On Sunday morning March 8th 2009
To the horror of those present and the shock of the town
At the First Baptist church of Maryville, Illinois
Pastor Fred Winters, while preaching, is suddenly gunned down

Through each word of each sentence
In every memorial service and interview,
Came the story of redemption
The love of Christ shone through

There was no denying the grieving,
Yet there was a worshipful faith-filled witness
Of He who dwelled within them
And of His radiant presence

I remember feeling such pride
In their Christ like responses
A powerful example of Jesus words
“Therefore whoever confesses…” (Matt 10:32)

“If this happened in my church”
I found myself contemplating in my mind
“Would this be the character that was found
If we were searched and tried?” (Psalm 139:23)

So here it is the 5th of May
Again, tragedy, due to their testimony
In the Coleman home, Columbia, Illinois
Three are taken down, Violently.

Our beloved Sheri, Garett and Gavin
No longer to be a part of our family, church or town
As we rend our hearts and garments here
They don their “graduation” gowns!

I am walking and praying
I am grieved and bewildered
I am thinking about the grain
That dies as it falls to the earth (John12:24a)

Coals have been fanned to flame
Fires of urgency have been rekindled (Jude 1:23a)
Seeds have fallen to the ground
But we are promised multitudes for each single (John 12:24b)

As I’m carrying these seeds
Securely cupped within my heart and symbolically my hands
I press on towards the river
And think “Yes, they will need water to fulfill the plan”

I arrive at the rivers edge
To find its crest is high and borders wide
Reminding me of the river in Ezekiel 47 (Ezekiel 47:5)
And the fruit bearing trees planted along its side (Ezekiel 47:7 and 47:12)

It says everything in its path will live (Ezekiel 47:9)
As it flows from the temple to the East (Ezekiel 47:1 and Ezekiel 47:8)
You may have gone into the ground a seed
But you will become a nourishing, medicinal tree. (Ezekiel 47:12) *

The truth is, a kernel of wheat must be planted in the soil. Unless it dies it will be alone–a single seed. But its death will produce many new kernels–a plentiful harvest of new lives. - John 12:24 NLT

* Sheri participated in Medical Missions!

© Laura Jean Eubanks May 6th 2009

Oh please do not look at me

With your earthly eyes

Try and see me as the one

Who has His throne on high

For where you may see the surface

He sees what’s within

He still calls me his beloved

Although He knows my sin

He understands my weakness

My failures and my shame

He has watched me take my every step

He knows which left me lame

So you may see me as I am

This day, this hour, this place

But He sees me as I can be

Through His love, His power, His grace

Copyright Laura Jean Eubanks 2-24-2002

Children in rags with big holes in their britches

 

Buttons are missing and there’s no thread for new stitches

 

If they were right there in front of your eyes

 

Would you be shocked or maybe even despise -

 

That they are dirty, often smelly, maybe covered with sand

 

But as they run to you with outstretched arms

 

Would you embrace them and take their hand

 

 

 

They may tell you lies and may steal your belongings

 

And do all manner of things which you find appalling.

 

So many are devoid of a mom or a dad

 

Darkness and poverty breeds what is bad

 

By the Spirit, can you see through, to their destiny

 

In love release vision of who they can be  

 

And walk with them until they’re free

 

 

Some have eyes full of love and true joy in their spirits

 

The song in their heart brings delight when I hear it

 

Ecstasy abounds as they flip in the sand

 

A bag from the trash makes them “Superman”

 

In small hands an empty spray can drove like a car

 

True joy does not come from the price of your toy

 

It is a fruit that takes root, in your heart

 

Laura Eubanks

August 10, 2008

 

 

This poem loosely follows the tempo of the lyrics of the classic song from The Sound of Music, “Favorite Things”. Why … I am not sure … maybe because the poem is about some of my favorite “things”. J The tune sprung up in me as I began to write immediately followed by the idea to do it this way. It was inspired by moments throughout my days. The initial verse is based on my recent thoughts of how desperately poor many of the people here are. It is absolutely common to see children wearing old, filthy clothing with huge tears and holes. I guess I was pondering it afresh from the perspective of how an outsider would see. What would it be like to find a child looking this way on the streets in the United States? I am not “ok” with it but I am used to it, and it really does not capture my focus. I am captured by the beauty of their faces and the tenderness of their hearts. I just accept that I cannot stay clean throughout a day! Sometimes the first thing I do is encounter children who need hugs and affirmation. They sit, play and do amazing gymnastic feats in the dirt and sand. When I hug them and especially if I pick them up, I get dirty as their legs and little bare feet dangle down or wrap around me!

 

There is a huge problem with theft here. Some is on a small individual basis and there are some big things! Recently there has been an increase in muggings. In the last couple of weeks two happened out in the city, another happened just outside our center (in full daylight!) and one occurred on Center 2 in the prayer garden just after dark by people who had climbed over the walls. There was also a mugging just outside my center but it was after dark. So far all of the victims except one have been short term visitors or students who are now being told to never walk alone and not to carry things that make you an inviting target. So … I am keeping alert and getting rides as I can between my home on Center 1 and working with the kids at Center 2, but it is really not feasible all the time. (It is a 15 min walk at a brisk pace) I do not have a sense of fear but am trying to be wise. In some ways I think there is less danger and more of a respect for those of us who live here because we are known by and know so many of the people. Yes, there are “giants in the land” but there are people in need of the love of Jesus and the freedom which that brings … so we press on.

 

On Saturday, August 8th I was walking to Center 2 because a group of visitors were doing a game day or “Iris Olympics” for our children. I was their contact person for the equipment so I thought I would go over to make sure they hadn’t run into any last minute problems or needs. I had just begun walking and I heard this loud joyful singing. A large truck approached full of children. It was one of ours! At the other base I found out that there was also a special beach event planned for the village children at our base in Maranganha. (Still am unsure on that spelling) That was the truckload of children which passed me. Much later in the day I decided to go take a walk at the beach. I again heard the sound of loud joyful singing. It was the truckload of children returning from their special day. Moments like these are my treasures here!

 

It saddens my heart to see children having to resort to playing with trash, sometimes just pulling random things along on the end of a string. I am also amazed at their joy, innovation and contentment. This week I saw some of our little boys with different size pieces of the trunk of a banana tree which they stacked to look like a boat. They held these layers together with thin pieces of bamboo put through them like a toothpick. They attached a string and were happily pulling them around through the dirt and sand. From this came the thought - “True joy does not come from the price of your toy”.

 

 

 

One day he comes running

 

His amigo matching his stride

 

One by one I scoop them into my arms

 

And wrap them deep inside

 

 

I pray prayers of blessing

 

That they would know the Father’s love

 

And whatever else poured through my heart

 

And set them down to a few last hugs

 

 

I remember being impacted

 

By the similarity of their names

 

I remember being impacted

 

By the sweetness of the embrace

 

 

A couple of days later

 

The same spot, different scene

 

There was a crowd of people

 

All gathered on the street

 

 

At first I couldn’t see much

 

Through the many people who were there

 

Then in a surreal moment

 

In horror I became aware

 

 

On this hot black street

 

Under the Mozambican sun

 

Under a colorful kapulana

 

Lay the lifeless body of a young one

 

 

So many were gathered

 

So many prayed

 

Yet when all was said and done

 

They took him away

 

 

As the crowd began to disperse

 

One final act I saw

 

Was someone spreading sand and dirt

 

To absorb where his life had been poured out

 

 

Now three days have passed

 

Since that child so alive, was struck dead

 

The final image, a dirty stain

 

Remnant of the blood and matter from his head

 

 

I recall the memory of the purity of his face

 

As he nestled into my legs on that last embrace

 

Now all evidence of him is seemingly erased

 

Abba, please tell me, is he in a better place?

 

Laura Eubanks July 7^th 2008

 

 

 

On Friday the 4^th of July a child named Abudo was fatally struck by a passenger truck just past the front corner of our center. I was returning after going to my home for lunch. If I walk home mid-day I often encounter the children from the villages who are coming for lunch at Iris and see them again as I return and they are leaving. They excitedly call out “Mama Laura … Mama Laura” and run up for hugs. It certainly increases my “commute time” but I cherish it! I really try to give all the love I can in those brief encounters.

When this 8 yr old but very tiny boy was killed I reminisced with gratitude for those times. Just a couple of days prior to the accident there were 2 small boys who ran up to me. I picked them up, hugged them, prayed for them and asked their names. One was Abudo, the other Abdul.

One thought that gripped me in this tragedy is that his family most likely does not have a single photograph of him. I have lost family to premature death and even estrangement but at least I can look at photos.

A comfort I have found in this situation is that attended our primary school and he was one of the children who came to Iris for lunch. It warms my heart to see streams of children flowing into our center for a good meal. Of more importance is that in addition to physical food they are being loved on and fed “Words of Life”.

 

This poem began in my head as I was walking to Center 2 a few days after Abudo’s death. I was thinking of him and praying for his family and friends. He was not alone when he was struck. His friend Abdul was there along with another child. 

Create, spin,

 

sing and dance

 

 

No holding back

 

Take the chance

 

 

What’s to lose

 

(besides your shoes)

 

dance my child, dance!

 

 

 

 

 

Hearts are beating

 

Blood is pulsing through

 

Am I not enough

 

To sustain all of you

 

 

The more you enter in

 

The more my blood flows

 

To enrich and nourish all of you

 

 Just see where you may go

 

 

Go on – step out

 

Dance my wounded child

 

You were created to be unrestrained

 

In the flow of my grace and style

 

 

Laura Eubanks  June 11, 08

 

 

 

Surrendered, abandoned, Holy Given

to become a “laid-down lover”

This is my mission

Charred and homeless, earthly treasures spent

To become the sacrifice on an altar

To dwell within a tent

Pegs are strengthened, Cords are stretched

My place is being enlarged

That I may inherit Your best

A sword in one hand, a shield in the other

A warrior for the Kingdom

An armor bearer for my brother

A standard for the Lord, life imparted by the wind

Be it of the Holy Spirit or adversity

His name will be heralded

Through prayer and fasting chains are broken

The oppressed are relieved

The desperate find hope again

Freedom bell ring, resound within my heart

That for His suffering

The Lamb may receive His reward

Laura Jean Eubanks (1st two verses 11-5-07 after 24/7 prayer kick-off with Cindy Ruakere, remainder 11-11-07)

I smell your fragrance Lord

But I need to hear you speak

I know there is so much more

As I lay here at your feet

I am a willing captive

To your heart and to your plans

Even that which I don’t understand

I surrender into your hands

My heart it yearns for you Lord

For your fullness and your depth

In what is called a leap of faith

I have already leapt

From the precipice of security

And all my best laid plans

Into the depths of possibility

Beyond which I can comprehend

I gladly give my life again

To take this holy free-fall

From control and mans understanding

So that in you I may have all

Release your secrets to me

As treasures in my heart so deep

For all that I am and ever will be

May you alone possess the key

-Laura Jean Eubanks - After a teaching on “The Altar” by Lesley Anne Leighton for the Holy Given School, in the dirt, under the tent, in Pemba, Mozambique. 10-24-2007

… from meditations on Matthew 8:23-26

He can’t stop thinking of me
I am securely wrapped within His heart
I have followed Him into this boat
I will not fear - although the storm may start

I will keep my eyes on Him
Sleeping peacefully in the helm
I have no fear of drowning
While I am immersed within His realm

Then I’ll not need His compassionate correction
For the small measure of my faith
He will help me to sail through life’s storms
Rather than needing to rebuke the waves

Copyright Laura Jean Eubanks 6-8-07