Broken Alabaster Boxes

Sometimes, riding in a bus along the Lagoon, I wonder at the beauty. Sailboats. Yachts. Brilliant colors. Blue ocean. Sometimes in the heat of the day, I wish for the cool.  Sometimes when I'm faced with yet another difficult situation, I want to be home. It's more predictable.  Sometimes, especially when a young group of teenagers come for a visit, I can scarcely contain my laughter at the cultural contrasts.  Most of the times I love the food.  And the beauty.  And the ocean.  Many times the beauty is clouded with another difficulty.  And many times I forget what I have been blessed with.  Until I see again the shirtless child, running in the street unsupervised.  Or realize how much I truly have compared to some.  Then I look at the ocean. Or the flowers. Or the palms.  And thank God for Grenada. 

"He giveth more grace when the burdens grow greater, He sendeth more strength when the labors increase; To added afflictions He addeth His mercy, To multiplied trials, His multiplied peace. When we have exhausted our store of endurance, When our strength has failed ere the day is half done, When we reach the end of our hoarded resources, Our Father’s full giving is only begun. Fear not that thy need shall exceed His provision, Our God ever yearns His resources to share; Lean hard on the arm everlasting, availing; The Father both thee and thy load will upbear. His love has no limits, His grace has no measure, His power no boundary known unto men; For out of His infinite riches in Jesus, He giveth, and giveth, and giveth again." Songs have become more real to me in the last few years. Words. Phrases. Verses. Coming to me to bless and encourage me. This song rings with truth. For my students. For the Grenadian church. Fo...

I'm hoping none of you were at the Super Bowl and watched the halftime show.  And if you did, I hope you were overwhelmed with a sickening feeling in your gut, and a crushing burden.  Did you know that the Super Bowl is the #1 place for human trafficking in the US?  And the halftime show was blatantly flaunting that.  Ropes. Cages. The satanic symbol. Children falling at the feet of a pole dancer.  And incredibly, all in the name of feminism.  If this doesn't sicken you, make you want to cry, then look again. It openly is the work of the devil. I would liken it to the circumstances Amy Carmichael faced in India. This is sin. This is atrocious wickedness. This is a very heavy darkness.  And Americans applauded it.  It sickens me.  Normally I'm not looking to be the next Amy Carmichael. But this has me looking.  But while I grieve this atrocity. While my heavy heart prays for the freedom of thos...

In Time of Trouble, Say: He brought me here.  I am in His keeping.  And this is His time. -Andrew Murray 

Sometimes I wonder.  As I bend over a child, Patiently guiding.  Or as I try and fail to explain.  Or as I look into their eyes when they want to defy. I wonder.  Am I doing enough?  Am I being enough?  Am I saying enough?  For all the times they did something and I didn't see.  Or I let something slip that should have been corrected.  And I'm reminded again, I don't know how to do this.  I'm not enough.  So I take my pieces, Sometimes scattered, here and there,  And hold them out to Him.  "Here. "It's all I have.  "Please somehow use it."  And He does. He is.  Not because of me.  But more often, in spite of me.