A last look at our last home!

What a mess.  If I said it once I said it a thousand times.  It is quite fascinating how much filth can be found in a house when there is nothing in it.  The cupboards were empty and the floors were unfurnished, but somehow there was as much to clean as when we lived there.

There were no radios or TV’s to serve as my soundtrack – just a pile of rags, my chemical collection, and the sound of my own humming.  I decided to start in the living room since there was the least amount to do there; just wipe blinds and clean baseboards.  Halfway around the room as I approached the opening to the kitchen, I encountered a portion of wall just above the trim that was scantily painted.  There was a fiber from the paintbrush still stuck in the paint and I could see the strokes had ‘ebbed and flowed’ for about 12 inches, ending in a glossy glob.  “What a mess,” I thought.  And then I laughed…I remember painting that trim.  I remember because Brian and I defined our painting roles in that room; I, stick to the big white spaces between the trim and the ceiling and he, to cut in the seams and baseboards.  How offended I had been at the time!  What did he think, that I couldn’t handle doing a good job at the detail points?   I’ll show HIM! Hmmm…hopefully he never saw this section of proof for his case.

In all my cleaning expertise, I continued into the kitchen and determined to start at the top and work my way down.  That way, all the dust and crumbs would fall to the floor and I could just vacuum at the very end.  I quickly worked through the cupboards where I used to store my plates and cups and moved on to the spice cabinet.  Standing on the counter to be sure I reached the top of every crack and hinge, I began to wipe down the inside of the door.  “What a mess,” I said to myself again, now enjoying the inside joke I’d established with myself.  Tomato sauce!  Actually, boiled tomato puree, to be exact.  This time, audible laughter erupted when I remembered how long that must have been there.  It was before we even had kids and Brian’s brother was living with us.  I was on a kick – an eat-healthy-and-well kick and that night I was making homemade tomato bisque.  The directions said to boil the cooked tomatoes until the chicken stock was reduced by half – then transfer to a blender.  What the directions failed to mention (and, I might add, neither of my spectators chimed in until after the fact) was that boiling tomatoes tend to…uh, erupt….if blended while still at their boiling point.  I dropped in three tomatoes and bit of sauce and sealed the lid (and my fate) on the blender.  Ka-Blooey!  All three of us just stared at each other before falling out laughing at what that moment must have looked like from the outside!  What a mess…the ceiling, the cupboards and the cook…covered in bisque lava.

After completing the upper cupboards I hurried through a few lowers that hardly showed use at all and stopped again at the set nearest the patio door.  Here there was no mess, but I could recall many a mess coming OUT of that cabinet!  This one is where I kept the kids plates, bowls, and cups.  Tons of neon colored dishes with corresponding leftover-lids.  I remember like yesterday when Isaac first came home and would empty that entire cupboard and crawl inside.  In my earlier (and wiser and more patient and more mature) parenting days, I would smile and say to myself “If I don’t put them away, he’ll miss the fun of dumping them out!”  In the not so distant past, however, there was less smiling and more barking at my two boys to “put their own mess away before we all break our necks”.

Empty and bare!! sniff sniff

By the time I finally reached the floors I was beginning to get that “feeling”.  When a pattern begins to emerge in my life I can tell that the Lord is getting ready to speak.  I got this feeling that some “ah-ha” moment was approaching and began to speculate as to what He could possibly be teaching me while up to my elbows in 6 years of life-dust.  It wasn’t until I arrived at the little powder room (I just have to say as the mother of two little boys it makes me laugh to call it that) that the Lord finally spoke His piece.  I was reminiscing of all the “messes” this room hosted, and was somewhat startled that I had indeed found a sense of humor around even these aromatic moments, when I heard Him say “The memories are in the mess”.  I rocked back on my heels and surveyed the memories of each room and said to myself, “huh…He’s right”.  I scanned all the places I’d already cleaned and noted those spots that provoked emotion.  Those places that wrenched my heart were always in the areas where the greatest mess had been.

I know, I know… it wasn’t intensely profound for me at that moment either; just rather interesting.  But right as I was getting ready to pass it off and resume my duties, the light went on.  “How true a proverb for my life – the memories are in the mess”!  How many “clean and pretty” things stay in my memory bank?  How many life lessons came from a situation that smelled of a rose?  Truth be told, I have seen God and experienced His provision and character in far more “messes” than not and those truly are the times I remember.  Be honest…don’t you?

Recently there have been a lot of life “messes”.  Packing the house, working 4 evening shifts a week at the restaurant, missions weekend at our church, parenting two boys who are trying to understand the craziness…it has all made me…quite a mess.  I’m exhausted, impatient, uninspired, short tempered, weepy and needy.  I’m a mess.  But history (and the timely analogy while cleaning my last home) reminds me that He will indeed arrive to clean out each and every corner. He will leave my heart sparkling clean and when I one day return to the memory of the mess I was this day…a smile will document the memory of His provision.

We have moved out and moved on.  We are in the greatest part of our faith journey as we speak.  Plane tickets will need to be purchased in the VERY near future and we still don’t have all our support raised.  We are nearly tapped out of speaking engagements, have shared with all our friends and family, and still find ourselves about $1700/month short in pledged giving.  Furthermore, we now need to find a new solution for our adoption loan.  All this to complete by July 20th!  One, from the outside, could call it…a mess.  And that’s exactly the way He likes it!

ISAAC-ISM (March 1, 2010):

This morning we were talking about being both happy and sad to leave our house.  Isaac said, “But it’s okay because one time Jesus was happy and sad too.”  I said, “really, like when?”.  In true Isaac style he responded, “Well, he was SAD when he had to die on the cross.  But he was HAPPY because it took our sins away!”

These are the times I actually do not enjoy writing.  And yet, I can do nothing else.  I have to sit and at least attempt to articulate the mental chaos in order to be liberated from the mosh pit of my mind.  The common question these days is, “So how are you doing?”.  Well, it’s complicated…

Invigorated – I feel as though we’ve just leaned forward through the open door of a skydiving aircraft.  We’re not out of the plane, but now that the balance has been shifted in the free-fall direction, there’s no changing our minds!  We’re actually doing this – it’s starting to happen.  It’s quite a rush! 

Humbled – as I sat through the first two hours of Brian’s orientation this morning one of the aviation administrators recalled the story of Elisha in II Kings 6.  His servant was overwhelmed with the opposition in front of them; much like how we feel right now – so much to do, so  little time and no clear idea of what weapons will be needed to approach the battle.  Elisha, a faith veteran, prayed for the Lord to open the eyes of his servant to see things as they really are.

             ¹⁶ “Don’t be afraid,” the prophet answered. “Those who are with us are more than those who are with them.”  ¹⁷ And Elisha prayed, “O LORD, open his eyes so he may see.” Then the LORD opened the servant’s eyes, and he looked and saw the hills full of horses and chariots of fire all around Elisha.   II Kings 6:16-17

We’ve got them surrounded!  And those who are with us, are more than those who are against us!  What an honor to be protected by the chariots of fire!

Surreal – it just can’t be happening.  This week I will pack my house; box things that I won’t open again for 9 months or more until we arrive in Nairobi.  Or, I may not see some things again for 10 years or more.  Our life is being sorted into categories by how long it will be forgotten.  Some things, forever.  Meanwhile we’re meeting people and doing things that make me feel as if we’ve entered into some alternate reality.  Brian: a full time pilot again!  What a refreshing change of pace…for both of us.  Nothing sweeter for a wife than to see her husband pursuing his destiny.  It just feels…like it just can’t be actually happening.

Panic – not being able to see into the future and find a piece of something to hold on to; something familiar and comfortable; something that won’t be changing in the next few months.  Christian-ese doesn’t make me feel better.  It does, however, equip me for the battle of the mind.

Frustration – nothing is happening in my time or my way! J

Fear – what if my strong personality makes trouble with my colleagues?  (The colleagues that don’t leave the job I can’t quit.)  What if my kids find the transition too much to bear?  What if I can’t read their signals and I fail to meet their needs?  What if I lose a loved one while I’m away?  What if I lose my husband while we’re there?  What if it’s nothing like what I thought it would be?

Stressed – my husband needs me to support him…my kids need me to help them…our teammates need me to inform them…my friends need me to enjoy them…our church needs me to represent them…I need me to feed myself…our colleagues need me to fight with them…and I truly, truly want to meet every need!

SECURE –

Now I know that the LORD saves His anointed: He answers him from His holy

heaven with the saving power of his right hand.

Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we trust in

the name of the LORD our God.

Psalms 20:6-7 NIV

I’m a person of ceremony.  Commemorating things is of great importance to me.  As I get older I think I have realized my need for ceremony has heightened as my memory deteriorates; if I don’t make a big deal out of something, chances are I will forget it ever happened.

Certainly, I will never forget the events of the past few days.  Still, I find myself needing to stab a flag into the soil of our journey for the sake of moving on to the next stage.  So..

We Sold The House!

Sorta…see how that works?  When you can say “we sold the house” a chapter closes.  When I added “sorta”, the page bent back a smidge and you suddenly felt reluctant to engage in the appropriate jubilation.  Me too…I feel reluctant and a bit frightened.  However, turning the page is inevitable; so perhaps you can understand my need for some verbal ceremony in this case.

All of that extremely long intro to say…yesterday we came to an agreement with a young couple regarding the lease and purchase of our home.  It’s a very long story with ugly parts and sweet parts but in the end we have agreed to lease our home to this young family for 12 months with their intent to purchase thereafter.  On the one hand, it wasn’t exactly the scenario we’d envisioned.  On the other hand, if you’d have been a fly on the wall for the past week or so, you can see the Lord’s hand all over it.  You’ll never be privy to all those details, but let me share one aspect with you.

Saturday we left the house early to make room for ‘viewers’ and to knock out a couple of errands at the mall.  The 20 minute drive to and from afforded Brian and I a rare opportunity to have a “State of the Union” type conversation.  With me working 4 nights a week and Brian working days we find ourselves passing in the night all too regularly.  As we discussed the situation at hand you could tell we were both looking for one another around the pink elephant; discouragement.  It had been weeks since we welcomed our recent team members, we were uncertain of how we would cover Cole’s recent surgery, and the thorn in our flesh, the sale of our home, seemed all but lost.  While wanting to remain hopeful and faith-filled the looking glass of our lives afforded our Flesh the upper hand.  Shortly before arriving home Brian voiced what we were both feeling: we needed a buoy – something to hold on to.  We were looking for something that would let us know that help was on the way.

As I unloaded the kids Brian went to the mailbox.  We’ve learned to scan mail for two types of envelopes; one that bears our personally printed address and another that is hand written.  Both were on the top of the stack.  I opened one and he opened the other, and suddenly two floatation devices popped into our lives.  My envelope contained a pledge card from a dear couple we have only met once, committing to support us at $100 a month.  Brian’s envelope revealed a check for every dollar and penny of what we owe for Cole’s surgery; even the memo line said “Cole’s Surgery”!  Yeah…that’s what we thought too – “man that was fast”!

Little did we know but the e-mail I would receive only moments later would contain a request to view our house later that afternoon.  Those people would be the ones to make the first offer on our home in almost a years time.

The past few days have not been nearly as clear and we have gone back and forth, weighing the risks and trying to balance faith with logic.  In the end, however, it comes down to that plea…the cry for something to hold on to, and the belief that He answers His children.

So we’re goin’ – we are on our way.  There truly is no turning back now!  Brian will leave his job in a couple weeks and begin flight training on March 1st.  This family has requested to move in to the house on March 15th. So we need to pack, find a new (albeit temporary) home, uncover our last 50% of our monthly support, and complete mountains of paperwork related to moving overseas, and be in New York ready to leave for Kenya on July 22nd.  Yeah…that’s what we thought too…”He’s done it before, He can do it again!”

Please join us in praying for the final hurdles to be cleared and that we’ll come out on the other side, sanity in tact!  You all have been the bearers of His news on so many occasions, we can’t begin to thank you enough.  We hope this journey is blessing you as it is us.  And it aint over yet…

I don’t do “crazy”. Calculated yes, but not crazy. Crazy for me is left on the fringes, and for good reason: it just doesn’t belong in the world of air transportation. And I would assume that most of my passengers will agree.

But…I quit my job.

My current employer has been incredibly gracious with our situation. Partly because they love aviation as much as I do (maybe more) but also because they are just like that. Skinner Nursery is a family owned business and over the last year and a half that I have worked there I have seen the owners make many decisions with the intent of keeping as many people employed as possible. It takes a lot of integrity to do that in the current economic climate.  That’s how they are.

However, at some point the next step needs to be taken. But for me to quit my current job goes as something completely against my nature.  While it was not an unanticipated move, it’s still something like jumping into those cold Canadian lakes of my youth.  When Jami and I started this journey 2 years ago and I knew this day was coming.  I was under the impression, however, that everything would be in order by this stage of the game. The house would be sold, we would be well supported, and I could make the logical and safe step into my training. It would be that easy, right?

I’m just not ready yet.

I have had more than one fellow missionary (who are generally further down the road) tell me that there would come a time when I would have to do something crazy. For example, resigning your position without answers to all the questions. What will I do? How will I pay for it? What if this?  What if that? All these linger in my head as March 1^st fast approaches, but I don’t have answers.

What I do know is this….

God has called us. Jami and I each have a part to play in Africa and, economy or not, He will see us through to completion. You, our support team, have been incredibly faithful and generous.  So one answer I know of is that just enough funds have been provided for us to take the next step; and so we will. From the beginning God has only asked us to take the next step and maybe that’s not so bad.

So, resigning is not a resignation…

Instead it’s a faith filled acceptance of where God wants me.  An acceptance that keeps me vulnerable and trusting in His provision. Maybe it’s not as big of a step as I think it is.  But it is a resignation…no, a submission…of myself and my family to His care.  He knows there will be bigger issues down the road, and He knows I’ll need the practice.

Me and my family going to Africa without faith in His provision…..now that’s crazy!

Phase one in Learning my new iMac:

learn how to get video off the camera and into the computer: check!

This video was taken in August when Isaac invited 10 of his friends and their moms to come for an African Playdate.  Obviously, our ministry through the eyes of a 4 yr old isn’t peppered with details, just the “cool” stuff that matters!  I’m not sure I’ve ever had a prouder moment.  Mommy and Daddy should probably take notes from this little expert on effective presentations!  Enjoy.

God! Please hurry to my rescue! 

    God, come quickly to my side!

Let all who love your saving way

     Say over and over, “God is Mighty!”

But I’ve lost it.  I’m wasted.

    God – quickly, quickly!

Quick to my side, quick to my rescue!

    God, don’t lose a minute.

I run for dear life to God…

    Do what you do so well:

Get me out of this mess and up on my feet.

Be a guest room where I can retreat,

    You said your door was always open!

You’re my salvation – my vast, granite fortress.

                             Psalm 70 and 71

                             Select verses

                             The Message

Last night I discovered the silver lining to the “terrible twos”.  If you’ve ever had a toddler you know the fury they impart to just about every minute of the day.  My youngest son, Cole, is no exception.  Pure sweetness and hilarity one minute, fierce flesh the next.  I’ve often cried out in the middle of a long day, wondering what in the world this phase of childhood could ever be useful for.  Last night, he blessed me with a new perspective on his strong will and determination.

After having an in impromptu family movie night one would think a child would feel fortunate to just have been given a few generous moments of wake time.  Not Cole.  It is necessary, for the sake of status quo I suppose, to pitch a limp fit at bedtime.  After being chided by Daddy to make his way up the stairs Cole continued to assert that Mama was the only one who could convince him towards bed.  (Insert Irony: Mama attempted such convincing only hours prior at naptime with no avail.  Thus, neither Daddy nor Mama was buying the argument).  Having dealt with the whining all day, on top of a fever and soar throat, I opted to let Daddy “prod” with a mite of satisfaction in my heart.  After dosing meds for his sinus problems (and, let’s be honest, for a prayer of deep sleep for the whole house) I kissed him goodnight and headed to Isaac’s room to repeat the ritual.  Hopefully you can pity my annoyance when I exited the eldest room only to hear Coley Bear crying.  I decidedly opened the door with intent for punishment, assuming he was going to use some lame excuse like “I don’t want go bed” or, my personal favorite, “I need go pee pee”.  I just was not in the mood.

“What, Cole?  What is the problem?” I barked.

Defense diffused into guilt when I sensed the sincerity of tonight’s dilemma.

“I don’t want du debul in my bed”.

Timeout: before any of you go getting all judgmental about why my two year old even knows anything about “du debul” let me assure you it was not a haphazard dialogue.  I have thought long and hard about when would be the appropriate time to introduce either of my children to the concept of The Evil One.  Trouble is, you can’t throw too much past a kid without them cluing in.  You can’t ask your kids to memorize Psalms 23 without somehow needing to assign blame for “the valley of the shadow of death”.  Furthermore, we are moving to Africa; the Mecca of spiritual warfare.  I have made great effort to suit up for the coming battle and I finally decided my children needed a Sword as well.  So, naturally, they need to have a clear understanding of just who The Enemy is and a bit of knowledge to his battle plan.  Obviously, I was taking a risk.  My kids could totally misunderstand and be captured by fear (as we all are occasionally, if he’s doing his job, right?).  But, I have prayed and prayed that my boys would see past their fear and find their Authority in Christ.  So, you can imagine my jubilation when Cole offered me a glimpse into his preparedness.

“Cole,” I said tenderly, “What do you need to do if you want the devil to leave?”

Everything in me wanted to offer the answer so as to assure him of his safety.  But I waited quietly for an indication of his understanding.

“I haff a talk bout God and haff a talk bout my verses”.

Someone should tell the NFL to consult me as the choreographer for the Superbowl Touchdown dance!  My heart exploded and I just wanted to break out into a jive that would embarrass me if the lights were on.  But mostly, I wanted to shout: “HA, debul…IN YOUR FACE!!  This child is locked and loaded and two years old!!” 

“Coley, you are exactly right”, I said quietly and completely composed.  “How about if you and Mommy say Psalm 91, okay?” (Thanks for the ammo, Miss Nancy!!)

“Yah, cuz dat makesa debul scared and GO WAY” he said in his most assertive tone.

“It sure does, son.  You Ready?”

“Yah..you go firs”.

“Those who live in the…

shelta of a mos’ high..

will find rest in the…

shadow of a ah mitey.

This I…

‘CLAIR OF DA WOHRD: (shouting)

He alone is my…

Wefuge…ana pace of safey.

He is my…

God an I twusting in HIM.

Translation:

Those who live in the Shelter of the Most High will find rest in the Shadow of the All Mighty.  This I declare of the Lord: He alone is my refuge, my place of safety.  He is my God, and I am trusting in Him. (Psalm 91: 1-2 NLT)

I waited for a moment, somewhat unsure of what to say next.  But, in true Coley Bear style, he took the words right out of my mouth:

“da debul aw gone, Mama?”

“Yes, son, he’s all gone!  You did a great job.  He got scared and ran away.”

“Yah…dat stinker!  Go way, debul, and don’t come back til I say so!”

(Gratitude to Nana and Papa for teaching my son “stinker” and to his favorite book that teaches him how to show ‘em who’s boss).

As I write I am reminded of two things:

1. We are just a vessel.  Only God can make my kids understand in their hearts what Brian and I try to place in their minds every day. Thus, the importance of prayer.
2. Whether Cole one day chooses to live his life for the Lord or chooses to follow self, I am doing my job as a mother to the best of my ability.  When he is 15 and rebelling against what he knows in his mind to be true…refer to #1.