a God who provides

Some of you may have noticed that we've removed a few items from our "in-house needs" section. That means that God is providing for our needs, and he is doing so in ways that are hard to even describe! To those who have prayed, and to those who have played a part in meeting those needs, we say Thank You! Most of all, we ask you to join us in praising a Father who knows our needs before we even ask...or post them on the internet:)

it's so simple, really

Things in the park are....interesting sometimes. Working with the poor becomes more complex when we move beyond meeting a material need (which is SO important) to actually involving ourselves in the messy lives of families, especially those which are seriously dysfunctional. Just this week, we've found ourselves navigating a situation that is simply out of our league. Yet the Father has placed us there to be the presence of love in the midst of it. I hear church folk say often, "God does not call the equipped; He equips the called." That is a nice thought, for sure, but at the moment I have moved from speaking it serenely, if not blithely, to clinging to its ankles in need. Even the less weird situations, in our relationships with families that bring us great joy and laughter, we can find ourselves chafing against challenges to the great American golden calf: a sense of entitlement to being the sole master of our "own" time and energy.

A lo of thoughts have gone on in my mind over the last several days of dealing with this dauntingly strange situation and several new demands on my schedule. One would expect to find among those thoughts, "Man, maybe we shouldn't have done this." Or perhaps, "This is just too ridiculous to be worth it." Even I expected to find those among my myriad thoughts. Yet, if present at all, they have not been prominent.

Instead, I find myself overwhelmed by the amazing fact that we are truly involved in our neighbors’ lives. We are not just skimming the surface, but wading knee-deep through the crap. How did this happen? I look back and chuckle at the simplicity of the answer: We moved. We plopped ourselves down in a new abode, and the rest just followed. I think of previous ministry jobs I've had, of the hours and hours spent trying to figure out how to draw these folks in and make them want to stay, and it seems crazy to me now. Jesus had it right from the very beginning: Ministry is about sharing life, about incarnation. It's not complicated, but it's hard. Still, it seems that many of our ministries have somehow decided that choosing complicated instead of hard is a better (and more effective?) deal.

In it all, one particular thought keeps charging around my mind like loose bull: "Why are we not doing this?" As in, why are we, the church, not living more incarnationally? Why did it take me so long to make the decision I did and move? There is really no way to describe the level of ministry that happens there, in that place where we knit our lives together with those who need Jesus. It leaves me shaking my head in amazement every time I think about it, every time I look around our home and realize, "Man, it really is that simple." Yes, the specific situations can feel complicated sometimes, but the ministry itself is not. I mean really....we just live there.

I have a feeling it will all be churning around in my dome for many days to come... But on a lighter note:

We were fully chastised last Thursday when we sat down at the table with our neighbors. "Where have you been? No one has been here for dinner? I mean, you could call!" I laugh even as I type it! That conversation came over a bowl of stir fry, lovingly prepared by the folks across the street. When a friend pulled up, expecting to find us home, he had not even reached our gate before our dinner host was shouting out the door, "They're over here! Come on over--we've been waiting for you!" Now that's a welcome you'll never forget, coming from a gruff man, leaning out the door of a rusty old trailer while dragging on a cigarette! Our friends are their friends; that's just how it works.

I’m writing from a coffee shop, but I’ll be headed home in a few hours for a meal of white bean chili with those same generous neighbors. My job is to pick up a kid-friendly movie on the way. That’s the plan tonight: to eat a meal, watch a movie, talk about the day.

It will be a night rich with ministry. Pretty simple, isn’t it?

you're never stranded when a neighbor is home

So, I knew it would happen someday. I knew we should have left a spare with the neighbors, or hidden one near the shed or something. But we didn't, and I did it. I stood outside in 4 inches of fresh snow, with both house and car keys locked inside our trailer. Oops.

Thankfully, it ended up just being funny...and almost fun. A neighbor came over and helped me in a valiant attempt to break in, until I finally called a friend and asked if she'd drop me off at a coffee shop to work on things until a roommate got home. My neighbor and I stuck bobby pins in the lock, pried off screens, and tried random keys. No luck. One of our friends in the trailer park is an ex-con, convicted for grand theft auto; I have decided that my next request of him will be that he teach me to pick a lock. Maybe he could teach me to hotwire my truck, too. A handy skill, if you ask me.

Goofy incidents aside, I have been battling another hurdle of trailer life this week. Sharing meals--mostly, accepting those lovingly offered to us--is a huge part of our relationship with our neighbors. It is a crucial part of the take that allows us to freely give. Meals are simply one of the most important aspects of community in our lives now. Unfortunately, the meals are not exactly on the healthy side, nor are the offered portions small. This has meant a little weight gain for me, which can be a crushing thing for a girl in her 20's. I am not one of those young folks with a magic metabolism. I have to work hard to stay fit. So what do I do when maintaining relationship threatens that? What do I do with the fact that those relationships are far more important in the long run, no matter how much I struggle with the effects or feel terrible about how I look? It's just another example of roadblocks I never would have seen coming. So many things I thought would bother me seem more like joy than struggle. Others that I never could have anticipated cause great frustration.

Even with the frustration, the increased sharing and comfort around one another is beautiful. I love to gather around a table (or, at our house, whatever you can find to sit on) and eat, talking about life inside the park and out. I love sharing hearts over homemade lasagna and pie. In the end, it really does matter more than what the mirror says.