Growing a family on the mission field

Today is our oldest son's 11^th birthday. I’m amazed at how that boy has grown. Right that is something that almost every mother says. It’s because we know how true that statement really is!!!

We know exactly how many times their life was flashing before our eyes. We know exactly how many times those scrapes and bruises healed so much faster than we imagined. We know how many colds turned into an ugly flu or sinus infection.

It’s not just some common thing to sum up motherhood, it’s an open ended statement that can be applied or interpreted to mean many things. It can be almost always understood as some level of astonishment. We are astonished. Our oldest son has faced so many challenges and life threatening situations and illness that no mother wants her child to face.    

He’s had malaria more times that his little brothers. He’s been closer to black mambas than I want to admit. He’s been too close to open electricity in a construction site. He’s survived a missionary birth in Mozambique.

I can still hear the words in my memory. “Of course you can have your baby in Mozambique. Thousands of women do that every day!” Heidi was so encouraging and loving. We could come back to Mozambique and have our first baby on the mission field. She wasn’t worried, so why should we be? 

His birth didn’t go as planned (not sure how many natural births do follow a birth plan) but nothing could stop our first little guy from showing up right on his due date. I know that his birth was a miracle. That is a story worth fourteen blogs. He was the first Iris Ministries Missionary baby born in Mozambique. Are we proud of that? I don’t think so. I’m thankful to God for protecting us. I’m thankful that sometimes ignorance is bliss, and sometimes God send’s you to Africa with a couple midwifery books, and send a lady missionary who thinks it will be an honor to learn about midwifery and help out at the private clinic.

He was the first. Now that is a loaded statement. It means so much. It means we as parents were brave, maybe a little naïve, but definitely not afraid. It means that we were willing to do something that no one in our tribe had ever done before. Was it seamless without any problems or unknown territory? Um NO. It was brand new. We were pioneers for growing families on the mission field. It works! Kids are alive and growing. Our three boys are doing well in life. Guess what other Iris Missionary families have grown their families on the mission field, and their kids are growing just fine.

Our oldest son is a testament to the faithfulness of God, and to miracles. He was so squishy and a little blue that my husband was worried. We just prayed as he took a moment to draw his first breath. Then there is was, a little tiny cry and a big newborn breath. We look at him now and know that the goodness of God on his life is a rich American, Brazilian and Mozambican inheritance. Our beautiful Mozambican friends told us that Jonathan belongs to Mozambique. We can go back to our countries when we need to, but he is African. He is Mozambican. We would all laugh when our friend Aida said, that he is much lighter than most other Mozambican’s, like cream in coffee! We would laugh. All of our friends know how much we love to drink coffee with cream.

Happy birthday to our firstborn son! We love you forever our little Mozambican, Brazilian, American!!!

Missionary Momma Mia

Mercy triumphs & Sometimes Medicine Wins

Two of My boy’s Birthdays - two years ago.

My middle son was turning 6 years old, and my oldest was turning 9. They were so cute and we planned to bake a cake and celebrate their birthdays with all the children at the center.

Unfortunately, I had been feeling a little achy in my joints and muscles. I thought it was still left over from my International Travels a few weeks earlier.  So I took some long salt baths, and drank juice and water. I wasn’t feeling hungry, in my mind it was because of all the excitement about traveling back from the states to Mozambique. I got to reconnect with my boys and hubby. We spent a bunch of time with the children and staff at the children’s center. We had guests arriving at the local bus station. The weekend was full of fun plans and a shared birthday party.

I imagined that the sore muscles were from playing with the children. But on the third day of aching joints and muscles, my head started to ache while I was taking a mineral salt bath. I just started praying in the spirit because I hadn’t had a head ache like that ever before. My eyes were burning and my head was exploding. I couldn’t think. I just prayed.

I called for my husband to help me to my bed. That was the afternoon before my middle son’s birthday. Something was really off inside my body. I had just taken a hot salt bath, but I was on the bed shivering and shaking from cold. All I could do was pray in the Spirit and call out to Jesus to calm my mind and help me know what to do. We prayed for healing, and God directed our actions that followed.

Joao covered me with blankets, and I realized that I shouldn’t be cold, something was seriously wrong. I felt like God reminded me of some medical information that I had read on the flight back home from Colorado. So I asked him to look at my eyes to see if they were dilated even though I was looking towards a bright light. I remembered that the cold, and dilated Irises in my eyes were signs of severe dehydration. I needed fluids.

I asked my husband to make re-hydration drink and I sat at the table drinking sweet and salty water for the next four hours – instead of going to the clinic 2 minutes away and getting an IV.

It never even entered into my head to go straight to the clinic. We felt peace and comfort as the Holy Spirit stopped my chills, and the pain literally stopped. Jesus healing washed over my body and the pain was gone. I felt like the Holy Spirit said to stay awake and get hydrated. So I kept sipping away at the homemade rehydration drink. It was saving my life. Thank you Jesus for your mercy! An IV could have saved my life too, but I wanted to be with my kids for their birthdays. I didn’t want to believe that I had anything wrong with my body other than dehydration. I thought the salt baths must be to blame for the dehydration. I didn’t really ask Jesus if I should stay in my house or go to the clinic. God said, “You need fluids.” I found a way, But it was risky and stubborn wat to get fluids.

When you live in a high risk zone for Malaria, it’s good to get Malaria tests for almost any weird body symptom. People don’t think it’s Malaria, or don’t ever feel very different at all. Sorry this is a downer, but that’s how people die of Malaria who have had it before. Someone who has never had Malaria might think they have the flu or a bad case of the runs.

I didn’t have flu symptoms or the runs, no stomach trouble at all -but I remembered that I hadn’t felt hungry or thirsty for a couple days….I started running through the less common Malaria symptoms. I begged my husband to take me to the clinic in the morning after I was re-hydrated because I didn’t want to have to stay at the clinic or be separated from my boys for their birthdays. I thought that it could be Malaria, could be something worse. Maybe since the pain was gone after we prayed, I could go to the clinic and get evidence that Jesus had healed me of something…

After hours of sipping rehydration drink, we loaded into the truck. We knew it was time to see what the doctor had to say. God had reduced my pain supernaturally when no amount of Ibuprofen or  Acetaminophen had helped earlier in the day- after my bath. That was proof pudding that God had healed my muscles and joints and headache. I hoped nothing was wrong and it was just a case of severe dehydration. I looked at my husband with very tired eyes. We hadn’t slept much that night. I didn’t tell him that I thought the illness might be Malaria, but he was already thinking that as well.

He had had mercy on me, and let me sit in our home near my boys bedroom until early in the morning. 

We went to the private clinic when we knew our doctor would be there. He did shake his head when I described how terribly achy and dehydrated I had been that night. ‘You should have come in, I wouldn’t have made you stay here, but let you go home after the IV and first treatment for Malaria.” That’s right, the Malaria test was positive, and a very bad case. Lots of parasites in my blood. I needed treatment right away. The treatment he prescribed was for seven days. He was surprised that I wasn’t feeling worse and showing other signs of the parasite. I’m pretty stubborn. Part of my stubbornness in staying at home had been that I didn't want to believe I had contracted Malaria again - for more than the 30^th time in 10 years on the mission field. I sighed so deeply. It was Malaria again.

I wondered if I was just ignoring symptoms, but I really felt much better after we prayed together and was still fine by the time we showed up in the clinic. I just really didn’t want to face what my doctor was saying because I hated having Malaria. I felt like Malaria kept stealing my days and nights. I didn’t want Malaria to steal another day from me, my husband, or my children. How many times had our kids been treated for Malaria. This pesky parasite is a killer, I didn’t want to face it again. Sometimes the treatment knocked me down worse than the bug. ….I just grit my teeth and thought, ‘It can’t kill me Jesus!’

I looked up at the ceiling as if to glance at Jesus and ask, “Really?” Why relieve me of the symptoms, and not heal me from the cause of the symptoms. Holy Spirit whispered in my spirit, “I am using this doctor and the medicine he proscribes to heal you. Bless your body to be healed through your medical treatment with this medicine.”

I had injections with anti-malaria meds for one week. That got the job done. That was the last case of Malaria that I have had to date. 

Jesus loves to heal his children, and he will show his power how he chooses.

I'm in love with him for knowing what is best for me. I know how to love my children better when they have to take their treatment. I celebrate their healing via medicine or through the supernatural touch of Jesus Christ. 

Jesus is the source of all good things, he can turn medical treatment into a blessing for the body that he created. There is a mystery. I love supernatural healing testimonies. They are splendid to celebrate. Treatment via medicine doesn't mean that Jesus somehow looses the victory. He wins when we are well and we grow in faith. Jesus knows how to love us, and help us love others with a pure heart. 

He sometimes woos us to a different level of trust. Because I obeyed the leading of the Holy Spirit, and took the medical treatment I am here to celebrate my sons' birthdays two years later. 

Missionary Momma Mia

Missionary Momma Mia

We are definitely an international family, and that will come up now and then, so I should start this little blog about our ‘life’ with a bit of a character description.

Right then, here it is:

Husband is Brazilian. Wife is American. Oldest Son has three nationalities, and all three boys were raised for the majority of their lives in Africa.

So, as you might imagine we do actually have an international family, not very modern, but definitely international. I wasn’t just making that up cause it’s a funny reference to a TV show. Anyhow.

We are actually missionary people. Neither my hubby or me are able to make the claim as the worst missionary because, as so many people already know, that claim has been made by a blogger ‘Jamie the worst missionary ever’, and we won’t pretend to claim being the best missionaries ever. The best is dead, that was Paul –Hands down. No one is really going to be able to win an argument against Paul being the best ever Christian missionary. Evidence is welcome, but it probably won’t shake my opinion.

I’m not gonna be arrogant and pretend like we are perfect. There was only one perfect man on a mission thus far, and his name is Jesus. We are however, interesting missionary people somewhere between the worst and best missionaries. Do we want to be perfect like Jesus? Well that’s the aim people. I’m tired of sucking in life, and repeating the same lessons. It would be nice to get the point and move on. Right? That is kinda my version of sharing in the sufferings of Christ. He suffered unto perfection. He doesn’t ever just do something hard for the sake of it being hard or painful. So I feel like his perfection is attainable, on different levels in different areas of our lives as we follow Jesus.

I don’t try to be the worst or best missionary. I’m not gonna pretend that I am perfect. There might be some areas in my life that are perfected. We all tend to take for granted the childhood lessons that we actually have perfected and are the foundations of our successful living as youth and then adults. I’m really glad that my beautiful brain did accomplish awesome things like regulating my breathing, heartbeat and functionality of other vital organs. It might not be perfect but pretty close to it. I don’t usually have to think about breathing….

I don’t want to take that for granted anymore, or other parts of my life that feel pretty close to perfect. I feel like sharing some of the lessons that I’ve learned as a “not so great, not so terrible” missionary wife and mother of an International Family will be a great foundation for me to perfect writing, even if it is only for my kids.

So here is the beginning of me talking about the things I’ve noticed, learned, am learning, and find literally too funny not to share.

Momma Missionary