Spanish table for 8

I felt deeply out of sync.  “Lord, I need Spanish.  Give me Spanish, I pray.”  Our friend asked me a question, and my brain conjured almost nothing for an answer.  As often happens, my Spanish starts but runs out, leaving me to finish in English and hope somehow the ideas connect.  To listen at first is always good.  To hear conversation of others helps me acclimate.  Yet as we ate dinner, the desire to speak gradually grew, and my words sat on edge.  Briefly I wondered, would it be entirely frustrating to tell this story and not have the words to finish the best part?  Our table of 8 discussed Puerto Rico and a grave problem there, and suddenly my attempt at Spanish spilled out.  “En Estados Unidos tenemos una gran problema.”  I mentioned America’s situation of abortion.  We have these buildings appearing innocuous on the outside, their doors and windows looking harmless from the street.  Yet horror abounds for what happens inside.  I shared testimony of the Lord bringing beauty to so gruesome a setting.  I remember an ice cream vendor who seemed to stop and pray repeatedly in front of the abortion center.  There was the man who walked from down the street to point his wooden recorder toward the sky to play a melody to the Lord, to praise Him for loving us beyond our self-destructive ways.  Little did I know that while I spoke, the Lord was touching our friends who listenened.  Soon I heard one of the men say he would like us to pray.  Before we left our friends’ house that night, we stood to ask the Lord to save these babies, to save the families from years of pain and regret, to extend His mercy to the abortion workers and let them experience His love, that He would conquer any fear and reassure them all that He himself is life and He sustains life.  The next day with church we sang “All my delight is in you, Lord,” immediately reverting me to our days of singing the same in Spanish, translating “Mi deleite está en ti.”  The word deleite has always grabbed my attention, and my heart started to melt.  My knees hit the floor under the weight of His love.  The Lord had led me through a most intimate experience, a deeply moving set of moments where I saw Him supply for my need, really abundantly beyond my need, once again.  He sat at our table, and I welcomed Him.

A little horseradish, please

Exciting.  Mundane.  The 2 words aren’t often in the same sentence.  But on a particular day in March, they were.  My friend shopped for horseradish at her nearby grocery store.  She put her items on the conveyor belt and prepared to pay the cashier, but not everybody buys 3 bottles of horseradish, so the cashier inquired, “What’s happening with all the horseradish?”  And there in that one little question sat a whole conversation.  My friend explained about celebrating Passover and how the strong taste of horseradish serves as bitter herb, or maror in Hebrew, signifying the bitterness of slavery.  A solid dose of horseradish brings a tear to the eye and offers in the ceremony a reminder of the bitterness of slavery of the Israelites unto Egypt.  As Christians who celebrate Passover, we recognize the bitterness of our slavery to sin.  First Corinthians 5:7 says, “…For Christ, our Passover lamb, has been sacrificed.”  We celebrate the forgiveness offered us through Jesus’ sacrifice and the sweetness of our redemption through Him.  What a thrilling opportunity for my friend.  What pure delight to see the cashier listen so attentively.  And how hopeful I was for her to attend our Passover.  It was a routine shopping trip illustrating the Lord’s love of people that He would inspire a question over some simple bottles of horseradish.  A testament of His power to reach so personally into our world to make certain we all hear of His love.  For you, for me, for my friend, for the cashier and all—please know that Jesus saves those who confess He is Lord and who believe in their heart that God raised Him from the dead (Romans 10:9).  May you experience the joy of knowing Him as Savior.

Personal delivery for Holocaust survivors

Why would a customer walk into a sewing store and give away her personal possession?  More specifically, why would a lady bring her sewing machine from home and ask the store employee to give it away to a beginner sewing student?  The whole scene is unusual.  As quilting started for me on such unlikely terms, and as it’s grown to yield some surprisingly pleasing fabric designs, and as it’s brought some sweet new friendships that I treasure, it seems also to be leading toward a trip to Israel.  And to personally deliver quilts as hand-crafted heirlooms for Holocaust survivors there, what a huge blessing and honor.  The idea for the trip entered my brain and recurred enough times that my husband and I filled out applications to work with my friend’s ministry, only to have her tell me over the phone that they’d been praying for musicians to come.  Interestingly the music question on the application was only a small portion of page 2 of a total 5 pages, and it provided only a single blank for answering.  We listed guitar, oboe, voice, and some other possibilities, having no inkling of how the ministry office had been praying.  And actually my husband wasn’t relishing the notion of traipsing through airports with a big, bulky guitar, so I asked my friend if he should bring his guitar.  She replied that someone recently donated a guitar to their ministry, and my husband could be first in line to play.  How sweet of the Lord to keep making the trip more attractive!  Now it’s not just a story of quilting but also music.  That part about their prayer keeps replaying in my head, and the jaw of my heart figuratively drops each time I recount it.  Numbers 22 tells of God speaking through the unlikely mouth of a donkey.  First Kings 17 explains how God sent ravens to deliver bread and meat to Elijah.  Today the Lord prepares a girl who knows little about sewing to become a quilter for the sake of Holocaust survivors in Israel, taking with her a husband whom the Lord inspired as well and some music He's been growing in both of them for years, also connecting her with some sweet sewing friends to lend aid, and supplying her with a sewing machine from someone she never met.  We’re thrilled already, and we haven’t yet set foot on the plane!  May He prepare us all with insight to recognize His sometimes unusual, unique circumstances.  May we not miss any ounce of the joy He offers.  What a magnificent God we serve.  What a magnificent God serves us.