Just a mom in an unjust world

Today isn't the first time I have been faced with this: what do I do in the face of the terrible injustice in the world?

I just received word that in one of the villages we often travel to for teaching and discipleship, four community members have been arrested by local police for inspecting their own land.  I don't know the details, but it has to do with the illegal logging that they are trying to stop on their lands, and the whole situation seems steeped in greed, corruption and racism.

My heart feels raw as I think about my dear friends in that community, I remember their tears over past tragedies.  Just last week a friend from that community mentioned, "the hard situation our community went through."  She couldn't even saw the words.  To talk about the death of her uncle, the chief was too painful.  The community is still grieving.

When will this end?  Is greed really the most powerful thing on earth?  Will we ever "learn to live together as brothers" as Martin Luther Kind, Jr. dreamed?

I sit at home as my girls splash in their wading pool.  Cooling off from the heat of this dry season day, they remain oblivious to so much of what goes on in this world which is bleeding with the results of man's sin.  And what am I to do?  I am not a lawyer, a millionaire, or a government official. I cannot move the powers that be, or make justice happen. The truth is, I do not know what to do. I am just a mom, a missionary, a friend.

I know that I will pray with my friends, and I will hear them cry out to God for their community, and for justice to be done.  I can ask others to pray.  I can weep with those who weep.  What else can I do?  I can drop by a meal for the family of a man who is tirelessly fighting for the rights of his people. And can bring by a bag of clothes for his daughter.  I can be friend to his wife.  I can tell them to not give up, to trust in God, the only one who is truly just. I can walk with them as they struggle to know how to forgive, as the fight to keep hate out of their hearts.

And I can ask God to show me what else to do.  Because what is the point of saying I am against injustice, if I do nothing when faced with it?  I feel like we are David facing Goliath, and yet we have no sling, and we haven't killed any bears.

How did I get here?

I had one of those moments today. I was waiting to pay our electric bill.  Someone has a little office that they run out of their house, and I was there, along with several other people waiting. The hot sun was "bravo" or angry as they say here.  I looked around the little neighborhood, tropical trees scattered between make-shift driveways and simple homes.

How did I get here?  Why is walking through the tropical sun to stand in line with my Panamanian neighbors my normal day?  It certainly isn't anything like what I imagined my life as, when I was a child.  I never traveled outside the US until I came to Panama at 18.  I didn't know anything about Panama. I had never been on an airplane, never lived away from my family.

What possessed me to board a plane, and then make a life for myself thousands of miles away. I don't know.  This life pulled me in, I felt compelled, it felt right.  I don't even know how to describe it.

How did I end up here, raising my children in a context so different from my own childhood.  Airplanes, outboard motors, and thatched roof houses are a normal part of their life.  Their mom is from one country, their dad from another, and they don't know that that might make them different.

Life is beyond my capacity to understand. The world is so complex and full of possibilities. For better or for worse, this is where I am. I hate it sometimes, and love it sometimes, and mostly it's just life.

How did I get here? One day at a time, trying to follow my Good Shepherd who knows this path better than I.

Handling Criticism

Sometimes this is my worst enemy.  My own doubts I can shush, but the critical words of others are hard to quiet.

As a missionary, I often feel like I have a bulls eye painted on me. "Please, criticize me!  Tell me all that I am doing wrong!".

Some come as suggestions, "Wouldn't it be much more effective if you did it this way?"  I then spend the next hour explaining how we already tried that, or how we know that wouldn't work in our context, or would be culturally inapproriate.  I know the person meant well. Still, it feels like we have just been torn apart.

Sometimes it's on those days when we spent the morning running errands for our husband (with the kids along, on the bus), helped a friend with her upcoming wedding, tried to squeeze some home school in between, only to go and teach a Bible class all afternoon, and get a comment about the dirty dishes in our sink (did I mention that the water was off all day?).

On days like this part of me just wants to say, "It's not worth it! I am going to stop giving, stop caring, stop helping.  I can't do this."

Then the Bible class ends up being amazing, and one of the ladies there tells us that every time her in-laws visit from the village she shares everything she is learning, and that they always ask her for more.  And then they go home to the village and share with their neighbors there what they have learned.

I realize just how important it can be to give just a little time, and how far our influence can go. She smiles, gives me a hug and says thank you, and I know she means in.

On the inside I am crying, and I say, "Okay, I will try again."

I will get up another day, and deal with all those situations that nobody else knows about, and do the best I can even though it will never be "good enough".  I will try, because even in the midst of feeling inadequate, there is just enough of hope in me that it will be enough.

Fear and Faith

I think one thing that most parents have in common is fear. We are afraid about different things, but we are all afraid for our children. One parent may be paranoid about germs; another may worry about the bus system, while another may fear their child falling in with bad friends.  We all have areas of weakness, but I think I fear mostly feels the same.

Someone told me once that fear blinds you.  I have experienced it, and it’s true.  But knowing that you are blind doesn’t help you see.  It doesn’t solve the fear.

As a missionary parent, options of things to be fearful about seem to be doubled or tripled.  Should I be afraid of poisonous snakes, crazy taxi drivers, unsafe drinking water, and lack of healthy food choices?  Or should I worry about my child’s bilingualism, worried that they may feel caught between cultures, wondering where they will find role models, and how I am doing as a parent.  The options are limitless.

Yet there is one option that trumps all others. And that option is faith.  I can spend endless time fearing every bad thing that could happen. Or I can choose to trust God. I can choose to trust him in a world where bad things happen, where nothing seems to make sense, where the suffering I see around me tries to sink my faith once and for all.  My only option is to hold on to faith. And to hold on to God.

He is the constant. Somehow, in ways I can’t understand, he is holding my children.  He didn’t give me the guarantee of a problem free life.  That deal isn’t offered to anyone, least of all missionaries.  But he told me that he has our lives in his hands.

What other hands could we want to be in?

My sister Hannah told me once that we don’t own our kids, and if we think we do we are only fooling ourselves. She told me that we can only hold them in open hands and trust God. Every piece of advice she has told me has been right on, and this one was no different.

It seems like a paradox. I am supposed to care for and protect my children, and yet I can’t depend on myself to do it.  God is the one who holds them in his hands.  It’s as if I am a steward who should do their job faithfully, caring for what belongs to another. My children belong to God. Even as I must be accountable for the care I give them, I can also trust him to ultimately be the one who has even their hairs counted.

May God give us parents both strength for our task, and the strength to let them go into his trustworthy hands.

Packing again...

We are packing again.  I seem to be forever packing for a trip, unpacking from a trip, cleaning up after a trip or cleaning the house before we leave on another trip.

We are leaving early this afternoon for the coastal community of Platanares.  We are going with our friends Steve and Malana Ganz for a week of teaching.

Last night as we started packing my three year old was convinced that I needed her help. She began packing randon items into whatever bags she could find. I have a large bag full of material and clothes waiting to be mended, someday when I get my sewing machine repaired.  She decided that everything in that bad HAD to go.  Around bedtime she had a total meltdown when Alex and I told her that we WERE NOT packing that bag.  Fifteen minutes later, after I remembered that she had skipped her afternoon nap, she was asleep.

This morning, as I finished throwing in last minute things, I kept finding ramdom items that she had put in when I wasn't looking, like the remote control to our fan, which she is convinced is a cell phone.

Life in missions is crazy, unpredictable, exciting and confusing at times. I often wonder how all this traveling will effect my children. Will they look back and remember the adventures fondly, the times spent together, the beautiful views of the ocean, the friendships formed? Or will they remember the heat, the bugs, the tiredness, the tears when they try to go to sleep in a strange place, surrounded by strange sounds and sights?  Will they thank us for giving them such diverse experiences and opportunities, the chance to see life as many children never will? Or will they lament the things and experiences they could have had growing up in the US?

Ultimately, there is no way to know. The future has not yet been written.  Right now we can only take the next step, trying to keep our hearts close to the Shepherd so that he can guide us in the next step. We can only be thankful for what we have, keep our minds on the people we can impact, the lives we can touch and lives that may be changed forever. 

With our children we can only stay close to their hearts, listen to their fears, comfort them, challenge them, help them grow where we are today.

Now our bags are all stacked by the door.  The girls keep coming up and asking when we are going on the boat and I am telling them very soon.  Thankfully, they are excited about this trip.  Going on the boat is nothing new, and they have long since stopped complaining about the life jackets.  I know they will enjoy the fresh shrimp and fish we will eat, and likely spend hours running to and fro with the local kids.

As we go out, I am praying that the bugs won't be too bad, wondering if I am a bad missionary for dreading those bugs, and having to use outhouses.  But bad missionary or not, I am willing. I think that is enough for God to use me, to use our family.

Where does our value come from?

Almost two years ago...

I sat in the tent with my two small girls.  It was pitch black except for the small flashlight in my hand.  Outside I could hear the song of the crickets and the occasional dry of a night bird.  The tent sat inside a thatched roof hut.  I could hear the sound of a church service in the distance.  Alex, and the rest of the out reach team, were there.

On this particular outreach, we happened to have a church service every evening, and my one and three year old just weren't up for that.  So we had just finished our evening shower, managing with an outdoor shower and a barrel of water in the dark.  The girls were dressed in their bedtime attire (just diapers) and we were well into our bedtime routine.  Each girl got slathered with anti-itch lotion, to combat that day's insect bites, and then a shirt became a make-shift fan as I sang a lullaby.  Singing and fanning, singing and fanning, praying they would go to sleep.  One of the girls drifted off easily, but the other woke up suddenly as her bites began to itch. 

Crying and scratching, she woke her sister.  So the fanning stopped, and I began to rub their legs to lessen the itch.  Waiting for them to finally fall asleep, I couldn't stop the question from presenting itself any longer, "why are we here?"

All the "real" ministry is going on over at the church, I thought.  When the girls are asleep, it will just be me and the dark tent.  During the day, keeping tabs on a busy one year old holds me back from participating in the ministry.  And frankly, I'm so tired at this point that I can't even have a meaningful conversation with our host.  It's all I can do to get through another day, taking little girls to outhouses, figuring out how to bath them, trying to keep them healthy, and safe.  I don't feel very spiritual, and I don't feel that I am contributing ANYTHING to this outreach.

Moments like this can bring into question our value, if we think that it is derived from what we do.  In a missionary organization like YWAM, it is all too easy to start focusing more on what we can accomplish than anything else. We start to calculate how valuable this new staff member will be for the ministry.  We lament another co-worker who "isn't pulling their weight".  We feel like there is so much to do, and God is depending on US to save the world by the end of next weekend.  And we secretly feel good about how dedicated we are and how we haven't taken a day off since last year.

So then when our season of life shifts, and suddenly we find ourselves mothers with little ones at home, our whole value system can fall apart. Suddenly we don't feel like we are contributing.  We haven't preached a sermon, and lead an outreach, or even sat through a church service for a long time.  We can't even remember what it was like when we had a whole hour carved out in our daily schedule for a quiet time. That sounds like an unreachable luxury now.

While I think there are many reasons that mothers can feel inadequate, I think that for those of us in missions, the over emphasis on GETTING STUFF DONE is a huge culprit.

I think all of us, whether you are a mom in missions, a missionary around moms, or anyone else who resonates with this, need to take a few steps back every once in a while and think about where we are deriving our value from.  How is that coming out in our comments and actions?  How is it causing us to judge others, or judge ourselves?

When I begin to struggle with this again, I remember this line from scripture...

"We set our hearts at rest in his presence..."

Difficult outreach moments and what I have learned from them

It's been on my mind lately to write out some of my memories and lessons learned on the mission field, here is my first attempt:

 

 

 The above picture was taken in 2011, on the first day of our two month outreach.  There is a story behind it.  We had left early in the morning, hoping to reach our first destination by nightfall. But instead we found ourselves trapped when the highway was blocked by a protesting community.  The day began to heat up and there was no shade anywhere.  Rows of cars lined the highway on both sides, and proved the only distraction for a bored three year old and one year old.

We spent a good amount of time observing a truck full of baby chicks, and even got given one, which proved a great distraction after that. Unfortunately, we couldn't take it with us on outreach.  We spent five hours waiting and praying for the protest to end.  All that stands out to me from that day is being drenched in sweat.  At some point the girls napped on the van seat.... more sweat.

We walked down the highway to the community and through the middle of the protest to buy something to drink, then back again, stopping at a truck carrying watermelons, and bought one to share.  Finally, sometime after noon, the protest disolved and the highway was again open to traffic.

There was no longer time to make it to our destination that day.  We ended staying in a small church building.  We were thankful to their hospitality, but all that stands out to me was the long muddy walk to the outhouse, and even longer, muddier walk to the outdoor shower. Did I mention that it was rainy season and that I had a recently potty trained child?  And the giant hole in the ground along whose muddy edge we had to walk to get to the shower?  And... well, let's move on.

I look back now and laugh, and I get it.  I understand why that outreach was so grueling for me.  Not even the first day could be relativly easy.  The months leading up hadn't exactly been easy either.

I can also look back now and have grace for myself. I can forgive myself for my percieved "failures"; losing my temper, feeling overwelmed, thinking I lacked vision for the ministry because I wasn't feeling all these warm fuzzies about our experience.  Mostly I just felt tired.

After that first challenging day, more of the same awaited me.  The next day found us riding up a flooded river, one of the scariest boat rides I have ever experienced. I ended up on a different boat than Alex, clutching the girls between my knees as the narrow canoe rocked in the dirt-brown torrent.

Upon reaching our destination, we found that other than the flooded river, there was no water available.  Saying there was no water other than the river doesn't really register until you realize that you have a one-year-old still in diapers, who get's into everything, and an almost-potty trained three year old who still has accidents... and there is no where to wash off.

The house we were offered had no outhouse, but plenty of rats.  Picture me in the evenings, after the team had left for the nightly church service, and the girls were asleep. Let's just say I was very thankful we had decided to bring our tent, and had that between us and the rats.

Most evenings I was back in the house fighting rats while the girls slept and I could hear the church service in the distance.  I missed almost every ministry activity because taking care of the girls took all of my energy.

I distinctly remember the one ministry activity I lead. It was a bible class for children, and we were going to tell a bible story, sing some songs, do some games, the usual.  Only, because of the school schedule that day, only preschool aged kids showed up.

None of them spoke Spanish.  Turns out most of the kids don't learn Spanish until they start school.  I sent for a translator, but no one was available.  My one chance during that week to teach something meaningful to the precious kids in the community, and they couldn't understand a word I said.

That moment represents well how I felt that whole outreach. I felt like I was working all day and night just to survive till the next day, but I wasn't seeing any results from my labor.  My eyes were focused on changing diapers and getting toddlers to sleep, and finding and outhouse or somewhere to shower.

All around me, significant ministry was happening. Our DTS student team was deeply impacted by their outreach time.  The relationships we formed on that two month outreach ended up opening up the doors for us to be here now, living here in Chepo and working alongside the Wounaan churches.  None of this would have been possible if we had given up after that first, horridly difficult day.  Well, the whole week was difficult.  It took some perserverence, but we saw fruit from our labor.

When I look back, I see reflected in myself other missionary moms who are wondering if they make any difference.  Maybe they decide not to even venture out on a ministry trip because they feel like they won't be able to do "ministry". Maybe they are so focused on getting through another day with their little ones that they can't see the significant things that are happening around them.  My advice to you?  Keep perservering and you will see the fruit of YOUR labors. It just may take some time.

How the Wounaan won my heart

 

 

The low tide had caught up to us.  The Platanares River, which rises and falls with the tides, only allows for boat travel at high tide.  That, apparently, was hours away. The boat wouldn't go any farther.

"We'll have to tell Alex to come and get you here!" Laughed our captain.  I wasn't sure whether he was joking or not, so I just said, "Dale, pues!"

Alex was already in the village of Platanares. The girls and I had stayed behind because of some scheduling overlaps.  But the afternoon before I got a call from the man who was now tying the boat to a nearby tree (his name is Tovar). He told me he was heading up to the village and Alex had asked if I wanted to come along.

I had no way of getting ahold of Alex, so I just went for it.  We packed up, caught a taxi early the next morning to the port, and here we were. Well, I wasn't really sure where we were.  I knew the village was up river, but I didn't know how far.



Soon it became evident that we were getting out to walk the rest of the way.  I tried to remember where the girl's clothes were packed, so that we would have a clean change of clothes when we arrived, but Tovar and his helper lifted our bags to their shoulders and started across the river.  Managing the smaller bags as best as I could, we started hesitantly across the river as well.  Carolyn was soon hoisted onto a pair of shoulders as well, and I told Abigail that we were going to have an adventure.

As we climbed up the opposite shore, I realized that I was going to have my first experience hiking through mangroves.  I kept telling Abigail how brave she was being as we ducked and wove among the roots and overhanging branches, trying to avoid the deepes, stickiest spots of mud.  At one point my flip-flop got stuck.  I fished it out with my hand and went barefoot the rest of the way.

Finally we came out of the mangroves and crisscrossed back and forth through the river.  I kept hoping that Abigail wouldn't ask to be carried because I was pretty sure I couldn't handle the backpacks, plus the slippery river rocks, plus her.  She never did ask, but forged ahead through the river that was chest deep at times for her.

I am sure it took much longer than Tovar and his patient helper wanted, but we finally made it to the village. I will skip over the part about climbing up the muddy river bank. Let's just say that Carolyn and I took a good amount of mud with us.

The first thing I noticed upon arriving was that (hallelujah!) the biting flies, or chitras, weren't anywhere around.  We were dutifully delivered to the pastor's house.  I asked Tovar how much I owed him (I know it's usual for passengers to pay a few dollars to help with the gas costs) he wouldn't take anything.

Later I learned that Tovar had suggested picking me up himself, when we saw that Alex had brought the group and we had stayed home. Then he changed his schedule to make it more convienient for me.  I was touched.  How often does someone go out of their way, change their plan, carry your bag through the river and the mangroves, just so your family can be together.

It's experiences like this that have made the Wounan win my heart.

Raising kids in between cultures

As I listen to other moms share their struggles, it seems that many, if not all moms struggle with the expectations of others.  We wrestle with what our family expects, what society expects, what our spouse excepts, and even expectations with have of ourselves. The big problem is when we fail in fulfilling those expectations.  They can begin to rule our lives.

While this is something I think that moms all over deal with, it's especially difficult for missionary moms, for two reasons.

One reason is the public nature of our work.  Lots of people know us, our whole job is connecting with people.

We have a large network of people involved in our lives (a big blessing) and a lot of people interested in what we are doing and where we are going, in life and in minstry. This can also get tricky.  While the great majority of those people are nothing but encouraging and supporting, some can add on a few more expectations. It's almost like walking by someone at the grocery store with their arms loaded with groceries, and stacking a few more things on top.

While it might be a simple question about us deciding to homeschool, or a challenge about risks that we take as a family, these can weigh on the mind of a mother who is already concerned about how she is doing as a parent.

If you happen to be living in a Christian community (like a YWAM base) you may have to deal with your family being under a microscope 24 hours a day.  Pretty soon it's feels like you are being judged for how your kids behave at the staff meeting, what they ate for dinner, how long they use a pacifier, and a thousand other parenting challenges every day. If you let it, it can drown you.

The second reason I think parenting is difficult for those of us living cross-culturally, is that we have not one but two societies loading us up with expectations.  For me, there is the American mindset, a complicated set of values that wants our kids to be safe (above all else) have a strong self esteem, eat organic foods, whole grains, no sugar... and on and on it goes.  Then we are living in a culture that will give our 6 month old baby a sucker to quiet her down, but criticize us because her hair is not perfectly combed.

I have to admit, this one is hard for me.  In Panama, little girls are expected to have their hair done up with every hair in place, a matching outfit (her hair bows and shoes should also match the outfit) every time she steps outside your yard. God forbid you let your three year old choose her own outfit, or give up after the third time she has ripped the bows out of her hair.

On the flip side, running around in their underwear is totally fine in your house and yard, and it would be perfectly acceptable for me to go out and rake the leaves up in my night gown.

My intent here isn't to criticize their values, just show how different two systems can be. In  the States, we celebrate children getting dirty as they explore life and have fun. Here, where getting dirty is a lot easier, parents fight it every step of the way (probably out of necessity).

I had to laugh when we returned from a fun camping trip while we were back in Oregon this past fall.  Our first stop after camping for two days was the bath tub for the girls.  I just sat there in the bathroom, shaking my head. After two days of playing in the dirt, eating hotdogs with their fingers and running around the forest, they were noticably cleaner than a normal day back home in Panama. I blame the sweat.  Some days the girls are just drenched in sweat, even from playing in the house, and every piece of dirt sticks to sweat.

Back to our subjcect, what do we do with all these expectations? Well, I haven't totally figured that out yet. What do YOU do?  I am guessing that at the root of the matter is obedience to God. Every decision we make can be criticized by someone.  Being a foreigner in a host country, I am always going to be different, no matter how good I get at making Arroz con pollo.  So I need to accept fact that and put my energy somewhere that really matters.  For example, in spending time before God asking him for the next step, for wisdom, for help in making all those parenting decisions that weigh on me, for patience and love, and how I should spend my days.

Although I know in my head that the only person I need to please all the time is God, walking that out can be complicated.  From what I hear other moms saying, I think most of us find it complicated.  Right now, all I can do is trust that my Shepherd knows where we are going and keep following.

How to, part 2

 

In my last post I talked about some ideas to help you take your kids along on outreach trips.  Most of it was practical, and there was one more point I wanted to make.

Overall, you need to believe that what you are doing matters, and YOU matter.  You are an important part of what God is doing on earth.  It doesn't matter if you spend a great portion of your time changing diapers, or taking toddlers to outhouses, or attempting to clean toddlers up after meals, with no available running water.  It doesn't matter if you don't ever show up for the "ministry activities".  It doesn't matter if the team wonders why you came along, or if your husband doesn't have time to or energy to thank you for your presence and affirm you.

You do matter.

Listen to God, and if he tells you to go, than go.  Go knowing that you are sent by him.

Sometimes you may see the fruit of your efforts, and sometimes not.  Your three year old may not say, "Gee mom, thanks for giving me this once in a lifetime opportunity that is expanding my world, teaching me compassion, and honing my Spanish skills."  But you have to believe (and I do to) that it's going to be worth it.

Maybe that woman who came up to talk to you would have been intimitated if it wasn't for the baby in your arms.  Maybe your hosts will be inspired by seeing a couple commited to making their marriage last.  Maybe a young mom will see an example in how your family interacts.  Maybe a couple contemplating going into ministry will see your example and believe it's possible.

And you may not see any of those things.  But you have to believe that if God called your family, and you, and your kids, then it is worth it.  You are worth it.  You are an important part of the team, even when they complain about the baby crying in the middle of the night, or get frustrated with your toddler's temper tantrum.  Even when YOU want to join in the crying, or just give up.

Especially when no one else is telling you this, you need to remember it.  God has called you, and that makes what you do worthy, important, even vital.  Believe that and you can get through anything.

How to take your kids with you (or, how to still want to be a missionary after an outreach with kids)

Any mom who has attempted to take babies or small children on a missions outreach has found that it is no easy task. In fact, it can bring you to tears, and make you wonder why you ever came.

We travel a lot with our 2 and 4 year olds, and almost all of that is in the context of missions outreaches, lots of it in small indigenous villages where there may or may not be electricity, running water, a toilet, or any other comfort that we are used to at home.

I have found some things that have worked for me, and some that haven't.  I wanted to share what has worked. These ideas may or may not apply to your family, depending on your kid's ages, personalities, and your outreach locations.  But I hope you see a couple of ideas that could help you.

 

These are in no particular order.....

1.  Pray and ask God if you are supposed to go on this particular outreach.  If you are SURE you are supposed to be there, you can put up with a whole lot. I would even ask God to show you some specific goals you should have during the outreach.  It could be anything from connecting with native mothers, to teaching your kids about water safety.  Make sure that your goals are realistic. If you have two toddlers and your goal is to preach 20 sermons, you may end up pretty disapointed.

 

2.  Find out as much as you can about the outreach location ahead of time. When Princess was a baby, I would only go places that I or Alex had been before. That way, I knew what I needed to bring, and how to prepare.  Will there be running water, toilets, showers?  A place to wash diapers?  Should you bring a tent, a mosquito net?  What kind of bugs should you be prepared for? 

Just knowing that I will have to deal with the "chitras" (biting flies) in the village of Platanares, makes it easier to plan since I know I will need to bring long pants and long sleeved shirts for all.  If you will be washing by hand, bring only light materials.  Find out if a stroller would be a help or a hindrance, etc.

3.  Think carefully about toys and games you want to take along.  I usually don't bring along any favorite toys, unless they have one they can't live without. I am much more relaxed if I am not worrying about them losing a favorite toy.  It's also best to not to bring anything that will be ruined if one piece is lost (like a puzzle).  I have found that things like sticker books, where it's all in one piece, work well.  Also make sure that they have activities they don't need your help with.  Unless you have a lot more patience than me, your going to lose it about the 20th time your toddler needs help with a game, especially if you have another 10 hours of travel ahead of you.  I like to get a couple of dollar store toys before a trip, that way they always have something to play with, and it's no big deal if they don't make it home with us.

 

4.  When you find something that amuses your kids, just go with it.  On a recent trip we found a little stream 5 minutes from the house we were staying at, that had a little pool just the size for the girls.  They loved it!  It helped us deal with the heat, the mosquito bites, and boredom.  Even though I felt a little guilty slipping out of the ministry activities to take the girls down there, it kept them happy, and kept me sane.  Whether it's playing in the dirt, a puppy, a hammock, running around a house, or going to the river again, embrace anything that your kids enjoy. They are putting up with long travel, mosquitos, sleeping away from home, and a million other discomforts,  Let them have fun. It will keep you sane as well.

5.  As much as possible, try to brush off complaints and comments from others.  Especially if those traveling with you aren't yet parents, there is no way they can understand what it's like to be traveling with little ones.  So when someone comments about "someone's baby" who was crying last night, just ignore it.  Give yourself grace, give your kids grace, and give grace to those who don't understand.  Try to catch yourself if you are being harder on your kids just because others are watching.

 

6.  I have said this before, and it deserves repeating; give yourself grace.  What you are doing IS NOT easy.  You are courageously stepping out and believing God will take of you and your family. You are not sitting comfortably at home with every convience close at hand. It is going to be hard. Give yourself grace when you lose it, when you need to cry, and when you need some help.

7.  Give your kids grace.  If your toddler decides to revert to diapers, or needs their binky back, give them grace.  Traveling is stressful, even for adults, and kids deal with that stress to. Give them grace when they are throwing a temper tantrum just when you need them to behave for your hosts.  Be understanding when they refuse to say thank you, to sit through another service, or be quiet on a bus ride.  Sometimes you will just want to dig a hole and crawl in, and try not to be harsher on your kids just because their behavior is embarssing for you.  Remember that YOU decided to do this trip, and not them. It's okay to have expectations for them, just make sure one of those isn't perfect behavior.

 

8.  Give grace to your husband. He is under a lot of stress to, especially if he is leading the outreach, or preaching every evening, or visiting all day.  Ask for help if you need it, but remember that sometimes he just won't be able to pitch in.

9.  Look for ways your kids can minister.... or not.  Okay, here I am going to qualify this.  I hear lots of people talk about getting kids invovled in ministry, like having them sing a song at the church service, present a drama, pass out tracts to other kids, etc.  I think that's all well and good, but realistictly, that may not be possible. It really depends on your circumstances: how many kids you have, their ages, how busy the ministry schedule is, what your housing, bathing, and washing instalations are like, and how much time a day you are spending feeding, bathing, and keeping your kids alive.  Sometimes that may take up 100% of your energy.  If so, go to bed at night congratulating yourself that you got through another day.

And if you have extra energy, and your kids do too, go ahead and get them involved.  Just keep your expectations realistic. For little ones, just sitting in on a ministry activity may be enough to expect.  Take it one step at a time.

10.Decide what your non-nogociables are.  Remember that you are going to have to be flexible about almost everything, so make sure these are realistic. A couple of mine are that the girls always wear life jackets on boat trips, and that I never leave them with anyone but close, trusted friends.  Knowing that was a non-negotiable helped me keep firm when my 3 year old threw a 2 hour long fit over her life jacket.  We were out on the ocean, and I wasn't going to budge, even though I am sure everyone else on the boat was fed up.

 

11.Know when to say no, and when to quit. Sometimes everyone, including your husband, is going to want you to go along. And sometimes, you may have to say no, because you know your own limits, and you know you've reached it. Sometimes, you may be in the middle of a trip and may realize you can't go on. That's not a failure. That's just reality of mixing motherhood and missions. Just accept it and move on.

About a year and a half ago, we were near the end of a two month outreach with our then 3 and 1 year old. My husband was leading the outreach team and was extremely busy. Our outreach location had been mostly remote villages. The first place we visited had no running water, and the river was flooded and muddy. Did I mention the biting flies and the fact that our house had no outhouse and a large rat population? My kids got sick several times with several ailments. Finally, I got sick with a cold I couldn't shake, and there was no chance to rest. The team was moving every couple of days and I just couldn't keep up. I ended up taking an all night bus back to Panama City with my two little ones, and feeling like I had failed by not finishing the outreach.

I stayed home the whole next week doing nothing but trying to get some rest and get over my cold. And by the time my husband and the team returned, I knew I had made the right choice.

 

Finally, celebrate your family, and what God has called you to do.  Keep your eyes on that, even through those 2 AM screaming sessions when you really wish it was someone else's baby crying.  Remember how significant your call is, and how significant YOU are.  And keep going!

 

What would you add? 

The least of these

It's the Christmas season and so the Christian radio station I usually listen to online is playing all Christmas music. Which I don't really mind, but it does make you think a lot about Jesus coming, and its meaning, and what it might have been like for those involved. What was it like for the shepherds to see those angels? What did Joseph feel as he and Mary searched for a place to stay, her in labor? (By the way, I don't believe, as some traditions state, that Joseph asked for a place only for his wife. Leave her alone in a house full of strangers? Doesn't seem safe to me. And if I were Mary, I would have INSISTED that we find a place for both of us. Just my opinion).

And of course, many songs talk about Mary, contemplating Jesus face and knowing that he was God. And I thought, "what an amazing opportunity to show devotion to God!" Wouldn't it be amazing to be caring for this little person, knowing that he was God in human form, and that YOU of all people got to express your love for him every minute of every day by caring for this sweet little baby?

As I sat thinking this, suddenly a verse from the Bible came into my mind... "Whatever you do for the least of these, you do unto me." What a second.... what does that mean? Jesus takes very personally the way we treat little ones. In fact, he considers our treatment of them, to be our treatment of him!

Suddenly I am honored and a little afraid. You mean Mary wasn't the only mother who cared for a baby, knowing that she was expressing her love directly to God? Jesus takes the treatment of "the least of these" that seriously.

What an amazing thought. Motherhood takes on a whole other quality to it when you think of it in those terms. I may be getting my kids lunch, be Jesus considers that as significant as if I were offering HIM food. I may be sitting by my daughter's bed as she goes to sleep, but I am actually sitting at the service of Jesus. And those hugs and words of comfort, and care that makes up my day, the Lord looks at it and takes it to heart.

I have heard messages to moms before, where people stated, "you can do anything, even care for your children, as if it was worship to God." But this goes beyond that. It's not "as if" it were worship, it IS worship. Motherhood is devotion, and service, directly to Jesus, through those little ones.

While I consider motherhood to be quite significant, I think this takes it to a whole new level.

Today...

Today was....

Being woken by my two year old, "mommy, sun come out!  Time wake up!"

Grabbing a few more minutes sleep on the couch while she played with her princess toys.  Then breakfast and a quiet time with the tea I brought from Oregon.

Sidewalk chalk on the living room floor (what's the fun of having a rough cement floor if you don't break out the chalk now and then?)  Learning letters, drawing butterflies, playing hopscotch.  Then out came the brooms, the scrub brush, the hose, and we washed away all the chalk and mud from the last month.

Cleaning, cleaning, cleaning. Taking advantage of the beautiful sun to wash and dry some clothes.  Washing all the sheets again and praying the lice are gone for good.  Looking at the sky and wondering if maybe the sun is here to stay and summer will come early this year.

The weather makes it feel like Christmas is just around the corner.

Cleaning done, the girls play school with our neighbor's daughter, making "letters" and drawings and folding them up and delivering them to me.  "For you Mommy!"

Alex called this afternoon, rushed, on someone else's cell phone, probably up on some hill or around the bend on the river where you could sometimes get a cell phone signal. One of the team members is sick and they will be taking an early boat tomorrow morning, at 4:00 am.   Making plans for getting the house nice and clean tomorrow and having a good lunch waiting for them when they arrive.

Walking slowly to the store in the fading sunlight, to buy milk and just to get out of the house.  Walking at a two year olds pace.  Hoping the girls go to sleep easily tonight and that tomorrow comes soon. 

Thankful for another day, for the sun, and for my little sunshines...

Preschool at our house

After making the decision to homeschool, I soon learned that preschool at home means different things to different people.  I am definatley on the relaxed side of preschooling at home.  I was surprised to learn that some people felt it important to show others how much they can teach their kids at home; having them reading at 4, knowing that alphabet by 2, and much more. 

I am not part of that camp.  In my mind, there will be plenty of time for stressing about school when they are older and it matters a lot more.  For now, we have fun, try to keep each other entertained, and don't sweat it when we are too busy or too tired.

Here's a look at what we do....

 

Crafts and more crafts.  They just have to be fun, they don't have to be "educational".  We keep doing them as long as the girls are interested and stop when they are bored.  If they don't want to do the craft the way I had planned, we change plans.  If they want to make dinosaurs instead of flowers, that's fine.  If everything, even the sky, needs to be pink, that's fine too.

Paper crowns: hours of fun.

Actually drawing now, not just scribbles!

Making hearts with paper bits... everything pink, of course!

Chalk on black paper.

The chalk then ended up all over! 

Getting creative with popsicle sticks.  They made this one up on their own.



One of my very favorites, sensory bins. This is a portable one I made right before we moved.  It's just a tackle box with some dried rice and beans, a couple of little dishes and spoons.  She's making dinner for the baby.



This is a bigger version we did several months ago, tons of fun!

 

I just let them go wild with shaving cream.  As you can see, it was a big hit.



 Fun on the road.  We travel a lot so I look for coloring and sticker books that we can easily take along.

Helping in the garden is always fun and I try to talk about what is going on and how plants grow. Here we are harvesting pigeon peas.

This was a simple graphing activity that I found on www.1plus1plus1equals1.com, she really got into.  All you have to do is make a dice, then roll it and graph the results.



It also involved physical activity as she "rolled" it across the room.

Painting more activities from www.1plus1plus1equals1.com, we use lots of stuff from this website, it's lots of fun.

Finger puppets!

Another fun printable activity I found, I can't remember where.  She has to sequence the pictures from small to large.

So there are some glimpses of how we do preschool!  Again, we keep it relaxed and fun, they have so much to learn at this age, that I don't want to waste time pushing academics they aren't inerested in, or aren't ready for yet. 

Preschool is fun, it's keeping their minds busy, it's explkoring, it's learning to be curious.

Kids in missions

I have no idea if most missionary moms have the same doubts that I do.  I wonder how the realities of missionary life will affect my kids.  I wonder what the future brings for them.  I worry about their health, about their language learning, and about their future education.  I worry about the risks of modern life, about traveling on boats and with crazy bus drivers.  I worry about them growing up between different cultures, I worry about what they will learn from the neighbor kids, and about just about everything else  in life.

Perhaps it's just natural to worry as a mom, but I wonder if I worry more than some.  People tell me how wonderful they think it is that my kids have the opportunity to live in another country and learn mutliple languages.  Sometimes it's hard to see that when I am worrying about whether the drinking water is safe, or what to do about lice and skin fungus's that just love this tropical weather.

So today I want to write about the benefits of having kids as a missionary.  Besides all the worries that I mentioned, there is the simple fact that taking kids into the jungle, or even across town for a bible study, is a lot of work.  At this moment we are planning to travel over land to Nicaragua for a YWAM conference.  The trip will take about 3 days and I know that my nerves will be frazzles by the end of it.  So, what makes it all worth it, for both us and the kids who have no choice but to tag along with us?

To me, the first consideration is that God has called us as a family.  When he put in my heart the desire to work with the indigenous people, all those years ago when I made my first visit to an indigenous village, he already knew that I was going to get married and have kids.  So at some point I have to trust that he knows what he is doing, and is able to guide Alex and I in what is best.  I may ask in some situations what is best for them, but it's certainly not in their best interest for us to ignore what God wants us to do.

In working with indigenous people, whether here in town, or out in the small villages, family is central to their lives. The first question you will be asked is about your family.  Having kids not only orients you in the way things should be (existing in the context of family), but there is something that you can immediately relate to.  Babies speak the universal language.  When other women see you in the context of motherhood, you aren't just a foreigner who has come to teach them something. You are a fellow mother who knows what it's like to experience labor pains, go through morning sickness, get up with a fussy baby in the middle of the night, and correct a sassy two-year-old.

It also keeps me humble.  I realize that I don' t have all the answers.  Yesterday, when a toddler starting throwing a tantrum in the middle of the Bible study I was teaching, rather than feeling annoyance, I felt compassion.  I have been there.  It's not easy to keep a one year old quiet for two hours.

Also, having traveled with my kids to the small villages, and lived in jungle conditions, I know how hard it is to keep kids healthy in those conditions.  Yesterday, after the Bible study, Alina, who leads it, showed me some pictures from her recent trip to one of the coastal Wounaan villages.  All the kids are sick with skin infections because of the unclean water.  As she showed me the pictures, I remembered the terrible infection that Princess got last year when we were at that very village.  Before I had kids, my thoughts would have been judgemental, "why can't those moms keep their kids cleaner?"  But now I thought about how I had struggled to keep my kids clean, and applied antibiotic oinment every day, to no avail.

I can't tell you how many conversations have been started by my kids.  Just having a baby in your arms makes up for any lack of social skills.  Once you have a starting place, it's easy to build a friendship.

I have often been amazing at what our girls have put up with.  Two years ago, when Rose was just a baby, we traveled by boat over the ocean for several hours. Not only was the ocean rough that day, but halfway through our journey we ran into a tropical downpour.  I struggled to protect Rose from the rain, between a plastic bag and a borrowed umbrella.  My whole body ached from the bouncing of the motor boat, I was shivered from the cold rain, and the point of land we were trying to reach didn't seem to be getting any closer.  Rose, on the other hand, slept the whole time, and woke up in a good mood at the end of it.

Last year, while we were on our two month outreach, we ate a lot of fish, almost always served whole.  I was a little worried that Princess especially might be frightened (and grossed out) by the gapping mouth and huge eye staring up at her from her plate.  But she loved it!  She even discovered how tasty the fish eyes are, and now will cry if she's not given the head.  She's more of a trooper than I am.

Since we have decided to homeschool, I enjoy seeing all the opportunities to learn through our missionary experiences.  We have plenty of opportunities to interact with farm animals, though we don't own any ourselves.  Things like mountains, rivers, lakes, oceans, beaches, and forests can be seen firsthand.  They get to expereince different types of houses, people, and circumstances.  On our trip to Nicaragua they loved to see the ox drawn carts in the streets.

And I could write on and on about the benefits of being bi-lingual.

I guess I wrote this more to remind myself, than for anyone else.  Yes, my girls are giving up many things that kids back in Oregon may take for granted.  But they are receiving other treasures in return.  My prayer is that both they, and I would be grateful enough to see them every day.