what's in a name?

{Here on Hodiamont}


Peppermints. Who could have known but an 80 year old woman and the bottom of her purse how wildly popular peppermints would be among neighborhood kids. It’s hilarious. We gave some to some kiddos today and they began to pound down the door in droves asking for peppermints. In one batch of kids there was not one face that I recognized. So I asked them their names. Remember. Promise. Joy. Patricia. It seems as though someone got the short stick in the game of meaningful names.

Seriously though, when I heard them first come out of their mouths I was like whaaa these are some crazy names. Specifically Remember and Promise (who is a boy). But as I looked at them and thought about this very season in my own life their names became so beautiful and priceless to me. I don’t know that I’ll explicitly name my child remember or promise but a name meaning those very words is quite possible.

I’m sure when the day comes for me to have children I’ll want their names to be meaningful, some how embodying all the wrestling I went through with God to have them. I’ll need it for myself to remember the kindness of the Lord but also for them. For those days when I just don’t want to be a mom, when I don’t want to step back and discipline in love. When I don’t want to be patient or gentle. When I just want them to be in bed silent and asleep or saying respectful kind words to mommy. I’ll need those names repeating in my head as I’ve said them over and over throughout the day. Names like I longed and He provided, I wept and He saw, He heard my cries and answered, He is near to the brokenhearted. Names that are not just true for this season of waiting in my life but that are true forever about Him; faithful, good, provider, redeemer, Savior, Creator, God Almighty. I’ll just go ahead and tell you I’m not naming a child of mine God Almighty. So… there’s that. (sigh of relief).

At first glance it does seem as if peppermint Patty got the short stick in meaningful names but in reality her name is just as meaningful. Noble. Gentle, dignified, and excellent. So, I will Remember the Promise of my Noble Father with Joy.





“There are women named Faith, Hope, Joy, and Prudence. Why not Despair, Guilt, Rage, and Grief? It seems only right. ‘Tom, I’d like you to meet the girl of my dreams, Tragedy.’ These days Trajedi” –George Carlin, Brain Droppings

Garbage Over Glory

{Here on Hodiamont}
I was eating eggs looking out my huge front windows that open up to the courtyard below and the parking lot with the dumpster to the side. If I sit in the right spot I can look over all the buildings and just see trees. I can imagine it a quaint little spot in the city. Our apartment is warm, cozy, and inviting. It's easy to just kind of get lost up here. To hear the laughter and voices of children and families below but not actually ever really see them. On this day I was taking time to see them. To watch them. Had someone looked up at me watching them it might have looked a little strange but the Lord was speaking truth to my heart and I could not pry my eyes away.

Behind the overflowing dumpster sat 2 mattresses. Mattresses meant to be picked up with the other trash in the coming days. Trash that’s teeming with bacteria, bugs, and I’m sure rodents of sorts. The dumpster’s sides caked with food remnants, trash from bathroom’s, and unwanted filth. Still, behind this dumpster, just mere feet from it sat these mattresses on the ground. I looked on as children began to come out to play. Where else would they go but to the mattresses. Trampolines, to the children here. Others got out their soccer balls and began kicking them in the middle of the parking lot, having no regard for the vehicles they may hit accidentally. All the while a park lay on the opposite end of the dumpster lot. A park that has play ground equipment to swing on and jump off. A park that has a soccer field with a goal setup. This beautiful park sits right next to the parking lot that the children play in. They’d rather play in the dumpster and cramped spaces than to enjoy the park that’s built for what they actually want to do.

As I stared at them I thought of myself. I too, often choose the dumpster. I choose to jump on the bedbug ridden mattresses rolling around in trash rather than the park that I can see from my squalor. I choose my sin over and over again though God has given me, through Jesus, freedom from the sin that bound me and a direct path to abundant life. I imagine myself jumping on those mattresses and thinking about the green fields I’d want to run in, thinking about the freedom that I want to have if only I could get to the park.

The park is here. The way is clear. I need but to step out of the filth that so easily entangles me. To choose the green grass instead of the trash. To choose the swings instead of the mattresses. To choose life instead of death. The thing is though, that sometimes as disgusting and putrid as this trash is, I just can’t say no. Hallelujah for Yahweh knowing that about me. Knowing that I would choose garbage over glory. So, He placed His very Spirit in me that leads me away from the garbage I desire, to the glory He has destined. Amen and amen for a God who sees and knows me and has provided the way for me.

Oh Won’t You Be My Neighbor

There are a plethora of kiddos in the new place. Always a knock on the door asking for mints, selling for some fundraiser, or just wanting to chat. We open the door to the nations in our complex. Children from every ethnic background standing on my porch. Sometimes , when I just don’t have the time to entertain a slew of kids, I just look through the peep hole at their sweet little faces. It’s amazing really. Some of these kids I know from doing ministry in the community. Others I’ve seen around. And still others I meet as they bombard the front door.

The other day 2 little ones came over. And being an apartment of 3 educators we invited them in on the basis of if they could answer grade level questions. Once they were in we chatted a bit and I found myself being curled into by a kiddo who was looking at recipes with me, helping me decide what to make for the night. It was one of the weirdest/sweetest things. I had just met this little one and they already felt safe enough in our presence to be themselves. I loved that. I must say at the exact time that I felt honored to be trusted so much I thought of how I hadn’t actually earned that trust and how easily they trusted nearly anyone. I pray for their protection as they gallivant around the complex. That God would continue to bring them to trustworthy people.

A few days ago I was leaving for the evening, when a kiddo I used to tutor saw me and came running yelling my name. She plowed into me with a huge hug, which apparently set off the other kids who came running hugging me as well. I set my coffee down on the roof of my car and continued the hug fest. Prying them off of me, I said my goodbyes and got into my car. Savoring living in the community I do, I grabbed my coffee and took a drink to only be initially repulsed by the smell of my own hands. In the throws of all the hugging, my hand must have slipped into a child’s armpit. Any armpit is pretty nasty but a kiddos armpit is like 20 times worse because they haven’t yet experienced deodorant. As I recalled whose pit it might have landed in I was overcome with gratitude that I am a place of safety, trust, and hugs for many of the kids here. Drinking my coffee with the smell of the pit still lingering didn’t bother me as much then and in fact was kind of endearing.

There is never a dull moment here. Never. People always coming and going. Children always running and playing. Mothers and fathers lingering on sidewalks talking, laughing, and listening to music. A father in the community died unexpectedly last week in a car accident. The mother attempted suicide this weekend. Today a fight broke out between two Sunday picnickers. It’s never dull.

Always opportunities to engage, to pray, to be the hands and feet of Jesus to a hurting community. Always opportunities to be loved on, cared for, laughed with, and talked to.

I love this place. It’s only been 3 weeks. I know I’ve yet to experience all the community has to offer; the good, the bad, and the ugly but the Lord is bringing me to a place of seeing it all and knowing before my eyes ever beheld it He saw. He cared. He burdened hearts to enter in. It’s small and seemingly insignificant but He is working on Hodiamont.



Here's a picture that has nothing to do with what I just wrote,
 but I know people love pictures. This is from our recent church
picnic in the park.