The Quilt by Buck Burch

Last week in Atlanta, we experienced our first frost of the year. I know, many are thinking, “Wow, we’ve already had weeks of snow!” But last week’s weather reminded me of a special event in our life about 4 years ago.

In early 2007, the ladies of Byron Baptist Church contacted us with a question of how they could bless us as their missionaries. Some churches sent things in the mail that we passed on to our Russian colleagues or new believers. Others prayed intensely for our ministry. We appreciated each effort our supporting churches made to be a blessing to us. Unfortunately, Leslie and I had already experienced the disappointment on numerous occasions when churches sent care packages to Russia. Some packages made it; some came with things missing.We even had one package of little cards written by children in a Sunday School class, but the package arrived 8 months late. That church was so surprised when we finally contacted them to acknowledge receipt; I guess they figured we had just not cared to send our thanks. So, when Byron Baptist asked what they could send, I quickly said, “Don’t send anything; just please pray for us.”

But the ladies were persistent about wanting to do something for us, so I began to think about what could be done. Outside our St. Petersburg apartment a heavy blanket of new snow laid on the ground. I watched shivering Russian children walking to school, and my mind somehow envisioned a warm blanket of God’s love covering the people I saw. At that point, I quickly went to my computer to type our answer to Byron Baptist Church: Would you make us a quilt, a blanket that will represent your love for us and God’s love for the nations? Some might think this was an audacious request, but I really felt like it was the right response.

Only later during the summer of 2007 did I find out the other side to this story. Byron Baptist Church women received our response with shock. Not one among them knew how to quilt.

But with an attitude that can only be described as faithfulness and joy, they brought in an outside consultant to explain the process, and they mobilized their ladies to begin work.

Slowly at first, the work began as the ladies listened intently to what should be done.

Some youth also participated in the design and stitching.

We arrived for our summer stateside assignment in

Georgia In June, and Byron Baptist Church requested I come to preach. After the service we were presented with the most beautiful quilt I’ve ever seen in my life.

On the reverse side of the quilt, prayers were written out with signatures of those who labored to produce this masterpiece.

The quilt is still the centerpiece of our bedroom, and each morning we awaken to pull back the cover and read the faithful messages of those

who wanted us covered in prayer and warmth. My prayer for the nations today is that, through the labor of His church, the Lord would gently lay His quilt of grace and salvation.

Thanks for your prayers as I am finishing the final touches on my book. I have a title now. :-) I will let you know what the new developments are soon.
In His Love,
Les

Daily Thoughts:

As a parent am I thinking long-term? Abraham obeyed. He & his CHILDREN were blessed (Gen. 22:15-18)

Lord, I have loved and still love to be where You are (Psa 26:8). To what or whom do I give worth?

"Sneak peek" of my book. What do you think?

What do you think? Here is a sneak peek to the prologue of my book. Do you find this interesting? Would you like to read an honest and transparent account of our story in print (call to missions, experiences in Russia, first-hand ministry moments, homeschooling lessons, cultural adaptation ideas, etc.)? Thanks for your feedback.

In His Love,
Les

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Prologue
"As I sat on the front porch swing at the family home place in the summer months of our furlough in 2007, I glanced at the beautiful landscape in front of me. On many occasions I came to this very spot with a cup of coffee in hand. I reflected on the many blessings that the Lord provided over the past nine years.


The view was breathtaking. Rows and rows of pine trees were planted across the acreage. The pine smell radiated the area and presented a calming effect. How gorgeous was this farming land in a rain storm! As droplets of water fell from the edges of the roof, I looked through the haze of rain and saw the antique farm equipment under an old oak tree. It beautifully decorated the front yard. I did my best to paint a mental picture. Black and picturesque stand the old wagons, a hand plow or two and a piece of an old picket fence. Home.

While contemplating, I grabbed a sheet of scrap paper and wrote down these words:

After returning to your native land, you find home is the same. It never changes, not really. Sure there are a few minor differences, but the overall look and feel is still home as well as the people you hold dear are near. A scene from The Lord of the Rings (2003) series flashed across my thoughts. The event seemed to depict my emotions at that moment. After Frodo, Merry, Pippin, and Sam returned to the Shire from their long journey with the ring, they were sitting at a table together in familiar surroundings. They looked around at the well known faces and environment. Then they glanced at one another. Without saying a word, they realized how much they had changed. Possibly no one knew to what magnitude, for only they had experienced the journey. They had changed inwardly. The incidences that they lived through were irremovable. However, home was still the same.

Outwardly I look like the same Leslie, but inwardly I am new. Others may never know the extent of my journey. The trek has been worth it all, for I needed the transformation. What I have seen and have experienced will always be on the forefront of my mind. In Russian the word for having lived through a period of time carries a deeper meaning. It does not just mean having lived during a time period but having journeyed through it. The one thing over the years that kept me going, other than my Lord, was the one thing that remained the same or undisturbed— home."
-Journal: The Chosen Path, L. Burch, 2011