cookie cawthon

Go Tell It...

noreply@blogger.com (Cookie Cawthon) — Thu, 07 Apr 2011 22:03:00 +0000

As I see it, faith is the hard thing. Believing in what we cannot see right now. Believing when we don't understand. Living a life that requires God to show up. And do something...

Instead of living within the boundaries of what we can pull off on our own.

To me, it feels like a high dive jump. I lose my breath. I have no control. I feel overwhelmed. And terrified. I free fall in His faithfulness - the only real way to experience it. To know it and trust it next time.

Come and listen, all you who fear God;

let me tell you what He has done for me

(Psalm 66:16).

Okay. In the interest of giving Him a complete shout-out for His faithfulness, how has He proven faithful in your life? What was your greatest high dive, and how did He come through for you?

No Trespassing

noreply@blogger.com (Cookie Cawthon) — Fri, 01 Apr 2011 18:42:00 +0000

They will be called oaks of righteousness,

a planting of the Lord

for the display of his splendor

(Isaiah 61:3).

I want to be that. An oak of righteousness. A planting of the Lord. I want the seed to take root in good soil. And grow and grow. And grow. Changing to look more like Him. So that my life displays just what a splendid God He is. So someone might say, "You look just like your Daddy!"

Not allowing weeds and thorns - worries and stresses and a gross desire for more - to choke the life out of His whisper in my ear, His voice in my heart.

Funny how that was one of the key points of the first session of Tell the Truth, but I find myself worrying this week. Our next session is on faith, but I find myself a little anxious with doubt. Isn't that how it goes? I certainly learn far more through the studies than I teach. Love, though, that the Truth is so at my fingertips as I prepare that I have been quickly redirected when my skin tries to get in the way.

Here we go with the practical again. 'Cause I think Bible study should be big on the practical. Nice ideas aren't very useful to us, right? How does the whole Parable of the Sower (Matthew 13:3-23) resonate with you? How have you seen worry and wealth diminish God's work in you? What have you found to be effective in combating that?

I'll go first. I can turn in to a complete stress ball. And I can get so hyperfocused on the tasks of my life. And my brain can get so set on getting things done that my quiet time is completed as one more thing to do. I can be super faithful to read His Word, but my heart and my mind are on lock down. "No Trespassing" my brain says even to His Word, His voice. Closed.

I am in a busy time of life - the next two weeks involve a lot of deadlines and things to do, but for the very first time in my life, I am feeling free in the face of what usually crumbles me. Coming out of a fresh season of brokenness, I think He has given me new perspective on how to finish well, how to rest in Him, how to actually increase productivity and creativity by prioritizing times of refreshing. I submit my day to Him in prayer in the morning; I beg for right perspective when I begin to feel crushed by my own expectations, and I am refusing to sacrifice my family, my relationships on the altar of my own crazy perfectionism. I have found that a genuine desire to be changed, to run the race well, and persistent prayer for help is working for me. Praying, too, that He will work this change through and through so that I find some lasting freedom from a brain and heart on lock down.

Now. Your turn...

Resemblance

noreply@blogger.com (Cookie Cawthon) — Wed, 30 Mar 2011 16:47:00 +0000

So. I've had absorption on the brain. Absorbing Truth into our DNA instead of consuming it. Allowing it to totally change who we are and how we operate, what we look like instead of just momentarily relishing its sweetness on our palates. I guess that was the most salient point for me from our first Tell the Truth session on Monday night. And here's the thing I keep coming back to - practically, how do we absorb Truth? How do we do that? The idea of it is of no use to us if we don't know how to act on it. In my own personal study time I just began Beth Moore's To Live is Christ: The Life and Ministry of Paul. And the first few days of homework explore what life would have been like for a Hebrew boy. Deuteronomy 6:4-9, 11:13-21 would have been posted on the doorframe of his home:

Hear, O Israel: The LORD our God, the LORD is one. Love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength. These commandments that I give you today are to be upon your hearts. Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up. Tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads. Write them on the doorframes of your houses and on your gates.
Deut 6:4-9

By the age of thirteen, he would have memorized vast amounts of Scripture and would wear certain passages in a leather cube strapped to the middle of his forehead and on his left arm. God's Word ever on his mind and close to his heart. Without a doubt, the Hebrews had Truth coursing through their veins.

So here's question numero uno for you: What does that look like for us? Please share very specific ideas that you have tried or plan to try to allow Truth to soak bone deep in you.

Secondly, I would love to hear what God is doing in you this week. How is He making himself known to you? What are you hearing from Him? What is He repeating to you? Margaret Feinberg calls that the Sacred Echo...

If you are participating in Tell the Truth, please read back over Monday night's lesson in your workbook - giving God the chance to drive home any points that I may have bungled in the delivery.

I, for real, cannot wait to hear from you, so jump on in and do your thing! Rock on, sweet friends...

Connect the Dots

noreply@blogger.com (Cookie Cawthon) — Wed, 02 Mar 2011 16:56:00 +0000

I have written and will be teaching a women’s study entitled, Tell the Truth: Getting Real about Being the Real Deal (get the scoop here). As a teacher, all I know to teach is what Jesus has taught me:

For fifteen years after my real deal salvation experience, my relationship with Jesus had very little effect on how I lived my life. During some seasons I attended church regularly. Even read my Bible. But my heart wasn’t different. My thoughts and attitudes weren’t different. My choices weren’t different. How is it that there could be such a disconnect between my beliefs and my reality?

Ten years ago, I began to cooperate with Him and discovered that He wanted far more for me than I ever wanted for myself (John 10:10). You see, I think you and I can so easily allow the trappings of this world to distract us from God’s best. Just like in the Parable of the Sower (Matthew 13:3-23) where the thorns (“the worries of this life and the deceitfulness of wealth”) choke the life out of God’s Word in our lives, rendering it unfruitful. Unproductive. Ineffective.

That has been my story.

And sometimes it still is.

So now I am highly flammable about sharing the truth about how stinkin’ excellent life is with Him! The world would have us believe that life as a follower of Christ is less, diminished, boring, and restrictive. I beg to differ. I beg to tell the Truth.

And my approach isn’t fluffy and pink. It’s probably more like a good strong cup of coffee. My aim is to be real and present Truth that connects the dots between what we believe and how we live.

Life is gritty.

The Bible is true.

Jesus is real.

Women are strong.

Let’s do this thing! I would love for you to join me!

*If you are planning to register for the study (you can do that here), please do so by March 20 to ensure that you have a workbook on the first night. We will be printing a few extras for those who register after the 20th...

Tell the Truth

noreply@blogger.com (Cookie Cawthon) — Sun, 13 Feb 2011 21:22:00 +0000

Here's what's up, lady friends! I am teaching a three-week women's study beginning Monday, March 28.

If you are new to these parts, you can find out more about me here. This is the third women's study I've written and taught, and the heart of this one is my desire for us to be committed to knowing, loving, and following Jesus in a way that changes everything, everything, everything. EVERYTHING! How we experience a sunrise. How we treat the cashier at the convenience store. How we see ourselves when we look in the mirror. How we approach a new job situation. How we heal and how we hope. How we listen and how we love.

Tell the Truth from Lindsay Haselden on Vimeo.

We will meet for three Monday nights (March 28, April 4, & April 11) from 7:00-9:00 at the Florence Civic Center - where their meeting rooms give us a couple of options for space depending on the interest level. And one thing I know and love about some super fly chicks. We like a 'lil social time built in to our schedules, so from 7:00-7:30 we can all trickle in and chat. Teaching will run from 7:30-8:45, and we can all debrief over goodnights as we part.

You can register online here or in the left sidebar. It seriously pains me to charge anything for the study, but I need to help defray its cost. I will not profit from one cent, I promise! The study is $10 and can be paid online via Google checkout (see left sidebar), or you can email me an address request to mail a check. You are successfully registered once your registration and payment are received.

Finally, I stand in ovation to my friend, Lindsay Haselden, who designed the study logo, promo video, the online registration and payment options, flyers, and the study workbook, which you will receive on March 28. God has engineered a neat partnership out of our friendship, and I am so super thankful that He gave her crazy skillz and then plopped her down right beside me in life. Too fun! So grateful!

If you have any questions at all, you can reach me at cookiecawthon@gmail.com. I'd waaaaaaaaaay love to hear from you, and hope to see you soon...

Beautiful Fellow

noreply@blogger.com (Cookie Cawthon) — Fri, 11 Feb 2011 17:15:00 +0000

Enveloped in the dark tones and indie tunes of my new office - Aroma Underground. Soothing and stimulating at once. Somehow the chatter isn't distracting. Energizing instead. It generates a connectivity - though I don't really know anyone else here. Funny thing, I'm friends with a few on Facebook and follow one on Twitter, but we don't even exchange glances. Though that sounds weird in words, it feels just fine in real life.

I peck away, listening with headphones, reading, thinking, planning. Focused on my four-top world and keyboard. When I notice movement down by my feet. Nothing but a fleeting change in the light. When I notice it again, I glance under my elbow to find a most precious little fellow. He fit perfectly beneath my arm and made no noise in his approach.

Beautiful. Something about his undetected presence, his quiet and stillness warmed me. I leaned in to whisper, "Hello there."

"Hi." He whispered back - measuring in at about three feet.

It was only a few seconds before he was called back to the gaggle of men seated by the door. And I was reminded of Scripture from that morning - Luke 9:48 - Jesus says, "Whoever welcomes this little child in my name welcomes me; and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me. For he who is least among you all - he is the greatest."

A sweet though momentary visit. A divine reminder. Of child-like faith, humility, and dependence.

Packed House

noreply@blogger.com (Cookie Cawthon) — Sun, 29 Aug 2010 20:34:00 +0000

Who's Your Daddy? is officially packed out. But if you would like to be added to a waiting list - please, please, please leave your contact info here. I will definitely dial you up if a space becomes available.

Who's Your Daddy?

noreply@blogger.com (Cookie Cawthon) — Tue, 17 Aug 2010 15:49:00 +0000

I'm back at it and would love for you to join me!!!

I am going to be teaching a six-week study (for gals only) beginning September 13. Six Monday nights in a row. 7-9 pm @ Bean Groovy (in the shopping center beside Swamp Fox Cinemas).

This study was born from my own journey. I was tripped up for years and years by an incomplete, skewed, and inaccurate understanding of His character. We are incapable, in our human skins, of completely “getting” Him, but by studying who He is in His Word and who He has been and is in our lives, we can know Him in a way that completely revolutionizes how we live our lives. Seriously!!

We cannot allow negative church experiences to define who He is to us. I remember standing - as a nine year-old - crying with one ear pierced. I was certain that I'd be most unwelcome in my grandmother's church with pierced ears. I also wore pants and had divorced parents. Three strikes against me then. I knew I was out for sure.

We cannot allow other Christians to define who He is to us. I have met some pretty cold and mean-spirited folks in churches. I was abused as a child by a man who was highly esteemed in his church. I have seen church families ripped to shreds by dissension. That stuff will mess you up – if you allow your view of God to be wrapped up in all of that human yuck.

We must allow Him to define Himself through His own Words and His own faithfulness in our lives. And when we do, we will discover that He is more attentive and communicative than we can grasp and far greater than we ever imagined. We will discover that His healing is complete and useful and His love is tender and astounding. He's everything that a girl longs for... Come discover Him with me!

Who's Your Daddy from Lindsay Haselden on Vimeo.

You can register online here or in the left sidebar. It seriously pains me to charge anything for the study, but I need to help defray the cost of the location and the materials. I will not profit from one cent, I promise! The study is $10 and can be paid online via Google checkout (see left sidebar), or you can email me an address request to mail a check. You are successfully registered once your registration and payment are received. Registration will be capped at 50 participants (if necessary) due to limited space.

Finally, I give monster props to my friend, Lindsay Haselden, who designed the logo, the video, the online registration form, the online payment option, etc... She has mad skills, and I am soooo grateful for her encouragement and her creativity!

If you have any questions at all, you can reach me at cookiecawthon@gmail.com. I'd love to hear from you, and hope to see you soon...

The Purpose of Excess

noreply@blogger.com (Cookie Cawthon) — Fri, 14 May 2010 17:33:00 +0000

Honestly. I don't know why I have more food than I can/should eat. I don't know why my house is big and comfortable. I do not deserve it more than someone else. I do not know why I have the means to pile up way more stuff than is moral, to be perfectly honest.

How do I make sense of the fact that I met people who live in houses made of mud and animal poop? How does my Carson reconcile the fact that her family has food and clothes and house coming out of our ears with the fact that some of her friends in her second grade class don't enjoy that sufficiency? My only hope in helping her understand such inequity is to teach her the opportunity it affords us to attempt to balance the scales a bit. By living generosity. By modeling altruism.

In no way do I feel like we should feel guilty for our blessings. But I definitely think we should feel responsible for them. And grateful in a way that leads us to share them.

So this is a call to balance the scales a bit.Every day. We are entrusted with the care of those who are needy and poor. Every day.

Give generously to [your needy brother] and do so without a grudging heart; then because of this the LORD your God will bless you in all your work and in everything you put your hand to. There will always be poor people in the land. Therefore I command you to be openhanded toward your brothers and toward the poor and needy in your land.

Deuteronomy 15:10-11.

But who am I, and who are my people, that we should be able to give as generously as this? Everything comes from you, and we have given you only what comes from your hand.
1 Chronicles 29:14

A generous man will himself be blessed, for he shares his food with the poor.
Proverbs 22:9

You will be made rich in every way so that you can be generous on every occasion,
and through us your generosity will result in thanksgiving to God.
2 Corinthians 9:11

Bring it! Every day.

Stranded

noreply@blogger.com (Cookie Cawthon) — Wed, 12 May 2010 16:35:00 +0000

These are uncertain times. Uncertainty seems to hang in the air like a bad odor, seems to course through our veins like a dark dye. It's a car poking along in front of us on a road where we can't pass. We feel trapped behind it.

And I pride myself in trying to live in oblivion by limiting my exposure to the news. I like to be able to speak intelligently about national and global affairs, but the doom and gloom is often more than I care to digest. Whenever possible I try to starve my fear's appetite for looming disaster. I do a pretty good job, so don't expect any riveting posts on current events in the near future. While trying to emaciate my anxieties, I am always trying to fatten my faith.

Oh no, here she goes again...

Faith is this nebulous, obtuse, abstract (yes, I know they all kinda mean the same thing - I just love them) thing that makes people think Christ-followers are straight up nut jobs. It's true. The concept of placing faith in something outside of ourselves seems to make people uncomfortable.

It shouldn't; we do it all the time. For instance, every morning I rush around like a crazy person getting people fed, dressed, and in the car with all the necessities for the day. There's usually not a minute to spare, honestly. And when I put the key in the ignition and turn it, I expect it to crank. I have faith in my nine year-old 112, 000 mile Pathfinder. In nine years it has started every time I have turned the key except once (when the battery exploded - frightful). My truck and I have history; it has been very faithful. For that I am grateful. I demonstrate my faith in my truck by how I live my morning. I don't build in extra time for car issues. I don't have a back-up plan if my transportation fails. I know the car is going to crank. It always has. As my car gets older and more worn, I am headed for a day of disappointment. The first time it leaves me high and dry; my faith in it will take a hit and perhaps collapse all together (depending on where I am stranded, how long it takes help to arrive, and how many children I have in the car at the time).

My point is this - we all put our faith in something. Our money, the company we work for, our spouse, our children, ourselves. That's all fine and dandy until the economy crashes, our company folds, our spouse dies unexpectedly, our children rebel, and we totally come unglued. Those things happen every day.

What are you putting your faith in?

I'll go first, and I'll shoot straight. My big picture faith is in Jesus Christ. Constant. Eternal. Faithful and True. His character and His promises don't change with the Dow; He isn't surprised by the energy crisis, and He can't be usurped by the next President. He doesn't worry or waver, and He is the only certainty, the only fail-safe fool-proof unshakable strength and security in the face of our uncertain circumstances.

But, truth be told, my daily little picture faith is in myself. I tend to think I can handle things quite nicely on my own. Honestly, that never turns out well. I am moody, and impatient, and I often have sharp edges. I can be insecure and selfish and undisciplined and weak. I am proud, often loud, opinionated, and bossy. Really...who would sign up to put their faith in that? I'm taking my name off that sign-up sheet (wish it were that easy...). Seriously, my truck is more dependable than I am. However,...

There can be certainty. Of that, I am certain! Are you?

Originally posted on September 30, 2008

Silence

noreply@blogger.com (Cookie Cawthon) — Wed, 12 May 2010 00:09:00 +0000

Like yours, my life is noisy. Carson got a singing Hannah Montana doll and card and a singing Ariel card for her birthday, so she and Campbell were well armed with noisemakers as we left Savannah earlier today. I did step up as the party pooper and nixed all of the plans for a very Hannah Montana ride home.

But before we left, the girls went to the store and to see the ducks with Granddaddy and Gran- Gran. I was upstairs gathering our things when I noticed it. Everything was still and quiet. No appliances whirring. No birds chirping. Silence. And I just sat down for a few minutes to listen. Not to think - just to listen.

There's something about experiencing God in absolute silence. I experience Him differently when I am singing my heart out in praise than when I am surrounded by the beauty of Creation than when I am in silence. Not that He changes; I am just drawn to different aspects of His character in different settings. During my own "Shout to the Lord" sessions I am overtaken by His soveriegnty, His omnipotence, His goodness, His grace, His forgiveness. The evidence of God in nature leaves me filled with wonder, amazed at His attention to detail, His creativity, His perfection, His beauty. I am awestruck as I notice the growth of spring, peer up at the mountains, or stare endlessly over the ocean from the shore.

But silence speaks to me of His comfort, His peace, His companionship. And I just feel like I don't have to do anything or say anything or try to hear anything from Him. Just be with Him. It's exactly like riding in the car with Chris, being glad to be with him, enjoying his presence, and feeling perfectly comfortable to be quiet and be together.

Sometimes I try to plan silence, but it's usually shattered by a dog barking, construction workers sawing, phones ringing, or UPS men buzzing the doorbell. And there are other times when I just become aware of it - like this morning. It was like this sweet, little, perfect gift that I found tucked away out of plain view and was able to keep it all to myself.

Originally posted April 20, 2008

Sometimes Satan is a lil' yappy dog in your life

noreply@blogger.com (Cookie Cawthon) — Fri, 30 Apr 2010 14:21:00 +0000

Don't be mad, doglovers. Although I'm not a dog person, I really just harbor intense disdain for one particular yappy dog. It is truly the fault of his owner, I realize, but hang with me if you can for the sake of the illustration... ;-)

Sometimes I run around my neighborhood for exercise. It's not my first choice venue, but sometimes it's just convenient to head out the front door and do my thing. The loop around the 'hood isn't that great of a distance, so I usually lap it four or five times during a run. Well, we've gotten some new neighbors of late. They have a dog. A little yappy dachshund. That they don't keep in a fence (visible or invisible) or on a leash or in their house. The last two times I have trotted around our neighborhood he has chased me - barking his dang head off - out in the road - every lap - when I pass by his house. At first I was afraid he was going to bite me. I could feel myself getting anxious as I neared his domain each time. I thought about taking a different route to bypass him, but there was no good way to do that. He lives at the intersection of two streets. I was tempted to cut my run short because I hated his presence so much. I definitely thought very unkind things about he and his owner [super fake smile inserted here].

I kept running though. Right by him every time. Once I ran super fast by his house, knowing that my legs are much longer than his. He didn't catch me that time. But this past Sunday, I was far less affected by him. Still greatly annoyed but not afraid. He and I had been around enough for me to feel pretty comfortable that he was all yap and no teeth.

Sometimes Satan is like that in our lives. He wants us to live in fear. He wants us to steer off course, taking a different route from the one planned. He wants us to cut our efforts short of our best. He wants to flood our minds with malicious and destructive thoughts. Oh, yes. Sometimes Satan is a lil' yappy dog in our lives.

Sometimes, he's something much more ferocious than that. Like a roaring lion. Looking for someone to devour (1 Peter 5:8). But sometimes he aims for sublty by dressing in the little annoyances. Those that wear us down or change our course ever so slightly.

Make no mistake, he's on your street and mine working his agenda. But, for those of us who can't get enough of Jesus, he's all yap.

And I tell you that you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not overcome it (Matthew 16:18).

To him who is able to keep you from falling and to present you before his glorious presence without fault and with great joy— to the only God our Savior be glory, majesty, power and authority, through Jesus Christ our Lord, before all ages, now and forevermore! Amen
(Jude 1:24).

Kick him in the teeth and keep running this week. The power of a Risen Savior lives in you; stand strong!

PS - The owners of the dachshund haven't been home either time I have been running. I'm thinking about writing them a very kind (in all seriousness) letter just asking them to contain their lil' dumpling of a dog. Sometimes you just need to ask people to keep their own private Satan to themselves ;-)

Butterfly Wishes

noreply@blogger.com (Cookie Cawthon) — Tue, 16 Feb 2010 18:50:00 +0000

Summer was under our skin in a bad way. It was the carrot dangling before our noses as we flittered through the last days of school. Regardless of what a busy time the close of the year can be, there is a light anticipation, the cool breeze of freedom blowing against our backs. There were parties and end-of-the year gifts, assessments and awards programs. Carson, completing first grade, brought a gift home from her teacher. It was a disc full of pictures, set to a sampling of music clips. The slideshow of pictures alone would have beckoned big mama tears as I glimpsed moments of her life away from me and noticed her change through the progression of photographs. But the music got me; something about a song can stir my soul.

I hope the days come easy and the moments pass slow
And each road leads you where you want to go
And if you're faced with the choice and you have to choose
I hope you choose the one that means the most to you

After totally emptying the contents of her backpack on the kitchen counter: folded papers, notebooks, drawings, lip gloss, pencils and erasers, folders, candy, and candy wrappers, she unearthed the disc and enthusiastically and impatiently begged to watch it immediately on my computer. Fighting the urge to be highly annoyed by the instant mess that had spontaneously erupted before my very eyes, I consented.

And if one door opens to another door closed
I hope you keep on walkin' til you find the window
If it's cold outside, show the world the warmth of your smile
But more than anything, more than anything

My wish for you
Is that this life becomes all that you want it to
Your dreams stay big, your worries stay small
You never need to carry more than you can hold

The class movie began, and I felt my breathing quicken. My eyes felt hot and full, then brimming over. I stood transfixed, watching Nicholas reading a book, Savannah on the computer, Brad pledging to the flag, and Olivia doing the limbo at the class luau. And my Carson. Living her life. Doing her thing. Apart from me.

And while you're out there gettin' where you're gettin' to
I hope you know somebody loves you
And wants the same things too
Yeah, this is my wish

Both of my girls thought it total mom weirdness that I was standing there with big tears rolling. We just don’t get her at all sometimes, they were thinking. At their request, we watched three times consecutively. I was completely unable to tear myself away. Over the past six months, I wouldn’t dare to guess how many times we’ve broken out the first grade movie, and I cry without fail.

I hope you never look back but you never forget
All the ones who love you and the place you left
I hope you always forgive and you never regret
And you help somebody every chance you get

Of course, I blame some of that on Rascal Flatts and their song, “My Wish.” Heck, you’re probably bawling right now too. Those lyrics are killer. Just like any respectable country tune should, they get to the heart of the matter. Live. Love. Laugh. Remember. Dream. And press on.

From what I hear, first grade quickly becomes fifth, and sixth grade becomes senior year. The truth in that song has the power to penetrate the everyday annoyances, the tedium of caring for school-age children: sweeping up the same Goldfish crumbs, reminding them to hang up their washcloths, mediating the same sibling arguments day in and day out, and transports me to a vulnerable place as a mother. A place where I have a magnified understanding that I don’t get to keep her forever. She is mine but for a short time; they both are. That makes my mothering mistakes feel heavy and solid.

Oh, you'd find God's grace in every mistake
And always give more than you take

So. That’s my wish for her. And Campbell. And me. That we would live fully – forsaking fear and the mundane to embrace challenge and adventure. That we would love deeply and be loved through and through. That we would often laugh together ‘til we pee our pants, gasp for breath, and clutch our aching tummies.

Father, the task before me is daunting and scary. I am flawed and unworthy to be their mother, so I humbly ask for your help, every day. Your wisdom. Your patience. Your grace and mercy. And theirs.

Sweet Cawthon girls, I love you as big as Texas, and I think you rock like nobody’s business!

...Wait for it...

noreply@blogger.com (Cookie Cawthon) — Mon, 15 Feb 2010 15:01:00 +0000

If you get a chance, check out my guest post at http://www.4hisministries.com.

Thanks, Mark, for the opportunity to share!

What in the world are you doing?

noreply@blogger.com (Cookie Cawthon) — Wed, 13 Jan 2010 04:18:00 +0000

The 410 Bridge has a tee for sale in their store that asks, "What in the world are you doing?" How are you making a difference in the world? What are you doing to rectify the unbalanced equation in your life - the excess of your own versus the insufficiency of another's? A child's.

Okay. I'm gonna shoot straight with you. I am here to beg you to help my friends. I'm not talking about disturbing images on TV that we flip by quickly. I'm not talking about pictures of anonymous faces that show up on WorldVision ads on the sidebar of Facebook. I am talking about kiddos I personally met, Ann and Silvia in Class 4 at Uaso Nyiro Primary School. I read this letter from Jane, the director of BrightPoint for Children, to Mark, a trip participant from my trip to Kenya in November, and I am not too proud to beg you to help them:

Hi Mark,

Hope you had a fantastic Christmas! I still can’t believe 2010 is here.

Just wanted to let you know that the Primary Schools in Kenya started back this past week. Right now there is no money going to Uaso Nyiro Primary School… so the children are not being served lunch yet, nor any of the other upgrades (more teachers, textbooks, desks, etc) can happen until the Star Students are sponsored. What makes it even harder, is that one of the sister schools in Segera, Endana Primary, has been fully sponsored by a church in TX… so the kids are eating lunch each day, have a new library, more teachers, desks, books, Saturday tutoring, assessment tests and more. You probably visited that school when you were there.

So, this is just a reminder that they need help… I am willing to do anything to help you in your role as Point Person… just let me know what that is. If you can set up a “Sponsorship Sunday”, I can come help run it… if you need flyers, etc…. just let me know. A huge e-mail campaign usually works wonders too!! We just sent out an e-mail “pre-releasing” a Cambodia program we are announcing on Jan 19th and 27 kids have been sponsored in the last 24 hours.

Let me know what we can do/how I can help to get this off and running! I love the Uaso Nyiro school… they have so much energy and excitement and faith, I hope to get them sponsored and funded SOON!!
Bless you for your heart for these Segera kids!

Have a VERY blessed 2010,
Jane

I held their hands. I taught their class. I played duck-duck-goose with them. I heard their voices sing and watched them dance. PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE consider sponsorship! When you sponsor a child, the entire class and school benefits! Lunch. Books. More teachers. Please...

My family and I are sponsoring Nasipo, the little girl on one knee with other kiddos' hands on her head :-) Ann and Silvia are in the pictures above, and you can sponsor them here:

BrightPoint for Children - Uaso Nyiro Primary School

$39/month.

Please....

And that's about all I have to say about that...

noreply@blogger.com (Cookie Cawthon) — Wed, 30 Dec 2009 19:56:00 +0000

I bought a bookmark in Kenya that I keep in my Bible. On it is written a Kenyan proverb in elegant handwriting - "Traveling teaches men their way." Here's what I think my trip is teaching me...

I am far less afraid since my return. I hope hope hope that this effect has staying power. I have always been a 'fraidy mouse, but I have not felt that or thought those things since I've been back. I faced a whole bunch of personal fears in going, and right now, everything else seems like small potatoes. Thank goodness!

Playing duck-duck-goose in a country known for their fast runners. Really? Not necessarily a good idea :-)

This is definitely a season of refining and shaping.

Creation. DANG! Creation. I want to notice Him more, enjoy Him more in what He has created.

Turns out, I can live without Diet Pepsi. Who knew?

Okay, this one doesn't fit nicely into a bullet point. Back to that Anthropology class point from the last post - the notion that it's judgemental to label one culture as more advanced than another. I hear you. I do. We do vaccinate our children; we can communicate with people anywhere in the world within an instant, and we have way more food, clothes, and shelter than we need. Okay. I'll give you that. We're healthier, busier, better resourced, wealthier, and have more "knowledge" and gadgets. That's not an eternally valuable list; those aren't things that we aspire to as we desire to be more like Christ. The people of Segera are poor; they know their need for God in a way that I never will. It sounds like the rumble of hunger in their children's bellies, and it feels like the weight of the water bucket she carries every day. It looks like dirty feet eaten away by filth, and it sounds like a prayer to grow that tiny dark cloud in the sky to a life-giving shower. Joy and gratitude are radiant on their dusty faces. Those are circumstances and attributes dear to His own heart. The Bible is clear that Jesus is The Advocate for the oppressed, poor, and humble, and He is near to those who realize their need for Him.

We have done exceedingly well at using our wealth to cushion ourselves against our need for God. My children have never known their need for Him; that is scary to me as a parent. We are too busy, too selfish, too rich, too proud, and too stressed for Him. Our comforts come at a great spiritual cost. God, in His mercy, still loves us, is still moving in this place, changing and saving lives. But we will never need Him like they do.

So, I hesitate to call us more advanced.

That has been the hardest part of coming back for me. How do I cling to my need for Him here? How will I live differently because I have been there? How do I even begin to simplify my life? How do I parent?

So, it was really hard to come back to the busyness and materialism of Christmas in America. This was a more serious Christmas for me, but not really in a bad way. I think I was much more focused on Christ than I usually am but also less enamored by the bells and whistles of the commercial aspect. I was far less stressed than normal during the holidays but less silly and giddy as well. I definitely think this is the toughest time of year to come back from this kind of trip.

This concludes our journey to Segera together. Thought you might enjoy another look...

If you have any interest in donating to the communities of Kenya through The 410 Bridge, please check this out.

Or if you would like to sponsor a child in the Segera area through BrightPoint for Children, you can click here. You can actually sponsor some of the exact same kiddos I met, and if you look closely enough at some of my pictures you might recognize their faces. COOL, COOL STUFF!

Yep. My tongue turned black in Africa.

noreply@blogger.com (Cookie Cawthon) — Mon, 21 Dec 2009 14:44:00 +0000

Randomness from the other side of the planet

On Wednesday morning, I woke up and my tongue was black. Yes, of course, I freaked out! I thought, "Oh, snap! I'm in Africa, and my tongue is black. That can't be good!" Jennifer, my roommate, kinda gasped when I told her; she thought that was pretty not good too. Heather said she thought it might be from the medicines I was taking (sleep meds, malaria meds, a regimen of stomach meds) or that I was turning into a giraffe (they have black tongues too :-). I texted Chris, "My tongue is black. Please look that up." So, I thought I might die at any minute the rest of the day. It went away when I brushed my teeth, and I kept checking all day to see if it grew black again. It did not. About twelve hours later I did speak with Chris on the phone, and he confirmed that it had just been a reaction/interaction of the medicines I was taking.

Though the kids thought my name was fun to say (they pronounced it more like kooky with a stretched out oo), they didn't actually know what a cookie is. Their word for cookie in English is biscuit, which is why they would often call to the bus as we were driving in, "Give me biscuit" or "Give me chock-a-late" in little raspy voices. It was the first time in my life that I met new people and they didn't think my name was funny.

Though the Kenyan children were very physically affectionate, they don't hug. That's just not something they do. The first few times I tried to hug a child, they didn't really seem to know how to respond. They found it awkward and perhaps even a little inappropriate. They were very comfortable holding hands, shaking hands, rubbing our arms, playing with our hair. They would say, "You have very smot (smart) hair."

I kept flashing back to my Anthropology class in college where we studied (and I do believe) that no culture is better than another. It's even judgemental to think of one culture as more advanced than another. There are just groups of people who do things differently, and it's pretty cool to study the hows and the whys of various groups. I'll come back to that point in my next post, but one of the differences we noticed in the classroom was though "thank you" is a huge concept; "please" is not. It caught a few of us off guard when a student would ask for something in class, and it came off sounding like a demand - though his face or disposition didn't communicate that. Their "Give me yellow" was equivalent to our "Please pass me the yellow colored pencil." It's just not part of the way they communicate. Though they are such gentle and polite people.

On some days there were passion fruits in our lunchboxes. After a little coaxing from one of our trip leaders, we agreed that when in Africa, you eat your passion fruit. Just because it's a passion fruit in Africa. You cut the top off and suck out the contents. It does have a fruity taste, but the consistency is that of an oyster full of sunflower seeds.

I did learn that if you totally pack each nostril with tissue all the way to the bridge of your nose, you cannot smell a thing. That was useful the one time I used the outdoor facilities.

Other Fun-ness from the week

On Wednesday afternoon, some of the Maasai came to the mission to sell their beaded wares: bracelets, earrings, key chains, tribal necklaces, beaded sticks and canes, etc... I bought a tribal necklace and then stored it in a gallon-size Ziplock bag to bring it home. When I opened the bag here, I was surprised. I received a smoky whiff - the scent of the hut my necklace was strung in. I inhaled big and left the necklace in the bag, resealing it quickly to keep the smell.

After shopping, a contingent of us had to walk across a narrow river to reach two of the buses on the other side. The red bus was stuck in the mud, and the white bus had driven over to help free it. It would have taken too too long for the buses to drive back around to where we were, so we walked through the river to the buses. That was a fun adventure and was the only time we actually just walked through the bush.

There were many many transportation fails during the trip. One bus had a flat tire shortly after we left the airport. Another broke down completely at lunch on that same day. The red bus was impounded and stuck in the mud, and I feel like I'm missing others as well. Good times... Seriously!

On Thursday, we attended a dedication of the Black Tank water project. My hubs, Chris, worked on this water project during his trip in June. In November, during our trip, the project was given to the community - for them to continue to work on and maintain. I had the cool opportunity to speak at that dedication service.

Then we headed to Sweetwaters Tented Camp. Amazing, amazing, amazing! We saw lots and lots of super cool animals (my pics didn't turn out too hot) and everyone had the option of going on a night safari. Cool stuff!

Planning to wrap it up tomorrow...

Meet Sara

noreply@blogger.com (Cookie Cawthon) — Wed, 16 Dec 2009 23:37:00 +0000

Isn't she beautiful? Heather and I met Sara in a village called Jerusalem. Our group finished our work in the schools on Wednesday morning and went to visit homes in Jerusalem that afternoon. Faith, an employee at the Segera Mission, took us as a group and introduced us to many of the families - many of whom participate in Bible study and the feeding program at the Mission. As usual, children flocked to the bus as we drove up and parked. This late in the game we were pretty accustomed to and comfortable with the quick connection that would happen soon after we disembarked. Each of us would initiate conversation with the children outside of the bus; two or three would attach themselves to each of us, and they would accompany us during our time there. They were so open to us.

Because this was late in the week, we had at least encountered many of these children at a school or worship service earlier in the trip. I recognized some faces but didn't know any of them well. Before we turned the bend into the village, Sara grabbed mine and Heather's hands. She held on until we left. She was a quiet one which caused me to question whether she knew English. The younger kiddos definitely spoke varying levels of English. She stayed with us and held our hands - insisting on having us both.

At the nicest hut I visited during our trip, Heather and I began to wonder about a separate enclosure to the right of the hut. We were guessing quietly what it might be when Sara, in a soft voice explained, "Kitchen. That's the kitchen." Before that, she had only spoken to tell us her name, so it was so cutie for her to understand our whispers and very matter of factly answer our question. From then on we peppered her with questions; she was sharp and understand and spoke English well. She pointed out enclosures for the hens, one for the chicks, and even the fact that one of the mothers was building a new hut beside her old one.

Sara became most excited when our group moved to her very own home. Her mother was standing outside; Sara quietly yet proudly shared that this was her home and her mother and her siblings. If I am remembering correctly, her mother had ten children, one of whom had died. In their culture, a woman who has a lot of children is considered to be blessed.

Sara's mother did not speak English but gestured to us that Sara was her daughter. She seemed equally proud to be Sara's mother and communicated to us that Sara knew English (which we had already discovered :-). Sara translated for us, allowing us to talk with her mom a little. We had Sara ask her mom if she'd like a family photo with those close by (not all of the kids were present at the hut at the time). Sara's sister on the far right closed her eyes in one of the first pictures we took, which troubled her greatly. That's why she's making such big eyes in the picture. She was determined not to close her eyes again :-)

This was the first village where I noticed locks on the doors. Many of the huts had small padlocks on the stick doors, and they would wear the keys on a necklace or ring.

After a loop through the village, we met to pray with the people of the community. They sang and danced for us (which happened every single place we went, which was complete awesomeness) and this time they grabbed two of our peeps to dance with them. The pastor/leader of the village spoke to us via Faith, and two guys from our group spoke to them. Good times. Then it was time for goodbye. Here Sara says, "Goodbye, Cookie :-)"...

Class 2 - You're gonna love 'em...

noreply@blogger.com (Cookie Cawthon) — Sun, 13 Dec 2009 00:29:00 +0000

So, two and a half days of our trip were spent in three different schools (nursery, primary, and older) - the morning at one, the afternoon at another - allowing us the opportunity to return to work with the same students and classes on two different days.

After recess that first day at the primary school, the students went in to their classes and we held a brief planning meeting. After having spent an hour or so with the kids, it had become clear that these students didn't know English super well (not the case with the students at the older school). They knew the basics for introductory conversation, but that seemed to be the extent of it. There were 60-70 kiddos in each class; the plan was that 3-4 of us would go in to each class and lead/teach for an hour and a half. AN HOUR AND A HALF WITH SCORES OF STUDENTS WHO BARELY SPOKE ENGLISH! Are you sensing that the teacher in me began to secretly hyperventilate?

But.

It was amazing! The teachers stayed in with us to help translate when we needed it, and the kids did seem to understand more than I initially thought. We had two activities planned (God keeps His promises - Noah and the rainbow (they see lots o' rainbows), and God is my sun and my shield - Psalm 84:11) and we had plenty to do.

Felix, the teacher of Class 2, was a great teacher, and I don't throw that compliment around lightly. It was sooooo apparent that he loves his 60-70 charges, and they respect him. There were no behavior problems. Like none. Zilch. I honestly never saw any kids out of line the entire trip, but if Class 2 got a little too excited about what we were doing, Felix could bring them back instantly.

When James came in the room at the end of our time, Felix quietly asked if we would be returning. When James informed him that we would be back the next day and he shared that with the kids, they stood and clapped and cheered wildly. They taught us to say "See you tomorrow" in Swahili (Tuoanane kesho) and repeated it over and over as we made our way to the bus (which is the closest I will ever come to feeling like a rockstar. Each time we left a school, there were ten or so little people walking with each of us, holding our hands, shaking our hands, holding our arms and others popping over quickly to say goodbye or thank you. We literally had to make our way through the crowd of school children. I loved it!).

Felix told us that his kids had never had so much fun, and one of the teachers told James that they didn't have words to express how thankful they were. Gratitude. Humbling gratitude. Almost seems counterintuitive that a people with so little could be so grateful. "Thank you" was definitely one of the most common phrases I heard while there (right up there with "Look! There's a lion!" :-).

Unfortunately, our plans changed for the following day and we did not return to Class 2 until Wednesday. Upon our return, Felix told us that his kids stared out of the window all day the day before - wondering why we had not come. That hurts my heart just to remember. They again cheered at our entrance and waved calling "Tuoanane kesho" at our departure. We yelled and waved goodbye like crazy, knowing we couldn't promise another tomorrow...

While in Class 2, we met a sweet fella named Hassan. Hassan is a small gent and was always more bundled up than his classmates - wearing a toboggan and a jacket at all times. Hassan has AIDS and will probably not live to be older than nine. His parents abandoned him, and he is in the care of his grandfather. Felix told us that he misses a lot of school when his health is poor, but he was well during our visit. They try to love on him good and are believing that God is going to give him new life. Will you ask God for that on behalf of this sweet little friend? He is in the blue jacket and red hat...

At all three of the schools, the students would spontaneously burst into song and dance while they worked. There was always a song leader who would open the song and EVERY ONE of the others would join in as they continued to color, write, etc... I would just stand in front of the classroom, frozen by delight - falling head over heels over and over again with every refrain. Thinking, "Take this in. Allow this moment to so penetrate you that you can relive it over and over again. You are in Africa, teaching, and they are singing just out of the overflow of their joy. Soak it up!"

This video (1 min) is actually from the older school, but it so accurately captures what I'm trying to describe:

Adonai, I love you so so much too!

Jambo Again! Part III

noreply@blogger.com (Cookie Cawthon) — Thu, 10 Dec 2009 14:53:00 +0000

Jambo means "Hello" in Swahili.

As we drove in every day - in addition to savoring the amazing beauty of the landscape - we encountered handsome people out in the bush - mostly shepherds (boys and men) tending and feeding their livestock. I'm guessing that three big buses full of white peeps rolling down the long dusty road isn't a super common sight because the kids would start barreling towards the road, waving - many times with both hands. We would lean and wave and smile big toothy smiles and yell "Jambo!" in return. It was so fun...

On Monday, we split into our service groups. Some treated the feet and hands of those affected by jiggers (condition where a small black flea embeds itself in dusty, dry skin, lays eggs, and feeds on the flesh and blood of its host; this is a monumental issue because many of the kids don't have shoes. at. all. Affliction with jiggers can lead to the loss of fingers and toes, paralysis, and social ostracism - a modern leprosy, so to speak). Another group worked to roof a water tank that is going to radically change how people live and feed their families once water is gravity-fed to many villages who currently walk great distances to the nearest water source. I was a part of the group who worked in the schools with the children. We were allowed to play with them, make crafts with them, shower them with affection and attention, and teach 'em straight Jesus, which was so fun...

When our big white bus pulled in to the school yard at Uasonyiro Primary School, all of the children were outside drinking their porridge (there is currently a government-subsidized feeding program in the schools because the area has been in drought for an extended length of time; enrollment is up because food is provided. The government plans to end the program soon, and the reality is that fewer kids will have the luxury of attending school when food is no longer distributed). There were around three hundred and fifty or so of them, and they quickly encircled the bus. We stayed put while James, one of our trip leaders, went to discuss plans with the teachers. The children stood around, looking up with interest and curiosity - giggling, laughing, and waving shyly. After a couple of minutes of us watching and smiling at them and them watching and smiling at us, a guy on our team yelled a hearty "JAMBO!" from the back of the bus, and the entire group of them yelled "JAMBO!" back in unison :-) It was on after that...

We all began conversations from the bus with small groups of kids standing closest. "What's your name? What's in your bowl? How old are you? How are you?" Their striking faces and their British accents could melt butter. They would reply and question as well. "My name is Susan; what is your name? This is porridge. I am fine, thank you."

James returned to share the plan for the morning, and then we prepared to join them on the ground below. When the first person from our bus descended the steps, they corporately and spontaneously erupted into a cheer of excitement and approval.

The older school - up the road a bit - walked over to join us all. Five hundred sweet African school children. My heart be still. It was definitely a bit overwhelming because they all wanted to see us, touch us, feel our hair, hear us speak, (lick one of our team members; she smelled tasty :-), etc... Eighteen of us to five hundred of them. Some of us had lotion and fingernail polish, and they went nuts. I know that I didn't make it ten steps from the bus for a good hour. "Cutex!" they called as we painted (which you probably know is a brand of nail products - great commercial that would have been!). They would stand in line (boys and girls) to be polished; then they would go scratch off that color before it dried well and get in line again for a new color from a different nail technician. Very funny.

After painting just about everybody a few times, we put the polish away to play. The guys had taken out jump ropes and soccer and volleyballs, which were an ENORMOUS hit! I looked over the playyard to see a game of duck-duck-goose over here, singing practice/performance over there with teacher Helen, ballgames and races in different patches here and there. Again, I was pretty stationary as I was receiving an education in the discipline of partner hand clapping/slapping games to great fun songs that I couldn't understand the words to. I loved it and would sing the sounds I heard but had no clue what I was saying. They were patient with my learning and would practice with me over and over and over and over again at my request. I was determined to master what they had to teach, even though they laughed at my goofy flubs...

PS - Jenn, I'm headed towards your question about how this is affecting my Christmas, and I did want to add that I am borrowing pics from many of my teammates (thanks, guys!).

How do you say Part II in Swahili?

noreply@blogger.com (Cookie Cawthon) — Wed, 09 Dec 2009 17:48:00 +0000

So I got eight hours of zzzzz's the first night in Africa (sleep meds were my friend), and it was a new day on the continent. I woke up on Sunday and fell in love. Hard. With. Segera. And. Its. People.

We stayed in a hotel in Nanyuki, a 45-minute bus ride from the community we served. We drove in and out every day in open-air buses and just feasted on the raw, unmanipulated beauty of Creation: zebras, camels, cattle, goats, impalas, gazelles, monkeys, and the daily lion sighting (which was usually not a lion at all - though we did see about five over the course of the whole trip) set in the never-ending bush with massive Mount Kenya monopolizing the horizon.

I am not outdoors girl, by any stretch, but I have peeked through the blinds a couple of mornings this week to check out His brushstrokes at dawn. And I've been hungry just to be outside, not wanting to miss His presence in what I would usually deem "ordinary." He is crazy creative and imaginative.

We attended church services (at Faith Chapel and an open-air service in a small village).

During the open air event in the village of San Maria, I amassed a group of little people. They were quiet and respectful during the service, but as we made eye contact they would make their way over to stand with me, to hold my hand or arm. I so vividly remember the feel of having my arms around the five of them, their little bodies warm against my legs, as a cool wind blew and songs of praise were belted out. One of many fave memories.

After the service, I was swept into the mix of many of the tribal ladies of the village who did not speak English. They wanted their pictures taken (they all loved seeing themselves in the display screens of our digital cameras) and then they wanted me in the pictures. After a few photos, one of the ladies grabbed my hand and began to lead me away from the group - away from our group as well. Honestly, I was a little apprehensive, but I followed.

She led me into her hut, and that was the most afraid I was during the whole trip. Because it was pitch black dark inside. I had to lean over to enter, and I could not see anything. I was alone and we could not understand each other. There were other people inside - which made me more uncomfortable but I quickly determined they were children. The smell was the thick, heavy smell of a fire, and I wondered if I might step in it. My hostess was so gracious and sweet and realized my fumbling. She rattled off something in her native tongue and a small child scampered to pull what looked like a feed sack out of a hole in the wall to allow sunshine to pour in. She wanted me to be her guest; she wanted to show me her home.

In their culture, the women construct the homes out of sticks, mud, and animal waste. They walk great distances to collect wood, and it takes about a month to build. A hut may last about a year and a half before it will begin to collapse in on itself. As you can imagine, when it rains outside; it also rains inside.

After some time with Jennifer (it tripped me out that many of them have such common English names - but Kenya was a British colony which is why most Kenyans speak English in addition to Swahili), another guy from our team and a local guy entered the hut. The local fella began to translate for us, and Jennifer wanted us to ask questions about her home, to take pictures of her home, and to show us different items in her home. Communication was quite awkward, but she was so proud to have us. In fact, she had us taking picture after picture with various household objects as we began to hear the team calling all back to the bus. Pictures with the milk gourd. Pictures with the beaded stick. Me with the milk gourd. Mike with the milk gourd. Jennifer and Mike with the milk gourd. You get the idea. It was way cute and funny and strange in the end.

A day of worship on the far side of the world. Definitely something to write home about... Thank you for indulging me, and Tuoanane kesho (See ya tomorrow in Swahili)...

I definitely needed Africa more than Africa needed me.

noreply@blogger.com (Cookie Cawthon) — Tue, 08 Dec 2009 21:14:00 +0000

Okay, I stole that title from this blog, but it is right on the money for me.

Remember me? Hi! My name is Cookie, and I am an intermittent blogger. Sorry about that. I really am, but I have to submit to constant monitoring or I will allow my expectations of myself to grow large and woolly and mammoth with big, sharp teeth.

So, two really major things have happened in my life this fall, and I would love to catch you up in small doses, if that's okay. Back in October I led a women's study on Five Lies of the Devil, and it was soooo soooo fun to do my teachin' thang again. AND now I am fresh off the plane from Kenya (and glad to have both feet planted firmly on the ground again, thank you very much!), and I can barely talk or think about anything else. I have exhausted all of the peeps in my fam and circle with my endless, "In Kenya..." comments; I have forced a slideshow and presentation on Carson's second grade class, and I've worn down my Facebook friends with pics and video, so I turn to you as a new venue :-)

Obviously, we'll tackle Kenya first and come back to Five Lies.

For those of you who aren't NewSpringers, my church has partnered with The 410 Bridge (you should watch the video on their site) to invest in the people and community of Segera in Kenya - a partnership that will send teams and resources to the same area over at least a three year time frame. We have sent three teams already and have five trips planned for 2010.

My Chris went in June and came back insistent that I go. I wasn't opposed to going, but it was never a matter of feeling like it was something I had to do. It became something I really, really, really wanted to do. And I knew it would require me to face a whole bunch of fears (not the least of which was flying) and get way far removed from the comforts of my cute lil' life.

I didn't go thinkin' I was gonna be any great help to anybody while I was there. I certainly went to love, love, love some beautiful kiddos and mamas, to serve them in absolutely any way I could, and to share Jesus if I had the opportunity, but all along I knew that God planned to change me more than He planned to use me.

It took two days to fly there, and the instruction began immediately. After bad weather, a flat nose tire on an airplane, a missed flight to Paris, an unexpected 13-hour overnight flight to Dubai, a middle of the night flight to Nairobi, no shower or bed for two days, very limited access to Diet Pepsi, and then a four-hour bus ride, I had been beaten into submission upon arrival.

In my life, I am a planner, and I like to stick to the plan. I am pretty much in control of how my day goes. I generally do what I want to do and don't do what I don't want to do. I give a lot of thought to what is safe, what makes me feel secure, what I am comfortable with, and what allows me the greatest degree of control over my circumstances. I quickly got the message that this trip would happen on His terms, not mine. The first two days were a butt whoopin' for sure, and I was allowed to see with supreme clarity the issues that comfort, security, safety, and control are in my life - golden calves gleaming brightly before me in the African sunrise on day two.

At that point I would've quit if I could have. I wanted to go into the airplane bathroom and cry my head off but I didn't think I would be able to stop if I started. Ever feel that way?

Stay tuned...

PS - Thank you, Kristin, for the awesome pic!

A quickie :-)

noreply@blogger.com (Cookie Cawthon) — Sat, 19 Sep 2009 21:37:00 +0000

Whassup, blog buddies?

I have not forgotten you! A couple of you have asked for some scoop on the women's study, and I sooooooooo want to fill you in. I am buried right now but have definite plans to post notes and highlights (WITHOUT video or audio :-); unfortunately, it may be after the study is done.

We have had thirty-five ladies both nights, and this group is tooo fun! Can't wait to share more, so please be patient. Would so appreciate your prayers for our group! I don't pretend to know His purposes for us; I am just praying that He accomplishes them and that we (especially me) stay out of His way!

"Come and listen, all you who fear God; let me tell you what he has done for me..." - Psalm 66:16

Five Lies of the Devil: Update on the Update

noreply@blogger.com (Cookie Cawthon) — Tue, 01 Sep 2009 23:05:00 +0000

Location, location, location!

Five Lies of the Devil: For Women Only will be meeting at the Russell House (1502 West Palmetto Street) on the corner of Palmetto and Seneca (directly across the street from the Sundae House and Visible Changes salon).

We crank up this coming Tuesday evening, September 8, at 7:00, and I am over-the-moon excited about it!

At present, there are about twenty-five of us, with a few "maybes" hanging in the balance and new gals signing up every day. If you are still interested in joining us, just shoot me an email (secawthon@yahoo.com) with your name, email address, and mailing address. For more of the details, you can check out this post and this post.

I cannot wait to dive in!

PS - Casual and comfy attire required. Don't you dare get duded up to come...

5 Lies of the Devil - Update

noreply@blogger.com (Cookie Cawthon) — Wed, 26 Aug 2009 02:36:00 +0000

Whassup, peeps?

I just dig you guys the most!! I just wanted to offer a little update on the study. I have had about twenty ladies express interest in participating, and I am out of my gourd with excitement! You guys have been asking some great questions too that I'll address here for everyone's benefit:

How much homework will there be? None :-) That goes against every teacher instinct in me, just so you know!

Is there a book or other materials to purchase? No :-) The Bible will be our text. We'll have a lesson and discuss as time allows. That's kinda the format we'll follow...

What if I cannot come to all of the sessions? That's not a problem at all! Each evening's lesson will be independent of the others. Please come even if you cannot come to all five.

Has a location been determined yet? No. Many of you have made GENEROUS offers of space (THANK YOU!), and I am not even ready to choose a place yet. If I had already secured a space for 10-15 people, I would be worried about it being too small at this point. My plan is to ride it out a little longer to get a fairly decent estimate. I am trusting God to bring every lady He wants and then trusting Him to provide the right space for His purposes. If you have emailed me your information, I will make sure you know where we will meet in plenty of time (which may be a very relative promise ;-) Please continue to send space ideas and offers. They are greatly appreciated!

How do I sign up? Just email me (secawthon@yahoo.com) your name, email address, and mailing address. I need that info from each lady planning to participate.

Is there a cut-off date for signing up? No, but. As soon as you know that you would like to be involved, please shoot me your info - purely to allow us to choose an appropriate space! Having said that, if you find out about the study two weeks after it has started and you want to come, please email me and for the love of Pete come on. Nothing would tickle me more!

I have always wanted to do an FAQ post. How exciting (and dorky)! I am souped-up hyper about this chance to pursue Him with you! Keep the questions coming, and TTFN...