Showing posts with label Amazing Women. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Amazing Women. Show all posts

30 May 2014

Five Minute Friday ~ Nothing

Tomorrow is her last day of junior high... 

Wow!

Dressed up with her classmates for "Storybook Day" during Spirit Week, in front of the wall her class designed and then built.


It's hard to believe I was pregnant with her when we moved to Quebec the first time, just over fourteen years ago, to begin French language study.

She was born there... and that's probably why we pronounce her name "Ah-nna," like the French. 

My language tutor and I called her "notre petit ananas." She accompanied me to my sessions three times a week. I always had her bundled up because my language tutor smoked like a chimney - but cut way back, kept her windows open and only smoked on her balcony even in the midst of a frigid Canadian winter - wanting to make it so that when we arrived every MWF morning for nearly five months, her apartment only vaguely hinted of that cigarette smell.

She's probably the most introverted one in our family. Even as an infant, she hated the nursery, hated it when Mama left, and was happiest when we were traveling in the car... For then, everyone she loved most was, literally, within arm's reach. And so this unpredictable-never-know-what-to-expect life we lead as missionaries... as strangers in a foreign land only to come back to often feel like strangers where we know we shouldn't be... can be hard on her.

She's had some big moments of discouragement this year. She misses our African life in Niger. She misses her friends. She desperately misses Butterscotch, Beethoven, Sasha, Achilles, Hera, her doves and the hedgehogs that lived in our storage room. She and Nadia (who've claimed each other as BFFs for as long as I can remember) have been more separated at school that almost ever before. But she's also had some huge victories - dyslexia/dysgraphia make school more work for her than it is for the average student... I never hear her complain about the unfairness of it all. And the only class where she receives support any more is Algebra - which is an advanced class. It puts a smile in my heart to see her walking, talking and laughing with her classmates - and I'm still totally fine that she still prefers talking to her girlfriends than she does "the guys!" 

She's also got some huge hurdles to face in the relatively near future. Thinking about re-entering a French school system at the high school level when we move back to Quebec next year, Lord-willing? Well, it is pretty terrifying and there have been tears... her, her mama and her daddy have all shed a few together.

She could wallow in that fear, but so far she's shed those tears and then put her smile back on her face and bravely gone back out to push herself like she always does. Volleyball... basketball... violin lessons (and playing in a recital)... signing up for drama class next year... I wonder what's next?

She came home today announcing a pretty awesome score (especially after the curve) on her Algebra final exam... even though last night we'd had a mighty serious discussion, (I was helping her to study) about how poorly she'd budgeted her time while preparing for that one exam.

She really does have the cutest nose of all the Wrights and Wrightlings. We've voted and it was unanimous. Check out her profile sometime!

Nothing seems to knock this girl down for long. When it does happen, she usually doesn't wait around for anyone to give her a hand up, either... instead, popping "out of the snow, like daisies!" to quote a favorite movie.

Some days, I really think, "I wanna be just like her when I grow up..."

Can you guess her class theme... and her specific character... for Storybook dress-up day?

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Linking up with Lisa-Jo for another 5MF.
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31 January 2014

Five Minute Friday ~ Unlikely Hero

You might consider her an unlikely hero.

You'll probably never meet her in person.

She lives on the backside of the desert, on the other side of the world.

I only met her once and I can't even recall her name.

But I'll never forget HER.

HERO budding, blooming... flowering from HER.


She teaches every day in a classroom very much like this. Eight AM, when her students arrive, they cram - quite literally, into this tiny cement block room with louvered windows, intermittent electricity and never any air-conditioning, even in 120'F heat, and four students to a desk/bench combo. Imagine 50-60 eight-year-olds photo-shopped into the photo. Each one brings a slate and chalk in their backpack or portfolio. There are only a few textbooks and they belong to the teacher.

She is responsible for teaching these children, who speak a variety of languages at home, to understand, speak and read French. She patiently and repeatedly demonstrates the specifics of adding and subtracting, with regrouping. She works to help them learn the history of their country and some basics about science. If she sends a too unruly child to the school's director, she knows that said child will probably receive lashes from an old fan belt from an angry hand determined to enforce respect.

She's never been to university. Her teacher-training consisted of a summer program that lasted about six weeks. All other learning tumbles under the umbrella of on-the-job training. Frankly, however, this is all the norm for most Nigerien teachers. In fact, most of this description is... pretty typical, I mean. In fact, she has it relatively good because she works at a private school. Public school teachers, some years, spend more time striking because they aren't getting paid than they spend in the classroom, interacting with their students.

What set this woman apart was her striving to address the needs of ALL her students. Friends requested that I go to her school, observe her classroom, observe her teaching practices and observe one little one, in particular. That child was an exceptional student, struggled to learn and would most likely never achieve like other classmates. For this young one had Down's Syndrome. In Niger, most students with learning difficulties or handicaps like Down's are removed from the education system. You most often find these children doing menial labor in abusive situations... or begging at a street corner. 

She is a Jesus-follower, so she wanted to be different. She wanted to communicate to this child's parents that Jesus' love was different and therefore made her different, that His love helped her to love what most considered unlovable. She recognized that God makes each and every one valuable and with potential. She was willing to act on the glimpses the Holy Spirit had given her. As a result, ALL of her HER students stepped towards their promise and possibilities.

And she is one of my heroes.

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Friday - and once again I'm posting with a group of lovely ladies over at Lisa Jo's. 
Hope you'll join us!

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02 December 2013

"I will spend the rest of my life as a missionary from the Kiowas to the white people..." ~ Do you know who said that?

I'm posting over at Missionary Mom's Companion today...
and here's how that post starts off ~

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Last time I wrote, I asked y'all about some of your heroes. Today, I'd like to share about one of mine - albeit a bit obscure, mostly unheard of single missionary woman. Her career did not end illustriously - but rather under discipline from her mission board because she could not obey their directives and consider herself acting with integrity... 

But I'll let her story, as I was first introduced to it, speak for itself ~
Six young Kiowa braves sat on their horses, calmly watching her. All were naked to the waist. Their heavy black hair hung in thick braids, interwoven with rawhide and strips of ermine. All wore bone chestplates and copper bracelets.

Isabel pulled her team to a halt. Moving slowly to hide her racing heart, she raised her riht hand, palm forward in greeting.

One by one, the Indians guided their horses down the slope toward her and formed a semicircle, blockng her path.

"You come here all alone and you no scared? Maybe we scalp you." The leader's face was solemn.

The banks of the dry wash screened Isabel and the six Indian men from the outside world. She was truly at their mercy.

"I think maybe we scalp you now." the leader signed. He prodded his horse forward. A knife appeared in his left hand. He snatched the Winchester from his lap and placed the end of the barrel against Isabel's head. She heard the click of the hammer as it was cocked.

Isabel went completely numb. Every thought went out of her brain. The roarin in her ears rew into a crescendo as she awaited the fatal bullet. Cold chills shot up her spine. She closed her eyes and prepared to die...

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Hope you'll join me there to read the rest!

And trusting you enjoyed a wonderful Thanksgiving.
I did, but was busy with lots of driving and visiting and eating and enjoying family - hence the silence on the blog last week.

Looking forward to getting back into a regular routine of posting! 
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16 May 2013

cans vs cannots

I recently saw this video on Facebook, titled
 "Someone should tell this girl that this can't be done..."


What are we telling ourselves, what are we telling others, 
when we say "This just can't be done."

 How do you feel when you share an idea or brainstorm with others and they outright dismiss it and say, "Never! Can't be done!"

 Better yet? How do you actually respond? What do you do? Why?
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27 February 2013

A really interesting story from this part of the world...

"On this land, everybody is exploited." 
The vast Saharan nation didn't make slavery a crime until 2007. 
Only one slave owner has been successfully prosecuted.

Check out this link from CNN... make sure you take some time to explore as well. 

"Slavery’s last stronghold

Mauritania’s endless sea of sand dunes hides an open secret: An estimated 10% to 20% of the population lives in slavery. But as one woman’s journey shows, the first step toward freedom is realizing you’re enslaved."

 Story is by John D. Sutter;
Photography and video are by Edythe McNamee

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30 October 2012

A 31 Day Grand Prix {day 30} ~ Ever thankful that airport wish came true!

"Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as braided hair and the wearing of gold jewelry and fine clothes. Instead, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight. For this is the way the holy women of the past who put their hope in God used to make themselves beautiful. They were submissive to their own husbands, like Sarah, who obeyed Abraham and called him her master. You are her daughters if you do what is right and do not give way to fear." I Peter 3.3-6
Charles De Gualle Airport.

Blech! 

(For what it's worth, I still can't stand that airport!)

It was the very first time I'd ever flown through the place, though, and I was nearly dead tired with four wiped-out exhausted but somehow still super hyper and death-spiraling kids. French French seemed harder to hear than Quebec French. I'd also concluded that we'd brought WAY. TOO. MUCH in our carry-ons yet we still had to board one more plane, endure one more long flight and then who knows what might meet us in the Niamey airport...

We hadn't even gotten there and I was already ready to go home.

And then this gal gifted me with a sympathetic smile, one that whispered, "It was a bit different for me, but I've been there, done that. You'll be okay. God's will see to it." That encouraging smile marked another missionary, returning with her family after their first year-long home assignment. Her boys were playing or reading or something nearby and she was surrounded by some single lady missionaries. We chatted for a moment, and I discovered we were all heading for Niamey. She'd probably already determined that - there were very few other options for passengers waiting in that particular lounge. I was ecstatic on the inside. It wouldn't all be strangers when we landed. For this introvert who struggles with the necessary pleasantries of initial conversation, the fact that I'd already hurdled a first hello relieved just a tiny bit some of the fear. Loudspeaker voices soon interrupted the conversation, however, as Air France employees called for boarding...

 That first meeting stuck with me, and I remember hoping and praying that the Lord would some day, somehow, grow a deep friendship.

Our paths crossed fairly frequently our first year on the backside of the Sahara. We were a part of the same home schooling co-op, my boy loved playing with her boys, much of the expat community hung out together at the pool on Saturdays and then there was always the English worship and fellowship time on Sunday nights. I remember calling once when the car wouldn't start... she took pity on me several times and came by to give the kids and I a lift so we wouldn't have to flag down a taxi. Then there was the time I got stuck in the sand outside her house... and had to borrow some change to pay the guys who pushed me out. My girls loved her - even timid, painfully shy Anna would sit on her lap for a few minutes by the end of that first year. Rebekah had her first little-girl crush... on her husband!

 Just as it is for most missos, that first year in our place of ministry stunk for a boatload of reasons. We decided that instead of a four year first term, we were going to do a two year term with a 6 month furlough. Right after we made the decision to go home, I found out we were expecting baby #5... Victoria! It was in the weeks before we left that I had a brief, but momentous conversation with this dear lady. Those words are one of two reasons I came back to Niger after that almost unbearably-difficult-first-year. She told me that she'd watched and seen... that I was going to not only be OK, but that I'd make it... that she could see clear evidence of God working in me.

 God hadn't answered my airport prayer for a close friend... yet... but in that critical moment, He did use her to perfectly speak courage into a heart that was desperately flailing and failing.

 Then there was furlough... and a baby... and Tim left for Niger... and then I followed with my mom and the kids... and all of the sudden, we were back in Niamey. It was better. Sometime during that next two year term that God began to answer my airport prayer, and I've thoroughly enjoyed, been enriched and very often challenged by her friendship ever since.

 There are so many things I appreciate about her. She doesn't let me gripe and complain about my husband... she'll listen and then say something that softly points out where my thinking was wrong all along or remind that I need to be gracious. Times when I'm feeling overwhelmed-discouraged-totally out of my league, her typical first response is to pray and trust - so unlike my internal kicking and fighting and fearfulness.  She doesn't just suggest that I do, but often prays with me, right then and there. She even pulled the truck right over to the side of the road to pray one time when she knew that was what I needed  most. On top of all that, she's the auntie who loves on my kids without reserve... the first person ever, outside of family, with whom I felt totally and completely at ease leaving my children.

 One of the things I so appreciate about her is how she challenges me and will confront me when she sees error or an area of concern in my life , but does so with a gentle persistence that gets me started thinking without becoming defensive. I keep trying to imitate this behavior so well modeled for me.  I've still got a very long way to go.

 There's so more I could say, but if I tried, I'd probably start crying...

Suffice it to say - 
thankful  is an understatement...

and seems a trite word to use... 

when I think of this lady and the other women 
God has used  
to turn the words of 1 Peter 3
into real people with 
smiling faces and arms ready to share a big hug ~ 

... and, who sometimes show up to share a pot of coffee 
carrying a plate of no-bake cookies for the kids!



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28 October 2012

A 31 Day Grand Prix {day 28} ~ He on whom we have set our hope. And He will yet deliver us ..."

"We do not want you to be uninformed, brothers.... We were under great pressure, far beyond our ability to endure, so that we despaired even of life. Indeed, in our hearts we felt the sentence of death. But this happened that we might not rely on ourselves but on God, who raises the dead. He has delivered us from such a deadly peril, and he will deliver us. On him we have set our hope that he will continue to deliver us..."

The Apostle Paul wrote those words to the church at Corinth. He and Timothy had walked an impossibly difficult season, so hard that they considered death more probable than life. I've had some challenging moments in my life ~ but I've never actually despaired of life itself.  

I thought immediately of this verse as word by word I've made my way through the verses in 1 Peter I've been studying this month... wondering if the expression "set our hope" was the same one as "put their hope."

They have the same Strong's Concordance number... but I don't want to dwell on the Greek today. I was just curious to see if both English expressions came from the same original word, and they do. That'll probably come up again, later!


"Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as braided hair and the wearing of gold jewelry and fine clothes. Instead, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight. For this is the way the holy women of the past who put their hope in God used to make themselves beautiful. They were submissive to their own husbands, like Sarah, who obeyed Abraham and called him her master. You are her daughters if you do what is right and do not give way to fear." I Peter 3.3-6
For this is the way
I think a good synonym for this phrase, in this verse, would be thus, even though it makes the sentence a bit awkward. Thus works like some sort of combo adverb and conjunction; it includes the idea that a woman's present behavior should result from the knowledge of God's pleasure first, but also because other women have walked well this same path. Not only does God value this behavior, it is one of those things for which God enables and empowers women - otherwise we wouldn't have the examples set before us of Sarah (or Ruth, or Naomi, or Rahab, or Esther, or Hannah, or Elizabeth, or Mary... to name a few). Peter reminds all women - two mitigating factors are undeniably present: 1) God's Spirit, and 2) the faithful example of those who've walked before. Therefore any other choice or behavior reflects clearly a spirit desiring neither quietness nor gentleness. Another way to state this phrase might be "in the manner now being indicated and exemplified..." Today's women have an amazing heritage to consider - and both a challenge and an encouragement.

the holy women 
Holy refers to set apart or otherness, encapsulating the idea of a likeness in nature to the Lord evidenced by a nature clearly different from that of the world. One other definition was distinguished - because identified as special or unique by God. Isn't it neat how this idea ties right back into the idea that God esteems women characterized by a gentle and quiet spirit. I can't forget, either, that these women would have had no native tendency in themselves to holiness; they were holy because God had called them and then declared them so.

 I searched for other verses containing the two words holy and women - and found 16 references. Several of those verses, Old Testament references, referred to men consecrating themselves and therefore abstaining from relationships with women. In other verses, the words were not at all  specifically linked. But check out the following verses: 

  • But you speak the things which become sound doctrine:  That the aged men be sensible, grave, temperate, sound in faith, in love, in patience. The aged women likewise, that they be in behavior as becomes holiness, not false accusers, not given to much wine, teachers of good things... (Titus 2:1-3)
  • To the Church of God in Corinth, men and women consecrated in Christ Jesus, called to be saints, with all in every place who call on the name of our Lord Jesus Christ-- their Lord as well as ours. (1 Corinthians 1:2)
of the past 
The original Greek word here in a word for word translation is "formerly;" it can also mean in the old time, in time past, once, when... My favorite? Once upon a time... just like all the princess stories start. I think I like that because it reminds me of three things: 1) princess stories always have happy endings, and the princess ends up delighting her prince;  2) those women fought their battle, were declared victorious and are now resting, redeemed and always beautiful;  and 3) their stories are there to encourage us

 who 
I can't think of the word "who" any more without thinking of the Dr Seuss inspired movie, Horton Hears a Who! and the line "a person's a person no matter how small." That thought sent my mind down a path - these women might seem unreachable or so good that their standards are far and above what I could ever achieve. If I say that, I'm just making an excuse. Each one was a person, an individual who mattered to God, just like me. The similarities between us most likely outweigh our differences. Their struggles may have been different, but they had struggles. Things and circumstances and imaginations tempted them to fear, just as they tempt me to fear. They had to fight and cling to hope, just as I do. Yet who were these women? They were holy women, putting their hope in God and making themselves beautiful as God had directed - in gentleness and quietness and trust.

 put their hope  
There are two common connotations of the word hope: a confident expectation or a desire one would be delighted to see realized. And those two are very far apart. Hope in this verse is much more the first: an active waiting for fulfillment. It is not a question of if, but rather a question of when - and the waiter is so sure of the eventual outcome, she stands at the window, watching continually, preparing and readying herself for the imminent arrival.

 I also love the intentionality of these words. When I tell my kiddos to "Put their toys away," or to "Set the table," or "Put your book bag in the car," I mean for them to deliberately and usually carefully place something in an exact, pre-specified location. Women are to intentionally, deliberately, precisely, specifically and carefully place their hope in an exact, very specific location....

 in God 
...and this is the exact, very specific location: God. It is good that this is specified. So often, the temptation is to place hope in a husband, or a marriage, or kids. I often struggle with this because I can't "hear," "see" and  "feel" God as readily as I hear, see and feel my husband. I have to work at and practice the presence of God. His still, quiet voice is easily drowned out in the raucous world and family in which I live.

 used 
I love the two connotations possible with this word. The first directs minds towards the past, looking at history (or "His"story)  and what has happened before. But is also includes the idea of a tool employed and put into service for a reason. It intimates that a person is availing oneself of what is obtainable and accessible. That thought amazes me. Working towards the unfading beauty of a gentle, quiet spirit, putting hope in God - those are the tools available... obtainable... accessible as we seek to make ourselves beautiful in God's eyes.

 to make themselves beautiful.
Here, we return to the idea of adorning... or decorating. It is not those things we hang all over the outside to cover up or distract from the imperfections and faults that give a woman a lovely appearance. Rather, it is the presence of the Spirit within, shining through unfettered and unhindered that pleases God.

A 31 Day Grand Prix {day 14} - pictures of gentleness
A 31 Day Grand Prix {day 15} - Multitude Monday ~ all Greek to me!
A 31 Day Grand Prix {day 16} ~ she came from the Land Down Under
A 31 Day Grand Prix {day 17} - Walk with Him Wednesday ~ How did you answer my question from last week?
A 31 Day Grand Prix {day 18} ~ that fictional frontier lady who inspires me ~ 
A 31 Day Grand Prix {day 19} - Five Minute Friday ~ Look 
A 31 Day Grand Prix {day 20} - should not come from
A 31 Day Grand Prix {day 21} ~ Why do braids, gold and fancy clothes matter?
A 31 Day Grand Prix {day 22} - Multitude Monday - 1000 Gifts - Today I'm thankful for the word INSTEAD...
A 31 Day Grand Prix {day 23} ~ three missionary heroes I've never met... yet!
A 31 Day Grand Prix {day 24} - Walk with Him Wednesday ~ the "Czar" of our yard
A 31 Day Grand Prix {day 25} ~ a gal from England

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25 October 2012

A 31 Day Grand Prix {day 25} ~ a gal from England

I remember her from when we first arrived in Niger. I'd see her and her husband from time to time at the Rec Center pool. I liked her... from a distance. Especially that first year here - I was feeling much more introverted and insecure than even was normal for me. But I was also a little jealous (she's beautiful, tall, thin, had a pretty amazing life and ministry and seemed so put together)... and quite intimidated (probably for all the same reasons). So I'd greet at the pool and then very mildly seethe inside because she seemed to have the good life and seemed to be the kind of missionary I'd always envisioned myself being...

They lived up north, in country, and worked with a mysterious, reputed to be fierce, and often romantically depicted nomadic people group. They seemed to be integrated into that community, a part of the lives of the people there, involved in projects to actually improve the quality of life, and sharing the one and only message of hope.

Okay...
...so, maybe I was more than a little jealous.

I don't remember when they left... or when they came back, exactly. I just knew that their lives had changed dramatically - and that they planned to continue in ministry up north, where they'd been before. What was the difference? She and her husband were now parents to three really cute kids - a set of gorgeous twins and a sweet little blonde baby girl.


We immediately had more in common... kids, some even close to the same ages! Additionally, their family apparently loved the pool at least as much as ours did, so my path began to cross hers a lot more frequently.

As we chatted around the pool, I learned that the life she led way back when, when I found myself struggling with envy and jealousy, was not at all what it appeared. During that time, she suffered and sacrificed in ways that I can't imagine. She might tell you differently if you ask her what was in her heart, but as I heard more of her story, I heard sorrow and moments of anger and frustration, but never bitterness or self-pity. And I thought she was beautiful before! Glimpsing these hints of her gentle yet still feisty spirit, I discovered her all the more stunning. I also began to discover some ways, at least on the personality level, that we were actually quite alike.

Soon, they took off up country. Now, as a family, they were living with their people group, even spending "nomadic" time, a foreign family not only adopting but embracing an incarnational lifestyle, hoping, once again, to communicate the message of hope. She  also embraced her role as mama and teacher; she home schooled, seeking to meet those educational needs of her three one-of-a-kind kiddos - a task already difficult enough... without the unique challenges of trying to do so in her one-of-a-kind circumstances.

I know her heart was broken when she and her husband discerned that it was time to return home. In some ways, she was living her dream... and now she was needing to let go of part of that dream. I know she misses her Niger life, longs to come back and wonders about possibilities of maybe someday.

I don't think she's not grieved. But her gentle and quiet welcoming of a very different that what she sought out life... and seeing (via technology) God grant new-dreams-coming-true in a new place, a new future... seeing how joyfully she and her husband raise those lovely children, the experiences they are carving out for them and the memories they are making,  how they are moving forward instead of moaning for a memory and looking back

I used part of this quote from an on-line friend just the other day, but it seems every bit as appropriate right here, right now:
"But I’m still learning that what we set out to do may just be the dream God uses to get us where he wants us all along. ...following Jesus is never neat and pretty and safe. It rarely involves great fanfare, but typically leads to greater brokenness." 
I'm thankful. 

 For once again, the Lord has used a real live friend to flesh out the truth of 1 Peter 3.3-6 for me, giving me something to grab and hold on to as I try to let God mold a gentle and quiet spirit in me, the type of spirit that is so valuable to Him.
A 31 Day Grand Prix {day 14} - pictures of gentleness
A 31 Day Grand Prix {day 15} - Multitude Monday ~ all Greek to me!
A 31 Day Grand Prix {day 16} ~ she came from the Land Down Under
A 31 Day Grand Prix {day 17} - Walk with Him Wednesday ~ How did you answer my question from last week?
A 31 Day Grand Prix {day 18} ~ that fictional frontier lady who inspires me ~ 
A 31 Day Grand Prix {day 19} - Five Minute Friday ~ Look 
A 31 Day Grand Prix {day 20} - should not come from
A 31 Day Grand Prix {day 21} ~ Why do braids, gold and fancy clothes matter?
A 31 Day Grand Prix {day 22} - Multitude Monday - 1000 Gifts - Today I'm thankful for the word INSTEAD...
A 31 Day Grand Prix {day 23} ~ three missionary heroes I've never met... yet!
A 31 Day Grand Prix {day 24} - Walk with Him Wednesday ~ the "Czar" of our yard
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23 October 2012

A 31 Day Grand Prix {day 23} ~ three missionary heroes I've never met... yet!

Therefore, surrounded as we are by such a vast cloud of witnesses, let us fling aside every encumbrance and the sin that so readily entangles our feet. And let us run with patient endurance the race that lies before us... (Hebrews 12.1 Weymouth Bible)

I'm definitely noticing a trend here... (and at least I'm talking about not imaginary real people today!). I do so love missionary biographies and autobiographies... and the individual stories of these three women do fascinate, intrigue and inspire me in the strength and the power of these incredibly strong but gentle.  An idea that sometimes perplexes me is how God used women, so commonly referred to as the gentle sex, in all of their weakness and delicateness, to undeniably proclaim His grace, goodness, power, love, justice, strength, provision, mercy... At least one of these women also made a very strong stand in regards to not preaching before an assembly containing men... and so God's character was also evident in her quietness.

 ... It seems like many of the heroes-to-me-women I've mentioned this month are also undeniably strong, confident and otherwise ambitious women. The difference is not in how they approach life; it is now they accept God's working in their and through their lives. It is in that quality of being able to rest in the hands of God, breathing "Not my will but Thine be done" in almost every.single.breath! Gentleness might not seem like the primary characteristic to describe them. Yet I can't pull myself away from it.
"Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as braided hair and the wearing of gold jewelry and fine clothes. Instead, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight. For this is the way the holy women of the past who put their hope in God used to make themselves beautiful. They were submissive to their own husbands, like Sarah, who obeyed Abraham and called him her master. You are her daughters if you do what is right and do not give way to fear." (1 Peter 3.3-6)
I've written about each one of these women before on this blog, so instead of rehashing old material, I'll simply give you a teaser from each post. Then a simple click will allow you to find out a bit more about the ones which interest you! Enjoy!


Gladys Alyward

What's in a name?
"My heart is full of praise that one so insignificant, uneducated, and ordinary in every way could be used to His glory for the blessing of His people in poor persecuted China." (Gladys Aylward)
Gladys Aylward is one of my heroes.
Really!
I've been thinking about her this week - probably because I have a friend who makes me think of her. This friend has been coming with me every week, helping me teach a literacy class for the past few months. She doesn't speak the local verbal languages... but she's very fluent with languages that speak directly to hearts. Mamata (the oldest lady and most faithful student in the class) and those who live in her concession call my friend "Everyone's Friend..." The other day I think she told me (my Zarma isn't all that great - but it is improving) that getting to meet my friend has been a gift because Mamata doesn't just call her "Everyone's Friend" like everyone else. Instead, she gets to call her "My Friend." And she does. In fact, I don't think I've ever heard her use my friend's name...

Helen Roseveare

How is it that I've never heard of HER?
I've been reading the book Captured by Grace (David Jeremiah) and in chapter 8 of the book, he writes the following words: 
"Can we allow ourselves to be such total captives of His grace that we trust Him completely with life's most terrible moments?" (p. 159) 
Dr. Jeremiah then continues with the story of a lady who did answer "Yes!" to that question.  Helen Roseveare... 
...was a British medical missionary in the Congo. She stayed at her post during some of the worst turmoil in the country's history in 1964. Many Westerners fled, but Helen believed she should be willing to make any sacrifice for a Savior who had made the ultimate sacrifice for her. 
Someone tried to poison her, but her dog at the food and the attempt fails. Still she stayed on.... Even when her house was looted of every item within it, she refused to leave her post. 
It's not as if Helen had no fear. She rarely slept well, knowing that at any moment someone could enter her home and take her life. But she concentrated on learning to trust God more absolutely. 
On Saturday, August 15, 1964, a truckload of soldiers commandeered her hospital.... 

Isabel Crawford
Ever heard of Isabel Crawford?
Six young Kiowa braves sat on their horses, calmly watching her. All were naked to the waist. Their heavy black hair hung in thick braids, interwoven with rawhide and strips of ermine. All wore bone chestplates and copper bracelets. 
Isabel pulled her team to a halt. Moving slowly to hide her racing heart, she raised her right hand, palm forward in greeting. 

One by one, the Indians guided their horses down the slope toward her and formed a semicircle, blocking her path. 
"You come here all alone and you no scared? Maybe we scalp you." The leader's face was solemn. 
The banks of the dry wash screened Isabel and the six Indian men from the outside world. She was truly at their mercy. 
"I think maybe we scalp you now." the leader signed. He prodded his horse forward. A knife appeared in his left hand. He snatched the Winchester from his lap and placed the end of the barrel against Isabel's head. She heard the click of the hammer as it was cocked. 

Isabel went completely numb. Every thought went out of her brain. The roaring in her ears grew into a crescendo as she awaited the fatal bullet. Cold chills shot up her spine. She closed her eyes and prepared to die...

A few weeks ago, Rebekah handed me a book. The cover of Light on the Mountain, by Leonard Sanders, shows the picture of a beautiful young woman and several Native Americans in the background behind her. Those words above formed the teaser paragraph on the front pages, designed to hook prospective readers. Rebekah had already emphatically announced it was one of her favorite books ever... as she handed it to me. At this point, I figured it was nothing more one of those formula-pioneer-western-romance-sort of novels. But? I'd promised Rebekah...

Do you find any of these women inspirational?

Which one and why? 




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