Shine

Once upon a time, Josh Blain and Ashley Lesslie traveled for an entire summer together, going from camp to camp with two other great friends. In those days, Josh and Ashley were young and energetic. They could stay up all night, and function coherently the next day. This could go on for weeks.

But such is no longer true. Josh and Ashley are old, and their bodies demand more than just a few hours of sleep to function at all, let alone coherently.

One thing remains true, though, and that is that Josh and Ashley LOVE camp!

We just spent one wonderful albeit tiring week in Vancouver, Washington, with eight to twelve year-olds. Josh was the camp speaker this year, and did a wonderful job! The kids listened and understood, and many gave their testimonies the last night around a bon-fire, and God spoke greatly to young hearts.

The theme of this year's camp was SHINE, based on Matthew 5:14-16, “You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven."

Josh used a lantern he named Larry to illustrate the idea of either conforming to the darkness, or letting God transform the darkness into light.

I am exceedingly proud of my husband. The enemy tried his hardest to shut Josh's mouth, but the enemy lost! God put passion and fire into Josh as he shared what was layed on his heart, and it was difficult to miss the calling in Josh's life.

I spent the week with a cabin of six campers, and one co-counselor. I have missed weeks like these! It may be exhausting, but it's also refreshing. And I would argue that kids' camp isn't just for kids.

We head for Chicago this weekend for my graduation, then back in time for one last camp.

I'll close with some of my favorite pictures from the week, but also with yet another request for your prayers. Josh and I covet them, especially as we travel and jump into another camp.


Josh holding Larry the Lantern as an illustration.


Josh preaching during the morning rally.


My cabin, the Sunshine Hearts.


Six wonderful campers, and three wonderful co-counselors.


Josh and I sporting our SHINE t-shirts the last day of camp.


Campers dancing to "I'm in the Lord's Army."


Patty Blain teaching about keeping oil (Christ) in your lamp (heart).


Jodi Hess teaching about Amy Carmichael.


One of my campers was an expert animal imitator!

Wisdom Over Coffee

Summer travels are still rolling. Josh and I returned from our Kansas extravaganzas last Saturday, then hit the road once again for district conference in Vancouver, WA. I can hardly believe how quickly this summer is running out. I didn't get to see everyone I wanted to see while in the Mid-West, but the moments I had with friends I absolutely cherish. We had planned to take a southern route through New Mexico, Arizona, Utah, and Nevada, but when it all boiled down to spending one extra day with my parents, we opted for more card games and laughs and stayed one more night.

Josh was ordained on Thursday, and Don and Patty, as well as grandparents Elmore and Phyllis, were there to share in the joy of that service. Elmore prayed over Josh, which made the service emotional, but also very special. It was after his prayer that Elmore shared with General Superintendent Dr. Jo Anne Lyon that Josh is a sixth generation pastor, which all started with Elmore's great-grandpa who was a circuit rider for the Methodist church.



After the service ended and we received many hugs from our northwest family, six Blains went out for coffee and desserts.

It was over blackberry ice cream and mozzarella sticks that one of my favorite conversations took place: how to best serve in ministry.

Elmore and Phyllis are retired from the ministry, Don and Patty are in a 25-year stretch of ministry, and Josh and I are just starting.

And here is the wisdom I gathered: love your people, cry with them, and walk with them.

No ministry is perfect, and I know Josh and I will botch it up, but what a joy it is to serve, to love people, cry with them, and walk with them. Josh and I may never have all of the right answers, and we may not be the best counselors, but we can love and cry and walk.

After conference, six Blains and a family of Hawks went to the coast for one very wonderful day. We walked the beach, laughed at our dogs, and ate some marvelous clam chowder at Mo's.









Next up for summer travels, Kids' Camp. We'll make the trek back to Vancouver, and this year, Josh is the camp speaker. Please be in prayer for him!

In between miles on the road, we're also trying to finish our bathroom renovation. I keep thinking to myself...this, too, shall pass!

Love you to all-

Almost Perfect

I've worn the hat of teacher this year, and student, and wife, and daughter, and friend. But I have greatly missed the hat of aunt.

The longer I stay with Blake and Tina, the more I fall in love with my nephews, Martin and Eugene.

They are precious, and life is good.

Martin mimicks everything. Mannerisms, simply sayings, body language...he pretty much covers it. He wants to do everything the "big kids" are doing, and sometimes he succeeds, and other times gets severely frustrated at being two feet tall.

Eugene just soaks up loving.

I can write about these wonderful nephews all day long, but let me just leave you with pictures, since they're each worth a thousand words.

Continued Thought

Many of you emailed with great wisdom and love to yesterday's blog.

Thank you.

Time is precious, and it means so much to have your thoughts on this topic.

I'm still processing.

Some of you emailed saying I have a right to be hurt and angry, which makes me think you understand exactly where I'm coming from. You, too, somewhere along the road, have had hurt from the church.

Some of you responded with caution. Thank you. I in no way want my heart to become bitter or hardened because of this, and I also don't want to portray my home church as bitter or hardened. They have laws I don't understand, some I don't agree with, and I'm questioning the purpose of those laws. But I have peace knowing God is in control, and not me. He'll lead and direct so much more gracefully than I, and he'll lead in love when I believe I would probably lead in frustration.

Some of you responded with love. Just when I think I've gotten that practice down, I realize I have so much further to go. Your example reminds me to continue in that mind and heart. Thank you for loving me when I am reeling with hurt and anger and emotion.

Some of you called me out. Thank you for being honest and bold with me. My past hurts should not be directed on this new pastor. He's trying to adjust to a new church and that encounter was probably tough for him, too. Did he handle it perfectly? Nope, but neither did I.

Others of you responded with passion...which makes me think you're my dad. Thank you for being my protector. While you may speak with biting words at times, I think your words are filled with love because of that passion. You don't speak with so many words often, but when you do, I listen. I am more like you than I realize because my passion, too, often clouds my filter.

My heart is resting with the Psalms.

119:145-152 "I call with all my heart; answer me, O LORD, and I will obey your decrees. I call out to you; save me and I will keep your statutes. I rise before dawn and cry for help; I have put my hope in your word. My eyes stay open through the watches of the night, that I may meditate on your promises. Hear my voice in accordance with your love; preserve my life, O LORD, according to your laws. Those who devise wicked schemes are near, but they are far from your law. Yet you are near, O LORD, and all your commands are true. Long ago I learned from your statutes that your established them to last forever."

For those who continue to seek God's law, I know these peripheral human laws will be corrected.

I really vacillated over whether or not I should have written yesterday's blog. Part of me thinks, yeah, I probably should have waited until my emotion thinned out a bit, but the other part of me is so thankful to each of you for sharing your wisdom, your love, and your passion.

Thanks for walking with me. Now that's the body of Christ.

A Rude Awakening

I try so hard to forgive the wounds from my childhood in a church full of loving people who I think meant well. But sometimes, those wounds resurface, and I'm angry all over again.

As a 15-year-old who just spent her first summer in Jamaica, I came home knowing God had called me into missions, I just didn't know what that meant. Five men came to me after I spoke to my church, telling me I had to be married to do that, and my husband would have to be the missionary.

I was so crushed. I thought God wanted to use me, not just make me a wife.

And so began the stubborn pride in me to be single and prove to everyone I knew that God could use women, single, in the ministry.

God broke down a lot of that pride in me. He placed a calling in my life to be a teacher, then he introduced me to Josh Blain, the man who stole my heart and who I longed to serve alongside. God has used Josh as a beautiful example of what unity and partnership should look like. Josh has given me a glimpse of the true joy of marriage because he walks beside me, he doesn't make me follow. He and I are in ministry together.

I thought I was okay with those wounds. I've spent many years working through them, begging God to take them away. But yesterday, they resurfaced.

Without going into a full-out soap-box, let me just say I hate denominations. People get so wrapped up in a title that they forget the body, and Christ's church is divided.

I was asked to sing at my home church while on my travels, something I enjoy doing and look forward to. The church just got a new pastor, I met him Saturday, and really had a great impression of him.

Sunday morning came, I lugged my guitar to church, and was asked to "step into the office," a sign that should have told me something bad was coming.

Remember, I had a great first-meeting with the new pastor, so when he said, "Our by-laws state that only Baptists can sing at church," I thought he was completely joking.

I burst out laughing, then heard the following statement come out of this new pastor's mouth.

"We can't let just anyone sing. If a Mormon came in and wanted to sing a song, we wouldn't let them."

Wow. And 'denomination' just became a dirty word.

Forget the fact that I am a Christ follower. I didn't realize Wesleyans were grouped with Mormons. Forget the fact that I got saved in that church, and the fact that I grew up there. Forget the fact that I traveled on three missions trips while at that church, and followed God's leading into the ministry.

I was so hurt.

Because I am Wesleyan, I'm not good enough. And all of my childhood insecurities came flooding back.

I looked at my dad's face, and it donned on me. This guy was being serious.

The pastor said, "Are you mad at me?"

I didn't know what to say. A weak "No" slipped out.

"Okay. Good."

He left, and I turned to my dad, and instantly burst into tears.

Rejected by my home church. That one stung.

I tried to sit through the worship, but I could not regain my composure. I hate that one man's words cut me so deeply. I finally wrote my dad a note telling him I was going to walk home, stood up, and walked out of the doors, telling myself I would never go to church there again if it meant more hurt.

My mom walked home with me, and talking through some of that emotion was good. But if I'm being totally honest, I'm still reeling. I am so hurt and angry and disappointed and disgusted.

Denominations divide the body of Christ. People who think their name gets them to heaven or qualifies them for more holiness than others make me so frustrated. I understand that it wasn't the pastor's opinion- he's new and is trying to follow the church constitution, but I'm still hurt by him.

Shouldn't we all be working on the same goal? Shouldn't we all have the same focus? Shouldn't we walk together and love one another with fierceness?

I fail to understand.

In 1 Corinthians 1, Paul is getting onto the church for this very issue. People were following Paul, and Peter, and several other missionaries, and Paul called them on it, saying, "Shouldn't we be followers of Christ?"

Verses 10-13 state it much more eloquently than I am, but that's the gist. Jesus never said, "Be Baptist," or "Be Wesleyan," or "Be Church of Christ." He called both Jew and Gentile to follow him. But people's rules make that simple practice difficult.

And the body takes a beating.

Any wisdom out there? I would certainly welcome it.

Reflections of a First-Year Teacher

What a whirlwind!

First, thank you to each and every one of you who has been praying for me this year as I embarked on my first-year teacher journey. I would not have maintained my physical, emotional, and mental states without those prayers.

Friday was graduation, which Don, Patty, and Andrew were able to come down for, a true joy! The keynote speaker was Billy Mills, the 1964 Olympic gold medalist in the 10,000-meter run. Mills is the only American to have ever won the gold in that race, and travels the country as a motivational speaker.

The premise of Mills' message was perseverance and perspective, two topics I have hit on with my students all year, but two topics I feel God has impressed on my heart this year as well.

When students wanted to give up- especially my seniors- I would write one word on my board: persevere. I told them I understood the feeling of wanting to give up. With graduate school this first year of teaching, I must admit, I wanted to give up often, but prize was so alluring. This year has been a constant learning process, for me and my students. Life is not easy, but it's worth pressing on.

Mills also talked quite a bit about perspective. He is a Native American, and has dealt with many poor perspectives from coaches, teammates, fans, and peers. But he walked on.

Perspective is a common theme of literature. For one of the creative writing topics my seniors had to write a monster story, but from the monster's perspective, which often changes the story.

My perspective of these students, this valley, education as a student, and now as a teacher, have all shifted greatly these last nine months.

And I can't help but see God as the adhesive agent to all of it.

Without him, all things fall apart. Perspective doesn't matter, and life simply buckles.

I feel like I've gotten very old in this last year. In fact, Friday right before graduation, Josh pulled my first gray hair. I sure hope my wisdom from these last weeks and months didn't come out with it! Gray hairs and all, I love teaching. I couldn't imagine doing anything else.

To capture the true feeling of my moment, I tried to snap a picture. I observed many teacher-attitudes today. One teacher was dancing, one was laughing from pure hpyeractivity, one was (I'm quite certain) hung over, one was sad as he was retiring, and one was just cranky. Emotions ran the full gambit.

My mood?

Contentment. Joy. Stillness. Peace.

Can you tell?

Finally The Ruler of My Own Kingdom

My English IV students...Seniors...are currently looking graduation in the eye, 14 more days until their blessed tasseled walk, but before they can gain a diploma, they must finish the creative writing unit started two weeks ago.

It's killing them.

Their first short story was to be a Faust. We read an excerpt, watched a blip of "The Little Mermaid," then they were released. They needed a central character who wanted something, but to gain it, had to sell a portion of freedom, or even, their soul. Lords, devils, contracts, and flawed characters turned up some fairly clever tales.

Next up, plays. Students read a bit of Endgame, an absurd drama by Samuel Beckett, one of my favorites. Solomon would be proud. Meaningless, meaningless. All is meaningless...in a Beckett play, at least.

On to Frankenstein. Students' short stories had to be from the perspective of the monster, a bit of inspiration from the hit production Wicked.

But the assignment that just about made my seniors keel over from their own guttural wailing was the humor segment.

Did you know Steve Martin, that's right- the father of the bride, the father of a dozen children, and the self-proclaimed lover of mixed-nuts, wrote a book of short stories. And they are all funny.

Or at least I thought so. I copied off about eight of them, making a packet for each student thinking, "They'll definitely want to keep these hilarious stories!"

But my seniors? They felt...other...emotions.

I told my students that if they read their humor stories out loud in class and made me laugh, I would give them fifteen bonus points. And let's just face it- fifteen points could make or break graduation for a few of these highly lovable albeit procrastinating seniors.

Here is the story that broke my laugh bubble today. Fifteen points well deserved.

Once upon a time, in a mystical far away world, there was a small kingdom called Englishfoura. This kingdom was ruled over by a benevolent queen named Blaina. Under her wise rule, the assignment crops flourished and the grade harvesters prospered. Her loyal subjects were happy, and so was she.

One day, however, a twisted thought entered her head. "I'm bored with all of this. I think I'll assemble my subjects and make a decree."

And that is exactly what she did. So on the allotted day, the subjects assembled before their queen, looking eagerly to their loved leader. They were confident that something wonderful was in store for them, so they thought nothing of the papers that were being passed among them.

"Everyone open your papers," she called.

The people eagerly opened them, but to their horror and dismay, they found that the papers contained a collection of incredibly lame 'humorous' short stories.

"Now," the queen said with an evil gleam in her eye, "read them ALOUD."

The terrified people groaned inwardly, but did as they were told, and for the space of an hour, they suffered.

When the poor souls had finished, they looked hopefully back to the queen; perhaps there was a good reason for this?

But it was not to be.

The queen let loose a maniacal laugh that filled them with dismay.

"Now," she cried, "write one YOURSELF!"

And so began the dark times. The happy kingdom was transformed into a hopeless wasteland, filled with despair and sorrow. No one could bring themselves to create such horrible humor.

But every story has a hero, and this one is no exception.

For traveling the land, there was a character of infinite coolness; a man of unspeakable awesomeness. Wielding the Sword of Sarcasm, he lived to defend the witless and destroy the sharp of tongue; restoring good humor wherever he went.

And that is exactly what he was here to do.

He marched into Blaina's black fortress, intent on restoring order to the land. Her guards moved to stop him, but they shied away when they realized it was futile.

Finally, he arrived in the throne room.

An evil laugh filled the air. "Good, you must have come with another stack of bad humor papers! I can't wait to give them all bad grades! There is no way they can succeed with this assignment!"

The Sword of Sarcasm rang as it was drawn.

"I have come to end this madness," he declared.

"NOOOOOOO!" screamed Blaina.

With unfathomable skill, he wielded the Sword of Sarcasm, destroying all of the bad humor papers that were stacked in the room. Having finished his first grisly task, he lifted his hand and blasted Blaina with a bolt of pure awesomeness.

The madness left her eyes, and the black clouds over the countryside began to disperse.

So the queen was restored to good sense, the awesome dude returned to his home, and the subjects never had to write humorous stories ever again. Everyone lived happily ever after.

The end.

And so live the residents in the happy kingdom of Englishfoura, along with their first-year ruler, Blaina, wife to King Blaino, and owner of Sir Ivan.

Life is good, and only 29 more days until I can smooch my nephews.