A couple of weeks passed, and the desire to serve was still there. I remember when I wanted a tattoo, my dad told me to pick out the art, and if in 2 weeks I still wanted that artwork, I could get it. Thankfully the simple daisy artwork that I picked up on a trip to Panama City didn’t last two weeks. But that mindset of having a thought linger for weeks, sent me on another search for an organization that I could belong to. My thoughts drifted back to when I was younger and my parents, brother and I made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches to pass out to the homeless. I remember being in downtown Atlanta, mid day, passing them out. I can’t tell you if we did that a lot, or if it was only a once or twice thing, but it’s an experience that stuck with me. So on the morning of Tuesday the 3rd, I googled a couple of soup kitchens and homeless shelters in the area and jotted down their numbers.

At 11:54 am on that Tuesday morning, I received an email from my friend, Carrie. After a brief catch up paragraph, she says “Oh, I  found this organization that ministers to the downtown homeless by meeting their basic needs for warmth on nights below 30 degrees.” (It still catches me off guard when God throws me a line drive answer to my prayers.)

The organization is Project Live Love, and one of their initiatives is Three-Oh-We-Go. Basically, between November and March, if the temperature drops below 30, volunteers meet at a warehouse to load up on gloves, blankets and handwarmers before heading out to outfit the homeless.

I spent Tuesday and Wednesday night helping out. Since I was just getting acclimated to the process on Tuesday, found myself filling the need of warmth for these people. The second night, I started seeing “these people” as people. I started asking their names and giving mine. Names led to needs. Needs led to prayers. When you get connected with someone it becomes personal, and that’s what happened last night. It became about more than just keeping someone warm.

If this sounds like something you’d  be interested in and would like to receive the text alerts, text the word “alarm” to 63566. If you get the alert, you just show up. No signing up. No commitments.

and the tree was happy…
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A week or so ago, my friend Amelia passed along a blog recipe for Cookie Dough Cheesecake Bars. The recipe read like a delicious menu and I couldn’t wait to get my hands dirty. Most of the ingredients you will find in your fridge or pantry, so it wasn’t an expensive treat to make.

Find the recipe here: http://brandysbaking.blogspot.com/2011/06/chocolate-chip-cookie-dough-cheesecake.html. She will do a much better job taking pictures and describing them than I would. Plus, my pictures would be of my finger in batter…

I made the cookies on a Wednesday night. Apron (gift from Kristen from her wedding shower) tied neatly around my waist, pbr opened, and barefoot. I couldn’t have been happier. I set the bars out to cool just in time for my dear friend, Neeley to stop by. If only every time you had a guest stop by you could greet them with the smell of freshly baked cookies. 

Sidenote about Neeley: She’s just started her own company, Well-Kept. You may have seen these handy little wipes around town. They are brilliant! Highly recommend for stocking stuffers and purse pockets.

Somewhere between catching up over great loves and great music (the new Ryan Adams was on the player), we circled back around to baking. I had forgotten about my great find last year, the Ninjabread men! I can not tell you how much fun it was to bake and to give these guys. Throw in a thoughtful “Hi-ya!” note and you are sure to please stomachs and hearts alike.

I’ve managed to make a couple of batches of the chocolate cookie cheesecake bars this year, leaving them in fridges and ambushing friends at dinner with take home boxes. So, this blog posting has no purpose other than to equip you with a delicious recipe that is so easy to make, and maybe a Ninja stocking stuffer. And consider this your warning, adding iced ninja stars only adds to their stealthiness!

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Figuring that my church would be similar in fashion to the white one, my group started walking to where our service would be held. Little hands grabbed a hold of mine. We stopped in front of this small cinderblock building with a tin roof. One door. One window. This was where I’d spend the next four hours, and if I’m honest, was disappointed.

The service had already begun, as we filed in through the door, passing the single drum that held tempo for the worship songs. We were ushered to the back of the building, passing 8 rows of wooden pews. No backs on our seats. Kids on our laps. Kids on kids on our laps. The air stopped moving. I counted the cinderblocks – it was 8 cinderblocks wide, and 13 cinderblocks long. There were 52 of us on those 8 tiny rows.

It was your typical church service, just longer. I won’t bore you with the details, but I will say that my time in this church was stripped down, honest to goodness, pure worship. No light shows. No boy bands in page-boy caps, scarves and skinny jeans. Our only focus was God. I was overwhelmed by how present I could feel the Lord. They praised in a way I have not. But want to.

The service was spoken in Kikumba with some parts being translated to English. There was one point in the service where the Paster asked us to pray. Out loud. All at the same time. One of my other team members made the comment that we caught a glimpse of what God experiences when we all pray to him. Lots of voices talking, praising, pleading to Him, and he can discern them all. He listens to them all.

In that tiny 8 x 13 cinderblock shack I was reminded that God doesn’t need a lot of accessories to his grace and love.

ab

PS. Just because I miss seeing this sweet little face everyday.

I had a chance to have lunch  on Sunday with a friend of mine, Carrie, who traveled to Cambodia earlier this year. (Follow her travels here: http://carrieandersonphoto.blogspot.com/2011/08/cambodiapersonal.html )We met through a mutual friend, and bonded over the anticipation of our first mission trips. It’s been good to talk about all the emotions, questions and stuggles that come with keeping those moments alive  after returning from such an experience. It’s been good to know I’m not alone. After a lingering over coffee and stories for hours, we parted ways, knowing that both of our hearts were aching for more out of this life.

Last night I met up with some of my cousins, and their kids, to ride the Pink Pig. My cousins are missionaries, and are in town visiting. They and their 3 boys live across the world from us, living out God’s love. At least that’s what I think they do. Missionaries taking on a country that is in need of God…daily! But when I spoke to the dad, he said that his youngest was asking about missionaries, and made the comment “I think we should be missionaries. God wants us to be missionaries.” He didn’t see he and his family as being a missionary family. He thinks mission work looks like those serving in Africa, complete with mud huts. Ahhh, the wisdom of a child…

I guess his words  resonated with me, that we here, in our comfortable world, don’t see ourselves as missionaries either. But we are. We are called to be missionaries everyday, wherever we are.

So, now I’m nowhere closer to having deciphered what my life looks like going forward, but I’m appreciative for the opportunty to have conversations about it.

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When trying to figure out how I was going to put down those experiences to words, I failed. I would start to write and go off in one direction, tied together with a run-on sentence about the importance of the proper squat while in the bathroom, and then finish with swapping bible verses with one of the kids. It was exhausting, and I felt like I wasn’t doing the trip justice with my random thoughts. So instead, I’ve opted for sharing a few of the small moments that captured my heart, and have shaped my story.

I had arranged to meet Geoffrey, my compassion child, on the final day of our trip. He and the compassoin representative were to meet me at 5:30 at Kenchick, a restaurant at the airport. I was excited to meet him. A little overwhelmed by the previous first days, and trying to really understand what was about to happen. My team dropped myself and Jessica off, and I remember saying to her “What if I don’t recognize him,or he doesn’t know who I am”. We turned the corner, and it was as if my heart stopped, and started all at the same time. My heart warmed, and was filled with this overwhelming amount of  joy. I saw before me, the most precious boy, and my heart knew it was Geoffrey. I said his name, and when he turned around his eyes lit up. It was then that I knew that the past few years were not wasted.

I hugged him. A giant squeeze. And he stood there with arms down to his sides. He’s still a 9 year old boy. We sat down and I start rambling on about who knows what, and he just sat quiet. Quietly staring at me. I caught him a few times, and he would just smile. He was quiet. Choosing words carefully, and speaking mostly swahili to the representative who would interpret. He spoke just a little above a whisper. The representatives told me that this was his first time leaving the village. His first time in a car. In a hotel. That when he went back to his village he would be a hero to his friends because of this trip. The representative shared that because of my sponsorship, Geoffrey is able to go to school. To go to church. To try and change the current path that so many men head down in this country. When I send my money each month, it’s not more than a numerical response to God’s calling to help those in need. But seeing Geoffrey’s face reminded me of the impact I was making.

I brought Geoffrey gifts. Bubbles for he and his family. A Georgia Tech hat which he wore proudly. A soccer ball that he never let go of. I brought his mother some kitchen utinsels and sheets. And then I gave him a bible. A bible that I had been using the past few years. My notes and highlights mapping out verses that spoke to me. I wanted this to be something he would remember me by. I asked what his favorite verse was, and he said John 3:3. We flipped to that chapter together, and there in green highlighter was the verse. We read it together. Well, I read it, he just watched my face. But it was just one of those moments that God had created just for us.

Towards the end of our visit, I had to fill out some paperwork for Compassion. I grabbed my pen and prepared to start writing, the first line was “Name”. From beside me, this sweet little voice said “Amanda Brown”. I stopped and looked at him, “what did you say?” Again, “Amanda Brown”. My name will never sound the same again. He knew me. Knew that I was there for him.

Before I left, I asked if there was anything I could pray for him for. This sweet little boy sitting in front of me asked me to pray for him to get a pick-up truck. And with that, my heart was stolen.

ab

November 30 – to have been reminded of the daily, small blessings, that I have to be thankful for.

November 29 – for the comfort that comes with gathering with my small groupies. Sometimes they are they only peace in my day.

November 28 – to have the opportunity to write about my grandmother’s story.

November 27 – for a lazy recovery day.

November 26 – for the care and concern of so many people.

November 25 – that even though I told my parents not to come to the hospital, they drove up. Hospitals are lonely places to be by yourself.

November 24 – for all my many blessings.

November 23 – for a few days off!

November 22 -

November 21 – to be in a position to help make someone else’s Thanksgiving a little easier financially.

November 20 – to come from a family that knows how to cook. Thanksgiving with the Browns!

November 19 – to have Kristen in my life. Wishing her and Andy many blessings in their marriage!

November 18 – for my job, even through the ups and downs.

November 17 – for nights without plans.

November 16 – to have a dating partner who knows his way around the kitchen.

November 15 – to be spending one final single girl dinner with Kristen Woodburn before she marries Andy this weekend!

November 14 – to find a letter in my mailbox from Geoffrey!

November 13 – to get to spend the day in North Georgia with Jillian, catching up on life, love and the pursuit of happiness over a few glasses of wine.

November 12 – that I got to spend 4 hours this morning visiting with Nana, listening to her tell stories of Pop, their lives together, her remaining bucket list item and what she prays for me every night.

November 11 – for that day in May of 2003 when Keitha and I met at Pulte. 8 years, several boys and different jobs later, we still have so much to say over coffee.

November 10 – for the girlfriends in my life. Lunch with Julie, then Ga Tech game with the Shelnutt girls.

November 9 – for my small groupies. Dinner with the girls to catch up on weddings, babies, and mission trips.

November 8 – for the reminder that I love a God who desires a personal relationship with me. Jeremiah 31:31-34 – “The days are coming, declares the Lord, when I will make a new covenant…it will not be like the covenant I made with their ancestors…I will put my law in their minds, and write it on their hearts.” 

November 7 – for discernment…especially regarding dating relationships. Now, whether or not I choose wisely is another matter.

November 6 – for my church. Andy asked us to give 500k to help out local and community organizations…we gave 1.4 million in just two days. Be rich. Give more.

November 5 – for my sweet brother on his 29th birthday.

November 4 – that I see so much of myself in my Nana. Tried to coordinate some time for us to visit, and both of our social calendars are full till the end of the month.

November 3 – that I finally slept through the night. Hope I finally caught up with the time change!

November 2 – for sweet words from friends and family following my Kenya trip.

November 1 – that Megan is in my Theopraxis class. Feels like a bit of Kenya having my roomie nearby.

I am 11 days away from leaving on my mission trip. I have been warned of spiritual warfare, and I am catching glimpses of it trying to creep into my life. The thing about spiritual warfare is that it comes in all forms, and isn’t always obvious. It comes at you by way of anxiety, or having your passport stolen, having the daily desire to be in relationship with God fade away, or through relationships. The closer we get to our trip, the more susceptible we are to attacks.

While at the coffee shop, I received an email from my cousin who is a missionary. Not knowing what is going on with me, or where my head and heart have been at, she writes:

” Remember, it is natural to have second thoughts and fears, the enemy does not want you to go and so he’ll be seeking to rob joy and insert confusion into your life. Find scripture that speaks to you and keep reminding yourself of it.”

Rob joy. Rob: (v) To deprive unjustly of something belonging to, desired by, or legally due (someone). This is where I am today. Robbed of joy.

I am so grateful to have received these words, and feel like my purpose for taking on so many bible study projects is to keep my heart protected. So as my reminder, and for those out there who are needing some extra protection, here are some scriptures that are speaking to me as of lately:

Galatians 6:9 – Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.

Proverbs 37:4 – Delight yourself in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart.

1 Corinthians 10:13 – And God is faithful; he will not let you be temptedbeyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted,he will also provide a way out so that you can endure it.

Proverbs 3:12 – because the Lord disciplines those he loves, as a father the son he delights in.

Ephesians 6:10-11 -  Finally, be strong in the Lord, and in the strength of His might. Put on the full armor of God, that you may be able to stand firm against the schemes of the devil.

Put on the full armor of God. Protect yourself.

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Over the weekend we were given our final itinerary for our trip. It looks like we will be working closely with community leaders, churches and a primary school in the area of Ngaamba. On Sunday we will attend a local church and bible study with some of the members. Our work days will be split between doing classroom repair work at the secondary school (work gloves are a requirement…I hope I can find some pink ones) and assisting teachers in leading classroom activities in the primary school. One afternoon we are given the opportunity to go into some of the community members homes to assist them with whatever chores or needs they have around their home. On our final afternoon in the community we will hike the Mawa Hill and participate in prayer at the top, the have our final farewells at the primary school. On our last day in Kenya we are going on a Safari, and I fully intend to become a nerd and take in every last animal, plant and rock that I see. This won’t be like visiting the zoo, folks.

On our last day, at the airport, I have arranged to meet with my compassion child, Geoffrey before we depart for home. I have been given a list of “gift” suggestions for him and somehow have to figure out how to get gifts and mission trip needs into a suitcase that can only weigh 50 lbs. I’d wear the same pants every day if it meant I could pack more bubbles and soccer balls for him.

One final thank you for all of your financial support, your loving words of encouragement and your prayers. I will probably be out of communication while I am away, as I want to fully devote my time and thoughts to the trip. (Don’t worry mom, I will let you know when I land).

I would like to go ahead and give a public shout out to two very special couples whose weddings I will miss while I am away. Kyle and Kim will be getting married on October 21st and Amelia and Zach on October 22nd. I wish you all the happiness on the day of your nuptials, and look forward to swapping stories when we all return from our trips!

love,
amanda

My preacher often talks about the importance of sitting in circles as opposed to rows at church. What I’m finding is that circles come in different sizes. Circles can overlap. Circles evolve.

I have been lucky enough to be a part of many circles in the past few years. I walked away from my first circle having met one of my dearest friends…Kristen Woodburn, I’m looking at you! Another circle focused on the basics of the bible, and it was there that I recognized just how much of my life was lived in this world, and not His world. Because of the foundation of this group, I now crave, with all of my heart, a relationship with God. I recognize the importance of quiet time, and although I fall short, am trying to make it a habit. I owe so much to those women.

My current circle formed out of established close friendships. We met at our first job after college. We led flashy lives and called the nightlife of Atlanta our second home. Somehow, after 7 years, we all made it through and found our way back to a life that revolved around family, faith and fellowship. One conversation about missing the accountability that comes from a small group led to us discussing how we all were missing the part of a growing relationship that you can only get from digging into the word. And thus, one evening, we decided to pick a book and meet. No pressure. No commitment. Just friends, gathering in a living room for a few hours every other week. We have been meeting, without commitment or pressure, for 9 months now. It’s been a really wonderful experience to be surrounded by these women, these friends, as we stumble through understanding the bible, stumble through life changes, and stumble through disappointments.

I was talking with my mom about bible studies, because she and dad were in one growing up. They are still friends, good friends, with the couples that they walked through life with in their study. Mom’s takeaway from that time together is that they all were able to encourage and support each other during a time when they had teenagers. I am unsure exactly what she’s talking about because my brother wasn’t any trouble as a teenager, and I have always been a delight for my parents, even as a teenage girl. But, suffice to say, the bible study provided them a support group, to go alongside the Word. And couldn’t we all use a powerful group of prayer warriors to walk alongside us during this life?

Each of these groups was something that I just felt led to do. An opportunity presented itself, and I just said “yes”. “Yes” to the initial grouplink at Buckhead Church where I went alone. “Yes” to BLC the women’s group who pushed my faith. “Yes” to the wayward email that I received about a leadership meeting. “Yes” to a mission trip. “Yes” to a women’s leadership group. Each has been a scary step because I’ve gone alone, but in retrospect, I find that each of those steps has been a great step. A step in faith.

So, I guess I just say all this to show my thankfulness to those women who have come in to my life. I am a better person for having known you.

Matthew 18:20 – For where two or three come together in my name, there am I with them.

circles,
ab

I say all that because last night, as I sat down to an impromptu dinner with Dad at Zaxbys, Dad verbalized how proud he and mom were of me and my brother. And boy, talk about being floored. Words are so powerful. Dad never had to say anything, they have shown me they are proud, but hearing them, even now, makes my eyes fill with tears. To know that through all my years, my mistakes, my stumbles, that my parents still consider me and David their greatest achievement is enough to take anyone’s breathe away.

I think that words and actions go hand in hand. One is not more important than the other. Granted, I do have a passion for words, but I believe that everyone deserves to hear that they are loved. That someone is proud of them, in spite of everything. That they are forgiven. That they need help.  Sure, it may be awkward to get the words out, but think of what it could do for the person you say it to, or what it could do to you.

I will never tire of hearing my dad say he is proud of me…

Words are powerful. Don’t forget to use that power.
ab