Sawyers in the Sun

T H R E E, 3 and under

noreply@blogger.com (sawyers5dr) — Sun, 14 Oct 2018 22:10:00 +0000

I have this friend who has this precious family.

With 3 children, 3 and under :)

It was a privilege to spend a morning with them making time stand still for just a moment.

They met me at the end of the sidewalk and were READY from the get go.

I pretended to just be adjusting my camera but caught this swag :)

They were full of smiles.

And kisses.

And personality +

Sweetness.

There's nothing safer than a dad's arms when you're unsure.

And nothing comfy-er than mom's when you need a rest.

Look at these tiny feet!

And these little blue eyes :)

And this huge yawn from this tiny human :)

When you're two and the world is your oyster :)

When your 3 and your mom is the bomb - dig- a -ty :)

Thanks, Kaitlyn & crew for letting me capture these moments:)

Love is in the air . . .

noreply@blogger.com (sawyers5dr) — Fri, 05 Oct 2018 17:31:00 +0000

Recently Eddy & Albania were married and these are some of my favorite photos with them.

They are a very sweet and lovely couple and I pray that they will share in great joy & happiness together for many years to come!

About to deliver . . .

noreply@blogger.com (sawyers5dr) — Sun, 30 Sep 2018 23:40:00 +0000

What an awesome privilege to photogragh this soon-to-be-mamacita. In this moment, her baby's arrival was imminent within the next 24 hours! I was so impressed by Sthersy's poise and confidence, and I walked away smiling. Grinning from ear to ear at the reminder of how radiant the glow of someone that carries new life within them is and how beautiful and compelling confidence is. Thank you, Sthersy, for allowing me to capture this moment in your life! Welcome to the world, Amira Sophia!

Spanish Moss

noreply@blogger.com (sawyers5dr) — Fri, 13 Jul 2018 21:16:00 +0000

Like a curly curtain dangling from old oak branches, it reaches down to the ground, a veil of fungus never looked so lovely. A telltale sign you're in the South and that squeeters, feasting on the salty human skin of any fool found outside, and locusts, chirping in the dusky twilight, are out cutting a rug. Its the backdrop of my childhood and one of the enchanting qualities of my hometown (aka "The city of enchantment.")

Last time I was home, I found myself gazing up into its fuzzy underneath and dreaming about sunflares that could not be captured. In just a glance I was mesmerized by how orderly and messy it was at the same time. How is that even possible? You can pull a piece loose without even a tangle, yet it holds together like ants in a swimming pool.

Walking underneath it was like walking through rows of sheets hanging on the line, flapping and billowing in the breeze, light touches of them tickling my cheek as the wind made them dance like the flicker of a flame. Being underneath a cluster of tree loving jellyfish, it reminded me of being a little girl laying on my back on my bed with my head hanging off the side, my hair flowing towards the shag carpet. I can hear my sisters playing the piano in the background.

And what about those misplaced strands . . . or are they right where they are supposed to be? Who can say for sure, and maybe what looks like would be lonely is actually really peaceful, but how does something so intertwined come loose? Spanish moss.

To love like them . . . .

noreply@blogger.com (sawyers5dr) — Mon, 22 May 2017 13:52:00 +0000

These ladies are the most precious of givers to everyone around them. They quietly and deliberately serve - all the time. Serving is not a job to them, it is a way of life. I want to love like them.

There are people on this earth that have the "it" factor when it comes to showing love to others. The kind of people who are always able to focus on others more than themselves. You know the ones . . . when you are with them you always find that you are talking about yourself (even though you vowed not to and to be the one listening BUT before you know it you hear yourself sharing something that you never intended to talk about!) #how'dtheydothat OR you find that they are just naturally and joyfully making the air around you easier to breathe somehow. They see ways to help and they jump in.

Youngest asked for them to make her rice (because we don't make it like they do - she says!) and we ended up with a whole meal of rice, fried meatballs, meatballs in salsa, beans, etc. The girls so enjoyed being in the kitchen with them and learning their tricks!

You know the ones. Even though you set out to bless them, you walk away from being with them feeling more alive, more refreshed, more loved down deep. They have a way. They just do. I'm not talking about people who are avoiding talking about themselves because they are hiding from something, trying to distract, or don't want to be vulnerable or to engage personally. NO, I'm talking about the ones that just have a way of disarming others, pouring in love and blessings, those that give, give, give as if giving is an involuntary reflex like breathing. I WANT TO LOVE LIKE THEM . . . .

Several weeks ago we had some friends from the north coast come to visit. They are the THEM - some of them anyway! They have always made us feel loved and appreciated - every single one of us. On Saturday morning, I woke up to them sweeping and mopping my house and trimming dead leaves off of my plants with the kids on the porch. Like little fairies they made their way around the house - sweeping and mopping and cleaning out places that hadn't been cleaned in a long time! I was like, "HEY! NO! STOP! I did that yesterday (well, the sweeping part). Please don't clean. You don't need to do that! Relax. Rest." The oldest daughter said, "Mom, they are SO happy to do this. Its what they do. They WANT to do it. Stop fighting it. Receive." But I had planned on blessing them while they were with us! I wanted to show them the love that they had always shown us! Hopefully in some small way they did feel blessed, but I guarantee that it was not to the same extent that they blessed us. If blessing were a competion #blessfest we'd lose to them everytime, but I still want to try to love like them! Because truth be told, how is there really any losing when you are intentional about thinking about other people and looking for ways to bless them? Yes, I want to love like them.

The Sawyers love these ladies so much. They are a blessing to everyone, everywhere! Thanks for loving like Christ, Lucia and Odilcia!

#forAFry and FRESH EYES

noreply@blogger.com (sawyers5dr) — Tue, 16 May 2017 15:06:00 +0000

For what seemed like forever I was in a desert place. It was rocky, dry and sometimes I felt swallowed up by hopelessness. I struggled on so many levels and many of the things I had loved vigorously, my God given passions, seemed to have vaporized like droplets of water on a sizzling hot plate. Others didn't evaporate but I had to set some of them down for a while, knowing in the depths of my soul that the Lord would revive them at some unknown date in the future.

A refreshing began to happen in my life when I truly confessed some things before the Lord, and the overgrown elephant on my chest took a load off and dissipated into the lightest of feathers. Freedom. Even though my trunked friend had gone though, I still felt as though I hadn't been fully released from the huge divot he left on me. I was like one of those tempurpedic mattresses that hadn't been popped back into place to its original form. The pressure was gone but the impression remained.

One of my most favorite pieces of my life here in the D.R. has always been to share this country that I love through photo and story, yet my eyes had become caked with sand and my heart somewhat hardened. As I began to confess, repent and share with you all, the Lord brought your sweet comments before me in response to what I had shared and they were life - giving. Thank you.

Recently, one of my friends from years gone by who is on our prayer team responded to an email that she and her daughter (A. Fry) had been talking about what it would be like to live in the D.R. every day. Her sharing this comment with me was like a spring board to my soul and all of a sudden the caked on sand started falling off my eyes. They were made fresh again.

I have started snapping photos again, even if they are not that great through tinted windows with an old iphone normally taken from a moving car! I am seeing with FRESH EYES. In hopes of showing A. Fry what every day life is like in the D.R. it has reminded me of all the crazy and wonderful things I LOVE about this country! Things that have been here all along, all around me, yet I had been looking right passed them.

Also, since I started #forAFry #everydaylifeintheDominicanRepublic, the kids and I have had some pretty hilarious conversations about what is normal here that is not normal in the U.S. Remember that the Sawyer kids have grown up here so when I tell them to be on the lookout for things that we can share with #forAFry about everyday life in the D.R., they are unaware that much of what they see would not also be common place in the U.S.

"Mom, you mean they don't have bread trucks in the D.R?" (think of a bunch of bags of bread thrown into the back of a small 2 door pickup!)

Exhibit A: behold the truck o' carbs :)

"Mom, not many people use motos in the U.S?"

Motos (moped like bikes as well as motorcycles) are a major form of transportation in the D.R. and it is common to see small children, whole families and all sorts of cargo being carried on motos. Also, it is like 75 degrees here today. Notice the winter hat? In her defense, it prob does get chilly zipping through the streets on the back of a bike :)

"What? No chicken trucks? speaker trucks? pineapple trucks? People don't ride on top of the trucks in the U.S?"

Every day we see people riding on top of trucks like this guy on the trash truck.

The list goes on and on and on . . . . . good times!

Do you long for fresh eyes in areas your own life? Are you in a rut or coming out of the desert with sand caked on your eyes? Every day is a new opportunity to receive a new batch of God's compassions and to see His thumbprints all around us. Every day is a gift to begin again anew.

If you are on instagram or facebook, follow along with us (sawyers5dr) as we document the things that we encounter in every day life here and enjoy :)

Thanks for interacting with us! It is a blessing to all of us to hear, see and enjoy your comments!

Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. Lamentations 3:22-23

Confessions of tweenage missionaries

noreply@blogger.com (sawyers5dr) — Wed, 10 May 2017 16:06:00 +0000

Jon and I are in our mid 40's but in our lives as missionaries, we are about to turn 12. So for all practical purposes, we are tweenage missionaries (shake head and nod in agreement). We've been around the "missionary circut" long enough to have been overcome with pride in different areas. This is not something we're proud of (oh the irony!) but certainly something the Lord has dealt with us about. Pride is a silent killer so we are glad that he has lopped off branches, cut out bitter roots and reminded us who is the potter (Him) and who is the clay (us).

We've been awkard (and probably always will be), inept, ignorant and at times completely ineffective in almost every way.

We've been self-deceived, self-absorbed and self-righteous. Super ugly confessions from pimply-faced, voice cracking us.

Fortunately or unfortunately, I'm not sure which, I have been become very guarded about what I communicate (photos & writing) about our missionary life for multiple reasons:

1) The people that we have the privilege to learn and grow with/beside/alongside are just that: people. They are not projects or presentations or performances, and when I post things about them, even with the best intentions about accountability, stewardship, inspiration and/or encouraging the body, I can inadvertently convey that they are all the things that they are not. I hope you can hear my heart in this. I used to share with passionate vigor about all the people and places and "projects" and . . . . . one day I was overcome with such conviction from the Lord that it has been hard for me to find the line between sharing this missionary life with so many who take part in it through support, encouragement, etc. to protecting the people who I have so passionately and with wild abandon shared about in the past. Does any of this make sense? Please tell me it does.

2) We are not missionary circus monkeys (ok, well, maybe sometimes) and I don't mean that in an offensive, rogue, free-lancey way. We are absolutely accountable to God who called us to share Him here, to those churches and individuals that sent and continue to support us in our sentness. We do need to share stories of redemption, restoration, kingdom building, hope, salvation and edification of the body. These stories are personal, raw and very real, and they represent God moving in the life of a person(s), and that person is not a production. However, I don't want to withhold news about God's goodness either. Such a delicate balance that can be tainted by the need for validation, funding, resources, significance, etc. I'm not going to lie, yall. This issue has plagued me for the past couple of years.

I am confessing these things to you because I deeply desire to be refreshed by the Lord in this area. I deeply desire to honor relationships, both here and there, and to be wise in what I put before others so as to neither hurt nor hide.

Here is what I know:

The Lord has called me to be His, first and foremost, and TO DO LESS, which seems counter-cultural, especially having been "sent" as a missionary - shouldn't that mean we are DOING and DOING MORE? Well, yes, but the doing is less important (yet easier to demonstrate to others in a video/slideshow, etc.) than the being - in Christ, in communion, in study and fellowship, in worship of Him.
The Lord has asked me to be slow and intentional in a world that craves insta-everything. I see facebook posts and insta's and selfie's and I just want to jump on in (and I'm not saying those things are wrong in and of themselves) but my heart is wickedly deceptive. If I am not plugged into God completely, if He is not the author and the source, then I am quick to do a me dance and that's not good for anyone.
He has challenged me to pray about everything I put forth about our lives and the people around us in a way that is authentic, honoring and transparent.
He has asked me to expose my thinking about all of this before you because I have been relatively silent and still out of fear. Perhaps fear of judgement, fear of rejection, fear of criticism, fear of failure, etc. And fear's got no place up in here unless it is fear of the Lord.

So there you go, friends. If you read this, will you please pray for the Lord to give us wisdom and freedom in this area? We WANT to share with you, and we WANT you to be encouraged.

The Invitation

noreply@blogger.com (sawyers5dr) — Wed, 26 Apr 2017 14:57:00 +0000

We all get one, the invitation, but it is not always received. Sometimes we miss it. Sometimes we think that we were left off of the list, purposefully or forgotten. Sometimes it sits in a pile of things, waiting to be opened and responded to, but it is always there. Available, sent with intention.

The invitation is from God. He sends it with pristine clarity like the morning light glistening through the trees. It is gentle and soft and golden. He is there and He waits like a gift longs to be opened. AND we wait in eager expectation
to see Him,
to know Him,
to be with Him,
to hear from Him,
to be moved by Him,
to see His fingerprint all around us.

The invitation from God is
to be welcomed in,
to approach the throne of grace blameless because Jesus endured the separation from God on our behalf that we may go close,
to be loved unconditionally,
to receive grace and to offer it freely to others,
to forgive and to walk in freedom.

It is to admit our wrongdoings and turn from them; towards Him.
It is to embrace our own undoing so that we can be less and less for Him to be more and more.
It is to share with others in the midst of the undoing, rather than waiting for a digital retouch to put our best foot forward with all the ducks in the row behind it in their fuzzy perfection and straight line.
It is to say "I'm not in control of most things, but I'm tight with the ONE who is sovereign over all things."
It is to beckon the unexpected, sometimes the illogical, and often the unforeseeable because God's ways and thoughts are higher than ours.
It is to welcome the prompting of a voice inside, the Holy Spirit, to guide us to action with just a piece of a puzzle that quite possibly makes no sense to us, but for someone else is an oh-so-personal response that lets them know that God says, "I see you and I know the details."
It is to die a thousand deaths to self, but to live alive in the fullest measure of God's abundant love.

The invitation.

Man holes without covers

noreply@blogger.com (sawyers5dr) — Sun, 26 Feb 2017 13:51:00 +0000

We didn't even see it coming though we were accustomed to swerving to avoid them. In the case of months of prolonged rain, an unexpected placement on a side street and high grass growing in the gravel along the street, this one was completely obscured from view. The danger hiding beneath met the right front tire of our van with a jolting thud, violently jossling the contents of its interior with the force of a shark bite. A man hole without a cover, it wasn't what we expected.

Often times man holes lose their covers here. Every other day there is a new gaping hole right where your car needs to drive. I don't know why, but they just seem to disappear frequently. There were manholes everywhere on the streets of Puerto Plata, the city on the north coast of the D.R. where we lived for 2.5 years.

To further complicate matters, driving in the D.R. is as if the game frogger and police academy had a baby. Trying to cross the road + trying to decide what is a danger and what is not =
stopping suddenly for the 3 year old crossing traffic with a bag of eggs, but speeding up for the BIG MAC truck that appeared out of nowhere while creating a lane to let it narrowly pass as you count the driver's nose hairs because the encounter was that close.

If you are driving between the lane lines, your tires pass right over the covered man holes. (The concept of staying between the lines is rather fluid here. Drivers pass on all sides, even in the lane of oncoming traffic, turn without blinkers, stop suddenly without notice, park in the middle of a lane, swerve repeatedly, drive at night without lights, and will turn two lanes into 5 often, etc.) Did I mention FROGGER? Things are always popping out from an unknow location - especially MOTOS! Motos are a major form of transportation here, and moto drivers tend to have an invincible mentality, turning out into traffic without even looking, darting across multiple lanes of traffic, weaving in and out of stopped cars, etc.

In our case on that day on a random small side street of Puerto Plata, what popped out nearly pulled us under. It wasn't because we didn't know the danger or were wreckless, we simply did NOT know it was there. It was hidden, out of sight. One minute we were driving along and the next we were scratching our heads because we were in a hole. Can you relate?

#suckerpunch

Sometimes, despite our best efforts, we can not avoid man holes without covers, unexpected life moments that knock the wind right out of our chest. Those "what just happened?" moments where disappointment, dispair and hopelessness concoct a plan to blot out joy.

But God.

He sees us. He loves us. He is neither dismayed, startled, nor in a quandry about what to do next. His hands are not tied by our wheel that is stuck 3 feet deep nor our empty pocketbook that mocks us in the face of needed repairs. No, God is not discouraged. He is not fretful. He tells us in advance that nothing, NOT ANYTHING, can separate us from Him. He sees the #suckerpunch and says:

Come to me.

I am near.

I will cover you.

You are mine.

Yes, "man holes without covers" can cause quite a jolt, and without Him I would never want to be in one. But with Him, I know that I'm NOT stuck.

Just an example of a man hole with out a cover on a wide side street. The man hole we drove into was on a gravely side road where high grass was all around it. On this road, it is easy to avoid these because the road is wide, not full of traffic, and the hole is clearly visible (well, during the day!)

Rats, ticks & other fun stuff

noreply@blogger.com (sawyers5dr) — Mon, 05 Dec 2016 17:23:00 +0000

If you've been following along, you already know about ALL THE RAIN and the flooding in the D.R. While we have had a little bit of sun here and there in the last week, EVERYTHING remains saturated. We've already talked about the mold. Mold is old news. (Not really, but a girl can dream!)

Like a dog on the street, the water has no where to go. And with that comes some *extra special features* of living on an island. Besides the the mold, there are *other* things that are thriving, multiplying and seeking higher ground with the *added bonus* of major breeding grounds for mosquitoes (NO!!!!!!!) And may I just add, unlike the Texas Gulf Coast where I grew up, where the mosquiteos are all plump and swarmy like, the mosquitoes here are dainty and few, but very, very viscious because they cause things like tropical diseases (read "and other fun stuff!" here): dengue fever, chikengunya, zika. Who knows what new funny named mosquito causing problem will pop up next.

I don't want to alarm you - as if the mold post wasn't enough already, but if you are reading this you are still hanging in there with us: thank you! So our *newest special features* include thousands of ticks of all varieties climbing on our walls. We can't spray our yard because it is too wet. We've treated our pets but they are still covered, etc. The walls look like they are moving because, well, they are! Ticks are climbing towards the sky like our walls are an escalator to heaven. When I walk around the porch, I leave a bloody trail because I've popped ticks like I'm walking on bubble wrap. True. Story.

And then there are the SUPER rats . . . . that seem to have found a comfy and dry home under my kitchen cabinets. GROSS - on SO. Many. Levels. I am deeming them SUPER because they seem to be resilient to poison - what? I'm about to unload every peppermint essential oil vile I have onto cotton balls to see if what they say is true . . . that rats are offended by the strong smell of peppermint! Peppermint essential oil has saved me from critters on other occassions - so I am hopeful.

I am not sharing any of this with you as a complaint as I am truly grateful to be where we are and sharing the grace and love of Jesus with others. We live a life of daily adventure in the D.R. and I like it that way. Every one of you out there has *special features* and *other fun stuff* that you are dealing with too. It is my hope and prayer that whatever you are dealing with in your life - that you will struggle well. The struggle is real, but how well we wrestle through it is up to us, and often times the wrestling means surrendering it, laying it down at the foot of the cross. The Lord dispenses fresh mercy with the dawning of each new day so we are equipped to not just manage, but thrive . . . kind of like those SUPER RATS. Ha.

Gracious Tempest: When a song reaches in and massages your heart

noreply@blogger.com (sawyers5dr) — Sun, 04 Dec 2016 17:58:00 +0000

I love it when a song touches your heart in a way that you feel like it was meant for you in that moment . . . when words are bent so beautifully and poignantly that they reach in and massage your heart. I ran across this song the other day and it TOTALLY BLESSED ME, especially in a season of literal flooding and complete saturation! Yep, still raining in the D.R., though we've had at least a little bit of sunshine peak through, but I digress. This song took me right back to the place where I want to be: spiritually submerged in the grace of my loving Father! Have you heard this song?

"Gracious Tempest"

by Hillsong Young and Free

Your love towers over me
Gracious tempest in the sea
Surround me like a storm

Let your tide of mercy rain
Let it flood my heart again
Surround me like an ocean

Your love is crashing over me
It's surging like a raging sea
Immerse me in the wonder of Your love

A downpour of unending grace
Consuming all my reckless ways,
My sins submerged
Your love has saved my soul
Your love is like a storm

Your love is crashing over me
It's surging like a raging sea
Immerse me in the wonder of Your love

A downpour of unending grace
Consuming all my reckless ways,
My sins submerged
Your love has saved my soul
Your love is like a storm
Your love is like a storm
Your love is like a storm
Your love is like a storm

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ah0uydqMYhE

Do you have a song like this that is speaking to your heart these days?

A moldy situation

noreply@blogger.com (sawyers5dr) — Thu, 01 Dec 2016 12:59:00 +0000

When you don't blink twice about baking the ants in your cake mix and then serving said cake to your friends,

When things like, "Oh look, a _________ (rat, tarantula, mouse, etc. - pick one or insert your own normally horrifying creature)," roll off your tongue just as normally as "Today is Tuesday,"

When you put your mostly wet clothes away with 95% humidity in the air and it doesn't bother you (because if it did you would have unraveled a long time ago!),

When your clothes, purses, shoes, ceilings, walls, furniture are covered in (*gasp*) mold and you know that there is no use in bothering with containment,

When you've suspended reality of your former-pre-cross-cultural life and traded it in for an alternate, current, very different reality, you know you are living the dream of missions. Being a missionary can be a very moldy situation. Bare with me.

Mold is bad, right? (And we aren't talking about cheeses here!) Yes, but in a wet, tropical climate it is a reality that we contend with on a daily basis. We stare mold in the face and say, "Oh look, mold is growing on my shoes," while wiping it off and then putting the shoes on and walking forth in the name of Jesus to do His work. It's not that we don't recognize that mold is bad, unhealthy and nasty. It's just that we have to learn to not let it keep us from thriving.

It's a moldy situation in the sense that it is necessary to come to grips with living with, struggling through, thriving amidst something what was (or currently is if you are reading this from North America) a negative buzz word and minimizing it down to an everyday reality that is normal, and then figuring out how to move beyond it. Not everything can or should be minimized or made normal, but some things have to be. Otherwise, we would all be rendered useless.

I'll admit that I want a FIX when there is, say, a plague of tarantulas surrounding and invading my house/life, but that isn't always possible, likely, doable. And, sometimes the Lord is calling me to lean on Him to thrive amidst it all and not just survive, fetal positioned up in the corner. I am fairly certain that the lack of ability to "fix" things is sometimes a God send, pushing us deeper into relationship, reliance and trust in Him.

In an instant world where there is almost always "a guy for that," (that's the expression we use here when we need to find a way around a problem for which there is not an obvious direct route), especially in North America where there is access to a fix for almost every problem, we've grown accustomed to making our own way. We are mostly self-sufficient, self-reliant problem solvers - until we can't be (insert minion emoji banging head against wall here.)

There are some problems that can't be eliminated (apart from God), that don't have a "fix bugs now" button, that are way bigger than us, that are constant battles (i.e. mold), that require God to handle. Sometimes, we have to look mold in the face and admit, "I can't do anything about you, stinking mold. You are here and so am I. Lord help me!" and then move forward with the grace of God to the best of our abilities. God can handle any moldy situation in life, and He can equip us to deal with it, move beyond it, etc. He is awesome like that :)

You may not be a missionary or relate to what I've said about serving your friends ant-infused cake, but there is most certainly some "mold," in your life, a problem that you can't "fix" that maybe God is calling you to hand over to Him. Whatever your mold, God is able.

When Comfort Dies

noreply@blogger.com (sawyers5dr) — Tue, 29 Nov 2016 12:24:00 +0000

Have you ever reached for something to hold onto or to hold you in place . . . .
As if you so desperately needed that something to keep you from floating away, to tether you to this life? Ya, me too.

While I know that as a believer in Jesus Christ, there is only ONE true comfort and COMFORTER, I will confess right here and now that in the dark, desolate and desperate times, at times I have been guilty of reaching for alternate comfort, instant and vapor like feel goods to soothe my wounded soul. I don't recommend it, but I do recognize it. Ultimately, any pseudo-comfort that we hold onto - even if it is real and good in the moment, yet not from the one true source of comfort - will fall through our fingertips like a swinging trapeze bar that we were never meant to grasp for longer than a second - a person, a pet, a purchase, a purpose.

Shortly after our 20th anniversary in August, he took me to the park where a man was selling furry four-legged comfort and we came home with a 3 month old Yorkie puppy which we named Ray (Star Wars: The Force Awakens - that Ray, girl power! :) In a season of excruciating difficulties that left us wiped, worn and exhausted, I had made a passing comment about wanting a lap dog to just sit with me, be by my side and offer unconditional love as pets are so prone to do. For I was desperate for tangible comfort. While we have 2 ginormous "lap dog" mastiffs already, the thought of having something small hold me down in my still moments of the day had become increasingly appealing. He suprised me by taking me to the park that day, and we walked off with a month and a half's worth of cuteness and love. Unfortunately, Ray was not very healthy. On her good days she was a hopping delight of comfort. Her presence helped quiet my soul and met me in a vulnerable place.

In early October, after a long night of suffering and my prayers moving from "Please don't take my comfort," to "I surrender her to you - please take her quickly," she died. Her death came on the heals of some very major events and changes in our life. In my agony, I cried to the Lord, "WHY, GOD, would you allow this tiny source of comfort to leave me in this moment - a moment of being so stripped down, vulnerable and low?" I was devastated beyond devastation.

Her death ushered in a flood of intense emotion, becoming an outlet for an outpouring of gutteral utterances for all things that had transpired recently - stifled tears flowed forcefully with wild abandon. Where there had been a semblace of control over the flood gates, there was now none, an involuntary reaction to unforeseeable circumstances on every side. My insides jumped into the boat of emotion like Ray into my lap. A cloud of disbelief hovered over my life: So. Much. Going. On. My little slice of purchased comfort took its last breath as she did hers.

I had no choice and at the same time, the only choice, but to turn back to the only ONE that could satisfy the aching slivers of my broken heartedness. Even my brokenness was broken and I knew it. I clung to Ray but what I needed to reach for was Jesus. Because I have access to the GIVER of all GRACE, I am free to share my fleshy shortcomings without fear of condemnation, and He is always with us waiting for us to turn to Him. If you are reading this and you've ever clung to something other than Jesus for comfort, you either already know or will one day know that whatever that thing is, it will at some point fade away, leave, die, get used up, etc. The time is now to secure your comfort in the only source of it that won't die, Jesus.

In this season of anticipation for the coming of Christ, I submit to you truths about the coming of comfort - the kind that can't be snatched away.

Psalm 119:50 "My comfort in my suffering is this: Your promise preserves my life."

Isaiah 40:1 "Comfort, comfort my people, says your God."

Isaiah 49:13 "Shout for joy, you heavens; rejoice, you earth; burst into song, you mountains! For the Lord comforts his people and will have compassion on his afflicted ones."

Jeremiah 8:18 "You who are my Comforter in sorrow, my heart is faint within me."

Jeremiah 13:13 "Then young women will dance and be glad, young men and old as well. I will turn their mourning into gladness; I will give them comfort and joy instead of sorrow."

Matthew 5:4 "Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted."

2 Cor 1:3 "Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort,"

Phillipians 2:1 "Therefore if you have any encouragement from being united with Christ, if any comfort from his love, if any common sharing in the Spirit, if any tenderness and compassion, make my joy complete by being of the same mind, maintaining the same love, united in spirit, intent on one purpose."

God can certainly use the things of this world to be a source of comfort to us, but the only way to secure absolute comfort for all of eternity is to KNOW THE SOURCE of it and to ultimately turn to Him to provide it. All you have to do is confess that you are a flawed vessel, that you need Him in your life to make things right, and He will show up. In fact, He's right there.

Super sad to say that my little Ray of sunshine, a 20th anniversary present from Jon, died this morning. I didn't have her for long but I sure loved her. She brought me great comfort.

A photo posted by sawyers5dr (@sawyers5dr) on Oct 3, 2016 at 2:10pm PDT

The power of "NOT"

noreply@blogger.com (sawyers5dr) — Fri, 25 Nov 2016 18:02:00 +0000

The drip, drip, drip, drip, drip of a relentless stream of water from the sky has worn a blister in the pit of my stomach, like the rub of a not-quite-right shoe in the same place. Isn't it funny how something so small can make such a big commotion? Especially with persistence, a tiny bead of water falling in repeated succession will eventually create such an overflow that big things can be shifted, altered, expanded beyond the normal boundaries.

It has been raining constantly in the D.R. now longer than Noah was on the ark. Rivers have risen and expanded larger than the marshmallows on top of the sweet potato casserole. Bridges are busted up, roads are more reminiscent of the surface of the moon, dams are spilling over. Drip, drip, drip. Everything is saturated, rats and tarantulas and other creatures are seeking higher ground like the rest of us, mold grows on the walls, the dishes, the clothes. I am NOT complaining. These are just realities that come from living in humid, constantly moist and overly saturated conditions. We are beyond overflowing up in here with more rain on the way.

But the overflowing is not limited to the catastrophic type of flooding this country is dealing with right now. In my heart, there is an overflowing of gratitude for the promises of God, for this special place that He has allowed us to live in, learn from and walk alongside others in, for the ways my eyes have been opened to how He works in uncomfortable ruts and grooves created by that same rubbing that sometimes makes me feel a little sick but also a lot grateful! My heart is full because of the way the Lord has revealed more of His character through the amazing people in this country. I'm not talking about perfection, but authenticity. Like anywhere that humans are living, there is as much wrong as there is right, yet I see God in greater depth because of what I have experienced in this place. And eventually, He will make all things right. Thank you, God.

As I sit at my computer with the birds shaking out their soggy wings, the roosters calling out and a tiny bit of sun peaking through the clouds, yet knowing more rain is coming (unless God seals up the sky - which He can do should He choose!), I am reminded of the power of the "not."

"But now, thus says the Lord, your Creator, O Jacob,
And He who formed you, O Israel,
“Do not fear, for I have redeemed you;
I have called you by name; you are Mine!
2 “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;
And through the rivers, they will not overflow you.
When you walk through the fire, you will not be scorched,
Nor will the flame burn you." Isaiah 43:1 - 2

I am His. He has paid my debt and washed me white as snow. I will pass through the waters - not if but when. I will walk through the fire - not if but when. However, because of the power of "not" I will neither be drowned nor scorched! I am thankful that He is with us in every situation.

Deep calls to Deep

noreply@blogger.com (sawyers5dr) — Mon, 21 Nov 2016 14:30:00 +0000

There are seasons of life that can feel like they will take you under, wave upon crashing wave without pause to gulp for air. Soul pummelled and tumbled like clothes being swished clean in the washer, the agitation shakes you loose and you wonder, "Will I make it out of this?" Perhaps your heart is shook loose that it beats wildly yet unattached to you, all out of sync like but loudly like a wake up call. In the sleepy background, you hear its piercing announcement to "RISE UP!" yet the ringing fades away as you drift out of reach. Woundedness becomes your wardrobe, yet in the bottom of your little toe you know you are not called to wear it - not for long, not for always. Oh but that woundedness be not worn, but also be not wasted, giving new eyes to see the beauty in the broken places, to see more clearly what was always there but obscured by something comfortable. The crushing and the heavy swishing in your soul have thrust you down deep below the surface, which feels like both a retreat and a death sentence. Deep calls to deep.

In this time slot of life, there have been unending waves of grief, coming in one after the other after the other with little time to regroup. At times, the water was flat and then it wasn't - BOOM a crashing sucker punch of a wave. In other moments with eyes just above water searching the the horizon, waves for miles, we can see them coming. Whether relentlessly predicatable or out of no where, each crash thrusts us deeper, and while the twirling under water feels impossible, maybe that is the point. Deep calls to deep.

For months I have sat silently. Sometimes because there were no words. Sometimes because I needed to listen. There is both the reaction and the being intentional when it comes to handling those waves and the unpacking process is not without great difficulty or great hope. Deep calls to deep.

What is this deep calling to deep? Do you hear it too?

Why are you in despair, O my soul?
And why have you become disturbed within me?
Hope in God, for I shall again praise Him
For the help of His presence.
6 O my God, my soul is in despair within me;
Therefore I remember You from the land of the Jordan
And the peaks of Hermon, from Mount Mizar.
7 Deep calls to deep at the sound of Your waterfalls;
All Your breakers and Your waves have rolled over me.
8 The Lord will command His lovingkindness in the daytime;
And His song will be with me in the night,
A prayer to the God of my life." Psalm 42:5-8

I hear you Lord and the waterfalls of your grace, mercy and love. Yes, you have wrapped me up in the waves and breakers, rolling over me with divine promises born out of your absolute GOODNESS. The going under is a deep submergence into your peace, and not only do I surrender, but I dive in! You are with me and You are calling. Yes, deep calls to deep.

Christ Be With Me

noreply@blogger.com (sawyers5dr) — Mon, 11 Jul 2016 22:22:00 +0000

Christ be with me,

Christ within me,

Photo by Emily Craft:)

Christ behind me,

Christ before me,

Christ beside me,

Christ to win me,

Christ to comfort

and restore me.

Christ beneath me,

Christ above me,

Christ in quiet,

Christ in danger,

Christ in hearts of

all that love me,

Christ in mouth of

friend and stranger.

~From St. Patrick's Breastplate

_________________________________________________________________________________

A sweet friend sent me these words today on the heals of an attempted robbery at our house last night. May His praise ever be on my lips, and may I hold fast to the truth that He is always with me. Thank you for the many prayers that have been said on our behalf over the last 24 hours - we have felt them.

Recent glimpses part II

noreply@blogger.com (sawyers5dr) — Sat, 25 Jun 2016 19:06:00 +0000

A continuation of some of my favorite moments in the last few weeks . . .

My niece and her pal, both sweet and quiet, enjoying each other!

The heart of worship at the Mak house.

Lovelies.

Spontaneous hugs for my friend, Stephanie, from these sweeties!

Joyful spinning!

Friendship.

Recent glimpses . . .

noreply@blogger.com (sawyers5dr) — Fri, 24 Jun 2016 18:45:00 +0000

These are some of my recent favorite moments.

My new friend Kerri could be an Anthropologie model. She is getting her hair done at Salon de Chichigua!

Most photogenic baby girl ever! One of the things that I love here is how neighbors take care of each other as their own - always.

This chicken knows where to go to hide from Annabelle, the chicken chaser.

The glance. Love it.

People I love with people I love. My nephew.

Hugs are passed out freely here, but this one is special. She has been on a trip here for 3 years in a row and kids know and remember her.

Tug of war of love. Sisters fighting over someone who loves them and seeks them out on a daily basis!

First graders at VBS cheering on their classmates in a three legged race.

More glimpses to follow :) What would you like to see more of?

Cien por Ciento (100%): The van saga

noreply@blogger.com (sawyers5dr) — Thu, 23 Jun 2016 23:57:00 +0000

On April 14, 2016, one day into our 6 week medical stay in the U.S., we received word from the D.R. that the head gasket on our van motor was fried, done, toast. We sent $ to some of our D.R. friends via paypal to ensure that the work to replace the motor could begin - in hopes that it could be completed by our return on June 1. We checked in every couple of days to make sure that progress was being made so that when we returned we would not be without a vehicle - 6 weeks is a fair amount of time for a major repair, right?. Well, it was NOT ready, and as of today, June 23, it is STILL not ready.

Our second vehicle is a beater of an old jeep that on various occassions has had the drive train fall out. Well isn't that cute? It does get good gas mileage because it runs on propane. However, for a family of 6, it doesn't function well as our only running vehicle since it only seats 4 (but hey, we live in the D.R. where 6 people can ride on a moto (motorcycle or moped) - so from time to time we do what we have to.)

So, everyday since June 1, 2016, the day we arrived back in the D.R., the mechanic who is working on the van has told us, "Cien por ciento, manaña, esta lista!" Translation: "100%, it will be ready tomorrow!" Jon has been up there multiple times a day checking in on the "progress" which has obviously been slower than s l o w. The process to repair it has been RIDICULOUS (and YES, I AM YELLING!) Orphan Annie was right, "Tomorrow is only a day away," but how many tomorrows is it going to take to get our van back????? Well, my friends, we will wait and see.

Here's the deal: we are fortunate enough to have not one car, but two - which is totally a luxury here. Many of our co-laborers on the field don't have cars but use public transportation only. I don't want to grumble or complain, but have an attitude of gratitude - even when I am super frustrated - because I don't want to offend the Lord or those around me by diminishing these gifts!

One thing I've realized is that I grew up in and many of you are reading this from a place where customer service is somewhat of a right, and that business culture generally embraces the philosophy that the "Customer is always right." If, as a customer, things are less than satisfactory, there is always a course of action to take to bring some resolution to your dissatisfaction - talk to a supervisor/manager, get your money back, a new product, the opportunity to give a bad review, write a letter, affect change, etc. It doesn't work that way here, which has been a painful and eye-opening process to be a part of.

After all, you don't want to burn a bridge with the person who has your van in pieces because you need them, even though their 100% is actually more like 00%. In the U.S., we would just take our business somewhere else, but you can't always do that here. I wonder if there is a lesson in here somewhere? What do you think? If you were in a bad situation (not life threatening) as a consumer and had to stay in it, what would that mean? How would things be different? What would resolution look like? You can't always get up and go somewhere else here when things don't work out as you expect, though you may want to - but I wonder if maybe there is a nugget to be harvested in this situation? Just curious about your thoughts. Are you guys out there?

P.S. In the near future, "Si Dios quiere/If God wants," we will likely be investigating and launching a campaign to replace our current vehicles with more reliable ones so that we can spend less time worrying about cars and more time doing what the Lord has called us here to do.

When Sewage Pops Up in the Street . . . in Front of Your House

noreply@blogger.com (sawyers5dr) — Wed, 22 Jun 2016 16:42:00 +0000

A couple of times a year, on our nicely paved street, up out of the circular cement cover in the road seeps liquid sewage. Because of the slope of our street, the liquid stink rushes to reach the curb along our sidewalk and drains towards our house, creating a small mote of stinkiness around the front of it. Nothing says, "Come in. Stay a while. Welcome to our home," quite like this. It is lovely, the smell, and difficult to disguise. Because our doors are literally always open when we are home (air flow purposes), we can taste the aroma while we eat dinner in our house or on our back porch. It is a special feature of our current location, but also a great reminder.

Life stinks sometimes. Bad things happen. People get sick. Things don't work. There are misunderstandings. Systems are broken. People are broken. I am broken. There are painful question marks in places where we desire answers - even hard answers in place of the unknowing would be nice. A million heavenly scented candles can't cover up the stink (believe me, I have literally tried to mask the stink of the sewage in front of our house.) I have also tried to distract myself from the stink of brokenness with healthy distractions and unhealthy ones - sometimes they both work, temporarily, but what happens when the stink remains and the distractions fade?

How do I leave the aroma of Christ when stink is all around me - or even when the stink is me? How do I live a life pleasing to Him, blessing others and gloryifying my Maker and the giver of life, when the stink is so overwhelming?

Like the taste of stink in my mouth, the struggle is palplable. I taste it on my lips every day, and especially during a season of breakdowns of various kinds (our van has been at the mechanic's for 9 weeks now - but that is just the tip of the iceberg.) The struggle is real. The battle is on. So, I am writing this to myself, really, because I need to work through in a very real way what it looks like to thrive in Christ regardless of the circumstances around me. In short, I want to leave the aroma of Christ, not sewage, regardless of my personal situation.

Here is what I am focusing on:

Worship God.

Job is obviously the perfect example of someone responding to personal tragedy in praise and worship to the Lord. This is what he does in response to hearing that all of his livestock, servants and sons and daughters had perished:

"At this, Job got up and tore his robe and shaved his head. Then he fell to ground in worship and said: Naked I came from my mother's womb, and naked I will depart. The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; my the name of the Lord be praised." Job 1: 20

(Our circumstances might not be as devasting as Job's but our posture needs to be as devout towards the Lord as His.)

Remind myself who He is and who I am.

He is the KING. I am His adopted daughter.
He is the potter. I am the clay.
I deserve nothing. He gave me everything in Christ Jesus.

"20 On the contrary, who are you, O man, who answers back to God? The thing molded will not say to the molder, “Why did you make me like this,” will it? 21 Or does not the potter have a right over the clay, to make from the same lump one vessel for honorable use and another for common use? 22 What if God, although willing to demonstrate His wrath and to make His power known, endured with much patience vessels of wrath prepared for destruction? And He did so to make known the riches of His glory upon vessels of mercy, which He prepared beforehand for glory, " Romans 9:19 - 23
Trust and obey.

I need to give up my need to fully understand that which I can not begin to comprehend (God's ways and thoughts), and I also have to give up my desire to be understood by others (because Pastor Wileman says so). Sometimes it is a major stumbling block for me - that whole deeply desiring to be understood by others - so I'm just going to lay that at His feet where that belongs. If anyone understands what it is like to not be understood fully by others, its Jesus, right? My stuff is nothing compared to His.

“As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts." Isaiah 55:9

I obey because I love Him.

“If you love Me, you will keep My commandments." John 14:15

Obedience is better than sacrifice.

“Has the Lord as much delight in burnt offerings and sacrifices
As in obeying the voice of the Lord?
Behold, to obey is better than sacrifice,
And to heed than the fat of rams." 1 Samuel 15: 22

Claim His promises.

God's word is full of promises, and here are some of my favorites for difficult times:

"Draw near to God and He will draw near to you. Cleanse your hands, you sinners; and purify your hearts, you double-minded." James 4:8

"Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High
will rest in the shadow of the Almighty." Psalm 91:1

Who doesn't want to rest, truly rest, in the securest place of all?

"The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.” Exodus 14:14

Yes, that being still part is a bit of a doozy :)

These are some of the tools I am using to fight the stink away. This is not a cover up job (like spraying lysol over vomit) but an actual fool-proof plan for being able to thrive in Christ in the midst of brokenness. I'm the fool and He's the King :)

P.S. Here is a link to a great article about finding peace in the midst of a bad situation that goes into a great deal of detail and lists key bible verses.

Look for a Hand

noreply@blogger.com (sawyers5dr) — Mon, 20 Jun 2016 12:10:00 +0000

Squatting at her laundry tub beside her house with her skirt tucked between her legs, her eyes danced with joy and sorrow. She greeted me with a hug and as our cheeks touched, she grabbed my hand and pulled me into her home with a sense of urgency.

Her parents are sick. She is an only child. She needs to leave for Haiti in the morning to take care of them and she doesn’t know when she is coming back. But THIS is her home and she has been here in this community for 40 years, she says. We pray together with her lips quivering and me fumbling with my spanish and her filling in words for me when the silence grows too long. I grapple with all of the emotion that has filled her home as we stand there hand in hand. I am humbled by this sweet sharing of a burden by my sister in Christ, M, and her grabbing me by the hand with such urgency and intention was a gift to me.

Moments earlier, and for weeks, actually, I have struggled with the despair that some issues in my own life have presented. Quite honestly, I have felt like I am drowning in discomfort, discouragement and despair and the magnifying glass of the mission field in the blazing Carribean sun has intensifying properties. Discouragement, dischord, disunity are all powerful tools of the enemy, and while I have done my best to armor up in His word, with His truths as my offensive weapon, I confess that many days I have been rendered useless. I have let circumstances steal my joy. I have allowed difficulties to dictate my worth. I have believed lies.

But God . . .

He was in that moment where sweat and tears mingled in the sweltering heat under her tin roof where everything she owned was visible to me - not her pots and pans, laundry tubs, clothes or bed, but the richness of God’s spirit indwelt in her, the bittersweet sacrifice of the trek she was making on behalf of those she loved, and her desire to pull someone into her pain for a moment to share in the immediate burden that was hers, and now that is also happily mine. I needed my eyes to be redirected to another’s need rather than my own. How many among you would welcome the hand of another woman vulnerably and intentionally letting you into her pain to share in the burden of it? Is it not a gift to be pulled in?

If you are in the midst of an overwhelming struggle right now, I pray that you will also receive the gift of an outstretched hand of another whose challenges you may not know about. A little divine perspective goes a long way, not because we want to feel better because someone else has it way worse, but because there is a bigger picture that we need to see that is obstructed from us when we are focused on our own pain. M’s hand in my hand was a divine wake up call to guard against fixating on my own difficulties and to wake up to the gifts and opportunities He has for me today. It would be so sad to miss something so beautiful because of hardship, and I would have if she had not grabbed me by the hand!

I don’t know if I’ll see M again. I hope that she will be able to return to her home. She allowed me to snap this photo of her in front of her house right after our special time together, and it reminds me to look for a hand that needs to be grabbed and also to look for a hand to pull in when I am in need. There is a time for each and the Lord is in both.

I invite you today to ask the Lord which hand to look for in your life right now.

The Undoing of the Undone

noreply@blogger.com (sawyers5dr) — Tue, 09 Feb 2016 16:09:00 +0000

I unravel for His glory.
I am the undone.

The undoing is the thorn that makes me shriek back, the knee jerk pulling away from the pointed ping of pain, the saving of self, which is actually the losing of self. It is the shattering of my pride, the fraying of the person on the outside set against the person on the inside longing to be loosed yet clinging to the twine of me as it unwinds. How can one cling and reach at the same time?

I am the undone.
The hot mess.
The exasperated and striving in my own energy. The recovering people pleaser who can no longer please, not for lack of trying, but for misdirected efforts, each one like another loop unloosening. Like a missing but active debit card that can't be traced in the mail, the potential to destroy, to drain, is that thorn -if taken at face value.

The thorn is actually the saving grace because the pulling away on one level is the drawing close on another, and this is where the unraveling gets goooood and His glory begins to shine through. Holes are poked in the outer shell of me, the one that longs to be excellent, well - liked, valued, sought after - some idols are glittery and obvious while others masquerade as things that are good and reflect the collective hearts of many. Tears reach for the hard tile at the agony of the hole poking, yet the exposure of the holes is indeed the very thing that makes the LIGHT shine forth. IF the unraveling leads to more LIGHT, and when a heart is torn, tender and tuned into the Lord, it does, I welcome the undone. Undo me, Lord.

The undoing of the undone is the divine wash cycle of redemption, where the lost are found, the blind see, the foolish things, like single socks, are somehow used to shame the wise. It is the Lord's untangling of a snarled rat's nest because one clung too tightly to something other than Him. Yet, in His grace, He doesn't let the mess blockade His ability to burst forth. The glorious sun's rays aren't hindered by a delapitated shack on the horizon. The glorious son's love isn't hindered by my brokenness.

The piercing hurts, and the holes are visible but can you see Him? I unravel for His glory. I am the undone.

Oh Christmas Tree

noreply@blogger.com (sawyers5dr) — Wed, 09 Dec 2015 18:15:00 +0000

Gravel and grit.

Tires and tinsel.

Rawness wrapped in lights,

beauty in the umbrella bones star reaching towards heaven, a dead branch planted in a tire vase . . .

The tire tree and dead branch tree duo, created by the residents of Pancho Mateo, a community outside of Montellano where a gravel road extends towards the mountains and frames in mixed culture neighbors, Haitians and Dominicans, is my most favorite Christmas tree EVER (and I do LOVE Christmas trees of all kinds and sizes . . . . another post).

Even though I LOVE taking photos of others, unfortunately rather than have an artful approach to our own personal Christmas card, I have a "get 'er done" mentality, resulting in non-smiling, awkwardly natural moments like this one. But that's beside the point . . . I love the little guy climbing on the branch tree beside them. I love how something that is dead, like I was before I knew Jesus, represents the life of Jesus-baby-man coming down to earth to bring life!

It's the very thing I imagine Jesus would love, humble and sincere, constructed by a community with heart, one NOT devoid of very real, daily, palpable struggle nor authentic human spirit, the kind that says "GOD IS WITH US."

I don't want to romanticize the hardship of this community nor gloss over the strained relations that definitely exist here, but this tree represents unabashed creativity, authenticity, unity of spirit, neighborly togetherness, and ultimately HOPE. It is a MOST BEAUTIFUL tree.

That God would bring new life to a stump . . .

A new shoot would spring forth from the old root . . . . thank you, Jesus, for coming. Thank you, God for sending Him. Thank you, Holy Spirit, for making me aware of my need for Him.

Isaiah 11: 1, 10

OUT OF THE STUMP OF DAVID'S FAMILY WILL GROW A SHOOT -
YES, A NEW BRANCH BEARING FRUIT FROM THE OLD ROOT . . .
IN THAT DAY THE HEIR
TO DAVID'S THRONE WLL BE A BANNER OF SALVATION
TO ALL THE WORLD.
THE NATIONS WILL RALLY TO HIM,
AND THE LAND WHERE HE LIVES WILL BE
A GLORIOUS PLACE.

YES, OUT OF THE STUMP WILL GROW A SHOOT -

Jesus love. Photo love. My Picture Project.

noreply@blogger.com (sawyers5dr) — Mon, 10 Aug 2015 12:20:00 +0000

Jamie, on a mission trip with Makarios this summer, is being escorted by Makarios student Luigi who is helping her locate some of the kids she took pictures of back in 2008 while she was on a mission trip with Makarios.

A watered seed grows. A heart longs to beat alongside its maker. A girl dreams, doubts, questions, seeks. An eye sees and a soul perceives. For far too long a gift given has sat only partially unwrapped - torn wrapping paper with just a corner of the box peeking through. The gift: to look through a lens and see such incredible depth and beauty, to be charmed by the slightest expression and drawn to rusty, raw backgrounds and candid, unposed moments shared. And now, the Lord is telling that girl to use the gift as a bridge, to share the art with the subject, to share Him over the exchange of a photo.

It's like when I picked up a camera on foreign soil, a new breath filled my lungs and my mind, my heart, my eyes delighted in all that I could see through the keyhole of my camera. For a long time this girl struggled with how to use this gift for His glory. Photos are meant to be shared, and in this slice of time much of the sharing happens over the internet, for all to see, a display of that moment in time. Over the years, I have posted photos of many people and things from my host culture, because I find them fascinating, interesting, vulnerably beautiful and I see Jesus everywhere I look.

However, this girl knows He is not calling her to display these photos in particular for the world. It's much smaller and much bigger than that. HE is not calling her to display them for the praise of man, but to share them with just one person at a time in praise of Him, the person being the subject of the photo, God in them being reflected back to my lens, and then shared back with them 4 X 6 style, but not to be contained by those constraints! And to not just share the photo, but to pray over the person who's expression and heart it contains, to fill the blank canvas on the back with a scripture called to mind just for them, and to share Jesus - because really what the girl sees through the viewfinder is Jesus in her subject, even if the subject is not aware of Him yet or has not claimed Him yet, they are still created in His image.

Jamie taking a photo of a beautiful young lady holding the photo that Jamie took of her when she was just a girl.

This girl has known about this particular calling for almost a year now and has been dragging her feet at getting started in sharing the photos as a bridge for sharing Jesus. But then the Lord used someone from a team here recently, Jamie from Austin Ridge Church, to kindle the little spark that He had lit in me months ago. My new friend Jamie had come on a mission trip in 2008 with Makarios and she had taken photos of many of the lovely kids that live around Makarios in Tamarindo and in the other communities. When she returned this summer on another trip, she had with her printed photos and was hoping to find the kids in them to see them again and give them their photo.

Ivi's family and grandmother laughing, reminising and staring in wonder at how Ivi went from a girl to a young woman over the slice of time between the photo and now (7 years!)

God allowed me to be a part of a few of those moments with her and I KNEW He was giving me a tangible, living, breathing example as well as encouragment to move forward. As I watched families go bonkers over photos of their child from 2008, my heart began to swell and beat with renewed vigor about my unique calling. Jamie and I had only just met, but when I saw her photos and then heard what she was doing with them, I knew that God had set a divine appointment with intentions to motivate the girl who knew the what but questioned the how. I had already printed many photos and prayed about what verses to put on the back, but they had been sitting in stacks on my desk, though on the day I witnessed Jamie's photo exchange I actually had photos for one person in my purse. Coincidence? I think NOT.

So . . . . to be clear . . . this is what I know the Lord has called me to right now in this season of ministry on the mission field in a very personal way: That when I take a photo of one of my friends in the communities where Makarios serves, that I would print out the photo, pray over the person in the photo, ask the Lord to give me a verse for that person that I will put on the back of the photo, and then return to the community and give the photo to the person who is in it and share Jesus with them.

I am intentionally sharing this calling with whoever reads this for several reasons: 1) I am terrified and I need accountability (I have a million excuses to not obey God in this.) 2) I need partners in this project because I am going to run out of printer cartridges and paper for my Canon selphy and I don't want lack of resources to be one of my excuses for not following through with this. 3) Maybe there is something that the Lord has been calling you to - a whisper in your heart that has been blotted out by the noise of distraction, excuses or doubt - and you need a little encouragement to move forward. Sometimes the Lord sends a "Jamie" to stoke the flame or a Rachel as a reminder :)

I'm the girl. Photos are the vessel. Jesus is the message.

Will you pray with me that they see Him, receive Him and are blessed and encouraged?

The day the gate fell

noreply@blogger.com (sawyers5dr) — Sun, 09 Aug 2015 00:22:00 +0000

It could have turned out differently, the heavy metal gate falling on a body. I thought he was dead as I watched in slow motion horror, the kind where you see something happening that you can't stop, as it reached towards the concrete with the heaviest of crashes, a young man beneath it's metal massiveness. Splashes of bright red dotted the asphalt on the road as I watched them evaporate in an instant and the brightness of red could be seen gushing from his hairline, the plumber's son, as the finial on the gate took a bite out of his forehead.

My heart, beating like that of a hummingbird or then again had it stopped pumping?, flittered with the not so distant flitter of trauma, and without a moment the plumber's dad and I lifted with the strength of God and angels, the heaviness of metal off of the young man, the plumber's son. He slipped out from underneath, took a few steps and crumpled. A neighbor across the street, a doctor, having just pulled up began barking commands in Spanish . . . "GET HIM IN THE CAR! FAST! HURRY! GO STRAIGHT TO THE HOSPITAL! FAST! HURRY!" With the numbness of panic washing over me, I opened the passenger side door to the plumber's truck, the plumber's son fell onto the seat, and the red truck and my neighbor doctor sped away.

I stood there. In the road. The gate in all of its shiny metalness layed in the road like a welcome matt for vulnerability, fear, panic. I called Jon, and my breathing went into some sort of crazy dance that broke my words apart.

Later, two grown men tried to move the gate out of the street and were not even able to pull it apart by an inch from the cement beneath. Kind neighbors told me not to worry, that God was in control, and we stood beneath the shade of their tree and stared at the gate lying in the road.

Jon arrived, having had a 15 minute drive to become deeply entrenched in trauma commander mode, a coping mechanism he came by naturally earlier in his own life when his family underwent a major trauma of their own, and while my emotions spilled over, his were absent. Like water and oil in the same space, our ways of coping repelled the other at a time that closeness would have been a much better remedy. We reconciled the moment, recognizing that when uncorked emotion meets compartmentalization, there is work to be done outside of the trauma site, but time pressed us to keep moving. A moment to be revisited later.

The life of the plumber's son, 16 or 17 years young, there to help his dad fixing our pump, is a miracle. He escaped the gate with only 8 stitches. No ruptures, fractures or broken bones. Just hours later the gate repair man retold stories of how many people have died under the weight of gates that have fallen - that did a number on my uncorked emotion as I wondered why all gates here don't have the safety poll in front of them, that the gate repair guy would be installing that day to rehabilitate our fallen gate.

Nonetheless, the day the gate fell tenderized my heart to hear some things from the Lord. In my reminded brokenness, that our earthly, bodily life can evaporate as quickly as blood on the steaming pavement, I broke free from some paralyzing sentiments. A new friend told me to "Be free!" It was regarding another matter (or was it?), but the soft echo of her words were soaked up as if my soul was a dry sponge. Words spoken to me by human lips on that day were received as divine by nature, the rawness of the day's events having opened my soul up like the mouth of a baby bird reaching for sustenance with it's beak in the air. Yes, be free.

Miracles do happen. God IS in control. And once again, the message to walk in the fullness of His love, mercy and grace, not handicapped by fear of man, fear of oven, spiders, or gate, fear of death, has been received.

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A special thank you to those who prayed for the plumber's son and his family and for me on that day last week and in the days following. God is good.