New and Foreign Territory

She asked if I’d help and I was hesitant.

“I don’t want to say yes and not do it well. I want to make sure it’s right for me, want to make sure I can connect.”

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I told her I knew nothing about being a Missions leader because, well…I’m just not a mission type person. It’s all so foreign and far away. I’m not worldly thinking. I told her I’d look into it, see what a leader should look like, don’t want to do it halfway.

All the countries, all the places all over the world and “Shoot! I’m afraid to even get on a plane!”

All my life I’ve considered my work my mission, called it that sometimes.

poverty, abuse, homelessness and suicide

My mission field is my work.

Still, I promised I would consider leading and the deadline to tell her, I missed it, but knew she was waiting to hear, waiting for me to pray about it.

I hadn’t until just now.

Asked God, “Clarify to me what you would have me do.”

Last week I met someone who described faith in action as being a deliverer of God’s kingdom right where you are to as many people as possible, to just start a spread.

I read in Matthew, a parable of an invitation to a wedding, unopened by many, ignored by many.

Then today, thinking about the question, the nomination…I journaled again, the words of Jabez…Bless me indeed, adding little words…good things, best things, right things.

Then on to the next line, a simple, vulnerable, powerful prayer…

Enlarge my territory.

I stopped, knew it then, underlined the words, straight solid and bold.

I researched the goals, the purpose of WMU and I decided to help.

Woman’s Missionary Union challenges Christian believers to understand and be radically involved in the mission of God.

To be challenged to understand more and to be radically involved.

To help the women and girls of my church as believers becoming more involved in things we see as “foreign”.

Linking up to hurriedly talk about help for Five Minute Friday…I think I took longer, though.

http://buff.ly/29QYESi

Believing the unseen, the untold

Pine cones and blue feathers

Pine cones and blue feathers

I’m journaling still, the prayer of Jabez.

Seated next to my little vignette of things I love.

Intricacies of nature…a pine cone from a mountain trip and two bluebird feathers found on a heavy day.

Reflecting on the detail of God’s handiwork.

Of God’s hand.

Quiet mornings are my spiritual discipline.

My soul craves this abiding.

I rest in this refreshing, this refining.

I am on Day 17 of my yearning to pray like Jabez.

I have been blessed by the simplicity of belief.

Jabez, the son whose mother declared he was born in pain, the meaning of his name. Yet,  was found to be more honorable than his brothers. More honorable because he decided and declared to trust God to change the course of his life, asking God to bless him, put good people around him, stay near, and finally to make sure he caused no one pain.

I long to know when  exactlyJabez came to God with his request.

A request of show me your glory, God.

Show them your glory.

I read further, hoping to hear the story of a little boy unwanted by family, yet cherished by God.

I hoped to open my Bible to I Chronicles and discover verses descriptive of a confident, glorious transformation.

Taking my Jabez prayer journey a little deeper, maybe more like my little girl story, who late in life has come to believe she is worthy.

But, just three sentences. A prayer is all.

And I’m left wondering about Jabez, the child who had to believe what he did not see…what he was not told.

That he was called by name, by God and that God was with him. Isaiah 43:1  That nothing about him was unknown to God.

There’s a little girl in me who longs to know the difference a name could make.

A little girl, I remember on her sixth birthday, wearing stiff, white collared dress and patent leather shoes, lace edged socks on gently swinging feet.

Little girl, surrounded in a circle of lounge chair seated cousins, under the lavender dripping wisteria vines.

Bobbed hair, smiling sweetly, shyly.

The little girl whose mama wanted to name her Libby.

But, daddy said ” No, that’s a can of peaches.”

The only birthday I remember

That day, I felt like Libby.

That sweet child was Libby.

Little girl Lisa Anne, a different child.

Staying hidden, quiet and hyper observant,

The one to cause no pain, no problems.

Quiet, non-existent. Wanting to be noticed. But, not be noticed.

A long, long, doubtful journey to now.

Lisa, now prayerfully thanking God for good and seeking good.

No more days of a God and a love I could never measure up to.

A Lisa who walks with an understanding of what wasn’t seen, wasn’t spoken…an understanding of a God with me, strong hand upon me all of my life….guiding me, reminding me, leading me to Lisa here.

Fearing not.

Doubting not.

Shaming myself not.

Because, I have and have had everything I need, fearing no evil, no unknowns…Surely goodness and love will follow me for all the days of my life. Psalm 23

Blessings all along, I’ve finally opened hands to receive.

With me and for me all the while