A Folded Check Slipped Into My Hand

Every so often throughout our decades of ministry, someone will slip a folded check into my hand. This happened recently, and I quickly thought, How lovely. Perhaps it is a gift for the women in the Global Bag Project.

Mary Ogalo had just graduated 11 seamstresses, awarded them certificates of achievement, and presented each with her own sewing machine (part of the value of which they will pay back to buy machines for other seamstresses who complete training).

Because I was talking with other people, I stuck the check in a pocket just to make certain I wouldn’t lose it in the joyful confusion of meeting and greeting.

An industrial-strength sewing machine with dual controls for electricity and for manual operation (when the power goes off in Kenya, which it is always doing) costs about $325. You can imagine my amazement when I opened the check and discovered it had been made out to me personally and that it was for $5,000. The short message on the distribution line indicated that it was to be used to spread the love of Jesus. I was left in kind of happy shock!

So as soon as I got home, I wrote a thank-you note and said, “I would love to know what God whispered to your heart?” Then I wrote out a $900 check for the Global Bag Project, a $300 check for a friend whose husband has had a freelance job but has not been paid since February, sent $1,000 to the Brendan and Kailey Bell fund to contribute toward paying down their catastrophic medical expenses. I put some money aside so I would be able to pay our friend from Mexico when he had a day here and there without work; the funds would help him and his expertise would help me. The rest I divided between my Hungry Souls ministry and a donation to Mainstay Ministries.

You get the idea—I had joy, overflowing joy at being able to share the generosity shared with me. Indeed, I spread the love of Jesus, absolutely happy with being able to do so.

When we teach about the God Hunt, one of the four categories we use to help people identify God’s intervention in their everyday lives is that of “help to do God’s work in the world.” This is a prime example. Go find some examples of your own.

I spy God!

Open Heart, Open Home

In Open Heart, Open Home (over 500,000 copies in print) award-winning Karen Mains steps far beyond how-to-entertain you hints to explore the deeper concepts of Christian hospitality-the Biblical way to use your home and an open heart to care for others like God wants us to. Countless pastors have recommended this classic resource as the meaningful example of how the Holy Spirit ministers to and through us to make other people feel truly welcome and deeply wanted.

Perfect for any womens bible study group, especially when used in tandem with the Opening Our Hearts & Homes Bible Study.

This new edition contains 54 helpful ways to make hospitality work whether you live on a country farm, in a house in the suburbs, or in an apartment in the city. Everyone in your bible study will appreciate the life-changing principles of this timeless classic.

Grab Your Copy of Open Heart, Open Home Now!

Comforting One Another

Comforting One Another uses Michelangelo's Pieta as a metaphor for learning how to comfort those hurting in life.

Author Karen Mains references her personal pain experiences, and unfolds a theology around the meaning of mercy, with pietas from art, literature, film, news photography, poetry and real life building pictures of how God's love can demonstrate itself through us in tangible ways in today's modern world.

This is a book for those who are suffering and for those who want to hold and comfort those who are suffering.

Karen defines a pieta as any person or group of people comforting and holding those who are broken or suffering, and in need of the healing touch of our Lord.

Get Your Copy Now of Comforting One Another Now!

Which Comes First?

Looking out my dining-room window on the barren March backyard, I saw the string hammock we purchased some 20 years ago, swinging forlornly between the two trees to which it is attached. Through the decades it has gone grey, but today I thought, Oh, I should really get a new hammock. That one looks pretty used.

Believe me, it has been used. Nine grandchildren, the oldest of whom is now 21 and the youngest of whom is now six months, have all swung to and fro in the hammock in the backyard.

I didn’t think about it any more. Come summer when the trees, bushes, grass and flowering plants are all green, when the four bright-blue pillows are bouncing on the string hammock, I’ll forget how forlorn and worn it looked in March. Because notes in my own grandmother’s hand, written to record some of the history of her family, indicated that her mother—my great-grandmother—had died after a fall from a hammock, I always check to make sure the hammock is solid. This grey hammock is sturdily attached to the two trees that guard it; not a string is frayed, not a knot untied.

It would probably serve us well for the next decade.

To read more, click HERE.

The Divine Offices

This week Karen is in the Dominican Republic directing a film shoot for Medical Ambassadors International. She would appreciate your prayers as you read these blogs. Filming in another country, on a low budget and without knowing the language can be tricky indeed. Shoot crews are well aware of their need for God’s help. Thank you.

The Divine Offices: A Manual for Prayer by Phyllis Tickle includes four of the seven Daily Offices: Morning Prayer, Noontime Prayer, Evening Prayer and Compline.

I love reading the Morning Office early with my husband—but even so, there is rarely a week where we hit a perfect score—Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday. So during this Lent, I had a bright idea: I could read the four daily offices by myself without my husband (what a thought!). It has been a rich journey so far. Today’s reading was for the “Wednesday Nearest to February 17” (I am writing these blogs mid-week, in order for them to be edited and sent to our dear friend Dean Wilson, who sets them up and posts them)—quite a system to devise a reading plan that takes people through the year, no matter what year.

The flap copy on the book says, “The Divine Hours is the first major literary and liturgical reworking of the sixth-century Benedictine Rule of fixed-hour prayer. This beautifully conceived and thoroughly modern three-volume guide will appeal to the theological novice as well as to the ecclesiastical sophisticate. … The third and final book in the set, Prayers for Springtime, provides prayers, psalms, and readings for this season associated with rebirth.”

The Midday Office for the Wednesday nearest to February 17 is Psalm 113:

“Hallelujah! Give praise, you servants of the Lord; praise the Name of the Lord.
Let the Name of the Lord be blessed, from this time forth for evermore.
From the rising of the sun to its going down let the Name of the Lord be praised.
The Lord is high above all nations, and his glory above the heavens.
Who is like the Lord our God, who sets enthroned on high but stoops to behold
          the heavens and the earth?
He takes up the weak out of the dust and lifts up the poor from the ashes.
He sets them with the princes, with the princes of his people.
He makes the woman of a childless house to be a joyful mother of children.”

This is becoming a rich Lenten feed. You are also welcome at the table.

I spy God!

Flying Standby

My whole trip from Chicago to Modesto, California only cost $10.50—and that was my ticket for the Bay Area Rapid Transit from San Francisco to the end of the line at Dublin/Pleasanton where I was picked up by my hostess for that night.

By God’s great grace, “buddy” passes have been made available to David and me for this year; for only the cost of the taxes, we can fly anywhere this airline flies, in the States and overseas. So far there have been no taxes on any of my stateside flights.

Over January and February, David and I will have traveled miles worth the amount of $2800. The projections for March total about the same.

However, leaving San Francisco on Friday and what became Saturday morning was not quite such a positive experience. After my board meeting and a two-hour drive hitched with one of my colleagues, I waited in line at a very crowded gate for the red-eye flight that was scheduled to leave at 10:05 p.m., arriving in Chicago at 5:30 the next morning.

There were eleven names in front of me on the posted standby list, the flight was listed as full, and I began to have increasing doubts about making it out that night. Parents were waiting with their kids, grandparents were smiling indulgently at their rambunctious grandchildren, and I suddenly realized that it was the Presidents’ Day holiday. One mother explained, “The kids have the whole week off school, so we are heading out.”

Not such a great idea, planning to fly standby on a holiday weekend. One final red-eye was scheduled to leave from a gate nearby, so when names of the standby passengers who did not make the 10:05 flight were deleted from the public screen, I rushed to the gate of the 10:10 flight, only to find the door was closed. “Too bad,” said the gate attendant. “There was one empty seat left on the plane.”

I determined that from that point on, I would be just a little bit more proactive. If my instincts told me to move fast (the gate attendants are supposed to automatically roll the surplus names along to the next flight), I might make a point of showing up and questioning the fact of an available space by myself. My name had not been rolled over in time.

Earlier, because I arrived at the airport around 5:30 p.m., I had scoped out what I thought was a secluded spot behind a check-in counter with a row of seats without armrests. If I had to spend the night in the airport (thinking it would defeat the purpose of free airline passes if I spent the night in a nearby airport, wouldn’t it?), this was the space to plop. I hauled my leather tote, taking squatter’s rights over the empty corner, used my tote as a pillow and spread the blue wool shawl given to me by a dear friend. It was perfect blanket for a 70-year-old woman airplane-stranded due to too many holiday travelers.

I discovered that airports after 12 o’clock at night are not quiet places. The overhead lights stay on; I pulled out my eye shades, earplugs and stretched the wool blanket over my head. I still could hear the extraordinarily loud automatic announcements that rotated every five minutes. They were now even louder because there were no passengers coming and going through the aisles and gates: “Contact security if you notice any abandoned luggage…” “Subway sandwich stays open between 12:00 and 4:00. You will have to re-enter at Security when it opens.”

A group of night workers congregated in the gate area where I was attempting to sleep. Washrooms were getting cleaned; busy vacuums sucked up debris on the carpets and bare floors; carts with their beeping signals hastened back and forth on the tarmacs outside my windows; gated airplanes were being straightened inside and their tiny kitchens stocked for the early-morning departures.

I thought of all the people in the world who sleep in the transit centers that take folk here and there, back and forth, to business or to family gatherings—buses and trains and airplanes that carry hopeful travelers on the adventure of going on holiday.

Why was I sleeping in this airport? Why hadn’t I found a hotel? After all, all the other travelers waiting in line had gone somewhere—maybe home, maybe to more comfortable lounges I didn’t know about. While trying to fall asleep, I considered this question. I hate to spend money if I don’t have to—reason number one. In addition, by the time I found a hotel, took transportation to a hotel, checked in, got to my room and into bed, there would only be a few hours for me to sleep. Reason #2: I hate security check-ins! I’d rather sleep in an airport (particularly if I can stretch out) than go through those security lines again. Most of all, I wanted to be in the standby line early (6:05 a.m.) to see if I could take the first flight home.

I was content to sleep, like so many other thousands, in a transit center—at least for one night, but I did wonder slightly, dozing in and out of wakefulness, why the Lord hadn’t nudged me onto that empty seat to Chicago. And if not me, why not one of the other standby passengers eager to leave?

I spy God!

Familiar Faces at the Gate

The e-mail messages for this trip to the Dominican have been flying in flurries; there is so much to remember and to do. Copies of the film script need to be made in case we misplace our work scripts, and there may be a reason for other people to look them over. The shoot list, a schedule of must-get shots, needs to be prioritized and sent to the videographer; a day agenda of where we will be shooting and when must be compiled. The translator who volunteered to help needs to be contacted with information as to when we will need her. (Nothing complicates an out-of-the country shoot any more than the film team and the principals speaking different languages.)

David coached me on making sure we hit the bottom line of the script. My adult children, many who are involved in media—film, video and television—reminded me that this is a visual medium. Content is important they said but if we don’t get enough B-roll, there isn’t enough to work with in the editing room and the project is left with way too much talking heads.

I e-mailed Dr. Bibiana MacLeod, the Regional Coordinator for MAI in the Caribbean, and said, “Two days out from departure and I am getting the nervous-jervies; I am certain there is something major that I am forgetting.”

Phone call from the videographer: “Say, Karen. Are you sure we have reservations at this hotel? I’ve called and e-mailed, and they say they have no record of our names, and the hotel is full for the night of our arrival.” We both had visions of arriving in Santiago, gathering our luggage (including two carts of video and sound equipment), finding a taxi and arriving at the hotel, only to discover they indeed had no room in their inn and we would have no place to stay. Our couple on the ground was working in Cuba, to return shortly before arrival. Another e-mail to Bibiana for translation.

To read more, click HERE.