Sunday, December 17, 2017

The Candles

Tonight we lit the third candle of Advent, the candle of Joy.  It glows tall and with golden flame next to the two we have already lit, the candles of Hope and Preparation.  We wait til next Sunday to light the candle of Love.

Each night, as the shadows creep in, we light them.  It is a new tradition for us, but one that I know will stick because the kids so eagerly anticipate it. We sit around them eating our dinner. We try to keep the littlest from blowing them out.  Usually the house is quiet and still when I finally do blow them out.  I often pause after I light them or stop to admire them when I come down the stairs.  I breath a prayer when I put them out.

They are just candles, but it seems an act of faith to light them when their names are Hope, Preparation, Joy, and Love.  Just before Advent began, a sweet little girl we know was diagnosed with a brain tumor.  We know a family that needs a new home.  Financial woes abound in everyone we know.  Relationships are broken.  The headlines are never good.

But it's Christmas.  And the simple truth is that because it is, and because of Who it is all about, we can light the candle of Hope, knowing it is not in vain.  We light the candle of Preparation and are reminded to do the one needful thing this time of year- sit alongside the shepherds and animals and worship the long-since-born King.  We can light the candle of Joy and relish the reality of that joy in the very person of Jesus Christ.  And when it comes time to light the candle of Love, we can bask in the glory that Love came down to Earth for us.

It is becoming a litany of love to consider what each candle represents as I light it each night.

Lord, infuse our friends with hope during this season of difficulty, fear, and the unknown. You are the hope of all the earth.

Lord, prepare our hearts for your second Advent; help us prepare you room.

Lord, give the oil of gladness and peace for despair.  May all our joy be found in you.

Lord, Jesus, help us to love like you. May we know the heights, the depths, the lengths of your love for us.

Even so, come Lord Jesus.

Thursday, August 17, 2017

On Charlottesville

My heart has been heavy this week over Charlottesville- that white supremacist rally that escalated and ended in the death of a young woman.  It's the hatred, the polarization, the politicizing. It grieves me so deeply.

But most of all, I am saddened by the division among believers, members of the body of Christ, when it comes to this outward display of racism.  In my mind's eye, our only response should be outright, unequivocal condemnation of this event (which is really an ideology).  Our words should say, "We are sorry. We weep with you.  We love you.  Lord, forgive us for such an atrocity against your dearest creation."

Instead, we caved to the media hype, and the words that came out were defensive, argumentative, and much like the President's.  "Hey, this is a shame, but...."  Excuses.  Defending memorials, political positions, our own ideologies.  Not standing in love and support for the hurting, but minimizing it.  Not being like Jesus.

I am heart broken over this.  The only record we have of Jesus's life is in the only book we call Holy, the Bible, and I never once saw Jesus defend a political stance or party. I never once saw him make excuses for hatred.  I never once read that he told us to defend ourselves. In fact, he set the highest example for us by not answering back his accusers as they were convicting him of dubious "crimes" before crucifying him.  He never once declared himself "not guilty" though it was true.  We cannot say the same, even when it comes to racism.  But instead of owning the sin's of our nation, instead of taking the hits from the media, we fight back.

I expect to be divided from those who scorn the gospel, but I don't expect it among those of us who claim Jesus as our Savior.  As a body, we are more and more polarized, and though it may be futile, I strive to figure out why. I pray, I seek the Lord, I seek His Holy Word.  Yes, of course we have differences of preference and some differences of interpretation- these should be minor things.  Drinking, dress, order of worship. But is there any leeway in how we view people, created in God's image?  Each and every one of us, regardless of gender, race, religion, nationality?  Shouldn't we be quick to defend life, no matter what?  Instead, we defend our politics.

I want to own my anger and frustration at some of my fellow Christians because of the things they have said and done and written for all the world to see, and those who have backed them.  I am angry.  Actually, I am heart-broken, and that leads to anger.  And yet, I want to humble myself and recognize that most of these people love Jesus dearly.  I want to see them as He does, I want to give them grace, and not harbor resentment in my heart.  I'm struggling with this.  I don't want to think I have it all figured out, and everyone else is wrong.  But I think we are so far from the gospel sometimes.  And we are losing a battle, not for America, but for eternity.

Friends, I know we have many fears for our nation.  I have more fears for the body of Christ.  We belong to Jesus and I think it is long past time to act like it.  If we are led as lambs to the slaughter, so be it.  We are in good company.

"He was oppressed, and he was afflicted, yet he opened not his mouth; like a lamb that is led to the slaughter, and like a sheep that before its shearers is silent, so he opened not his mouth."  Isaiah 53:7

Tuesday, August 1, 2017

I Give It a Year

Last July, we were having dinner at a really fantastic restaurant with our dearest friends who were visiting from Florida. It was a beautiful summer evening, the food was incredible, the company was the best. But I was trying so hard not to cry.

Not that the whole meal was like that, but when the conversation got around to how we were doing and how life was going, it got real.  These were the people we could be totally honest with, and the truth was still so painful. We were just so lonely, so discouraged, so empty feeling, still, even though it had been five years since we had moved.  I could barely speak because I just didn't want to cry.

I think it was that evening that made my husband say something the next day that I took really seriously.

"I give it one more year."

I wrote his words on that day in July on the 2017 calendar. "Josh gave it one more year."

I was holding him to it.  If July 2017 rolled around and things hadn't gotten better, we were moving on.  Leaving the state, selling everything, gone. (No drama intended)

But what "things" am I talking about?  What really needed to get better?  Josh finally had a stable job in a great paper mill. In fact, he had never worked at a mill so long before it shut its doors.  We had another baby after that move, a child we never would have expected, but that brought us so much joy.  Financially, we were debt free (minus the mortgage).  In so many ways, things looked just right.

But there was the loneliness, the lack of deep relationships with people in our new hometown, feeling like we had no "home team".  It seemed like everywhere I turned, I was hearing messages about how you need to make time for friendship, you need to have an inner circle of friends, you need people in your life, and I thought "If I hear this message one more time, I will really, truly lose my mind!" Because the truth is, you can't just make that happen. You can try and try and try, but you can't build meaningful relationships on your own.  We did try, and try, and try, but it just didn't seem to fall into place.

There was the disillusionment with ministry.  We were serving and serving and serving, but in several ways we just weren't called to or gifted to.  Because we wanted to help so much, we were doing things that were wearing us down instead of building us up.

All around me, it seemed like the modern-day MO of Christian women was to do way too much, get completely burnt out, give up everything, get "better", and then write a book or blog series or create a webinar series on how you could get better, too.  Over and over again I saw this, and I began to wonder if that was what I was headed for.  Complete burn out, to the point of not even being able to do the things I knew for sure I was called to do (like homeschool my children).

Making peace with what the Lord was calling us to for a long time was hard.  Not because it didn't promise freedom, but because it meant going against the grain, giving up ministries, leaving a church, disappointing people and still not having the entire plan mapped out for us.  In fact, I think that is something the Lord is wanting me to surrender daily: the need to know what is next.  To just live this day fully and faithfully and trust that tomorrow will move us forward, even if we can't see it.

We began to step out in faith in a few areas where the Lord was calling us. We started a home Bible study in September, something we had always wanted to to.  I admit, I was not hopeful at all that anyone would come. I was supportive, but not encouraging.  I invited the only people I knew in the area, the families that attend our homeschool co op.  Lo and behold, people came! The Lord is building an amazing little family of believers through this home Bible study.  On a recent evening we were talking with kids about what a blessing it was to have friends over, and Brown-Eyed Girl said in a serious and quakey voice, "I don't feel lonely anymore."

We stepped out very painfully and made a change in churches.  We had resisted for a long time, but it was so freeing when we relinquished our leadership roles and chose to follow the Lord into a season of rest.  For now, we just go to church on Sunday and sit in the service and feed on the Word of God.  Our two oldest children are beside us.  We can just soak it in. It sounds so selfish because we are so used to serving, but what an incredible blessing it has been.  And so needed.  In faith, we believe this season of rest is another part of preparation for what is coming.

We finally, finally feel like we have a home team!  When we got to the park, we're not alone anymore. I have girlfriends to chat over coffee with while the kids are being goofballs together.  Every single one of us is kind of in awe that we finally, finally have a group of friends to "do life with".  Our house is bustling with friends more and more often and the food is being dished up and the coffee is pouring and I LOVE IT! This is what I am made for.  This is what we are called to do right now.

There were a lot of ugly tears over the past five and half years.  There was depression. I will honestly say it felt so dark sometimes. But here is the blessing: There was always light. Always. There was always a peace that we were right in the center of the Lord's will, that he was teaching us, preparing us, blessing us for trying to be faithful. As hard as it was, I wouldn't trade it in for five and half blissful years. Because we would never have learned what we did, we wouldn't have depended on the Lord as we had to.  I have no regrets or bitterness because this was all in the Lord's hands.  There is no blame. We had to go through this.

We have grown and matured in ways we never would have without it, we have more compassion, more understanding for other lonely people who are on the fringes.  We have learned so much about grace and conflict resolution and freedom in Christ.  We have learned that those desires of our heart that seem so unfulfilled are worth clinging to because they are from the Lord.  And he can fulfill them as no one else can.

The other night, Josh and I were on a date and a song that means a lot to me came across the speakers. This song was a promise the Lord made me in January of 2013.  If you have followed my blog, maybe you will remember my post about it.  I remember that day so well, my absolute brokeness, but God speaking to me through the words of a song:

Just know you're not alone,
I'm gonna make this place your home.

Guess what? Our year is up (the one I was going to hold Josh to!) and this promise is fulfilled.  This place is finally that home we were hoping for.  And because of some other promises God has made us, I'm pretty sure the best is yet to come.

I am sharing all of this not because it's easy, but because it is real.  And it testifies to God's goodness.  I actually wrote this post more than a month ago, but didn't share it, because it's vulnerable and not intended to hurt anyone.  But this morning I got a message from a friend.  She had texted me some pictures of an event we went to last night with a big group of friends, pictures of the kids having the time of their lives. And she said, "These pictures make me think of your One More Year story."  And it choked me up because the Lord has been so faithful.

And I just had to share that.

Friday, April 14, 2017

From Death to Life- My Easter Story

This is my favorite week of the year.  Liturgically,  it is known as Holy Week.  It all begins with Palm Sunday and ends with Resurrection Sunday, what we all call Easter.  Even as a girl, Easter was the biggest holy-day of the calendar year. New dress and shoes and tights.  Egg hunts.  Church breakfast after sunrise service. And while most Sundays I was just distracting myself with coloring or my imagination during the sermon, Easter was the one week that I paid attention. It was the week the pastor brought the message of Jesus in a big way.  I would tingle with excitement over his words.

I grew up and I rejected God, though.  I still believed in him,  I probably even went to Easter service and felt some stirrings inside, but I was not a follower of Jesus. In February of 1999, though, my brother started bugging me to go to church with him.  "This place is different," he said.  He bothered me enough that I finally agreed to get out of bed one Sunday morning and go.

Walking into that church, which didn't look like a church, I immediately knew something was different.  It wasn't just the informality of dress, or the lack of pews.  I sensed that people wanted to be there. When the worship music began, to a full band, it was easy to join in and sing- and sing, they did. They raised their hands in worship.  It seemed to me an alternate universe compared to the churches I had grown up in- and yet, it was also familiar. I remembered how to find books in my Bible. I had heard some of these songs here and there. I had heard the Bible passage many times. The strangest thing was this:

A young man I had grown up going to church with was passing by and my brother stopped him. This kid, he and his brothers had gone wild and crazy in high school. They had gotten into drugs and had a punk band. I had heard the rumors.  All three of these guys were in church.  My brother asked this youngest one, "Have you decided if you're joining the army or not?" And his reply? " I don't know, man. Whatever the Lord wants. Whatever the Lord wants."

This blew me away.  Left me speechless.  I had never heard anyone talk this way, let alone an eighteen year old.  Whatever the Lord wants?  What is that?! What about what you want?

The teaching from the Bible was different, too.  The pastor taught with power and excitement. I could tell he knew his stuff and I liked that.  What he said was interesting. And I was compelled to come back to this alternate church universe. I went again that night. And from then on, I kept going Sunday morning and Sunday night. I sometimes went by myself.  Each time, I was getting more and more convinced in my heart that I needed Jesus. And I really, really wanted him, too.  There was this incredible balance of conviction of my sin, but also the depth of God's love for me. That Easter Sunday, April 4th, 1999, I left the service having made my final decision. I was following Jesus. No turning back.

Perhaps that's why, still, this time of year means so much to me.  I look back over my life and see the Lord's fingerprints in so many ways. He was drawing me to himself, luring me, wooing me, stirring in my empty heart and making me long for him.  I tried to fulfill that longing in so many other ways, but when I found the real Lover of my Soul, I was all in.  Not that I didn't fail and mess up and still look back over my shoulder now and then, but he always gave me the power to turn back around and follow him.  My life today is what it is because of Jesus. Plain and simple.

This time of year, especially in Maine, we start to see the dead things around us come alive. Spring is so glorious and so appreciated after the long, cold winter.  I love that Easter happens at this time of year.  Because that is what Easter is all about- the dead being raised to life!  First, Jesus was crucified and died.  But then on the third day, he rose from the grave.  And because of that, he can bring us who are spiritually dead to life!  I have experienced this first-hand and when I go back to those months when I was falling in love with Jesus and to that Easter Sunday when I decided to wholeheartedly follow him, I truly can weep.  Not out of lingering shame or sadness, but out of incredible, awe-filled joy.  He loved me as I was.  He was wooing me my whole life. He never gave up on me even when I rejected him. And when I finally responded, his arms were wide open.  That is love like I had never known.

I turned eighteen this year.  So spiritually speaking, I'm an adult now?  Laughable.  I have not forgotten what it was like to be "reborn".  This is a song I love, one that takes me back and reminds me of how I came alive eighteen years ago as a twenty-year-old.

What was I waiting for?
I came alive when I let go.
All I had was a broken heart,
then he held me in his arms.

Thursday, March 9, 2017

Called to Obscurity

I creep out of bed early each morning, so as not to wake the little munchkin lying beside me in bed.  I crave some solitude the first few moments of each day, some time to read my Bible and sip my coffee leisurely with just the crackle of the wood fire going.  As I tiptoed down the stairs this morning just after six o'clock, I whispered a prayer. "Just a half an hour Lord, please!"  As I rounded the corner, the sliding glass doors came in to view, along with the most breathtaking bright pink sunrise in a thick stripe behind the tree line.  It stopped me in my tracks and I blessed the Lord for it, the words of an old song in my mind, "And I think to myself, what a wonderful world."

Truthfully, the world isn't always wonderful.  The past few weeks have been particularly dark for some people we know and love dearly.  We've had our own challenges, too.  A bright pink sunrise painted across the sky is obviously beautiful. Death and heart sorrow and disease, not so much.

Today, in my Bible reading (and I got more than that requested half hour!), Psalm 50 said several times that God desires our thanks. 

 "What I want instead (of your sacrifices) is your true thanks to God." vs 14. 

 "But giving thanks is a sacrifice that truly honors me." vs 23

Over in Mark 13, another chapter I read, several times Jesus reminds us he is coming soon.

"You can be sure that his return is very near, right at the door."

"And since you don't know when they will happen, stay alert and keep watch."

"So keep a sharp lookout! For you do not know when the homeowner will return... Don't let him find you sleeping when he arrives without warning... Watch for his return !" vs 35-37

I often wonder, how should we live in these dark days?  I see the signs all around me that our world is falling apart, that Jesus really could return at any moment.  And I tend to feel  so helpless and useless when I consider this.  Who am I saving?  Who am I pulling from the fires of hell?  The world out there is lost and dying, and I spend most of my days never even leaving my home.  Often, my only engagement with the real world is via Facebook (and, boy, that can bring you down and remind you of the total depravity of man).  I do feel insignificant most days and long to be a light to the world.

Recently, another passage from Mark ministered to me.  In Mark 9, vs 30 and 31, it says "Jesus tried to avoid all publicity in order to spend more time with his disciples and teach them."  For 30 years, Jesus lived an obscure life in a little village of unknown people. He was a carpenter.  He cared for his widowed mother, went to weddings and funerals, celebrated the holy days, all of it as a regular guy, no fanfare, no miracles, no glowing head signifying his Deity.  And even after he began his earthly ministry, even with only three years to teach and perform miracles and healings and tell the good news of the Kingdom, he still tried to avoid his paparazzi.  It was important to him to get away and be alone with his disciples, the twelve guys that would carry the message of the gospel long after he ascended to heaven.  He wasn't about the Jesus Show, all the outward manifestations of his power and glory.  He was about people.  Teaching.  Discipling. Being faithful to train up the ones he was given.

This blesses me.  I've got my own little brood of disciples and more and more I realize how little time I have left with my oldest one.   Five and a half years at home, and then he may be gone.  The others will trickle out of the house, too, and this is good.  But it sobers me.  As I think of watching and waiting for Jesus and the possibility of his return at any hour, and wonder what on earth I am doing for his kingdom as I live in obscurity within my own four walls, I am heartened as I look at the life of my Savior.  I realize that my life is following a similar pattern.  The needs outside my walls are pressing, but this is the work I have been called to do right now: get away with my little disciples and teach them.

We have recently been laying all our commitments out on the table and taking each one to the chopping block, so to speak.  This is hard, as we do many good things.  There are many things we are not sure of, but there are a few callings we are positive of.  And one of them is to disciple our children.  The Lord has called us away from some of the good things we have been doing in order to minister to our family better.  It is what he has called us to do for now, as we watch and wait for his return.  Even to us, it seems a little counter intuitive to leave some ministries behind, but he continues to confirm it to us.

And back to Psalm 50, and giving thanks.  As I watch and wait, maybe the simple, but perfect, answer on how to live is to be continually thankful.   Even that can be a sacrifice and offering for it does not always come easily.  How do we thank him for broken relationships and death and illness? For war and prejudice and evil?   These things, like no other, certainly make me thankful that he is returning soon.  But how do I thank him for the banana thrown on the floor (again) and the bickering among my children?  I'm not always sure in the moment, but as I look back on my years as a mom, I see that even in these frustrations, something beautiful has grown.  I have learned to loose my hold on "perfection" because it is not here yet.  It belongs to another time and place.

For now, I am called to a holy life of little but great things, and to a life of thanksgiving through it all. No great blog following or teaching ministry or book deal.  But when I finally hear those little feet hit the floor and come thumping downstairs, and that little voice calling my name, whether I got my half hour or not, I know the sweetness of obscurity.  And I do give thanks for it.

Photo note: These photographs were sent to me recently, on Baby B's second birthday, by my girl Sara, taken back in October.

Monday, January 16, 2017

Today's Soundtrack: Crazy Normal (or Crazy and Normal)

Christmas is over.  It was very nice, a little more calm with fewer gifts.  I was able to enjoy it more and savor the faces of my little ones.  Josh did a stellar job as usual choosing my gifts, though he did not stick to the one gift rule we (I) imposed this year. He says my standards are too strict. How can I fault him for spoiling me?

It's a strange thing to wake up the day after Christmas to a mess of boxes and shreds of paper still scattered on the floor.  To still need to make breakfast and dinner.  Life returns to normal rather quickly, though the bonus of this week is that my husband is on vacation.   I got up early, he slept in.  I savored my morning quiet with my giant cup of coffee and then started working on the Christmas gift leftovers.  Kiddos were sleeping in and then lounging about on their new devices.  We didn't even plug in the tree.  We are fading back into normalcy.

But there is something really wonderful about that.  I like schedules, routine, normalcy. Being able to count on my kind of coffee in the morning and the water pressure in my shower.  I like making menus and lists of things we need at the grocery store.  I like our hum-drum, routine days as much as I like our holidays.

In all the Christmas gift wrapping, I noticed we had a severe shortage of gift bags.  We had some giant ones, but very few in the small to medium range.  And planner that I am, one of my burning desires the day after Christmas was to hit up the 50% off sales somewhere and stock up on bags for next year. Yes. I am one of those people.

As timing would have it, in life in general and the day in particular, we have a responsible 13 year-old son and a little guy who was just going down for his nap.  So it was the perfect opportunity to turn this holiday clearance shopping spree into a date.  We even stopped at Starbucks for a coffee, which made the date official.

Josh is one of those rare guys that enjoys shopping. In fact, he once told me that his favorite thing to do with me is go shopping because we always find silly or crazy things to laugh at. We just have a good time together, no matter what we do. I love that our conversations don't get interrupted on these dates.   We are goofballs and take silly selfies that nobody ever sees (except our best friends in Florida who get these via text). We just love spending time together, even if that time is spent at a department store buying toilet paper and gift bags for next year.

I say this often, but it's true.  When we said "I do",  I didn't realize I was marrying my best friend.  Sure, I love the romantic moments, but I just love spending our everyday days together, too.

Currently on our life's soundtrack is this totally relatable song.  If you've never heard Ben Rector, you are missing out.  All of his songs are a treat.  This is a favorite, one for those of us who live crazy, normal lives.

Wednesday, December 21, 2016

God (Still) With Us

At night these days I fall into bed and think of Aleppo.  I am safe and warm in my home.  My children are nestled snug in their beds.  I have had too much to eat, the sweets abound, and my coffee stash never runs dry.  I think of the faces I see online of regular, ordinary people like me who used to fall asleep to the same things I do, but now they run for their lives. They leave all their comforts behind.  It's funny the images that can impact you the most.  For me, it's a photo of a man, presumably a daddy, cradling his child in his arms, a child of about two perhaps.  I can't see the child's face, just her chubby little baby fat legs, brown skinned, dusty.  Such sweet little legs of a child being comforted by her father.

I pray for Aleppo at night.  I sing a song at night for Aleppo in my mind, an old one by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, written against the backdrop of war between the North and the South.

And in despair I bowed my head,
"There is no peace on earth, " I said,
"For hate is strong, and mocks the song
of peace on earth, goodwill to men."

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
"God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;
The wrong shall fail, the right prevail,
With peace on earth, goodwill to men."

I often sing the first of these stanzas, for the hatred in this world can be so overpowering. It can leave you hopeless, it can bring despair that just can't be overcome.  Until I sing the next stanza and I remember that it is true.  God is not dead, nor does He sleep. He sees every person in Aleppo.  He cares for each one.  Somehow, even in all this evil, He is at work.  The wrong will eventually be dealt with.  His righteousness will prevail.  He sees them.

And he sees me.  In the shadows of all this violence and evil, here I am in my warm home, well-fed, wealthy compared to the greatest percentage of the world.  It makes me feel so small, so insignificant to affect change when I think of those chubby legs, so like my own little guy's.  I am prone to feel guilty for this life immediately surrounding me, and to feel that all the Christmas preparations are so trivial, the gifts so ridiculous, the food so lavish- all so wrong- when half a world away, the world is falling apart.  I tend to think our celebration is a mockery of the very real crisis going on.

But I think it is no accident that this happens right now,  this time of year.  As Christians, and even those who do no claim to follow Christ, turn their hearts toward this idea of a baby being born a few thousand years ago, a baby who was God, and as we celebrate this miracle, it is not surprising that evil seems to overcome it and steal our joy in this:

That God is with us.  He did leave his throne and come as a baby.  He was born in poverty.  He was born during the reign of a cruel government.  His parents had to flee for their lives from a demonic king who wanted all little boys to die.  He did live a very normal and hard life and he died the worst death imaginable. But came back to life, by his own power raising himself from the dead. And he returned to his Father in heaven, sending us his Spirit to be God With Us.  Even today.

Christmas does still matter.  Because the story of Christmas is the most real, magical story there is.  And it lives on today as God shows us he is still with us.  Stories are coming out of Aleppo that God is there.  More close to home, our friends had their Christmas deliveries stolen this week - but they are being replaced by the company.  God is with them.  Last night we had Taco Tuesday with all our Bible study families.  We sang a few Christmas carols and worship songs.  We got in the Word of God. The kids were kind of wild and crazy.  As we turned out the lights and fell into bed, we just marveled at all the Lord has done in the four short months since we began the study and how our five lonely years here are suddenly changing.  God is with us.

Christmas is creeping up on us so quickly, and I do still struggle with how frivolous some of this seems in light of Aleppo, but as I wrap the gifts and curl the ribbon, I think of how the hate and the wrong will not prevail in this house.  We will celebrate the birth of our Savior and find him everywhere we go and in everything we do.  We will not let hate make a mockery of the peace we have with God and his goodwill toward all of us.  We will not let it keep us from loving those within our power to love.

We will continue to pray and give and seek to see that God is even in Aleppo.

We will remember, in the words of another beautiful carol, that "in all our trials, He was born to be our friend". (O Holy Night)

We wish you a Christmas that is refreshed by the presence of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.  May you know His peace, experience his goodwill, and enjoy his sweet friendship.

Please pray for Aleppo, and if you feel led to help, there are many wonderful ministries helping the refugees.  The one closest to the front lines seems to be The Preemptive Love Coalition.  Above all, please pray.