He. Is. Risen!

He is risen, indeed!!!

Amen and amen

He

Is

Risen!!

As Easter approaches my heart longs to go to Mozambique to tell of the good news that He is Alive!

Our countdown until orientation chain says 119 days and sometimes I just want to rip four weeks off of the chain as if it will somehow advance the time.

Last week I hit a lot of big projects in our home during our Easter break from school. When you have four kids you’ve got tot take advantage of all the time you can get, which for me was our Easter break. During the week I sorted, organized, matched into outfits, inventoried, and space saver bagged over ten kid wardrobes that once consumed a whole closet and now occupy 3 totes. Thankfully my friend, Susan, helped me, cutting the workload down to two days instead of the whole week. I also bagged more than ten goodwill donation bags filled with winter clothing, random extras, wall décor, random storage bins, old craft supplies, and toys. I cleaned out and organized our keepsake bins that will stay in the States. I cleaned out the underside of beds and Eden moved out of the crib so we can clean and sell it. I gave away 3 wooden shelves (and most of their contents) and destashed toys the girls haven’t touched in months. I organized all the art/craft supplies we’re bringing to Mozambique. I also gave away our outdoor playhouse and power washed outdoor toys and the swing set. And then to top off the week, I inventoried the entire house, notating what we hope/plan to bring, what will be sold/donated, and what we’re still not certain about. The office wall now displays these lists so I have a further plan on simplifying.

You know, it may feel a little early to some to be at this phase of the cleaning out process. And sometimes it feels a little early when I look at the wall of paper chains still awaiting our countdown. And then I remember that we’ll be gone for 2.5 weeks of June and the last 2 weeks of June will be packing for Orientation/Quelimane and preparing to crate at the end of the month. And July we will be home about a total of 5 days distributed in 2 or 3 day segments in the month.

Beyond our busy schedule before we leave, once homeschool begins again next week there is so much of our life that I just want to experience and enjoy instead of constantly run decluttering and preparation lists. I just want to knock out the big stuff and then play outside with the girls, enjoying the weather and the local parks in the middle of the homeschool day because we have that blessed luxury to do math at the playground. I want to just fill our days with friend playdates and invest in the beautiful lives God has used to cultivate such sweet friendships.

So if our house looks bare a little early, know that it’s because our investment was never in these walls but in sharing in others’ hearts.

119 days can seem so far away some days and yet I know it will absolutely fly other days. But we’re fighting to be present these last 119 days. We’re fighting to spend more time doing life together and less time reorganizing our crate stuff. Oh sure, we need to have intentionality in our crate, but we also need to walk beside our friends and family, continuing to make memories, laugh and cry together. Because when the sun goes down and we load our van to drive to Orientation we don’t want to look back with regrets that we had moved on in our hearts before God had moved our family.

Mozambique is  crazy exciting. The adventure. The bittersweet whittling down of ourselves to rely more fully on God’s provision. The unknowns. The “no plan B” abandonment into God’s Call to run to the nations. Yes, it’s an endurance run, not a sprint, and our hearts still yearn to quicken the pace in moments. There’s a bend up there and we desperately want to see what horizon view lies up ahead.

And our hearts also long to be here with you all. Right here. Right now. Delighting. Laughing. Hoping. Praying. Remembering. Investing..

You go with us because we can’t bare to leave you. And we also stay with you because we can’t bare to leave you.

So today we’re here, celebrating the Lord’s glorious resurrection from the grave and our prayers are there, praying that others would soon learn of the Lord’s glorious resurrection from the grave.

And in both places, He is more than enough! He is. Praise the Lord, He is

RISEN!

 

In 12 hours I went through my whole life’s memories.

Jr. and Sr. High choral pieces. Grade school friend letters from California. College evidence, minus my diploma, is all bagged up for the dump. It’s weird and hard to decide what of my past to save and what to lose in the dusty files of “past life” paper memory.

I’ve tried to keep a good showing of it: birthday cards, silly little letters to my sis, and I haven’t even dared to touch the picture tub yet. My heart can only take so much in one day, people, and you all know how much I love pictures.

What do I want to show my kids when they get older of who I was and the building blocks of who I am today?

And then I wonder will they ever see it?

How long are You sending us, Lord?

I know it’s not for us to know.

You never told us how long we’d stay here.

And ten years feels like a blink some days.

 

Later today is our last Upward Basketball Celebration. It’s (I struggle to find a word here) hard to say goodbye to a ministry God gave you the grace to help start. We have prayed so much over this ministry. The hours. The love. The delight in the precious little children’s faces. We’ve gotten the privilege to watch children grow up in the ministry. Kids like the one I just tried to represent as I packed her away into my memory box.

Oh Lord, what a privilege to invest in another’s life. As I look back on the beautiful investments of my own I am left in awe at Your hand orchestrating the delicate flouring of my soul.

I don’t deserve such care.

I don’t deserve the opportunity to make such an investment in others.

What a privilege.

 

So upward little loves, we will miss you. Wonderful coaches, snack shack helpers, greeters (I can still picture Ms. Becky’s radiant face as she stood at the door for years), referees, Moms and Dads and friends and family of the jubilant little people… we’ll miss you. Big. Time. And thank you for the privilege of loving you.

And class back in California sending goodbye letters to a little 3rd grade girl moving to the cross-country unknowns, family who sent endless cards, friends who loved selflessly from even across the country, church youth groups, praise teams, college campus ministry… I miss you. And thank you for the privilege of loving you.

 

God has used you all to shape us into better followers of Him. We’re so much better because of you. Your investment is living on so much further than the memory box.

 

I’m so overwhelmed sometimes in this journey through my life. The good, the hard, the old and the new.

And as we start a new chapter, slowly closing up parts of the last one over the next 126 days, I’m thankful that in looking at how God used the past unknowns to draw us to Himself, I can have full confidence of His drawing in the future unknowns.

My heart is full. Thank you, so many dear ones, for continuing this journey with us and choosing to walk with us into memories beyond the memory box.

We don’t deserve your love.

You bless us so.

 

-Another step forward. To the ends of the earth.

Two generations and the sixth little girl has graced this sweet little dress before packing it away in our America memories.  

 
This little picture blesses my heart so. It’s been a wonderful run for this precious little dress first worn by my older sister. 

  
(The beginning and quite possibly the end of this little dress’ legacy.)

– My heart is happy. 🙂

Our six year old daughter had struggled with the idea of leaving. God was calling our family to missions in Africa, but that meant she couldn’t bring her friends or our extended family. Sometimes she braved through her struggles, expressing her fears and hurts. And other times she was just silent, almost in denial.

We did what every other parent does, talking through the hardships, trying to strike up some excitement about the good in the move, and trusting that the Lord would work it all out in her slowly over time.

It was the day before our job match. Our level of excitement was pretty high. We had sat back and watched God in His glorious plan orchestrate this whole thing. We had originally thought job matching would occur months later, but God put everything in His Divine fast-forward: my seminary classes were offered in a way that I could complete them in half the time, snags were all Divinely ironed straight from childhood vaccines mysteriously appearing after 30 years from the bottom of a dusty basement to a kid evaluation that would have taken months on a waiting list completed and cleared within seven days. God’s hand was orchestrating and confirming. And we just stepped back in awe and worship.

Then the phone rang the night before our job match to Mozambique. And in one foul swoop of a failed medical clearance due to past delivery complications we were told that the job to Mozambique wasn’t going to happen. Just like that the entire world stood still. Absolutely shockingly still.

What do you do when the voice telling you to go to Africa is the same voice saying to go to Mozambique?

You tell your kids the truth over a quiet dinner table. You kiss your husband before he goes off to lead youth group. And you load the kids in the van and just drive. Not going anywhere. Just watching the scenery go by. And you cry. And you pray… even when you don’t have the words. We just drive. And you pray without words. And then you come home and go to bed.

The next morning Matt was caught in a series of phone calls. Some from our job match guy extending his apologies. And then Matt’s message was returned and he talked to the medical staff making the clearance decisions. Matt didn’t plea. He didn’t speak angrily. He wasn’t stunningly persuasive. But after a thirty minute conversation Matt called me. He shared that the medical team was meeting together to discuss our file and they would call us after one hour. This was an act of God in the first place since medical clearance is usually not a negotiable process.

You had better believe I spent that hour pacing the hallway in prayer. And then the phonecall came through with the opening words, “Are you ready to pack your bags?”

Within thirty minutes we were job matched to Mozambique.

Our house ERUPTED in jubilation. And much to my surprise a little once-hesitant six year old was celebrating alongside of the rest of us. Happy, yet a little puzzled, I asked her what had changed. And then she said,

“Last night after you and Daddy said goodnight, I prayed in my bed there in the dark that God would please let our family go to Mozambique.”

It was then that I realized that the past 24 hours was all in order for our little girl to fall in love with Mozambique.

Today we know leaving will hurt and we still talk about how it will be hard. But ever since that night our Rachael has never once looked back. Her heart longs to share Jesus in Mozambique.

God is sending our family – every single one of us- to His work in Mozambique.

 

It was naptime and the house was quiet. The oldest two just sat at the table finishing their school work… and clearly stalling some.

Abi: “You know,” all reflective-like, “I really thought we’d be coming back to this house at furlough. Like I didn’t think we’d never be coming back.”

Rachael: Emotionless with her mind still on her work, “We’re never coming back to this house.”

Abi: “Yeah… I know now.” Thinks for a few seconds. “And like… our friends are going to be older because we’ll be older.”

Rachael: “Yeah, Lexi (who’s currently in elementary school) will be DRIVING!” She finally engages her mind in the conversation.

Abi: “But what if we forget her name?”

Rachael: Quickly dismissing her sister, “—We’re not going to forget her name!”

Abi: “Yeah…” (attempting to be persuasive), “but what if we forget her name?”

Rachael: (Not buying it.) “We won’t forget her name.”

Abi: “Yeah, I guess we could just be like, ‘Sorry we forgot your name we are on FURLOUGH afterall!”

 

 

Processing isn’t always sad.

Sometimes it’s just hilarious.

 

 

– Apparently everyone should automatically assume we will leave our brains in Africa. 😉