We have always wanted our letters to be a source of strength, encouragement and

challenge to you who share so constantly in our lives through your prayers. God

has taught us deeply and kept us through years of disappointments and

imprisonments. I know we are different people because of it and that eternal

things have been affected more than we know. But there are times we fall so

hard it seems we will never see the light again. This is one of those times and

we need to be real with you. We don't know how we got here, where or when our

focus changed or exactly what caused us to stumble and lose heart. Our minds

are too tired to even try and figure it out. We only know we are weak, buffeted

about and feel helpless under the grip of continuous oppression and affliction

that seems to have blocked out God's love. It is a lonely place where human

comfort cannot reach.

Please pray for us. Physically things are worsening. I am often in great pain

and totally confined but I know that is not the real problem. It is our focus.

The pain and disappointments, our own weakness and inability have kept us from

seeing Him. It's easy to realize that and set our will to change, but we find

ourselves unstable and unable. Just when we seem to be about to stand we are

knocked down. We are even buffeted by well meaning Christians who are trying

desperately to figure out what is wrong with us. I have felt the need to

withdraw into a shell and hide but I want the shell to be the shelter of the

most high God not some self-protection device. Please pray we will go deeper

with God and not be offended in Him.

Recently, the baby turtledove we named Isaac (because he laughs) collapsed

wounded on our table where other birds began attacking him. Sometimes for us it

also seems that others come and just pick at our wounds. They mean well but the

result is the same as Isaac's -- we grow weaker. We took Isaac in and after a

Vet determined there were no broken bones we housed him in a screened box

supplied with all his needs. We were told to keep him until he regained his

strength so the other birds could not hurt him more. At first, Isaac did not

seem to care too much about his isolation but as soon as he started feeling a

little better, he wanted out. I felt so sorry for him. His wings became

tattered from his few exhausting attempts to break loose. He had no idea that

to go out there would mean death -- that for now the box was his protection to

preserve his life.

After three days, I couldn't stand it any longer. It was like seeing myself --

trapped and isolated, beating against my "box" because I was sure I needed to

get out now. So much striving when only God knows what enemies are lurking in

wait for me. He alone knows the time for a safe release. Looking at Isaac I

knew, at least mentally, that patience had to have its full work if I was to be

complete and lacking in nothing. Somewhere along the line, the release and

fulfillment of all our God-given vision had become all we could see. I'd

detached patience from its partner faith and thrown it out. How did I get so

beat up, Lord? And even more, what do I do now? I wonder how much of my

physical decline has come from my own desperate struggle? And yet, how do I

rest here? Surely I don't begin to know.

In our imperfect wisdom we let Isaac go prematurely. He was obviously weak and

still prey to other birds. But our desire to see him free was greater than the

long suffering needed to insure his safety. Now we could only pray that God

would be merciful to him and not let him die. From my place of doubt and

weakness I was pretty sure he wouldn't make it.

This morning, while I was seeking the Lord, Isaac came down to eat and for the

first time since he got hurt, I heard him laugh. Somehow, hope flickered

briefly in my soul. In spite of our impatience and doing it wrong, God had been

merciful and faithful. If He, Who sees the sparrow fall, picked Isaac up, would

He not surely do the same for us and even more? Oh, Lord, we know not what to

do but our eyes are turned to you. Help us see You. Thank You that You do not

break the bruised reed or quench the dimly burning flame. Lead us out and make

us strong again because we bear Your Name and because Jesus died for us. And

bless our friends who love us. Show them how to pray for we don't even know

what to ask. And may we be able to write next month of how You rescued us and

kept us safe and made us laugh again. In Jesus' name, amen. We love you more

than words can say. Thank you for standing with us. God bless you.