Still a Student

So, begins my last semester as a BA student. If all goes as planned, I will be graduating from Metro on May 12^th. This is, by no means, the end of my educational pursuits. I’ve recently (Jan. 9th) found the Master’s program of my dreams. Just knowing that the program exists is great. I’m applying for the program, and will soon find out if it is in my future. By soon, I assume that any registration approval will be dependent on my graduation at Metro.

So, I start a process that will require patience and perseverance. What to do if they don’t agree with me that theirs is the perfect program for me? Probably try again. I will cross that bridge if I come to it.

Life continues in Colorado. I have been writing nearly everyday, but it was for a particularly demanding course. This semester may be just as demanding. So, I don't know if I will write more blogs or not. The last semester was too full for me to write. Whereas, I began this semester today, and felt the urge to write flippant things that would remind me how far I've come, and why I'm here. I'm here to move forward with my education. As a mom with two Mozambican sons enrolled in University in Chimoio, I feel it's important for me to be true to my educational dreams and aim higher.

It is interesting, and a little bit uncomfortable, to be a student with children who are students, but I will encourage anyone who wants to be a student to move towards your goal. Find that program or school that rings your bells and go for it. Its probably good to find a few similar programs and keep researching and learning in what ever fashion you amass information and knowledge best.

with lots of love, 

Missionary Momma Mia

Different in Mozambique

School Supply Shopping is Different in Mozambique.
There are other things to like school clothes shopping, and well....you'll see what I mean. It's different!

We finished school supply shopping for our boys on the weekend before their first day back to school. We had to get the final details, like a protractor and ruler, markers and more dry-erase markers for each of our three boys.

It’s so different shopping for three kids in Colorado, instead of shopping for notebooks and pens in bulk in Chimoio. In Chimoio, we know some of the shop owners where we frequently bought materials for the Iris Chimoio ROG children center, missionary house, and annual school materials. We spent time making sure that the notebooks would be enough for the children according to their grade. That seems similar to school supply shopping here. Then there were textbooks to buy, not for first through 6^th grade. But, we did have to purchase books for the kids who had passed primary school grades. That is very different from what I see here. The shopping process is very different too!

I remember walking down dusty roads looking at the books laid out on the sidewalk. Some of the vendors had a stand with books up off of the ground, others laid a tarp on the edge of the street to mark their ‘area’. We tried to get enough books for our kids to have one each if they went to school at different periods.

The public schools in Mozambique have early morning period, late morning period, and afternoon classes for minors. There is also an evening class offered at most schools for adult learners. We requested many times that our children have the same class periods, but sometimes that wasn’t available. Our kids who have morning classes would pass their textbooks over to the kids who have afternoon classes. They shared their textbooks to do homework. It wasn’t because we didn’t want to purchase more textbooks, there were lots of shortages in textbooks. The textbooks were also renewed pretty regularly, so older versions were no longer wanted in the classroom.

I just ordered my university textbook online, it will be shipped for free by the website to arrive on Saturday. There weren’t enough textbooks in my campus bookstore, so I bought it online. I don’t have to wait into the semester until a shipment of textbooks arrives in our city. Its so convenient.

I didn’t have to barter with a vendor, or find a student who took the class last semester to wrangle a deal with in order to secure a copy of the text. Its actually kinda refreshing. I miss the dust sometimes. I really miss the smells in the air, but only some of them.

I really miss the children. Their laughter and smiles as they opened up new backpacks filled with new notebooks, pens, protractors and colored pencils. It was always a highlight of our year gathering backpacks from the market.

We tried to find the least worn, newest looking second hand bags available. We wanted sturdy bags – hoping that some of them would last more than one school year. We would beat off the dust and make an offer to the seller. Some of them were students themselves, or the age of other students. They sold merchandise that comes in large bundles from shipping containers. We buy from them.

This year my hubby and I bought three brand new backpacks for our boys, from a store. We only bought three backpacks and school is just starting over here, while the school year is moving into a final trimester in Mozambique and soon enough exam season before summer (December) holidays.

It’s so different, yet so much the same. Summer break. Fall Start to new school year. Kids anxious to get back to their friends, some kids a little timid about making new friends. They’re happy to have a nice backpack with school materials inside. Their thrilled about new shoes for the new year. Our kids have a few new outfits to wear to school, but no uniform is required. We have to have our kids in Mozambique fitted for a new school uniform every year. If they change schools, we need to buy two new uniforms. The kids wash their shirts every afternoon since they are required to wear a button up shirt with the school emblem on it, a tie, a pair of long pants, or a skirt for the girls. Its routine to hand wash the shirts, and trade them out each day.

Our boys are really happy they don’t have to wear uniforms. And the other thing that is really different about the schools in Colorado and Chimoio is haircuts.

Our youngest son has a Mohawk/mullet. It’s not a problem. I remember getting notes from the schools in Mozambique about hair length. One of our Mozambican sons came home from school with a chunk of his hair cut out by the professor. They are only allowed to have short trimmed hair – no flat tops. His professor turned his flattop into a mess that required short hair all over – acceptable for the school he attended.

It’s different.

I like the liberties we have here with the school. The clothes, haircuts, and available textbooks are something to celebrate. They don’t replace the joy of bulk shopping, market strolling, dust battling, Matewe learning, and a successful barter, but they are worth celebrating. Of course I miss it, I will miss here when I'm gone...

Where ever you find yourself, there is something worth celebrating. It may be really different than somewhere you spent time before or not. Celebrating doesn’t require a list of comparisons and contrasts; but it does require stopping a few moments and recognizing the smooth things, the easy comforts, and the conveniences that give you more time to do the things you really love.

I really love our kiddos enjoying school. I really love our opportunity to gain a broader education in Colorado. I really love that our kiddos in Mozambique are enjoying their holiday as our kids holiday ended. I love that we get to chat with them on facebook, because the contrast of realities isn’t so distant. Our teenagers have cellphones with a facebook app installed on them. They ask us for help with their school work, their issues, or just say, “Hi, I love you.”

I really love that our kiddos are so well cared for, and so loved. I’m so thankful that there are hands to hold them when we are far away. I’m learning a lot more than just textbook material. I’m learning to celebrate the good things and get back to the essential things that I wanted to do in Mozambique, but just didn’t have this kind of internet connection…..I did what was essential there, now I want to write about it.

I’m posting a blog again, and it’s random. I’m just writing to celebrate, to remember, to evaluate, and to encourage. You are more blessed than you know.

Me too.

Lots of love and blessings,

Missionary Momma Mia 

Back to School is upon us...

School starts in a little over a week, and we need to get ready.

Tomorrow we hit their next school year prep books with a strict schedule just like a school week. Play time is a reward for successful learning time. Video games or tv are a timed activity that can’t happen in the same day. We don’t have access to some of their learning websites, but books and review of last year’s homework will do perfectly.

They are all so excited about going back to school that this week of school prep was exciting for them. They are a little bummed that going back to school means less pool time, and less video games, but they really miss school. Yay! We parents are so thrilled to hear that!!!!!

So back to school is more than school shopping for this family. Its time to hit the homework and new grade work books so that their brains are not only mush when the teachers try to get them thinking again.

I know my brain was mush after I finished my summer class, its like a switch that says thinking can turn off and on. I wonder if we are hard wired to take ‘the path of least resistance’ when school breaks means that other people or systems can think for us?

Anyway, it’s back to getting those gear moving, and expanding intelligence horizons for this international family.

Hoping your summer was AMAZING!!, and I would love to hear some fun stuff you did.

We spent days in the mountains, splashed in pools and rode slides in a Water park. Now we got the sillies out, and are ready to get back to full time learning.

Lots of love,

Missionary Momma Mia

Scrappy Scrapbooking

Love me some Scrapbook Therapy J

Not just posting photos on social media!

Yep, I’m that kind of person who scrapbooks her pictures and fun stuff into massive memory sized photo albums. I take some seemingly worthless pieces of paper like film stubs or the tickets from the Eiffel tower and add them to paper that probably costs about a dollar, along with candy wrappers, and a photo or two. Then, along with some little cute or pretty stickers, the scrapbook page tells more of the story than the pictures can tell by themselves in a typical photo album with plastic sleeves for holding individual photos. I do print photos every once in a while so that I can scrapbook something new… or just look at photos in a frame that isn’t digital, a computer, or a phone…

Today, I used some paper that cost less than a dollar, some lace that was free, paper lace and pictures from our Colorado Honeymoon in 2004. I specified ‘Colorado Honeymoon’ because we did have a 2^nd honeymoon in Brazil a little after our first honeymoon in Colorado.

Random thought: I have heard of people advocating for married couples to get married and NOT have a honeymoon because of some weird study of other historical cultures. Not going to elaborate, because I don’t agree with them – but those historical cultures aren’t thriving anymore – just sayin’. I would like to point out that a Honeymoon right after the wedding, and basically whenever a couple can get away to have another Honeymoon, is IMPORTANT to us. Romance, love and intimacy don’t stay overwhelmingly present in our lives without the commitment and quality time they require to stay alive. So, I repeat…Honeymoons are important to us, and we advise married couples to have plenty of honeymoons, not just the first one after a wedding. (And to couples who feel like they don’t deserve one for whatever self-condemning reason – its not about deserving. It’s about loving well!) Time alone together is a beautiful thing….I’m totally going to make a plan for us to get away….

Ok back to Scrapbooking…

Anyway, I was scrapbooking today. Usually when I miss my hubby I will scrapbook some pictures from our wedding, honeymoon, or engagement. I am not in a race or on a time limit to ‘get her done’. It’s more like art therapy for me. I have scrapbooking materials from years back….My sticker collection that started when I was 8 has only grown and become more sophisticated. And the books I put the stickers in are way more fancy. Sometimes I use stickers to make a scrapbook page look awesome. It’s not about the stickers, paper, or picture. It’s about the combination of details that make a page look, and feel just perfect to me. I’m looking for the details to be cohesive and honest, but absolutely pretty. Most of all, I am looking at a memory and cherishing the time we spent making that memory. I’m using the photos of that memory to build a foundation for the future – our future together. I spend the time collaging, cutting, and pasting to strengthen my love for my hubby – who I am missing terribly while he is away.

So scrapbooking isn’t just therapy. It’s an act of love that most people can appreciate on some level. Why do I say that? I have seen how people are touched by a thoughtful friend who actually took the time to handwrite a note in a thank you card. I have cherished cards from my spiritual Mama, and from my spiritual papa. I have carried hand written letters from my parents in my Bible. I printed out love letters from my hubby when we were engaged and planning our wedding (They were emails cause he was in Africa and I was in America). Something about time spent to communicate how important someone is just touches people. We spend our time according to our priorities. What a gift to spend time with, or thinking about someone special.

I’m going to say this, and people who forget that I am a missionary, it might sound like preaching… cause it is. I’m sitting here listening to worship, typing about acts of love that show thoughtfulness, and I’m overwhelmed by how the details of my life are woven together like a masterfully designed tapestry. I notice that that emotion is because I’m loved. I know I’m loved by Papa God because I spend special time reading about His perfect character, and getting lost in Jesus love letters to us - His bride. I see His hand in my life because I recognize that the good things in life come directly from one person, not random fate, but a thoughtful loving Papa God. I am convinced that ALL goodness flows from one source. The only one who is Good! Its easy to see how much he loves me when I believe that.

Today, as I picked what pictures to turn into a scrapbook collage, I found a letter that I wrote earlier this year. It was a perfect component for my scrapbooking page today, and the message in the letter made my heart melty and smushed. I remembered my new Brazilian friend telling me how a trip to Mozambique was the start of a brand new dream in her marriage. I was reminded of my ‘first love’ for my hubby not only to remember the past, and build a foundation for the future, but to dream again. I have a specific dream with my husband that I will trust Papa God for, and in the same way that I spend time remembering my first love for my husband, I will spend time remembering my first ever first love: Jesus.

The reason I have someone special to scrapbook for: Jesus. The reason I can feel like an artsy fartsy page is perfect: Holy Spirit. The reason I can be so deeply connected with my hubby and dream with him is: my perfect Papa God. If you are not sure about my point here, I will spell it out. Remember your first love with God. For me it was a moment that I talked to Jesus on my knees by my bed as a tiny little girl.  Remember your first love, and let Him love you. Spend special time reading through his letters to you. Sometimes I read them over and over. It changes my spirit, Jesus words fill me up with such hope, Joy, and love that he changes me. I can’t be a mess forever – I am a little bit of an emotional mess without my lover, helper, and best friend. We do life together. Well, I’m less of a mess with Jesus. I am overwhelmed by Jesus’ thoughts towards me. His imagination is boundless – and my kids have wild imaginations! Jesus’ thoughts are so much better than mine. I think its wild when Holy Spirit points out some detail in my life or highlights a dream, but then God’s thoughts towards me become more and more evident in my life. I step into the reality of our dreams as I trust God’s perspective.

In my ultra-relevant scrapbooking analogy, Jesus sees the finished scrapbook – not just one or two finished pages full of one memory. Jesus sees the entire shelf full of scrapbook photo albums that are full to the brim from before our birth to after our passing. There is so much more from his side of eternity, and every little thread matters! In my scrapbook, every little slice of the paper cutter matters. Every sticker needs to be precisely placed on the most appropriate paper to highlight a detail or mask a flaw.

I really love a perfectly satisfying scrapbook page. I love hearing my son say that Mommy is so artistic. I love my husband taking more than thirty seconds to appreciate something that took me three hours to perfect. Yeah, three hours is a long time. I did hug kids in between contemplating sticker placement. We ate a meal, and I did stop and stare at the photos before I remembered that I should scan the photos because they are so old that they aren’t digital! Then I finally felt ready to grab the glue and make it semi-permanent.

I found a place for this latest scrapbook page in my wedding scrapbook. I was really happy to have special time alone with my hubby right after we said our vows, cut our wedding cake, and greeted our handful of wedding guests. Our Colorado Honeymoon was in a little old-west mountain town. I put our honeymoon with our wedding album because it’s all part of our love story’s first chapter. Its part of our beginning and our first love.

Whenever I miss my hubby, and his tenderness towards me, I look at wedding pictures. And in that light, considering that I spent a few hours staring at three pictures this evening, I must be really obviously missing him. That feeling of longing is a good feeling – for now. It shows that our relationship has a healthy level of loving connection. It also proves my point that I would be a sappy sad soldiers wife…

Ok starting to ramble. Bunny trails just pop into my head. Makes me think of my boxes of handwritten journals from when I was a teenager just full of nonsense. Ok -stop stopping that bunny trail and saving for another time.

It’s been fun. I could add a picture of my scrapbook page, but I have no idea how to do that from this tablet….really I’m not trying to get appreciation for my artwork. I am sharing how I cope with longing for my beloved. I’m sharing how I remember my first love. I’m encouraging you to remember, to breath in that feeling of utter desire, to relent under that weighty presence of Holy Spirit, and let that love change you into the perfect version of you that lives in the heart of Papa God and the Mind of Christ.

You are so loved!

Missionary Momma Mia

Blurgin'

Random unimportant silliness....purposeful mistakes

Thinking on paper? not really in Word...that's why it is better to blurg in moments like these.

It’s better to blurg sometimes. Then it can be some silly list, or two half sentences spaced really far apart. It can also be random nonsense that is basically practicing using a keyboard and using proper grammatical structure.

In blurging there are no concerns about being redundant or boring, because it can be four words. Its just so much easier to edit a blurg. So many times when I am writing a serious blog, I get bogged down by my own wordiness. Next thing I know, I have to write nothing or next to nothing.

But in the sport of keeping a daily blog, I will post a blurg that talks about nothing. So here it is, Nada, and by the way I’m totally following this with a list!

*I’m excited that my husband is coming back to Colorado soon. Hope that all works out really well.

*He has so much to do, so I hope and pray that he can see what is urgent and ignore the other stuff so that he can breath in yummy African air.

*I’m thrilled that my oldest son had a blast at Adventure camp.

*I’m super happy that I’m finally catching up on spending time with my lil sister and her kiddos, but then I want to spend more time with them. Time to plan a weekend in the mountains or something cool. Movie. Hike, camp out….hum

*my other sister is coming here soon too! but I miss the whole bunch. Must video call more

*what else? What goes on this list. I could probably make a list about other things like FASFA, University appointments, and homework, also can’t leave out reports and stuff.

*we need to get these missionary kids to Water World or Six flags. I was Jonathan’s age the first time I remember going to Six flags over Texas. I went before, but 11 was epic!

That’s enough words for a blurg. I know I need to get back into the habit of writing and editing, but not tonight. I will go back and fix things later. 

Hugs and Lots of love,

Missionary Momma Mia 

Time CrUnCHhh in Mozambique

Oh my goodness, I'm feeling it! I'm not even there, but we work together on almost everything ministry related, and the list keeps wanting to grow . Oh I am feeling the time crunch that my hubby is in while he wraps up loads of tasks before saying goodbye to Mozambique for a long while.

I wish that I had taken one more walk to the little market behind our rental house. I wish that I had taken the time to breathe in the earthy, smokey smell of the Mozambican air. I wish I had squeezed my kiddos one more time. I wish I had one more day to soak everything in, so my prayer for my husband in this ten day time crunch is that he has one full day of soaking up Mozambican sunshine, hospitality, friendship, and breath in rich Mozambican fragrances.

I love the smell of a wood burning kitchen fire, the smell of a dew damp field, fresh sun dried laundry, roasted corn on the Cobb at street corners, and sweet fruit as the vendors walk by with their round basin loaded up with pineapples, bananas or lichi. Those are my favorite Mozambican smells that tell me I'm on a leisurely stroll in my dusty little city in Mozambique. Ah, but I won't be in Mozambique for a while. Probably a year while I finish university,  and by that time the smell of my last t-shirt hand washed and sun-dried will no longer have the sweet memory invoking smell.

The smell of Mozambican sunshine lapping up the moisture from my shirt has lingered for these three weeks since I left my home in Mozambique.

I may have moved away for a season,  but my heart is always there, waiting for the next season of living in my African home with my big international family.
The funny thing about family is that weather you are near or far, the connection is unrelenting. That's a good thing. We need each other. Papa God designed us for deep loving connections. We're designed for love.

I'm thankful for the people who love me through the smooth sailing and the windy weather.
I love that talking with one of my oldest Mozambican son's after such a long time was one of the sweetest hours I spent during my brief time in Chimoio Mozambique.
The tasks are probably very important, and as long as they are evidence of our love for people we trust that each task will be accomplished in Papa God's perfect timing.

We are so perfectly loved by Him, and gently led by Holy Spirit. I'm certain that this time crunch will be a time of resting while we run, refreshing while we pour out, and rich encounters and God appointments while we trust Jesup to rule over our time.

He is the best and kindest King. He knows how to love each of us perfectly and give us the desires of our hearts at just the perfect time.

I believe that Jesus' perfection is evident in our lives as we live with Christ, and in Him. We don't achieve perfection through our efforts to love more, be sweeter, kinder, holier or more like Jesus; but as we receive his perfect love and trust Jesus with more of our hearts and lives we see His perfection, His attention to detail turning everything to our good in a way we had never imagined.

Don't be afraid to let Him love you. All the sacrifice and suffering isn't important if we don't delight in his love. It's the only way we can love at all. We love people,  places, cities, nature, activities, accomplishments and more because we stop rejecting Jesus' love for us. We breath Him in and just trust.

It's awesome to accept Jesus' love, it changes every aspect of our lives.

Lots of love,
Missionary Momma Mia

Happy Birthday Benaiah

Benaiah

The Lord has built. Someone came to me with a word for the baby that was in my belly, and even though the name they heard wasn’t my baby’s name, it was a prophetic word for me and the baby.

I had struggled with giving my baby a name to honor the ones who had been less obviously loved by me before that year. I had ‘favorites’, even though I tenderly loved other brother’s, cousins, parent figures, and in-laws – it was hard for me to demonstrate that love in the shadow of my very vibrant connection with my ‘favorites’.

Someone told me they felt like God spoke to them about the baby’s name, and they asked if we had already chosen a name for our newest addition to the family. I smiled and tilted my head to one side as I shook my head no. We had a name in mind that was not exactly what we were looking for, but our hearts were still searching for the perfect name.

The name from her was a message for me and the baby, not a name for the baby. She said a name kept popping in her head when she thought of me in prayer. It was my birth father’s name, she had no idea. She excitedly asked if I thought that God was showing her our baby’s name. I delicately let her know that it wasn’t our baby’s name, but a confirmation in the direction we were going with our baby name search. It confirmed our command to honor those we had ‘overlooked’. We were so humbled. In 2009 and 2010 we were on the path to truly deepen humility and to go lower still. We learned that it was impossible for us to continue in ministry without learning the lesson of honor. We saw a scripture verse that jumped out at us as we read the Bible. Then the same verse was a key scripture in the next message we listened to over the internet from Bethel church in Redding California. We listened to Bill Johnson preach about honor. It was crazy how the verse was exactly what God had plastered on the wall of our hearts that very week. (Matthew 10:41 – it rocked our world)

My hubby and I had a direct word from God to honor my birth father as we named our 3^rd son. It was confirmed as she whispered his name in my ear. He is a man that I have compassion for, and I am grateful for his role in my life. I have become a more compassionate person because of my relationship with him. His name was a reminder that we were on the right path to love the least of these. We have a command to love people for who they are in Christ, for the destiny that God has spoken over them and built inside them, not to see their behavior and temporary shell as their merit for blessing and honor. Wow, I could love him for his destiny, not only be compassionate for his need. This was another truth that began to apply to almost every aspect of my life in that season.

Look for what God has done, for the calling God has placed on people’s lives, and for the blessing that He is giving through them, and it is easy and light to bless the least ‘worthy’ person according to our immature standards.  Ok, the blessing in our son’s name isn’t to pass on a family legacy or to name him after my birth father, but to learn the message of his name. What was the message? We were still waiting. We knew it was about honor, strength, and destiny…..

Soon after that evening, something randomly pointed out a name in a scripture verse (yes, we are those people with kids who have Bible names- we’re missionaries, Christians and church goers. It was bound to happen) There is was a warrior, a strong man. One of the strongest, whose name was given the honor of not only being recorded as a might man, but actually the great feats of strength and victory that his valor deserved. Wow! A man of honor and strength. We felt a tug at our hearts. We wanted to call our lil pumpkin Benaiah. We asked a friend of ours to confirm the significance and root meaning of the name.

“The Lord has built” That shook us up, from our head to our toes! That was the summary of everything that God was pouring into our hearts and over our thoughts.

We had cried over the challenges of starting a ministry base from scratch with next to nothing – our faith was that small. We felt like it was almost nothing, only enough to help us survive in our poor decision to go back to the mission field and finish what we started.  We didn’t have funding for building projects, administrative loopholes, or any other high cost of starting a new ministry in a new place, but we had a word from God and a go ahead from our spiritual parents and pastors.

We had been in Chimoio for a long time, we prayed for more funding and buildings to house our beautiful Mozambican children, and our missionary family.  A dear friend of ours stayed in our house during our furlough in Colorado in 2010 while our family spent precious time in the states, and prepared for the birth of our third son. He has stayed connected to us ever since. He loves our family! Wow! He prays with us, encourages us and gives to our ministry.

We didn’t plan that. We didn’t ask him to give a donation to keep the ministry going, or to develop the center. He just gave sacrificially because of his love for this big International family! We had seen little progress in development and construction. We had requested electricity year before it was installed, we had a tiny source of water from a hand dug well. Everything was so slow going. We desperately wanted to build and develop.

We left Chimoio for our 5 month furlough that year wondering why we kept at it as missionaries. We knew it was the children and not the busy work of administration or the hope of building, but we still needed more buildings, more funding, more hep. As we just waited before the Lord in worship and prayer, he spoke to us about a spiritual foundation. He was building Iris Chimoio in a totally new way. It was different from our previous years as missionaries, and we suffered under challenging circumstances.  Yet, we had strong relationships with the tiny growing team. It was more like a family. We kept talking about family. In 2010 we knew it was a family that was growing steadily. God told us that ‘He has built’ Iris Chimoio. It’s a children’s center, a soccer pitch and a church. We didn’t have much of a children’s center. River of God was a boys house and a girl’s house that was unfinished, but livable. The kitchen was an outside kitchen that social welfare didn’t approve of, as well as the bathrooms. The soccer pitch was tiny. It was a tough time for our little International family and our bigger International family to grow. It felt more like stretching than growing, it was probably both.

When God spoke to us in the past tense, that he has built it, in reference to everything we dreamt of for our family and ministry in Chimoio, we started to see things through his lens. He has done it, it is finished. Time is not the issue, God is working on our hearts. He is building a kingdom building in our hearts. He lives in us. Everything else is a bonus….all the blessings here tell of His goodness, not of our splendid prayers or ability to organize, work and lead.

It was a shift in our thinking. Our baby’s name was and is a strong reminder that we are not building the buildings at the center, we are not building the team or growing the family – God is and he loves doing it with us. We are a part of this, but it is not about what we can do. It is about knowing what God has done in the spirit, being at peace on the path he set under our feet, and going through the door that he has opened in front of us.

Its all about him. He has built. Not only is it all about him, God challenged us to not only let go of our thinking and planning about physical building and team building, but to trust him, that he will send provision and people to build, he will send people to the team, and he will grow this family.

Since that day that we got our son’s name, we have seen many miracles of grown, building, and provision that we did nothing to attain. Literally nothing. We just love our children, and he keeps doing things for them to remind us that we love them because he loved them first. He provide, he loves and he is faithful.

God has built.

Today my husband is in Africa working on many administrative tasks, and closing out a rental house because God said it’s time. Our things are going in many different directions. Some friends and pastors have new to them furniture or housewares, while somethings that can handle storage in a shipping container are being neatly packed into the container at the center. They will be used in the missionary housing God is telling us about. Something we have seen, but never known the time to start, or who would do it. It seems that what God is doing is so unimaginable even to ministry people that we don’t know how to explain it. People are coming, helping, serving, loving us, and building without any burden on us. Its like a dream. There are building materials being brought to the center! There are workers that we are not paying to build, someone else is. Who does that?

Jesus! He loves to lavishly love us. Seriously, what person can love us that well. It was six years ago when God not only said that he has built the center up, and that he (my husband) is not going to have to build the buildings. When God told us that he has built – there was a tag line, “so you don’t have too.” I felt like he was showing me people coming and building. Ok for some of you who have staff and workers, we couldn’t afford to hire a team of builders, and we were literally out of fire to manage big building projects again.

As I prayed more about the buildings that God has built at Iris Chimoio he spoke into my heart and spirit, saying that we didn’t have to do it. The fire didn’t run out because we spent it, but because we don’t need to do it this time. I heard him say, “I’ve set these projects in other people’s hearts to come and build your dreams.” Who does that? Who comes to serve God and bless us? We’ve seen people who wanted to come and build something else, but that wasn’t the promise. We just had to wait, and right now the team is steadily building at the children’s center. They are doing it. Coordinating with our vision, and doing all the work. Who does that?

God has sent the builders. I didn’t know what that would look like. Its Amazing! Its not in my University non-profit Administration books. Its fresh and new to me. I’ve never heard of this before. I’m sure there are other testimonies like this, and MORE to come!! As people give wholeheartedly and step out in loving service to the body of Christ.

I’m thrilled to thank the people who are coming to River of God Children’s Center and pouring out love in practical and lavish ways!!!!

In Papa God’s perfect time, we are seeing this happen.

We have a beautiful family, and so many blessings. We can’t describe them all, but we can glorify a loving God who delights in giving his children good gifts.

Dream with God, follow him, and obey. He is doing a good work. Its not about what other people can measure, it is about how intimately close we are to our loving savior, and how deeply our hearts beat to the rhythm of his.

It’s good to be loved, it’s great to love others. Something about that tells the story better than anything we could ever try to say. We couldn’t plan this, we can’t make any of this happen.

We can let it unfold as we say yes to Jesus…Its our joy to be loved by him.

Lots of love,

Missionary Momma Mia

Suitcases are finally Unpacked

Well it’s personal news, and it’s not riveting. It is a small victory for me. I finished unpacking two suitcases. I put the clean clothes on hangers or in drawers. Then I put the small suitcase inside the medium suitcase, zipped them shut, and put them in the bottom of the linen closet.

My room is a lot closer to organized, and I’m a happy camper. I don't always have suitcases on the floor of my bedroom.

The boys room is nice and clean. It was a productive mommy day. I didn’t get all the ministry work done that I had on my list, but I did get lots of ministry work closer to done along side mommy work. Then there are meals that we all need to prepare and eat. So, in between cleaning bedrooms and a little bathroom scrubbing, we ate yumminess that gramma baked, and yumminess that the boys and I made all together for lunch and dinner.

It’s a pretty good day. Productive in the house keeping way. Not my favorite department in life, but I am very satisfied with neat organized bedrooms, and very proud of our kiddos. We are proud of our kids at the center when their rooms are clean and neat. Lots of people think that they have to clean up for their children. Not us. With soooo many kiddos (3+ all our Iris Chimoio kiddos) we understand we can’t clean up for them, but we do clean up with them. The kids at the center, along with my awesome hubby and staff had the center spick and span for an inspection from the social services. It was wonderful! The inspection team was so proud of our kids and staff that they took pictures! They loved it! That was my hubby's best day in Mozambique without me so far.

It’s funny that I said this house keeping isn’t my favorite life department, but it is actually one of the things I really enjoy, just not my favorite. I love the mommy stuff, the cleaning is a HUGE part of that. I like to pretend that it doesn’t take as much housework so I can feel more like a career woman, but I am a missionary momma. That’s basically what my job is. I run a household budget and a bigger household budget. My hubby organizes logistics and inventory for our family and for our much bigger Mozambican family. Its more than number crunching, shopping, praying, crying , making sure kids are healthy and in school. We love bragging on our children, we do our share of worrying and handing our worries over to Papa God. We do our share of praying over them, teaching, playing, and correcting. We also get lots of giggles, hugs, yummy meals together, dances, achievements, and victories. Sometimes I need to celebrate small victories.

Today my small victory is unpacking suitcases. The other stuff was normal daily life for a missionary momma, and although a few people have asked me if I was a professional traveler, I don't consider myself a pro.  Unpacking is not a part of my normal daily, weekly or monthly routine. For some missionaries it is, I’m more of the home body than the adventurer.  There is an adventurer in here too, and an artist (I even played the keyboard tonight while worshiping with Mom and Dad), but I’m first a wife and mommy. Maybe there will be more time for adventure and music in this season of our lives, but it will look like climbing a mountain with my kids and getting them more exposure to music. Whatever gives me those precious moments in classical music, or the exhilaration of being a mountain hiker (probably not climbing anytime soon) that is the Joy of parenthood – sharing the things that are important to me with  the beautiful kiddos that Papa God has put in our care. 

Jesus knows just how to love us, and we get to love them! It’s wild to think about it sometimes, but having kids and caring for kids is the greatest adventure in my life. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Lots of love,

Missionary Momma Mia

A normal International day

Today was a lot more normal than the last two weeks. I woke up in the morning after having gone to sleep at night. I worked during the daytime hours more than the night. I still have some work on my list to finish tomorrow, like posting an official blog, finishing reports, and writing up job descriptions. These are things I can doing normal ‘9 to 5’ work hours. Communication is around 23 to 24 hours, and then I sleep. Then I have international communication time in the morning and am available until about 14 to 15 hours – we use military time in our family because in the Portuguese speaking countries that I have lived in or visited, the military time is more commonly used. For my American readers, I am up for International phone calls, video calling or chatting around 11 or midnight. Then I am up again to talk in my morning after about 9. I spend between a half hour to an hour chatting then checking emails, and am available for communication with our team in Mozambique until about 2 or 3 in our Colorado afternoon. In between chatting I work on the other stuff, or read on my good days. I still am mommy at lunch time, and when the kiddos need me any time in 9 to 5.

Somehow, I do manage to get important stuff taken care of, and spend quality time with my kids because they are the most important important thing.  Today, I felt like I was starting to get into a rhythm and closer to my normal pattern. I did miss a chat to one of our missionaries, but set up to chat with her in the morning. I feel pretty good about today, not drowning in emotions able to get some work and ministry responsibility taken care of. I’m turning back into a human rather than a blob of jet-lag culture shock re-entry mess. I’m celebrating this because One good day is a great thing.

I even took an evening stroll with my parents.

Deep sigh of relief. Life is a little more doable when I can breath through my nose. That also helps. I do feel much better physically than I have in days, and breathing is a good thing. Sleeping is a good thing to. So I’m off to pray with my stinkers and read until my hubby gets up in Mozambique and he wishes me goodnight, while I wish him a good day.

Lots of love,

Missionary Momma Mia

Time to unpack my Suitcases

I still have my suitcases and carry-on our bedroom floor next to our bed. I don’t know what the delay is about. Then I realized that I’m waiting for my husband. Goodness, could I be any less of a sap? I’m pretending like I haven’t arrived yet. I think it’s time to unpack all the way and put my suitcases away. I should.  Somehow in the back of my head, and all over our bedroom, I’m pretending I just got here. Its been over a week though. I’m still pretty mixed up in my hours – sunlight is supposed to help with that, and taking it easy.

I’m still so in tuned to Africa time more than America time. It’s just to hard unplug from African life, and get into some routine in America. My routine here is still almost completely full of emails, phone calls, chats, and reports about Africa. Now even my internal clock is focusing more on Chimoio time. All I can do is one day at time. Take care of kids, call hubby, read text books, do homework, send emails, plan, organize, communicate, and write up reports…..it shouldn’t matter to much what time of the day those things happen. Except my kids are here in Colorado on Colorado time, so meals and hanging out with them and getting them to bed is on this clock. Communication with the team is on their clock, and communicating with my hubby is on Chimoio time, because he’s there – only we have a normal pattern. We don’t talk about work stuff in the evening. We talk about work stuff in the morning to plan the day. Only now everything is flip flopped and mixed together.

We will make it through the next couple weeks. We will do better than make it through some rough patches of weird sleep hours, and flip flop conversations, we will come out the other side as champions. It’s for our family. We are Mama and Papa Bear…..and for us, we realize that is a great thing. It drives our heart and vision for building a family instead of a mission. We are missionaries. We can travel. We can sacrifice ‘normal’ hours and face various challenges. Our mission is not our first priority….our relationship with the vision giver (Papa God) our relationship with each other (romance) and our tenacity for our family.

I like waiting for my hubby to come home, but it won’t hurt to have some more floor space. I will still have calls at weird hours, and some things more mixed up than usual until my hubby comes home. Its worth it because it’s full of love and heart.

Lots of love,

Missionary Momma Mia

There’s no place like home

There’s no place like home, but which home? Colorado or Chimoio?

What would I give for teleportation via tapping my feet in sparkly shining shoes.

I do have shiny sparkly shoes.

I wore these shiny glittery shoes as house slippers inside my home in Africa for two weeks. Then I clicked my heels….well actually then a got in a car and we drove for about 3 hours. I was reluctant to kiss my hubby goodbye one last time after getting my passport and residence documents stamped for my exit of the country.

I wonder what the officer was thinking when I asked him to let me back through the door to say my final goodbye. He let me embrace my stinker hubby one last time, and kiss him goodbye. I was a bit anxious on so many levels. I’m kind of a disaster traveling alone. I’m actually kind of a disaster traveling. It’s funny how people assume that I must be a great traveler. I do have experience. Lots of experience crossing over the big blue ocean, but I’m not. I’m probably among the worst travelers. I try not to let it out, but sometimes I’m so uncomfortable that I get gas. I also have to say that I don’t sit still. The people around me always have extra bumps because I’m tall. I hit their chair with my knees or bump their tray table. Oh its hard to travel, so I’m always happy for some extra leg room. I love the bulkheads. But here I go rambling off on the discomfort of travel when I was telling my exit story.

That’s right. Joao kissed me goodbye. I held his face in my hands for the last time in a month. I would be a tragic soldiers wife. Definitely crying at any deployment. I don’t just love my husband. I really like to be with him. We do stuff together every day. We are those gooey romantic people that some people love to hate, but we present pretty normal in social settings.

Goodness. I’m outing our romance. Our passionate silliness and all that jazz should be under wraps. I know, but I miss him. I hated saying goodbye. I managed getting on the first plane from Beira to Joburg without any problem. It was a smooth flight. No anxiety. I was just watching out the window looking at my other country for the last time in probably 10 months. It was fine getting from Joburg to London. I had a bowl of soup at Mugg & Bean in the airport and was able to use WiFi for 30 minutes. I loaded emails on my phone, and tried to post on Facebook. It was heavenly.

Then I moved through the airport trying to find where my gate was. It’s the hidden one in the international Terminal that has no loud speaker once you find it. That’s ok. A long line of travelers filled the walkway waiting for boarding to start while I sat on the floor and charged my phone in a plug on the wall.    

So, I can manage my way through airports, and I know where to find things like charging stations or just a random plug. But I’m still not nearly as confident as people might guess. I’m not mentally or cognitively afraid of flying, and therefore anxious. Something about how my eyes dry out, and my stomach always hurts speaks of physical anxiety from the movement. I keep an eye on the ‘doggy bag’ - seriously. I have some pretty good vertigo. People offer me motion sickness pill,  but it hasn’t helped up to now. I just suffer through and will myself to get over the nausea by thinking about other things. Read if I can handle it, listen to a book, or watch a movie. Mostly, I want to sleep on a flight so I can ignore my physical discomfort.

Anyway, I couldn’t eat much on the flight to London. I managed to nibble on almost every meal while what I wanted to do was not eat at all. I get emotional when I say goodbye to people for a while. I don’t like to eat when I’m emotional. I just wanted to cry. But I felt really vulnerable with the people around me. They were kind, but observant. I just wanted to be an oblivious blip on someone’s radar. I couldn’t cry. Watching something sad wouldn’t work either. The person next to me seemed to be searching my soul. I planned to spend a few hours in a bedroom pod in the London Heathrow airport before waiting for my plane from London to L.A. That was lovely. I had nice hot shower with running water after two weeks of no running water.

I laid on the bed with fresh white linens, then had a lovely breakfast before I checked out. I headed to the shop area and bought cold medicine from the drugstore in the airport. Then I found a secluded bench somewhere by a black baby grand piano that was fitted with a player. It was lovely, so pleasant to hear the rich sounds of a finely tuned instrument.  I finished my Sudoku puzzle from the previous plane magazine, and then checked the screens for my gate. They only show the gate number one hour before boarding time there. I found my gate and starting boarding just after grabbing a few magazines.

This flight was different. My row was empty until the last two passengers were assisted to board the aircraft. They were a lovely older couple from India. They spoke very little English, and I was literally thrilled. First of all, my first mission’s trip as an adult was in India. Secondly, they were just to cute and so precious. I loved helping them with the little things. Then they went to sleep. There was some kind of tenderness that gave me permission to cry. I cried off and on for one hour before putting on a sad movie that I cried through off and on. I finally got the emotional release that I was looking for.

The cold and flu meds I bought helped me to fall asleep. The broken rest was better than no rest. I landed in LA late in the evening, but it was still pretty bright outside. I had traveled about half way around the globe and crossed from the southern hemisphere to the northern hemisphere: Winter to Summer. I was greeted by a friend who hosted me for two nights to help me get over the jet lag, and an ugly cold or flu…or something from traveling in changing climates. Anyway, She’s a great friend. Any excuse to hang out with her is well worth it!

I wasn’t crying on my last flight from L.A. to Denver, and I wasn’t wishing that I could cry or forcing myself to eat at least a third of somewhat improved airplane meals.  I wasn’t even saying goodbye to my home for the last decade. I was finally hopping on a plane to see my kids after three weeks of being away. BUT, This leg of my flights  is where I was by far the biggest disaster.

Oh my goodness. It’s a miracle I even got on that plane after falling down the escalators. I’m serious. There was barely enough time to get to my bag drop after I walked to the first elevator at the end of the terminal. It wasn’t working. So my ten minutes was down to five. Then I walked to the other end of the terminal to find that it wasn’t working either. So I went to the third elevator outside and saw no lights, no nothing. 3 elevators not working, and my time was ticking away. You are not supposed to travel on escalators with heavy check-in luggage for a reason. They are cumbersome and heavy. But I was running out of options and losing any chance of getting my bag to Denver at the same time as me.   To my annoyance, I tried to get my 50 pound bag along with my 20 pounds of check-in to stand up neatly on the moving stairs. Only three steps up, we crumbled. Crumbling is so much better than toppled. It was like melting down, instead of dramatic rolling. So I was glad that I didn’t have any clothes or shoelaces caught in the moving steps. I have some bruised knees and an escalator burn on my left leg, but I got myself and the bags up to the next floor where the bag drop was. I managed to get to my feet, get the bags stable and somehow stumble up the escalator all the way to the top.

I power-walked from there, past the broken elevator in the middle of the terminal with a crowd of twenty people waiting while two service men worked on fixing the elevator, all the to the check-in desk, right as the cut off time for checked bags rolled over the clock. To my delight, the attendant quickly helped me get the bag tagged and on its way to the plane. I had paid for it online. All I needed was to get to that bag drop 45 minutes before my flight was scheduled to leave. The tag said that I was 1 minute late. In that one minute I had managed to share my woes with the lady, and she informed me that my bag would go to Denver on this flight or the next. I needed to head straight to security though. So I did. However, they sent me to the slow line. It was my delight (I’m more timid than anybody believes so that is sarcasm. I know its hard to read sarcasm, but just believe me its cynical) my delight, to kindly ask everyone in front of me if they would let me go in front of them since my plane was boarding. They were all so kind. I managed to get to my gate just as they made the last call for my boarding zone.

It was a huge relief to sit on the last plane home. I was actually a champion during the flight, no tears, no anxiety, no gas. Just wide eyed wonder as I watched the landscape beneath our plane change from Ocean and green mountains, to desert and canyons, and then mountains again. My mountains were at long last, beneath me. I recognized different mountain ranges and peaks. There was some kind of settling in my soul. It felt like contentment for the tradeoff of Chimoio for Colorado. Now I just needed to find out if my checked bag made it.

There were toys from Africa in there, and I wanted to be able to give them to my boys. I saw it, on the wrong baggage terminal thingy, but I recognized it from far away. I found a working elevator in Denver and went down to passenger pick up. My dad came to get me with mine and my hubby’s three boys. They came filing out of the car to hug and kiss me. I was so happy to see them. We had an ice-cream together as we headed home. It was a short drive, but so very final.

I have been spending these last few days just hugging my boys, chatting with my hubby who is an ocean away, catching up with some homework and emails, and resting. That yucky snot got pretty bad as the flights only irritated my sinuses more, so I saw a doctor today and he suggested more rest and more of the same meds. After all, I do know how to recover from international travel.

I feel like my heart has been divided in two. I’d rather it be my liver. It’s the only organ that can grow back when its divided, and therefore so much more like love. Love is not diminished when it’s shared, it only grows. So I could say that half my heart is on this continent and half my heart is in Africa, or I can talk about my liver. It grows, so It’s more like love. I can love two places and two people groups, and have my family in multiple continents. That’s ok. It was feeling like a broken heart, but its mended.

I feel more like I’ve shared my liver…..so it’s easy to spread the love.

This is goofy and I’m sorry for those who read to the end. I’m sure it’s the night-time Mucinex setting in and interrupting my ability to communicate.

Well, thanks for all the love and support! Your a champion if you've read this far.

Lots of love right back at you!

Missionary Momma Mia