It’s our last sunrise on American soil for a good long time. 

And our first sunset somewhere over the Atlantic. 

Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders.

Let me walk upon the waters,

Wherever You would call me.

Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander.

And my faith will be made stronger in the presence of my Savior!

~ “Oceans” by hillsong.

~ 14 hours until our feet hit foreign soil. 🙂

They say our first year in country will strip us to the core. Change us. Grow us. They say we will most likely have an affront right out of the gates. A strong statement of clear enemy lines. This world is not our home. And there is a ruler of this world that we are directly confronting with the Gospel. No, I’m not talking about some over-used, powerlessly diminished concept of evil celebrated in haunted houses and horror films. I’m talking about spiritual warfare and it’s source.

So often it’s easier to run from deep growth in the Lord. As if he’s not a Good Father. A Good Father who knows best in our lives. As if deep growth doesn’t come from really challenging situations.

Really challenging affronts.

Pressure producing change.

Honestly, I am really intimidated by what I will see and experience on the field. How can you watch brothers and sisters struggling so much on a daily basis when you’ve been accustomed to never seeing it? What happens when the Body takes on names and identities instead of just distant statistics confined to hard regions of poverty?  What happens when we accept that they are family, your family who is hurting and suffering? Won’t it just rip your heart out of your chest? What about when the struggling turns inward? A tornado of emotions hit with all these swirling thoughts of suffering and cost.

I think on my preciously dear friends who were on the field for just a few short months when their baby got a 106 degree fever and was hospitalized for six days. There was a lot of fear. Long hours without answers. A lot of chaos. A lot of hurt. A lot of suffering. A lot of unknowns.

Part of me wants to shield my kids from that kind of attack. Part of me realizes that I don’t have that kind of power. It’s humbling to realize you don’t have that kind of control. I cannot save my kids from illness and pain. Part of me feels my stomach tighten at such sacrifices. Such hurts. Such attacks. And then I remember the preparation words uttered at orientation: it’s normal. And even expected for those entering the field.

A strong statement of clear enemy lines.

The test has been drawn up. And I am unqualified.

BUT GOD.

Those words breaking through my thoughts and fears. Those words piercing through text after text of Scripture to shed light right in the middle of the darkest realities.

The relief those words bring.

We are not alone.

We fight not on our own behalf. BUT GOD!

I don’t know what His response will be, but I can most certainly rest assured, taking confidence in Him alone, that He will have a response to the affront! Whatever may come to us on the field; whatever suffering and cost and challenge and pressure – BUT GOD will show Himself mightily.

Dear ones, God was there on days one through five as the family cried over their sick toddler in the hospital. There was the sacrifice of the pain for five days of unknown. But it was only unknown to us. Nothing was unknown to our Lord.

See sometimes I focus too much on the first five days. I get lost in the sacrifice and the pain and the hurt forgetting that that is only the first part of the story- and not even the best part! BUT GOD, our Sender, our Father who longs to draw His children to Himself – GOD steps in! Now I’m not implying that He always works in the ways we ask. No, His ways are Higher. We can’t even think that High, His ways are SO MUCH Higher than our ways.

Do I trust Him? How about in the middle of the hospital room when they put yet another IV into that poor little baby’s arm, knowing it will cause her suffering? Do I trust that BUT GOD is going to happen? How about when her sister falls ill with the same symptoms?

Lord, increase my faith! (Luke 17:5) Help my unbelief! (Mark 9:24) Teach me to hang my every hope on your entrance into the suffering You have called us to.

Lord, that we may suffer well when it is our turn.

That Your Name would be declared among all the nations

for the GLORY of You and YOU. ALONE.!

 

We have been ticketed! – in the best way possible.

One more weekend in the States for a good long time.

So crazy exciting.

And wonderful.

And beyond us.

We’re thankful for one more weekend of living out of carry-on suitcases (we will. not. crack into. those. checked bags! that are. already weighed!!!)

There is much rejoicing as the countdown to setting foot on African soil begins!!!!

• Go, God, go!!!!!
• Thankful, grateful and beyond blessed!!!!

I couldn’t sleep.

Somewhere, sometime that night the baby began to have nightmares.

She’d cry out in the silence.

She was so restless.

Thrashing.

We’d pet her hair.

We’d call out a gentle word of assurance.

Sometimes she’d quiet down.

Time would pass and then another incident.

So I just scooped her up.

She called for her baby and her sippy cup.

Security.

The friends came too.

She snuggled down into her spot.

Right there in the middle of us.

Her little head pressing into my shoulder.

Her body calm.

Throughout the night it continued.

Every time I’d roll over.

Her little head.

Pressing in closer.

 

We’re packing again.

Her world is confusing right now.

Uncertain.

But she just kept pressing into me.

Grounding herself in my security.

 

During the restless nights of change.

When it hurts and I miss my people.

When I can’t possibly comprehend the task laid before us.

When I find my world flipping again.

Right there in the middle.

God, help me to press into Jesus.

Grounding myself in His security.

For there I find my place.

There I find my calm.

Pressing in closer.

Please, Jesus.

Help me press in closer.

After a week of staying at Matt’s parent’s house, we concluded our stay with a wonderful Thanksgiving meal. I love how thoughtful they all were to want to spend Thanksgiving together now (even though it’s October), in light of our future move across the world. Matt’s older sister and family are also moving to Peru next month, so the time was really a blessing for all.

It felt surreal saying goodbye on Saturday evening. These are my people. Ellen and I have done pregnancies together. We’ve all watched Sarah and James grow up. Barb and Rodger attend our sending church. We see them multiple times a week. Is it really possible that we’re saying goodbye?

Without visas and tickets to leave the country when we said goodbye it felt so surreal. Like we were going through the motions. This is what it would feel like if we were really leaving. Good rehearsal, everyone. See you at church on Sunday, family!

But when the night was done we gave hugs and really said goodbye.

…And it hurt.

 

We went down to my parent’s for a few days. We were all grateful for a gentle pace. But still in the air hung the goodbyes. How can something feel so “every day” normal and so “permanently the end” final at the same time?

We got our Visas in the mail on Monday afternoon. Ha! That wasn’t a stressful Monday at all! 😉 Nothing like knowing ticketing wants to book your flights by the end of the day, the field wants to receive you ASAP and you’re just waiting on the mailman to do his job. Bated breath. Our stomachs churning. Thank you for those of you who walked that stressful day with us. Oh good grief, what a long day. Thanks mom and dad for ignoring our distracted responses and glazed over eyes at random times during the day. We were constantly in prayer, begging the father for His favor in all the chaos.

It’s so crazy to no know when you’re going to leave the country for a very long time and be ready to go at the drop of a hat. Like literally we didn’t know if it’d be 24 hours later or 36 hours later or 5 days later, but we stood ready. Just waiting.

And amidst the waiting we found ourselves sipping hot chocolate around a bonfire in my parent’s back yard. Our history swirled out through pictures and stories shared from two grandparents to their four grandchildren. A story of blessing, filled with time together given to us from the Father. And while our paths were about to branch off a bit as we jump over the Big Pond, a legacy was offered. A chance to be reminded of their stories beginning on American soil. Together. Before the apart.

 

 

 

 

Goodbyes.

They’re hard.

So much emotion.

So much delight in the Sender.

So much hurt in the leaving.

So much hope in the new layers, the new developments,

the new growth

built upon so many beautiful stories of life together.

 

All this before our departing.

We have just completed another week of being nomadic again. Sometimes it sounds adventurous and sometimes it just sounds like being homeless. 

We’re not quite sure when it will end. It’s all dependent on visas and ticket itineraries. But it has been a season of being nomadic none the less. 

In some ways it’s fun. Ever wondered what it’s like in the daily grind right in the middle of someone’s world? Transparency creates no cliff hangers. 

And in some ways I miss just having a space of our own. Where we seem to belong. Where we can unwind without expectations. Or maybe that’s an expectation in itself. 😉

A chest of drawers could be so nice. A chest of drawers that we don’t have to unpack in a week. Or at least just somewhere to put our things that might actually stay in the same place for months. Just maybe.

Dear ones, I’m really in no way complaining. Our precious friends and family that have opened their wonderful homes to us are ever so generous! Ever so amazingly generous!!! We are so thankful. So blessed. 

So while we look forward to a place where we can put away the suitcases for a good while, we have felt “home” through the arms of our loved ones. 

Thank you for taking in this brood of nomads as the season’s winds rustle up change. 

– Thankful, grateful and beyond blessed in the midst of it all.