"As a father shows compassion to his children, so the Lord shows compassion to those who fear Him. For He knows our frame; He remembers that we are dust."
Psalm 103:13,14
10 days. I have lived in Homer, Alaska for 10 days. I sometimes feel myself become homesick for Vegas, something I never thought I would say. I miss our neighbor kids, the girls on our streets, the heat, sunsets on the desert mountains, and my Vegas family. The past two years have consisted of a lot of moving: camp, college, Pella, Vegas, Nepal, India, and several short places in between. My suitcase has become a familiar dresser for me. I feel as though it is time for me to pack up and move again, the concept of living in Homer has yet to fully set in.
Last Monday was my first day of work. We sat around a table as a staff, held hands, and our director led us in prayer before we shared a welcome breakfast for me. He started the prayer saying, "Family. God, we thank you for family."
Stung a little. Part of me does not want to give up all the family I have scattered throughout the Lower 48. But more so, it was welcoming. Yes, this is my new family.
Last week we remodeled an old coffee shop for the new YWAM base. As a family we divided jobs according to abilities, and worked together. We painted, trimmed, scrubbed floors, wiped walls, cleaned windows, and installed lights. There was humility in not being afraid to ask for help, no shame in what we were not able to do, and respect in helping others. This is what a family does, we work side-by-side, laughing along the way.
Yesterday part of the staff went halibut fishing. I'm not talking leisurely sitting in a lawn chair by the river on a Sunday afternoon fishing either, this was fishing on a boat in the ocean. At one point there was four of us on deck. Suddenly, the two salmon lines were being pulled and two halibut lines were being pulled. Catching a salmon is a two person job: one to real in the line and the other to hold the net. Our director and owner of the boat were going insane with the salmon lines, and the other staff guy and I had to bring in the other lines. After the madness calmed down, the boat owner laughed and said, "Man, good thing we have a good family out here today."
I have two apartment mates, one is a DTS student and the other a staff gal. We eat dinner together, often inviting others over to join us. We have a small table, six rusty folding chairs and a hodgepodge of dishes. The table has an antique looking, severely outdated dim lamp and a bamboo plant, not the most attractive centerpieces. Our dinners are randomly put together, not always matching in flavor. We share responsibilities, not keeping track of who did dishes last. And at night, there is no hurry away from the table, we sit around laughing, doing life together.
The verse from Psalm 103 has been impressed on my heart. The way Abba knows our frame is an intimate love. He sees everything. He knows our wildest dreams, our deepest cravings, the silly thoughts we have throughout the day and every detail of our stumbling. It is mesmerizing to me how He looks at me, remembers I am dust, and still desires to know every part of me. He is the Creator of family. We are dust, not invincible humans, we need help along the way.When I am able to look at myself and those around me, remember God created us out of dust and breathed His very own breath into us, then I will be able to love as a family member is to love.
They are the new addition to my family and I am the new addition to theirs. Just as when we bring another brother or sister to Christ, He does not forget about us, He rejoices with the growing family, this does not mean I am replacing or being replaced. We are bring more and more to the table, not replacing those already seated, simply rejoicing with the biggering party.



























