Creating Families

I am native.

This of course means family is a very important thing in my life, not in the "families are forever" theme that you hear so much in a predominantly LDS community, but more that you stand by your family, stand with them, be the backup no matter what.

But in spite of all of that, you cannot choose your family. Believe me I know. I have family that I may or may not have chosen in the first place or as Mark Lowry puts it "You'll cry at their funeral but you don't want to go on vacation with them."

But in spite of that family is such a necessary thing. And you always look for those bonds in any situation.

In the SCA we have "households" where we literally create our families around one person. And we have siblings that we adopt. I'm still a member of Wolfhaven, the household of Duke Moonwulf. I was brought in by Lord Sedric Westbrook who is squired to Sir Alan Culross. Though I am really inactive at the moment, I still embrace that name. I still wear my blue belt and take a moment to stroke the dragon favor that hangs at my waist.

You see, when I was taken into Wolfhaven, I was taken into Lord Sedric's family. His daughter and I wore the same favors and I was friends with his late wife. Which is why the grief was so heavy when she passed away almost two years ago. Because I literally allowed them to be my family. To this day I miss Lisa (Lady Audrey) whenever it's late at night and I want to chat online.

Cuil Cholium was family too. Each of the fighters in our group taught me something different. Chivalry, honor, the customs of the Society and many different styles of fighting. The ladies allowed me to spend my time attempting to beat up on the men and then fit flawlessly back into their circle and do needlework, spin and cook.

Women like Joy, Anne-Marie, Lisa, Nancy, Tamra and Theresa taught me strength and judgement on so many levels.

But then I found out that one of the lights of Cuil Cholium had faded when Joy passed from this life unexpectedly. I still have not grieved properly. And sometimes I think the wound from loosing Joy and Lisa will not heal. Because these women were not just my friends, they are part of my family. Part of a family that has bonds far different than blood.

I have a family here too. Bishop and Sister Rice and Pastor Craig and Sister Andrea are the cornerstones of my family in Idaho. Then we add personalities like Justin. Church members, co-workers And the hoop expands even more. The sacred hoop that the Indian people talk about.

Never think that these people are "just friends" (I despise that phrase. As if anything was less important than friends sometimes!) but they are part of my kin, the family that God has created for me in Idaho.

My SCA family are not mere friends, they too are my family. When things happen I need to grieve with that family.

I don't know why I am writing all of this tonight and as it's almost 1 AM, I am probably rambling, but know this.

I love my family that God has given me. The family that was gifted to me at birth.

But God also let me create a family in a place that I wouldn't have had one otherwise and those bonds are strong as well. And I am blessed beyond measure.

Changing Times

So it was supposed to be the first day of school. And part of me feels like I should be getting ready for the first lunch of the year and praying with my students. Or assigning kickball teams for the week.

Instead, I'm at the school checking my e-mail on a computer (my internet doesn't get hooked up til tomorrow) and thinking about work at 3 PM. Selling and working at Office Max.

The ups and downs of the news all summer in regards to school and then I hear the words I'd been half dreading from Pastor Craig "There's no school this year Sister Naomi" I reeled between disbelief and some relief that I wouldn't be living such a crazy pace this year. But I was prepared and now that the decision is made, I am peaceful.

And the journey that started four years ago on the missions trip takes another crazy turn.

Idaho Falls has become my home. It's been two years now since I moved here and I can't imagine my life anywhere else. I have a church that I love, friends at work, a job that I mostly enjoy. What more can a woman want in life?

So I stay in the home that I have chosen. With the family and friends that I have here.

Because I'm blessed beyond measure in so many ways.

Coming Back to Myself...

There are certain things that always make me feel like I'm reuniting parts of myself. Scents, sounds, etc....

Scents: Patchouli and Lavender (mixed too), the smell of White Linen or Estee Lauder's Beautiful. The smell of a flooded river mixed with grass.

Sounds: Any kind of Baroque Music.

Authors: T.S. Eliot or Ezra Pound

Art: Cassatt or pretty much anything in the Western Wing of the Indiana University Art Museum.

These things are usually influences that have made me much of what I am. My comfort time sometimes is Bach cranked (Tocatta and Fugue to be exact) while curled up in a chair with The Complete Works of T.S. Eliot as I try to take apart either "The Wasteland" or "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock". ("Do not do not ask what is it. Let us go and make our visit")

Soooo Mrs. Mannix, 11th Grade Honors English. For some reason.

Lately I've been seeing things in muted shades, which for me is odd. I'm vivid, creative and see things in unusual forms most of the time, but I've been trying to get my depression under control again and it's been rough.

But something else can bring me back to myself. Being flat on my face at an altar sobbing my heart out. As I had doubted that my prayers were going to be answered and then I look up and see the answer in front of me as two friends are praying at the altar with tears running down their cheeks.

All I could do was throw myself on to my face and sob as I just said "I'm sorry I doubted you God. I'm sorry I doubted."

So many times, we clutter our brains with our human thoughts and our knowledge of human failures that we limit what God can do with what WE can do.

I'm blessed. So blessed to serve an awesome God that will answer prayers. In spite of my very tiny amount of faith sometimes. He's still faithful to me.

"Though in my heart I have questioned, even failed to believe yet he's been faithful, faithful to me."

When I left Idaho Falls almost five years ago I left part of my heart here. A sliver of it with a friend that probably didn't realize it (and neither did I until later) and part of it in downtown IF. I feel as if I have picked my pieces up anda put them back together. As if I'm whole unbroken here except when I am broken before God.

So now the sight of mountains and the smell of sage and sitting on a chunk of basalt overlooking the river and the sight of so many things mean that I am home.

And that God is good. He ALWAYS answers prayer even when it looks impossible.

Interdependency and frustration...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tEKGp6WO9fU

"I am here
You don't have to worry
I can see your tears
I'll be there in a hurry when you call
Friends are there to catch you when you fall
Here's my shoulder you can lean on me..."

The ongoing thing with having an Mp3 player is that I have filled it with the world's wackiest mish mash of tunes, including ones that got me through some rough times in college. Including this Kirk Franklin tune, which I caught myself PASSIONATELY mouthing the words in the middle of WalMart LOL.

Bishop Rice told me two weeks ago that I needed to take care of myself to be of value to the church, because I'm a cog in the machine and it will skip if the teeth are broken. Probably not the best analogy to use on the mechanically ungifted, but I got the point.

Right now, I'm watching friends and family doing things I don't agree with. Or not knowing what they are doing. Or what they are thinking. Of course, I'm spending some of my days wanting to completely hide in the sound booth (Don't go too close, I'm not going to be happy. It's a new set of walls) I find that I am still fairly open with my pastor and his wife as well as Bishop and Sister Rice. Lying to my pastor or to the bishop and saying everything is ok when it's not is pointless. They WILL call me on it. (Bishop will usually be like "Quit lying, how are you really")

The problem is that noone else sometimes feels the interdependency or knows what it is about. Maybe because I am in leadership that I feel things so keenly or maybe it's that I'm very sensitive. (sometimes not one of my more endearing qualities)

When someone is not there, it's heartbreaking and things aren't the same. But with my sensitivity I do wonder what I did. It's not the best thing in the world, but frankly it does happen.

My brother Matt and his wife are backslid and I am thankfully spared the weekly heartbreak of that except any other moment I think of my wonderful wreckless brother and his wife and their wonderful little boy. Then it's like a knife turning again.

Then I have other friends, maybe not backslid, but working away from their first love in many ways. Not sure where to go. It is heartbreaking to watch and NOTHING I can do. I want to yell, I want to scream "don't you know what you are doing?" "Don't you know the church limps without each and every member of the body in its place?"

But I can't do anything. Nothing but ignore the lump in my throat when they are not there. Put my head in my hands and pray. Pray that they are miserable when they are not at church. That God draws them to him. That God reminds them when they feel far from him, they moved not God.

It's frustrating. It's heartbreaking. Watching friends that I've made over the years turn away from God. Why would anyone want to leave? Or as PfR sings "I don't understand how you can walk away from love"

Granted, over the years I am not the biggest fan of Pentecostal culture in general. Thank God, it's not the case out West as much as it was back East. I'm a firm fan of home missions churches and that feel. Many times larger churches try to eat each other alive and spit each other out if they are not careful.

I've heard it stated by friends that Pentecostals kill their walking wounded. Let that never be me. Let me fight it with every breath I have.

This is so rambling I know. And it's not something I would've even been so passionate about two years ago. But I'm here. I see how much we depend on each other. So to any of my friends that are looking to walk away, please remember this...

"Friends are there to catch you when you fall
Here's my shoulder you can lean on me..."

Memorial Day Musings...

So it's Memorial Day. Theoretically a holiday of barbecues and picnics.

Unless of course you grew up in a long line of military and then you sit and think. It's different this year after loosing my beloved grandfather who was a veteran of World War II and Korea.

So today, I salute the veterans in and out of my family. I give you this list of the men and women I know and respect. Thank you. All of you.

Irvin Banta (Grandpa -- World War II and Korea)
Robert Stone (Grandpa -- Korea)
Charles D. Banta (Dad)
Irvin J. Banta (Uncle)
Marie C. Wilson (Aunt)
Dana Griffith (Uncle)

Friends:
John Hakes (Korea and Vietnam)
Steve Snyder
Wayne McWhorter
Steve Mitchell
John Stauffer
David Carpenter
Danny Catt
Randall Keller

These are just the names that I am thinking of right now.

I'm defined by the veterans in my life. As a daughter of warriors on all sides, this defines me.

So thanks, all of you. And don't forget to thank a veteran today!

Insecurities

So I am here. Looking in the mirror, I am completely different from one year ago. Curled hair, confident look, different clothes...

The thing is, sometimes I feel like the same girl that graduated from Brown County High School in Nashville and wants to hide...

*shrugs*

While I'm confident in my life, there are times that old self comes crashing in on me.

It has recently. When I have a conversation with someone, I second guess it for two days. I make myself miserable thinking I have made a complete idiot of myself and replay every moment in my head. Then when the person doesn't speak to me the next day, I call myself twenty forms of stupid and try to figure out what happened.

Irrational? Ummm yes. I know it's irrational. Just too many people in my hometown, in my old school would use MY words against me. My innocence and my trust. Guys especially. Made me distrustful of all guys except my brothers (and probably why I adopted so many of them).

How do I stop this? I'm trying to break old habits in interpersonal relationships here and sometimes I think I am making progress. But then I find myself going back into my old habits.

Who I was does indeed make me who I am. But do I really have to keep being THAT person who is so insecure that she wants to hide away from site?

Thirty years and sometimes I feel like I have learned nothing.

Desert Rose

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O7OGieXHM5g

Ignore the very 80's/90's look but the song...

I loaded a good friend's Mp3 player recently and added this song to both of our playlists.

I don't know what is up lately, but I've started thinking a bit more about what is behind me and what has made me who I am today.

This song was my theme after I left Indiana University. When I felt like my dreams were dying and I didn't want to go back to my hometown. Sister Seniour called me "our Esther" in those days because of an IBC musical at Music Fest (where the line that got me crying was "God why can't I serve you where I want to serve you?")

The desert rose, the idea of something beautiful coming out of some of the dryest points of life is just amazing to me. And that's the nickname that I gave myself at so many points. Amazingly enough, I am now literally, living in the high desert and blooming in a spot where I thought would kill me if you'd asked me ten years ago.

God is good. He's the God of second chances and third chances and fourth chances. In spite of my rebellious streak a mile wide, he chooses to use me here in Idaho. He CHOOSES to see me through his blood and not for all my faults and failures, my thoughtless tongue and my impetous nature.

And for now, that's enough.

Golden Green days...

Golden as in golden sunlight flowing from the sky. Green as in thick green grass on the ground. (Major watering considering this is high desert. *Smiles*) So it's golden green days as far as I'm concerned.

My second year of school here is drawing to a close. I grow more and more in love with my job and my church and my students every day! Life is good here in Idaho, rough at times but good.

There's friends surrounding me that for whatever reason love me no matter what and I'm looking forward to a fantastic summer.

Yes, it will be different from last year -- no Bishop Rice sneaking up on me every day when I go check my e-mail. But it is going to be a golden time here in Idaho Falls.

Life changes, life goes on. I love it here.

Where Was I When?

It's truly amazing to think back on things sometimes. Even more so when you are teaching it.

Between teaching the post World War II history to eighth grade and going through a bit of a Billy Joel phase of late (We Didn't Start the Fire) it's been incredible to see what I have witnessed so far in my relatively short lifespan and how much things have changed.

I probably bore my eighth graders talking about what I remember. I was in fifth grade when the Berlin Wall fell. Boom, just like that. One day we were watching a movie about escaping over it (Anyone remember that film? I think it was a Disney thing, this guy went over the wall in a hot air balloon) and three days later there they were taking it apart on the cover of Weekly Reader (our fifth grade teacher, Mrs. Mayfield got a piece of the wall from a German exchange student that stayed with her, I HELD a piece of history in my hands.).

I remember the Soviet Union coming apart and the ensuing civil wars in the smaller countries. I met a member of the Afghani royal family (some minor member) who fled to the US (And Nashville, IN of all places) because of the Soviet Occupation.

I remember being on the way to church and sitting in the parking lot at the Old Goshen church when we learned that we had started bombing Iraq for the first time.

I cried when the Challenger exploded. I was scared when they started deploying troops to Iraq. I was bored and outraged during the Impeachment trials -- and rolled my eyes at the people around me. (It's never a really good time to be an ultra conservative at Indiana University LOL)

But I also remember being shocked when my friends got pregnant in high school and when some admitted to being sexually active even though some waited until high school.

I watched friends take marijuana and LSD (Yes, the drugs of the 60's were the popular ones in Brown County). I watched a brilliantly talented musician friend burn her brain out in LSD in so many ways. I could do nothing but watch and pray.

A friend died in a car accident and another died of cancer, but after graduation I survived a car accident that should've killed me.

Yeah, that took a toll for a very long time.

I'm not sure if I even have a point to this blog. Just so much dead space going through my head the last few days. I'm working on making my new life here in Idaho, even now over a year later, but sometimes just the smallest portion of grief can get to me so easily.

I don't know why I am still alive at times. Car wrecks and somewhat reckless decisions could pretty much have been the end of me several times, but I know that God has a plan for my life.

But what about the others? I'm no worthier than Mike Arteoga, than Linda Lowry, or Jeff Alvey. In fact, I see how many times I fail day by day and wonder how long before God says "Ok, this is enough, this girl is nuts!"

But the grace of God is so much bigger than what I am. Bigger than my zany stupidity and my ability to trip over my own feet. Bigger than the hurtful things that I can do to people.

Who am I to be in leadership? Just a faulty human woman. A daughter of Eve as C.S. Lewis and Marcus both say. Brilliantly socially awkward at some times and socially adaptable at others.

This blog has no real purpose, but I send it out into a questioning world. I can't believe that I'm not the only one that's ever had these rambling thoughts.

Belonging

Two songs today just stick out in my mind:

"Still you hear me when I'm calling, lord you catch me when I'm falling and you show me who I am, I am yours"

and

"Why are you searching for love? Why are you still trying as if I'm not enough?"

I guess this has come up in the past few days, not because of any circumstance in particular, but a lot of what ifs in general.

As much as I adore Pastor Craig and Sister Andrea, I do still miss Bishop and Sister Rice. I miss the fatherly type of advice I get from Bishop Rice.

In many ways, I am still growing into adulthood I guess. The feeling of being independent instead of being in my (to borrow a Lakota word ) "tipospaye" (I think that's how you spell it) or my large extended native family. The family that you know will always take care of you no matter what.

And yes, this is far more traditional then modern society. I am used to a father figure over me and a huge amount of interdependence. When I moved out here I had to start rebuilding a network, a family. My church has become that to me. The problem was is that I did depend on Bishop and Sister Rice for advice, especially for that which I need more of parent advice.

I guess its because certain things have crossed my mind lately. I'm very old fashioned in a lot of ways and don't believe that a career is the be all end all of my life. I also am a firm believer in courtship rather than dating and that means being under submission to authority. And while Dad isn't here, that is Pastor Craig which feels weird, but is ok.

There's a lot of steps I take, that I wish my family were here for, but they can't be. And sometimes it does feel like I don't belong at church because i have no family. I just remember how we would take someone in when Pastor had families pray together in Bean Blossom.

Thankfully that doesn't happen often here. Because it would be a problem. I am a leader in the church and I am on my own.

But who do I belong to? As my cousin reminded me today, I am a princess, a daughter of the king.

And I am his.

Make Me a Servant

Bishop Seniour always said that the difference in the prodigal son from when he left and when he came back was that when he left his attitude was "give me" and when he came back, his attitude was "make me".

Whenever I hear the song "When God Ran" or I read that story, I remember that comment from my very first UPC Pastor, a man that still influences my life to this day. The attitude of the prodigal son "make me a servant".

I guess that that song and that thought is what's in my head and heart today as I go through my day. I had a conversation with a friend last night about being a servant and serving people.

How do I serve a person without putting them on a pedestal? Or do you? And how do you serve without demeaning yourself?

I see imperfections in people, believe me, I usually prefer my dog and tarantula to most humans. But at the same time, I know I am out here first and foremost to help with a ripe harvest of souls in Idaho Falls. That I am a servant of God and my church.

Serving my pastor is the easiest sometimes. Making coffee, making sure the sound system is on when church starts. Doing my best in the sound booth although it is not my favorite job in the world. Lifting him and his wife up in prayer every day. And never down talking him ever.

But how do I serve others in the church? How do I build up the other leadership? Male or female how do I serve without seeming that I am demeaning myself.

I'm straight up not a feminist. I believe that God created men and women differently with different strengths and weaknesses. We are wired differently to complement each other. And a man is the leader, a woman is not. (But a man is a complete idiot not to listen to the advice of a woman and consider it because she will see something differently than he does and perhaps something he missed)

The thing is, I am figuring out how to build up the other leaders in church. For someone with my views it may seem as a complete contradiction that I am a department head, but I am under submission to my pastor which makes all the difference in the world.

So how do I serve? How do I build up without tearing down? How can I encourage someone without nagging?

I guess that's a new journey of discovery for Sister Naomi as she enters her 30th year.

Changing Faces and Getting Comfortable

Maybe I'm restless as I get ready to turn the corner to 30.

Maybe I'm growing up and just wanting to look like it, but I've wanted to change lately. Change is good right?

So I changed, in as big a way as a Pentecostal girl can. My native straight hair is now a mass of curls down my back. And not the kind that I have to sleep on foam curlers to obtain.

So now I look in the mirror as I get ready for school and see the exact Pentecostal girl that I said I would never become. Scarier? I LOVE the way I look and LOVE to look in the mirror.

I don't know what's happening to me lately. I make my skirts a bit shorter, I'm buying high heels. I am twisting my hair up in funky dos with my new perm or even just washing it and "scrunching" it and leaving it down my back. I've put up more photos of myself on facebook in the last week then I had in a long time (Most of my pics on there are school pictures.)

It is sometimes confusing though. I don't know why I am going through all these changes. To prove that although I'm single at almost 30 (I'm a veritable old maid in Pentecost LOL) I am still pretty? Just a feminine desire to be beautiful and alluring?

I can't tell you what these changes are. I'm not sure who I am becoming myself. Between school and church I have little time for introspection.

So what's going to happen in my next thirty years (to borrow a line from Tim McGraw. *smiles*)

I will walk more and more confidently in God, depending on him.

I will see revival in Idaho Falls, while the temple may not come down physically, it WILL metaphorically.

I want to become the person that my pastor thinks that I am.

I want to see my friends at work saved.

Most of all, while I like to look pretty, I want to not concentrate on what I look like, but focus on who I am. Because I'm a princess, a daughter of the king and no matter what I am called to do, I will focus on doing it properly.

Considerations...

It came out of a single thought on a website that I frequent -- namely creative worship tour (http://www.creativeworshiptour.com)

How do you get teenage and child presentations in the church out of the realm of "a moment in the spotlight" or entertainment and bring them into true worship? This becomes even closer to my heart as I prepare for Sunday's Easter program.

Raised in a Pentecostal church in the Pentecostal culture, I was encouraged to worship at a youngish age (My parents got into church when I was six) Kids are in worship service with the adults and sing and worship with them. Often it starts as imitation but it then will blossom into true worship as they get older. By the time you are a teen, you take some adult responsibilities on in the church and when doing drama or music are taken as seriously as an adult.

Does this have to do with the sincerity of the child or teen? I think not actually. I think it has to do with adult expectations and what they model for the young people in their congregation. Do we want to dumb everything down for our children and young adults or do we want to raise the bar so that they experience God at a young age?

Granted, this takes a shift in many denominations, instead of keeping the children "entertained" during church, maybe they should participate in the worship. The more they participate and the more they get of the presence of God, the more they will want it. God is what keeps them as they grow up, not programs or activities but having the presence of God in their own lives and experiencing him for themselves.

Now lest anyone would think that I'm against Sunday School or programs for teens, I am EMPHATICALLY not against them. I'm the Sunday School director at my church and deal with childrens' programming, including our newly formed choir/praise streamer team. But my goal is not necessarily to be perfect, but rather to teach them to worship authentically and to experience God for themselves.

If we loose this generation because we are more concerned with being entertained then we are about their walk with God then we have lost our future as a church. With people talking about "the fall of Evangelical Christianity" we can no longer afford to just sit and wait on our kids to grow up. They need to take the leadership they are called to NOW and maybe even to give the adults a few lessons.

Jesus said to "suffer not the little children to come unto me". He did not say to wait until they were older, he wanted them in his presence even at the earliest of ages and the children in this story WANTED to be in the presence of Jesus.

What does that tell us now?

I'm disturbed by what I see in Christianity today, from changing standards to moral relativism to the whole "Emergent church" concept. Kids are learning the moral relativism in school, in pop culture, everywhere. Let's not let them learn it at church too.

Instead, let's lead them into a passionate relationship with Jesus Christ himself, teaching them right and wrong as we go. And let them embrace the creativity that they were gifted with. If those two things occur, then truth will continue to thrive.

Turning 30....

I don't know what it was that caused this thought process...

Challenges at church?

Work going by?

Just a generally restless feeling?

Or is it my cousin Andrea's blog that brought it on, I don't know.

I turn 30 next month. Maybe not a big deal to some but to me it starts to signal another phase in my life. I look back and reflect on how good God is but its still startling to realize that I am as old as my mother used to be...

Ok, that sounds odd, but what I mean by that is this:

Any time I remember asking my Mom how old she was the answer was always 30 or older. Same with Dad. Yet, I don't remember a lot of what Mom looked like back then (before a housefire) and things like how she was built or how much gray she had.

Hey, I am not sure now half the time, her hair is getting more "salt" then salt and pepper these days and so is Dad's. (I'm surprised Dad still has hair but that's another story altogether... See some pictures of my uncles and you'll understand)

Some vain part of me keeps looking for gray hairs in the mirror and trying to figure out how to casually hide them if they do show up. They haven't yet (I'm not that vain, but I want to feel like I've EARNED gray hairs if I get them).

When I entered my teens, I dealt with junior high, catty girls, cruel boys and depression.

When I entered my 20's, my world was rocked with a car accident that should have killed me. I spent the whole summer of my 21st year on a walker, then a cane and finally limping as I learned to walk again. Two years later, another wreck, this time readjusting my viewpoint on life, injuring my back so I couldn't pursue the nursing career that I dreamed of. Plus multiple illnesses and then a missions trip that changed my life forever.

That missions trip brought me here. To where I will spend my thirties and possibly the rest of my life.

I came out here, figuring it was only for one year and then it turned into another... I have no intention of leaving a town that I love so much!

I'm restless these days, wanting to change my image, slowly change who I am. Slightly shorter skirts, high heels, playing with my hair. It's like I'm trying to figure out WHO I am.

But I know who I am. I'm the woman that God made me to be. The audio-visual-sound person-teacher-kids church director-helping my pastor out any way I can-drama team-musician woman. I live in a Mormon community where I see a temple almost daily and it breaks my heart.

There's a song from Casting Crowns that sums it up "Still you hear me when I'm calling, Lord you catch me when I'm falling and you show me who I am, I am YOURS"

I belong to God, old or young, married or single. And that is that.

Who Will Still Stand? Sacrifice and thoughts on women in Pentecost...

http://www.setapartgirl.com/blog/Entries/2008/12/8_Dying_to_Self%E2%80%99s_Agenda.html

I'm a huge fan of Leslie Ludy and this blog just happened to express everything going on in my life.

Pastor Craig announced that 2009 is a "Year of Miracles" and we are entering into a month of prayer and fasting -- praying through the book of Acts. PUSH (Pray Until Something Happens) is the January theme for Mountainview Christian Center.

There was a video shown on Tuesday night of the Foreign Missions Service at General Conference this year. I watched it as the preacher (don't remember who it was) talked about sacrifice and how the people of the UPCI no longer had that spirit in so many ways. How they'd get calls at Foreign Missions asking what was open, rather then someone with a passionate burden.

Then he started naming names that I had grown up with. Brother Wilhoite (not sure on that spelling) who died in Mexico and had done work in Mexico, the Phillipines, Belize and Guyana. Elder Brother Seniour had done several trips with him so I remember hearing him and knowing who he was.

Elsa Lund was another name, a woman that I remember seeing in the foreign missions poster in the back of the church -- I used to look for the single ladies on there so I remembered who she was. Liberia, the Ivory Coast... She's retired now in Canada and still gives so much financially to Missions.

The one that got me though, was Sister Nona Freeman. A woman who spoke at Ladies' Conference in Indiana on more than one occasion (and is one of my all time favorite speakers). You hear about her as much as you did about her husband. I used to read her column in Reflections magazine -- even if I read nothing else.

They brought her out, in a wheelchair now, looking frail and aged. This woman who has and still gives so much to our movement.

It got me thinking...

I know the women I looked up to growing up. The stories of missionaries that my mother told me. The Elizabeth Elliots, the Corrie Ten Booms, as I grew into adulthood, the Amy Carmichaels. And the women of our movement such as Sister Potter, Sister Freeman and some in Indiana such as Sister Rudolph (who co-pastored with her husband) and Sister Gobel, the wife of the Home missions director.

These women have aged and perhaps some have even passed on while I didn't know about it.

But who is my niece Kaylee going to look up to? Who are the women that are going to figure in her life? Is it going to be the cookie cutters of my generation? I know a few that are passionate about what they do, but I have seen so many of the young women that I grew up with that have backslid.

When the older generation dies, what will happen? What kind of women will be left?

I hope I can tell her of the Elonas who left their families to work in a home missions work in San Fransico. Or the Melodys who move to their hometown to live in an RV and work at the church.

I hope there are more women like that. So that there's someone for Kaylee and others like her to emulate.