Month: September 2017

Last Day

Today was the last day of school for Rachael and Abi at the local Portuguese school. These girls rocked out their year with excellent grades (some of the highest in their class) and the casual learning curve of 100% of school being in a foreign language they didn’t even know how to say hello in eleven months ago.

So before I put one uniform away in the memory box and gave away their old uniforms and books to others, I got one picture of their utter joy amidst a year of accomplishments.

Well done, Rachael and Abi! Daddy and I are beyond proud of your endurance and hard work and we are so excited to celebrate being back on the same schedule again. We made it, ladies!!! And you all blew us out of the water with your wonderful selves again this year. Let’s celebrate with our normal Friday pizza and movie night and a night of No Homework for the first time in a long, long time (yes, I too will never forget how you guys had homework every night).

Yay, my delightful loves, WE MADE IT!!!!!!

(Did you catch that ankle friendship bracelet in the above picture, Aunt Jes? It’s still going strong over a year later. She never takes it off. =) – You are so loved. )

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Growing Four

I just wanted to share a few little jewels from our archive of our time here. They’re in no particular order, but I just didn’t want to lose the opportunity to share the short stories and the pieces of our normal that come with them.

Here our girls have learned the art of sharing a double bed. And while some moments leave them looking forward to their hopes of bunk beds in our near future, it’s still so sweet to hear them ask each other “will you snuggle me?” Their bonds have grown so strong over this past year, even if Eden looks like she is gearing up to kick Abi in the face. Ha!

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This is a picture I took from across the church of one of the first days that all four of my girlies sat with the children to recite their group Bible verse and present some children’s songs to the church. Rachael and Abi were my first little ladies to make the transition, but the littler ones took a little more time to get used to the drums echoing off of the cement sanctuary. And thanks to the help of a great big sister, the littlest sister felt right at home.

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With a cement utopia of a yard comes some very hard falls from “growing in coordination” girls. I snapped this picture of Rachael’s battle wound to thank those who supplied all our wonderful first aid supplies. We sure are getting our good use out of those supplies, friends! So once again, thank you for the gift that provides comforts and promises of God’s healing. I’m thankful that even though the tears come first, the smile always returns.

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Here the girls have grown in their attention spans and our expectation on their attention spans, especially in church. Children here are welcome, but are also expected to sit quietly and without distracting others. Coming from children’s programs during service time and directly into 24/7 Portuguese was a bit of an uphill climb in encouraging the girls to pay attention and stay quiet. But they have fought hard at this skill and have conquered many a 3-4 hour church service with grace. Thus began our Sunday tradition of ice cream after church. Just call it a thank you gift for your efforts, little ladies. And to think we used to need a lot to entertain those little hands that are now content to bring one picture book a piece for the whole service. Village churches are extra fun at drawing small pictures on the dirt floor with a stick.

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(Never under-estimate the power of a fairy cottage calendar from Aunt Jes, which was Eden’s preference one Sunday instead of a book. =) The Moz kids enjoyed viewing it as well..)

Here the girls take a bath or a shower every night to cut down on dirty feet entering beds and the general over-all fashion trends of “Pig Pen” from the Peanuts. We usually double the girls up in a bath or shower to keep from using ALL our water budget in three days. So whenever you get the chance to take your own bubble bath, it produces nothing but utter delight as is modeled by none other than the lovely Eden.

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And this is how you grown four happy little ladies here in Mozambique. =)

 

God is so good to us.

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Mai de Y

It started with her report that her dear little friend had not returned to school. The break was over, but still Abi had not seen her buddy. Little Y is a frequent visitor to our home. It began with an innocent self-invitation one day in the schoolyard. “Mai de Abi,” (translated: Abi’s Mom) her little browns looked up at me, “(Can I come play at Abi’s house today?)” Little did I know that the first yes would result in our new normal. Little Y lives only a block away and at 2p we’d catch her eyes at the gate. That little hopeful smile.

Little Y with her “Abi… Abi…” consistently putting forth efforts to play with my little first grade introvert. I cannot begin to express my thankfulness for Y in our lives. She’s so patient, kind and willing. One time she brought her little brother over too and I was impressed at how gentle he was. They just played freely, but so respectfully.

I only met her once, Y’s mom (“Mai de Y”), as she came by maybe the third or fourth time Y had played over at our house. That’s normal for the community here. Mai (My) de Y just wanted to check in and make sure Y was playing well and being respectful. I saw how Y hugged her mom. There was evidence of love and a sweet bond.

But today I found myself in a capalana (Cop-ooh-lah-nah) skirt. I used my nine inches of capulana-alotted walking space wisely, slowly and quietly as Matt and I walked a block over. This time she met our eyes at her gate. Sweet little Y. She played with the neighbor kids this afternoon, but ran over to talk to “Mai de Abi” and “Pai de Abi”. We asked for her father, knowing he had come into town at the news. He was somewhere across the street, but Y told us her grandma was inside.

Out came grandma to the gate as she welcomed us into her home. Three little rooms and a living room space. Our shoes left at the door. A capulana applied to grandma’s nightgown dress. A warm welcome and an offering of the couch to sit. And there she shared the details that had broken all of our hearts.

It started as a headache before her visit down to the capital. She checked into a local hospital, which is as normal as a doctor’s visit for us. And that’s when her blood pressure dropped. Lower and lower. Lower and lower, until they received the news that awful day. Mai de Y was gone.

Just like that.

Gone.

It was just a normal trip visiting family in the capital, but it was the last time Y or her little brother would ever see their mom.

 

 

We sat there in the tear-stained silence of that little sub-let house. Grandma looked at the ceiling as tears streamed down her face. People here don’t cry in front of others. But this she could not help.

Grandma shared of raising eleven children, eight boys and three girls. She laughed at the joys of children and told us the same thing everyone tells us: that one day we will have a boy. We smiled and giggled. Boys here are the heads of households. We know her sentiment well. Children are so valued. They are treasured. She knows the joys well.

The future is uncertain for little Y and her little brother. Things are complicated. Father didn’t live with them, but is now in town to see if he can parent them. The family just waits, knowing he will need help. Then the maternal and paternal sides will work it out. One tradition will speak over another and a final verdict will be made. And then little Y and her brother will move away – somewhere… The family will usually try to keep them together, but Y is getting close to that age. The age of possibly becoming a house helper to a relative with a new baby.

So many things are left unresolved. So much hangs in the valance.

“They are so young” comes a grandmother’s pain. She knows she is not the deciding factor in the children’s future home. And yet she has helped raise them. She has lived with them. She is their normal.

We left a Bible and prayed with and over Y’s household. Her grandmother choked back tears again as we reminded her that Y is always welcome to play in our home. “That is so good for her,” she semi-whispered, “It’s good for her to play with friends.”

And I instantly flashed back to that first day Y was back in school. I was waiting for Abi as usual when Y came running up and threw her arms around me. How my heart hurt as I pet her hair and told her we were praying for her and her family. She just held me for five minutes. People here aren’t big huggers. I just kept petting her hair. She asked if she could come over and play. I assured her that she is always welcome.

 

 

She is always welcome…

 

-Please join me in praying for little Y, her little brother, and her family.

 

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