A Cultural Clash Redeemed

Sometimes cultures clash and you find yourself standing in the gap in the sake of your daughter.

 

I hesitate to share this story with you because I hope you will choose to leave this in the Lord’s hands like we have. That being said, I want you to know that we fought the same responses you may when you read pieces of this: frustration, an urge to protect, an urge to respond rashly, and then a settling into God’s Sovereignty in this situation. The benefit for you is that you get to read this situation in entirety verses our wrestling with this over four days of “beyond our control” waiting.

But I have chosen to share this because I really make a concerted effort to share the whole story of our life here: the good and the hard, and how Jesus is capable of redeeming everything for His Glory in our lives here.

 

Abi came home from school frustrated and embarrassed. She brought home a story from the play-yard where she usually finds delight in catching frogs and lizards. This time it was a lizard that she caught triumphantly when another child came over to investigate.  On this day, this child was surprised by the lizard and began screaming when the lizard jumped out of Abi’s hand onto the ground. The child began stomping the lizard in the dirt while accusing Abi of throwing it on her.

Rachael, while standing there, continued to defend Abi (keep in mind that all of this is in Portuguese) as Abi and Rachael told the child that the lizard was on the ground (where she had smashed it). Many children began to crowd around at the great commotion.

The child left and returned with an older child. The older child grabbed Abi while the younger child spanked Abi. Other children circled and shouted and Rachael yelled in Abi’s defense, telling this older child to let go of Abi and continuing to proclaim Abi’s innocence. Abi fought away from the kids and ran toward where she believed a teacher’s assistant would be, but unfortunately the teacher’s assistant was not there.  See, the teachers all take their break during the children’s recess time and two teachers assistance are in charge of the children during the time.

The two children pursued Abi when the school bell rang, informing the children to return to their lines in the gym. The older child was in a line nearby Rachael and announced that she was going to go hit Abi. Rachael yelled in Abi’s defense again, but in the chaos of the kids lining up and the lack of supervision, the two children once again returned to holding and hitting Abi, only this time on the top of the head with a closed fist. Abi sunk to the floor, crying and the teacher found her there. When the teacher asked who hit Abi, Abi’s entire class pointed to the guilty child, but the older child was back in their line and was not identified as aiding in the situation. The teacher told the child not to hit people, not knowing the full story, and helped Abi return to the line.

Abi was not physically hurt despite the incidents. She is a tough kid, but she was obviously scared, frustrated and feeling defeated.

So let’s address the cultural realities behind this in which we battled in addressing this situation with the teacher, the children involved and their parents. This type of rough behavior here is highly common and brushed off as ‘kids being kids”. Kids here are very rough in general, wrestling and hitting each other even when they are close friends. It’s a reality of children in the community spending a decent amount of time unsupervised. I’m not saying unloved, but the realities of the family workload leave four year old children caring for younger siblings while Mom is in the field for the morning. So kids come together, many times in groups outside, passing the time with nearby friends. And kids work out their problems with their limited skill sets, which often involves hitting. Oh sure, friends and family, kids hit. We all know that. But our situation’s kind of hitting took on a different angle when the child acquired a larger child to aid in the fight.

Another cultural reality that we learned in this process is that an older child entering the situation is supposed to be a voice of greater wisdom and an aider of calming the situation. This was helpful information when I spoke with the older child about their part in this problem. And quite honestly, this was nice to know was an underlying cultural rule in this community as our children play in the community.

There’s also the culture of fear of frogs and lizards in general among Africans. There’s also the culture of unsupervision which carries over to the school setting. For example, many times a teacher has to attend to other work and instead of finding a replacement teacher, the class is just left to color pictures… for 3 hours, unsupervised. You can imagine that running, yelling, sometimes hitting and general chaos happens. Usually another teacher leaves her classroom to recalm the other classroom temporarily. Yeah, it’s just Africa, and the girls are learning how to follow good examples and avoid being in the line of fire of bad examples.

Then we rubbed up against the culture here that most people are not pro-active. They tend to wait until a situation gets so problematic that it has to be addressed. We were not sure if this situation would have been brushed off as normal kid behavior or if it would be agreed upon that it was needing to be addressed. But either way, this situation in our culture absolutely had to be addressed.

 

My first response was most certainly fight or flight. My flesh rose to heightened Mama Bear protector mode and I am thankful for Matt’s sensibility once again. 😉 I am also thankful that in this moment my Portuguese is not as strong as Matt’s so he was our public voice for most of this situation because quite honestly, I was not as level-headed for the first 48 hours. Respectful, yes, but I had less control in my inner person and was not sure how I would respond if in a parent meeting the other child’s parents defended their child’s behavior.

We used the culture in our favor to require the teacher to call a parent meeting with the children involved and their parents. Since the older child’s parents were very hard to get to come to the meeting and the older child was repentant, the child who did the hitting’s mother came to the meeting as well as the 2 other children.

The day after the situation, I confronted the older child, trying to swallow my inner burning for justice. When the older child defended the classmate’s behavior because she said Abi put a lizard on the classmate’s head, I informed the older child that that was a lie, just as Rachael had said because Rachael was standing there to see the whole thing. I asked the older child if she saw the situation for herself before holding down my daughter so another could hit her. And I told her, leveraging the culture, that she is supposed to be a helper to the situation, not a bigger problem. When the older child found out that the situation was a lie, her face broke into repentance and she immediately apologized. I think the public hearing this also helped curb her respect for me (the adult), which is a building block in this community. And while approaching the child after the situation was over is not really a part of this culture (I would have normally approached the parent), due to the situation, the timing, and the lack of parents picking up this child, by the grace of God, the road was paved for further conversations. Then I felt the Lord swelling up within me as I softened my voice further to encourage this older child to protect and care for younger children. I reminded her that that job is one of honor.

 

Matt attended the parent meeting to find a mother broken by her daughter’s behavior. And that was nothing but the grace of God. The mother said even if Abi had thrown a lizard on her daughter, though she knew Abi did not, that her child’s response was completely unacceptable. This is a grace of God to find a parent in this community who would say this. Beyond this, the mother apologized and required her child, who was sick that day from school, when she returned to school, to apologize to Abi.

And then we learned that behind the scenes our little Mama, Rachael, had stood in defense of Abi when asked by her teacher (who adores Rachael) and the teacher of the older child. Rachael was leveraged as a voice of reason to clarify and solve this problem. While we didn’t ask Rachael to play this role, this also was not a problem because we learned that the more school community that knows about this situation, respectfully, will aid in helping to curb further behavior. This was evidenced in other teachers entering the situation to solve the problem. Community is a big deal here! And people modify their behavior based on the accountability of community.

The child has since apologized to Abi, hugged Abi and, thanks to the grace of God, has been friendly toward Abi again. And how’s Abi?

Well, Abi is a really resilient kid. And this move overseas has only heightened her resilience. We have had many conversations about forgiveness, not living in fear and this situation’s resolve has left her as happy and carefree as normal. We have advised her to not catch lizards and frogs during recess at school, especially since she can’t keep them anywhere. And instead we’ve given her some time after school to grab a few helpless victims to add to her plastic tuppowear for 12 hours of prison before they are returned to the outdoors. 😉

So thus this situation was resolved with care and grace extended. And God in His Sovereignty has showered his grace over us all as we are continuing to learn how to thrive in this community.

Thanks be to God for His presence amidst a hard cultural clash in our community. How He can make beauty from ashes. How He can speak in our hearts to still and calm us and to spring us to action where we must. How He is a trusted friend who walks beside us in times of uncertainty. And how He frees us to forgiveness and returned joy. Oh and thanks be to God how he protected our Abi’s innocence amidst a potentially future fear-creating situation.

Thank You, Lord.

Sweeter than Honey

The heavens declare the glory of God;

the skies proclaim the work of His hands.

Day after day they pour forth speech;

night after night they display knowledge.

There is no speech or language

where their voice is not heard.

Their voice goes out into all the earth,

their words to the ends of the world.

In the heavens He has pitched a tent for the sun,

which is like a bridegroom coming forth from his pavilion,

like a champion rejoicing to run his course.

It rises at one end of the heavens and makes its circuit to the other;

nothing is hidden from its heat.

The law of the Lord is perfect,

reviving the soul.

The statutes of the Lord are trustworthy,

making wise the simple.

The precepts of the Lord are right,

giving joy to the heart.

The commands of the Lord are radiant,

giving light to the eyes.

The fear of the Lord is pure,

enduring forever.

The ordinances of the Lord are sure and altogether righteous.

They are more precious than gold,

than much pure gold;

they are sweeter than honey,

than honey from the comb.

By them is your servant warned;

in keeping them is great reward.

Who can discern his errors?

Forgive my hidden faults.

Keep your servant from willful sins;

may they not rule over me.

Then will I be blameless,

innocent of great transgression.

May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be pleasing in your sight,

O Lord, my Rock and my Redeemer.

-Psalm 19

“Your call will take you to the mission field.

But it is only your daily walk with God that will keep you there.” -E.S.

Perfection

Before anyone starts putting us on a pedestal thinking our kids are perfect here (Ha!), I just want to take a minute to share this slice of reality with you here.

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Oh yes, that would be my stubborn toddler throwing a silent “I’m going to disobediently cover myself in dirt while laying here on the church floor because you told me ‘no’ and I refuse to accept that choice” tantrum.

So in case you’re curious? Boundary testing happens on both sides of the ocean. 😉

Among all ages. 😉

And through the grace of God, we Stateside and we Missionary parents will keep plugging away at well-rounded, boundary-respecting little contributions to our world. =)

Happy Parenting. 😉

Project Satisfaction: The Dining Room Table

She has a gimp leg bandaged in metal bandages. I remember sliding her over, the beastly thing. She’s sure solid wood that’s for sure! And then I looked down at the crack. Her leg was splintering off. Hmmm, pretty sure that’s a problem. I thought. I remember Daddy coming to the rescue one time when they were in town. A trip down to the hardware store, a few L brackets, wood glue, and some piping fasteners later and she was strong again. Not gorgeous. Not increased in monetary delight. But back to being fully functional.

She has bubbles in her polyurethane finish. And usually some playdough in her cracks. Sometimes I’ll sit there with a butter knife and clean out the sand and glitter from kid projects. She has a little piece of magnet superglued to one area. Oops. I’ve got to scrape that off some day.

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Her chairs are mismatched. I love how it’s a combination of the old and the new. I remember those chairs with the knobs from our first apartment together. Just you and me, Love. And Cheddar. My fat orange and white baby. Remember how the chairs were nice wood and the table …not so much? Wasn’t it funny how big that four seater table felt in our one bedroom apartment? And we had such high hopes of sliding that extension in to bust out a whopping six chairs.

Now we have ten. And we fill six of them. And the four empty remind us to invite someone over for dinner regularly. The empty ones remind us to keep our table open for family, widows, and orphans coming through the foster system. It reminds us to be on the lookout for those needing a friend. Even just for a season. Someone to share a meal with. To remind them of their value. It reminds us to be ready. And open.

I love how there’s those big captain’s chairs for the ends. Only one is replaced by the littlest’s highchair booster on a regular chair. That highchair doesn’t really fit up as close as I ever want it to fit. Maybe it’s that the table sags low. Maybe it’s that extra 1 by 4 that hangs under the edges of the table on the ends. Still not sure why that’s there. Or maybe it’s just that the chairs are too tall. But I love that she can sit there with us. No one is too small to be a part of the family meal. Even when you can’t quite hold your head up.

She has some marks on her. Most are washable. Straying markers imagining artwork. The occasional crayon jetting off the Math mazes. The occasional pencil scratches or pen mark from immature overly-concentrated penmanship of beginning letters and numbers. Homeschooling evidence gives her such character. And love.

Sometimes there are grease spots from time-out foreheads. Spilled milk still in her crevasses from toddlers learning from “big girl cups”. Worn sections on her chairs where this Mommy sat to nurse her baby while balancing eating lunch or correcting a pattern worksheet… or both. Chair rungs reglued in from rocked chairs while learning to read. Motion can help so much when the brain is focusing so, so hard. Or sometimes it’s just hard to sit there and wait. And wait. And wait to be dismissed from dinner. It can feel like an eternity those five minutes! Just ask the toddler with an empty bowl of ice cream and a full belly. Not everyone is served at the same time. Patience training wears on her chairs.And oh those hard chairs. They give no support to the tired bones. Fulfilling their purpose of keeping a tired Mommy awake after long nights of broken sleep because the open Bible is more important than napping so many times.

It feels like a lifetime of memories is stored up in that loved piece of wood.

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Someday I’d like to refinish it. I’d like to wash away the old stain. Maybe sand some of the needed places. And sit with my older girls and restain our beloved table. Teach them the value of hard work. And the delight of the end project while we recall old memories at that very table.

She’s simple. A wonderful hand-me-down to us. A hodgepodge of two tables’ worth of chairs. Some faded stains. Some scratches and scuffs. One gimp leg.

But she’s wonderful. And she’s treasured. Even with those ridiculously heavy chairs that tend to smash preschooler toes when used as prep chef stepstools. And those crevasse that hoard all things sticky, glittery and grainy, refusing to release them from her clutches.

She’s still wonderful.

And we are thankful, grateful and blessed.

God is so good to us.

Project Satisfaction: Intro

I enjoy Pinterest. Who doesn’t right? Where else can you be bombarded with 400 posts a day from complete strangers who have a similar interest in Type A organized craft rooms using only recyclables, underwater photography or even DIY personal hygiene? (Does that topic not scare anyone else out there?) I love looking at “never gonna happen” rooms in imaginary houses just as much as the next person. It reminds me of walking through the Ikea set-ups with my kiddos and imagining living in that exact home… all 500 square feet with my four kids. We enjoy laughing about taking rotations sleeping in the one kid bed and then go get our free Tuesday kid lunches. (Cha-ching!)

I have enjoyed Pinterest and its delightful ideas in homeschooling, housecleaning tips, organization and inspiration. I love being able to serve my family better with a new way of caring for what we already have. A new way of organizing, sorting and decluttering so we can better use all that we have been blessed with and release some of that blessing to others. And if you step foot in our home you’ll see the footprints of Pinterest around little corners and in my cabinets. Pinterest has really benefitted our lives in so many ways.

But there is a danger in Pinterest as well. No, not a stalker hazard signs; though it does seem a bit odd and borderline creepy that a complete stranger could design your dream home, know your whole history of favorite childhood memories, or know your exact child’s favorites without ever having met you. But that aside, the more pressing danger in Pinterest speaks to a far deeper level: Satisfaction.

Do we make changes because we’re unsatisfied with what we have or because it’s fun to have a refresher?

I’m guilty. I will admit it freely. I can easily be caught red-handedly rearranging the furniture when my husband is away on a trip. I get antsy. I like the new. The fresh. A changed perspective. Why do I make changes when Matt’s gone? Simply because I have more time on my hands in the evening. And he can almost expect whenever he’s gone, or sick, or at a conference, that at least one thing will be different when he returns. It’s fun to make improvements. But I must be careful not to let unsatisfaction drive those changes.

So I’m starting Project Satisfaction (insert: fanfare). I’m going to highlight things in my home that may not scream “You know you want one just like me,” but indeed are great blessings, some more hidden blessings than others, in our home. Nope, they’re not the antiques or the heirlooms. They’re not the expensives or the impressives for that matter. But there is great value in liking and even loving what you have. Because, dear friends, I’m going to let you in on a little secret that will change your life: Gratitude turns what you have into more than enough.

– God is so good to us.

To My Abi

*** Sometimes I just want to single her out and share words I wish she could fully understand. But even if she can’t understand fully, my heart still needs to say these words.

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My Dearest Abi Grace,

Oh my flighty, strong-willed, adorable little girl. I have watched you spring out of your toddlerhood into a flourishing little girl. Oh you still need the strict boundaries, they help your passions from flying out of reality. You still need someone to come alongside of you and remind you to break out of your bubble of musical numbers and dance breaks. There is a whole world going on that sometimes you miss in exchange for another rendition of a Frozen song. But how I know your heart loves to express the very depths of those climactic moments brought to song. I love that too. It’s fun to get lost in a song.

My dear Abi, I delight in you. The very world we try to break you out of sometimes is the very world Daddy and I love to see you wholeheartedly in. We love your innocence. I love that you have this whole level of imaginative play that encompasses you. You just get so overwhelmed by your world of play that it outpours into an enviable and beautiful joy. You glow sometimes with such beautiful brightness that we just want to be a part of it. My heart can’t stand not being a part of that happiness you have created.

But you know, I think we butt heads the most because I see a little version of my immature self in you. I forget sometimes how long it took to learn the lessons of maturity when it feels like I have to remind you for the hundredth time that day that you are required to share – even though it was a musical number’s prop your toddler sister touched. I forget the hours of me testing my mother when you I am tired from walking through a hard expression moment with you. I forget how intensely that need for justice burned inside of me until I found an outlet, the very outlet you are searching for. I forget how the passion would well up inside of me and I didn’t know how to direct it or guide it so it would just overflow in tears or a jumble of words that never seemed to express what I really felt. But when I remember all that about the constant and gentle shaping of my wild little heart by a wonderful Father, I do remember one face of reason in my life: my mother. How patiently she walked beside me, teaching me the hard lessons, but I knew full well it was because she was invested in my person, the very core of me. And suddenly I see you as the little girl you are, the little girl struggling to learn how to harness the depth of the character God has knitted together within her. What beauty He has created in you. I can’t wait to see how He uses it, should you allow Him.

Abi, you are a boundary tester at heart. It makes me chuckle to see your little “spirited” side. Sure many times it’s wrapped in selfish motives. You haven’t quite learned how big the world is yet. I’m trying to help you see outside of you. But that sight takes a long time to perfect. It takes intentional training. But it’s worth the investment. I see that little rebellion creep into your smirk as you pretend not to hear your name being called. It makes me chuckle. I tried to get away with that too. You will learn. But even more than you learning to obey, I want you to learn the delight in obedience. The desire to feel that closeness of relationship. That harmony and beauty that comes not out of a broken, crushed-down submission, but to see the fruit of obedience’s harmony and then desire to seek it yourself. First thing’s first, “listen and obey” is your least favorite reminder hat tumbles from my lips – not through pursed lips (many times) but with time and maturity you will learn that I am more invested in your person, than I am your fleeting happiness in that particular moment. It’ll take some time and distance for you to learn that. It has taken that for us all.

Abi, you’ll always be my baby. I know you don’t want to hear that right now because you’re trying so hard to be “big”. You’re trying so hard to learn how to flex your wings and discover what you like and express those likes. Yep, I’m going to correct you. Sometimes those expressions are rooted in greed. And sometimes it’s merely the need to learn how to appropriately communicate your preference without bucking authority. Yeah, that one takes time and practice too. But I want you to feel safe to try. I want you to feel the love and trust that encourage you to make mistakes, even big ones, and then be able to learn from them. It’s a hard, vulnerable place to be to truly learn from another. It’s a pride-crushing blow sometimes. I want you to feel it’s worth the risk. And I want you to hear our cheering squad at your efforts.

My little Abi girl, you are beautiful. And I want you to know I have been and will always fight for you. Sometimes you won’t see it. Sometimes it’ll be behind the scenes. It’s those little conversations I have with others who desire your greatest welfare, where I share some secrets on how to encourage your obedience. 😉 Sometimes it’s holding out my arms to your running tears, and holding you through your explosion of injustice and your hurt. And sometimes its watching you make bumps and bruises and then helping you to learn how to repair relationships. It’s a delicate balance, baby, but I will always fight for you… the best and truest form of you that you can be. In your flaws and your delights…. you are a wonderful investment. Soar, baby!

 

I just wanted to take a moment to write you a letter. I know sometimes you can feel lost in the business of a bunch of sisters, or the business of being a part of a ministry family. I know sometimes you just want some extra snuggle time. You just want Daddy or my full attention. And we try to give it to you. I try to hear your heart, even when it comes out a little jumbled and sin-pricked. You’ve never been “just the middle” to me. I still see the baby I carried around on my hip for over a year because you just needed that security. You are worth every adjustment to what I thought parenting was and is. You are worth the 4 a.m. wake-ups when I just can’t stop thinking about how to teach you a particular lesson. You are worth the extra time it takes to focus in on intentionally teaching you healthy boundaries in a way that you can understand. You are worth the moments of inconvenience when I have to apologize for snapping at you because I was focused more on a behavior than a life lesson. You are my one. My only. My Abi Grace. I love you, Abinov. My Abean-o. I love you so much that I make up little nicknames to catch your attention so you know that you’re on my mind. And just to make you smile.

I am so thankful to get the chance to be your Mommy.

Love you so, sweet girl.

Love you so.

 

From the deep,

Your Mommy

 

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