Drive Mercy

September 13, 2013 by Kelli

It’s hard to put into words the admiration I hold for Kristen and her husband. It would make her uncomfortable to know I admire her. Though I’ve never met her personally, I know from a few shared emails and from years of reading her blog that she doesn’t want any credit for the amazing work that’s being done through Mercy House Kenya.

My admiration for her and her husband does not come from the results of their work, but rather from the evidence of their obedience. They said “yes” to a really, really hard thing. They chose to follow the path of, as she calls it, a “God-sized dream.”

There’s a true beauty in obedience. When we’re willing to sacrifice everything, to lay it all down and follow the hard path, amazing things can happen. We’re all on the path to obedience in some way or another, whether we know it or not. It could be choosing to raise our children a specific way, following a dream, or simply living in a way that inspires others.

This week, Lee and I took a final step of obedience. Actually, this step was more mine than his, but he’s walked each step of the way with me. This week we officially acknowledged, out loud, our decision to stop pursuing adoption for the time being. In making this decision, we felt like the best way to lay this dream and longing down on the altar of obedience was to return the funds that were donated to us for the purpose of adoption.

It no longer felt right to keep those funds for something that may never happen.

I hate writing these things. I hate that I’ve had to lay this desire down. I wish this wasn’t my lot of obedience. And yet…

There’s something beautiful about sacrificing for obedience. There’s a new hope that’s birthed from fully dying to self and opening your hands wide – to saying “Yes” when it hurts.

Kristen and Terrell said yes to what God had planned. They felt a calling that, at first, seemed ambiguous and cloudy. Help women and babies in Africa. Where do you even go with a desire like that? If you’ve read along with Kristen’s journey and the start of Mercy House Kenya, then you know that what started as an ambiguous idea has turned into a huge dream that is currently changing the lives of 12 young mothers and their babies.

Mercy House Kenya is more than a maternity home – it is a place where mothers and children are kept safe, and are kept together. Mercy House is orphan prevention, and in this time of uncertainty in our own family, Lee and I feel passionate about remaining at work in the process of orphan care. If we can’t bring one to our home, then by God I want to make sure children remain in their own homes.

Right now, you and I have an amazing opportunity to do something big – something huge. And we can do it from right here, in our own homes. We can go to Kenya today without leaving the comfort of our own homes.

Mercy House and (in)courage have teamed up with a group of bloggers to kick start a four month campaign to help provide essentials to the safety and sustainability of Mercy House and it’s 12 moms and 12 babies.

There are five projects that we would love to see completed just in time for Christmas and Phase 1? The phase you and I are jumping in on? It’s perfect.

We are going to be a part of raising $8,750 that will help purchase a new van for Mercy House.

What do you think? Can we bring a little Minivans Are Hot to Kenya?!

I THINK WE CAN!

As of yesterday, we are almost half way to this goal. Today, by the end of the day, I’d love to see the funds fully raised for the new Mercy House van. This is something worth rallying for, my friends! This is a powerful testimony of the amazing things we can do together when we’re willing to say “yes!”

Will you join us as we help buy a van for these 12 mothers and their young ones? Will you help us change lives on the other side of the world? Will you be a part of the miracle? Here’s how it works:

Click this link to head over to the Pure Charity page, which will allow you to give directly to the purchase of a new Mercy House van.

You can see the other projects that are coming up in the next few weeks by clicking here. By Christmas, we’d love to see $74,000 raised to complete all five necessary projects. This is huge. This is the power of social media at it’s very finest. This is the way to bless and be blessed.

So who’s in? Who wants to be a part of this one really big thing?

Would you do me a favor and share what’s going on here? Would you tell your friends? Let’s work together to see this first phase of (in)Mercy completed by the end of the day.

May your “yes” and my own be blessed today. Happy Friday, friends.

Filed Under: Adoption, Blogging, faith, Family, Grace, Kids, Ministry Tagged With: (in)courage, (in)Mercy, Mercy House Kenya, Obedience, orphan prevention, Pure Charity, Saying Yes to God

When the land before you seems dry

August 22, 2013 by Kelli

This was a summer of healing for me.

As we close it out, I find myself somewhat reminiscent of the last few months. They’ve been good. Really, really good.

For reasons I can’t explain because I don’t understand, God has led me to a place in life that feels very dry. It goes beyond the terminated adoption. There are other hopes – other desires – that have been removed. The big prayers that I’ve uttered for over a decade all fell apart at the same time. Literally on the same day – January 11.

I’ve built an altar on that day as I think it’s important to remember the place of destruction because I still have hope that dreams can be rebuilt. Perhaps they’ll look a little different. Maybe they won’t be what I thought they’d be, but I don’t believe God will leave me in this wilderness forever.

Adding to what has felt like a very dry time has been the fact that for the first time since I was fifteen I have no contact with Russian speakers. No day to day contact, that is. When I first went to the former Soviet Union as a fifteen year old, I had no idea what was in store for me, but I realized almost immediately that I was supposed to be there.

Since that time, no matter where I’ve gone or lived or traveled, I have always been in contact with Russian speakers. Even when I went to Tanzania last year with Compassion International, I met a Russian girl in the airport and shared a lengthy conversation with her. This is what has always seemed to happen.

Everywhere we went, Lee and I would run into Russians and Ukrainians. From my time working at WOGA in Dallas, to our many years at the Russian-American school in St. Louis, I’ve always had the opportunity to listen to, and speak, the language that is so magical to me. Even after moving to Tampa, we met a sweet Russian woman and got to be quick friends with her and her family. We went to birthday parties and spent time on the ocean, and it seemed that, once again, I had tight community with the people I love so dearly.

Unfortunately, these friends had to move rather suddenly, and right around the time that the adoption fell apart, we lost contact completely. Since that time I have not run into a single Russian speaker. I haven’t even heard the language.

It’s so strange to me, really. Why did God give me such a love for this language, such a heart for adoption, such a longing to be a part of His story in a child’s life only to take it all away, all at the same time?

I have questioned God and doubted Him this year. I’ve been disappointed in Him, so very disappointed in the way this part of our story has played out. A few months ago I would have been scared to admit those things publicly. I would have tried to water down how extremely angry and sad and frustrated I was with this God in whom I’ve placed so much trust. What do such doubts and attitudes say of my faith?

You know what it says? It says I’m real. For the first time I couldn’t coast on a blind and unassuming faith. I needed to swim a little in the fire of doubt to see if my faith in this God I proclaim to love could withstand the heat. It did, but there were some dark days inside the refining fire. Days when I didn’t know if God really could be good, when I couldn’t see any beauty or grace in the current landscape of life.

Many days I could utter nothing more than the words “I don’t understand” while hot tears dripped off my chin.

But I don’t have to understand. This is where the healing has come into play this summer. I don’t have to understand, and I also don’t think this is the end of the story. I think these things have been removed for a time, not forever. I feel peace right now. Genuine peace. I’m still sad, and I still cry at the drop of the hat, but I’m not devastated.

God continues to be silent right now. He is not speaking in a tangible way that makes sense…yet. I’m still walking through the desert, but there is actually a lot of beauty to be seen in the desert, and I mean this both literally and figuratively. My friend Jenni spent several months in the desert earlier this year and the photos she took there are some of the most breathtaking I’ve ever seen. God created so much to see in the dry places.

In the same way, there’s been a lot of beauty in these last eight months, and there have been moments filled with the joyous beauty of laughter, an emotion created by God to empty the dark corners of the soul for a brief moment and fill them with light.

If I sit still long enough to catalog it, I’m almost shocked at how much grace I’ve been given in what has been such a difficult year. This desert isn’t completely void of good things. I can now honestly say that I’m thankful for these dry months. They aren’t over, but I don’t feel like I’m lost anymore.

If you’ve found yourself in a desert place where life feels overwhelming and hard, can I encourage you to hang on tight? The road may be long and you’re undoubtably tired and weary, but don’t give up. It’s okay to be sad, and it’s okay to be angry. It’s okay to ask why and it’s okay to not understand. This life is a mysterious path of winding roads and bramble paths, but in the midst of it all, if we’re willing to look for it, there’s so much grace to be seen and felt and pulled in tight. Whenever you can, look for the beauty.

And if at all possible, try to laugh out loud. Laughter reveals a whole lot of pretty things in this world.

Blessings to you all today.

Filed Under: Adoption, faith, Family, Grace, Life

They say it takes two years

July 15, 2013 by Kelli

Two years ago, we played Tetris with all of our earthly possessions, stuffing and shoving and twisting them juuuust so into two giant PODS and the back of our (smokin’ hot) minivan. We waved goodbye to the POD men and began a three month odyssey of moving from one place to the next until we finally found and bought a house.

It’s been a hard, hard two years.

The first year was spent just trying to figure out our place in this new town. We spent a lot of time mourning the loss of seeing and being with people who were more than just friends – they were family. That first year was spent visiting the beach, sticking our toes in the sand and trying to convince ourselves that we made the right choice – that everything would be okay.

The Beach – God’s Glory Land…

“It takes two years in a new town to feel settled,” we heard from more than one person and I’ve clung to that adage these last 24 months. On the nights when we’ve paced the house in the wee hours of the morning fighting hyperventilation and panic attacks, I’ve told myself to wait for that magic two year mark. Other days, as I felt lost in loneliness, I searched out the Facebook pages of my dear friends so far away for some connection to the life I missed, and I told myself it wouldn’t be long before this all got better.

After the first year, I felt like the worst of the mourning had passed and we finally began the arduous task of rooting ourselves to this new place. We found a church, made some friends and looked for ways to plug ourselves into this place that we desperately needed to call home.

This second year has been equally difficult, but for so many different reasons. So many times I have desperately longed for the friends who knew me best to come close, hold my hand and let me cry. Early on this year, I started to get a little lost inside my twisty head and I knew I needed to get out and meet people or things were going to go down hill quickly. So I found new friends who met me for coffee and even though we hardly knew one another, they listened as I let my broken heart roll down my cheeks. Just thinking about those glimmering moments of grace in such a dark time brings tears to my eyes once again.

Moving is hard. It’s so very, very hard to start over, to not be known, to feel like you have to smile when you just want to cry. But one thing our new friends have taught me these last two years is that there’s no faster way to get to know and love someone than to be raw and real with them. I could have stuffed all my sorrow inside and kept it hidden, but I would have been a miserable person as a result.

They let me be real. They passed me notes in church when they noticed my eyes were full of tears. They called just to check on me, to make sure I wasn’t staying in seclusion. When I apologized for crying so much they shook their heads and told me not to worry about it as tears glistened in their own eyes.

These people who were practically strangers felt my pain and in so doing, they took some of it on themselves, relieving me of carrying the burden on my own.

They say it takes two years in a new town to feel settled and I’m embracing this two year mark. I still miss St. Louis so deeply that sometimes I feel a physical ache in my chest. I miss my friends so very much. Just today I called three of them because I just needed a little more than a Facebook status.

In two weeks, we head back to the ‘Lou to touch home base again. I think it will be perfect timing. Five days won’t be enough time, but it will quell the ache of the heart enough to allow us to continue to grow here – to continue to plant roots and gain a familiarity with this new place we call home.

Yesterday, I woke up, got dressed and it dawned on me that I was really excited to go to church. I was excited to see the people that are settling into that special place in my heart that’s reserved for the closest of family and friends. It’s been two years since we waved goodbye and I think “they” were right.

It’s starting to feel like home.

Filed Under: Adoption, faith, Family, Friendship, Grace, Life, Moving Tagged With: faith, Grace, Home, moving is hard, Settling after a move, starting over

Don’t Serve an Empty Jesus

July 8, 2013 by Kelli

“How long do the soles on these shoes last?” I asked the sales girl nervously. I stepped from one foot to the next, rocking side to side as if the room were moving and I wanted to steady it.

“Well, I don’t know,” she answered. “I imagine they last quite awhile. These are good shoes.”

“Oh…” I paused awkwardly, trying to remember the things I’d been taught about sharing my faith with strangers. I needed a unique way to start the conversation, but this suddenly felt like it was going a very strange direction. Taking a deep breath I decided to plunge forward with the plan.

“Did-you-know-we-have-souls-that-will-never-die-and-that-Jesus-died-on-the-cross-for-us-so-we-could-live-eternally-with-Him?!” I sort of blurted the sentence out, a verbal vomit that left the poor sales girl looking entirely confused. Were we talking about shoes or were we talking about Jesus?

WHO COULD TELL!

This story is not one of my finer moments in life, though I will say the sales girl in Payless was extremely kind. She put her arm around my shoulder, thanked me for being bold enough to share my faith and asked me if I really needed any shoes. I didn’t so on I moved.

This was part of a mission weekend with my church youth group. The premise behind the weekend was a good one – let’s teach young people how to be bold in sharing their faith. I have no problem with this message and I am grateful that it was taught to me.

But the practice of sharing our faith is so much more effective when it’s actually lived out in front of people, isn’t it? Canvasing malls and neighborhoods and beach boardwalks yields little effect for so many reasons. One, it’s just plain awkward. There’s nowhere to go with a conversation that messily tries to equate the soles of shoes to the souls of man and then throws Jesus inside that blender for a healthy little punch.

Although you absolutely can feel free to pat me on the back for my clever little play on words there, thankyouverymuch.

There’s a lot of negativity surrounding the idea of short term mission trips that floats around the internet. I get where it’s coming from, I really do. Much of it is written by people who grew up a lot like I did, in a day when short term missions was often defined as dropping a group of youth students on the side of the road in matching t-shirts, hands stuffed with the Four-Spiritual Laws, hell bent on saving people’s ~~soles~~ souls.

There was little sacrifice to be made in such endeavors. In fact, two hours of “sharing your faith” on a sandy beach often yielded a full day of play time and boy did you feel good about yourself because you shared Jesus that morning, yo!

A short term mission trip should serve only to bolster the local church or a local body of believers that can continue the work that was supported by a mission’s team. It does no one any good for a group of people to descend upon them for two weeks like a spiritual tornado if there is no one left behind to help explain what all the pieces of this faith mean. Throwing Jesus at someone who’s stomach is empty, who’s house is made of nothing but sticks and corregated metal, will more often than not be an empty Jesus.

Short term mission trips must meet the physical needs of those they’ve come to serve, and not at the detriment of the local economy. Don’t take away work from the locals. Don’t try to serve Jesus verbally to children who are starving, to mothers whose hands are raw from digging and working and scraping the ground in order to put something in their children’s stomachs.

Show them Jesus by meeting their needs. Serve, backs bent over, next to the day laborers. Relieve their burden, feed their stomachs, hug the children who ache for physical touch. Be Jesus. Be His Hands as you serve them, His Feet as you walk next to those in such desperate need. And when you leave, make sure the local church is empowered so that they can tell the people who Jesus is and give evidence of His Love for them.

There are so many organizations that are doing this well – so many people who are coming alongside local churches and communities and orphanages all over the world and bolstering them in the areas of physical need so that they can more readily meet the spiritual needs of their own communities. If you’re looking for an organization to support and perhaps even take a short term mission trip with, start by looking at one of these organizations. While there are many doing this very thing, I can personally endorse two of them if you are looking for an organization to join on a short term mission trip.

Servant’s Heart Ministry is based out of Nashville and they work primarily in Dominican Republic right now. They are doing just what I laid out – they work closely with local pastors in the villages they serve to make sure that the children are getting what they need from a physical standpoint (food, proper nutrition, health care and dental care) and they are telling the children that they aren’t forgotten by God.

IsleGo Ministries is working to connect the Church as one body all over the globe. They work closely with churches all over the world, but most specifically in the Caribbean. IsleGo takes hundreds of families, pastors, youth and college students every year to their numerous established locations where they work to meet the needs of the local people, to connect hearts with one another and to strengthen the Church as a whole.

Both of these organizations are doing short term mission not just right, but extremely well. And for those of you with young children, both of these organizations offer short term mission trips for families with children as young as 5, and what a blessing it is to serve alongside your young children.

I know this post was long so thanks for sticking with me. What are your thoughts on short term mission trips? How have you seen lives impacted by a short term mission?

Filed Under: faith, Family, Grace, Ministry, Missions Weeks Tagged With: Islego Ministries, missions, Servants Heart Ministry, serving with children, Short Term Mission Trips are effective

Wordless Wednesday: Out of the Mouths of Babes

July 3, 2013 by Kelli

No words from me today. I’ll let the kids do the talking. I’d love for you to come back tomorrow when I talk about why I think Short Term Mission trips are a GOOD idea. Short term missions have gotten a lot of flak lately, but there are good things happening all over the world as a result of short term mission groups.

But first…today. The kids have shared their thoughts on what they learned and what stood out to them on our trip last week. Prepare yourselves for a little bit of heart melting.

Filed Under: faith, Family, Grace, Kids, Kids do the darndest things, Ministry, Missions Weeks Tagged With: Dominican Republic, faith, Faith and Children, Family Mission Trip, God, Grace, Kids and missions, Servants Heart Ministry

Because He Loves Us

June 27, 2013 by Kelli

We drove through gorgeous countryside today. Looming mountains painted against vibrant blue sky, palm trees swaying in the breeze as rows and rows of banana trees buzzed by our windows. The landscape was marred only by the absolute poverty that dotted each hillside.

Tin houses stand testament to the fact that Dominican Republic, though beautiful, is very much in need.

We did what little we could today to help meet the most basic of needs. We fed children a hot meal. We sang songs and played games and taught them the very basic importance of taking care of their teeth. We showed them how to brush and floss and through an interpreter explained the reasons why we need to take care of our teeth.

Then the dentist in our midst calmly looked in each child’s mouth and, with the permission of their parents, pulled teeth that were so rotten they caused intense pain.

There is nothing magical about what we’re doing, nor is it really all that inspirational. We’re just meeting a need – an easy need. Food, hygiene, love, laughter and at the end we told them why.

We love them only because Jesus first loved us and He loves them because He’s God.

If you know of anyone who needs to see love today, don’t hesitate to act. Don’t wait or think about it or even “pray” about it. Just do it. Look for the needs, the ones near and the ones far, and do something. I’m saying this to you, but I’m also saying it to myself.

And when you do it, take your kids. They’ll surprise the heck out of you.

Blessings.

To read more about the people at Servant’s Heart Ministry who are leading this trip, and who are meeting the basic needs of hundreds of children in Dominican Republic, click here.

Filed Under: faith, Family, Grace, Ministry, Missions Weeks, Travel Tagged With: Dominican Republic, Family Missions, Meeting Needs, Ministry with kids, Servants Heart Ministry, Serving others, Travel with kids

untitled

June 20, 2013 by Kelli

I am continuing to revel in inspiration this week, as well as being blessed by friends who love me so much, they even work hard behind the scenes to surprise me. Jenni came to town for our trip – my dear friend who I’ve missed so much sacrificed time with her family, rented a car and drove here to meet us and did it as a surprise.

I am more than inspired – I am honored.

This quiche from the quaint little downtown area was lick the plate good.

Me. Honored and inspired and wearing my sassy hat.

It’s a horse with a fascinator!

Four women teeming with creativity, bravery and wicked humor.

Hope brimming

Filed Under: faith, Friendship, Grace, iPhone, Novel, Photography, Travel, writing Tagged With: California, Food, Good friends, Inspire, Novel, Photography, Writer's Retreat

The Rhythm of Celestial Experience

June 12, 2013 by Kelli

“Music. A meaningless acceleration in the rhythm of celestial experience.”

C.S. Lewis, The Screwtape Letters

As a music lover, a singer and a worshiper in the church, I find myself more and more learning and understanding the art of worship, because it really is an art. Worship cannot be approached devoid of passion and yet, so often, that’s exactly what happens. I watch as worshipers, both on stage and in the congregation, stand unmoved, unimpressed, sometimes even annoyed, throughout the entire worship portion of a church service and I want to grab them by the hand and squeeze tight while whispering in their ears, “This is the God of the Universe to whom we sing. Rejoice and be glad!”

I don’t do that, of course, because that would be weird and slightly intrusive…

There are some obvious reasons to me why this happens to worshipers and they are reasons that I understand. Some of them are valid and some just need to be worked through a bit. (And to make things perfectly clear, the specific worship I am discussing here today is the actual worship portion of a church service. Not the every day worship of living out faith.)

The first reason why I think many struggle to worship passionately is a perceived lack of talent. I see it in their eyes, sometimes even in the ones standing in front of the microphone. There is a fleeting (or not so fleeting) look of fear, of doubt, maybe even embarrassment as they begin to sing. I can almost see the thought bubble float above their heads.

I’m not good enough.

There is some truth to the idea that a person leading worship should, indeed, be able to carry a tune and carry it well. Beautiful harmonies accelerate the rhythm of celestial experience and there’s no way to get around that. But most churches have some process of vetting singers, so if you’ve been placed before a microphone by the person in charge, chances are you have been given that responsibility with some measure of confidence so my advice to you is this: embrace it.

If you are actual leader of worship, lead boldly and passionately. Don’t look out at the congregation with wide, scared eyes like your grandma shoved you on stage and ordered you to sing. Sing because you can and smile because you enjoy it.

Read the rest at KelliStuart.com

Filed Under: faith, Grace, Ministry Tagged With: faith, Kelli Stuart.com, Song, Worship

Why we need to talk about Kermit Gosnell

May 14, 2013 by Kelli

When I read the guilty verdict for Philadelphia “doctor” Kermit Gosnell, I felt an overwhelming satisfaction followed immediately by sadness. The stories surrounding this man have been sickening and wretched, so horrific in nature that reading an article about his practices caused a visceral reaction of rage and sorrow.

You want to know the measure of a monster? Look no further than Kermit Gosnell.

There has been a lot of online chatter about the silence of the mainstream media during the Gosnell trial. If a reporter’s mantra is “If it bleeds, it leads,” then why weren’t they covering this story?

There are a couple of reasons why I think the mainstream media ignored this story. First, as Kristen Howerton points out, this story wasn’t new. Gosnell was first arrested in 2011 and the news of his arrest broke then on most major news stations then. So technically, in the world of broadcast journalism, this could have been deemed old news and old news is no news, right?

I don’t agree, but I see the argument.

I think a larger part of the reason this story was largely ignored is because it cannot be covered without addressing the pressing inconsistencies in the defense of abortion.

No one, including the staunchest of abortion supporters, will deny that Kermit Gosnell’s practices were ugly, brutal, terrifying and wickedly wrong. Even Planned Parenthood, one of the largest performers of abortion in the country, issued a statement celebrating Gosnell’s guilty verdict.

But why? What is it about Gosnell’s practices that differentiate him from other doctors who perform abortions? Why were those three infants considered more valuable than the thousands of children that are aborted in utero?

Is it because the three infants that he was convicted of murdering actually breathed oxygen on their own rather than being supplied oxygen through their mother’s placenta? Is that all that sets them apart? There is a serious problem with that logic, because if we deem someone who doesn’t breathe oxygen on their own as incompatible with life, then what about the countless people who are on a ventilator?

I speak of this topic frankly, but please hear my heart. If you are a woman who has chosen abortion in the past, I hold no judgement in my heart for the decision that you made. I cannot imagine the fear and pain that accompanies the decision to have an abortion and I offer nothing but a deep felt sympathy for the experience you may have had.

That said, this topic cannot be laid to rest and we need to continue to educate and fight not for a woman’s right to choose, but for a child’s right to live. Pope John Paul II once said that “a society will be judged on the basis of how it treats its weakest members; and among the most vulnerable are surely the unborn and the dying.”

Gosnell’s conviction is good because it defends the weakest – infants whose spines were snipped with scissors and who died slowly and painfully in the hands of a monster. My heart aches for the mothers whose lives will forever be haunted by the practices of Kermit Gosnell – women who thought they had no other option and who were led astray by a wicked, evil man.

I am a believer in a woman’s right to choose, however, I believe that we need more education so that a woman will choose life rather than choosing abortion. There are so many studies on the emotional and physical effects of abortion. We cannot believe that such a choice will be free of lasting consequences. Women must have a better understanding of these long term psychological effects.

There is no more vulnerable among us than the unborn. We can try to separate the consequences of abortion by labeling a child in utero a “fetus,” but it does not change the scientific nature of the little lives lost. The only thing that separates an infant in utero from an infant outside the womb is the ability to breathe oxygen unassisted. Even at ten weeks in utero, all a child’s bodily functions are developed. Could the child survive outside the womb? No. But that cannot be a justification.

This topic is so difficult and for some of you it stirs up painful memories and emotions. I do not for a second think that choosing abortion was easy or comfortable and I’m so sorry for those of you who must live with the pain of that choice. My heart physically aches at the thought.

But we cannot give up or ignore this topic because the most vulnerable of our society are at stake. While Kermit Gosnell’s practices were sick and awful, the outcome of what he accomplished is no different from those who perform abortions in utero. We need to talk about this and we need to be quick to offer pregnant women who feel trapped in their circumstances different options.

Because I believe in the right for a woman to choose – I just believe that she, and her unborn child, will be better off in the long run if she chooses life.

(And before we spiral down a rabbit trail, let me just acknowledge that there are circumstances when abortion seems to be the only option. I had a friend who suffered an ectopic pregnancy and chose to have the child surgically removed from her fallopian tube because not to do so could have killed both her and the child – a gut wrenching and difficult choice. This topic is hard, trust me, I know that it is. But we can’t brush it under the rug with broad generalizations and defenses built on quick sand.)

Thoughts? How are we doing as a society?

Filed Under: Blogging, faith, Family, Grace, politics Tagged With: Abortion, Grace, Guilty Verdict, Kermit Gosnell, politics, Right to Choose

Radical Friendship

May 2, 2013 by Kelli

Friends are important for so many reasons.

We were not created to be a solitary group of creatures. Companionship is necessary. We are made to live together. Friends fill in the cavernous spaces of the heart. They offer laughter when tears threaten. They fill the silences and keep life from ever growing dull. For all people, friends are incredibly important.

For women, friendship is a necessity. Without the blessing of friendship, we ladies would grow old too quickly. We would be shrewd and angry and sad and…lonely. Good friends call you just to say hi, they drop real life letters in the mail (the kind made of paper with honest to goodness writing on it) and they bring you a Green Tea straight up because they paid attention that last time you met at Starbucks.

Good friends know that when a friend is in need, even if she lives several states away, you get on a plane, grab a hotel room and cry cross legged on the floor together.

You know what else good friends do?

They read your novel and tell you what they loved, what they didn’t and prescribe a heavy dose of poetry to cure the rough patches of the books. Good friends take your desperate email with a plea for help in writing a bio for the book proposal because if they leave you to try and conquer this task on your own, the bio will read:

“Kelli is a little bit sweet and a whole lot sassy. She enjoys long, luxurious walks on the beach, a hot bath and reading her Bible every day. She is a Calypso Queen who spends her days frolicking in the clouds of her imagination. She loves hummingbirds, ice cream and daisies and believes that books make the world a better place.”

I’m kidding with that example, but just barely. I hate writing bios. I find few things more awkward and uncomfortable than trying to describe myself in the third person. So I dashed out a very basic outline of a bio (and no joke, I looked through a minimum of fifteen books, reading through every author’s bio so I could make myself sound super author-y and radical…).

Then I sent it off to my friends who quickly shaped it up, cleaned out the fluff, laughed at with me, and gave it back sounding much more author-y and radical. I also sent them a group of head shots and asked for help picking the right one because ACK! The pressure.

Not to worry, though. One of these friends? She’s an actress as well as a writer so she has some expertise in the area of head shots. She got me straightened out.

Yep, friends are important for a lot of reasons. Even if they live hundreds (or thousands) of miles away, they can still have a huge influence and impact. What’s even better about this story is I will be reunited with my two dear (and helpful) friends in just one short month when we make our annual trek out to California for our writer’s retreat.

I am blessed. So, so blessed.

So go hug a friend today, everyone! Send a letter, pick up the phone, share the love! I’m going to stop before this blog post ends up as ridiculous and cheesy as one of my bios…

*wink*

Filed Under: Friendship, Grace, Travel, writing Tagged With: Awkward Bios, Blessed, Friends make me awesome, Friendship