Giving What I Hope to Receive

As a child, I thought that grace was a sacred word that only belonged in conversations about God reaching down and saving a wretch like me. Like only my Heavenly Father could extend grace, and it applied solely to that moment when He welcomed me into His family.

I still think it's a sacred word, but I've come to understand the fullness of its application. 

Since moving back from South America to South Carolina this past year, I have repeatedly asked for and been given grace during our immediate adjustment period. Sometimes I didn't quite know how to ask for it and just hoped people would understand and extend me grace without having to actually be told how badly I needed it.  Most days, I wished I could wear a t-shirt that said, "WARNING: Missionary in re-entry. Stand back."

The Wal-Mart checkout gal and all those people behind me in line who wonder why I can't operate the debit card reader or figure out where to put my buggy.

The church people who reach out to shake my hand about the time I'm going in for cheek kisses, so we end in some awkward hug that sometimes results in accidentally kissing on the mouth.

Family members who want us all to pile in on Sunday dinners and holidays that last way past the tolerance level of my daughters, who now prefer large groups in small windows of time only.

Friends who hold their breath while I am trying to complete a sentence in English, even though the words won't come. Even better, friends who try to interpret my hand signals and grunts.

I silently or loudly plead for grace in these and so many more daily moments of chaos.

But it took me a bit to realize that as much as I need grace during this time, so do the folks who were here going through normal American life while I was off globetrotting.

They need me to understand that they don't understand.

I'm quick to notice my shortcomings and those of my immediate family, that are a result of culture shock, but I forget that these people around us don't know where we are coming from. They don't know what we've lived through beyond what they've read on our blog or gleaned from the newsletter or maybe, a few of them, seen in person for a few days at a time.

They don't know how different my gut reactions are from theirs now, how many of my thoughts come to me in another language, and what I am very used to doing as everyday activities.

They don't know that I'm a totally different person than when I left in 2008.

When they have expectations of me that I can't meet, when they just don't get it, when they assume things that are way off base, I have to be able to recognize how little they actually know of what I've lived, and then extend them the same grace I expect to receive.

Give, and you will receive. Your gift will return to you in full--pressed down, shaken together to make room for more, running over, and poured into your lap. The amount you give will determine the amount you get back.      Luke 6:38 NLT

With Eyes Lifted Up

 

This is "my" mountain... the one that we could see clearly from the living room window of our first house here in our small town in Costa Rica.  It is the same one that I could see from the corner of our front porch in our second house, and, when I needed some soul refreshment, the one that I could see in all of its majesty by walking past the mango grove and to the end of our street.  Every Sunday, we drive out of town towards our church, down one steep mountainside, over a one-lane bridge, and then up to the neighborhood where our church building is currently located, at the foot of this beautiful mountain.  For me, this mountain has been a steady landmark -- one that I can find on the horizon to get directions straight in our little town where there are no addresses and very few street names.  Seeing it helps me know where I am, as well as give a reminder of our church family, the reason we're here.

But, most of all, this mountain frequently brings to mind one of my favorite verses in the Psalms:

"I lift my eyes to the hills - where does my help come from?  My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth."  - Psalm 121:1

While I loved this verse in my college days of spending summers in the Colorado Rockies, it first became a great encouragement to me when my husband and I were newlyweds and were in Guatemala City.  I was overwhelmed by the poverty that was so prevalent and by the crime and real danger we were exposed to there.  I found myself crying out to the Lord, "I don't know if I can live here!".  God gently reminded me to lift my eyes, not just to the beauty of the volcanoes and mountains surrounding the city (which were so easy to not see when overwhelmed by what we were seeing on the streets!), but to Him, my help.

A couple of years later, God redirected us to Costa Rica, and to language school in the capital city, San José, where at first my focus was too much on the barred windows, the high concrete walls, and razor wire surrounding each building.  It seemed scary, and definitely wasn't the physical beauty my heart longed for.  But, again, God reminded me of Psalm 121- to lift my eyes up, not just to the hint of a mountain I could see if I stood at just the right angle on our apartment's balcony, but up further to Him who promises to watch over me.  I had to choose what I was going to focus on - my overwhelming, unfamiliar surroundings, or my God who is my help. 

our well secured apartment building in San José, Costa Rica (that still got broken into!)

There might not always be beautiful mountains to bless our physical eyes, but we can always direct our spiritual eyes to Him.  I remember a couple of years after moving out of the city to our ministry location, I found myself back in downtown San José, with our daughter in the NICU, after she was born a month early... when the country was in a state of national emergency because of flooding and landslides (that morning, a landslide had blocked the road to the hospital... but that's a story for another day!).  While I stood next to her crib, I looked out the window of the NICU and panic filled me as I stared at the seemingly endless sprawl of corrugated metal roofs, trash, and run-down buildings.  I couldn't see any mountains - physical or figurative - to lift my eyes to!  My thoughts were quickly rushing towards fear and doubt about our decision to have our baby in a developing country.  I remember God's comfort, "Lift your eyes to Me, Sarah.  Your help comes from Me.  I am watching over you and your baby." 

I wish I could say that that memorable moment was a total turning point for me, because it was so significant in my process of accepting Costa Rica as my home... but, I still struggle with letting my surroundings and circumstances govern my feelings and focus.  We recently moved to a different house, and I've been feeling disoriented now that I can't see "my" mountain.  But, God is working on me, reminding me that the point of lifting my eyes to the hills isn't to just to be blessed by their beauty, but to be reminded of Him who is my true strength and help. 

As I post this, I'm praying for all of us - that we will be women who live with eyes lifted up to our Maker, whatever our surroundings and circumstances might be!

"He will not let your foot slip - He who watches over you will not slumber; indeed, He who watches over Israel will not slumber nor sleep.  The Lord watches over you - the Lord is your shade at your right hand; the sun will not harm you by day, nor the moon by night.  The Lord will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore." - Psalm 121:3-8

I would love to hear from you.  Is it hard to move your focus off of what is difficult about your current surroundings and on to God?  What has been encouraging you lately to live with eyes lifted up to Him? 

Muddling through Metamorphosis

“How does one become a butterfly?" she asked. 

"You must want to fly so much that you are willing to give up being a caterpillar.”

Yep, you guessed it! Another butterfly quote by anonymous!

Don't you wish there was some sort of formula for life transitions? One that was quick and easy to remember (like r*t = d... or the Pythagorean theorem...?) and that always worked, regardless of all those other circumstances and differing perspectives? Or some sort of herbal medication - a few drops under the tongue twice a day and improvement seen rapidly?

But there isn't one... at least not that we've found.

Even within our family. There are ten of us, and each one of us responds differently, needs different things, hurts in different ways. As a family, we experience a cacophony of celebrations and catastrophes.

• One anticipates a new adventure. 
• Another misses a system and a schedule to life that was was just the perfect pace.
• At times we all feel partnership development frequently feels purposeless and ultimately self-serving especially when compared to making God's Word accessible to those who long for it.
• Friends and people who get it seem so remote and far away.
• And how do you really explain that while you are home... you are also far from home?
• Reminders knock you over out of the clear blue and can totally make your day or shatter your heart, in an instant - but it never happens to more than one... occasionally two... at a time.
• Someone struggles with all the new, all over again.
• One child, in particular, who after years of battling and working to succeed, is - finally. That one is terrified of falling back into failure because of parents who are convinced they are following God's leading, and facing all that work, all over again.
• Biggers flying the nest and wondering what all this will look like for them, what will it be like to go visit Dad and Mom at home that is unknown and isn't really home.
• This mama heart finds it more terrifying raising children in North America than she ever did on the backside of the Sahara.

Really, that's just the tip of the iceberg. 

The only question I feel qualified at all to address is that next-to-last one: many moons ago, right after my graduation, we packed our van and moved from Oklahoma to not far outside Boston. Before I graduated from university, my parents moved again and I had to get directions to find "home."

But all of those other questions, fears and concerns? I don't know. I'm living them, though.

There really is no road map. So where do I go? What do I do?

Frankly, in this uncharted territory, I'm focusing on these things:

1. Trying, as David did, to "strengthen myself in the Lord." That means going to Him first, to His Word, asking Him to speak to my here and now through texst that He has promised are profitable... and then waiting in confident quietness and gentleness even if I'm not hearing immediate answers.
2. Discipling our family through this very same process.
3. Following that rejoicing with... weeping with... principle. Asking permission to grieve with/for my children in the hard moments has been an incredibly powerful and growing experience.
4. Listening more than we talk and offer advice. 
5. Lots of praying ...and then praying even more.
6. Making sure that our children know we love them and would do anything for them to help them with the hard choices we've made for our family - except refuse to make those hard choices or only make the easy ones. 
7. Allowing and encouraging their involvement in other ministries and supporting them as they branch out in areas and with ideas that were uncomfortable or hard for us. One unexpected benefit has been that our kids have seen how they help us to grow as a result. 
8. When we so often mess up, be it a little bit or royally - when they hurt because of our choices and decisions, apologizing and asking forgiveness. 
9. When by God's grace, we stumble on right things "by accident" - clearly thanking the One Who enabled. 
10. Remembering and reminding ourselves often that we shouldn't expect easy or immediate reward and redemption of our sacrifices. Jesus warned us that following Him wouldn't be, that we should count the cost. Which means that while "cost" is uncomfortable, "cost" isn't wrong.

The crazy amazing thing about this crazy, amazing and still on-going ride through the turbidity of transition has been that we strengthen ourselves in the Lord to hopefully help our children and loved ones... who in turn encourage and help strengthen us as they walk into and begin to explore our brave new-to-us world.

As I was typing that last sentence, two little girls came running into the house, squealing in amazement and excitement. Outside, God has gifted us with a beautiful Saturday and they are playing in the hose as they help Daddy water the garden and wash the cars. They'd just seen a rainbow in the water and figured that it was something that just couldn't be true. As I stopped writing for a moment to explain just exactly why it could be true, the growing awe and delight on my brand new second grader's face was simply beautiful. Then, she giggled and as she skips back outside, she hollered back over her shoulder something to the effect of, "Mama, God is so coooool (as only an exuberant second grader can exclaim)! He didn't just put His promise in the big rainbows! He put His promise in every drop of water if I just look at it the right way!"

Outta the mouths of babes, eh?

We're right where we need to be - wanting and trusting God to redeem these lives He's given in whatever way He sees fit, so much so that we're willing to brave the darkness of the chrysalis while He works this change... and the next... and the next...

************************************************

Here, 

for the first post in this two part series.

"If nothing ever changed, there’d be no butterflies."

Someone named "Anonymous" once said that... and others have been repeating it since, usually when they are talking about...

Transition.

According to the dictionary, I can define transition, as a noun, as the process and/or a period of changing from one state or condition to another. As a verb it means all those actions and things that happen as such a transformation or metamorphosis is made. 

Transitions are often intricate and beautiful - think of a piece of music modulating from one key to another. 

Transitions usually require finesse and delicate treatment - think of a word smith choosing specific words to help his reader's thoughts progress in a logical and connected way from one key idea to the next.

Transition, in physics, can refer to the change from one quantum state to another by either the emission or the absorption of radiation, which just sounds, at least a bit, risky and liable to have unintended or unforeseen consequences.

Transition, etymologically, comes from Latin, through French, with the original meaning being "go across." Any time you have to step across... go through... anything that involves feelings, change and people can claim a status of complicated.

Transition is smack dab right where my family sits right now. And it feels like we've been here for forever, even though I know we haven't.

We are transitioning from ministry in developing world, poverty and disease stricken desert world of West Africa to the very post-modern, highly educated and materialistic developed and nearly Arctic world of Québec, Canada. It is hard to imagine all of the ways our lives will be different. Even knowing there will be so many things we gain, our hearts are broken and will long bear visible scars from what we're trying to count as loss.

To date, one of the most challenging parts of this transition has been the loss of ministry partners who - after fifteen years or more, in some cases, of working to build strong, transparent collaborative relationships - still do not feel they can move through this change and continue to partner with us. We understand that churches strive to be strategic with their missions programs and try to keep themselves aligned to certain key goals and objectives as they seek to best steward the funds for which they are responsible. Yet every time we get another letter or a phone call saying someone will no longer be partnering with us... for people rarely want to sit down with you and discuss this sort of thing face to face and in person... it feels, frankly, more like a sucker punch... than anything else.

Is there some way to prevent this from happening? Probably not...

As I said, we do understand. Maybe the crux of the issue is that from our perspective, we disagree with those decisions because we can usually give an answer THAT. MAKES. GOOD. SENSE for every question asked or concern raised. What gets really hard and discouraging is that we've ended up questioning decisions made after much prayer, since seeking significant counsel, and postliminary to persistent waiting on clear discernment from God. When others that we've counted on in the past essentially say that they can no longer "support" us because of this decision, it is hard to separate that from supporting us in this decision. And frankly, experience speaks pretty loudly. When people stop sending those checks, they also tend to stop (to borrow a biblical phrase) "strengthening our hand[s] in God" in other ways.

It is not bad to examine and rethink through these decisions. It is wrong, though, to hold our breath every time we hear from a church or pastor or other partner. It is wrong to wonder if it will be more bad news every time we check email or the phone rings. 

But it comes down to this:

• We've already said goodbye to many people - neighbors, fellow expats, church family, colleagues, classmates, friends, favorite vendors, employees, pets, etc.,... that we love.
• We've said goodbye to a home we loved as well as dreams and plans for the future built around that home.
• We naively hoped that we wouldn't also have to "bid many adieus" to the tremendous family of ministry partners we've built through the past twenty years.

We are finding that we've were wrong, ...and are quite surprised by where and with whom we've been wrong. It hurts. It's scary. It can, on those harder days, cause us to wonder, question, re-examine, worry, doubt...

Loss upon loss feels heavy and dark, blinding and suffocating - kinda like that caterpillar must feel as the chrysalis closes around. Really, though, our only good choice is trusting in God and remembering the beautiful illustration from creation: 

"If nothing ever changed, there'd be no butterflies..."

*******************************************

When you are feeling the many different weights of transition, what thoughts, Bible verses, activities... what encourages you?

"Consecrated Negligence"

2014.

Another new year.

And probably like most people - at least in western societies and cultures - I've been taking stock of the past twelve months, evaluating successes, analyzing failures and trying to figure out what I need to change to better be obedient to God, love and honor Him while also genuinely loving the people around me. 

Thanks to a book I've been reading, one recommended by a trusted friend and mentor, the words "consecrated negligence" probably best describe one of my key goals for this next year. I'm sharing them with you because they are words from which many of us missionary types would benefit if we would only take them to heart. 

This year is a furlough/home assignment year. Our Nigerien colleagues always called it a vacation or holiday. Most missionaries know that it is anything but. 

Six months in, I'm feeling the exhaustion/exultation all mixed up... Piled on top of that, there's the exhaustion of an intense ministry term in West Africa and then just the transition of coming back to our home country and readjusting to life here - it has been a huge learning curve... and what I'm learning is that I can't do it all the way I've managed in the past. I've not yet determined if it is because I'm getting older or it is because as my kids get older, their needs actually become more demanding (not to mention the stakes seem a lot higher) and I'm being stretched in so many more and different ways... 

Things that I want... that I believe should... be happening just aren't. Like the ladies' Bible study I was looking forward to attending. Or learning to make a sourdough starter and bake sourdough bread... Not to mention just keeping up with the laundry (with consistent electricity and water) and a dryer! More than once I've felt like these trees might have felt (if I believed that trees had feelings) after the huge ice storm that rolled through our part of the world a few weeks back... bent over, weighed down, knowing that something soon - any more piled on or hanging off - just might cause me to crack and crash to the ground... or reshape me so much that there is little hope of bouncing back.

Thus, as I'm reading about expat workers and emotional fatigue and realizing I'm more or less in that zone - the phrase "consecrated negligence" has bored its way into the fog, and is something that God will be teaching me more about this year.

What is "consecrated negligence?"

It isn't a term I coined and I don't even know who to credit - other than the vague credit given in the book I've been reading: 

One Christian worker in Denver practices what he calls consecrated negligence. He just chooses not to do certain things even though they need to be done. He says, "If those tasks aren't critical and I feel like I've done all I can handle, I just consecrate the to God and neglect them."

I guess some would call that prioritizing. Others might call it delegating.

But for driven, perfectionist types like myself, there is a key difference. Prioritizing doesn't remove or ever look the other way. It simply says that I'll do that other job once I get these more imperative things done first. Delegating takes a job that I'm convinced is important and gives or assigns it to someone else, for someone else to accomplish.

Neglect, on the other hand, is abandoning and failing to look after; it implies choosing not to cherish and disregarding, often because other things have already captured your time and attention. One synonym is "shirk." 

Put that way, it sounds unbiblical.

But is it any less unbiblical than forgetting that it all doesn't depend on me? That God actually doesn't need me? 

And so this year, one of my hopes is that I'll take some steps in practicing this consecrated negligence. I want to be able to realize that some things I'm doing because they are my ideas, not necessarily God's. For those things that I just can't do and the times when I can't keep up - I want to learn to purposefully step away and recognize that what God wants done, He ultimately handles it or impresses someone to serve in that way. Sometimes the stepping away might be from something mundane - like making sure the house is picked up each night before bed. Sometimes it might include higher stakes, like an upcoming and potentially life changing ministry opportunity. But in either circumstance as well as an infinity of other ones landing anywhere along said continuum, I know there are times God wants me to abandon my ideas of what needs to be done and rest in the knowledge that God is sovereign.

I'm still figuring out how to figure this all out...

What about you?

What do you think of this idea of consecrated negligence? 

Do you already practice the same thing by another name? 

Is this something you think you need to start learning, practicing and applying in your life?

Homeland Security

Is it weird to say that I felt safer with my family

• living in W Africa with all the possibilities for disease, injury or illness
• knowing (as we watched military planes fly up river and then return) that there was a full-fledged war going on just a couple hundred miles up river
• recognizing that terrorist activity was all around us... and probably infiltrating our "neighborhood" as well
• driving in developing country traffic every single day...

than I do living in the developed west?

photo from one of the local Niamey newspapers

It may be weird, but it is true ~ and this is the first furlough I've EVER felt this way.

Usually, it has been a huge sigh of relief to land back in this land and re-realize that

• the hospital and emergency room are literally down the road and around the corner - like 3 minutes away
• reading about wars and rumors of wars that now seem distant and far away although still heartbreaking
• not even hardly thinking about terrorist activity unless we get a warning from the US embassy that used to be just down the road and then worrying and praying and worrying and praying... for our friends
• driving on freeways where 60 mph is taken for granted - almost every single day and there are real road signs to give me a clue where I am...

but this time, I'm struggling to feel that same peace and relief!

This is the first time I've ever seriously worried about the affects of living in the United States for more than a vacation on my family... on my children... on me.

It hit home, not suddenly and right away, but has crept up a bit stealthily.

We landed at the Detroit airport and were met there by a grandfather, an aunt and dear friends - a family we dearly love and count among some of our favorite people. Of course, our big kids were all excited to see and greet a few favorite peers. The two littlest girls, however, really didn't remember anyone from our previous home assignment, and were initially quite hesitant. It didn't take them long to connect with our dear friend, however... and now every time they see their "auntie-by-choice" they go running for a hug.

One thing that has both amused and embarrassed me, however, has been my girls' fascination with our friend's fingernails. She goes fairly regularly to a salon and has her nails manicured. A new thing for these girls (their mama tends to bite her fingernails and has never even painted them, much less gone for a manicure), their fascination - at least at first - bordered on, if it didn't fall right over the line, downright obsessive. So much so that at times, I think our friend has not quite been sure what to do.

At first, I just found this funny. I mean, they've grown up with women and girls regularly getting intricate henna designs inked onto their hands and feet or spending hours having tiny, detailed patterns and braids woven into their hair. It isn't like this is the first time they've had a friend go to a salon to have something fancy and beautiful done to look dressed up and feel pretty. I really didn't understand why they were so caught up in someone who had their fingernails done. Of course now they beg to get fancy nails themselves. Thankfully, my friend remains sweetly patient - and just laughs when our often goofy Elsie Mae grabs her hands to stare mesmerized at her fingernails... even if its the 83rd time and she did the exact same thing the day before.

So what's so scary?

I'm watching a similar pattern repeat itself in a myriad of ways - where that fascination with something different and new and lovely becomes a consuming compulsion and never fail recipe for discontentment.

Back in Niger, we could never forget that we were among those in this world who did have what we needed, and in abundance: shelter, clothing, food, water, friends who loved us, a calling for which we felt passionately, a God in whom we hoped and trusted... We also recognized quite often that we couldn't have everything we wanted or even thought we might need and that that really was better than okay. Our kids were quite familiar with regularly choosing contentment over entitlement. In other words, we loved (and devoured with our reconstituted milk) Oreos when someone sent or brought them from the States; we thrilled when we occasionally actually found them in one of the local grocery boutiques; but for the most part, those cookies never actually crossed our mind and were quite easy to live without, without a second thought.

Here, it is a totally different world. 

Within weeks, the abundance and overwhelming selection in the cereal aisle at the grocery store becomes a taken-for-granted sort of thing. Readily available abundance allows hearts to callous.. and then assume... and then insist. A single option in the house at breakfast time becomes not enough -  3 or 4 or more choices are necessary just for things to feel right, for children (and their parents - if I'm brutally honest) to be just barely satisfied, much less bask in overwhelmed gratitude for such an amazing and rich profusion of every imaginable opportunity. 

It becomes so easy, so commonplace... so expected... to focus on what this person or that person has that I don't... be it something simple like food, stylish jeans, a smart phone, or regular manicures. Maybe even worse? When God does, perchance, bless with said sorts of things, they become our source of security. They become our illusion of safety and control, replacing an ever present awareness of an absolute dependence on God.

And right now, I'm finding this reality scares me more than all those scary things back in Niger ever did.

"What I tell you in the dark, say in the light, and what you hear whispered, proclaim on the housetops.   And do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Rather fear him who can destroy both soul and body..." (Matthew 10:27-28)

"Nobody Even Cares!"

Our first full week back in the US for a two-month furlough, we were offered the opportunity to stay in a family member's lakeside cabin for a few days.  We piled in as many folks as possible and did our best to get the most fun out of 15 people squashed into a tiny two-bedroom house.  It was absolutely terrific.

Before we'd gotten settled in well, the youngest in the crowd (my seven-year old nephew) injured his foot running around the pool area.  He immediately began to cry, but when he noticed the skinned area bleeding, those cries became wails and his volume exponentially increased.  We adults pitched in with comments meant to distract him while Mom administered first aid: "Wow! That was quite an acrobatic stunt you performed!" "You have got to be the toughest little monkey around!" "You are gonna have the neatest band-aid in town!" 

His response?  He made the saddest little face ever and looked up at his mom, barely eeking out in a whisper, "It hurts so bad and nobody even CARES!"

We were well-intentioned in encouraging him and trying to keep the little guy from freaking out, but he just wanted us to recognize his pain and let him cry a bit.  

I wonder how many times I do this with adults who are dealing with a bit more than a scraped foot, and even with my children as they deal with the inevitable and constant change involved in our lifestyle.  Sometimes folks just need me to come along beside them, offer a shoulder to cry on, and acknowledge their pain.  Instead, I tell them how strong they are, give them a pat on the back, and point out how God is going to use this for His glory. 

Sure, there is a place for encouragement, but my nephew's reaction reminded me that sometimes, like Job, people need me to simply be there for them, sitting beside them as they grieve and giving them permission to react to the pain.  

How does this look in real life?  As a mom, how do you allow for healthy grieving and adjustment?

those long trips - road or otherwise - with a parcel of little and not so little people

So, I should probably warn you before you even start to read. 

This post has many photos.

And none of them are ministry-ish... none at all.

No kidding.

Five weeks of essentially vacation traveling will do that to you!

Especially if you've never done anything like that before as a family.

We left Niamey on June 9. We finally pulled in to the driveway at the missionary house where we will be spending this next year on July 14. That's five weeks of travel for a family of 10, living out of 2 small vans or one large van most of that time. What we saw and experienced are mostly once in a lifetime sorts of things and I don't know that we'll ever have such an opportunity again... ever... with all of our children. Today, as this post posts, I'll be on the road, taking our oldest off to college and we are beginning a new stage of parenting and just life in general.

It seemed frivolous, even selfish as we planned this trip - but we are thankful that we just went ahead and took that time to be together, to travel, to explore and see some amazing parts of this world. We kept shoving those doubts about frivolous and selfish to the backs of our minds and focused on redeeming our time... enjoying the moments... ones that would never be just ours again.

And we figured out some things about how to thrive while on the road, in such close proximity and confined spaces while in a rather longish state of transition.

1. Switch things up frequently and keep everyone involved in the planning... Change seating arrangements and make sure EVERY voice is heard when deciding what to do, even if it is the 4 year old begging to eat at the only McDonald's we saw in Scotland... AGAIN!

2. Give everyone a specific and unique to him/her job each step of the way. Wheeling his/her carry on through the airport, loading the pillows into the car, cleaning the trash out of the car seats, drying the camp dishes, photobomber (yes, some jobs can be silly), gathering pine cones to "feed" Daddy's Kelly Kettle, or keeping track of a sibling. When each person knows his/her job, it helps in the keeping track of everyone, boredom complaints are minimized and life tends to run a lot more smoothly.

3. As much as possible, keep times approximate and schedules flexible. Airplanes and ferries and some schedules won't and don't give. But a phone call to the camper van rental people might just mean you still get to see the William Wallace Monument and Sterling Bridge... even if it is from a distance and not as long as you might have hoped. Adding an extra day of travel might just mean you get to see those folks you haven't seen in really long time...

4. Practice "serendipity." What's that mean? Long before I met my husband, he and his cousin spent as much of their summers as possible hanging out at a golf course and canoeing Michigan's rivers. This cousin carried with him what he affectionately referred to as "the canoe-er's bible" and in it, he had penned a definition of serendipity. It is still my favorite-definition-of-the-word-ever. Serendipity (according to Cousin Andrew) is an "unexpected pleasure along life's way." That means you go ahead and splurge and eat those buffalo burgers, chase the wild mustangs, pose for a picture next to the Route 66 sign, call friends to catch up with them even at the last minute, taste the raw salt at the salt flats, etc.

5. Don't insist that everybody does everything all of the time. Sometimes, bigger girl might just want to sleep. Another time, Mama may want to read. Or wooden flute aficionado might want to wander through the tourist trap while the rest of us sip a soda. It's okay.

6. Do delight in another's delight over something, even when you might not find it nearly so appealing. You might care less about chasing wild mustangs down 4 wheel drive only trails in your big green 12 passenger van, but seeing the joy in her eyes can still make it a highlight for everyone.

7. Know when to sing and when to be silent. There is a time for both. The corollary to that is knowing when to enforce silence and when to allow singing... even if it is driving you crazy.

8. Get as many truck drivers as possible to honk as your vehicle goes whizzing by. The kids will smile and I'm guessing those truckers who do are smiling, too. And the others who don't probably didn't even notice your kids bouncing around in the back seat, pumping their arms.

9. One or two "distractions" or entertainment sources per child is MORE than sufficient. More than that just becomes clutter to pack and unpack... pack and unpack... pack and unpack... Well, you get the idea. Maps, travel brochures and cameras are awesome "distractions" and sometimes you get some great rewards/souvenirs/ideas from a different perspective than your own. Packing lightly is, in general, a good idea.

10. Sometimes you just need a break. It isn't a "fail" to snag a hotel room when you are mostly tenting your way through a region. Besides restoring sanity and giving our group of 10 some breathing space, free WiFi, Disney Channel or Animal Planet and the all you can eat breakfast buffet in the morning sometimes made the hotel room the cheaper option. (I know... that one surprised me, too.)

11. A lake with a beach (rocky or sandy... lonely or crowded) almost always pleases everyone... even if it is in different ways.

12. Consider it serendipity (see above) if/when you actually manage to synchronize bladders for a sensible rhythm of bathroom breaks. Otherwise, plan on stopping just about every other exit... Well... that may be a bit hyperbolic, but only a bit...

13. Use bear safe lockers where they are provided... and stay awake to listen to your kids talk in their sleep after they've seen a real live, uncaged grizzly down by the beach. It will make you smile. Don't read Night of the Grizzlies that same night. That won't make you smile.

14. Take advantage of those leave-a-book-take-a-book libraries found in campgrounds and laundromats and hotel lobbies and etc., wherever  you find them. You might find yourself reading some pretty fascinating material you might have never considered otherwise. I'm reading a real cool "documentary" called Garbage Land right now that I can promise you I would have never picked up otherwise.

15. Hold hands, snuggle on laps, tickle, giggle, laugh, wear your sunglasses backwards, buy your kids a few souvenirs they don't need, walk barefoot on the beach, eavesdrop on interesting conversations taking place the next stall over while showering (sometimes it was my girls!), talk to strangers (those bikers from Québec thought it was pretty cool our kids spoke French) and find out a little bit of their stories... In other words, do your best to intentionally and unexpectedly enjoy each moment God sets before you and then make sure you thank Him for it.

And those seem to be pretty good rules to apply to life in general, regardless of your destination, your ETA... and even when you are just hanging out at home.

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Do you have any tips for when your family travels over an extended period of time?

Benefits of Living in a Pressure Cooker

I've been whining again.  Yes, again.  We are a few days from a trip to the U.S. (first one in three years) where we'll travel like crazy and visit as many churches and friends and family as we can pack into these short two months.  This is a catch-all trip, to touch base and reconnect but also to raise funds for opening a youth center in the city where we live.  I should be giddy, and I am quite excited, but I'm finding a whole lot of ways to whine.

Why do we only get one suitcase this time?  How will I bring back homeschooling books and underwear and socks and supplies for two or three more years in ONE suitcase?  Are we ever going to get everything packed up and ready to roll?  Why can't I settle on some perfect "partnership" trinket to take back for those who've stuck with us?  How will we fit everyone in? Why can't we afford to take longer furloughs like the cool missionaries?  Can't you kids just get along and let me think straight?  

And I realize that my mouth is speaking from the abundance of my heart.

I have said a trillion times how uncomfortable it is to live in the pressure cooker here, where the goal is just survival at times.  To acutely feel the lack of extended family and friends and a support system to fall back on when the going gets rough.  But tonight as I listened to myself whine, I realized that life in the pressure cooker has its benefits.

In the US, I found it much easier to camouflage my flaws, those places inside that weren't quite lovely.  It was so easy to take on another responsibility at church and feel justified in my ugliness, or take a trip to the thrift store and fill my emptiness with a giant bag full of cheap but fashionable finds.  I could call up a girlfriend and "express my righteous indignation" to have her back me up in my position and then share what made her mad that day.  It was easy to hide what I didn't want to see.

Here, it seems what's inside is just gonna come out.  No way around it, it's coming out.  I remember reading a warning to that effect on some missionary-prep website way back when, and thinking how tough that would be for "certain other people" I know and happen to live with.  I was still living in Delusional World and sure that I was the person I had convinced everyone I was.

And for a long time on the field, I blamed my impatience in traffic or my frustration with my husband or my overwhelming urge to scream at those guys who insist on washing my windshield at stoplights and casing the contents of my front seat as they do, on being stressed to the breaking point.  I was sure that the offender just happened to be the straw that broke this camel's back.  Okay, maybe there is a bit of truth to that sometimes, but I'm coming to realize that I'm just not as adept at hiding.  The world is simpler here on the other side of the border.  So simple that what you see is what you get, without the candy-coating.  And I don't always like what I see.

I'm learning, still, that instead of taking my burdens to whomever might listen, I have to take them to the One who should have been my first choice all along.  That makes it sweeter to deal with the lack of an intimate friend or relative here.  

I'm learning, still, that instead of hiding behind my to-do list and accomplishments as the self-appointed Sister Do-It-All, I have to take a genuine look at my motivations and reactions.  That makes it a bit easier to swallow not having a church community that feels more like family here.

I'm learning, still, that instead of running for food or shopping or a movie or whatever my latest cure-all is, I have to dig in and let God refresh me, let Him inspire me, let Him heal me.  I'd like to tell you that makes it easier to live without Goodwill or Krispy Kreme, but I'm not there yet.

I do at least have a clearer picture of who I really am and who God really is, and I guess that's a start.

Do you know yourself better as a result of being a missionary?  Have you found that the ugly things you recognize within you are products of this lifestyle, or were they there all along and are only easier to see now?   Do you whine?

photo credit: mr.donb

Going fishing...

...for answers ~ 

Last time I wrote, I shared a list of "intangibles:" questions that I've been using to help bring closure to this term and to figure out if there are any things we need to focus on "finishing" well these last few months, in that intangible sense of the world. They are those items that cannot easily be put on a checklist and then crossed through once accomplished; they are still subjects that need to be addressed - by my husband and I, but also by our children.

• "What has/have been the high point/s of this term?"
• “What were some of the most difficult experiences?”
• "Where do I feel I've succeeded?"
• "How do I feel I have failed? Is this failure due to sin?"
• “How have I spied God working in my life personally, professionally and spiritually?”
• “What did I hope to achieve - long term goals and short term objectives?" 
• "Did I accomplish them, have I not yet achieved them, or are they currently in progress?”
• “The activities I have been involved with during this term - would I describe them as satisfying or fulfilling? Are they consistent with my reasons for becoming a missionary in this particular place? Am I doing what I told our partners back in my home country I'd be doing? Do my activities apply to my specific responsibilities?"
• “What did/is God accomplish/ing through me?"
• “What have been the greatest roadblocks and frustrations I have encountered?"
• “Are there unresolved on-field relationships (expat and local colleagues) I need to reconcile before leaving?”
• "What goodbyes need to be said, how do they need to be said and what memories do I hope to make in the time remaining? How do I say goodbye well?"

And so we've been talking - the two of us, as a family and then taking opportunities to talk with our kids individually, to listen and to really hear what they are saying.

There has been a key idea come clearly to the forefront in these conversations. Each one of us (with maybe the exception of the littlest two) began this term in Niger with certain expectations and those expectations impact our perspectives and evaluations of what has or has not happened throughout the course of this term. There are many types of expectations, and the following is not meant to be an exhaustive list, but rather a jumping off point to encouraging further reflection.

Some expectations are ones we set for ourselves. I knew this term I wanted to help the local international school for TCKs initiate and establish a program/department to help address the needs of students with special needs. A significant amount of my time and attention has been directed towards that goal. 

Other expectations we control very minimally, if at all. One year into this term, our mission organization back in the States began the process of dissolution (the nonprofit's option - similar, but different - to filing for bankruptcy). This has left a pile of "externally determined" expectations sitting on the shoulders of my husband as field director, some of which he's been able to meet while others are still in process and their completion will most likely have to be handled by whoever steps into his role when we fly out in June.

There are those expectations we've intentionally or unintentionally laid upon the shoulders of others. Intentionally, my husband and I asked our older children to help with the Sunday School program at our local church. Unintentionally, this developed into the two of them actually coordinating and leading the program - and a lot more responsibility for them to carry than we had envisioned in that initial expectation.

There are also those expectations that are assumed - and often unspoken, never very clearly spelled out or "habits" that no longer need spelling out, but that are, nonetheless, important. Often that happens within the family unit (i.e. I expect my children to launder, hang out, fold and put away their laundry without specifying all of those steps every single load - often times I'll simply ask who needs the laundry machine next and they know what is expected), but it can also occur where cultures collide and one person assumes something is automatic while the other remains clueless.

When I expect something good to happen, I look forward to it and call it hope. The opposite is expecting something bad, resulting in feelings of anxiety, avoidance and dread. And, of course, there is the whole continuum in between those two expectation extremes. High expectations can produce great effort and hard work in the attempts to achieve them. Or they can result in a greater sense of failure and worthlessness when a goal is not achieved. Low expectations sometimes feels safer, but they also minimize any sense of accomplishment after achieving an objective.

I've been using this idea of expectations to help myself and my children process some of these intangible questions. 

How does this work? 

I've been having a conversation with my first grader about her experience of first grade. She has no problem saying that she wasn't excited about starting back to school this year except for four things: 1) She knew she liked her teacher because one of our other daughters had had her the year before - she thought her teacher seemed nice and was really pretty and so that was cool, 2) She is an extrovert and loves making friends and being with other people, 3) She also wanted to learn to become an independent reader but wasn't sure if she'd rather learn at home or at school, and 4) She new first grade came before second grade and all of her older friends have loved second grade. When it comes to seeing how well her expectations have been fulfilled, she has expressed several things. 

• Her teacher has been really nice and she still thinks she is pretty so she likes being in her class every day. That expectation has been met. 
• In her class, she met a little Australian gal who could be her identical twin personality wise, and the two have a blast together, sometimes too much. Again, that was a hope beautifully realized. 
• She has learned to read this year. Although she isn't presently reading at the level her teachers would like to see, my girl feels good about how she is doing. She is reading, she likes to read, her little sister likes to sit and let her read stories to her and she can see that she keeps getting better.
• The last key school expectation is that she will complete first grade ready to move to super fun second grade - which is clearly still a work in progress.

Thus, in my first grader's eyes, first grade is well on its way to being a complete success, in every way... 

What about a similar conversation with an older child? Our oldest daughter has been taking horseback riding lessons on and off for the last several years - including until just recently this year. Because of the institution where she believes she wants to start her post-secondary education, she returned to Niger planning to take these lessons to better prepare her for this school. We weren't on the ball the first year back, however, and she missed the enrollment period and was only able to ride sporadically. Last year and up until a month ago, she was taking lessons, usually 1 per week. But she came to us and said that she was tired and wanted to stop last month and we respected her decision. Ultimately, it came down to a few things: 1) She wasn't progressing as quickly as the other kids in her group because we can only afford for her to go once a week; thus she felt she had plateau-ed and was tired of feeling like she never measured up, 2) Her friends are important to her and she didn't really feel like she had friends at her lessons - her classmates all attend a different school and the only time their paths crossed was during that class. She would enjoy talking with the girls, but it never went beyond that casual conversation and it wasn't satisfying her need for someone to share the whole experience with her. 3) She is beginning a period of intense examinations for 9th and 10th graders that occur each year and she was already feeling tired. She felt that to do well, she would need more rest and riding was the thing she was most willing to remove from her schedule. Thus, that block of time every Thursday was not meeting her expectations and was, in some way, conflicting and preventing her from working towards other goals and expectations she had set - so stepping back for a time seemed to be a wise decision. 

Clearly, we agreed. Recently, I asked her about her choice. She has discovered that she does miss those lessons and the opportunity to interact with the horses and is looking forward to having that opportunity again someday in the future. She didn't expect to miss the class, but she is... but this whole experience has cemented (at least at this moment - she still has 2 years to go) her original thoughts in regard to future schooling.

Thus, building a discussion centered on expectations is helping me to walk my children through those intangibles. We're fishing for the answers to those questions with the expectation that they can reach a good point of closure as we finish, maybe permanently, our family's time in Niger.

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How about you? How would you approach helping your children work through the types of questions listed at the beginning of this article?

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Other posts in this series of preparing to leave the field:

In which I'm charged by a hippo...
Jumping the Gun? Or Procrastination?
Turning over that TCK leaf
Three months AND three days AND counting...