Wednesday, September 10, 2014
Back to School 2014
James, Joel & Anna are heading back to school and growing up entirely too fast for my taste! Anna is becoming quite the chapter book reader and can't wait to start cursive and multiplication. Joel is honing his writing skills and still loves drawing dragons in his free time. James is learning about organizing several different subjects and teachers into one 3-ring binder.
Joel turned 10 this summer and for a week was as tall as his older brother! His feet are a full size bigger already, but James shot up another inch or two. It won't be easy to pass him! All three enjoyed lots of swimming lessons and pool time this summer, but we are all looking forward to some cooler weather!
They all join Mom for BSF on Monday nights again this year and have grown so much. This year is Life of Moses, which James and I began several years ago before moving mid-year back to Congo. It will be fun to finish the study in one place!
The dust is settling. The moving boxes are all finally gone. The last suitcases are finally unpacked. And we're feeling more and more at home, even if we will never feel like Texans!
Monday, July 7, 2014
Cultural Indications
Joshua 3:17 was our rock of comfort. Israel was nervous. They were crossing into the Promised Land after 40 years of wandering, knowing that strong enemies were likely waiting for them. A new land. It's scary. We were only moving five people. They were moving thousands. God doesn't just send them swimming. He doesn't have them construct boats. He goes before them. He plans ahead and provides before their very eyes. The Ark of the Covenant passed into the middle of the Jordan river "while all Israel crossed on dry ground" as the slimy, rockbed turned into firm, dry ground. With each provision we would cheer, "Dry ground!"
For years we have moved. Migrants. Nomads. Seventeen times in fifteen years. You'd think we would get better at it! Texas is yet another culture for us. We've spent decades on the West Coast. We've spent years in Kenya and Congo and France, Kent even knows China, but Texas? And it's not different just because people say "all y'all" or "fixin to", it's how people drift across freeway lanes like they're ice skating in circles around you. Blinkers? Nope. It's how there is an understood but invisible social network. It's how you have to water a house's foundation and drive 10 over the speed limit. It's how 100 degrees for months on end is normal, and the plants that thrive are all foreign to us. It's all new.
But He goes before us.
And made us to walk across on dry ground!
Thursday, August 29, 2013
Out to Coffee
I didn't have much time for filling you all in here, but thankfully got to see so many and 'do coffee' to talk about all God has been doing in us and in you since we last met. It is good.
And if we were 'Out to Coffee' right now, I would continue singing. Singing the song that is his Faithfulness and Love for us in the here and now. These are a few of the verses of our song:
That when Joel needed men's sized extra wide sneakers for his new PE class, they just happened to show up at the missionary barrel in just his size.
That when James was feeling alone, some new friends from Co-op just happened to call and invited him over for the day.
That when Anna needed closure with her best friend from Congo, ticket prices were cheap, we traveled safely and laughed and cried for a week.
That when Kent needed a reliable car, desk, ladder, etc. we found them all right away on craigslist for less than they are really worth.
That when Kim unpacked the random boxes from storage, the random bags from the missionary barrel, and the random suitcases of our gear, 14 years of stuff started to 'match'!
That Kim's dream of working with Congolese refugee women here in Dallas will start tonight as a church right in our neighborhood just happens to have such an outreach.
It is a good song.
I hope you can sing it with us.
Maybe write a few verses of your own.
Monday, June 25, 2012
Bye Bye Baby Tooth
| Sheer bliss of the long-awaited |
| Absolutely thrilled to be growing up! |
Sunday, May 20, 2012
Nostalgia & Pain - Part II
More to say.
More to chew on.
When my Maasai friend hadn't seen someone in months, he 'greets' for a LONG time. He 'chews the news'. So join me in chewing on some thoughts...
Yes, I dread moving again. Ironic for a missionary. I lost track after 15 moves... It's pure selfishness. Moving takes so much work. Not just physical lifting of boxes. It's the months of goodbyes and hellos, the emotional work of moving that exhausts me.
I used to think it would get easier.
But it doesn't.
Talk to any veteran missionary who has lived in tens of countries.
They will confirm that moving doesn't get easier.
That's not part of the deal.
Stability and familiarity are sacrificed.
Amy Charmichael often writes on themes of sacrifice. [Check out her life if you haven't already.] Her poem 'Hast Thou No Scar?' hit me like a ton of bricks, especially this line:
Last week as I 'chewed' on sacrifice, this post came to my mailbox. Impeccable timing really. Hard things are good. Good for us like medicine.
Ann writes:
The surrendered accept that pain is always but growing pains.
And growth is always a gift — even when trials are the tutor.
Wait! Doesn't that mean that pain is essentially a gift?
I could spend a decade trying to wrap my mind around James 1:2
face trials of many kinds..."
Pure joy? Trials?!
It's the paradoxes, the puzzles, in Scripture that make me fascinated, curiously digging for how that WORKS. Then falling on my face in awe, because I will never fully uncover the whole of it. God's ways are so much higher than I can grasp.
During a dark season in my life this song was produced by Indelible Grace, using the words of John Newton from 1779. It is not fast, but the words require reflection. Note: The end is the best, but it won't make much sense if you don't go through each verse in order.
Those were dark days for me, but God used them greatly and I wouldn't trade them to go back to where I started out. I needed to go through them to get to today, and I am truly thankful for the difficult things (at least in retrospect).
So how are trials a cause for pure joy? Knowing they grow us should be cause for joy. But even when I can't see or even imagine ahead to the good, I can remember that I follow in the footsteps of wounded feet.
The scars and sacrifices are gifts of devotion. When something hurts. When my kids bear the wounds of moving away from friend after friend. When my wedding momentos are lost by the airline. When we get tropical illnesses that may never heal. When we can't attend a family funeral. Life hurts.
I imagine boxing up all this pain. The pain of what is missing. I box it up carefully tucking it in, put a pretty ribbon on top, and lay it at my Savior's feet. Lord this hurts, but I have given it up for You. Please accept this gift. Gifts worth giving have to cost you something, right?
Honestly, I recognize the grief and grit of moving across the world over and over are not among the most painful things on earth. It's not cancer or violence. My gift looks small compared to others.
Whatever little sacrifices you are making?
They are beautiful gifts too.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Where the Wild Things Are
I still do not recommend two consecutive overnight flights with a long Heathrow layover in between, but we seem to have mastered the art of getting a napping couch in a busy airport. =) Besides, we got to meet the police squad in between snoozes after Joel left his backpack unattended on the other side of the couches. =)
There was a classic moment of panic when the policeman, who strolled up with Joel's bag, asked me for ID. I don't know if it was the fact that I hadn't slept more than 3 hours in the past 27, or that we had walked several miles to get to the napping-couch-section with 3 kids in tow, but I couldn't come up with my ID for anything. Kent had our passports, and he had gone to the security desk to inquire about the very bag elusively floating between two tall policemen and myself. It was a bit surreal. "I know this looks bad, Officer, I just can't find my ID right now." Strangely enough, I could recount every item INSIDE the bag and could probably give an approximate replacement value... Mommy brain at its best. Fortunately, the police had pity on my groggy self and the repentant 6-yr-old at my side and gave us the bag anyway. Grace.
We are back to Where the Wild Things Are! Home in Congo. Our yard had gorgeous 6-ft sunflowers all over, our basil looked more like a bush, and the marigolds spelling 'welcome' had grown waist-high! I LOVE being warm! Our kids are thrilled to romp in the backyard in sandals and shorts and we are eating as many mangoes as possible. =)
In the past 4 days, we got mostly unpacked, got a swing up in the loquat tree, welcomed our two puppies to their new home, got a little sunburned and failed miserably at sleeping on a schedule. Our house is very dusty and many things are needing to be done to get us back in working order, but we are safely and happily home!
Even had 3 monkeys up on our roof this afternoon!
Wild.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Adios amigos!
We are packing up and weighing bags.
Our overnight international flights leave in 3 short days.
The 'stuff of our life' carefully divided into 50-lb. increments.
God has used this past few months for his glory. He has loved and showered us with blessings over and over. He has answered some medical questions for us. We (once again) leave behind some precious new friends knowing that we will see them all again one place or other.
It's always hardest to leave our family. They pay a higher price than we do. I'm getting a tougher skin, having done this a few times now already. What turns me back into a puddle is watching my kids' tearful goodbyes. I read somewhere that if you feel pain upon parting, it is the proof that you have loved well.
So my kids have loved well and been loved, and while it feels like an end, it is just the space between chapters. This chapter is about written, and the next one is coming soon.
Goodbye homeland, land of sunbreaks, land of berries, land of connectivity and electricity, land of English-speakers, land of snowy mountains in the distance. See you again in a couple years. Sunshine - here we come!
We appreciate your prayers for us 5 traveling through 10 time zones with our 17 pieces of luggage. Next post will be from the other side of the pond!
Monday, April 4, 2011
The Vortex
I think it's supposed to be something that sucks you in whether you like it or not.
Like you're going down the drain.
A wild and powerful force
on the edge of uncontrollable.
Five weeks remain until we hit the friendly skies once again. The to-do lists are growing everyday with things to stock up on, de-plastify, carefully weigh in 50-lb. increments, and insure for the long-haul. Random things on my shopping list to give you the gist:
Bag zapper tennis rackets
Craisins
Multi-vitamins that expire after 2013
Math curriculum for 2012-2013 school year
4 laptops for Kent's work
If only I could buy me some peaceful TIME to do all this shopping...
'The experts', not sure who they are exactly, say that to completely unpack your emotional bags to live in a different place takes about SIX MONTHS. So, this time around, at only 5, we knew we wouldn't get that far. Trouble is, over the last wonderful 12 years together, we've only passed 6 months in the same house a few times. So this THING. This process of folding up your life in packable bits, moving it across the world... or across town, and unfolding it once again... This process is TRANSITION. And it is where we live.
In one of our orientation classes, a wise instructor gave us a gift.
A piece of paper really.
It's our emotional road map.
It lays out the emotional process of transition.
First, the folding up and shutting down.
Then the chaos in between.
Finally, the unfolding...
making mistakes.
Learning to trust.
Again.
We hang that roadmap on our bathroom door and often look at it and find ourselves in our relative processes. Such a relief to know that anxiety at this stage is normal. We have gotten to the point of taking it down once or twice, but usually it just lives on the bathroom door. Pointing us to the path ahead. Making our exit. Making our entrance. This path we walk... in transition. Following in dusty, bloodied footprints. Putting off the old life. Putting on the new. Maybe it's just good practice...
I call TRANSITION a vortex, because it seems to suck you in without asking. It feels like everything is powerfully out of control.
But it isn't.
This whirlwind of moving chaos has limits.
God holds it in his hands and does not let us spin out of control. He keeps our hearts pumping, minds thinking, friends praying. He holds us close. All else in the material world is packed, shipped or tossed away.
But we will always have HIM. And He is far more powerful than our little vortex.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Anyway, James remembered lots of things right away, being the oldest. So he knew all about drinking fountains, restrooms with air blowers, automatic toilets and faucets, city parks, even remembered how to work a vacuum cleaner and that the bakery ladies at Fred Meyer have free cookies! Joel, on the other hand, mostly remembered family members and friends. He was old enough to understand we are here temporarily and moving around a bit, so he's along for the (fun) ride.
Then there's Anna, who was only just 2 when we left and really didn't remember much of anything about our fast-paced, tasty, cold double life.
More on our adjustments to come...
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Photologue: Lake Albert

Waiting for our paperwork to get processed, many people gathered around to see the 'white kids'. One mother even passed her baby in the window to sit a few minutes on Joel's lap. Our guide told us if the kids shook our hand, they would refuse to wash it all day long...




(Thank you Rachel for the sunglasses!)
We love our little water proof camera, but it got a little fogged up over the lake.You can probably still see this guy having lunch right by the road!


It was long, but worth it with this waiting on the other end:
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Travelogue: Lake Albert
It's a fascinating place!
Sorry - no hippos in sight...
Here's the play-by-play:
The first leg of the trip was in a car with a cousin of a friend who is also the head of a local NGO. He was wonderful to talk to! He has so many interesting ideas about why things fail here and how to help them change. We really enjoyed the ride into his hometown, meeting some of his friends, and hearing about his work to help the physically disabled people in this region gain tools and experience to live well in their own homes with their own families. Right where they are. Working with what they have. Instead of lamenting and importing what feels lacking.
He drove us to a private beach location where we transferred bags from car to boat, used the outhouse and gooped up on sunscreen. We had hoped to 'set sail' (it was really a motorboat) before the sun got hot, but we ended up embarking at 10:30am with the sun already heating up. The cool wind made the trip gorgeous! The water was somewhat warm, we all buckled up in our deluxe life jackets complete with reflectors and whistles. The kids, of course, had to try out the emergency whistles... Yep, they work!
There were three people sitting across the boat and three benches to sit on. Kent and I sat on the first one, then the three kiddos in the middle and three local ladies behind them. In the middle of the trip I could understand the ladies were debating about which of our boys was the eldest or whether they were twins. I cleared up their misconceptions and shared our gingersnaps. What else could I do? Joel had just reached in the water and accidentally soaked one of them with his splashing.
Anna was hysterical when she sat down and felt the boat rocking. She was inconsolable until allowed to grip my hand with white knuckles. Once the motor started and we had wind and a view she shouted nervously, "I love this!!" You will get a kick out of the pictures we took of her in her sunhat, shades and life jacket gripping my hand for dear life. The boys are seasoned travelers by now I guess. They seemed nervous the days before, but were excellent and confident when we got to the boat. We all had fun spotting different water foul. We tried not to be concerned that the 'copilot' of the outboard motor was occasionally bailing water. What could I expect from a handmade boat? I knew we were in the best possible hands and left it at that.
We lost an hour somewhere in the middle of the lake and it became high noon. Amazing that all that warm water will travel north to Sudan, Ethiopia and Egypt!
I've never seen a lake that had bits of floating vegetation everywhere. Lots of lily pad-like things. And the occasional pretty purple flowers. Fun to see all the dugout fishing boats too. Up to this point our trip was really glorious (not only because we always travel better in the mornings). I shouted over to Kent, "People pay big money to go boating on a day like this!" I felt like a yuppi crossing Lake Washington. Our 2-hour tour across the southern tip of the lake only took 1hour, 40 minutes and there was little wind to splash us. The country we were entering is, generally, much more organized and wealthier, so I mistakenly assumed it was clear sailing from here on out...
First of all, when we beached the dugout boat... yes, I say 'beached' because we got in at a 'real dock' and now landed in a lily pad marsh on a patch of sand... there were no signs or buildings. There were a couple of enormous trucks (lorries) full of bottled water and other goods for transit and eventual sale getting loaded one man at a time into a much bigger transport boat. They were handmade boats the size of a city bus, and couldn't get very close to shore. So laborers were hired to cart 2-3 boxes of goods on their heads from the back of the trucks into the warm lakewater chest deep where someone would drag them onto the boats. Quite an interesting sight really.
Anyway, once we were beached, the only way out involved a foot or two of lakewater and lilypads. No big deal in your swimsuit among friends, but disconcerting with 3 kids, 6 suitcases and 30 strangers. Some of the laborers came right over to lift us out. That didn't look like a good option to me. One of the local ladies told them "Hakuna pesa" (no money) over and over, so I assumed this hauling of people was a paid position. Kent climbed over the suitcases and was able to jump to the sand more or less. James and Joel followed. One of the kind ladies lifted Anna over there (who resumed her freaking out now that my hand was not attached to hers anymore), and there I stood in the boat gently rocking in the lapping waves.
So I did what I have seen my courageous mother do many times, rolled up my sleeves (pants in my case) and jumped in with both feet! =) It felt nice on my feet actually. I tossed my shoes to dry land first. I think I shocked those 30 strangers. Unfortunately, the immigration process waiting for us had nothing better to do all day and took a long time and was not friendly in the least. But soon enough we were piled in a taxi sedan and driving toward our destination. We were by this time about 2 hours later than we wanted to be.
Our route took us through a portion of game park, or wildlife preserve. It was fun hearing the driver's stories about seeing the lions sleeping on the road at night. We saw gazelle and other deer-like thing in abundance. I would want to live here if I was a lion too! But we didn't see him with our own eyes. Just his meal for tomorrow. We also saw a mother warthog with her babies next to the road. The car drew closer and she just took off, leaving them to fend for themselves! What a mom.
We wound our way through the Ruwenzori Mountains, which reminded me a bit of the foothills of the Cascades and more closely the mountains in northwestern Cameroon. People would work the land at a 60 or 70 degree angle, which amazes me! Lush green hills with wide dusty dirt tracks sliced through steep valleys. It was beautiful!! There were even a species of evergreen - in the tropics! Apparently, these mountains do actually get snow occasionally in April. Who knew?
We arrived to meet our bus connection to find that it had just left. Our options were staying the night and waiting a day, hopping a small van taxi or hiring our current driver to continue on. We opted for the last option after a quick stop to buy more water at a real grocery store! Pavement and grocery stores - civilization itself!
Alfred the taximan was nice. Kent and the kids sacked out for a nap in the back and he and I discussed life in the front seat as we drove. There are few drivers I am comfortable with as a front-seat passenger, but Alfred was good! He knew the roads well and that helps immensely. He knew when we would see road construction and truck after truck rolled by with Chinese sprawled across the front. He knew when to gun it and make up the time. He was careful with his car and I appreciated it.
It took us a long time. It was a long afternoon. We didn't pull into town until well after dark, just in time for rush hour traffic! And he didn't know the unlit roads well in the city. I began to pray that God would somehow guide us there without even ONE wrong turn as it was really late for the kids. We called our friends for directions as we neared their house. We couldn't find the Total gas station they referred to, but decided to pull off the road a bit to get better directions. As it turns out, the road we were sitting on was the very one we needed! We found their house and minutes later were chowing down homemade lasagna and taking hot showers! Not one wrong turn!!
Driving ourselves last time took about 16 hours, which for us is best spread over two days. This time with the boat over the lake we were hoping would take only 12 hours. We ended up taking 14, but were really slowed down by the whole missing-the-bus decision. Anyway, we are glad to have done it at least once! I probably still prefer the airplanes in 68 minutes or less to be honest. And I won't say I'm sorry we didn't see any hippos or crocodiles. I didn't really want to anyway. We waved to them all the same!
Pictures will come once my better half returns in the camera cord! =)
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Weekend Getaway
Believe it or not this was the road on a good day. On our way home it was more like a mud pit. It left me thinking of Mr. Darcy 'What is 50 miles of good road?'
A carepackage with candy necklaces made the trip quite tasty for some of us.
Joel + Termite Mound = Happy Climber
...now you know where whole trees go when they are taken over by termites!
We were staying with a couple who have lots of history working here. They have returned to help build up what used to be a huge mission station for this region. Everything was still pretty gutted after 2 years of military occupation. Rebuilding is slow.
Left us thinking about what we can leave behind.
It was lovely to listen to the different songs of birds we don't here over the mosque next door and to stay up late learning to play Rook. Other highlights were getting to ride their little 4-wheelers and gorge ourselves on cinnamon rolls!














