We’ve had some wonderful opportunities around here for the past almost 7 weeks. It’s so crazy to think that we’ll be wrapping up our time here in the next two weeks. Where did the time go?
I mean during all this time we have gotten to:
Play in the rain.
Go fishing.
Go to cross-cultural worship times.
Ride the city bus with friends.
And even some really great family movie nights with our quad mates.
So as the last two weeks begin our transitions to the ends of the earth, I just can’t help but thank the Father for opening His heart in delight to us through those we have embraced during this opportunity. We don’t deserve such blessing. We don’t deserve such love. It truly has been such a wonderful opportunity for the past almost 7 weeks.
It wasn’t a normal goodbye in their classrooms. No, not a hug at the door as they dance into intentionality crafted lesson plans. This time it was outside of the airport.
Do you have your passports? Here’s your bags.
The hustle and bustle. The chaos and confusion amidst goodbye hugs.
Immediately they were absorbed into the airport rush. A swarm of uniforms and smiling faces. Passports checked and on to ticketing.
“Why are you going to Mozambique?” she was questioned while struggling to keep track of her baggage and her preschooler in tow.
She and her sister choked back hysterical laughter as they later told me of elaborate broken computer problems in ticketing and malfunctioning staplers played out by familiar faces.
Then came the lady speaking French that no one understood. What exactly were they supposed to do with their bags? Body language overcame language barriers.
Then extra fees for stuffed animals! And confiscated toothpaste!!
And that delayed flight that took “forever” of just waiting… and waiting…
Why not use the bathroom while you wait? Only to discover your bags stolen upon your return!
Calming a sad four year old. Finally you were able to board the plane.
No snacks for anyone not in first class.
“Turbulence!!!” as the walls rattle and the girls struggled to relay that part through choking laughter.
And then finally you successfully arrived in Africa!
The teachers here never cease to amaze me with their dedication in even the tiniest details.
I just adore how the teachers are so intentional to prepare these little ones for life ahead. Such deliberation. Such intentionality.
Oh, of course, they add in the fun. Afterall, they do just adore these little ones. But a hint of experienced truth permeates the lessons. Intentionality breathes confidence into little hearts, encouraging, “You can do this. Even when it goes wrong. This is doable.”
I love how the teachers are shaping their new normal.
Sunday evenings we have the privilege of sharing in a cross-cultural worship service from around the world.
Last week was sub-Saharan Africa week. Through six languages covering some twenty countries and a week of practices and hard (sometimes stressful) work, we worshipped our Gracious Father in the late afternoon shade. We enjoyed African songs, collected a missions offering, heard a sermon in Hausa, prayed over those God is sending and just had a wonderful time of fellowship.
And what African worship would be complete without a little African dress? 🙂
I just adore our dear “African family” who helped to make last Sunday’s cross-cultural worship quite a joy.
We were all blessed indeed!
Such heart.
Such love.
Such family.
Such is the Body of Christ.
– Thankful, grateful and beyond blessed.
– We’re still singing the praise songs. They just go so well with walking to our classes. 🙂
I am learning to thank God even in our times of sickness because sometimes we all just need to slow down and snuggle more.
I had a wonderful morning out with this little lady as we waited for her ear infection diagnosis. She’s such a delight even in her moments of sickness. We just walked the store aisles, waiting in the clinic. Her little joy in climbing in and out of the clinic chairs. Her jabbering about the MnM display guy being her size. Such sweet little moments. And I just drank it all in. Every “up please” came with open arms.
I think God knew how much we both needed to just spend a slow morning together. Me and little baby girl. Just taking our time. Nowhere to be but with each other.
And after her little love tank was filled to the brim, she took her medicine and only got through half of “Jesus loves me” before this happened:
I love you, precious little girl. I’m so blessed to be your mommy. Even after the sleepless nights, baby, I’m just so incredibly blessed by God to have you.
Building has been so rewarding and so wonderfully challenging.
It has looked like seven children; one little girl that went straight to Jesus’ arms, two little boys for eleven months of investing, and four little girls that we still get to hold.
It has looked like one dog, six cats, and one turtle.
It has looked like a tiny one-bedroom apartment, a four bedroom mansion,to us, with a fenced in backyard, a hotel, a guest bedroom, the floor of a friend’s basement, and now a temporary apartment for only 4 more weeks before we move overseas.
It has looked like unfair arguments followed by yielding apologies.
It has looked like dancing through Scripture and worship together.
It has looked like letting go of our “mine” in exchange for the most beautiful “us”.
It was looked like this building of “who we really are”, reveling in the family unity stitched by our Father.
It has looked like endless parenting tears of challenge and utter joy as we hold each other’s hands throughout this lifelong investment in curls and beautiful brown eyes.
And while the storms sure seemed to build wind and rain surges to hit the very house we’re still building, through God’s grace I always find you with a hammer and a ladder. I’ll take the nails, my love. You will always be worth building and rebuilding our “us”, even on the most exhausting of days.
Love is our choice. And the most utterly rewarding choice of all.
So just like we have sung together over the passing years…
What I’m trying to say in some clumsy way is that it’s you and only you, not just for now, not just today. But it’s you and only you for always.
So if you hold the nails, I’ll take the hammer. I’ll hold it still, if you climb the latter. And if you will, then I will build.
So to my love who is currently asleep crammed in a twin bed beside his sleep-struggling baby girl, I love you. It has been an utter privilege to walk beside such heart and such love for these past nine years. I really don’t deserve you. I thank my Father ever so many times for the gift of you in my life. Thank you, Matthew, for relying on Jesus to love me ever so deeply and continue to lead us in such gentleness.
Looking back on the last nine years, I have nothing but excited anticipation about the beautiful story God is unfolding in our lives. Matthew, I don’t know what the future holds, but I am certain of this: with your hand in mine it is so much easier to find the beauty among this world’s offered ashes. Even though this world is not our home, I find my home in the reflection of Christ in your eyes. As we fix our eyes on Christ and with your hand in mine, we find our feet stepping out in His Word. When the storms arise and the temptations hit too close to home I am thankful that your hand will continue to pull me to Jesus. And I likewise.
