Cause the Salsa Needs Canning

    I have had the title of this post in my mind for a long time.  I have been very lazy with writing lately, and there is no excuse for my laziness.  Writing is a very powerful tool in my life, and to deny the Holy Spirit's gift because of laziness is a shame.  As many of you know, at least those of you in blog world that take your sweet time to read my updates (which by the way, thank you so much for taking time out of your busy day to read the words God has given me), my husband and I have began a journey into a world of ministry.  We are very dedicated to proclaiming freedom around the world starting in our own community.  These past few years have brought many life changing events ending with me on a plane to San Fransisco to become trained in investigation and reporting for cases of slavery in my own community.  I was trained, and after being home for only a few days, I was asked to be involved with a Human Trafficking Awareness Summit held at the state capital. 

   Amazed by the new updates in the law, I was excited to be asked to be involved with such a wonderful adventure, so I embarked on what I now kindly refer to as "little black dress" ministry.  This type of ministry includes putting on your best clothes and playing "important" with big name law officials.  Sorta like when we were children and played house.  You knew inside that you did not belong in this type of world (at least not yet), but you welcomed the chance to play. 

   It didn't take long for me to realize, though, that I did not belong in this world (at least not yet).  I left at the morning break because I had a house to clean, people to visit, and salsa to can. 

    Time is precious.  It is the most precious gift you can give someone, and it is a fleeting part of our lives.  Our time is different than a store bought gift because once you have given your time, it can never be returned.  I must never be selfish with my time, or deny time to a person that God has told me to give because it doesn't fit into my schedule.  Sometimes the people that God tells us to spend time with isn't logical.  My home and family must be a major part of my time (the most important), but home and family can also consume every second of my time becoming more of a distraction.  My time is too precious to be spent on chasing ideas and dreams that I cannot see God's hand holding together, and like I trust my money, love, and life to God, my time also, must be daily given to Him.  Time spent must be intentional, for spending time can quickly become meaningless or wasted.  Sadly, there are occasions where time spent doing "ministry" is just wasted time.  Time could be spent better elsewhere such as canning salsa.     

I have learned these lessons the hard way.  Naturally, I am a shy person when I am in a crowd that I am not known.  It takes me quite awhile to warm up to people, and even then it is easy for me to move on from relationships.  It is a piece of my personality that makes me incredibly sad.  I like to fill my days with checklists and management, but this doesn't allow the Holy Spirit to move.  We must be intentional with our time because reality is, there are many things to get done in a day.  Every house wife knows that from the moment she wakes up to the moment she lies down, she is in movement.

    So I left the meeting because that season of my life hasn't came as of yet, and honestly, I have done very little with the training I came home with from San Fransisco.  I hope to change this, but it is all about waiting on the Holy Spirit to move.  I will squeeze in here though, it is about movement as well.  More on that later.  It takes waking up every morning and asking God, "Okay, what do I do today?"  It takes obeying His leading when He tells you to go or to stay.  What season of life are we in as of now?  Well, I am building a photography business, and it is going very well (thanks be to God and the creative insights the Holy Spirit has given me).  I am trying to find a place at the kickboxing gym that I am now attending (since I am officially past all hurts and aches), and I am attempting to get healthy enough to carry a baby to term.  I am seeing a natural herbalist doctor guy that has suggested some medicine that will raise my body temp high enough to keep a baby (since my normal body temp is below 96 degrees), and I am starting to feed my body organic food.  My prayer is that by the end of the year, we will be pregnant again, and the baby will be carried to term.  I am also in a season of leaving full time work and going to part time work and trusting God with money.  Finally, I am in a season of building a ministry.  God just hasn't given me or my husband the picture of what that is going to look like yet. 

So what season of life do you find yourself in at the moment, and are you spending your time intentionally in that season?

I could have been her...

Yesterday, in the middle of Best Buy, I was talking to a dear friend on my husband's phone because no one but God Himself knew where my phone was.... anyhow different story for a different time. We were discussing some children that we used to minister/mentor. These children did not grow up like I did. There were not rules or standards for these children, and most of them didn't know who their real mom or real dad or real anything was. It was almost as if they grew up living in a story that was not actually their own story. Anyway, God has brought me face forward with many of these girls this past weekend. Some of the girls went ahead and found a way to make a life for themselves. Some of the girls drifted farther back into their fairy tale world and now have decided to set up camp and live there. It is heartbreaking.

Life is funny, but God is never surprised. My husband and I are taking a mission oriented class at church for the next 15 weeks. The class is on Sundays, and it comes with homework and required reading. I have mixed feelings about the class. I am excited to be learning and finishing something I began last year, but the thought of going ahead and giving away 3 hours of my Sunday for the next 15 weeks doesn't excite me when so much of my time is already taken. I have a serious freedom issue that I need to get over. However, the class is a good reminder that we are not alone in the world. The class is also a great reminder that we have a responsibility to God and His people to bloom and spread His love where we are planted first and to the ends of the Earth second.

My run-ins with the girls and the class all came tumbling down on my last night when I was cleaning and redecorating my house. I AM BLESSED BEYOND BELIEF. I have a beautiful house that is clean, decorated, and organized. I mean I have a Better Homes and Garden magazine on my coffee table. I have a husband who not only loves and cherishes me, but he loves and cherishes God. I have never seen a man more anxious to wake up in the morning so that he can read his Bible. My husband is also a dedicated worker and is okay about living without the finer things in life so that I can be a stay-at-home(ish) wife next year. I mean the man ate beans and rice for like three days last week. I am thankful for a job that has taught me much about kids and life. I am thankful that the word of God is free here and that our government does not have control over the church. I could go on and on about what I am thankful for because I am in freedom.

However, I could have been her. I could have been the one to fall into slavery at a young age. See, my parents both had to work, and I was in charge of letting myself into the house everyday after school. I walked home the same way at the same time for many months. All it would have taken is someone to watch me for a couple of days to figure out how to get a hold of me. Also, when I was in college I did some horribly stupid (I mean STUPID) stuff that ended me up in bad situations with men I didn't know. Before college even started, I made a game of how many times I could sneak out of the house. I wasn't even going anywhere good, I was just going to see if I could get away with leaving. One situation stuck out in particular.

I was maybe 9 or 10 years old, and I had a friend named Autumn. Autumn had a mom that would let her do almost anything she wanted, so one NIGHT Autumn came to my house asking if I wanted to go hang out with her. My dad wasn't home, so I knew that it wouldn't be a problem. (I love my mom and dad with all my heart, but mom was just easier to say yes than dad was.) While I was running out the door I vaguely remember my mom telling me to call her when we got back to Autumn's apartment. (Oh the days before five year olds had cell phones. I had a walkie talkie I was required to carry around our apartment complex). However, I never called my mom. As soon as we got to Autumn's house, there was a knock at the door and some girls were asking us to come outside to this gazebo thing in the middle of the apartment complex. One of the girls was my babysitter, so I felt safe enough going with her. I forgot to call my mom, and Autumn's mom didn't care if we went. When we got to what I assume now was a party for pot smokers (I didn't know what pot was at 10-years-old). There were people much older than I present. Most of them were men. It was dark... too dark to see much, and there I was, tiny me with my pound puppy bicycle.

Can I be real with you? At that time, children were being taken all the time, but the idea of slavery was incomprehensible. Nobody really knew that people would have taken a 9 or 10-year-old girl off of her pound puppy bike and put her to "work". I could have been her, the girl with the testimony "I was in the back of a building being raped repeatdly when they finally raided the place and set me free." Or I could have never been given the chance to speak at all. See, I am not afraid. God protected me then, how much more now am I protected with God and all of His angels fighting for what is right and just.

My dad was the one that found me, and I had never and honestly have never seen him as angry as he was that night. He busted that party and yelled at everyone to go home. He grabbed me and told me to get home before he did. I drove that pound puppy bike so fast, and I didn't even lock it up. I ran straight to our apartment and dove behind my mother's chair. My father came in with a belt and emotion. I realize now that more than anger, he was probably just afraid. He had every right to be afraid.


"According to the FBI, more than 300,000 children have been sold by sex traffickers in the United States. In the global trade, one in four sex slaves are Americans who simply vanished. And each year 13,000 new victims are snatched up and sold for sex."