Calling on 1,000 People to Make A Difference!

An easy way to be a part of bringing hope, justice, and life to Australia, Cambodia and Papua New Guinea!

2013... A Full-On Year!

This is what my year looks like!  Ask me how you can get involved?

I Was Not Made For Here

“If I find in myself desires which nothing in this world can satisfy, the only logical explanation is that I was made for another world.” -C.S. Lewis

I raced my sister to and from the gumball machine. I remember asking once if we could have one. My father said, “No.”

I quickly got over my sorrow of missing out on the sweet gumball and continued to race Bethany.

 If my dad said, “No,” I knew it was final. No use arguing. 

My bare, tanned feet padded against the carpet, as I chased my little sister around the Miami International Airport. She and I were dressed in matching pajama dresses with silk ribbons woven in the bottom.  I remember my ribbon was purple.  I loved purple as a little girl.   

Purple was the color of my jelly shoes I showed off to my dad a few years prior, when he returned from a month in Venezuela. My five-year-old self was so proud of those shoes. 

Incidentally, Venezuela was why we were in the Miami International Airport. We were headed to yet another country. Hopefully, this one to stay for a while. 

I was an MK. Better known as a missionary kid. When I was three or four-years-old, my parents left their jobs, house, and most possessions in Arizona, driving to east Texas to start a new life training for foreign missions. 

We were in Grenada for a bit. I liked the beach and jungle. My fond memories entailed jungle adventures, fresh bananas, crystal clear beaches, and giant seashells. Well, in my tiny hands they were huge. Grenada was an ideal place for a kid to flourish. 

Then there was Mexico. I remember it being hot. Really hot. Dusty. I remember waking in the middle of the night, fearful of scorpions. Fondly, I remember the ice cold, bottled Coke. My siblings and I would share a bottle as a special treat. 

This time, we headed to Venezuela. Soon after taking flight, I was sick on the plane. I always got sick-to-my-stomach. It did not evoke much sympathy from my parents. I was miserable.  

Caracas, Venezuela was like nothing I had experienced in the world. Horns blasted day and night. Armed guards stood outside the post offices. The tiled houses stair stepped up hillsides, with metal gates and bars keeping the residents safe from rampant crime. 

I liked it. Despite picking up every stomach ailment in the tropics, I was happy there. I liked the brightly clothed women with huge earrings, bigger high heels, and florescent lipstick. The Spanish language was music to my ears. And, I liked the dog with the homeless man we gave food. 

The barrios were a whole other world in Caracas. They had no gates. Most had no doors. Pounded flat tin cans shingled the roofs. Eroded streets filed with kids in dirty clothes. You could smell burning in the air. Smelled like exhaust and burning wood. 

I still love that smell today. It’s the first thing I notice in all of the developing world nations I have visited. 

Unfortunately, we did not stay in Caracas long. In less than a year, we headed back to the States, my parents dreams in missions fading. 

In the States, we moved every few years. Never quiet settling. There was something in me longing to go back to the developing world. I never fit-in. America confused me. I was shy and quiet, so people assumed I was snobby. My world-view far outweighed that of most American adults. So, I buried my head in books. 

I would study maps for hours, I read National Geographic to learn about cultures and people all over the world, and I soaked up history. I longed to see the world. I dreamed of traveling the world. 

Somehow college and getting a degree set my travel back a bit. I still dreamed of being a foreign correspondent or documentary photographer. 

Life after college set me back further. I could barely pay bills, keep up with a broken car, afford furniture and starting out, let alone seeing the world. But, I longed. After many closed doors on short-term mission trips and six years of work, I finally felt like it was time to go. 

After a short trip to Nicaragua (where, of course I picked up a stomach bug), I moved to Australia, as a full-time volunteer with a Christian organization. Since then, I have traveled to East Timor and Papua New Guinea to work with community development and medical care. (I, of course, was the media for the medical ship, definitely not delivering the treatment.) 

Yet, I do not feel like this is it. This is not the end of my road. 

I was suffering from an incredible bought of “wander-lust” today when it struck me; it was not lust at all. I have this incredible longing in me for more. For more of seeing people’s lives impacted positively through community development. For seeing villages rebuilt after genocides. To see hope implanted on the faces of people who use to have none. 

I long for the smell of burning wood and exhaust, for washed out city streets in a ghetto, for children in rags playing in the street. I long to share with them a knowledge I have. A deeper knowledge of the world God designed for them. 

As long as I draw breath, I will long because no matter where I am, I am not home. Nothing in this world can satisfy. By this, I can only conclude that I was not made for here. I was made for another world. Heaven.    

Tiny Girl With A Huge Impact

Baby Mezlyn at 1 week old.

(A story I wrote for the ship's website about a baby I met in Daru.)

In a tiny room off the maternity ward in Daru General Hospital sat a small plastic bed. In it, a 1.1 kilograms baby girl slept, her minimal waking moments filled with a small, heart-breaking cry.  If size were an indicator of strength, baby Mezlyn would be written off.  The fight to live, however, is not based on size.  This tiny girl was a huge miracle.

Her 22-year-old mother, who Mezlyn was named after, died from typhoid soon after she prematurely gave birth to Mezlyn. Her story should be rare, but even today, rural Papua New Guinea (PNG) sees one in seven women die in child birth. Even worse than the statistic, it is hard to see young women and mothers die of a preventable disease.  Typhoid is a disease that can be easily prevented with sanitation and hygiene.

While Mezlyn struggled to make it just one more day, the YWAM Medical Ships Australia (YWAM MSA) team was grateful for the opportunity to help bring education to the nurses and medical workers of the Western Province of PNG.  The volunteers were also able to educate on pregnancy risks and high risk births in order to make more stories like Mezlyn’s obsolete.

Me holding Mezlyn in Daru.

Unfortunately, the day after the Medical Ship left Daru, baby Mezlyn’s fight ended.  After only two-and-a-half weeks of life, she passed away.  Her struggle, however, was a reminder to YWAM MSA of the need of continued work in that region.

There was hardly an hour during clinic days and on free weekends when baby Mezlyn was not visited by a group of YWAM MSA volunteers.  She was held, loved, sang to, and fed by the hands of not just nurses but even crew on board the ship.

Baby Mezlyn’s story, like so many others from the Western Province, has captured the heart of the volunteers and staff in YWAM MSA.

As YWAM MSA continues to partner and work alongside the medical workers in PNG, they will continue to strengthen local resources, creating a healthier Western Province

Wesley

One of many stories written by me about my experience in Western Province, Papua New Guinea.

“The mud!” I cried out to the air, “I cannot take the mud anymore!” We had just walked at least a kiIometer in knee deep, slick mud.  My temper was flaring along with my self-pity.  I was not just knee deep in mud, I was knee deep in me.  

I am ashamed to say tears rolled down my face as I sat alone at the back of a bamboo slatted clinic, asking God why on earth He wanted me in missions? In Papua New Guinea?  It was the first time I’ve cried facing the astonishing poverty here…. And it wasn’t even about the poverty.  

As selfish as it sounds, I think it was easier to cry for me than them.  If I cried for Western Province, PNG and all I’ve seen, I knew I would never stop.  It is my job as media to tell their story, so I will.

You see, it wasn’t long after my tears of pity that tears of pain and anger washed my eyes, spilling over.  I had spent the morning with our clinic workers following up on baby Umi, a starving three-month-old YWAM Medical Ships (MSA) found on the last outreach.  It wretched my heart to see her condition, her mother’s hopeless eyes, hear the story of her father’s loss, but I was at least prepared for it. 

What I wasn’t prepared for was Wesley.  The minute my eyes fell on this child I knew I was staring into the face of suffering.  I moved forward to talk to Wesley who lay limp in his mother’s lap in the clinic. His eyes followed me, but his head slumped to one side.  He was too weak to hold it up.

With very minimal use of only the right side of his body, I knew this three-year-old boy was starving to death right in front of me.  His tiny knees were larger than his thighs.  I could see every bone in his body.  He became real when I felt the touch of his hand.  

I had to look away, so my eyes shifted to his mother.  She wouldn’t look at me.  I saw the same vague, hopelessness across her face I had seen in others.  The light had gone out.  The suffering, too great to feel anymore.    

My chest tightened.  Somewhere inside of me welled up both incredible sorrow and anger. Not anger directed at anyone, just an overwhelming sense that injustice sat in front of me in its rawest form.  

My mind rebelled.  “This is not right! This is NOT right!” I wanted to shout it until my lungs were sore.  I wanted to shake people and tell them.  No child should starve to death!  No child should have their life stolen from them! 

No, it shouldn’t happen, but it is happening.  It is real.  It is unjust.  It is far from okay. But, it is real.  Wesley is real. 

Tears rolled down my face today.  Mud stained my feet.  My heart broke.  

I can’t shut my eyes to it. I can’t stop feeling.  The minute I do, I stop being effective.  We were able to help him and share hope.  I know the reality is, Wesley may not see next month.  I know the reality is, his mother’s eyes may never shine again, but I can’t help but hope the impossible can happen. 

This I do know, if we go, we can make Wesley’s story a rarity.  If we don’t go, if we close our eyes and stop the tears, Wesley’s story will just become another sad statistic we shake our heads at and walk away.

Western Province, Papua New Guinea

While it’s not everyone’s desire to go into one of the poorest regions in one of the poorest countries in the world, it has been a dream of mine.  Since I was about 10-years-old, I have wanted to be a foreign correspondent and writer.  I had no idea the form it would take.

Tomorrow I flight out to meet YWAM Townsville’s Medical Ship (the Pacific Link) in Port Moresby, PNG.  We will then be sailing into the Western Province to take medical care into remote areas. 

An idea of what this looks like?  We’ll take the ship up the Bamu River region.  Most of the villages and their names were completely unknown until this year.  The Western Province has one hospital…. One.  It is a very, very far canoe trip from this region.  Walking there would be next to impossible, if not deadly. 

80% of the children seen in this area were malnourished.  We had flour and rice to distribute.  Unfortunately, no one knew what to do with it or how to cook it…. The simple task of boiling a pot of water over an open fire is not possible due to not having pots to cook in. Normally, this procedure would be taught to help the villagers with waterborne illness. 

Most women in this area give birth at the river, in the mud.  Without so much as a sterile mat to lie on.

 I do not write these things to dishonor the people of this region.  They are beautiful with rich culture.  I write these things because much of the world hardly knows the plight of this region. 

I am excited to share in the development.  Our heart there is not to change anyone, but to make life richer for them.  With basic knowledge and tools, many of the disease and health risks can be prevented or reversed.  We want to see community development brought to impact generations for the better.

I get the joy of capturing this.  With my writing and photography skills, I get to tell the world more about the Western Province.  I get to make their stories known.  I get to give statistics a face and a name.

I am so blessed.  It is a dream come true.  This is what I was made for…. I cannot wait to get started! But, more than anything, this is the heart of God for this region. 

God, let me convey Your heart to the world, let me see them with Your eyes, and let me capture a glimpse of who You are.  

I'M GOING TO PNG!

Well, I am learning again and again how God works in His own time. Not mine.

I was pulled aside by a leader on Friday August 10 and asked to be a part of Outreach 6 on the Ship.  Outreach 6 is in 10 days (August 23^rd)!!! (It was all officially approved for me to go today.) 

I am so excited!  More so than I ever thought I would be about going on the Ship.  For some reason, the timing just feels perfect and right.  I have incredible peace about it and know this is an opportunity of a lifetime. 

I will get to be the media person, which means I will be spending every waking hour writing articles/stories and taking photos. Is this my dream job or what? I get to follow Doctors, nurses, health care workers, dentists, and ship crew around for 18 days documenting their and the villagers’ lives!

Now, it will be hard work and challenge all I know about life and the world.  The Western Province of PNG is literally one of the poorest areas in the entire world.  Unlike most impoverished places, such as Haiti, hardly any aid or workers get in.  YWAM’s Medical Ship (through incredible amounts of prayer) was released to go there just weeks ago. 

On top of the poverty, there were recent floods.  Many of the people in this region have been without food for months.  Our ship was given mass quantities of rice and flour to take into those remote areas.  We found out through PNG government officials that our Ship was Plan A to bring aid…. And there was no Plan B.

On the 23^rd, I will be flying up to Port Moresby, PNG and getting on the Ship.  Then, with our fresh batch of volunteers, we will sail (hopefully smooth) to the Western Province for 2.5 weeks. The ship will travel all along the coasts and up rivers to remote villages to set up clinics. 

The only thing I am missing at this point is the funds to get there, but I have every confidence God will provide every penny!  

I can't wait to send up my follow up newsletter to tell you all about it and God's incredible faithfulness.... it's gonna be good! 

If you'd like more information on what I'll be doing, please feel free to contact me!

I'm Here.... What Now?

I'm here.  I'm actually here.  When did this happen?  How did I end up back in Australia?  I know there was sweat, tears, fears, joy, triumph, work, paperwork, packing, and a million other things involved but how did it all come together?

I faintly remember the flight. The nonstop turbulence for 13 hours LA to Sydney.  Carrying overpacked bags through crowds to my next gate.

I have been back in Northern Queensland for almost 7 weeks now.  Time and life has flown.

I am actually living my dream.  This is my life.  Doing what I love.  Doing what I feel created for.  How can I even begin to list out the things I've been involved in since being back?  Youth teams, fundraiser breakfast, a medical ship sailing to PNG, press releases, newspaper blurbs, community events, meeting Prime Ministers....

I am blown away that when I wake up in the morning this is where I am.  I have been filled with a range of emotions from the minute my plane touched down in this humid, beach town.  Mostly surreal.

The hardest part of becoming a missionary and living out my dream is reality sets in.  The fact of the matter is, I haven't magically become an amazing person over night.  The people I serve alongside are just as human as I am.  Some of them are very frustrating and annoying humans.  Some of them are wonderful beyond words.

Me.  Well, I'm still super broken and imperfect.  I didn't wake up this morning without faults because I chose to follow God into my new life.  In fact, not every day as a missionary is one of submission (handing over my control and rights to God and letting Him lead).

Sometimes I just stuff up!  Sometimes my attitude is crap!  Sometimes I am tired and cranky and full of venom.

In fact, my last experience out here was one of unbelievable triumph and joy.  This time has been a lot harder.  I find it hard at times to focus on God when I'm working so hard for Him.  Oh, but there is my issue.... my surrender needs to be continual.

Despite the problems, I am in the best part of my life because IT'S NOT ABOUT ME! How refreshing is that?  *Sigh!*

No matter how irritating people can be, especially me, God remains God.  While my emotions spatter the map, He is.  He is good.  He is righteous.  He is peace.  He is LIFE.  He is LOVE. He is truth. While I may choose to walk in a tainted identity, He sees me with eyes of love.  I sometimes run after my own ambitions and forget what is tangible, He is there patiently turning me back.

I have been walking in incredible frustration wondering why as a follower of Christ and missionary I don't have much together.  I make the same mistakes over and over.  But I stop and wait for His truth.  What does God intend for me and what would He say about me?

He doesn't intend frustration and discontent.  While I don't get magical fairy dust to fix all my personality quirks, I certainly can't bury myself in lies and self-doubt.  I can wake up tomorrow overfilled with joy.  I can spend my day in peace, despite all circumstances.  I can be beautiful.  I can be sweet, calm, patient, kind, slow to anger.

In fact, this is how I will choose to live.  I am not changing who I am, from imperfect me.  I am just becoming more of who I really am.  Who I was made to be.  My identity isn't that I'm a missionary.  My identity doesn't lie in the fact I live in Australia instead of America.  My identity is found at the foot of the Cross.  A life submitted to God!  Let the world see Him, not me! 

March Newsletter

“Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let
us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us
run with endurance the race that is set before us...” HEBREWS 12:1


Farwell, Boise.  You’ve been a good home!


A little over a year ago, I was camping in the Australian
bush with my school.  We were going through lectures on
Lordship.  During one of our response times, we prayed to
see if there was anything God wanted us to lay at the foot
of the cross.  (Yes, we literally had a cross set up.)  After
praying about it, we got up and confessed our idols or
things we were clinging to that kept God from being Lord
over every aspect of our lives.  Then, we laid a symbol of
that down at the cross or we gave it away.


I had a few, but the biggest was Boise.  For the first time
in my life, I felt rooted to a place.  It was home.  I have a
great church here, great group of friends, and so many
favorite spots to run, have coffee, rock climb, etc….  I
spent most of my 20’s in Boise; some of the most formative years of my life.  It’s where I made a lot of mistakes, a lot of wise choices, and learned…. a lot.  It’s where I became ME, essentially.
In that moment, before my peers, I knew I had to give it
completely to God along with all the comforts I had accumulated over the years.  I didn’t know at the time God would ask me to leave it behind, but I knew it was something I was holding onto for my security.  While it was very difficult, God didn’t just rip it out of my
hands but He changed my heart.  Slowly
over the rest of my Discipleship Training
School, He was giving me the ability to let
it go. By the end, I knew it wasn’t going to
be my home anymore and I was okay with
that.


It’s about trust.  Do I trust God?  Do I really
believe that what He has for me is greater
than what I know or cling to? Am I willing
to follow Him?  Is following God worth giving up Boise (or whatever it is you have as
your security)?  Can I praise Him for what He has given me,
even if He takes it away?  It’s Lordship.


“And if it is evil in your eyes to serve the LORD, choose this
day whom you will serve, whether the gods your fathers
served in the region beyond the River, or the gods of the
Amorites in whose land you dwell. But as for me and my
house, we will serve the LORD.” Joshua 24:15.


PRAYER POINTS:
I am so excited for this new chapter in life!  I fly out Tuesday March 27th.   Please pray for smooth connections, luggage making it, and some rest on the flights…. I haven’t
been able to sleep on a plane yet.  LA to Sydney is over 10
hours!
Currently I am at about 84% of my support.  I still need
about $200 a month to meet my goal, but have enough at
this time to be okay.  (I also have a tax return to help get
me through a few months.)  My visa has been approved,
upfront costs paid, and all the pieces are falling into place.

Prayer for my placement into a house or flat on base; that
I am placed with the right roommates.  There are so many
cute houses that are possibilities for me to live in and a set
of apartments right on base.  

Praise that it has stopped raining in Boise
and Townsville.  I will not leave or arrive to
flooding!!!


For those of you who do support me financially, I
will be making a few changes to how you can
give, so keep your eyes open this month for an
update.  The YWAM account takes some fees and
then withdrawing from my bank into Australian
dollars also hits me with fees.  I am looking at
switching to a PayPal, which will save me $25-$50
a month.

So Many Answered PrayersI

With only 12 days left until my flight leaves for Australia I can confidently say that I serve a Big God, a Powerful God, a Providing God, a Loving God, and a God who cares about my little details in life.

Tonight after life group I came home to one of the best e-mails of my life.... Australia has accepted my visa application!!!  Despite the teeth clenching, extreme mountains of paperwork, and a million follow ups with paperwork from supporters, I can happily say it has been worth it.

I am also only 16% away from being fully supported.  At the beginning of this week I started off at $1100 and within a few days was up to $1240!  $1200 was my minimum goal to go.  I have an unbelievable peace that God knows what I need and will provide the rest.

So, to end this week of craziness (flying to and from Denver to see the family, eye Dr. appointments, dental appointments, biking in extreme traffic and weather all over Boise, etc...) I will get to have a nice day of getting my hair cut tomorrow, trying out Heidi's new skin care and make-up, and buying new running shoes!  It will be a perfect way to wind down this hectic but awesome week! 

February 2012 Letter

I have been struggling to fill everyone in over the past month.  I feel like the past few months I’ve been singing the same song, going through the same struggles, and slowly but surely getting ready to head into missions.  I didn’t feel much new was going on…. Until last night, that is.

I decided to listen to a sermon by Francis Chan.  Chan talked about Daniel 4.  He shared that King Nebuchadnezzar understood God’s power and sovereignty to a deep level, and we need to grow in our understanding of this as well.  We cannot be elevated or brought low without God’s hand in it.  God’s will for us endures above all else.  The entire world can disagree with God, even the angels can disagree with God and yet He prevails. 

Daniel 4:34-35, “…I blessed the Most High and praised and honored Him who lives forever; for His dominion is an everlasting dominion, and His kingdom endures from generation to generation. All the inhabitants of the earth are accounted as nothing, but He does according to His will in the host of heaven and among the in habitants of earth; and no one can ward off his hand or say to Him, ‘What have You done?’”

But, it goes beyond that.  While God has this power, He still chose to come to earth.  He still chose to humble Himself to death on a cross.  Not because He had to but because He wanted to.  Chan shared that in our own lives we, as Christians, should be imitators of Christ in this.  He talked about giving up everything: comfort, social norms, reputation, even his church, to live for Christ.  Not because we have to, but because nothing else should matter in our lives but making disciples of all the nations, baptizing them….     

I have to admit, the past few weeks I have been sucked in by materialism.  I have wasted time looking at and pursuing things that fade.  My list of “needs” before I return to Australia continued to grow at an alarming rate.  I started making ‘wish lists’ for clothes and other things.  I haven’t had the resources to actually purchase anything but in my heart I was compiling all these treasures and clinging to them.  I have wasted hours looking, coveting. 

Less than a year ago, I spent 3 of the best weeks of my life in East Timor living in a shed on a cot with 4 t-shirts, 2 pairs of pants, and little food or resources.   I was so content and happy.  I also had more than anyone else in the village and all I had fit into a backpack. 

I have repented, but, admittedly, I am still struggling wanting more.  God didn’t call me into missions to elevate me. He isn’t even necessarily going to bless me.  All I have is only because He chose to give it to me.  It is more than I need.  In the process of support coming in, I have to stop believing any of it is by my efforts.  I cannot trust in my own ability.  God is the one who is providing.  He is the one putting people in my path to support me.  My job is to be a good steward of what He has entrusted me with.  My job is to live for God and point people to Him.   

King Nebuchadnezzar was the ruler of the greatest kingdom on earth at the time.  He had more power and wealth than anyone else could even imagine. Yet, God humbled him, stripping him of even his sanity.   Who am I to expect anything from God? 

Prayer and Praise:

-I am currently at about $960 in monthly support!  Leaving about $500 a month to still come in. (4.5 more weeks!)   

-Visa is in process, they contacted me wanting more support information before accepting or denying it.  

-Pray for continued focus to be Christ centered and not “me” centered.

-Thanks to the Neely’s for having provided room and board to me over the past 6 months, allowing me resources to prepare for missions.