Writing writing everyday but not a blog in sight

I would have thought that title was followed by blank nothingness...this is my beautiful failure.... really I've been so busy writing to my hubby, the Iris Chimoio team, the office, or school everyday that there are so many days I didn't have words left to blog!!! 

Its so funny how many words are in front of me every day, and how often I am writing those words. Yet, there isn’t always anything to compose as a blog. Blogs are so journally, so free feeling in my brain. But so many people have an outline. I don't have an outline or a blog in mind.

Tonight is one of those nights.... I have written some blogs, and felt like I couldn't post them yet. But tonight, I have written a page of reading response to one of my summer classes text books in less than an hour. Did an edit, turned it in online without any concerns. I’m so confident about that, and rightly so. I guess. I have 100 percent on every assignment thus far. I can handle structured writing, but on Friday I even bombed that. grrrr. I mailed a strange email and haven't gotten a reply. must fix it!!!!

I had a weird feeling about writing after some interesting correspondence that left me questioning my ability to write anything. I tend to bounce things off of my hubby when I have a particularly stinky attitude. Anything that I am taking too personally, or not giving the person on the other side of the story the benefit of the doubt, I bounce off him. He is happy to re-direct my focus, and get me to look at the heart of the matter. If I can’t see that, the heart of the person I am about to smush.

No need to smush people. no smushing - leave that to Jesus and Holy Spirit. He's so very good at correcting and convicting us. His perfect kindness leaves us just almost unaware of his subtle ache for holiness. He doesn't pound us with guilt when we're in the wrong.

Deep sigh.

I don’t like my attitude. I hate when I have smushed someone and I didn’t wait and bounce my communication ideas off my hubby. He has a totally different personality than me, so all of my typical 'Jennifer'' assumptions are almost always so far off it should be funny. It would be funny if I didn’t take those particular things so seriously. Man are we different. His personality is far more introverted than mine, and his humor is sooo differnt. Very very diff-er-nt.

I’m kinda laughing at non-funny things like inside jokes, spelling mistakes and isms. Those barely translate in our international relationship. I’m looking at him when he’s laughing at something I think is entirely inappropriate – for example: kids playing with food or something yucky. We are different. He sees the kids having fun, I see the kids personally undoing all my cleaning efforts in order to specifically break mommy’s heart.

Right….that is an exaggeration, but good to think about. Most kids are not forward thinking enough to produce a perfect strategy that completely unhinges their mommies or daddies. It's usually funny little quirks about our personalities that we like to call buttons or triggers, and our little pumpkins or random colleagues have inadvertently discovered them.

I wish my personality had less quirks. Thankfully my hubby really does even me out so that most people think I am a pretty sane, reasonably kind person, who is sometimes even gentle. That is, in fact, the love of my life rubbing off on me. And, I specifically asked God for that when I was a teenager praying for my future husband every night. I had a list of personality traits, character qualities, special dates, and physical attributes I asked for in my future hubby. I literally asked that he would be my help-meet in building up my character where I recognized that I had flaws and shortcomings. He is the answer to my midnight prayers. He is the single most important person in my life, next to Jesus.   

I’m so happy the love of my life is on a  plane coming home. I will wait a couple days to send anymore not urgent emails, so as not so send something that makes me cringe when I go back and read it later.

Oh, Jesus. Help me be more like you. I want to be more sensitive to other people and not assuming their motives, or their hearts don’t have the best in mind for me. I need to be less of a meany. Thank you for helping me. I don’t even get it. I don’t understand how just breathing a prayer helps me see that I am forgiven, helped, loved and created in your image. You love to see me lean deeper into your heart so that I can love more people with different personalities, giftings, experiences and walks of life. You love when I  lay down your job of convicting, and pick up love. I’m not Holy Spirit. When I try to judge people’s motives - Holy Spirit's job - it comes across pretty stinky (poopy duty) in a way that is motivated by condemnation. I just look into Papa’s God heart and know that he not only forgives me when I’m not reflecting him, he empowers me to become more like Him in that moment.

Who does that? Who loves so intensely that correction is a delight?

Only Him. Only Jesus.

Inside his great heart we find peace, love and joy!

Be blessed as you lean deeper into his heart!

Lots of lub,

Missionary Momma Mia

…see, I think that weird mis-spelling is funny. I’m a dork, but a bit of an emotional one. I’m glad he designed my emotions to reflect His, and he loves my quirks so much more than I do. You too!!! He loves your quirks and humor even more than you do! He’s laughing with us so much more than we realize- like a papa who adores his lil’ kiddos. He loves us with lavish love!!

Goodnight

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

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

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

Back in Mozambique

Well, I’m journaling in spite of the fact that we have no internet.

So this isn’t really going to be posted on June 3^rd. That’s ok. Part of the habit of posting blogs it actually to form a better habit of writing daily.

My hubby and I have been on three different airplanes, and one 4 hour bumpy bumpy road trip to get to our final destination of Chimoio. We arrived to our African home around 6 in the evening just after the sun was setting. It’s winter here. That means short days and less sunlight in the evenings. So we left the airport as soon as we could. We were a little held up in the immigration area, but we didn’t get stopped at all in the customs. That is a spot that can cause a real headache. So at least we only had one headache since the officer found a problem with our paper work. His solution wasn’t to pricy, but oh how we wish we had meticals to pay the fee. The price for a visa in dollars is way more expensive than meticals.

Anyway, that is taken care of. I tend to think it is a blessing for them as long as they are doing their job and following their convictions of what is ‘right’ according to their every changing rules and ‘laws’. So rather than be grumbly that we had to pay more for this or that. I am believing that Jesus knows all of our expenses, expected and the unexpected. He knows how to provide for all our needs and the needs of all his children. So if they were ‘wrong, or corrupt, or whatever’ in charging us this fee then I rather not only begrudgingly forgive them for something that is a frustration to us. But actually bless them for working diligently according to their convictions.

So I take a deep breath and bless them. God knows how to love his kids. I’m not blindly or knowingly giving into some corruption – I have an official receipt for this visa fee. So, he’s explaining that this is what he is supposed to do, and he is really helping us to be in the country legally….We ask a few more respectful questions because we had been informed differently, but the answer is emphasized that this is what has to be done. There is an option to pay for a 30 day visitor visa, that has been denied for lots of travelers, or possibly some fee for having an expired DIRE. I don’t know all the rules (and I probably won’t post the details on-line cause I don’t know if that is a good idea) but anyway

We have the entry border sorted. Our dear friend drove us to our home where his wife, our Mozambican pastor and his wife, and one of our beloved Mozambican sons had organized a lovely Mozambican dinner for us all to enjoy together. Am I emphasizing Mozambican enough? So yes, I’m HAPPY to be back in Mozambique! Over all, Yesterday was lovely no unexpected expense at the border going to ruin my day!

After greeting our friends and Mozambican son Ngenie, we sat down together and ate dinner. I had looked around our living room and notice very few changes in the way that we had left the furniture and dishes on our ‘china hutch’ shelf. It’s not really a china hutch. It’s a book shelf that we use for the prettier porcelain plate and things. We are so please to walk into a nice tidy home after such a long long long long one more lonnnnggggg journey. Did I mention three planes? Ok, I did….did I say how many hours? Cause there is a reason I haven’t written or posted anything in this blog….um like two eight hour flights and some 12 or 13 hours of layovers. Maybe more, I try to forget so it doesn’t ANNOY me….wouldn’t want to stay frustrated over that fact that we have all kinds of technology and can send people to the moon, but we still have to fly for a billion hours. Now I’m exaggerating…. Texans tend to tell tall tales. So please pardon me. And understand that I get kinda pooped from long travel, it is however, entirely worth it to see my big beautiful family!!!!!

So anywho, we all sat down for dinner and caught up on as much of over a year and a half of history as possible in about 3 hours of fun lively conversation. Our lovely South African friends said goodbyes and see you in the morning.

Then our dear Mozambican friends who have been caring for our home since October offered to heat up a kettle of water for our evening bucket baths since the water pump on the well has petered out for possibly the 6^th time. The motor does wear out or the electrical wires short. Stuff happens. I totally expected to come home to our Mozambican reality and give up a few western comforts. I did laugh to myself when I had washed my hands earlier after just walking through the door and heading to the restroom because I notice right away that there was a basin and bucket with water – indicating that the pump for running water was not functioning. I had really enjoyed some lovely long baths and showers during my little mini-vacation in California. I was especially savoring the steaming hot running water since I anticipated water shortages or the possibility of no running water. This is normal life in Africa. It takes so much time and energy to run a house here. These little details like a burnt pump or electrical shortage are a bit tricky here. Sometimes there aren’t resources to fix the pump, and sometimes there are. But the most important things are important and water can wait. I guess that is another thing on our list to find out about fixing. –bunny trail.

So anyway, I was going to write a bit about today, but I’m pooped and better head for bed. It’s been a very full day from about 8 in the morning to 9:30 at night. We saw friends who popped in to say hi, and organized some details for a party tomorrow. We met some lovely volunteers who became a part of the Iris Chimoio family of volunteers while we were away in the states. They just fell in love with the children and are SUCH a blessing!!!

God is good to us. So we had a lovely dinner out with one of our new friends, and we are so excited to see as many friends and as much family as possible while we are here for a short time.

Oh, and we are trying to find a yummy poisen for the rats who are building a lovely home in the roof of our rental house. I keep having visions of the rats from the CG film ‘ratatouille’ in my head. I’m a bit terrified that the whole rat colony will have more rat babies and drop through the old worn out ceiling under our old aging roof…..oh sweet Jesus, help us to not have rats dropping in on us via windows, cracks under doors or any other entry they find available…..

Housekeeping tip for living in Africa: try not to rent a house near a garbage dump that only gets emptied once a week if we are lucky!!!!!

Anyway, life if full of surprises here and we have a good laugh when the rats and cockroaches show up….they are notorious for finding the craziest hiding places…..some of our small kitchen appliances haven’t been used for months or maybe even a year, so guess who made little nests inside our coffee grinder? Yeah so that was a fun part of my day today…..finding where the little buggers where hiding…..because I was using my coffee grinder.

I totally drank that coffee too because the bug nest was in the underside of the grinder. We washed the bowl with the blades and wiped the electrical part down. As the little electric motor started whizzing and the beans grinding, I noticed one of those tiny tiny little cockroaches. I am used to them. Just kill them and wash the mess. There was a lot more than just one bug to kill however, and I got a little grossed out for about a second. I know why they are there, and that bugs are bugs….so I can logic my way out of being too annoyed. This is after all their happy climate – subtropical climate does mean that housekeeping is a constant battle again the buggies like cockroaches, ants, termites, mosquitoes, and flies. It’s all part of life here.

So welcome to my candid rendition of African homecoming…..

Hope you are not to jaded by my ramblings. I really do love living here, it is just more obvious some of the things that I had begun to take for granted as I spent so much time away from our home here. I will constantly be thankful for our parents offering three lovely bedrooms, an office and bathroom for us to stay in in Colorado. During our time there we have never killed a cockroach, chased a rat out of our room or taken bucket showers.  

All pretty normal things in our African life….and it isn’t torcher. It’s the reality of living in an undeveloped country in an old un-renovated rental house in an old neighborhood on a dirt road with so many contributing factors to a bug problems, rodents and electrical and water issues.

I’m comfortable here, happy here, and also happy in America. I will always be thankful to get clean at the end of the day. I will always celebrate running water a little bit more, or a lot more, than a bucket bath. But I know that it is a blessing to use a full bucket of warm water to get clean, when there has been a drought in this part of Moz. I know that Papa God has blessed our well and it has not dried up when others have. That’s why I’s still super thrilled that we have water! I do have a tendency to find the silver lining in the various circumstance that we face.

Tonight we were remembering that last year we were guests of a very affluent man in a powerful position in his government. We were very happy as guests in his penthouse apartment, and we are very happy to be guests in a home without running water, or even in a home with a dirt floor and grass roof.

Its good to just love on people and focus on what they live without, but that we can learn from them because they are genuinely happy with their lives. We see how JOYFULL they become when they know Jesus! They don’t want bigger houses, and more appliances. They want peace, love and JOY! They need to be able to face any situation with JOY, and that’s better than finding a silver lining in a grey cloud.

My husband and I love to give our Mozambican friends and family presents. They are so thrilled with a sweater, or lip-gloss.  They put on the clothes and wear them right away. They are really grateful, not asking for a receipt so that they can return the gift if it doesn’t fit.

I learn deeper heartfelt gratitude from my beautiful Mozambican friends because they don’t expect more stuff. They don’t worry too much about what they don’t have. They take care of what they do have, and are truly thankful when we give them presents. So I don’t worry to much about bugs and rodents that live here, I focus on hanging out with our friends. Drinking coffee with our guests, and eating meals to build friendships.

So the next time you see a mouse don’t squeesh it….Just kidding. Kill that thing if it is inside your kitchen and not a pet. But its really not a “woe is me’ problem. Its just a problem. The more ‘problems’ you can face with a calm cool attitude, the more and greater problems you can face with a calm cool attitude. You might even become a missionary and leave your comfort zone where lots of things that are considered big problems (like a non-flushing toilet because its clogged or the mechanism is broke) that are among ‘problems’ you might face everyday and learn to be an overcomer who is less focused on convenience (I do love convenience and comfort) and more focused on loving people and understanding their reality….Then it hurts less when I get a bug bite. I’m facing the challenges my friends face. If they can do it with a smile, then they can teach me how to do that too!

So here’s to overcoming the little and big frustrations, scares, and unwanted buggers in our lives as we are learning to love more people, more deeply.

Lots of love,

Missionary momma mia

Dinner with our friends

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lots of love,

Missionary Momma Mia

Subway for Thanksgiving Feast

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lots of love,

Missionary Momma Mia

Spork and foons

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lots of love,

Missionary Momma Mia

The shadow of injustice

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So, I will leave you with my courageous thoughts:

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

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

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

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

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

Keep going forward.

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

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

Missionary Momma Mia 

The other highlight of my day….

That was seeing all four of my guys cuddled on our bed watching one of their favorite tv shows. It was really special because they were all reminded of our favorite family show that we used to watch together in our living room in Mozambique. I didn’t even have time to let the full load of memories roll in during my busy day last week. But that moment of seeing my boys tucked in with their dad, and hearing them exclaim, “Hey! This is what we used to watch at our old home in Africa!” Time Kinda froze for a few seconds. I saw them sitting on our silly little couch with our kids all around. We tuned into a few English channels with a second hand dish that I bought as a gift for my husband to celebrate his ten year anniversary of living in Mozambique. It was a special treat to have a few English TV channels along with local Mozambican TV in Portuguese.

Everybody seemed to really enjoy renovation shows. Our big international family gathered in the living room. We had a lot more than four guys sitting together in front of our little TV though! One of my Mozambican sons is so quiet that sometimes he would lean behind the sofa and pull up a chair without saying a word. At first, I wouldn’t notice that he was there for all the noise our other boys were making. Most of our boys had a bunch of opinions about how the renovations would turn out on the newly purchased, yet unattractive homes.  

Tista is so thoughtful. He’s a tender soul. At one point our staff kinda gave up on helping him because he hated going to school. Finally, I asked my husband if another one of our ‘kids’ could move into our house with us. I wasn’t ready to let him go.

My husband looked into my eyes and said, “You really love him, and so do I. We can’t give up on him. He needs more love and tender care.” Our staff were skeptical at first. Then, his attendance at school improved, and his grades improved. We realized that his challenges were deep buried hurt, not simply a nervous stutter. Of course we spent time raising his confidence with speech exercises, but we spent time cooking together, talking, listening, chilling as a family for TV time, and games. These simple moments created a bond that couldn’t be easily broken.

My husband and I began to unbury more of Tista’s story.  Each of our kids who come to live at the children’s center have ‘initial interviews’; and come with some information about their family and closest kin. It’s not to in-depth. It helps, but it is really just a foundation for asking the kids more questions as time goes on.

My husband and I already knew his older brothers, and they had made the same observations as our staff of caregivers. He wasn’t interested in school, and he was a caught sneaking off to ‘get into trouble’. He would go to the market and watch some 5 cent movie instead of going to school.

Those nights of family TV were pretty informative for me. I noticed how intently he watched the shows. He was focused, and very thoughtful. I heard him translating the English show into the local Matewe dialect with one of our other teenagers who had interjected his opinion without fully understanding the details.

He understood more of the show than our talkative sons, but he was still lacking confidence. We would laugh and joke around as all of us fumbled around learning new words and phrases in different languages. We did that with a purpose. It had to be lighthearted, or little mistakes would cause embarrassment. We didn’t want our teenagers to feel the slightest bit of shame – especially not Tista. I grabbed ahold of that moment and encouraged him in his English. He could be an official translator! He just smiled and laughed, while shaking his head 'no'.

So, the next best thing was becoming my Matewe teacher.  The Matewe dialect is different from MaSena or Shona. I didn’t really know a lot of words or phrases because I could get by with saying greetings in Portuguese, or even MaSena. So I learned a few words from Tista. And realize he was more touched by my attempt to learn than by being my teacher. His challenge with speech was gradually going away as he stayed in our home, attended school, and sang worship songs. He was really losing any sign of a stutter, but was used to being the quiet one. So, I asked one of our house moms to teach me a few key phrases before I left for this furlough.

One of the hardest things about this break from the mission field, is that our return date is uncertain. We haven’t been away for such a long time before. I knew that we didn’t have a return date. We have school and uncertain time-frame for documents. I wanted to make sure to do something special for one of my favorite sons. I learned how to tell him that I love him in the Matewe dialect.

It would sound something like reading this phonetically: En doe na quda Mwuani yango

The tears that rolled down his cheeks as I said those words to him were worth every moment of being a baby communicator. My house mom helped me through every sound until it was just right. I wanted to be understood by my Mozambican children whose native dialect was Matewe. His tears were a clear indicator of understanding. He spoke very softly and swallowed back tears as he told me that he had waited all his life for his mom to tell him that she loved him. I said it again and again before we left our last home in Chimoio. “I love you my son.” Sometimes I just tell him I love him in Matewe when we talk on Skype or chat. He's one of our best big brothers for the younger children because he knows he is loved.  

Tista invested his evenings in hanging out with our family watching TV in English not just to have fun, but to better learn my mother language. Learning more of his local dialect was the least I could do for such a thoughtful loving son.

To all of our Mozambican sons and daughters, we love and miss you more than you can imagine. You are always in our hearts, thoughts and prayers!

Missionary Momma Mia

Let the sun shine through friends and family

I love knowing my children are building fun and happy memories.  It is a lot of work to host a child's birthday party. It's all worth it when they can't remember a better day because it was spent having fun with their dearest friends.

My thoughts are so full that writing doesn’t seem like it will be cathartic for me. This has been a blessed weekend, but my Sabbath was much more intense than a typical Sabbath. I think that taking this evening to rest will be better therapy than attempting to write a creative blog.

Because…

This party took days of planning, logistics, and food preparation. Thankfully, so many friends and family did whatever was needed to help me and my hubby give our boys happy memories. We didn’t --and couldn’t have pulled off such a fun filled afternoon without a troop of parents sticking around to help with kids’ activities, and friends and family helping with set up and tear down of decorations.

We are thrilled that each of our boys had at least one friend from their class come over.  Our oldest son told his aunty that this was the most perfect party ever! And -  We know that it went nothing like we had planned! 

Surprisingly, the weather is not dependent on mine and my husband's party planning.  I can however, write ‘when it rains it pours’ with a depth of sincerity that I may not have felt before this weekend. 

Our lives have been blessed with rain and sunshine! It didn’t even rain or snow during the boys’ birthday party! We actually had lovely weather. We did move the party indoors because the ground was still soggy from a winter storm this Friday and Saturday. It was nearly a blizzard down south, but in northern Colorado the rain barely froze or stuck to the ground.  It did continue to rain up until a half hour or so before the party started. Then the sun came out!

It was a lot of fun and the kids were delighted! I’m a bit overstimulated from the energy that a group of 10 or 11 boys can throw into the atmosphere. They were AMAZING! All such good friends and so well behaved! However, I have no idea how teachers do it!!! I’m thrilled that there are education professionals who invest their lives in the instruction and care of young students. 

Thank God that everyone has different skill sets and abilities! My skill set doesn’t actually involve spending multiple hours entertaining and feeding a large group of boys under the age of eleven on a regular basis. I’m a bit more chill with one-on-one, or teenagers. 

God knows what I can handle though. I’m very happy to have a day off class tomorrow. It will give me time to re-group. Since today was full – tomorrow will be more of a down day with Jesus and Hubby. Typically if our Sunday is busy or we are doing ministry, then we often take Monday as our Sabbath. Today was very busy though because we headed to the Department of Motor Vehicles to take care of Driver’s License stuff. Whooeeeeph – that’s my spelling for a deep sigh of relief.

Wow, I did end up writing a lot more than I thought I would. It just really settles me to think things through via my fingertips. It’s quite relaxing once I realize that I can take a breath and celebrate a huge accomplishment. I couldn’t have done it alone. This weekend rained down help and so much love from family. I’m so full of gratitude for my friends and family who made sacrifices to love on our three boys.

It is the greatest gift when a child knows they are secure in their families’ love. They are unafraid of grandparents, aunties, uncles, and Dad and mom. Thank you to my friends and family who really did bring 'sunshine' to our weekend. You know who you are. We love you!!!!

I’m full of deep gratitude to Jesus for such a lovely weekend, and so secure in Papa God’s love for me! Praying you can feel that big big bear hug as you sit in Papa's lap and tell him all about your weekend adventures!

Missionary Momma Mia      

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