Aching

I watched a movie with Emma late last night -- P.S. I Love You. Jenny Bartz had been telling me I needed to watch it. But it's about a person who dies, and I tend to avoid tearjerker, sick-people movies. Trusting my friend, however, I ordered the movie from Netflix. She knew I ought to watch it.

I knew it would make me cry. It did. I didn't know that about a third of the movie was set in Ireland. I cried because it made me long for Ireland and her people. 

Sometimes, the GOING seems impossible. So much money to raise. I want to make it about us: "We aren't capable," "We don't know enough people," "We're too broken." But somewhere, buried inside all my self-focus, I know that it's all about God, about all things being possible with Him, about carrying His redemptive Word in an incarnational way to the world (now, and when we get to Ireland).

Thursday, we found out that one church had tabled our application for support. Don't really know the implications of that. But yesterday, we received our first invitation from a church to talk with its missions subcommittee. Might this church be our first supporting church? Don't want to get ahead of myself, but the idea is exciting! And humbling.