Trust. In. HIM.

Hello my dear friends.

I made a commitment to my supporters (financial supporters, prayer supporters, encouragers, and otherwise) almost 6 months ago that I would do my utmost to keep you informed and up to date with my mission movements. Thus, I apologize for my lack of communication this past month.

However, I know most of you, and I know many of you well; I know you do not begrudge me this time of peace and healing. While I love my God, while I trust in Him, while the dawn of a new day brings my mother and brothers and myself rays of hope, we are yet wounded.

Allow me to tell you the story. I realize several of you may be unaware of the death in my family, and many of you are unaware of the circumstances surrounding this death and my abrupt and unplanned departure from Nigeria nearly a month ago.
On March 7th, 2009 my parents were sitting in church together partaking of the Saturday evening service. My dad had just completed giving a message to nearly 400 children and their parents on Hope at the monthly Family Experience (FX) show, a program put on by a cast of dedicated individuals from my Sun Valley Church Family.
Mom and Dad sat together in church. The music of praise to our God had just ended, and the congregation was taking communion as the first of 379 individuals prepared to be baptized during that particular weekend service. My mother and father took communion together, and not 30 seconds later my dad breathed his last and joined his God in Heaven.

About five hours later and 8 time-zones away I woke up to the most devastating of calls. I desperately wanted to be home with my mom and brothers, yet I never wanted to be so far away as I was then. I could go on for hours about the next several days. I could tell you about the miracles of God getting me home in 3 and ½ days. I could tell you about the love of a church family that grieved with me and mine and loved us in complete ferocity. I could tell you about the heartbreak and broken dreams. But I will not.

I must tell you about my Good God. My heart weeps at this moment as I bask in the love my God has lavished upon me. Not once…NOT ONCE through this process have I felt alone. From the moment my world changed to this very day I have been cradled on the lap of my Almighty Father in Heaven. He has let me weep and dried my tears and loved me. Never have I been so aware of my God’s love than during this time of sorrow. Never have I been so aware of homecoming and LIFE, for the reality of my dad’s death is this: From partaking in a paltry representation of incredible sacrifice, communion, a symbol of Christ’s love and sacrifice-Jesus’ flesh broken and blood poured out so that you and I might have life in Him- my dad went to kneeling in awe at the feet of His LORD and Savior. Do you see? He went from drinking some grape juice and eating a cracker to the ecstasy of being in the presence of God. I miss him, but, oh, my daddy at 51 had a life well lived…and I believe his work continues as he exists in the totality and love of our Great God.

As for me and my family, we believe in God and His goodness, for He has told us to Trust In HIM. So we will. While weeping may tarry for the night, we know joy comes with the dawn. We miss dad, but our dawn has come. God has come.



These two pieces below are the obituary I wrote and eulogy I gave at my dad’s Life Celebration service. I hope they give you a picture of the man he was,
the man he is.

Obituary
Jerry Wayne Robinson
Jerry Wayne Robinson, beloved husband and father, passed away on March 7, 2009 he was 51 years old. Jerry was born on August 15, 1957 in St. Louis, Missouri. He is survived by his wife of 33 years, Deb Robinson of Gilbert, his daughter, Katherine Robinson, three sons, Jake Robinson, Peter Robinson, and Alex Robinson, his father, Jerry F. Robinson, and two brothers, Tom and Marty Robinson. After service in the military, Jerry worked as an engineer for 24 years. Jerry's first love was always his God and his family. His life demonstrated a love for people and service to them. Generous of heart, Jerry was quick to help those who needed it. He loved his church family and found his second home there at Sun Valley Community Church. Known for his sense of humor and love for people, Jerry is missed, but his family and church remain secure in his love and belief in his Savior, Jesus Christ. His family knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that in Christ they will one day be reunited. Memorial Services will be held on Saturday, March 14, 2009 at Sun Valley Community Church, 465 East Ray Road, Gilbert, AZ at 11:00 a.m.


Eulogy
Most of you know my dad.
You know my dad as someone who loves church, as a man with a ready smile and quick hand to help. You know my dad as a prankster, someone with myriad jokes-jokes often offered at inappropriate times. You know my dad, and you enjoyed him. Loved him. But we kids want to share how we knew my dad.
Second to being a child of God, my dad was a husband. Dad loved his wife with a fervor that belies the 33 years they have been blessed with. Great and grand is my dad’s heart, and great and grand is the love my parents shared. If you’ve watched my dad with my mom you have seen his care of her, his care for her. Dad was enamored with Mom.
My brothers and myself have grown into adults seeing their love, and during these last few years, their love was especially sweet. We have watched them, listened to them, and we now, all four of us, yearn for the love they have had. I pray that my brothers and myself might be blessed to have the love they have had for as long as they have had each other…Husbands, wives, love each other. This is one of the greatest gifts you can give your children.
Third, after being a child of God and husband, my dad was a father. Through the times when dad was stern, mad, in a bad mood…we NEVER doubted his love. Emulating God’s love for His children, my dad loved us ardently. Never an absent father, dad was involved, consistent, supportive, strict, happy. My dad laughed with us. He is proud of us; in life we remember beautiful moments where dad let us know in simple words and with simple touches how proud of us he was…how he found such pleasure in us. I believe our God has welcomed my dad into His arms with a whispered, “Well done, my good and faithful servant”-and in a thousand ways my dad has looked at us, his children, and while with us he has said with but a glance, well done my sons. Well done my daughter. Keep going.
My dad’s legacy to his children, and his grand children one day are these:
-An inheritance of living for God. Christ is our LORD and Savior.
-Honor and integrity-dad oozed this.
-Love. It ruled his life.
-Warrior-fierce of nature and tender of heart, my dad was our hero.
We don’t say these things to be poignant or to make you weep. We don’t say them for pity. I say them because we four kids and my mom love my dad, and we celebrate who God made him, the child of God, the husband, the father, the friend, the servant.
Sun Valley, on behalf of myself and my brothers and my mother, we thank you. Thank you for your quick love, grand support- this is a love and service that befits a church seeking after God’s heart. Specifically from my brother Jake, we thank you for your help.
To God be the glory, my friends. We are blessed this day. Chase after God. Each breath is precious and on loan. Love your family and friends, and love the God who belongs to you if you would have Him.
And I leave you with this verse that has brought my mother and myself such comfort:
Zephaniah 3:17-The LORD your God is in your midst, a mighty one who will save. He will take great delight in you, He will quiet you with His love, He will rejoice over you with singing.

First Impressions

Here are some of my first impressions of Gembu, Nigeria.

1) Dusty. Really, really dusty. Here, everything is covered in a thick layer of red clay dust that does not come off, even with vigorous cleaning. In fact, when I shaved my legs the other night (Yes, I know, TMI…you’ll live), along with my leg hair, I shaved off a layer of this dust. Guess I’ll be clean when I get home.

2) Full of life. While Gembu is a moderate size town of 80,000 (Including surrounding villages that extend several miles out through the valley), it is a town teeming with life. Clay houses, close markets with vendors, and lots of ripe smelling bodies (My friends, the B.O. is beyond belief! You get used to it though).

3) Loud. Long before the sun rises around 6:15, Gembu is awake and beginning its day. I reside in a house at the end of town, near a jungle of eucalyptus trees. However, in front of the house is a busy road where cattle and goats are herded by boy-shepherds. Every morning the children from the village walk along this road carrying pails and bowls on their heads, trooping to the stream at the bottom of the Gembu valley. Here, the children fill their containers with brown water and carry it back on their heads to their huts (It’s some serious balance, folks. I can’t even walk and chew gum). Along the way, the children chatter and sing, banging on their containers. And if this does not wake me, the mullahs do. Around 4:45 every morning the mosques in the village come to life with the prayers of the Muslim mullahs (teachers). Over loud speakers, they chant the morning prayers and fill Gembu with their sound. It is quite beautiful, except for the fact that I’d love to get another hour of sleep.

4) Slow. The pace is slow. The only people who are in a hurry for anything or to anywhere are the white men-all three of us :) .

5) Broken. Naturally, I was prepared for the destitution, but the poverty is surreal. Yet, it is the lack of hope in the eyes of some that really make my heart ache. On Friday I was working in the pharmacy of Gembu’s health clinic (FDA, look out!) taking inventory of the Anti Retro Viral drugs when a young women, perhaps 20, came in having just found out she is HIV positive. The pharmacist that I was working with proceeded to walk her through the process of taking her many medicines-a horrendous task considering the fact that these people do not often have more than one meal a day, no clean water, and have no concept of time except for sunrise and sunset; now she must regulate drugs that are taken 8 times a day, and often on an empty stomach. The countenance of this woman was that of embarrassment, fear, and hopelessness. She has no father or mother, lives with her neighbors because her brothers do not have the room for her in their homes, and now she will never have the opportunity for marriage. In her eyes, her life as she knows it has no future. My heart broke. All I wanted to do was walk over, embrace this woman, dry her tears, and tell her how precious she is in the sight of our LORD. Then a thought occurred to me, and I prayed, “Father, if my heart is weeping for this girl, what must Yours feel like, since I know you love her more than I ever could?”
She may not know it yet, but there is hope. Great hope. The greatest hope. Her life has meaning. I pray that she discovers the love the Father has for her before she dies-oh, how enamored our God is with her!

I feel as if I can go on, and on; and these are only my first thoughts. Hope you enjoyed a taste of Nigeria, friends. I do believe I am falling in love.

Welcomed by a Singing Fridge

After what seemed like an endless rhythm of land, change planes fly for 8 hours, land, change planes, fly for 8 hours I finally arrived and set foot on Nigerian soil Sunday night. I stood in line to be processed by immigration for an hour, and then found myself greeted by a sweltering evening in Abuja, the capitol city of Nigeria.

I had the opportunity to see pieces of Abuja this night as we drove from the airport, but I’ll admit I felt rather comatose and incapable of processing much. Forty minutes after we left the airport we arrived at a mission hostel that would house us for the one night we would spend in Abuja. I was pleasantly surprised by the hostel, which afforded me a bed, toilet, and tub for a bucket bath (A bucket bath is a bath wherein you fill the bucket with water and proceed to bathe by this bucket)…yet, what really made me smile was the fridge. Yes, my room had a tiny fridge, and as I proceeded to open said fridge to cool my bottle of water I was greeted with a weak breath of cool air (cool compared to the heat of the room), and behold, my fridge sang as I opened the door. Indeed it belted out a music-box tune (Green Sleeves, I believe was the song) with a ferocity that belied its attempt to actually cool the interior of the fridge. I had to chuckle as I thought, “Welcome to Africa, Katherine.”

Wish I Had Frequent Flyer Miles

I am currently in Chicago, and much like Minnesota, it is cold. Go figure.
Yet, I am here in the Windy City briefly. On Wednesday, the 18th I flew into Chicago for the express purpose of meeting one of my ministry partners, providing us with the opportunity to get to know each other. On Saturday, the 21st the two of us will fly from Chicago to Frankfort, Germany, and then from Germany to Abuja, Nigeria, (Yes, folks. Get out your globes-that’s on the other side of the world and 8 time-zones away). God willing, I will be on African soil come Monday morning…And then another two days of travel…I shudder to think on it, therefore I’ll tell you about this journey AFTER the fact. I will be in Nigeria for 6 weeks in order to observe and participate in this HIV/AIDS prevention and family care ministry.

My hope is to be able to update this blog at least once a week, if not twice while I am there. Of course these updates are entirely dependent upon internet access and available electricity. We shall have to see.

Well, friends, with luck my next post will be from Gembu, Nigeria. Till then, fare thee well!

Knee-Deep Snow and 8 Below

I spent the past week and a half investigating life in sub-zero temperatures…I do believe I now know what it feels like to live in a freezer. I and my ubber-thin Arizona blood had great fun at a retreat in Farmington, Minnesota courtesy of Converge Worldwide. In between bouts of counseling (Despite my great concerns they still think I’m fairly sane), and training, I had fun traipsing around in snow up to my knees. I have never beheld so much snow in my life! I even got to walk around in snow-shoes; you know those funny looking shoes that resemble tennis rackets strapped to your feet…? And I only fell three times! If it were not for my hapless and seasoned Minnesota guides, Tim and Amy, I might very well still be stuck in that last hole. Good thing they only laughed for a few minutes before dragging me out.

After the retreat I had the opportunity to spend five days pursuing meetings with churches in the Twin Cities area. I was fairly discouraged at first, I’ll admit, as only one church responded. However, another church who’s Pastor and missions committee I have been blessed to get to know well invited me to spend the weekend with them. As always, what ensued was God’s provision, (You’d think I would just come to expect it). It was this church who found a family for me to stay with, as well as invited me to several events where I had a splendid time getting to know members of the congregation. I watched the Super Bowl at the Pastor’s house. (I was so sure the Cardinals were going to make it!) In the end I had such fun, and I was wonderfully blessed by this giving church family who just poured out a generosity of time and kindness. I thank God for them and their Servant’s heart!
Now I am back in sunny AZ and I am preparing for another trip….
Stay tuned, my friends!

Spanish Prayers

I am only recently home from Basconcobe, Mexico where I spent a week with a team of ten individuals on a short ministry trip. Basconcobe is the seat of a much loved ministry of my heart known as RAVAH. This ministry serves pastors and their congregations in southernmost Sonora, Mexico.

The two weeks leading up to this trip found me on my knees before the LORD. Why? I was filled with doubt, insecurity, and fear. My prayer to God was simply, “Please, Daddy. Please give me some confirmation that I am doing what You called me to do, that I am indeed following the right path, that yes, I am to go to Nigeria and serve in the ministry I have been striving for.”
I went with the full expectation that God had something to tell me in that dusty agricultural village.

Full of the anticipation that God would speak, and speak in such a way that I would hear I waited for God’s voice. I did not wait for long. In fact, I heard from God on the subject of my heart the very first day.
Here is the story:
Our first evening there, in Basconcobe found our team working to serve 30 pastors and their families at a social gathering. The pastors and their families (200 people) were there to receive thanks from RAVAH for their faithful service to their congregations and communities. We supped together, laughed, and prayed together, two cultures and two languages living for and loving the one true God.

Rather abruptly I heard my name called to the center of the crowd. Intimated, as I had not a clue what was going on, I found myself the sudden attention of 200 people and surrounded by 30 pastors. As one pastor spoke to the group of 30 men surrounding me I caught two words: Missionary and Africa.

My first thought was that the pastors were seeking to hear my testimony. I’d give it, and gladly. But instead of being asked to speak I was touched by each pastor. Then as one, each pastor began to pray a different prayer in Spanish. Oh, how to describe the thrill that ran down my spine and the sudden clarity that their words were spoken as the breath of God…As they began to pray, with their hands on me, I was overcome with weeping by the gift from my Heavenly Daddy. Their prayers washed over me as a tide of God’s voice.

They finished, and still weeping I shook their hands and choked out my thanks, “Gracias. Dios te Bendiga” (Thank you. God bless you). I walked away to compose myself and to stand in awe of my LORD for a moment.
I spent the remainder of the short mission trip unpacking what God had said in that moment: In the midst of a sleepy village, surrounded by shepherd pastors and their families, I was commissioned by God, again. Now, it is a world movement of the body of Christ, the Church as one. I have been commissioned: “So, just go, Katherine. The details will work themselves out; they are not unknown to Me, my beloved. Go, I shall fight for you, and ye shall hold your peace, daughter.”