Out of the Ashes

                      I love doors. I always have. Recently while at a conference I got to explore old Budapest and see many doors.  I found myself taking pictures of many of them, and as I did the Father began to unfold an illustration in my head. When we see doors, especially with locks and chains or worn down, old and haggard, we are quick to turn away thinking they are closed.   Maybe we look at them as work, and think we don’t have time to try to open that door and see what lies behind it. I was reminded that the Father opens doors no man can shut, and shuts doors no man can open.   It made me question, how many times do I see a door and think of it as shut and walk away or give up, when the Father is desiring to open it.   In the same sense, when are there open doors that He is saying, “enough is enough, I want this door closed!” and I have missed the opportunity. Often times the door isn’t just open.   You have to knock. We have to seek it out, and seek it i

Most of you know me well enough to know I LOVE children.  In the states teaching kids, and working with kids was my joy. Here in India, nothing has changed.  One day while I was walking home from the market, I smiled at a little girl. Her name was Mahek.  Mahek is the youngest daughter of a family of 9 kids. She greeted me and we chatted a bit on the road. Holding my hand, she invited me into her humble home. With a dirt floor and no door to cover the opening we made out way easily in off the street. Her family welcomed me with a bit of surprise, but also with great joy and smiles.   Mahek and her family have become some of my closest Indian neighbors.  I visit them regularly. Their MuZli* family shares their ways with me, and I share my ways with them. We are real and laugh and have fun together. We are not afraid to be our true selves together.  They are patient with my Hindi and quick to forgive my poor grammar.  But more than any other family, I can sit for hours and hours at

I am in a waiting period.   The Father has spoken some very real and raw things to my heart, but He is asking me to wait. I have had to wait before, and go through periods of seeking and waiting, but this period has a new sense to it all it’s own. Anticipation, excitement, questions, concerns, joy, impatience, frustration, a mixture of all different emotions floods my heart. I feel like Abraham when he was promised to be the Father of many nations.   He knew it, and believed it, but the timing was not in His hands.   I feel like Mary, given the information that she would be the mother of the Me$siah, and yet she was told, “hide these things in your heart”. It seems unbearable at times.   It seems impossible at times, but like Abraham and Mary I must have faith, and trust, and wait, and let the L*rd do His job. I am reminded that before I came here, the Father told me I was waiting. Now I am here, and He is having me to wait.   Sometimes we wait because we want to.   Som

I have spoken before of my neighbor Rajani. We have become closer and closer over the weeks of living in my new apt. She feels free to enter my house, especially when I have other ladies over.  I have been sick the last few days, so I have had many visitors.  She has come with many of them, and sat, and checked in on me. She offers me food and care daily. Through our time together, Rajani has shared about her loss. Her husband died 3 years ago.   Though she speaks of it rarely, I know it’s a deep pain and loss in her life.   She shares the tragedy of how he fell from the mountain, broke many bones, and was killed. I have been able to share with her my love and Dad’s love for her.   I have told her I will pr*y for comfort for her, and have pr*yed with her as well. Just this past Sunday, we sat and remembered the anniversary of His death together. One day I was sitting in my house just quietly worshiping the Father, and she came in.   She listened to the sweet words of a so