As you might know, we have been wrestling with health issues with Joseph since he was about 22 months old, battling his asthma very consistently. We learned last spring that he wasn’t growing as he should be, and he failed each of six Growth Hormone Stimulation tests. We know that it’s not Cystic Fibrosis, allergies, or a brain tumor as these were ruled out. However, asthma that is not well controlled and/or steroid use are potential causes for growth problems. We also have some strong genetic factors related to his asthma and growth issues that seem to be playing a role. 

 

 

 

This summer Joseph grew 3 cm while we were serving in Colorado and had a huge respite from his typical asthma issues. While this could be totally coincidental, our doctor feels that there is a strong possibility that his asthma is exacerbated by humidity, and we’ve spent most of his life in very humid places (France, Florida, Texas, and Mexico). Consequently, our Pediatric Pulmonologist recommended that we spend the winter and spring in Colorado to see if he does as well in Colorado during the cold, winter months as he did in the summer. 

 

 

 

We received permission from our boss, Ken Cochrum, Vice President of Campus Ministries for CCC, to spend the winter in Denver. Almost immediately, things fell into place. We found a wonderful Christian family to rent our furnished home in Orlando for six months.  We were given an appointment almost immediately at National Jewish Hospital in Denver (one of, if not the top respiratory hospitals in the world). We have dear friends who direct a Classical Conversations group in Denver so the boys will continue their schooling with little interruption. God continued to open doors to lead us to spend six months in Colorado to get to the bottom of Joseph’s health issues.  Our prayer is that we can reduce his steroid use, increase his lung function, prevent lung scarring, and hopefully prevent the use of Growth Hormone Therapy unless absolutely necessary. 

 

 

 

I will be continuing my ministry from Denver. Our team is hosting our annual meeting with the main campus ministry leaders from around the world in Orlando this year, and I will return to Orlando the first week of December to participate. I will return most months for our team strategy meetings, and I can easily do my international travel out of DIA. The great thing about my role is that I can truly do my job from anywhere. I look forward to continuing to engage with ministry leaders globally as we seek to help grow student led movements everywhere…especially virtually!Thank you for your prayers and support of us during this journey. We thank God for your partnership with our family in the wonderful ministry that God has called us to. If you have any questions, please feel free to email or call. 

 

Blessings, Rich (and Kourtney)

I am cleaning out my closets in anticipation of another family enjoying our home this winter.  I must admit that I have been tempted to go Ebay, Consignment Store, Garage Sale crazy.  These are precious things that we’ve taken good care of, and although we don’t need them anymore, making some extra money right now wouldn’t be a bad idea.  But the thought keeps creeping in to give it away–to the friend who still can wear the Ann Taylor suit that I can’t fit into right now–to Rachel soon to have her first son–to my fellow homeschooler who might need some new curriculum that we aren’t using.  Please don’t hear me as saying that it’s wrong to do Ebay, Consignment Stores, or Garage Sales. Quite frankly, if I had a little more discretionary time to sort right now, I might list a few things myself.  But I just read an article from one of my favorite authors, and I’ve decided that since I don’t have a lot of discretionary time or cash right now, I am going to live like a millionaire with discretionary giving.  Want to join me?  Let me know if you need something.  It just might be in a little box in my garage waiting for you.

Recessionary spending

October 21, 2009
 

Things are tight. They are at my house, and I suspect they might be at some of yours, too. And when we’re not sure of our resources, we tend to draw back – to pull in. We hoard instead of spending. We ask ourselves, “Do I really need that now?’ or “Do I really need that, ever?” These are good questions and worth asking whether we are in a recession or not. But a voice in my head keeps calling out for spending, and not the kind you might imagine.

 

I’m hearing a line I know one of my parents must have said more than once in my growing up years, because it stuck: It doesn’t cost you anything to be kind. That’s the kind of recessionary spending I could get behind recession or no - and lately, it’s a kind of spending that has been modeled to me.

 

A week or so ago I sat in a Starbucks with a colleague who wanted to show me something on her laptop, but couldn’t get her wi-fi to cooperate. A fellow sitting nearby saw us struggling to connect and called over a suggestion. As we continued to try, he got up, walked over to our table, and tried it himself. Still no deal. Then he said “just a minute” and logged off his own computer so we could log on – as him! Come on now. No one does that. Turns out he was was a regional Starbucks operations manager, sitting in the store doing some paperwork. Turns out he was kind, and spent some of that kindness on us.

On a recent flight from Portland, Oregon, to Houston (3 legs, nearly 7 hours in the air and a full day of sitting, taking off and landing), I had accidently gone on a mini-fast. It never occurred to me that after a cup of oatmeal at 6 a.m. I wouldn’t be eating anything but peanuts until nearly 6 p.m. if I didn’t ”pack a lunch.” I couldn’t leave the plane, so I couldn’t eat. (Now you know what airline I was on!) On the next-to-last leg, my seatmate (who learned I’d been flying all day) reached into his briefcase as we were preparing to land at his destination, and pulled out two packages of cookies. “Here,” he said as he winked and handed them to me. “Dinner’s on me.” A little more kindness.

Yesterday I received a gift in my mailbox that took my breath away with its generosity. The postmark said it was sent from Alabama, but I’m pretty sure it originated in heaven. It was definitely recessionary spending, and I was on the slack-jawed receiving end of someone else’s kindness.

I’m seeing a pattern. Are you?

It doesn’t cost you anything to be kind. That’s what my parents taught me. And these three kind spenders have taught me a lesson, too. My new plan is to spend my way out of this recession in as many ways as I can, one crazy act of love at a time. Join me?

You’re here to be light, bringing out the God-colors in the world. God is not a secret to be kept. We’re going public with this, as public as a city on a hill. If I make you light-bearers, you don’t think I’m going to hide you under a bucket, do you? I’m putting you on a light stand. Now that I’ve put you there on a hilltop, on a light stand – shine! Keep open house; be generous with your lives. By opening up to others, you’ll prompt people to open up with God, this generous Father in heaven. (Matthew 5:15-16, The Message.)

Thanks to Heather in Hendrickville for letting me blatantly pirate most of her good Friday musings…

 

In between the sips of Starbucks and soul talk

listening to the boys flinging mud with their friends

making PB&Js

and again when Joseph’s fell

I kept on thinking…

How thankful I am for this life.

It’s messy

full

imperfect

even a little chaotic at times

but I’m thankful.

Grateful really

for my friend in the kitchen

laughing

talking

helping

loving each other.

Had it not been for another Good Friday long ago, I wouldn’t have these friends

this family

these people

in my life

because had it not been for that Friday

I would be mean

unloving

unlovable

uninterested in matters of the heart

too consumed with myself to enter into life with others.

In between scrubbing off mud again and again

comforting a child

watching Sharky emerge from a long nap

I kept on thinking…

About my boys

My husband boy

and my little boys

all the boys that I love.

It’s odd how one moment your hands can be wiping mud from a bucket

and then the next moment your mind can fly off

across oceans and across the street

and look into the faces of the people who mean the most to you.

One minute you’re swirling peanut butter

The next minute your heart can feel so much love

that you think it might pop

Thankful.

Grateful really

for my family

my home

my Rich

my three sons

my rescued dog

my soul friends.

Had it not been for another Good Friday long ago, I wouldn’t have these boys to love

this family

these people

in my life

because had it not been for that Friday

I wouldn’t be busily making sandwiches and searching for one more juice box

imagining my sons with smiles on their faces Easter morning

and mud in their hair today.

I’d be busy being foolish

destroying

my home

and everyone in it.

Had it not been for another good Friday long ago, I would be lost

clamoring

left

to sit in hopelessness

my mounds of sin

piles

really

aching for more meaning from this life

knowing there was more

living as a slave

to myself.

I’d rather think of anything

than who I’d be apart from that Friday.

In between the mud and the PB&J and the soul talk

I kept on thinking

what a good Friday it is…

what a Good Friday it was.

If you’ve been in my home lately, you would know that our world is surrounded by words.  My friend Angie carved and stained me a sign (and carried it across the ocean to present it to us in France) that says “Sit long, talk much.”  On my kitchen walls are funky metal signs with the words “Pray, Bless, Dream, and Explore.”  The boys’ room contains six WWII Propaganda posters with inspirational quotes such as “Never was so much owed by so many to so few.”  Our bedroom has a carved wooden “Amore” on our bookshelf.  This is only the beginning.  I want my family to be inspired and reminded of who we are and who we belong to.  And so began my obsession with displaying words.

I think there were hints early on.  I used to read under my covers at night with a flashlight.  I frequently smuggled great books into the bathtub.  Each time we travel, I carry no less than 10 books with me.  We have 4 bookshelves in our bedroom.  They bring me great joy.

I just read a great article by my friend Sharon Hersh.  I wanted to give you the opportunity to read it to.  It’s about words and The Word…Here it is…

I’ve been thinking a lot about resolutions.  It’s hard not to when the new year rolls around.  It really does seem like the perfect time to resolve to take better care of myself, try something new, or clean out something old.  If you watch a little television you can get a lot of ideas about better abs, more organized closets, and finding the secret to eternal youth.  I have to admit I’ve been tempted to order Crunchless Abs, Facelift in a Jar, or the Miracle Hanger.  And then words from past New Years interrupt my daydreams of thin, young, organized, and fabulous!

I recall countless resolutions to exercise more, eat better, read my Bible, and floss daily.  I read in a women’s magazine recently (one that suggested several diets and ways to organize your life) that over 60% of Americans do not make resolutions, and of the 40% who do, only 5% keep them.  Perhaps what we’re discovering is that speaking words of promise (even if just to ourselves) and breaking them does more damage to our souls than carbohydrates and messy closets.

New Year’s Day is a profound reminder that words matter.  In fact, words matter so much that God entered the world as Word.  “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God” (John 1:1).  From the beginning God demonstrates that it is the word that calls things into existence, calls things by name, and identifies what is most true.  “By the word of the Lord were the heavens made, and all the host of them by the breath of His mouth” (Psalms 33:6).   I love the image the philosopher Aristophenes uses to describe the creative power of words, “By words the mind is winged.”  I can recall words that people have spoken to me that have reminded me of who I am — that have created life:

*   My mother telling me when I was seven years-old, “Sharon, you are special.”  When I’m feeling invisible and less than ordinary, I still remember her words.
*   A professor in graduate school scrawling across the top of a paper, “You must write.”  When I am feeling out of words and foolish for thinking I could write anything, his words pull me back to writing.
*   A five-year-old boy staring at my feet and exclaiming, “Miss Sharon, your toenails look pretty.”  I was teaching children’s church, overwhelmed with responsibilities, dripping with sweat from the hot summer and the chaos of twenty-eight children in my basement for house church, and his words were like a cool drink that energized me to keep going.

There is a Chinese proverb that reads, “The beginning of wisdom is calling things by their right name.”  I pray that this new year I can use words to create life.

Words also overcome evil.  The Word explained, “I come not to judge, but to save the world” (John 12:47).  I have certainly experienced words of judgment and condemnation that become like ulcers that hurt, erode faith, hope, and love, and separate from others.  I have used words that I am certain have hurt others as well.  A good word brings light to the soul.  Our words are to reflect the Logos (the Word) who is Light and Life.   I can easily remember good words that have brought light into my life:

*  Words in books have often been the timely words that have saved me.   Brennan Manning’s words in Ragamuffin Gospel have been the lamps along my path many times: “The gospel of grace calls out, Nothing can ever separate you from the love of God made visible in Christ Jesus our Lord.  You must be convinced of this, trust, and never forget to remember.  Everything else will pass away, but the love of Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever.  Faith will become vision, hope will become possession, but the love of Jesus Christ that is stronger than death endures forever.  In the end, it is the one thing you can hang onto.”
*My son was only six years-old (he had just knocked over a lamp while playing Power Rangers in the living room) when he said words that I have hung on to during the inevitable ups and downs of family life: “Mom, in our family we always forgive each other, right?”
*A friend recently spoke words of light during a time of darkness, “Sharon, I trust your journey.”  Her simple sentence said more about faith, hope, and love than volumes of words written on the subjects.

I pray that I can use words during the months ahead to bring light into the lives of others.

Words are eternal.  Edward Thorndike wrote, “Colors fade, temples crumble, empires fade, but wise words endure.”  Our words don’t disappear.  I can recall words that were said to me that I will never forget:

*I had a seventh-grade history teacher who heard my sullen, sarcastic, middle-school vocabulary and advised me, “You will catch a lot more flies with honey than you will with vinegar.”  I don’t remember his name, but I’ll never forget his words.  I think of them when I am exasperated with a store clerk, mad at my children, or frustrated with someone on the other end of the telephone.
*My mom gave me advice that I continue to pass on to other young mothers, “Sharon, babies cry. (I was sleep-deprived and desperate for my crying baby to stop crying to prove that I was a good mother.)  Your daughter doesn’t need to you to be perfect.  She just needs you to love her.”
*There is seldom a night that I go to sleep that I don’t remember the words of the Eternal Word, “Do not be afraid.  I have redeemed you.  I have called you by name and you are mine.  The mountains may be moved.  The hills may be shaken.  But my love for you will never be moved, and my covenant of peace with you cannot be shaken” (The Prophet Isaiah).

I resolve in the year ahead to remember that words matter.  And yet in the midst of resolving I remember the words of Oliver Wendell Holmes, “Language is a solemn thing: it grows out of life . . . out of its agonies and ecstasies, its wants and weariness.  Every language is a temple in which the soul of those who speak it is enshrined.”  My words will not create, overcome evil, and matter for eternity unless I am enshrined in the Creative, Good, and Eternal Word.  My deepest prayer is that my words will reflect where my soul finds nourishment — from The Word.

“The Word became flesh and blood and moved into the neighborhood.  We saw the glory with our own eyes, the one-of-a-kind glory, like Father, like Son, generous inside and out, true from start to finish . . . . We all live off his generous bounty, gift after gift after gift. . . . This one-of-a-kind God-Expression, who exists at the heart of the Father, has made him plain as day.”  (John 1)

I receive a weekly blog posting from an author I enjoy.  This week she turned 40 and in her birthday blog mentioned that she’s “learned to love her scars”.  I stopped and reread.  Her words penetrated.

I have a weird interest in scars.  I think they are beautiful.  I want to know the story behind them.  On a heart level, I love delving into scars there too.  I think they can make people beautiful.  I want to know the story behind them.  I want to see how God surfaces in the story.

I spent part of tonight saying farewell to one of my favorite college freshmen.  She’s getting on a plane tomorrow morning to head back to university after her first big Christmas break.  She’s so much more mature than I was at her age.  She lives her life connected to God.  She is learning to live more connected to her own heart.  She is learning to love her scars.

Sometimes when I am with students–really listening to their hearts, it takes me back to moments in a different place in time.  Sometimes it is glorious, but sometimes it is painful.  I am reminded of bad decisions I made in high school or college, of not seeing my place in the bigger story, of hurting someone, or of choosing ‘second things’.  It used to paralyze me, but with the benefit of time, a God who hasn’t given up on me, and a wonderful husband who is far more than who I could have ever dreamed of sharing my life with, I am learning to embrace the beautiful mess that is me.  It’s been a long road, but I’ve learned to love my scars.  It’s scary to write, but I even occasionally have glimpses of what it would be like to welcome future scars–knowing that they remind me of how much I need God and long to live my life really connected to Christ and to the special people that He’s allowing me to share this journey with.