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?
It was a fantastic day filled with friends, rollercoaster rides and fun!
Then we headed to dinner at a Mexican restaurant.
Where you happily snuggled your baby sister to sleep and ate with one hand because you didn’t want to pass her off.
We topped the night off with cake (that you wanted to make and decorate again this year- naturally decorated with a stethoscope and sutures) and ice cream: of course both were mint chocolate themed. 😉 And also a few sweet gifts from friends and family.
Rachael, you are a delightful young lady. Your heart is so prevalently shared with others and you always look for a smaller hand to hold. You are a wonderful leader of our sorority and model of gentleness, diligence and responsibility. You are blossoming into such a pursuer of Christ and faithfully seeking out servant-hearted ways. I couldn’t be more thankful to be your mom and love getting lost in conversations with you. You know, everyone jokes that teenagers are a pain to raise, but I happen to think that you have broken that stereotype already just on your day 1. Keep living life to the fullest, Rachael, pursuing Christ and His fabulous plan for your life. And I cannot wait to see you embracing all that your first year in the teens has to offer your growth and maturity. Rachael, keep smashing all the stereotypes with your beautiful heart poured out into others’ lives. And this mom will be standing behind you applauding your many achievements.
It’s usually between two and four in the morning here in the third trimester. I awake from a semi-sound sleep for a normal bathroom break; a reminder that she’s now growing heavy enough to contribute, in more ways than one, to the over-functioning of my urinary system. She’s usually awake at this time, sometimes with small pokes from within and sometimes with sharp jabs at the mattress’ apparent intrusion on her space. Already announcing personality. Already influencing change. 😉
I’m a bit more tired in the daytime these days, understandably so. And the exchange rate for comfort this last trimester is a bit in the lacking. I see them studying me. They are taking it all in.
See, they’re not toddlers anymore. It’s funny how quickly seven years can pass. And even nearly thirteen years of their inquisitive eyes. Always studying, learning and absorbing. Forming ideas, theories and world views that will impact many in ways we cannot even imagine today while their primary school hands still fit in ours. But it is an opportunity for a daily lesson in honesty. I cannot and should not paint a picture of a fairytale exchange rate. Pregnancy is not always gentle. But it is a sheer privilege to get to carry a child, even when the exchange rate feels less rewarding in the moment.
See, they’re forming opinions on value. On worth of investment. And I want to be sure to be beyond clear, leaving no doubting. They are worth every sciatic nerve firing. Every round ligament zinger. Every reflux discomfort. Every varicose vein burn in my right leg. They are worth the sore back, pleading for a heating pad. The sometimes swollen ankles and feet. The indigestion, immediate need for bathroom trips and internal assault on organs.
I am not hiding the stretch marks, ladies. You continue to reach out and trace them with your fingers on lotion days. They’re the story of you that is permanently left on my body. Some of them are deep and sometimes they are even a lovely shade of purple. I’m not hiding the stretched out skin. The interest in my deformed belly button’s transformations over the months. Your fingers following the scars’ road as you discover firsthand how scar tissue stretches to accommodate your little sister’s growth. The thick texture contrasting the softer skin. We both remember what caused those scars. And I wear them with gratitude to be alive. I don’t ever want to stop taking time to show you those scars, even when you won’t see them in worldly definition of beauty. They’re reminders to us all of the gift of another day of life. And I agree, ladies, that it’s really fascinating to watch those scars stretch out and change. There’s an opportunity we never thought possible for the scars to join the other deep stretch marks and the new ones made by your littlest sister.
You were worth it, ladies. Every stretch mark story. Every tough exchange rate symptom. And your little sister is worth it too. I’m thankful that we can keep having that conversation for the next three months of stretching. I hope you remember these conversations if ever you get the privilege of carrying your own pregnancy marks. And I pray you too find a husband who calls them “honor marks”. It really is an honor that I do not deserve. Here, even right now in the middle of this reflux, leg cramp and sleepless night I am beyond grateful.
How deep and lasting these marks have been, ladies. May we never be the same.
And I feel you wiggling in there, little one. It’s already just you and me here in the quiet dark while everyone else sleeps. The beginning of what I hope to be many a night of just you and me hanging out together. Oh sure, I am tired. And you are wide awake. And gratitude could never be stronger.
~ ~ ~
Thank You, Father, for another night of interruptions. Thank You, Father, for more deep stretch marks. Thank You, Father, for the symptoms that teach me to strive to suffer well. Thank You, for the four pairs of eyes studying me. Thank You for the imperfection they see in me. Please may it draw them to You as they watch my dependence on Your provision in this third trimester. Thank You, Father, for giving us the gift of this little one’s strong heartbeat that we can now hear with a stethoscope from the outside – her own rhythmic pattern that You have created and are sustaining with each beat. What could I ever do or be to deserve such an honor? Lord, it is all You. You overflow my cup. And I am in awe at how You have chosen to redeem. How You are redeeming what once looked bleak and still. You had my praise every passing day of silence, Father. Four years of the ask. Four years of willingly yielding to Your Sovereignty. Your plan and timing are best. Your complete Authority to shape our family’s lives in whatever way You see fit. You have all my trust, Father. And yet You chose to redeem. To bring about healing we didn’t know we needed in a way of deeper edification than we even knew possible. To stir a deeper praise from our lips that can only come from experienced loss. And even if it all went away tomorrow and we never got to meet this little one face to face, I still stand in gratitude to get to lose sleep tonight over symptoms coupled with her wiggling. Over the hope that we may get to hold her, Your gift to us, for a little while.
Thank You, Father, for the deep stretch marks that have shaped my life. I truly cherish every one. I am humbled at the honor.
Please receive all the glory, honor and praise that You are beyond due.
Thirteen years, love. Four kids. Six pregnancies. Twenty pets. Eight countries visited. Two countries of residency. Two languages. And a lifetime more of adventure on our horizon.
I have been pretty quiet over here lately. Oh sure, I’ve posted some pictures and shared a small sample of our tiny slice of the world. But it has been a while since I have really written. —
This Christmas season leaves much to be chewed, much to be wrestled with.
This Christmas season has been filled with learning, growing …and surrendering.
By the utter grace of God, I get to see this Christmas season. I don’t ever want to pass by that truth lightly; nonchalantly, flippantly casting aside the fact that He literally sustained my life at this time last year. I am humbled, yielded and unworthy.
I can’t explain to you what it feels like to look at the scars in the mirror.
They are deep.
Forever changing me.
Christmas comes with a different taste for our family. When we think of last year.
When we think of last year…
I actually struggle to finish that sentence right now.
Christmas away from friends and family is tough, dear ones.
We passed “the other restaurant” in town the other day. [Yes, there’s really two restaurants in town, unless you want to pay way too much at the third one.] Much to the squealing delight of four little girls “the other restaurant” was the only place in the entire city to decorate their windows for Christmas. It was a wonderfully shocking surprise! One animated reindeer, fat white man in a red suit, snow man and a few unlit icicle lights, but still the girls wanted to circle the block to see it again. We couldn’t believe it. We saw any semblance of Christmas decorations in Mozambique for the first time in years, people.
Dear ones, we don’t believe in Santa Claus in this household. We haven’t since the beginning, but yes we hang the stockings like happy fools clinging to a little Christmas silliness. And our kids know we buy the stocking stuffers while they are told to go to one of the other 2 aisles in the convenience-store grocery shop. But who can resist that delight, you all? Gah, we’re addicted to those squeals when they receive the same candies the grocery always sells, but this time out of a stocking on Christmas Eve. It’s one of the few traditions we hold to make it feel like Christmas around here.
We make the best of it. It’s silly really to think that Christmas must come with cold weather, but when that’s all you’ve ever known, something just feels broken about Christmas if it’s over a hundred degrees Fahrenheit (41C to be precise). There’s something wrong about watching the Polar Express when you all have headaches and upset stomachs from the heat because, try as you might, you couldn’t drink enough water to counteract the lost sweat. It’s just hard. And it makes us “homesick”, though honestly we use that term flexibly. Home is where we are. So yes, we leave home to go home all the time. Because when home has meant so many things over the years, you just need the word “home” to come with a reassurance and a security that we’ll be together. The location doesn’t really matter. We’re just together. If you ask any one of the six of us where home is you may get any number of answers. But “together” is always the heart of our response. And Christmas has always been a “together” tradition – just together used to mean more than the six of us during this time of year.
Maybe this is a small taste of Abraham’s cost. That part of the Word that calls us strangers and aliens in this world is more tender than it used to be. We relate more. Leaving it all for a nomadic life of obedience. That’s more raw than it used to be.
I remember it one day, sitting on the couch and realizing that to share the greatest story of Hope – very Immanuel come down to dwell among us – we had become “homeless”. When we left U.S. soil we gave up more than a permanent address… we gave up our people group. I was flooded with the stories of the disciples leaving it all at the drop of a hat to follow the Rabbi. If the Messiah’s specific “come” hadn’t so radically changed us too, we’d probably still be fishing in the boat beside our father. We’d still be with our people group. We’d still be in our meaningful, heartfelt Christmas traditions sitting around the table with our precious extended family who are obeying their own “come”. But the Messiah has said “come.” And we aren’t the same. With His “come,” our sacrifices instantly became our offering.
And now we find ourselves circling the block again to laugh at a restaurant’s fake icicles hanging in the sweltering Mozambique heat. A joyful giggle that even though the greatest message has yet to come, the hint of Christmas has begun. No, dear ones, we aren’t bitter or weary to see Santa Claus arrive first. It doesn’t surprise us in the least. Who doesn’t like generosity? Even if it’s packaged differently. But oh the revealed mystery of the Word come down to us, putting on flesh and dwelling with us. Immanuel has come. Let us search the Scriptures together, for they speak of Immanuel who gives Abundant Life.
This year, Christmas comes with scars, deep scars that tell of pains still raw in some moments. And it also tells of an overwhelming gratitude that’s hard to put into words. The sacrifices may catch in my throat sometimes, especially when I’m tired. But it’s the gratitude that wells up the tears. Immanuel. I am overwhelmed. GOD with us. How HE has proven to be Immanuel (“God with us”), Jehovah Jireh (“The Lord Provides”), time and time again.
Thank You, Lord, for sending Immanuel. Not just to some, but for all. I rejoice in the scraps that fall from the Master’s table. Thank You that “it is finished”, the Law is complete. Oh thank You, Lord. Thank You, Lord, that Immanuel is here all year long to hold my hand. To turn every sacrifice into an offering of heart-freeing gratitude. Help me, Lord. Christmas season comes with many Isaacs to be placed on the altar. And the hardest Isaacs are those I help my children lift. But thank You, Lord, that we can all step back and watch You come down like a consuming fire. Thank You, Lord, for receiving our offerings. May our faces glow as we walk through this life, changed by having spent time with You. Oh Lord, our faces do not glow for us to see, but that others may be encouraged to take up their Isaacs to the altar and be forever changed by Your consuming fire.
*Noel, Noel… come and see what God has done. The story of Amazing Love!
The Light of the World given for us. Noel.
Thank You, Lord.
.Amen and amen.
*Noel – French word based on the Latin root: “birthday”. Later adopted as a yuletide but referring specifically to Christ’s birth announcement.
“Not that I speak from want, for I have learned to be content in whatever circumstances I am. I know how to get along with humble means, and I also know how to live in prosperity; in any and every circumstance I have learned the secret of being filled and going hungry, both of having abundance and suffering need. I can do all things through Him who strengthens me.” – Philippians 4:11-13 (NASB)
You know sometimes I want the finality of it all. I want to arrive at the “I have learned” conclusion before putting in the time. I forget that for Paul to have spoken with such confidence that he is not speaking from want, he must have experienced speaking from want before. I forget that for him to state, through the Holy Spirit’s inspiration, that he has learned to be content, he must have known the antinome too.
It hit me as I ran beside my daughter. We were approaching her second-wind breaking point – that tension before her next burst of endurance. I had studied her face for the past half mile as the tension slowly built and I knew the challenge she was feeling. I remembered, all too well, the tension and pressure on your lungs, and that little stitch in your side that feels like it may swell to being unbearable. I remembered, all too well, how far your distance goal feels in that moment and how your mind lays out compelling evidence to stop.
(A curve along our normal running route.)
“This is your moment,” I told her. “You want the joy of the finish line, then it comes during this push right here. Once you get past this push, the finish line distance becomes a reality.”
Distress wiped from her face. Determination set in her eyebrows. She clenched her teeth, organized her steps and set her gaze. She would win this race. This race in her mind. And she did- even commenting afterward that she still had more left to give.
(The sun peeking over the trees in an early morning run.)
I want the “I have learned” so many times without the sacrifice to get there. I want the finish line without the work put in day after day to train up to my goal. I want the “I have arrived” without the stretch marks that prove that I can never go back to looking the same, evidence of having worked through that tension. Paul can’t say he knows how to get along if he didn’t wrestle through the “humble means”, “hunger” and “suffering need”. Oh, but I want to dance in the “prosperity”, “being filled” and “abundance” and just forget that the antinome exists.
But here when He calls me yet again to wrestle in the tension, here where He opens the door for reminders of sacrifices, here where I’m broken wide into the messy, here before the “I have learned”- this is where He has brought me. And here I can continue to chip away at each piece of the grand thesis statement. Here I can add another layer to the “I have learned” argument. And here I find that “I have learned” is indeed a lifestyle. Because His Strength has always been extended to me in my time of weakness.
Thanks be to God. He has always stood ready.
Distress is wiping from my face. Determination is setting in my eyebrows. I am clenching my teeth, organizing my steps and setting my gaze. I will win this race. In Christ, I will win this race in my mind.
“And do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, so that you may prove what the will of God is, that which is good and acceptable and perfect.” – Romans 12:2 (NASB)
“Do you not know that those who run in a race all run, but only one receives the prize? Run in such a way that you may win. Everyone who competes in the games exercises self-control in all things. They then do it to receive a perishable wreath, but we an imperishable. Therefore I run in such a way, as not without aim; I box in such a way, as not beating the air; but I discipline my body and make it my slave, so that, after I have preached to others, I myself will not be disqualified.” – 1 Corinthians 9:24-27 (NASB)
