Bulembu or Bust!

My bags are packed, and I’m … Well, ok, my bags aren’t packed yet, but I am ready to go! And I’m excited to officially announce that I’m going to Bulembu! My dear friend, Monique (from Holland), and I are going to Bulembu, Swaziland with a group of people, who will be led by Scott Campbell, Director of Development for Bulembu International. I leave Indianapolis on March 13 and head to Amsterdam where I pick up Monique. Together we’ll fly (for 12 hours) to Johannesburg on the 14th. After arriving, we’ll take about 24 hours to recover (and we’ll need it) before we meet up with the rest of the team and make our way to Bulembu. Our trip will last for seven days and will include time spent in the orphanage, working in the community enterprise and community care systems and for me, doing lots and lots of writing. I will head back to Indianapolis on the 24th of March, stopping in Amsterdam to drop off Monique. (Don’t worry – we’ll land first. I won’t just push her out of the plane as we pass over Amsterdam!)

There are still many details I don’t know as of yet but I am beyond excited! And I am over-the-top humbled by this opportunity! No, I still don’t have the money I need to pay for the trip. I still need about $1800 but I have no doubt that God will provide a way. To start, I will make a presentation to the Mission Resource Team at my church this Sunday. It is possible I may receive some support funds from this group. (Your prayers going into this presentation are appreciated!) Even if the funds aren’t available, I know I’ll have their prayers, and that means more to me than anything else! I have had some wonderful surprises in the form of checks arriving here and there from dear friends who have offered to help. I am eternally thankful for their generosity! I continue to try to find other fundraising avenues (and am always open to suggestions!).

I have heard many times that people often go into mission trips thinking they will change the people they meet along the way when in fact, it is they who come home changed forever. I’m not sure why but I have never once considered that I will enter Bulembu thinking that I will change or “save” someone. I do hope to be salt and light for these people I have come to love (even though I don’t even know them yet). But I know even before I go that I am the one who will be forever changed. Whatever I am able to teach them, I pray that it is a glory to God. And whatever they are able to teach me, I pray I go with open eyes and ears, and that I am able to come back and tell the rest of the world through the written word. I know of no other reason for me to go.

Bulembu

The Garage Sale of All Garage Sales

My husband, Kurt, and I are blessed to be part of a wonderful church that has a large population of children who have been adopted. And there are lots of adults who were adopted in their youth. We feel like our church embodies James 1:27 which says we are to “look after the orphans and widows in their distress.”

Our church, Zionsville Fellowship, recently started an orphan ministry where we provide information, resources and prayer support for couples and families seeking to adopt. Through our ministry, we have partnered with LifeSong for Orphans, a Christian organization working to bring joy and purpose to orphans across the world. One-hundred-percent of all donations go directly to care for orphans and their needs. Part of their work includes providing grants and loans to those who seek the funds needed to complete their adoption.

Because of our passion for helping orphans and our church partnership with LifeSong, we are hosting the mother of all garage sales in which all proceeds will be donated to LifeSong for Orphans. Our entire ministry team, Larry and Judy, Steve and Jill, Scott and Stephanie, and Steve and Jill would greatly appreciate your support. Mark and Diane also serve on the team and are hosting the garage sale.

Here are the details:
Friday and Saturday (June 11 and 12) from 8:00 am until…
4403 Owl Court
Indianapolis

Please spread the word, come shop and help us as we help the least of these.

The Unkept Journal

I am so excited to be traveling a couple of hours north of Indianapolis to spend the weekend with some of the women from my church small group. We’ll be hanging out at the Mahseh retreat center on Lake Bruce, and I am certain it will be a wonderful time of fellowship and rest. Outside of the beauty of the area and the women with whom I’m spending time, I get to do a mini-presentation on journaling. I decided to share some of my notes with you.

I call this the Unkept Journal because I hate keeping a journal. Keeping a journal can have a negative connotation. Part of being a successful journal writer is the psychology behind it. And if you feel something is negative, you probably aren’t going to be too passionate about participating. Besides, our lives are filled with keeping things: Women are kept. The house is kept. The yard is kept. Doesn’t that sound heavy? Well, just let it go. Don’t keep a journal. A journal is meant to be like friendship or a nice glass of wine – light, engaged, enriching, pleasing, and yes, spontaneous at times.

I recently read the book Writing Through the Darkness: Easing your Depression with Paper and Pen by Elizabeth Maynard Schaefer. In it, she says, “Journaling is journeying inside yourself to see what really lies there below the surface. It is crawling on your knees, using an archaeologist’s brushes to clean off the artifacts of your mind – the memories, ideas, emotions and plans, be they ancient or recent, fragile or sturdy, simple or ornate. Journal writing is focused on healing and recovery.”

How do you get started? Start simple. Here are the basics:

• Pen – I recommend writing long-hand instead of typing on a computer. Writing long-hand discourages something we all do when we sit down and pound our thoughts on a keyboard; edit. When you start editing, you stop writing. And editing is a form of self-criticism. Allow yourself to melt into the feeling that comes with putting pen to paper.
• Paper – That one seems rather obvious considering the first point, doesn’t it?
• Place – Write anytime you can share your thoughts with yourself without being interrupted by anyone else’s demands on your attention. If that’s while you’re soaking in a tub, then soak. If it’s by a river stream in the mountains, go there. Just be intentional about not letting anyone or anything interrupt you.

Now you’re probably wondering: What do I write about? Journal from the heart. Use writing prompts if you have to. (There are lots of terrific books out there that can help, such as the one I mentioned above.) Ask yourself questions:

• What surprised me most about today?
• What moved me most today?
• What do I most want to remember about today?

Don’t force yourself to write every single day if your personality and lifestyle won’t make that possible. Don’t re-read everything you’ve written. Write when you’re bored, happy, grumpy, annoyed, or just gazing out into space. The unkept journal is much more likely to bring you joy and help you look forward to writing than a journal that is kept.

Do you have an unkept journal? How do you make it work for you? I’d love to hear your comments.

Who am I?

The question of “who am I” is commonly asked among the younger generation. Tweens and teens alike wonder what their purpose is in life and how they’re supposed to go about accomplishing that purpose. Even youngsters in college seek clarification in their identity, wondering what to study and how their education and social experiences will make a positive impact on the world. I have often heard people say that the older you get the more you know yourself. I can testify to the validity of this claim but I have also learned, as I have gotten older, if you’re willing, you never stop growing.

Remaining stagnant in anything is not an option for me. I hunger for God’s wisdom and crave being all He destined for me to be. More often than not, the growth that comes with that wisdom is painful. I liken it to open heart surgery – without anesthesia. I have, in recent months, gone through a number of such procedures, and have discovered a few things about myself that I didn’t know before. While I know I’m becoming exactly who God wants me to be, I am finding myself grieving over who I know I will never be. And I feel an ever-increasing isolation because, like I did in high school, I feel like I don’t fit in.

One of those areas of understanding and acceptance is related to my 9/11 experience. I so desperately wanted to get the heck out of Washington, DC after the attacks on America. I was surrounded by a fraternity of journalists who had gone through what I went through. But, our club meetings were always silent. No one spoke of what they saw or felt or experienced that day and in the days afterward. With that silence came a feeling of alone-ness that has yet to leave me. I needed to know I wasn’t the only one feeling what I was feeling. Those answers never came from my brethren.

Moving to Indianapolis was, in my mind, the safest place I could get without having to remove myself from the planet yet still close enough to be able to get home to my family in SC in a matter of hours all while still working as a journalist, albeit in print instead of TV news. What I have discovered here is even more isolation. To my knowledge, I am the only person in Indianapolis, Indiana who heard the plane crash into the Pentagon in person, the only one who watched video of the jumpers from the World Trade Center buildings before they collapsed, the only one who felt the heat rising from the Pentagon for days after the fire was extinguished. I am the only one in Indianapolis who covered the events of 9/11 in NY and knows the stench of 3,000 dead bodies. I am the only one.

That’s not to suggest others in Indiana were not affected adversely by the attacks. Perhaps they lost a loved one or a friend. Perhaps they were a first responder who went to NY or DC to assist in recover efforts. In those experiences, there is a common bond. But from 8:48 am, 9/11/01 to this very minute, I know of no one else that can relate. I have had so many conversations with people about what I saw, desperately needing someone to say, “I understand.” I continue to wait for those words of comfort.

Everyone has experienced pain; that is the common bond in the human race. But somewhere in this town is a woman who can relate to a mother who lost a child because she has lost one too. Somewhere in this town is a man who knows what it feels like to have survived cancer because he had it too. Somewhere in this town is a son who knows what his friend is struggling with watching his parents battle dementia because he is watching it in his family too.

Somewhere in Indianapolis, Indiana is a woman who is isolated because no one else in this town understands because they have never walked in my shoes. Who am I if I am alone?

Keys to Life

Indianapolis is all a-buzz with NCAA Final Four fever this weekend, especially since the hometown Butler Bulldogs are playing; the only team from the Hoosier state to make it to the Final Four. This weekend, everyone in Indiana is a Bulldog!

One of the many exciting events of the weekend is the Legends of the Hardwood Breakfast, a partnership between Athletes in Action and Fellowship of Christian Athletes, which presents the annual John Wooden “Keys to Life” Award. It stands as one of the premier events during the NCAA Final Four weekend and recognizes the importance of leadership, character and integrity and honors heroes in the world of sports.

Nearly 1000 people attended today’s Breakfast with Ernie Johnson, Host of TNT’s “Inside the NBA,” acting as Master of Ceremonies. Clark Kellogg, CBS Lead Analyst for college basketball and Indiana Pacers Analyst, was also on hand. Both men shared from their own faith experiences and uplifting stories about previous “Keys to Life” winners and other basketball greats who have left an indelible mark off the hardwood as well as on it.

The 2010 John Wooden Keys to Life Award Winner is Don Meyer, who has 38 years head coaching experience and the most career victories of any college coach. The Award is presented to Coach Meyer for living out Coach Wooden’s seven “Keys to Life,” and exemplifying outstanding character and leadership on the court, in the work place, in the home, and in the community.

Coach Wooden’s Keys to Life:
1. Be true to yourself.
2. Help others.
3. Make each day your masterpiece.
4. Drink deeply from good books, especially the Bible.
5. Make friendship a fine art.
6. Build a shelter against a rainy day.
7. Pray for guidance and give thanks for your blessings every day.

As we prepare for Easter Sunday, we recognize and celebrate the greatest “Legend” of all time – Jesus Christ. We acknowledge Him as the ultimate example of character and leadership in all areas of our lives. And we accept the sacrifice He made on the Cross on our behalf. It is that unfailing love and victory over death that gives us the strength and courage to pursue the “Keys to Life” as John Wooden suggests.

Do you know the Key to life?

Whatever It Takes

He’s out there every single day. All day. The same guy stands near the corner of 56th Street and Georgetown Road wearing a Statue of Liberty costume over layers of winter clothes. He waves at passing cars and lifts the sign that beckons the driver to come to the tax service he represents.

To be honest, it brightens my day to see him out there, consistently working regardless of what Mother Nature throws at him. On warmer days, he does his job with a smile. A thick scarf covers everything but his eyes when temperatures dip. But, he’s still there. Working. Doing whatever it takes to make ends meet for himself and possibly a family. Pride isn’t an issue for this guy. This job isn’t beneath him. Sometimes in life you gotta do what you gotta do.

Not everyone has that mentality, unfortunately. A few weeks ago, Indianapolis was the recipient of an artic blast, plummeting temperatures during the day to 10 below zero. Believe it or not, the man pretending to be the Statue of Liberty was out there at his usual spot. The company responsible for picking up our neighborhoods garbage wouldn’t even send their workers out in these frigid temperatures! But this guy was there, braving the cold for the sake of a paycheck.

It’s clear that he isn’t sitting around waiting for a job in “management” or something in his “field”. He has a responsibility, and he’s taking it seriously. It just reminds me of the resiliency of human-kind. If you want something bad enough, you’ll do whatever it takes to get it. Despite what the media want you to think about the economy, there are jobs to be had. All it takes is a willing heart and an open eye for the opportunity.

The same is true in life. Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do to get healthy, to be a better wife or husband, to get better grades, to stop smoking. Respect comes not when you have the title or the prestige that comes in corporate gain. It comes when you do whatever it takes.

Afraid of Going Back

I was so very excited when I started this blog. I didn’t think twice about the memories or the pain that might come back through those memories. In fact, I expected to find tremendous healing through the writing. I knew it might be painful but that’s why I call it the Journey Through the Great Sadness. It is a journey, and I expect to come out the other side well.

My PTSD symptoms came on not long after I relocated to Indianapolis nearly six years ago. The only problem is: I didn’t know that’s what was going on. I found ways of stifling what I was feeling. My husband and I and my wonderful mother-in-law took a trip to Iowa to see my brother-in-law and his friend three years ago. It was a wonderful long weekend with them but I can recall that as being the weekend where I started going downhill – fast. I can recall the overwhelming sadness and despair and pain. I still had no clue what was going on at that time. I just knew that what I was feeling was getting worse.

In recent days, I have struggled with those feelings again. Perhaps it’s knowing that the July 4th weekend marks the unofficial beginning of a painful journey. Perhaps it’s knowing the anniversary of the attack is just months away. I have felt a great deal of depression again although it ebbs and flows. (Today is a good day.) For that reason, I have been afraid of writing. I am afraid of going back to that place.

Part of me doesn’t want to think about it or talk about it or write about it. But I also know how cathartic it is for me to do all of these things.

My anxiety has been rather high too. The election is also a few months away and, for some reason, I can’t get it out of my head that there will be another attack either before the election or in the final days of President Bush’s term. My senses are heightened, and I hate that feeling. I don’t want to keep looking over my shoulders to see who is possibly going to do what. I don’t want to go to a public place to celebrate our Independence Day. As much as I love racing, I don’t want to be here when the NASCAR Cup series comes to town for the Brickyard 500. I don’t want to be any place where there are large gatherings. Isn’t that silly? To be afraid of being in public.

I know another attack will happen. It isn’t a matter of if but when. I don’t want to be there when it happens. I don’t want to see it, smell it, hear it, feel it.

I’m afraid of going back.