Enlarge my heart..

One of my all time favorite shows is "How the Grinch Stole Christmas", especially the cartoon one. I love all the parts, but lately one in particular has been on my mind. It's the scene where you get to see the Grinch's heart, which was two sizes too small, grow ten times that day. I think I may need a Grinch moment myself.

I blame it on Cambodia...it was there that it really hit me how small my heart had become. I'm not sure what caused it. Perhaps it was the loss of our son so many years ago. Maybe it was the death of my father and mother. Maybe it was just the thousand little hurts and disappointments that happen to us all in life; but for whatever the reason, I became painfully aware that my heart had shrunk like some old t-shirt that was tossed in the wash with hot water over and over again. It was just...too small! It didn't fit right anymore. It was tight and binding and just down-right uncomfortable!

Then came Cambodia and I stepped outside my little world of me and suddenly I became aware. My heart had shrunk! It hadn't become hard, it had just dwindled down to a place where I was more concerned about my little universe than the great big world around me!

I had become like the "Jim Carey version of The Grinch when he said, "The nerve of those Whos. Inviting me down there - on such short notice! Even if I wanted to go my schedule wouldn't allow it. 4:00, wallow in self pity; 4:30, stare into the abyss; 5:00, solve world hunger, tell no one; 5:30, jazzercize; 6:30, dinner with me - I can't cancel that again; 7:00, wrestle with my self-loathing... I'm booked. Of course, if I bump the loathing to 9, I could still be done in time to lay in bed, stare at the ceiling and slip slowly into madness. But what would I wear? " It was all about me, me, me....and a heart that was just too small.



Then I met the people from Hard Places Ministry and my world was shaken. They loved - sometimes those that seemedcompletely unloveable. Daily they faced horrendous odds that would have caused many hearts to shrink, but instead theirs seemed to grow even more! They walked into the darkness carrying light despite battle after battle. Looking at these young people, that's when I realized just how small my own heart had become. And since then my prayer has become, "Lord, help my heart to grow." I don't want to walk around with a heart that is two sizes too small! I don't want to look at others as 'those people'. I want to see them as You do and I want to love.

It's right about here that I remember another line from the Jim Carey version..."MAX. HELP ME... I'm FEELING." 

See, that's the problem with an enlarged heart....it FEELS, and not just the good stuff. It feels the hurts, too. Am I the only one that really doesn't like that part? But Jesus did that for us. He felt our pain. I've heard it said that He actually died of a broken heart while on the cross that day. And He forgave.

There's that other part of having a heart that feels. It has to forgive or it starts to shrink again. I have to admit I struggle with this sometimes. I see someone who has hurt me or those that I love and I don't want them around! I want to yell, "NO! You can't come here! This is MY church!" but I can't do that without having my heart start to shrink away.

This morning, I heard the song by Matthew West, "Forgiveness" and somehow I knew it all tied in with my shrinking heart. 

It's the hardest thing to give away
And the last thing on your mind today
It always goes to those that don't deserve

It's the opposite of how you feel
When the pain they caused is just too real
It takes everything you have just to say the word...

Forgiveness
Forgiveness

It flies in the face of all your pride
It moves away the mad inside
It's always anger's own worst enemy
Even when the jury and the judge 
Say you gotta right to hold a grudge
It's the whisper in your ear saying 'Set It Free'Forgiveness

There are those who I still have trouble forgiving, so I just avoid them. I'm good at avoiding things I don't want to deal with....and my heart shrinks a little more.

But I'm ready to go through a Grinch transformation. I'm ready to let my heart grow beyond my own little world. I think I'm even ready to get a little uncomfortable in the process and FEEL.

Thank you Hard Places Ministry and Cambodia. Thank you for your "heart"...and for helping mine to grow.


Isaiah 54:2

The Voice (VOICE)

²     Enlarge your house. You are going to need a bigger place; don’t underestimate the amount of room that you’ll need. So build, build, build.

Ezekial 36: 26a
And I will give you a new heart, and a new spirit I will put within you.

Memories fading?

Last night, my pastor told me that we'd be "sharing" about our experience in Cambodia next week and my immediate thought was - "That's too far away! The memories are beginning to fade!" The past week I have been living with the keen awareness that the memories that seemed so alive and fresh are beginning to fade like a bad polaroid. (Those of you who remember the first "instant" cameras know what I mean by this. The pictures slowly formed right before your eyes, but it didn't take much longer for those snapshots of time to fade as well!)

But I don't want to forget.

I don't want to forget the sweet young man who worked at our hotel, watching over us and so happy to serve his fellow man. I don't want to forget the sight of the children waving to us from the street. The faces of so many passing each other in the midst of the busy, noisy city. The worship in the Khmer church. The sharing with the Khmer workers who displayed such mercy and grace for ones so young. And there was the time I got to spend with our "team". I so enjoyed meeting with them for coffee in the mornings and fellowship at the evening meal...don't want to forget that either. 

Pictures do help, but even these don't capture the moment. I wish I could go back and live every second a little more fully. I find myself looking forward to going back and recreating the moment, but knowing the moment has passed. 

Isn't that like life in general?

We look at pictures of our children and wish we could "go back" for a moment and kiss those cubby cheeks. We remember our parents, now gone on before, and wish we could wrap our arms around them one more time. We think back to who we were as teens and young adults and wish we could go back and tell ourselves a few things about life....or Gibbs slap ourselves in the back of the head. We wander back, trying to recreate a moment in time.

We can't "go back" - not for a do-over or for a live-over...but we can move forward, and we can keep the memory alive.

I know I can't "go back" to that week, but I long to "go back" and be with the people I met while I was in Cambodia. The faces of the children are before me in my prayers each day. I anxiously look for "updates" from the other side of the world....all keep the memories alive and help me move forward. The Lord willing, I will go to Cambodia AGAIN....cause I guess that while it's not possible to go "back", we can jump in with what God is doing today!

Isaiah 43:19

The Message (MSG)

^16-21 This is what God says,
    the God who builds a road right through the ocean,
    who carves a path through pounding waves,
The God who summons horses and chariots and armies—
    they lie down and then can’t get up;
    they’re snuffed out like so many candles:
“Forget about what’s happened;
    don’t keep going over old history.
Be alert, be present. I’m about to do something brand-new.
    It’s bursting out! Don’t you see it?
There it is! I’m making a road through the desert,
    rivers in the badlands.
Wild animals will say ‘Thank you!’
    —the coyotes and the buzzards—
Because I provided water in the desert,
    rivers through the sun-baked earth,
Drinking water for the people I chose,
    the people I made especially for myself,
    a people custom-made to praise me.

Philippians 3:13 The Message (MSG)

Focused on the Goal

^12-14 I’m not saying that I have this all together, that I have it made. But I am well on my way, reaching out for Christ, who has so wondrously reached out for me. Friends, don’t get me wrong: By no means do I count myself an expert in all of this, but I’ve got my eye on the goal, where God is beckoning us onward—to Jesus. I’m off and running, and I’m not turning back.

Behind the masks

One of my favorite things about Cambodia HAD to be the tuk tuk rides. For those who haven't had the privilege of traveling in Asia, you probably have no idea what a tuk tuk is. Basically, it is an open air taxi pulled by a motorcycle. They are a major form of transportation in Cambodia along with motos - which are EVERYWHERE. Thanks to my friend Steph, I also got to take my first motorcycle ride. It was awesome...but I digress. Back to the tuk tuk rides.


One of the reasons I loved those rides so much was how close it put me to the people around me. We were literally inches from each other - sometimes with dozens of people all maneuvering for the same position in traffic. I was never afraid in all that crazy traffic. We had the most amazing tuk tuk drivers ever! And as you rode along, you could see the faces of those around you. Really see them. And you could smile at each other. I loved it! Imagine - sharing smiles with hundreds of people as you rode along!

Then, one day we were taking a much longer ride - all the way out to the killing fields. (That trip will have to be a blog all by itself...for now this is about the ride.) The missionaries we were with gave us all masks - those kind you see on doctors - so that we could ride without breathing in all the dust and fumes we would encounter on that trip. 

I was willing, but the flesh was weak! Those masks were so hot! But that wasn't the real problem. As we rode along in our tuk tuk, I started to notice that no one was smiling at me anymore. Then I realized WHY! I was smiling, but they couldn't see it! They had no idea I was willing to make that momentary connection because my smile was hidden behind the mask.


It didn't take long and I took that darn mask down! It was meant to keep bad things out, but it also kept the good things out too. It kept me from sharing the only thing I really had that I could share with these people...a smile. (This is a picture of my friend, Dixi, who seemed to have as much trouble with that mask as I did!)

Masks. I wonder how often we wear these masks in our daily lives. Ours aren't the obvious ones like the surgery masks; ours are masks of pretend...pretending we are someone we really aren't. They work really well, but while they keep others from seeing our flaws, it also keeps the good parts hidden as well. Oh, and it keeps us from receiving the "good stuff" that they would share as well.

I don't want to live life that way - hidden. I want to live life transparently, sharing the smiles. That means I will be "vulnerable" - something I don't really like to be. People may see me without my "mask" - but the trade-off will be worth it. 


For just a moment, we will get to share a smile. We might even get to share our lives.

2 Corinthians 3:12, 16-18

¹²With that kind of hope to excite us, nothing holds us back. 

¹⁶ But whenever anyone turns to the Lord, the veil is taken away. ¹⁷ Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. ¹⁸ And we all, who with unveiled faces contemplate^[a]the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into his image with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit.

Cup bearer to the king

This post will be pretty short. It goes with my favorite picture from our trip to Cambodia. Saturday was fun day at HPC when the kids can come and simply be kids. They color, dance, play games, do science experiments with eggs and straws...and they laugh. The workers dress up in crazy costumes and play along with the kids.

On the Saturday that we were there, in addition to helping with the games, I had the privilege to also be cup-bearer to the king.

There was one small boy, he looked to be about 3 years old, and he caught my eye early on in the day. He didn't really play the games the bigger boys played, mainly because he was just so young. Then, when they were finished coloring, I noticed this little fellow diligently working to pick up all the crayons and make sure they got back into the bag. Such a little worker!

At one point, he went to get himself a drink of cool clean water; and like most little boys he filled his cup WAY too full. With every step, he spilled a little of the water. I came over and offered to carry his cup for him. That was all it took. Before I knew it, I was standing there holding that cup for my new little friend. 

He would run around the room and stop back for a sip of water. Then he'd dance a bit with the group and stop back for another sip. Sometimes I think he ran around the room simply so he could come back and get a sip of water from the "lady." And I have to admit - I was loving every minute of it. I laughingly nicknamed him "the king" and I was his cupbearer.

I don't always think "spiritually" when life is happening, but later when I look back on things, I realize just how much God was a part of what was going on. That's what happened when I later looked back at my pictures of me with "the king." I realized I had been given the opportunity to do something truly remarkable...to serve as unto Jesus. My husband reminded me of the verse that says when you do something for the least of these, you do it unto Christ. 

I had no idea that I was doing something ''great" as I held the cup for this little fellow, but according to God's Word, it's a pretty big deal. I remember thinking I wish I could play music like some others in the group, or sing, or dance or SOMETHING...but I was only holding a cup.... I wonder how many other times in our lives we have the opportunity to be "cup bearer" but since it doesn't seem as special as what others do, or because no one takes a picture of it, we never stop to realize that it really is something more. 

Every dollar that was given to help us go on this mission trip - you held the cup for the King! Every prayer that was said for safe travels and for ministry guidance - you held the cup for the King! Every encouraging word, every loan of materials for skits, every meal prepared for our families while we were gone - you held the cup for the King!

And now that we are home, I need to remember that every thing I do for our fellow man - I am holding the cup for the King. The kind word or tip to the cashier who has worked so hard all day; the smile given to the weary person walking past; the encouraging word given to a co-worker or student; and every act of service done so that your fellow man can, just for a moment, stop and get a "drink" from the well of living water that flows through you...all are holding the cup for the King.

May your days be blessed, my friend. We have been given a wonderful joy....to hold the cup for the King.

Matthew 10:42

The Message (MSG)

^40-42 “We are intimately linked in this harvest work. Anyone who accepts what you do, accepts me, the One who sent you. Anyone who accepts what I do accepts my Father, who sent me. Accepting a messenger of God is as good as being God’s messenger. Accepting someone’s help is as good as giving someone help. This is a large work I’ve called you into, but don’t be overwhelmed by it. It’s best to start small. Give a cool cup of water to someone who is thirsty, for instance. The smallest act of giving or receiving makes you a true apprentice. You won’t lose out on a thing.”

Matthew 25:40

The Voice (VOICE)

King: ⁴⁰ I tell you this: whenever you saw a brother or sister hungry or cold, whatever you did to the least of these, so you did to Me.

Not forgotten...

Cambodia is still so much in my mind as I try to re-enter my daily routines. Were we really only there for 6 days? It seems like we packed so much into each moment and yet it also seems like we were there for only a couple of days. So how did this place on the other side of the world capture my heart so readily?

Yesterday I wrote about our first home visit while in the country. Today, will be about the second visit while we were there. 

On the second day, after a full day of working with children, the staff went on home visits again. This time we went to see a family that lived right next to the center. Again, we entered into a dark alleyway and up dark stairs. These were a little lighter, or was it that my eyes were finally adjusting to walking in darkness? At any rate, we made our way to the "home" of one of the boys from the center. 

In this small room - smaller than my kitchen even - sat the boy's mom and her new born daughter. Of course, she sat on the floor - everyone sits on the floor. Our interpreter, my team mate, and I all joined them on there. It was such a small space...in the room there was also another woman, who I never did figure out the relation to the family, the grandmother, and 4 other babies. The father walked in and out of the home - sometimes to the balcony that was about as big as a small table. Before we left, assorted others entered and left the home. The son popped in and out during our visit as well. Did I mention it was crowded?

For about half an hour, we visited with this precious family, and of course I played with all the babies that ranged from the new born to about 2 years old. Each had such sweet smiles and they seemed fascinated by this strange white lady in their home. One in particular could not take his little eyes off my team mate's beard! Pretty sure they'd never seen a beard that big.

We learned, through the interpreter, that dad had lost his job and hadn't been able to find something else. Mom, who normally painted finger nails on the street to make money, had of course been unable to work since having the baby; so they had moved in with grandmother for a while. Grandmother kept little ones to help pay bills. Mother was very worried because they could not afford to send their son to school. I looked up at this young boy's face and thought of my own students. He wanted to go to school...loved learning, yet they could not afford the 50 cents a day it would cost. They also couldn't afford to get him to and from school each day. (Oh, how we take what we have for granted!)

Everything in me wanted to run back to my hotel and pull out the cash to send this boy to school, but I realized enough that I needed to talk to the center and make that happen the best way possible...not just throw money at the problem.

The time came for us to leave and we made our way back down the dark stairwell, which didn't seem as dark as it had before. I just kept thinking that this woman and her family was so much like my own. This woman was worried for her son and how they would provide for his education. Never did she say a word about her own needs...sitting on that hard floor cradling her new born daughter. Her only thoughts seemed to be for her children. My heart also went out to her husband. I have seen how hard it is when, through no fault of his own, your husband finds himself out of work...desperately wanting to provide for his family and yet finding every door closed. 

Our visit came to an end and we prayed for this home and this family. Once we hit the streets, I talked to our interpreter and asked about a million questions. I know money will help, and I encourage ALL my friends to support the center and the work they do, but there was something more that I learned. 

Our interpreter explained to me why it was so important that we made the visit to the home.

I noticed that at each visit, they had asked us to tell how long it had taken us to get to Cambodia...well, over 24 hours. To tell where we had come from. I thought this was just idle conversation until he told me that it was important to these people that we had come. Please forgive me if I get some of the details wrong, but in essence, these people feel like cave people. They are sometimes referred to in such a way, and to be honest, going into these tiny homes was a bit like going into a deep dark cave. They are looked down upon and feel forgotten. By sharing how far we'd come to see them, it was a sort of reminder that they were not forgotten. They are important to God. 

Oh my....that fact hit me so hard. In this city of what seems like millions, in the dark little corner packed together like sardines, God sees them. Each one. He hears the cry of their hearts. He wants to send His love...so He allowed us to be his servants to send the message - you are not forgotten.

Not forgotten. It still rings in my heart and soul. Amidst the noise and the chaos, He still hears you...sees you...loves you. Right where you are, wherever you are...you are not forgotten.

For more information about this wonderful work in Cambodia, go to http://hardplaces-community.org/

Isaiah 49:13-16 (MSG)

 Heavens, raise the roof! Earth, wake the dead!
    Mountains, send up cheers!
God has comforted his people.
    He has tenderly nursed his beaten-up, beaten-down people.

 But Zion said, “I don’t get it. God has left me.
    My Master has forgotten I even exist.”

 “Can a mother forget the infant at her breast,
    walk away from the baby she bore?
But even if mothers forget,
    I’d never forget you—never.
Look, I’ve written your names on the backs of my hands.

Same Same, but Different

I am sitting here, quite jet-lagged from a 24+ hour trip from Cambodia and trying to figure out where to begin telling about this extraordinary experience. Right now my mind is about as chaotic as the streets from which we just came...filled with images fighting for attention. I finally settled on two special encounters from the first two days of our trip - home visits in Cambodia. (Tomorrow I will update with the story of the second encounter.)

After a full day of working with kids and staff on our first day there, it was time to go on a home visit. We walked a few blocks from the center where we had just shared Bible stories and danced and sang and colored with the children. (It was amazing that despite the fact I could not speak even one word of the language, we found a way to celebrate together.) As we got nearer to the home of one of the children, the staff member filled me in with some of the things this family was dealing with. The mother was sick and we would be not only checking on the child, but the mom as well. As we neared the "home", I tried to make sense of my surroundings. 

We entered the dark stairway leading up to their home. Everything in Cambodia seems to be "up stairs." When I say dark, that really does NOT begin to explain what we stepped into. No one in their right mind would willingly go into that unforgiving darkness, yet this is the path this family took daily and that I now followed the center worker into. Another member of our team was with me and honestly I was worried for her more than myself...or maybe my concern for her simply let me ignore my own fears for a moment.

The steps leading up to the home were uneven and broken. You never knew if the next step would be a full "step" or a part of one. The Khmer staff worker that went with us used her cell phone as a light to guide us through the darkness. For my friends who are repelled by germ-y surfaces, you'd have been appalled as I had to touch through the darkness at times to find my balance. The walls beside me, though shrouded in blackness and the unknown, were my only means of support.

Finally we made it to the top of the four flights of stairs, thinking at some point that we'd finally see some light...there was a tiny sliver of light by the time we reached the top floor. We entered the home - not what you and I would call "home" - merely a small room with a dirty concrete floor with a couple of small rag rugs that provided little relief from the unforgiving surface, a slat bed in the corner, an ice chest on a table and a slatted door that you'd expect to find as you entered an old barn, but not someone's home. 

"Mom" sat next to the cluttered wall, "Grandmother" sat across the room....both on the hard concrete floor. They were so gracious - offering to allow us to sit on the side of the "bed" rather than the floor. In the background...was there really a background in a room this small? In the background, a little boy about 3 or 4 years old was busily "building" something with scraps of wood, arranging and re-arranging the pieces of 2 by 4 sections that had probably been gathered from the street...or maybe they had fallen off some part of the house. His mom described him as "busy busy" and a good son. Curious neighbors came to the door, and then just came in and joined the others on the floor. I'm sure the two foreign women who sat on the one of the only pieces of furniture in the room had something to do with that. 

As we talked, the interpreter let us know that "Mom" was concerned about her middle son. Isn't it always the middle son? Her oldest son, who had some sort of handicap and used a walker to get around, was also a good son. (My mind raced - how did that son get up those dark uneven stairs?) The little boy who was so "busy, busy", was a good son, but it was the middle son, the one who was skipping school, who she was concerned was hanging out with gangs, that son was her concern. 

Wait - how in the world could I be across the world and dealing with the same kind of problems we have here at home? Here was a mom, just like me, concerned about her child. Worried that he was making wrong choices. It was like sitting in some weird third-world parent conference! 

Before we left, we prayed for this mom and her son. I even had the opportunity to pray directly for her son since he came in just before the end of the visit. Wow - wish I could do that at the end of parent-teacher conferences! We reaffirmed in that prayer that God has a purpose for this boy - and that he is a good son, not a "bad" boy. We prayed for Mom, Grandmother, and the son. 

Then it was time to leave. We made our way back down the dark stairwell, stepping over the two cats that appeared from somewhere. Going down the stairs wasn't any easier than going up, or maybe it was. At least I knew I was going toward light - toward familiar. I wonder what it must be like to live in a place where going home meant such a difficult journey into darkness. 

In Cambodia we learned a phrase - "Same, same - but different." It is used often when talking to people like me, who do not speak the language. For example, if you asked for a Diet Coke, they would hand you a Coke Light which was "Same, same." So many things I was beginning to encounter fit this phrase. Life in Cambodia - the people of Cambodia - so much really was "same, same" as life on my side of the world. We love our children. We worry about the choices they make. Our "hearts" become sick and we wonder what to do. We are the same. 

As I write these words, I am struck with another thought...is it possible that this is true not just of those across the globe, but also of those I walk alongside each day? Is it possible for me to realize that no matter how "different" we may seem, we are all the "Same, same"?

One of the object lessons I used while in Cambodia was a rope trick where I take three different lengths of rope and make the analogy that sometimes we feel less than others. We all have times when we feel "different" and less worthy (or even more worthy) than someone else. But in God's sight - we are all the "same, same" - loved by the most high God. We have been created with a plan and a purpose. We are not the "good son" or the "bad son" - we are loved wherever we are.

Same-same....but thanks to this trip to Cambodia, I am now different. I have been changed - forever.

Romans 2:11 (Voice)
"God has no favorites."

Acts 10:34

The Message (MSG)

^34-36 Peter fairly exploded with his good news: “It’s God’s own truth, nothing could be plainer: God plays no favorites! It makes no difference who you are or where you’re from—if you want God and are ready to do as he says, the door is open. The Message he sent to the children of Israel—that through Jesus Christ everything is being put together again—well, he’s doing it everywhere, among everyone.