Every single day people rise and start what seems to be a normal day. They sip their coffee, eat a little toast, and kiss their wives goodbye as they head out the door for their secure, well-paying jobs. There is office banter, small talk, and enough pleasantries to make them believe that all is right with their world. They are witty, attractive, and have earned enough accolades in life to make others believe the same. No one even suspects that there could be something going on under the surface. They, themselves, may not even know. For the years of convincing others they are someone else, they have finally convinced themselves. But some lives are built with an ocean of tears, a sea of pain. And what they think is buried deep in the abyss always bubbles to the top. Sometimes causing only a ripple; sometimes a tsunami. Often it causes destructive behavior, passed off as harmless because it’s only hurting them. Until what hurts them starts to hurt others. Sometimes causing only a ripple; sometimes a tsunami.

One muggy May morning, Jeannie Hampton and I met Travis Gray at his home in Austin, Texas. His guy-next-door looks struck me first. Next, his warmth and sincerity. And finally his willingness to share his story; a promise kept to a grieving family. With great detail and emotion he poured out details of his childhood, marked by poverty and abandonment. He used success and alcohol in an attempt to erase his past. But a life of pain, and the compensating behavior that accompanied, led Travis to a moment with grave consequences. A moment in which many of us could easily find ourselves. It was a moment that stripped him of his position in life and all of the accessories that came with it – and landed him in San Quentin State Prison.

Travis still spends time in prisons, only now he chooses to be there. Freed by a life in Christ, he dedicates himself to helping others find the same freedom by volunteering with God of Hope ministries. A promise kept. A life redeemed. The riveting details will seem familiar to some – a quest for happiness at all costs is often encouraged in this country. But the line between self-destruction and just plain destruction disappears when we try to be our own god. And some mistakes cannot be undone. Travis had a choice – to fall deeper into his abyss or to let God resuscitate him. Giving him a new life he never thought possible.

Stay tuned to discover how to hear more about Travis Gray.

In May of last year, God breathed life into my belly. And on January 5th of this year, Brooks Isaac Outlaw breathed life of his own. Isaac means laughter, and like Sarah and Abraham, we laughed at the news. My pregnancies, so planned after cancer. But this. One of those moments when you know you can let go and let Him take over. Because when He wants something for you, He will make it happen. In spite of you. So I held my breath and jumped in with both feet, as if I had a choice. Again, laughter. But as my middle swelled, my recorder ran silent and my pen ran dry. As with other times of great intensity in my life, my brain only seemed to have one mode, survival. Fortunately, on the other side, when I begin to try to make sense of it all, the words flow like blood from the heart. I am on the other side. Let it flow.

So much has happened in a year, aside from my new son. It was a huge period of spiritual growth, which I feel was necessary to do this project justice. I also finished two more interviews soon after I got the news. Before the fog. I will post a bit about them on here soon. We are now focused on finding a way to publish this book before moving forward with more interviews. We feel we must find a way to bring these to as many people as possible. To honor and glorify the work God has done. This month has been an intense period and we can certainly use prayers during that time. But check back, as we post more about the incredible lives into which we have been allowed. There are exciting things to come!

For now, there is work to be done. And babies to be rocked. And life to be lived. Enjoy!

Sometimes obeying God can be as simple as walking back into a room. Just turn and walk in the opposite direction. It really can be that simple. It is, after all, the basis of repentance. But last Thursday night was not about repenting. It was about allowing myself to be swept up in His presence and in His plans. Sometimes I imagine Him saying “Don’t even try, you’re just going to muck this one up. I’ve got it. I’ve GOT it!” (We’ve got that kind of relationship. I don’t take offense.) And every now and then that blue moon rises in the sky and I actually take a knee. THOSE are the moments that work like gravity, beyond my control and perfect.

Last Thursday night I attended the Experience Africa night at our church. During the program Wilson Bugembe of Uganda moved a room full of people with his testimony. I was already familiar with his story, as I had attempted to garner an interview with him before he arrived in the US. Amid all of the planning and goings on of getting him to our country and finally our church I never heard back. I desperately wanted Wilson to be a part of Story of Grace but I am also certain that anyone meant to be a part of this project will be. It’s out of my hands. And this was apparent last Thursday night.

Wilson’s story was even more amazing to hear in person. When Wilson was 5 years old the HIV epidemic of Africa entered his home like a quiet thief first stealing his mother. A year later it took his father. By the time it finished it’s wretched spree it had taken the lives of his 3 brothers (only Wilson and his youngest brother were spared) and left Wilson with nothing. Almost no family, no home, no hope. Some years later Wilson, called Yellow Boy for the color of the one shirt he owned, was eating garbage and living in a tree. Let that sink in for a moment. An adolescent boy grieving for his family was so desperate for shelter that his only choice was a tree. I look at my 5 year old son and try to fathom that same scenario. I can’t. And yet it happens every day in Uganda and other African nations. At this point Wilson’s view of God was not very positive. When an Episcopal priest prayed over his father many years before, he died suddenly. He certainly was not going to trust or give everything over to the one who he felt had taken so much. As far as he was concerned God was not there for him. So he attempted to take his life. But God, the same God that Wilson felt took everything from him, saved him. He saved him from being hit by a bus, he saved him from the streets, and he saved him from himself. And in time He filled Wilson’s life with more hope and possibility than one orphaned street kid could hold in his two hands. And Wilson has been pouring it back out ever since as one of Uganda’s most popular gospel singers and pastor of a 2000 member church.

I met Wilson briefly after the program. So quiet and gentle he held my hand as I told him about Story of Grace. He said he would be honored to tell his story and gave me his card. Happy to have made the connection and hopeful that we might meet up on a possible trip to Uganda or maybe even an interview on Skype, I stepped into the warm night. But something made me turn around. Something felt undone. I stepped back into the church and almost immediately there was a flurry of schedules and cell phone numbers exchanged, introductions of hosts and necessary players, culminating in an interview and photo session scheduled with Wilson the following morning.

All because I just walked back in a room.

Great town, Nashville.  I had no idea that part of the country was so beautiful.  In all of my years traveling as a military brat, that is one area of the country we were never stationed. The hills were rolling and the trees were blooming. We are so saddened by the recent flooding there and we are saying prayers for our wonderful hosts who now have a basement full of water.

As soon as we landed we headed to meet Nicci and her family in Clarksville, about 50 miles north of the city. We saw her church, met her pastor, and hung out with her family.  Nicci has beautiful children. The oldest son is an invincible 16 year old who has that intense teenage mixture of confidence and insecurity.  His eyes had such depth.  His bond with Nicci runs equally as deep.  They are survivors, in a sense, of a life that threatened to continue to breed self-destruction. Only when she had him, the stakes were higher. She had been given a second chance with this boy. The moment she laid eyes on him she knew God loved her. She knew He forgave her. She knew He intended this life to be good and beautiful.

I realize the nature of Nicci’s story might be hard for some people to hear, including her family.  But she and I have prayed through this and I know without a doubt it needs to be told.  God forgave her just as he would anyone in her situation. The hardest part for women who have shared similar paths is forgiving themselves. These are the circumstances that keep women out of the church and trapped in their own private hell.  It’s the stuff many women don’t share and, therefore, are never able to heal. We are here to say you are not alone.  This is Nicci’s reason for sharing her life with us and I am honored to bring it to you.

For whatever is hidden is meant to be disclosed, and whatever is concealed is meant to be brought out into the open. -Mark 4:22

I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh. And I will put my Spirit in you and move you to follow my decrees and be careful to keep my laws.   -Ezekial 36:26-27

I’ve discovered that keeping secrets is Satan’s idea, and being open and honest is God’s.  Doing it Satan’s way means wearing a mask every day, everywhere. God’s way means we can be real, open, and honest. All the time. Keeping secrets isolates us from God and others and leaves us at the mercy of Satan’s condemnation, which further seals our silence, convincing us we must never share our secret. Telling our stories breaks the grip of the secret, diffusing its power.

Our next interview takes us to Nashville this week and I cannot wait! Fabulous photographer Kristen Roedner will join me on this leg if the journey. Some of Kristen’s friends have graciously offered to let us stay with them. I am told they are adopting from Africa so I am hoping to be schooled on that process, as well. Before we had Gage, my husband and I thought we couldn’t have children and were about to embark on the adoption route. While we now have two beautiful boys, the passion to adopt has never left our hearts. I am realizing that this journey is as much about who we meet along the way as who we actually interview so I LOVE that we are staying with people and not in a hotel.

We will be meeting up with Nicci, who contacted me last year when she mistook me for a friend of mine who had a similar last name. We all went to high school together. As we sorted out who was whom, we realized this connection was no coincidence. Her story is one I cannot wait to share. Women out there need to know the depths God will go to pursue you NO MATTER WHAT YOU DO. He grieves for what we go through. Our sadness pains His heart. And He waits for us to seek Him so He can pour out all of His love on us. He knows we will fail. He never expects perfection. And He wants to heal our hearts. Nicci’s healing could only come from God. And when you hear her story I’m sure you will be as in awe as I am at how far she has come.

After arriving home at midnight a few weeks ago from our trip to Matamoros, I found myself peeling off the layers of Mexico. My shoes that walked through streets of shocking contrast. Beautifully colored walls on dirt roads covered in trash. Clothes that still smelled of sweet children who loved when Jeannie would take their picture. And dirt on my skin from standing in a field welcoming a family of seven into their new one room home. A family who’s only wish was for a concrete floor so they would no longer have to sleep in the mud when it rained. As I slipped into the comfort of my own bed I thought of those who choose not to peal off the layers of Mexico. Those who choose to wear it like the skin of an apple, without it they would rot. I thought of Larry Cox of Casa Bugambilia. After several mission trips to build houses in Matamoros, Larry left his chief position of a large company in Dallas to move there. He continued the housing efforts and then began to collaborate with Dr. Nancy, who served the communities medical needs. They now do both at Casa Bugambillia.

Larry and Dr. Nancy gave us a tour of this oasis set right down in the middle of a very poor neighborhood. Dr. Nancy speaks no English but thankfully we had Z to translate as she passionately described the mission of Casa B, which is to shelter and give medical attention to people in desperate need of care that family members cannot give. During our tour we met Joe whose spine is fused and is unable to move. Joe’s sister tried to care for him but had to work and so left Joe in a bedroom all day long with the television to keep him company. When he came to Casa B he had an infected bedsore on the back of his head large enough to fit a potato. Joe is now recovering in this clean, comfortable place where he is fed 3 meals a day and helped to the bathroom. His dignity is restored and he is no longer alone. And he is full of smiles and laughter and corny jokes. It is a joy to witness.

Larry is a big bear of a man with a white goatee and smiling eyes. He talks to you as if you were an old friend. His passion for this place, these people, is genuine and deep. He truly gave up what would be considered by most people’s standards the “good life”. But Larry lives by a different set of standards. He had seen too much, in Mexico, to ever be comfortable in that life again. He told us about how he had returned to Dallas recently for a week and could hardly sleep. He was uncomfortable and uneasy there and couldn’t wait to get back home. And if you could see what surrounds Larry’s home you would be shocked at this statement. This world could not do without people like Larry and Dr. Nancy. It would simply stop turning. There would be no hope. There would be no one in which to see the face of Jesus and to know He is real and alive and working through some very special people.

As evening fell, we kicked a soccer ball, sang songs and played Candy Land with a few of the beautiful children in their care. They fed us a delicious meal of chorizo, eggs, black beans and tortillas. I felt so warm and welcomed. At one point Dr. Nancy came to the table and apologized for not joining us for dinner but that she had a cancer patient who had come to them and had taken a turn for the worse. She asked Larry for money for an ambulance and he took it out of his wallet without batting an eye. My heart sank. I had cancer. I had cancer in a giant, state of the art facility with fountains and artwork. I had cancer with pain meds and anti-nausea medication that cost $500 per pill. I had cancer in my soft bed with a support system that left me wanting for nothing. These people have cancer on dirt floors of homes made of scraps of wood and corrugated metal. These people have cancer with nothing to comfort them in stifling heat or stinging chill. These people have cancer alone, while loved ones go to work to attempt to make enough money to eat. They have no choice. And that is when Larry and Dr. Nancy step in. They offer medical attention, a clean bed and a hand to hold. But mostly they offer hope. And when I ponder what people like Larry and Dr. Nancy sacrifice for no glory of their own, again I see the face of Jesus.

For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me…’I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.’ Matthew 25:35-36,40

NOTE: To see more photos please visit Jeannie’s blog.

Eleazar met us at the border and helped us navigate our trip, serving as both host and translator.  We stayed at his home in downtown Matamoros.   The same home where his father, a drug lord, was murdered on the front door step when Eleazar was 6 years old.   It is a sprawling home with tile floors, sparsely furnished with donations from those who support Eleazar and the work he is doing.   His family fled from here after the murder and Eleazar returned when he was deported many pain-filled years later.  It was clean and comfortable and we loved being there with him.

At first glance, Eleazar looks the part he used to play.   I see the shell that used to protect him from being vulnerable in any way. Which was really just for shear survival.  And yet, like an egg, he is now warm and life-giving on the inside.   His smile does not come natural.   It seems forced and maybe even a bit uncomfortable.   Despite this, he smiles often.   And he laughs.   He has a great laugh. Apparently the phrase cock-a-doodle-doo is not used in Mexico to describe the sound a rooster makes.   Saying this would send Eleazar into fits of laughter like a young boy.

Z, as he is known, has an amazing story.   I began recording him moments after we met, culminating with our formal 2 hour interview on Saturday morning.  It’s a life I can hardly fathom.  A life of drugs, alcohol, violence, crime, prison and, finally, mercy . The hardest part of my job will be determining what parts not to put in the book.   I think the greatest way to describe where Z is now is to tell you of a moment we had the first day at Casa Bugambilia.  While visiting patients we were warned about Daniel.   He had been shot in the back of the neck, leaving him partially paralyzed and unable to walk. Daniel had a tear tattoo, indicating he had killed someone, and an attitude to match.   We walked in the room and Blake, Jimmy, Jeannie and I introduced ourselves.  He was very gracious and then his eyes widened as he caught site of Z.  He asked Z his name and then told him he knew Z’s brother and had known his father.  The air became electric.  Z boldly asked Daniel if he knew God.  Tears formed in his eyes that were as big as moons.  Through quivering lips he replied “Si”, his answer sounding more like a question.  Z told him of the most meaningful walk he will ever take, the one with Christ.  And Daniel listened. He respected Z, he related to Z. I believe it was the first time he considered any life other than the one he had. I believe he wanted the peace he saw in Z.   Z asked Daniel how we could pray for him and then we did.   We prayed with Daniel right there over that bed.   And he wept.   We all wept.   For Daniel’s past and his possibilities.   As we left, Z asked Daniel if he could bring him anything.  To which he replied “Just come back.”

That is the very essence of this project.  I believe it with all of my heart.  To give someone the opportunity to see a person who has been where they are, and to know there is a way out.   One way out.   I believe it with all of my heart.

We’ll be met at the border by Eleazar Garza. Z, as he is better known. But more about him to come. That first day we will visit Casa Bugambilia which provides ill and abandoned persons shelter, nutritious meals and medical treatment with dignity, as well as a dwelling place in a healing community until they can be reunified with their family. Jimmy, Jeannie’s husband, has done some volunteer work there in the past and we are looking forward to the visit. After dropping some donations we will then head to Pan de Vida, where we will lay our heads for the night. The Pan de Vida ministry is a shelter for abandoned, disadvantaged and orphaned children and provides housing, food, security, and education for children of all ages. Blake, Jimmy and Jeannie have all had the opportunity to visit and volunteer there. I am very excited about my first experience. Our church does a lot of work there and I am told that the kids will capture your heart.

Our interview with Z will take place the following morning. I have communicated with Z through e-mail but have not had the opportunity to meet him. I am told he is a sweet, gentle man with a commanding presence. His former life could be a script for a blockbuster, and yet he never wants to return. Instead, he spends his time and energy pouring himself into youth who are headed down the same path.

This trip has been a long time coming. And so the adventure begins!

And what about people inside the church? What pressure do we put on ourselves? To perform. To be perfect. And when we’re not, what do we typically do? Do we readily accept God’s grace? I’ve had some big sin, folks. Sin that makes me cringe just to think about. And when I accepted God into my life, I accepted his forgiveness. I laid all of that down and He said “I love you anyway.” And it was washed away. I’ll never forget it but I don’t feel it’s heaviness anymore. It’s no longer a weighted vest that keeps me from moving forward. But does that stop me from continuing to sin? Not for a second. Okay, maybe for a second. There are many things I would have done without thought in the past that I wouldn’t now in order to stay in relationship with God. But there are always those things that I can pass off as something within my control that seemingly isn’t hurting anyone else. I let the world in with it’s bright, shiny promises and then I feel it’s bitter cold reality. Do I let His hand cover me then? As easily as I did that first time? Or do these seemingly smaller sins feel heavier because I should have known better?

Being held accountable changes our lives. It makes us better than we were before. Not perfect. Just better. It means someone believes in us. And it never promises we won’t fail. We will fail. Whether it’s because the light is in our eyes, or we mistake the shadow of the church for something we cannot live up to. It doesn’t matter where we are, He will cover us.

Our first interview takes place in 3 weeks in Matamoras, Mexico.  This is one you’re not going to want to miss.