A Heart For Achile

"Compassion is sometimes the fatal capacity for feeling what it is like to live inside somebody else's skin. It is the knowledge that there can never really be any peace and joy for me until there is peace and joy finally for you, too." ~ Frederick Buechner

Jesus felt compassion for the hungry. And so He fed them.

Moved with compassion, Jesus reached out his hands and healed the blind and the deaf and the sick.

With a heart of compassion, He gave His all.

Because compassion involves action.

His name is Achile.

He's eight years old.

He lives in one of the poorest countries in the world. Burkina Faso in western Africa.

He's a Compassion child but can't take full advantage of his sponsorship or regularly attend school.

Because he's been in pain for five years.

Because he has a congenital heart defect known as tetralogy of Fallot.

Compassion International has provided medical care for the last two years at the National Teaching Hospital Yalgado Ouedraogo, but now he needs urgent heart surgery to save his life.

At a specialized hospital in India. Cost estimated at $20,449.

One child. With a name. With a face. With a critical need.

And an opportunity to show compassion. To share the heart of Jesus.

To give Achile a future and a hope.

By giving from the heart here.

Or by praying.

Or both.

Because compassion involves action.

Read about how Compassion helps other children with serious heart conditions, like Alex, here.

"It's criminal to ignore a neighbor in need, but compassion for the poor--what a blessing!" 

Proverbs 14:21 (Message)

We sponsor Nduta (Lucy) from Kenya through Compassion.  Do you sponsor any children?

Have you ever known anyone with tetralogy of Fallot?

NOTE: This post is part of the Bridget Chumbley's Blog Carnival on COMPASSION. For other thoughts, visit One Word at a Time.

Copyright © 2010 by Sandra Heska King

Sizzling Hot Abs

So this is my new toy.

Because at my age, things--well, kind of rock and roll. Especially roll. And other things, like neck and back, get kind of stiff.

You've seen the ads. Just sit back and rocket (rock it.) Support head and neck.

Get sizzling hot abs.

Um, right.

I tried the beginner's workout. I can rock that baby down. Easy as eating chocolate cake.

Rocking back up again? Well, that's another story.

The video trainer--that woman with the sizzling abs--the one in the tight pants that dip below her perfect navel--stretches her arms out in front of her or crosses them over her chest and just rockets up.

Up and down. Up and down. All the way up. All the way down.

I grab the handles, grunt, and just turn blue. Blend right into the background.

If I suck in my navel and remember to breathe out when I come up, I can rocket up, oh maybe an inch. Or less.

I'm such a weakling.

Chris Tomlinson (Crave, reviewed here) said, "I would like to think my spirit is ridiculously ripped."

I've thought about that a lot over the last months. A healthy spirit requires proper feeding and regular exercise. Without it, I suspect it's weak and flabby.

Like me.

I want a strong spirit.

Anyway, I'll continue to work it, and maybe I'll find a tighter tummy. Maybe even before I get discouraged. Or plain just tired of it.

Maybe I'll even find some sizzling hot abs.

Probably not.

It's in the fine print.

Results not typical.

But I can at least be more healthy. Maybe a little firm. And I'll try not to compare myself to the navel lady.

I'd rather have a spirit that sizzles anyway.

But sizzling hot abs would be nice.

"A healthy spirit conquers adversity, but what can you do when the spirit is crushed?" 

Proverbs 18:14 (Message)

What kind of exercise equipment have you bought? Did you use it? Did you see results?
Are you feeding and exercising your spirit? How's that going?

Copyright © 2010 by Sandra Heska King

Going Batty

I'm not a fan of bats. The flying kind. They creep me out.

I know they fly around doing good. Gobbling up a bazillion mosquitoes. Pollinating plants and spreading seeds.

But they creep me out.

I shudder to think how many visitors we knocked down in this old farmhouse and then released before having them sealed out. Before I worked for the health department.

Because now I know the risk.

And bats really creep me out.

A local lady saved herself this week by capturing a bat that bit her. She actually had puncture marks. Testing proved it had rabies.

Reminded me again of one of our many bat experiences.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Mom! Dad! There's a mouse in my trash can!"

Not the way I want to be startled from a deep sleep. Dennis continues to snore.

"Mmmmm. What color is it?"

I don't know why I asked that.

"Brown. Hurry!"

Brown? Mice aren't brown, are they? In her tall Michigan State trash can? Oh no!

Dennis sleeps on. I bound up the stairs. And there in her trash can--is a bat!

Bat. Bedroom. Sleeping person.

Must. Catch. Bat.

Book over can. Bushel basket with vinyl liner. More books to hold in place. Close closets. Close door. Stuff towels under door. Call . . . who? At 7 in the morning?

Margaret! Our communicable disease nurse!

Help!

Why am I freaked? We've had confirmed cases of bat rabies in the area. A bat in the area of a sleeping person means assumed exposure.

Lose bat. Get shots.

I check Abby over for bites, knowing marks could be invisible and that there is no way to tell saliva exposure. Calm her down. Calm me down. Send her off to school.

I call Animal Control who sends two officers armed with long heavy gloves--a man and a woman.

We go upstairs, and the man begins to dismantle my "trap."

He removes the books. He removes the  basket. The three of us peer warily into the can.

No bat!

Uh oh!

He explores the basket. Removes the liner.

No bat!

He removes the paper from the bottom of the can, piece by piece, and we stare at the bottom of an empty can.

No bat!

I see shots in our future. But--are those droppings on that sheet of crumpled paper? I reach down to pick it up.

And the bat falls on my bare foot!

My heart stops. I nearly fall out the window. The lady officer screams. The man swoops down on it with his gloves.

And. We. Wait.

Days later. The news. The bat is (was) clean.

Whew!

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I was and am informed now. But I wonder. How many other bats have we dodged?

While we slumbered.

Or like the one Abby woke up to see settled on her canopy one night?

Or like others seen, chased, and lost?

Not that the risk is humongous. But it's there. And I could drive myself batty with worry.

And I wonder. Am I aware of spiritual risks? Have I sealed the entries? Do I remember to don my armor? How many dangers has He protected me from? Dangers unaware?

I'm so glad that He stands guard even in the night watches.

And I'm not creeped out at all.

He won't let you stumble,

Your Guardian God won't fall asleep.

Not on your life! Israel's

Guardian will never doze or sleep.

God's your Guardian, right at your side to protect you--

Shielding you from sunstroke,

sheltering you from moonstroke.

God guards you from every evil

He guards your very life.

He guards you when you leave and when you return,

He guards you now, He guards you always.

Psalm 121:3-8 (Message)

Have you had any close encounters of the bat kind?

Copyright © 2010 by Sandra Heska King

An Early Morning Drama

It happened about 4 this morning. I don't know if I was already awake or if it woke me up.

Not the squeal of tires. More like the sound of air brakes. And then a boom.

A big BOOM!

I lay there a minute trying to figure it out. No sirens. But definitely something not right.

I scrambled out of bed, wandered around the dark house, and peered out the windows. Had to be an accident. But I saw nothing, so I started back to bed. And then I heard something else.

Thunder? An explosion?

And then my phone rang. Abby.

"Mom! An accident on the highway. Fire!"

And then finally sirens. Lots of sirens.

I ran out back through the wet grass to watch the flames shoot toward the sky about a quarter mile away.

And when the flames died, we heard saws.

Details still unclear. Two semis involved? Original reports indicated a tanker. Apparently not so.  One passing another? One left the scene? One driver injured?

Someone said, "It was an Old Dominion truck pulling twin 28 ft van trailers. The passenger side fuel tank on the Old Dominion truck hit the landing legs of the other truck and started the fire."

Whatever that means.

The truth is they are still trying to piece it all together

And it's a mess out there. Steady stream of traffic rerouted off highway, across the road, and back on. Workmen and trucks and officers still on the job 8 hours later. Still a faint scent of burnt rubber. Lives disrupted. People hurt.

From our perspective, it seemed impossible for anyone to survive.

That's the problem with human perspective. It's limited. Things are not always what they seem. We don't know the whole story. Speculation masks truth. Rumors spread. Lives are disrupted. People are hurt.

The tongue is a fire.

"It only takes a spark, remember, to set off a forest fire. A careless or wrongly placed word out of your mouth can do that. By our speech we can ruin the world, turn harmony to chaos, throw mud on a reputation, send the whole world up in smoke and go up in smoke with it, smoke right from the pit of hell." (James 3:5-6 - Message)

This we know for sure at this moment:

1. There was an accident.
2. There was a big fire.
3. A semi burned.
4. There were many responders.
5. There was sawing.
6. A short stretch of highway was closed.

I deleted all my early posts from Twitter and Facebook about this early morning drama.

Waiting for the whole story.

Copyright © 2010 by Sandra Heska King

SAFE!

 Kirthmon F. Dozier / Detroit Free Press/MCT

I listened to the end of the game on the way home from the hospital last Wednesday.

Detroit Tigers and Cleveland Indians.

I could feel the excitement through the radio. The noise was deafening. Ninth inning. Twenty-six Cleveland batters out. Tiger pitcher Armando Galarrago one out away from a "perfect game." Cleveland batter Jason Donald hit a ground ball. Routine play. The first baseman, Miguel Cabrera, snagged the ball and tossed it to Galarrago, who touched the bag ahead of the runner.

Done deal. Out! Positively, absolutely, undeniably, and reliably OUT!

But then disbelief.

Shock.

First base umpire, Jim Joyce, called Donald safe.

SAFE!

Chaos. Confusion. Confrontation.

But not from Galarrago.

He smiled, said nothing, and went back to the mound to get the next batter out.

Later he said, "Nobody's perfect."

And later Joyce apologized. He and Galarrago shook hands.

And hugged.

Joyce could have taken the next day off. But he didn't. He took his place behind home plate.

He cried.

I cried.

What life lessons of integrity, humility, honor, forgiveness, grace, courage, self-control, understanding, sportsmanship!

Lessons that would have been lost if Donald had been "out."

If official records showed a "perfect" game.

Instead we have perfect lessons from a "less than perfect" game.

I can't imagine any better outcome.

A perfect game that wasn't.

Yet was.

The Tigers will donate the first base bag, Galarraga's spikes, and a ball from the game to the Baseball Hall of Fame.

The story will be told.

And lessons will be learned.

In baseball and in life.

Because no matter what "bad calls" come our way, it's all good, because we are safe.

Safe in our Father's arms.

And He turns the "bad" into good.

And I can't imagine any better outcome.

Copyright © 2010 by Sandra Heska King

I Beheld God

I beheld God

In the strength of a mother

     Who labored long and hard

          And in the end released control.

In the love of two parents.

In the tenderness of a father

     Who was a tower of strength

          And exuded calmness in the face of concern.

In the joy of a sister.

In the beauty of a newborn baby, fearfully and wonderfully made.

Lillee Azhinae

Born: 06/02/2010 at 5:28 a.m.

8 pounds 9 ounces

21 inches long

Photo by Jeannine Cooper, my amazing photography friend, whose first lily of the season just happened to bloom in front of this sign.

"For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful. I know that full well." Psalm 139:13-14 (NIV)

Copyright © 2010 by Sandra Heska King

Random Empty Thoughts

Running on empty?

     Slow down.

          Dump excess fuel.

               Toss excess weight.

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest." Matthew 11:28 (NIV) 

Hungry?

          Eat to live.

                Live to eat.

"I am the living bread that came down from heaven. If anyone eats of this bread, he will live forever. This bread is my flesh, which I will give for the life of the world." John 6:51 (NIV)

Filled to be emptied.

Emptied to be filled.

"Have this attitude in yourselves which was also in Christ Jesus, who although He existed in the form of God, did not regard equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied Himself, taking the form of a bond-servant . . . " Philippians 2:5-7a (NASB)

Anxious and worried?

          Cling. 

               Trust.

". . . so is my word that goes out from my mouth: It will not return to Me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it." Isaiah 55:11 (NIV)

Enslaved by stuff? Chasing the wind?

          Let it go!

"For you know that it was not with perishable such as silver and gold that you were redeemed from the empty way of life handed down to you from your forefathers, but with the precious blood of Christ, a lamb without blemish or defect." I Peter 1:18-19

NOTE: This post is part of the Blog Carnival on EMPTINESS. For other thoughts, visit One Word at a Time.

Copyright © 2010 by Sandra Heska King