Anne Marie Miller

Category: Hmmmm

  • I’m Giving Away $6,100!

    I told you that you wouldn’t want to miss this.

    It may not be cash, but it’s $6,100 worth of books and Bibles and research…all for your computer (PC…sorry, mac people!)? This software costs $630 normally – so it’s a huge deal.? And it’s amazing software at that!!!!

    Logos Scholar's Library I’m giving away a copy of the Logo’s Scholar’s Library! About it:

    Scholar?s Library is a value-priced collection of texts and tools for serious Bible study using Greek, Hebrew, and English resources. It is the best value in Bible software today with more than 330 Bibles and Bible Reference titles worth over $6,100.00 in equivalent print editions!

    The Scholar?s Library software doesn?t just “speed up” the process of studying with paper books, it actually acts as your personal research assistant, doing everything from looking up relevant articles and automatically collecting material to generating tailored reports and organizing content around your specific target passage. Logos Bible Software Series X is so easy to use and powerful that all you have to know how to do is type in a Bible reference, or a topic and click the ?Go!? button. Scholar?s Library provides an amazing wealth of resources at your fingertips, giving you everything you need for serious and comprehensive Bible Study, no matter what your focus. The value-packed Scholar?s Library makes digging deep into the truth of the Bible easier than ever!

    You can read ALL that it has here.

    HOW TO WIN!

    Leave a comment with your most meaningful Bible verse or passage…THEN it would be great if you blogged about the giveaway from your blog.? Ask your readers to come and enter!? I’d really like to see how far this giveaway can go!? And I know there are a lot of pastors who don’t make tons of money or have the resources to purchase a $630 computer program.? Many of those pastors probably don’t read my blog so let’s make this a group effort!

    This giveaway will run until midnight on Saturday (12:00 am Saturday AM CST). I will use random.org to randomly generate a comment number and that person will win as long as they followed the rules! Please don’t put your name in more than once!

  • open wounds and love and flies

    if any one person on this earth is responsible for pulling me out of my “dark” years and encouraging me to get back into my faith, it was kristi. you’ll read a little bit about her in mad church disease. she was the first person that ever held me accountable to anything in my life. she was my coffee date. my late-night movie friend. she was the maid of honor in my wedding.

    then life took her to wichita, ks and me to dallas and then finally we are here in nashville and she is in south africa with her husband doing anything. anything at all. whatever is needed.

    she wrote this on her blog today and it was too powerful to not share.

    i have no action steps to give you. no thought-provoking questions. just read kristi’s words…and tell me what your heart tells you.

    I have always been sensitive. Always. I cry at simple commercials, I laugh easily, I am more likely to embrace rather then give a handshake. That’s just me. But I am never really ready for the shock of seeing somebody dying…every time I walk into a room when it’s happening, I never really get over it even though I have been practicing now for 2 years.

    Nosakhe, one of our Community Care Workers told me she got a new “patient” this week and wanted me to meet her. She needed my help to assess the situation. She said she was very sick and suffering. She was right across the street. So we walked over and I was drawn to this woman. She was probably 35 or 40 years old with a few stray gray hairs mixed into her head of black. She was facing the wall as we entered the room and didn’t stir as we made our way in. I became immediately aware of the stench of her urine and body odor, even though I understood immediately she was the only one to be left alone in this huge room for quite sometime with two beds. I left the door wide open and forced open the window beyond the limits till it creaked. She stirred. She was incapable of speaking her aunt/mom/sister told me. So I got close to her ear and told her my name and that we were there to love her.

    It must have been 100 degrees in there and she was naked but covered in 4 blankets that reeked of waste. I put my gloves on and started removing the layers. She was sweating and rolled her eyes towards me. I started praying in my head and removed all offensive jewelry so not to scratch her sensitive skin. My watch, rings…anything that could be abrasive on her sweet body. I knew I would be here for hours. The people in the house started watching and I asked for a bucket and all of the supplies. She was gritty and neglected. I asked a hundred questions. After I stripped the bedding I instructed that they needed to be washed and dried at least every week, I started showing them how to bathe her. I never stopped talking to the woman. My eyes never left hers. I told her how beautiful she was and that we both were going to get through this crazy.

    I showed them how to clean her raw bed sores and how to dress her wounds. How long has she been in this condition? I then changed her adult diaper and for the first time in my life didn’t really know what I was made of. I walked the people in the room as well as myself through the process…as long as I kept talking I figured I wouldn’t pass out from the smell or from what I was seeing. Her whole back side as well as her delicates were covered in sores and swollen. How long has she been left to rot? I brought with me baby wipes and prayed that they were sensitive enough. She was full of puss and heartache. She was so brave. I still was talking to her and tried my hardest to keep my eyes on hers and not only on the task. I kept speaking to the other woman as they were the ones to clean her from this day forward…I was merely training.

    So I tried to turn her and noticed one more sore and I could then see into her body and the tissue within. My stomach turned and I prayed once more. How long Lord? Please heal this woman. I told the ladies watching me that it was essential to clean this wound. I could here the flies in my ears. I finished and then put the new diaper on. She weighed so little, we could have been using one designed for a child. The only reason I struggled was because she was tall, not because of weight…I assumed she weighed 60 at best. I changed gloves and gave further instruction to the woman watching my every move. I then used aloe to soothe her skin and spoke tender words to love and unlock her joints. I never broke eye contact. She started following me with her head and I was so gentle.

    In my former life before mission work, I was a licensed massage therapist…but this was beyond all of my training there (draping, keeping the clients modesty…) but since she was already so exposed and nude, I just rubbed her down. I assumed she wasn’t being touched or cared for and by her response, I am fairly certain I was correct. Her ribs and naked breast all sucked to her body because her skin clinged tightly to her. She was so dehydrated. I was so careful and slow and worked my way, head to toe with the aloe…working between all the sores and ribs and places I thought she was hurting. She never dropped my gaze. I then put chap stick on her and she opened her eyes wide and I put more on.

    Relief.

    I stared telling the woman how we had to be careful as to not to overwhelm her and not to feed her too quickly as to damage her delicate stomach. I started with the water. She clearly couldn’t sit up…so I spoon fed her water. She was so thirsty. We stopped to let it settle and then I gave her more. We then gave her some watered down porridge and I told them that her body would most likely reject the nutrition and that we had to be super careful to feed her a little at a time at first so her body could adjust. I also instructed them to get her out of that room. She needs air, she needs people, she needs to live. We talked about being around people and how important it was to read or spend time with her. I was smitten by this woman because she is somebodies daughter, mom, sister, aunt and I loved her immediately.

  • Baby Jesus, Santa, and Valium

    There once was a time when Bing Crosby movies and the aroma of pine mixed with cinnamon would leave me warm and fuzzy inside. I’d wander the aisles of trendy stationary stores with the hopes of picking out the perfect Christmas cards. There were two kinds of cards I needed to purchase: the cards for almost everyone, and the cards for the people I thought I needed to impress. The everyday cards were a little more generic and signed simply with a holiday greeting and my name. For the people I had to impress, the cards were die cut, uniquely sized and mailed in a shimmery envelope. My signature was perfectly executed underneath a witty and memorable sign off. Because we all know that how you sign your Christmas card determines where you end up in this world.

    This year, Christmas doesn’t feel so warm and fuzzy. Label me The Grinch, or Mrs. Scrooge, or just plain apathetic, but I have no Christmas tree up. There are no stockings hung on the mantle over my electric fireplace (hey, it’s a rental, okay?) and no snowmen adorning my coffee table.

    There’s no nativity scene with an oddly posed baby Jesus, no twinkly lights, and no Santa.

    I do however, have Valium. And at times, it seems like the only thing getting me through this high pressure, high anxiety season.

    Now, before the shame-on-you emails begin flooding in, accusing me of using a sedative as a seasonal crutch, medication looks different to everyone. To some it’s a little extra comfort in their egg nog. Others, shopping. Eating. Sleeping. Whathaveyou.

    Mine just happens to be a little green pill.

    Is my holiday coping method healthy? I have to think it’s better for my wallet, my cholesterol, and my hips than say, a trip to the mall or seven pounds of fudgy cookies.

    But that’s just me.

    For many people, Christmas is merry and bright. For others, sometimes our holiday cheer isn’t turned up to ten. And I’m realizing that’s okay. Different seasons bring different seasons, and there’s much to be learned, whatever side of the fence you fall on this year.

    Here’s to making it through another holiday with all the hope, grace (and coping mechanisms if necessary) one can handle. I wish you the best. May we all begin to love our flaws, our imperfections, and our potential as we close out this year, and ring in the next.

  • sexy books

    there are a lot of books out there.

    a lot.

    as i was browsing the shelves at borders and barnes and noble this week, i noticed a complete lack of books on poverty, injustice or social awareness (excluding the consumeristic sociology kind — there are plenty of books on food, technology, and pop culture).

    there was one book i saw which captivated and challenged me. it is a photo journal called what matters.

    other than that, zilch.

    someone once said that people don’t pay attention to missions or justice because it’s not controversial enough.? not sexy enough.? why do you think that is the case? what would make a book on these issues not only attractive, but motivating?

  • question for you

    i stole this from my nashville-book-publisher-ceo-friend mr. michael hyatt, who asked this question via twitter yesterday:

    What would you do if you were brave?

    i’m still working on my response.

    what would you do?

  • opportunity

    friday i had the chance to hang out via conference call with some of the staff of the international justice mission, including their president and CEO gary haugen, and euphrony from the blog inspired to action.

    i have a lot to write about this (after i process through the three pages of notes i typed), but i wanted to throw you this quote that stands out to me and get your thoughts.

    “the oppression of the poor isn’t driven by the power of the oppressor but the vulnerability of the oppressed.” – gary haugen

    discuss.

    what does this mean to you?

  • if you could ask any question…

    about poverty, injustice, and how the church should respond…what would you ask?

    i’ll tell you why next week.

  • yes, that’s me outside a shady motel.

    it was unseasonably cold in baton rouge, louisiana, last thursday night.? when i arrived wednesday, it was 75 and muggy.? by the same time thursday, it was 32 degrees and windy – a cold, damp, biting wind that messed up all of our hair and left us shivering in the shuttle which drove us around the most dangerous areas of town.

    after making the rounds at several adult establishments to hand out roses to the ladies who worked at them, we visisted the almost condemned alamo motel, home to pimps, drug lords and prostitutes.

    the cold air kept the prostitutes indoors, but we managed to stop by one motel room where we knew we’d find a lady the team i was with had gotten to know over the last few months.

    she answered the door in a house robe and hair net.

    we’ll call her miss ella.

    miss ella lives in a motel room no larger than 300 sqaure feet.? some of the surrounding rooms still have boarded up windows and are missing pieces of the roof, but miss ella’s room managed to weather the rounds of hurricanes that hit baton rouge over the summer.

    the thing that surprised me about miss ella wasn’t the fact that she’s a grandma.? but that she is a grandma with six (usually seven) kids (and a dog) living with her in her small, god-only-knows-what’s-happened-here motel room.? as i peered in a crooked door frame, mattresses covered the floor and baskets of clothes were scattered around.

    this was miss ella’s home.

    we gave miss ella a rose and some candy to her grandchildren. a lady i was with asked why one of miss ella’s granddaughters stayed covered up under some blankets, and why she wasn’t coming to the door for her candy.

    “is she sick?”

    “she doesn’t have no clothes,” miss ella said.

    as we talked more with miss ella, what appeared to be her eldest grandson came to the door wearing a light purple windbreaker (circa 1984) and matching running pants.? evidently he had recently returned to miss ella’s care after getting into some kind of trouble.? we asked him if he’d go back to school soon.? he said no, hiding behind his grandmother.

    “he don’t have no clothes to wear to school,” miss ella replied, matter of factly, her arm pulling him close.

    alliece, the brilliant and beautiful woman who heads up the baton rouge dream center, as well as this midnight outreach we were on, told miss ella to come by the center for some clothes on sunday.? they would take care of him, and make sure miss ella had anything else she needed.

    after we prayed with her, i climbed back in the shuttle, headed back to my own hotel room, which was probably the same size as miss ella’s, if not a tad bigger.? but i had my room all to myself.? perched high up on the 18th floor, i was far removed from any pimps or prostitutes or drug deals or rats or roaches or mold.? i didn’t consider latching the door behind me because subconsciously i knew i was completely safe.

    it was a contrast i’m far from forgetting.

    a quick bit of shut eye and five hours later, i was sitting on an airplane reflecting on miss ella and her grandbabies.? i was left with a feeling very similar to the way i felt when i first visted annette, a mother with five children who lived in one room in an african slum in uganda.

    how? how does this happen?

    it’s easy to try and rationalize a slum in uganda. it’s not easy to forget, or easy to accept, but it’s easy to put it in a third-world point of view.? it hasn’t been easy for me to process miss ella and her motel room.? her six (or seven) kids (and a dog).? her lack of basic needs.? the danger that surrounds her day in and day out.

    from a completely american context, it just doesn’t make sense.

    i know there are motels like the alamo in every town.? i know there are mothers and fathers and grandmothers and aunts who are going without food or heat or clothing today.? and it’s moments like thursday night and people like miss ella which are divine in nature, giving me far more in perspective and hope and faith than i could possibly ever offer in return.

  • my trip to the strip club

    next week, i am heading down to visit some of my friends at healing place church in baton rouge.? on my itinerary is “midnight outreach” – a late night trip to some of louisiana’s finest strip clubs.

    i have to admit, i’m a little nervous about it.? growing up the daughter of a small town, southern baptist preacherman, i never envisioned one day i’d be hanging out in strip clubs for jesus.

    but for every ounce of nervousness, there’s about a gallon of excitement.? i can’t wait to meet these girls and let them know how beautiful they are and how loved they are.? chances are, they haven’t ever really heard that in a meaningful way before.? and yet they are so beautiful.? they are so loved.