Romance 101 and beyond!

Sometimes you just have to let a guy know that he's doing the right things. I've got a husband that works really hard to do what is right. So this blog entry is a little testimony about this special guy I married!

I may be over 50, a bit pudgy, and silver-haired, but I'm still a girl at heart. And a little romance can go a long, LONG way! David truly amazes me, with the "little things" he can say or do that makes my heart flutter.

For example -- just yesterday, we were at the SC State Fair. As we walked by one stage, we could hear a fellow singing a beautiful ballad. David pulled me into his arms and in the midst of the crowd we danced for a few moments. Right there, near the rows of crazy fair food and a few steps away from the rides. It was almost like the rest of the world just sort of stopped and all we knew about was one another. I never in a million years thought I would ever be with someone who would even think about a dance in a crowd -- much less actually DO it!

He brings me flowers sometimes, for no apparent reason other than he likes to see my smile. We light candles at dinner -- even if all we're having is a plate of turnips and greens, that little sparkle can ignite our smiles.

Today, while I dusted and folded the laundry, he vacuumed the house. Now that doesn't really sound very romantic, does it? But believe me -- ANY kind of help with the housework scores big romance points in my book. And I'd wager that MOST women feel the same way. As I think about it, the fact that he keeps up with simple household repairs is romantic. If there's something broken -- he fixes it! I don't have to resort to my meager carpentry/repair skills (using my itty bitty hammer, duct tape and fishing line, mostly) .

Another romantic thing -- he knows I do not like to cook. He LOVES to cook -- so from the beginning of our relationship HE has done most of the grocery shopping and cooking. I set the table, and wash the dishes. It's a great partnership that works for us, because I really don't mind cleaning up!

He offers encouragement to me. He tells me he thinks I am beautiful. He lets me know nearly every day that he treasures me like a gift.

We've based our marriage on our faith in God, and from the very start, we've shared prayers together. I remember telling my mother once, "This man prays with me, for me, and about me every single day!"

"Appreciate and Reciprocate" -- that's our main slogan. We appreciate each other's efforts and actions. Then we reciprocate by our own words and deeds. That can be practical or romantic! But it is beyond romance. It's all about trying to help each other. It's all about taking a marriage and creating a true partnership. It's all about sharing the last scoop of ice cream in the box. It's all about encouragement. It's all about a sweet slow dance in the middle of a crowd. It's all about appreciating our strengths and helping improve our areas.

It's all about loving God -- through loving each other.

Blessings!

Mathematics and THE REAL THING

2

4

16

I wasn't very good in math. It has bamboozled me ever since the 4th grade when my parents would make me stay in my room and try to memorize the multiplication tables. YUCK. I still hate it. I limped through Algebra 1 and 2, making the absolute lowest grades of my high school career. I almost enjoyed Geometry, though. I could draw pictures and figure out the right answer, many times. My teacher would be provoked that I didnt follow the same steps as those she demonstrated (I'm sorry, Mrs. Randall!), but hey I still got the right answer.

My senior year of high school, I was forced to take Advanced Math. According to the guidance counselor, ANYBODY who planned on going to college MUST take Advanced Math. That turned out to be a crock, unless you were going to major in engineering or something. But I sat there struggling through that class, taught by one of the biggest male chauvinists I have ever had to associate with it my life. There were only about 6 girls in our class of 30; we were rarely called upon -- unless he was fairly certain we wouldn't know the right answer, so then he could berate us in front of the "guys."

All that being said....I'm still able to look at some numbers and see a pattern, a progression. I can still use the word "exponentially" and know what I'm talking about.

And I am seeing an exponential increase on the horizon.

Last year, our team to Ghana consisted of 2 people.

This year, we doubled that to 4 people.

And next year...thanks to a partnership being forged with a nearby church -- we may have as many as 16!

2 x 2 = 4 4 x 4 = 16 See, exponential increases!

Nearly every week, we meet people who express an interest in the work we do in Ghana through Waters Edge Ministries. Many of them ask about accompanying us on the journey. It is so exciting to think about this, because it is answered prayers. It's long been a dream of mine to take other people with me to Ghana, to share in the experience. (My greatest dream is for my own children to accompany me there. Perhaps one day they will have that desire.)

I can tell you about how it looks, feels, smells, tastes, sounds to be in Africa but my feeble words dont compare to the REAL THING! It's all about relationships. Meeting people, becoming their friends, sharing in each other's lives, learning about each other's cultures and traditions. Seeing life there first hand can give you a whole new "world view."

Relationships -- another exponential explosion.

I have a friend, then we meet each other's friends, then that branches out further to include our friend's friends' friends. CARING for each other. Ultimately, that is the meaning of life -- to care about people.

I've been asked "why?" Why bother with helping someone on the other side of the world? The answer is simple. It's my purpose to help my brothers and sisters, wherever they might be.

Truly, that is life's purpose for everyone -- to CARE.

The Ultimate Relationship I have is with Jesus Christ -- and it is through my walk with Him that I see the need to care about other people. They might be next door, or around the block, or halfway around the world. I can describe my feelings and relationship with Jesus just like I can describe Africa -- but for you to truly "get" the Real Thing -- you've gotta have that relationship.

Numbers might still bamboozle me at times, but I still know when I see a good thing increasing!

Blessings!

Rejection, plain & simple

When I was a kid I was NOT athletic in the least. I was a bookworm, loved to read anything I could get my hands on. When we had spelling bees, I usually won. Classroom games were fun for me.

But out on the playground was a totally different story. I absolutely hated it when the teacher would pick two team captains and have them choose their team members because I was ALWAYS the last one chosen. In fact, there were times when the “captains” would actually argue over who would HAVE to have me on their team. I’d feel my face burning flaming red with the humiliation, and I’d hang my head and hope nobody would see the tears in my eyes because then they’d taunt me even more about being a cry-baby.

My first big dose of rejection – and somehow that feeling never quite goes completely away. With every form of rejection throughout my life, I still can feel that hurt, deep in the pit of my stomach.

Recently I’ve had to slog through what seems like an endless pit of cruel rejections. Some of the heartaches have dredged up feelings nearly identical to those I once felt in the last years of a toxic relationship. I’ve been physically ill, unable to eat, from the hurt caused by cruel words and actions. At one point, I curled up in bed next to my husband and sobbed that I just wanted to die. He gently whispered in my ear, caressed my shaking shoulders, and let me work at exorcising the demons that were tormenting me.

It’s almost like coming to grips with the death of a loved one. I’ve had good days and bad days, ups and downs. I’ve “put on the pretty face” in public, but in private I can be myself. I’ve smiled some, even laughed some. But more often I’ve burst into tears at anything or nothing.

I’m blessed to have a husband and mom and dad who are loving and compassionate. They’re my greatest encouragers and cheerleaders. I know that they, too, are feeling the rejection through me. It is through their love that I am learning to crawl out from under the triple truckloads of rubble burying my heart.

But there’s another Great Helper I’m leaning upon. I believe that in order to truly love others, a person must first learn how to love themselves. This means learning to overcome past rejections, learning to see yourself as Jesus sees you. This also means that any time the enemy can slow you down by slinging stuff “in your face” – he will do just that. So somewhere, in the midst of the muck & mire of rejection, a person just has to focus on that one clear thought: that JESUS doesn’t reject us, no matter what. That’s like a rope, lowered down into the pit, that we can grab hold of and begin to be pulled back into the reality that we’re really “OK.”

Life’s not always peachy keen, and the rules can change as we go. Sometimes people do things out of spite or meanness and they simply don’t realize how deeply their words or actions cut into another’s soul. I have to believe that sometimes folks are encouraged to perform cruel actions by others who are, quite frankly, cowards.

I’ve come a long way since the days of humiliation on the playground. I’ve learned to laugh off some things. I’ve learned to develop a “thick skin” where many of my shortcomings are involved. I’ve also learned that there are people who are toxic to my emotional well-being – and it becomes necessary for me to step aside for a while.

Life goes on. Rejections – though difficult and painful – are NOT the “end of the world” to me. In fact, they are helping me to press in to Jesus and press on to fulfill the purpose He has for me in this lifetime.

And, in the midst of rejections, that is my Silver Lining!

Blessings, Yall.

Restoration

The dresser was part of a bedroom set. Made of mahogany, it had brass drawer pulls and a larger mirror, and it matched a chest, nightstand, and pencil-post bed. I remember where it stood in my parents’ bedroom, when I was a little girl. Mama kept her things in the drawers on the right and Daddy’s things were on the left.

In the 50’s and 60’s, my mama’s jewelry box sat on top of the dresser. It was made of white pearlized plastic, with dark red velvet heart insets. I used to love to peek inside, and look at my mom’s collection of bracelets, necklaces, and earrings. In her top drawer lay her secret stash of makeup. When I got a bit older, I’d sneak in her room and try out eye shadows, or mascara, or lipstick. Once I spilled some of her pink nail polish inside the drawer – the spot still remains as evidence of my furtive explorations!

Time passed. My sister and I both got married and moved to other homes. My folks remodeled their home and purchased a new bedroom set. They kept the bed, chest, and nightstand in their spare room, but loaned the dresser to me. I was a young mother with three children; the dresser held t-shirts, play clothes, and jeans that belonged to them.

My marriage eventually deteriorated into a suffocating shell, and I made the decision to leave. Starting over was difficult, to say the least. I moved out of the home I’d lived in for nearly 28 years, taking very few possessions with me. At the time, the dresser was crammed with the belongings of my youngest child (who was nearly 16) so I left it behind.

More years flew by, and my parents offered me the remaining pieces of the bedroom set. I was thrilled to get the bedframe, chest, and nightstand! But it needed the dresser to make it complete. I made a phone call to my ex, who agreed to exchange the dresser for another of similar size and design. He cautioned me, however, that the dresser might “need a little work.” My son delivered the dresser to a storage room at my parents’ home, and a few days later I drove to the homeplace to retrieve it.

I gazed with dismay at the old dresser. The veneer was chipped badly in several places. White water rings dotted the top. The top drawer – where as a little girl I’d spilled the nail polish – was in pieces. Scratches and gouges covered every surface and the wood was dry and dusty. It looked forlorn, abused, unappreciated, neglected. I swallowed a huge lump in my throat as I realized that I’d left that same home years before in much the same condition. Nothing came out of that place unscarred – and that included me.

Yet the old dresser still had potential. Structurally it was in great shape. All the hardware was still intact; most of the drawers opened/closed easily. And the mirror looked great. I gave the dresser a little pat, loaded it in the pickup and took it home. A trip to the hardware store provided some steel wool, sandpaper, stain, wood glue, scratch cover, finish restorer, and furniture polish. Then I went to work.

First things first – a thorough cleaning eliminated a lot of dirt. As I washed away accumulated dust and grime, I recalled how God had washed away years of negative thoughts that cobwebbed my brain.

While nothing could replace the pieces of veneer that had long ago chipped off, a bit of sanding smoothed the rough edges. A touch of stain then camouflaged the scar left behind. Abuse leaves permanent scars, but a bit of loving care can reduce the damage so that eventually the scar goes unnoticed. A life covered by the bloodstains of Jesus is healed!

The white water rings were tough to remove, and took careful scrubbing with fine steel wool and finish restorer. A lot of “elbow grease” lightened the spots, but it took several tries to make them disappear. Those white rings were lingering reminders of bad decisions and past mistakes. Even after I thought they’d vanished, I’d look and they’d be sneaking back up to the surface. Getting rid of those reminders took repetitive applications of work – and getting rid of my own bad reminders takes repetitive applications of the Word. Reading the Scriptures provides a constant source of guidance and encouragement.

Scratches and gouges are expected on furniture that is over 50 years old. They are as normal as the scratches and gouges we endure in everyday life. As I daubed scratch cover on the fronts of the drawers, I realized that prayer can ease the burdens that leave marks on our souls.

Five pieces of wood lay in a heap – the sides and bottom of that top drawer represented the shambles that my life was in before I surrendered to Christ. Just as He collected those pieces and began fitting them back together for His purposes, I began to re-position the sections of wood. Glue and clamps supported the pieces, holding the drawer together until it could stand for itself again. I thought of the many friends and precious family members who had literally held me together as I walked through the years of pain and loneliness. They offered love and support until I was able to hold my head up with self-confidence and assuredness again.

Some finishing touches completed the transformation. Soap on the runners helped the drawers work smoothly with practice, offering renewed purpose. The dresser took its rightful place in the bedroom with the rest of the pieces and I began to fill the drawers once more. Smiling, I placed my own pink nail polish in that top drawer.

A light coat of lemon oil brought out the natural lustrous sheen of the wood. Similarly, the love of Christ applied to my life gave a warm glow that I cannot contain! That once forlorn dresser had been redeemed with renewed purpose, just as Christ had redeemed my life.

No one is beyond hope – God’s restorative power can take even the most dejected, dried out, broken down heap of a life and breathe freshness into it! New purpose, new outlook, new life – all available through Christ!

And that’s truly a Silver Lining!

Signs along they way

Our lives are personal journeys; we don't start out with a roadmap or even a particular destination in mind, but we make it step-by-step and day-by-day.

Sometimes we stand at a crossroads, puzzling over what choice to make or what direction to follow. At times, the choices are easy; some decisions are made for us by parents when we are young or by circumstances when we get older. Other decisions require a lot of thought and prayer.

More often than we realize, we're given signs along the way. God uses subtle, everyday objects to help guide us along life's paths. And He uses Big Bang, Knock-You-Over-The-Head tactics as well. We arent often tuned in to His signs. I wonder, sometimes, if He watches us stumbling around here, waltzing all around what He desires for us to do, ignoring the hints He's strewn in our paths. He probably rolls His eyes at us sometimes, as we miss even the most obvious signposts every now and then.

I remember wrestling with a life-changing situation a few years ago, trying to make a choice between equally difficult situations. I began to pray, asking God to make it obvious to me what road I should take. Sure enough, very soon I received an answer. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I had to make a move, I knew I had to start over, I knew it was a matter of life or death for me. It was the hardest decision I've ever had to make, but it was the best choice I have ever made. That sounds like an oxymoron, but looking back, I see clearly that for me it was the right option. I believe it was the only healthy option I had.

The sign came on a Saturday. As I sat alone at my home, surrounded with a mountain of hopelessness, I heard in my spirit "Get Out NOW!" The feeling in my gut was unmistakable. By Monday I had rented an apartment and had the utilities turned on. And by Tuesday night I had moved out. As I lay alone in my bed that first night, I felt a peaceful blanket of comfort fall over me, tucking me into the peace that comes when you are satisfied that you've done the right thing.

About a week after I moved into that apartment by myself, I drove by my old home. Some guys from the highway department worked beside the road, erecting two new signs. As I slowed down to read them, I laughed out loud! "Wrong Way" and "Do Not Enter" warnings were posted on either side of my old driveway (and they are still there today)! Who says God doesn't have a sense of humor? He literally placed roadsigns to give me confirmation!

Signs can come in the form of friends. My husband has a dear friend he met long ago. He and Leslie were seatmates on a train from Florida up the East Coast. They began to chat, sharing some of their stories, and exchanged email addresses as they parted. They've remained in contact, encouraging one another throughout the years. She was one of the first people to really encourage him to write his book, "Sowing and Reaping A Fearless Heart: Convicted Not Condemned." Last year, we stopped in Jacksonville and had brunch with her and her husband one morning. Again this past week, we visited in their home and shared lunch together. David & Leslie have seen each other "in person" a grand total of 3 times -- but they are important markers in each other's lives.

I also have friends like this -- Aliza, for example, who limped along with me through a divorce, making me laugh and encouraging me. Cathy, who has always "been there" even in the rough times, to load up a truck or to prop me up. And God uses another Cathy, who is handicapped and trapped forever in a 9-year-old's brain, reminds me to me to never give up and always be joyful by sending me pages she's colored in the mail. And then there's Sylv, my email pal from Australia. We met 9 years ago tomorrow on "THE 9-11" as she posted a note of sympathy and encouragement to her American friends on a huge inspirational group that we both belonged to -- and I responded with a thank you. She's been my confidante and most definitely a guidepost for me in this life!

I've never thought of myself as being a sign to someone else, but this summer in Ghana I received two surprise gifts that have caused me to look at myself a bit differently. Both were wood carvings; the first was given to me at Jerusalem Gates School. Our ministry has "adopted" this school, where most of the students live in the Tema Garbage Dump. If we can keep these precious ones in school, they can get at least one good meal a day that is not scavenged from the trash and they can have a chance at a better future. You know it just isnt right for a child to have to plunder through garbage, competing with dogs for food.

The headmaster gave us a carving of a pregnant woman, carrying a load on her head, using a stick to prop herself up.



He explained that the woman symbolized Jerusalem Gates Academy, struggling under the load of trying to educate these dump children who have so little. She is pregnant with promise -- a birthing place for the future for her boys and girls. But she is weary, and needs some help. So someone has given her a stick. The stick holds her up, gives her strength, offers her support. Our ministry, he said, is that stick -- strengthening Jerusalem Gates, helping her to stand. The carving hangs on the wall in our home now, and each time I see it, I am reminded of those kids and how God uses us and the people who support our ministry there to help them.

The other gift was given to me by Christ Harvests The Nations Ministry, my "home church" in Ghana. It is a carving of "The Oracle" -- the one who sounds the horn, to let people know about great things.




As Reverend James and Chief Takyi gave me the carving, they reminded me that when CHNM was a brand new ministry, I was a part of one of the first visiting teams -- and I went home and began to tell others what God was doing in Ghana, bringing more people to visit, writing "Two Watches." The Oracle reminds me that I have a voice and a responsibility -- I have to let people know of God's goodness, mercy, love, and grace!

We each experience "signs and wonders" -- and signs that make us wonder -- as we travel through life. While there have been "Oracles" and "Sticks" that God has placed in front of me that I've become aware of -- I know that there are so many more that I've been totally oblivious to. And I realize that God has used me -- sometimes as an "Oracle," sometimes as a "stick," and perhaps in other ways -- as a sign to other people.

So my silver lining today has a challenge for both you and me: Have you seen a sign from God lately? Are you really looking? The Bible promises blessings to us -- some of them come wrapped in unusual packages (like struggles -- which make us stronger). We should expect those blessings! Let's open our eyes to the signs and wonders, the "Oracles and Stick" that God is using to point the way for us!

Blessings, y'all!

What's it REALLY like?

Note: This blog entry was originally posted on the Waters Edge Ministry blog (weministry.blogspot.com) in late July. I resubmit it here; the feelings remain the same. AT

What’s it really like? People sometimes ask me that question after I’ve returned from a mission trip.

When you get there, it’s like a curtain has been opened for you.
Your senses are heightened; you want to see, smell, hear, taste, touch everything so that you can experience it to the fullest. You’re the first one awake in the morning, and the last one to sleep at night because you don’t want to miss a thing by being asleep. Time sort of downshifts, and people move at a different, slower pace. Yet it also flies by quickly, creating a time warp for those who dare to step into this place.

Every pore, every cell in your body is attuned to your surroundings.

You see more stars in the darkness of night because there are no other lights competing and blocking out their brightness.

The birds’ singing brings you into wakefulness every morning, and you lie there, eyes shut, listening to them praise the Creator for another morning.

You feel the drumbeats, all the way into your bones, into your heart, into your very soul. It is impossible to be still, you must move and become a part of the rhythm.

The earthy smells of smoke and sweat mingle with the heady aromas of flowers growing wild and glorious alongside the roads.

Sunshine feels warm upon your back; perhaps gentle raindrops feel cool against your skin. Gentle breezes – and powerful winds -- remind you of the Holy Spirit’s presence.

Voices rise in song, melodies and harmonies intertwining into heavenly sounds, punctuated by handclaps in syncopated time give you a tiny suggestion of what the angels’ singing must be like.

Spiritually, you begin to feel closer to God. His Spirit surrounds you, feeling as tangible as a warm, soft blanket as you worship and pray, and you cling to His presence.

You may become physically tired, but you press on.
You may become hungry, but you share what you have with others.
You may thirst, but there is pure, cool water available – and the Living Water is by your side, as well.

The entire time you are there, it is a worshipful experience, unlike any church service you can imagine.
All too soon, though…it has to end.

The curtain drops once again as life returns to what is supposedly “normal.”
Back to telephones ringing, schedules pressing, bills waiting. Like the creepy old man with binoculars at the bottom of the hill trying to peer into your business, the enemy tries to steal your joy, your privacy, your sanity as you try to merge what you’ve just experienced with what you call “real life.” Well-intentioned friends ask, “How was your trip?” But if you tell them much more than “Great!” their eyes begin to glaze over and you realize that very few people honestly have the time or energy to care. And that realization hurts, partly because you know what they are truly missing. You don’t “fit” any more, and cannot exactly explain why that feeling persists. A whiff of a familiar scent, a snippet of sound, a fleeting memory can all trigger that lump in the throat, that sting in the eyes. So you give your senses a shot of novocaine, you push back emotions. Life goes on, as usual.

Sometimes, in that sweet haze between sleep and wakefulness, you are able to peer behind the curtain in your dreams. Your feet may walk down those dusty red dirt roads, you might hear the people singing or drums beating, you might see the brilliant colors of flowers or dresses as people swirl in dance. And you try so hard to cling to that brief glimpse, even if it is just a dream. When the fuzziness of sleep evaporates, you feel a tear slide down your face as you rise to face another day.

Gradually, you re-adjust to life “in the material world,” but you look at things differently. Your perspective has changed, your priorities may be re-arranged. And you begin to realize the burdens that were laid upon your heart are actually gifts.

How can you use those gifts? How can you share them?
THAT becomes the challenge. And the challenge becomes the desire to seek God’s will.
And that is what it is “really like” to me.

Blessings,
Anita <>

Leaving Ghana, once again

Tuesday morning dawned with rain.

Our trip this year coincided with Ghana’s rainy season. For two solid weeks before our arrival, it had rained buckets. Friends emailed us, advising us to be sure to bring an umbrella. Indeed, when we landed two weeks earlier, we landed in a rainstorm. But by the time we left the airport that day, the sun was breaking through the clouds. There was no rain at all during our stay – until the morning we were to leave. God knew what kind of weather we needed and He provided!

The gray clouds on this day of our departure mirrored my mood. The suitcases sat by the door, glaring at me in accusation: WHY are we leaving this place? Since we had to be at the airport by 8:00 am, we had to leave by 6:30. This was a mighty early start to what would be a very long day.

We shared a quick breakfast of rice water, bread with jam, and tea with Rev. James’ wife Mary one last time. (We already said our good-byes to Rev. James on Sunday evening, because he left to go to Norway to counsel some friends.) Trying to swallow food when your heart is aching is really tough. Couple that with attempting to carry on some small talk – the feeling was almost overwhelming. Once we finished trying to eat, we loaded the bags into the back of Richie’s pickup and ourselves into Rev. James’ car headed to Accra’s Kotoka International Airport.

Our adopted family stood, clustered by the house. They waved and blew kisses to us as Stephen backed the car out into the road. I’d miss Mary and her daughters Lexie and Kelsey, Ben, Pastor Johnson, Pastor Isaac, Stephen, Emmanual, Christina, and Lizzy so much.

We were a fairly quiet bunch driving to Accra. I suspect each of us was lost in our own thoughts of leaving Ghana and going back to the USA. Richie, Stephen, and Pastor Isaac helped us unload our gear, and I said my last good-bye to Richie with a long hug. He’s a good man; I am honored to be his heart-mom and friend.

Checking in at the airport went smoothly. We ended up with a bit of extra time to spend in the little shops at Kotoka Airport. I really wanted one last Fanta Pineapple soda, and was able to find one in a newsstand. I sat down, sipping the sweet drink slowly, so I could savor it as long as possible.

When we were called to the gate, we worked to cheer each other up by pointing out ladies we thought would possibly make a good wife for Ben! We’d played this game with Ben throughout our journey – we’d point out a lovely lady and Ben would find some reason to reject her! It was all in fun and Ben would laugh with us. So even though Ben wasn’t there to defend himself, we still managed to play the game of “Let’s Find Ben A Wife.”

The flight crew walked past us and shortly thereafter we began boarding the plane. The flight home was not full and we each ended up having a full row to ourselves in the back of the plane. The plane’s engines began to throb. I watched the rain splashing on the windows of the plane and felt tears begin to prickle in my eyes. The plane started to taxi, my tears began to trickle down my face. As we took off, I craned my neck to say good-bye to Ghana as the tears streamed full-force down my face. (I was such a mess that the flight attendant came to check on me – I told her I always cried when I had to leave Ghana. She smiled, patted my hand, and said she understood.)

Once in flight, I began to mentally coach myself back into the US lifestyle.

By the time we landed in New York almost 12 hours later, I had shored up my defenses, and stepped dry-eyed off the plane back into the Land of Plenty of Stuff.

You’d think it would get easier. I mean, this was my 6^th visit to Ghana. Why does my heart still feel like it’s ripped in two when I leave?

Perhaps it is one way to keep the fire burning, to keep the hopes and dreams alive for helping others have a better life. Maybe it is just a reminder that God has a definite plan for my life, and I need to keep walking in it.

Jeremiah 29:11-13 comes to my mind: “ For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.”

That promise is the Silver Lining of life!

Blessings!