Vacation Wrap-Up, Grace, Gratitude, and More...

We just arrived home from our 9 day adventure into the north (a.k.a. Tennessee - yep, that's "north" to me!). It was a wonderful, relaxing trip. We started the trip by driving to Alabama and spending the night with my best friend from college. I got to meet her sweet baby boy for the first time, she cooked us dinner, and we visited with her and her husband for several hours. SC's DVD player broke on the way to their house, so as a Christmas present for SC, they bought her a new DVD player. Isn't that the sweetest? I absolutely love the friendships that never grow old. I honestly can't remember the last time Iris and I spoke on the phone (at least, before I called her to see if we could come visit) and yet it was like no time had passed at all. And I was reminded again how much I love those two (now three!) and their hearts for the Lord. Such amazing people. I knew I did something right picking her for my maid of honor all those years ago. ;)

From there we went to Tennessee. We spent Christmas Eve watching football and walking around downtown Gatlinburg. It was sooooo cold! Seriously, this Louisiana girl is not cut out for super-chilly temps! Christmas Day, my mom & grandma cooked Christmas dinner and we sat around eating and lounging pretty much all day.

Monday we went to lunch as a family, then spent some time in the city before heading back to watch the Saints decimate the Dirty Birds Atlanta Falcons (and watch Drew Brees beat Dan Marino's all time single season passing record!). Tuesday we took SC to the Dixie Stampede, which was pricey but worth it. They had a live nativity, a toy shop that "came to life", lots of horse riding and tricks, and a huge meal. The only detraction was that you have to eat with your hands! I cannot stand to have anything on my hands (yes, clearly I need therapy), especially something greasy, so it was a big adjustment for me. I ended up bringing most of my meal home. But SC had a blast, and that was all that mattered.

That afternoon, it started SNOWING!!! The snow (lightly) fell off and on for the rest of the evening and night (more on this later). The next day, I went with B, SC, and my grandparents, and we hiked to Laurel Falls. I was so proud of SC for going almost the entire way without being carried. She loved seeing the waterfall up close, but it was so cold she was ready to leave as soon as we got up there. Then that evening B and I went out on a date. We got Mexican food (because we're weirdos like that) then walked to a candy store for some caramel apples to share.

Thursday we went to Ober Gatlinburg. We enjoyed it, although we didn't enjoy the long lines and high prices. We took SC on the chair lift and the Alpine Slide, then we rode the tram up and down the mountain. She also took advantage of the carousel and the kiddie area. She had such a good time, and it's hard to find something to grumble about when your kid is having so much fun.

Friday was our last full day. My grandparents left that day so it was just us and my parents. We had lunch then took SC to play mini golf. It was her first time and she had so much fun! I loved seeing her learn how to putt and by the end of the course she didn't want anyone helping her. We had a little scary moment when we took a mountain road we thought was a by-pass and it turned out it wasn't. But we (obviously) made it back safe and sound.

Now we're home and looking forward to 2 days of rest and relaxation before we all hit the ground running again on Tuesday. It was so nice to get away. My hubby hasn't had a vacation since May 2010, and he spent most of that vacation inside with me because I was sick with (what I didn't know was) multiple pulmonary embolisms. This year has definitely had its share of stresses, but it's also had its share of sheer joys. This family vacation was a wonderful way to cap off the year, and I'm so thankful my folks treated us to such a wonderful time.

* * *

Changing gears now, God has continued to reveal more and more about grace to me over these last several months. It started when we began attending our not-so-new-anymore church earlier this year. I noticed how often my pastor and his wife (my Bible study teacher and old college friend) talked about grace. At first my heckles raised a little bit - so much talk of grace concerned me that I was about to start hearing a doctrinal spill on Calvinism. But God quickly convicted me of such thoughts. He challenged me - did I really and truly believe His grace was only evident in salvation experiences and forgiveness of sins? No, His grace is in everything. (It's most definitely giving me a new approach to reading 1000 Gifts.) I started to see how every little thing in our daily lives, from breath in our lungs to sunshine on our shoulders, was indeed grace. I began to marvel anew at the awesomeness of God, at the graciousness (for lack of a better word) and generosity of God.

SC had prayed and wished fervently for snow in the weeks leading up to our trip. I checked the weather right before we left and sighed with disappointment, and broke the news to her gently that we wouldn't be seeing any snow. She still remembers the freak, 2 hour snowfall from 2008 and has begged for snow every year. She handled the disappointment OK, but I could tell she was really let down.

But then, on Tuesday, we looked out the window and there it was - fat, soft flakes drifting and swirling to the ground. It wasn't a lot, and it was barely enough to stick the following morning, but to a five year old who has her heart set on seeing the one thing she never gets to experience? It was everything. It was breathtaking. It was magical. It was grace.

I found myself praising the Lord for answering such a small, simple prayer of a child. A quiet, unassuming snowfall. Something the locals would not even bat an eye at. But something my child watched, touched, molded, held with wonder.

We are surrounded by grace. Everywhere. At all times.

* * *

That brings me around to gratitude. I think it's only fitting to close out 2011 in a state of gratitude. I've learned to say "thanks" many different ways this year. For hard things that, had I had my choice of plans, would never have happened the way they did. For the complete, overwhelming graciousness and generosity of God and of those around us. For challenges. For mountain tops. For lessons learned. For valleys. For sickness. For healing. For unconditional love from God and from others. For conditional love, as hard as those relationships can be. For family. For friends. For faith. For a God that keeps His promises. For a God that sends grace through the simple, yet beautiful things. For God, because He is who He is. And He is.

* * *

I don't do resolutions. The diet ones never stick because right about the time I make a diet-related resolution, Rouse's starts putting out their king cakes, and any and all intentions of being more health-conscious fly out the window. But this year, I feel the need to set up some, not so much goals, but standards. Areas of my life that are in consistent need of strength and growth.

1. Spend a significant amount of time reading the Gospels. I thought about attaching a day limit to this. Either 90 days or even a year. But those things don't work for me, because they always end up being more about the number than the task itself. I feel compelled to spend serious time focusing on the words about the Word. This challenge has been fostered mainly by two people - my husband and my Bible study teacher (also known as pastor's wife, old college friend, etc.). My husband encourages me so much because daily we seem to have a discussion where he brings up some parable or teaching or example of Jesus. I find myself wanting that time with Jesus. I want to savor all there is about my Savior.

2. Be purposeful with relationships and firm in boundaries. Pour into and invest in the people I know and love deeply, and set (but more importantly, enforce) necessary boundaries for relationships that need healing from the Lord.

3. Be intentional about sharing my life and my faith with those around me.

4. Be disciplined in the areas of responsibility in my life - my family, my home, my daughter's education.

I hope 2011 has been a great year for you. Even with the ups and downs, it's been a year that I've grown to love and would not trade for anything. I am so grateful to God for all He's taught me, and I cannot wait to see what He has in store for 2012.

Happy New Year to you all!

Mary's Song, the Church, and the Gospel

This past Saturday was a Saturday I hope I never forget.

I got the opportunity honor to serve at a Christmas tea at a local recovery/rehab ministry for women called Mary's Song. Mary's Song is a ministry of Victory Fellowship here in NOLA and is a long-term facility where women come and live (usually for 12 months) as they overcome their addictions and begin their new lives. I was asked by my friend S. back in September if I would like to be a part of the tea. I had recently gone through an amazing though tough (as in lots of brokenness) time in my relationship with God, and I knew He was calling me to be more of a "walker" of my faith. As in go into the hard places and do hard things. Not gonna lie, I was so nervous and had no clue about ministering to women who were former (or recovering) addicts and some even coming out of the adult entertainment industry (a business choice often used to fuel their addictions). But I felt God pushing me to go, so I told S. yes.

So the tea was this past Saturday. I showed up with pretty much the intention of just being hands and feet to serve. I kept my eyes peeled for things to do, things I could do behind the scenes to make sure everything got done in time for the tea. When a volunteer was needed, I raised my hand. I didn't know what to say to any of the women of Mary's Song, but I could work.

As the clock wound down closer to the time the women would come into the fellowship room, I could feel my heart starting to race a little bit. As I helped set the tables, I saw the design was to have 3 Mary's Song women and three "volunteer" (I don't know what else to call us!) women at each table. I wanted to sit by my friend A. but I also wanted to be at a table with a volunteer who had been to the tea before. You know, so I could just kind of hang on to their coattails as they talked.

I started walking around asking whose table was whose. I started to panic even more when I realized each table had two volunteers already sitting at it. Every table but one. So A. and I sat down at the last table. I waited, just knowing another volunteer - a more seasoned, experienced volunteer (it's was A's first year volunteering too) would come and sit with us. No one came.

I almost had to laugh, because I could feel God's sense of humor over the whole thing. I was so scared to talk, and had no clue what to say, so I made my own little plans to make sure I stayed as comfortable as possible. And He said, "Nope! I'm going to put you at a table where you'll be forced to begin conversations with these women. You are not going to 'tag along' on someone else. You're not only sharing the Gospel; you're sharing your life today."

Ouch.

We visited for a few minutes with the three women at our table. Their names are Alice, April, & Rose (I'm writing them so I don't forget them). Each had a story - hard drug use, previous rehab experience, children taken away, jail time. Each had memories from a past before addiction overtook their lives. And each had a testimony at how far Christ has brought them in their journey. Fifteen minutes into the tea and I had tears in my eyes.

S. opened with a greeting and prayer, and then another volunteer came up and read the Christmas story from Luke 2. I chanced a glance around the room and my heart swelled. All around me, women from Mary's Song were crying into their napkins. Some had their hands thrown in the air in praise, heads back and eyes closed. I immediately become convicted again: when is the last time I was moved to that much emotion hearing about the birth of my Savior? I confess I've slipped into a complacent mentality where very often the reading of the Christmas story is just one more thing I check off my Things Christians Do At Christmas list. It goes no further than my head. I repented of the hardening of my heart over the miracle of God come down to live among His people.

Then my friend A. got up to speak and share her testimony of addiction and recovery and victory in Christ. My socks were blown off, and the tears came again. A, I'm so proud of you and I rejoice with you at how far Christ has brought you! A few other women shared their testimonies, and more tears came from around the room as the name of Christ was blessed and He was praised for His healing and deliverance.

We then moved to the time of gifts. Each woman was able to make a bracelet for her "Secret Santa" name, and each was asked to think of an encouraging word to pass on to her sister when giving the bracelet. I watched as the women hugged and cried as they blessed each other with prayer and encouragement.

Then each lady got her gift bag from under the tree. People generously donate the small collection of gifts, but you've never seen women so grateful. They looked in awe at the small journals, immediately applied the lipgloss, and shed tears over the stamped envelopes that went along with blank Christmas cards to send to their families.

Finally it was time to reveal the big surprise. About a month ago, S. was given a "Christmas list" by the director of things the women needed. These items were mostly for personal hygiene - toothbrushes and toothpaste, shampoo, brushes, even underwear. We received many donations - including huge gifts of dental products from LSU Dental School - and the basket was packed to overflowing. As S. pulled the blanket off the table to reveal the goodies, about 75% of the women burst into tears and raised their hands in gratitude to the Lord.

Over toothpaste. Over underwear. I couldn't keep the tears back myself.

A bagpipe player came in and played "Amazing Grace" on the bagpipes, which is the song they use to close their morning worship services. All around hands lifted, tears streamed. I bit a hole in the side of my cheek trying to not cry harder.

We then started to pack up and hug the women goodbye. April & I clung to each other and we both sobbed for probably a full minute straight. When I left, I was shaking.

And I realized then: I'd just seen the church.

* * *

About this time last year, my hubby was neck-deep in interviewing with a church that, from all outward appearances, was calling us there. In fact, had we not declined the invitation, we'd be there at this very moment. Looking back, I now know I was not ready to be a pastor's wife. My notion of church was completely screwed up.

For so long - decades, if not longer - we've defined church as a building. Growing the church doesn't mean sharing the Gospel with the lost. It means bringing in more bodies to our existing buildings by any means necessary. It's been a courting of the rich, the affluent, the powerful. (Please understand I am not criticizing those with money or power - I know rich and/or powerful people who honor Christ with their lives, their wallets, and their influence; what disgusts me is when ministers show favoritism to those individuals over individuals without those means.)

This past year has wrecked my previous notions of church. Wrecked them. Do we need to meet together as a body to worship and study God's Word and encourage one another and pray for one another? Absolutely - we're told not to forsake the fellowship of believers. But what we do inside the building is not church. Church is what happens when Christ's name and salvation are preached. Church is what happens when souls that are striving along without Christ come in contact with His glorious grace and become transformed. Church is what happens when the power of the Gospel sets people free.

It is not about getting behinds in the seats. It is not about a number on a wooden plaque at the side of the sanctuary door. It is not about fancy lights or a new projector or a dynamic speaker. It's not about how many numbers follow the heading of income on the church budget. It's not about how full the parking lot is. Ministers (and by ministers I mean everyone who calls on the name of the Lord, because we ALL have a ministry whether we think we do or not!) have got to stop chasing after the things of this world and trying to somehow reconcile them with the things of God.

Some of you who know me personally might be saying, "Tara, isn't your husband going into full time ministry? How can you say those things aren't important when they will directly affect you and your family?"

My response: So? Do you honestly mean to tell me that I can trust Christ for the eternal placement of my soul, but I can't trust Him to make sure the light bill gets paid, or that our family is provided for? That I have to balance my faith in one hand with schemes in the other to make sure the needs are met?

As I looked at these women this weekend - beautiful on the outside despite drugs and alcohol trying to destroy them, and beautiful on the inside because of the transforming, life-giving grace of Christ - I knew this was the church I wanted to be a part of. I want to be a part of the church that shares their life and their love with their communities. That shares the Gospel with society's rejects. That reaches out to those in bondage and offers them the true chain-breaker, the Rescuer, who is Jesus.

These people aren't popular. They aren't profitable. But they are loved. Loved by a Savior willing to die for them because He loved them so much.

I love the movement I am seeing among believers today, the movement to take church outside the building, and to fulfill Paul's description of being the church. I pray I never become complacent about this issue again.

I know this sounds strange for someone whose family is heading into full-time ministry. It would make sense to want what is safe, to follow the models we've seen in the past where church is "done" and yet there's still the cushy comfort zone. But there is nothing - nothing - more important than the Gospel, and there is nothing I can place over it, especially not my own security.

I am so grateful for my husband, a man who truly loves those the world deems unlovable. I am so thankful for my daughter, a child who even in her young life loves every child she meets. I'm thankful for our church, who models on a large scale this Gospel mobility God is calling me to take up.

Most of all, I am thankful to Christ - for grace. The grace to live, the grace to challenge, the grace that makes me able to repent of my mistakes, and the grace to move forward in the grace of His power.

I hope everyone reading this has a wonderful Christmas this year, and as you focus on the miraculous gift of God and love come down to reconcile to His creation, that you too will be challenged to make known the riches of His Gospel - during this season, and all seasons.

"Long lay the world in sin and error, pining

Till He appeared and the soul found its worth..."

...for the least of these

This afternoon I pulled out my calendar to assess all the events we have coming up over the next week, fortnight, and month. Almost all of these non-recurring events involve some sort of meal or, at the very least, a snack. So I pulled out a card and jotted down a shopping list for things I needed to purchase so I can contribute my food to the table.

After church tonight, list in hand, I headed to the Rouse's that sits conveniently between the church and my home. I handed my daughter the shopping list and she called out everything I needed as we wandered up and down the aisles. I ran into a few people from church who had the same post-church shopping idea that I had. My hands were busy filling the cart, but my heart was elsewhere.

My heart was in India.

Finally we gathered everything on the list and went to the checkout. The cashier scanned all my items. "$29.10 is your total," she said.

As I swiped my worn card through the machine, my heart lurched.

Not a single thing in those white plastic bags were for sustenance for my family. Everything in those bags were ingredients for dishes to take to events.

For the same price of everything in those bags, I could provide food, clothes, shelter, education, medicine for an orphan in India... for a month.

I struggled the whole way home, with waste and abundance, with responsibility and compassion. Words of the day kept floating back into my mind... Beth Moore warning us about being sucked in by our culture of self-indulgence... Caleb speaking tonight about willing to be uncomfortable in order to be Christ to others...

Not that the blue pen marks on my calendar are bad things... they're good things. They're permissible... but are they beneficial? Can I in good conscience even call them beneficial when children are starving, children are freezing, children are stolen, children are torn from their innocence?

I pictured the big brown eyes, the white smiles against the dark cheeks, the brilliant colored salvar kameez. The photos that I've studied over and over, memorizing faces. The voices I can hear in my head from watching the videos my husband brought back over and over again. Hearing their sweet voices say, "Wanda namalu!" with their thin hands clasped in front of them. And I couldn't help but feel wasteful, selfish.

I'm writing this today to share with you some ways that you can help. Please prayerfully consider supporting a ministry in India that rescues children. Christ is our great Rescuer, and we have been given power in His name and a challenge to walk as He walked. Should we not be a rescuer to those who need to be rescued?

I'm sure there are some reading who are thinking, "I already donate to {organization name} so I don't need to do anything else." Please, please prayerfully consider this before making any final decisions. According to UNICEF, India has the highest percentage of malnourished children in the world. And just look at these trafficking statistics for India (this is only for minors - CHILDREN! These numbers do not include trafficked women!).

"In 1998, between 5,000 and 7,000 Nepalese girls, some barely 9–10 years old were trafficked into the red light districts in Indian cities, and 200,000 to over 250,000 Nepalese women and girls were already in Indian brothels.^[3]

According to UNICEF, 12.6 million children are engaged in hazardous occupations.^[4]

In 2009, it was estimated 1.2 million children are trafficked worldwide for sexual exploitation, including for prostitution or the production of sexually abusive images ^[1]

Only 10 % of human trafficking in India is international, while almost 90 % is interstate. Nearly 40,000 children are abducted every year of which 11000 remain untraced according to a report by the National Human Rights Commission of India.^[5]"

40,000 children abducted every year. 11,000 remain untraceable.

If you think you can't (or shouldn't) consider this cause, think about if this was your child (or if you are childless, think about a close loved one - a nephew or niece, godchild, brother or sister). Think about if it was your child who was starving to death on the streets. Think about your son having to sleep in a pack of 15-20 boys on the street to protect themselves from sexual predators and thieves. Think about your daughter being stolen or sold to the highest bidder to be raped repeatedly before she reaches double-digits in age and is considered used up.

What if your child was one of the 44,000 abducted... and became one of the untraceable 11,000?

Think about it. And think about what a relatively small contribution from you can do.

You can rescue that child. You have the power to be his or her rescuer.

3 Ways to Help Orphans in India

1. Sponsor a child through India Partners.

India Partners operates much like Compassion, except their sponsorships are concentrated solely in India. For $30 a month - less than the cost of one meal out at a restaurant for a family of 4 - you can rescue a child. Provide him or her food, education, medicine, shelter, clean water, clothing. Protect him or her from the destruction that comes with poverty.

My husband has been to India twice. He's slept at the orphanage, kicked a ball around with the children, seen how it operates first hand. I've met Babu when he visited the States in 2009. I've shaken his hand and heard his testimony with my own ears. I've cried as I've listened to him tell about rescuing girls from prostitution rings. And my heart has ached as I've listed to how he only receives money for 200 children, but he stretches it to take care of 300.

If we're going to talk religion, then this man is living out the religion that God finds pure and faultless. You can also sponsor a widow through India Partners.

(Some of the girls with the new "mattresses" brought to them.)

2. Purchase a bag to support Asha House.

Asha House is another Indian ministry set up solely to deliver Indian children from poverty and trafficking. I've committed to sell 30 bags for Asha House as part of a group of 30 people selling 30 bags. If we each sell our 30 bags, it will raise $18,000 for Asha House. Asha House is currently in New Delhi, with a new orphanage being opened in Calcutta.

These are the bags I've received to sell. The photos do not do them justice. Each bag is hand sewn, hand painted, and/or hand embroidered by Indian women who live at Asha House. If you see a bag you like, please leave a comment (make sure your email is linked so I can contact you) and we will work out payment and shipping.

(please ignore my grody couch and focus on the beauty of the bags)

Please consider purchasing a bag. These were hand sewn by women in India who have found shelter, either for themselves or their children, in Asha House. The bags are $20 each (I will find out a price for the scarves and mini-bags), and every cent goes right back to helping get Indian children out of poverty or sex slavery. These would make a wonderful Christmas gift (the bags are STUNNING in person!), and the value of what will be done with your money far exceeds the $20 purchase price. Please consider getting one for yourself and/or for someone you love as a Christmas present.

(Sidenote: I'm working to get Babu connected with Asha House - wouldn't it be wonderful if the young women and widows could make bags to sell free-trade to raise money for Orphan's Faith Home?)

3. Sponsor a child in India through Compassion.

Compassion is one of the largest child rescue programs in the world. There are currently 93 children on Compassion's India list waiting to be sponsored. Compassion costs slightly more than India Partners ($38 per month) but is still well worth the investment in a child's life.

(Pastor Babu and one of the orphans)

I know we're in a tough economy right now. I know money is tight for everyone. And while I can't tell you what to do with your budget, I can tell you my own convictions. I can tell you that I don't want to come face-to-face with Christ one day, and Him ask me was that budget so tight that I couldn't have fit one child in there? I can tell you that I probably spend close to that much on soft drinks each month, and that's an area I can (and should) cut. I can tell you that in the grand scheme of things, $30 a month is not an exorbitant amount of money. It's cutting out a few tiny indulgences throughout the month, indulgences that I don't need to begin with. It's saying no to the mentality of our culture that says we deserve to self-indulge. It's saying yes to the Savior who says that whenever we feed or clothe the least, we've indeed done so for Him.

(My sweet hubby, sweat stains and all)

I know this is a lot to take in (and it's a looooong post, too). Please consider helping. Maybe you already have a heart crisis, an injustice so big it keeps you awake at night. Maybe your heart is in the horn of Africa, reeling from the famine there. Maybe your heart is in the Middle East, grieving for children whose families have been torn apart by the wars and unrest. But if you don't have a place that keeps you up a night, consider making a part of your heart's home in India.

These photos represent the life you could offer a child that is currently on the streets of India... or worse. Please consider becoming the hero that so many Indian children so desperately need.

All images belong to my husband, taken by him during his trips to India in 2006 and 2007.

The Inheritance of Giving

I can remember it like it was just yesterday.

I was a little girl, and I was walking inside the (now closed down) K-Mart in our town. The K-Mart with the miniature carousel with the three horses my dad would always let me ride while my mom checked out.

It was Christmas time, or just before, and right in the main entrance to the store was the giant (faux) evergreen tree with tiny white cards attached with bright red ribbons on just about every branch. My mom walked over to the tree and circled around it, reading several cards. Finally she pulled a card off the tree, said, "This one looks good," and then set off for the toy department.

She explained that the cards on the tree represented gifts that poor children wanted. She handed me the card to look at. At the top was the name of a little girl, faceless to me, with a single toy request written below her name. And I remember being astounded - "Just one toy?" - and wondering how on earth that could make a child happy. I learned my first lesson about being in need, that when you have nothing, the smallest thing seems like the greatest.

We found the requested toy and went to the checkout counter. My mom bought the toy and took care of making sure it would get put with the other toys purchased and set aside for needy children.

We did this every year. Each Christmas I remember walking into that K-Mart and selecting a child's wish from the tree. As I grew older my parents let me pick the card, and some years we chose more than one child. My mom would get tears in her eyes as she talked about children who didn't get anything for Christmas because they were poor. She felt compelled to do her part to bring one ray, albeit small, of joy to those children's lives. And what my parents probably didn't realize is that at the same time, they were planting a seed in my heart as well.

* * *

Today I took my daughter to the Dollar Tree, armed with a list from Samaritan's Purse. Our mission: find some things to go in the Operation Christmas Child shoeboxes. As we drove down Canal Street, I explained as many details of the program that I could that I thought she could understand at five years old. We walked up and down the aisles, and she pulled item after item off and placed it in the basket. She picked colors for jump ropes, styles of coloring books, and types of candy.

In the back of my head, I heard a little voice that scolded me. "Your hubby hasn't gotten paid yet. Should you really be dropping money on OCC shoeboxes when you currently have no extra money in the budget?"

But then a memory surged into my mind, a memory that drowned out the voice. I remembered walking into K-Mart, snug and warm in my thick coat, seeing that tree and feeling my heart twist as my mom told me about children who didn't have toys to enjoy, or winter coats to keep them warm.

As an adult, I can look back and see that at that time in my life, my parents weren't wealthy by any means. But we went to that K-Mart every year without fail, and they used part of what they had been given to bless a child in need.

With tears pricking the corners of my eyes, I took our merchandise to the check-out line.

Sometimes you just have to give, even when you don't have anything left.

* * *

As we drove home with our five bags full of treats for children around the world, I told SC we needed to pray for the girls who would receive our boxes (I let her pick if we would send our boxes to boys or girls and she chose little girls). Then she told me she didn't want to wait, that she wanted to pray for them right then. And sitting in the backseat, she closed her eyes and bowed her head and prayed a heartfelt prayer for the little girls around the world who would receive the boxes she was going to pack.

* * *

This isn't necessarily an endorsement for Samaritan's Purse or OCC. We chose this organization because it's something my young daughter can relate to at this stage in her life. This is just me writing, remembering, and working out what it truly means to say, to live, that faith without works is dead. Lately I have been praying that God would lead me to live sacrificially. If we are known by our fruit, what fruit am I demonstrating? God is challenging me each day to not just be a speaker or a hearer of the word, but a doer.

Today I believe my daughter received some of the inheritance of giving, and inheritance that didn't start with me but was graciously passed down to me. And I'm grateful to have parents who demonstrated to me, from an early age, that we need to not just think of others that are in need, but do what we can to help them.

* * *

In unrelated news, have you entered the giveaway at Talk21 yet? We've got three different Christmas card packages up for grabs!

A little bit transparent.

I debated blogging this a while back, and at the time decided against it. But I think it's something that needs to be shared.

I recently made some mistakes that I needed to ask forgiveness for from my husband (and before any tongues start wagging over what exactly I did, I'll go ahead and tell you it had to do with me messing up our money and I'm going to leave it at that). My carelessness and selfishness left us in a difficult place when it came time to pay for both my daughter's & my husband's tuition & books for this year.

I sat down with him one night to explain everything (I handle all the bill paying, etc. in our family and just update him on where we're at). I immediately burst into tears. The truth of the situation was that by the world's standards, my mistake was hardly that big a deal. But to me, I knew I had betrayed my husband. I had been careless and selfish and a poor steward of the gifts God has given us and my hubby had worked so hard for. I had cheated them both.

So as I poured out my confession, along with my tears, and begged for forgiveness, made promises to do better, I waited for an outburst. I waited for a, "What is the matter with you?" I waited for him to yank away the checkbook and my card. I waited for the judgment I deserved for my screw up.

Instead, he hugged me, said he forgave me and that everything was fine, and he appreciated my being honest with him. Then he went and got me some tissue since at that point I was crying so hard I was about to blow my nose on my shirt (no lie). If that isn't a modern day portrait of washing someone else's feet, I don't know what is.

Of course, then I cried even harder. I didn't deserve the grace he was giving me. The proof was in black & white on the bank statement. I had screwed up. I needed to do penance of some sort to make up for my mistakes.

But he took that burden off of me, and just encouraged me to move forward. He didn't bring up my mistake again.

That was over a month ago. Last night we had another conversation about money where my screwup came up again because it affected something else this past month. I started to cry again just talking about it. My husband held up his hand as I started to apologize again. "You don't need to do that," he said. "It's in the past. Stop letting it bother you so much."

* * *

This entire year has been one giant season of learning about heartache, grace, disappointment, forgiveness, and freedom. I've been unloving and bitter at times and God has had to soften my heart many, many times over. I'm daily learning lessons about forgiveness - what it means, why we do it, how to properly (humbly) ask for it, how to do it when people don't ask for it, how to offer it to people who by all outward appearances don't deserve it.

I don't think anything has ministered to me quite so much this year as this episode with my husband, my asking and his giving of forgiveness. Forgiveness is so polar opposite of everything we know. Would my husband have been totally within his right to tell me how bad I'd made everything for him, to take away my checkbook & card, and to put me on some kind of probationary period until I "proved" I could handle responsibility? Sure he would have. He forsook that right, choosing instead to pour out grace - grace he didn't have to give at all. Grace that could have been tough because he was the one who was wronged. He blessed my soul that evening by being Christ's hands and heart to me. I saw a beautiful picture of Christ's love acted out in my husband's actions.

How much do we cheat ourselves by not removing ourselves from topmost pedestal? We hang on to secrets, rights, the need to always have ourselves looking polished and shiny or 100% right. We alienate others by doing so. We miss out on opportunities to receive grace and become Christ to others because of our pride, our need to self-preserve, even if it's only in others' eyes.

The essence of the Gospel is this: reconciliation. I was deeply, deeply moved by how much closer I felt to my husband after this ordeal. A man I've known for 11 years, a man whose child I bore, a man who stood beside me in a hospital room during the scary moments where I was clinging to life. You'd think we couldn't get any closer than through things like that. But we can. And we do. And it is only through grace supplied by Christ.

We reconcile to God by our confession to Him of our unworthiness, our depravity, our filthy rags of sin, and our need for Christ's interceding sacrifice on our behalf. He reconciles Himself to us by pouring out grace, rather than judgment. By removing those sins as far as the east is from the west. He sets us free. And He draws us in. It's a closeness closer than air.

This has challenged me to become more real. Of all the problems of the church (and goodness knows there are many!) I think our reluctance to become real with each other is one of the biggest barriers. We can't even apologize or ask forgiveness to other believers because we feel we have to save face. Or we cover our shallow attempts at confession with excuses to explain away our behavior. That's not Christ. That's nothing but self and justification and pride.

Personally, I think it's time we bring back grace. Bring back being the hands and feet and heart of Christ to those we've wronged and have wronged us. Christ didn't shed His blood so we could make our brothers and sisters pay back every ounce of wrong they've done. He shed His blood so that, among many things, we would know what is even greater than justice: grace.

I'm chucking pretense. I'm praying for a fresh humility, a fresh infusion of the Spirit to give as good as I've been given. I am so thankful for a husband who loves me and, more importantly, loves Christ so much that he seeks to model Him at all times.

Grace. Unmerited favor. Unending blessing.