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

Date Night? Date Night!

We have recently made the move back to South Carolina after serving for seven years down in the middle of South America. We didn't expect it, we weren't prepared for it, and we are still reeling from how quickly it happened. Extended family situations made it very clear that we needed to be back in the US about the same time I felt God shifting things inside my heart, and it was undeniable that He was going ahead of us to lead the way for our big move.

We left the US for Paraguay back in 2008 with 9- and 11-year-old girls, smack in the middle of homeschooling and community basketball league and children's church. My husband had a secular job in addition to being the youth pastor at our local church, and I was the at-home mom taking side jobs and short-term mission trips. We had no idea what the words free time meant. Our best attempts at date nights often looked like a bad sit-com episode where the sitter calls about the kid running a fever about the time we place an order at the local fast-food joint on our way to a youth rally.

Fast forward a bit to our years in Paraguay, when our girls were going through adolescence and we were learning two languages, adjusting to all the cultural changes, building a ministry, going through major health challenges and a serious accident, and continuing to homeschool. Free time was still this elusive concept, and date nights were a movie and popcorn after sending the girls to their room early for the night.

And now here we are back in the states. One daughter has graduated high school and is in a gap year, and the younger one is a junior in high school. They are old enough and in a safe enough area that we don't have to be near them at all hours here. We have a car that cranks when we turn the key and can drive around without the feeling that we may, at any moment, die. My husband is still looking for a job, so we are seeing a lot of each other every day. The modern appliances and giant, all-inclusive stores have simplified daily activities to the point that I feel like I suddenly have that thing I'd only heard whispered about in certain circles and seen played out in movies and books--free time.

And it hit me that we are now in prime position to have what I've always dreamed date nights should be. We can go out, just the two of us. We can wear decent clothes that won't be ruined on public transportation. We can choose from a crazy-huge selection of restaurants or activities. We can stay out late. We can find time on the calendar that isn't covered in commitments. I struggle with feeling guilty over such indulgences, or enjoying the convenience and pure joy of these sorts of things because, well, it's just strange and rare and odd and weird and different and…

…really exciting.

So as we adjust to all the negative aspects of re-entry, I have this little thought in the back of my mind that makes me giggle and feel a bit like a movie star--I get to date my husband again!

Have you found ways to date your spouse on the field? How has your typical date night evolved through the different stages of your marriage?

Surprise! Tales of a Teen Daughter

My baby has just finished her high school career. Even before moving to South America over 6 years ago, she was homeschooled in what I felt like was a pretty solid plan. From her preschool years of learning red and blue while she colored at the table beside me or learning to count while we drove around town, I've always imagined her slightly-less-than-traditional schooling to lead her right into some lovely scholarships that would pave the way to a challenging yet rewarding degree, ushering her into a fulfilling and lucrative career. Yep, that toddler in the car seat had a shining educational path ahead of her.

Then she tells me she doesn't want to go. 

Wait a minute. I was envisioning missionary kid grants and homeschooler scholarships and CLEPping out of tons of classes. I saw her connecting with the peers she missed so much and getting back into American culture and laughing as she made her way across campus to her next exciting class, just after leaving some fun extracurricular activity like FCA or the Christian Students Club.

But she doesn't want to go.

This is a topic that's been coming up off and on for the past two years or so, as she went through the mental checklist of pros and cons for each of her options. We talked about going to a 4-year university where she'd live on campus versus starting at a community college close enough to live with her eager grandparents as she eased back into American culture. We talked about the five months that would pass between when she'd finish her school year and when the US school year would end, and how she could use that time to explore or intern or maybe even travel a little.  

But she doesn't want to go.

Don't get me wrong. I'm absolutely, totally thrilled beyond words that I won't be putting her on a plane to leave the nest already. But I had to process her decision much more than she did, I'm afraid. Her logic is solid. She isn't ready to leave our home and she's aware of that. She's looked into other options like studying at a university here, taking online classes, interning, or taking a gap year. The one thing she is sure of when considering those choices is that

...she doesn't want to go.

I had to do some serious soul-searching over my gut reaction, which bordered on panic. I had to remind myself that God has a plan for her that just might be different than the one I'd always imagined. I had to remind other people that she may not do what they (and we) always assumed she would do. I had to remind her that I support her while she figures out this thing called adult life, even if I'm standing here with my jaw on the floor and my brain spinning while I process what she's decided. I had to remind us all that this one decision doesn't put her in a certain box or define her future in the way society might say it does. 

And I'm embarrassed at what I came up with when I stopped to think through why I panicked like I did. You know those days when you wonder if you've done irreparable damage by raising kids on the field? This was one of those days. I was stuck deciding if her decision was fear-driven and she just needed me to push her out of the nest so she could learn to fly, or if she honestly needed more time inside our four walls to feel prepared enough for venturing away? 

I had to face up to how much of my reaction was from my own fears--Will she be able to survive financially? Did I not do a good enough job homeschooling her to equip her to feel ready for this step? What will people think of her? What will people think of me? 

The Lord really had to settle me down and talk me off the ledge. He brought to mind many faces, people I'd consider exemplary adults functioning just fine in the real adult world, who had less than normal beginnings and followed the road less traveled. He took me to the Psalms and reminded me that He knew her before I did, that He planned her personality and her giftings before He placed her in our family--a family He knew would live overseas and not exactly be mothered by June Cleaver. 

In the end, I have to admire my baby girl for making this decision on her own, feeling pressure to go in other directions but following her heart. I don't know what God has planned for her, but I trust her future to the One who loaned her to me in the first place.

Had any surprises in your world lately?  How did you handle them?

IMAGE SOURCE: openhandweb.org

"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?

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

Is It Okay to Celebrate?

I feel a little torn sometimes about patriotism. Sometimes from pressure I put on myself, sometimes from the culture I currently live in, sometimes from my home culture.  And it all leaves me a little confused about how I should feel, how I should teach my children.

It seems it's become politically incorrect to be patriotic in the U.S. except on national holidays.  Even then, there are subtle warnings and hidden messages to keep that in check and remember that we're part of a global society.  At the risk of hurting other people's feelings, we squelch the pride we feel in our home country.

This past week, I sat in on a workshop presented to Paraguayan high school students learning English language and culture.  The American woman giving the presentation was teaching about Flag Day and shared a brief history of our flag, the meaning of the stars and stripes and various designs as states were added to our number.  She then showed a few other flags from other countries and asked if the students could identify them.  The last flag was a banner with a dark background and a photo of Earth.  She ended her presentation by saying, "And this is my favorite flag of all, the world flag."  And a little red flag of my own went up inside me, causing a few days of reflection on why.

The American flag at a ceremony we attended
at the US Embassy in 2011

When we first moved to Paraguay, I almost felt embarrassed to be an American.  I quickly learned that here, the reputation of a typical American was either a young hippie into loose sexual relations and heavy drinking or a tourist/business person a few years older who threw around his dollars and his supremacy, looking down on the poor Paraguayans and talking down to those he took the time to speak with or do business with.  The local people's impression of missionaries was only slightly different--spoiled folks coming in to say how things were different (better) in "my country" and to set the poor natives straight on how they're not living the Christian life right, according to the missionary's version of American Jesus.

We worked hard to shatter those stereotypes and take the focus off where we'd come from.  When kids asked us about the lifestyles they'd seen in the movies and assumed all of America lived in mansions on cul-de-sacs with butlers, we explained carefully about Hollywood vs. real life.  When adults asked us how we could take our girls from the land of plenty, we sang the benefits of living in Paraguay and told all the reasons we were happy our children were being raised in a culture of community.

We neglected to wear those Old Navy flag tee shirts and didn't plaster our motorcycle helmets with the stars and stripes, as we'd seen others do.  We tried to fit in here, choosing a local soccer team to root for, putting out the Paraguayan flag on holidays and draping our car in national colors on the appropriate days.  And I felt a sense of pride rise up in me for this country.  I saw people celebrating their heritage, their spirit of survival, their successes and their failures.  I saw how nice it was to have a sense of belonging and I felt my own sense of pride in my home country climb.

I thought back to my high school and my college.  On game day, you'd better believe I was rooting for MY team.  I had a history there that connected me with what that team represented, and I still deck out in orange when Clemson plays Carolina.  Does that mean I don't appreciate the people of the other schools?  That I devalue the education received there?  That I look down on those who graduated from Carolina or the fans who choose to root for them?  Not at all.  It just means I am proud of my hometown, proud of my college, proud of my state.

Of course, I have to be smart about throwing around that pride, not wanting to seem "better-than" the people I've come to live with who already struggle terribly with an inferiority complex.  But I have learned from the pride I see the Paraguayans (and other Latin Americans) display in their country, that I shouldn't feel ashamed of pride in my own heritage.  I shouldn't feel like I have to include myself in the world community at the expense of denying my roots.  I can be happy about my present, hopeful about my future, and still proud of my past, and I can't imagine why that would offend anyone.

We won't be celebrating with fireworks or a cookout here (it's cold and rainy), but tomorrow when I meet with the teens and tell them about our Independence Day, I may just be wearing that tee shirt with Old Glory on top of my long sleeves.  :)

Happy Independence Day!

Why, Yes, You ARE a Mentor!

I joined an online study group working through a neat book called Impact My Life: Biblical Mentoring Simplified and its study guide (I recommend them both, by the way.)  Something I was reminded of in the beginning is that mentoring is happening all around us.

I have, at times, longed for some Godly, wise, older woman to have a lightning-flash moment and come to me to say she'd like to formally mentor me.  We'd meet for tea and fresh-baked cookies (that she'd baked, of course) while I bore my heart, spilled my guts, and received her counsel.  She'd turn me into SuperMom, I'd be the best wife in town, and a little picture of me would be floating beside the 31st chapter of Proverbs in all the coolest translations.  

That never happened.

What did happen is that I watched the ladies of my church behind the doors of their homes when I'd join a girlfriend for Sunday dinner.  My mother took an active role in my life, even when I was sure I was smart enough not to need her butting into my teenage world.  I gained a mother-in-law on my wedding day that always knew the right scripture or when I needed her to just pray.  Women dropped tidbits of wisdom my way at precise moments, and I filed them in my memory to revisit when needed.  I even read books and listened to podcasts by gals who were brave enough to put their thoughts out there in public.

None of these ladies ever came to me with an engraved invitation--even though I probably did get my share of homemade cookies--but they collectively met my need to be guided along in this journey.  They still do.

In that way, I hope some girl could include me in the women who've shared wisdom with her.  I hope my own daughters can say that I've helped shape something positive in them.  I hope my daughters' friends can say that what they saw behind closed doors was compatible with what they saw on the pew, and that something in me caused them to look deeper into God's eyes.  

These past couple years of recovering from my femur break, passing through the surgeries, moving to be closer to the hospital, and generally pausing from what I considered ministry, I longed for the days when I sat in a circle with young ladies discussing purity and womanhood and grace and real beauty.  I missed those one-on-one chats with different girls about the specific goals we'd talked about last week or how she'd handled the relationship issue we'd prayed about.  I was frustrated by the feeling that my role as a mentor was on pause.

Reading this book reminded me that while I wasn't formally leading a small group or having intentional coaching sessions, there were people in my path that were watching and learning from what they saw.  Oh, God, I hope they learned something good!  I hope they saw someone gracefully accepting what had come her way while trusting God to heal and provide for her needs.  I hope they saw someone rolling with the punches as every part of life had to be rethought, still able to smile and thank God for something positive.  I'd love to think that they saw one of those women whose missionary biography I've read--some miraculous angelic woman of infinite wisdom and faith.  

I'm afraid that what they actually saw was someone who struggled, someone who questioned, someone who wrestled, someone who wasn't always finding the silver lining.  That's discouraging until I think of some of those role models I told you about earlier, and the imperfections I could nitpick in their lives.  But when they come to mind, it's for the good things I've gained from knowing them. I pray some girl will be able to say that about me someday.

Are you intentionally mentoring anyone, or being mentored?  How many girls can you think of who are being mentored by you without a formal weekly meeting?  Am I crazy, or is that thought just a BIT intimidating?!  ;)  

It's a Dog's World!

Niko, the Wonder Dog

Doesn't this face discourage you from robbing my house or messing with my daughters?  Doesn't he make you tremble in your boots and think twice about whatever diabolical plan you were hatching against my family?  Yeah, I thought so!

This little guy is Niko (named for a local soft drink), and we got him about 3 years ago to be the family guard dog.  He was immediately ruined, being carried around like a baby and dressed up in cutesy clothes, sleeping on a little cushion and sneaking treats.  I feared he'd never step into his role because we'd made him too soft.

One would think that a grown dog would be humiliated by 
being carried around like a baby, but not this one!

He got a bit of age on him, though, and a funny thing happened.  He'd been treated like a member of the family and found his place in our clan, and he fell as much in love with us as we had with him.

Out of this grew a fierce protective spirit, and I dare say that now, no one would dream of passing this fella to mess with any of us.  He's quite docile with children and loves to lie on his back so young kids can torture cuddle him, but let a strange adult or another dog come around our fence, and it's another story!

We've tried several different pets here in Paraguay, including a beautiful parrot that died from the cold, a cute turtle that hobbled away and never came back, and various stray cats that I didn't approve of but didn't chase away because they were eating snakes and rats.  In the states we'd had a dog and a couple of chickens once, but somehow these animals here become part of the family more quickly and we find ourselves really attached to them.  And the fact that this big baby has a bit of an intimidation factor is just an added bonus.  :) 

I'm the practical one in our crowd, so sometimes I focus on Niko as more of a hassle--who will feed him when we're traveling?  What will we do with him on furlough?  Our older daughter is allergic to him and can't somebody bathe him again so he's less likely to set off a reaction?  What about the costs of his vaccinations and all that food?  And on and on.  But I can't deny his benefit to us, or how good it makes me feel to open the gate and his tail is wagging as he trots up to meet me with nuzzles.  (He knows better than to wrestle with me like he does the kids.) 

I've never really been an animal person--all that hair and barking and poop.  But in the months after the accident when I was pretty much confined to the bed or the wheelchair, he'd come up and sniff the area my bone was broken, lay his head just beside it, and rest there a while.  If everyone left the house, he stayed right by my feet and followed me closely in those months of learning to walk again.  I'm not sure that he didn't cause more damage than good, as much as I had to be careful not to stumble over him, but somehow it was the thought that counted.  So I've learned to love him, too.

My husband says that having the dog takes a measure of stress off him as the man in charge of keeping us gals as safe as possible.  For our daughters, Niko's the constant that's been with us through 3 moves in the last 4 years--an added comfort when so many other things change.  

Do you have pets?  What do they add to your family?   If you don't have an animal friend, what keeps you from getting one?

Help! My Man Is ALWAYS Around!

Just me and my man.  It's not been too many years since we were dating and I dreamed of spending all our days together, giggling while we worked and inspiring each other as we bounced ideas back and forth over dreamy looks and picnic lunches.  What could be better than that, right?  Um, yeah.  Twenty years later, we got that chance when we moved out of the country to conquer the world for Jesus.  And reality set in.

Since our home is the base of operations here, gone are the days of seeing him off to work with a kiss each morning, teaching the kids and running errands all day, then having his dinner ready when he returns in the evening.  Everything from mealtime to homeschooling to who goes out for groceries has changed, and everyone in the house has felt the heat from the adjustments.

Defining a new normal has been an unexpected challenge, exacerbated by the fact that there just isn't much support out there for wives like me. So when I saw this book coming out, I jumped at the chance to get my hands on it.  Even better, this one was a freebie offered to me by the publisher in exchange for my opinions.  Let's just say it was a welcome addition to my e-bookshelf.

OFFICIAL BOOK DESCRIPTION: What do you do when your husband calls and says he's lost his job? How do you handle a husband who has been diagnosed with Parkinson's and is now homebound? Will your routine ever get back to normal now that your loving husband who has been deployed for 12 months is now suddenly back at home? Regardless of the reason he's home, one fact is clear . . . he's home. Dear God, He's Home! is a practical, honest look at how women can deal with a spouse--regardless of the reason--who is forced to become a stay-at-home man.  (**Note: By clicking the title, you'll be directed to Amazon, where the e-book is currently $2.99.)

MY THOUGHTS:  Making the transition from what is considered a traditional family set-up--husband working outside the home, wife considering the house her domain--can be very stressful.  Not only has the author (Janet Thompson) dealt with the situation several times in her life, but she includes the stories of many others facing this change due to health complications, retirement, unemployment, a home office, or some other development.  I found that much of it applied to our situation, even though she didn't specifically include foreign missionaries on her list.  ;)

The book is divided into 14 chapters full of examples, practical advice, scriptures, a sample prayer, and journaling prompts--yet another reminder that I could benefit from journaling.  (Note to self:  Add personal journal to the to-do list.). Focus, Christie. Focus.  Okay.

Each chapter has several smaller sections packed with wisdom, short enough to do each as a daily devotion.  The big focus in on opening up communication so that both the husband and the wife understand the expectations each has.  Several tools are provided to facilitate coming together to shape these expectations into a workable reality.

Although the book is meant to be for the wife, there are parts that can be shared with your husband, such as the sanity tools at the end, and some of the personal stories are from the man's point of view.

The only complaint I might have is that I had a bit of a hard time keeping up with all the real-life examples.  There were so many, which is good for helping the reader connect to the book and realize she's not the first person to pass through this. But I began to confuse the stories and couples as the book progressed through snippets from these stories with each section.  It's possible that reading a print version of this book would have helped with this, but I had an ebook copy and can't speak as to how the layout affects the ease of reading.

I found the book very thorough, in that it dealt with the emotional, financial, spiritual, and physical aspects of this life change. I've definitely added it to my list of recommended resources for missionary wives coming on the field, and I think that going through it together before the big transition would maximize the benefits.

Is it possible I'm not the only one who struggled a bit with this change?  What advice would you give yourself if you could go back to just before the transition? 

Meet...Christie!

You gals really made me think!! Here's a go at what comes to mind for the questions you sent...

How do your girls feel about living in Paraguay? Was it challenging for them to move there? How old were they when you moved? Do you mind sharing how old your girls are? and what are they thinking about after high school? 

They are now 14 and 16, and were 9 and 11 when we moved here.  They’ve had tough spots at times from lack of friends, missing family, the macho culture here, and feeling a bit disconnected.  But since we’ve moved to a larger town last year, it’s been worlds better for them.  I actually blogged about that yesterday, about how they’re developing and adjusting over time.

Earlier this year (younger on left)

As far as what they’ll do after high school, well, that’s a big question right now.  The 16-yr-old is a planner and would like to have it all mapped out, but she’s undecided if she’d like to move to the US as soon as she “graduates” for college there (probably living with or near grandparents), or if she’d like to study here, or if she should take a gap year and explore what she feels like is her missions calling while learning a trade (cosmetology, cooking?—both of which are very accessible here).  She feels God is calling her to Europe but we don’t know anyone there yet. She'd like to “look around” there a bit before deciding what to study, because she feels more drawn to tent-making missions.  It’s a source of much stress for her that these questions are all in the air, and the truth is, I don’t know how to advise her.  Feel free to pray about this for us.  J  The other daughter lives one day at a time and hasn’t even begun to think past the current calendar year, nor does she want to.  That’s a whole ‘nother post….

What's your favorite thing about being a missionary mom? What is your least favorite one? 

Not long after we'd first moved to PY

I love watching my girls interact with people who don’t seem to have much in common with us, seeing them recognize that really we all have the most important things in common.  I think that all things considered, what they're learning and experiencing far outweighs the down side of this mission life, and I'm thrilled that God moved us here while the girls were still young enough to be part of it all.

Least favorite:  Well, in another life I was a full-time, stay-at-home mom (before coming on the field), and now that we’re here, I don’t feel the same liberty to focus 100% on my family like before.  I feel huge pressure to do MORE than that now that I’m called a “missionary.” Like my ministry to the family isn’t enough.  I naturally have more time for things outside of family now that my girls are older and more independent, but as y’all know, life here means more time homemaking (cooking, cleaning, shopping, etc.)  I feel like I COULD spend all my time just helping my family function/survive, but there is this pressure (some of it real, some of it I put on myself) to be “productive” in the ministry by someone else’s standard.  The pull between those things is my least favorite part of being a missionary mom.  That, and worrying about whether my girls will marry Paraguayans or Americans or some other nationality, boiling down to how far apart we may live from them one day.  L 

Where do you find out more about free on line classes - and if they are free, do they count as continuing ed credits, etc.?

I google to find sites that are specific to the ministry I’m looking into, then look for training resources.  For example, on the site for Prison Fellowship Ministries, I found a series of videos and a quiz after each one.  In orality evangelism, I found this site and this one with similar training.  Also, lots of colleges are now offering free classes (google “free online college courses” and a trillion links appear), some with online textbooks, video lectures, a syllabus--the whole shabang, totally free.  A few have a printable certificate at the end, but most of these don’t offer anything “official.”  I don’t have any requirements for continuing education, though.  I just do this for my own benefit. 

Tea or coffee? And what is your favorite flavor or kind?  

Neither.  If pressed, I’ll take tea, either hot or good ole' South Carolina sweet iced tea.  But I prefer kool-aid (which kind folks mail to me here) or Paraguayan tereré.

What are some of the curriculums that you've used, since you say that you've experienced every type?

We started with Abeka and Bob Jones because I was nervous and wanted someone to walk me through each step. Then we did KONOS unit studies for a few years.  Since then, we’ve done Math-U-See, Saxon math, Apologia sciences, Latina Christiana, Shurley Grammar, Easy Grammar, Daily Grams, various public school texts, Classical Conversations, Mystery of History, Fallacy Detective Logic, Drive-Thru History, Christian Liberty Press history, Spelling Power, PACEs, Wordsmith, Writing Strands… I’m sure I’ve left a few out, but those come to mind right away.  Oh, yeah, we did Switched on Schoolhouse for a couple of years here in PY, with high hopes but low success.  We’re now using Tapestry of Grace (love it but it’s a lot of work), Apologia chemistry, Teaching Textbooks Algebra II, Jacob’s Geometry, Write Source, and some supplemental internet freebies.

What is your favorite thing about Paraguay and what is the food like there?  

We're horrible about forgetting to take family
photos.  This one's a few years
old, but don't you love how patriotic we
look under the flag?!  hee hee  ;)  Now, the
girls are as tall as I am! 

I don’t think I could narrow it down to one thing if I tried.  I adore living here.  There is such a feeling of community, of togetherness.  And I do love the strong cultural identity here.  PY is a small country that lost a lot of territory in wars with much larger countries over the years, wars that had the potential to totally annihilate them.  They’re pretty fresh out of dictatorship.  The people have a survivor’s spirit after so much hardship.  We have two official languages, Spanish and the native Guarani, which blend together into what’s called Jopara, unique to here.  So all around us they speak Spanish (and Portuguese) and little Paraguay has its own thing going.

Beef is big industry here, so it’s a carnivore’s world.  The fruits and veggies are great, too, from the tropical climate, but typical foods are fried (empanadas, a fried pancake thingy called a tortilla, country-fried steak or chicken that they call milanesa) or carb-heavy (rice-based guiso and noodle-based tallarines).  It’s VERY tough to eat healthy unless you can manage to always eat at home, which isn’t exactly culturally appropriate.

If you want more details about life in PY, I just read this great article in a NY Times post that sums it up well.

Why Paraguay? 

The super short version?  We felt the call to Latin America, thought we’d be going to Peru, ended up in Paraguay, found out the reason we’d come wasn’t going to work out, but felt this was where God wanted us all along and had used the other events to get us here.  It's turned out to be a great fit for our prior ministry and life experience and the personality of our family.  

Thanks for letting me share about my family and this country we have come to adore.  I’m looking forward to reading about all of you!

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Next up, Danielle:

If we sat down to have a cup of coffee, I would want to hear your story, and share a little bit of mine.

First there was a time in my life where I vowed I would never move south of Texas because of a difficult short-term missions experience.  I also was all set to go to another continent before God turned things upside down and called our family to El Salvador!

Since moving here, language learning has been harder than I thought, but it hasn't been my biggest frustration...you would hear about that when the subject turned to our children and education.

I would also share how I now have a passion for a ministry that was never on my radar during our pre-move planning and preparation.  Of course, I would also share all the things that make El Salvador unique and special to our family.

If you have any questions about me or about El Salvador, post them in the comments and I will answer them soon!

Femininity on the Field

This may seem like a very superficial topic, but can I tell you a secret, between us girls?  Sometimes I don’t feel very feminine, very girlie.  Mind you, I’ve never been a fru-fru girl.  While others were dreaming of being cheerleaders or prom queen, I was fishing or camping. (Oops, did I just show my redneck side?)

But as a grown woman, especially a married grown woman, I have found myself approaching this differently, wanting the way I look and behave to reflect my femininity.  I’d pretty much worked out what that meant to me personally in rural South Carolina, but now that we live in Latin America, there are definite differences on what a woman is expected to look like.   So what’s a girl to do?

For the visual learners among us, you can check out my polyvore.com
rendition of this post and skip a few paragraphs.  ;)

The problem for me starts with the shoes.  I have particularly high arches, so even if I wanted to wear those crazy high heels, I’d probably get about 3 steps before doubling over in foot spasms and tripping on the curb.  Nothing graceful about that!

Women don’t leave the house here without being totally “done,” either.  Full make-up, including vibrant eye shadow and lip colors and often some really long, fake, glittery lashes.  Nails long and painted, with swirly designs or little drawings on each one.  Hair is always coiffed and usually dons some sort of feather or barrette or flower, clipped just so.  The heat and humidity here leave my natural curls making their own way, so any attempt to stick a flower in it would look more like a wild weed in a briar patch.

Here in the land of machista men and oversexualized women, it’s nothing to see pornographic images plastered in public places, on commercials, or as part of TV shows.   You can imagine what that does to fashion…plunging necklines, painted-on pants, tiny skirts.  Nah, that’s not me.

I am apt to pull my hair up in a pony-tail or wear a ball cap when working in the community with kids, with or without my minimal makeup.  I find myself most often wearing what has been called pajamas here (cotton or denim pants/shorts, t-shirts, tennis shoes, flat sandals) for reasons of comfort, heat (how DO they wear those tight pants in 110 degree weather?!), ease, or habit. 

I struggle with differences in the definition of modesty, with having to analyze everything I wear or say or do for what message it conveys to men, with what my girls are learning about what it means to be a woman.  And I notice that I lose a certain bit of credibility with women, believers and nonbelievers alike, because I don’t “look the part.”

Sometimes I feel I’ve gotten sucked back into that high school drama of peer pressure and worrying about my image, but with real-world consequences this time.  Now, before you comment, don't hit me with "a genuine smile, a sweet spirit, the beauty of holiness."  I really do get all that.  But if we walk out of the house in nothing but a smile and the beauty of holiness, well, some heads really would turn!  

I know that we should assimilate as much as possible into our cultures, but I struggle with where to draw the line on this one.  I think of  those missionary women in cultures where they are expected to cover up more than they are used to or be more conservative in their behavior, and I wonder if they have to redefine that “look” that makes them feel pretty, too. 

Do you find that the way you look in the mirror on the field is different than how you look on furlough?  How do you reconcile or express your femininity within the culture where you live?   

Our Children's Ministry

I've just returned from a ladies conference... more specifically, a missionary ladies retreat, hosted by the gals of Titus Women.  For about 40 hours, they shared their hearts with us, encouraged us, spent time listening to us.  They came armed with goodie bags, books, and snacks to spoil us a bit, and were ready and waiting to to have those important chats we women crave--those that end in solid advice and a good prayer.  It was a time of refreshing that we all needed and enjoyed.

One of the things that touched me most was that a mom on the ministry team brought her sweet daughter along.  She was only 11 years old and many would have said she'd be in the way or it might not be the place for her, but that young girl ministered to us all through her servanthood. She was gofer for those of us with full hands.  She rocked sleepy babies and entertained bored toddlers so moms could hear the Word.  She stood right up there in the middle of the other 4 ladies on the team, singing her heart out in praise and worship.  She prayed for us and had mature, meaningful conversations over meals.  I don't know who was more proud of her--her mom or all of us ladies in the crowd, identifying with what it's like to involve our children in the work of the Lord.

I thought of all the times I've had the privilege to see my children involved in kingdom work.  Sometimes it's been the natural sort of ministry that comes from reaching out to a neighbor.  Sometimes it's that "shoved on them" kind like having to sing a solo as part of our missions presentation in churches.  And other times it's purposeful and planned, taking advantage of the gifts we see developing in them.  What a joy it is to watch them mature in the Lord and see Him use them in His service!

In what ways are your children involved in your family's ministry?  In what way are they involved in their own?

Special Considerations for MK Teens

Being a parent of third-culture kids—missionary kids in particular—is a challenge at any stage.  Being the mom of teen MK’s comes with its own special fun.

The changes that occur during adolescence can be quite unsettling.   You remember those days, right?  Insecurity, trying to fit in, wondering who you are, dealing with peer pressure.  Hours in front of the mirror, indecision about what you'll wear, drama in all your social circles.

These problems are exponentially increased living in a culture where your teen is obviously "not from around here," and where cultural differences can make even simple stuff seem complicated.

How can we make this time of transition a bit smoother for them?

Make home a safe haven.  Of course, this is our goal as moms, no matter the ages of our children.  But when your teen’s self-esteem is being assaulted outside the walls of your house, it’s crucial.  Although sarcasm and complaining may seem to be your child’s new love language, take the high road.  Jokes about frizzy hair and clumsiness and cracking voices are probably best left unsaid.  Don’t put up with bickering that often gets ugly between siblings.  Yeah, I know.  Easier said than done.  But kids of all ages need to be able to let their guard down around those who love them best.

Build self-esteem.  Where we live, folks have no problem pointing, staring, or calling names if someone is different.  Having two tall daughters with pale skin and blonde hair has led to more awkward public scenes than I care to remember.  So more than ever, it’s important that they feel safe talking to us about how that makes them feel, and that they feel secure in who they are.  Hopefully this is something that’s been a part of your relationship before now, but it’s time to step it up a notch.  How?

Point out how much you admire her fashion sense, or how you like the new way he’s styling his hair.  Accentuate the positive by focusing on your child’s God-given talents.  For us, that means blocking out a chunk in our home school schedule for one child to have time for drawing and painting, as well as investing in a few supplies she needs for that.  It means driving the other to music lessons each week and figuring out how to get our hands on an instrument for practicing. Those aren’t the most convenient changes to make, but the results in self-esteem and stress relief are notable.

Be a good friend.  Peer interaction usually blossoms at this stage of development, and parents find themselves less involved in everyday life.  But what if there aren’t many friends around, or safety is a factor?  Step up and take interest in their interests.  Download good music in her style, find a shared hobby, go on mini-dates for ice cream or a walk in the park.  Despite the eye-rolling you might see when first suggesting this, teens in any culture appreciate one-on-one time with Mom or Dad.  During this time, try to put yourself more on the level of a friend, rather than discuss the chore list or bringing grades up. 

And if your teen does find a good, solid friend, facilitate time together.  As a mom here, I’m much more comfortable knowing where my girls are, so we invite their friends over, making our home youth-friendly—snacks, music, movies, space to goof off.   

Keep God’s plan front and center.  We see pornography splashed across billboards and on magazine covers at every corner.  It’s the norm for public television, which is being broadcast in practically every store we enter.  The music being played at full blast in our neighborhood and around town is full of lewd lyrics.  And men of all ages are whistling, motioning, and calling out to my girls.  This isn’t the time to go silent about sticky topics.  

Find ways to converse naturally about whatever you’re facing in your particular corner of the world.  Provide examples of a life lived well—solid movies, good books, clean music, positive role models, whatever you can to combat the frequency of exposure to “the darker side”.  And remind them every chance you get that they are unique creations with a Father who designed them just right.

What challenges do your kids face?  How have you adapted your parenting methods to cope with this? 

10 Tips for a Great Newsletter

Since our time as short-term missionaries, a regular newsletter has always been a vital part of our ministry.  A newsletter can be a great way to keep friends, family, and supporters informed about what’s going on in your world, as well as to generate excitement and a feeling of partnership in the work God’s doing around the globe.

Opinions on newsletters are as varied as the missionaries who’d write them.  I know folks who never write one, some who leave that responsibility to their mission agency, and then those who faithfully send a report out on a regular basis.  Of those who do write one, it seems this responsibility often falls to the wife.  

Obviously, we gals would like this to be streamlined into the easiest process possible, so here are a few tips I’ve learned along the way. 

1.   Use the right software.  Sure, you could just send an email to everyone you know, but if you want something that prints well and catches the eye, use a program that has a newsletter option, and get familiar with how to adjust templates to suit your needs.  Any desktop publishing programs like Word, Works, or Publisher should have a few preloaded templates, and the big guys like Microsoft Word generally have many more you can download and use.  I save my document as a pdf file when I’m done, to ensure it’s readable by all and arrives just like I formatted it.

2.  Try not to go over 2 pages.  One page is fine, but if thinking of those who’ll print your updates, you might as well take advantage of that piece of paper and fill up the back as well.  

3.  Keep the design simple and clean, conscious of those who will print or copy it.  Don’t get bogged down in background graphics or too many swirly designs or scribbly florals.  You want the content to be the main focus.  A header with the date and a catchy title or your family’s name can suffice, and then you can get creative with what you add from there.

4.    Don’t get too wordy.  A paragraph about each topic you’ll cover is fine, and if you’d like, you can include a link to your blog, where perhaps you’ve covered it in more detail. 

5.  Mix it up a bit.  Ministry stories are very important, but try to also include short personal stories, small details that give an idea of the culture you’re in, and quick updates about your family.  Photos with a caption of a sentence or two are great ways to include this information without having to write much.  And EVERYONE loves pictures.  Make a nice blend between words and photos, taking care not to arrange things on the page with some white space still visible.

6.  Include a preview of things to come so that your readers can take an active role in what’s happening, through prayer or financial support. Consider a box off to the side with a simple list of upcoming events or prayer requests.  If a previous newsletter mentioned an event, a prayer request that was answered, or a project, give a brief update.   

7.  Contact information fits nicely either in the header of the first page (if you don’t include much), or, assuming you have a front-and-back style newsletter, at the bottom of the back side.  Depending on your situation, things you might include are your email address, blog link, Skype number, mailing address, your mission organization, and information about how and where you receive financial donations.  I like to box all that up and put it at the very end.

8.  Don’t get discouraged if you don’t get to this as often as you’d like, but do try to be consistent.  Some have enough information (and time) to send out something every month, but every other month or even every quarter may work better for you.  If you get behind, just pick up where you left off and keep rolling. J

9.  Keep it positive.  This isn’t the time to lament the woes of mission life, but time to thank your supporters for their involvement in your ministry, time to make your world come alive to them, time to put God in the spotlight.  Sure, be truthful, but remain inspiring rather than depressing.  If you need to share the down side and seek specific prayer for serious matters, you might consider making a separate, much smaller mailing list and use it on an as-needed basis.

10.  I send our newsletter out from our basic email box, although you could use one of the mass mailing companies set up for just this sort of thing.  MailChimp seems to be a popular one with both paid and free options.  Include a simple note of greeting and attach the newsletter file to that.  Your note should thank the folks back home for sharing the newsletter with those they think might be interested.   I like to include a request to pastors to print and post the newsletter on their bulletin boards or share with members who aren’t likely to follow our blog online.  You might also include something like “In this issue, …”  with a few highlights of what’s inside, as incentive to actually open the file and read it.  If it's appropriate, publish it online at a site like Scribd, and include a link to that on your blog.

Do you send out regular newsletters?  Why or why not?  Who writes them?  Do you have some tips for their creation or distribution?  

Not Measuring Up

Sometimes it is blatantly obvious that I don't fit in here.  I clearly don't have the skin or hair of my neighbors, but neither do I have their habits.

A few days ago, we took a Skype call in the wee hours of the morning.  It wasn't the wee hour in California, where they were making the call, but here, we were pretty zonked waiting for 2 AM to roll around.  Needless to say, it was really late by the time we went to bed.

An early morning visitor at the gate seemed to come just a few minutes after I'd closed my eyes.  I'd normally ignore it, thinking it was just a door-to-door salesman, but their persistence made me think it was an emergency.

I grabbed my robe and unlocked the front door, hair all crazy, eyes puffy, all the while freaking out that I'd been "caught" sleeping in.  Women rise before the sun here, and I could already imagine the thoughts in their minds before I even opened the door.  "Lazy foreigner.  Does she just sleep all day?"

It turned out to be a couple of government agency gals sent out to poison any standing water in our community because of a dengue outbreak.  They wanted to inspect the inside of my house and our back yard.  WHAT?!?!  For real?

I almost had a panic attack at the thought of not being able to prepare before letting them inside.  Paraguayan women have a very high standard when it comes to floors. If they live in a home with a concrete or tiled floor, it WILL be mopped and shined at least once a day.  If their living area is a dirt floor or simply the yard, then they will have swept that yard so clean that no grass grows and the dirt is packed tight like concrete.

As these girls were looking around our home, taking notes on that official clipboard then tilting it slightly so I couldn't read it, I was just sure it said, "No standing water.  Adequate drainage.  Dirty floor.  Unkempt yard.  Lazy.  Sleeps too late."

Truth is, I've never had to live off the land, so I don't rise when the sun does, nor do I sleep when it goes down.  In fact, my body rebels against this heat so badly that I reserve most of my manual labor until the sun is long gone.  And homeschooling two high schoolers doesn't leave much time for daily floor scrubbing, which, considering our dog, would have to be done several times a day to keep a Paraguayan-style shine.  Nor do I have much skill in whipping up a totally-from-scratch meal several times per day.

So I can either let this drive me crazy, exhaust me from trying to "do it all," or go for option 3.  I'll take door #3, Monty. I laugh about the areas I don't measure up and let them poke fun at what they consider my laziness.  I ask for their advice on recipes and housecleaning.  I let them see my embarrassment as I humbly reveal my inadequacies.   I defer to them and choose to be teachable, so that they understand we are on level ground.

And do you know what I've found?  That these shy, closed people who see themselves as inferior to neighboring countries, who have had not-so-positive experiences with foreigners in the past, view me as a peer rather than an authority. Someone they can let in to their circle. Someone who needs help and isn't afraid to admit it.  Someone who came to teach and to learn.

They let down their guard, that protective stance that expects me to tell them that what they're doing is all wrong.  And the door opens to friendships that give access to more important things than cooking and cleaning and what time I wake up.

Most gladly, therefore, I will rather boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in  me.  1 Cor 12:9b

Do you ever struggle with living up to the expectations of your neighbors?  Folks "back home"?  Other missionaries?  How could God use your weaknesses for His glory?

Judge Not...

[Note from Phyllis: Christie is our newest writer. Please welcome her! Her bio is up on the contributors page now.]


I wish I could say that boarding that first flight out of the country automatically wipes out those ugly things that shouldn't be in the heart of any Christian, but I can’t.  One of the nasty gremlins that pokes its head up from time to time is a tendency to be judgmental, which can lead to bitterness if it’s allowed to stick around.

For those of us who've experienced first-hand how “the rest of the world” lives, dealing with our fellow Christians in the home country can be tough.  I have a tendency to get very frustrated, very impatient, with their petty grievances about what I deem to be unnecessary things.  I don’t always tolerate the drama over things that seem so trivial. 

It can show up on furlough, when good friends invite you to an expensive restaurant, call all the wait staff by name, and order the usual.   You've always avoided asking them directly for support, because, well, you’re good friends and that’d just be awkward.  While you’re praying that their invitation meant they’re picking up the tab (it didn't), they’re going on and on about how they admire those on the foreign mission field and just wish they could afford to support you monthly.

Or you visit your home church and hear there was a split over the color of the brand-new carpet, with half the church now congregating at First Other Temple up the street.  And you think about church service under the mango tree in your service country, or people living in dirt-floored huts, or why the home-church folks even bothered replacing the practically new carpet anyway?  Something in the missionary brain is wired to make instant calculations of all the things exorbitant amounts of money could buy on the field, or how many months of support that would work out to be.

Sometimes you don’t even have to be stateside to have this gremlin bite you.  Facebook and those let-me-fill-you-in-on-life emails are great places to find all sorts of things with potential to drive you crazy.

So how can we avoid this ugly, reverse form of culture shock? 

1.  Recognize that most people who haven’t LIVED in another culture won’t understand where you’re coming from.  Their level of exposure to real poverty may only be those starving orphan commercials that come on late at night.  I’m sure you can remember a time when you weren't as aware of the rest of the planet either—times you did things that make you cringe now.  We’re all at different places in this journey, so allow your brothers and sisters some grace if they just don’t “get it”.

2.  Share about your life.  Well, as much as you can.  It’s not cool to be “that missionary” who can turn every conversation around to a story about life on the field, and keeps a photo slide show on his phone to show everyone he meets.  But don’t reserve stories about everyday life only for your PowerPoint presentations, either.  Share bits and pieces with friends over coffee, show pictures when someone seems interested. And share about specific needs and projects that might cause your friends and church mates to get excited about what you’re doing.

3.  Don’t mistake their lives for superficial just because they aren't ministering in a far-off land.  Maybe Cousin Bob’s calling is to evangelize the guys at his job, and his shiny new iPhone is necessary for that job.  Maybe Little Susie’s going to be the next John Tesh, so refrain from telling her mom that in underdeveloped nations, the cost of those piano lessons would feed a whole family for a month.  

As un-fun as it is sometimes, we knew we were going to be living on donations when we signed up for this, and it’s not Susie’s mom or Cousin Bob’s fault that our ministry field looks different than theirs.  Nor does it make their ministry less valid than ours.  Recognize that God could be using their assets in another area for the kingdom, and that’s okay.

Are there things that cause this little gremlin to pop up in you?  How do you keep him from making himself at home?