Behind Every Moment

Behind every minute is an adventure, an insight, a moment, a purpose.  In every store and in every line is a person struggling financially.  Behind every shopping kart is a person making hard and stressful decisions.  Behind every front door is a tired parent to hug, relieve and support.  Behind every parent is a child to encourage, love and guide.  Behind every elderly person is a need not to be forgotten and a library of memories to share.  Behind every young adult is the anxiety of the future.  Behind every relationship are people struggling for compatibility and love.  Behind every smile there is a pain to listen to and a hand to squeeze.  Behind every job there is a worker asking is this the right place to be?  Behind every homeless person is a story, and a mother and a father.  Behind every refugee, is an epic journey and a reason they seek refuge.  Every moment of every day we are surrounded by opportunities to be blessed and to be a blessing.

A Call from God on a Snowy Night

On a dark winter night, God asked us to find shelter for a homeless family.  Not in a burning-bush manner request, but more like the crack of a 2x4 to the back of the head. We received a notice.  Not from God, but from his assistant.  She reported a single mother and her three children were being evicted and would be homeless. The snow was blowing and it was 5 degrees outside in Boise, Idaho.

We did not know this family.  They were from Africa. They spoke very little English.  They had attended our church, but they were always silent and shy in the back corner of the church.  Language barriers had kept us from knowing them and their story.  An awkward welcome on sabbath mornings, a few halting words in English and French were exchanged, but we did not know how to advance conversations with them.

I confess a million critical questions instantly went through my mind that night.  They started with, "I wonder what they did wrong?  Whose fault is it?  Who brought them to Boise?  Is there a way I can avoid getting involved?"  I searched my calendars and excuse boxes, but they were strangely empty. "Darn!" It was 5 degrees out with snow and ice on the ground.  "What kind of a family chooses to be evicted in this weather?"

Although I confess to having all of those questions in the first seconds, it was soon followed by the thud of a holy 2x4 to the back of my head.  It was clear there was a family in trouble, and winter survival was the only thing that mattered that night.

Our church community gathered in the snow outside of the young mother's apartment and pondered the task.  How do you clean out an apartment when there is no place to take the items?  Everything needed to be thrown out or stored elsewhere.  There was no plan.  The family was only allowed a bag of clothes each in the homeless shelter. The few items worth keeping were dispersed to the homes of friends and family members.

Why didn't they just move into a family member's home?  There are rules against that.  When you are in housing programs or when you sign many leases, you are only allowed a specific number of people in a home.  When your entire community is other refugees, your options are very limited.

A security guard was sent to ensure we did not throw inappropriate things into the large garbage bins at the apartment complex.  By inappropriate, they meant everything we were trying to throw away. That was a real problem. How do you clean out an apartment stuffed with old worn out furniture, on a dark snowy night in the middle of winter with a vigilant security guard watching.  Where do you take it all?  The answer - you break down the furniture, and use all the different garbage bins around the complex while avoiding the watchful security guard.

I learned much that night.  I learned that generous people and organizations are eager to donate old furniture and clothes to refugees.  There were literally mountains of donated clothes and worn out furniture piled in that apartment.

In most of our homes, we have storage in the form of shelves, closets, dressers, storage containers, garages, attics, spare rooms, boxes, etc.  If we have too much of something, we just throw it in the back of our cars and SUVs and take it away.  However, if you are a refugee just getting off a plane from the tropics of Africa with only a small suitcase, no car, no job, no English, and only a tiny apartment, and 18 boxes of used clothes are delivered to your apartment by strangers along with worn-out couches and a broken set of disassembled glass dining room furniture, you have an immediate problem.  What do you do with it?  How do you sort through all of those gifts, acquire tools to assemble the furniture, and remove the things you don't need? The answer is you don't. The gifts just pile up as you have no way of removing them, and they are too heavy to carry on the bus.

There is a difference between donating items, and caring for a family.  Caring for a family means you learn their needs, their sizes, ages and the sexes of their children. You learn their favorite colors, and you give them the dignity of choice.  The children don't need seven winter coats of varying sizes each, they need one in their size and favorite color.

City Light, Boise

That night we looked into the eyes of a confused and frightened family.  They didn't know us.  They didn't understand what was happening or why.

Coming to America as a refugee is incredibly complex.  There are mountains of required paperwork, appointments to keep, papers to sign, offices all around town they must find and visit, classes they must attend and a language they must learn in eight months, all while herding children along.  It is easy to get overwhelmed by the complexities and to fall through the cracks of the process.

Can you imagine the level of bravery that is required for a young single mom with three small children to move to the other side of the world with nothing to start a new life?  A life completely dependent on learning a new language, culture and environment?

They didn't understand why a crowd of white people were marching in and out of their home carrying off their belongings and disassembling their beds that night.  They cried and sobbed as they were driven to the homeless shelter and checked in.  They were stopped and searched for drugs and weapons before being escorted into a large room full of sleeping mothers and children. They were given a bed and four small storage boxes in which to place all their remaining personal possessions.

Can you imagine the intensity of the fear in that mother's heart as she lay on the bed, holding her three small children close and staring at the ceiling through tear filled eyes, listening to the coughing and groans of those sleeping around her?  Not having a home, or knowing what the morning would bring, and how she was to care for and provide food for her children in this bitterly cold foreign land.

We witnessed that story.  It was our experience.  God called us that day.  We didn't have to raise money for a mission trip to Africa.  God brought Africa to us.  That family is now our family.

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Kevin Benedict

Writer, Speaker, Jesus-Fan

Follow me on Twitter @kevinrbenedict

Read My Blog! Way Word Traveler

Read Shawna's Blog! Words on the Way

Scheduling for Creative Writing and Blogging

Storyline Productivity Schedule

My wife and I recently attended Donald Miller's Storyline conference where he shared his "Storyline Productivity Schedule". I have been using it for the past 8 weeks and have found it works great for me!  I have increased my writing productivity, and have a much better understanding of the proper times in the day to write for maximum productivity.  Why?  It recognizes how the writer's mind works and helps you prepare a schedule around it.

In a nutshell, the New York Times bestselling author, Donald Miller says the mind only has a limited amount of "creative energy" in a day.  You start the day with a full tank, but it runs out quickly.  So, you must make a conscience choice where you expend it.

Miller says his creative energies run from 6 AM - 11 AM and then his tank is empty.  So he locks out external interruptions as much as possible and dedicates it to creative writing.  After that time, he moves on to busy work that requires less creativity like answering emails, daily chores, work tasks, etc.  This matches my experience as well.

I have for years postponed my writing until after my To Do list is completed, but by then my tank was empty.  Miller identified the concept of creative energy and the notion that it expires quickly, early in the day.  He gives writers/bloggers permission to respect their art and craft by building a daily schedule around it.

Miller's Storyline Productivity Scheduled resonated with me and now I am better prepared.

Join 5-Minute Friday: http://katemotaung.com/five-minute-friday/
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Kevin Benedict

Husband, Father, Writer, Speaker, Traveler, Jesus Fan, Life Addict

Follow me on Twitter @kevinrbenedict

Read My Blog! Way Word Traveler

Read Shawna's Blog! Words on the Way

The Financial Costs of Supporting a False Image from My Life University

1995 Jeep Grand Cherokee

I bought a top of the line forest green Jeep Grand Cherokee a few years ago in Mt. Vernon, Washington.  It was the newest vehicle I had ever owned and it growled with power!  I felt accomplished when I drove it.  My friends and family could smell my success in the leather of the interior.

The jeep portrayed the image I wanted people to have of me.  I was starting a new business and wanted everyone to believe it was a success.  I followed the "fake-it-until-you-make-it" mantra. It worked. I was able to fake success right up to the day I had to give the jeep back to the bank.

I had convinced myself success was a privilege of the brave.  Those brave enough, deserved it and got it.  I was brave, and following documented success formulas, so it was just a matter of time before I was successful.  That is until my stupidity ran into my arrogance and it was time to pay the reality check.

One of many lessons I learned during this painful season of my life, was to not undervalue the cost of risk. I believed courage and hard work could overcome risk.  They couldn't.

In the late 90s (dot.com era), many of my friends worked in Internet start-ups.  They jumped from one start-up to the next chasing the stock option dream of a big payout.  They used all of their available income and bonuses to invest in more and different Internet start-ups.  They accepted risky jobs, with risky start-ups, in a risky industry and then re-invested their money back into a risky market - effectively doubling down on their bet.  Most lost it all when the dot.com era ended.  There is a real cost to risk.

I have learned over time that my behaviors and those of my high tech friends toward risk were not so unusual.  Many people take on large student loans, credit card debt, large home mortgages and car payments all assuming things will go well forever.  Isn't that poor risk management?  I received my education on risk management from MLU (My Life University).  I took out high-interest loans to attend.  Here are some things I learned from my mistakes that can hopefully be useful to you:

• Manage risks carefully.  It's not about your manhood, moral fiber or level of courage. It's a math thing.
• The more risk you are exposed to - the greater the chances of bad things happening.  Again, it's a math thing.
• If you want to take a risk, save up enough cash so you can pay the cost of risk. There is always a cost and you can't escape it.    
• Risk does not necessarily equal reward.  Often high risk pays very little potential reward for the level of risk exposure.  For example, risking 5-years of your career on a poorly run, money losing start-up that pays you less than market value and doesn't provide stability or a career advancement path is highly risky.  Why risk so much?  Move on when risk exceeds the possible reward.  It's a math thing.
• Problems in business, personal finances, employment, health, relationships and mental and emotional issues are guaranteed in your lifetime.  In fact, it is rare you will have a season of life without some or all of these things happening.  They are not a distant possibility for the unlucky few, they are absolute guarantees in life and come with a cost. Invest in understanding them so you have frameworks for working through them.
• Many life events are not under your control.  You need close supportive relationships, spiritual, moral, emotional and philosophical frameworks and tools to help navigate a scary and unpredictable world.  Invest in these.  A meaningful relationship with God can help you get through a lot.
• Today the average person will stay on a job 4.1 years.  If you work 40 years you may have nearly 10 different jobs (am told it is a math thing).  It is best to acknowledge the transient nature of employment and prepare yourself mentally, spiritually, financially for change.
• Life is more fun without debt.  You can live an extraordinary and meaningful life of friendships, adventure, service and flexibility if you are not a slave to debt.  
• If all your emotional energies are consumed by debt worry, you have little energy left to invest in loving relationships, joy, creating beauty around you and investing in life changing experiences and service projects.
• Debt multiplies risk, increases stress and limits freedom.
• Be real.  Be authentic.  It's healthier, cheaper, more enjoyable, and less risky than propping up an expensive image on a credit card.  
• If friendships and social status has been developed and propped up based on an image that is not authentic or financially sustainable - confess and start fresh.
• Many a childhood dream is squashed under the weight of debt.
• Many golden years have become leadened burdens because of poor risk management and not predicting the predictable.  It's a math thing.

When I was in school I complained, "When am I ever going to use this math in real life!!!?  The answer is I didn't and it cost me big.

Want to read more?  Read Formulas for Success that Don't Work.

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Kevin Benedict

Husband, Father, Writer, Speaker, Traveler, Jesus Fan, Life Addict

Follow me on Twitter @kevinrbenedict

Read My Blog! Way Word Traveler

Read Shawna's Blog! Words on the Way

Boise as a Refuge

"We all have a past, and the future is a gift."

Boise is honored to have been selected as a refugee resettlement city.  As a result, Shawna and I have met many extraordinary new African friends, and we get to share this special time in their lives with them.  Just last night a family called to say eleven more of their family members would be arriving in Boise this month!  What a Christmas present!  Sounds like Shawna and I will need to find eleven more Boise State football sweatshirts.

Now comes the challenge of helping these arriving families find appropriate housing, warm clothes and integrating into our community while experiencing their first snow flurries and cold.  Just image trying to efficiently transport eleven people to grocery stores, doctor appointments, schools and church functions!  To be fair, refugees are brought to the USA by agencies that skillfully manage their care and integration, but our little Boise church helps fill in the gaps and needs - and there are many.

There have been times in my life when I felt like a hamster in a cage (before the time of free range), running around the spinning exercise wheel.  Accomplishing nothing important, seemingly going nowhere fast, not making any meaningful difference in the world and underappreciated.  I have found that jumping in and helping people with bigger challenges than my own is the real balm to those feelings!

With these new families, our church will have over 50 refugees attending, mostly from Rwanda and Democratic Republic of Congo.  Their numbers have grown to where they now have their own Kinyarwanda language church service each week immediately following our English language service.  If your church suffers from depressing dark and drab colors in the sanctuary, there is an easy solution - invite some African families with their beautiful bright colors!

The need for transportation has suddenly become a high priority. The days of driving to church with empty seats in our car is a thing of the past.  In fact we recently purchased a used minivan and now drive two vehicles most weekends.  We will need to get serious about locating and funding a bus soon.  Do you have a spare?

Our relationships with our African friends, puts faces on the data about suffering we had previously only read about in books and newspapers.  It's no longer just a historical or abstract event.  These days we are privileged with the opportunity to look into the eyes of the people that experienced it.

The other night our African friends were telling us all about their immediate and extended families. Several times during the conversation, they would hesitate a moment while reminiscing and quietly say, "People came and killed them."  These words reminded us that refugees seek refuge for a reason.  If that refuge has the name Boise on it, we who live here need look no further for a purpose and a mission.

Typing in the Forest

When I was seven-years old I found an old typewriter in the middle of a 50 acre woods.  It was mostly hidden and covered with moss, leaves and little plants growing between the keys.  I found it while snooping, and not much escaped my snoops.

I named the location, Typewriter Fort, in tribute to... the typewriter. Its location is still noted on a hand drawn map tucked into a box in my garage today.  Decades after naming the location, I returned and found the typewriter still there nearly buried and worst for wear.

I always wondered how the typewriter came to the woods.  How did it get from an important person's polished hardwood desk (anyone with something worth typing was important) to the damp muddy earth among the hazelnut trees?  I was sure there was a very good story to tell, but fingers could no longer move the rusted keys to tell it.

The typewriter was now a monument marking a location in the woods where we would escape and hide from roving bands of off-road motorcyclist and other assorted childhood villains both real and imagined.  It was not just a name on a map.  It was a circle of blackberries bushes with thorns protecting us from the back, and a row of ancient fir trees and tall ferns hiding us from the front and sides.

The Typewriter Fort wasn't the only fort, as we had fifty acres to explore and patrol, but it was the most enduring.  We selected our "forts" by determining where people were least likely to go.  I remember a circle of rough looking seven to ten year-olds armed with pocket knives and hatchets looking at a crumpled map and strategically pointing to places we had never been.  "Never been there!" Someone would say pointing their dirty finger at the water and dirt stained map.  "Perfect! Let's build a fort there!"

Some forts were better than others.  Some were simply wooden boards stretched out from the muddy bank of a slime covered pond to an island where we would lie in the sun and spear frogs and salamanders all afternoon.  That was before frogs organized, raised money and developed a celebrity led social media campaign.  We would cut down a bamboo pole, sharpen it, split the tips and notch the edges to hold our prey.

Other forts were elaborate and even had "living" fences.  Fences made of saplings we cut and stuck in the mud which soon grew into living trees that filled in the gaps in our walls with limbs and leaves making our fort invisible and the going-ons secret.  Still others were named after the model of the abandoned and stripped vehicle left in the briars near by.

I remember one fort in particular we called the Mob Car Fort.  The long black vehicle showed up unannounced one day in the forest. We waited the customary 10 days before smashing the windows and claiming it.  However, on the eleventh-day the owner who had gone "walk-about" showed up and rudely claimed his vehicle and demanded reparations.  After that experience we decided to extend the waiting period to 12 days.

Many of our forts were temporary.  If we failed to maintain them weekly they would quickly disappear under the onslaught of nature.  Nature slaughted a lot in those days and nearly always won, but the typewriter remained, a vestige to enduring strength and fortitude.

Writing is special. It captures a thought, preserves it, and enables it to be shared for millenniums. While many great spiritual men and women have lived throughout history, most did not write down their inspirations for preservation.  Our collection of the books of the bible and other great works are those that were written and preserved. They represent ideas, inspirations, stories about a time and a place.  I was once told by a wise mentor, "A thought does not exist if not written down."  I would hate to die without the proof of having had a thought, and not being able to prove my big brother wrong.

The typewriter in the forest was a monument, not only for a location in the woods and a collection of childhood memories, but it symbolizes to me the enduring value of writing and encourages me to stretch my comfort zone so I don't have to say, "Never been there."

Walking Through Lisbon and Pondering Earthquakes

Damage from the 1755
Lisbon Earthquake

It was November 1st, All Saints day.  The churches of Lisbon were packed with both the regulars and the irregulars celebrating this special holiday.  At 9:40 AM, during church services, the first tremors were felt by parishioners.  These tremors announced a massive 8.5-9.0 earthquake that lasted 3-6 minutes collapsing 85% of the buildings.  Fissures up to 15 feet wide opened up across the city. Fires broke out as stoves, fireplaces, lanterns and ovens poured out sparks, fuel and embers into the debris.  The fires burned for 5 days.

That was just the beginning of the disaster.  Forty-minutes after the earthquake, a series of three giant tsunamis washed over the city and swept away thousands of survivors that had gathered in the open spaces along the docks to escape the rubble, fires and cloud of dust that had settled over the city.

Out of a population of approximately 200,000 in Lisbon, experts believe 40,000 perished. Philosophers, theologians, church leaders and the populace searched for meaning. Here is an excerpt from Wikipedia:

The earthquake had struck on an important church holiday and had destroyed almost every important church in the city, causing anxiety and confusion amongst the citizens of a staunch and devout Roman Catholic city and country, which had been a major patron of the Church. Theologians focused and speculated on the religious cause and message, seeing the earthquake as a manifestation of divine judgment.

Rebuilt churches in Lisbon
still show damage from the
earthquake. Note pillars.

One of the most confounding aspects of the Lisbon earthquake for the religious, was the fact that Lisbon's Alfama district, the seedy red-light district suffered only minor damage.  How could the notoriously vice-ridden section of Lisbon survive, while the churches had been destroyed?

It was hard for the people of Lisbon to not see God's wrath in the destruction.  The disaster struck on a special church holiday, during service.  Their churches were destroyed, their clergy and members dead or injured.

As Shawna and I walked among the ruins of churches in Lisbon a few weeks ago, I pondered the biblical story of Rahab, the prostitute, God saved from the earthquake that brought destruction to Jericho and enabled Israel to defeat them. I think also of Mary Magdalene and the Samaritan woman at the well. God seems to have had a special place in his heart for the victims of brutality, disease, poverty and misfortune.  Yet ultimately these ladies all died.  We all die.  While we live, we spend time on a seismically active planet that routinely shakes, rumbles, spews, cracks, splashes and shifts.  The bible tells us this is our destiny until God recreates a paradise, with presumably less disastrous shaking.

Perhaps God wasn't sending a passive aggressive demonstration of wrath to Lisbon, but was showing mercy to the downtrodden of the Alfama district.  Perhaps he saw an earthquake happening and held up the structures in Alfama district to show he cared for them.  Who knows, but when I read the red-letter words in the New Testament, that is the Jesus revealed to me.  Rather than seeing only God's wrath in disease, disasters and suffering, I see his comfort, hope, mercy and love in those that perished and were saved and protected.

I think God is very anxious to come again and save us.  He is preparing a place for us, a safe, pure and beautiful paradise. But he waits.  I imagine him pacing the golden streets in heaven nervously (a holy nervousness). Waiting, waiting for the final act, when the results of sin are fully demonstrated and time is ready.