When will I learn?

There are lessons in life I cannot seem to get through my head, though time and time I realize that they are true. Sugar is bad for me. My son, although only in the first grade, really does need to do his daily homework. Being uncomfortable is good...not only in the gym, but also in the heart.

I have to back up. There have been two times in my life when I have felt like I was directly in the palm of God's hand. May sound hoakey I know, but let me explain. When Blake was about 18 months old I got the news that my former college room mate Darcy had just found out her full-term baby girl's heart had stopped beating. She was in Pennsylvania and I was in Olympia and because I had experienced what she would go through in the next few days it killed me to think of her going through that without me. I felt that way because my biggest help in my time of need, other than strength drawn from God, was the strength from people who had gone through that themselves and came out okay on the other side. My church gave me money and within a few hours I was on a plane. I got there just hours after baby Keira was born. I got to love on my friend, pray for her, talk with her family, friends and church family and offer the hope and peace that was given to me when I lost my babies. I had never felt so close to God, like I was doing EXACTLY what he wanted me to be doing. I wanted to do that forever. Fortunately, I don't get the chance to minister that way very often. We are blessed with healthy babies all around us.

The next time I felt that way was 4 weeks ago in Poland. As we prepared for our trip little things would pop up along the way that would make me even more uncomfortable about going. "We'll be staying in people's homes instead of a hotel". What now? "There will be no coffee." Ummm, excuse me? "Oh, and the pastor said we might be going to a prison." HA!! NOT ME!! That is where I draw the line!! Like, seriously. I am already freaking out about this trip, no phone, no coffee, no Mikey. And have I told you that my mom and her sisters have a long history of wetting their pants in uncomfortable situations? I am NOT about to test whether this is a hereditary trait in the middle of a prison in Poland...GOT IT?!?

So there we were. 15 of us, in the middle of a prison in Poland. Just like in a movie. We couldn't bring a thing except our clothes on our backs and our passports. It had already been a long trip, physically, emotionally and everything-else-ically. We didn't know what to expect except that about 15 prisoners would show up for a church-type service and we would do some dramas and share some testimonies. Well, more like 60 men came. And we had one guard...who was watching us through a window. He was through a locked door, up a flight of stairs, and watching through a window. And there were 60 against 15. No handcuffs, no nothing. If I had thought about those odds BEFORE we left, I probably would have wet my pants. Thankfully no riots broke out.

The men all sat amongst us. They spoke briefly through our interpreter as to why they came. Some came weekly to the church meetings because they were Christians and it meant a lot to them. Some came for the free cake. For some, it was their very first time. We sang songs. We performed our dramas. I was able to share my story of loosing my babies and how God was able to lift me up even when it seemed like I had nothing to get up for. My dear friend Matt, our youth pastor, closed with a perfect message and it was time to mingle.

Immediately a prisoner comes straight toward me with the interpreter. He has tears streaming down his face. He thanks me for sharing.

"When I committed my crime I lost everything. My job, my house, my family, my children...When I came here I did not want to live. I will be here for 25 years. But then I came to these meetings and I met Jesus Christ. He helped me realize that it is not what I have done that I live for, but what I can do now. So I can still have a purpose in this prison. I can invite my friends to this meeting. I can pray for people. I can read the Bible, and I can learn about God. I can do a lot for God even while I am here doing the time for my crime. I will not waste my time. God gave me hope when I thought I had none." Isn't that amazing?

Another man, about my dad's age, came up and in very broken English said, "I will pray for you."

"You will pray for me?" I was VERY humbled by that. He would obviously have so many prayers of his own to pray, I assumed.

He said, "You believe in God. I believe in God. Now you are my sister." Amazing.

Every man I met was amazing. Their words surprised me. As a group, prisoners are overwhelming, intimidating. Individually, just a guy who sins like you and me.

Between talking to some of the men, I was crying, and now even more exhausted than before. I turned to Matt and said, "Is this real life?" He looked at me and said, "This is real life when you're working for God."

I did a lot of growing up in that prison. God gave me a taste of what we can do when we let him get us a little uncomfortable. And just what we could be missing out on when we tell him "no".

At that point I was SOOOO drained, I turned off my brain and started to get silly. Also a family trait. In Poland it's not nearly as common for people to have tattoos, especially girls, so I decided to seize the day. Nothing inappropriate, I have one on my forearm. But there was a guy there who would TOTALLY be the killer in a movie (and probably was) (a killer) (not in a movie). He was running the show. Bald, tall, skinny, THICK glasses that make his eyes look the size of pancakes. When he told the guys to be quiet, they did in a jiffy. He had tattoos on all showing parts. I went straight for him (don't worry Aunt Kathy...we had that guard there, remember?). I tapped him on the shoulder. He looked at me through the top of his glasses. Face as straight as the jacket he probably wore in the daytime. I rolled up my sleeve, knowing it was too late to run now, and pointed to the flower on my arm. He looked at it. He looked at me. He smiled a grin that showed all three of his teeth. He hit another guy on the arm and waved him over. Then another. Soon, it was an appropriate version of "I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

Again, Matt zooms by. "Darbi...you are NOT showing off your tattoos..." I say, "WHEN am I EVER going to get a chance to do THIS???"

So, this is my life. One minute I'm learning something life-changing and growing up, and the next minute I'm showing off my tattoos to prisoners in Poland. But it's a beautiful life...it's my life. I'm doing my best for God, and I wouldn't want it any other way.