Marisa Banas - Loved Beyond Comprehension

How Your Mission Dollars Are Spent

Sat, 23 Jan 2010 00:00:00 GMT

Ha! Jake and I are having a blast. We are bouncing back and forth between his work and my work, trying to figure out how to serve each other and the people we are here for. We both have an understanding that several people have made financial investments in us so that we can be your hands and your feet in the nations--and we take that responsibility very seriously.

Together we are doing so many various things, so I thought the best way to let you know what YOU are doing in the nations is to give you snapshots of our day.

8:00--8:30am:

We invited our Muslim cab driver in for breakfast before a very long day of errands all over town and an evening trip to Eldorette.

8:30-1:00pm

Ha! We took 4 sick kids from the Challenge Farm to a clinic. Packed in the backseat was Allan sitting on my lap, Ester who we prayed/prophesied over for freedom from her past trauma with all of the Challenge staff members the day before, Cleophas, a good looking 16 year old who was deathly afraid of needles, and Peter, the Farm's newest arrival who was taken off the streets a week earlier. Peter's story is a funny one. The staff did an outreach to all of the street kids in Kitale, invited them over to the Farm for food, showers and some activities. Peter attended the event and when it was time for the kids to leave Peter refused to go. The director, Grace told him that he had to go back that night, but if he was really serious about changing his life and getting off the streets, he had to bring himself back the next day. Early in the morning Peter returned, was fed, clothed and enrolled in school.

Several AWESOME things happened during the hours of waiting:

1.) Ester who hadn't spoken to anyone for quite awhile had a breakthrough. She laughed. I can't remember what we were doing, but something made her break her silence with laughter and from that point on we talked all afternoon.

2.) Poor Peter has a really bad leg infection that might require x-rays next week. The doctor is afraid the infection has gone to his bone. He also has severe malaria which was causing his high fever. He was one sick puppy. (If anyone would like to pay for the rest of his medical needs, the cost would be about $30.00. You can donate online via the challengefarm-kenya.org website.) On a lighter note, once the doc gave him some injections he was in much better spirits and we were able to limp into town to get him some school and play shoes.

3.) Clephas was hilarious. We should have prayed deliverance over his fear before we left. Jake spent about an hour trying to talk him through the fear before he pretty much had to force him to receive the shots. At one point I had all the children in the crowded waiting room and all of the sudden we saw Cleophas run through the room, out the door, down the alley and into the main square area. Following right behind him was my 5 foot 5 boyfriend who was half his size trying to catch him. A couple of men in town thought that Jake was chasing him because Clephas stole something from him so they started to chase him as well. Jake then had to break up a potential fight, bring the kid back which took lots of coaxing and then get him to let the nurse put in an IV drip. HI-Larious! By the end of the day Jake and Cleophas had a pretty close bond and they were able to spend some quality time together just talking about life.

4.) While Jake was bonding with Cleophas, I was in awe of the children as I watched them minister to 10-15 people in the waiting room. I had made a photo album for Allan that was like a scrapbook of the whole process of him being taken off the streets. For some reason we had it with us and it didn't take long for people to ask to look at it. One lady in particular looked at it 4 different times and made sure that all the newcomers took a look. When they turned to the picture of Allan in his street clothes the people were shocked to see his change. They asked Allan and Ester questions and when I asked for an interpretation the lady said, "the children are ministering to me. Look at what God has done with their lives." I'm not exactly sure what the kids said to them, but they were in awe of the actual change that they saw.

1:00-5:00pm

Jake and I took Allan and our muslim driver to lunch and then to a museum. He absolutely loves to learn. He stayed close to the tour guides side and asked a bazillion and one questions. I loved watching him learn. We then stopped in town to buy some shoes, socks and underware. We then took Allan back to the Farm and had to say goodbye.

5:00-8:00pm

Dinner with our Muslim driver It is very uncommon for a driver to be able to eat with the people he is working for. But we spend so much time in vehicles with lots of opportunities to share and just be friends, so we like to invest there. We then traveled to Eldorette

8:00-10:00pm

We met up with a World Race (amazing) team staying at Patrick's house. (Patrick was one of my ministry contacts last year.) Jake and I had a blast talking with the teams, telling stories and absolutely loving that I didn't have to eat what they had for dinner. Here is a picture of their dinner:

10:00-10:30-

Our car got stalled and the WR boys had to help push us out of the village:

11:00-on

Instead of staying at a guesthouse, we were invited to stay at David's house. He was the "angel" that helped us make the final contact with the Challenge Farm last year. He has also been watching over Dorothy who I ministered to last year. We had some time to laugh with him and then we prayed some serious prayers over him.

(ha--nice hair Jake!)

Q-Tip Evangelism

Thu, 21 Jan 2010 00:00:00 GMT

Ha! Okay, this might be the stupidest idea butttttt.....

I minstered with Q-Tip's yesterday. The idea started with the street man who was shoving his ear in my face asking me to fix it. This is gross, but imagine the grossest funk coming out of his ears--it was nasty. So I thought, hey, these kids sleep on the dusty cement ground and pick through a dump to eat, their ears have to be nasty. So I went to the store and spent 30 cents on a couple hundred Q-tips and I walked the streets in search of some dirty-eared boys.

It didn't take long to find them. We sat on old tires and I asked them a bunch of questions while they scooped mc-nasty stuff from their ears. About 8 of them stayed with me and several others wandered in to get a Q-tip and then back out to beg for some money. Most of the teen boys spoke English, and I noticed that the younger ones (around 8 or so) kinda hid behind them. The teen with one eye missing gave me the most information about life on the streets.

They sleep on the floors of shops that have closed for the nights, under 2 verandas in town, and under cars on the street. After the two main African meal times, the kids rummage through trash bins hoping for a scrap of food. They have one outfit because if they had another it would be stolen. They own nothing except the old whisky bottle filled with goey orange glue that they use to get high on. I asked him to tell me the story of the 8 year old named James that hadn't said a word the whole time. A few years ago both of his parents died of AIDS. He had been on the streets ever since. I had to put my sunglasses on so the boys wouldn't see me cry. I looked at James' face and it looked just like Allan's the day before I took him off the streets. Like a boy that needed an advocate-someone to make something happen for him. Many of the boys, especially the older ones are hard, but not this child. He looked like a little boy that fell off his bike and just wanted his mama to hold him. As I searched his eyes I could see that he hadn't had any glue, but he looked exhausted from not eating and he moved around like I do when I fast for a few days. I could literally see his hunger. I normally don't do this, but I grabbed his hand and walked him to a vendor that sold us some food. He didn't ask me for more, or money or anything else. He just said thank you by touching his heart and raising his hand to me. There was no smile, no life in him, just a desperately sad and in need child. Ahhh--why God?

My driver took me from the streets to the Farm where I became like a PTA mom in Allan's classroom. My eyes wandered the room reasearching each child. One of his classmates was just taken off the streets a week ago. He is still having side effects from getting off the glue, and his body still looks like it has been scared from environment. The girl next to him was as cute as a button and I chose not to think about a litte girl so precious rummaging through a dump. My mind bounced back and forth, reflecting on the children I had just seen, then bouncing back to the kids all aggresively raising their hands to be the first one to answer the teacher's question. I was witnessing miracles. All 14 of them were rescued and given hope and a real life. WOW!

I have spent considerable time on the Farm and I am in awe of how much it is run like a real home. Allan has a "Father" which is one of the male teachers that spends individual time with him. His teacher, Mary, is extremely involved in his life and includes a lot of character training in her lessons. Every worker, including security guards and groundskeepers have a role in the childrens lives. And the kids are prayed for individually for freedom from their pasts. They eat 2 big meals a day, which is normal for Africa, they all go to school, and most of all the love level is that of Christs. I couldn't have picked a better place for the little boy who has changed my life.

Please, if you want to financially give support somewhere but you don't know who to trust, please donate to the Challenge Farm

challenge-kenya.com. I promise you that by giving your support, you are changing the lives of little kids like James that have lost hope.

I tried to upload pictures but it didn't work. I will get some up on my next blog--hopefully!

1st Day of School

Tue, 19 Jan 2010 00:00:00 GMT

I only have like 5 mintues to write, so I will do something a little more detailed later.

I arrived at the Challenge Farm late yesterday afternoon after traveling for most of the day. I was upstairs in the office talking with the director the children went to find Allan. As I walked down the stairs through a dark hall to get to the outside area I saw a huge flash of some pearly white teeth grinning at me. It was Allan.

His smile radiated all the way through me and I sighed a sense of relief when I could see that he was genuinely happy--and healthy. He is still a twig, but he has filled out quite nicely.

I have spent the past two days getting reports, sitting in and helping out in the classroom and on Friday I will take him to the doctor and out for a day of fun around the town.

This afternoon I am finding myself in genuine awe. This morning I went to town to buy groceries. I did most of the shopping from my car. In other words, I open my window and the produce vendors come to me. At one point I had 8 salesmen and 4 street kids all shoving their hands and produce through the window. When I sent the salesmen away, the street kids remained. Taking huge sniffs of glue I watched as an 8 year old drifted off into lala-glueland while one of the older guys kept shoving his ear at me and asking me to fix it. When the 8 year old asked me for money I denied him. Instead I told him to go back to the home that he ran away from because the people loved him there and missed him. He started to cry.

We pulled away and went to the farm. I sat beside Allan in his classroom that was filled with 14 other 12-13 year old x-street kids. The children, now all off glue are like my younger cousins. Lively, enegetic, intelligent and jus kids--such a contrast from the shoeless child I saw earlier in the market.

In the classroom I kept thinking, how in the world did I get Allan off the street? How did he get to be #4 in his class, how did he get to play in a school yard without danger and eat from a bowl that fills him up. My feelings of gratitude to the Lord are enormous. Because I know that I only facilitated what God was doing in taking him off the streets, I am absolutely in awe of Jesus' love for children that are unseen.

Wow.

The Miracle of Support

Thu, 7 Jan 2010 00:00:00 GMT

A whisper is heard and a dream is cast into the heart of a man. The God that is unseen speaks, and the man responds. Orphanages fill with children. Ministry schools are built. Sex slaves have a home that is safe. Administrative work happens to get an organization to where they need to be. And the promises of heaven are brought to the earth one life at a time.

I am one out of billions of people who for centuries have heard the whisper and heeded the call. Like all the rest, I walk in faith knowing that my Creator who called me will provide all that I need for the journey He has called me to.

I have raised support for various mission trips four times in my life. Each time has been dramatically different. Sometimes 10K came in 10 days and other times a dime didn't come in for months and 1 check given at the last minute paid the bill. What I have noticed is that my journey through raising the funds and the faith that is built during that time directly builds the faith that I need for the particular mission that I am on.

I am freaking out excited about what has been built within me while I have raised support for this season's call. I've spent the last two weeks making phone calls and following up on mailed letters. The conversations that I have had are amazing. Here are a few snid-bits of the convos...

"When I was 19 years old I told God how much I wanted to give towards missions by the time I was 26. Well, I'm 26..."

"We want our business to be able to sew seeds into what God is doing in the world. It is our joy to give."

"My wife and I have been praying about giving towards missions and then we got your letter..."

It means something to me when the people that support me are using faith to live, provide for me and believe that it truly is God's heart to see his promises fulfilled in his children's lives all over the world. The support that I have received through prayer and funding has been an absolute miracle to me. I get to know the character and love of my Father in extreme ways when I literally depend on him for food. I get to provide for those I minister to because people provide for me. It's humbling and amazing all at the same time.

Thank YOU, THANK you, THANK YOU!

Here is the update on what is still needed:

-$350 for Africa ( I leave next Wednesday)

-$2,500 for the rest of the trips...Airfare, overseas housing and food.

Challenge Farm or BUST!

Sun, 27 Dec 2009 00:00:00 GMT

I have finally arrived in Port Huron. Jake and I packed my car to the brim---I even had to wear a lampshade on my head for a little bit. I will spend a week or so getting adjusted and then on January 13th Jake and I will travel to Kitale, Kenya where we will serve at the Challenge Farm, the orphanage where we brought Allen last year. I will then meet the Hindes towards the end of the month to work alongside of them.

To prepare for the trip to the Challenge Farm I scoured through several months of Newsletters from the director, Cheri Thompson. I sat on the couch crying, laughing and throwing my laptop in Jake's lap to show him pictures of the kids and to tell him their stories.

(paraphrased)

"Joseph thinks he is 11 or 12 and his parents passed away several years prior. He was with his older brother on the street when one day, they accidentally became separated. Joseph thought that he would die. He spent the next two years begging and sniffing glue to help take away the sorrow and hunger pains---all by himself. One day Emma (the Challenge Farms social worker) and his brother found him in the streets. His brother said, 'I feel like I am Joseph in the Bible. I have gone ahead and prepared this place for us.' Both boys are currently living at the farm, going to school and they eat decent food every single day."

OMG! Can you believe it? Real lives, real changes! This is one story---but there are 103 children at the farm and each one has their own journey that they have had to walk. In a couple of weeks Jake and I are going to be there, we are going to serve in anyway that we can and we would like to help Cheri financially so that she can continue to care for these children. (She almost had to close her doors in July because the recession had cut their support so much that there wasn't enough money for food.) God has blessed them significantly and they have had everything that they needed at the end of the day. I want to be a part of bringing in what they desperately need, so I would like to extend an opportunity for you to join me.

If you would like to give a tax-deductible donation you can do so by going to the Challenge Farm website.

Ready

Tue, 15 Dec 2009 00:00:00 GMT

In two weeks I will be moving to Michigan to obey God's whispers. I have no idea what it is going to look like or what I am going to be doing exactly, but I know I've heard his voice and I am choosing to obey.

My tickets for Africa have been purchased and I will leave for Kenya on January 13th and be there until February 4th. Jake and I will be spend the first two weeks in Kitale at the Challenge Farm where we brought my little guy Allen last year (a kid I pulled off the streets while I was on the race last year). I will be doing the mama thing with Allen, taking him to the doctor, evaluating his education status and having lots of fun with him. Jake and I are also going to help the director, Cheri complete several projects that she has going on. At the end of the two weeks we are going to travel to a different part of Kenya with Onesimus (the World Race's main East Africa contact) where Jake will be building relationships in an unreached area. After that mission is completed Jake will return to the states and I will meet up with Kathy Hindes to assist her with two back to back debriefs in Nairobe. ...dang, my life is awesome!

Plans are still being worked and reworked for the following months. Although the first leg of this journey is primarily devoted to taking care of my responsibilities with Allen, my heart is for Kathy. It takes guts, faith and a whole lot of patience to run this ship called The World Race. Among many other things, Michael and Kathy are responsible for sending out 300+ Racers who are real people, with real problems and consequently these Racers have real faith and have been sent by God to influence the world. Their job is tough and they continually find themselves on their knees before the Lord. I couldn't think of anyone better to learn from and serve in this season.

The Hindes' are humble people with a huge responsibility, a big calling and they have been successful in helping people know Grace and their true identity in Christ. All of those things combined make them a huge target for the devil. It's an honor for me to walk next to Kathy and help deflect some of those arrows with my shield.

Thank you so much to everyone who is financially and prayerfully supporting me. I can assure you that as we all work together to fulfill the Lord's prayer of "Thy Kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven" we are doing just that.

To give support online, you can do so by going to www.marisabanas.org. Thanks so much!

My Next Mission

Mon, 26 Oct 2009 00:00:00 GMT

It has been almost two months since returning from my race, and I have about two more months before I begin the next journey. I will be traveling for another year working with my coaches, Michael and Kathy Hindes, specifically with Kathy. The Lord has spoken a very clear word to me to partner with her, do what she is doing and bring the promises of God to the people that cross our paths.

Also, I'm moving to Michigan! I will be living in this house along with a bunch of the World Race staff members. I am coming under the ministry that Michael and Kathy started many years ago called Cross Current Ministries. They are also the directors of the World Race program, so we will spend the majority of the year working with World Racers.

I am raising funds again, about $20,000 for the entire year and I need the majority of it by January! To financially support please do the following:

(All donations are tax deductible.)

Online with Paypal- crosscurrentministries@gmail.com

Mail Check to:

Cross Current Church Attn: Joey McGinnis

4864 Lapeer Road

Kimball, MI 48074

**Please write my name in the For section of the check.

In the meantime...I am recouperating from the previous journey. My body is still adjusting to American cuisine, and rejoicing over my bed. I saw a lot of things this past year including people living in and through situations that are beyond horrible. While I was on the field I handled situations as they came, but most often I was not able to process the sadness of the 12 year old being forced to have sex 15 times a day, or the 5 year old on the street that I had to push away from me when I got on the bus to take Allen home. It may sound terrible, but I am really filled with an increased sense of happiness for those whose lives were dramatically changed by the work that God did through me.

And one of the other best parts of my sabbatical is my temporary job as a nanny for the most genuinely sweet, adorable four year old in all of Kenosha, and his amazing two sisters when they come home from school. He gives me so much revelation about the simplicity of God and how He is just fascinated by us--it's astounding. He is the perfect embodiment of healing and restoration for me at this time! Thank you God for my little man, Jack!

Okay...I'm gonna do the mommy thing here--

Jack and I were driving on a rainy day and there was so much peace in the car. I had some worship music and he was humming along in the background and copying the words, "All I want is you, Lord." I caught his eye in my rear view mirror and he said, "I love you, Risa." Ohh my gosh! I think I melted right into my seat. I think about how fascinated I am to see him learn and think, grow and just be him--and it gives me so much courage to believe God looks at me in the same way--even when I am not producing anything, being anyone special or doing anything grand. So cool!

Freedom Tastes Like A Belly Laugh

Mon, 5 Oct 2009 00:00:00 GMT

I've sat down about five different times trying to figure out what the heck to write to ya'll. I tried to tell you about the crazy transition, the 11 states that I traveled to and through this past month since returning, and about the new job I have taken with Cross Current ministries...but they are all sitting in my trash bin. All the while I have avoided the one topic that I really want to write about because every time I try to go there I can't find words or stories strong enough to help give you an accurate picture of what I am experiencing. So, out of pure frustration, this is my last attempt.

Seven years ago I consciously and knowingly gave up my will to a God that I could not see. At that time I learned about a scripture that read, "If anyone would choose to follow me, they must take up their cross daily." Since then, I've died a thousand deaths. I've spent moments of anguish kneeling on kitchen floors, at the altar, in my car, on my bed, in my tent-weeping over whatever thing he was taking from me. I've lost my right to be right, control, desire for marriage, the right to an apology, jobs, the ability to be independent, relationships and my own preferences. I would be going in my own way, making my own decision that satisfied my hunger for whatever it was. Then...in my Spirit, a whisper would come and bring me to a halt. His words have always been loving, but the conviction that they brought always seemed to wreck me. Day by day, one decision at a time I would have to remember my promise to Him. To give myself away like that--to loose when it seemed like there was nothing in it for me-I had to choose to believe.

Today, years after some of the hard decisions were made, I am seeing the fruit of obedience and the promises of God come to pass. I thought I was happy back then, and I am sure that I was, but the freedom and joy that I am now walking in is the difference between a penny and a million dollars. The taste of freedom feels as good as belly laugh. I'm not afraid to be imperfect, or to wait or to loose. I'm not afraid of our economy because I have walked in the trenches with the Lord and I know he is real and he is bigger. I've counted the cost of real love, and experienced it myself when others have done the same. I've lost what only death can take, and through this I have learned how to be free.

The special thing about the cross and the promise that I made to Jesus is that, YES, he absolutely positively died a cruel, gruesome and violent death (and sometimes letting go of our own junk makes us feel like we are bleeding next to him.) But...He got up. He rose from the dead and because he did he conquered everything fallen in this crappy world. That means he is head over everything. It also means that by telling us to do the same, to die to our own needs and listen to his directions that his Spirit speaks to us, we get to conquer as well. He's given us brains, the ability to listen and hear his voice, to make wise decisions and not instantly gratify ourselves. And supernaturally, he gives us the ability to take charge over fear, shame, bondage, captivity and annoying worries. The gospel is true. I've been His guinea pig as I have investigated His promises intently. My conclusion is simple. He died to set me free, and I am free.

Broken Pelvis:You've Got to Read This!!!

Mon, 5 Oct 2009 00:00:00 GMT

I copied the following blog from Tara Reed, an I-squad racer who fell two stories and broke her pelvis while in Romania last week.

YOU'VE GOT TO READ THIS!!!

It all happened so fast. One moment, I was sitting on the 2^nd floor balcony having my time with God, the next moment, I was falling helplessly towards the pavement in Bucharest, Romania. I hit the ground. As I lay there gasping for air, all I could do was call out the name of Jesus. I heard people yelling my name, and I told them I couldn't breathe or move. After lying in agonizing pain for about 25 minutes, the ambulance arrived and people gathered around. They stabilized me and put me in the ambulance, while my team was calling out prayers for me. My teammates followed me in a taxi, while in the ambulance I was crying out to God to take the pain away and let me walk again. I then realized that I could move my arms and legs, and I thanked the Lord. He had saved me from head injuries, paralysis, and even death. As they wheeled me in to the Emergency Room, it seemed like 13 doctors and assistants surrounded me, all speaking "Romanian" to me in loud voices as fast as possible. One doctor said in broken English, "We take off your clothes now", then looking at the pain in my face, he said, "we cut off your clothes now."

On the way to x-rays, one of the doctors asked if I was a Christian. I told him "yes", and asked him if he was a Christian. He said "yes". I said, "Isn't it great to know that God loves you and you can feel His love?" He said, "God doesn't love me." I explained to him how he is God's child and that God does love him, and then I prayed with him. (We have found that although over 90% in Romania claim to be Orthodox Christians, many have never experienced God's love).

After x-rays and ct scans, I found myself in a large open room with many other patients and doctors. The man in the bed next to me screamed out in pain, saying "stop!!!please don't!!!" The doctors were having to re-set his arm. As the doctors walked away, he was whimpering in "gypsy". I began singing to him the only song in "gypsy" that I know, "Nadeek tu", which says that we are all the same in God's eyes and he loves us. The man settled down and fell asleep.

After many conversations, prayers, and pain medication, I was admitted into the hospital. Damaris, Tiffany, Heather, and Scottie stayed with me in the hospital all night. I didn't receive any more pain meds that night, but the girls prayed and read Scripture over me all night. The Dr. came in and explained that I had fractured my pelvis and it was separated and would require surgery. He told me that within three months I would be able to sit up in my bed, and would gradually improve. We continued to pray and sing songs to God, as other team members came and left, but God surrounded the room with his presence and peace.

"Don't worry about anything; instead pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done. Then you will experience God's peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus." -Philippians 4:6

God made this familiar verse truly come alive in my life.

As news leaked out, people began praying all around the world. My mother and friend headed out from Phoenix to be with me. The rest of my I-Squad had to leave for Turkey, and the decision was made for Dan and Becky to stay with me. What a beautiful ministry it has been! It has been incredible to have them there to comfort me and help me in so many ways. Dan & Becky spent one night in the hospital bed next to me and assisted in duties such as bed pan duty, holding hands during shots, making sure the bathroom was clean, talking with the Doctors, and more. We spent most of our time praying for each other, and praying over other people in the hospital, and making cards for others in the hospital. It was incredible to see each of us have our own ministry with different people in the hospital yet still love on each other as family.

On Monday, the Doctor took another x-ray and this time the results showed four minor fractures, but it was no longer necessary to have surgery! God again shows himself faithful and He is the great healer!

God made my favorite Psalm come alive.

"I love you, Lord; you are my strength. The Lord is my rock, my fortress, and my Savior. My God is my rock, in whom I find protection. He is my shield, the power that saves me, and my place of safety. I called on the Lord, who is worthy of praise, and he saved me from my enemies. The ropes of death entangled me; the floods of destruction swept over me. The grave wrapped its ropes around me; death laid a trap in my path. But in my distress, I cried out to the Lord; yes, I prayed to my God for help. He heard me from his santuary; my cry to him reached my ears...He reached down from heaven and rescued me; he drew me out of deep waters...He led me to a place of safety; he rescued me because he delights in me...You light a lamp for me. The Lord, my God, lights up my darkness. In your strength I can crush any army; with my God I can scale any wall. God's way is perfect . All the Lord's promises prove true. He is a shield to all who look to him for protection. For who is God except the Lord? Who but our God is a solid rock? God arms me with strength, and he makes my way perfect. The Lord lives! Praise to my rock! May the God of my salvation be exalted! -Psalm 18:1-6, 16, 19, 28-32, 46

God is a great God and I trust Him.

TO BE CONTINUED.....

Mission Completed-Video

Thu, 3 Sep 2009 00:00:00 GMT

Thank you to everyone who sent me around the world to be your hands and feet. Take a look at what we did together!

An Early Goodbye

Wed, 5 Aug 2009 00:00:00 GMT

I am in Costa Rica getting ready to go to our ministry location bright and early in the morning. As far as we know, we will have no internet access for the rest of the month, so this is likely the last time that I will post until I am home in just a few weeks. The place that we are going to tomorrow is in a dangerous part of town that is about an hour outside of San Jose, so please pray for our safety and that our stuff doesn't get stolen. (Please God don't let my ipod get stolen...or me get stolen.)The web address for the ministry that we are serving under is picturenh.blogspot.com.

We aren't quite sure yet what we are doing but the possibilities are endless. There has already been ministry set up for us but we won't know what until we get there. Possibly medical missions, inner-city, pregnant teens, prostitutes, AIDS, etc.

Our last day of ministry will be on the 22nd of August and from there we will meet the rest of the squad and our coaches back in San Jose for our Final Debrief. AHHHH!!!! I can't believe the end is here. Many people have emailed and asked how I am feeling, and the answer is GREAT! I am pumped, ready for this last month of minstry, ready to have a blast at final debrief, and then ready to go to America and see my family, friends and supporters. It is going to be an intense transition, but with a lot of help I am sure that I will overcome my "Old cow staring at a new gate" look every time I get overwhelmed by our countries speed ability and prosperity.

If anyone would like me to speak at their church or Bible Study group, or non-churchy thing for that matter, you can email me personally to set that up. I will be travelling all over for the first couple of months and my tenative schedule is as follows:

I'll be in Wisconsin from September 2nd-September 7th

Omaha, Nebraska-September 7th-12th

Kenosha, Wisconsin-September 12th-19th

Memphis Tennessee-September 19th-25th

Murfreesboro Tennesee-September 25th-October 1st

***** I will be having a Mission's Night/Party for all of my old and new Tennessee supporters on Saturday, September 25th.

Port Huron, Michigan-October 1st-?

That is as far as I've gotten. Thank you again to everyone who has followed me on this journey, praying, loving, encouraging, sharing my stories, and supporting me financially.

I Fired Myself:Part 1

Mon, 3 Aug 2009 00:00:00 GMT

Just to warn you--I accidentally overdosed on Dramamine today. I'm coming down from the high, but if there are tons of errors in this you'll know why :)

......................................

Before coming on the race I had no clue that the way that I hear God sometimes looks different from other people. I guess I didn't pay that close of attention. I spent the kind of time with the Lord that I needed to have a clear picture of who he was. I had no idea people do totally different things that I do and they get those same results. About half way through the year I started noticing that several people that I greatly respect were totally non-emotional non-experiential type of people. Through that my mind got re-wired to think that the totally emotional and experiential way of worshiping the Lord was wrong. My intentions have always been to know and live out truth, so this false revelation that I had made me make several decisions to turn my back on the Lord's prodding. There were times where I would feel his presence, but quickly do everything that I could to run far from that as to not be living in deception. Month after month passed, country after country, and by month 10 in Guatemala, my intimacy meter finally hit zero.

I no longer possessed to power to love beyond myself. In fact, my self became the most important thing. Because our conditions are extreme I quickly went into survival mode. At breakfast I would take the last portion of milk despite the fact that I knew someone else probably needed it a little bit more than me. I always grabbed the best seat in the van, I was moody with my teammates and no longer felt it necessary to serve them. I got mine, and it was their responsibility to get theirs, or so I thought at the time. All the while, I was convicted to love. I knew in my mind what was right and what was wrong, but in the moment I was powerless. It wasn't long until guilt enveloped me.

Laying in my tent on one of the last nights I decided to fire myself. I had obviously failed to live out consistent love, and in this kind of life where I am under magnified glass, where my only job requirement is to love-- I was obviously not able to fulfill the role. I was so exhausted that I couldn't even think of an alternative, I only knew that I had failed at this one. I closed my eyes, ending my night with these heavy, guilty thoughts.

The piercing sunlight woke me up to a totally different atmosphere. I had peace. It was like all the heaviness from the night before had dissipated and I had a feeling of expectancy within me. I had an early morning skype date planned with a good friend of mine, so I quickly changed and made my way over to the internet. In our discussion my friend \ randomly started talking about Heidi Baker, who is one of my hero's in the faith. He told me a story about how Heidi and Rolland had served for many years but they came to a place of being totally burned out. They went to go see a man named Jack Frost and what he told them was like fresh bread to my starving belly. "To anyone else, I would tell them to go home for a few years and recoup. But for you, all you need to do is to get the Father's Heart. If you just go out on the field so serve orphans and count the number of parishoners in the pews, you will burn out. But if you get the intentions of the Father's heart, you will be able to be his hands and feet for the rest of your lives." My friends words pierced me. Just the word, "Father's Heart" was like a perfume bottle that was opened. It's fragrance instantly brought back the memories that inspired me to get rid of my fear and return to myself again.

Worship for me is the opportunity to get a right perspective. I've spent countless hours in his presence where I just get so undone and he takes all the work out of my work. He allows me to see the broken and what they look like when he touches them and they become whole. He gives me dreams of fears coming off of people and them living in freedom, and orphans who come into the arms of a mom and dad that loves them and who will help them heal. He allows me to see what is not possible, and then he injects me with the courage needed to take the first step to making it possible.

All of this I lost. But that is also one of the strangest things about God. We can totally botch the whole thing up, but in an instant, if we just believe he is right there to throw our robe back on us and put the ring back on our finger. It was tough to swallow, the rushing waterfall of his mercy that fell upon me as I worshiped later that afternoon.

And then...God sent me on an adventure...

I Found Him: Part 2

Mon, 3 Aug 2009 00:00:00 GMT

On our last day of ministry in Guatemala Ian and I were scheduled to bring Thomas (the guy who we met in the market--see the other two blogs if you don't know his story) some clothes and soap.

I had just spent the morning getting my crashing faith lifted back up to rock solid and worshiping for the first time in months. I had a lot of peace, but not a lot of courage. I was still in rebuilding mode, not let's go take on the world.

Ian and I drove with two of our Guatemalian contacts to Thomas's shack in the mountains. He wasn't there. The scripture that God had given me for him in the market was the one where He leaves the 99 sheep to find the one that was lost. He confirmed to me that He really was speaking that scripture when we randomly found Thomas again in the mountains. I felt like God was telling me to continue to chase him. I looked at the three other guys that I was with. It was in the middle of the day and hot enough to make you want to go sit inside with a fan on you. it would have been really easy to turn my back on His prodding like I had been doing for months, but with the new word "Father's Heart" running like a broken record in my head, I decided to push the idea.

"I think we need to find him, guys." To my amazement, they said okay, and we piled back in the jeep. We ended up driving 20 minutes down the mountain to go to the market where we first found him. I was on a mission. I went up to several of the vendors, asking them in broken Espanol if they new Thomas. Nobody knew him. We eventually drove back up the mountain, stopping to ask people if they knew his whereabouts. Still, nobody knew of him. We went to his next door neighbor and she told us that he should be coming home for lunch. We sat on the dirt in front of his house, waiting, waiting, waiting. He didn't show.

My faith was still sensitive, but I knew in my heart that I had heard his voice correctly. I knew it because it has always been the Father's Intentions to bring his orphan children into families, and to become their father who will never leave them. The guys tummy's were now grumbling for food. I was able to stall them a little bit, telling them that I would buy them chicken for lunch, but it had become very clear that Thomas wasn't coming home for lunch. Again, we piled back into the jeep for our second trip down the mountain.

I heard the guys mumbling something in Spanish. Our driver had an idea. Perhaps Thomas was working construction. Suddenly he took a detour and stopped in front of a construction site. We all popped out of the car, again, and walked quite a bit until we could clearly see that Thomas was not there.

We arrived home and I was excited. I decided that he would definitely have to be home in the evening so we waited until after dinner and returned. We walked up the long muddy walk to get to his house, the moonlight as our only light keeping us on the path. He was elated to see us. Again we told him about the scripture and how we had searched for him all morning. I shared with him what I felt like Jesus would say to him if He were standing in front of him, telling him that with the Holy Spirit living inside of him, he would never have to be alone again. I was humbled beyond tears when Thomas said, "I want this [Holy Spirit] , you see, I am alone all the time. Do you see my house, I am always alone." We talked to him about the benefits of going to a church and a few other things. He was genuine and authentic.

Sitting in the back of the jeep, thinking about all the feelings I felt while chasing Thomas, I quickly understood that through this experience, God showed me how he felt for me as he was chasing after me during the hard time that I was going through. He spoke to me in my language, and not in the other ways that I see Him speaking to other people. His love astounds me.

Saran Wrap Pajamas

Sun, 26 Jul 2009 00:00:00 GMT

A layer of sweat rose to the surface and caused my nightgown to stick like Saran Wrap onto my skin. Through the moonlight illuminating my tent I looked at my watch, 3:30AM. The neighbor's watchdog was doing his job, his deep growls howling at some predator right outside of our gate. The lack of air flowing through my mesh walls was frustrating and made me grumble to myself. With the back of my hand I wiped the sweat from my head. "God, I can't do this," I whispered to myself.

5:30AM approaches. Our next door neighbor rooster sounds like no other bird that I have come in contact with this year. In the middle of his Cock-a doodle, he lets out a wretched sound like that of an animal being mauled. It actually makes me grimace. Like clockwork the lady that owns the shop about 10 feet from my tent opens her doors and sweeps the walk. I put my ipod in my ears to drown out the sound.

Twenty typewriters clankity clank until my eyes once again open. An hour has passed and the students at the small school are now working on their first lesson. I am sure that they all got a very nice view of me as they walked past my mesh-walled tent on the way to their one-room schoolhouse-- my poofy-wild morning hair in all of its glory and me wearing my highly attractive yellow mu-mu that I still have from Africa must have brought a few giggles. I roll over on my tummy, open up my hands, and then wait.

I used to have words to pray. What do I ask for after 10 months of living in the spontaneous-never knowing what I will need for the day. Open hands seem to be enough.

It's 8:30 AM, time for my feet to hit the cement. I walk upstairs to the scurry of 13 other people who I anticipate will be stepping on each other's toes as they attempt to brush teeth and take showers in our one bathroom and eat breakfast with our one fry pan. This morning we have no water so everyone is just sitting in their sweat-stained clothes and stinky breath. I get ready for the day, put my cosmetics bag in my backpack and walk to a nearby gas station. Ahh, air conditioning. I take my "bath" and brush my teeth in their sink. Rinsing the white foam off my face with the slimy water I look into the mirror. Yes Marisa, this really is your life. It's better than my alternative, showering when it rains or in the river the next time we go swimming.

I return back to the house, and find my way to a plastic chair as the team sits down for prayer. The white RAM van with no windows pulls up about a half hour later. Our chariot has arrived. Everyone eventually packs in. There are no chairs or benches to sit on, just the hot metal floor. We keep the back doors open as we drive, three people's legs hanging over the bumper. We are on our way to another village in the mountains. "The people are poor and sick. We are going to pray for them," our contact instructs. Our driver who has six toes parks the van. We all get out. Ben's team goes to the left. Our team goes to the right. We walk down the road and see a man riding his bike towards us.

"Hey, that's Thomas," Janina exclaims. We just found Thomas a few days earlier in the market far away from this village and we told him that God has left everyone (the 99) to find him...that is how important he is to him. The meeting isn't random. The scripture that God gave me to give to Thomas is coming to pass. Not by manipulation, or human construction, but by the love that God has for people who have been forgotten.

We got to go to Thomas's "house" and drink coconut juice with him. Normally he doesn't have anyone to talk to. But today, we see his toothless smile as he laughs with us.

We finished the day walking up and down the mountainside, visiting homes where the sick were literally desperate and the healthy knew they needed God and were extremely inviting. Our last stop was a clear water spring with refreshingly cool water. We jumped in, splashed around and then packed back into the steamy hot van for a short ride home. The two people assigned to cook cooked, and the two that were supposed to clean didn't because there was still no water. After dinner I made my way over to the local fast food restaurant for some free Wi-fi and pecan pie. I return home, play a card game with the team and eventually retire for the evening. I toss and turn on my mat. It's hard to process all of the things going on. But despite how hard it is, I am still able to smile.

It's not a flashy life, but it is my life. Some days are really hard, but Thomas is worth it. His smile and the longings of his heart being met are worth the 3:30 AM dog barkings, the buckets of sweat, gas station baths and alien roosters-it's all worth it!

Suffering for Jesus. Definitely suffering while doing children's ministry!

Kyla teaching a new song to the kids

The orphans just received a donation from America. We are making sure that it doesn't get taken from them. (That is what happens with most of the donations.) Someone sent protein bars, and other foods that should give them good nutrients. We are also going around to second hand stores and getting more clothing donated. If God gives us the chance, I want to speak to the guy who owns the place. 4 more days here, we'll see what happens.

Our bathroom. Yep, I get to use this beauty all month--well, that is, when the water is on.

I haven't seen blind eyes open yet, but I have seen one miracle. I have a tan!

"Go get him."

Mon, 20 Jul 2009 00:00:00 GMT

"Marisa, do you have a word for this guy, there is something so special about him," Janina prodded me as I turned towards this petite older man on his bike. Ian, who speaks a little bit of Spanish was standing behind him trying to learn a little bit more about him. I grabbed my squad-mate Kyla who is a pretty good translator and together we all huddled around him and waited on the Lord to see what He had to say.

We were in an open market and had just finished doing some open-air preaching. A bunch of my teammates performed an intense skit that is always a crowd-pleaser, Ian preached a little, and I finished her off with a testimony about how my friend Dorothy in Kenya forgave her husband who tried to kill her with a machete. Ben took the mic from there and directed all of the Racers to walk through the market and pray for the people who were eager to speak with us. This is how we found Thomas.

Lord, what do you have for this guy, I thought to the Lord. Then, I just stopped thinking. In the quiet of my mind I listened for God. A memory quickly popped up. It was a story that I heard one of my heroes in the faith, Heidi Baker preach about.

I turned towards my new friend. "I would like to tell you a story, Thomas." Kyla translated my words. My friend was praying one day and God told her to take in every street child that she could find...she now has 4,000 children....this one boy that she took in was such a bad boy and had raped 3 of the other kids...all the directors wanted him kicked out....Heidi asked God and he said to keep him and love him...the boy ran away...all the directors were so happy because he would no longer be a problem, but Heidi didn't have a peace about that so she prayed..."Go get him, Heidi, the Lord said...at a great cost she went to two different cities and had to fly over water to find him...it took her 6 months, Thomas, six months until she again found him broken and dying in the streets...She had 3,999 kids at home, but she left them all to bring back number 4,000...Thomas, God says that he will leave the 99 to go find the one that is lost...today God has found you...will you run away from him? His eyes twinkled in the sun.

It was important that we found him a community of people to follow up with him so we called over our Guatemalan contacts and we worked together to find a church that is close to him, the same one that we go to on Sundays. He said he isn't going to run. He says he wants to know who Jesus really is. We'll see what happens on Sunday. Orphans aren't always children. Sometimes they are old men ridding bikes through dirty markets. Thomas has no family, no real home, busted up teeth that are barely there, and a busted gold watch to match, and the third button on his shirt was missing. He has a face, a name and a story, he is not forgotten. We found him-God found him.

Reality Bites

Mon, 20 Jul 2009 00:00:00 GMT

Last night I had a dream about Allan. We were in our last month of ministry and in the corner of my eye I could see Janina walking towards me with Allan's hand interlaced with her own. She said, "Marisa, you get to take care of him for one more month." She pointed me to the home where I would get to keep him. Another friend was there and together we decided to take Allan to the movies. While we were there Allan saw his natural father come in. He ran to him with excitement. I could see that the father looked confused and he clearly rejected my little boy. Allan came back to me heartbroken with a "why doesn't he love me, Mama" look. Someone took Allan and tried to explain to him but again he came to me for understanding. Holding my tears in my throat I had to tell him why his daddy didn't love him.   I finished with, "...but you, Allan, you are a special boy, and I love you." I awoke from my tent with big eyes and tears running down them. An orphan's reality is not fair.

Earlier in the week we visited an orphanage where most of the children's skin was smeared with rashes, bumps, and scratches. Their clothes are old and for some, way too big for them. Corruption has blocked the funds from giving them Cortizone cream that would alievate their burning skin, and enough staff members to give supervision to the children. If I could only lay my hands on those evil men who are stealing from them...

The children didn't trust us at first. And me, with my 3 full fluent Spanish sentences didn't get too far. After saying, "what is your name" and "how old are you" my only other option was "where is the bathroom." Luckily, it was time to go in for games, music and story time WITH (thank God) translation.   We touched and hugged the kids as much as possible. We picked them up, threw them on our shoulders, wiggled our tushes, and cheered them on passionately as they raced each other in leap frog.

When the activities were over we each took a few kids to spend some personal time with them. I felt lost and helpless with my two because I had absolutely no way of communicating with them. I had to get over myself and just be goofy. Dancing doesn't need translation, so I tried that out. I was a hit! I taught them the electric slide-Marisa style and then we moved on to who could make the most ridiculous funny face. I DID NOT win---just for the record. The point is that it doesn't take someone skilled to play or love, hold or dance. It's people like you saying, SIGN ME UP! I'll do whatever I have to do love children that need attention.

There are many critics that say short-term missions aren't effective, that going to an orphanage and holding babies for an hour is useless. In my experience, I've found that a child needs attention whether it is for an hour or their entire childhood. The more the better. I am spending my life on behalf of orphans and the needy. What can you do? If you want an organization that you can trust, support the Challenge Farm. If you want to be the hands, buy your $300 dollar ticket here to Puerto Barrios and make all the funny faces and noises that will thrill the children. Not a kid kinda guy-put a little elbow grease into building an orphanage better bathrooms or more school rooms, or use your business skills to equip the staff. And if you have real guts, if God has given you the favor and ability--go after the guys who are taking the money from the children, and leaving them to rot in their scabies and funguses and hungry bellies. It's a great time to activate right from your desk chair, your internet connection, or from your schoolroom. Get some ideas and go for it! Little boys like Allan with daddy's that have abandoned them, little girls that have been left on doorsteps, abortions that failed and turned into children, the abused, the broken-they are waiting for you.

Facing the Beast

Sat, 4 Jul 2009 00:00:00 GMT

Ten months ago I was in the Philippines with my entire squad doing our last Launch training before we embarked on this wild ride of a journey. My squad leader, Allison Johnston and I were walking through the slums so that she could visit some of the people she had ministered to when she was a World Racer the year prior. On our walk back we found two toddlers standing half naked on a trash heep screaming at the top of their lungs. In efforts to console them, I picked up the older of the two and tried to calm him down. His skin had bumpy rashes and bloody gashes. His scalp had cloudy white spots where he had itched ferociously at his scabies.

Allison and I had done everything we could to find the boy's home, but ended up having to leave them with neighbors who didn't seem to be concerned about their distraught state. Later that day I was beside myself. I lamented before the Lord, "Have you called me to be a missionany who is powerless?" I was angry at Him and the terrible situation. My team was scheduled to head out of the communtiy to embark on a mission to the dumps. It would have been so easy to forget them, to pretend that I didn't try to wipe the tear drops off his face.

Praying to the Lord, I turned my anger into hope. "God, give me an idea. I'll do anything, please!" The next day I caught a glimpse of one of the team leaders whose team was staying in the area that month. Calling her over I said, "Hey, Lindsey, you want to go on an adventure." After telling her about the boys, her team prayed about how they could take action. Later that day we went on a hunt to find the two boys parents.

The rest of the story doesn't involve me whatsoever. Lindsey's team went into this extremely dark slum and found much more than the two boys. They i met the two screaming boy's neighbor, Jason, who consequently came into a strong relationship with the Lord almost immediately. They worked side-by-side with him as they taught him how to minister to his community. Jason was also able to help lead the boy's alcoholic mother out of that abuse and into salvation. Upon leaving, they ordained him as an evangelist and affirmed him as a Son of the coolest God ever! We just received word that Jason is thriving! He is strong, has been able to follow up on the connections that the team made while ministering there and is growing in his faith daily.

It is amazing to me how the body of Christ works. We all play a role and not one of us is greater than the next. If we look at the whole' picture there were many people involved in the restoration of this community. There was an organization that formed and said, hey, let's take a bunch of 20-somethings and send them around the world to bring Jesus to people." Then there were some friends of mine in Tennesee, and a bunch of people from my church and community in Wisconsin that put money into my support account. And in prayer closets all around the country their people on their knees praying for God to do something with my life. And out of all these things the prayer that we all know, "Your Kingdom Come Your Will Be Done" came to pass. Alone I am nothing, but together we can face the beast and win. Something tells me God really likes it when we all work together.

His Name is Allan Wekesa

Mon, 22 Jun 2009 00:00:00 GMT

The Story of Allan Wekesa

Street Child to Son

Seven months ago my life was changed by a little boy named Allan. When I found him he couldn't hold his head up due to the intoxicating glue that he had just sniffed. He was a small underweight child who wore worn out, adult-sized clothes and an expression that pleaded for help. I took him off the streets, loved him the best way I knew how, and waited for God to open up a home for him. Every door slammed shut in our face until the last day when a miracle happened. I was given the name of a home that was only a couple hours away called The Challenge Farm. I was told that this home dramatically changed street kids lives.

We packed up the car, put all of Allan's six belongings inside and drove there in faith that they would take him in. When we arrived he was welcomed as if they had been waiting for him to come home. I have visited a lot of orphanages in the past year, but have never seen one as healthy and spiritually mature as this home.

My experience of taking Allan off the streets and then hearing about his progress on the Farm makes me feel like I did something right. Religion is a touchy subject for most. We can argue theology and challenge each other's lifestyles, but I have learned that if we do not have applicable love all of our religion and theology means absolutely nothing. I finally understand why God says that a pure and faultless religion is to take care of orphans and widows.

Cheri, the founder of Challenge Farm, has 103 children. All of them are now sponsored except for 17 boys. She needs us to respond. The sponsorship is $35 mo/$420 a year. I want to encourage you to have a garage sale or eat out one less time a month. I want to give you the opportunity to applicably love and change a boys life. You can do so by going to http://www.challenge-kenya.org/page11.aspx to pick out your child --the boy that you will feed, clothe and provide education for. Thank you so much for stepping up! You can also support by giving one-time donations. Her support dropped significantly in the fall due to the chaos that everyone experienced financially. Consequently she has had to make these dramatic changes to cope:

(an email from Cheri)

Children at Challenge Farm:

Used to get beef stew and fruit once a week- now it is once a month. They eat vegetables, corn and beans.
Rice which was served once a week has been eliminated.
Would get chai (milk, tea, and sugar) during morning school break. We have eliminated that except on weekends where they get chai and bread (which is donated) instead of porridge for breakfast.
All school activities not directly related to the classroom have been severely limited.
Salaries have been cut and positions eliminated.
Building of four classrooms has been stopped.

We need an additional $3000 dollars a month to operate at the previous level. We have 17 boys that still need to be sponsored which will bring in an additional $595 monthly.
Remember our kids don't get soda, candy, fast food, trips to the mall or movies. We just need the basics. Through Challenge Farm we are helping directly or indirectly 500 people to have a better life.

And Now...Allan's Story in His Own Words:

I was born 12 years ago in Nairobi. I have two younger sisters who I believe still live with my mother in Nairobi. We had a decent life. Dad was a police officer and mom was a housewife.

One day father left for work as usual but never came back. We waited for him but in vain. Life took a downward spiral. We couldn't afford a decent meal, or the rent.

My mother then took me to her brother's home in Kamusinde (In Bungoma District) and she went back to Nairobi. I was about 9 or 10 years old then. My uncle's wife made no pretense of taking care of me. She physically abused me so much that I frequently missed school because of the injuries. She denied me food and at one point as she herself put it- "got fed up" with me. She called my mother to come take me out of her house. I was glad because at her house I often slept outside and was getting sickly from the cold.

Mom came -but life had taken its toll on her and she was now very harsh and fretful. She was selling vegetables at the market and would be gone before I was up and came back very late at night , so I never had lunch. She was now very physically abusive and when I could not take it any longer, I ran away.

I went to Nairobi town and met Caleb (who now is my best friend) and after a couple of weeks we came to Kitale. We were both rescued some time later and taken to a center but we both didn't like it and ran away.

Caleb remained in Kitale but I went to Eldoret. That's where I learned about glue. I made friends and on Saturdays and Sundays we went to church. I've since forgotten which church it was, but we were always given tea and bread.

On one such Sunday, I met Marisa and her team. Marisa looked at my palm which had been hurt playing soccer. She took me to her home. She took care of me then when she left, she left me at the care of my pastor's mother.

Marisa later came back and brought me to the Farm in 2008. At the Farm I was pleasantly surprised to find Caleb. I've made two more friends, Dan, who's in my class and Joseph Ejore, who's in Form One (freshman in High School). We talk about our former lives, the Farm, our future and we play together. In the dorm I share the same cubicle with Ejore.

(Allan's two bestfriends who still need sponsorship)

I'm learning to read and write and I can now write my name! I love the food (but Ejore tells me it was once better. I hope it gets better again) the clothes and the company. The farm has helped me get over the issue of glue. I have also forgiven my mother for mistreating me and I hope I can see her soon.

I thank Marisa for rescuing me and the Farm, too. When I'm grown up and I'm a pilot, I'll thank them my own way.

The first night I had Allan we had him draw so that he could communicate to us what he was thinking about.

He drew a helicopter. When we dropped him off at the farm we were floored to learn that Cheri's late husband flew a helicopter for missions purposes.

Allan and I dancing.

Allan's cubicle (room)

Dining Room

Allan's School (on the farm)

The farm

Grace (the director) taking us on the tour.

The girl's toilet. They are still raising money to finish the boys bathroom area.

Onesimus (who helped us find the farm) Grace (the director) Allan, and me with some really pretty hair. It's a hard knocks life being a "mom"--no time to do your hair.

Marilyn Manson

Fri, 12 Jun 2009 00:00:00 GMT

All seven of us were waiting for our bus to come. Unfortunately we had just missed it so I decided to rest my back on a nearby post. Others followed me and as we chatted Elizabeth noticed that I was leaning against a very scary looking man with one weird eye ball. The man was Marilyn Manson and I was leaning on his concert poster. He became the topic of our conversation and when we realized that the concert was the next day I exclaimed, "Hey, lets go there!"

We pondered in prayer for a good while before we came to a unanimous decision. It was a go. As we each shared our hearts about what we felt God prompting us to do it was clear that we were to plant seeds of reconciliation. When Manson was young he was shunned by the church due to his awkwardness, likewise his followers often have fallen victim to the same treatment. His platform is publicly founded on satanism and easily draws outcasts. In one of his latest interviews he told his fans that if they feel like committing suicide, to just do it.

We prepared ourselves spiritually the best way we knew how. I decided to dress myself in black leggings with a black skirt and shirt to match; then I covered my eyes in the color of death. My goal was not to mock, but to accept.

On the bus on the way there Emily, Elizabeth, Ian and I were looked up and down. These "children of the light" had a taste of the judgment that some of these people get every time they go out in public. It didn't feel good. We got to the concert, decided to split two by two and dive right in. Liz and Em made there way to a girl standing by herself and Ian and I went for a walk to build up more courage and try to find the person we were supposed to talk to. We finally found a crowded area where we sat and people watched as we prayed about who to approach. We had a tough time because every time we picked somebody out and made the approach they would slowly turn on their heels and start walking away. The freaky thing about this is that it happened SEVERAL times and they all turned in a very distinct way. We didn't really know what to do so we decided to go for another walk. As we did we passed the girls ministering to a girl with big sunglasses on. Her name was Lucy, a beautiful girl with painted pink stripes in her hair and a large gap between her teeth. Our team concurs that she is the reason why God sent us there.

Em and Liz were upfront when Lucy asked why they were at the concert. Liz confidently said, "Well, we feel like God told us to come, and then He told us to come over here and tell you that He loves you." Lucy giggled in surprise. Had anyone every told her this before, it seemed not. Interested in what they were saying, their conversation continued. Once finding out that they were Christian missionaries she apologetically informed them that they were at the wrong concert. "Marilyn Manson is against everything that you believe." The girls told her that it was okay and that it didn't matter. Lucy upside down cross that she wore on her neck sparked a conversation about her beliefs and she told them that she was an Athiest. The girls asked her about her church experience and she told them that she had only gone to a church a few times when she was younger, but it was too rigid and there were too many rules.

As they talked Liz felt prompted to tell Lucy that God thought she was beautiful, and when she did Lucy burst out into more childlike giggles. It was as if the word beautiful was foreign to her. She boldly asked why they thought this and Liz sincerely gave her the truth. She spoke of natural things and shared Psalm 139 with her. And for the first time in Lucy's life, someone bothered to paint a whole new picture of God for her. She was introduced to a God who accepts, befriends, delights in, who is in the habit of giving too much mercy, and too much grace. A God who can look at a girl who has rejected him because she was rejected and send four Americans across the world to go find her.

Liz asked Lucy to take her sunglasses off of her face. As she did so her amber-colored eyes radiated through the black painted circles surrounding them. The girl's reaction was only priceless because it was real. They flamboyantly doted over how stunningly gorgeous they were. In fact, days later when the girls talked about her unveiling her eyes their sincere reaction still gave me goosebumps. I don't think that Lucy was ever given such a response in her life. Shortly after this the girls said their goodbyes and Lucy went into the concert hall.

When we all gathered back together I felt God's delight resting on me like two love birds on their 50^th wedding anniversary. As the girls shared their story I remembered the first time that I was told that God loved me, and the several years after when that precious seed took root and I finally understood how magnificent that statement was.

Before going to the concert I sent out a prayer request to over 100 people. I had no idea what was going to happen, but I knew we needed support. As I look at the whole picture of what happened I am in awe of the height and depth of His love. Do me a favor and try to wrap your mind around this:

For one girl, who had blatantly denied him, blasphemed him, and worshiped his enemy...

He made us late for our bus.
He made me lean against a scary poster.

He gave us the courage to go.

He enlisted over 100 people all around the world to pray to him.

He called many to fast from eating food for an entire day

Then he took his fingers and smushed us together--all so that she could hear these words, "I love you." And because he is patient, because his love endures, he will watch over the seed that he planted and will see to it that it comes into fruition. All this trouble for one girl who hates him.

Cinnamon Toast Crunch

Mon, 1 Jun 2009 00:00:00 GMT

The October squad has officially reached month nine, and with that has come new difficulties to deal with. I pretty much decided that the best way to raise financial support when I go home is to sign up for one of those case-studies where they use me as a human experiment to see what happens when you strip someone of their natural cultural for a year, and then give it back to them.

I am in the capitol city of Slovakia where everything is a little less 3^rd world and a little more America, of course with the exception of wardrobe which proves to be unashamedly Euro. I have thoroughly enjoyed mixing crazy colors and ridiculously big and pink sunglasses to my attire-you know, to be cultural sensitive.

Emily, Janina and I were in the grocery store the other day when the first-world culture seemed to smack me right in the face. We were fresh off the train from Romania where I lived in a village with gypsies and our hungry bellies were growling. We found a store that looked like it had some groceries. As we entered everything seemed to blur and there were definitely a few angels "awww-ing in the background. The store was so huge that it had escalators!

I had a hard time concentrating as we browsed around due to the insane amount of choices... and that is when it happened. I was walking down my favorite aisle, the cereal aisle and to my utter shock, I saw Cinnamon Toast Crunch. I quickly grabbed two of the big bags and held them to my chest in delight. Suddenly, the water-works started coming and before I knew it I was the cereal-aisle freak show. As I held those delightfully toasted pieces of heaven tears started streaming and I became acutely unaware of who or where I was. I seemed to morph in and out of countries with visions of Uganda, Allan, China, trains, planes and the Philippines.

The girls eventually found me in my zombie state and after a few good laughs (at me) we completed our Slovak-grocery store experience. Welcome to culture shock, people-my new life. However am I going to go home?

Pictures Below: We went to a Third Day concert that the Catholic church put on and slept in a classroom. Last picture is from Abby's birthday, we walked to McDonalds and then went to see X-Men. Check out those tubular specks.

Slovakia Here We Are

Mon, 1 Jun 2009 00:00:00 GMT

Our team has had a blast with our contacts and new country. We have hit the ground running with that supernatural strength that comes in at just the right time. We have been going to schools, doing the children's ministry at our contact's home church, conducted a youth group for missionary kids and today we went to an orphanage: Week One COMPLETE!

In other news one of my best friends in the whole wide world had her third baby girl today.. Congratulations Melissa and Kendell! Happy Birthday Seth Barnes, Lisa Black and my Wisconsin buddy and squad-mate Ben Eppinger.

My team is filled with God's presence and we are ready and eager to shake the mountains here! Thanks for all your prayers. For the rest of the week we will be going to more schools with big opportunities. The Prime Minister's son is at our contacts school. Ian met some yoga type of people at the park so he will be meeting with them. We are working with a professional baseball player who runs a program called Good Sports this week as well. It is basically an after-school program that offers tutoring and fun with sports. And last but not least, we will be doing the last Bible Study for the missionary kids. This is a crucial time where we will get a chance to grieve with the kids. The amazing teens have people come in and out of their lives constantly. It is next to impossible for them to attach because they are always forced to say goodbye. It just so happens that we can relate to them. Pray for us that we would be bringing healing to these kids as they again approach the time that families go home permanently or on furlough.

TEAM FUSE LOVES YA!

Flipping Out Excited

Mon, 25 May 2009 00:00:00 GMT

Team Fuse-a-muffins (we unofficially changed our names) are flipping out with excitement about going to Slovakia. We are currently sitting in our hostel, our smelly but packed packs are strung out all over the floor, and we are saying our goodbyes to the teams who are leaving for Germany. AT 7pm tonight we will be enjoying another overnight train ride (our favorite form of transportation) to our 9th country. Ahhhh!

We have been to a lot of cool places, but there is something new stirring in us for this next country. During our debrief time our coaches, Michael and Kathy HIndes gave us a word: "Do the stuff!" The stuff defined as, move in the giftings that God has given you. Love people deeply, and know that as children of God we are able to see the miraculous happen. Once again, we are ready.

As we have been praying we are assured of these things: 1. We are going to have a meaningful and great relationship with our contact. 2. God is going to give us the ability to SERVE beyond our worn out strength and extreme joy is going to fill us. 3. Deliverance and Healings will occur. We are stirred up in our faith and ready to see the Kingdom come. I love this life!

Wow--2 short blogs in a row. I feel so proud.

Elizabeth's Face

Sun, 24 May 2009 00:00:00 GMT

The love of God is the greatest mystery that I have ever encountered. Lately, seemingly meaningless things have been laced with a fragrance that can only be concocted in heaven.

A couple of weeks ago six of us got in a car. We drove through carpets of green resting on rolling hills until we finally arrived in a gypsy village. We were supposed to go to another village, but at the last minute our route was rearranged. We were also supposed to go door to door, but after visiting our first house about fifteen to twenty people from the community joined us there. The wife of the man who owned the house was not a Christian. In fact, she persecuted her husband for his beliefs. The night before we came she had a dream that involved a girl with blonde hair , which is uncommon in this country. The next day six Americans show up on her doorstep ready to preach the gospel. In their small crowd she sees Elizabeth, the blonde-haired girl that was in her dream.

We did nothing to experience this miracle. We didn't fast for a week, have an overnight prayer session, eat locusts and honey-nada, neit, nothing. We just were, and God just was. His love is free. It doesn't come by being anything, only by believing in his promise.

I am overcome by this kind of love-a love that feels timeless. It's strength seems to encompass the wisdom that comes from possessing all knowledge. The same God that loves me breathed and planets were born. The same wind that placed them into orbit also placed me in a car with five teammates and took me to a village that we were not supposed to go to. I am so out of my mind in love, I feel like I am going to burst out of my skin. He is trustworthy.

...and yes, I should get a prize for keeping this short. I feel like I have achieved something.

Mama's Day Video: World Race Style

Sat, 9 May 2009 00:00:00 GMT

Happy Mother's Day to everyone, especially my 5'4, curly headed, frosted flakes eatin' Bee-utiful mama, Gina Roni! I love you, I love you, I love you. Enjoy the video!

It's Official; I am a Real Woman

Sat, 9 May 2009 00:00:00 GMT

It's official; I am a real woman. I have spent the day doing manual labor that I didn't even know existed. As you may recall from a previous blog, I decided to find a service project to do every day. In my attempts to do so, I found a family that treats me like one of their own children. When I first met them, I immediately saw their need for Grace. The majority of their faith is based on works and DOING things right. I was eager to tell them about the gospel of Grace and how God says that all of our good works are pointless. The only thing that counts is when we believe with all of our hearts in who he is. Consequently, when we believe he strengthens us with the ability to make decisions that please him.

So, I told them all about this gospel and they looked at me like I was nuts. It was time to take a different approach. Instead of doing more explaining, I rolled up my sleeves and walked into their world. At 10:00 am I teach Carmen how to write. For 30 years no one has ever sat down to teach her, can you believe that? At 11:00 we start peeling potatoes, chopping up cabbage and then make our way outside to chop wood for the stove. This afternoon we plucked hair off of a chicken. It turns out that chickens have a layer of skin that most American never see. This skin is covered in white hair and sometimes bruises. I managed to refrain from all negative gag reflexes as I plucked and scrap off the bruised skin. Tasty huh. After the food is on the stove we start cleaning. We sweep the dirt off the dirt and wash the table for the nineteenth time. Children roam in and out and I get to balance helping Beni learn how to tie his shoes with the potatoes that are boiling on the stove. It's wonderful and makes me want to hug my mom even tighter the next time I see her.

As we are working I remain myself. When we hear music I dance around the kitchen so everyone can get a good laugh, and for a brief moment they put down their view that Christians shouldn't dance. I don't speak the same language as they do so creativity is always necessary. I am finding that if I simply repeat what they are saying they normally laugh hysterically, which is wonderful because their normal lives are filled with days where guilt looms over them from some "terrible" sin that they "committed."

There is no need to preach really. They know who I am and how I live in freedom. The ministry happens when I roll out dough and wash the dishes. At the end of the day I lay down exhausted. A Romanian woman's life requires more strength and endurance than I have. But through this experience, I feel so proud to be a woman with little ability to change the world with fancy words and great miracles. I get to change the world with just being me and cooking cabbage rolls. God is a mystery, and I love living the mystery.

-Laci, Beni and Audi after our trip up the big hill (Pictured above)

This is Rita. She is our contacts mother and I have been serving at her house. Carmen is her sister and she is picutred above.

The other day I climbed that huge, steep hill in the first picture. When I looked down I saw Beni (in the picture above) running towards me with flowers in his hands. His brother and cousin were following him with even more flowers. I am actually wrestling with Beni in the picture above because he thought it would be more fun to break all the flowers rather than put them in a vase. I won.

Dookie Love

Thu, 30 Apr 2009 00:00:00 GMT

Waking up all I saw was pitch darkness. I heard some voices coming from the floor below me. Who the heck is that, I remarked to myself as I rolled over. The cushion beneath me was quite a surprise, a stark difference from what I had been used to. The voices continued blabbering sounds that I couldn't comprehend. Was I in Ukraine, a train, Guatemala? Suddenly I realized the darkness was due to my red eye covering that was banded around my head. Lifting the shade from my eyes, a bright laser beam coming from a box in the middle of the wall zapped me. All at once it hit me; I was in Romania.

......

"Don't look at the dead chicken....don't look at the dead chicken," I chanted to myself as I lugged a wheelbarrow full of sewage and a disintegrating chicken up a hill. Earlier that morning we had a meeting with our new contact, John. He asked us what kind of projects we were interested in, and I felt led to led to do two things: Lead a Bible study twice a week, and find service projects to do every day. John seemed excited because he feels that the best way to reach his community of gypsies is to serve them. Within the hour my squad-mate Ben came flying through the door, "Marisa, I found a 500 year old woman cleaning her gutters." I was on it.

Grabbing the closest person to me, Katie and I went on a search for our 500 year old Grandma. We found her in a ditch digging out a backed up sewage line. She was wearing all black, which only means one thing...someone recently passed away and she was in mourning.

She obviously didn't speak our language so we simply grabbed her shovel from her deformed hands and started scooping the juicy turd pies into the bin. As we dug, Grandma insisted on helping us. Ben's estimate was close but I am going to say that Maria was closer to 80 than 500. Her face held so much beauty in every crease of her hard-worked skin and her white stray hair that fell out of her black head wrap.

We worked for a good hour when a familiar face came riding up on his bike. His name was Bogden, a 21-year old goofy guy that came to our campfire the previous night. Imagine a farm-hand kind of guy, class clown, southern football player who ONLY thinks about girls and drinking beer. He watched us for a good five to ten minutes before he came up with the idea of helping us.

Now, Bogden only speaks Romanian, and despite the fact that he knows we don't, he talked constantly, only stopping a time or two to pull out a fake rose that was in his pocket as he made over-exaggerated smooching noises. He gave the rose to me so that I could smell it and then quickly took it back. A little while later he was getting kind of dirty so he gave it to Katie to hold onto for a little bit. Soon it was Katie's turn to take the next load up the hill. About the same time as she got to the top, a pretty gypsy girl walked past us. The scattered Bogden said something to her as he reached in his pocket. He looked down in disbelief-where was his smelly rose? The moment was priceless as I yelled to Katie to hurry up and give his rose back to him. Unfortunately, the gypsy girl didn't feel like waiting. She turned around, whipping her hair in the wind, walked a bit and then turned around one last time to give him goose bumps all over. His stout frame slumped over after she turned back around. He had been planning giving her that rose all day, and now he was stuck in a ditch with two Americans and old woman who's false teeth moved when she talked to us. I did my best to console him as Grandma rolled her eyes and laughed.

I am still laughing. I love this life, and the opportunity to serve these people. There is much work to do here and we are THRILLED! Thank you for sending me.

My Chinese Italian Mama

Tue, 21 Apr 2009 00:00:00 GMT

Almost one year ago, my mother had to make a decision that changed her entire life. My father was presented with a job opportunity that caused them to move from their comfortable home in Wisconsin to the foreign country of China for two years.

At first we all laughed at the idea-mom in China...right! My mother is a creature of habit. Frosted Flakes every morning for 30 or 40 YEARS, vanilla ice cream only and loyal high school friendships that have lasted throughout the years. She lives in the same neighborhood as my aunt, talks to her sister and mother every day and loves her life.

My favorite thing about my mother can be best explained in her China story. Despite her love for home, she followed my father-and she followed him with a joyful heart. Chinese culture is intimidating. The food often consists of animal parts that we couldn't imagine eating. My mother doesn't even like bones in her chicken. No one speaks English-my mother is a social bug-she has made friends despite. Her adaptability is admirable, and the attitude that she carries makes me so happy.

As I am growing older I am realizing that I have been given a great gift from her. Because of the way that she has loved my father-through thick and thin--I will know how to weather the same storms when my time comes. Thank you, mom for being just who you are. Happy Birthday. Happy Birthday. Happy Birthday.

Love,

Risa

Uganda Video

Tue, 21 Apr 2009 00:00:00 GMT

I have several videos here. The first is our video from Uganda that Steph made. The next is a remix version of us rafting the Nile. Yes, I felt like I was going to die. And after that are a bunch of random China videos. Hope you like them.

Awkward Evangelism

Fri, 17 Apr 2009 00:00:00 GMT

Before this month I thought I had explored every type of evangelism known to man. I was totally wrong.

When we arrived to our new home I opened my pack, blew up my sleeping mat, rolled out my sleeping bag and snuggled into my new "room." The next morning I was rudely awakened with a month seven ache. Seven months of nomadic life. Seven months of board-like beds and African dirt for mattresses that had all done a number on my body. My right hip felt like it was out of socket for the next three days so I had to do something about it. A long-term missionary nurse that lives here made an appointment for me to see her friend Victor who is a Physical Therapist. He runs a Christian Clinic that ministers to invalids and handicapped people who need P.T.

I don't know if you have ever had a massage or Chiropractic exam from a Physical Therapist, but it is nothing like a dimly lit room and water sounds in the background. Instead, it's all medicinal. Sterile room. No cushy, feel good stuff.
In Ukraine, it is extra special...and humbling. Let's just say privacy isn't top priority. I'll spare several details, but just get the picture that it was totally embarrassing. So there I am, laying on the table, my missionary friend at my feet doing the interpretation stuff. The guy starts working the muscles and I can now feel every knot in my body. Before he massages each muscle, he gets it warm by making rubbing friction that essentially causes my body to scoot horizontally up and down the table. All of the rice that I have been eating, which is magnificently found all over the bod jiggles and low and behold, I am humiliated by my seemingly awkward position.

Suddenly, Victor breaks his deep breathing, wipes the sweat from his brow...yes...it was quite a workout for him, and through our interpreter asks me if I speak in tongues. Hilarious.

He starts working on the next leg and as I am again vigorously jerked around he is waiting for my response.
Through total humiliation, God gave me an opportunity to not necessarily share about tongues, and our experience last month, but the mysterious God that loves to be discovered. That conversation turned into a ministry opportunity to minister at his clinic, so Liz, Abby and I are serving there this month. We also met a beautiful babooshka (sp?) on the bus who rocked our world. She invited us over to her house for tea and I feel in my Spirit that it is significant that we go. Our only problem is that we don't have her number and we are still waiting for her to call. Please pray with us that she will remember us.

"I'm Already Dead"

Wed, 15 Apr 2009 00:00:00 GMT

Sitting in a restaurant with our coaches, Michael and Kathy Hindes, we were enjoying each other's company when Mike received a horrible phone call. An 18-year old girl in AIM's First Year Missionary program was in critical condition somewhere deep in South Africa. She had been in a car accident. Fortunately, the two other girls that were with her had already been released from the hospital with bumps and bruises. Mike ended his call, and we prayed at the table awaiting more information. Moments later he was called back. In those short few minutes, she passed away.

We had never met this precious girl, but our hearts were heavy with grief. Her situation was all too close for comfort, and what about her parents? What about her teammates? The thought of their grief broke our hearts. As we sat at the table discussing our feelings and questions Mike rabbit trailed to a story that happened us last year with the January 08 World Race team while they were also in South Africa.

Various racers were held at gunpoint in different areas of the hostel as several men demanded all of their belongings. In one of the areas, a female racer was forced to stand up as a man held a gun to her head as he yelled at her. "If you don't have a cell phone, I will kill you."

After a pause she looked at him and courageously said something to the effect of "I don't have one, so go ahead and kill me." With tears in his eyes, Mike said that when they flew in to counsel them this particular girl told them that she had a revelation at this critical moment. Her thought, I'm already dead.

Her statement would have confused the heck out of me a few years ago. What does she mean, "I'm already dead." But now I understand more than ever. To live a life like Christ, I have to be dead to myself. Practically, that means this...

In order to get into Ukrainian orphanages all foreigners need to go through an extensive and intense physical that is disturbing to most and horrifying to others. But beyond that physical is a 3-year old child who sits in a metal crib all day, with only one diaper for the day and no one to hold him.

It means that when someone's face is falling off of them because of leprosy, you throw your arms around them and look them straight in the eye. It means sitting on the floor and putting some elbow grease into an African woman's pedicure-despite the fact that you can see worms squirming under her skin.

There are two kinds of death for a Christian; the one that we live every day where we are forced to kiss the scars on our Father's hands in order to gain the courage to love. And the other is when we immediately pass from this life to an eternal one where we experience never-ending peace with God and the fullest amount of joy that is not allowed to be tainted with the troubles of life.
I will never understand death. For our own preferences, some die too young, while others suffer too long. This year in particular I have grieved the loss of many who have passed-some close enough to cut me deep. I don't get it. But this I do understand--Death for a Christian, whether they are living or dead, is a wonderful thing.