One Way Tickets

Ryan and I  did something last night that we have never done before.  We bought a set of one way tickets.  To America.  It was pretty darn terrifying.  

It's been many weeks, actually months, and essentially years in the works.  And yet, the decision has come as a total shock.  We have many more questions than answers, but we know that for now we are coming "home."  We aren't sure for how long.  A year? A lifetime?  Only the Lord knows.  It has not been an easy decision, but we know it is the right decision.  

Ryan and I have been working with a therapist in the States since the spring, focusing on how to best parent our little guy.   Actually, over the last several years, we have worked with educational and mental health providers in multiple countries trying to find the best combination of resources to help him thrive.  However at this point, at the advice of our providers, we have decided that we need to return to the States where the stressors are a bit less and the resources are much, much more.

We had desperately hoped, even as the need to step away became more apparent, that we could make it until June.  In our minds, we wanted Lizzie to be able to graduate from school here.  I wanted to finish out my teaching commitment.  Just a little more time to have the neat and tidy closure we thought necessary.  Yet, we were urged to consider coming sooner and when all of the pros and cons were laid before us, we decided to yield to that counsel.  So, quite surprisingly, we'll be spending this Christmas in America.

To say that we aren't scared would be a lie.  We are constantly fighting the temptation to freak out. We have no idea of what the future holds.  What will we drive?  What will we wear on our feet in December, we don't even own close-toed shoes!  Will we have to change jobs?  If so, are we even employable in the States anymore?  

Not to mention, there is so much to do.  On this side, we are selling 95% of our possessions.  We have spent the last two weeks sorting, packing, and preparing for that.  Jobs need to be finished well.  Goodbyes need to be said.  College applications and FAFSAs which were already overwhelming now seem like a mountain to be climbed.  Meanwhile, on the US side, therapists need to be secured.  Winter clothes need to be purchased.  School decisions need to be made.  We are constantly having to take our thoughts captive to keep from being completely overwhelmed.   We are trying desperately to cling to the Lord and to trust that He will provide for our every need- emotionally, spiritually, physically, financially.

We do know a few things...initially we will stay in the Raleigh area, near my dad and our oldest daughter, Abby.  Our church is graciously hosting us at their mission house.  We will be on medical leave as we figure out what the best long term plan will be.  Returning overseas may be an option at some point, but we have been told that West Africa will not be a choice available to us as we will need ongoing care options that  just aren't available in this part of the world.  This makes us very sad, sadder than we can begin to understand or communicate.

More importantly, we know that God is not surprised.  He called us to parent every one of our children.  He can and will completely equip us to do that.  We need only to we seek Him and rest in that assurance.  We have the opportunity to be part of serving Him and sharing His love and His story faithfully, no matter where our geography finds us.   We are doing our very best to remind ourselves of that moment by moment, no matter how overwhelming the day's tasks feel.

We do covet your prayers.  Our burdens feel great and we are happy to share them.   Thankfully, our community here has been so kind and gracious to us in these past few weeks.  So many people have stepped in to help us think through the logistics of all that must be done and then to help us do them.  We are seeing the beauty of our relationships here as we walk through what has been one of the hardest things we have ever faced.  We are so very thankful that even in this storm, the Lord is lavishing us with His love and goodness.  

Les Trois Soeurs

At the beginning of the summer, I asked all of the kids if there was something in particular that they wanted to do this summer.  My teenagers were pretty bummed about the fact that we weren't planning any travels anywhere and I was hoping to at least give them something to look forward to in our desert town.  I knew it was going to be a pretty lonely summer as most of their high school peers were heading out of the country.  When I asked, they all looked at me as if I had three heads and made some comment about how there is NOTHING to do here.  But, after encouraging them to think a little harder, Isaac said that he wanted to hike the "Three Sisters." 

The Three Sisters are a group of three plateau/hill type things that dominate our vista across the river.  We absolutely love the view we see of them from our back porch and yet we had never ventured up them.  Finally, last week, on an overcast morning, we drove across the river and scaled all three. 

Here are the Three Sisters from our back porch.

The first one we climbed was way harder than I had imagined.  It was sheer rock and rather than being a steady incline, there were almost like mini-cliffs.  Let's just say that my upper thighs were quite contrary the next couple of days as they reminded me how much the did NOT like hoisting me up the ledges.  Fortunately, the other two were much gentler, though the rolling rocks that dominated the slopes were a bit of a challenge to navigate.  The views from the tops were super and it was a great time for all of us.  We nearly raced up the third one because a storm was obviously rolling in.  We watched the rain across the river, but managed to get only sprinkles on our side.  Here are a few pictures of our morning adventure.

Isaac and Liz were enjoying the view from the top of the first one we climbed, which was actually the farthest one down the road that we traveled to get to them.

Here is the road below.  Do you see the camel passing in front of that stand of trees?

My all-time favorite hiking buddy.  I was thinking about it and I can think of at least 10 countries where this fellow and I have hiked together.  And I know it's been way more than 10 states.  I look forward to many more hikes together!

This is our land, during rainy season.  See all of that green!

Me with my growing young'uns!

These houses are pretty typical residences for our host country.

Here is a funny Three Sisters story that I think of often.  When I first started teaching art in Niger, most of my kindergartners were English Language Learners.  One day in class, we were talking about mountains and one of the students, who was often very quiet, looked at the photo I was holding and gave a little nod of understanding while he whispered excitedly, "comme Les Trois Soeurs!"  I grinned at his connection that the mountains in my photo were like the Three Sisters in our city, which are probably the only "mountains" he has yet to see.    

Changes Ahead

I love a break in routine and I am often interested in trying new things, but I am not a fan of change.  Ask my husband, who would be an absolute gypsy if I didn't insist on some sort of normalcy.  I always have to warm up to new ideas and rarely look for ways to be innovative.  Yet sometimes, I find change really is the best thing for everyone involved and it rarely turns out to be as difficult as I envision (except when it ends up being worse!)

That being said, Ryan and I made a decision several months ago that is leading to another change for our family.  Because of the type of job that Ryan does with our mission, he was given the option to change his contract a little bit.  There were pros and cons with adjusting to the new system or choosing to be grandfathered into the old system.  We spent many months praying and analyzing and in the end, we chose to go with the newer option, though few of our cohorts went that route.  I won't bore you with all of the details, but one of the biggest differences between the two options is how time away from the field is calculated.  With our original contract, we had a shorter annual vacation, but were always accruing time away for a longer stay in the States.  With our newer benefits, we no longer accrue time for a long term stay in the States, but we do get 8 weeks of vacation annually.

It wasn't that we really loved everything about the new package, but honestly, it works better for the nature of Ryan's work and we were feeling such a strong tug in our hearts that we needed to find a way to get to the States more often.  With kids headed off to college and parents growing older, we really needed a different rhythm than we had.  And so, with much fear and trembling we changed our "pathway" in an effort to make a continued life in Africa more doable for our family.

One of the other things that changed with that contract shift was my role.  While I am still partnered with our mission, I now have the option of working a job myself.  This freed me up to consider some other options and quite frankly we knew that for us to be able to use those 8 weeks of annual vacation, we were going to have to come up with some plane ticket money.  We began to pray about what the Lord would have us to do and He dropped an opportunity in my lap.  

It's a long and winding story, that I won't try to recount here, but I will say that we are very certain that it is where the Lord is leading us for now.  So, in a few weeks, I will start a new job teaching K-12 art at an International School here in our city.  Our oldest three children will remain where they are for school, and Abe and I will make the move to the new school.  My contract is for a little more than half time, which means I have a full day off and some afternoons too.  I am hopeful this will leave me some margin to keep my home/family running smoothly.  We are excited to shine our light in this new environment.  It is not a faith based school, like the one I have served at the last two years, so there will be many different opportunities ahead.

It is amazing to me how God really paved the way for all of this.  I really was resistant when I first saw the doors opening.  I absolutely loved being a volunteer art teacher at my children's school and hated the thought of leaving my students there.  But, for so many reasons, I cannot deny that this is the right move and I am choosing to welcome that change that is ahead.  I am anxious to see how God will use me during my time there and I am looking forward to meeting all of the students and staff.

Who Would Have Thought?

A couple of Aprils ago, I was sitting in my car one day, waiting for my kids to finish an activity at school.  At the time I was homeschooling two of my children most of the day, but each morning they would start with French and PE at the school that their other siblings attended.  As I sat in the car, I really felt the Lord impressing on my heart that I needed to offer to teach a few hours each week at the kids's school.  

After getting permission from supervisors and chatting with Ryan, I went to the school director and told her that I would be willing to teach an hour or so each day for the next school year, while my homeschoolers took other classes.  She agreed that it would be helpful and told me she would get back to me with their needs.  I completely expected to be asked if I could do Middle School Bible or Social Studies or something.  I was completely shocked when she came back to me a few days later and asked if I would consider teaching art.  I barely suppressed a laugh.  Seriously.  I remember saying to her, "You want ME to teach art?!?"  And then I remember agreeing to pray about it.  

I did.   I prayed and researched and decided to give it a whirl.  With fear.  And trembling.  And a full disclosure that I was completely unsure of my abilities but that I would try.  She reassured me that some art would be better than no art and gave me permission to fail.

So, for the last two years, I have taught K-8 art.  Surprisingly, I loved it.  Completely loved it.  I think that most of my students did too.  I  have learned so much, found a great outlet for my creativity, and absolutely thrived.  I am sure I have done so many things wrong.  I have relied heavily on the art blog world while gaining confidence in my abilities to tweak or create my own lessons. I am certain that there are many other teachers who could have done it so much better.  But they weren't here and I was.  I honestly think my students have had fun, developed a few skills, and have grown in the confidence that they can create.  It's been a fun journey.  

This spring, I was able to take coordinate my second elementary art show and it was fabulous watching my little artists show off their work to mom and dad.  We spent the spring semester learning about different countries of the world and then trying art inspired from those places.  Here are just a few of the photos Ryan took of the big day.   

 First grade fish inspired by the tropical fish of Panama 

 Fifth grade tulip fields from the Netherlands

Fourth and fifth grade Ming vases inspired by China

Kindergarten and first grade pandas

Second and third Grade Chinese lanterns

Second and third grade matryoshka dolls

Kindergarten and first grade onion domes

I am so thankful that the Lord allowed me to have the opportunity to try something new.  It has been such a joy and a blessing!

Out of the Darkness

In our house, we have a big chalkboard that my husband bought on the side of the road somewhere in our city.  It is a piece of really rough plywood, covered in low quality chalk paint.  When he bought it, it had long legs, like an easel.  He sawed them off and stuck that bad boy on the wall.  We always have some pretty little drawing or lettering on the board, mostly thanks to Ryan's skills.  Sometimes it is a seasonal bit, sometimes scripture or lyrics from a hymn, and sometimes we put something on it specific to an event or dinner we are hosting at the house.  I love it and it makes me smile often.

The day this picture was taken, at the beginning of this summer, was actually a day that this chalkboard brought me to tears.  I remember walking past it on that busy day.  I was preparing a Mexican themed dinner for some friends who were preparing to leave Africa for a year.  I turned the corner into the kitchen and I distinctly remember standing at the sink, washing dishes, and crying out in gratitude to the Lord for this moment.  Simply thanking Him that I was zipping around my house, in a hurry to get dishes done and a meal ready to share with friends, and that I had the energy and enthusiasm to do it.  My mind sort of rewound 6 months to a different time and a different season for me.

I recalled standing at the same sink, months earlier, and crying as I did dishes because it was all I could do to just survive.  I reflected on the many days in a row of tears.  I recalled so many nights, looking at Ryan, when dinner should have already been on the table and telling him through tears that I didn't even know what to cook and being totally overwhelmed that people needed me to figure this out for them.  I remember another time standing at that sink, during that same season and wondering if I would ever get past survival again.  Would I ever be to the point that laundry and meal prep and parenting did not seem like mountains looming in front of me?  I had wondered if I would I ever again possess enough well being and energy to open my home to others. 

And yet here I was, preparing to welcome friends- and not for the first time in recent months.  It hit me, in that moment, glancing at that chalkboard, how God had and was healing me and how He had brought me out of the darkness.  

I couldn't recall a moment when it happened.  In fact, a counselor friend asked me what did it, what flipped the switch, what made it better?  And I don't know.  I do know that it was a gradual thing.  I do know that some time outside of our country over Christmas, without all of the responsibilities of daily life in Africa helped and seemed to be the beginning of my chin lifting.  During part of that time I was able to attend worship daily with colleagues and heard the word of God in a way that really watered my parched soul.  I also know that being vulnerable and sharing with a small group of trusted women who lifted me up in prayer over many months contributed as well.  I sought resources with a counselor who helped me identify some positive steps to take toward healing.  A loving husband who was exceedingly patient with me and gave me permission to do whatever I needed to do to get well was also an essential part of the picture.

I do know that I am so, so grateful that I am not at the same place where I was when I wrote my last blog post, nearly 9 months ago.  There are still struggles.  I still fight moments of being overwhelmed or days where thoughts of uncertainty swirl in my mind.  But by God's grace I'm not residing there in the darkness today.  My prayer, as I reflect on that season is that God can use the valleys in my life to make me a more compassionate and empathetic friend to others who are in the midst of the struggle.  I desire nothing more than for my pain to be redeemed for his purposes.

"The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit."

Psalm 34:18

Choosing Kindness

God's word never ceases to amaze me.  Over and over again in my life I have found that, no matter where I find myself studying in the scriptures, they always seem the perfect text to minister or challenge me in just the right way for the season of life that I am facing.  Right now, I am studying the book of 2 Corinthians and finding it to be such a timely word in my life.  I didn't purposefully decide to dig into this particular letter at this time.  I meet weekly with a group of women and back in the summer, when one of them agreed to sacrifice suitcase space to carry in Bible study books for all of us, we needed to just pick something via e-mail.  One gal suggested the "All Things New" study written by Kelly Minter.  I didn't have a strong opinion and I didn't have a bunch of time to put into researching and so I threw my thumb's up into the pot.  But the Lord knew all that would be happening in my heart and life in these months.  In his loving kindness He is using these words to minister to my heart in so many ways.

It's been a rough re-entry.  I hate to sound like a cry-baby, but we are struggling over here.  Not the normal, "Oh it's hot and I wish we could just order Domino's tonight" kinda struggle.  These are more of a "I am not sure I have the courage to get out of bed today" kinda struggles.  I am not sure exactly why these last 8 weeks have been some of the hardest of my life, but they have.  I was expecting to feel some grief and loss after leaving Abby and after facing the beginning of my chicks flying.  I was expecting the usual fatigue and hard work that inevitably comes with this life we live here.  But this, this is more than that.

We, as in the whole familial unit, have faced some major obstacles.  I won't detail everyone's struggles, but for me it has been a spell of real depression.  Many, many tearful days, being overwhelmed at simple everyday needs, and such a feeling of being trapped.  I do face some moments of grief and missing my girl, but really that is just one part of the equation.  It's been hard and for some reason the weekends are especially awful.  It's like every Sunday a terrible darkness just falls across my heart and mind.  

Since we've returned we have battled scorpions, cobras, boils, viruses, sleeplessness, and rebellious appliances and systems.  Morale has been low and we've all wondered how we can keep going.  But, we have kept going.  Day by day, little by little, we are making it.  By God's grace alone, we find enough strength for each day and we are surviving.

It is my prayer that, like some of the other rough patches we've faced through the years, a day will come when I will realize, "Hey, we're not just surviving anymore, we're really living!"  I don't know when it will come.  I don't know exactly what the Lord's purposes are for us in this patch.  But, I do know that He is faithful and He will guide us.

We are seeking His direction.  We are pursuing godly counsel- both within our organization, and with a few wise believers that we trust both here and across the ocean.  We are trying to chose life-giving activities when we want to quarrel or sleep or pack a suitcase.  We know that whatever happens, He can and will be glorified.  We know that He loves us.

We also know that every choice we make, every word we speak is setting an example for our children of how to navigate seasons of neediness and brokenness and we are trying to do it well.
It is my hope that the example we set, though not perfect, will communicate that as believers, we can push past the deceitful feelings of our heart and rely on the strength of the Lord.  We can do hard things in His power.  We can trust him to sustain us when we would rather grasp for every crutch this world has to offer us.

Through it all, I have had some sweet time in God's word and one of the things that He is impressing on me through all of this hurt and aching is how very important and powerful it can be to chose kindness.  Paul lists it as one of the virtues he demonstrates to the Corinthians and thinking through that, I have realized how much power kindness has in our choices.  When we think about being the "aroma of Christ" in this difficult place, I know that kindness can be one of the things that can cross language and cultural barriers and one which I can always chose, even in the midst of my own suffering.  When I don't have a deep reserve from which to pull in terms of ministry and pouring out to others, I can at least chose to be kind.  And the word tells me that with the Holy Spirit, there is not limit to the kindness that is available to me.  So, I am asking the Lord to help me to demonstrate kindness when my hurt and sorrow tempts me to chose selfishness and a short-temper.

On the flip-side, through all of the struggles I have been facing, I have found that being the recipient of  kindness has been one of the things that has most ministered to me.  It's been little things...friends who have known or suspected our struggles taking the time to share words of encouragement, inviting us to dinner, or people faithfully praying.  Because I have been so fragile, I have found myself gravitating toward people from whom I believe that I can expect to receive kindness.  I have been ultra-sensitive to who I expose myself to because I have been such a hot mess and it's just better for everyone that way.

Just this morning, I found myself faced with one of those "hot-mess" situations.  I was compelled to ask a favor of someone because the older kids and I had made a mistake and needed help.  The issue we were facing was partly because we hadn't planned ahead and we were a bit irresponsible.  The person wasn't particularly unkind, but they also didn't choose kindness.  It was obvious they were a bit irritated and answered me in a way that was a bit harsh-at least, from the angle through which I'm currently processing my world.  Honestly, they had a right to be irritated.  And, in this person's defense, they had no idea how my morning had gone, no idea that I was headed home to a feverish child, and no idea the mountains that we are climbing right now just to go through the motions that are daily life.  They didn't do anything wrong, but it hit me in a totally wrong way.

I quickly finished what I had to do and got into my car before the tears started pouring.  I knew they were coming and I knew they were silly, but I was powerless to stop them.  As I drove home, wondering how many passing people were wondering why the white lady in the Toyota was sobbing her face off, the Lord once again impressed upon me the lessons about kindness.  I wondered, how many times have I been in a position to extend and offer kindness and instead chose to be short or irritated?  How many times have people stood before me in a needy state, battling their Goliaths, when I have delighted in wielding power or preparedness over them?  Too many to count, that is for darn sure.

All of this has made me realize that I want to be a "safe-place" kind of person.  I want to be a person who has a reputation of providing abundant grace.  Someone who comes alongside and loves first, asking questions later.  If I err, I want it to be, time and again, on the side of kindness and grace.  I hope and pray that this season, which right now seems incredibly overwhelming, will one day be a mere memory of a time when God taught me to be a more compassionate soul.

So, if you're still reading, after all of my ramblings, I ask two things of you.  When the Lord brings us to mind, will you pray for us?  Our little circus is currently in need of your prayers.  And secondly, will you choose kindness today?  Will you be intentional in allowing the Holy Spirit to empower you to be an instrument of kindness to someone you encounter?

Ready or Not, Here It Comes!

17 Days.  That's all that remains until my firstborn's graduation. I am very proud of her and so excited to see where life will lead this girl.  It has been such a joy to raise this beautiful soul!

I remember when we first came to Africa.  Abby was in the 7th grade and college seemed so close and yet so far away.  Even at that point, we needed to think through how we would pace our Stateside visit times so that we could be sure that we could have time to get each of our graduates back to the States for university.  The thought was terrifying to me and I remember chatting with another mom who had already settled three in herself.  She told me that with each of her children, there had been a certainty at the beginning of high school that this child was THE child who was not going to be ready on time.  Each child was the child who would not be ready to live on one side of the ocean with mom and dad on the other.  Then, she said, over the course of those 4 years, it always happened.  Each child would mature in big and little ways, and by the end of their senior year she would know they were ready.  

Well, here we are, at the end of senior year and I can say with the utmost confidence she is ready.  I know it is time for her to fly.  All of those stupid Cracker Barrel plaques about giving them roots and wings are being lived out in my world right now.  The girl has roots, now it's time to let her use those wings.  She's ready.

I'm not.  I mean I am, but I'm not.  I have these moments where I can't wait to see where she'll go, how she'll impact others, and how she'll grow and mature as the years go by.  But I'm not ready to be separated from her.  God has given me the privilege of parenting this beautiful soul and she is a really great kid.  I honestly think that even if she wasn't mine, I'd think she is something special.  I enjoy spending time with her, hearing her stories, listening to her perspective, and laughing with her about all sorts of crazy things.  She brings such light into my world.  

I know that our relationship will continue.  I will always be her mom.  She will always be my Abigail Grace.  There will still be stories and laughs shared together.  It will be exciting to see her grow and branch out and there will be new things to enjoy.  I realize this isn't a funeral, it's a graduation.  But, the dailyness will be different.  The reality is that the calling we've chosen to obey will separate us for many birthdays and holidays and everydays.  That is the part that I struggle with.

Just a few weeks ago we were at the hospital where we volunteer each week and she was sitting on the floor, in the middle of a pile of children.  She was laughing and smiling as she does while we are there, and she called out to me, "Mom, Mom, look at him, isn't he so cute?" as she gestured toward a child who was completely covered in burn scars.  He was giggling and grinning as she tickled him.  And, in that moment, I couldn't breathe.  I just was overwhelmed with sorrow.  I choked out a small response of agreement and walked away as the tears just flowed and I whispered to the Lord about how I just wasn't sure I could do it.  I just was not sure that I was going to be able to board a plane and put an ocean between us.  

That moment passed and since then, others have come and gone.  I know others will come.  The reality and the grief ebbs and flows.  I know that God's grace is sufficient.  It has been.  It is.  It will be.  

 Sunrise at the dunes which was Abby's last wish list "to-do" before departing Niger.

My "Mommy Book"

Back in the fall, a friend invited me to join she and some other ladies for a weekly Bible study together. The group I had been meeting with last year was doing something I'd done before and I decided to join this new group. The women in the group are all other cross-cultural workers who are really sweet and really precious and really YOUNG. I mean they aren't that much younger than me, I guess, but they feel young to me. All of them are either pregnant or have had a baby in the last 18 months. So the things that are filling their days are similar, but different, than my days. And when I listen to them share I have this weird blend of nostalgia and compassion for their current seasons of life. I love them all, even if they make me feel a little bit like I should be applying for my AARP membership. And even if my tongue is sometimes sore from all the times I bite it instead of saying "It goes so fast, enjoy it!" Because let's be honest, that doesn't help ANY of us, does it? And really, those 55 hour long days of the toddler years do.not.go.fast!

Anyway, we started off the school year with a Jen Wilkins study of 1 Peter, which I highly recommend. It was my first Jen Wilkins study and I loved it because 90% of the study focused on what the Bible actually had to say, rather than the author's commentary on what the Bible had to say, which I appreciated.  

So, we finished that study a few weeks before Christmas and decided to do something lighter over the holidays, especially as many of us were traveling or having guests. We thought we'd read a book together. After perusing several options, we chose Missional Motherhood, by Gloria Furman. The subtitle was, "The Everyday Ministry of Motherhood in the Grand Plan of God." It sounded good to me. I was thinking it would be a bit of a light read with some encouraging tips for mothering in a Christ-Centered way. I've read at least a dozen Christian mommy books through the years. I appreciate the tips I pick up and the encouragement I get and it had been a while since I'd read one. So, I ordered my $11 Amazon copy and prepared for my light reading. Which is NOT what I got. I got systematic theology 101, in light of motherhood. 

To be honest, I've had a love-hate relationship with the book. It is not what I signed up for- at all! I know I would not have finished it if it hadn't been a group discussion book because I wanted some feel good fluff. But, I have finished it and I am so glad I did. The last few chapters have been really rich and encouraging for me. They have helped me to see my ministry as a mother from a very Biblical perspective. Today, I read something that led me to want to share with you from where I am in life these days.

When we travel to the States, one of the most common questions we get is "Do you like where you live?" or "So, you must really like it over there or you wouldn't go back, right?" We never know how to answer those questions. If you were to google something like "least developed countries in the world" or "lowest life expectancy age" or "worst countries for women's rights" you would find our current home in the top five for all of those lists and many other lists that are equally as unfortunate. It is a hard place for anyone to live and honestly, it is not a place that is glamourous or fun in its own right. It just isn't. We don't live here because we love it. We live here because God has given us a heart for these people and we love Him. We know, that for this season of our life, it is the only place we can invest and be walking in obedience. God gives us the grace to stay and invest and persevere every single day. We get enough for that day, which is all we need.

My point in saying this is not to make myself sound like a martyr or a super hero. I can assure you no one is less qualified to wear those titles than me. So, if you're carrying around any sort of false belief that missionaries are in a different league than the average person, please drown and bury that falsehood immediately. The vast majority of us are knee-deep in sin struggles, depending on daily grace, just like you... we just don't get to eat as many Doritoes and Dr. Peppers after we lose it with our kids or use harsh words with our spouses!

The truth is, if you are a Christ follower, you've been called to do your "whatever" to the glory of God, just like I have. l am not sure what your whatever might be...showing love to a difficult neighbor, sticking in a marriage that isn't full of fun and fluff these days, parenting a child whose needs are overwhelming, working a 40 hour a week job when you really just want to be a full-time mommy (or vice versa- I have been there!), etc., etc., etc. You can rest assured that if you have breath in your lungs, God has work for you to do right where he has you. You and I can be on mission in the everydays and the ordinaries. Though our geography is different, our calling is the same. If you are a follower of Christ, then we should both be trying to make disciples and share the love of Christ in every circle of influence that God has given us for this season. Which is easier to do some days than others.

So today, as I was reading in my "mommy book," I came across these words, which I found encouraging. Words that I guess some of you might benefit from reading too. So here they are, straight from page 183 of Missional Motherhood, by Gloria Furman.

"Friends and fellow mothering women, because King Jesus is on this throne, subduing all his enemies and supplying everything we need for life and godliness as we go about the mission he gave us, we truly have no need to fear. We can instead gladly embrace weakness, sickness, lots of children, a few children, lots of needy people in our lives, unemployment, financial strain, and pain, knowing that he is up to way more and way better things than we can imagine. We can do things that we think are less fulfilling to us, such as volunteer in the church nursery, simply because that's that the church needs and because Jesus equipped us to serve him and build up his body. ... Because Jesus is coming back, and he is giving us tastes of his resurrection life now, we can serve like he served in the contexts he sends us. We can go places we can't imagine will ever make us happy, because we don't need those places to make us happy. Jesus makes us happy. There is no place we could sojourn in our Father's world where he who ways he is the resurrection and the life cannot satisfy us according to his word."

Wow, there you go friends. We can do it. Whatever our "whatevers" are, by his grace, we can do it. He can and will equip us. I can testify to his grace upon grace to do things you never imagined yourself capable of doing.

For the record, if anyone is looking for a good read, now that I've wrestled through it, I would recommend you read Missional Motherhood. Just maybe not for your relaxing beach read!

Senior Madness

It is really, really hard for me to believe, but my firstborn is 25% of the way finished with her senior year.  We are a mere 8 months from graduation.  How can this be?  I try not to think about it too much as rocking in a corner is not the best way to spend my time.  I know it is the natural progression of things, but I am not looking forward to the time when I am on one side of the Atlantic and she is attending university on the other side.  For now, I've just determined to try and enjoy as  much of her senior year as I can.  

As I've shared before, there are many things about our decision to enroll the kids in school that I have struggled with.  The awesome community they've found there is not on of them.  I love that Abby has such great classmates and that they are able to share this last year of school together.  The school the kids attend helps the students work towards having a senior trip each year.  Basically, every year of high school, each class holds 2-3 fundraising type events and the money is banked until the last part of their senior year.  Whatever they make over the four years is the class budget for the trip.  

It really is a win/win situation.  Because there are so few recreational opportunities in our city/country, people typically come out in droves to support the events.  Most people are thrilled to pay for a meal they don't have to cook and the entertainment that typically accompanies the meal is highly anticipated, especially by their fellow students.  The kids learn to work together, as well as some basic budget and business principles.  Of course, the parents are also involved at some level, especially on the day of the actual event.  You can imagine, with three high schoolers this year, we have lots of opportunities to be involved!

The seniors have the most rigorous fund-raising duties and two of the events are back to back, only about 3 weeks apart.  I am really sad that I missed the big one they had in October, where they run a concession stand all weekend long for an annual softball tournament in our city.  I would have loved to have been there, but instead I have been trying to keep from losing my mind here in South Africa.  

Fortunately, I did get to be a part of the first fundraiser of the year the weekend before I left.  The seniors chose a western theme and they initiated the school's new outdoor pavilion with a giant square dance.  They served dinner and held a pie auction with 20+ pies.   Because I had taught our house helper how to make corn dogs, they hired him to make 400 corn dogs the week of the event.  Honestly, I smelled like a diner waitress all week long from living in a corn dog factory.  But, they were a hit, as were the other yummy foods that they pulled together.  It was a fun time and I am so glad I got to stick around and be a part of it!

All of the seniors, getting ready to kick of "The Barn" event.

They may have had to improvise a bit on the "hay" but the kids still loved the hayride!

Just a few of the yummy pies!

Swing your partner round and round.  Never mind that it's 90+ degrees as the sun goes down!

 Who knew that our brilliant school music teacher could double as a square dance caller?

Notice I have no pictures of my boys dancing?

My favorite senior!  Time flies when you're having fun!

I've Been Thinking...

I've had some free time on my hands this week and I've been thinking.  As I type this, I am sitting in a guest house at the bottom of Africa.  It's cold here for my little West African body, so I rest in a recliner next to the space heater that is surely keeping my toes from frostbite.   I'm not complaining because it's been many months since I've been cold and I know it's 100+ back at my house.  

This week, I am in a waiting pattern. You see, I started having these crazy swollen lymph nodes and after about 10 weeks of them, I decided I'd better visit a doctor and ask if they were anything I needed to be worried about.  The doctor confirmed that they were a bit worrisome, so after a bit of an exam and a few follow-up tests, we had no answer for the issue. Because of the very limited healthcare options available there, we had run out of diagnostic options.  So, I was sent down south where the medical care is far better in the hopes that we could get a diagnosis.  I have a test in a few days which we are hoping will give us some answers.  For now, we wait.  I wait here and my family waits back in West Africa.  

I'm gonna be honest, the waiting stinks.  I am tempted to feel sorry for myself and the fact that saying yes to my call to Africa means that I am navigating a scary time like this without my husband and family by my side.  But, I am trying hard to take captive every thought instead and think on things to be grateful for.  Things like good healthcare, the fact that I work for an extraordinary organization through whom I get to live a really cool life, children who love me and long to be with me, a husband who has been so kind and whose sweet daily e-mails I will treasure for years to come.  I am thankful for the spring weather and flowers I am experiencing.  Not to mention, after eating out only 5 times in the last 6 months, I have now eaten out 5 times in the last week.  Hooray for no cooking!  Most of all I am thankful that no matter what comes through that biopsy needle on Weds., I know that my future is secure and nothing, nothing, absolutely nothing is a surprise to my Lord.  I am thankful for the hope I have in Christ!

During all of the waiting, I have been indulging in lots of chick flicks, which I haven't done in years.  Meg Ryan, Julia Roberts, Sandra Bullock, and their friends have been keeping me company each evening.  One of my girlfriends back in Niger was kind enough to pack me up a case full of DVDs and I have laughed and cried through lots of romantic comedies over the last week.  But, as much as I have enjoyed many of them, they have me wondering, why do they all end at the wedding?  A few go so far as to show the "One Year Later" scene where the happy couple is shown in a cozy scene with the bride sporting a baby bump or holding a baby or the like.  But nothing beyond that.  

Well Sandra and Julia, I'm here to tell you...I'm 40 something now and I'm searching for a story that's a bit different.  Where are the romantic comedies about the couples who were wed 20 years ago and are knee deep in parenting and college applications and trying to keep the "spark" alive while driving their SUVs?  That's the story I want to see.  The one where the bump on their waistline is not from a baby on the horizon, but is leftover from the babies that are about to graduate from high school.  I want to see the romantic comedy where the magical date looks like actually getting to have a complete conversation that doesn't involve work or children and instead it focuses on remembering why they  chose one another all those years ago.   Or how about a story where a "tropical getaway" involves recruiting grandparents, leaving meals in the freezer, two weeks of coordinating carpool solutions, and more than likely a meltdown in the swimsuit department before boarding the plane.  What about the stories where romance involves cellulite and wrinkles and reading glasses and the fact that sometimes the best kind of love is the one that's endured a whole lotta mess and yet still chooses to be committed and electric after all that time?   Where are those stories?  

Because, I've been thinking, that's the one I wanna see.

Easier?

People often ask us what is the hardest thing about living where we live.  Honestly, it varies day by day and season by season.  Sometimes it feels like such an overwhelming privilege that it's hard to answer at all.  Other days, we could give a list longer than Santa's on December 23rd.  There are a few that are always hard...missing our American family and friends is usually at the top.   Sometimes though, there are other things that just feel too difficult to endure.

Saturday morning, I had one of those moments.  I needed to do some grocery shopping and I was trying to bring in enough for two weeks worth of meals and lunchbox goodies.  For me, that usually means at least two stores, often three.  Now, you have to understand that our biggest grocery store is not much bigger than a Sheetz or 7-11.  I have one store where I prefer to buy my beef and cheese, another where I tend to buy "snacks," one that I prefer to use for dairy, and another where I get chicken and most of my pantry type items.  Some of those things overlap, depending on where I go, but I tend to go to one or two of them where I stock up on the kinds of things I buy there and then rotate where I go every couple of weeks.

It's generally not a fun experience for many reasons.  For one thing, the availability of goods varies greatly and no sooner do I think I have meals planned out than something that is often available goes missing completely and can't be found anywhere in town.  Or, on the flip side, something brand new or rare appears on the scene and there is this tension on how many to buy or how far to exceed the budget because you don't know when you'll see it again.

Secondly, food is expensive here.  Even with eating a lot less meat and dairy, we spend about twice as much on groceries here as we do in the States.  That is partly our fault because we haven't switched to the beans and starch type diet that most Nigeriens eat and we chose to buy imported items like apples, cheese, and butter.  There is a constant tension between the budget and the bellies of 5 kids, 4 of whom are teens or nearly teens.  I really miss things like weekly specials and coupons, because that was a big part of how we managed our budget in the States.  Those options are non-existent here. We are blessed with a fair and steady income and we make it work, but it takes a good bit of vigilance and self-disipline (as in, "I know there are Doritos on that shelf today, but they are $4 for a small bag...walk away!")

Another reason it can be tough is simply that the realities of this culture are very, ummm, real on grocery shopping day.  Yesterday, that was what pushed my buttons.  You see, anytime I go to the grocery, I encounter beggars.  Really, any time I leave my house, I encounter beggars, but they seem to bother me most on grocery shopping day.  I think it's because I know that the money I spend for the groceries that I load into my car while walking past their outstretched hands would likely feed their families for 2-3 months or more.

There is a constant tension between the fact that my family needs to eat and the reality that these people are hungry...genuinely hungry, sometimes on the brink of starvation.  They often have disabilities that make finding a job impossible, especially in a country where there aren't nearly enough jobs for the healthy people.  They weren't born in a country where their inability to see or hear or walk allows them to receive benefits that will insure survival.  They depend on the alms they receive from their neighbors, who have been taught that they can move along the path to paradise by throwing a few coins in the begging bowls.

My Bible talks about things like having mercy and giving a cup of water in Jesus name and a host of other vignettes about compassion and generosity and I desperately want to show the love of Christ.  Yet, I feel like I am walking along a sea shore filled with sand dollars, throwing them back one at a time, just like the little story you see on the flea market posters.

Every day, I have to make multiple decisions about how to deal with each person who calls out to me, begging for a coin or two. Sometimes it's okay and other times, it is just so draining.  Too often, I am so envious of my friends who live in America who are heading to Target or Starbucks or to grandma's house, oblivious to the gaunt faces that I encounter everywhere I go.  I get angry that I feel guilty for buying a bag of pretzels or a box of milk as a treat for my children instead of settling for the cheaper popcorn kernels and powdered milk.

Most often, when asked for money, I smile, give a kind word, and put my hands together as if I am going to pray, which is the symbol used here to communicate, "God Bless You, but I'm not going to give you money."  Sometimes, something stirs in my heart and I give a coin or two.  Other times, especially if they are children, I give them a piece of fruit or maybe a small pack of cookies or nuts.  I really just try to be sensitive to the Holy Spirit as I go about my errands.

Yesterday, I was headed to my last stop, which was a produce stand next to a small grocery store that I had just exited.  A blind man with two small boys, maybe 4 and 6 years, approached me and walked alongside me.  His glazed eyes stared off into the distance as he chanted some standard Arabic greetings.  His little boys just stared at me and waited for me to purchase my items, likely hoping that I would give them my coins after the transaction.  I gathered all of my produce and decided to add some oranges and bananas to give to them.  However, the man that was helping me got delayed and it took a long time to get everything weighed and bagged and purchased.

By the time I was finished, they had given up and walked away and I had this urgency that I needed to give this fruit to them.  The rains had come during the night and the street was flooded, so I didn't relish the idea of chasing them down.  Instead, I decided to follow them in my car, but by the time I was loaded up and pulling away they were out of sight.  I was running late, heading to a birthday party, and yet I knew that I HAD to hand off the fruit.  For some reason, I was feeling nearly frantic so I passed the road where I would normally turn off to head home in an effort to find them.  Finally I spotted them up ahead, so I pulled over, rolled down my window, and handed the older boy the bag of fruit.  He smiled and thanked me, and I pulled away.

A quick glance in my rearview showed them digging into the bag to see what it was.  And for some reason, I just started sobbing.  Sobbing because it wasn't enough.  It wasn't enough for them.  It wasn't enough for all of the other hungry people.  It wasn't enough of a sacrifice and yet no amount of sacrifice would begin to make a dent in the overwhelming poverty in my city or even in my little corner of my city.  I sobbed because it is so hard to reconcile my life with the life of these people or my faith with this kind of suffering.  And yet, I know that even beyond the hunger, even beyond the horrible medical care and education systems, these people face a terrible poverty of the soul and no matter what I do, it will never.ever.be enough for all of them.

Facing that every day can be really, really exhausting my friends.  If you've ever wondered why missionaries get to come home for 6 month "vacations" every few years, this is one reason you can add to the list.  What does one do with this kind of reality?  How does one process it and live with it every single day?  I have only one coping mechanism.  For me it comes from the words I find in John 15.  He is the vine.  I am the branches.  I try to abide in him and I trust that HE, not me, will bear much fruit.  I have to trust him.  That's it.  That is all I can do.  Beg him for the strength and the wisdom and the courage to face today and to lead me as to how to respond to the needs I see.  Then tomorrow, we'll face it again, together.

Often, I wonder if it will ever get any easier.  Sometimes I think that would be nice.  Other times the thought terrifies me.  Oh Lord, may I never, ever, not be bothered by this kind of human need and suffering.  May it always make my chest tight and may the tears always be near to the soul.

Back to School Fun

I have this friend here in Niamey who is always full of fun ideas and energy.   She never meets a stranger and has this ease with the culture here that I admire.  This year our families are carpooling together for school, which is great for both of us.  She does one way and I do the other and it helps both of our schedules.

The week before school started, she suggested that we take the kids out for some back to school photos.  She scouted out the location, which was right outside the city, in the middle of a field.  She picked it partly because they were constructing a new school just down from it and there was a pile of desks outside that she thought would make a good prop for our photos.

When we arrived, in her normal fashion, she just stopped the car and boldly asked if the gentlemen working on the school would mind if we used some desks and then she paid them a little bit to carry them over to the field, which they were happy to do.  In fact, they even offered to sell them to her!  We became quite the spectacle and had a small crowd by the time all of the photos were taken.

We laughed and laughed getting the pictures, partly because we felt like animals in the zoo, and partly because it was just a hoot to be sitting next to a hut, in borrowed desks, in the middle of a field taking photos.  

Her photos are much better than mine, as she is quite the photographer, but I can't remember to take a USB and get them from her.  So, these are just a few of the ones that I took.

 Here is the whole crew!

It is hard for me to believe this guy is a 3rd grader!

 Seniors!

 Never were there such devoted sisters.  Unless there is one cookie left on the counter.  Then it's every man for himself!

 This boy...eating constantly.  My friend brought an apple as a prop and before we could blink, Isaac had eaten it!

 Hey, hey we're the Monkees.

 or maybe the Von Trapp children?

 These random cows didn't mind our presence.

 CD cover

 This was their "No Abby, don't go!" pose.  I cannot believe that we only  have this school year left before she spreads her wings and heads to university.

This girl.  She is such a joy in our family.  They all are though!

Ramblings

I am a planner.  I LOVE to plan.  If my world is crazy and I feel like I can’t take it anymore, I get out my extra fine point sharpies and make a list.  Or I open my Pages application and start a chart of some sort, nailing something down in my world.  If I have to go too long without planning something out, I go a bit crazy.  Give me a birthday party, a holiday event, a trip to a new city, a curriculum map, or something to pace out.  I love it.

Because of this, I have this habit.  Every weekend, generally on Sunday afternoons, I sit down and write out my to-do list for the week.  I know that for some people, that might be a chore, but for me, it is actually a very Sabbath-y habit.  It settles the swirl of upcoming things in my mind and helps me to feel like I can breathe a little deeper.  It allows me a chance to think through how I can prioritize for the week and what I need to just say no to.  

Actually, at the end of each month, I write a list of goals/things that I hope or need to accomplish in the coming month in a little composition book that my mom sent over at some point.  I typically jot a little number next to them, indicating which week they would best be accomplished, based on what they are and what my demands for the coming month are.   Then, each Sunday, I open up that little 99 cent composition book and look at what is slated for the upcoming week.  I add the events of the week ahead, and divide them up by days.  

The thing is, I know that the whole planning/goal setting industry has exploded in the last decade, since I was a young mom.  Now you can find all sorts of planners and list pads for every area of your life, at every price point imaginable.  I see on Facebook that some of you go to fancy, sold-out conferences for these sorts of things and I’m not gonna lie, I might get a little bit jealous.  Though, part of me thinks that I’m dangerous enough with the little basic system I’ve developed for myself and that it’s probably a good thing that I wasn’t armed with all of that gear back when I had 4 young’uns, age 5 and under.  The Lord knows our limits, doesn’t He?

Some of you just read those four paragraphs and pictured yourself in prison, right?  Why in the world would someone micro-manage their life like that.  I can assure you that when I have a conversation with a friend who doesn't have a plan for XYZ that is coming up in 6 days, I feel the same kind of walls closing in.  I am so glad that God made us such diverse creatures.  I am also glad that I have learned to appreciate diversity in other women more and more as I have entered my  40s.  

Generally, my little weekly system works pretty well,  even when written on plain old college ruled-loose leaf paper that was left behind by some retiring missionaries.  I honestly believe that, for me, I get way more accomplished with that little bit of time invested in planning, than I would without it.  I also think that I am ultimately less stressed, because I can clearly see what I need to do and what can wait.

But, there is one thing that keeps getting put at the bottom of the list.  Every week, and I mean EVERY week, I put “Blog” on the list.  Why do I put it there?  Because I love to do it.  After list-making, it’s one of my favorite ways to decompress.  Yet, week after week, it goes undone.  It doesn’t really stress me out, because I don’t “need” to blog.  It just makes me a bit sad that I am not better about attending to the things I enjoy.  

I look back to the times when I was blogging regularly and wonder how I did it.  Then I remember, "Oh yeah, I had a dishwasher, naptimes instead of taxi duty, a mom who took the kids one morning a week, fast food restaurants, convenience grocery options, produce that didn't have to be bleached before eating, and steady electricity, internet, and water...just to name a few things!  So, it is understandable that I just don't have as much "me" time.  And yet, I still need to have some things that keep my feeling like a human being with a soul that delights in things which I find beautiful,  and not just a workhorse. 

That’s a hard concept for me.  I am not good about caring for my own self.  I am quick to meet the needs of others, and, when I take the time to, I often feel so guilty.  Why is that?  I know I’m a better wife and mom when I create some space for the things I love and yet I rarely do it.  It seems the “me” things are  always the thing that can wait.  It’s something I am working on.  Something I am trying to find a better rhythm with.  At the rate I’m going, I’ll have it figured out by the time our nest is empty and it’s just the two of us again.

Speaking of which, one of the things I would have blogged about if I was better about making time for it, is the fact that my college sweetheart and I celebrated 21 years of wedded bliss a few weeks ago.  Since we married at the tender age of 21, that means we have now been married for 1/2 of our lives!  I’m not gonna lie, there have been some hard times walking this road together.  There have been a few seasons where the single life had a whole lotta luster for me.  But, in the end, with lots of prayer and re-focusing, and just good-old fashioned commitment, we always get to the point where we find the other one to be “our favorite” again.  God led me well when it came to choosing a spouse and I am so, so thankful.  

Here’s a little picture of us, headed out to dinner on our anniversary.  Moms of young children, be assured, there will come a day when your little ones will be able to take post-worth photos.  However, I can’t guarantee that by the time that happens the wrinkles won’t be coming on fast!  Embrace them, they are likely hard-earned!