We listened to a three hour donor maintenance webinar today that was actually for the ministry we work for, but we couldn't help but draw the personal conclusions since we are in the midst of raising our missions budget.
We have another three hours tomorrow that I think are suppose to be more nitty gritty, so I will be interested to see the details.
A lot of what the firm is suggesting has to do with creating and developing relationship with donors that is beyond asking for money. The good news is that a lot of what we did last time we raised money was instinctively (or left over communications degree knowledge) relational. The only way we knew to work was to get to know people/churches until we finally met our budget.
But now it has to go to deeper. That's what we're learning. Lots of networking, somehow linking your communications medium together (like this blog - or maybe our official missionary one), websites, email etc. Communicating about things that aren't always fund raising. I don't know where to start or how. I want to be really good at helping people know how important their giving is and how much we appreciate their efforts.
What makes you feel connected and want to participate (in a financial or personal way) in a non-profit, charitable or religious organization?
29 April 2010
22 April 2010
Ring of Fire
A couple weeks ago, I got to witness the spectacular prairie fires of the Flint Hills. During the day, these were marked by giant plumes of smoke billowing in the distance and then as we drew nearer we would see pockets of fire gnawing it's way across cattle country in thin lines. But then we saw them at night. Incredible - one of the new wonders of the world in my opinion. I'm so glad we saw them.
It was other worldly and surreal. Rings of orange fire burning on a totally black background and gray smoke differentiating the sky. The fire burns in small lines and uses up the dried winter wisps of prairie grass. It isn't a raging fire but pockets, lines, and rings. When it meets a damp spot or a gulley, it just dies out.
We read at the truck stop that the fires are set and also occur naturally as lightening strikes with the spring storms. Also the Native American's used to set the fires to have better grazing lands that would attract buffalo herds.
It also said that the fires are good for the vegatation. Apparently a variety of grasses and wildflowers are rooted 10-15 feet deep in the rolling hills and without the fires, the full scope of vegatation won't happen. A couple weeks later driving through the same section, it was already getting green and the parts that had not burned were still a tangle of brown winter grass.
I was thinking how as people it is so hard to change. We don't want the challenges and the suffering that life brings. I was thinking about the economic fire that is burning in the world today. What if we need the surface scorched off in a brief prairie fire in order to let the good, deeper things emerge? Will we know what is important and what our priorities are because we've had to go through this economic fire? God can use the scorched earth of these hard times to bring out the better and deeper things in us. Something beautiful, full, rich and green. If only I can see past the fire, to the wildflowers and bounty beyond.
It was other worldly and surreal. Rings of orange fire burning on a totally black background and gray smoke differentiating the sky. The fire burns in small lines and uses up the dried winter wisps of prairie grass. It isn't a raging fire but pockets, lines, and rings. When it meets a damp spot or a gulley, it just dies out.
We read at the truck stop that the fires are set and also occur naturally as lightening strikes with the spring storms. Also the Native American's used to set the fires to have better grazing lands that would attract buffalo herds.
It also said that the fires are good for the vegatation. Apparently a variety of grasses and wildflowers are rooted 10-15 feet deep in the rolling hills and without the fires, the full scope of vegatation won't happen. A couple weeks later driving through the same section, it was already getting green and the parts that had not burned were still a tangle of brown winter grass.
I was thinking how as people it is so hard to change. We don't want the challenges and the suffering that life brings. I was thinking about the economic fire that is burning in the world today. What if we need the surface scorched off in a brief prairie fire in order to let the good, deeper things emerge? Will we know what is important and what our priorities are because we've had to go through this economic fire? God can use the scorched earth of these hard times to bring out the better and deeper things in us. Something beautiful, full, rich and green. If only I can see past the fire, to the wildflowers and bounty beyond.
13 April 2010
Green, green, green
After living in a very brown environment, Madrid, Spain, and after surviving the snow every other day winter of Kansas City, I am reveling in the green of spring. Mercifully despite a late snow, it didn't freeze out the flowering trees or bushes and everything has bloomed gloriously. I'm lovin' it!
While the tulip trees are shedding their brief moment of pink and white, I noticed today that many, many yards in the area are rioting with purple violet-type flowers or stalks of light purple flowers and the accompanying dandilions. Green, purple, and yellow. It's a beautiful pallet and I was delighted with it walking today.
Now, I know in, ahem shall we say, other neighborhoods this would not be acceptable. The grass would be a respectable deep green and there would be none of this frolicking of purple and yellow mixed in to the pristine green.
I love, love, love the flower mixture in a yard. It is so casual and happy, even if it is not what a yard is "suppose" to be. I've never had the perfect yard so maybe I'm biased.
On the other hand, a big patch of that perfect green, makes me want to disregard my dignity and roll on my back in the yard like a happy pouch. I guess me wallowing in the perfect greenness would take some of the prperness out of it, huh?
While the tulip trees are shedding their brief moment of pink and white, I noticed today that many, many yards in the area are rioting with purple violet-type flowers or stalks of light purple flowers and the accompanying dandilions. Green, purple, and yellow. It's a beautiful pallet and I was delighted with it walking today.
Now, I know in, ahem shall we say, other neighborhoods this would not be acceptable. The grass would be a respectable deep green and there would be none of this frolicking of purple and yellow mixed in to the pristine green.
I love, love, love the flower mixture in a yard. It is so casual and happy, even if it is not what a yard is "suppose" to be. I've never had the perfect yard so maybe I'm biased.
On the other hand, a big patch of that perfect green, makes me want to disregard my dignity and roll on my back in the yard like a happy pouch. I guess me wallowing in the perfect greenness would take some of the prperness out of it, huh?
06 April 2010
Must we?
Lately I've been wondering why we can't all get along.
Recently I've come across several fairly vicious Christian criticisms of other Christians. I know in the course of the world the denominations of Christianity have split over a host of doctrinal issues. I have no doubt that the crucial doctrine in question seemed important enough to start a new church...but now we have a lot of name brands if you will that mostly agree on a lot of things. I'm not saying denominations should give up their differences what's bothering me is the individual attacks.
Take for instance the worship wars. The debate between old and new music. Style in my opinion but someone recently said the new style has no depth and is useless and not spiritual at all. I'm willing to say all things are not beneficial but much is about perspective and to right off an entire portion of the population because you don't like it is pretty rough stuff. The thing is this goes both ways; the older people don't like the new music and the younger people don't like the old music. No one is happy. We can't look around and say, I don't like this but it ministers to someone here, so I will close my eyes and worship God and ignore what I don't like. I would argue it's style but someone recently told me - no, there is no content. Wow.
A VERY popular book in recent years referred to as cultic, major hits by major radio/tv preachers at other really famous preacher guys. Emerging "style" or mega-church style versus old school. It's not an argument of style but an accusation of only tickling ears and leading people astray. Astray? So the basic tenet of Jesus born of a virgin, died, rose from the dead and he is the only way isn't common ground that you can say, "Hey, I don't like your style" and just go on?
Is there so little evil in the world that the Christian community has to resort to attacking itself? Is what in my perview is style so important that we send our fellow believers to hell on these things? I know sometimes the doctrinal issues pop up in these things. I went to a church for several years and finally one day had to say, that doctrine isn't lining up with my Bible. While I moved on and I'm uncomfortable with certain tv preachers and that version of Christianity, I wouldn't say those people are going to hell. I also wouldn't contributre to their ministry or encourage others in that path. But do I need to lambast them?
Nevermind the individual version of this where we judge people for hair or clothes or smelling of smoke or drink or whatever. We seem to be on the judging train both corporately for other versions of church as well as individually for those personal sins and issues as well.
What a shock that the people who don't go to church don't want to come. I have tried to imagine the impact we human beings could have if we loved like Jesus, unconditionally and yet with such purity it makes sin run. I know I'm not doing that idea justice, what about you?
Recently I've come across several fairly vicious Christian criticisms of other Christians. I know in the course of the world the denominations of Christianity have split over a host of doctrinal issues. I have no doubt that the crucial doctrine in question seemed important enough to start a new church...but now we have a lot of name brands if you will that mostly agree on a lot of things. I'm not saying denominations should give up their differences what's bothering me is the individual attacks.
Take for instance the worship wars. The debate between old and new music. Style in my opinion but someone recently said the new style has no depth and is useless and not spiritual at all. I'm willing to say all things are not beneficial but much is about perspective and to right off an entire portion of the population because you don't like it is pretty rough stuff. The thing is this goes both ways; the older people don't like the new music and the younger people don't like the old music. No one is happy. We can't look around and say, I don't like this but it ministers to someone here, so I will close my eyes and worship God and ignore what I don't like. I would argue it's style but someone recently told me - no, there is no content. Wow.
A VERY popular book in recent years referred to as cultic, major hits by major radio/tv preachers at other really famous preacher guys. Emerging "style" or mega-church style versus old school. It's not an argument of style but an accusation of only tickling ears and leading people astray. Astray? So the basic tenet of Jesus born of a virgin, died, rose from the dead and he is the only way isn't common ground that you can say, "Hey, I don't like your style" and just go on?
Is there so little evil in the world that the Christian community has to resort to attacking itself? Is what in my perview is style so important that we send our fellow believers to hell on these things? I know sometimes the doctrinal issues pop up in these things. I went to a church for several years and finally one day had to say, that doctrine isn't lining up with my Bible. While I moved on and I'm uncomfortable with certain tv preachers and that version of Christianity, I wouldn't say those people are going to hell. I also wouldn't contributre to their ministry or encourage others in that path. But do I need to lambast them?
Nevermind the individual version of this where we judge people for hair or clothes or smelling of smoke or drink or whatever. We seem to be on the judging train both corporately for other versions of church as well as individually for those personal sins and issues as well.
What a shock that the people who don't go to church don't want to come. I have tried to imagine the impact we human beings could have if we loved like Jesus, unconditionally and yet with such purity it makes sin run. I know I'm not doing that idea justice, what about you?
25 March 2010
What do you read?
Not what are you reading, but what is it you read habitually? In writing, you constantly hear the phrase write what you know. I think this means more the style of things you read, not that you are knowledgeable about everything you write. By that rule, you'd have to murder someone to write a mystery - not a good plan. Research can take the place of knowing what you write.
I have always felt slightly bothered that I wrote for newspapers for years and I've never been an avid newspaper writer. Should I have been more of a news reader to be a reporter? I enjoyed my job. I rarely read my stories again after I wrote them and rarely read my coworkers articles.
I read magazines but not voraciously. I had a conversation with someone a few months ago who said they never read books but mainly magazines. I found this interesting because I like magazines but I usually would prefer to read a novel if I have one going. Often I read a magazine to sort of cleanse my reading palette between books. Magazines stack up in my house and eventually feel like work.
I've also tried reading nonfiction books after each fiction book. This has only been the last couple years. I find I'm impatient for the nonfiction books to end and if it a particularly stressful episode of life, I'm irritable if I am not getting my dose of escape from real life in my fiction.
Some people don't even read -- this amazes me. I totally don't get that. Perhaps you can explain it to me if you are one of those. I am lost without something to read and maybe almost panicky if I don't feel I can lay my hands on some reading material.
So (other than blogs! ha) what do you read?
I have always felt slightly bothered that I wrote for newspapers for years and I've never been an avid newspaper writer. Should I have been more of a news reader to be a reporter? I enjoyed my job. I rarely read my stories again after I wrote them and rarely read my coworkers articles.
I read magazines but not voraciously. I had a conversation with someone a few months ago who said they never read books but mainly magazines. I found this interesting because I like magazines but I usually would prefer to read a novel if I have one going. Often I read a magazine to sort of cleanse my reading palette between books. Magazines stack up in my house and eventually feel like work.
I've also tried reading nonfiction books after each fiction book. This has only been the last couple years. I find I'm impatient for the nonfiction books to end and if it a particularly stressful episode of life, I'm irritable if I am not getting my dose of escape from real life in my fiction.
Some people don't even read -- this amazes me. I totally don't get that. Perhaps you can explain it to me if you are one of those. I am lost without something to read and maybe almost panicky if I don't feel I can lay my hands on some reading material.
So (other than blogs! ha) what do you read?
18 March 2010
Elizabeth Gilbert on nurturing creativity | Video on TED.com
Elizabeth Gilbert on nurturing creativity | Video on TED.com
Now this is not spiritual in the evangelical sense whatsoever, but it is a 19 minute discussion of the writer's internal life that is perhaps one of the most freeing things I've ever heard. Elizabeth describes the angst of the eternal what-if that torments the writing life. What if this book is no good, what if I'm no good.... And she follows this with a discussion of how some parts of history viewed the muse. She doesn't use the word muse but I'm using that to abbreviate the idea of the writing life. If I can apply this, I think it take me to a new place with my writing life. Imagine being able to sit down and rather than a weight on my chest of fear and what-if, that I could simply enjoy the craft and, yes, put in the hard work of editing but without the emotional trauma that I have made go with it.
Oddly enough, this also applies to my missionary (aka fund raiser) life. I have been very unbalanced as of late. The same voices that have tormented me as a writer (and perhaps as a perfectionist) have tormented me in this alternative world I live in as well. What if I haven't done enough? What if I'm not doing it right? What if I'm just bad at this and the enterprise fails? It's a really worthy thing I feel compelled to do here and I don't want it to fail - because of me.
So what if I could convert all this emotional energy into something useful? In her monologue, Elizabeth sort of refers tongue in cheek to fairy dust and speaking outloud to this thing, this creative torment that for many accompanies the process. I know that for us with a belief in God that we would say, oh no that's wrong, she's praying to something that is not God. I disagree. Her intent, the way I view it, is more about speaking to the fears that lie within and putting them in their place than addressing someone other than God.
I want to say to my fears or my creativeness or I've heard another writer refer to it as the internal editor -- I want to say: I showed up. I did my part. The outcome is not my fault. It just is what it is. And yes, if I am at all capable of doing so, at this point I would like to put it in to God's hands, and if it is possible for my personality type, leave it there.
In writing, another what-if exists. It is the what-if that makes good stories. You see something in a shop, or a thought goes through your mind, yes, but what if this character suddenly did this or what if circumstances turned against her and then this happened? Ooooooo, and then you start pulling at the string that makes the story in your mind.
What if I could live out the ideas I have just described?
Now this is not spiritual in the evangelical sense whatsoever, but it is a 19 minute discussion of the writer's internal life that is perhaps one of the most freeing things I've ever heard. Elizabeth describes the angst of the eternal what-if that torments the writing life. What if this book is no good, what if I'm no good.... And she follows this with a discussion of how some parts of history viewed the muse. She doesn't use the word muse but I'm using that to abbreviate the idea of the writing life. If I can apply this, I think it take me to a new place with my writing life. Imagine being able to sit down and rather than a weight on my chest of fear and what-if, that I could simply enjoy the craft and, yes, put in the hard work of editing but without the emotional trauma that I have made go with it.
Oddly enough, this also applies to my missionary (aka fund raiser) life. I have been very unbalanced as of late. The same voices that have tormented me as a writer (and perhaps as a perfectionist) have tormented me in this alternative world I live in as well. What if I haven't done enough? What if I'm not doing it right? What if I'm just bad at this and the enterprise fails? It's a really worthy thing I feel compelled to do here and I don't want it to fail - because of me.
So what if I could convert all this emotional energy into something useful? In her monologue, Elizabeth sort of refers tongue in cheek to fairy dust and speaking outloud to this thing, this creative torment that for many accompanies the process. I know that for us with a belief in God that we would say, oh no that's wrong, she's praying to something that is not God. I disagree. Her intent, the way I view it, is more about speaking to the fears that lie within and putting them in their place than addressing someone other than God.
I want to say to my fears or my creativeness or I've heard another writer refer to it as the internal editor -- I want to say: I showed up. I did my part. The outcome is not my fault. It just is what it is. And yes, if I am at all capable of doing so, at this point I would like to put it in to God's hands, and if it is possible for my personality type, leave it there.
In writing, another what-if exists. It is the what-if that makes good stories. You see something in a shop, or a thought goes through your mind, yes, but what if this character suddenly did this or what if circumstances turned against her and then this happened? Ooooooo, and then you start pulling at the string that makes the story in your mind.
What if I could live out the ideas I have just described?
11 March 2010
Comparing travelogues
I'm Off Then: My Journey Along the Camino De Santiago
by Hape Kerkeling
I read these two books in the last couple months and wanted to compare and contrast them a little. Both were written by European men who took a walk - a long, long walk across chunks of countries. One a comedian by trade and the other a historian, author. One walked one of the most walked/famous pilgrimages in the world and the other across a recently liberated from the Taliban Afghanistan. by Hape Kerkeling
I tend to read mystery fiction as my first choice of books, but one of my favorite books of all time is a travelogue by Peter Mayle about moving and living in the south of France which I find intriguing since it is not my usual reading choice.
"I'm off then" was recommended to me by a German friend who is married to a Spaniard. It was a real book of spiritual exploration on the camino which runs across the north of Spain. I was interested because of both the spiritual aspect and the Spanish aspect. I've been fascinated by the camino but not enough to actually walk my behind across it for weeks at a time. I enjoyed his self depreciating humor, his willingness to complain and not glamourize the journey. The spirituality of it was perplexing because he was raised with a Roman Catholic version of God and came to embrace a somewhat ethereal, esoteric version on his journey which as one raised in evangelicalism was somewhat uncomfortable for me, but interesting all the same to see so intimately into someone's spiritual thoughts.
"The Places in Between" was something I found exploring the travelogue section of a book store in Arizona. I'm interested in learning more about the Islamic cultures and that is why I bought it. The author had walked across several countries in the region and had skipped Afghanistan because of the Taliban and found an opportunity to walk it in 2002. It is a much more serious book with strong introspection, neutrality on much of the culture while describing it fairly. The physical aspect of his journey was frank but no complaints or humor were involved. It had more flowery descriptions that could only be described as literary. I feel I learned a lot about Islamic perspective through an outsider's eyes and I don't regret the read.
I feel I learned and enjoyed both books, but "The Places in Between" was more like researching than pleasure reading for me and "I'm off Then" was more light and enjoyable while still strong on provoking thoughts.
It was interesting to accidentally read two books of walking journeys in close succession with such different perspectives. Depending on your taste in books, they both had value, but were very different. I surprise myself a little that I read them both.
Oh, and I receive no royalties or kickbacks, or free books for that matter, for this "review."
05 March 2010
All work and no play?
I've been pondering what makes something pleasant or fun and where is the line where it crosses over to pure work. I have dabbled with some hobbies and plunged myself deeply into others.
Right now for instance I'm in the process of reupholstering a couch. I'm not doing this out of any creative instinct. I inherited (borrowed? stole?) it from the basement of my parents house.I'm only going to be here a year or so but the furniture in question looked a bit like raccoons had lived on it and it needed a refreshing. So I'm pushing myself to get it done sooner rather than later. You know what? It's not fun and I'm not that good at reupholstering. I have a sore back and I just want a clean couch.
Gardening falls into that same category. On a nice day, I think I'll go pull weeds or plant flowers or something. After about an hour and only half way or less through the project, I'm really not having fun. It's like the idea of these things is fun and drives me to do them but in the end it's just...well, work.
I've been debating the same issue in regard to writing. I always have wanted to tell stories. The idea of stories come to my mind and I want to develop them. Totally different from gardening, it is very, very hard to sit down to start the writing. Something akin to being trapped in a traffic jam - you go out of your way to avoid it. But when I do write a story, sometimes once you get going a magical moment occurs where you are inside the story like you are watching a movie that moment is great fun. You lose track of time and live the story for a few moments. The bad news is no story is ever complete with one magical pass at putting words on paper. The next step is killing your darlings -- editing, editing, and editing some more. This is like having my fingernails removed without anesthetic. So I wonder, why do I keep doing it?I seem driven or obsessed.
Is it work or play? Yes.
Right now for instance I'm in the process of reupholstering a couch. I'm not doing this out of any creative instinct. I inherited (borrowed? stole?) it from the basement of my parents house.I'm only going to be here a year or so but the furniture in question looked a bit like raccoons had lived on it and it needed a refreshing. So I'm pushing myself to get it done sooner rather than later. You know what? It's not fun and I'm not that good at reupholstering. I have a sore back and I just want a clean couch.
Gardening falls into that same category. On a nice day, I think I'll go pull weeds or plant flowers or something. After about an hour and only half way or less through the project, I'm really not having fun. It's like the idea of these things is fun and drives me to do them but in the end it's just...well, work.
I've been debating the same issue in regard to writing. I always have wanted to tell stories. The idea of stories come to my mind and I want to develop them. Totally different from gardening, it is very, very hard to sit down to start the writing. Something akin to being trapped in a traffic jam - you go out of your way to avoid it. But when I do write a story, sometimes once you get going a magical moment occurs where you are inside the story like you are watching a movie that moment is great fun. You lose track of time and live the story for a few moments. The bad news is no story is ever complete with one magical pass at putting words on paper. The next step is killing your darlings -- editing, editing, and editing some more. This is like having my fingernails removed without anesthetic. So I wonder, why do I keep doing it?I seem driven or obsessed.
Is it work or play? Yes.
24 February 2010
Peek a boo
A large part of our fundraising endeavor means going to different locations to speak several times a week. Most of these so far have been small town churches. I've been thinking about that network program where they pick a place on the map and randomly choose some one and tell their story. We get to peek inside the lives of small town churches, pastors, and individuals all the time. It could totally be a documentary or a sociology project to go to so many different places and experience so many micro-cultures.
I love the chatting that goes on in the backrooms and entries of the churches. It's amazing to hear stories from World War II vets who have never been back to Europe. To look at pictures of daughters away at college studying media. To hear of a small church of older ladies that bakes cookies so the community will know they care. I enjoy the after glows and the kind heartedness of people who tell me about somewhere they've been or always wanted to go. Watching little kids fascinated by the Chinese speaking puppets on our table dvd presentation. I love the guys wearing western wear or old tattoos that obviously hold a story that's not going to be told.
I hope I am not just a voyer on these people's lives but also a sharerer in the experiment by letting them glimpse inside my life of living in Spain, and the oddity of our fund raising life. Obviously I can't totally whine and complain to these dear people about my every frustration, but hopefully as I peek in their worlds' I give a glimpse into mine as well.
I love the chatting that goes on in the backrooms and entries of the churches. It's amazing to hear stories from World War II vets who have never been back to Europe. To look at pictures of daughters away at college studying media. To hear of a small church of older ladies that bakes cookies so the community will know they care. I enjoy the after glows and the kind heartedness of people who tell me about somewhere they've been or always wanted to go. Watching little kids fascinated by the Chinese speaking puppets on our table dvd presentation. I love the guys wearing western wear or old tattoos that obviously hold a story that's not going to be told.
I hope I am not just a voyer on these people's lives but also a sharerer in the experiment by letting them glimpse inside my life of living in Spain, and the oddity of our fund raising life. Obviously I can't totally whine and complain to these dear people about my every frustration, but hopefully as I peek in their worlds' I give a glimpse into mine as well.
17 February 2010
I'm damaging my calm
I read once in a secular self help book that even if you were a complete invalid, unable to move in your bed that you would have value. I thought that was a beautiful thought and expanded the idea to realize that we don't have to do or be doing for God to love and value us. While I believe absolutely in my mind that this is true, I can't seem to translate that down into my behavior.
Right now we are in a painful process trying to raise funds for our missionary endeavors. It's not a good economy. Churches aren't exactly having an easy time. People have cut back on giving as something they can cut. It's just a fact right now. We leave messages for 20-30 pastors a week and hear back from only a few. I understand, I wouldn't want to have to keep telling people, "No, I can't help you." It's hard for them and for us.
So what's this got to do with my value? You see I believe what I wrote in the first paragraph, but there's a voice or maybe just an emotion inside me that says..."maybe if you'd called 50 pastors, you would have a result." In my emotions that translates like this, "If you did, enough, you'd have results, and you'd be a valid human being." Now I don't actually say those words to myself, but when I boil down the emotions that's what's going on in me.
I want to know God so deeply and so well that I can accept his love that isn't based on my actions, on my earning that merit, that love, that acceptance. I want to knead the bread of my soul with God's loving me. Full stop. End of Sentence. God loves even a whiny missionary like me.
Right now we are in a painful process trying to raise funds for our missionary endeavors. It's not a good economy. Churches aren't exactly having an easy time. People have cut back on giving as something they can cut. It's just a fact right now. We leave messages for 20-30 pastors a week and hear back from only a few. I understand, I wouldn't want to have to keep telling people, "No, I can't help you." It's hard for them and for us.
So what's this got to do with my value? You see I believe what I wrote in the first paragraph, but there's a voice or maybe just an emotion inside me that says..."maybe if you'd called 50 pastors, you would have a result." In my emotions that translates like this, "If you did, enough, you'd have results, and you'd be a valid human being." Now I don't actually say those words to myself, but when I boil down the emotions that's what's going on in me.
I want to know God so deeply and so well that I can accept his love that isn't based on my actions, on my earning that merit, that love, that acceptance. I want to knead the bread of my soul with God's loving me. Full stop. End of Sentence. God loves even a whiny missionary like me.
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