happy father's day

This is love and mutual adoration.
I wish you could watch this amazing story unfold as closely as I have.
This father's love is astounding.
If his love is this true, what must be the love of our Heavenly Father?
I cannot comprehend.

To this dad, who shows  me how to love,

and to all the other father's who point us to our Father's love,

Happy Father's Day.

Our home overflows.

xoxoxoxo

an email that touched my heart

If you've followed my blog very closely, you'll understand the significance of this....

On this Saturday, when the next days ahead feel hard and heavy, I struggled to face it. When most in need of encouragement, she wrote. She responded to my sharing how, through a blog she has touched my life. Yes, she wrote. Thank you Ann!!!!

Beautiful Dara...

Ah, friend --- that you'd write such a grace-filled, moving note -- so real and transparent? Your words and story bring tears.
Lays this sister right low and I whisper thanks to Jesus for you and yes, ma'am -- we'll keep pressing on to Jesus together.

You are so, so loved --- by Jesus and this Cross-clinging daughter...

Just -- thank you. For loving like our Lord, friend and being the gift and giving back.

Yes! We will talk long in Heaven...

All's grace,
Ann

what's it all leading to?

"Chad, what's it all leading to?"
"I don't know Dear."

It's my first day back. I sit investigating through old, smelly, rubbish paper bits that serve as hospital receipts. I identify that this little gal, less than 2 years old, was tested with ++malaria yesterday. I look for the receipt with malaria treatment on it. Before asking I make sure I've looked at all the dingy papers. I see blood was drawn and the hemoglobin was 4 (normal should be 10 or above). I pull down the lower eye lid of this lethargic sweet pea and sure enough-- white as a ghost. Severe anemia.

I ask the mom, "Did they not give you any medicine?"
"No, nothing. They said she has low blood and if she takes tablets she'll die."
Tears roll down her cheeks.

Lies.
Lies.
Lies.

Greed. Wanting bribes
and lies.

And it's a child who suffers.
We do what we can,
what we know best to do.

Return to the hospital.
Hope someone has compassion.
And keep wondering...

"What's it all leading to?"

rhythm of the waves

What if the rhythm of the waves is the beat of our Father's heart?
They're consistent, never to be missed,
If you're on the seaside, they're always there.
Always.

During the storm the waves keep crashing---
          showing strength, power, authority.
During the calm they're crashing still---
          more gently, soothing, bringing peace, assurance, comfort.

When I close my eyes, I can be sure they're coming.
They will not fail.
When I open my eyes wide, I look over the turquoise, the vastness stretches as far as my eye can see,
I could feel tiny, engulfed by the enormity,
But I choose to be awed.
I choose to say, as sure as the waves consistently crash
So my Father's heart beats for me.
Yes! Every beat, every crash reminding me He's here.
He's in control.
He's large.
And, yes! Surely his heart beats for me.

I think, the rhythm of the waves JUST MAY BE, 
The beat of my Father's heart.

happy easter

Happy Easter from we who've been redeemed. Thank you Jesus!

Love from the Vanden Bosch's

most beautiful people

 If People magazine were to ask me, which I know they never will, to give my opinion on the most beautiful people in the world, I've got my top 2 chosen:

Of course our conversations are about health and nutrition and the depth would be very elementary but there's something that's being knitted between the hearts of these women and mine. Something inside me lights up a bit when I see they've arrived at the clinic. They are beautiful. The mother, soft spoken and sweet, loves her little one with a real depth (which circumstantially is often missing here). And the wee one,  is as perfect as a porcelain doll, and, as small as one. Months behind in her development and with a grim future, there lies a beauty that shines and a treasure that deserves to be known. I love these two and it's them that deserve to be recognized for their beauty. Here is where I find the most beautiful people.

not mostly, not quite a bit...entirely

I remember it too well. The day, in the midst of drudging a heavy burden, when that subconscious thought came before I could stop it, "God I'm scared to trust you."

Immediately it sounded funny. Scared to trust God? If I'm not trusting Him, who am I trusting?

As I worked through this in my mind I realized, in this situation, if I decide to trust God 100% then I have no control. But, because I had no idea what to do in the circumstance, I realized that it was time to trust God 100%. Not 75%. Not 90%. Not 99%. 100%! Completely. Not holding on to anything. Nothing. Giving up everything that I normally try to do in my own strength.

I was scared to do it. Typically, when I let go 75% or 90% there's still that little bit of room left in there for me-- there's a little bit of me still able to do something, to try something in my own strength.

But really, was I scared to trust Him because I thought he'd mess things up? I thought he'd let me down and hurt me? Truthfully? I did think that. I thought, what if things don't turn out how I think they need to and when I want them to, that would be all wrong then and then I'd suffer.

I know! I know! My life is full of seeing God doing amazing things, things we didn't expect. My kid and husband are the obvious big ones.

Just like the Israelites who forgot God fed them manna from heaven or parted the Red sea, I also forget. Of that I am ashamed and embarrassed.

Then again, on Sunday, the Vanden Bosch's ventured out into the Bush of Moz to do an audio Bible distrubution-- to make the Word of God available to those who have never heard it for themselves, for those who can't read (I'm amazed at how the Pastors can hardly read the scriptures in their Mother-tongue-- it's almost painful for me to hear). The Bible distribution went well and was full of hope and encouragement. Then came the time in the service when people come forward to be prayed for. Of course, since we are the white visitors they'd like us to pray for the people. I gravitate to the area of the floor where the women and children are kneeling, I don't feel right to pray with the men. I start asking their names. What is their problem? Each one, something similar, "Corpo. Bessa. Tosse. Capisa", my body, congestion, cough, hot body, in dialect. As I laid my hands on their heads, some full of ringworm and fungus, some were burning up. In my nursing mind I try to start diagnosing. "Malaria, pneumonia, malaria, arthritis, malaria." Then, as I prayed, I was humbled. I was humbled to be there-- to be able to come just with my faith, the little bit that I have at times. I was reminded of the woman who was healed by just touching the edge of Jesus's gown (Mark 5:28-34). Or the time when Jesus said, "Go your faith has healed you." (Luke 17:19)

I was awed by each of these precious one's faith. They had the faith to come forward for healing. What else can they do? They're too far from a hospital. It's not likely that they get to the hospital each time they have a fever or headache. Nor is it realistic for me to bust out my nursing degree and tell them what they need to do. In that moment I knew that no matter what amount of education I had, or what initials I'm able to have behind my name, it wouldn't matter. "Go, your faith has made you well." My faith and theirs was going to make a difference today. Only that.

So, am I scared to trust him? When there's nothing I can do do I still think that holding on to something in my strength is going to make a difference?

I knew this day it didn't. So, humbly I prayed in as much faith as I could muster, that he was going to take care of these sick children. These woman who had pain, he was going to touch. And all the wounds inside that no one was mentioning to me, I prayed to God that he'd deal with those as well. Because, aren't we all broken, aren't we all in need of enough faith to trust him 100%? Not mostly, not quite a bit-- ENTIRELY!

the heart of my man

Of course you keep learning things about a person once you're married, this I didn't need to be told. But on Sunday I realized how lucky I am to be here, learning about my husband. Being here we're able to really be part of each others lives, as a couple and as a family. I'm sure no matter where we were, I'd come home and share and vent about a days work. And, I'm sure I'd ask Chad every day how work was for him, but would I be able to go with him and see him in action? Would I be able to be part of what his passions are? Would our daughter be able to serve along side him to see what he's dedicated his life to?

I've only been able to see Chad "in action" a couple times now but again on Sunday I was awed by his heart and his love for what he does. The couple times I've seen him I've delighted in his passion of sharing the word of God with a people group we've both come to love.

Many of you have shared in the journey Nede and I have been on for many years now. Now, we've added the journey that God's had Chad on for almost 10 years with Audio Scripture Ministries (ASM). Below I've uploaded a couple of videos about Chad and his work.

This first one is more specific to the work he's done in Mozambique:

And here is a general video about the international work of Audio Scripture Ministries:

Please, if you'd like to hear updates from Chad more specifically regarding his ministry, email me and I'll have him put you on his mailing list. 

It's an honor for Nede and me to be able to be a part of Chad's  ministry. I look forward to sharing more as we learn and grow with him.  

it just looks weird

Last weekend we were all a bit unwell. We didn't leave the house on Sunday. We did pull a book off my shelf that I've had for years, but never read, "Sunday's Best: Messages from today's most outstanding Christian leaders". The first one was by my friend (I wish), Francis Chan. As Chad read aloud to Nede and me it was one of those times I was awed again, awed at the perfection of what I needed to hear right now. At one point I actually said, "Can you skip this part? I'm feeling a bit convicted."

It was about being courageous. And how we become less courageous as we grow older-- "God is strong-- am I?" And as he read, of course, I'm convinced. What do I have to fear? I have the Spirit of the living God living in me. My heart gets it when Francis says, "What I'm saying is that we're children of the most powerful being in existence, and it looks weird when we're scared."  Of course it does. But why is it so hard?

The whole Bible is about being strong and courageous-- about people doing wild things like sleeping with lions and being in furnaces (no thanks!). And even when we grow up hearing and believing the power of God's perfect protection and provision, it doesn't take long until the world tells us not be believe this foolishness.

A couple nights after reading this we were praying with Nede, I did (in my head) exactly what Francis said, I've believed the lies of the world. I thought, "Oh, when Nede realizes that what she's praying isn't possible." She, with so much hope and confidence, prays regularly, "Lord be with the poor people, help them to know you and trust you. Be with all the people in the world to have a good night of sleep and to know you. Thank you for everything in the whole wide world, we love everyone in the world."

Oh, the lies from the garden that I believe and that I'm ready to teach my child! No! I won't, I don't want to! I want to be the one learning from Nede, not her learning the lies I've believed over my years of falling-- falling further from my child-like faith. Francis says, "There was a confidence that my God will come through." Nede's got it. She's said it to me before, while rubbing my back, "It's okay Mommy, God will help us." And it is true! When did I lose my confidence?

I too want my faith to get stronger, not weaker, as it has been. I don't want to get more timid, I want to be more bold. I don't want Nede to make the transition in her prayers from where she is now, to where I am. I want to pray like Nede. There is a confidence that MY GOD WILL COME THROUGH.

For you have not received a spirit of slavery leading to fear again, but you have received a spirit of adoption as sons by which we cry out, "Abba! Father!" Romans 8:15

I cry out, "Abba! Father!"

perfect

"Mom, I look like both you and Dad right?"
Quizzical?
"I have brown eyes like you and black hair like Dad, right?"
"Yes. Yes Neds." :)