The Day the Water Ran Dry

The Pinch of Poverty, 1891
Thomas Benjamin Kennington

I awake to a trickle of running water and my world falls apart. It feels so desperate, not flushing toilets, not taking off my bathrobe to enjoy my shower ritual. Within ninety minutes, feeling dirty, looking disheveled, I'm holding back frustrated tears.

Checking the Internet, I insert our zip code and find that a water main broke at 2 AM and should be fixed by 9:00 AM. The clock says 9:45 AM...and still just a trickle.

I wander the house aimlessly, thinking of the things I can't do. Laundry, dishes, flushing, showering, mopping, making lemonade.

The children? They can't go outside until I get my shower, but otherwise they're unaffected and probably not understanding their Mama's angst.

For four hours we go without water and I try to count blessings. We can wash our hands with a trickle. I think of that bright fact but nothing else comes to my spoiled mind.

Shame fills me as I realize how my Compassion children wake up every day. How long do they go without being immersed in water to clean their whole bodies? Can they ever shower or bathe, or is it just sponge baths or contaminated river baths? And their mothers, how do they stay clean after childbirth and what do they do with the stench of their own bodies?

The thoughts haunt me, until I remember Jesus. He's all they have and He is more than enough. Every person who goes on Compassion trips mentions the hope in Jesus in these impoverished but saved families. The joy evident in the children.

Who needs rescuing really? Me from my plenty...or them from their lack? If Jesus is enough for them, but I need Jesus plus running water and a daily shower and three meals a day plus snacks, who is richer? What does blessed even mean?

The ache of love for them overwhelms me and I need to see them. I pray again that we can meet them someday. Then I copy drawing lesson pages for Raphael, Divya, and Nelson and prepare letters to mail out, while I wait for the water.

In this work I find peace. Vertical love from God, turned into horizontal love for these children, it heals my self-centered heart. Love heals.

People ask...why does God allow such poverty? What do some go hungry and look like bones, while others get fat on steak, salad, and baked potatoes with butter and sour cream?

And on this day, I know the answer. He allows it so we can rescue each other. For when poor and rich love each other, it's earthly love perfected...as good as it gets here on earth. It's the heart of God, realized. Act justly, love mercy, walk humbly.

Micah 6:8
He has showed you, O man, what is good. And what does the LORD require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.

80% of people live in poverty. 20% live in plenty. The 20% can never get enough. There's always something bigger, better, newer. New idols form so easily, even as we read our Bibles and go to church and pray.

The 80%, with nothing, can't get enough of Him. He's there for both sides, but they feel him more. They love him more. They worship him more.

They need us to help fill their bellies. We need them to help fill our souls.

Won't you sponsor a child today and take advantage of a relationship God deeply wants for you? A relationship you desperately need?

At 11:40 AM I get my shower, desperately taken in a heavy trickle of water pressure. To be squeaky clean again? It felt glorious, but by then I knew the truth.

Love washes us clean.

Water? It's just an outward sign of an inner change.

Painting found here

Solomon's Wisdom and Multitude Monday

In the middle of the night it starts. A nasty cold in my little one; germs gathered from the physical therapy gym. Knowing I will miss church in the morning, I rise early to read Scripture. Ecclesiastes, the whole 12 chapters, because I'm mesmerized and I can't put it down. I want more wisdom to match these wrinkles, I suppose?



This Solomon, he did it all and felt it all and watched it all...everything under the sun.

He starts thus (Ecc 1:2):


"Meaningless! Meaningless!"
says the Teacher.
"Utterly meaningless!
Everything is meaningless."


And twelve chapters later, he concludes (Ecc12:13-14):

Now all has been heard;
here is the conclusion of the matter;
Fear God and keep his commandments,
for this is the whole duty of man.
For God will bring every deed into judgment,
including every hidden thing,
whether it is good or evil.


Solomon fell away from God during his life, but at the end he repented of his foolishness. He wants us to learn from his mistakes. Stop scurrying around, chasing after the wind, pursuing this and that. Remember God now, right now.

Ecc. 12:10
Remember your Creator
in the days of your youth,
before the days of trouble come
and the years approach when you will say,
"I find no pleasure in them"--

If we're constantly chasing after something--success, money, recognition, possessions, power, pleasure--we don't put God first. We make idols of the things we chase. Later, when we're old and our years are wasted, we'll grieve that we didn't remember God. We will be judged for how we spend our time. Each day is a gift and it matters what we do with it.

So...what is worthwhile? How should we spend our time?

So I commend the enjoyment of life, because nothing is better for a man under the sun that to eat and drink and be glad. Then joy will accompany him in his work all the days of the life God has given him under the sun. Ecc. 8:15


Ecc. 9:7-12
Go, eat your food with gladness, and drink your wine with a joyful heart, for it is now that God favors what you do. Always be clothed in white, and always anoint your head with oil (signs of happiness and celebration). Enjoy life with your wife, whom you love, all the days of this meaningless life that God has given you under the sun--all your meaningless days. For this is the lot in life and in your toilsome labor under the sun. Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might, for in the grave, where you are going, there is neither working nor planing nor knowledge nor wisdom. 


I have seen something else under the sun:


The race is not to the swift
or the battle to the strong,
nor does the food come to the wise
or wealth to the brilliant
or favor to the learned;
but time and chance happen to them all.


Moreover, no man knows when his hour will come:


As fish are caught in a cruel net,
or birds are taken in a snare,
so men are trapped by evil times
that fall unexpectedly upon them.


We should live with joy! In celebration with the ones we love. "Time and chance happen to them all." We do not control our own destiny, though it's tempting to believe we do. We won't have a better destiny by toiling too much.

Whatever God has given you--whether much or little--give thanks and enjoy. Not pursuing pleasure only, or work only. But in the right measure--which God will show you as you walk with Him--work hard with a glad heart

And because Solomon testifies that how we spend our time matters, here is a link about crafting a family mission statement (same one I shared yesterday). And here is an online inventory to discover your spiritual gifts...another tool to discover what God wants from you.

My joy list, because Solomon says joy is worthwhile:

~ Cuddling with four sick kids.

~ Holding a coughing three-year-old against my chest at 4:00 in the morning, smelling her sweetness and living the blessing, as she slept more soundly in the upright position

~ Having an unbelieving relative tell me "Perhaps you shouldn't be giving Compassion International $38 a month (for Nelson in El Salvador) because doesn't your own family need that money? Doesn't charity begin at home?" By the grace of God, I was able to tell her that He always gives that money back to us and more, each month. Just two days before her advice, we were given six tickets to go to "A Day Out With Thomas". It's an expensive Thomas the Train event in which you get a twenty-five minute ride on a train coupled with Thomas the Train. At each train stop there are Thomas-related activities to choose from. We were given six tickets by the hospital Beth goes to for her arthritis-related needs. In addition, the same hospital gave us free tickets to the local zoo, along with lunch and fellowship (and education) with other families who receive services from the pediatric rheumatology department. All patients and their families were invited. You can never out give God! And we should never fear that if we give, we won't have enough. Enough doesn't come from us, but from God.

~ A loving and loyal husband to spend my days with. One who lets me take his picture with a pink toy teacup in his hand.

~ Roses blooming and the girls all excited.

~ Watching the sparrows gather grass for nests.

~ Veggie Tales to watch on sick days.

~ Making cookies for sick ones, including Husband, and hearing their thankful hearts.

~ So far, no arthritis flare from Beth's nasty cold. I am praying hard!

~ An e-mail invite to a wiener roast on Sunday, right after Peter asked, "when can we go to a bonfire and make smores?"

~ The temperamental lawn mower, which works one time in fifteen, worked this weekend, long enough to do the whole lawn! God provides, just not always in our timing.

~ Extra time to fold clothes, since the kids are too sick for school.

Jesus Came to Dinner

The invitations, handmade. The event? Saturday night pizza and watermelon at our house, followed by a tea party. With a honey pot, of course. Okay...that part I made up...just an excuse to put our good friend Pooh up there.

The guest of honor? Our new neighborhood friend, that Lexi girl--also known as Pipi Longstocking. (Because she makes up her own rules, just like Pipi.)

What better way to tell someone about the reason for your hope than to invite them for a meal? Jesus dwells here and we love Him. Won't you meet him here, too? Won't you, too, experience His hope?

But alas, the guest didn't show. When she told me on Friday that her mom said yes, I sensed lying eyes, but we prepared everything anyway. She appeared to be gone the whole day, so there must have been prior plans.

But anyway..the handmade invitation melted her heart. She felt loved. "You guys are the best," she said upon reading it.

Guess who did show up? Jesus! He never misses a chance to dine with us.

You've heard this? The family that prays together stays together.

I say: The family that prays and dines together, stays together.  

Whatever you plan as the manager of your home, and possibly of your schedule, don't forget these two things: family prayer time; family dining time  Each is a like a gift to unwrap. Gifts that keep on giving.

We had a blast, each doing a silly toast with our play tea cups.

~ Peter toasted the birds.

~ Paul toasted football on the first round, and basketball on the second round.

~ Beth toasted chocolate chips on the first round--clearly a child after my own semi-sweet heart--and going to the park on the second.

~ Mary toasted the bunnies.

There are many ways to make dining more meaningful. We like to ask a question and go around the table, giving each person a chance to reflect and answer. "What are you most thankful for today?" "What was your favorite part of the day?" "Tell me one thing you learned today."

You'll laugh together...you'll marvel at your kids...you'll look adoringly into your husband's eyes, so glad you married him and created a family together.

This time spent leisurely together, rather than rushing from here to there in the evenings? It cements you as a family unit. Your children will remember the lessons taught at the table...the discipling that went on there. You'll build their trust as you take time to really listen to them.

A lot of things will compete for this time, the enemy will assure that. Some of them, like sports and other extracurricular activities, will seem so beneficial and fun. Everyone's doing them and you don't want to be the odd family out.

But what is your family's mission? What does HE want from you? Maybe right now it is sports.

But have you asked Him?

If you've never sat down and crafted a family mission statement, look first to the greatest two commandments, and then at your spiritual gifts. They will point to a mission for you.

Matthew 22:36-40
 “Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?” Jesus replied: “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.”

Pooh found here

On Why I Must Write

Playing in the ophthalmologist's waiting room.
Instead of germ infested toys, this waiting room features a bright red carpeted thingy my children love.  It's amazing how it sparks their imaginations. This week it was a castle with a mote.

Writing several times a week is a significant time commitment. Sometimes it means less sleep. Sometimes it means the dinner dishes get soaked only, and loaded in the dishwasher in the morning. Or sometimes it means I go to bed at 9:30 PM and get up at 4:30 AM, to read, reflect, write.

Many a day, it's clearly wiser to tell myself no. Don't write today. But so often I can't not write. My heart and soul need to reflect on this journey, to record the beauty and ashes of life. To record His redemption. His faithfulness. When a reflection comes, it begs to be processed sooner, rather than later.

In the reflecting and writing God clarifies for me what my heart must look like, to be a heart after His. As such, writing is a form of worship for me.

People who love writing will tell you that to completely process this life, they have to pen it. As the words flow, as the sentences take shape, clarity of mind comes too. And peace comes with clarity. A lot can be going wrong in my life, but if I understand it all from His perspective, I can cope with it, give thanks for it, experience peace through it.

Some people need to talk to process. They talk on and on until they've arrived at clarity. Some need a quiet place to process, alone. They can't stand noise or crowds too often.

Tonight it's mothering and children I reflect on. I must soak up these children with all my heart. Everything about them. The way they smelled after the bath, the way they giggled at each other's antics, the way they marveled at the baby sparrows peaking out of an attic-vent nest on the side of the house. The sparrows have nested there for two years now. We all count ourselves blessed to have a property graced with sparrow and robin nests.

And this year, bunnies are plentiful too. We saw a baby one just yesterday. Not edging your yard and flowerbeds and fences means you create a haven for wildlife. Last year we found a turtle in our yard, hiding in the tall grass at the fence line.

The children delight in every sighting. This morning they ran from one window to the next, following a bunny's wanderings.

I want to remember the sound of their squeals. Their wonder and excitement at what God created for their good pleasure. The world is a wonder. I want them to reflect on who made it that way, and give Him thanks with their whole hearts.

Nature is an intentional gift from God. Beauty is an ever-present grace. Our hearts can break over something, but when we look out the window, there's that cardinal standing in the snow, or that goldfinch gracing a branch near the window.

Look for His graces. This is what I want my children to know. That robin struggling with a worm right before your eyes? That cardinal sitting on a snowlined tree branch? That goldfinch or oriole sighting? That baby bunny scurrying by the window?


Not an accident. It's Him, saying I am here with you. I know your sorrow, your troubles. I have a plan and I'll never leave you or forsake you.

These children? I can't get enough of them during the day. I can't soak up enough of their cuteness, their wonder, their love, because caring for them keeps me so busy. Sitting here at the computer, alone with my thoughts made into words made into sentences, I can soak up the blessing entirely, reflect on it, marvel at it, and give thanks for it. And the next time they pass by me, I'll scoop them up and love on them, remembering that I don't want one day to pass without them knowing they color my days happy. That I love them fiercely.

That no matter how many times they wet the bed and wake me up, spill their milk or walk outside in their socks, or leave bits of Playdoh all over the floor, I am not really undone, though I may look it. I am really blessed. Blessed so much I can't record the feelings fast enough. 


For the moments turn into days, turn into weeks, turn into months, turn into years, faster than my heart can process.


Words on a page? Can they slow time down? Can the recording of a day make it live on?

I want to think so. And so I write.

After bath books together

Jesus in the Neighborhood

(Note: I accidentally linked this to Emily's blog twice. Sorry!)

"Dear Lord, we pray for nice neighborhood kids to play with. Please help someone move in soon."

Many a time over the last seven years, that prayer we uttered.

She has brown, shoulder-length straight hair that bounces, a sweet little heart-shaped face. Ten years old, she said. "We are living with my grandparents right now, because my mom's boyfriend went to jail."

She sees pretzel rods in a plastic container on top of the fridge. "Can I have a pretzel?"

I get the plastic container down and open it. She grabs three large rods.

They ride bikes, this Lexi girl and my own ten-year-old. A little later, she wants more pretzel rods and can she see the hamster Peter told her about?

"Can I have some water?"

The Holy Spirit, he says offer hospitality without grumbling.

I think it's Him talking?

I give her a water bottle. "Is it just me Lord, or is this girl demanding?"

The hamster, he looks traumatized and I think of the wood floor and how it could kill him.

"Put the hamster back now, will you Peter?"

They go outside again, the two ten-year-olds, my five- and three-year-old, and my eight-year-old.

The water bottle, it spills on the concrete. "Go ask your mom for another water bottle."

Peter comes to the door, embarrassed to ask me.

I roll my eyes, in spite of the hospitality warning. "Tell her no more today."

My aunt, mother of six, told me not long ago it's better when siblings just play with each other. They get along better that way. Her kids are middle-age now, but she remembers well the trouble with neighborhood kids.

"Do you want to see my pond?", Peters asks her the next day. The group of five goes to our backyard, where the container pond is. Lexi gathers the tadpoles up with the net, repeatedly.

Peter comes to the door. "Mom, she keeps scooping up the tadpoles. I told her they might die, but she won't listen."

I roll my eyes. Don't I have enough trouble, Lord? Opening a back window, I shout. "You kids go back to the front now."

She doesn't come for two days. Peter doesn't know if he likes her or not.

"She's so pushy."

When she comes around on Saturday, he's happy. Even though she keeps asking for food, which embarrasses him.

"Do you want to see a robin nest?", he ask her. But seeing it from the ground? That isn't enough for this Lexi. She starts to climb the pear tree.

Peter comes to the door, stressed.

"Mom, she's climbing the tree to see the nest."

"But she'll knock it down," I say.

Peter nods. "I told her that, but she said: 'I'm going to see that nest and no one is going to stop me.' "

It's like this every visit, and at dinner each night we discuss Lexi. "I know she isn't the playmate we were hoping for. But she's the one God brought. And for a reason. We are to pray for her."

Sheepishly, Peter admits, "She cusses. Dang it, crap, and shoot. She says them all the time."

One day I tell her, "We have to go to the pharmacy now, Lexi. We'll see you tomorrow."

She wanted Peter to go to the drainage ditch with her to catch tadpoles. I told Peter to wait until Daddy got home.

In the van on the way to the pharmacy, Peter tells me "Mom, she kept telling me to ask you again and again about the ditch. She's so pushy I don't know what to do."

"I told her we had to get my medicine because I have ADHD and OCD. And Mom, she said she has a discipline problem."

At this confession, I'm not surprised. I sensed Oppositional Defiant Disorder in her, a condition one of my former students had.

Husband, the only evangelist among us, says at dinner. "Let's invite her to church."

To me, a former public school teacher, this seems outrageous. "But we don't even know her mom! What if she's crazy and accuses us of something?"

He thinks about this, and then we realize there's no room in our van for her anyway.

"Let's tell her about Jesus, the reason for our hope," I offer.

"I could never do that", Peter says.

"I can't either", Paul adds. "I'm not brave."

That night, lying in bed, Lexi takes over my thoughts. God amazes me. How he strategically places people to grow us. What if Jesus came as a difficult child? I must see Jesus in her. I must love her as He does.

And my kids, they must learn to stand for their faith. Not be ashamed of the Gospel. This is easy for my husband, hard for me, and even harder for them.

Her family lets her run all around the neighborhood, barging in this door and that door, surprising the once-quiet, rather boring neighborhood. I never hear anyone calling for her.

How would I feel, as her mother? I know the way a child can bring you to your knees. And this mother, she has other problems too, if she was living with a boyfriend--one who went to jail, even.

Suddenly I know what to do. Invite all three of them to church--the mother, the five-year-old brother, and Lexi.

I think of our prayer, all these years, for a neighborhood child to play with.

He thinks we need Lexi? We need this girl? The one who climbs our pear tree, claiming she'll see that nest and no one will stop her?

I smile to myself, knowing God gives us what we need, not what we want. Yes, she's the one.

Linking with Emily at imperfect prose

Linking with Jennifer at Getting Down With Jesus today, too.