  Hard.

Lately, I cringe when people ask how ministry is going because I just don’t feel like it gives God a lot of glory if I burst into tears and begin my testimony with, “This has been HORRIBLE!!!….”  Something about a weeping, snot-covered woman bellowing about tragedy and pain doesn’t inspire people to serve our Savior…  so, I choose a different approach.  Instead of falling apart, I have plastered on my fake “happy face”, choked back tears, and answered with vague responses like, “Whew, it has been busy!” or “There is always something, ha!”  When people ask about Love Works…  I’ve been a liar; but, I’ve totally been lying out of love for you, I promise.  (I’ll repent when I finish this post.  I pinkie-promise.)

Love is soooo not easy.  The work is easy, but the love is difficult – not for the reason you may think, though.  See, superficial love doesn’t really cost me anything.  A quick hug, a batch of freshly baked cookies, a sweet note – those things are easy- painless.  That’s not the love that has brought me to tears lately.  I’m talking about painful love.  Messy love.  Real love.  Radical love.  Love so deep that you willingly endure hurt for the good of someone else.  That’s what has been killing me.

Love hurts.  The love that put Jesus on the cross was real.  My Savior looked at me in my wretched state and loved me enough to die.  He knew every single thing about me – every lie, every malicious thought, every “secret”, every everything.  He knew me, really knew me, and still made the choice to love me in an unthinkable way.  He laid down His life.  Let me repeat:  HE laid down His life… because He loved.  What a gloriously happy ending for all the sinners like me!  Hope was born for us – out of HIS LOVE.   That is simply magnificent news!  Such amazing hope came for us… but, it came only after Jesus suffered on the cross to pay for our sins.  Painful love.

And, that, my friends is the second lesson that I have been learning.  Those sweet moments… those hope-filled moments… those moments when the presence of our Lord is so thick that you can feel it on your skin – those moments frequently come after a season of painful moments – of suffering.  And, when the sweetness arrives, all that pain; that hurt; that anguish; that fear – all the junk that seems to cripple us- disappears.  The pain is forgotten.  The hurt is gone.  The fear seems foolish.  And you breathe again.  You breathe hope.  You breathe love.  You praise Him for the pain. You look back and see His plan, notice how He was moving in the middle of the trials, recognize His grace as He lovingly refined you through the journey.   You remember your purpose.  You remember your Savior.

Indeed, lately those feel-good  happy-endings have seemed almost nonexistent, and suffering abounds.   Many days, I have felt like time is moving in slow motion while I watch a scary movie unfold before my eyes.  It is tragic.  Surreal.  Painful.  There have been lots of days here lately that I would have preferred to avoid it all and stay snuggled up in my bed.  I’d like to pretend that all the bad stuff doesn’t exist.  I’d like to take the “ostrich approach” and bury my head in the sand.  I’d like to focus on fun things like romantic movies, puppies, fuzzy slippers, sunshine, and cake.  But, I can’t.

I surrendered.  And, that surrender changed me- even in the moments when I want to un-surrender (is that even a word??)- I cannot will myself to turn back.  I am beginning to realize just how hard this whole “following Jesus” thing is.  Knowing all about Him is easy.  Loving Him becomes a bit more difficult.  Following Him in total surrender… is painful.  He keeps leading me to places filled with turmoil and pain and fear.  Places I could never find on my own.  Places filled with people who need love.  People who are desperate. As I stare into the faces of desperate people that I am called to love, often I see myself.  I see my own sin.  I see my depravity.  I see the amazing grace that was extended to me on the cross.  I see the love that Christ has for me.  I remember that His love for me cost Him.  I remember that He suffered.

Those thoughts move me.  They help me get back up.  They help me dry my tears.  They help me to love.

And that, my friends, brings us to the third thing I’ve learned lately.  It is pretty simple actually:  He wins.

I’ve read the book.  I know the ending.  He wins.  Better yet, because I am His, I win too!  Even if every single day serving Him on this earth is painful; even if I never again feel His presence or see His face; even if tears and tragedy mark every moment – Eternity in the presence of the Lord is worth it.

He wins.  He wins.  He wins.    Death has been defeated, and He wins.

Praise Him with me.  Serve Him with me.  Love Him with me.  Through His pain, we win too.

Put faith in action.  Don’t let fear cripple you.  Believe Him.  Love works.

I’ve been thinking about shoes a lot lately.  It seems really silly, but I simply cannot stop.  Neatly perched on the steps just outside of my back door, there sits a tiny pair of smelly brown shoes.  I see them every single day.  I have stepped over them for two months now, completely unable – perhaps unwilling- to move them.  The mere sight of them brings back precious memories of  a vivacious two-year-old little boy who captivated our hearts with his spunk and charming grin.  Those shoes, in all their ragged splendor, are precious to me.  I loved the owner of the little feet that used to cram into those brown shoes.  Quietly tucked away in another room in our home – perched neatly beside a dresser- is a pair of off-brand sneakers with two dirty socks crammed inside- shoes that Larry proudly wore home one evening after finding them at the Goodwill store.  Two pair of shoes.  Two people that have impacted my life.  Two reminders to love…. in spite of the condition of the shoes.

Shoes are a big deal.  Seriously, think about it.  If you really ponder, it is pretty easy to connect major life experiences and memories with the shoes you were wearing.  Track with me.  I have some pretty fond memories of times I spent wearing the oh-so-slippery-and-profoundly-impractical-jelly shoes.  I can barely keep a goofy grin off my face when I think back to the times I spent shopping for shoes with my Granny when I was a little girl… She always navigated me to the “age appropriate” shoe aisle – while I did my best to drag her to the aisle where gaudy high heels were stacked from floor to ceiling.  How I longed to wear those hideous heels! Those heels were important to me.  In my mind, sporting a pair of high heels would signify that I was mature – a real woman of the world – and not a mere baby.

Indeed, most of my memories are closely connected to the shoes that I had on my feet.I have precious memories of tap shoes, softball cleats, high-top basketball shoes, oh-so-uncool band shoes, flip-flops, sneakers, dyed-to-match pageant shoes…  My choice of shoes changed with the seasons of my life, and eventually morphed into much more practical shoe selections.  Until recently, a quick scan of my closet would have pointed to sheer practicality.  The shelves were lined with a sensible selection a footware: black flats, black pumps, black heels, black boots; brown flats, brown pumps, brown heels, brown boots; neutral flats, neutral pumps, neutral heels, neutral boots.  A closer scan would reveal a pair of sneakers and some flip flops neatly tucked away.  Practical.  Sensible.  Reliable.

I have worn a lot of shoes.

This season of life has dictated some new footwear choices for me.  I rarely reach for any of those practical, sensible, reliable shoes.  In fact, for what I spend my days doing, those shoes seem almost ridiculous.  Odd, isn’t it?  A change in my situation made practical shoes suddenly become very impractical.

I was driving down the road the other day, completely lost in my thoughts… trying to figure out why I had become so plagued by “shoe thoughts”.

I began to recall all the ragged shoes I’ve seen lately.   I thought about the elderly woman who I see sitting in a ragged chair on the porch of her tiny apartment every afternoon.  I thought about her frail hands, her wrinkled face, her sad eyes, and her swollen feet… then I remembered her shoes.  Her tattered shoes – dirty pink slippers with worn soles.  I thought about the herds of small children who play in the small area between the apartments.  I thought about their mismatched clothing, their dirty faces, and their cheerful voices.  And I remembered their tiny bare feet… sweet little toes covered in dirt.  I remembered some of the younger women with their sassy shirts and spandex pants.  I remembered how they seemed to accessorize every outfit with a baby on their hips.  But, mostly, I remembered their shoes…inexpensive, seemingly impractical, oddly-out-of-place shoes.

I thought about how different my shoes were than theirs… how I’d like to offer them some of my shoes – some better, more-practical shoes.  Then,  I recognized that my shoes won’t work for everyone.  They won’t fit everyone.  I’d be foolish to try to cram my shoe onto every stranger I meet.  No matter how much I think I know about their feet… what seems logical and practical for my ten toes may not be logical or practical on another person’s foot.  This realization wrecked me.

I thought about all the things my sinful mind had been thinking. Within nanoseconds of meeting these women and children, I had begun formulating plans to fix them – to help them see how foolish their shoe choices were. Yep, with time, if they would just listen, I’d have them fixed…. and they’d all own much more sensible shoes.

That sick feeling welled up in my gut.  The shoe metaphor unfolded in my mind.

I saw myself.   I saw the self-righteous pride of my thoughts.  I saw my foolishness.  A sickening drama danced across my mind…. If I had lived during the time that Jesus walked the earth, I probably would have had tried to lecture Him about His sandals.  I mean, who wears sandals in large crowds??  He should realize that if He wears sandals, He is asking to get His toes smashed.  Sheesh, somebody should help Him.  Perhaps, I could talk to Him about some “more appropriate” shoe options.   I could help Him out.  Clearly, His shoe choice is a cry for help.  Sadly, I probably would have failed to notice that I, like John, am not even worthy to tie His sandals…. much less select better shoes.

I spent some time thinking about what Jesus really calls believers to do.  Nothing in His word tells me that I am called to be a shoe inspector.  Or a people inspector.  I’m not called to judge.  I’m not called to criticize.  I’m not called to condemn.  I’m not called to mock.  I’m not called to belittle.   I am called to do something much harder. Something that is often much more uncomfortable.  Something important.  Something meaningful.

I am called to love.  Love the elderly lady in the worn out slippers.  Love the barefoot children.  Love the young women, stilettos and all.

1 Corinthians 13:1-3
If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing. (NIV)

I don’t want to be a clanging cymbal, noisily pointing out the flaws of others.  I don’t want to serve others without actually loving them.  I don’t want to waste a single moment.  I don’t want to be so busy taking people to shop for new shoes that I forget to send them to the feet of the savior.

Forget beautiful shoes.  I want beautiful feet.

Lord, help me – help us all- choose to love.  Keep us mindful of the amazing grace that you have lavished upon us.  Humble us with memories of our jelly-shoe-wearing days and our foolish desires for hot pink high heels…. remind us that you loved and pursed us even when our feet were wretched. Give us your eyes for others so that we may see them as you do.  Open our ears so that we can truly listen… and only allow our mouths to open when our words will bring You glory.  Help us to be more concerned with the beauty of our feet than the fashion of our shoes.  Amen.

Matthew 25:40; James 1:22  Love actually works.

A few months ago, Vance and I began dreaming about big ways that LoveWorks could serve our community.  Since LoveWorks began, something in my spirit just “knew’ that November was important.  It gets cold in November, and I just assumed that November would be the month that we would open the “first” LoveWorks home.  But, as we began meeting people in the poverty stricken community, we soon realized that one home- one building –  was not going to be enough.  The needs were staggering.  We knew that we were going to need much more than just a building; we were going to need to build some strong relationships with people in the area we were planning to serve.  Indeed, we needed much more than one building – we needed an entire village.  So, we prayed.  Then we brainstormed – and prayed some more.  We knew we wanted to do something to open eyes, change hearts… serve… love.  November was coming and we were getting restless – but, we had no idea what to do.

Vance and I chatted endlessly about our desire to truly impact impoverished areas in our community for God’s glory.  But, that’s all it was…dreaming – with some wishing, hoping, and praying (lots of praying) mixed in.  The more we chatted, the more a tiny, hopeful plan began to take shape… What if we could think of a way to host some sort of event in the community?

We believe that God is faithful to His word; so, even though we had no idea how to actually accomplish anything meaningful, we knew that if we poured out our desires to Him and completely “Committed our works to the Lord”, He would take care of the details. (Proverbs 16:3)

We had faith… a lot of it.  But even our faith could not have prepared us for all that He was preparing!  Time and time again, He has blown my mind with His timely provisions.  And, guess what???  Our dream of being able to serve our guts out and meet some serious needs while we love on people who need experience the real love that can only come through Jesus … IS COMING TRUE!!!

Before I tell you all the great details, I want you to understand something.  Though we have been dreaming and praying, one thing that we have not been doing is asking for help.  That sounds a little “nutty” to some people; so, let me explain.

LoveWorks was birthed as a result of us praying for God to change US.  When we looked at God’s word, we recognized that our lives looked nothing like what God actually commanded.  So we began to pray for Him to radically transform our hearts and make our desires into His desires… and God began to move.  The longer we are on this journey, the more we have learned to fully rely on God.  I’m serious – Fully. Rely. On. God.    We know that we could try to “get things done”, but we also realize that God’s plans are so much more amazing than ours.   And, we have grown tremendously in our walk with Him – there is something so incredibly special about knowing that God hears and answers prayers – and our faith and trust in Him is at an all-time high.

So, when you read about the plans that LoveWorks have for Thanksgiving, I want you to know that God did every bit of this.  Let me say that again – God did every bit of this.  He answered prayers – and has provided far more abundantly than anything we ever dreamed of asking.  He deserves all the glory – I’m just thrilled to share the stories!

Our phone has been ringing – a lot.  Crazy things have happened.

Out of the clear blue, we received a call from one of my precious friends, Lee Caldwell.  She had shared some LoveWorks stories with a group of people who had met to plan an event.  At the close of the meeting, one of the attendees,  Mr Wheeler (Memphis Barbecue Company owner),  approached her and volunteered to donate, cook, and serve food for a Thanksgiving meal for the people who live in the community we are trying to serve.  When Lee called me with the news, I almost had a stroke!  I absolutely wept as I thanked the Lord.

In the days and weeks since the initial phone call from Lee, God has been at work!  A local women’s group has offered to help in too many ways to count, two other Bible study groups have asked to help serve, and countless people have expressed interest in serving others at our first LoveWorks Thanksgiving!   To top it off, I received a call from from Katie Belenchia, the oh-so-cute- owner of  Buon Cibo, the other day.  Guess what?  They want to help too!

So, friends, we are going to bless as many people as we can on Thanksgiving day!  We will set up tables, chairs, and a “mobile restaurant” right in the middle of the of the poverty stricken community that we have grown to love.  (Are you excited??)  We will be serving Thanksgiving meals  from 11:00 – 2:00.  While we are there, we plan to hug as many necks as we can, pray with and for as many people as we can, and display the love of Jesus in as many ways as we can.  I am sure that it will be an absolutely amazing day!

But, we don’t want to keep the joy of serving all to our selves.  We would love for you to join us!  If you are interested in serving, fill out the form below to register for a time slot.  You can also volunteer to bring a few supplies or some sweets to share.  (Forgive me, I am a type A.. I need some structure, lol)

I will post specific details about our LoveWorks Thanksgiving on our Facebook page next week!  (I will probably blog too!)  Feel free to email me if you have any questions or suggestions.  (loveworks2540@gmail.com)

In the meantime, please be praying.  We see and feel God working – and we are excited to see all that He is going to do!

Have I mentioned lately that love actually works?

Matthew 25:40

James 1:22

I have always believed that I had a complete understanding of love.  As a teenager, I associated “love” with those incredible butterflies-in-your-stomach-when that-super-cute-guy-walks-by moments.  Years later, my knowledge expanded when I felt powerful emotions swell inside my heart as I held both of my boys for the first time.  But, over the past few years, the Lord is teaching me even more about love.  I am realizing that love is so much more than just a feeling.  Love is a verb.  And, love has a purpose.  It is something that you consciously do – knowing that the love you extend to others may draw them to the loving arms of Jesus.  But, love is certainly not easy.    Often it is uncomfortable – inconvenient – even annoying… but it is always powerful – and always purposeful.

The sad reality is that people who have not ever truly experienced real love are incapable of sharing love with anyone else.  They honestly have no idea what love looks like.  It breaks my heart to know that there are millions of people in our world who have no idea what it means to be loved by a Lord who willingly sacrificed His only son for the salvation of mankind.

I am beyond thankful that God’s word is filled with insights about love.  As a follower of Jesus Christ, I am blessed to be able to read God’s thoughts and commands about love in His holy word.   Beyond that, I am privileged to have the opportunity to be a living display of Jesus Christ’s love.

God’s word is clear about the importance of love:

Matthew 22:36-40
36 “Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?” 37 Jesus replied: ” ‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ 38 This is the first and greatest commandment. 39 And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ 40 All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.”

John 13:34-35
34 “A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. 35 By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.”

1 Corinthians 16:14
14 Do everything in love.

I so desire for my life to bring glory to the Lord.  I want our  ”love” to be intentional and purposeful.  I want to love the people Jesus loved – and, I want to love in the same ways he showed love.    Many days I wake up, look at my schedule, and feel deep sadness when I realize how many hours I waste doing nonsensical things that have no eternal impact at all… But, every once in a while, the Lord slows me down and gives me the perfect opportunity to love someone other than myself… and my heart floods with joy.

This week our life looks a little different.  Take a little peek.

That’s Mr. Larry.  He is playing cars in the floor with little Jeremiah – Patiently teaching Jeremiah the names of all the colors brightly painted on each tiny car.

And, this is Aaron.   The little cutie pie with her hand in the bag of Fruit Loops is Destinee.  Aaron read at least 15 books to Destinee when he got home from school the other day.  By the time he got to book number 5, they were sitting on the couch and Destinee had wiggled her cute little head right into Aaron’s lap.  He didn’t mind a bit – in fact, he even opted to decline an invitation from the neighborhood kids to play football outside.

This is our whole crew… With Houston taking the lead.  All four of them sat on the swing  yesterday afternoon chattering relentlessly about all those “ole stanky bugs” that were buzzing to and fro.  Houston took the time to explain how those “ole stanky bugs” play a role in the ecosystem.  Jeremiah and Destinee were so thrilled to be getting attention from the big kids that they just sat wide-eyed in wonder…waiting for the next opportunity to throw a question into the mix.

But really… love looks like this.  This is a picture of baby George sitting in his mother’s lap right beside me at church last Wednesday night.  You can see Destinee in the background talking to Mr. Larry.  Jeremiah was running around with Houston and Aaron.  Vance was getting ready to practice with the praise team.  Our corner of the world  was brimming with chaos… and perfectly peaceful.

Want to know what I was doing when this picture was taken?  I was sitting there praising God for putting this little family in my path – just trying to hold back tears as the moments passed.  You see, when this picture was taken we had only known these precious souls for a couple of hours… but, it didn’t take long for us to realize that they had no idea what love looked like.

Vance and I knew that our lives were about to change as soon as we saw their young mother walking in our direction earlier that afternoon.  It was the saddest sight I have seen in a long time.  As they inched closer, we noticed that the young mother was disheveled – dirty clothes, disastrous hair, distressed eyes.  Two tiny children were walking along the road behind her – their hair and clothes in the same state as their mother’s.  But, what captured my heart was a spunky little girl who seemed oblivious to the depth of the despair all around her – little Destinee.  With every ounce of strength that feisty 3 year old could muster, she was pushing an old, tattered stroller .. humming an upbeat tune- and, in that stroller was 3 month old George.

As they got closer, I gave Vance “the look”.  I’m pretty sure that “the look” I gave him clearly conveyed my desire to “take them with us”.  Praise the Lord for a husband who loves blindly as Jesus calls us to love!  He didn’t bat an eyelash when, after only 5-10 minutes of talking to them, we loaded them up, took them to eat, and proceeded to the church to worship our Lord.  Nor did he miss a beat when the church service ended and we all headed home for baths and bed… because that’s what love looks like, isn’t it?  You bring homeless strangers into your home and do your best to meet their needs – even when it is inconvenient… and weird.

But we didn’t care that our actions seemed weird.  We were compelled to love.  There simply was not another option.  How could we have turned a blind eye to the situation after we discovered the desperation of that sweet young mother?  At 19, she is homeless – with 4 kids – ages 3, 2, 1, and 3 months.  Her situation is honestly  so terrible that it is beyond anything that you and I could imagine.  No one has tried to help her – according to her, most people just look at her, find out that she is only 19 with 4 kids, then they just get mad…never waiting to hear the rest of her story…  No one listens.  No one extends grace.  No one seems to care.  No one looks past the circumstance to see the heart of the matter.  No one realizes that love and Jesus can change even the worst conditions.

Here’s the deal, though.   When God opens my eyes to see something, I cannot simply “unsee” it.  God has put me face to face with people in need, and He has given me everything that I need in order to meet the needs I see.  He gave me His grace.  He gave me His love.  He gave me His Holy Spirit.  He changed my heart and helped me see that I have absolutely no excuse to condemn anyone – especially when I recognize who I would be without Jesus Christ.  With the Holy Spirit living inside me and God’s word to guide me, all I have to do is follow His command to love like I have been loved.

How could we withhold love when we have been so abundantly loved by our heavenly father?

This last week has been hard.  Small children take a lot of effort.  Schedules have had to be adjusted, and our entire family has had to make sacrifices.  There have been many moments that have broken our hearts.  Things have not been picture perfect, and every day seems to hold a surprise.  But, one thing has been constant.  We have been blessed with the opportunity to show some serious love.  And, in those moments that rock us to the core- when we have no idea how to handle a situation that arises – we seek the Lord.  He is always faithful.  He never changes.  He never fails.  Never.

So, when you see me around – looking a little tired, rocking a pony-tail and wrinkled clothes- don’t pity me for not having the time to care about my appearance.  Instead, envy me.  God is letting me spend my days loving on precious children in the hopes that they will come to know the one who first showed me what real love is.  Call me blessed.

If you are wondering if love really works, just take a look at the pictures below.  It does, sweet friends.  It really does.

Those little smiles are solid evidence that love really does work.  Lives are changing, and the Lord is moving!  Won’t you pray with us as we move forward seeking to bring Him glory?

Matthew 25:40

James 1:22

I have to be honest.  I have been keeping a few details about the day to day happenings of our journey to myself.  Don’t worry, I haven’t intentionally been trying to deceive you; but, some things that we have seen and endured have been so overwhelming that I simply could not even find words.  For those of you who know me – you realize that a loss for words is not a typical struggle for me.

I have discovered that some things are simply so incredibly unsettling, so unnerving, so… unbelievable that you have to take some time to gather your thoughts – choke back the “word vomit”- spare the goriest details and figure out a way to accurately portray the beauty found in even the most gut wrenching situations.

So, here goes… a few of the details.  I’m praying they will haunt your thoughts like they have haunted mine.

And the King will answer them, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.’ – Matthew 25:40

The whole idea of Love Works was birthed when the reality of that verse sank into my thick skull.  It is quite beautiful to think that when I spend time with the “less than desirable” people on this earth – trying to extend love to those who need it the most – that I am not only serving Jesus, but standing in His presence.  What a beautiful thought!

On several occasions, Larry has come home from work in the evenings, opening the door with his typical “Well, Hello, Miss Kimberly” and continuing the conversation with tidbits of trivia from his day – And in those moments, I catch myself smiling almost ridiculously… thinking that I am beyond privileged to be in the presence of royalty.   Someone should video it.  Harps could be playing in the background.  We could cast an angelic glow around Larry.  My family could be in the background doing something really “perfect family-ish”.. like quilting or building a lemonade stand to raise money for orphans.  The only things that would make those moments any sweeter would be rainbows and unicorns.  And kittens.  Kittens are pretty sweet – but no cats.

But, there are some moments that I am embarrassed about.  Moments that I would like to pretend don’t exist.  Like times when I allow myself to get all worked up over nonsensical things.  When I get “worked up”, I tend to internalize my angst, choosing only to grunt and mutter my malicious musings quietly to myself.  I have grumbled and complained about having to do another grown man’s dishes. (Seriously, dude.  I know you get home from work really late  sometimes, and you try to creep around to avoid waking anyone up.  I’ve even noticed that you don’t even warm your food up so that the beeping of the microwave won’t disturb anyone. But, sheesh, leaving one bowl in the sink is just plain old inconsiderate.)  I have complained about having extra towels to wash – (How dare someone sneak towels neatly into the hamper in the laundry room.  The nerve!)  I have complained about shoes being left on the back porch.  (I mean, really, quit leaving all your stuff neatly stacked beside the door.  I don’t care that you are trying not to track dirt through the house since your shoes are often filthy from walking everywhere.  Have some respect.)    Yes friends, I am awful.  In the moments of my frustration, I often forget that what I am thinking and doing is also being done in the presence of Jesus.

And then, something like this happens.

I walked into the kitchen late one evening and found this cup sitting on our table. It is just a cup.  Yep.  Just a cup… with a napkin on top.  Almost instantly, I was annoyed.  One more cup to clean.. and a napkin – wasted.  Grrr.  Who does that?   I immediately knew who had left it there.  There is only one Dallas Cowboy fan in our home… and it isn’t me.  My immediate response was to huff, grumble, and clean it up.  But something stopped me in my tracks.  I stood there staring blankly ahead as the reality of the situation hit me.

Larry grew up in extreme poverty.  The first time his family had ever had a gas stove or cooked on anything other than a wood burning stove was in the mid 90′s.  After his mother died in the early 2000′s, times got really tough.  Through a series of hard knocks and the economic decline, Larry ended up completely homeless, living on the streets.  Street living is about survival and making the most of what you have.  You learn to waste nothing.  You save everything – for tomorrow.

I sat down in front of that napkin covered cup and stared for a few minutes.  Curiosity got the best of me, and I wanted to see what was in the cup.  Want to know what was so precious that he couldn’t bear to throw it away?                 Water.      It was water.

Sitting in that kitchen, I was faced with the realization that my lifestyle is wretched.  I am beyond wasteful, and rarely do I ever really appreciate all that I have been blessed with.  I take so much for granted.  I can honestly say that I have never never saved a glass of water.  Never.   Never has the fear of not having any water ever entered my mind.  I’ve never worried about food or shelter or clothing or a job.  I have lead a privileged life.  But, Larry hasn’t   His reality has been very different than mine.  I began to think about all that Larry has endured.  I thought about how much of an adjustment living with us has had to be.  It occurred to me that he has been here since February – and his instinct to save and survive is still manifesting.   I wanted to go into his room, wake him up, and tell him that he could have all the water he wanted- that he didn’t have to worry about running out ever again.  I wanted to apologize for not being more sensitive to his needs – about never even thinking that this whole situation must be weird for him too.

I didn’t do anything.  Instead, I sat there and asked for forgiveness from our Heavenly Father.  I thanked Him for using Larry to teach me so many things about myself.  I praised Him for the opportunity to serve – for His grace – for His provision.  And I left the cup right where it was.

The image of that cup is burned into my brain.  When I least expect it, it serves as a reminder to appreciate what I have.  It also came in quite handy the other day when I was shopping for the perfect birthday gift for Larry.  He turned 58 on Sunday, October 14.   Since he is officially “family” now,  we wanted to be sure that we selected something special for his birthday gift.  Then it hit me – Larry LOVES the Cowboys. (I try not to hold that against him, lol.)  So, the search began.  I went to every sports store I could think of in search of the perfect Dallas Cowboys jacket.  Four hours and many miles later, I settled for a really nice Dallas Cowboys half-zip sports fleece.  I also found a Cowboys pennant, and the boys felt compelled to purchase a few bags of Larry’s favorite candies.

That’s what you do for family.  You make them feel special on their birthday.  Even though we tried our best to work out a way to have an actual celebration on his birthday, it just didn’t work out.  Larry works every Sunday, and the rest of us are busy with church.  But, we still made sure that the very first thing he saw before he left for work on Sunday was a beautifully wrapped gift and a silly singing birthday card.  When we got home from church, the boys sneaked into Larry’s room and left their gift to him (and a note they had written) on his bed so that his day would end with an additional birthday treat.

We were all snuggled in our beds before Larry got home Sunday, so we didn’t get to see his reaction to the gifts.  This morning, Vance awoke to find a note from Mr. Larry on the table.

Did you read that?  In 58 years, he has never received a birthday gift.   If that doesn’t rip at your heart, nothing will.  What a great reminder that sometimes doing even the smallest things for someone else can have such a huge effect on them.  Today, I am humbled.  Today, I am encouraged.  Today, I am determined to love more.

Even in the small things, Jesus keeps reminding me of the powerful effects of love.  In the weeks to come, we will have lots of opportunities for you to join us as we extend little acts of love to those in need.  Won’t you join us?  I promise that you will be blessed more than you can even imagine.

And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love. 1Corinthians 13:13

Love works.  Indeed it does.

 *** PS.  Houston arrived home from school a few minutes ago.  Upon reading Larry’s note, he said, “That’s awesome.  I am so glad that we got to be the first people to give him a gift.”  He smiled for a few seconds, then excitedly said, “I have a great idea.  Let’s buy him 57 more gifts to make up for the ones he missed.”  Oh, how I love that this journey is changing their hearts and their attitudes about the less fortunate!  God is so good.  

One of my favorite verses is Jeremiah 33:3 – “Call to me and I will answer you, and I will tell you great and hidden things that you have not known.”

I believe God.  It is pretty simple.  If He says it, I can trust it.  So, when I study that verse, I come away with the following truths:

1.  God tells me to “call” Him.  (So I pray)

2.  God tells me that He will answer. (SWEET!)

3.  God tells me that He will show me things that I couldn’t see or understand without Him.  (SUPER SWEET!)

The God of the Universe listens when I pray… In fact, He tells me to call Him.  That BLOWS my mind!  Even better than that – He promises to answer – and show me things that I didn’t even know to ask for.  The creator of everything desires a relationship with me.  Wow!

Since I believe God, I do call out to Him – a lot.  Lately, I have been praying for Him to open my eyes to the needs of others – to reveal Himself to me in an overwhelming way – to break my heart for others- to let me see like HE sees – to use me for His glory – to move me even when I don’t want to be moved.

God wasn’t kidding when He said that He would answer our calls…

His faithfulness is actually a little absurd.  Sometimes I wonder why He chooses to answer my prayers in such bizarre ways – but, the only reasons I can come up with aren’t very flattering to myself. So, I choose to believe that He knows that I love love love a great story – and the greatest stories are birthed in incredible adventures.  That’s what I love about walking with the Lord – every stinking day is an adventure!

Let’s face it, without God, my life would be pretty boring.  For example: the highlight of last week (other than my redhead losing a battle with the monkey bars and ending up in a neon orange cast) was going to the Amro store to return a very very gently used trombone.

Yes, friends, my precious Houston decided that after one measly year, his band days were over.  Turns out, you can’t become a trombone super-star by simply carrying it to and from school each day.  The band directors actually expect you to play music – and everyone has to play the same song … at the same time.  How lame is that?

I must admit, I was a little sad to see the trombone leave our home.  It had provided much entertainment.  Last year, in an effort to help Houston understand the concept of  ”tempo”, I downloaded a metronome app, had each beat make a different sound, hooked my iPod up to the stereo system, cranked the volume up, and proceeded to march around the living room with my sixth grader (imaginary trombone in hand) singing the notes to “Jingle Bells”… while a deafening BARK, CLANG, HONK, CLAP  repeated over and over and over and over.  It was loads of fun for me; Houston didn’t seem to enjoy it nearly as much as I did.  You cannot fully appreciate the importance on maintaining tempo until you have met someone with no concept of tempo or rhythm.  Though Houston is brilliant and charming, he is unquestionably rhythmically challenged.  By the end of our “tempo training bootcamp”, the volume of our metronome was deafening and the windows were rattling (so he could feeeel the beat).  All the neighborhood kids gathered on our front porch with their little faces pressed against the window trying desperately to figure out what the commotion was all about.  Oddly, Houston didn’t appreciate my dedication to his tempo training, and he elected to try P.E. this year instead of band.

So, after lovingly storing the trombone under a desk upstairs for a few months and watching it collect dust relentlessly, I finally decided to return it to Amro- deep in the heart of Memphis.  And, my adventure began.

With the trombone in tow, I grabbed my keys, my iPhone, and my purse and hit the road.  At this point I should confess that I am directionally challenged and had absolutely no idea where the Amro store was – only an address and a “vague idea” of the area.  After a few minutes of wandering aimlessly through the streets of Memphis, I decided to use my navigation app.  I punched in the address only to find that I was way way way off course; but, no worries – my trusty navigation friend had a plan.  She would skillfully guide me through a series of neighborhoods, down a few back alleys, through a magic portal and I would arrive unharmed at the Amro store. (I added the magic portal for effect – that wasn’t really part of the plan; though, at one point, I did begin wishing for one.)

At first, the route my navigational friend chose was pretty normal.  But, the farther I traveled, the more poverty-stricken the streets became.  I passed prostitutes, crack dealers, homeless men, broken down cars, piles of trash, and shacks, shacks, shacks.  The streets were so narrow that I could only creep along – taking it all in.  It was as if God purposely slowed me down to let me see it all.  Really see it all.  I was in shock.  This was the kind of neighborhood you see in movies…

I watched the looks on the people’s faces as I drove by.  Many looked at me with disdain.  A few gazed long enough for me to see the emptiness in their eyes.  Several glanced at me in sheer wonder, trying to imagine why I would venture into their neighborhood.  And God began to answer some prayers.

My heart pounded.  My heart ached.  My eyes opened.  I saw people.  I saw poverty.  I saw the stark contrast between their lives and mine.  I sat stunned with tears streaming down my face.  Uncontrollable tears.

Then, as God would have it, I came to a huge bridge… and amazingly, when I crossed the bridge – less than 1/4 of a mile away from the most extreme poverty I had ever seen – I passed a man wearing pleated khakis and freshly pressed shirt and tie.  I looked around to find beautiful homes with manicured lawns, luxury cars waiting patiently and red lights, people walking their perfectly groomed pedigreed dogs, and khaki-clad men everywhere.  Block after block was filled with enormous churches… even an impressively beautiful Theological Seminary Building.

I seriously felt like I had driven onto another planet.  How could beauty this magnificent be a mere stone’s throw away from the poverty that had just wrecked my mascara???  How. Is. This. Possible???

I was in a pure state of disbelief.  Can these people not see the poverty just across the bridge?  My disbelief turned to anger and my anger to indignation.  Is the bridge between Crackheads and Khakis really that long???  Will no one cross it???  Who will love the “unloveable”??  I was overwhelmed and mad.  Just plain old mad.  Just as I was ready to smack the next khaki-clad dude I saw, God spoke.

God:  Be the bridge.

Me: What?

God:  Be the bridge.

Me:  What?

You can be the bridge between poverty and excess.  Less talking.  More walking.

Oh. My. Word.  The gap is not really that wide.  Someone just has to be willing to stand in the gap – cross the bridge – for others – through prayer; through service; through love.

Three turns later, I was sitting in the Amro parking lot, trombone in one hand – tissue in the other.  I was a tear- filled, snotty mess as I approached the counter to return the trombone.  I’m pretty sure the Amro guy thought I had an unhealthy attachment to a musical instrument.  He was kind enough not to question me – and I was wise enough not to try to explain my bizarre emotional state by telling him that God had just told me to “Be the bridge.”  Something told me that he just wouldn’t understand.

I drove home.  This time purposefully routing myself through a few “scary” neighborhoods.  I prayed for each person I saw, and I prayed for the courage to actually be the bridge that God was calling me to be.

I got home and remembered  a little house  for sale in the poverty stricken area of my little town.   It is deep in the heart of an impoverished area and sits on two acres of land.  Two acres that could be used for God’s glory – two acres that could be used as a bridge for relationship-building.  

I’m thinking that I’d like to own that house.  I’m thinking that it would be a perfect “bridge” for LoveWorks to build as we begin this journey.  I called the gentleman who owns the property, and he seemed a little amused that I would be interested in the house since it “needs some pretty extensive interior and exterior remodeling”.  He told me that he was asking $19,000 for the house and the land.   So, I’m praying.

Something in me tells me that restoring this house will be a beautiful picture of what God has done for each of us when He saved us.  That’s what He did, isn’t it? – He took something worn down- doomed for destruction; something no one would really want- and He restored it for His glory.

How amazing is it to know that God can use me (and you) to help others cross the bridge to experience the beauty of Christ and the restoration that comes through knowing Him?

Pray with me.  Cross the bridge with me.

Love works.