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.

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 

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

WooWhoo! Say What? You don’t say!

"Say What?"  "You don't say!"

A friend said that to me on Facebook and that was my response. It was so much fun. I thought, “Why not give an entire blog such a fun silly name.”

“WooWhoo!!!! could be the name, but I was also laughing, clapping, and making lots of noise the day before yesterday.

That was such a highlight of my day on April 13 that I needed to tell the story tonight.

I feel so silly story telling. Like I'm telling kids to pick a spot on the rug for story time- story telling. But, it’s more like grab a nice cold drink and guzzle it down on a hot summer evening kind of story.

That’s exactly what we were doing at the time that this whole back story for the day before yesterday’s ‘Woowhoo’ story.

So let me start by telling you what happened the day before yesterday.

My mom just finished telling me about her recent trip to Texas. She spent time with my oldest brother’s In laws who came for a visit from Belarus. (Our extended family is pretty International too!)  My mom also spent time with her sister. While she was there she reconnected with some of my aunts family members who we had hung out with last September. My mom told me how she made sure to connect with her friends on Facebook. She was so blessed when her friend was touched and encouraged by one of my Mom’s re-posts on Facebook that was a prayer for healing - healing in peoples’ body, mind, heart, or relationships. My mom was so excited that the little thing that she felt was important to do, was a big important thing because one person she know was blessed at just the right time.

That’s when mom told me that she and her friend and my aunt are still so excited that his knees are still healed since September!

So, I got really loud and yelled a bit. Because he is her husband. She is mom's friend in Texas. It’s kinda hard to follow. Sorry. The point is that by faith God healed a friend of ours, an extended family member. By faith, his knees are still better seven months later. It wasn’t some emotional high that caused a flood of endorphins to make him feel like there was less pain in his knees.

We were out on my Aunt and Uncle's front porch in a little town in Texas. We were getting together for a family reunion on my uncle’s side of the family. So his cousins were hanging out with him. My mom and Aunt had decided to go to bed, but I wasn’t tired yet. We were still chatting about life in Alaska, Texas, Colorado and Africa.

My Uncle’s cousin asked me what were some of my favorite experiences in Mozambique. He was keenly interested. He finished his drink and offered me another. He was thrilled that I didn’t mind chatting with the guys while they enjoyed a nice cold beer on a hot summer night. They were all happy when I tasted their homemade brew. Something about being a down to earth girl opened the door for our conversation to go from surface experiences to life changing stories of risk and faith for God. So I told him about one of my favorite healing stories. The three ladies who were supernaturally healed of irreversible health conditions. It was AMAZING to see the love of God open blind eyes, heal a cripple, and uncurl a paralyzed arm all in one afternoon in a little village in northern Mozambique.

At the end of the story my uncle’s cousin was wondering if that kind of thing could happen in Texas. So I said lets see. I can pray for your knees if you want me to. So I said a simple prayer like, “Jesus you love to heal your kiddos, we ask you to make his knees like new. You love to make all things new.”

That was it. A simple prayer, and he told me that they genuinely felt better. Everyday at the family reunion I would ask him, “How are your knees?” He would say, “Oh their fine.”

I had to ask his wife if she noticed her husband was in less pain. His wife told me that he was feeling so good, that she couldn’t get him to stop helping with all the hard work of setting up and tearing down camp. Those were some renewed knees.

Its so much fun for me to hear that those knees are still like new after so many months. Jesus is really into showing his power so that people can walk, set up camp, hang out with their family, and love more.

We never know exactly what God is going to do when we give him room to do what he wants. I could have prayed a big pretty prayer, but it was just natural to bring Jesus into our conversation and remind him that he is the best healer in the world – so we trust him to do what he loves to do!

Like my mom posted on Facebook, Jesus is ready to heal you. If you need healing in your heart, mind, body, spirit, or relationships, Jesus is happy to make old broken things like new. I pray that you are touched by God and experience a lasting exchange of old for renewed.

Lots of love,

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’s prayer

Oh Jesus,

I was so excited to write something today. I woke up just full of words and thoughts, but know I’m finding myself at a loss for words.

The thing is that this day has been very nice. I’ve been upbeat and happy, but I’m concerned about Benaiah now. I love the spring, the spring isn’t loving my littlest guy to much though… or it could be that the weather here changes sooo often! Our boys are on spring break, but the wind was so crazy yesterday that they didn’t even play outside. Colorado weather is so very different from the weather in Chimoio. There are basically two seasons in Chimoio, and four in this corner of Colorado – and we did have a freak blizzard two weeks ago followed by sunshine. So seasons change every other day here…. 

It normally isn’t so bad for our littlest guy, but this week he’s been hit with a cough. Jesus, please sooth his throat, and strengthen his immune system.   

He’s been coughing today, and it is like the cough that he had when the seasons changed in Chimoio. He had such difficult time breathing with the irritation in his throat that we ending up driving him to the private clinic in the middle of the night so he could use a nebulizer. The private clinic was only a few minutes drive away from our house. But with our youngest son fighting to catch a breath, it felt like half an hour away.

When we arrived at the clinic in the middle of the night, everyone was kind and helpful. The staff was great. They led us into their urgent care, and set him up on a bed next to a gurgling machine with menthol smelling mist to soothe his airways. After a little while it helped his breathing slow down and become less shallow.

I remember holding him while he tried to breathe the medicated air in through the face mask. It took a bit over fifteen minutes to open up his breathing, but when we got home he was finally able to sleep. I think I held him all night that night. 

The evening was memorable for many reasons, but one of the most memorable was the compassion and concern in the nursing staff’s eyes as we waited for my youngest son to be able to breathe freely. I never imagined that the problem would persist, but we knew he was in good hands. We ended up having to drive him to the clinic three nights in a row.

When we talked with our doctor, he pointed out that there was more than just the change of the season, there was also a lot of soot and ash in the air because many local farmers burn their fields to clear them for planting. We kept our windows and doors closed as much as possible until the air cleared. We hoped he wouldn’t need an inhaler. The problem passed after a few days. He didn’t seem to have a long-term breathing problem.  

Tonight Benaiah’s throat is still irritated, we’re thinking it’s from a lot of dust in the air that the wind whipped up yesterday. My poor little guy….so we gave him some cough and cold medicine and dabbed some Thieves oil to help open up his breathing. I was a little concerned that he might need a nebulizer, but with a deep sigh of relief I remembered that we wouldn’t have to drive anywhere. It’s nice when your needs are met. We were given a brand new nebulizer so we can help our little guy right away if he needs help breathing. Thank you Jesus for the little things, and the big things….

Missionary Momma Mia

At 7 in the morning, he woke up just now, taking painful shallow rapid breaths. Thankfully the machine was humming in a matter of minutes.....