Joy in a Tube of LipSense?

                “Whyyyyy weren’t you listening the first five times I said you must…”

                “I know you heard me blow that recess whistle, girlfriend! Don’t make me walk out there in three feet of snow!”

                “Mrs. B, someone clogged the toilet.”

                “Ahhhhh, who dumped a glass of water all over my curriculum book that costs a small fortune?!”

                Or in Bangladesh, “Girls, stop screaming, it’s just a cockroach. Ahhh, don’t throw your desk at it! No, boy, don’t pick it up!”

                Yes, I am a teacher. I love my babies to death, but boy do I need to put on my lipstick each day.

                “Wait, are you saying this lipstick will make me joyful?” No, my friend, it absolutely has no power to make you joyful. So if it will not cause you to burst at the seams with joy, why am I calling it “Joyful Lips”? To answer that question, travel with me across the oceans to a small air conditioned room in beautiful Bangladesh.

                I was sitting in a cozy circle of women soaking in wisdom from a guest speaker. This southern sister radiated love from her charismatic presence. One phrase she shared has stuck with me over the years, “Put on your joy like you put on your lipstick!”

                Muster up a smile? No. Fake it until you make it? No. Hide behind a pretty painted lip? No. Joy is not equivalent to happiness. We will not always be happy, and rightfully so. We live in a fallen world. There is pain and sorrow, and there is beauty in acknowledging and embracing that. One of God’s most powerful and captivating creations, in my opinion, is a transparent woman. I praise God for these ladies in my life! Even during seasons when happiness is fleeting, I am a daughter of the King of glory. I am redeemed and set free from my sin! That truth strengthens me with a deep, unshakeable joy within my soul. Oh yes, that is nice, but then the crazy of life happens and I need to have a little chit chat with Jesus and my soul. Sister, I need to preach this truth to myself every day! It’s all about renewing and saturating my mind in truth, every morning. Hence, I need to put on my joy like I put on my lipstick.

                Will LipSense make your heart burst with joy? No ma’am. Are you beautiful without makeup? Gorgeous. Really, you are. My hope is that this little peak into my heart will be a reminder to you of your precious worth and God’s grand story in your life. We can be joyful women, not because of our makeup, but because of our Savior who loves us with an unconditional, everlasting love. Lipstick is just a fun way to remind us of this reality every day. Whether you only like makeup occasionally, or like me, you enjoy dolling up, let your joy and exquisiteness overflow from a relationship with the lover of your soul.

LipSense makes me feel great. We are made in the image of God and therefore get to partake in His beauty. Though there is no power in the wonderful tube of goodness, it is a reminder to me of the powerful King within me who has purchased my joy and calls me to choose that joy each day. Girl, I definitely don’t remember this lesson every time I put on my lipstick, but He brings it to mind just when I need it. LipSense boosts my confidence and, from time to time, sharpens my focus. Therefore, put on your joy like you put on your lipstick.

Stranger in the Night

     A ripple of activity engulfs the streets of Chittagong and creates a collective heartbeat of life. Men in colorful lungis peddle bulky rickshaws. Dokon (small shop) owners carefully supervise their businesses. Carts overflowing with fruit are hand pulled, peddled on a bicycle, or propped along the road as workers call out items for sale. Children play on the outskirts of the traffic. Cars, buses, rickshaws, baby taxis, motorcycles, pedestrians, and occasionally even herds of cattle weave around one another, forming the core of the ripple. The colors, smells, sounds, and interactions mesmerize me as I travel each day.
    Each person carries special hopes, dreams, burdens, and heart aches. Our paths rarely intertwine for long, yet God sometimes distributes small pieces of my heart to members of the ripple. At times when I least expect it, a stranger will step into my life, and never fully exit. I met such a person today.
    On my way home from an evening meeting, I gazed through the hazy evening dusk to locate an empty rickshaw in the weaving traffic. My goal was to find a motor rickshaw because I had my hippo sized backpack, and I would be riding with a friend. I hate getting a man-powered rickshaw when I know my load will be extra heavy.
    An enthusiastic rickshawala slowed down as he approached my friend and me. He asked where we were going. Clearly, he wanted us to choose him as our mode of transportation. Sometimes these overly-eager drivers are creepy, but this older man was just sweet. I smiled and said no thank you, having already concluded that he had no motor. My friend and I kept walking for several seconds. During this time, the man turned around and slowly made his way in our direction again, but on the opposite side of the road. I noticed no other options in the immediate area, so I beckoned him over. His face beamed as I explained where we wanted to go.
    Once my friend and I were situated, the rickshawala set off at a commendable speed. Having tried to peddle a rickshaw once in my life, I now realize they are monsters to move when they are empty, yet alone when they shelter two people carrying hippo bags. My friend and I chatted as our rickshawala skillfully participated in the dance of the street.
    After dropping off my friend, I asked the man if he would continue driving and deliver me to my home. He smiled and said he would. Having noticed that I was now a single lady traveling alone at night, the man, in his most gentlemanly way, asked if he could put the top down on the rickshaw. This gave me privacy from gawking eyes. I could sense that the rickshawala would passionately protect and take care of me if the need arose. This was the moment when he became a stranger I would never forget. Once again, we swerved into the maze of activity.    
    When we reached my home, I asked him how much money he would like for the ride. He smiled a kind smile and said that it was up to me how much I wanted to pay. I gave him what I had, and wished I had more change to add to the sum. It was a more than decent payment, yet I wanted to somehow show my deep appreciation for his sweet spirit. Without him even being aware, God had ushered him into that special place in my heart where strangers who come, never fully leave.
    I handed him my money, expressed a brief comment of gratitude, and slipped through my gate. As I ascended the stairs to my apartment, I continued conversing with God. What did this man need? What were his passions, hopes, dreams, burdens, and heart aches? I did not give him anything that would radically change his life, yet there was something I had not yet given, that would. Prayer.
    Suddenly it all became clear. I do not know this man, yet God does. In that moment, I began to pray for the stranger who peddled off into the busy night. Though I will probably never see him on earth again, my great God will never leave him. Though I cannot meet his needs, my compassionate Heavenly Father longs to provide for him. As I reached my door, I praised God for the man who would forevermore hold a piece of my heart.
    I do not know what God has planned for this man. Yet this I know, he is deeply loved by the Almighty God. In moments like these, I realize that God does not call me to help every person, but he calls me to love every person. He does not ask me to solve every problem, heal every hurt, or feed every hungry soul. In the midst of these divine appointments, the radiant joy that fills my soul is that I know the One who can meet EVERY need and provide everlasting life to the heartbeats on the streets. I ask my King to reveal His glory to the strangers who carry pieces of my heart.

Patience in the Shadows

    Patience is an easy concept, yet it is a difficult practice. My ambitions soar high when I dream about the teacher I desire to become. As part of my recent reflections regarding the characteristics of an outstanding teacher, I wrote that, “An outstanding teacher is first recognizable by the glimmer of her sacrificial love. When challenges arise that drain her patience and weary her bones, she chooses love. This love seeks the best for her students. She continually fills the fountain of her patience so it scarcely runs dry. Her discipline radiates calm, yet firm, care that will grow powerful character in young hearts.” As I stand before my class, these words, my words, pierce my heart. This is who I want to be. However, getting there requires a fierce battle against my selfishness. With a deep breath and a humble prayer, I beseech my Father to enable me to mirror His patience to my students.
    This description is a glimpse into my day today. Each day has fresh challenges and budding blessings. The trick is to dance in the rain, put on the sunglasses of hope, and don the lipstick of joyfulness. Perhaps these references are too removed from context to make sense to anyone but myself. Yet, God uses them to steady my busy heart. It is through this outlook that I can enjoy the laughter, cherish the beauty, and love through the bumps.
    After this long day, I stepped through the WCA gate and onto the chaotic street. My roommates and I headed to a shop to buy outfits for a school program. Our energy was zapped, and shopping was a necessary, yet far from eagerly anticipated, feat. We headed to a series of shops and explained the articles we needed. The second shop engulfed me with a sense of God’s provision. The workers had exactly what I needed, for an incredible price, and they were perfect gentlemen. We bought two saris and set out in search of one more for my third roommate.
    The third sari turned out to be the most difficult to find. Eventually, we managed to find one and haggle a reasonable price. By this time, we were drained. A looooong day at school, busy shopping, and piles of papers to grade and lessons to plan at home, weighed us down. We stepped once more onto the busy streets, now blanketed in a sheet of evening darkness.
    Immediately, four small children rushed to our sides and grabbed our hands. They know us well. We always smile and use our limited Bangla to talk with them. They ask us for food and money, and we seek God’s guidance to best know how to love them. Today, my heart sank when I saw them. I love them, yet they required me to produce more of that slippery character I had already drained for the day, patience. I took a deep breath, drew strength from my Savior’s heart for His loved ones, and smiled down at my two new companions. They each attached themselves to my arms.
    Picture with me, three foreign women, walking through the streets of Chittagong. Every person we pass stops to stare at us, always. It is dark, we have giant turtle shells on our backs (backpacks bursting with books and papers). Cars, rickshaws, baby taxis, motorcycles, buses, bicycles, and people rush by just inches from our sides. To complete the scene, I have two small children dangling from my arms. Yes, dangling. They decided it was great fun swing at death’s door, hanging on my arms between the traffic and a wall. I quickly tried to get them near the wall, so they didn’t stumble into traffic. This is their scene though, they know how to navigate the maze, and my attempts are humorous to them.
    Are you on the streets with me yet? Can you see me trying desperately to balance myself with my fatigue, backpack, and two acrobatic children? There I was, pleading with my Father to 1. not allow me to stumble and cause the three of us to be ushered to His golden gates and 2. to please intervene in my heart and strengthen me to react in a way that honored Him. I can almost picture His smirk as He commissioned the man who was to answer that prayer.    
    I heard several rickshawalas roar at the children to leave us alone. Although I appreciate their desires to assist, their interferences never please me. No, God did not commission the angry voices to provide for His daughter today. In contrast, His servant swept in from the darkness, grabbed the arm of the little acrobat who wasn’t intimidated away by the crowd, and pulled him from my wrist. The only warning of his approach was his admonishing, “Nah, nah” (no, no) to the child before he intervened.
    My gaze intently followed him as the event quickly transpired. I was worried, because when this happens, the men usually hit the children as they drag them off. I was prepared to reclaim my acrobat if the transfer appeared hostile. To my astonishment, the man silently pulled the child down the street away from me. He did not hit, yell, or demonstrate any animosity. I watched for what seemed like quite a long time. The man secured a great distance between us, then simply let the child go. He never once demonstrated anger or unkindness.
    His actions immediately flooded my heard with a picture of my Heavenly Father’s dealings with me. When I get myself in dangerous situations, when I refuse His path of goodness, He first sends out the trumpet call of loving warning. This was like the man’s original, “Nah, nah” to the child. When my stubborn heart refuses to heed His warnings of danger, He sweeps in to rescue me. He firmly, yet tenderly, grasps my wrist and pulls me to safety. I have experienced His glorious rescue. He lifts me from the storm where the waves consume me, and He drags me to safety.
    As I scurried along the dark and busy streets, my Savior reminded me of His loving patience, firm grasp, and discipline of love. I praise God for that man who drew my gaze heavenward tonight. Once again, I ask my Father to fill the fountain of my patience. I thank Him for His patience with me, and I praise Him as my beautiful King of glory. Like His commissioned servant tonight, He grasps my wrist and lovingly leads me along His perfect path.

Starving the Beast

    There is a monster I foolishly feed. His muscles grow with each morsel that trickles from my hand. I recognize his hideous presence, for the stench of death emanates from the hairy beast. Yet tragically, I do not realize it is my hand that sustains his destructive existence. Nay, rather, it is my hand that causes his poison to spread and his trail of decay to thrive. How can I be blind to my role as an enabling companion, an accomplice of atrocities? The trick is in the glitter of his eyes, the sweetness of his facade, and the innocence of his reflection. A master of disguise is the beast that stocks me.
    His name is ever changing, his appearance masked in shallow pleasantries. His whisper promises loyalty and authenticity, yet stings when the mist of deception clears. This beast awakens the ugly tempers within me, fans the flames of frustration, offense, and judgement that spark to life at his hisses. Grace meant to engulf my relationships is evaporated before his throne, and truth is cast into the shadows of his shine.
    What hope can pierce through the despair of this catastrophic relationship? What power can cause my hand to cease providing the strength that empowers his attacks? How can I starve my beast? What death can claim him who delights in delivering death?
    Only one sword can bring my beast to his grave. Only one power can destroy the destroyer. Only one King can reign over this darkness and banish the beast to his end. Only one Savior can grasp my hands and grant me power to starve my beast. Then, on my knees before this Savior’s presence, my eyes will be opened and I will recognize the presence of my beast. The beast’s lies will lose their glitter, and the mask will dissolve as his real hideous form is revealed. On my knees before my Savior, my relationships will once again be saturated in the grace that flows from His throne. As I bow before my King, my beast will starve.

My Raindrop Battlefield

    

Our CNG ride

    This morning I woke up on the battlefield. To the untrained eye, to my very own eye, it didn’t appear to be a battlefield. My covers were cozy and the streets were humming with a peaceful melody. I rolled to my feet and casually went about my morning routine. Nothing in my surroundings sang forth an alarm of danger. Perhaps the deadliest battles are at first undetected.
    What is good attire for battle? My unlikely choice was a shari. My neighbor came to my house and helped me carefully assemble the material. Still blind to the enemy’s presence, I descended the stairs focused upon obtaining transportation to school. I glided into a slight drizzle of rain. Finding shelter under the eve of the building, I waited while the guard summoned me a CNG driver. This is when a corner of the darkness that covered my eyes began so sweep up and reveal a glimpse of the battlefield that engulfed me.
    The rain instantaneously transformed into a downpour and heavy bullets of water pelted the earth. The guard peaked his head in the gate and yelled over the rumble of raindrops that he had secured a CNG. Seeing my roommates and I huddled under the eve, he quickly bellowed forth the instruction to borrow his umbrella that was perched against the building. We sprinted toward the CNG and clumsily folder ourselves inside. The doors are crisscrossed bars, open to the weather, so our seat welcomed us with a puddle of water. The transition was quick and the guard raised his voice to call one last message to me. He roared, “Krikkit, 60 taka!” This was just a simple message to ensure I knew the price of our ride, but in the moment, it seemed like a life and death matter.
    As we sped into the morning storm, I suddenly felt like I was on the battlefield. The CNG driver swerved through the streets of Chittagong, dodging busses, honking at pedestrians, and squinting to see through the blurry waterfall that ran down his windshield. Our clothing was saturated with water when we reached the school. My roommates directed the driver to stop directly in front of the door so we could make one leap into the shelter of the building. The uncles who guard the gate heard our vehicle approach and opened the door. Their faces reflected both astonishment and amusement as they took in our rainy scene. Holding the umbrella overhead, my roommates swiftly leapt into the school courtyard. I lingered a moment more to pay the driver. All the while, the street rumbled with vehicles racing past us.
    The driver did not have change for my payment so I quickly handed my bag to my roommate in exchange for her small bills. As we made the exchange, the CNG started to roll backwards! On the busy streets of Chittagong, suddenly rolling backwards could result in quite the catastrophe. I let out a little shriek and the driver quickly regained control of his breaks. He took the money with a big grin, and I prepared for my leap into the building. Leaping is not particularly easy when wearing a shari, but I somehow managed.
    The uncles closed the door and I assessed my sodden state. The event almost seemed surreal to me. We all wore giant smiles, spread across our faces, as the bunch of us reflected on what had just transpired. After collecting my bag, I made my way to the meeting in my classroom. Although I had survived the battle of the rainstorm, my mind was now keenly aware of the spiritual battle I was called to face that day.
    When I rolled out of bed and sleepily planted my feet on the floor, the battle was already well under way. God warns that, “Our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the powers, against the world forces of darkness, against the spiritual forces of wickedness in the heavenly places (Ephesians 6:12). My surroundings appear serene, but there is a battle waging for my allegiance. The war is won, but the battles rage on. The enemy is seeking to deceive me, to dissatisfy me, to distract me, and to devour me. Regardless of my acknowledgement, I am always at the center of the battlefield.
    It is when I lock eyes with my Commander and Chief, the lover and redeemer of my soul, that I find clarity and victory. Strength wells up and purpose bursts forth to transform the world as I follow my King through the battle. Yes, I am on the battlefield. God used bullets of raindrops to remind me of this important fact today. Apathy, ignorance, rejection, and laziness will not remove me from the battlefield, they will only remove victory from my grasp. With renewed vision, I engage in the battle and rest in the joy, peace, and hope of my King, knowing that the war is won.

A Lovely Trek

    Jet leg has some wonderful side effects. I have been going to bed at about 9pm and waking up early. Normally I don’t like waking up early, so I love this routine! Today is Saturday, but with school starting tomorrow, my roommates and I woke up early and spent most of the day at school. My room is beginning to look like a superhero lair. For those who do not know, I have a superhero theme. I am excited to use the theme to share with my students how they can be superheroes as they follow God’s lead in their lives.
    After school, Meagan and I went shopping to find some clothing. We were a bit shocked at the high prices, and it took quite a while to find an outfit in our desired price range. We enthusiastically entered one shop and focused on the mission of finding an orna (like a scarf). It was a very small shop where the people are not usually friendly, so I decided to wait outside for Meagan. As I waited, I found a maxi I liked. Meagan bought a maxi a few days ago and she has been raving about it. Every day she tells me I need to buy one. Maxis are like long flowing dresses that we can wear in our house. They are a lot cooler than other clothing options. As sweat trickled down my face, I recalled Meagan comfortably dancing around our house in her maxi. Yes, I decided to buy the maxi.
    I joined Meagan in the cramped shop to make my purchase. As I entered, Meagan asked if I had 50 taka. The shop owner did not have change for her 100 taka. I thumbed through my wallet and apologetically explained that I did not have small change. I made my purchase and waited for the shop keeper to find change for Meagan. At this moment, Meagan informed me that the shop owner was taking a little rest on the floor behind the counter. Odd. That wasn’t all though, he had his shirt pulled up to maximize the cooling effect of airflow in the room. His workers carefully used the shelves and counter to climbed over him. There he was, sprawled out in his cramped little shop, giving orders to those above him, nearly shirtless. Interesting indeed.
    The experience became more humorous when another customer squeezed into the small shop. Meagan and I were still waiting for the worker to send his buddy to make change at the next shop. Instead, the worker asked the newly arrived woman, who was shopping, if she had any change! Meagan and I could not contain our giggles. She pulled out her wallet and carefully searched for the little bills. Unfortunately, she did not have change either. Finally, he asked his co-worker if he had change. The young man whipped out a fifty, exactly what we needed. It was quite the community event. The bustle didn’t seem to bother the resting shop owner though as he didn’t budge from his   stately throne the whole time we were there.  
    One part of our mission was complete, and another part was yet to be conquered. With orna in tow, we headed to another section of town to search for a cheap outfit. We walked through every store in the building and finally found the perfect outfit for Meagan. Mission accomplished, it was time to go home. However, there was a divine appointment from God waiting for us on the street corner.
    Last year I told you about, “meandering with the munchkins.” Well, our little munchkins were thrilled to see us today. The whole group sprinted toward us and slammed against us with huge hugs. One little girl said it had been many days since she had seen us. They all called out in little phrases inquiring about our well being and such. A few little ones even chimed in with little bits of English. We hugged our beloved kiddos and walked hand in hand with them. It is somewhat hard to walk hand in hand with twelve kids when there are only four hands between Meagan and I, but the kids make it happen. Their smiles make my heart soar.
    The kids asked us to buy them mangos, and we agreed. This was a rather large group, and they can get rather unruly when they are in a large posse. We quickly devised a plan. I gathered the children around me and told them to stay right there  while Meagan approached the dokon (fruit shop) to buy the mangos. We needed thirteen by this time. We drew quite the crowd of onlookers, and the kids jumped up and down in excitement and hung on my arms. The shop keeper is used to us buying fruit for our kiddos. During past experiences, we have learned the best system for distributing fruit. The owner comes out and has all the kids sit on the ground. Then he carefully gives each child a mango, making him or her leave as he or she receive it. That way, no one hides the fruit and asks for another (which we experienced once when one boy stuffed his chip bag down his britches and reached a hand out looking at us with glittering big brown eyes.) We told the children we would see them later, and they joyfully skipped along. A few adults asked us questions, and we headed home.
    It is great to be back. I missed the people. While visiting our tailor, I took a picture of a pair of sandals outside his shop door. The word, “lovely” was printed across the plastic strap. Immediately my mind thought of the prophet Isaiah’s beautiful words, “How lovely on the mountains are the feet of him who brings good news, who announces peace and brings good news of happiness, who announces salvation, and says to Zion, “Your God reigns!” (Isaiah 52:7). Please pray that our feet will be lovely to the people of Bangladesh as we seek to honor our wonderful God.
    Please keep us in your prayers as school begins tomorrow. The teachers are extra busy this year with even more responsibilities than in previous years. Recent events have added even more to busy schedules than was anticipated. It is a difficult, yet exciting time at William Carey Academy. We are stepping out in faith, knowing that God will provide the strength and energy we need for this year. He will receive all the glory as we follow Him down a path we can not conquer on our own. Such paths can be intimidating and difficult to travel, but they are the most rewarding because they greatly magnify the excellence of our precious King. Thank you for supporting us on the journey.

Lessons From My Three Little Heartbeats

    I once heard a friend refer to her fish as her, “Little heartbeat.” Her mom had communicated to her the weight of responsibility that accompanies pet ownership. The main point was that each pet is one little heartbeat the owner is responsible for. I am responsible for three Little Heartbeats at my summer workplace. The shop where I spend my summer days has two cats and a big bird. A smaller bird and a dog also dance around the room during normal business hours, but not when I am the sole worker. I have learned a few valuable lessons from my three Little Heartbeats this summer.
    Toward the end of the day, I found myself hot gluing beads to the front of drawers. I must take a second to tell an unrelated story. As I hot glued the drawers, a customer came up to me and asked if I worked there. The smile would not be forced from my face. The thought of me hot gluing things to drawers if I did not work there was just too humorous for me to stuff the giggle away. Back to the point, toward the end of the day, I was continuing with my hot glue mission. The rain outside drizzled through a cloudy gray sky. The shop seemed cozy and warm with music playing softly in the background. My mind mulled over many topics and I began to get lost in thought. Sometimes this can be dangerous.
    Prolonged pondering and reflection must be kept on the path of truth. It is easy  for Satan to sneak in whispers of half truths that spring into little seedlings of lies and destruction. These half truths can present themselves in the form of discontentment, anger, hurt feelings, jealousy, offense, defensiveness, the forms are endless. The lies can grow sturdy roots quickly if they are not pulled from the soil of the mind. This time of contemplation is a good time to practice speaking truth to the soul.
    So here I found myself, snug in my little store, thinking. My heart was starting to water Satan’s little seeds and they were beginning to grow tender, yet powerful, roots in my heart. I began to ask myself what my Savior’s plans were for a heartache I felt. That is when I noticed one of my Little Heartbeats sitting by the front door. The cat’s eyes were focused on something in the distance. He patiently waited and watched. What he searched for, I do not know. I think perhaps he was waiting for his master, the shop owner, my wonderful boss. Whatever his little heart was searching for, he was willing to wait for it.
    A word pushed through the thoughts in my mind and demanded my attention: anticipation. This word sent conviction and hope flooding through my heart. Do I anticipate the promises my Savior has given me? Do I anticipate the blessing of following His chosen path? Do I anticipate the hand of my Master moving in my life? Just as my Little Heartbeat sat, anticipating some desire within him, I must confidently anticipate the promises my Savior has made me.
    Now focused on the behavior of the shop’s Little Heartbeats, I contemplated more actions they perform. Their favorite place to sprawl out and snooze is on the counter next to the register. Most of the day, one cat can be found napping on a mat next to the register. The other is often curled up in a box of beads located to the right of the register and directly in front of the store entrance. Reflecting on the cats in these locations, a knew word flashed into my mind: position. The cats know exactly where to position themselves to receive the greatest amount of customer love and attention. Every person who walks in the door sees the cat in the bead box. Every customer who aspires to purchase an item must reach over the snoozing cat by the register. All day long the cats are massaged, kissed, adored, and loved on. I can’t help but smile as I realize they are masters of position.
    God wants me to be a master of position. My decisions need to communicate my role as His daughter and servant. They need to position me in His path. I am reminded of His words, “If you love Me, you will keep my commandments.” There are incredible blessings that overwhelm my soul with peace, hope, and joy when I position myself in God’s Word, around His people, and on my knees before His presence.
    As these thoughts floated around in my mind, and I continued gluing little beads, I suddenly heard the bird, “Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello.” A fresh smile overtook my countenance. The bird has frightened a few customers with his speech. The best is when he starts squawking, “Help!” People look at me with huge eyes. I can see their agony as they try to decide what could possibly be going on. Who is desperate for help and what have I done to someone that is causing the person to cry out in such a tone? I quickly explain that it is the bird, and I can see the relief sweep over them. At this specific time, I was the only one in the shop. I heard the bird start reciting every word and sound he knows. A final word surfaced within me: persistence.
    The bird is quite persistent in his speech. Usually, if I want to show him off, he refuses to talk. I will eagerly bring a friend to see the beautiful big bird. Then I will start saying the words I desire for him to repeat. Nothing. He refuses to be pressured into performance! Yet, when he wants attention, he refuses to be silent. He will say, “Hello. Cracker. Ribbet. Help.” and many more words, over and over again. He does not tire of demanding attention through his speech. He is persistent.
    Then my mind recalled an event from earlier in the day. The cats know the right position, but they also know persistence. When they want attention and the customers are not coming to them, they will simply adjust and go to the customers. I watched one cat follow a man up the stairs, around the balcony, back down the stairs, around the aisles, and to the register. The man loved the Little Heartbeat and spoiled him during the whole journey. The Little Heartbeats know persistence.
    I am convinced that God desires for me to be persistent in my requests. He wants me to ask for His presence to meet every need of my soul. He doesn’t want me to stop there, but He wants me to then persist in asking. He says to ask as a child asks his father for food, as a friend begs a companion for help, with unrelenting persistence. Sometimes I believe He desires to strengthen my faith and reliance upon Him, to sweeten our relationship, by demanding my persistence. His provisions are promised, and His powerful joy is sure to saturate and strengthen my soul. Yet, I often forfeit for lack of persistence.
    Today, while working some hot glue magic, I learned three important lessons from my three Little Heartbeats. 1. God desires for me to anticipate, to fully believe, and act upon my faith in His hand of provision. He will provide for my every need. 2. God desires for me to position myself to receive His blessings. He is ready to open the heavens and pour His blessings upon His children. Sometimes they come in forms I am not expecting. Other times, I am not patient enough to wait in His position. I wander off His path and do not position myself for the powerful impact of His presence. I need to position myself where my Savior has called me. 3. God desires for me to be persistent in my supplications and pursuit of Him. Through the long hours of the night, He strengthens and grows me, until morning comes and His glory shines brighter than I can imagine. I must be persistent. Like my three little heartbeats, I must cling to anticipation, position, and persistence; then I will bask in the presence and glory of my Almighty King.