Woke up to gun shots

My hubby and I are staying overnight with our friends in LA. We had just drifted off to sleep an hour and a half ago. We were startled awake by the sound of repeated gunfire. Our friends  have never had this happen in their neighborhood before.
If you have a heart for intercession, please lift up this city. If you love this city please pray for God's peace to reign and transform the lives of the people here.
We are praying for comfort and peace for those affected by the violence. We are praying for mothers and fathers to raise up their children in courage.
I am touched by a neighborhood who responded to this shock in solidarity. Many of the neighbors called the police to report that someone had been shot.
We are trusting a loving Papa God to draw people to him and away from violence.
May this generation raise up, and reclaim their city for peace, education, family, and love.
my heart is broken. Jesus come....
Holy Spirit touch hearts. Infuse them with courage and tenacity. This is their home and not a place for gang fighting.
MMM

Most romantic day (blurg)

Something about a wedding is so amazingly overflowing with romantic love that even the passionately-in-love couples are inspired to love more – more deeply and more fully. We remember the firsts. First time I laid eyes on you. First impression. First conversation. First touch. First embrace. First first first….

I have loved more deeply because one more time, I am reminded of a love story made in heaven (The most romantic story ever: Jesus and his Bride- US!) that is reflected in so many of our own love stories. Today's bride and groom have a love story that is unlike any other ever told. And, their wedding was spectacularly different than any wedding I’ve ever been to. It is an honor to celebrate their love and the first steps in their journey as a family.

Lots of lobe….it’s late. Lots of love and goofy JOY,

Missionary Momma Mia

Dinner with our friends

You might be thinking, "Where has she been?" Tonight my hubby and I had dinner at our friends' house.  I always love hanging out with our friends at their house. Home made food, coffee and fun conversation. It’s usually in Mozambique. This time it was in the states! So happy to see them being blessed with an amazing property and a house they are turning into a great home. Tonight was beautiful! I love to see how Papa God blesses the people that I love. It is nice when random people have great happy stories and powerful testimonies, and it is even better when people you love have great happy stories and powerful testimonies. My hubby and loved hearing their great story about how they were able to get their house. They just have incredible favor, and God is generous in blessing them!!!!

Why? I believe it is because our friends are truly generous, not because they invited us over for dinner, but because they give their lives away for the kingdom. What kingdom? Jesus’. I know you probably know that if you read my other blogs. But lots of people interested in kingdom business have other things in mind. Most people who are interested in building up a kingdom want power. Some of them want power to be able to have more stuff and money. Some people want power to become famous. Some people don’t want power because they know they have it. That’s the kind of people that we are lucky to get to hang out with.

So anyway, enjoy life, be inspired and ask cool people questions and really listen. You might gain a friend who is inspiring. We did. I mean, who serves Jesus, the poor and needy for practically their entire life without focusing on their own gain? Some of our friends do, and they inspire us to keep trusting God with the crazy stuff and the daily life stuff.

By the way, my hubby and I are on a mini vaca/road trip before heading to Mozambique. So I took a break from blogging to focus on having a super special time with my hubby. I love to love this guy!!! We are goofy together, and good for each other. I’m a very blessed wife and momma!!! But I am missing my kids. Had to look at pictures of their awesome faces….That’s what pictures are for, to remember the people you love and reconnect with those heart-melting emotions. I get all emotional thinking about my Jesus, my hubby, kids and friends. There must be a soft gooey heart on my insides….

Thank you!, to friends who are keeping up with my writing, and encouraging me to tell my story. I’m still getting into the groove of writing, and taking few days off gave me time to remember why I’m inspired to write about our international family. Remember when I started to write I made a plan to write six days a week, as long as I wasn't writing just to be writing for six days in a week. I want to write from my heart. It was a great disconnect from 'writing as a job' and reconnecting with my family and friends who inspire my writing. We are a pretty cool bunch of people!! You’re a part of it!

Now I’ve gotta put my hair in foam rollers for attending a sweet spiritual sista’s wedding tomorrow. I saw a vision of this a year ago, and here I am, with my husband, to witness the vision actually happening! It’s great to celebrate family and friends. It’s great how God loves to love us. He shows us things to give us hope. I had hope for this day many years ago when I met a beautiful single missionary in Mozambique. It's my JOY to witness things we have seen in the spirit and waited for happening at just the right time!

My hair is almost dry, I gotta get it in granny rollers. G’night!!!

Lots of love,

Missionary Momma Mia

Subway for Thanksgiving Feast

Today when we ate lunch at Subway, I remembered when my hubby, firstborn son and I had Subway subs for Thanksgiving in Sau Paulo Brazil, instead of turkey in Colorado. It was one of those unexpected adventures that turned out to be a blessing for some tired missionaries.

Let’s see. That family trip was scheduled for late November. We were supposed to arrive just one day before Thanksgiving, on a Wednesday. Our tickets had been bought for a while, the visa for my hubby to visit the USA was still valid. Everything checked through just fine on the first leg of our trip to get to Sau Paulo, but that’s where we got stuck for a couple nights while even our second carry-on went ahead to Colorado. We were ready to go, except right there, between our departure from Brazil and arrival in Denver, an overzealous airline employee decided to check our details just one more time. She found out that my hubby didn’t have a visa for Canada. “What? No one said that we needed a visa before?” Our connecting flight showed up in her computer system as US/Canada. According to her computer, we didn’t have all the right travel documents.

We were surprised to hear her say that we would have to delay our flight and get a visa in the Canadian Embassy in Sau Paulo. It was the weirdest thing ever. Our flight had one connection in an airport that was both Canadian and American. We were literally only walking through the airport to get to our connecting flight, our itinerary said USA. I explained that the city and state is in America, but she was adamant that Canada would require a visa. We asked for her to confirm the details until she was getting even a little more short with us. We explained that we were not going to Canada, but she was insistent. So we told her that it was the company’s fault that they had verified our visas, loaded our baggage, and given us boarding passes before she verified the details again, and then changed their minds about it.

They were going to help us. We wouldn’t have to pay for everything since the company was partially responsible. Then something changed. I was surprised (this time happier surprised) as I learned how sincerely kind Brazilian culture is towards expecting mothers. My hubby talked with her explaining that the first airline employees hadn’t seen any problem with our visas because we weren’t disembarking. She apologized and insisted we had to get the visa. “Its just difficult for my wife because she is pregnant…our suitcases have already gone on to Colorado…..” “She’s pregnant? It doesn’t even show?” And then, the atmosphere shifted. They were helpful. Insistent that he get a visa for Canada, but they reserved a hotel and got us booked for the same flight in two days. So they paid part of the fees to change our flight, and even a got us a room in a hotel. That meant that we would arrive after Thanksgiving. I was still a little distraught, but it was actually nice that we were going to spend a night or two in hotel that the airline company paid for, it was a five star hotel. That was super nice for frugal missionaries who wouldn’t splurge on that kind of luxury. We only had to pay for a Canadian visa, and the taxi and travel costs in the city.

It was late when that was finally sorted. A taxi took us from the airport to the hotel, and the next day we headed to the United Nations complex in Sau Paulo. Beautiful place! We were barely able to get the visa, but we did. I don’t remember all the details, but I do remember praying because it was possible that we would have to come back the next day to get the visa - it usually took more than one day to process. Somehow it worked out. They would try to have his visa available after a few hours, just before they closed.

We were so tired from all the unexpected requirements, but there was a UN complex full of shops and restaurants to explore while we waited until just before the embassy closed. We had to find some clothes because we didn’t have enough for the three of us in the one carry-on bag that we had with us. There wasn’t a lot available there, but we managed to find something.

Then we looked for our lunch, and to my delight, there was a Subway fast-food restaurant inside the UN complex. We looked at each other and my husband knew what I wanted. I told him that I was actually more thrilled to have a Subway sub sandwich that he could imagine. I had dreams about subs, not turkey. So, inside our unexpected delay was a gift that I had been dreaming about.

In the end, we didn’t need the visa. We didn’t even walk on the Canada side of the airport. We would have been just fine. But my husband looked at me and he said do you remember asking God for a Subway Sandwich? You even told me that if you could pick any food for your holiday it would be a fresh cut Subway sandwish….Things that pregnant woman say!?! I was dreaming of their pickles and fresh veggies.

Well, I didn’t think that an entire company would examine my husband’s passport and determine that he needed a visa –that he didn’t actually need (and we were barely able to get in time!) just so I could rest in a nice hotel, get a lovely back massage, get three haircuts taken care of, and eat the sandwich of my pregnant dreams.

Mommy advice, be careful what you wish for….it might change an entire family’s holiday plans while actually blessing you at the same time. You can trust that God’s got you in his perfect care. He’s not throwing a wrench in travel plans just to see if we will cry, but actually to give us the things our hearts desire. That sandwich that I was dreaming about is also one of my hubby’s favorite foods. 

Thus the drive down memory lane as we ate lunch today.

May all your sandwiches be yummy, and some of them be memorable.

Lots of love,

Missionary Momma Mia

P.S. to yesterday....

I did ask someone I love if they were feeling alright when I heard them stutter for the first time, and I found out that He was not ok. He had been, or was going back to the hospital for another malaria treatment because the previous round of meds didn’t get totally rid of this case of malaria. 

It was a big deal for me to know that asking a question about an abnormal behavior was ok. He wasn't offended. I knew he was smart, and pretty thoughtful before he spoke. He was usually methodical in his communication and I had never heard a stutter before. So, I was genuinely concerned when his stutter went a little bit into a slur. That's when I said to him what I hope someone would say to me if they noticed a brand new ‘quirk’ or maybe even a typical quirk of mine that was a little too pronounced.

So yeah. That is another reason why I’m so passionately talking and writing about mental wellbeing. That case of malaria stuck around and messed with his brain for a long time. Jesus won, and he's not even stuttering. But that was a big scare. 

I guess that is all I have in mind for mental wellbeing. I’m also interested in other things like, celebrating my little sister’s 30^th birthday, hosting my best-friend while she has a three day speaking engagement near Denver, and all the while getting ready for our trip to Cali and then on to Mozambique.

Do you want to know some of the preparations for our trip to California?

Dance moves! I love it!!!! A dear friend from our early days on the mission field is getting married and we’re gonna do a Bollywood flash-mob dance.

Here’s a few of the dance moves that I gotta try to roll through :-) to read because I thought that if I wrote out some of the dance choreography, then I could remember it better. I'm pretty wordy.....if you haven't noticed.

So here it is: Intro 1,2,3,4

Starting on 5, then 6,7,8  feet shoulder width apart both feet facing forward and tapping. Turn face towards the right lift right hand up straight and flat (bent at the elbow) in front of face, with left hand just under chin in the middle of upper chest. Pumping shoulder a bit and hands at the beat.

On 1, then do the same move facing left 2, 3, 4

Back to right on 5, then 6, 7, 8

On 1, move left hand from in front of the chest to the left of left hip at waist height. Move fingers to soft and long with middle finger touching the thumb. Step with the right foot slightly to towards the left in a counter clockwise motion bouncing the right hip with each step and slightly extending and retracting the arms on each step.  Then on through 2, 3, 4 ,5, 6, 7, and clap in front of your waist on 8 and change directions.

On 1, doing this move going from left to right. Clap on the 8 count

On 1, lift hands up and out in a slow bounce (slightly facing left with right knee slightly bent) out to 8 count. On Jai Hoo

That’s only the first part of the dance! It is going to be fun, and I am certain that the choreographer is going to tell us we look amazing!!!! Here’s hoping.

Well tomorrow is my day off from Blogging. So lots of love for two days!!!

Missionary Momma Mia 

Celebrating our brain's quirks

‘Well this happened’ is a pretty common phrase, and it's ok to say.

We all learn how to edit out mistakes that our brain previously thought was okay as we gain more education and experience. Our societies have certain standards that help maintain order, such as language spelling and grammar rules. We learn to speak our national language according to the standards that will produce the greatest ease of communication. However, as children and babies, the majority of us were probably allowed to say words with ‘baby sounds’ or our own baby words for various things like bottle, mother, father, food or pets. Lots of parents help their children edit out baby words before heading to elementary school. We expand our vocabulary and understanding of grammar in order to be better more mature communicators. Our brain edits out the habit of saying, “me want numnums” to “May I please have a snack.” Why? I think it’s because after a certain age,  one form of communication produces the desired result much more rapidly. (I think its because of the use of the magic word).

Some of us would rather not have communication norms and spelling and grammar rules. But, it would be really hard to understand other people. So, what am I trying to say? Every once in a while an adult has published a post, article or blog with a few small grammatical mistakes, or even left out an entire thought that caused a book to be revised only a year later. This stuff happens. It could be because word did or didn’t automatically change something. I tend to think that it is our brain being quirky and reminding us that we were once children. The learning process was, and is amazing. At the same time, our brains might need to edit out more childish thinking.

I think of spoonerisms or accidental ‘tongue twisters’ more like a quirk, a twitch, or a need for editing. It’s probably not so far out there that a spoonerism would interrupt our lives and be a major concern. It could be weird if someone hears the speaker switch sounds for the first time and it is considered ‘no laughing matter.’ Someone might throw out that is a sign of impending doom. I think that you are not necessarily on your way to a nervous breakdown because you said “spork and foon”. If someone said that to me, then I would have to say, ‘So that happened.’ or  “I’m sorry that’s not what I intended to come out of my mouth.” I usually laugh or argue that is not what I wanted to say!….

If it happens to you, learn your stuff! Know your stuff! And also admit when you aren’t sure and need to learn more about your stuff. Do some research about your quirk. My dad told me that a college professor was famous for switching the starting sounds of words around in a phrase, so that little quirk was given his name. That brain quirk became a ‘spoonerism’. Talk about celebrating his brain quirk! This is like fifth hand information. I don’t remember if I properly researched it. I was around twelve or thirteen the first time I was emphatically explaining something and it poured over my teeth incorrectly. I argued that that is not what I said. Dad helped me through it. Was there a college professor named Spooner? I think so. I believed him, and it calmed me from thinking my quirk was singular and a sign of doom.  

I mean seriously, does your leg twitch? Your nose tickle, or your eye blink rapidly? There could be some much deeper explanations for these things. But, if it is not interfering with normal routine or your life in general, it is probably something to look into in your spare time for curiosity sake and to learn something new about yourself.

If a little quirk becomes intrusive in life then it is probably time to celebrate it enough to let your friends know: “Hey, sometimes I get super excited when I’m talking and this happens…..” When friends are aware of your little quirk it might become more clear if that is actually something that is intrusive, or was only a little bit embarrassing but not really a big deal. Celebrating a quirky brain, a little tick, or a bouncy knee might just ease the situation. It also give our friends and family permission to say something like, “I’ve never heard you stutter before, is that normal and I never noticed it?”

We might be able to identify real ‘red flags’ or warnings of too much mental stress, an oncoming migraine headache, or an indicator that our ‘mental wellbeing’ might be on the downslope.

I love to celebrate my little quirks called “spoonerisms”, but if I stutter I want to be told so I can figure out why I would do something I’ve never done before. A quirk could become a source of immeasurable concern if someone makes a big negative deal out of it. If we celebrate the way our brain works with it’s quirks and all, we might not be caught off guard by a little brain quirk mistaken for a red flag or vice versa. We could be spared from having an actual breakdown.

My point is, talk about how you understand what’s going on in your mind with friends and family. We all process things in an individual way, pretty similarly, but we have different foundations, languages, analogies, and belief systems. It is important to know and identify more about how we understand our own thought processes in order to weird, I mean weed out quirks and warnings or ‘red flags’.

I do believe it is better to be safe than sorry, so as a mommy, I would suggest celebrating and looking into your brain quirks and learning more about them. Don't be afraid of what you find. Take care of you, Love you!

That’s enough thinking for now. Well, its not a very missionary-ish blog. Its from my experience of missionary living though. Anyway, I’m not editing this again tonight….take my word for it. Missionaries need to research things like what culture shock and compassion fatigue does to thought processing and emotions.  We can get really quirky.....it's probably still ok for most of us....At least my friends and family can laugh with me. 

Here's to JOY and Lots of love!

Missionary Momma Mia

Spork and foons

Tonight while we dished up birthday cake I asked the kids if they wanted a spork or a foon. I really love ‘spoonerisms” and I’m grateful that spork is a word because I almost got away with my mistake until ‘foon’ came out of my mouth.

I literally switched the beginning sound of the word on accident. Oh well. I mean I could actually conceptualize a foon being a slightly less full bowl with longer and thinner prongs than what are on a spork. So there it is folks, my spontaneously creative way to justify and camouflage my spoonerism.

Here’s to transparency, I goofed, and it happens. Sometimes, I will not even hear that I have switched sounds or even simple words. I might even think faster than I can speak and skip a thought entirely with certainty that it’s the listeners fault for ignoring me. 

Sometimes it isn’t my hubby’s fault for having selective hearing, sometimes I don’t actually say what I think I said.

So instead of asking you if you would like a spoon or a fork, I fumbled over my words.

Its all part of living. We had a good giggle. I laughed too. Laughing at life’s little mistakes is great practice for laughing at bigger mistakes.

My thoughts, learn to laugh more, it will come in handy when you need it for medicine.

Lots of love,

Missionary Momma Mia

Mental wellbeing should NOT be in the shadows

Mental wellbeing should NOT be in the shadows for fear of labeling! Sorry to shout that out, but its been on my mind since I finished my mental health class this semester. I've hinted about facing fears, but it's time for me to start saying it like it is.

The blog I titled ‘Facing the shadows with confidence’ was a little bit about mental wellbeing. When I think of fears or frustrations that lurk in our shadow of the past and hinder us from facing the shadow of the future, I think of the need to face those shadows for our own individual mental wellbeing.

The idea of cultivating our individual mental wellbeing isn’t very common, or commonly spoken about in our western culture. I feel like our society would rather wait until someone cracks instead of talking about mental wellbeing on a normal basis.

We do have our fair share of blogs, medical journals, and advertisements, but I feel like it isn’t something that we want to say around the dining room table.  “So Honey, how do you feel like your thought process was going today? Smoothly, interrupted, overwhelmed or totally cut off?” or,  “ So kids, rating between 1 to 10, ten being the most focused, what was your degree of focused concentration in school today?”

I think of cultivating mental wellbeing as being aware and talking about: rest, thought process, ability to concentrate, face all of our emotions, and communicate honestly with other people around us. That list could be adapted to anyone who addresses mental wellbeing with their family. Those are the topics that come up in our family. Yes, my hubby and I talk about how the brain works with our children. We talk about being able to focus, the importance of rest, dealing with strong emotions, and communicating lovingly with people around us.

I feel like the western society hears the two words “Mental Health” and they immediately picture a terrible mad house from the late 1800’s or early 1900’s. People envision the worst of mental illnesses that transform the most societally acceptable person from attending dinner parties to sitting in a padded locked cell. I feel like our culture has come a long way to accept and appreciate individuals with some mental deficiencies, but refuses to see the inability of a brain to function in the 'average' way as anything but taboo. It isn’t considered something acceptable to discuss with family or friends because we tend to believe that it is something that needs a professional.

I get it. The reality of neurotransmitters rapidly misfiring overwhelming the senses, or toxic levels of chemicals fogging up thought process and invoking a very convincing memory or thought to be as real as if the person were sleeping and having a deep REM dream is just something that we have to leave to the doctors. Really? We can't touch on the subject and how it shows up in our behavior?

If we let our children get that far then they might be afraid to tell us if they are suffering with overwhelming day dreams, weird fantasies, or un-processable emotions. My hubby and I want to cultivate a safe place for our children to talk about how they feel like their mind is 'working'. It’s not every day, but we do ask the kids about their dreams, school work and emotions pretty regularly. Some couples might not like this, but we ask each other too.

I thought about writing about this stuff when I finished my last final, I took a mental health class. Big surprise for some, but my close friends know how important mental health has been to me for nearly my entire life. It became a lot more important as one of my areas of research and study when our family life demonstrated the need to better understand what is happening in our kids actual brains when they are unable to explain it. That research has never really grown exhausting. I keep finding another topic to read about, or study. The brain is amazing. It is just as important to me to try to understand some of the basic functions of the brain as understanding my gut.

Most parents are on top of teaching our kids how to warn us if their tummy hurts, why not warn us if they are not feeling rested when they wake up in the morning, or afraid of getting on the bus… Wait did you realize that some of your parent to child conversations might actually involve ‘mental health awareness’? Of course! We do actually have a pretty sound foundation for teaching our kids about rest and emotions. Maybe we even have normal questions about thought processing and communication. It would be a lot easier for us as a society to address our individual mental health if we didn’t consider ‘Mental Wellbeing’ a monster in the shadows. The monster grows as long as he is fighting for attention. Give the monster some uncomfortable attention and he is going to have to begin to step into the light, and probably shrink - might become less ugly too.

It’s important to consider the components of mental wellbeing, instead of fearing ‘Mental Illness’. I feel like some mental discomfort left un-addressed for too long probably develops into ‘illness’ in a similar fashion that a neglected cold evolves into an ugly sinus infection.

That's why I'm saying it's time to talk about mental wellbeing. I definitely think that questions should be very open, without projecting our perceptions or answers to the ‘problem’. If my son is having a hard time focusing and I automatically fix the problem for him, then he is going to rely on me. I want them to learn how to face these challenges, and I don’t want to project a ‘diagnosis’ for their problem. I want to raise up children who know that their brains are an amazing organ. They need love and care, just like a heart, stomach, and guts. Waiting to hear their perception of what is going on is a bit grueling sometimes, but their answers can be really original and informative.

They have answers that are usually keys to helping them solve their own ‘mental wellbeing challenge’. One of my favorite 'mental wellbeing' things was teaching my kids how to face the bad guys in their dreams at an early age. Each one of our boys had a phase where their dreams really stole their rest. They woke up sad, exhausted and concerned. We talked about the dreams and what they wanted to change about the dream. I was surprised to learn that each one of my boys changed their dreams in different ways. One time he became a ninja and beat the tiger, another time one of the boys went back to sleep welcomed the same dream and became a superhero who flew away from the problem. This is just one example of our family cultivating mental wellbeing.

We recognized the need to address mental wellbeing early on when we learned that cerebral malaria can cause delirium, hallucinations, mental confusion or severe sudden headaches before becoming fatal (often the fever, runs, vomit and other common symptoms don’t show up because cerebral malaria is attacking the nervous system and the brain). We realized that talking about mental health was going to need to be a common part of our missionary lifestyle.   

On returning to America after over a decade of living overseas, I have realized that American needs to worry less about ‘labels’ of mental illness that are unacceptable in society and start talking about Mental Health.

From one momma to somebodies child, What do you think is the most impossible ‘brain’ thing to talk about? It is quite possibly your gift to figure out something unique about that process or function in your amazing brain that is unique to you! That’s what I tell my kiddos. Your brain is amazing! No one has a brain just like yours. Take care of you. For starters, talk with your friends or family about emotions, rest, thought processing, and concentration.

Yes, doctors can really help when there is a broken piece, and therapy can increase and maintain mental wellness. I am not suggesting that talking about mental wellbeing at home is a substitute for professional care when it is necessary. I am hoping that more and more families will take that monster out of the shadows and be willing to say, “I survived a mental breakdown in my early twenties” “I am reducing stress factors in my life to increase my mental wellbeing.” And even, “ I need more than a healthy diet and regular sleep schedule to maintain my mental wellbeing.”

This is not intended as a judgmental 'rant' telling people who struggle to "get better". This is a cry for more conversations about mental wellbeing from a survivor of a mental break that culminated after a miscarriage, terrible case of malaria, and a sick toddler at the brink of dying. With the love and support of my husband, care from two doctors friends and family, I have come to the other side of a mental break. There was a bleak few moments in my life one evening when my thoughts didn’t function and I was not in control of my faculties. My husband was my hero that evening, he was just like Jesus in the flesh. I knew it was my husband’s voice and face near me, but after everything in my thoughts shifted back to ‘sound mind’ processing, I knew that my husband had loved me 'just like Jesus love me' through a terrible and scary event.

We had faced my greatest fear that I had shared with him before going into our marriage. I was afraid that because of my genetic make-up I would have a mental break-down and he wouldn’t love me after that. I feared that He would think I was ‘less’ than other people.That's not what he did. He prayed over me, prayed with me, and held me until I stopped trembling. He brought me fever reducer, I was also really sick. He brought me food and water and made sure that I followed the doctor’s orders and took to bed rest for the next three months. We learned a lot about how the physical condition of our bodies couldn’t be pushed beyond its limits. We learned that it is our responsibility to cultivate and maintain physical and mental well-being.  

We learned that we have to take care of ourselves. So, it comes from a heart full of love and a bit of experience when I write: Take care of you. Learn what you need. Jesus said it perfectly when he said: Love you and love others.

Lots of love,

Missionary Momma Mia

P.S. I don’t mean that we should take all of our wildest fantasies, ideas, and darkest dreams and tell the world so that we are rejected by society and then labeled with an unpleasant label.  I also don’t mean that you should share your hardest moments publicly, unless you are ready for ridicule.

We always tell green missionaries not to throw their pearls before the swine. It’s important when something is so precious to you that you would give up all of your valuable positions to own it, that you treasure it, and keep it safe. For me right now, I know its time to share. I will give my pearls of wisdom to all who want them. I’m not afraid of them being trampled. In fact, I know that some will grab the pearls just to trample them. That is the risk I am willing to take in order for one more green missionary to have a ‘light bulb’ moment when they realize that their mind was too fogged down to think clearly, or one more family to dine with their ‘mental wellness monster’ and realize he’s not such a bad dinner guest.

Floating down de Nile

I’m feeling like I would rather be in denial than actually plan things before this trip, but I can’t afford to think that way for more than today. Part of today was spent cleaning, doing homework with kids, and prepping food in the kitchen, but other than that it was a day for me and hubby to chill while the kids were at school.

My ‘sabbath’ from writing was anything but a Sabbath. When that happens we give ourselves a time for chilling, resting and refreshing. When our lives become over busy from different responsibilities we pick what day will be our next ‘off’ day and then we can better focus on what needs to be finished before we take a day off, and what can wait until after.

Some might say that we are in denial, but I love to just not talk about things that we will talk about tomorrow and to not even have to think about details that can afford to wait one more day.

For most of this morning I was floating down the Nile…..deNile…..and lOVEing it!

I feel much more rested and refreshed. I got to celebrate a finished semester for one more day, and I can buy books for next semester (that starts while I’m in Africa) tomorrow. Kinda nice to just breath, and then play a video game with our three boys.

Bing tv, video games, an extra day for rest tagged onto a busy weekend, and these things are very important for fun family living!

Hope you had a great weekend!

Missionary Momma Mia

When darkness falls

There are leaders who stumble when darkness falls over their lives, and so many people talk about their 'abuse of authority'. We have probably all experienced some degree of injustice, unfairness, or even abuse from some figure of authority.

We cannot change the figure of authority, or their behavior. We can change our response to their behavior, and maybe just maybe we can influence them to change. When darkness falls, we fail to look with eyes of brilliance. When darkness falls, we fail to see where roadblocks lay in front of us. When darkness falls, we stumble in the shadow and hope we find our way back to the light.

I didn’t want to write much tonight. I was thinking about going to bed and writing tomorrow. I have honored my Sabbath rest plan by taking either Saturday evening or Sunday evening off from blogging, or even journaling. It has been a blessing for me to know that I’m not trying to produce something or force my own hand. I’m just going with the flow of the Holy Spirit, and writing about what comes to mind and what surfaces from my memory.

Tonight, I thought that if I did write, it would be about the majestic feeling of an American University Graduation Ceremony and my reflections on the many Bible School Graduation Ceremonies we attended or were a part of in Mozambique. I find myself more invested in the ‘whys’ behind the feelings of grandeur and awe, completion and unity, accomplishment and growth.

See, the 'why' in Mozambique is similar to here, but it looked different. We were so honored to be able to give each graduating Bible student a t-shirt and a certificate. We would celebrate with them in the presence of the Lord with prayer tunnels and big slobbery piles of graduates who were overcome by the weighty presence of God. They responded in tears and laughter falling on the floor or jumping for joy. They would crumple to the straw mats at the front of the traditionally constructed mud church. The floor was special. It had a layer of smooth cement, instead of pounded dirt. That made for a lot less dust when they congregation was dancing. The altar area was made softer for the knees and bodies of people who feel over under God’s presence and anointing with straw mats laid out as natural carpet. Sometimes there would be a huddle of people who feel in a bunch. Men on their faces had another man falling onto the floor so close to him that his head was on his brother’s back. They didn’t care. They didn’t wait for 'catchers' to allow them to fall in an orderly fashion on the floor of the church altar so they wouldn't touch their neighbor. They just receive everything that was available for them from God. They responded with open hearts and unrestricted behavior. They weren’t overly aware of what someone watching might be thinking or concerned if they landed on their classmate. They just wanted more of God. Their certificate wasn’t the objective! Their hearts full of God and his presence IS their objective! They wanted every last drop of anointing, impartation, and tangible LOVE that was thick in that big meeting room before they headed back home to their homes and their families after three months of intensive Bible training.

Their graduation ceremony was so intensely different from my brother’s University graduation ceremony today. Yet, I felt such an awe and majesty that left me thrilled for each and every graduate. I am seriously hopeful that each one of them left their ceremony with a wonderful feeling of accomplishment and self-worth, along with the education they were looking for. It was truly touching. It was altogether different from our ceremonies in Africa. The floor was cement though! And it happened in one BIG room. So very different though in almost every other aspect.

The lights and sound were so professional, the seating was sufficient for all the attendants, not waning electricity and standing room only. The stage was swanky, and they were all dressed in dignified robes. It was full of splendor and honor just like our ceremony in Africa, but it looked very different. We had dignified t-shirts and caps for our grads (baseball caps). We also had honor for our faculty, directors and our God. It looked very different at the end though. I’m sure that the graduating students celebrated their diplomas in a fashion fitting to their environment. 

So what is it that our environment is creating? What kind of atmosphere is our environment inviting? Are we people who have such a strong sense of authority that we command and affect our environment? Or are we affected by our environment? Sometimes a environment is to strong and its best we get out of there, but where we live, work and celebrate community and fellowship is our typical environment. Are we affecting our environment or being affected? or both?

If we are certain we are affecting our environment, how do we really know if our authority is internal coming from a source of unending power connected to our spirits, or an environmentally accepted and adorned position of power that invokes temporal authority? I think we dwell in the shadows until we command the light to increase. If we can go to a dark place and cause light to shine then we can know that we are affecting our environment. If we can stay under a shadow (only as long as Papa God is asking us too) and contend for light until it gets brighter, then we are affecting our environment.

When darkness falls we can run to the other side of the cave, cloud, or storm; or we can hover over a little chicks like a momma chicken who knows the storm will pass, the cloud won’t last, or our eyes will adjust to the dim light of the cave or our other senses will respond to the Holy Spirit as he guides us to safety.

For years I’ve wondered how leaders can forgive the gravest offenses. They give glory to God for what he has done in spite of stupid people doing stupid things! They don't focus on the offense, they give glory to God for his works through them. God is still God. 

Tonight as my husband and I talked for about an hour and half, we realized that if they couldn’t forgive those people turning their back on God they couldn’t forgive us for real or imagined offenses.

We’ve walked through darkness when there were real offenses committed against us, and we really offended other people. Those connections were shattered while we try to pick up the pieces of what was once a healthy life-giving relationship. We stood back and observed different people who offended or hurt us without trying to mend the connection until we were confident in Christ in us, that we weren’t going to mend something that was just going to be shattered again.  The old saying says: Fool me once shame on you. Fool me twice shame on me. We waited on God to help us be truly humble, and really see Jesus on them and them. We forgave them. Forgiveness is constant though until the break is mended. But we watched and waited for enough information to go forward and see God heal a broken relationship. 

Let me tell you, there is no reason to try and mend something when the darkness is still hiding some of the broken pieces. When it’s time to rebuild a bridge or glue the shattered pottery, all the missing pieces will be in the light.

When darkness falls, its for a reason. Not so we can point fingers and blame another leader for ‘falling into sin’ or ‘abusing authority’. I believe it helps us to wait, to go lower and deeper into the dark well. To get closer and closer to the red hot embers. It helps us to become the flame that burns up the darkness. It causes us to change.

If someone really does have a tendency to abuse their power, they need to be told how the victim has overcome what they did and are believing God for divine justice on both sides of glory. If someone really has fallen into sin, they need to be loved to repentance. It’s kindness that says, “Oh, you are wearing skin just like me. You need to feel forgiveness that unlocks you from guilt and convicts you to change!” “Oh, you need to be honored as a sister or brother in Christ even if I can’t respect your temporal position of power.”

When darkness falls we can choose to be the light.

From one momma to somebodies child, please don’t try to mend a relationship that isn’t ready to be mended. Burn with love for the person who offended you. How do you do that? Ask God how he sees them, and why are they in your life. Wait until you are ready, but follow Holy Spirit's prompting even if you feel timid inside yourself. Be confident in who you are in Christ, and their response is first of all, between them and Jesus.

My husband and I asked God why someone is still in our lives tonight, and we were pretty overwhelmed with the revelation that came out of our soul searching. (We know that people are going to be with us for eternity, so its good to bring kingdom thinking into our connections with people now. That doesn't mean there aren't people who cause us to lift our eyebrows at God) It’s been years of asking God to help us love some person more, and what is another detail about that person that is important and life giving for our spirits? We realized that someone that we really do love, even though we’ve been hurt by some of their decisions, has some understanding and depth of forgiveness that we can still learn from. If they didn't forgive those terrible things, how could they forgive us? Yep folks, ever once in a blue moon, I might make a mistake, hurt someone, or sin....I need to be forgiven.

Trying to forgive someone is a step closer to forgiveness, and a step farther away from bitterness.

I pray that you can graduate from a grudge and love someone special again.

Lots of love,

Jennifer

Missionary Momma Mia 

Final Final Finished Woowhoo!

I know it's not my graduation tomorrow, but I am still celebrating the final final of this semester being finished. As a returning student, I want to celebrate every single end of a chapter. Graduating is like finishing or publishing a book. I'm happy with the short chapters in between the massive accomplishments.

So here it is:

WooWhoo! I just finished my final assignments for this semester. ;-) 

What a relief. Now I need to register in one or two classes this summer. The register link on my schools page is down. So, I wait while I journal in word. This is the step I need to get to the class I want to take in the fall. That is supposed to be my only class left in the fall. Here’s hoping.

The thing about being a returning student is that catalogs change, programs are adjusted, and even my vision for attending university changes after ten years away from class! It’s a lot of bending and changing that requires flexibility. Thankfully I picked that skill up on the mission field!

I still feel like there is so much unknown in returning to be a student, maybe every student feels that to some degree… that he/she is facing something unknown. That’s part of learning. It’s not just the professors and books. It is awkward for me feeling older than the majority of the students. There are plenty of mature students at my University. I am not the only student over 22. There are lots of students in their mid to late twenties. Thankfully, there are also students near my age or older in each one of my classes. I feel like I could try to blend in with the youngens, But I can’t follow millennial lifestyle anyway. I don’t know their music, tv, or natural form of communication – electronic texts and chatting.

That’s ok. I’m learning that too. I’m learning that I like the quirks that are uniquely ‘me’.  

This is what being a student is about for me right now. Recognizing more of the interesting details about me, and the limitations that I’ve had before I learned how to do stuff like blogging. Who am I kidding? I have sent out emails since 2000, and I still have the same email address. I didn’t save all my emails from back then, but hey, sometimes electronic communication is like a post-it note gone bad that you need to trash….I do think I lost some important stuff though…. Oh well. If I had written it by hand. Wait back then I did write most things by hand and then type them and send them via email….

I have had an account on Myspace, LinkedIn, and am willing to try twitter. I don’t use them super regularly. I forget why I have them. But there is a reason. I’m not a huge fan of these things – really?!? I try to convince myself of that because the romanticism of a written letter is just dreamy! I do love hand written journals. But I can feel the cramp in my hand just thinking about trying to write down the details of a long day or a weird dream.

Typing on a computer is convenient. I don’t have to scratch the words out of my way when I remember another thing that ruins my chronological order of the written account of my day. I can figure out how to cut and paste a detail that doesn’t belong here, but up there at the top of the page – and who cares about pages? It can be seamless if we don’t type in word. Typing on a laptop is even more convenient. I can sit where ever I like, and rattle away on the keyboard while I wait to see if I can register for my other summer class.

It looks like the website is still thinking about opening. Well, a momma has got to sleep. Big day tomorrow. Baby brother is graduating. I’m so proud of him. Now I need some beauty rest if anyone downtown tomorrow is going to think that I am close to his age. J

Lots of love,

Missionary Momma Mia 

Remember to love

It’s hard to know what to write after the very serious blog that I wrote the other day. That’s where my emotions were. Now I need to figure out how to let them heal even more.

I know that I was planning on finding the first thing that I had sent as an update in 2004, but I couldn’t find it in my old emails. I might have uploaded it on myspace. And that has changed since then. Dad said that he might have it saved somewhere. Who knows.....

I ran across some paper print out of an update I emailed in 2004 that was saved inside a Bible, but it is not there now. It looks like I can’t use my earliest writings as a reference. Not today anyway.

But I can still remember, and getting things out is a big deal. I remember when there were no famous books or sermons to teach me what love looked like. I remember when there were no big famous missionary rock stars. I remember people listening.

That was a long time ago though.

I do remember that we had to back then was think and talk.

It wasn’t a lot of talking though, because we didn’t have many people to talk deep things with. Not very many people could understand. I did have my mom. She called me, and my spiritual mom called me. They both wanted to check on my and my husband and our bun in the oven. I didn't know exactly what to say. I did finally spill the beans to mom. She listened really quietly. I think I could hear her crying. I had really moved to a new place where death was one of my biggest culture shocks. I had so much to learn. I had so much to remember. I had to remember why I was there. I had to remember what my calling was, and how much God loved the people he called me to come and serve as a missionary. I had to remember so much.

I had to remember to love. I had to relearn how to love. Now just because I was a newly married wife and an expecting mother. I had to learn what love looked like in the new place we were living. I trusted missionaries who had been there longer than me, and national pastors who were are dear friends to help me understand what love typically looks like in the mew culture I found myself deeply swallowed in. Learning to love from friends is good, but it isn't perfect. It isn't the whole picture.

Learning what love looks like from anyone other than Jesus is going to produce dutiful attempts to love. Love looks like something. It really does, but it’s not only about giving food to the poor and clothes to the naked.

Love does look like something to the poor and to the rich. Love looks like someone a little bit different to each one of us. When we are too focused on ‘loving’ others we forget that love flows from an intimate relationship with someone who is the source of pure love. Jesus is love.

If we just use our connection with God and Jesus as a wish list for helping other people, then our energy will eventually dry totally up. Imagine that our love or ability to help someone in need is like water in a swimming hole in a river. When the swimming hole is cut off from the rest of the river it eventually gets shallower and shallower, until it dries up.

We do need to ask God for strength to be light and salt, but it’s pointless to ask without receiving.  

A good father knows how to give gifts. I didn’t have to ask my dad two times for money to go out to eat with my friends. How many times are we rattling off our requests? "Dad, I really need medicine for this little boy, I really need food for this widow. I really really need medicine, and food. Can you please give me what I need?" The answer is on the way. And the pause between when the medicine arrives and the food is ready isn’t always a delay I his answer. Sometimes we need a few minutes to stop and wait on his thoughts about how to give the food or medicine. Sometimes we need a few more minutes just to sit and Breath with God. We need to look at his face and see our reflection in his eyes. He loves us so much. His love is our strength. Communion with him changes the way we think. His thoughts become our thoughts, all the sudden we can see that there is something blocking the flow of his love and compassion to our swimming hole, our water well.

Sometimes it’s time to unbury the "well" by digging deeper because the dam is too strong. Maybe God is redirecting the flow for a season for us learn how to dig deeper down. Maybe God is giving us a tool to tear down a sloppily thrown up dam, or clean up some garbage that is dirtying the water and turning it into muck and mud. The answer to our prayers is different because each one of us are facing different needs, different seasons and different abilities to steward the flow of God’s river.

If a large deep river gets stopped up that’s a gigantic dam, and a huge effort to fix the flow or redirect the flow into something else. It’s going to change the environment around where a river used to flow freely. It might be the season for that environment. We don’t always know all the details or plans God has. He might actually want to see changes in a place that we don’t feel comfortable with. The flow of water is still present, but it is harnessed for a different purpose. Sometimes a gulley or a channel is being dug to join different streams together. It can be dirty work, causing the river to muck up for a while until the dirt settles back to the newly formed river bed.

We don’t always know what is happening with the flow of God’s Holy Spirit. We don’t always understand why his love is washing over us in waves or flowing through us as a hot spring that bubbles up from under the ground. It’s too difficult to say that God’s presence is only this, or only that. That his love goes this way, or only in this direction. We don’t always know his thoughts. Even though we could know more of his thoughts. We could just spend time with him and learn more about his thoughts and his ways. We could begin to see how he sees and move how he moves. Imagine so much unity that we flow with God like a seamless dance partner. 

We could begin to identify different aspects of his character that are new to us, we didn’t ever taste that kind of mercy and kindness before, or miraculous provision of finances, or multiplication of food. There are so many details that only God has taken into account and made a fabulous design. If we spend time talking with God, listening to God we spend more time delighting in his perfection. More of his perfection will be revealed in our lives.

The food is ready right on time to go and feed the kids and give the medicine, but I didn’t wait on God to hear everything that Holy Spirit was explaining or look at the details of the vision to get a better understanding of His plan. It’s important to sit with God and listen. I learned the hard way. I got what I needed to give away and ran out of enough love to follow every detail of instructions available to me. I could have been more attentive to one child’s needs and learned much more quickly how to treat malaria. I mourned the loss of our cute little neighbor. I also learned right away, and never forgot, that I needed to sit with Jesus and focus on his lovely face. I said “ok” to trying to save as many people around me from suffering as possible, that I began to suffer deeply. It is one thing to share in the suffering of Christ, but completely another to suffering needlessly out of duty.

Christ doesn’t want us to be servants tending to everyone's needs. He also doesn't want us to grieve endlessly for the loss of his little pumpkins, or pretend like it doesn't hurt. He knows that we are living in a world where we will face sorrows. He weeps with us. One of my most treasured scripture verses as a teenager was: Jesus wept. (John 11:35 shortest verse in the whole Bible) I felt so comforted by a real person with skin on and emotions, it showed me that his heart broke when he was deeply sad. I felt like a person who was understood by the creator of the universe.

I don’t think he was communicating to tell his friends, “I have a great plan here, my Dad has got this taken care of.” With his tears. No, he was genuinely sad. His friend died. Yes, He knew that his Abba Papa God would be glorified through the miracle that would follow. He also knew that his friend had suffered. I saw his compassion and his love. He doesn’t celebrate our suffering. He weeps.

My heart was mended by knowing that verse. Many times those words were like balsam over the wounds in my broken heart. I don’t literally blame myself anymore for the deaths that happened near me during my first months as a missionary. I repented so many times for not looking at the details. Papa God comforted me. I did learn incredibly valuable lessons through my experience. I did repent many times when there was a thing that I should have done differently. I did also learn to trust that God in his awesomeness knew all of my weaknesses and inabilities. His ability to save the life of a child or young mother was not hindered by my feeble attempts to love the poor around me.   

I have to trust him. I have utter hope and dependence on God because my abilities and skills are so tiny, his are infinite. That little guy isn’t suffering anymore. It is truly solace for my soul. My typical inflow of spiritual food and water was changed when I moved far from the community where I had lived for years. I had to learn how to unbury wells for dry seasons, and prepare the riverbed for a flash flood. I had to discover new sources of energy and strength to be a missionary.

It wasn’t easy but the most important thing I learned in those first few months of being a missionary was to stay thoroughly soaked in God’s river. When it was harder and harder to stay soaked I had to begin to steady my gaze on his eyes and find the details of his plan. When I was finished digging down, and he was ready to let the rain fall, I had to climb back to the surface of the riverbed, or I would be drowned in the bottom of the well. When I came up I found the clouds ready to drop buckets of rain. I knew I had a fun swimming hole to come back to anytime I needed refreshing while he was redirecting the flow of the bigger stream.

I love swimming. I had to remember to love me first. 

Take care of you. Spend more time with God than you think you can afford. Not just praying while driving and stuff like cleaning and praying; but really meditating on God’s word, his goodness and his great plan for you. That’s loving you. He might direct you to get a manicure, or discover a cure for cancer. He’s clever. He’s perfectly wise and knows how to love us, and he knows how to love other people through our lives laid down as a living sacrifice.

He’s not looking for a burnt offering. He wants a living, burning passionate lover. Then it will be difficult to NOT spend time with him. He will have to remind you to get back to cooking or cleaning and the other important stuff. He knows how to love us, and all we have to do is let ourselves be loved.

Remember to love you….as much as you love you, will be the measure that you can love somebody else.

Lots of love,

Missionary Momma Mia

Where indifference is a blessing, caring is a curse

I  tried to post last night around 1:30. The website was down. For a brief moment after I edited and re-finished the post for lastnight, the website page came up, but it did not work long enough to post this. I hope that anyone who feels badgered from an account of strong emotions and deeply sorrowful events will feel free to read something else. It's not my intention to break your heart. I'm trying to unburry the broken pieces of my heart and see if they can be pieced back together again...

Were indifference is a blessing, caring is a curse

I am thinking about my first weeks in central Mozambique.

As I wrote early Sunday morning, I was remembering the emotions and the frustration of having lost a neighborhood child that I had visited with another missionary in the earliest weeks of arriving in central Mozambique. We had helped his blind grandmother treat her four year old and six year old grandsons for scabies and other parasites just a few weeks before the littler one died of malaria. It was a devastating blow. We had bathed him, brought food, and treated his soars.

I remember the first time we saw him. He looked like a toddler, not a small child of four years. Mama C and I had walked through the village lanes near our community home. She had arrived to central Mozambique before my husband and I did. Mama C had learned how to treat scabies, foot worms called ‘mataquina’ , intestinal parasites and other easily treatable problems that poverty stricken families often faced.

The local hospital was a near enough to treat the illnesses of the children and families living nearby, but they charged the smallest amount of money for the hospital visit, and the medicine. These widows and aged grandmothers didn’t have coins to pay for medicine, or food. They ate food from their fields and sometimes their animals – if they had any. They came to care for their grandchildren for different reasons. Some of their grandchildren had a mother who couldn’t or wouldn’t care for them. Some of them had lost both their parents. The mission base was just starting over again. There were 13 boys living in a reed room on base. We were thrilled to take care of them, and other children near by. It was our desire to help families stay together, even if the circumstances were dire, we needed to assist in whatever way we could without separating the vulnerable children from their relatives.

The mission was supposed to comfort me. It didnt. I don’t actually know if I have forgiven myself for that little one dying so young. We honored the grandmother’s wishes and helped her care for the children in her one room mud hut. We visited two and three times each week for a while until their swollen bellies had shrunk to a healthy normal size. Both of the brothers were so cute. They helped their grandmother beg in the nearby market. It was grandmother’s only form of survival after having gone almost totally blind. She would receive a little maize flour or rice and green leafs or beans to make for one meal for the three of them. We brought some food and medical supplies on our visits. Then one weekend we found the two boys suffering with high fever. They had been bit by mosquitoes carrying malaria. A nurse visited them with us and explained how often they had to take the malaria tablets. I never thought that we should go check on the children each time they needed to take their malaria tablets. The little one might not have taken his medicine properly, I had no way of knowing if he did take the medicine with the food and juice that we left for him or not. I imagined myself to blame that the little one died of fever from the malaria.

It broke my heart to hold his big brother and comfort him and his grandmother. The nurse told us that the little one’s malaria had become cerebral even though he was taking the malaria tablets because his malaria was a far more complicated case than his older brother’s. The world became an entirely different place after I heard the news of the little boys passing.

There was little solace for me. I imagined him missing medicine or vomiting up treatment because his fever was to high causing dehydration and upset stomach. Before that, I had thought that malaria was something that could be conquered in every case. The reality of my situation hit me as an expectant mother, a wife, and a missionary with children and employees that I felt almost entirely responsible for their wellbeing. My husband and I along with a hand full of other missionaries were full of vision for the village we lived in, we had a vision for the mission base and the surrounding churches. We felt God's presence there and he gave us dreams. In spite of the paon, we went forward. We did have victories. We built a nice house for the children. But I never forget the first child I lost. My heart stays broken for his little life expiring so early, I only shared this pain with a select few. It didn't heal all the way. I wanted to understand how the villagers around me could stop grieving after 7 days. I wanted to pretend like the happy stories consumed me, like the boys first ever trip to the beach was more present in my thoughts than how many coffins we bought during my first month of living in Africa. Talk about culture shock!

But Jesus knew how much I longed to feel less. 

Indifference would seem like a blessing in a place where innocent children die of treatable diseases. In the weeks that followed my heart broke into a million pieces, the care and concern I felt for the people around me felt like a terrible curse.

Witnessing firsthand the injustice of suffering children and elderly widows ignited a fire of fury to keep going forward with the food distribution programs for orphans, vulnerable children and widows. But that fire did inevitably burn up. Fury and anger are not endless. There is only one fire that is endless. Love.

Remember to love. Remember to let Jesus love you. I had to learn how to say “no” to some requests for more food, or help. I had to learn to shut myself away with Papa God and let him love me.

There were so many times when I had nothing to give, if I didn’t press into Papa God’s heart and love him for his faithfulness I wouldn’t have even had a prayer to offer to the mother or child who asked for something from me. There were so many times that I wrestled with God for my sanity, for my family, for our children and staff. We pressed into God to tell him our thoughts, concerns and desires. We waited for him to show us his plan. Holy Spirit reminded us of his promises for that mission base, and even for that village. Papa God showed us his faithfulness by meeting our needs, and the needs of those around us. He also showed us that his success wasn’t dependent on our abilities and asked us to give everything that we were holding onto back to him.

It was one of the hardest things to do, because we cared so deeply. We wish we could have felt indifferently towards the village, the churches and children because saying goodbye was even harder than comforting friends after the loss of a family member.

We wanted our hearts to grow numb, and our emotions to be like stone. God showed us over and over again that no matter what we tried to do, we couldn’t stop loving them. We had to learn to feel deeply and say goodbye. We had to remember to love when it felt like such a heavy burden. It wasn’t about an emotion of passion or desire. Remembering to love was about a commitment to care, and to challenge the cultural norm of indifference.  

Remember to Love. Give lots of love, especially to those who don’t or can’t love you back. Then you will give all of yourself, and either give up, or go back to the source of all Love to feel his heart beating inside you and be filled up with his heart of love.

It’s ok to want to give up, it’s ok to feel intensely. Even Jesus asked his Dad if there was another way. He drank a cup of suffering for the Joy set before him. Sometimes are full of more suffering than others. We can remember to love. Remember we are his Joy, and he is ours.

I really am writing to you with lots of love,  

Missionary Momma Mia   

P.S. I have to say that blogger wasn’t working for me to post a few minutes ago. I just wanted to finish quickly because sometimes my heart breaks to remember the pain. I also don’t want to cause any one to suffer needlessly. I hope that if you are choosing to read my blogs, you know enough to love yourself and close it if it is too much.

Anyway, I prayed about my blog, and decided to finish it properly and then when I finished writing the second time, blogger website was working again for a few moments. Maybe it’s an interesting coincidence. Maybe I should pay more attention to details. I had more time to perfect and conclude tonight’s ramblings because the server was down. It was more important for me to fully write about what was stirring my heart, than to try to get a blog in before the day was over. So I digress….I had asked Jesus a simple question,  "If I really should post this journal entry as a blog, a nice confirmation that it's your idea would be a working website. "

It worked for a moment. Its not working now, and I should sleep. I’ve faced all kinds of computer and internet problems before. So, Jesus  I trust you, and bless the website to work when you want it to, so I can post this when you know it is best.

I love you. And I trust you with my heart, and my scribbles. If you want other people to be able to see what I’m thinking about I will share it , and it’s up to you to help the web savvy people to fix their web site.

 I love you! Goodnight.

The shadow of injustice

It’s the sneaky little things that infiltrate our society that we pretend are ok because we have some level of dependency on those who willingly or unwillingly, or knowingly or unknowingly perpetrators of injustice.

I see the path of injustice throughout history. I examine the past to gain understanding and perspective. My husband and I might have an over developed since of justice, or there might be a purpose for our instinctive fight against the slightest sign of injustice.

How do we stand against injustice and fight? It’s simple. We keep going forward. We keep caring for our big family. We find joy in giving presents to our Mozambican children.In very poetic words we stand against injustice and fight by loving fatherless and motherless children, by extending grace those who have none for themselves, and by being a voice for children and women who don’t have a voice in a nation where there is little history of justice and peace.

My husband and I feel passionately about improving the lives of the poor in Mozambique, but we can’t walk around every day all day hounding the world around us with our sentiment. We have no desire to do that. It’s also not in our personalities. There are some who do, that is their social ability and gifting. We are so proud of their “yes” to Jesus. This is my ‘YES’ to Jesus. It might not look like much compared to awesome speakers, influential leaders, and gifted administrators (I study admin cause it’s not my natural talent, but a skill I need to acquire!) There are people who have more than enough, they live in the promise land! That’s great. I want them to draw me a map to get there.

I’m serious. But their path is probably perfect for their feet. I will get there on my path.

Me, I can’t pretend to want to speak in front of a crowd. Its not my dream. If it’s important then I will get up and say something, but it is not my passion. Nor is it my husbands. We are both passionate about worshipping God, and loving his children. We can do many things, but we aren’t that power couple who go into places leading people to Jesus and the mission field. We are terrible at that. Seriously. Not self-bashing. I’m just saying the truth is we are better at spending time with the kids, and taking care of their needs than other things right now. We are having to that from across an ocean for the last year and half and its crazy hard to hear problems and have to solve them over the telephone, or via emails. But we have managed. Now after such a long time, we are going back to our last home for a short time. I’m not sure how to face it? I’m not sure how to go forward? It’s not pretty.

Often time we go forward in a wobbly way. We aren’t always even sure if we can keep going forward the way we were before. But we make sure that kiddos have meals and get to school. We have Facebook chats with the older kids and read how their day is going. We pray with our kids and for them. We have WhatsAp conversations with the Iris Chimoio River of God team. We stay together across an ocean. It’s pretty amazing.

Funny enough, I can manage to write. I write to our kids, our team, our offices, our supporters. I want to do that more. I can even manage to write a blog. But it’s so quiet. No one is compelled to run to an altar and cry out to Jesus for the poor because of the words of my emotional blubbering. I have read books like that. Maybe one day, if it is important there will be something I’ve managed to write that causes hearts to be open, but its not because I’m chasing a story like a journalist, or performing a monologue like an actor.

I do want to witness the suffering of humanity, but not for the sake of journalism or suffering. But because I want to know Jesus. I know he is where there is suffering. I know he is JOY. What is JOY without understanding sadness? I am willing to go places outside of my comfort zone if only to see with my own eyes the depths of unspeakable love of Jesus poured out over his beloved creation when he took our sorrows and grief into his heart. It’s not the summation of the little and big sorrows of one individual person. The most immense sorrow of an individual is nothing to diminish, but it is so much more than our hearts can bear.

Jesus in all of his unconditional compassion bore up every single moment of suffering, sorrow and grief in all of history from the beginning of time when he spoke the words of creation to now and all of the days ahead of us. This is intense.

This is far more than anyone has ever suffered, he did all of this for love for us, even unrequited love. What can I do but look at the pain in someone’s eyes and weep with them. How can I not share in their moments of sorrow?

I have been surrounded by sorrow. I witnessed so much suffering and death in the first months of my life on the mission field in central Mozambique. I quickly learned that no one wants to hear the sad stories of children dying, and widows houses falling down around them. Not many friends could bear to hear the stories of mother’s abandoning their children because of absolute poverty and hunger. I learned that those stories only cause people to turn away. I couldn’t turn away. I learned to tell the happy stories of the babies who were saved, and the widows and single moms who had plenty to eat.

I learned who I could share my deepest sorrows with, and who I could share my victories with. 

Victories are celebrated by many. Sorrows are carried by few. The burden of sorrows and sadness is very lonely, and yet Jesus took it all. Every single moment, every tear, there is never a lonely sorrow or moment of sadness. His sacrifice means that we can grieve in his company, cry on his shoulder, and celebrate His victory as ours.

I’ll admit it, I don’t know exactly how to pinpoint why I’m so upset with the shadow of injustice that popped up over me and my husband tonight, but I kinda know what triggered it. I know that I have to face the little things with confidence and courage to continue to love our children. That courage helps me get through customs with presents for our children. That courage helps me face the soaring cost of food in central Mozambique. That courage helps me write a super emotional blog and post it for Mother’s day.

This is my mother heart. I don’t want to break yours. I would usually write something like this and close it away for no one to read. But my heart says that I want share this internal battle. I don’t have a soapbox to stand on. I don’t have a crowd saying she’s a rockin’ awesome missionary, a few good friends do cheer me on! I don’t have a bunch of things that, well,  I must not need. I do have this opportunity to share my heart before I lose courage.

So, I will leave you with my courageous thoughts:

Why is it that children and youth are intrigued by super heroes in the justice league? Why is it that lawyers and judges, police officers and public servants are impacted by super heroes? What is it about speaking up for the ones who can’t speak for themselves that causes us to feel empowered?

I believe it is what we would have wanted someone to do for us when we didn’t have a voice.

Find a fiercely victorious super hero without a dark shadow in their history and their character is probably shallow. We all want to know that there is someone standing for us on the other side of this battle. We want to know that there is someone cheering us on through this present victory. We all want to know that someone has conquered the darkness in the shadows.

What is in the shadow? That is a question that so many of us think we are prepared to answer. I long for deeper awareness. There is something in the shadow that looms over me, but I am almost never aware of. As soon as the light is shed on one subject, the shadow seems to fight back. It tries to grow stronger.

I’m not totally aware of the shadow that stirs my emotions of uncertainty tonight. If I was, I’m certain that I would insist on it’s silence. I don’t feel like facing another thing. What if Jesus is asking me to look past the injustice, past the darkness looming over me and into his beautiful face? Will I deny him this time? Will I focus on the darkness looming overhead, or simply press through to see the face of my super hero savior on the other side of this battle?

Keep going forward.

Keep going forward with Jesus. He's always with us! 

Lots of love, especially for courageous moms!!!! 

Missionary Momma Mia 

Faced a shadow today

I was really surprised. I waited in a slightly crowded room and chatted small talk with a few other students until one of my professors from more than a decade ago came to speak with me. He was by no means a ‘dark or shadowy person’. I still felt a little bit intimidated though, possibly because it was evident that he is a man in charge. I observed genuine kindness and humility in his character as he responded to the respect, honor, and esteem that people showed him. He wasn’t haughty, proud or overly persuasive. How had my memory managed to put a significant level of blame on him for me not getting my degree over a decade ago? My memory painted him as somewhat of a bully, yet, I didn’t see that at all today.

It’s hard to admit it, but the shadow was more likely my own projection of failure, pride, and stubbornness. Everyone has their hidden faults, and it is impossible to discern the depths of someone’s character in a day. I'm not saying he's perfect, at the same time the second “first impression” of this shadowy figure in my memory was a positive one that opened a flood gate of positive memories.   

It wasn’t a bad shadow anymore, it was just a thing that I hadn’t faced since I walked away from my University over twelve years ago.  I finally spoke with someone who I was certain would be intimidating and probably disappointed in me. I found out that my memories are good at re-writing history. He was kind and considerate, and not the least bit disappointed. That was surprising. My perspective was wrong.

It’s amazing to me how a memory that was unpleasant, or would cause me to doubt my own self-esteem built up strong emotions around the facts and twisted other characters in my history into “unseemly” characters – something was wrong with them, not me.

It was childish behavior. I think of my 20’s as the years that I thought I could conquer the world. I didn’t recognize my own physical and mental limitations. I pressed myself to try and graduate with nineteen credit hours for my final semester. It didn’t work. One thing that did console me was that those who counseled me to register in less classes were right. It took me a while, but I really am thoroughly grateful for advice from people who have more experience than me.

I should have trusted God’s voice when he clearly told me that I shouldn’t register in any classes in 2003/04 school year. He knew how busy that season of my life was going to be, and all the self-doubt that the long route was going to cause. I was so adamant that he had given me the dream of going to get my degree in the first place. How could I be done with only three years of community college and college completed? I argued with God, and he was quiet when I asked him to help me register for the right courses for the semester. Ever semester before I literally could see the class section highlighted as if it jumped off the page of the catalog (back then the class schedules were still big printed books). I relied on Holy Spirit to confirm all the details of my college schedule. It was his idea. I never would have gone from music and art to Administration? There was a night in India in 2000 when I was singing on the balcony, and I could feel a tangible embrace from Jesus. He whispered in my spirit, “Would you go back to get a degree in Administration?”

I knew it was the greatest idea, because I would have never thought of it! I hadn’t thought beyond graduating from high school and getting to the mission field. I was 18 and ready to go live in Mozambique the first time there was an open door. I thought for sure I could go from a discipleship training program to a base in Mozambique. There wasn’t an open door yet. The missionaries that I knew with that specific training program where headed to a different country. God knew all these details before he asked me to get a degree in Administration. I didn’t know them. I just made a promise to go forward with Jesus, even if that meant to go back to the USA to study. That is what I did.

I never imagined that I would be able to start the degree plan in 2002, after transferring from a community college, and finish somewhere like 2016 or 2017. That wasn’t even in my imagination, but anything is possible.

I used nearly all of the non-profit administration course material that I had studied during these ten years that we lived in Mozambique. In fact, the first time I ever heard Heidi speak at a Voice of Apostles Conference in October 2002, she ended one of the morning, or afternoon meetings by asking if there was anyone with administrative skills willing to throw their life away for Jesus in Mozambique. I had waited my entire life since I was eleven years old for that open door. I knew it was the perfect moment for me to be there, and the perfect invitation. I threw my hand straight up in the air like a child in class asking to be picked as the volunteer. She saw me, of course I had sat on the floor near the very front of the room during that entire meeting. She prayed over a big group of on-fire Christians who burned for Jesus and longed to carry his glory to the nations. I had such radical encounters with God during that conference. My heart was so thrilled as she invited me to come to Mozambique.

I did visit Mozambique, met Joao Wenningkamp and the rest is history.

Who would have thought that going to go to college to study administration would have been one of my strongest signs from God this was my open door? She and her husband were the missionary couple I could learn from on the mission field. Me hearing God’s voice and knowing is what gave me the courage to drop everything in Spring 2004 to get married and move to Africa. I never understood why or how I would ever finish my degree with such a big gap away from the school, but in the meantime the school that was a college became a university the year that I reregistered as a return student.

When God spoke to me in India about getting a degree in Administration, I saw a vision of a sign that said ‘University’. I thought that was just my imagination, and not an important detail.

Important details are IMPORTANT. God is in the details. Well he holds all of creation together, but anyway.  The details matter. I’m getting a degree from a University. The shadow seemed dark and billowing, but it was just because I needed to turn the light switch on to shed a little light on the subject.

Light-switch on! Going forward with Jesus at my University. I feel pretty cool about that.

Praying for hope and courage to find that light-switch for anyone facing a shadow. The truth will be glorious, maybe a little bit difficult to face, but totally liberating.

Lots of love,

Missionary Momma Mia