Last Sunday we were at a church in the Chattanooga area in the morning.  The girls had dress rehersal for The Sleeping Beauty ballet later that afternoon downtown Chattanooga so we spent the time in between having a picnic in the fall air and walking around the river front area.  It was a great time together.  While walking behind the Tennessee Aquarium, a woman was just putting her camera away as we passed by.  She noticed Soraya and said, “Oooo, a baby.  Can I see her?”  We gave our consent and she looked at her.  In the course of conversation, we mentioned we were fixin’ (how’s that for southern) to move to Peru…she asked why and, of course, we told her.  As we said our good-byes she called us back and asked if we had a family picture with the baby.  (God works in wonderfully mysterious ways.  During our picnic we were experimenting with the timer on our camera as we tried to take family pictures.)  We said, “Not yet.” 

 ”I’m a professional photographer and I’d love to take your picture.  It will be my way of supporting your mission work,” she said.  So we sat for a picture.  We will post it a little later for y’all to see (again with the Southern!).  If you are in the Chattanooga area and need a good photographer look her up.  Her name is AmieIrwin and does great work.  (Her webpage is www.creativeedgeportraits.com.)

This picture is one we took before we met Amie.  I thought the kids looked good together like this. 

Thanks for your thoughts and prayers. 

Feedback:  A friend of ours commented she wouldn’t survive an hour in the classroom with eighth graders.  To be honest that’s what I thought before I took this job.  Maybe it helps that I have a teenager at home now (as hard as it is to accept I’m old enough to have a teen at home).   What I’ve realized, though, is that they are just kids.  A bit older.   A bit hairier.  A bit “wiser” of the ways of the world.  But they are still kids wanting to connect with one another and with the adults in their lives.  I have been very surprised at how much I enjoy working with eighth graders…and how blessed I’ve felt. 

I admire teachers.   A teacher at one of the middle schools in the district went on maternity leave and I was asked to fill in for her while she was gone.  I’ve been with the same group of students for about three weeks now.  It’s been good, but eighth grade kids are different than I remember.  Teaching eighth graders to love reading, writing, and grammer is even more different than I remember!  There have been good days and bad days.  Some days I come home floating and some days I am ready to throw in the towel.  I think all the kids are great people with a lot of potential.  Some days, though, I don’t like them very well.  

Yesterday was one of those days.  This being the week of Thanksgiving, school was in session for only two days, theoreticly giving families the time to travel.   Of course, the students knew this was a short week and knew we teachers wouldn’t possibly be so bold as to do any work with them for such a short time.  (This is, after all, the week of Thanksgiving!).  We read a story — in my opinion a good one (”The Treasure of Lemon Brown” by Walter Dean Myers) — and took notes and talked about the story.  In some classes it went well.  In one class it did not.  Before coming to class, they’d had an opportunity to eat sugar.  They were up and not wanting to listen or pay attention or learn about a kid meeting a kind, old, homeless, ragman living in an abandoned tenament building in Harlem.   I know it is not a good thing to gnash teeth…but I did.  As I walked around the room watching them trying to avoid getting any work done, I stewed and fumed and fussed and complained and groused (most of this done in the secret confines of my head). 

 I don’t know when it started to happen, but as I wandered the room (stewing, fuming, fussing, complaining and grousing remember) I suddenly became aware of another sound.  Somewhere from deep within me I heard some singing–I heard myself singing.  Not out loud, of course, but clearly in my mind… We are standing on Holy Ground.  And I know that there are angels all around…  I hadn’t planned on singing this song.  It just happened and rose slowly.

The song continued as I continued walking around the room (still stewing, fuming, fussing, complaining and grousing)… Let us praise… (how dare they keep on talking…)… Jesus now.  We are standing… (I try hard to teach them a good lesson…)… in his presence on… (and they don’t care…)… Holy Ground… 

As I said, I don’t know when the song started to be sung, but as I walked the room, the stewing and fuming and fussing began to fade away and the song about the Holy Ground began to rise and swell.  Even there in a public school with some eighth graders who seem as though they couldn’t care less about characterization and motives and the like, God is there and we are standing on holy ground.  Even those kids I didn’t like much at the moment are loved a whole lot by God.  How dare I think I’m better than God by not loving them as Christ has first loved me?  I guess the teacher learned something. 

Audra, the kids, and I are tired tonight, but feeling good.  We left the house before the sun came up (around 6 AM) and drove within a few miles of Athens (about three hours).  Our goal was Midway UMC.   Because of some car issues, we didn’t get there until after the first service started, but just in time to rush in and bring the message.  We then shared more during Sunday School and later during the 11 AM worship service.  We were well received, and look foward to partnering with them for years to come.  After a great lunch of Barbecue in Winder (a nearby city), we drove back across the northern part of metro Atlanta to another church (Rush’s Chapel UMC), this time in Rome.  Again, we had a wonderful meal (lots of fried chicken and our first fruitcake of the year…I love fruitcake), and shared a message of God’s grace and love.  After the time of sharing, many people came up and spent another half hour or so asking questions and planning trips to visit Peru on a mission trip.   After the service, the pastor took us into the sanctuary (we’d spoken in the fellowship hall).  What a beautiful place!  It was built around 1900 with beautiful arched windows, dark stained wood, and rounded pews.  What a tremendous place to worship God!

One of the many joys we’ve had traveling from church to church is seeing God at work and the places where people worship God.   Last week we were at Epworth UMC (near where Georgia, Tennessee, and North Carolina meet).  They, too, have a long and wonderful history.  Near the church is a spring with a story carved on a marble marker.  The gist of the story is that during the late 1800s the church held camp meetings.  People came from miles around to worship God, and while there, used the spring to water their horses and cows.  The spring was located on private property, and the owner didn’t take kindly to all the people on his land.  His solution:  fence off the spring.  In a predicament and wondering what they would now do with their animals, the people prayed that God would find a way to provide water.   As they people slept that night (or tried to sleep), thunder and lightning filled the air.  The next morning when they awoke, they discovered the spring had moved 200 yards and was now flowing freely…on church property.  What is most amazing, someone told me later that evening, was the original spring on private property is still flowing.  Isn’t that just like God…providing for others but not cutting off the flow from the original people.  God is good…

Grace and peace to y’all!  I just wanted to let you know we are still here.  Between taking care of a new baby and subbing at a local middle school and talking at churches, we haven’t had much time to add to the blog.  We think about y’all often and will write more when we have a chance.

God bless you.