Worldview Reality Check

This short film from the library altered my view of hardwork years ago.

Here’s a preview that barely does it justice.

While Mozambicans can’t afford a cement courtyard or block house rooms for their family members (let alone a cool city drain to sweep rubbish into), a lot is common between the West Coast and here on the East Coast of Africa.

Water access, everyone pitching in for the family unit, chores and family roles are all important daily realities.

When’s the last time you wondered if there would be enough water for your family to drink today?

When’s the last time you wondered if the pipes would produce water to wash the dishes, flush the toilets (or wash away the waste) or cook with?

How will we use our blessings today?

How will we benefit others?

What legacy are we leaving?

July 1, 2022 0

According to the Pace of the Children

I must confess, Jacob’s not my favorite. Every time I read the Word and come across Jacob’s story, I’m reminded that I don’t really enjoy the guy. Maybe that’s harsh? I’m not meaning to be harsh, I mean I only know what the Word records about the man, but what it records isn’t exactly flattering. Sure we could go into a long conversation about his sibling rivalry trickery, his selfish promise to the All-Powerful God after his crooked-neck rock dream, his marriage selection flaws, his trickery of his Father-in-law, his poor leadership of his wives… the list goes on. But today as I read Genesis 33, I was reminded of one thing that I’d like to take away from Jacob’s story.

See, it actually comes from a super flawed story that’s unfolding regarding meeting up with Esau again after fleeing Esau’s decently-justified rage of his stolen birthright by whom other than our “hero” Jacob. Understandable Jacob is nervous about this upcoming encounter. Maybe he’s relying on his own deliverance again instead of the Deliverer’s. So he stacks up the “greeting parties” with plans to be able to flee if Esau attacks the front parties, valuing his life above them all by holding up the rear. Each wave of workers and dependents bringing Esau a gift- maybe an attempt to soften the blow.

Cowardly move? It could appear so quite easily. But maybe culture is also wrapped up in it. Maybe there’s some protocol for meeting a potential enemy who’s blood related? 😬

Much to Jacob’s sheer gracious blessing, the Lord defends his lacking servant and moves on Jacob’s behalf to protect him from Esau’s anger, even permitting a more friendly encounter from the previously divided brothers.

Jacob’s response when asked by Esau if he’s like to accompany him back “home”? Verse 13-14 says, “But he (Jacob) said to him (Esau), ‘ My lord knows that the children are frail and that the flocks and herd which are nursing are a care to me. And if they are driven hard one day, all the flocks will die. Please let my lord pass on before his servant, and I will proceed at my leisure, according to the pace of the cattle that are before me and according to the pace of the children until I come to my lord at Seir.”

Was Jacob really concerned about preserving his legacy, his livelihood ? I’ve heard many an argument for Jacob’s secret plot, evidenced by him never actually returning to Seir and therefore some have concluded that he had a hidden plot the whole time to ditch Esau.

But I do find it interesting how Jacob’s speech appears to be very humble in this moment and appears to be focused not on his own good but the most frail among the traveling party.

Maybe the guy is genuine. Maybe he’s tricking again. And it’s in these moments that I am thankful again to not have the job of being the judge of the heart of man. Yet here I do find a reminder even through one who doesn’t quite make the list of “follow my example” encouragers.

The flocks and the children “are a care to” Jacob (vs 13). And I admire that he was willing to stoop to a leisurely pace of the frail cattle and the children.

How many times in our busy lives have we asked the most frail among us and the children to keep pace with our strides? There is much to be done. Many tasks that need our justifiable attention.

Yet here is a reminder to pace myself according to the children. Stopping to tie a shoe. Or look at a bird chirping in a tree just because it’s pretty and worthy of being studied for a minute. Not having an agenda or a schedule that cannot be altered. Not seeing them as a burden or an inconvenience to productivity, but as an opportunity for leisure… leisure together.

And just maybe when we stoop to serve the smallest among us we will see that we needed their joyful discovery pace all along.

Will you join me? Will you take up their pace?

January 18, 2021 1

I Already Have One

As Matt and I plan to visit back to the States we have taken the opportunity to reflect on the past term of living in Mozambique. Some beautiful stories have arisen amid long car rides as we have seen God’s hand at work. Sure the challenge still remains and we’ve had our fair share of reflecting on overcoming and living in those challenge tensions too.

In the spirit of preparing our hearts, we’ve also taken on the healthy task of decluttering again. After having given away 70% of everything we owned before moving to Mozambique and having lived a year in Quelimane “virtually out of suitcases”, we have grown and continue to grow in living simply.

As we were giving away some things to a precious friend, she graciously and thoughtfully made her selections from the things on our table. I loved listening to her thinking through the dishes and hearing her vocalize leaving things for others. But one phrase caught my heart as I listened. I had picked up a coffee cup from a reputable place which we both knew was a quality make. “Oh, I won’t take this one. I already have one and it has lasted me for years.” She placed it back down on the table contentedly. But the words hung in the air.

How quickly would I have thought about keeping a back-up cup? How quickly would I have thought to replace mine with the hope that the one on the table would outlast my old one? But here the lesson spoke truer, “I already have one.” It’s a lesson in contentment. A lesson in simplicity. I already have ONE. And she literally means just one.

Matt and I are still learning to live in the one, trusting not in our own provision but just… trusting. There’s nothing wrong in replacing the broken or the tired- in fact I’m thankful for a team coming in a couple of weeks that will be helping us replace some three year old items that are beyond limping along. But I just wanted to share this story in hopes that it could be an encouragement to others. Simplicity has been so freeing and so faith growing.

We are learning what to keep in extra. (You know, like a spare tire? 😉) And how to find contentment and freeing joy by a less full shelf. Because as it turns out, that shelf is as full as it needs to be. It truly IS enough.

The first year we were here in our current city, I sat down with the girls for a little stenciling fun. The girls made fun princesses, nature scenes and cute little animals while I made this reminder for our wall. Dear ones, I am still very much learning this lesson, but I can speak from my heart that this lessons is so incredibly freeing and true.

Lord, please continue to grow my faith. Please mature me, Father, like my sister who graciously and with a heart of gratitude returned the coffee cup to the table. I trust in Your provision, even in the little things. You are and will always be MORE than enough. Thank You, Lord. HOW You provide. I am overwhelmed. Thank You for the reminder through my sister today.

February 28, 2020 4

Becoming a Stereotype

I wrestle with it. It keeps me up at night. I struggle to put it into words. To assign it a voice and a depth of meaning. Like a Mama bear pacing in front of her cave in some moments. Like an obligation I do not know how to quite carry. A spiraling into the unknown.

I swing between complete responsibility, wrestling to discern maturity during full disclosure, and an “it’s beyond my grasp” deflation. This unknown people becoming known. Because some white people showed up.

How does one portray them? How can I explain them? Things I wrestle with about their culture that I’m still processing, sometimes aloud. Things I admire. Overwhelming lessons. Overwhelming obligations and responsibilities.

All while walking on a thin line. How can I keep them from becoming a stereotype? They’re not just faces to push a platform. Faces to represent a statement they never made.

What would their mother think? That baby who could be portrayed as helpless that she has nursed through the first two years of life as her utter prize. Her long awaited miracle. What would his father think seeing his son be portrayed as desperate? That son he is intentionally raising to be a man.

Tread lightly, beloved, as you tell a story that is not your own. Step carefully and carry the responsibility well as many may unknowingly place an agenda on their shoulders, words in their mouths, or an ideal written on their faces that they would never say.

He is N’s boy. F’s baby girl. F and Y’s precious sister who my girls run to hug from across the field. They are my precious D and L who pushed past my foreign ways with giggles and I always just so happen to find sitting right beside me each week. He’s A’s boy who always looks after his brother, and holds his hands out to the little ones to make sure they know there’s a seat for them. They and countless others. They are real, live, and utterly amazing people.

People with voices.

People with stories.

People with hopes.

They are ours because they’ll have us, not because we claim them.

I wrestle with it. And I think we all should. Because they’re not props. They are people. A bright future. And we have a responsibility to them, whether we know them personally or not. They’re not a status. They’re not a symbol. A poster child for a lesson they never intended to teach.

Tread lightly, beloved.

Step carefully and carry the responsibility well.

There’s always so much more to learn. Growth to be had.

(She reminds herself at 2 a.m.).

[wpvideo of9ghbHX]

How can it even be put into words?

July 27, 2019 0

Right Before the Second Wind

It’s that tension that builds.

The small stitch that gathers your attention.

A reminder that you’re tired.

Right before the second wind.

It’s that tunnel that forms.

Narrowing the options.

Playing on your weaknesses.

Right before the second wind.

The idea is planted.

Maybe you should just stop.

You’ve already come so far.

Right before the second wind.

It’s all spread wide before you.

As your mouth turns to sand.

The distance seems insurmountable.

Right before the second wind.

The memories come back.

How many times you’ve stopped before?

How you’ve probably gone far enough anyway.

Right before the second wind.

It’s when the hard news comes.

When you’re already so tired.

The future distance so vast.

Right before the second wind.

But will it be there?

What if relief doesn’t come this time?

What if you really can’t make it?

Right before the second wind.

Right before the second wind

It will all start to unravel, feeling unreachable

The excuses sounding rational.

Right before the second wind.

Clarity breaks through.

Hold on.

Trust.

It will be there.

Press.

Press!

It’s just right before the second wind.

It’s coming…

Whatever’s in front of me, help me to sing Hallelujah.

In You, I’ll choose to sing Hallelujah.

Amen and amen.

April 4, 2019 0

Family Identity

It came to us right before bed one night in Johannesburg. I had gotten out of the hospital by the grace of God and finally felt like a human being again. We had moved beyond the survival phase; Matt’s day dictated by hospital visiting hours and mine dictated by pain management and nursing schedule. And now we stood at the doorframe of recovery. Recovery from surgeries, recovery from anxiety and recovery from apartness (hey, I can make up words, this is my blog 😉).

And we lay there processing, for processing for parents often happens at night when small ears are not around. In that land of processing I wandered a bit, smelling the flowers, until I realized what I missed the most: family identity.

See, every transitional reality we have walked through as a family was aided by finding a new sense of us. Each added family member helped to redefine how we do family. Each big change. Each trip. Each adventure. Everywhere we find ourselves laying our heads at night, that time period, grows us into a new layer of family identity.

And it was then and there that we realized that that was true for everywhere except Joburg. We had had three weeks of unavoidable division: me at the hospital, Matt being Superdad and trying to still stay fully aware and engaged with what was going on with me, and the girls bouncing from wonderfully willing person to person, but still finding an identity of just the four of them – Rachael being, many times, the voice of reason and taking on the role of “mom” for her sisters. We had been, for all intensive purposes: scattered.

For healing to happen, we realized that we needed to regroup and find our family identity once again right where we were, in Joburg. So it began with a 1,000 piece puzzle…

Everyone’s hands worked on the puzzle. It helped us not only pass time healing, but also just have a united goal again.

We were determined to finish it. Matt and I worked on sections when the girls were sleeping. Waiting times were filled with sorting pieces. Eden even got pretty good at finding edge pieces. Hannah sorted colors. Abi and Rachael helped Eden collect zebra pieces. And we slowly chipped away at it, even when it was really frustrating, until the final piece was laid. I loved how we all cheered at it’s completion. In hours of focus and teamwork we found a sense of family identity in Joburg.

See, friends? We live in a generally quiet town. With generally quiet evenings filled with time. Time when few are out, risking malaria, among the mosquitos. Time when people return home at dusk and shut down for the nights. Seven hours from fluent English and teammates is where we live. And that’s in no way a complaint, just a reality. And then we came to the big city; busy, loud, full of activity, and everything costs something and even the most wonderful friends that we wanted to see. But it wasn’t until we sat down to that puzzle that we realized how much we just needed a slice of us again. Quiet. Uneventful. A united task. Until completion.

And after the completion comes the very best part: the destruction.

[wpvideo FG0PEf1k ]

Family identity is critical. Everyone has a part. Everyone is valued. Everyone is needed.

Together we are better.

January 19, 2019 0

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