Monday, February 10, 2020

Heellloo?

I'm not even going to apologize for the long absence here...how many times do I say I will revive the blog and not do it will you still believe me? Are you still there? 


If you are, thank you for your loyalty and your prayers. 

I still write blog posts in my head, during the morning hours when creativity oozes through but I'm juggling morning school, rowdy toddlers and marveling how quickly everything is a mess, every day. When I get to a window of space in my day, the only inspiration I have is to power nap and fold laundry. 

But tonight, after the gentle prompting of a friend (thanks Margo) our littles are in bed, Jon is trying to teach Rummikub to the bigs (bless him) and I've settled knowing this tired brain won't etch out a riveting piece, but rather a signal across the miles, "Heeeellllooo, I'm still here!" 

Since arriving back on Ethiopian soil, we've been able to host at our new house, attend a conference in Addis Ababa and visit our old village neighborhood. 

It was amazingly sweet to be back in Injibara.

And though all of the pictures on this post are from this time, also incredibly sweet to feel roots beginning to push deeper into our Bahir Dar soil.

The words beneath the pictures aren't captions, just the scattered last paragraph

We are working out new rhythms and routines. 

The girls and I have our first chance to teach an English speaking preschool at the Grace Center, something we hope to do on a weekly basis

As we walk familiar trails, we also find new ones.

4th grade moves forward and in the midst of travels, we are behind but hopeful to keep learning about this great, big world around us. 

With these hooligans in tow, making everything so much harder and so much cuter.

We stretch into our new season, praying to be effective in our new community as well as how to reach to our Awi community.

This week, a sick, pregnant friend (not pictured) will stay with us. She is not well and I need prayer for wisdom, compassion, energy and language as we support her. Pray God opens her eyes to him.

Thank you all for the ways you love us and so faithfully pray.

Praise God he is able!



Friday, November 29, 2019

Can He Be Enough?

Our bigs, J and A, joined me in the kitchen. As A came near she asked, "Mom, who is going back with us?"

"You mean to Ethiopia? It is just going to be our six."

She flung herself into a chair, obviously anxious.
"But Moooooomm, can't anyone come? Can't you find a girl who wants to be with us? It will just be us in our new house where we don't know anybody!"

I took a deep breath and calmly launched into my mom voice, "Girls, I know it is going to be hard and we are starting over in a new community, and after so much time with family and friends, we will feel lonely, me too. Do you believe God can be enough for us?"

The answer came quickly to my mind because it is what I've been begging our Father. We know He is enough but in the midst of so much transition and change, we grasp at what feels good and comfortable and scramble away from the impending grief of uprooting again.

My challenge to the girls has been echoing in my head.

"Do I believe God can be enough for me?"

We leave during the night of December 3rd, full of excitement, nerves, some dread, joy and some fear.

And we know God is enough. Pray with us that we never forget this truth.

When I went to pull up pictures on Jon's computer, I can only be thankful the littles are toddlers and not infants, and get hungry for Ethiopian food. My one indulgent throwback picture.

I rest in this truth. God is enough.

He is enough for our children.

He is enough for our preteen stage.

He is enough for our jet lag and sleepless that comes.

He is enough for each moment to come.

Father, help us believe. 





Thursday, May 16, 2019

Never Once


Never Once
Matt Redman

Standing on this mountaintop
Looking just have far we've come
Knowing that for every step
You were with us

Kneeling on this battle ground
Seeing just how much You've done
Knowing every victory 
Was your power in us

Scars and struggles on the way
But with joy our hearts can say
Yes, our hearts can say

Never once did we ever walk alone
Never once did You leave us on our own
You are faithful, God, You are faithful



Friday, April 19, 2019

"He Doesn't Hear My Prayers"

The mood was heavy and dark as we sat in the dimly lit hut. Once again, the family was without food and had no ability to change it. Their hard work of planting seedlings and daily watering won’t come to profit until June and that doesn’t fill the hungry bellies now. Their three wells, even the newly dug one, are dried up and along with it, their hope. They are tired, even their little ones are sluggish with dull eyes. 

After making provision for the family’s immediate future, I took our four kiddos back home while Jon and Misikir (visiting from Addis) stayed behind. As they peered with the family into the dried and crumbling wells, Misikir offered a humble prayer to God for rain and provision for the family. It’s not the season for rain, we’re through the short rains, and have over a month before the long rains start. 

Last night, it started to rain, slow and steady through the night. Jon visited the family again this morning and the wife told Jon, “Yes, God answers prayers for you and for Misikir. He doesn’t answer my prayers”.  I have time to type now as we had to bump off our afternoon invite and the drum of heavy rain on the tin roof warns us to hold off on the hike. It's raining, again. Pounding, pouring, heavy rain. Updated to add, as we walk, wet under our umbrellas, I asked why Jon hadn't told me they prayed this as I have sent all our rain boots and rain jackets ahead to our new home in Bahir Dar. We pass neighbors who exclaim, "What is happening?! Suddenly the rain is upon us!" and "This is a gift of God!" I pass the house of our friend with the empty wells. She is standing under her tin awning. We laugh across the distance and I yell, "God was thinking of you when he sent the rains to bless us all." She smiles and laughs, her eyes twinkling.  

Praise God with us for the miraculous change in weather and ask God with us for hope to be known and felt within our community. 

I sat today with open Bibles with several women, rejoicing in the glorious opposites we get to celebrate and praying God turns hearts of stone into hearts of flesh. 

Our Easter isn’t until next week but what a picture, Friday during Holy Week is called “the hanging” in Amharic. What a day it was. A day when darkness, lies and fear ruled, when a day like Sunday seemed impossible. But Sunday is coming and the opposite will come, Light, Truth and Love wins. 

Thank you, Jesus.


Monday, April 15, 2019

On The Horizon


Home Assignment is around the corner. We will celebrate Easter here, butcher and prepare 5 sheep (and chop 100+ pounds of onions) as we farewell our community (goodbyes and moving is not my thing) and then move and spend the last three weeks in May, settling into our new city. The month of June we will be in Addis Ababa (AA) wrapping up things in the capital and then spend the last half of the month visiting friends on a vacation before a conference/retreat designed for counseling and refreshment of cross-cultural workers. We are praising God for this provision as I’m feeling…just a second…I am trying to think of the right, honest word…tattered?…no, too alarming…tired? Not adequate…Let's just say, ”I'm not at my peak”. The past two years in Ethiopia have been full of challenge and abundance, God’s miraculous provision never absent. A constant stalwart and strength through our weakness.
Knocking to-do's off our bucket list, like movie night in the hut.
Tiger and Miss T love the shepherd life for about an hour.

 I feel like our trip back to the USA is our “finish line”, like I just need to keep pushing and not stop and make it there but in reality, it's another “start line”, getting through jet lag, with a strong desire to build memories, acclimate, snuggle nieces and nephews (we have four little ones in our immediate families we have never yet met), share with friends and churches what God is doing, pack in two-years of doctor, eye, dentist and other appointments, and eat so many yummy foods and doing this while feeling a little “green”. 

From a previous post:

Let’s assign the USA a color,yellow.
Before, we thought yellow, we dreamedyellow, we were yellow.
We love yellow.

For the sake of the illustration, Ethiopia isblue.
We now partake in many blueevents, we eat blue, try to understand blue, and where appropriate, we are trying to beblue.
We love blue.

And we come out a nice shade of green.  
One foot in two worlds, straddling both, trying to juggle in spite of our awkward fumbles, leaving us feeling a bit out of sync in both.

Before a home assignment years ago I wrote “My Kids Might Call You Fat” when I wrote about our cultural combination, I see now it's amplified now as Tiger and Miss T were so young when they came and as our time has lengthened here, we aren't sure which way is "home".  Miss T is the most Ethiopian of our family and huts are her dream scene. Animals underfoot, people feeding her in every direction. The other three love it as well but are less comfortable being the center of attention in group settings. 
Not everyone can climb a staircase to the attic and watch whoever is on the toilet or doing  laundry.
The strength of my neighbor women will always amaze me.

Exploring spaces, finding monkeys and bee hives.




A loaded plaster truck crashed nearby and J and A were so excited for "snow!".  Sorry for your Easter snow. 
And our focused, intent son started to fold diapers like a boss. He won't talk during it, he is so focused.
Blankie rides

We are hosting a KIBIR Retreat here and while wiffleball isn't on the schedule, it's always fun to teach and learn new games. 
It's started. They are raiding my clothes and wearing my t-shirts.

Church and time together in prayer
Thank you all for your capacity to care about us and our neighbors. 

Wednesday, April 10, 2019

That Holy Space

I am walking through a season of grief, of learning and repenting (maybe more to come on the learning and repenting later :)).  I’m searching to find purpose in the moments and realize they may just wash over me and I ask God for deep roots in Him that I may stand firm. It’s a hard space but it’s holy and sacred as I again acutely see my weakness, my complicity in patterns of this world and my heart so quick to stray from the Words of truth and hope. 

There is a sense of urgency in my mind as my tired arms go through the motions of life. (Does anyone else feel like as soon as you get dishes done it’s time for another meal prep?) But I am reminded here in these mundane things that there is no time to waste, no time to not consecrate to God. If you are a soccer mom, use that holy space to proclaim hope and love to all those around you. If you are in a stage of diapers or the time of cubicles, there are people all around you, yearning for the hope that we have as children of God, disciples of Jesus, radiating from us. 

Additionally, as we wrap up our time in our village, I visualize a deep and fleshy root system, being ripped from the soil and slowly, trying to carefully unwind roots that are entangled with others. It’s hard but by God's grace, I press into this holy space.  

And on another topic, I never posted pictures of Jake and Meika's visit! It was such a sweet time.  Here's a captionless smattering of photos. Someday, I am going to get all organized with pictures but not today. ;)
























Sending love across the miles.