It is October 1st, time for the FIRST Day Blog Tour! (Join our alliance! Click the button!) The FIRST day of every month we will feature an author and his/her latest book's FIRST chapter!

This month's feature author is:

TOSCA LEE

and her book:

Demon: A Memoir

(NavPress, 2007)

MY REVIEW: Based on just the title or the cover I would never have picked this as a book to read, however, I am very glad that I read it! So, if you are like me, don’t let the title or the cover keep you from buying it. It was powerfully written. Before I knew it I was caught up in the story trying to understand why a demon would be telling this tale. I admit it, I even started to wonder if I should feel sorry for the demon at times, but that was part of the great deception masterfully woven into the storyline as you discover that regret and remorse are not one and the same. At the end of the book, when you discover why the demon is telling the tale, it is shocking, eye-opening and even challenging. Over the past several weeks since I read this book I have reconsidered its themes. (I especially liked the portrayal of distorted vision and the effects that it has on life choices and the description of the incarnation). I was afraid the book would be dark, but on the contrary, it included a beautiful portrayal of God and His overwhelming love for mankind within a captivating story of choices.

MY RECOMMENDATION:

Read the book. The writing style is excellent, the spiritual themes are varied, thought provoking and told from a unique point of view.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Tosca Lee received her BA in English and International Relations from Smith College in Northampton, Massachusetts. She has also studied at Oxford University.

As a Leadership Consultant, Tosca works with managers and leaders of organizations throughout the Pan-Pacific region, Europe, and the U.S.

Tosca is a former Mrs. Nebraska-America 1996, Mrs. Nebraska-United States 1998 and first runner-up to Mrs. United States and has been lauded nationally for her efforts to fight breast cancer.

In her spare time, Tosca enjoys cooking, studying history and theology, and traveling. She currently resides in Nebraska with her Shar Pei, Attila.

Visit her at her website and her blog.

AND
NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:

Chapter One

It was raining the night he found me. Traffic had slowed on Massachusetts Avenue, and the wan light of streetlamps reflected off the pavement. I was hurrying on without an umbrella, distracted by the chirp of a text message on my phone, trying to shield its illuminated face from rain and the drizzle off storefront awnings. There had been a mistake in my schedule, an appointment that I didn’t recognize and that I had stayed late at the office for — until six forty-five — just in case. Our office manager was texting me from home now to say she had no idea who it was with, that the appointment must have belonged on Phil’s calendar, that she was sorry for the mistake and to have a good night.

I flipped the phone shut, shoved it in my bag. I was worn out by this week already, and it was only Tuesday. The days were getting shorter, the sun setting by six o’clock. It put me on edge, gnawed at me, as though I had better get somewhere warm and cheerful or, barring all else, home before it got any darker. But I was unwilling to face the empty apartment, the dirty dishes and unopened mail on the counter. So I lowered my head against the rain and walked another two blocks past my turnoff until I came to the Bosnian Café. A strap of bells on the door announced my entrance with a ringing slap.

I liked the worn appeal of the Bosnian Café with its olfactory embrace of grilled chicken and gyro meat that enveloped me upon every arrival and clung to me long after leaving. That night, in the premature darkness and rain, the café seemed especially homey with its yellowing countertops, chipped mirrors, and grimy ketchup bottles. Cardboard shamrocks, remnants of a forgotten Saint Patrick’s Day, draped the passthrough into the kitchen, faded around their die-cut edges. A string of Christmas lights lined the front window, every third bulb out. On the wall above the register, a framed photo of the café’s owner with a local pageant queen, and another with a retired Red Sox player, had never been dusted. But no one, including me, seemed to mind.

I stood in the entry waiting for Esad, the owner, to notice me. But it was not the bald man who welcomed me.

It was the dark-haired stranger.

I was surveying the other tables, looking for inspiration — chicken or steak, gyro or salad — when he beckoned. I hesitated, wondering if I should recognize him, this man sitting by himself — but no, I did not know him. He impatiently waved again, and I glanced over my shoulder, but there was no one standing in the entryway but me. And then the man at the table stood up and strode directly to me.

“You’re late,” he said, clasping my shoulder and smiling. He was tall, tanned, with curling hair and a slightly hooked nose that did nothing to detract from his enviable Mediterranean looks. His eyes glittered beneath well-formed brows. His teeth were very white.

“I’m sorry. I think you have the wrong person,” I said. He chuckled. “Not at all! I’ve been waiting for you for quite some time. An eternity, you might say. Please, come sit down. I took the liberty of ordering for you.” His voice reminded me of fine cognac, the Hors d’Age men drink aboard their yachts as they cut their Cohíbas.

“You have the wrong person. I don’t know you,” I insisted, even as he steered me toward the table. I didn’t want to embarrass him; he already seemed elegantly out of place here in what, for all practical purposes, was a joint. But he would feel like an elegant fool in another minute, especially if his real appointment — interview, date, whatever — walked in and saw him sitting here with me.

“But I know you, Clay.”

I started at the sound of my name, spoken by him with a mixture of familiarity and strange interest, and then I studied him more closely — the squareness of his jaw, the smoothness of his cheek, his utter self-possession — wondering if I had indeed met him before. But I hadn’t, I was certain of it now.

One of Esad’s nephews arrived with a chicken sandwich and two cups of coffee. “Please,” the stranger said, motioning to a vinyl-covered chair. Numbly, stupidly, I sat.

“You work down the street at Brooks and Hanover,” he said when the younger man had gone. He seated himself adjacent to me, his chair angled toward mine. He crossed his legs, plucked invisible lint off the fine wool of his trousers. “You’re an editor.”

Several thoughts went through my head in that moment, none of them savory: first, that this was some finance or insurance rep who — just like the pile of loan offers on my counter at home — was trying to capitalize on my recent divorce. Or, that this was some aggressive literary agent trying to play suave.

Most likely, though, he was a writer.

Every editor has stories to tell: zealous writers pushing manuscripts on them during their kid’s softball game, passing sheaves of italicized print across pews at church, or trying to pick them up in bars, casually mentioning between lubricated flirtations that they write stories on the side and just happen to have a manuscript in the car. I had lost count of the dry cleaners, dental hygienists, and plumbers who, upon hearing what I did for a living, had felt compelled to gift me with their short stories and children’s books, their novels-in-progress and rhyming poetry.

“Look, whoever you are — ”

“Lucian.”

I meant to tell him that I was sure we didn’t publish whatever it was he wanted me to read, that there were industryaccepted ways to get his work to us if we did, that he could visit the website and check out the guidelines. I also meant to get up and walk away, to look for Esad or his nephew and put an order in — to go. But I didn’t say or do any of these things, because what he said next stopped me cold.

“I know you’re searching, Clay. I know you’re wondering what these late, dark nights are for. You have that seasonal disease, that modern ailment, don’t you? SAD, they call it. But it isn’t the disorder — you should know that. It isn’t even your divorce. That’s not what’s bothering you. Not really.”

I was no longer hungry. I pushed away the chicken sandwich he had ordered and said with quiet warning, “I don’t know who you are, but this isn’t funny.”

He went on as though he hadn’t heard me, saying with what seemed great feeling, “It’s that you don’t know what it’s all for: the hours and days, working on the weekends, the belief that you’ll eventually get caught up and on that ultimate day something will happen. That everything will make sense or you’ll at least have time to figure it out. You’re a good man, Clay, but what has that won you? You’re alone, growing no younger, drifting toward some unknown but inevitable end in this life. And where is the meaning in that?”

I sat very still. I felt exposed, laid open, as though I had emptied my mind onto the table like the contents of a pocket. I could not meet his gaze. Nearby, a couple — both of their heads dripping dirty blond dreadlocks — mulled over menus as the woman dandled an infant on her lap. Beyond them, a thickset woman paged through People, and a young man in scrubs plodded in a sleep-deprived daze through an anemic salad. I wondered if any of them had noticed my uncanny situation, the strange hijacking taking place here. But they were mired in their menus, distractions, and stupor. At the back counter, a student tapped at the keypad of his phone, sending messages into the ether.

“I realize how this feels, and I apologize,” Lucian said, folding long fingers together on his knee. His nails were smooth and neatly manicured. He wore an expensivelooking watch, the second hand of which seemed to hesitate before hiccupping on, as though time had somehow slowed in the sallow light of the diner. “I could have done this differently, but I don’t think I would have had your attention.”

“What are you, some kind of Jehovah’s Witness?” I said. It was the only thing that made sense. His spiel could have hit close to anyone. I felt conned, angry, but most of all embarrassed by my emotional response.

His laughter was abrupt and, I thought, slightly manic. “Oh my,” he said, wiping the corners of his eyes. I pushed back my chair.

His merriment died so suddenly that were it not for the sound of it still echoing in my ears, I might have thought I had imagined it. “I’m going to tell you everything,” he said, leaning toward me so that I could see the tiny furrows around the corners of his mouth, the creases beneath his narrowed eyes. A strange glow emanated from the edge of his irises like the halo of a solar eclipse. “I’m going to tell you my story. I’ve great hope for you, in whom I will create the repository of my tale — my memoir, if you will. I believe it will be of great interest to you. And you’re going to write it down and publish it.”

Now I barked a stunted laugh. “No, I’m not. I don’t care if you’re J. D. Salinger.”

Again he went on as though I’d said nothing. “I understand they’re all the rage these days, memoirs. Publishing houses pay huge sums for the ghostwritten, self-revelatory accounts of celebrities all the time. But trust me; they’ve never acquired a story like mine.”

“Look,” I said, a new edge in my voice, “You’re no celebrity I
recognize, and I’m no ghostwriter. So I’m going to get myself some dinner and be nice enough to forget this ever happened.” But as I started to rise, he grabbed me by the arm. His fingers, biting through the sleeve of my coat, were exceedingly strong, unnaturally warm, and far too intimate.

“But you won’t forget,” he said, the strange light of fanaticism in his eyes. His mouth seemed to work independently of their stare, as though it came from another face altogether. “You will recall everything — every word I say. Long after you have forgotten, in fact, the name of this café, the way I summoned you to this table, the first prick of your mortal curiosity about me. Long after you have forgotten, in fact, the most basic details of your life. You will remember, and you will curse or bless this day.”

I felt ill. Something about the way he said mortal . . . In that instant, reality, strung out like an elastic band, snapped. This was no writer.

“Yes. You see,” he said quietly. “You know. We can share now, between us, the secret of what I am.”

And the words came, unbidden, to my mind: Fallen. Dark Spirit.

Demon.

The trembling that began in my stomach threatened to seize up my diaphragm. But then he released me and sat back. “Now. Here is Mr. Esad, wondering why you haven’t touched your sandwich.” And indeed, here came the bald man, coffeepot in hand, smiling at the stranger as though he were more of a regular than I. I stared between them as they made their pleasantries, the sound of their banter at sick odds with what my visceral sense told me was true, what no one else seemed to notice: that I was sitting here with something incomprehensively evil.

When Esad left, Lucian took a thin napkin from the dispenser and set it beside my coffee cup. The gesture struck me as aberrantly mundane. He sighed.

“I feel your trepidation, that sense that you ought to get up and leave immediately. And under normal circumstances, I would say that you are right. But listen to me now when I tell you you’re safe. Be at ease. Here. I’ll lean forward like this, in your human way. When that couple over there sees my little smile, this conspiratorial look, they’ll think we’re sharing a succulent bit of gossip.”

I wasn’t at ease. Not at all. My heart had become a pounding liability in my chest.

“Why?” I managed, wishing I were even now in the emptiness of my apartment, staring at the world through the bleak window of my TV.

Lucian leaned even closer, his hand splayed across the top of the table so that I could see the blue veins along the back of it. His voice dropped below a whisper, but I had no difficulty hearing him. “Because my story is very closely connected to yours. We’re not so different after all, you and I. We both want purpose, meaning, to see the bigger picture. I can give you that.”

“You don’t even know me!”

“On the contrary,” he said, sliding the napkin dispenser away, as though it were a barrier between us. “I know everything about you. Your childhood house on Ridgeview Drive. The tackle box you kept your football cards in. The night you tried to sneak out after homecoming to meet Lindsey Bennett. You broke your wrist climbing out of the window.”

I stared.

“I know of your father’s passing — you were fifteen. About the merlot you miss since giving up drinking, the way you dip your hamburgers in blue cheese dressing — your friend Piotr taught you that in college. That you’ve been telling yourself you ought to get away somewhere — Mexico, perhaps. That you think it’s the seasonal disorder bothering you, though it’s not — ”

“Stop!” I threw up my hands, wanting him to leave at once, equally afraid that he might and that I would be stuck knowing that there was this person — this thing — watching me. Knowing everything.

His voice gentled. “Let me assure you you’re not the only one; I could list myriad facts about anyone. Name someone. How about Sheila?” He smirked. “Let’s just say she didn’t return your essage from home, and her husband thinks she’s working late. Esad? Living in war-torn Bosnia was no small feat. He — ” He cocked his head, and there came now a faint buzzing like an invisible swarm of mosquitoes. I instinctively jerked away.

“What was that?” I demanded, unable to pinpoint where the sound had come from.

“Ah. A concentration camp!” He looked surprised. “I didn’t know that. Did you know that? And as for your ex — ” He tilted his head again.

“No! Please, don’t.” I lowered my head into my hand, dug my fingers into my scalp. Five months after the divorce, the wound still split open at the mere mention of her.

“You see?” he whispered, his head ducked down so that he stared intently up into my face. “I can tell you everything.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’ve made a pastime of studying case histories, of following them through from beginning to end. You fascinate me in the same way that beetles with their uncanny instinct for dung rolling used to fascinate you. I know more about you than your family. Than your ex. Than you know about yourself, I daresay.”

Something — some by-product of fear — rose up within me as anger at last. “If you are what you say, aren’t you here to make some kind of deal for my soul? To tempt me? Why did you order me coffee, then? Why not a glass of merlot or a Crown and Coke?” My voice had risen, but I didn’t care; I felt my anger with relief.

Lucian regarded me calmly. “Please. How trite. Besides, they don’t serve liquor here.” But then his calm fell away, and he was staring — not at me but past me, toward the clock on the wall. “But there,” he pointed. His finger seemed exceedingly long. “See how the hour advances without us!” He leapt to his feet, and I realized with alarm that he meant to leave.

“What — you can’t just go now that you’ve — ”

“I’ve come to you at great risk,” he hissed, the sound sibilant, as though he had whispered in my ear though he stood three feet away. And then he strode to the glass door and pushed out into the darkness, disappearing beyond the reflected interior of the café like a shadow into a mirror. The strap of bells fell against the door with a flat metal clink, and my own stunned reflection stared back.

Rain pelted my eyes, slipped in wet tracks through my hair against my scalp, ran in rivulets down my nape to mingle with the sweat against my back. It had gotten colder, almost freezing, but I was sweating inside the sodden collar of my shirt as I hurried down Norfolk, my bag slapping against my hip, my legs cramped and wooden, nightmare slow.

The abrupt warmth inside my apartment building threatened to suffocate me as I stumbled up the stairs. My ears pintingled to painful life as I fumbled with my keys. Inside my apartment at last, I fell back against the door, head throbbing and lungs heaving in the still air. I stayed like that, my coat dripping onto the carpet, for several long moments. Then a mad whim struck me.

With numb fingers, I retrieved the laptop from my bag and set it up on the kitchen table. With my coat still on, I dropped down onto a wooden chair, staring at the screen as it yawned to life. I logged into the company server, opened my calendar.

There — my six-thirty appointment. It was simply noted:
L.

Sample from Demon / ISBN
1-60006-123-0
Copyright © 2006 NavPress Publishing.

All rights reserved.
To order copies of this resource, come
back to www.navpress.com.

Journey, an update 9-30-07 and 9-17-07

(Sorry I forgot to post 9/17 after I e-mailed it)

For the Son of Man came to seek and save what was lost. Luke 19:10

Lost – an object lesson:

You know, object lessons are all well and good, until they happen to you. Yet, this week the Lord used a situation that I found myself in to teach me.

Friday night I got lost. Not just slightly lost, but honestly and truly “How in the world did I end up here” lost. I had met with a friend and I was leaving a parking garage when there was a problem with the ticket to get out of the garage. They had me pull over on this side ramp while they went to the office to check the ticket and then when they cleared up the problem I had to keep going up the ramp onto a one way street. No problem, I’ll flip around and be back on my way in no time. Right? Wrong! Every time I tried to go back the way I wanted to go I hit one way streets or construction. I kept pulling over to look at the map, finding a street I could turn on and then either it turned out I couldn’t turn there or there were no street signs and I missed the street altogether. Forty minutes later I was in an area of Budapest that I had never been to, on dark unlit side streets with no street signs, wondering how in the world I could find my way home. I petitioned the Lord and God was gracious. He sent a taxi down the road. I followed him onto the road that I thought would go through (based on the map) when I hit a T intersection. I was so confused I had no idea which way went toward the main road, but I followed the taxi hoping he was heading back toward the center of the city. He was and after a 40 minute detour I was back where I started but this time heading in the right direction.

The object lesson: The more I tried to follow the map and figure out the way on my own, the more lost I became. I’m normally a pretty good map reader but I couldn’t figure it out on my own. The map wasn’t much help because of all the new construction changing the path of roads, closed roads, one way streets and lack of street signs. I could guess right or left, but it was only a guess because my perception was skewed and I had lost track of north, south, east and west. I needed someone to follow, someone who knew the way, before I got back on the right track.

The thing is that our perception in life is also skewed. We judge by the standards and intellect of a fallen world, a fallen mind. We can’t save ourselves no matter how hard we try. We can’t do enough good to outweigh the bad. We can’t wash away our own sin or make ourselves righteous. We are lost with a map that we no longer know how to read and we need someone to guide us to the truth. That is exactly what Jesus came to do. He came to seek us when we were wandering aimlessly getting more and more lost by the minute. He came to save us, to show us the way to God, to give His own blood to open up the road to heaven.

I meet so many people who think they are just fine. They are figuring out life on their own. Just like I thought I could figure out my direction they think that they can figure out life and eternity. But the reality is that we are all lost, getting farther away from the truth by the minute until we let Jesus lead. I praise God that He did come to seek and to save the lost. And this experience reminded me once again of how much I need to petition the Lord to open eyes and guide the lost to His truth. Because the only thing worse than being lost – is being lost but never finding the way home.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Come, all you who are thirsty, come to the waters; and you who have no money, come, buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without cost. Why spend your money on what is not bread, and your labor on what does not satisfy? Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good and your soul will delight in the richest of fare. Give ear and come to me; hear me, that your soul may live. Isaiah 55:1-3a

If anyone is thirsty, let him come to me and drink. Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, streams of living water will flow from within him. John 7:37b

The Spirit and the bride say, “Come!” And let him who hears say, “Come!” Whoever is thirsty, let him come; and whoever wishes, let him take the free gift of the water of life. Rev. 22:17

Over the past few weeks I have been busier than I can remember being in a very long time. I have found myself calling on God constantly for details that have needed to come together. And I know that God cares about the details. But last week I got a prayer and praise update from another missionary that mentioned needing to seek God’s face more than His hand. (Thanks Charles). I’ve been thinking about that all week. In the busyness of the last couple of weeks I have been concentrating more on God’s hand than on His face or His presence. And as I started thinking about it I realized that I was thirsting and my thirst was being hidden by all the activity. In fact, I found that I was not just a little thirsty but desperately thirsty.

The beautiful thing about realizing my thirst is that the solution is so simple. “Come!” Over and over in Scripture we are told to simply come and drink. The living water is free and abundantly available. As I carved out time this weekend to truly worship I found a funny thing occurring. I found myself satisfied and all the more thirsty at the same time. Thankfully this living water, the presence of God that I craved isn’t just a glass or a pitcher of water, but a living, flowing, continuous stream that I can immerse myself in. What a wonderful thing. If you find yourself thirsty, come, come and drink of the water that satisfies.

Fall Ministries

This week was another crazy, busy week. On Sunday I was blessed to see some people from my church in Florida as they stopped over in Budapest on a trip through Hungary, Austria and the Czech Republic. Sadly, I didn't have my camera with me. (I know, when do I not have a camera with me! I guess there is always a first time.) I'll have to get some copies of photos of from them later. It was a nice day. We went to church, spent some time in the New York Cafe, visited the Synagogue, visited my home and had a traditional dinner arranged by the tour company that they were with.

On Monday English classes started in Petofibanya. It was a good start to the program.

Tuesday I went with some of my teammates to look at several facilities that we may stay at for a teambuilding weekend and that we may use for summer ministries.

Wednesday I had a headache. I caught up on some financial paperwork. I spent hours working to try to repair my washing machine. Now that we have the electrical problem identified to a certain socket the filter appears to be clogged and the drain isn't working. Sigh. It is always something. I also planted some bulbs in the garden and spent some time looking for a hotel for visitors coming next month.

Today our English Club in Pecel started. We had a great turnout and Lidia said to expect more students next week.

Tonight I went to Tesco, a large British chain store sort of like Wal-Mart. It was great to shop with a car and not be super concerned about buying only what I could carry home. Insert BIG Smile here.

Hope you are having a great week!

City Mission

I really enjoyed the City Mission week. Above is the logo. It says "Look up" and the small logo states "I give you hope and future."

This was a great week not only of outreach events but also of Christians gathering together. After the last night at the Hillsong United concert, one of the young Hungarian leaders in my church stated that he had never seen so many believers gathered together in Hungary.

Below are some photos of the open church night

and the Gospel Choir that performed at the West End Mall.

Settling In ... A super long Blog Entry
Grab a cup of coffee and settle in to read it :)

Yesterday took this picture of the sunrise out the side window of my living room. It was such a beautiful morning...peaceful, quiet, no trace of city traffic...just a quiet Sunday. I'm loving my new place.

I've been trying to settle in while keeping up with the rest of life. Here's a short synopsis of the past week. (I'm so glad that all the ministries start up next week and that I could rearrange my schedule to accommodate all the craziness of moving).

Some pictures of the cats - settling in...

This window is between the kitchen and the glassed-in porch. Gus is on the kitchen side of the window and Finn is on the porch side.

Gus is always where he is not supposed to be!

Finn is worn out from exploring the new place.

ABOUT MY WEEK:

Sunday: I went to the early service and rushed home to meet the movers. The district that I lived in had a law about bringing trucks of certain sizes into the district. The movers were only allowed to be there on weekends or after 8 pm. The movers were all booked for Saturday so the move had to happen on Sunday since I had to be out of the apartment before the next weekend. I was back home at 11 and the movers were supposed to come at noon. At 11:10 they showed up at my apartment, but they didn't bring a big enough truck so they only were able to take half of my things.

Monday: I headed out early for an appointment at the residency office. My residency permit is expiring and I had to turn in all my papers that morning. All went well with only a few questions. I am praying for a two year permit this time instead of just a one year. I didn't have all of the signatures needed for the move so I will have to have papers sent to the owner of the new place and have them sign and send them back. (They live in Germany). After my appointment I rushed home to meet the movers. They were coming for the second load with a smaller truck that was within the limits of the size that they were allowed to bring into my district during the day. I came back out to the house and everything was unloaded. Some of my furniture wouldn't go through the doorways (this is an old country home). The old apartments in the city were originally made for families that were wealthy and most stairways and entryways can accommodate a grand piano. This means some of my things entered my house through the windows and my large wardrobe is in the entryway instead of my bedroom.

Tuesday: I had to be up early again and head into the city to my old apartment. I met with my former landlady about my deposit. She also had a refrigerator and washing machine delivered for the new tenants. I had to buy my own when I moved in. I wonder if they are willing to pay higher rent so she bought them for them? After that meeting I rushed back out to the new place to meet the gas man. Then Erika, Cathy and Geraldine (visiting Cathy from the states) helped me put up a screen on the living room window and a shower head in the bathroom.

Wednesday: I headed into town again. I had originally planned to spend Wednesday through Friday cleaning and touch-up painting in my old apartment but my former landlady suggested someone who would do it for me for such a small sum of money that I agreed to have her arrange it. It was better for both of us because the lady could come that day (Wednesday) and then the new renters could start moving in on Thursday instead of waiting until Saturday. So I went to the apartment Wednesday morning, payed for the cleaning and gave over my keys. Then I ran some errands and met my friend Tracey for a late lunch. It was a perfect moment of rest and fellowship in a busy week. That night, I decided to start a load of laundry and got quite a shock when I touched the metal drum of the washing machine. Thanks for praying for my saftey! It could have been much worse!

Thursday: Headed into town again. I went out to Cathy's house which is on the far south side of Budapest (Buda - a town called Erd). It's a long story, but until I process my papers about this move I am officially registered at Cathy's house and some important papers were waiting for me at the post office in her town that I had to pick up in person. Then we dropped the car off at the mechanic. Yes, there are mechanics closer to me, but this one is a believer and trusted to be honest which is a huge deal! Then, we headed out to Pecel for an ESL meeting. There were 5 accidents on the way and it took at least an hour and a half, maybe longer, to get there. We had our meeting, went back for the car and then I came home to meet with my new landlord about the electrical problem. He looked everything over and couldn't find the problem. The washing machine closet is newly built and wired and he expected that something was wrong with the wiring but maybe something in my machine got damaged in the move. A professional electrician is coming tonight (Monday) to take a look.

Friday: My first day at home where I don't have to run all over the nation doing things! Yeah. I unpacked and unpacked and unpacked some more. The T-Com guy came at 1 to install my telephone. He got it all set up and told me that my Internet could work within 24 hours or 30 days - no promises. Oh well. I finally unpacked my dishes and pots and pans so I can start eating real food again. But, then I went to McDonald's for three hours. They are the only place locally where I can use wireless Internet. I looked for a graphic for the ESL poster that Jenn needed to print the next day, wrote some e-mails and ate dinner. :)

Saturday: The unpacking saga continues. My kitchen is getting to the point where it looks normal but I don't have anyplace to put my food. There is a cabinet for dishes and such but not enough room for food too. I might have to look for a small cabinet to serve as a pantry. The Internet company called saying my Internet was working. I was SO excited. Then I tried it and it didn't work. I gave it a couple of hours and tried again. No such luck. I called them and hit the buttons for the English speaking line. I was directed to the Tech area which wasn't in English. We walked through it all and got it set up. Praise God! Saturday evening I headed into town to church. This was the kickoff night of a week long outreach called City Mission. Saturday was Open Church Night. Every year museums in Budapest have an Open Museum night were they are open all night and people can come for free. This was the first time for this type of event for churches. Starting at 6 and going to 4 am we had worship, testimonies, "I'll listen to you tables" just for talking, prayer groups and food tables. I admit, I didn't stay all night, but it was wonderful. Every day this next week there will be associated outreach events. Pray that God will use this week to reach people for His glory.

Yesterday/Sunday: I was running late for church. Getting up for the early service after a late night wasn't so easy. This was my first time driving to church to park around that area. It is a section of narrow streets and parallel parking. I arrived in the area only ten minutes before the start of the service and I didn't see any parking spaces, so I decided to go to the parking garage I saw just down the block. This was a crazy experience for me!!!! I pulled into the entrance, went up the ramp and there was a big metal door. Hmm.... A man walked out and pushed a button opening the door and told me to drive forward. I did, as he shouted directions, "a little left - a little right, straight." I was driving onto tracks like at an oil/filter change place. I rolled down my window and asked him if it was a parking garage (maybe I was mistaken?) He said, "Of Course." He told me to set the parking brake and lock the car. This was seeming more like some off the wall TV episode every minute. He handed me a ticket, told me the price per hour and said something to the effect that everything was automatic. I walked away as the metal gate closed behind me and I heard funny track moving noises. I made it to church in time wondering about the fate and state of my car.
Church was wonderful. I realized that I had been so busy trying to balance life this week that though I hadn't forgotten God, I hadn't spent time just being quiet before Him. Over the weekend I realized just how hungry I have been simply for His presence. He truly renews my soul.
After church I got my car back. The man programmed in my ticket, I paid and my car came to me through the big metal doors transported on little tracks. Then I went with a group to lunch celebrate John's birthday and Tracey came over to see my new place (even in it's current state of disarray). I ended the evening by spending some quiet time reading.

This morning is catch up time - all those e-mails that haven't been answered...work that hasn't been done...blogs needing to be written...expense reports to file, meetings to schedule, etc. Maybe I'll also get some unpacking done as tomorrow my week starts to look a bit crazy again. :) I hope to be at the city mission events Tuesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday. Please pray for these events as outreach is happening every day this week!

Thanks for reading my long post about my week. God bless and keep you!
Rachelle

A Blessing - A Car

I've been mentioning my need for a car since April. I still don't have quite enough money to cover the cost but with my recent move it became neccesary to look at getting a car as soon as possible. God provided a way for me to borrow the additional money until the amount comes into my account and He provided a great car for me.

My car is a 1998 Ford Mondeo. (Similar to the Contour in the States) It has quite a few miles on it but it is in good condition after some work on the basic parts that wear out, like brakes and shocks and such. There are still some maintenance items to be taken care of but none of them are serious. It is a fairly large car by Hungarian standards but it will be possible for me to take four people with me and often we are scrapping by to find enough space for everyone when we travel to events such as camp. Already I have been blessed as having this vehicle has saved me hours of transportation time in the last week and will enable me to travel to ministry locations as we kick off our fall ministries next week.

Thank you to all of you who have contributed toward this purchase!!! If you have been praying about giving and the Lord leads you to do so, please know that there is still a need.

Journey, an update 9-11-07

The Son is the radiance of God’s glory and the exact representation of his being, sustaining all things by his powerful word. Hebrews 1:3

I sought the LORD, and he answered me; he delivered me from all my fears. Those who look to him are radiant; their faces are never covered in shame. Psalm 34:4-5

The house that I am moving into has been standing empty for some time while the owners have been working to repair things, plastering, laying tile, etc. As a result there was a thick layer of dust covering just about everything. I was amazed how much dust can accumulate on the underside of a shelf. I’ve been cleaning for about a week and while the house is much cleaner I would hardly call it radiant yet. Every time I turn around I find another nook or cranny where there is dust or plaster, but it gets a little closer every day.

This morning I was reading a devotion that referred to the LORD as the radiant One. What a beautiful title. 1 John 1:5 tells us that in God there is no darkness at all. He is radiant, perfect in light, perfect in holiness. He shines! What is more, He pours out that light upon our lives, shining onto us, in us and through us. I love how the psalmist tells us that those who look to the LORD are also radiant. We shine with His light. If we seek Him, he will answer us. He is able to clean out all of the hidden corners of our lives and make us pure and radiant. We don’t have to hide our faces in shame because He is making us new, reflecting His glory in our lives.

Vacation in Slovenia

Still in the process of moving - crazy busy!!!

But, I wanted to take a minute to share some of the photos from my vacation in Slovenia. Was it only a week ago that I was relaxing in such a beautiful place?

MOVING!!!

Please pray for me - I'm going to be exceptionally busy the next couple of weeks. My contract for my current place ends in October and I gave notice to be out on October 15th. BUT - my landlady has new renters that want to be in here on September 15th and asked me to move out before then.

In one way it is great, it saves me money. In another way it is incrediblly challenging because there is so much to be done and so little time! I covet your prayers that all would go smoothly.