tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-75340368246550517882024-02-21T04:53:43.116-08:00Savoring the little things of life in UgandaKeith and Laura Beth McFarlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503262528818987280noreply@blogger.comBlogger29125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7534036824655051788.post-61608153020802540162015-01-25T06:58:00.000-08:002015-01-25T06:58:58.156-08:00Growing Young<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Almost thirteen years ago this young girl of twenty-one flew to Uganda...So full of ideas, fears, hopes, expectations, innocence, and negativity. She would slip on her double knotted running shoes and jog on the same dusty pot-holed paths I find myself running on today. <i>Where has that girl gone?</i><br />
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I am no longer twenty-one and my skin shows little wrinkle lines to prove it. Lines where smile and joy meet my face, reminders of precious moments not wasted. My heart and body bear the marks of carrying and delivering five little hearts and one in the making. <i>Thank you Jesus.</i><br />
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Children born over the last decade now reach from my knees to my shoulders, no longer tiny souls who simply demand. <i>Hallelujah.</i><br />
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Expectations, ideals and negativity have been broken wide and have given birth to a deeper security, an anchored hope, grounded on the Rock. <i>He is the faithful One.</i><br />
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Fears that once plagued me daily are now a rarity, as God has graciously used my husband to lead me into daily, moment-by-moment confession through my fears. Little did I know I was my own worst enemy. <i>He carries the weight on His shoulders.</i><br />
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In looking back, I am struck by the profound change God has made in my heart. He has given me a joy and even anticipation to grow older, to lose myself in Him. The words of Jesus echo in this heart, "<i>If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it </i>(Matt 16:24-25)."<br />
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As I <i>lean in and lose myself</i>, He clothes me in grace to eagerly anticipate years, decades with Him, if He so chooses. In the words of David, "<i>Those who look to Him are radiant, and their faces shall never be ashamed </i>(Ps. 34:5)." His radiance is my glory, even as my earthly body gives way to the curse.<br />
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I can now say without hesitation, "I am a life-giving woman, beautifully made in His image." <i>He is good to me. </i><i>I am not perfect. But I am secure in Christ. I grow young as I grow old in Him.</i><br />
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Keith and Laura Beth McFarlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503262528818987280noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7534036824655051788.post-11238042866993112252014-10-19T04:14:00.001-07:002014-10-19T04:20:51.827-07:00We look to YAHWEH<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
A few weeks ago we sang a simple chorus in church that keeps coming back to my heart, like a hungry child who cannot seem to get full. Those words sung by a few hundred people with rhythm only done right only in an African church.<br />
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"<i>We look to Yahweh, Yahweh. Forever Yahweh, Yahweh</i>."<br />
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Do you hear it? I still do. I decided to look deeper and let my hunger, God's hunger, lead me to more.<br />
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Yahweh is God's proper name, derived from "I Am", another favorite of mine. My curiosity with <i>the Name </i>propelled me to the words of John Piper, commenting on the worth and value bound into this great name:<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">God is the most important and most valuable reality and person in the universe. He is more worthy of interest and attention and admiration and enjoyment than all other realities, including the entire universe.</span></span></blockquote>
In all reality, there is nothing in the universe more important and <i>exciting </i>then looking to and beholding Yahweh. Why do so many other things seem to compete with my heart gone hungry, shouting their supreme satisfaction? Why do I end so many days feeling like I have simply beheld myself or my burdens from the day?<br />
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Recently I heard one of my Ugandan father's say that the way he judges a day as successful is not according to what he has accomplished or failed to accomplish, but by whether or not he has <i>enjoyed God. </i><br />
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After mulling those words around for a few days, I was in my kitchen rolling tortillas for dinner to come, arms deep in rice flour. My thoughts, like my day, were only on my work until our Ugandan son quietly stepped into my domain. We had a simple exchange of how are you's, then he gave me food for thought with his parting words as he walked away, "<i>Enjoy your work, Auntie.</i>" Instantly I was reminded of how enjoying my work entails enjoying God. <i>Look to Yahweh. Enjoy Him.</i><br />
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My thoughts return to the rhythms in my heart, choosing to look and gaze at Yahweh in spite of a messy home with guests due to arrive and flu wracking my baby-man's chests. When I look to enjoy Him, I give my time, my heart. Even this mama-gone-busy, in a world swirling with more chaos then I'd like to embrace at times, can look to and enjoy Yahweh, especially revealed in the face of Jesus Christ. It's in these moments, with my ears open, when I suddenly catch and <i>hear</i> my daughter belting out with reckless off-key abandon, "Behold our God, seated on His throne, come let us adore him! Behold our King, nothing can compare, come let us adore Him"<br />
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<i>Enjoy your work. Enjoy your God. That's a successful day.</i><br />
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Keith and Laura Beth McFarlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503262528818987280noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7534036824655051788.post-83908573266878593302014-08-25T12:35:00.000-07:002014-08-26T08:42:22.363-07:00"First we have coffee..."<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
When I was young, my mom had a special biography among her stacks of home school books called "First We Have Coffee" by Margaret Jensen. I remember seeing her read it more then once, savoring its pages like they were some of her own story. I remember asking to read it as a child and heard her say, "One day Honey. You're a bit too young.." Twenty five years later, she handed me and my three other sisters a copy. Keith and I were about to leave Illinois with our car packed to the hilt. I stuck it in the pocket of the door, hoping perhaps I'd get time to read during the nine hour drive. Traveling with five children means little to no book-for-mama time, due mostly to the "Mama, my tummy hurts" (to which I whip out the peppermint maneuver) or the "Mama, can you play 'I spy' with us?" time beater. Best of all is Keith's don't-leave-me-to-a-book/nap plea. I am certain my Dad must have told Keith early on that the way to a successful road trip was to never let your wife take a nap or get lost in a book, unless she's reading it out loud to you. Of course, Keith uses the "I'm so tired plea" to keep me engaged with him. Alas, somehow this trip was different. I slyly pulled out my book and was whisked away to the 1930's, drinking coffee with a beautiful Norwegian family, who's blood, sweat, and tears were real and true while serving our living God. I was reminded of the importance of taking time to care for people over our family table, with care and with coffee. Not just other people- this included my little people.<br />
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There's something beautiful about sitting around the table over a steaming cup. Thoughts, feelings, emotions, sorrows and dreams tumble out. Ears seem to open and hear. This is what we call "Family Tea Night". Yes, sorry to disappoint. We are not serving our children coffee. Just. Yet. We started this tradition after we returned to Uganda, following our anniversary day trip to Kampala. We were sitting in a gorgeous restaurant, drinking tea, thinking, remembering, and envisioning for our future. Our children's hearts were discussed, especially in light of the recent transition back to Africa. It dawned on us that we needed to set aside time at the table to ask safe and heart revealing questions over a steaming mug of tea. We realized that we can't go farther into their hearts if we don't know the beginnings of their thoughts and questions. First we have coffee/tea, then we can (Lord willing) know their hearts. Thanks Mom, for making our home the same. May we hear the hearts of our young ones and all who sit at our table.</div>
Keith and Laura Beth McFarlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503262528818987280noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7534036824655051788.post-28387919712600071822014-08-22T02:19:00.000-07:002014-08-22T02:21:38.719-07:00August Update<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Have you ever dreamed in another language? I think over the
years my (Keith) dreams have included smatterings of Spanish, Luganda and even
Kinyarwanda. It gets even stranger when my worlds collide in my dreams. It often
happens during times of approaching cultural transition. I can find that I am
with Ugandan friends doing Ugandan things but in American places, or
vice-versa.</div>
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But have you ever dreamed <i>for </i>another language? It happens to me quite often these days. I’m
wide awake, but I find myself dreaming for the Luganda speakers all around me.
It is probably connected to the current Luganda Institute class. Many have been
unable to attend the Institute over the twelve years of its existence because
the teaching is in English. Instead, they have been “teased” by the testimonies
of friends or family who have been able to attend. Now that they are walking
through “the journey of transformation and relationship,” they are eager to see
what they are learning explode out into the villages all around them. I’m eager
too.</div>
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<b><i>Will you pray with us that every church around us will be able to offer
its own Institute (which is simply intensive discipleship) in the days to come?
</i></b>This is a central part of our church planting/strengthening/multiplication
movement that is on the horizon.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXrWAJIUsVYvWkNMvC58oE_kla02lztFx8ROUn5aRL1cunZUImDPluLeMAMs4WlkRWxS7Wd56B-VTp0rFBoQc5BH69pU1ikIwJ2tsZ9mk2k5AIWNqdSjB5qZGu6SuUP-5gMgyjyCe8U2Sv/s1600/Luganda+Class+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXrWAJIUsVYvWkNMvC58oE_kla02lztFx8ROUn5aRL1cunZUImDPluLeMAMs4WlkRWxS7Wd56B-VTp0rFBoQc5BH69pU1ikIwJ2tsZ9mk2k5AIWNqdSjB5qZGu6SuUP-5gMgyjyCe8U2Sv/s1600/Luganda+Class+2.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYFOAqjGUc_Zy3dA5fZsilUZt-iv-v1X8C1_4Bn5MxN78huLS9WbwPe8Znm2nopUnx80o4ttI1DRWCAH2B7Rx8sLYTXNmeYlGE355Ed297-AgX5kO3SVLAPUxlcRbNzWPjnt1X0yamJ4jb/s1600/Luganda+Class+3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYFOAqjGUc_Zy3dA5fZsilUZt-iv-v1X8C1_4Bn5MxN78huLS9WbwPe8Znm2nopUnx80o4ttI1DRWCAH2B7Rx8sLYTXNmeYlGE355Ed297-AgX5kO3SVLAPUxlcRbNzWPjnt1X0yamJ4jb/s1600/Luganda+Class+3.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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Paul Kusuubira teaching on the Orphan Heart</div>
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<b><i>One other area that we are inviting you to pray with us on is our
support. </i></b>This is a topic that I do not enjoy bringing up and am
typically reluctant to discuss. In fact, our desire is to mention our direct
needs and our ministry needs once in a year. Our hearts are not to burden
anyone in this area. We are aware that our heavenly Father knows our needs and
cares for us completely. We also recognize that many people do genuinely want
to know our needs, both for prayer or for contributing to them. We understand and submit to the beauty of II Cor. 8-9,
recognizing that genuine partnership is both a give and take on both sides in
various means, both for blessing to one another and thanksgiving to our Father!
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<b><i>So what are our financial needs?</i></b></div>
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<i>Monthly Support:</i> We
definitely need monthly supporters. Our monthly support is just level with our
monthly paycheck, at times below and at times just above. We do not have
separate “ministry” and “personal” accounts, so when any needs related to the
work we do arise, we have no way to reimburse them. So things like work
permits, travel, plane tickets, maintenance, or any ministry purchases (like
books, etc.) either comes out of our pockets or has to be raised separately.
Quite a few months this year have found us taking less than half a paycheck
because of these things. </div>
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Because we are a small mission, we do not have things like retirement, kids education, etc. planned into our support. Having anything at the end of the year to put toward retirement rarely happens. Increasing our monthly support would help with some of these things.</div>
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<i>Personal Ministry
Needs:</i> As mentioned above we have specific needs related to living and
working here in Uganda. As of now, we have $0 for these expenses.</div>
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Work Permits: It’s a bit complicated and includes various
fees, but I’ve tried to simplify it all here. $925 for a 3 year work permit for
Keith (if they grant 3 years); Dependent Pass for Laura Beth: $275; Dependent
Passes for Elliana &Malakai: $550; Student Passes for Elisha, Noah & Isaiah:
$1350</div>
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Plane Tickets: While we will not need these until the end of
2016, the cost for our family to fly one-way is normally around $5000. We would
love to begin saving towards this now so that as the time approaches we are not
scrambling for the funds. Plus, it’s nice in case of an emergency to have this
amount on hand with New Hope Uganda Ministries.</div>
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Construction and Maintenance: After we got back to Uganda,
Laura Beth said to me, “How many more years do I have to wait for hot water?”
Of course, it was with a smile on her face, but I hear her heart. I like the
cold showers, but she freezes (graciously). This would be a bigger project as
we’d have to re-pipe the house and add a solar hot-water tank. We would also
love to add on a small bedroom to the house. These are special projects and would need to be raised as specifically designated funds.</div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">If you are interested
in any way to partner financially with us, here's the info:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">For online debit or
credit card giving, designate missionary giving and the McFarland Family via</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://newhopeuganda.org/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #1155cc; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">newhopeuganda.org</span></a></span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">or click: <a href="https://www.givedirect.org/give/givefrm.asp?CID=11859" target="_blank"><span style="color: #1155cc; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">https://www.givedirect.org/give/givefrm.asp?CID=11859</span></a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">For direct giving,
checks can be made out to New Hope Uganda Ministries. Include a note
designating McFarland Support and mail to:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">New Hope Uganda
Ministries (NHUM)<br />
PO Box 154<br />
Belle Fourche, SD 57717-0154<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Thank you for praying for us and for caring for us in so
many ways!</div>
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Your Partners in Him,</div>
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Keith and Laura Beth</div>
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Keith and Laura Beth McFarlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503262528818987280noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7534036824655051788.post-29610332769135071092014-07-31T01:43:00.002-07:002014-07-31T01:49:43.108-07:00Family July Update<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgswC08nN1aVJHkKOoqHofJYQbk-QNUAPsoHQwuW8POu7pgJyNlOe_fbmluyqK6elzVKCZznKnRklV91C91dwU9Iljv_-z6XoAAjXxgHwQYd5kVgtoer1uDumsPiEN2oEc8HphmH5lTxDNt/s1600/Woodland+Kingfisher.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgswC08nN1aVJHkKOoqHofJYQbk-QNUAPsoHQwuW8POu7pgJyNlOe_fbmluyqK6elzVKCZznKnRklV91C91dwU9Iljv_-z6XoAAjXxgHwQYd5kVgtoer1uDumsPiEN2oEc8HphmH5lTxDNt/s1600/Woodland+Kingfisher.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">(Woodland Kingfisher with a Gecko- taken in our front yard)</span><br />
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It is beautiful this time of year. The rains are upon us,
the air seems cooler, the ground is being worked, and our sweet corn seed is in
the ground. Everyone is busy digging and planting, all in the hope of a coming
harvest. I love how the Gospel abounds with these images- labor, planting,
watering, growing, harvest. In many ways it is exactly where we are at as a
family and as a ministry.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi__vx0V9jXsuNFWqOORzysB3hZ_ZHjQAM0so-bIkpRdHObOtG1FoCIeODWmHieweF5HgYOcXdbx7u_zN7KAxSblm6k9AHa2YHttlPzw_C2XMDGnuhVNFQBMju7WnXkmaj-mNY8LuFYoPL1/s1600/Plowing.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi__vx0V9jXsuNFWqOORzysB3hZ_ZHjQAM0so-bIkpRdHObOtG1FoCIeODWmHieweF5HgYOcXdbx7u_zN7KAxSblm6k9AHa2YHttlPzw_C2XMDGnuhVNFQBMju7WnXkmaj-mNY8LuFYoPL1/s1600/Plowing.JPG" height="188" width="320" /></a></div>
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(<span style="font-size: x-small;">Keith's Cousin Kelsey Learning to Ox-Plow with Samuel Family)</span></div>
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We are settling well into our Ugandan home, now that we've
been back for more than six weeks. Our
children are enjoying their summer, playing Risk and Bang, collecting and
counting bottle-caps which they make into a battlefield, climbing trees,
reading hundreds of pages daily, and speaking in thick Ugandan accents. We are
enjoying our children here, making and developing new patterns of growth as a
family. A few we have continued or just started are- family tea and sharing night,
before bed dance parties, Monday night tacos
and worship, and Friday family night. These traditions have and continue to bind
us together no matter where we are on the globe. <b>Pray that our children's hearts would continue to be soft toward God
and toward us as we shepherd them through these days.</b></div>
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<i>We have officially
moved into our post-ten year phase of ministry here in Uganda.</i> While we're
not yet sure exactly what that means, we feel the significance of the season
that we are entering into. We have labored intensely, planted, and watered. We
ourselves have grown and matured as a family and individually, all <i>unto</i> something that is yet unseen. <b>Pray for us that our Father would lead us
clearly in the ministries He has called us to here in Uganda. Pray for wisdom
and insight as we walk forward in what He has put on our hearts and before us.<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<i>Strategic planning is
something that I (Keith) absolutely delight in.</i> I am wired to dream,
envision, and think strategically about moving towards those ends out of a firm
foundation and consistent vision. We are at a place in the ministry here where
we are strategically re-evaluating everything, with the hope and firm belief
that greater things are yet to come. As we look at the Childcare and Family
Institute, the Pastoral Training Institute, and the Church and
Church-planting/multiplying/strengthening ministry, we are convinced that God
is preparing us for significant growth and changes. <b>Pray for clarity as we look ahead, and pray that God would give all of
us in leadership unity of heart and mind in the things we are to pursue and
change.<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<i>Our first ever Luganda
Institute is under way.</i> No foreign students. No English (unless
translated). Fifteen students from our ministry and the community around us. We
are just finishing up moving through worldview foundations, African worldview,
and Western worldview. The plowing has occurred, the soil is soft and is now ready
to receive the good seed that promises a harvest yet to come. These students
are excited and wide-eyed! <b>Pray with us
for transformed hearts and minds, marriages and families, churches and
communities through these lives being deeply impacted. Also pray with us that
God would graciously allow this discipleship-oriented, life-impacting training
to be offered THROUGH THE CHURCHES all around us in the days and years to come.<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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Thank you for praying for us and being a part of this
journey of following Jesus.</div>
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For His Glory,</div>
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Keith and Laura Beth (and the Mc-F-Clan)</div>
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Keith and Laura Beth McFarlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503262528818987280noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7534036824655051788.post-68774773718468794702014-07-30T00:31:00.001-07:002014-07-30T00:31:32.607-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0px; line-height: 1.4;">Today I'll be sharing a guest blog, written by my dear friend Mary Britton. I had more then a few giggles reading it, as she featured our family in her </span><span style="font-size: 15.199999809265137px; line-height: 16.799999237060547px;">writing</span><span style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0px; line-height: 1.4;">. Take a few moments to read Mary's perspective into our daily lives (at NHU) </span><span style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0px; line-height: 1.4;"><i>in community and living with the unknowns always at our doorstep that can determine the outcome of our heart posture for the day. </i>If you want to hop on over to her page to find more of her heart out on the </span><span style="font-size: 15.199999809265137px; line-height: 16.799999237060547px;">blog sphere</span><span style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0px; line-height: 1.4;">, it's</span></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 15.199999809265137px; line-height: 16.799999237060547px;"> </span><a href="http://www.brittonsinuganda.blogspot.com/" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 15.199999809265137px; line-height: 16.799999237060547px;">here</a>.</div>
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<a href="http://www.brittonsinuganda.blogspot.com/2014/07/the-grace-to-give-thanks-for-unknowables.html" style="color: #33aaff; text-decoration: none;">The Grace to Give Thanks for the "Unknowables"</a></h3>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">I didn’t know how I was going to get through this day. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">I had a roughed out plan, but looming large over me was not knowing the “unknowables”. Will I be able to handle the interruptions with grace, find joy in the required interactions, bring peace when I feel I’m lacking? I thought of my friend Susan and wondered if I should call her to pray with me. The phone rang and Susan’s name filled the screen display. I smiled, encouraged that God would speak to my friend to call me. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Of course she first asked about me and I gave a vague, non-detailed answer, “not really ok.” I deflected attention and asked how she was. Her inflection fell a bit, “Not really ok, well, fine physically, but the rest is troubled. My uncle died this morning.” Immediately the focus shifted from “HOW can </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px; text-decoration: underline;"><b><i>I</i></b></span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> get through this day?” to, “God, </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px; text-decoration: underline;"><b><i>You</i></b></span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> are with me in these moments in which I must use your strength to comfort and encourage another.” </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Fortunately, I was already dressed and ready for the day and was able to be with her on site here at New Hope within minutes of the phone call. We talked briefly, she shared a little about him and I prayed for her. I’m thankful for our faithful God who gives us, broken and wounded vessels, the words and wisdom to strengthen others in their sorrow--even when our weakness seems overbearing and immovable. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">As we finished she stated that she needed to see Uncle Keith, her supervisor, to tell him about the death and her need to travel to the burial. I wanted to visit with LauraBeth, his wife, so we set out together for their home. On the path we were joined by Betty, another staff member who was also making her way to the McFarland home. Three people representing different areas of the ministry in which the McFarland’s lives intersect, arriving at their front door before 8:30 am. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">No wondering about whether or not they’d be awake, up and around--they have five children from the ages of one to twelve. No surprise that there was plenty of noise flowing out of the screened windows as we approached and lots of activity throughout the house, even spilling out onto the veranda. Still, it was early and obvious that not all the basic preparations for the day had been completed. I noticed that LauraBeth quickly moved to a back room and donned herself with the acceptable clothing for visitors. I felt a bit uncomfortable calling on someone so early; for my Ugandan friends, it was just life--what we do. Life’s struggles mean that we live and move among our friends at all hours of the day and night--no need for fitting within acceptable social parameters for when to call on someone. Life is lived and death is processed 24/7.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">As Susan pulled LauraBeth and Keith aside to deliver the news, I interacted with the McFarland’s visiting cousins who’d come from Florida for a 3-week visit. And I couldn’t help myself when Noah, one of the young children in the home, misidentified the placement of the stomach---right then and there we had anatomy class and everyone was enlightened. Ah, molding young minds to know where sit the liver, pancreas, stomach and intestines--such bliss, and all before 9 a.m.!</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">As the cousins excused themselves to go tutor at the primary school, the children ran outside through all available doors, and I felt I was in the middle of a live “Family Circle” cartoon--you know the one with the criss-crossing paths of dotted-lines of the kids movements ALL OVER the cartoon picture? </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Then, suddenly I was drawn back to the room when Keith called Betty and I into their circle with Susan for prayer. Here I was gathered close and holding hands with believers, calling on the Living, Holy, Loving Father, the One who never sleeps. The privilege of the interaction was not lost on me. Me, so weary just an hour ago and now being built up by words speaking the truth--even though the catalyst for their utterance was grief.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">It was a still, peaceful, connecting time with the Father of all comfort. And I was grateful for the powerful ways God fills us with what we need to live and move and have our being in Him.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">And as quickly as we’d come, Susan returned to work, Keith took one of the kids with him to where he was going, Betty left and LauraBeth graciously invited me to sit and talk awhile. I wish I could be so gentle and welcoming when numerous people descend on my abode! </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">As if she had time to shoot the breeze, she did. We talked of homeschool, visitors, house activities, recent events and we prayed together. I am thankful to live where we live, among the people we live among. Challenges? Yes! But, the sufficient means in relationships given by God to thrive. Grateful and humbled at the Goodness of God in His people. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">As we spoke “Amen,” her young daughter arrived to reiterate the happenings at the playground. Once we surmised that one of her brothers sustained a wound (large or small we weren’t sure), and that he’d cried (but wasn’t crying now), and that they needed mama and a bandaid (and the bactine, which she reached up on her tip toes to grab from the desk), we realized the rest of our day was upon us.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">We walked together until the paths diverged and spoke our blessings over each of our days as we parted.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">I wanted to keep an attitude of thankfulness alive in me and so I remembered with gratefulness how full my morning had already been. I spoke to the Lord in prayer as I walked home, overwhelmed with His ability to turn the tide of a seemingly sorrowful day into one of strength and contentment.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Once home again, LauraBeth texted to say that it was a good thing she went to tend to the wound as there was also a big, hairy, stinging caterpillar in her toddler’s hair! A few texts later she marveled that <b><i>all </i></b>of this had happened before 10 a.m. And in one final text came the revelation that “ALL” EXCLUDED BRUSHING HER TEETH! </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Yup, some days are like that. The “unknowables” you pondered at 5:30 a.m. disclose themselves as a lack of ability to get the basics done due to unexpected, early interruptions in the daily schedule. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">And thank God for it, because without such interruptions we’d all have moved into the day without the richness of relational interaction that fostered encouragement for us all.</span></div>
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Keith and Laura Beth McFarlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503262528818987280noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7534036824655051788.post-4286900662911029062014-07-20T11:45:00.001-07:002014-07-20T11:45:39.567-07:00The act of giving thanks<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I realized that I often write and bear my soul when I've walked through a grievous, heart wrenching or soul seeking experience. Those are my moments when God pushes, provokes even me into writing until I sit and pound at these keys until something is birthed out of what is swarming around me or churning inside my soul. Today is not one of those days. Instead I want to share a few peak moments from our week here in Uganda. I'm going to try to do this more at times, so you can have eyes into our regular life. This is also a gracious grace to my heart as I look ahead to the next week. Sometimes I can think there is too much mundane, too many trips with a child to the potty for my life to be exciting. But as I look through these moments and remember, I am made full again by the act of <i>Eucharisteo. The act of giving thanks.</i></div>
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This was last Sunday! Our New Hope Thanksgiving, where we take time to celebrate what our Tata (Daddy) God has done through this past year. It was glorious! This is us with Samuel family and some of its associates. Our kids made it through a 4.5 hr day of church! Lunch was at 3 pm, and boy did we enjoy it!</div>
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We do a thanksgiving "march" with all of New Hope before entering church.</div>
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<span style="text-align: left;">Sometimes a little girl just needs a few creative moments with her mama. And even boy #1 joined in and strung himself a necklace! </span></div>
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This picture represents how life here is not always that simple. When we travel into Kampala, it is a 1.5 hr hour drive in with traffic usually waiting us on the other end. It can easily be 2.5 hrs in the car before reaching the grocery store. The roads are long and gorgeous, with no Starbucks or Dunkin' Donuts on the way. Back in the gluten filled days, we would grab a chapati on our way through Kiwoko, but those days are long gone. Instead I usually bake something like this in order to have breakfast on the road.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Yes, that is a bird in his container next to him. This week he found a delicate baby bird, sitting in the stroller. Of course, Isaiah made him feel at home in our home. :)</div>
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This does not really need any comments, but this is for cute factor. I love his hair after a bath!</div>
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This week was our mini-Envisioning, so Keith and I were gone in sessions two days this week. One afternoon I came home to 5 stir-crazy kids wanting a water fight. So they got it! I enjoyed sitting with a cup of coffee, savoring their energy and excitement. </div>
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Get ready for this one!</div>
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These are the flying ants of Uganda! They are literally a local delicacy. It's cracked me up to see how excited Isaiah and Elliana have been to eat them again! Zae collected this all on his own and put them in the frying pan. Most people eat them raw and squirming, but some like my kids saute and salt them!</div>
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I let him do it himself. Ewwww...those ants were doing a crazy dance when we turned on the burner!!!</div>
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Loving their snack!!! Even Malakai enjoyed his ants!</div>
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Last month, we had hundreds of mangos falling off our trees. Keith did most of the cutting and froze them for the day I'd be able to make something out of them. </div>
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My sister-in-law gave me an old fashioned apple sauce maker, which turns out some mean mango butter!!! Thanks Angie!!!</div>
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Mango butter, in all its glory. Does it not just make your mouth water?! I made a batch with cinnamon too, for some added dimension. </div>
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Just one week, so many special moments in which we can lift our hands and say "How great is OUR God!" <i>Thank you Daddy for these moments, clothed in simple grace. Eucharisto. Once again my heart is changed by giving thanks. </i></div>
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Keith and Laura Beth McFarlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503262528818987280noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7534036824655051788.post-41231609805002935552014-06-30T10:28:00.000-07:002014-06-30T10:28:00.072-07:00Hoping for Heaven<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Over the years I've been to many funerals and burials. In fact, I believe I attended 21 funerals by the time I was 22 years old. Then we moved to Uganda. Death here is not foreign. In fact, it seems as common as paying one's school fees. It is an unwelcome visitor that comes knocking on the young and the old, unbiased by age, status, or prestige. Today was one of those days where we sipped the bitter gall of a life now gone, <i>hoping for Heaven. </i><br />
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This morning Betty came knocking before 7 AM, bearing the news of a double death. We lost one of our past 'daughter's' and former Childcare and Family Institute employee. She was one of those young ladies who's smile and deep round eyes bring joy to my mind as I think of her. She was quiet, gentle, and loving. She left New Hope a few years back, with her womb full of her first born son and <i>her heart seeking love in places gone wrong.</i> Four years later, her second born, a daughter, died within her. It seems from what I understand, toxemia took her life along with the baby. </div>
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In these moments of culture and burying people, true lineage is most important. In this case, the body of the mother went west to be buried with her family, and the baby was brought out here to rest in the ground near the home of the father's family. It seems so odd to my western mind -<i>mother and baby, both two in one flesh just yesterday, torn apart and buried nowhere near one another today.</i> So with this in mind, we knew we were going to the burial of this precious nameless baby girl.</div>
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After a quick lunch and in the heat of the day, I gathered my little Malakai into my arms and carefully strapped him to me with my sling. I cautiously climbed sidesaddle onto Keith's boda-boda (moterbike), tucked my skirt around me, and held on to Kai's head while we bumped along the dusty path until we reached Mama Jane's house. Mama Jane is our friend and employee at the Institute- she is the mother of the "husband" and grandmother to the baby. </div>
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All was quiet around the simple brick house, as the body had not yet arrived from Kampala. I removed my shoes and stepped into the silent house, carefully whispering greetings to the women seated on the floor and in the few chairs around the home. Mama Jane stepped out to greet me, holding on to me <i>like only a mother would </i>for more then the brief moment or two a normal hug allows. Malakai squirmed within the sling, but he was gracious enough to give us this time.</div>
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Within a few moments, the baby's body arrived. I had stepped out of the house to greet newcomers, then returned to where a group of woman were dressing the body. As I peered into the casket, the baby's tiny face appeared. <i>Resting peacefully in the arms of Another.</i></div>
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Mama Jane and another older Jaja (grandmother) carefully dressed the babe, putting her into a sleeper with snaps down the front. <i>Dressing her like they'd dressed their own babies now grown. </i></div>
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Blanket after blanket were handed to them by the three women next to me, until she was carefully swaddled like every newborn I've ever held. Hearing sniffles next to me, I looked at the three blanket bearing women. All three of them are close to my age, in the prime of bearing children and holding them on their hips. All three have wrapped a baby and buried him or her deep down in the dirt. <i>Given back to the One who gives. </i>I hugged Malakai's sweet blonde curls close to my neck, savoring his life, his breath. My mind wandered to his little form, <i>His life bound to my side pricked my heart. God's gift. Malakai -God's messenger. All these babies are God's gift. I won't let the world tell me otherwise.</i></div>
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We all shuffled out to the garden, where weeds and plants had been hacked away for our feet to trample next to the small hole that had been dug in the rusty African soil. Familiar Jesus-loving songs were sung as we listened to God's name being lifted up while tears tugged at our eyes and our hearts. Such heartache and tragedy to partake in. It's too much at times to understand the loss, the grief, the pain of death. This world is tainted, groaning for it's redemption. <i> It's only in the future glory we can hope and cling to without disappointment. </i></div>
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I read through this writing by Charles Morris (via Ann Voskamp) this afternoon while processing all of this. I cannot say it any better: </div>
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"<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 18.200000762939453px;">To see His face, to have His hand wipe away every one of those tears we still weep, to be remade in Him, to enter into His joy—</span><strong style="font-family: Georgia, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 18.200000762939453px;"><em>that’s our hope.</em></strong></div>
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And it’s more than just our own personal hope; it’s the hope of the entire world. It’s more than knowing we’ll go to heaven when we die; <strong>it’s knowing the day of the Lord is coming when Jesus will remake the cosmos." </strong></div>
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Until then, we wait. Not as those without hope, but with a hope that cries "Maranatha!" <i>Come, Lord Jesus, come.</i></div>
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Keith and Laura Beth McFarlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503262528818987280noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7534036824655051788.post-6417440237337530392014-06-26T23:55:00.001-07:002014-06-26T23:55:09.892-07:00Family Update<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: 13.333333969116211px; text-align: left;">Written by my favorite guest writer, Keith McFaland</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 13.333333969116211px; text-align: left;"> </span><span style="font-size: 13.333333969116211px; text-align: left;"> </span><i style="font-size: 13.333333969116211px; text-align: left;">If anyone comes to me and does not hate his own father and mother and wife and children and brothers and sisters, yes, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple. </i><span style="font-size: 13.333333969116211px; text-align: left;">Lk. 14:26</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.333333969116211px;"> The call of the Gospel comes to each one of us in different ways and in different circumstances, yet it always comes powerfully with the same foundational calling- die to yourself, count the cost, lay down your life and follow. Our Lord’s words have hit us in our complacency over and over again on our journey of faith, revealing our comfortable self-seeking hearts, while gently drawing us back to the place of surrender, even of those things that we hold dearest.</span></div>
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When we left the States ten years ago with our ten month old, ten bags, and anxious hearts, we felt deeply the rending from family and cultural familiarity. I remember Laura Beth crying as we sat on the airplane as she thought about her Mom missing out on Elisha’s growing up. She shed tears because she couldn’t even say ‘I’m sorry’ for taking away the joy of a grandparent watching their grandkids grow up. The rending we felt was painful, yet the joy of surrender and following Jesus was before us.</div>
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Over the years we have had the privilege of growing into two families, one on each side of the world, as we have experienced the reality of God’s Kingdom, where we are adopted into this beautiful cross-cultural, multi-ethnic bride, and given the gift of Family. When we left Uganda a year ago to return to the States, we felt the rending from family on this side of the world more powerfully than ever before. It was genuinely difficult to return to the States for the year, a testimony to God’s grace in our lives and the depth of relationships that He has gifted us with here. We both found ourselves saying “I’m so glad we’re not leaving permanently”.</div>
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Now, after a year in the States, incredible time with both of our families, the birth of a new niece, the wedding of a precious sister, weekly taco night with cousins, the healing touch of the life-giving community at our church, we sat on the airplane with that ol’ so familiar feeling of rending. But this time, as we count the cost, we know the beauty of the gain that accompanies it. We are looking forward to what our Father has for us in this season that He has us planted here in Uganda. Will you pray with us as we settle back into life here? Pray that our Father would give us clear leading and direction- that we would be a blessing to the family here, as we labor to live the Gospel and bring God’s Fatherhood to the fatherless and to the families of Uganda.</div>
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After probably the best flying experience we’ve had as a family (which of you were praying for God’s grace and covering as we traveled?), we arrived safely in Uganda and back in Kasana almost two weeks ago. We have settled in well, even as we had the joy of hosting a team from Alpine Church in Utah. It was a great week with them, even as we were upside-down trying to adjust and unpack. It was fun to be back with the children of Samuel Family, and of course a Saturday of fun, games, and a pig roast was just what we needed to feel back at home!</div>
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Finally, for those of you who have been praying for Laura’s little cousin Gabriel, thank you. If you have not seen the updates on Face Book, here’s the situation in a nut shell. After seeing his life nearly slip away, God has graciously in his mercy been healing him day by day. He’s completed his first round of chemotherapy and has been responding very positively. Please be praying for God’s grace to him and his family. He has a long road ahead of him. If you wish to follow their updates or give to them financially, here’s their blog via Caring Bridge: <a href="http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/gabrielfleming/journal/view/id/53a9d70cab28b96517bd8bdb" style="color: #1155cc;" target="_blank">http://www.caringbridge.org/<wbr></wbr>visit/gabrielfleming/journal/<wbr></wbr>view/id/<wbr></wbr>53a9d70cab28b96517bd8bdb</a>.</div>
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Keith and Laura Beth McFarlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503262528818987280noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7534036824655051788.post-75672249398678996462014-06-20T02:24:00.000-07:002014-06-20T02:24:48.817-07:00Transition<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The cicadas sing their familiar melancholic tune, stirring my emotions and thoughts with their every note. What has just happened? I find myself sitting on a dusty and faded old couch on my cracking veranda, sipping strong African coffee with my homemade half-n-half. My aging Ridgeback just sauntered past, moving at a slower pace then years gone by. Ugandan sounds, songs and smells meet my every sense, telling me, reminding me, that I've leapt across the globe in less then 24 hrs, back to my home of the last decade.<br />
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The kids are so alive here, including Kai. His cheesy grins and ultra-light spirit in the day hours were only shadowed by a few days of interrupted sleep. The boys are climbing, running, playing hard 'til sweat pours from their brows and laughter cracks their lips. Elliana has a renewed love for babies, growing seeds in the dusty soil, and climbing trees. I think the third could stay dead, honestly. :)<br />
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Where is my heart in all the mix? Delighted, peaceful, tired, and confused. In a mere day, we left a year long home assignment to return to life in Uganda. I've been struck again with how life here just takes more time. This is simply a reality. There are so many "luxuries" in the US that eliminate extra work, something I forget until back in the throws of daily life. A short list includes things like power (when I want/need it), clean water from all taps/sinks (at least clean enough that parasites are not a concern), hot water for washing dishes/my face/shaving/dirty children, internet access when I want it and fast enough to do what I want with it, a nearby supermarket to pick up forgotten shaving cream, a washing machine for a baby blanket gone sour, etc. etc. etc. I won't even mention things like triple washed spinach, and new bags of rice that rarely EVER carry rocks and bugs..<br />
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<i style="font-weight: bold;">But, </i>lest these quiet moments among the dusty cushions focus only on the losses, there are many great gains I am delighted to experience. Like relationships and faces we've missed for more the 365 long days. Our children, fully alive. Clinging to Him alone in our sadness and frustrations. African worship. African sunsets. Being where relationship is far more important then getting the job done. Big chubby brown babies that smile into my heart. Uncle Jonnes. Seeing myself and my children get so caught up in being outside that media is an after-thought. My husband, up at 4:30 today, has already lived the day forwards and backwards by the time I wake. He's seeing through new eyes this morning (as the jet lag releases the fog on his brain). He is also fully alive. Excited. Expectant. Do the gains far outweigh the losses? Yes, undoubtedly.<br />
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A good friend handed this verse to me before we left and I've found myself meditating on it amid the chasm of sadness I have felt in all the good-byes to both of our families:<br />
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<i>Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or <u>imagine,</u> according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus through <u>all</u> generations, for ever and ever! Amen.</i> Eph 3:20-21<br />
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God <b><i>is with us. Emmanuel. </i></b>I know He has more in store for us then we can imagine.<br />
I choose to begin this next term with expectation. In Eucharisteo. With joy.<br />
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What did God assure my heart that this was the year of?<br />
<i><b> Shalom. </b></i><br />
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<i><b></b>Cling to the Rock, Laura Beth, walk in the Spirit where you with find life and peace. </i><br />
In the midst of the world-change, we continue to choose to trust him with our hearts and our lives, no matter the loss. He counts the cost and knows. <i><b>Selah.</b></i></div>
Keith and Laura Beth McFarlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503262528818987280noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7534036824655051788.post-53181515552175073872014-05-19T12:09:00.000-07:002014-05-19T12:09:20.189-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The clock ticks.<br />
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My mind whirls.<br />
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The lists grow inside my head, then are forgotten once I find paper and pen.<br />
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Too many tasks...too many piles of clothes.<br />
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The walls glisten with new paint and the shelves are no longer full. My temporary-now-home will once again become someone else's place to lay their head. Packing a family of seven and heaven knows how many suitcases is a dubious job that I sometimes wish was not my role. It's in these moments that I dream of the day when I won't have to figure out 2 1/2 years of clothing and schooling for my children and determine what is and isn't important enough to carry to Uganda.<br />
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This walk through 'the Matrix' of good-byes and hellos, exiting and re-entering culture, is like a steady thumping in my head. How? Will we manage yet again? Will it take me six months to re-adjust to our home overseas where I'm left thinking about how my every word and action is perceived? Yes, I will once again be a western woman in an African world.<br />
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Will I really be back home again? With sweet bird songs to wake me and African sunsets to warm my back? To hug my dear people who call me "Auntie" and "Mama Elisha". Yes, it is soon. Gracious is our God to allow us the privilege to call Uganda home and make her people ours. Soon I'll be eating g-nuts and matokee, wearing skirts, singing in Luganda, riding moterbikes side saddle, running in "the bush", and enjoying the land where relationship is more important than getting the job done.<br />
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My eyes fill with tears as I try not to think ahead of the good byes that are looming, waiting. We are not strangers to these partings. Twelve years of life as a missionary breaks little chunks off of my heart with each parting hug for the umpteenth time. The wonder of when we'll kiss little ones cheeks again or hug old necks? To miss so many seasons and changes in these dear lives. These pits in our stomachs fade with time, then return with another good-bye. Oh the longing for Heaven, when we will no longer wonder if a funeral will bring us back together again. When we will behold Jesus, surrounded by those who we love, never whispering "I'll miss you" again.<br />
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It is too much for these earthly beings...BUT God. He is good. In these moments where I feel everything pressing in, He takes my hand and leads me. My heart is turned and is expectant. He fills in the gaps and points my eyes to Him! He reminds me this is not about me and my comfort. It isn't about piles of clothes, paint cans, or another list. <i><b>It's about living for something greater then myself.</b></i><br />
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The moments whirl. My heart soars. My mind remembers. Oh yes, I'm going home.</div>
Keith and Laura Beth McFarlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503262528818987280noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7534036824655051788.post-40421960475837143132014-04-22T13:47:00.002-07:002014-04-23T05:59:31.842-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I've come to grips with the fact that life is full of hum-drums and emotional lows, work and more work. At this moment, the laundry folding is about the height of my 4 year old, the floor needs mopped again, the rooms need sorted out for guests and my eyelids tell me I've been up since the wee hours. Aye-yai-yai. It's never ending. But in this never ending cycle of work, there are gifts that I'm taking the time to be thankful for. And in this moment, I give thanks to The Giver. Here are a few gifts my heart celebrates today (ok, it might be more then a few).</div>
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All that hard work, paid off in little moments like this. Precious, aren't they? Each one. Elisha, straight shooter of truth. Noah, tender boy-man. Isaiah, joyous energy. Elliana, feminine little mama. Malakai, energetic and animated. Best. Gifts. Ever. I never want to regret these seasons or labors of love. It's worth it folks. Don't let the world tell you otherwise.</div>
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Little Mama loves her little bro</div>
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Marriage. Almost 13 years. It's a gift that I sometimes take for granted. I forget to breathe prayers of thanks for the unity and intimacy we have in our relationship. For the few arguments. For the groundwork we laid in the early years. Learned lessons of lifestyle repentance that continue to bring forth a harvest of <i>shalom</i>. I adore this man.</div>
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A couch-full of Ugandan missionary kids. We love our friends and partners, the Vogt's. Thankful for their lives, the word of His testimony in them, and the opportunity to "do life" on both sides of the globe, even when Isaiah falls out of a tree and breaks his collar-bone.</div>
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Kai-guy's little snuggles.</div>
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Boy-man #1 still snuggles too. ;)</div>
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Blessed by extended-Florida-family with a day at Disney World!</div>
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Sunrise on the beach with precious Aunt Audree (one of my heroes)- though her eyes are failing her, she sees things more clearly than most.</div>
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Pictures don't even do this justice!</div>
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Yes, they got in, even in the early morning hours. It was a moment that will be forever etched into my memory.</div>
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<span id="goog_1282738736"></span><span id="goog_1282738737"></span>Ok, I'll stop with the beach pics there. They're just too precious.</div>
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Ellie and her cousin, Ruby. In Uganda, cousins are called cousin-brother or cousin-sister. I love that. This is one of those sweet bonds, forged in love.</div>
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Easter Egg fun -thankful for family to make it a special time of the year!<br />
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Celebrating Laura (Renfro) Barr and her journey into motherhood. She's a mama of 2 now. I love this woman of God and where God's taken her! She went through the Institute in 2007. What a gift.</div>
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This baby man #4 made his 1 year mark. He is such a delight to our entire family, bringing us joy and delight with each passing day. We can't imagine life without you, little buddy. Thank you Jesus.</div>
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Thankful. Overflowing with thanks. This is where my heart is at the end of this reflection. It's powerful how the act of giving thanks actually fills us with joy and appreciation for all He has surrounded us with. <i>Eucharisteo</i> truly precedes the miracle.</div>
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Keith and Laura Beth McFarlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503262528818987280noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7534036824655051788.post-8712145198102913212014-01-25T13:56:00.000-08:002014-01-25T14:19:01.756-08:00A New Year<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I've finally been able to embrace something about myself. I'm more of a small picture person. What's happening today and this week? Beyond that, it's hard for my brain to plan too far ahead. I need to be here, now, doing the now, or I get overwhelmed, frustrated, and even anxious and fearful. Those who know me well know that I often work best under pressure. In the moment, I'll figure it out, create, and make something beautiful (hopefully) in the process. Does that mean I always fly by the seat of my britches? No. I do plan. But what it does mean is that I love to embrace the moments I am in, whether that is cooking, cutting hair, or forgoing my exercise to stop at a friends house for a cup of coffee. But on the downside, it means I don't always remember to dream and look up from the present moment.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">This is the beauty of a new year. It is a fresh breath of air into my body, my being, that is God ordained. He knew I needed a new year every 365 days in order to regroup and refocus.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">At the beginning of each year, I ask God what His word is for me this year. Sometimes it's a scary request. Especially the year I heard the word "Surrender". After I made it through that year, my Dad prayed over us and prayed we'd learn "more surrender". He had no idea I had just spent the last year learning the difficult task of opening my hands. I about had a melt down. Really? More surrender? But to my surprise more surrender wasn't excruciating. It was beautiful. It even meant baby #5. Our Malakai -'God's Messenger". </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">With that said, I was looking forward to another new beginning after the last 6 months stateside. This season has been so life-giving for us. Health and life have filled our beings, and we are very encouraged. I do not feel the bone-weary sensations that come from ministry wounds or pressure that I had grown accustom to feeling, or the frustrations that come with culture and community. I have new breath in my chest, and new joy in my heart.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">So, I asked again. And this little word is mine for 2014.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> </span><br />
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Shalom</div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">As I've dug around a bit into the meaning of <i>shalom</i>, my heart grows excited about this year. Here's a simple definition:</span> <i style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;"><b>Shalom</b></i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;"> (</span><span class="script-hebrew" dir="rtl" style="background-color: white; font-family: Alef, 'SBL Hebrew', David; font-size: 16px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">שָׁלוֹם</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">)</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;"> is a </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hebrew_language" style="background-color: white; background-image: none; color: #0b0080; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px; text-decoration: none;" title="Hebrew language">Hebrew</a><span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;"> word meaning </span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">peace</i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">, </span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">completeness</i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">, </span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">prosperity</i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">, and </span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">welfare</i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;"> and can be used idiomatically to mean both </span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">hello</i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;"> and </span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">goodbye</i><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">I love how Strong's Concordance brings in 'absence of discord' into the definition. Boy, this missionary mama could use that this year! The presence of peace and completeness are longings of my heart, but they are only satisfied by His <i>shalom. </i>Jesus is shalom, and only He, through His Spirit, can grant it to a person.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">The year is before me, so I choose to lift my eyes up off of the present and gaze at the cross. The place of perfect peace.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;"><i> <span style="font-size: large;">Shalom!</span></i></span></span></div>
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Keith and Laura Beth McFarlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503262528818987280noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7534036824655051788.post-69691029875727438672013-10-18T11:31:00.000-07:002013-10-18T11:31:02.103-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="http://notlostjustweird.files.wordpress.com/2013/05/coffee-and-writing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="http://notlostjustweird.files.wordpress.com/2013/05/coffee-and-writing.jpg" width="200" /></a>Since I am celebrating my one year anniversary since *cough* my last blog post, I have decided it's time to re-open the blog door and begin writing again. I must admit, it's not quite as cozy as the years I've scratched away at the well-worn pages of my journal, with my leg slung across the arm of a cozy chair in a quiet, serene place. Just that thought beckons me to remember the years I filled countless pages with dreams, prayers, lesson after lesson with Jesus, whispered sorrows, unforgotten joys, poems, songs, and so many sweet memories.<br />
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Ah, alas, those days are few. Life is still life. It's busy, messy, full-to-the-brim with a baby-man, three sweet boys + one curly-girly. Let me not forget my Man and my marriage...as well as the load I carry of being his cheerleader and favorite (his title) and best looking (he wrote that!) editor of his writing. I go to bed exhausted each night, after trying my best to handle the "Four H's" of Happy Hearts, Housework, Home schooling, and Homework. The happy heart one includes yours truly. Yikes. The messy-ness of my own heart is a job in and of itself. Can I hear an "Amen"? How did my life go from a simple young woman, writing out my heart, carefree to the world, to the swirling fullness I find it is now?!<br />
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When I started this blog, I titled it "Savoring the little things of life in Uganda". If you were a reader of my blog then (which I know, this isn't the most hopping place around), you know I didn't write often. Honestly, I wrote only when I felt God prompt me to do so. Each story or slice of life I put on here was from a <i>prompting. </i>There are those times God nudges me and it will not go away until I obey. This area of writing is one of them.<br />
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Right now I'm an American, on American soil. So what's there to write about? I'm here for a year, writing about what? My dad and my husband have continued to nudge me to write. Sometimes I just feel like a nobody with little to say, with so many other voices and blogs out there to swim alongside. But this little voice keeps saying -<i>Write. Write for me. </i><br />
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I could write about my life as a mom, my whole grain-gluten-free-cloth diaper-homemade this or that, but there are enough spaces out there like that for you to discover. I'll be taking time to <i>remember, process, and dream. </i>Hopefully in that order. <br />
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The verses that God has placed on my heart for this season are found in Psalm 126:1-3,5<br />
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<i> "When the Lord brought back the captives to Zion,</i><br />
<i> we were like men who</i><i> dreamed</i><i> (</i>Or <i>men restored to health!)</i><br />
<i> Our mouths were filled with laughter,</i><br />
<i> our tongues with songs of joy.</i><br />
<i> Then it was said among the nations,</i><br />
<i> "The Lord has done great things for them!"</i><br />
<i> The Lord has done great things for us,</i><br />
<i> And we are filled with joy.</i><br />
<i> Those who sow in tears will reap with songs of joy."</i><br />
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So it begins, with joy in my heart, a new journey with Jesus.<br />
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Keith and Laura Beth McFarlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503262528818987280noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7534036824655051788.post-86983522501488126172012-10-18T07:24:00.000-07:002012-10-18T07:24:47.760-07:00The Need to Retreat<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">There is nothing like feeling the need to get out of the house, to get away from the daily grind and take a break. We all feel those times, and know those moments of desperation. Like the "I just need to leave the porch this moment or I think I'm going to scream" kind of feelings. I think it's part of our human nature. We work, we sleep, we try to discern how to best use our time, we love, we run, we talk and listen, we bless, we discipline and train, we clean...We just straight up exhaust ourselves and need to retreat. But how do we go about this in a way that actually refreshes our soul, rather then just escape into unhealthy addictions or false realities? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">And then, how does one retreat with one husband, four kids (and one in the oven), a dog with five puppies, serving the community around, a ministry to women, and home schooling in the balance (did I mention the messy house part too?) Not very easily. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> I feel like I'm just beginning to find more time then I used to, but then the selfish side of me comes out as well. "What? No! I'm reading my Bible! Go read a book!" or "I'm going for a run, so of course I want to be alone!" I can find my heart wandering, wondering what it's like to have time without little children begging for another banana or always having people at my door. Or else I find myself listening to one of my single friends who is living in the heart of her calling to prostitutes, wishing with all my heart to be on the front lines with her. But then again, what is my calling? It is here, it is now, it is my life to my husband and my children. This self-sacrificing, the lay it all down NOW kind of life. And in spite of what you might think from the outside looking in,<b><i> I wouldn't trade it for the world.</i></b> So how can I ever retreat?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Jesus retreated away from the stresses of life to commune with the Father, to be refreshed and revitalized in a supernatural way. Granted, Jesus' ministry far superseded that which I do in my own home and life, but none the less, he is our example. He is my example. He found a mountain, a garden, a piece of graceful landscape and prayed. Luke 9:29 even says the appearance of his face changed after praying. I remember times of deep intersession with my bestie, Natalie. We'd fall on our faces together in a quiet place and pray our hearts out until there was not a breath left in us. </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Even now as I think of those moments, tears spring to my eyes. Sweet timeless intercession. </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> I'd come home and hear my mom say, "Your face has changed -you've been praying, haven't you?" I'd have to smile, knowing it was God's work shining in me, not my own doing. I can't make my own face shine, no matter how much Bare Minerals I apply. God's work in you is the best make-over you'll ever have! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So, being a busy wife and mom, I have to find retreat in creative ways. Here are a few moments when I've found retreat in Him in the last few weeks: A sunrise that deserved my praise; a morning run that burned my lungs but filled my soul with joy; meditation on 2 Corintians 4:16-18 and repeating it over for my memory to take hold; being a daughter in my parent's home; a quiet walk with the fall leaves and the setting sun; a few moments with Keith when he prayed over my tearful face; listening to Beth Moore, and getting to laugh my head off and yet know His conviction my heart of how little I bask in His love; getting to bake an apple spice cake for a friend's birthday in a still, silent house which turned my heart to Him. These moments may look like not much, but they are the moments that keep me going, keep me longing for more of Him. These are my little retreats into His presence. How about you? How have you retreated into Him today? I hope you take time to think about it, find Him and find time to bask in His refreshment today. Nothing, not anything fills and satisfies the soul as Jesus does!</span><br />
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Keith and Laura Beth McFarlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503262528818987280noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7534036824655051788.post-79635063312924341582012-07-11T05:59:00.002-07:002012-07-11T05:59:29.939-07:00Moments Together<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It always amazes me how just a few moments spent with my children gives them an opportunity to open up their hearts. We had been away from school for almost 6 weeks and I kept telling myself to set aside some time for a fun project with the smaller ones. I pulled out a colorful box, filled with beads of all shapes and sizes, as well as ones with letters for spelling out your name. Squeals of delight came from Elliana as she fingered through all the colors. Noah and Isaiah joined in the fun and we all built a bracelet or neck less.<br />
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After a few quiet moments of concentration, Noah turned and said, "Mama, I just don't like when you get kinda mad.." Gulp. Kinda mad? I humbled myself and started a dialog that went something like this; "I'm sorry Noah. I don't like it either. I never liked that when I was your age..." I then repented to him, and opened up my heart's prayer this week, which had been asking God over and over again for the fruits of the Spirit to spill into my heart. To be a woman of JOY. To walk in true surrender, which then turns into true eucharisto (thanksgiving), which then is a life true joy. Ok, I think I stopped at the fruits of the Spirit part with Noah, or else it may have turned into a monologue. Just after we finished sharing hearts, Isaiah piped up, "Mama, I lov-e that you're always home!" Oh, my heart surged with joy! All the days that I feel are just "normal living" mean far more to the heart of a child! He then went on to ask question after question about death, where one goes, if he'll actually die, and who will rise again. I realized that those questions did not just come up at that moment, but had probably been stirring in his heart over time, waiting for a safe opportunity to ask. <br />
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Just taking a few moments to string a few beads together turned out to be a moment to savor, think about, and treasure up in my heart. I was confronted, convicted, and affirmed by my children's hearts. All because I made time to be and to listen. </div>
Keith and Laura Beth McFarlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503262528818987280noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7534036824655051788.post-13058731427678771422012-05-01T06:20:00.001-07:002012-05-01T06:22:22.223-07:00Bending The Knee<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br /></div>There are those times when I feel like God brings along something simple to speak profound truth to me, or to just wake me up to the state of my own heart. One of these small moments happened this Sunday. We had a few friends over for a meeting and I was greeting people, then rushing off to add the finishing touches on the snack/tea table. One sweet friend of mine followed me into the kitchen, grinning from ear to ear with a bag behind her back. I was thinking she had brought some of her local foods, which she's promised to teach me to cook. Instead, she got down on her knees before me and presented me with a small baby item which I had lent her months back. The absolute gratitude on her face and in her jubilant expression caught my heart. She gave me a humbly written thank you note to go with it, but nothing will make me forget her physical posture of thankfulness. I've had many thoughts rumbling around in my heart since then. How often do I give thanks with such humility and gratitude? How bent am I toward taking the time to thank my Daddy God, and others with a sincere and worshipful heart? On the flip side, I've found my heart frustrated when others take advantage, aren't thankful or appreciative. After experiencing "true" thankfulness from my friend, I've realized how <i>often</i> I have made it a habit of flippantly throwing out a "thanks!" to one who's labored on my behalf. I have become that person that frustrates me -quickly giving thanks, and not really saying it wholeheartedly. How about you? Where do you find your heart being drawn in this area of thankfulness? Join me in repenting for our ungrateful and flippant hearts, turning them to giving thanks to our God -to physically bring our hearts and bodies into a position of humble thankfulness.
"What a wretched man am I! Who will rescue me from this body of death? Thanks be to God-through Jesus Christ our Lord!" Romans 7:24-25Keith and Laura Beth McFarlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503262528818987280noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7534036824655051788.post-21875949015552558402012-02-17T00:18:00.005-08:002012-02-24T01:58:43.214-08:00Come unto Me<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuFJJgCy5i-kJ91T8nTyTIijJUYV1GzcQlynDteSDFuIt6WvFPdQSMWqE-CiQKSDlc0mA-RM1-g3h1YP6HO11JKj1-yaxsiz-tOoiA9d1ZrRFPxn1zgWef8Bxn5QxNQe1uGW8f9ZvT4Ti7/s1600/ground.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuFJJgCy5i-kJ91T8nTyTIijJUYV1GzcQlynDteSDFuIt6WvFPdQSMWqE-CiQKSDlc0mA-RM1-g3h1YP6HO11JKj1-yaxsiz-tOoiA9d1ZrRFPxn1zgWef8Bxn5QxNQe1uGW8f9ZvT4Ti7/s400/ground.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5712630699675276194" /></a><br />It had been a long week. The heat had sufficated us each day and night, keeping us tired, perspiring, edgy, and weak. There is something about creation dying and withering that pulls my soul away from worship. It hangs on me, like a garment. It is like a bell, sending out its daunting gong, proclaiming, "Wear the curse." "Wear death." Then I shake my head to clear the tolling bell and look to those glorious heavens. I'd pray for rain, hoping, longing, waiting. <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwIdBOP96ipM4tFh9sfu1pKB5f1xrPUh29qBbEP4d_94RunYjLaG0VsGpwfzSB3huA6n4Ucwwj2e66xpd8MdL_gT03OHB0HSXNOWJJZ-5M8Txq026zWnBl5_-_Fd8Shk-dNDyQKt7VqkNB/s1600/acasia.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwIdBOP96ipM4tFh9sfu1pKB5f1xrPUh29qBbEP4d_94RunYjLaG0VsGpwfzSB3huA6n4Ucwwj2e66xpd8MdL_gT03OHB0HSXNOWJJZ-5M8Txq026zWnBl5_-_Fd8Shk-dNDyQKt7VqkNB/s400/acasia.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5712632058126520338" /></a><br />God then gave me a little gift. A reminder that He hasn't forsaken us in the midst of the unbearable sun that spares no one of its wrath. Keith and I were out for a late walk, just around dusk. We were still sweating, but the sun was down from the sky, giving us a bit of a break. We came upon one of these trees. The beauty from afar was quite stunning. We both looked in awe and just smiled. As Keith plucked off a branch, I breathed in its delightful aroma. Incredible. The awe within me was for the life that was in my hands. Living, breathing, fragrant blossoms. It struck me that even though it is like a dessert here, amid the dust and cracking ground, there is enough moisture in the ground to produce this miracle. I brought my branch of hope home with me and put it in a vase on my table. The boys all inhaled, one by one, also savoring its life breath. Elliana and I plucked off one small blossom each, putting them in our hair and smiling at one another's 'glamour'. <br /><br /><br />These flowers sat on my table for a few days, and kept my heart open, full, hopeful. Once God opened my eyes to this profound beauty, I noticed <span style="font-weight:bold;">all</span> the flowering trees were in full bloom. How had I missed it before? Were they aware of something I was missing? Were they expecting rain more then I was? Were they able more than I to produce beauty amidst dry death? I was focused on death. On the dying. On dust...Yes, I am but dust, yet if He creates and cares for these flowers in the midst of death, will he not care for me? If He can elicit beautiful worship from these trees during this season, can not I also reveal His beauty in the dry heat of life? Can He not bring me life and refreshment in this season? Truly he will, if I have eyes to see and a heart to respond. He is more than rain to me!<br /><br />"<span style="font-style:italic;">Come unto me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest....you will find rest for your souls."</span> Matt 11:28, 29bKeith and Laura Beth McFarlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503262528818987280noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7534036824655051788.post-31682462139938533622012-01-07T04:12:00.000-08:002012-01-07T04:53:49.630-08:00New Challenges, New YearThrough the years, December has always been THE month for gas shortages. As usual, November rolled around and we couldn't find gas for cooking. When our cylinder ran out at the end of November, we were thankful we had found a friend leaving the country who gave us the remainder of her gas. Whew, I was off the hook for a bit longer. But, then I realized if I cooked the way I normally did, the gas would run out right around Christmas time. Smack in the middle of baking season. Not cool. So, what to do... I then gulped and realized it was time to grow up and learn a skill I had always dodged. Cooking on a segeri (local charcoal stove).<br /><br /><br />This was my first try. It takes at least 30-45 minutes to get these coals bright hot! The "charcoal" is locally made out of wood and sometimes hasn't been made correctly. If it is poor charcoal, it snaps, pops, and burns too fast. I stood there with a plastic bowl, waving it to keep the flames growing and the coals spreading.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPApp6MV9eVrWCrML6uwzmNxAw0NUWKwCGKbIfVJyTpYqDG7ZaG-JRLUXInQH_G7dVqEOV7rZhwQJxShll2BxGUqz4RkySWdV6e39Bk3PFXbkAOY5BDAxUsbCM_DZAvhWN3HNmAzTx9ekg/s1600/charcoal.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPApp6MV9eVrWCrML6uwzmNxAw0NUWKwCGKbIfVJyTpYqDG7ZaG-JRLUXInQH_G7dVqEOV7rZhwQJxShll2BxGUqz4RkySWdV6e39Bk3PFXbkAOY5BDAxUsbCM_DZAvhWN3HNmAzTx9ekg/s400/charcoal.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5694865383856877266" /></a><br /><br />I have watched women cook on little charcoal stoves for years, admiring their ability to roast nuts, make beans boil for hours, and even use the charcoal inside of an ancient iron for smoothing out the wrinkles in our clothes. Did I think I was able to do it to? Seriously, after 7 1/2 years of living here, I had avoided cooking on one, let alone lighting one. You may think it's like grilling out all the time, which it is to some degree, yet more complex and a bit more intimidating. Do I just place my saucepan with a plastic handle right on top of the fire or what? To some of you, this is a giggle. To others, you understand my inner turmoil. Life as I knew it in the kitchen was forever altered. The learning curve was big, as I had a hungry family to feed!<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWhgtsVFUkj7vm5fT33ekfWEM8Ud-HEt-FMi7ILzx0UnMg9g628wF2Fgy2zH2fxkTmVnwblewyoj-MEp3q8USJJhv7gKYwkQlG_t-H4uZEOsVzohsJ0cLYTZF_O5ZaagmzrfZGJHDrBdZT/s1600/grill.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWhgtsVFUkj7vm5fT33ekfWEM8Ud-HEt-FMi7ILzx0UnMg9g628wF2Fgy2zH2fxkTmVnwblewyoj-MEp3q8USJJhv7gKYwkQlG_t-H4uZEOsVzohsJ0cLYTZF_O5ZaagmzrfZGJHDrBdZT/s400/grill.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5694866315161912098" /></a><br /><br />These pictures showed my first of many lunches and dinners I made on those three little sigeri's. I learned to like it after some time. I was able to enjoy the fun of cooking outside, and relating to all my Ugandan friends in the hardships of waiting patiently for the segeri to light! I had many cheerleaders and not too many chuckles (at least to my face). My friend Fiona told me, "Auntie, you are now officially in Uganda!" After all these years, have I not been "in" Uganda? Not really. The point was "you really can be like us". I am still learning, and know that Daddy God still has many humbling lessons coming my way in the year 2012.Keith and Laura Beth McFarlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503262528818987280noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7534036824655051788.post-54585709818261715202011-12-04T23:06:00.000-08:002011-12-17T05:26:39.257-08:00Created for Relationship<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKUE6SfCEuICo0CsqhL5L-ZDKqPQcW1ORJlsCic_HKQJcYe5UXWD5RwFdehre7GKGA65LOuYofeIUBJAJCy6QDk3mIKiHsq1oiX0TOHAhdhUu_f0J-y6OzqnrZyYjUZ0NvHqlqyPfseqhb/s1600/sarahandlb.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKUE6SfCEuICo0CsqhL5L-ZDKqPQcW1ORJlsCic_HKQJcYe5UXWD5RwFdehre7GKGA65LOuYofeIUBJAJCy6QDk3mIKiHsq1oiX0TOHAhdhUu_f0J-y6OzqnrZyYjUZ0NvHqlqyPfseqhb/s320/sarahandlb.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5682545111854306210" /></a><br />I've had these thoughts stewing around in my mind for some time, especially after studying womanhood throughout the first half of this year, and hearing our theme of "Relationship" throughout the entire year. It all starts with the question, "Why are we here?" It can apply to any aspect of life -mothering, parenting, serving, schooling, teaching, working, etc. Our cultures continually communicate we are in a job or a season of life for ourselves, to feel good, to gain success and fame, to climb the corporate ladder. But is that why God set us on this earth and gave us a task to do? Deep down, our spirits say no. We were created for much more the the temporal. What then? His glory is the greatest answer, but the one that follows is the answer I've been thinking through. Relationship. <br />We worship our Creator through giving Him our lives, and this is done through relationship. What makes our faith different from the world if it were not for our God-man, who came to this earth, related to mankind in relationship, offering life eternal through faith in him and in relationship? <br /><br />What are you thoughts? Do you long for relationship? To be known and to know others? Please, share your thoughts.Keith and Laura Beth McFarlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503262528818987280noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7534036824655051788.post-40805826790434275702011-11-09T23:28:00.000-08:002011-11-10T01:09:33.071-08:00Small pleasuresHere are a few joys I savor as a mom of my 4 little ones!<br /><br />Isaiah was begging me to do fingerpaints. His face says it all.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjw5-xH0POlmGx8H8Z5gqVKxAOpoYyfAy7esyssXaaDXos-XA7FS76pelDu51iq-xzrUNzcePH7Ml5n4JzJVkDP9zMPoI2HbshPNL1oV4M4RCi62G_mnP9Si2kVq1TJmPFpWsPMLgLcIjY/s1600/Isaiahpainting.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjw5-xH0POlmGx8H8Z5gqVKxAOpoYyfAy7esyssXaaDXos-XA7FS76pelDu51iq-xzrUNzcePH7Ml5n4JzJVkDP9zMPoI2HbshPNL1oV4M4RCi62G_mnP9Si2kVq1TJmPFpWsPMLgLcIjY/s320/Isaiahpainting.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673280018862844434" /></a><br /><br />This guy Noah loves art. He went and found his own prop to make his picture more creative.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNY4YhE2Fam3BAnvr9WrVyHyu0ezPEVIhfUXLsbSa5bBreNqr7hEa0tZMjW7p5qOu1_1hoOMx8mMWpw_8f4vjg0XkrD_MCM2IZ8PmRbdbcajUC4UlfVaI9jyPfnwBbU6KR-WHD35QFtLIN/s1600/noahpainting.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNY4YhE2Fam3BAnvr9WrVyHyu0ezPEVIhfUXLsbSa5bBreNqr7hEa0tZMjW7p5qOu1_1hoOMx8mMWpw_8f4vjg0XkrD_MCM2IZ8PmRbdbcajUC4UlfVaI9jyPfnwBbU6KR-WHD35QFtLIN/s320/noahpainting.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673283862341541506" /></a><br /><br />Elliana's work includes make-up.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf-iJ1zSlzZSTMvPKLH0J_uX31uC8rdbMgomNaDQ5JbvuAv2YbIXoF1JCn-cUhyPrJzJEyc83j76oh1EVZ9WpzHEDOEEOU4iQEGJh27876EMHdFW4IZdn7r9CNaejJJvzBV6h9azsCeZpr/s1600/elliepainting.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf-iJ1zSlzZSTMvPKLH0J_uX31uC8rdbMgomNaDQ5JbvuAv2YbIXoF1JCn-cUhyPrJzJEyc83j76oh1EVZ9WpzHEDOEEOU4iQEGJh27876EMHdFW4IZdn7r9CNaejJJvzBV6h9azsCeZpr/s320/elliepainting.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673286397819970866" /></a><br /><br />Ellie's 'big girl bed' and our second favorite book called "McDuff Saves the Day". P.S."Caps for Sale" is her favorite.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHwUCMvrqAQ4QcUKPckzAEoo4-6G6-H5ylrMGxrvtPQRuIy7a8eDAuHtzbCeLP4qhWwKUD5VSdU0xMYk7FqVTnfXi2R8AqVTvc0I_eLhFsavVdta63xItgsufTyPGY8WdNBo7u7rfdI7Ku/s1600/readingwellie.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHwUCMvrqAQ4QcUKPckzAEoo4-6G6-H5ylrMGxrvtPQRuIy7a8eDAuHtzbCeLP4qhWwKUD5VSdU0xMYk7FqVTnfXi2R8AqVTvc0I_eLhFsavVdta63xItgsufTyPGY8WdNBo7u7rfdI7Ku/s320/readingwellie.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673279249298658818" /></a><br /><br />I love how kids don't need a lot to bond and have fun! This moment was "enriched" by the joy of jumping on a table! <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRG4DullXa0edr1we6eDPToj9nwwd9-XoLmSwOUVxd7cwMan_EMXO4-Xcq1DnYZ2daggudcY5UbSs45YqmgjI4GtPWgSlEQe-bbIviMGEkAGb8wGVS8z5cKqg-M-HJzWWlj-ynUUUrk5sn/s1600/sillykids.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRG4DullXa0edr1we6eDPToj9nwwd9-XoLmSwOUVxd7cwMan_EMXO4-Xcq1DnYZ2daggudcY5UbSs45YqmgjI4GtPWgSlEQe-bbIviMGEkAGb8wGVS8z5cKqg-M-HJzWWlj-ynUUUrk5sn/s320/sillykids.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673287810298908946" /></a><br /><br />Remember those forts you used to build with anything your parents would allow you to use?<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixp5Xhf-Pm_PsUozYZf5Pv_4PUSrH1PL34HySxAvYE2bHs76B-oSxFNKdVrgBVmNygK20_N7nFpvgYeTeK9X7DuS7LU7txhz4qW2Cubv7HxgS0yOP-LuSbS60z8TVIGRbBNqoQOvOyLBpI/s1600/funnyzae.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixp5Xhf-Pm_PsUozYZf5Pv_4PUSrH1PL34HySxAvYE2bHs76B-oSxFNKdVrgBVmNygK20_N7nFpvgYeTeK9X7DuS7LU7txhz4qW2Cubv7HxgS0yOP-LuSbS60z8TVIGRbBNqoQOvOyLBpI/s320/funnyzae.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673289626319261538" /></a><br /><br />Ellie's fort, compliments of Elisha.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJIfbzL8mujh7tcMgyLyW2-xuAtiOPO_EJbOY2GCjB28lekCgjpe6IhWH7Yves0hvNlDLdC2a__tILyli-vKEfWUnIlP-lYaZbldLsZ4GPCMb90FwYvkAIhTGjro7NsIKOuFP8KxVqIJxq/s1600/ellie%2527sfort.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJIfbzL8mujh7tcMgyLyW2-xuAtiOPO_EJbOY2GCjB28lekCgjpe6IhWH7Yves0hvNlDLdC2a__tILyli-vKEfWUnIlP-lYaZbldLsZ4GPCMb90FwYvkAIhTGjro7NsIKOuFP8KxVqIJxq/s320/ellie%2527sfort.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673290695971910866" /></a><br /><br />I am a blessed Mama! I have creative, happy, animated (Yup! We don't lack any of that in our home!), smart, loving and affirming children! If I could only tell you how many hugs, "I love you Mama" comments and laughs my days are full of! I hope you've enjoyed a little peek into my simple pleasures.Keith and Laura Beth McFarlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503262528818987280noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7534036824655051788.post-79053095839965967152011-09-04T02:07:00.000-07:002011-09-04T03:03:29.060-07:00Those busy little ants... With bleary eyes each morning, I've poured my coffee and raised the lid to my sugar bowl to get a teaspoon of sugar. You'd think after all these years of living in Uganda, I'd remember and get over the shock of seeing all those creepy little black ants, scurrying around in my sugar. Actually, they're not so little. Those are <span style="font-weight:bold;">big</span> black ants that share my sugar. Those little guys are quite faithful. Over the years, I have attempted to discourage them by moving the sugar bowl to different places in the kitchen. But after my sugar bowl has rested in its new home for a few days, I have discovered one or two ants. And one or two ants turn into five, and then ten after a few more days. Keith has even tried to remember to put my sugar bowl into a ziplock bag at night. It worked for a few mornings... Then one day I took the bowl out of the bag and found a few ants still faithfully gathering sugar. I laughed as I asked Keith if he had checked the bowl before putting it in the ziplock! They are persistent, and little do they know there is a sugar crisis in Uganda right now. Do they know that the sugar is precious?
<br /> I have asked God to show me what I can learn from these creatures, rather then just be annoyed at their presence in my kitchen. I think the big thing is that I can learn from God in any situation, if I'm willing to ask. It's so easy for me to grow weary, annoyed, frustrated, and loose patience with my present circumstances, which can be MUCH greater then just ants in my sugar bowl! Faithfulness, thankfulness, persistence, and seeking after that which is precious, just like my sugar is, is worthy of my time and energy. Thankfulness has been my biggest lesson these days, and this isn't a lesson easily pounded into my heart. When I am looking for things to lift my thanks to God, His joy fills my heart. Wow, what a concept! This has been a missing piece of the puzzle within me for so long! How many things have my eyes actually passed over because I didn't see, couldn't see what there was to be thankful for? How many opportunities have I missed to engage with people or my precious children, because I was too focused on my circumstances rather then rejoice in the simple things around me? Oh, the sheer joy that comes from our Daddy God after having my eyes opened to all the good gifts He's given me! Like my daughter's soft face, kissably sweet, a friend's warm embrace, a bird's song, sung just for his Creator, lightening on a morning horizon, Elisha's heart, the popping of roasting peanuts, and God's peace in a tumultuous situation. This simple things can be missed each day, or they can be noticed, my heart turned in warm thankfulness to God. He is so good.
<br />Then those black ants, their faithfulness and enjoyment of a few grains of my sugar, become something I sit back and think about rather then gripe about. His Word is precious and contains truths that transforms!!
<br />" So then, just as you received Christ Jesus as Lord, continue to live in him, rooted and built up in him, strengthened in the faith as you were taught, and overflowing with thankfulness." Colossians 2:6-7Keith and Laura Beth McFarlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503262528818987280noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7534036824655051788.post-8111234986835317192011-07-08T06:18:00.001-07:002011-07-08T06:18:51.725-07:00“We Carried His Body in Pieces…”<p>This was yesterday’s quote that caught my heart. Let me explain. Every Institute class, we take three days, and then some, to hear each person’s personal story from their childhood to the present day. These days are so important for each class, as they build vulnerability, trust, and compassion for one another. I am always struck by the brutality, violence and suffering that the vast majority of our students have endured in their lifetime. The quote above was by one young woman, sharing the story of her father’s murder, planned out by her dad’s second wife. The wife got soldiers to murder him, which put fear into the hearts of the children. They didn’t go search for the body for 3 days, and then when they finally felt they were no longer a target, they found him partially devoured by dogs and “ We carried his body in pieces” for a quick burial. She carried her father’s arm, and when her tears flowed and her body sobbed, I sobbed too. </p> <p>Her story did not end in tragedy though –She ended with great joy and hope. She even said “I’m not the youngest in my family, but I appear to be so because when I return home I am like a flower! My other sisters look old with sin, but<em> I am beautiful!” </em>I still find myself smiling at this woman’s words!</p> <p>These stories, these real life testimonies are sometimes so hard for my human mind to grasp. I want to reconcile the suffering in my mind, to understand how one can endure so much. I go back to one of my favorite phrases, <strong>“<em>But God</em></strong>…” Not in the “but” that is like a child, asking for a second chance. <strong><em>But God</em></strong>, in the sense of “I AM” who I am. Make sense? </p> <p>It’s common for our Ugandan students to think that we from the West have never gone through much suffering, until they sit and listen to their fellow classmates’ stories. This class, we have a western woman with GREAT pain and loss in her childhood, and then even into her adulthood. You would never know it, as joy beams from her face. She’s lost parents, sister, and her first born child, carried to term. How is it even possible for this beautiful soul to carry such joy? <strong><em>But God.</em></strong></p> <p>Within the last year alone I’ve counted 11 women who have been either sexually abused or raped in their lifetime. There is nothing in this world I abhor more then hearing of one of God’s daughters being taken advantage of. I’ve watched many of them unfold, build trust, learn to forgive and let go of anger towards their oppressors. This isn’t an easy journey, let alone one I take lightly as I walk with some of them. <strong><em>But GOD</em></strong> is loving, active, tender, and His compassion abounds to all! </p> <p>I love being a part of God’s work. His story. His love. Without Him, I would be nothing. Without Him, I’d be in slavery, bondage, and wallowing in my own pit of self-destruction. These stories aren’t mine, they’re His. Each story is of great price and incredible value. I wrote a song when I was newly married that had a chorus like this:</p> <p>“Your story is of great price –which is the story of Christ; So let down your fears and tell me what He’s done. Tell me of His death, tell me how He rose again and changed your life.” </p> <p>That’s His business –changing lives, changing hearts. <strong><em>But God</em></strong>…</p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDY6N-Kct2cEvPPMbSm5xL7hyphenhyphenJ0sSQYehJf6Fyv_hJr70SrasefU-G0nG_UEh9LAo-9DnENiODVjRdhNvNI5A8Va7yc08G25JguGK-Z63l-56atWjUy1F6O9Bg7UWxcGUsJXBQot0SBN3G/s1600-h/instituteladies%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="instituteladies" border="0" alt="instituteladies" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMmXiksTMPKGENtXIMOBex3PB2RqHZPyqxkj6z69VjCQPiaNJl9dfzHRiBI5vhcb0Ty3RLabtpq6SahoZeiCwvFimfNvQb7QxwSZwDF0RosMha5SF0nsWdV3Tc3-FiwMzERpKr2DfFoRH6/?imgmax=800" width="361" height="261"></a> Here are some of the Institute ladies I had the privilege of knowing in the last class!</p> Keith and Laura Beth McFarlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503262528818987280noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7534036824655051788.post-57979822762176453882011-04-30T07:57:00.001-07:002011-04-30T07:57:54.958-07:00Gluten free life.<p><font size="4"></font> </p> <p><font size="4">For those of you who don’t know, I cook and bake Gluten Free, Dairy free. I’m not turning this blog into one of the many wonderful GF blogs, but rather just want to share a bit of my journey and put up a few of my gluten free creations. This hasn’t been an easy journey and change, but I finally feel like a few aspects of it have “clicked”, which makes baking a delight once again. We made the switch right after Thanksgiving, 2009. </font></p> <p><font size="4"> Keith was dubious about going GF, but we were at the end of our rope. We had finally gotten a clear bill of health in terms of worms, parasites, and the like, but his body was still a wreck. A wonderful doctor here finally said he thought Keith had a second allergy other then dairy. So after trying to eliminate everything we thought it could be with no success, we finally eliminated all gluten. After almost 2 years of gut issues, he was restored to a new “normal”. I was excited. I was teary. I felt everything that I had on the menu was now no longer safe! I found it a daunting task at first, especially with the 4 remaining children in my home that already had developed a taste for wheat products. There were many tears at the beginning (mine included), but with time, prayer, patience, and the right cookbooks, the switch to a GF lifestyle has almost become normal. We also discovered at the beginning of this year that our son, Noah, also has wheat/soy allergies. I am SO glad we had already made the GF switch (did I mention Keith’s and two of the boys have always been dairy free?) beforehand. Noah is now growing much faster then he has been in his first 5 years of life! I am thankful for modern medicine, for God’s wisdom, and for the many people that have given me input into gluten free living (Thanks Gretel!) </font></p> <p><font size="4"> I am still anticipating years of improvement on my side, but also am happy to say that most things I make can be compared to their wheat counterparts! My 3 other kids that have wheat from time to time don’t even ask what is or isn’t gluten free. I knew I’d finally hit the jackpot of pizza crust recipes when I made two of them, served them to my entire family (without a word that they were both gluten free!) and got the thumbs all from all members! </font><font size="4">Part of the reason why it’s taken me time to get a grip on baking GF is the products I can get locally are much different or don’t exist. Yup, no Fruitful Yield just down the road. I’ve finally discovered sifting the local tapioca flour about 4 times turns it into a similar consistency as the tapioca starch in the US. The sorghum flour I get here is also darker and heavier then the type in the US. My favorite GF flour uses sorghum, tapioca flour and corn starch. For those of you who want recipes, ask!<font size="4"> </font></font></p> <p><font size="4">So, here are a few pictures from last weekend’s baking. Donuts! I decided a new fun tradition would be to make donuts for Good Friday. There was something fun about the empty middle that reminded me of the empty tomb. </font></p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghaDfNKG0DShk72kJNipGTM74ajGs3048enQE4NVTuKpAE064KHZXqJiV3zR0iw0_w6L56-HuWQGa1NTCeWg1HXyFhjPSnQ72PHSd1j6NqLpHsJmpUuzfFTRJ3AGKX9uqcYIfiKYFn-yi-/s1600-h/me%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="me" border="0" alt="me" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYjwyp3y7uMDwtCKERm4Nx3dEd6qWo13CHa1bI5lB9gA5ukMgtK3R7NKj2jQGwpXqrAy_dlnKtGnmukcHIVx4mx_FRIrmDvAXczkLE3cP-meBmn7D6_NYJaHrdfNsHfyC_wSTxYxiZWj79/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="164"></a></p> <p> The texture is sticky, but worth the patience.</p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEgyOlhVHMbDXuxBVs2s5zFtTbGf4oRcPvZ7yiIgfFimvwwFHuOtj0TWkghN8wGXw72S7RlsbaEPhxgMPnOEgktLwP9PF4iv_Susc85r8QpkcJ6dQY1fNzSBFSDiOqLjBgbzx6tBHrgx5d/s1600-h/donuts%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="donuts" border="0" alt="donuts" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM4R1SACp8Q-sa0v2rIPE3X3DTTg4oWqdWh_25DIBRLv0VxTTnc81NrYiGufze4ZwRhHvMbcgwWlHPDNP6E85bMMplZu08EWFnEGVqsBvd-jWt2X8p9eJAFUeAF3pwJIXruLSnV2ykgOJZ/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="164"></a></p> <p>If you work with gluten free dough, these silicon mats save you the effort and expense of parchment paper usually required to keep the dough from sticking.</p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1bZdc9qPnOA8xOCnD4_oZ100KmMQ5Kk5HeYEUCbkrHDQlIKjDFmMXqhkWNgx5U9CrzO5cMs3kTutCVB8VExx4WH3AK3GMhxWJGi7BPlfQOB8DeGsCaNb79GpZ53l4DbRah1spVEXpN8Ec/s1600-h/frying%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="frying" border="0" alt="frying" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP9VwE55WMcITQxMbvdbPspox1zK0kM1BaV_QQgU74b2LKJZ8KwPqzmF983WjXVF981oWPiud-n_OXGU0aY2KbElMjvfPY_qTCqfkLUAMUelU1cSdygsGXF1igERVj0KKMQX4aigmqjxbR/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="164"></a></p> <p>I’ve made donuts before and have to say, a candy thermometer is a MUST. If your oil is too hot, they brown too fast and have gooey middles.</p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBmuDDhC0TYtVPC0scADh9eAB6cWOPqEq2iX11WINyh4ksK7jLeRuoZbq3zAmmfzUSDzTV6JXtUsum_Uruxmd8gucxb8zjhL5T6PGCuH9tdet-4c7hjGL6YSG5rEqDL5aROBHlPZL82hLl/s1600-h/lovelydonuts%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="lovelydonuts" border="0" alt="lovelydonuts" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZmcgkeRUADonRF5dzW4G21645sPP6IeUvDDRwc4IVIihY3bwKEhfTazkIjeet87bDFY_pcrDGMFK4rsiEcwhyDKM7aCvETRnulfBbLINtf8lgtfH9PyFDC1Vb0GkmzLzphU9UsBpEjVXF/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="164"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhup7PZzCcCBYiV32WDh-j5m60SezN9SFyEsvuBhXNOUi_7QVTeh17aikmeReUfjzO-l87l8ZHjyhn9PK1jFiuav-xkxzevVTXgtSklUf_vmNfXn1WXAQqsXL-xagIkMaIW4F_U2OHtbpTm/s1600-h/fluffy%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="fluffy" border="0" alt="fluffy" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhFe5vKRd_hvsXB8Jz3NCEE-z_jrZ49yE2O6uoQKkfXHxfbifPOl-xUB30KZsvY__iWyyP9ifTurqfzQVHKhLvTJ4EsBfyMhZnV5Z45KO5DYb54M11bOgIVG543Y3SF863BkeYIwbn_awE/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="164"></a></p> <p>Little fluffy goodness! Drooling yet? Yup, gluten free, dairy free, soy free donuts! </p> <p>My next gluten free baking adventure entailed making my mom’s Easter kolachi. Now, this was my 4th attempt at making it without wheat products. My Christmas batch came out good, but this was better yet. It’s still not perfected, but it will get there one of these days! Keith was in GF Kolachi heaven. Little does he know I still have one in the freezer for a rainy day! :) </p> <p> </p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIB-Gat_u15ZF05fr5zy-NKYwz4Cezx0VHwT3kr-e1ZE0uTTcV_6RlRWXqy3utAeroqV9yNMREwgJbj19DoPBUw2fYC0UxReOGZqm_XFYTYy6q7l8fkQpjQYfwDYkimCVpLdomkK_qZ24r/s1600-h/counter%5B3%5D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="counter" border="0" alt="counter" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiuFD0XsH0FNdDpWIqVI3ETDC9F-u-ZQoX1ebtQBVjF5IIbPQwRNUWLKwSvXgMXw-udNiXNgQ8052PyPJO6IX5tv81NqySozim8UgYOjeJIGS_hhYFqlVG1TLXyXQjOHWXKE5hxF0IKbxH/?imgmax=800" width="164" height="244"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaJmIdQJb6o_n1lLMlceJlawnCIyMlVsRcNRoER_rbKCVvUH6l4XNz-cjlKadZoTlkR5A0kpHH4q2yaY6Qho3v88FOVE9ZrnbQ9KqyBuZ3AobelekYBkHxxbqkIxrbkFLA4d0m6Xrqd8IA/s1600-h/everything%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="everything" border="0" alt="everything" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG0v2Fhq7aG5uGx5t1oIen4HCKG0Tk0Xn3KT_E3iWXAnd7q7teVIMkMaBto1fisPTKBFKzzk23SXoVmBYYdWolqFigtFKODiPgMyhpH_btOCyMqNAFKrhWc1WrTQrzwLJm4mI8GntUHFio/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="164"></a></p> <p>I even made a few of them in little buns, which were soft and tender. I think this pic was before they were baked though. Can you see how dark the dough is?</p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-Khg_FYByDjWjz2Uo183b_7Up8O8fo-KHdQnsnM3SJAWpkFShsAZyu2SdM-zh_SnnQxrCjWtrTUD9hIq9lpiZlOoGjizulUqbumRy_utqMiyGDXenkBsHbAPQeZxcOTC-UFQVnwwlzaMa/s1600-h/littlebuns%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="littlebuns" border="0" alt="littlebuns" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4R5TBQ9pY3T5VzrA9LAJqQGLpW8VWBuROrJ6JXiCLSXS1Aw9xEBjYuiE1YU6llCmFBl0KLCtYzUCO-3J3xYRPSSlnJyWg_tBboqtLJe434aFoKCaK5vp9Lr7MtY5ux95bi3hpMvTQZ0o_/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="164"></a></p> <p>I have to say, I don’t put these up to get praise and glory –really. I give all the glory to our God and the Holy Spirit who has continued to put a passion in me to care for my family to the best of my ability. All of these things might seem simple and frivolous, but to me they are a little bit of His work in me and through me. To God be the glory, great things HE has done!</p> Keith and Laura Beth McFarlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503262528818987280noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7534036824655051788.post-51013952422481867992011-02-25T04:03:00.001-08:002011-02-25T05:34:32.639-08:00Listening<p>I have a confession to make. I love washing dishes. Well, let me rephrase that. I love washing them when I’m not exhausted and there aren’t a million of them to wash. Otherwise, I love the smell, the satisfaction of another clean plate, the suds. I still remember the day when I came into my parents' kitchen and saw my Nana with her hands in those heavenly suds, suds that made my 7 year old mind spin. I had to ask. I had to know. What was her secret to such lovely, glorious suds? She looked at me with a twinkle in her eye and responded with an “It’s magic!” The next time I saw her at the sink, I watched her from behind the corner and saw her sink overflowing with bubbles. I vowed I’d try that one day when I was a grownup. Ironing is another one. I love to iron. Same reasons, same feelings, same results. Clean, smooth clothing, and a nice result (unless the power goes out in the middle!). But I suppose the main reason I love both of these tasks is because it’s thoughtful work. I pray, I sing, I listen, I think, and sometimes I even attempt to wrestle with bigger issues. Listening has been my biggest challenge as of late.</p> <p>There are times that I wish working with people was as easy as hot water and soap, or could be smoothed out with a hot iron. That's not how God works, especially as He's still smoothing me out! But there are times that I wish to myself: ‘Why don’t I have more education? Then I’d be able to understand this better or help better!’ But I am forced to cry out to God, to ask for His help and understanding, and to seek His wisdom. . Then, in the end, the praise and glory is for Him and I am drawn to worship Him, not myself nor my own understanding.</p> <p>I love the picture presented in Galatians 5:25, “Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit.” I have been thinking and praying through this throughout the week. I love the thought that the Spirit who lives in me is always a step ahead of me, knowing where I need to go, wither I will trust and obey - or not. It’s comforting, especially when it comes to mentoring and training my children. He’s like a father with a wide step, ahead, yet not beyond his grasp or voice. He’s saying “Keep up, my child. I know the way, I have the words. <em>Just keep in step and listen.” </em>I wish it was always this clear and simple. Often it’s my pride that keeps me from walking in step or listening. </p> <p>Back to the bubbles. I think I like them because I like the cleanliness, the freshness. I’m thankful for <em>His freshness</em>, and His deep love expressed to me this week through His Word and His Spirit. His washing through the Word is such a gift! I am nothing without Him. </p>Keith and Laura Beth McFarlandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03503262528818987280noreply@blogger.com1