Oh, to be 3 again

Tonight we said goodbye to a great group that was here visiting from Vancouver, BC. A night of worship and thank-you's turned into dancing for all interested. My Princess was definately interested. At three, she has few inhibitions and danced her little heart out, gleefully joining hands with anyone who would offer. Our little friends Eve and Euma were right beside her.

Most of the young people joined in, but there were those hiding in the corners, hoping that nobody noticed that they weren't joining in. But the little kids, they had it the best. Pure joy in the moment, no worries if they looked funny, or didn't do it right. Just joy. I so hope that is what heaven is like. Free of self-counciousness, free to enjoy life as it was meant to be lived.

And though I was raised Baptist, I do hope there is dancing in heaven. And I wish I could keep my little one here, enjoying life and innocent. I wish that she would never realize that there is evil in the world. That every day would be like today.

Saying goodbye again

This past year or so has been a year of saying goodbye to friends. I guess that's one of the things about a missionary lifestyle that I haven't come to peace about. People often ask me if it's hard to live in another country, or whether I miss Oregon. I tell them it's not really the places you miss, but the people. I guess it's one of the true hardships of missionary life.

True, I don't care much for cold showers, or lack of water, or Panama's public buses. But I put up with them, and try to be thankful for water, even when it's cold, and transportation, even when it makes me pray harder than I ever have before.

However, none of these are true hardships. True hardship is saying good bye. It's knowing that all the people you care most about are thousands of miles away, and that you can't just drive to see them whenever you want, or go visit your sister's new baby, or attend weddings, or be part of family camping trips. Those are the moments when missionary life loses it's thrill.

And is if that wasn't hard enough, the close bonds of friendship that you form in your new home country are tenuous as your co-workers feel a call to a new country. The friendship that you built over years of shared experiences, challenges overcome together, weddings, first babies, difficulties and tears, slips away as you must say goodbye to another friend. And smile. And say how happy you are for this new step. All the while you are thinking, "How is this fair? Didn't I give up everything to be here? Do I have to give this up too?"

In the midst of that inner struggle, you realize that it's not just you who must face this challenge headon, but your children as well. Those innocent, trusting souls who don't understand why their playmate is no longer here, and who won't know why thier best friends are now moving to another country.

How do I even broach the conversation? How do I smile and make it sound positive when I myself have not come to peace with it? So I have been avoiding the subject. But I can't forever. I put it off another day and pray for peace. Peace that I desperately need to pass on to my little ones.

"In this world you will have troubles, but take heart, I have overcome the world." -Jesus

Another shot at learning Woun meu

I knew that our 3 year old Princess was not as strong in Woun mue (my husband's native language) as she is in English and Spanish. She converses, tells stories, asks "why?", and switches back and forth between the two. She prefers Spanish at the moment, but certainly is not lagging behind in English, nor is she behind for her age.

Yet in Woun mue she says only a few scattered words, and it's hard to say how much she understands. The reason for this is probably three-fold:

1. We don't live in a Wounaan* community, so she's not hearning the language from other kids in her daily play.

2. Because we don't live in a Wounaan community, Alex doesn't think to speak to the girls in his native tongue every day. No one else here speaks it, so it doesn't seem like the natural thing to do.

3. She has realized that almost everyone who speaks Woun meu, also speaks Spanish. So why learn a language that you don't need to?

So what to do? There's no easy answer. But lately Alex has been desirous to try and intentionally teach them the language. I am all for it, and we have talked about me planning him some simple learning activites they can do together. As we talked this over it hit me that maybe Alex needs to be taught how to teach language. Most people don't know much about how kids learn language.

Maybe, maybe.... if they can learn some words and phrases, feel a little more comfortable with the language, than they won't be so overwelmed when a relative comes up, pinches their cheeks and rattles off a bunch of questions. Here's hoping.

Starting our school corner

This week I have started scheduling a few "gentle" preschool activities with the girls each day. Alex and I have been going back and forth on whether to homeschool, and for now we have decided to go for it. I'm not really in favor of pushing academics too soon, so mostly what we are doing are crafts, coloring, puzzles, games in the yard, etc.

I'm not much of a schedule person when it comes to my kids, so I had hesitated to actually write stuff down, but it has been really good for them, and for me to. I start out the day with some purpose, knowing what activities we want to do, and it's perfect for those in between times when someone is grumpy and a well-timed activity can save the day.

I've even been inspired to reorganize our craft materials and games to form a little school corner. In the photos you can see our littel table set for a tea party with shelves in the back, and Princess proudly displaying an "A" she drew herself in cornmeal.

Proof of how much Princess has been enjoying these simple activities was today, when a friend came to visit. The first thing she did was to hurry her over to look at her school corner. Her favorite request is, "I want to do something!"

The other benefit is that I am feeling out what a homeschooling day will look like, and enjoying the process. I still haven't decided whether we will do anything more organized next year. I think we will wait and see.

Who knew it would be this hard?

Raising a bilingual (or in our case, tri-lingual) child raised a lot of questions and doubts that I didn't think it would.

Are we doing this right?

Are we confusing her?

Is she going to end up totally messed up?

I guess it's harder since I was raised only speaking English. That seemed normal to me. Alex was raised bi-lingual, so maybe that's why he doesn't suffer the same agonizing questions that I do.

I guess ultimately, we know that the price of NOT raising her tri-lingual are much higher than making this work. Who would I want to cut out of her life? Who would I decide that she doesn't need to communicate with?

My family? I can't imagine her not being able to talk to my parents, or not being able to sing "Itsy-Bitsy Spider" with her.

Alex's family? Wounaan may be a language spoken by an indigenous tribe of only a few thousand people, mostly hidden away in the jungle. But it's the language her Daddy grew up with. It's the only language her grandmother is fluent in. It's what's spoken in Alex's village. How can she understand what it is to be Wounaan if she can't speak with her family?

And Spanish, well, it's only the language that Alex and I communicate in most, and that everyone else in this country speaks, so unless we move somewhere else, she's stuck with it.

And somewhere along the line, as I contemplated whatever marvelous processes are going on inside her little brain as she picks up these languages, is not so different from other kids, just a little broader. She is learning that Mommy and Daddy talk differently. I say, "let's go to sleep." and Alex says, "Vamos a dormir". But really, how different is that from a child learning that "night-night is the same as "sleep", and that "Daddy went to work", is another way to say, "Daddy went bye-bye."

So maybe she won't be any more confused than other kids. She'll just have a much broader vocabulary to choose from.

Where I am today

Why does everyone have an opinion about what sort of a mother I should be? Every book I read seems to assume that if I am not doing parenthood the way you do, I am wrong, or at least falling short a bit.

Yet none of those assumptions seem to help me much. I already know that I don't have what it takes. I already know that I can't love my little girls perfectly, or rejoice at every dirty diaper I have the privilege of changing, as one author suggested. I am just here, hanging on to God's grace and asking for the strength the get through another day.

I know what I do is important. I love my little princesses, my husband. But I still need God's mercy to get up again tonight when little Rose is throwing up again, the forth night in a row, while Daddy is gone all week. I need love to pick her up again when she falls down and won't get up until I come and help her up. Or the patience to think through how I will react when my Princess says "no" for the 100th time tonight.

Sorry, but telling me how to be a perfect mother is kind of pointless. I will never get there. I don't even want to think about trying. Today, I need to hear about how God still loves me anyway. I need to know that I can go back to him again tonight with the same complaints, same needs, and same weaknesses as I do every night, and know that he will not reject me. I need to know that I can tell him honestly how I feel, the way I can with no one else, and he will still love me wholly.

I know that the ideal mother should be. I see her in my head, seemingly mocking me at times, telling me that my house isn't clean enough, I haven't done enough crafts with my kids this week, and how everyone else at dinner is thinking that my kids or total brats, as I try to get them to at lease sit through the meal, if not eat.

I should go on a diet from parenting advice. I want to do a great job, oh how I want to! I want my kids to have wonderful, loving memories of their childhood, as I do. I want them to grow into all they can be, to see God in me, to find hope and courage for life. But when I use my failings as a starting point, I get lost.

Can I start with God? Know that he loves me, loves my kids? I don't know how to. I don't know how to accept grace here. Can I feel his acceptance? Joy? Approval? Someday before I reach perfection? I see that place in my mind, a place of freedom, release. A place of grace. I'm not there yet, but oh how I yearn to reach it.