Category Archives: Understanding

I Am Known

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imageYesterday I did something pretty embarrassing. The women reading this will understand but the guys will just shake their heads in disbelief. On Sunday evening, I failed to move my billfold from the purse I took to church into my work bag. Men would never have this problem since their wallet goes into one place in their pants pocket. But as for women, we have purses to match our outfits and occasions. I don’t have nearly as many as some of my girlfriends. My failure to remember this caused a problem. When I stopped at a gas station to fill my car at lunch time, I had no credit card and no money to pay. Thank goodness I had not put fuel in my car yet! However, I needed fuel since I had enough to get to my afternoon work site but not enough, I feared, to get home. All the husbands who have warned their wives not to let their car get down to empty are shaking their heads now.

So while I was bemoaning my dilemma, a thought came to me. I had my checkbook in my work bag and my bank was just down the road from the gas station. I set off to cash a check. I was praying that the sweet teller I see every time I go to the bank was there since my ID was also back home in my purse. Unfortunately, the only teller at the windows was a young man I had never seen before in the bank. He was new and he told me that the teller I was used to seeing regularly was on vacation. It was obvious that he was not going to cash my check without ID.  So now I’m digging through my bag to find some form of acceptable ID. I was very proud of myself when I pulled out my IU Health badge with my picture on it. He was not satisfied with this. Next I am going through a litany of every fact about myself that no one else would know off the top of their head: birth date, social security number, name of my first-born child. Just kidding on the last one. But at that moment I was desperately trying to make myself known. Finally I could breathe a sigh of relief. He cashed my check and I was on my way back to the gas station. I realize that I could have borrowed some money from one of my co-workers to get enough fuel to get home. But I felt that surely I could take money out of my own account from a bank where I am known.  

Don’t we all, at some point, long to be known? We have a desire to be recognized and acknowledged for who we are. We live in the age of the “selfie.” We put out on social media the persona we wish to portray to our world but who truly knows the real you? My family knows me well enough to call me out if I am not being my “best” self. My husband, Tim knows more details about me than anyone else but in reality, even he doesn’t truly know me. If I am honest, there are parts of me I don’t really know myself, only God knows.

In Psalm 139, King David exclaims, “You have searched me, Lord, and you know me. You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar. You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways. Before a word is on my tongue you, Lord, know it completely. You hem me in behind and before, and you lay your hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain.” This knowing by God is beyond our comprehension. But even more amazing is that He sees us beyond what we are able to see ourselves. Long before David was crowned king, he was anointed by the prophet Samuel to be the next king of Israel. King Saul was still in power and sought to kill David for years. Yet Samuel went to Jesse’s home in Bethlehem as directed by God to anoint the next king. He looked at all 7 of the older son’s but none of them were suitable. When David was called in from the fields where he tended the flocks, Samuel knew he was the one even though he was young and ill equipped to be a ruler. The Lord said to Samuel, “Do not consider his appearance or his height…the Lord does not look at the things people look at. People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.” The Lord saw David’s heart and determined that he was the right person to be king. He saw his potential even though it would take years of preparation and running from King Saul for this potential to be recognized by all those around him.

It’s comforting to realize that God knows me as he knew David. No human will ever be able to know me this intimately. The Lord knows my strengths as well as my weaknesses. He knows that at times I will fail to live up to all I can be. But he also knows my potential. He knows the best I can be. He knows my heart.

Sanctuary

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The wildflowers I picked for our Open House this week-end are wilted this morning. They were so beautiful when I placed them in the vase on our dining room table.  They are bold and colorful yet delicate. Here today, gone tomorrow, fleeting beauty…

It was my son Garrett who convinced me to plant large patches of wildflowers in our yard to attract the bees and butterflies. I now have a small patch of milkweed to offer food for the  Monarchs but I haven’t seen any for years.  They have all but been driven away by the overuse of herbicides and pesticides on our farm fields. I understand why the farmers have used these chemicals to increase crop yields but if we destroy our pollinators, there will be no crops.  We must find ways to use less harmful chemicals and provide places of respite for the bees and butterflies.

Lady Bird Johnson understood the importance of the wildflower when she and actress, Helen Hayes founded the Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center in Austin Texas in 1982.  It is a veritable sanctuary of native plants and natural landscapes, a place of respite for the pollinators and other wildlife.  We had the opportunity to visit there when my daughter, Rozie lived in Austin.  I would highly recommend a visit there to any lover of nature.  It is a paradise indeed.

Isn’t it interesting that the word “sanctuary” is used both as a name for a place of refuge for wildlife and also the name for a holy place of worship? Shouldn’t our churches be a place of refuge and respite, a safe place for seekers?  Yet in many instances, this is not the case. We pick and choose who can enter our “sanctuary” as if it is reserved for a few select people.  Jesus said, “Come all you who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”  The emphasis on all is mine but I think you get the picture.

We offer sanctuary to those we believe to be worthy.  If a person’s lifestyle doesn’t fit our definition, then they are excluded.  I am divorced and it has not been that long ago that I would have been excluded because of this.  Even today in many Catholic congregations, those who are divorced are excluded from taking Holy Communion.  Who are we to withhold the Body and Blood of Christ to those who seek to embrace Him?  Would my divorce be the path that God would choose for me to take? No.  It has brought much pain and suffering to all those involved.  However, through it there has been forgiveness and change of hearts that probably wouldn’t have happened otherwise.

As a divorcee, I am now accepted in the church but I see my friends who are gay being excluded from many congregations.  Why am I accepted and they are not?  Can we not see them for the beautiful children of God that they are?  Not one of us stands before God pure and holy.  Then how can we judge the behavior of one and not another?  It is hypocritical.

Our churches should be sanctuaries dedicated to be places of refuge and respite for everyone.  Many of our churches are but it’s difficult to see them.  We must purposefully plant patches of wildflowers, so to speak, to attract seekers from every walk of life to join us.  Otherwise we will find ourselves alone, inwardly focused only. Jesus, who we claim to be our refuge and savior, was never meant to be withheld for a select few, but offered to everyone.

 

The Power of Music

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It has always intrigued me how the human brain stores memories. When I least expect it, something that I haven’t thought about in years, will pop into my mind as I encounter a certain smell or sound.  It’s as if I’m transported back in time again re-living the long forgotten memory.  Often these snapshots into the past will make me smile but at times they bring tears if the memory is bittersweet.
This morning as I drove in to work, I had such a memory moment.  On the radio, a song played that I hadn’t heard in some time. It began…”Seeking Him as a precious jewel, Lord to give up I’d be a fool, You are my all in all…”  Suddenly, I was transported back to Haiti in the year 2000.  I’m working in a make shift clinic set up in one of the many villages we visited on that medical mission trip.  Over our lunch break, 2 of our interpreters began to sing.  Diony, the young man who translated Creole for me that week, was one of the singers.  They sang several songs familiar to us: old hymns mixed with newer Christian music.  A few of us from the US joined in. At the time, I had never heard the song, “You Are My All in All.”  The boys taught us this tune and it has stuck with me since as one of my favorites.
Another time on this same trip to Haiti, music became a channel for prayer.  As we were traveling to our work site, our bus was caught in a traffic jam in Port-au-Prince.  This was no great surprise, since navigating our way out of the city was a daily challenge.  On this occasion though, we were surprised by what had stopped us.  Along the street came a large parade of people being lead by a sort of marching band.  There were school children dressed in their uniforms walking in a group behind them plus many other assorted people.  Then we saw why they were there blocking the streets.  Being carried high on the shoulders of several men, were two small caskets side by side.  They were just large enough to hold a child the age of the school children we saw in the procession.  Our hearts went out to them.  We didn’t know their story but we could see before us a funeral for 2 young children being carried on through the streets.  Everyone on the bus was speechless.  Then moved by the Spirit, one of the pastors who accompanied us to our work sites, started to sing.  He sang familiar hymns of promise and hope in the midst of great loss.  We all joined in, Haitians and Americans together, to honor the lost children that we didn’t even know.  It was a beautiful, sacred moment. Our songs were prayers lifted to heaven.
Much later, in 2011 when I returned to Haiti, we visited the burial site of thousands of Haitians killed in the earthquake of 2010.  The place was an old stone quarry.  Something had to be done quickly with the huge number of dead in the aftermath of the earthquake.  They were placed in the quarry and covered in a mass grave.  Today there are hundreds of black crosses to mark the spot.  The wife of one of our drivers is buried there.  She was a nurse and was still at work when the force of the earthquake hit. She never made it home.  Her husband is left with 4 children to raise on his own.  He works for the Double Harvest mission and is able to support them better than most families who lost loved ones. The sight of black crosses scattered across that bleak and deserted place, haunts me still.
I learned two things from these experiences.  The power of music and the devastation of death, know no cultural bounds.  Even in a country that has known as much loss as Haiti, the people mourn as we do and celebrate life as we do.  It is the human condition. We are often so separated from people who are different than ourselves, that we don’t ever grasp these truths.  We must step across cultural boundaries, whether in the US or abroad, to fully experience this.  In this way, when tragedy strikes in another part of our world, we are not numb to it.
When I first heard about the earthquake in Haiti, my thoughts and prayers went out to those dear people I met during our mission there.  These were my friends, not unknown faces far away.  I may never know what happened to many of them that fateful day but I was able to find Diony on Facebook.  I’m not sure where he was when the earthquake occurred but I know that he is alive and well.  He ended up going to the US to study and now owns his own computer business. This was truly an answer to prayer.
Often I wonder how much good I do when I travel to a foreign country on a medical mission or to a homeless shelter in downtown Indianapolis.  Wouldn’t it be better to just send money to groups that are already there helping? My small effort seems to be a drop in the massive bucket that is poverty.  But I’ve found that if nothing else happens, there occurs a touching of souls between myself and the people I meet. A sense of understanding of each other transpires that cannot be acquired in any other way than to simply “be” with people different from myself yet in so many ways just the same. I don’t want to see tragedies in other parts of the world as just another news story.  I want my heart to ache as Jesus’ heart aches for each of us when losses occur. My faith assures me that someday each of us will join hands with humanity as the brothers and sisters that we truly are and sing together a new song for eternity.

Redefining Womanhood

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I grew up during the time period when women’s rights came of age.  I graduated from high school in 1976 and opportunities were just opening up for females in male dominated fields.  It had not been long before that people joked about women going to college to get their “MRS” degree.  When I first began talking about going to med school,  I’m not sure anyone really took me seriously.  Even after I was accepted into Indiana University School of Medicine, my grandmother kept referring to me going to nursing school.  At that time med school was still primarily a male domain and I don’t think it registered with her that this was even a possibility for me.  During my interview with IU, I was asked how long I planned to practice medicine and if I would continue after I had children.  This type of questioning would be frowned upon now but in the late 70’s, it was the norm.

When I started in medical school, it was expected that the females would emulate their male counterparts. Our femininity was set aside to be able to compete with our peers.  Accepted behavior was to remain detached from our patients and to not let our emotions show.  It was stoic paternalism at its worst.  It wasn’t long before all of the students, females and males, began to question this among ourselves.  When one of the patients cared for by my team at the VA,  who was only in his 30’s, died of a viral cardiomyopathy that destroyed his heart, we were all devastated.  We had become quite attached to him since he had been in the ICU for over a month under our care.  On the night he died we were on duty and every single one of us cried at the loss.  How could we not?

Staying detached really became impossible after I graduated and began seeing patients in our Family Medicine resident’s clinic.  As I saw these patients regularly over that 3 year period, I enjoyed learning about their families.  They would tell me stories of their lives. I delivered their babies and shared in their joys as well as their losses.  I became attached to them as much as they did to me.  I came to realize that my femininity was actually an asset, not a liability as I had been brainwashed into believing in med school. A sense of nurturing and caregiving was absolutely necessary in primary care, not characteristics to be shunned.  The assumption of my mentors in medical school was that we had to remain detached from our patients so we could make objective decisions for them.  I would contend that if I remained detached, I really would not know my patients and it would be impossible for me make informed, objective decisions with them.  You might note that I used the word “with” not “for” my patients.  So much has shifted in the thinking about the doctor/patient relationship over the last 30 years.  We now talk of mutual decision making by both the physician and the patient.  Women physicians were doing this all along because this was how we communicated with our patients in the first place.

It took me some time to break out of the mold defined for me in the world of Medicine when I first began this career.  It was an epiphany when I came to realize that what I brought to the table by the very fact that I was a woman was good and that I should not be ashamed of myself in any way.    I believe many women of my generation went through this same process of redefining their womanhood.  Yes, we stepped into man’s domain but we did’t have to become like men to succeed in it.  We just needed to be ourselves.  We enhance our careers by bringing a feminine way of thinking into them.  We don’t need to dominate over the men in our chosen fields but we need to add to the mix an insight that only women can.  We only ask for acknowledgement  that we are capable, not by turning ourselves into men but by being the women we were meant to be.

Unfortunately I see a different kind of confusion about womanhood in the young women of today.  Whereas my generation erred by trying to remake ourselves into our male counterparts, many of the millennials present themselves as overly feminine in a sensual way.  They dress in scanty, revealing clothing in the name of fashion.  Whereas we tried to move away from women being seen as sex objects, the present generation seems to not realize that their actions move us back into this mindset.

How can we find a middle ground? I believe the solution is for women, young and old, to be confident in who we are.  We need to stop trying to be people that we are not. We must embrace real womanhood, not hiding behind a facade created to please society.  Women bring beauty and softness to the world.  We are a nurturing, caring, persistent group who stand up to fight for those we love.  Let us not forget who we really are.

Nothing is Wasted

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Life is full of ups and downs, victories and defeats.  We tend to thank God for the blessings of our mountain tops but see our valley experiences as meaningless. But nothing is ever wasted in God’s economy. My cousin, Mona posted a comment by Anne Kubinsky of lookforthegoodproject.org on Facebook recently that spoke to this truth.

“I know people who feel like they’ve wasted years of their lives because of poor choices.  They spent years in a relationship that was toxic, years with an addiction, years at a job where they weren’t fulfilled.  But you have to realize, nothing you have been through is ever wasted. Your past experiences, good and bad have deposited something on the inside of you.  Those challenges have sharpened you, to make you who you are today.”

As I look back over my life, I see all the pieces coming together to make me who I am.  If I am honest, the sad times have had a greater impact since they knocked me off my pedestal and gave me a better perspective of the world around me.  My life was very dark when I lost my youngest sister, Gaynelle when she was almost 5 years old.  Her death gave me first hand experience of the heaviness that sits on your heart during grief and how it can resurface out of the blue years later.  Something rekindles a memory and it all floods back for a moment.  It could be a familiar smell or a scene from the past. I’m suddenly immersed in the same feelings again.  But it only lasts a moment.  I’ve learned to live a new “normal” years ago.  However, having experienced this I know when I come across a person who has lost someone they love dearly, I have a sense of what they are going through.  When you love someone deeply, you always miss them no matter how many years have passed. It’s just the way it is. Recognizing this fact and just “being” with another grieving soul can help more than anything.  It doesn’t change the situation but there is nothing much worse than grieving alone.  Those of us who have experienced grief are best able to help those going through it now. Grief was a challenge that sharpened me, reshaping me into who I am today.

My life has had a few big challenges like the death of my sister and a myriad of little ones. A few years back I had the unfortunate inconvenience of breaking two bones in my left leg while dirt bike riding with my husband.  It’s a long story but suffice it to say I felt foolish not having on proper boots that probably would have prevented the fractures.  In the end I needed a titanium rod in my tibia and a plate and screws in my ankle.  This slowed me down a bit.  I discovered what it is like to have difficulty raising my leg over the edge of the tub to shower.  I found that PT can be extremely painful but absolutely necessary to regain function.  I noticed how few shopping places have benches to sit down when I was worn out using crutches.  I have a whole different perspective on physical disabilities that I would never had known if I hadn’t gone through this experience.  My leg is essentially back to normal.  I don’t have a permanent disability as many people do.  But I have a new appreciation for what they go through every day.  A place saying it is “handicap accessible” doesn’t guarantee accessibility.  Little things are difficult when a person is disabled that most of us take for granted. Through this experience I can better guide my patients when they are going through a similar injury.  I think it gives them hope that my ankle is doing great now.

I wouldn’t wish for any of these trials if I had the choice. I would do just about anything to have my sister back. But I can’t.  I hold on to the hope that I will see her again and I know that Jesus is taking good care of her now.  But I did have a choice as to whether I would let the trials make me bitter or whether I would let God use them for good.  Over and over again I have seen good come after great tragedies.  The tragedies are not minimized but the survivors didn’t let themselves be defeated by them.  They chose to make a difference for others often in honor of those who didn’t survive.  All the loving actions that have come after the Sandy Hook shooting are a good example of this.  Evil has been quenched by love because the families chose to use their grief for good, not bitterness.  Nothing is wasted when we allow God to use our tragedies to remold us into people of light.  The apostle John gives us hope in the midst of these trials. “The light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it.”

Love Came Down

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Of the many gifts given at Christmas, the one our heart truly longs to give and to receive is love.  In every wrapped package, I desire to show in some outward expression my love for family and friends.  Sometimes the manic pace of the holiday season gets in the way of love and  good intentions are replaced by impatience and frustration.  It is beneficial to step back, slow down and reflect on what gift was really given on that first Christmas.

There is an old hymn written in the mid 1800’s that is entitled, “Love Came Down On Christmas.”  God is described as love and Jesus’ entrance into the world embodied God’s expression of love for humanity.  There are many names given to Jesus:  wonderful counselor, mighty God, prince of peace, the lion of Judah, the bright morning star, the Word,  Emmanuel (God with us) are only a few.  All these names give us a little different picture of the many qualities of Jesus.  But doesn’t “Love” encompass them all?

A close inspection of the Gospels, reveals Jesus repeatedly loving people where they were.  He touched the untouchables, He dined with the despised, and He associated with sinners.  His mission was to love the lost and bring them back to God.  He didn’t come to condemn but to save.  His coming to earth in human form was a huge sacrifice in itself but to die for us was beyond belief.  God loves us that much.  He is love magnified to a level we really can’t comprehend.

During Jesus’ ministry on earth, the only people He chastised were those who judged others and put huge burdens on them of laws they couldn’t uphold.  The law was more important to them than love and this was counter to Jesus’ mission.  He had no kind words for the religious leaders of his day. He called them vipers and white washed tombs.  They were pretty on the outside but dead inside.  Jesus had a way of seeing right through external trappings to who a person really was inside.  This eventually lead to his crucifixion.

So how are we to respond to this gift of love that came down on Christmas?  Jesus’ command was to love one another as He loved us.  This is sacrificial love that knows no boundaries.  We are called to love the unlovable, to love people who think differently or act differently than ourselves.  We are to love sinners as Jesus loved them because if we are honest with ourselves we all fall in this category.  We are not called to judge others.  This is Jesus’ job, not ours. This doesn’t mean we don’t stand up for justice when needed. However, when we stand up for an issue, we must ask ourselves, “Am I lifting people up or tearing them down”  with my words?  Telling the truth in love can be a difficult task.  If we drive people away from Jesus by our words, then we need to consider if we should hold our words out of love. As directed in a quote attributed to St. Francis, “Preach the gospel at all times and if necessary use words.”  Our loving actions speak volumes more than our words ever will.

Jesus came down on Christmas as Love to show us how to love and to save us for love.  Let us carry on His mission to the world this Christmas in everything we do and say.

 

Praying for Chain Saws

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My friend, Dan Lutes has been active in mission work all over the world.  He has spent time participating in building projects in the Philippines as well as Viet Nam, Liberia and Appalachia.  Recently he sent me an email from a friend of his in the Philippines giving an update on their needs since the Super Typhoon struck the islands a few short weeks ago.  This man on the ground related that there was now a good supply of food and water available but what they really needed was chain saws.  It does make sense that they would need these but frankly it would have been the last thing I would think to donate.  They need the chain saws to cut down the trees that are either already down or near to falling down to use the wood to rebuild.  It would be much less expensive to use wood right at the site of the devastation than to ship it in from elsewhere.  This is resourcefulness at its best.  While most of us are still thinking of relief efforts, these people are developing plans to rebuild their community.

As is often the case, what is donated to mission is not always what is needed by the people involved.  Relief efforts are great in the first few days to weeks after a disaster but if relief is all that is given without development efforts, then it produces a still needier group of people dependant on outside resources indefinitely.  It’s relatively easy to send food, water, clothing, tents, medicines but it’s much more difficult and time-consuming to rebuild a community’s infrastructure as well as its ability to sustain itself.  This takes a joint effort between the people in need and the missioners.  In this model the missioners empower the people to help themselves. They are given a “hand up”, not a “hand out”.  It involves a lot of listening to the real needs of the people and not taking a paternalistic attitude toward them.  Usually education and shared knowledge are a big part in development.  Missioners have to be able to stand back and let the people of the community be in charge.  Historically most missions have not done this.

In the book, “When Helping Hurts”  the topic of how best to give without hurting others or yourself is explored in-depth.  It’s a great book to read for anyone with an interest in mission work either here or abroad.  After reading it, I had a great sense of sadness when I realized that how I gave probably hurt more people than it helped.  Too often I performed a task that I could have taught someone in country to do themselves.  The instances when I have been able to work beside the doctors in Haiti and in Ecuador, have been the most fulfilling.  I was helping these healers to better serve their own people after I was long gone back to America.

I urge all those who give to charities over the Christmas season to really look at what those groups do and how they carry out their work.  It’s important to look at how much of the money donated goes to administrative costs.  Generally if it’s over 20% then there is a problem.  Also see how much gets earmarked for development of communities, not just relief efforts.  The best missions should be doing both.

I am including in this post the letter sent to me by Dan Lutes from “World Mission Builders” in the Philippines.  My husband and I plan to send them a donation for their chain saws.  I’ll be excited to see pictures in the future of their homes and churches rebuilt and their communities revitalized through their own efforts with this “hand up” rather than a “hand out.”  If you want to join in this effort, the contact information is included.

 

_____________________________________________________________________

November 31, 2013

2nd LEYTE RELIEF TRIP

Hi Ed and all co-workers,

Christian greetings!

The second trip was safe and successful. Thanks to all of your prayers!

Before we left for Leyte, the preachers in Bohol held a meeting at my church to plan the trip to be able to reach most of the churches in Leyte faster and in a shorter time. You know, Leyte is a big island.

During the meeting, we decided to split the group into two teams. The first team headed by Rene Perez was assigned to the churches facing Cebu seas and the second team headed by me was assigned to the churches on the other side of the island facing the Pacific. This is the place where you can find much damage and casualties.

We brought relief goods and cash for distribution.

We left Bohol port at 1pm on board a slow boat with our vehicles and slept the night at Hilongos, at my brother’s house near the port. Early at dawn the groups started the long drive to our respective destination.

My group crossed to the other side of the island under the rain. The road is full of military vehicles protecting convoys of big cargo trucks. We saw foreign nationals riding on these trucks.

Upon reaching the other side of the island, we saw devastation, a seemingly endless devastation. The mark left by the storm surge that kills thousands of people was very clear.

We reached Abuyog town where we have two churches situated far from each other. The other one can only be reached by a pump boat. We left Henry there to personally deliver the goods and the money for the church. We also learned that the other church is located at a very remote place unpassable by our vehicle. We called up the church preacher to meet us and get his goods and money at Abuyog town center.

We proceeded to a long trip straight to Tacloban passing devastated communities.

We reached Tacloban on time as planned. We were pleased to see that our brethren there are basically fine. Our Tacloban and La Paz house churches got less damage from the super typhoon. God’s protection for His people is clearly seen. Teo Bojos the preacher of Tacloban and Eli Melguiades of La Paz, their families and their church members are safe. Teo was out of town when we got there.

Based on what we saw, it is my suggestion that we will stop sending food help now because the vast food relief from foreign countries is now being felt among the affected communities. This recommendation will however never stop other donors who wish to extend food help.

What we now see is the immediate needs of helping our people rebuild their destroyed churches and homes. This is a big work that will take some time or even years to finish but we need to start it right now.

We recommend that the World Mission Builders will purchase 2 units of gas-powered chain saws to be used in cutting and sawing trees for church and house building reconstructions. The island is full of falling trees ready to be used for reconstruction. This is the cheapest, easiest and fastest way of helping than buying expensive wood materials for reconstruction. We have men who know to operate chain saws in Leyte. The chain saws will remain the property of WMB. We will only let it be used in Leyte and Bohol for rebuilding.

The price of a good kind chain saw STIHL brand is P54,000 a piece.

Almost all of our member’s houses were also destroyed. Candelaria church is also totally destroyed but we were not able to reach there and another couple of churches which are located in remote areas.

In behalf of our suffering church families in Leyte and Bohol, we hope and pray that someone can donate funds in buying the chain saws. It will surely help our affected people stand again!

Also, in behalf of all the recipients of the two relief trips that we had, we would like to say thank you for all your donations.

God bless you all!

In Christ,

Jun

_

 

__________________________________________________________________

Greetings Suzanne,

Our main coordinator on the ground is Ed Thomas and his email is wmbed@juno.com [mailto:wmbed@juno.com]

 He is in the Philippines but check should be mailed to his home address, he requests that you send him an email so he knows what’s coming.

World Mission Builders

8160 S.E. Star Rd.

Baxter Springs, KS 66713

You can be assured that 100% of your money is going to the cause…no admin etc.

 Blessings.

Dan Lutes

The Saddest Season

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We all hold in our hearts the vision of a perfect Christmas.  Whether you call it Christmas or not, there is within us this longing for a gathering of our loved ones to share a meal together and connect with each other in a deep, meaningful way.  In this vision, the house is decorated perfectly.  All the food is delicious.  And every gift is just what each person wanted.

The problem is that this is not reality. We overcook the turkey.  The dog vomits on the living room floor right before our guests arrive.  Our aunt who always causes trouble at every get-together is at it again.  And there is someone missing from the table.  Our heart aches for them while we’re trying our best to be merry.

Christmas can be the saddest season of the year.

It is statistically true and I have seen it in my practice of medicine, that symptoms of depression are highest this time of year.  All our losses and heart aches come to a culmination when we recognize that we can’t have this ideal Christmas.  We somehow think that everyone but us has it all together which couldn’t be further from the truth. Everyone has losses no matter who you are.  And everyone can suffer from depression.

Recognition of this fact is very important.  Otherwise we think we are the only ones feeling this way so we hide it.  We think that if somehow we act happy, we will be.  This can only last so long until we crash and burn.  If we are able to see that we are one in many who suffer with depression, then we will be able to ask for help.  No one can help someone if they don’t see that they need it.

When recognition of the problem happens, then help needs to be multi-disciplinary.  Depression is not “fixed” by pulling yourself up by the boot straps or if you have enough faith to pray yourself out of it.  Prayer needs to be a part of the treatment but not the whole of it.  Seek professional counseling in whatever way you feel comfortable.  Find a counselor that you can connect with and tell them about what is happening in your life.  When a burden is shared, it becomes lighter.  The problems are still there but you now have an advocate to help you navigate through them.

Use medication when it is warranted.  There is a biochemical component of depression.  Sometimes even with the best of counseling, medication is needed to balance these biochemicals.  In the depths of depression, a person can barely function.  Medication can help the symptoms of depression resolve more quickly so a person can get back to their normal daily activities. A therapist working together with a physician well versed in the use of antidepressants is a great team of support.  However, it is good to be aware that sometimes medication can make symptoms worse in some individuals.  I always counsel my patients to call me or their therapist right away if they are worsening or feel suicidal.  In this situation, they must stop their medication immediately and be seen in crisis counseling.

Unfortunately, even with the best of treatment and support, there are those people who do go on to commit suicide.  This is devastating to family and friends as well as the therapist and physicians who have tried to help.  There is so much more we have to learn about depression and its treatment.  Reality is that at times we fail to treat it.

Many years ago my cousin, John committed suicide after prolonged treatment for depression.  During his funeral, his pastor described depression in a way I have never forgotten.  He said that depression is like a very thick fog surrounding the person.  They can’t see anyone else through this fog but themselves.  Because they are so alone, they see their situation as hopeless. Suicide then becomes their best option.

Let us reach out to those we see hurting and depressed.  We must give them hope so suicide isn’t their best option out.  If you are that person suffering with depression, tell someone about it so you can get help.  I have had to do this myself during some of the stormy times in my life.  I am thankful for a wonderful therapist and medication to get me through that hard place.  I am on the other side of it due to this and support from my family and the Lord who walked with me through it all.  God has given us the skills and knowledge to help each other through the struggles of mental illness.  Just like any other illness though, we must be willing to ask for help to be healed.

 

 

 

Breaking Bread Together

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My first medical mission trip was to Haiti in 2000. The poverty was staggering. As we flew in to Port-au-Prince, I remember the overwhelming thought that the city looked like a war zone from above, but it wasn’t. The blue water of the Caribbean turned a dirty brown as it flowed into the harbor. After landing, we were met by throngs of people at the airport wanting to carry our bags for money. We made our way through this gauntlet to the buses that took us to our hotel. The streets of the city were scattered with trash. Raw sewage flowed in the ditches. I noticed that all the electric wires over the streets had numerous wires spliced into them. Walking along the streets were women with huge loads of charcoal, eggs and all sorts of other items on their heads. Outside the entrance to the hotel stood armed guards. Graffiti covered the walls but once inside everything changed. It was like a garden oasis in the midst of squalor. There was color in contrast to all the browns and greys of the streets. The green of large plants with brilliant flowers in bloom was almost shocking. The blue of the pool in the center of the courtyard was peaceful and calm compared to the constant motion outside. The people of the city were locked out of this little piece of respite that most weren’t even aware existed.

Everyday we went out to set up medical brigades in schools and churches through the city and surrounding villages. We were accompanied by several Haitian pastors and young men who helped with interpreting and general crowd control. We became quite fond of many of them. One of the pastors was diabetic and he asked many questions trying to educate himself on the disease. He had a glucose meter someone had given him at his home and asked if we could make sure he was using it correctly. After clinic was completed for the day, one of our nurses and I went with him to his home. We piled into his dented but functional little car for the short trip. As we walked from the car, children played makeshift games of football (soccer). One boy had a basketball and had rigged up a hoop of sorts to play. I called to him, “Michael Jordan?” “No,” he said, “Iverson.” I was surprised by his knowledge of American sports.

The pastor led us down narrow stairs into his home. It was more like an apartment connected to numerous others that terraced down the hillside. He was proud to show us his place. It was clean and neat. He even had a refrigerator and electricity although we knew the power was intermittent at best. Even in our hotel the power would randomly go off and on.

After we completed our one-on-one diabetic coaching, he drove us back to our hotel. His niece accompanied us. We invited them both to join us for dinner since the hour was late and we knew as a diabetic, he needed to eat. At first they were reluctant but conceded. When we entered the front of the hotel, we were promptly stopped because of our guests. We had to do quite a bit of convincing to the guards to let them in. Upon walking in to the courtyard, we could see the awe on their faces. As we sat for our meal together, they were noticeably uncomfortable. They didn’t have any idea how to navigate a buffet. We had to encourage them to take what they wanted from the wide selection of food. They were strangers to our world and felt out-of-place being here. When they left, I felt guilty that I was privileged to stay.

Someday we will all be invited to a Great Banquet by our king, Jesus. The ones originally invited will shirk the meal and will make excuses for not coming. Then the Lord will invite the people from the streets to join in. They will celebrate with great feasting on that day. The ones who felt left out on earth will never be needy again in Heaven.

When the massive earthquake hit Haiti in 2010, this pastor who broke bread with me back in 2000, was the first person on my mind. I sent prayers heavenward for him, not knowing if he at that moment was with the Lord. I still don’t know what happened to him but my hope is to meet him again someday at the Lord’s Great Banquet. No one will feel out-of-place but everyone will be welcome on that day. On this Thanksgiving, remember our brothers and sisters throughout the world who don’t have the blessing of food in plenty as we do. Share a meal with them if you can physically or through donations to a food pantry. Someday we will all be sitting together at the same table with the Lord.

 

Reminded of our humanity

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My daughter Anna and I were fortunate to see an advanced screening of “The Book Thief” earlier this week.  I would highly recommend it.  We laughed, we cried, and I forgot to bring tissues!  The movie is set in a German neighborhood in the midst of Hitler’s reign of terror during WWII and follows one family struggling to live day-to-day through the madness.  In one scene, Hans (papa) tries to defend the character of a jewish neighbor as he is being drug away by the Gestapo.  He tells them that he is a good man and he has known him his whole life.  Hans is forced to tell the Gestapo his name and is thrown to the ground, unable to stop them. Afterward he says to his wife as she is cleaning his wounds, “What did I do?  What did I do?.”  What she said in response cut to the heart of the issue.  “What you did was remind them of their humanity.” The German people had lost sight of their humanity through Hitler’s influence.  They bought into the lies that the Jews (and anyone not of the Aryan race) were to blame for their country’s woes. They forgot that these people not long before were trusted friends and neighbors.  The Germans who realized that all this was very wrong, were too afraid to speak up for fear of the same fate as the Jews.  The country as a whole was pulled into the insanity.  A few brave souls stood out like the German theologian, Dietrich Bonhoeffer. He could have stayed in America, out of harms way, but instead chose to return to Germany to help the Resistance effort.  He was part of a failed attempt to assassinate Hitler.  He died in a concentration camp 2 weeks before the end of the war.  His classic book, “The Cost of Discipleship” has a large readership yet today.  Did he imagine that the cost of discipleship would be his life when he wrote it?

Jesus was constantly reminding people of their humanity in many of his parables.  When asked by  a lawyer what he was to do to gain eternal life, Jesus asked him what was written in the law.  He answered that he should love the Lord, his God was all his soul, heart, mind and strength and love his neighbor as himself.  Jesus confirmed that he was correct and told him to do this and he would live. But the man then asked Jesus, “Who is my neighbor?”  Jesus never really answered his question but told him the story of the good Samaritan who helped a man injured by the side of the road after two other people considered “good” by their observance of the rules, passed him by.  Jesus turned the tables on the questioner by presenting a Samaritan who was despised by Jews as the hero in the story.  He then asked, “Who in the story was a neighbor to the injured man?”  The teacher of the law had to answer, “The one who showed him mercy.”  Jesus never said who our neighbor is but said that we should be a neighbor to anyone in need.  In other words, we should not judge who should be considered our neighbor because we are to be the neighbor. He told the lawyer, “Go and do likewise.”

It’s easy to pick and choose who we consider to be our neighbors.  Usually they are people who think and look just like us.  But if we had eyes to see like Jesus sees, we couldn’t help but see the humanity in everyone.  To do this we have to step out of the familiar to meet these neighbors who are different from ourselves where they are.  Most of us will never be asked to risk our lives to help a neighbor but would we step up to the task if such a situation arose? The people in Germany and the surrounding countries who did risk their lives hiding Jews were no different from you and me.  The family in “The Book Thief” was an ordinary family but they chose to hide a young Jewish man in their basement for 2 years. Their eyes could see the humanity of this brother and they could not turn their backs on him. In the Gospel of John, Jesus spoke of this kind of sacrifice, “…love one another as I have loved you.  No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.”  Jesus did this for us. Now the challenge is, with His strength, to go and do likewise.