In the last several months, I had come to terms with renting out my house next year to strangers. I knew I would have to move everything into the attic. It wasn't supposed to be that hard. Just pack up the stuff and move it to the other side of the laundry room door. Easy.

Not quite three weeks ago, the Lord showed me otherwise (Mud Season). He doesn't want this to be easy on me. Not in any way, shape or form. I now find myself in a race against time and tears. I need this to be like a band-aid I am ripping off. It can't be a long, drawn out process. And so I have committed to having the house ‘market ready' by Thursday. The day after tomorrow.  There will be a yard sale on Saturday. I am trying to put price tags on all the trappings of a life that suddenly seems so unbelievably ordinary. I am working to not only clean the house, but to clear out the rubble of my past.     

Some things are easy to give up. One of my TV's. My toaster oven (ie: the single girl's kitchen). Most of my books. Baskets. Lots of clothes. My vacuum (can't wait to give that one up). But more things are hard. Ten years of formal gowns, each with a wonderful and unique memory. My martini glasses with the funky curved stems. My Stetson. The painting from a friend in college. The hat I bought in Nassau when I was 10. The 19^th century map of Europe, given to me for my college graduation. My collection of world maps and globes. All things ‘red' that my family and friends have given me in the last three years to match my home. The sign at my home that says ‘Francesco - 105 Butternut Lane'.

The hardest part of this is trying to distinguish between what to store and what to sell. If next year was just going to be a touristy trip around the world, I would keep most of it, knowing I would use it when I come back. Knowing that in September 2009, I would settle back into life as I know it, with most of my friends married, and more of them with children. But that isn't the case. Next year isn't about me. It is about the Lord. About giving over everything to Him. It is about selling everything for Jesus.  I won't even pretend to think that I will be the same person who is leaving here. Next year is going to challenge me. It is going to change who I am and I don't know who I will become. I don't know what I will want. I don't even know if I will be coming back to New Hampshire and that in and of itself, is a hard concept to comprehend.

I can't know who I will be in 18 months. But I do know this: I am becoming the woman God wants me to be, the woman God intends me to be, and the transformation starts now.

If you have ever experienced life in New England, you know that between Winter and Spring, God slips in an extra Season.  This is called Mud Season.  It isn't always pretty, and it often requires lots of cleaning.  But we love it because in all its messiness, it is still beautiful.  And we love it for the promise of what is to come. 

Partway through training, the Lord decided that the July Squad was not going to be my race.  As much of a shock as this may be to everyone reading this, it was a bigger shock to me!   However, I am not abandoning the idea of the Race altogether.  As of right now, I am joining the October Squad, and we'll see if that fits in with God's plan for me. 

Our wonderful and gracious God is slipping a Mud Season into my life.  When I left Ignition Training my plan was to return home, sell my house, and move back to Gainesville, GA to work in the AIM offices and also work part-time elsewhere in the community.  This will be a big change in many many ways in my world.

The biggest hurdles to overcome with this plan were my parents.  I didn't know how they were going to react - to the idea of me switching to the October Race, and especially to me living in Georgia for the months prior. 

Last Monday morning, as I was driving north through the Carolinas, I called my dad to tell him about selling my house.  And his reaction was wonderful.  He told me that if that is what I thought was the best plan, he would trust me.  So - as of this Friday, my house is officially on the market.  This was something that very hard for me to do, and there are those of you who I know were praying that this all would go smoothly for me.  It worked.    

The subject of putting off the Race and what I was going to do in the meantime was broached last Friday evening.  Mother said something about my leaving in July and I followed with, "About that... leaving in July..."  The whole conversation went amazingly well.  They finally seem to understand where I am coming from, and why I am doing these things.      

The house goes on the market tomorrow, and the yard sales begin as I attempt to divest myself of all the clutter I have accumulated in the last 28 years.  With God as the the driving force behind this plan, Margie (my black lab) and I should be en route to Gainesville, GA by the end of May! 

If you've met me, you have more than likely seen me with a butterfly necklace on, or earings, or some other form of the winged creature (t-shirts, hair clips, sticky notes, stickers, etc).  And you might be wondering why it is I wear them, since I generally don't strike people as a particularly girly girl.  It isn't because they are 'pretty' or because they transform from the earth-bound caterpillar to a flying work of art.  The answer: The Butterfly Effect.  

If you want to know more about the origins of the term, you can click here (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Butterfly_effect) but here are the basics: A meteorologist in the 1960's was performing an experiment and he rounded out his calculations from .506127 to just .506.  His results were dramatically different than when he had first performed the test.  This lead to the phrase: The flapping of a butterfly's wings off the coast of Africa could cause a hurricane in the United States. 

The Butterfly Effect is the premise that any change, any difference in this world, no matter how infinitesimally small, can have a dramatic effect on something seemingly unrelated to it.

Think about it.  Something as small, as soft, as gentle as the flap of a butterfly's wings.  What difference can that make?  It often seems like none at all.  But what if that one tiny push of air was all that was needed to get a current moving.  The possibilities are endless.  There is power in the butterfly.   

I see people as butterflies.  When someone is having a rough day, it can take a single smile, or a hug, or just a simple 'Hello' to begin to turn their day around.  That is the Butterfly Effect.  When we do this deliberately, when we go out with the intention to change the world, sometimes we can be disappointed that we are not seeing instant results.  Remember the Butterfly Effect.  A whisper of love or a hug to a child in one village may be the edge a country needs to raise up  Warriors for Christ in another.  You never know how God is going to use His butterflies.            

Men beware... this is what happens when you tell 29 women of God to 'Prepare for Capture the Flag'!! 

Enjoy! 

**If you are looking at this on the blog page, you will not see the video.  You much click on the title or click here Capture the Flag! **

It is nearly 1am, and I am sitting in the conference room here at Adventures In Missions, and as I do, I am watching Community (with a capital 'C') come alive. Currently, there are 5 other amazing World Race women sitting here learning how to blog, some of them for the first time.

We are all sitting here typing furiously, trying to complete an 'assignment' and some girls are struggling. But we are all pulling together, to talk about how to write. About how to say what we are feeling. About how most of think that we are awful writers, and why would anyone want to read what we write? Why does what we say matter? What is our family going to say when they read this? What about our friends? We are working to get this done, but we are doing it joyously. There is much laughter and frequent giggling. And at moments, there is wonderful open-hearted sharing. And Jeff Goins is here too... being a wonderful trooper and supporter for us (bless his heart, he has promised he won't leave until the last of us is finished, and someone new just walked in five minutes ago) .

At one point, one of the other girl's and I were looking at current race blogs, and we pulled up a video. Suddenly, we were 7 women, huddled around a computer screen, crying, as we watched the racers in the field, knowing that in three short months that will be us. It was a powerful moment.

Two of the girls here had a hard time processing their thoughts and writing at the same time, so two others jumped in to 'be their hands' and type for them. It was beautiful to watch. This night has been wonderful. Community happens on The World Race, even in Training Camp. Community Happens.

We did an exercise on Saturday that, to be honest, freaked me out. I almost don't even know how write about it, other than to just put it out there.

We were asked to form small groups, and my group was Sara, Melanie, and Natalie. We were then challenged to Ask The Lord where He wanted us to go. Right. Like that was going to work! Ha. Here I am, a believer in a loving and redeeming God, and yet, when it comes to asking for something here and now, I am skeptic numero uno (yeah - there is my Spanish). You want me to Ask The Lord what He wants me to do?! Suuuuurrre…. Like I can channel God. Doesn't he use Priests and Pastors for that kind of thing?

Okaaaay, so we all stood around and prayed for a while that the Lord would give us a direction in which to drive, and the four us pulled back and shared what we ‘saw'. Okay - not gonna lie, I really didn't feel like I SAW anything big. I just had this random little thought of blue lines. Of blue waves. Not a picture of waves at all, but sort of ‘cartoony' waves. I shared this with the group and as I did I moved my hands in the motion of a wave. Okay - totally cheesy, I know. Didn't really expect much from THAT!

Fast forward 10 minutes, and we are turning out of Camp to drive to wherever the Lord leads us (riiiiight), and it seems that we all came into Camp from a different direction. We discussed which way to go, and we went the direction in which I was unfamiliar. Driving down the road, we come across a sign - a sign with BLUE WAVES ON IT. Okay. I'm sold. Stop doubting and just go with it!

**Warning - Adult themed content in this blog**

As some of you may know, I have spent the beginning part of this week in court. I was there as a witness for the defense in a case that simply pushes my buttons.

Morton has been accused of committing an awful crime. He is accused of intending to meet and perform sexual acts with an underage girl. But he never showed up to the meeting place. He didn't go. Which is the best thing possible, because the ‘underage girl' he was e-mailing with was really another adult trying to trap sexual predators. Not a police officer. Not a trained professional. The other adult was someone who is trying to mete out their own idea of vigilante justice. They are working on their own agenda, and not really trying to protect the public from harm. If they were, they never would have gone after Morton. I believe very strongly that those people out there who prey on young women and young men should be behind bars. But Morton is not one of them.

Why I do I believe he shouldn't be punished? That he isn't the predator they are accusing him of being? Because 18 months ago, Morton saw my MySpace page, and noting that I live one town over, he e-mailed me. As my MySpace page indicates, I am always looking for more people to hang out with who love hiking and kayaking around the region. We e-mailed and chatted for a month or so, in which he never once said or did anything lewd, suggestive, or otherwise rude.

Living in such a small town, I started asking my friends about him. Is this someone I would enjoy spending time with? And the answer from most of my friends (who know about my Jeopardy! obsession) was, no, Morton was not the kind of person I would spend quality time with. A month or so later, I was at restaurant/bar with my best friend, and he pointed out Morton to me. I observed as Morton had a conversation with someone with whom he had gone to high school, and I watched as she grew increasingly annoyed with his juvenile speech pattern. She was eternally patient with him, never actually telling him to go away. By the time he brought out his yearbook, she'd had enough. I watched as he clearly missed every obvious sign of her agitation. Finally, she and her friends left, just to escape him.

Here is the crux of the matter: in order to do what I feel is right and just, and keep an innocent man out of prison, I have to hurt him. I have to tell the truth on the stand. And the truth is that this man of 32 has the mental capacity of an 8^th grader. He may have done what they say, and arranged a meeting with a 17 year old girl, but he didn't know it was wrong. This is not a case of ignorance; of not knowing the speed limit. This is a case of a brain not being developed enough to differentiate and reason between right and wrong. Like any adolescent, he should not have unsupervised access to the internet. Saying this to other people is easy. Anyone who has met him and had a conversation with him knows that he is ‘challenged'. It is abundantly obvious. He can't hold a job. He can't live alone. He is not a fully autonomous functioning adult, nor will he ever be. And there is nothing wrong with that. God loves this young man just as he loves all of us. But for me to have to say these things, out loud, in front of Morton - this is not easy. In fact, it is incredibly difficult. To keep him out of prison, and save the life he has now, I will have to break down part of his belief in himself. It just doesn't seem right.

*The name has been changed to protect the young man in question

Rings are often symbols of promises. Those unbreakable pledges that bind us to someone or something. Rings are used in marriage, they can represent promises to one other, promises to God, or promises to ourselves. Four years ago, I placed a ring on my finger, a simple silver and amethyst ring, and I uttered a personal vow to never again leave New Hampshire. Every time I left home to live somewhere else, as soon as the newness wore off, I was miserable. With my promise ring on my finger, it anchored me to this place. And I was more than happy to let it.

But last year, something deep inside me began to stir. Something I suppressed for many months. A need to embrace my faith in a bigger way. I looked at doing a short term Missions trip, but nothing called out to me. Nothing was settling as feeling like the right trip, and every time I thought I'd found the right one, things would fall through. I fought the idea of a long term Missions Trip for more than half a year. It would mean leaving. It would mean I was breaking my promise.

Then I discovered The World Race. I knew God was challenging me to take this leap; that I had been led here for a reason. There was a brief hesitation though. What would happen without me? What about my role in town government? Can I live without Squam Lake for a whole year?

I was called to be a part of the Race, but I didn't know just how I was going to let go of New Hampshire. I was so very conscious of the ring on my finger, and the fact that maybe I should take it off before I left. I had plans to take it with me, to wear it around my neck, as if the act of removing it from my finger would mean something.

Then God showed me His idea of just what was going to happen to that ring. About two weeks after committing to the Race, I woke up one morning and I felt more than saw that something was odd about my ring. When I did look at it, it appeared as if it had been hit by a hammer, though it was still on my finger. The metal was bent, and the jewel was in pieces. Clearly, the promise I made to myself regarding New Hampshire was just that: my promise to me.

With the ring now shattered, I am free to do the Lord's work, wherever it is He should send me.

From World Race Headquarters... this is where we maybe, might, possibly be going on the July 2008 World Race!!  In other words, general locations on the globe are likely, but actual countries are subject to change.

2008 July Race Route July - Central America - Mexico (Palenque) August - Central America - Guatemala/Nicaragua   September - South East Asia - Thailand October - South East Asia - Cambodia November - South East Asia - Vietnam     December - Southern Africa - South Africa January - Southern Africa - Swaziland/Mozambique February - Southern Africa - Swaziland/ Mozambique   March - Eastern Europe - Romania April - Eastern Europe - Moldova May - Eastern Europe - Ukraine

Check out Find Your Voice, Part I to get the back story to this! 

Sherry, at 63, stands at a proud 4'7". She has never been taller than this. She has two ‘normal' height siblings, and she has a ‘normal height' daughter and granddaughter. She has no disease, no handicap, no other physical problems, other than in the 4^th grade, she just stopped growing. But Sherry never let any of this get in the way of what she wanted to accomplish in life. She is methodical and extremely organized. She makes a plan, and she sticks to it.

It is nearly impossible for me to explain the admiration and respect I have for this woman. It is even harder still for me to imagine what her life would look like today if it wasn't for Toastmasters. Her first 14 second speech more than tripled when her second speech rounded out at about 45 seconds. The courage it took for her to come back and try again is amazing. From that point, Sherry took it upon herself to speak at every opportunity. She has also learned to just go with the flow. Now, instead of becoming distraught when something changes, she laughs and says "Oh well!"

This year, a scant 13 months after joining Toastmasters, Sherry entered our club Humorous Speech Contest. To even enter was a brave brave thing for her. Watching her speak was a joy to me. She used no notes, a few props, and utilized vocal variety and body movements as she spoke for nearly seven minutes, with much of the audience in stitches for the duration. Sherry was the embodiment of what Toastmasters strives to do, to change lives and encourage personal growth through public speaking. When she finished her speech that evening, it was clear she was proud of how far she knew she had come. And the look on her face when she realized she had won was an incredible play of shock and joy. She went on to compete at the Area level, up against people from 6 other clubs, some of whom have been doing this for upwards of 20 years! She pulled out well-earned Second Place finish from that contest, her speech now having been heard by over 100 people. This from the petite and shy woman for whom 14 seconds was once a trial. What a difference a year makes.

One of things that I found with Toastmasters is that unlike so many other 'public speaking venues', Toastmasters gives you the freedom to fail.  Everyone is encouraging, and actively wants the other members to succeed.   

The best part about Toastmasters is that it is open to everyone. You never know who you will meet, or whose life you may change with a speech. I have yet to find any sort of profession, hobby, or other situation that can't be improved with better communication.  The first time I stood at the front of my church to raise funds for an AIDS Vaccine Ride I was doing, I was terrified.  Now, speaking at the front of my church is easy.  I don't get nervous anymore about how I am speaking, and whatever message I am trying communicate is no longer lost in the terror in my voice.