To be honest - I am not exactly the most qualified person to comment on "world issues." Every world issue is so full of fine lines and shades of grey, that I have no real hope of being able to address even one in a simple little writing prompt with any kind of thoroughness. Not only that, but so many world issues are already covered by various, well-educated, radically differing opinions - all of seem to be right, depending on the day.

The one that matters the most to me, personally, however, is poverty - especially women, babies, and children living in abject poverty. I harbor a strong desire to serve women as a midwife in the Middle East, or in Africa. Of course, that desire is sleeping at the moment, as I have matters of hearth and home to attend to for many years before I can be free to pursue such a dream.

I know that this great big beautiful world has more than enough resources to go around for its 6 billion inhabitants. Granted, that "enough-ness" depends on so many different factors related to the heart of humanity.

Greed. Neglect. Apathy. Hatred. Power.

Generosity. Stewardship. Passion. Love. Humility.

I heave a sigh and cannot help but think that there is really not much that I can do to bring more attention to the poverty so many millions suffer under - whether through their own apathy, or because of factors beyond their control doesn't matter much to me. Either way, they are worse off than I am, and deserving of my compassion and prayer, at the very least.

It seems, to me, that no matter how much attention that poverty gets, it will never see eradication from this earth until her Rightful King returns.

The best I feel I can hope for, on any given day, is to make what difference that I can, personally speaking. I am, first and foremost, responsible for my own sphere of influence, and the physical needs I am able to meet within. It starts with my own family.

Beyond that? What?

Well, we all know that God loves a cheerful giver, and that we are to give prayerfully what the Lord lays on our own heart. For this heart, at this time, that means sponsoring a child through Compassion International. A child we build a relationship with through letter-writing. A child who calls me "Aunty," and sends pictures to add to our "Imagination Book." A child who is getting food, medicine, an education, and to see the light of the Gospel because of our paltry little check each month. A child whose picture has a prominent place among photos of our dearest family and friends.

(One quick aside about Compassion: Our check does not go into a vast pool, where it is divvied up among all the kids in the program. Our check goes directly for our child's specific needs, and the needs of his family. I really like that about this organization.)

I do, very much wish that poverty received more attention. I believe that it deserves such attention, because it is something that ALL of us who are not in poverty, are able to do something about, be it ever so small. Even if it's five bucks to a local mission to put a meal on the table for a few homeless men. We can all do something for the least of these in Jesus' name.

The least of these, who are so dear to the heart of God.

"Then the King will say to those on his right, 'Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.'

"Then the righteous will answer him, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?'

"The King will reply, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.' " ~Matthew 25:34-40 (NIV)

I do not have the solution to solving world poverty. I never will. I am not naive enough to think that this post will resonate far enough to change the whole world, or even that it will mean very much to anyone who actually reads it.

However, I do know, beyond the shadow of a doubt that, for a little boy in India who calls me "Aunty," we are making a world of difference, indeed.

That will have to be enough. For now.

Day one of the sixth grade, and I am in "advisory" class. A sort of homeroom-type thing that was basically pointless. We pretty much sat and did nothing, watched Channel 1 News, and did nothing.

Mrs. Monteith called roll, and two voices answered when she said, "Tiffany."

The Other Tiffany and I stared at each other. "Uhhh...Tiffany B___," said the teacher, to clarify. We smiled. It was her name. My last name started with a D at the time, and came a moment or two later.

I don't remember our first conversation, but I remember that I knew right then I'd found the first kindred spirit I'd ever known.

Tiffany is not my best friend because we share the same first name, plus half a middle name. Neither is she my best friend because our birthdays both fall on the 22nd of their respective months. It's not because we called each other "Tibby" and "Tibbi", or that she and I had crushes on the same guys. It wasn't even because we both shared complete disdain for stapler-wielding morons. (You had to be there.)

I don't think it's even that she was always there. Even though we've lived two hours apart, or more, ever since halfway through 7th grade, we still stayed friends.

She's the one who made a point to visit when she was in town to see family. Every time. We'd get together and play "Guess Who?" Sometimes, we watched movies. Once, she helped me construct a candy castle I was making for art class.

We grew up sharing a day here, a day there, whenever we could. Sometimes, months would pass. We passed a fun little photo album/journal thing back and forth for years.

We never lost touch. Not really.

Not even when I dated the Most Horrible Person On the Planet (at least at the time), and was too busy for pretty much everyone. Not even when I was getting married, and planning to move 3000 miles away from home.

There have always been visits, phone calls, a few letters, and now - we have that blessing/curse called facebook! On top of it all, we now share a blood bond through faith in Jesus.

We've seen the best and the worst of each other - and discovered that even the worst brings some beauty into the world via a new life or a valuable lesson learned.

She is a gift. A wholesome, sweet, spicy, comfortable, smiling, gracious, precious gift. I cannot thank God enough for her.

I can honestly say that we have never even had a coolness between us, let alone a fight or a misunderstanding. At least, not that I can remember.

So, to conclude, I have no idea just why we are best friends, other than that it just couldn't be helped. This friendship just grew and blossomed so naturally out of that initial connection over our names into something very down-to-earth and real. It works. It fits.

I love her to death. And she's stuck with me. That's pretty much it.

"There will come a day when being in love isn't enough."

I don't remember who said that to me as my wedding date got closer. All I remember is my train of thought after I smiled, nodded, and went on my dreamy-eyed way. It ran along the lines of believing that Levi and I had done everything right in preparing for a lifetime of living together.

We had premarital counseling from a couple who had already made it nearly twenty years. We were saving ourselves, physically, for our wedding night. We prayed together. We went to church together. We talked about all the issues, like kids and careers and beliefs. We were adults. At nineteen.

This lead me to believe that Levi and I would be the exception to that "love isn't always enough" line. Of course love would be enough for US. It would be easy to escape that horrid divorce statistic that says more than 1 in 2 marriages fail nowadays - even among churchgoers.

Slowly, but surely, there came a day in our marriage where love was definitely not enough. Levi never stopped loving me, but I most certainly did not love him any more. Why?

Basically, on my end, it was because he had let me down. *Gasp!* He wasn't perfect! I had high, romantic expectations. Of what, I'm not entirely sure. I thought I was grounded in reality. I was not. I was firmly rooted in the world's idea of what love is.

And that view is that love = romance. It's supposed to be that twitter-pated, goose-bumpy feeling, charged with electricity and excitement to the end of your days! This would be funny if it weren't so sad.

Of course, I'm not saying that that romance isn't part of the picture. I'm just saying that I thought it was the whole picture.

Though I had been told that love was more than than sunset walks on the beach, I look back now, and realize I didn't really believe that, because Levi was different than all the other inferior beings out there who claim to be men.

Turns out he is, but not in the way I wanted him to be different.

When I finally experienced the hard truth that love isn't always enough, I had a decision to make. Thanks to a few women who loved me enough to tell me the truth and pray with and for me, I chose to look to the One whose bride I became long before I had ever met Levi: Jesus.

Very, very slowly, and with several stumbleings, I made my way back to my First Love. There, I found Love Himself - and that became enough.

In the meantime, it was bare commitment, by the grace of God, that held me where I was. It wasn't long before Jesus awakened me to the love Levi still had for me. His had never wavered. It had hidden from me, in places I had not thought to look. Once I opened my eyes, my own love began to grow again, but differently. More sturdy than before.

Before, it was like a poppy; here only for a day, blooming gorgeously, but gone as soon as night fell. Now, it's like a tree, planted by streams of water. Sturdy, immovable, and hearty. Its foundation is different.

I discovered that romance comes and goes. Being "in love" doesn't last a lifetime. And that's OKAY!

Being in love surprises you every so often, and is pretty darn pleasant while it lasts.

Love as the world knows it isn't enough. It never will be. Love as God defines it is, however, more than enough.

" Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails." ~1 Corinthians 13:4-8a (NIV)