edit: two posts in one day!  wow - you can tell maria is spending more time alone lately!  in light of what i've been reading and thinking about in the last few hours (read below), my previous post seems pretty trivial.  yet it's very good to see such a wealthy man taking the time to thank others for blessing his life...am i doing that?  ok, enough edit.  here's the book review:

If you would have stopped me this morning to ask me how many times I have actually shed some tears over a novel, I would have said that I only remember one book (Shiloh Autumn by Bodie Thone) leading me to tears.  Tonight, my answer would be different.  Book number two that made Maria weep:  My hands came away Red by Lisa McKay. 

It was my second fiction read of the summer.  It was intense.  It was real.  It drew me in so much that I felt (still feel) like I was there.  Right now I am empathizing with the characters struggle to return to normal life, for just in reading it, I feel that I have so much to process.

The story is written in first person by 18-year old Cori who decides to go on a Missions Trip to escape her confusing love-life at home (I will say this: it was different reading a book about such young characters.  The first part esp. seemed a bit “teeny-bopper-ish”…but stick with it, that’s not what it is).  She and her five teammates spend the summer building a thatch-roof church on a remote island in Indonesia. 

The day their boat is set to leave, the six westerners follow the native Pastor’s son into the jungle to find some wood to build a cross.  They return in time to see that an angry army of Muslim neighbors have come to cause trouble in their Christian village.  They hide in the jungle and hopelessly watch as a horrible massacre unfolds in front of them. 

Narrowly escaping the danger, they set off to hike over the mountains to the city of Ambon, which they hope will bring safety.  Their journey is long and hard; the emotional strain proving even more difficult than the physical.  They come across other villages that have been leveled by extremists, and even some by the National Army. 

I don’t want to write all that happens up here, because I that would spoil the book for you, but I will say that it touched me deeply.  While the characters are objects of the Author’s imagination, the unrest in the country of Indonesia is anything but fiction.  Right along with Cori, Kyle, Drew, Mark, Elissa, and Brenden, my eyes were opened to the hardships that believers living in restricted countries face. 

The story struck a chord with me.  Not only do I love the picture of the International family of God that it gave, but I felt, in a small way, that I could relate to the character’s struggles.  When their rescue arrives, they come to the heart-wrenching realization that the Nationals which had been risking their lives to keep them out of harm’s way were not allowed on that rescue plane.  While they had a way out, an escape, these people who had become so dear to them did not.   All because of where they were born…

I remember visiting a refugee camp along the Thai/Burma border.  The refugees who flocked to the church that night were friendly.  One girl spoke good Thai and as she and I were talking a bit, I commented on the beautiful mountains that were situated around them.  She looked at me with a sad smile and said that she’s never seen anything else; only that mountain.  I felt like such a spoiled brat leaving that camp the next morning…that could have been me.  Why wasn’t it? 

I remember Bible camps in the village with kids who grew up in very poor situations.  I remember them hanging onto us and crying when it came time to leave. This had been the “big event” they were anticipating for so long, and now it’s back to their simple lives, and we were just a day’s drive away from soft beds, refrigerators full of good food, and a safe, secure place to live. The roles could have been reversed…why weren’t they? 

I thought of how it would tear out my heart to leave my dear May behind in a situation like what the characters in the book faced.  And all because I happened to be born in a very blessed nation.

Tonight I’m realizing again how blessed I am.  For some reason I was not born into a community where the next town over threatens to persecute us because we worship Jesus.  For some reason you were not born into a family that was displaced and has to hide in the woods in fear of the authorities.  For some reason I was born into a family with a rich Christian heritage.  For some reason, each of us has been blessed with so, so much. 

So what now?  What do we do with those blessings?    

Tonight Mom and I were going through our storage shed and I came across a box of old photos.  Boy did I ever find some doozies...

The Amusement park pictures made me laugh the hardest.  You gotta love how the hidden camera can capture the moment.

There was some kind of screaming going on here!  I look ready to hurl (I actually think I'm doing a laugh/scream...my normal response to a thrill ride), and Annie looks like she's halfways peaking at the camera and giving off her shrillest of screams.  I do not envy those in front of us.  And large poofy skirts are definately the way to dress for these thrilling rides. 

Or you could try polka dots with large sleeves:

This picture reminds me of being "caught up in the air" or something.  This was me at 15, at the top of the big hill (mountain) on the Magnum XL 200.  26 year old Maria would probably have her eyes tight shut, and PANIC written across her forehead. Either that or firmly gripping the complementary barf bag.

And then there was Silver Dollar City with the cousins:

We were so cool we did thumbs-up, peace, and somehow I got a super-cool fannie pack.  This one's for you Rach. 

O the places a picture can take you...