Pastor's Devotions by Tim Harris

This has been quite a week! So much has happened in a very short period of time. As of last weekend, Joanna and Nathaniel returned to their respective colleges for the semester, leaving Kim and I to once again adjust to a house without any kids.   Monday into Tuesday came the snowstorm that kept us housebound for at least most of Tuesday (which did result in some really great chicken soup and homemade bread to compensate for the aching back!).   Wednesday afternoon I received a text from my sister that the closing on my parents’ house (the house in which we grew up) was done; the house was no longer ours—I shed a few tears.   Thursday my mom was released from the nursing home she has been in for rehabilitation the past few months. We moved her back to the assisted living facility she had previously been living in, with a bit of hesitancy yet, hoping for the best. Needless to say, my mind has been spinning. It’s been a lot to process all at once.     We all know, lots can happen in

Last week I was once again in Leon, Nicaragua.   This time, I traveled with a team of seven people from Promise International Fellowship (PIF), including my daughter Joanna (which, of course, was a special blessing for me!).   It was a great trip.   We ministered together in the churches with which we are connected, distributed backpacks and school supplies to the children of Promise Kids Foundation, and painted classrooms at our school, Promise Christian Academy of Leon.   The team worked hard and really got to know each other well.   We ministered together, prayed together, played together, and just shared life together (including some great Nicaraguan meals!).   I was blessed to have with me a truly great team!   What always amazes me as I take missions trips with teams such as this is, how God brings together people from such various backgrounds, with such different personalities, and with such differing abilities, and creates out of them just the right team for the moment.  

The sound of shattering glass cut through me as the men cleaned out the cabinets, dumping years of collected items into their buckets.   Within hours the couches we had sat on, the table we had eaten at, and the beds we had slept on were all gone. The truck pulled away. The house was silent. The house was empty, soon to no longer be our home.   A few months back, my siblings and I came to the realization that the house we grew up in and in which my parents had lived since 1962 was no longer practical for our mom.   It was time to sell. And, that meant it was time to clear it out.   For months we sorted through piles of stuff—some filled with memories, some just pure junk.   We took with us those items we wanted to hold onto for nostalgia’s sake or could use in some way.   But, there was still a garage and a basement and house filled with items that had been collected throughout the years and that needed to be discarded in some way.   So, this past Monday the men we hired showed up