Monday

Monday, March 18, 2019

“God instructs us in even the smallest details of life… He gradually lifts me to the level where I pay no attention to anything else…Be serious to your commitment to God and gladly leave everything else alone.” (O. Chambers, March 18)

How incredulous that You, Lord of All, are mindful of me. You send me a hymn, a pastor, and this morning, my friend, Mr. Chambers to speak Your truth, in unison, into me. You button up my tunic, like a good parent does to send me, ready, off to school. May I be mindful of You today as I learn about Your love in action. Amen.

The smoky morning fires greet the rising sun as we, too, rise to the fifth floor for breakfast.

The second half of our team have arrived in country and we, together with our supplies, fill the bus for clinic. We are introduced to rush hour in Honduras but find it no more perilous than our ride to the church yesterday. Eva had apologized for what it could be but I am pleasantly surprised.

I begin clinic beside a Honduran Doctor, Roger. He is a young, well-spoken, and unemployed. He tells me he is waiting for his contract to be approved. His first contract with the local hospital was for two months and now he anticipates a 10 month contract as soon as the government can decide if they have enough money to pay him. He tells me some of his graduated classmates are paid less than minimum wage. He has applied to a Residency program but there are 4000 applicants for 9 available positions. Those of his classmates who have been accepted have family members in higher ranking government jobs. He tells me he will not lose hope because God will make a way even if it isn’t the way Roger would prefer.

He is kind and gentle with the children but prefers to care for adults, he tells me. When a baby comes our way, I ask him if he would like me to see the baby and a kind of relief floods his face. He becomes my interpreter and we care for the baby together. Valivia is a 6 month old darling who comes with her mom and sister, Sofia who wears a t-shirt that says, “Hola, Adorbs!” and that becomes my greeting for all of them.

Valivia comes to my arms easily but begins to howl when I try to listen to her lungs. I find this rather helpful as she now is taking brilliantly deep breaths. Soon she calms and still allows me to check out her ears. It is obvious that this mom is caring well for her.

I am asked to move to Spiritual Counseling where I meet a mom and daughter, Diana. I begin by giving them both a Gospel Color bracelet and they tell me what the colors mean. They say they love Jesus already. When I ask them how I can pray for them, they tell me they are okay so I ask them to pray for us and the children. Mama enthusiastically tells me she will.

I end my morning as I began it, with Roger who examines a 12 year old boy named Eddie. Eddie has the most amazing smile and the most endearing dimples, or as they call them here, chocoyos. He freely shares them with any he sees and so do I. I show off him and my new Spanish word to all who will allow .

After a bit, I am pulled to CSI, our Child Safety Initiative. This area is designed to assess a child’s safety at home. Here we ask each child questions in an effort to identify kids at risk for issues of abuse. Michael is my first but I quickly find out that he prefers to be called Owen, his middle name. He reminds me much of my Owen back home. He is quiet and reserved and needs a bit of encouragement to engage with me. When he does, he tells me that there is a strange, dark man in his neighborhood who frightens him most nights at midnight. After much discovery, his teenage uncle is found and tells us of an urban legend. There is a legend of a dog that scratches on the roof and then transforms into a man to lure you out for harm. The uncle tells us that Owen believes he has heard the scratching. Fortunately, Owen also says that his mom and dad often help him feel safe when “the man” scratches.

Next, I meet Keni who is a 9 year old pale, unsmiling, ill looking boy. I try to charm him with my bag of tricks but he does not crack a smile. He tells me he has a cousin who hits him every day and cuts him with a knife. He shows me a healing cut on his thumb. He says if he tells his parents, they will punish him.

I call over Ana who is the facilitator for this project and she goes to find out about the family. When she returns, she tells me there is a strong history of violence in the home. His mother has come to the center asking for help and seeking sponsorship for him but, Ana tells me, there are no openings for new sponsorships yet.

No wonder he doesn’t smile, I think, and begin to pray. As my heart is breaking for him, God takes hold of my tunic and shakes the boy out of my hands and back into His. Ana will bring Pastor Joel into this equation and God will be in charge of the rest.

At pharmacy, I sit my friend next to Daniel and take their picture. This begins a journey as he is transformed from the withdrawn little boy I first met into a smiling and laughing child blowing bubbles with Daniel on the porch. I can’t help but wonder if this might be one of Keni’s only positive, male role model experiences. It is a delight to simply watch the two and I marvel at how God is already ‘taking care of the rest’ through time with wonderful Daniel.

As I pause on this, I consider God’s truth found in Luke 18:27, “…The things which are impossible with men are possible with God” and I smile. It seems that Jesus has, indeed, been gradually lifting me all day, as Oswald Chambers said this morning, to the level where I can leave things in His hands, though admittedly with a bit of tunic shaking in the process.

Sunday

Sunday, March 17, 2019

I rise early enough and climb the stairs to our open air 5th floor breakfast nook. It is a bright day rising over the city. The tables are adorned with inviting yellow tablecloths. I am to order off of a small menu with 5 choices, in both Spanish and English, if one reads far enough. A typical Honduran bfast of scrambled eggs, beans, fried plantains and corn tortillas tops the list. If reads ‘smothered with red and green’. I quickly choose another, saving “Pancakes bathed in butter and syrup” for another time.

Our bus ride to church this morning is short. Sitting by the window, I wonder a bit how such a large vehicle could maneuver through the narrow one car sized roads. It is two way, nonetheless, and we pass with side view mirrors intact. Our driver is skilled and I am told this is his own neighborhood.

The Centro Biblico Internationale(CBI) church service, in Espanol, has begun when we arrive and we are given the place of honor in the front two rows. Dancers flank both sides at the base of the elevated stage as the worship band plays on top.On the left is a dance troupe of predominantly young girls. They wear serious faces with blue sashed dresses over a black under layer and they wave colorful scarves. On the right is a group of 8-15 year olds in plainclothes yet wearing the same faces. Some of the little ones carefully watch the older ones and follow their moves seconds after. It is easy to see their concentration. Both sides respectfully moving in somber expectation until the beat quickens. Suddenly, the dancers come alive with passionate voices and the energy of joy expressed with their whole being. The little ones too seem to have forgotten the need to concentrate so intentionally and catch the wave of worship.

Music is our universal language and we all worship as the family of God despite the barrier. To my own delight, the next song is one that I sing and sign back home. (No Longer Slaves) Having no need to guess or mouth ‘watermelon’, I now join the celebration with this added layer of connection.

“When we praise and sing we open doors of which we are unaware.”-CBI Worship Leader.

We are introduced as a brigade from the US who have come to care for the children with One Child Matters. This church is where we will have clinic on Monday and Tuesday. Kelly greets the congregation with her usual eloquence and tells them our Hope is for the people of this community to know Jesus through acts of service. It is not about what we do it’s about what God will do.

Pastor Joel takes the stage and begins his sermon in Spanish. Eva our country team leader translates for him.

The sermon today is from Genesis 37:3-4, the account of Joseph and His amazing technicolor dreamcoat:

There is a difference between a robe and a cape, the pastor says. A robe is worn by a son and a cape is worn by a beggar. God gave Joseph dreams and Joe’s father chose to bless him because of them by giving him a robe.

Joseph’s brothers were mad and envious of him and made other plans but God made a way to accomplish the dreams despite that.

If God gives you dreams and your reality disagrees, trust God to fight for you. The dream may not come as you expect but rest assured God will come.

You wear the tunic of a child of God. You have taken off your cape as a beggar and put on the tunic of God. As a child of God, the tunic activates the dreams God has given you and the purposes He has for you. Whenever we dream, the enemy will want to take it away but we must hold tight to our tunic. We must believe that God will accomplish all that concerns us today.

Jacob knew what he was doing with his son as does God with you. He has called you to put on His tunic and activate your dreams even when others do not agree.The tunic symbolizes the power inside you given by the Father. The Holy Spirit will give you everything you need to accomplish what God has given you to do.

When Jacob gave the tunic to Joseph his brothers were jealous. So if people are mad at you, don’t worry. It has happened before. Instead, put on the tunic God has given you. He has already activated His power within you and will heal those who disagree and heal you as well.

There are seasons in life. While the Earth is the earth there will be seasons. The seasons change but the Lord does not. You decide. Will you take off the cape of your circumstances and put on the tunic of God?

You are in the place where God has been working always. Are you behaving as a tunic’d child of God even in your difficult circumstances? The enemy will want to catch you. Get you to trade in your tunic for a cape but remember, you are a child of God. You have the ability to prosper despite your circumstances. Prosperity comes from knowing God, not from easy circumstances.

Believe God. He will fight for you and accomplish what He has activated within you.

(Paraphrased Pastor Joel)

Wow! I feel like God was speaking right to me. I spent my pre trip time filled with dread. Should I be going? Am I being selfish? All of my season of first reluctance issues on a repeating loop in my head. As if those who disagreed with my going were clutching at my tunic, insisting I put on the cape of my circumstances instead. This morning service was God holding me tight in my tunic. Reassuring my doubts, strengthening HIs power within me as He repeated His promises. He has called me here for His purpose, to activate the dreams He has given me, to prosper in my relationship with Him. He will fight for me. He asks me only to focus on Him and know that He will take care of the rest.

How marvelous is it that God would use a Pastor, a world away, to speak truth into my life right at the point of my need? His personal touch of grace given to me to prepare me for the clinic week ahead. Truly marvelous, indeed.

“I’m no longer a slave to fear,

I am a child of God!”

~No Longer Slaves~

Saturday

Tegucigalpa airport is in the center of a bustling metropolis. I can see a 2 story movie theater, the mall and every North American fast food offering I can think of through the musty windows of the airport. As I step from the confines of the man-made, the blue and white stripes of the Honduran flag flutter jauntily in the warm breezes that embrace us outside.

We are welcomed by the sparkling smiles of our hosts, Eva, Tony and David who greet us like family.

The bus ride to our hotel winds us through the surrounding, steep hills whose beauty is obscured by buildings in all states of repair. The chaotic abandon of the tangled masses of power lines overhead distracts from the once lovely and colorful bougainvilleas. We pass construction workers balancing on questionable looking scaffolding, building unnaturally steep inclines. Scattered palm trees, mysterious latticed windows and the whisper of beautiful gated verandas pass us as we drive the short distance to our week’s home. Inside it is clean and comfortable and promises rest for our weariness.

Honduras, here we are.

Tegucigalpa

Tegucigalpa Arrival

Saturday, March 16

“As they followed Him they were afraid.”

Mark 10:32

(Oswald Chambers, Mar 16)

As we began our descent into Tegucigalpa airport, I wasn’t paying much attention since I was busy watching a movie. It was interrupted by the flight attendant who nonchalantly mentioned that we were about to land in Tegucigalpa and might want to look out our windows because it takes special training for the pilot to land at this airport…

Hmm. I found that kind of odd. Was she complimenting the pilot or warning us of danger? Whatever the case, I got completely distracted by a wave of extreme nausea and the next thing I knew we were down, barf bag in hand. I was not at a window so I could not watch the event but it didn’t seem all that remarkable until I checked it out on the internet later. This is what I read:

I was not at a window so I could not watch the event but it didn’t seem all that remarkable until I checked it out on the internet later. This is what I read:

“The challenges of this airport listed as most important but not necessarily dangerous include: The high altitude location, the 90 degree turn necessary before the descent and the very good pilot skills to align the plane with the runway before landing in a very short time.”

My translation, which I think would have been more helpful: Grab your nearest barf bag and try not to inhale your own vomit. Oh and, yes, welcome to Honduras.

Safe and blessed,

Anne

Honduras with Anne, 2019

My family of Senders,

A long time ago, I read Isaiah 6:8.

‘Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, “Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?” And I said, “Here am I. Send me!”’

I wrote a poem about it as I asked God to send me. Here He goes again.

I leave for Honduras tomorrow, another unexpected trip. Surprise! One of the team couldn’t go so she donated her ticket, to me as it turns out. It played havoc at work but God has made a way. It seems I have work to do in Central America, Who knew?

I’ll be traveling with my usual suspects, gathered under a new name: Developing Workers, www.developingworkers.com . The team will be serving around the capital city of Tegucigalpa with our old partners One Child Matters.

I am, admittedly, not at the top of my game since my motorcycle accident. Nonetheless, I’m quite sure God will use my weaknesses. It is, after all, His specialty. So, as always, I ask for your prayers especially for my Basecamp at home.

I will be journaling the trip and posting as possible so come along with me, us @ Stories4thesenders.blog

God will, no doubt, surprise you as well.

Blessings,

HondurAnne.

Departure Friday

“Turn your eyes upon Jesus
Look full, in his wonderful face
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim In the light of his glory and grace.”

(Helen Howarth Lemmel)

My season of first reluctance is upon me once again. It surrounds me with dampening dread for all that I will leave undone; By all the details I will have missed; by all the people that I have disappointed and burdened by my going. It consumes me, heightening the pain of my bones and diminishing my resolve until…

I turn my eyes on my Sender. When I turn my eyes upon Jesus, the things of this Earth become His powerful domain.

It’s all about perspective. We so often live burdened lives because we live according to our circumstances instead of plugged into our Power Source. It is vital to remember:

“His word shall not fail you, He promised
Believe Him and all will be well
Then go to a world that is dying
His perfect salvation to tell

(Helen Howarth Lemmell)

Here I am, send me…and thank you, Lord for taking care of all the rest.

Anne on Departure Friday

Chilling on Broadway, 2019

The Broadway Sisterhood

This long island is cold and barren. The leaveless trees of winter exposing the frenzied tangle of branches otherwise hidden in the lushness of summer. The intermittence of parched looking pines, stand neglected and forlorn against the greyness of the overcast chill of the day. The land is snow covered with stiff impenetrable patches of white. The formation of my first snowball thwarted by it’s solidity as the snow is even breach resistant to my weight.

Yet, somehow, the cold, crisp air breathes life into me. The waves of the Long Island Sound pulling from me the overcast dull from my soul, breathing vigor into my very bones; setting me on the path of the healing that comes from being thoroughly embraced by my Sisterhood.

Hello, Broadway. Here we come come

Scent of Water

The Scent of Water

Spring’s Renewal: The Awakening Abundance

“For there is hope of a tree, if it be cut down, that it will sprout again..through the scent of water it will bud.”. Job 14:7

I love the desert in Spring with its many different textures of green and bright dots of color. The sprinklings of yellow and purple with surprises of orange scattered among the delicate velvet of the cattail grass. The light green, almost white, of the prickly thinness of the aloe vera is nearly eclipsed, in turn, by the cottony explosions of red branched, white leaved softness. A flourishing Palo Verde tree sprouts randomly in the midst, like an English Governess tending her charges, arms outstretched, welcoming and watchful. I turn with delight to see my contrasting red furred pups frolicking excitedly as they bound and pop amidst the joy of this familiar yet reimagined landscape.

The earthy sweetness rises up to greet the fresh washed smell of the desert as it embraces me. I breathe in the scent of this water and am touched to awe by the promise of the awakening abundance to come.

“She said something about sailing out on living water. It was herself that she meant.” Scent of Water by E. Goudge

Stages of an Accidental Injury

My journey these past few months since my motorcycle accident have been rich in trepidity and truth realized and repeated. Random, parallel sources have influenced my path, informing my fear and eventually leading me out to this side of healing.

I share them here in a sort of journey of four parts.

Some parts are redundant as my fear was fed from different stimuli and needed

the repeated breath of God to penetrate its layers.

Welcome to my

Stages of an Accidental Injury.

The Stages of an Accidental Injury

A Journey in four parts:

Stage one: Broken but not bruised

October’s Optimism: It’s okay. I’m strong I can do this.

Stage Two: Fractured within

November’s Acuity: The Dark Side of Healing

Stage Three: Still Fractured. Still Afraid.

December’s Distance: The Many Layers of Fear and Faith

Stage Four: The Scent of Water

Spring’s Renewal: The Awakening Abundance

By Anne Braudt

Fall, 2018

The Stages of an Accidental Injury

Stage One: October’s optimism: Broken but not Bruised

On the Wings of the King

As the princess and her prince donned their mighty, trusty steed, they rode into the sunset. The cool, fragrant October air surrounded her as surely as her hands surrounded her beloved. It was an ideal Fall day for a ride and so, without a care, she hugged her prince and enjoyed their time away.

It was not long before a stop was required to allow the crossing of the ways. They stopped happily but before they could begin again an unexpected attack came from the rear. It came swiftly and fiercely without a warning as it catapulted the princess from her perch. Into the air she flew until caught by the wings of the King Who softened her flight and her landing. As He kissed her cheek, she opened her eyes to see her prince scooping her up to safety. An off duty white knight happened by and sat and sang songs of his youth as he waited with her for the kingdom’s resources to arrive.

Days later, as the princess considered the pain of her plight. Her texting foe’s spurious attack, did not take her life, as it could have, though it did take her breath, several ribs and a clavicle, a shoe , a sock, some clothes and well you get the idea. Her King’s careful hand averted a much greater potentiality. She could have landed in oncoming traffic and been killed, could have lost her helmet and suffered a brain injury, could have slid down the road and been covered in road rash,… it could have been so much worse… She thinks of this during some of her more unsavory times of distress. Broken but not bruised, it is a small price to pay for a another day to ride into the sunset; to feel the hands of her beloved and her mama as they carry her to wholeness; another day to thank the wings of her King.

Stage 2: November’s Acuity: Fractured Within

The Dark Side of Healing A few weeks ago, I was in a motorcycle accident that fractured both my body and my spirit. Right before the accident, a friend set me a diary of a nun in the 1930s: The Diary of Saint Maria Faustina Kowalska. She writes that it was the most difficult time of her life when she grappled with the thought that God might have forsaken her. A few weeks into my ordeal, her words prompted a similar dialogue within me. A part of me, in the grip of pain, emerged from the fracture inexplicably panicked at the notion that I may have been forsaken by God, His promises notwithstanding. The fear chased me in my most vulnerable moments and filled me with intense, remorseful dismay and panic. I was helpless, floundering and terrified, shocked at myself as I continued to switch easily between faith and panic. My pre-accident self knew, without a doubt, that God would never leave me nor forsake me but my fractured self was overwhelmed with the fear that He had.

As my ribs allowed me to breathe deeply once again, so did my spirit as well. It has been a process, but as I heal, I have been able to grasp that there is a difference between being forsaken and being set apart by trial for a purpose. In the Bible, the term holy often refers to being set apart. Before now, I have thought of this in positive terms: Set apart by God to show others who God is, His attributes. It did not occur to me that being set apart, in this case, feeling forsaken and feeling out of his presence, could also be part of His working of Holiness in me. Maria Faustina helped me to recognize that though I feared being forsaken, I have never been alone. God’s hands have been, and always will be, purposefully guiding me with intent to sanctify, purify, to make new. I am never forsaken.

I do not understand all of the intricacies of what God could possibly be doing in my life through this year of escalating breakage but I do understand that His purposes are higher than mine. His truth tells me that whatever circumstances my life brings, I am never without the help and kindness of my faithful God.

Stage Three: Still Fractured. Still afraid.

December’s Distance: The Many Layers of Fear and Faith

I have heard of such trials as mine being compared to giving birth and so I asked: What is God birthing in me that requires such pain in the process? Giving birth to my last son was the worst pain I’ve ever experienced… until the rib spasms after the accident.

With the birth of J, I struggled for years with the question: How could I call myself a Godly woman if in my fiercest time of need I did not cry out to God for help? Years later, my answer came unbidden with the simplest explanation. The thing about faith is that God is right there at the point of my need especially when endurance takes all I have. I was not faithless. He was FaithFUL.

So when this time around came upon me, I was confidently not bothered by (in)ability to endure only, God would birth in me something unexpected and beautiful through this breaking. I, having learned the birth lesson, trusted my God to Romans 8:28 me: “ And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose.”

Despite my confidence and having worked through issues of fear mere weeks before, another part of me continued to emerge who existed right alongside the faithful one. I was, at times of mounting fatigue and pain, engulfed in the feeling that all I had ever believed was false.. I haven’t felt that way since college when, through His intervention, I was brought back from the brink of a world without God. It was a foundational time in my life when I knew the existence of God was non negotiable. I’ve never looked back until this hurting, fragile self re-emerged from the fracture.

I was, once again immersed in inexplicable panic. Is everything that I have known as true been false? I was helpless, floundering and terrified, again shocked at myself as I continued to switch easily between faith and panic.

I came upon a devotion by Lisa Harper that began my final settling. She calls times like mine, “the necessity of spiritual neediness.” She goes on to say that “Jesus came to heal the sick, to those who acknowledge that they are sick not those who pretend they are perfectly well.” She quotes Mark 9:24, wherein a father of a sick child is struggling and he says: “I do believe; help me with my unbelief.”

And suddenly, there it was; my fracture in a verse. Two parts of me occupying the same space; belief and unbelief. God welcomes both, He welcomes all of me. My acknowledged spiritual neediness is His spiritual glue.

At last, from within the fracture, has come the certainty that it is not a weakness to acknowledge my need, my vulnerabilities, my fear. Rather, perhaps, it is a prerequisite to a deeper relationship with God. It seems that it is sometimes, usually, necessary to be in utter, desperate need in order to rediscover the all-sufficiency of God.

My Pastor then put the finishing touches on the glue that knit my fractured spirit back together. He simply said it is a daily choice to choose Joy; a daily choice to choose connection with God; A daily choice to focus on the things that matter and not to be trapped in our temporary, negative circumstances. It is, in fact, a choice to believe and to ask for help with the unbelief.

And look there, God did birth in me Romans 8:28, afterall.

Stage Four: The Scent of Water

Spring’s Renewal: The Awakening Abundance

“For there is hope of a tree, if it be cut down, that it will sprout again...through the scent of water it will bud.” Job 14:7

I love the desert in Spring with its many different textures of green and bright dots of color. The sprinklings of yellow and purple with surprises of orange scattered among the delicate velvet of the cattail grass. The light green, almost white, of the prickly thinness of the aloe vera is nearly eclipsed, in turn, by the cottony explosions of red branched, white leaved softness. A flourishing Palo Verde tree sprouts randomly in the midst, like an English Governess tending her charges, arms outstretched, welcoming and watchful. I turn with delight to see my contrasting red furred pups frolicking excitedly as they bound and pop amidst the joy of this familiar yet reimagined landscape.

The earthy sweetness rises up to greet the fresh washed smell of the desert as it embraces me. I breathe in the scent of this water and am touched to awe by the promise of the awakening abundance to come.

“She said something about sailing out on living water. It was herself that she meant.”

Scent of Water by E. Goudge

~Living the Journey

Anne

March, 2019