This Week

Today I watched Dear John.
I'm feeling melancholy as I think about the past year.
Outside my window I see darkness.
Something that's inspired me recently is my sister.
The prayer of my heart this week is that God would mold me into the me that He created me to be.
I am creating an awesome scrapbook of my wedding, although at this point most of my creative "awesomeness" is still in my head and not actually on paper.
I am reading Revolution In World Missions.
I am thinking about betrayal. 
A spiritual lesson I'm learning is how important it is to spend time with God daily and allow Him to direct my marriage. Sometimes I feel like my life is being burned by fire, but then I think of The Crucible, a play that I read in high school and how God is refining my life and my marriage through the trials, making us stronger. He is giving me an opportunity to grow and to cast off the impurities. 
My goal for next week is to improve my prayer life. I want to start praying at all times and in all situations, not just when I feel I need God's help.

Prayer is Powerful

When I was volunteering full time at an orphanage in Honduras, we had thirteen toddlers and three babies. It is a permanent home for the children, because they are considered non-adoptable. Many times their were up to twenty children because of the single mom's ministry that the missionaries were also doing in their home. With just a few workers at a time, any "normal" activity proved to be eventful, sometimes more than other times.

I remember when Jefferson, whom we called "Chele", fell down the stairs. He fell twelve feet and landed on his head, because he was trying to run from the "tia" who was taking care of him. At the time, the stairs were some-what open. The rule was that someone had to hold the little children's hands when they were going down the stairs. Well, this particular morning Chele was feeling very mischievous. He was running from the tia that was taking care of him, with the biggest grin on his face. That was the last thing I saw before he fell down the flight of stairs. His big, goofy, mischievous grin. He landed on his head. When he was picked up at the bottom of the stairs, he wasn't breathing. We called Papá, the missionary who is considered the father of the family, and he picked the child up and tried to give him mouth to mouth. No change. We thought he was going to die, but God had a bigger purpose in mind for Chele's life. David, the missionary's son, fell to his knees and began to pray. We all started crying and praying. Mamá was praying upstairs calling out to the Lord. Papá took Chele to the hospital, meanwhile we had all the toddlers praying as well. They knew something was wrong with their brother and they wanted to help him, so they started praying too. We found out from Papá that on the twenty minute drive to the hospital that Chele turned blue and purple and wasn't breathing. His heart seemed to stop, but somehow he made it to the hospital alive and started breathing again. The took several tests and their was no internal trauma or even a bump on his head. A miracle. Chele was fine. He was alright. He was welcomed home by all his little brothers and sisters kissing his "boo boo" and giving him hugs.

It's interesting that Chele wasn't breathing until about the time that the little children began to pray. I think kids can make all the difference. They are so pure of heart. Children are so beautiful.