Summer Travel and Rainy Season

It's rainy season here in our neck of the woods. Of three seasons, hotter, hottest, and humid, this humid rainy season may be my favorite. I hear rainy season can just be humid and muggy, but so far, I am loving it. My hair is officially out of control. I am basically sporting a mane, but who cares, it's raining, and I'm singing (wait for it) in the rain, not having to run our tiny air conditioning to its breaking point, and overall, we are all in a better mood.  I even took up that old forgotten activity of walking outside again.

This summer has been over-the-top busy, but oh so good. A trip to the states was necessary for my heart. Precious loved one with health issues needed a hug, and it was worth every penny and every minute on a plane with three small ones by myself to fly all that way to give a hug. And in three weeks, we got in a lot of hugs. It was wonderful. I love our family, and I am so thankful I was able to see them this summer. The kids did magnificently on the plane, and while we missed their daddy, who was here doing what he does, we had a blast and wouldn't trade it for anything.

Granna Hug

Poppa Hug

Momma Hug

Grandma Hug

Grandpa Hug

Cousin Hug (minus a few)

Boys don't hug. Those faces!

There was VBS (Thailand themed, no less), amazing cheeseburgers, steaks, homemade ice cream, weight gain, boat rides and fire pits for the kids, not to mention being spoiled rotten by all of their grandparents, and there was even...

a bathtub. It's the little things.

 After coming back from the states, we were home for 36 hours before we boarded another plane to south Thailand for some meetings.  It was so fun, albeit exhausting.

The kids did better than I did getting over jet lag in a hotel with meetings to attend. 

They are amazing. They got to do a VBS with some awesome volunteers from the states, and swim in the Gulf of Thailand. 

Isaiah tried the sand in Thailand. He wasn't impressed. 

We came home for a week and then boarded yet another plane for another set of meetings on the other side of the Gulf of Thailand. It was a lovely week where we got to learn more about what is happening in this part of the world and how we can be a part of it.

The kids got to do, yet another, VBS, and as you can see from that face, they were beyond enthused. Really, we are so thankful for volunteers who would spend their vacation time and hard earned money to come all this way to keep our kids so we can have a meeting where mommas can participate too. And our kids had a blast!!! 

There was even water polo with a bunch of Germans, Brits and Americans at a hotel in Thailand. This is our crazy life.

Song Teew ridin' to the airport. 

By the end of the summer, the kids and I will have flown on 10 planes putting our total for the year, so far, at 13. Crazy! Good thing the kiddos are good travelers. 

Thailand's so bright, you gotta wear shades. Too bad we didn't have any for this picture.

Now we are home, watching it rain, and counting down the days until school starts back, when I will send my Thomas to kindergarten. (Weeping and Gnashing.) We are oh so thankful for this summer full of family, beaches, safe travel, and good, rich meetings.

Refining Through Culture Shock

There is a little thing that we expats all know about. If you have lived in a foreign country for any amount of time, you know all about it.  It's our thing. We own it. We claim it. We yell it out when we are having a awful day. We use it as a crutch when we have been really mean to someone who lives in our home or helps clean our toilets. It's culture shock! And somehow we can't seem to explain it to volunteer teams, people visiting for two weeks or the people we reunite with in the states.  They couldn't understand if they tried. There is a possibility that that time they went on a trip to Mexico for two weeks, they had a slight bit of culture shock. Sure, confronted with the fact that we as an American people are grossly independent and wildly materialistic will smack anyone in the face during their two weeks in the slums of a foreign country, but I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about how the days drag on, language class is producing in you nothing but a babbling two year old, you can't figure out why the people on the mopeds seem to have a death threat and why on earth they don't just drive on the sidewalk, and for the life of you, you can't figure out what that awful smell is that meets you every single time you walk into the grocery store. You don't like picking up hand-fulls of meat and shoving it into a bag. And for the love, why is it so doggone hot?! And the people that you should understand and relate to the most, your fellow expats, well, some days you just think they are weird, and while you truly want to understand them and live in fellowship with them, it is a battle. Yes, I am probably being too candid here, but I guarantee if you put a group of us all on a panel and made us drink truth juice, we would all say the same thing about what is going on during culture shock.

Culture shock. We use it to justify all of our junk those first few months and even year of overseas living! We don't feel worthy of what we are being asked to do. We feel completely, overwhelmingly inadequate. We can't share Jesus. We can barely say 'How are you?' without accidentally offending someone. We are being radically stripped of everything we held on to. We thought that the 'emptying of self' was over when we gave away most of our belongings and said heart-wrenching goodbyes to people that we love dearly. Turns out, that was only the beginning. We got gut-punched, again, about two weeks after we got off the plane and realized this is our new reality and we are just not built for this life.

So then we try and fix it. We throw ourselves into activities that we think we can control, and then reality hits again, and we are faced with the fact that we can't control anything. Nothing! Every single thing that we held onto is pried from our dying hands.

Yep, I said dying. Dramatic? Perhaps. Reality? Maybe. Because if we have not completely and totally died to self and surrendered every solitary thing, it will be stripped away for us. We call this culture shock. It's lovely really. I can't hold on to or boast in anything. This out-of-control-ness produces different things in different people depending on the day. Somedays it makes me want to cry all day (which then produces a wretched migraine). Somedays it produces anger. I'm talking rage, and I really just need to punch something. It produces loneliness and self-insecurities that you didn't know were there. And you realize how very much you suck (sorry dad, but that's really the only appropriate word). You are the noble person who committed her life to proclaiming good news and love and hope to a lost world, and you can barely manage to get dinner on the table without crying because you can't figure out your tiny oven or you had a moment of thinking about how amazing your mom's chicken pot pie is and you don't know when you will get to eat it again.

You experience loss and pain over and over again. It's full on war against your heart and mind.  It's war on your family and every other relationship in your life. And we call it culture shock.

But God. I think what we call culture shock, He calls refining. He uses these first months in a new country and in a new place for His glory, because He makes all things good, even beautiful. He keeps showing me over and over, so kindly and patiently, that all these horrible things that are bursting out of me lately are really just the sin that I had in me all along. Sin that I was able to cover up a little easier when I could hold things in my hands. Sin that I so easily covered up when I was living in a place that had become comfortable and easy.  He has been bringing me to repentance, showing me the ugly so that I can confess it and He can cleanse it. He's been reminding me daily that the same gospel that saved me, sustains me every day. And I find that if I don't constantly preach the gospel to myself, I am a wreck, and I will wreck others with the excuse of "culture shock."

So that's me right now, totally completely uncomfortably honest with whoever is reading this. I'm a mess. I was a mess before, but I have no strength or capacity to cover it up now. It's out there for the world (and my poor children) to see.  I am that wretch. I need Jesus. Oh! I need Jesus!!!  Because without Him I just can't do this life! I just can't. Good news, He has overcome the world, even this really hot and humid one. He is for me. In me. Working in ways I can't see and moving mountains in me to make me look more like Himself. He is refining me in the fire. And it took moving me to SE Asia to do it. He goes to wild and crazy lengths to get our attention and to show us how deeply He loves us.  He is faithful and kind. And I need all of that, all of Him, even more than I ever knew.


There are things we can do to get through our little bouts of culture shock. A few things that I used to recommend those who joined our team to do and things I am trying to do now:

1. Embrace the Constant. With all the change, embrace the One who hasn't changed, ever! Our Lord is constant, steady, sure. We can run into him. Stay in His Word. You can't get by with out it! Dig into Jesus. Listen to sermons when you don't have the focus to read on your own. Turn on worship music. Put scripture verses all over your new home.  Remember that our Lord knows our pain. He has walked a mile in our shoes and can sympathize with us in every pain. Because of His great love for us, He left his home to pursue us, to die for us, to save us. He was misunderstood, mocked, hated and even murdered. But because he overcame when he conquered the grave, we can and will too.

2. Be thankful.  Make a list of at least 10 things you can be thankful for in your new homeland. Write it down and on the really hard days, look back at it and even add to it.

3. If there are expats in your town or your country, try and get together with them every once and awhile. You may find they have gone through, or are going through, the same struggle you are and can help you walk through it. If nothing else, maybe they can be a sounding board. Someone who finally understands you.

4. Get some perspective. On the days when it seems like there is no light at the end of the tunnel, and you just can't remember why you moved your family to this new place, get out! Go walk around your neighborhood and just take in the faces of those you now live among. Go visit one of their spiritual buildings and just let your heart be open and softened. Pray that the Lord will give you more compassion for those around you than concern for your own comforts.

5. Exercise. Sweat it out.

6. Make sure you are getting enough sleep. You will be more exhausted than you were in your homeland. By 3 PM, you will feel completely and totally drained. With the language learning and all. the. new. your brain is on overload. You need to rest. It's ok.

This is not a comprehensive list, but it's a start. Most of all, see number one.

All of this is just a reminder for me. "Culture shock" is normal, completely common, but it doesn't have to break me. The Lord is faithful. He will sustain me and my family through this time. His strength is made perfect in our weakness. He is sharpening me, growing me, refining me. He is making me look more like Himself, and He is lovely. The process is painful, but the product is pure and beautiful.

Every Nation, Tribe and Tongue

One of my favorite things in the whole world is being able to worship with people from all over the world. I have had the immense privilege of being able to worship with many different peoples in many different languages. From Spanish, to Macedonian, different African languages to Thai. It's amazing and beautiful to hear God's people from all over the world singing their songs to him, the one who has saved us and made us His own. Some of my favorite memories have been joining with other believers, my brothers and sisters as we sing old classics like “I Surrender All” and "How Great Thou Art" and newer songs like "Our God is Greater" in their native tongue. There's a magic in the moment. One that can't be explained. But it's power. This is what we were made to do. People from every nation and tribe and tongue gathered together in one voice with one heart declaring the glory of the Lord. It's sweet music to His hears.

I remember the first time I stood in a Macedonian church in the capital city and heard the sounds of praise ring from the lips of Macedonians. I didn't know the words in Macedonian yet. I couldn't sing along. But that didn't stop me from worshipping as I reflected on the goodness of God that spans languages, continents, oceans and even musical preferences. Tears filled my eyes, and I stood silent just taking in the sound of God's children worshipping in their own tongue. Beautiful doesn't begin to describe it. I will never forget that moment.

And the moment that I sat in my living room in the town we served and heard, for the first time, people from that city worshipping their Creator, tears filled my eyes. It was a moment that I had longed for and prayed for. It was powerful. Beautiful. 

Here in this new country where though I might know the tune, I don't understand all the words, I can only sit and listen (and whisper the words in English). And as I listen to about 20 of my Thai brothers and sisters in Christ worship the one who has saved us, my eyes fill with tears. It is powerful. Beautiful. It makes me long for heaven when we together with our Macedonian, Thai, American, Indian, Kenyan, Ugandan, Czech, Bulgarian, Russian, …, brothers and sisters will gather together around the throne of the Lamb in worship. We will all sing the same song in a loud voice as we stand in awe of His greatness and glory. And it will be beautiful. Powerful! 

"And when he had taken the scroll, the four living creatures and the twenty-four elders fell down before the Lamb, each holding a harp, and golden bowls full of incense, which are the prayers of the saints. And they sang a new song, saying, 

“Worthy are you to take the scroll and to open its seals, for you were slain, and by your blood you ransomed people for God from every tribe and language and people and nation,and you have made them a kingdom and priests to our God, and they shall reign on the earth.” 

Then I looked, and I heard around the throne and the living creatures and the elders the voice of many angels, numbering myriads of myriads and thousands of thousands, saying with a loud voice, 

“Worthy is the Lamb who was slain,to receive power and wealth and wisdom and mightand honor and glory and blessing!” 

And I heard every creature in heaven and on earth and under the earth and in the sea, and all that is in them, saying, 

“To him who sits on the throne and to the Lamb be blessing and honor and glory and might forever and ever!”

And the four living creatures said, “Amen!” and the elders fell down and worshiped."

Revelation  5:8-14 ESV

Fun Things Around Town

Out here in the wild wild heat, there are a ton of fun things to do. Here's a look into the last few weeks and how we take HOT, hard, HOT, stressful, and HOT days and still manage to have some fun moments.  

Giant milky fruit smoothies at the open market. These things are my favorite. 

Selfies in daddy's hats. These boys make me swoon.

Stirring boiling elephant poo to turn into elephant poo paper. 

This really needs no caption.

And then, finishing the elephant poo paper process.  

There's bowling.  That may have ended with a certain 7 year old weeping because she only scored like a 27, but, every one else was all smiles. And there was AC. WOOT!

We explored an insect farm. I didn't even know that was a thing, and I certainly didn't think it would be all that interesting. Turns out, I was wrong.

Kate is a bug lover. She held every bug they would let her hold except for the giant 10 inch long centipede and the scorpion. Who can really blame her on that one?!

We learned about all of the edible insects of SE Asia. Yum.  Notice I said learned, not tasted.

We found the ice skating rink and enjoyed a floor made of ice in an air-conditioned room. YES! 

Kate represented our beloved Macedonia at her school's international day. She was so excited.  

Golf with a new friend, our neighbor. He's a sweetie and he and Thomas share a love for the game.

More selfies

Our family out on the course with some new friends.

Swimming!!!  It's the best!

And when you're stuck inside all morning because it's already 95 degrees at 8 'o clock in the morning, why not color your face.  This was not a mommy-approved activity, but I couldn't get too mad. I mean, that face!

There have most definitely been some hard days. I have been every ugly version of myself the last 2 months, and I have had to fight to be any kind of fun or even nice. But God... I am so thankful for the sweet, fun, exciting moments when He has whispered or even shouted, "I love you!" as he has lavished life and breath and every necessary thing on us. He has lavished grace on us. He has reminded me of how very much I need Him, of how very worthless and crappy and dead I am without Him. He has reminded me that He has made me alive and that He is my life.

He has carried us through every single day. He even gave me a little boy with purple lips and a red face to remind me to laugh a little more and stress a little less. And I am reminded as I look through all of these pictures and so many more (that I didn't post for fear of boring you) that He is good in every moment, good or bad, even when it's 110 degrees. Even then...

 I'm so thankful to be His!

Isaiah's Two!

Our littlest Bug is TWO! (Dear Jesus, unbreak my heart!) He's my baby who has celebrated each of his birthdays in a different country: born in the states, his first in Macedonia, and #2 in Asia. He is one wildly international baby. I'm not sure whether it's a curse or a blessing, but he seems to be my child who just rolls with whatever as long as there are juice and crackers at hand. He has certainly kept me on my toes this last year. He's into everything.  He's basically Curious George without all the hair.  But man, we are so madly in love with him and his big blue eyes.  He knows how to melt our hearts when he throws his chubby little arms around our neck and squeezes tight. I'm smitten.

His birthday pancake which he couldn't have been less enthused by. 

His birthday consisted of all things golf. Shocker. He even got to hit two whole trays of balls by himself at the driving range. And as "airbuses" flew overhead while he hit balls, he was in his own little version of heaven.  

I did a golf cake (not my best cake ever) which he totally didn't get. Fail! But he was happy about all the sugar, and it tasted amazing! He got golf and "airbus" presents, and he was happy to be the star of the show all day.  

Isaiah Hunter, we are so beyond blessed to have you in our lives. We thank God for you every day.  You were made in His image to be loved by Him and to walk in Him. He knows your every thought. He formed you. His thoughts toward you are more in number than the sand and He loves you with an everlasting love.  He sent His only Son to die for your sins, my son.  He is pursuing you relentlessly, and you will never have true rest until you rest in Him. May you live your life for Him and His glory. May you abide in Him and walk in the fullness of His strength.  I pray that you will be a man of wisdom and integrity and that you will be a servant-leader, always pointing people to Christ. May all that you do be done in love and may you live with your eyes set on the hope of heaven that never passes away. He will strengthen you. He will help you. He will uphold you with His righteous right hand. He is for you! We are for you! We LOVE you!!!  

Water Fight

What started out as a New Year's Festival to wash away sins has turned into a massive country wide-water fight. When the whole city shuts down for three days to throw water at each other, things can get pretty wild. And "wild" is most definitely an understatement. The whole city is in a CRAZY, albeit friendly, water fight.  

Beautiful, wet children stand on the side of the road with bowls full of water and buckets ready to throw water at anyone who crosses their path: cars, people on scooters and any other form the passer-by may take. 

We had heard lots of warnings and even some fun commentary about the city during Songkran. Keep your mouths closed. Put all electronic devices in ziplock bags. You are not safe anywhere.  Just when you think you've dodged a bullet grabbing your bread and milk from the local store, someone will step around the corner with a loaded gun. They will not yield even though you are unarmed and beg them not to. And so, you close your mouth, squint your eyes, find your car, and run. You will not come out unscathed, but the water dries fast and because it is so ridiculously hot, you will actually be thankful that your mascara is running and your hair is wet and frizzy... again. 

The heart of the war takes place downtown by the moat. So we armed ourselves with big (so we thought) water guns and water to refill our weapons, and we headed toward the sound of the shrills and the water flying through the air. 

Cell phones protected and weapons pumped, we rolled down the windows of our truck and quickly realized, our water guns didn't hold a candle to the friendly enemy who drenched us and our truck with a big grin and a large laugh. 

Brian stopped off and got us some bigger guns, but still, we were easily defeated.

But my goodness, we had a wet and wild blast.  

Kate and Isaiah only had fun if the windows stayed up. 

Don't let that look fool you, she was not a fan of the water flying through her window.

I begged Thomas to take a walk with me through the war zone, but he couldn't muster the courage. I couldn't necessarily blame him. It was brutal out there. No one was safe. There were guns of all shapes and sizes. Guns with teddy bears and Spiderman. Water-backpack guns. Buckets with strings to dip in the moat to pull out water for their next victim. Buckets of ice were being melted and pelted at grandmas and children alike. There were even what I can only describe as water rocket-launchers.  I suppose we were safer in the car with mouths far out of range from getting moat water shot in them.  

 Even though we stayed in the car, we all came home drenched, but we didn't go down without a fight. I was just thrilled to not be sweating for the first time in weeks.  It was glorious, and I seriously had way more fun than any of my children. I thought to myself if only all wars were fought with water, this world would be a much happier place....

However...

The tables filled with flowers, Buddhas, and small cups of water brought it all back down to reality for us. As we sat at dinner the first night of Songkran and watched people bow to a statue before they poured water on it and then on themselves, we realized this is no game. Sure, we had a blast spraying and getting sprayed by perfect strangers for three days, but at it's heart this holiday is an attempt to be made pure, to be made clean. It is true, every country, every religion, every person is looking for restoration, for cleansing. It's at the heart of every religion because it is at the heart of every man. We need cleansing. We need saving. We need life. If only water could have done it... But our sin that hates and slanders and murders deserves death. Blood must be spilt. Water isn't enough to clean me up in my dirtiest, darkest place. We are dead in our sin.... "But God, being rich in mercy because of the great love with which he loved us, made us alive together with Christ--by grace you have been saved." (Ephesians 2:4-5) He has given us the opportunity to be made clean, white as snow. He will cast our sin as far as the east is from the west. And He will not remember them. We can be made pure forever. Jesus has already done all the work as he poured out his spotless blood on the cross for you and for me. And as He rose, He spoke to the nations, Sin has no dominion over you. Death has no more sting. So pray for the people here and the people of the world who have yet to hear that they are loved and accepted by the eternal saving God. People who have yet to hear that they can be made clean not because of their good works or their washing in the water but because of what Jesus did for them in an act of radical love. Pray that they will hear, accept, turn from their sin and lean into the cross of Jesus. Pray that they will be made clean.

Made to Worship

A move around the world changes a lot of things. I have focused a lot on the changes--the new and different that have invaded our life.  It is easy and even comical (because it's better to laugh than to cry) to write home about the newness. But there is one thing that remains the same. One thing that encompasses people from all sides of the globe. Wherever you are, you will find yourself surrounded by worshippers. From America, to Africa, to Europe, to Asia, the soul of every person on every continent is worshiping something. The secular religion professor at any liberal arts university will claim people created religion to make them feel better, to ease the pain of life, to create some sort of ethics system, to be at the center of their cultural workings.  If you have read any manner of Christian apologetics, most scholars agree that we were made, created to worship.  I would agree. We've all heard it described different ways: There is a hole inside each person that they are searching to fill. There is a longing and yearning for more, for higher, for bigger in each person--a longing we live our lives to satisfy whether we are aware of it or not. We are all drawn to things bigger than we are--the depth of the sea, the grandeur of the mountains, the beauty of rolling hills, the mystery of caves and caverns, the vastness of outer space. I have seen it play out in two different cultures and two different religions, and I am convinced now, more than ever, that all beings will find something to put weight in, something to worship. They must. 

I have observed, in silent brokenness, as my two host cultures bow to things that are not big enough, nor great enough, nor worthy enough to bear their worship. On the outside, the worship could seem beautiful and enchanting.  In Europe there are sounds of bells and scents of incense. There is holy water, beautiful churches painted with ornate pictures of holy gatherings. There is the glow of candles. Kissing of icons. Gifts laid at altars. Bows of humility and money given to saints past. Prayers for healing. Men in robes and people who kiss their ring and ask that they pray to God on their behalf. A room where only those men can go. There are people crossing themselves and hoping all that they have done will be enough. There is great reverence for things sacred. There is great fear of God. He is far off, distant and terrifying.  

In this part of Asia, it really doesn't look that different.  There are ornate buildings, temples, with beautiful banners, pillars, and giant golden or even jade statues. There is a glow of candles, smells of incense, bows to metal carvings, and offerings of food and flowers. The holy men of this religion wear clothes of orange or white--clothes that have no stitch. They have shaven heads and live a simple life hoping to gain some favor for their families and themselves for the next life. And here, there is also great respect, great reverence, great fear for the gods and spirits they worship.  

Like the people we worked among in Europe, the people here can't be sure if they will make it out of this world in right standing with the one they worship. They all admit it. In both places, there are good luck charms and acts of desperation just in case their system of worship fails them. In Macedonia, it was a horseshoe nailed to the front of a car or the door post of a house. It was a tree branch that had been blessed by a priest hung over an entry way. It was fasting from meat and oils to cleanse oneself. It was water, blessed by the priests, placed on their childrens' feet and foreheads to ward off the evil spirits. They read their horoscopes, see fortunes in leftover coffee grounds, and visit witch doctors when healing doesn't come through the church. Peace is foreign. Hope nonexistent. True love unknown.

Here in Asia, there are spirit houses in the yards of most homes and businesses. Candles are lit and food offered every new day to those spirits in hopes that it will appease them. They are terrified of being haunted by loved ones that have gone on before them, and ghosts are a reality to them. Reincarnation is imminent if they are not good enough in this life. They send their sons off to be monks in hopes that it will gain them favor in the next life. 

Peace is foreign. Hope nonexistent. True love, unknown. 

There is still much I don't understand about this new world and its religion. I may never grasp the history and reasons for why they do what they do.  But I have a sweet message for them, the same message I carried to Macedonia. Peace has come. Hope is here. There is true love for the taking. 

I, like all of them, am a worshipper.  I find that some days I battle to worship the one true God. I'd rather focus on myself and my rights. I put weight in things, other than God. Some days my family and our happiness becomes my god. The way I spend my money, the house we live in being exactly the way I want it, my reaction to others when they revile me, laugh at me, or even cheat me; the worry that occurs when the house is quiet and fear rolls through my heart and mind--all of these things show the position of my heart as it bows to self instead of bowing to the one who Created me. Even the very work I do in these foreign lands, which most people would call good work, can become my god, and there have been times it has. My heart is prone to wander.  But my Father speaks to me, to the nations, saying, 

"I am the Lord, that is my name; my glory I give to no other, nor my praise to carved idols... And I will lead the blind in a way that they do not know, in paths that they have not known I will guide them. I will turn the darkness before them into light, the rough places into level ground. These are the things I do, and I do not forsake them. They are turned back and utterly put to shame, who trust in carved idols, who say to the metal images, 'You are our gods.'" Isaiah 42:8; 16-17

It is God alone, that can carry the weight of our worship because He is transcendent and immanent. He is holy, set apart, bigger than us, far above us. He is the Creator of it all. But He is also with us. Big enough to create me, sustain me, and hold me together and small enough to live in me, strengthening me, loving me, abiding in me. He's the only god who has ever made such a beautiful extraordinary claim. Therefore He is the only god that can bear the weight of our worship, adoration, and love. We can trust Him. He is immovable, and at His Name every knee will bow in Macedonia, in Asia and around the world.

We were made to worship the God of the universe who is a God of love and forgiveness. He is the God who accepts us as we are. He is the God who makes us into something more beautiful than we could ever be on our own. He is the God who promises eternal life as joint heirs with His Son, Jesus, who He sent to die the death that we deserved because we could never be good enough. He doesn't makes us work for our salvation. He already did it all. It is finished. 

He is holy, but oh! He is approachable, kind, full of mercy and grace. He is a God who says, I love YOU, all of you and I want best for you.  He is a God who hears our prayers and who answers when His children call on Him. He is the Great I Am, and He is the only one deserving of man's worship and adoration. Oh how my heart longs to see the worshipers of Macedonia bow only to the One True God. I long to see those in Europe and across this new country where I now live worship the one true and good God in spirit and in truth. 

Perhaps the secular religion professor is partly right. All religions are created to make us feel good, to help us hope.  But my friends, the Christian scholars are on point. You were made to worship the one who made you. It's in you. What you choose to worship can make or break you. And whether you call yourself religious or not, I promise you, you are worshiping something. So today as I beg you to pray for the lost of this world and for those working among them, I also ask that before you do, you examine your heart to see if you, too, have become a worshipper of something other than our great God. Maybe you are worshiping something alongside God, but it is He alone who is worthy of our worship.

Sticky Falls and The Walking Street

Last weekend we decided to go exploring. There are lots of fun and interesting things to do in and around our new city, and we had been chomping at the bit to get out and enjoy some of them.  Everyone was finally well, and while our little Thomas still had four stitches in his head, we decided to not let that detour our plans.  Saturday we headed out to the sticky waterfalls which is a natural waterpark of fun! Hiking through the cool mountain water is the way to hike in this green jungle heat. 

 We had a blast climbing up and down the falls--I'm talking off the charts on the fun-ness scale. It is a giant natural (with the major on the nature) waterpark where the climbing up is as fun as the going down. It's more fun, in fact, since the sticky falls are, well, sticky, there's no sliding down, until you hit a mossy spot and then things can get wild. We almost lost Kate. I think Brian caught her by the ankle and she dangled for a minute. At least that is how it played out in my mommy brain.  But that one moment of terror was light and momentary compared to all the wet and wild fun we had. And as you can see in the background of the picture above, the people enjoyed watching us enjoy ourselves. The paparazzi followed us into the mountains too. A couple of them just cut in between our littlest man and us to grab him and get some selfies with him. He cooperated for the most part, and when he made it clear that he was done, they just took pictures from afar.  (And sweet, protective reader, our little one is ok. We are making sure he is safe and happy.)

We all loved it and will make it a regular stop. And you can see more pictures of our waterfall shenanigans here.

After getting Thomas's stitches removed, we decided to head on down to the Sunday night walking street. It's another kind of jungle where the only coolness was the sweat dripping down our backs.  The Sunday night walking street is a treasure to anyone looking for state fair like foods with an Asian flair, souvenirs of any kind, foot massages, and even live music and dancing. Basically it is the state fair that rolls out every Sunday night.

We found a parking lot and rode the Song Teew in.  You remember those? The truck with the benches in the back.  This was Kate's first ride and every person has to document their child's first ride in a Song Teew.  

So pretty.

There's the food. I mean, this was like 1/1000th of the food. There are little vendors set up like this every where. Fried food, wrapped food, food on a stick. Blended fruits, wrapped fruit, fruit on a stick. Pink noodles, green noodles, noodles on a stick. Ok, so I haven't seen noodles on a stick, but I wouldn't be surprised...

Here we have a yummy potato on a stick. The potatoes are crispy, salty, and oh so good. 

There's wrapped veggies, also known as the spring roll, served with sweet and spicy sauce. There's wrapped banana, fried with sweet sauce on top. And then there's the fried milk. Yep, fried milk. If that's not straight out of the state fair, then I don't know what is.

(Ok, so I called it banana milk for the first 15 seconds. Whatever.  I have had three children. The end.) And can we just replay and watch how Thomas keeps chewing and chewing and chewing? I guess he eventually swallowed it. The consistency left much to be desired. Think cottage cheese, except sweet, with a crunchy outside and sweet creamy syrup on top.  

Kate loved her meat on a stick accompanied with peanut sauce.

After walking forever looking at cultural beauties and bargaining with their sellers, why not top the night off with a foot massage?  We haven't had our feet rubbed down yet, but it's on our list of new things to do.  Stay tuned...