Hope is the thing…
Sometimes “walking by faith” is just hard. Actually, most times it’s just hard. My “Type A” personality wants all of my ducks in a row, preferably wearing matching rain jackets and quacking in unison. Living on the mission field means that my ducks are usually scattered all over the place, wearing nothing at all and quacking randomly in several different languages!
The past several weeks we have been crazypants around here. Arriving home after 8 very long weeks in the US, finding out we had to move just five days later, actually moving just 10 days after that, having our girls come for Spring Break (don’t get me wrong–I loved that part!), getting back into our routine in a new apartment…and that’s all just on the homefront. Our ministry has had it’s share of crazy as well.
I will try to keep this short…wish me luck! Our recyclers have been…
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Home sweet home…
I know. Two blog posts from me in the same day. Some people might claim it’s a sign of the Second Coming. Alas, no.
This summer, ER hosted two of what we call our “house teams”. These amazing teams raise funds to build a house for a family from our Zambiza dump program, and then they come down here, roll up their sleeves and build it. They learn to lay concrete block, dig trenches for sewer lines (twice, for this house!), put in tile, install sinks and tubs and toilets…
Today Dan and I went out to the house site to see the team dedicate the house to the family…and the family to the Lord. There really are no words to describe seeing a family that had been living in a 10′ x 10′ room receive the keys to their very own house. To see them walk through the door, knowing that everything in the house is theirs. It’s clean and bright, and the pantry is stocked, and there are shoes and clothes and toys in the little girls’ room and towels in the bathroom and a sofa and chair in the living room, and a dining room table and chairs where they can sit down as a family and eat together every night.
I love being at home. I can only imagine how much more I would love being at home if I had never had one before. I love having my things organized and “just so”. I love thinking about Maria tonight, and how she is getting to organize her new things, and have them “just so”. How she and her husband David will tuck their two little girls into their own beds, under their brand new comforters, and for the first time in their lives those little girls HAVE beds…not just beds, but their OWN beds. Maria and David had never had a bed. Tonight, they have a bed. In a proper master bedroom.
As I write this, the team is on their way to the airport. Their work here is done, and they are heading home. I watched tonight as they said goodbye to the people that they had worked alongside all week–Paul and Susan, Jose and Teresa, Ben and Lindsey, Ricardo and Luis. There were so many tears being shed. As I looked around, I remembered that I’ve been where they are. I’ve led missions trips. Fallen in love with people. Had to leave and return “home”. Tonight, I was reminded again how the Lord brought us down here, and how this has become home. We don’t have to stay here–we get to stay here. We are so privileged to be a part of what happens here, not just when the teams are on the ground, but all year round.
Home. Sweet. Home.
Master Bedroom
Dining Room Table
Kitchen
Little girls room
Dedicating the house to the family. Maria, David and their two little girls are in the center of the circle.
Ummm…Hello?
I swear, we have not dropped off the face of the earth. Allow me to catch you up.
We are moving.
Those three words have pretty much consumed my every waking thought since we arrived home at the end of May. We knew that we were going to have to find another place to live, and we had pretty much decided that it would have to happen this summer. When we got home, we had a talk with our landlord, who told us that we had until at least December to find a place, and not to worry, because he would give us at least two months notice if something happened. Hold that thought.
After looking at about 20 of the smallest apartments we had ever seen, and one apartment that we really liked…but it included a crazy landlady (within five minutes of meeting her she informed me that I…
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The Comfort Zone…
“You are about to enter another dimension. A dimension not only of sight and sound, but of mind. A journey into a wondrous land of imagination. Next stop, the Comfort Zone!” (cue creepy music)
Yesterday the first team that Dan and I were involved with this summer left to head back home. They were a smallish team–just 11 people–and a shortish team–just 8 days. They worked hard and connected hard, and I honestly think that when they got back on that plane, they knew that it had been good.
It’s been awhile since I interacted with a team at this level. True, I wasn’t at the project with them each day–my knee has become a bit of a professional liability–but I had dinner with them every night and got to really chat with them. It was neat to see their hearts expand as the week went on, and to…
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We made it home!
I know you all thought I dropped off the face of the earth. Sorry about that. We did indeed fly home to Quito on the 24th of May, although it didn’t go quite like I expected it to.
Dan and I ended up with two different routes to Miami. Patrick and I flew through JFK and Dan flew through Chicago, and we met up in Miami. When Patrick and I arrived at JFK, we had just enough time to race to the other end of the terminal and catch our connecting flight. In all of the chaos, I ended up twisting my knee very badly, tearing both the meniscus and the ACL. By the time we arrived in Quito, I could not walk. Fortunately Dan had asked in Miami for a wheelchair or I would probably still be sitting on the plane waiting for someone to get me out of…
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Rainy days and Mondays…
Thinking out loud this morning…
Talkin’ to myself and feelin’ old
Sometimes I’d like to quit
Nothing ever seems to fit
Hangin’ around
Nothing to do but frown
Rainy Days and Mondays always get me down.
(“Rainy Days and Mondays” ~The Carpenters)
Sometimes, even in the middle of the best of everything, my soul gets soggy. I need for Someone to wring me out and hang me over a clothesline somewhere to dry.
These last several weeks have made me weary. We lost our “fifth child” as our Nick left Ecuador to move to South Africa and begin the task of opening up the Extreme Response presence there. It’s wonderful. It’s exciting. And it hurt my heart, just like it did when my three children left and went to college.
Two weeks ago, I had surgery on my hand. In my mind, I would be up and around within a day or so, back to…
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This and that, and why I think I’m pretty boring.
I got an email yesterday from a long-time friend/supporter that I only know through the electronic world. Electronically, she’s a dear, sweet person. She started off her note by telling me how she couldn’t do what I do, and that if the Lord had called her she would have just argued with Him until He went away. I tried that, Sweet Sister. Doesn’t work.
We’ve had an uneventful Sunday around here. Church this morning. My blood sugar did That Thing again, the one where I end up lying on the floor in a storage room in the church basement sweating and shaking and sick to my stomach with the black parts around the edge of my vision, until all of a sudden it’s over and I’m fine again. I have no idea what causes it, and I don’t know how to fix it, and my doctor has no idea what…
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Pink.
Time for a laugh.
OK. Time to lighten things up a little bit around here. The following incident took place in February of 2005. It’s all true–every bit of it. No names have been changed, because trust me–there were no innocent people in this one! It is still the story that people remember most.
2/18
What a week. And that was just yesterday. Our children were off of
school Wednesday and Thursday due to two days of political protests here in
Quito. Basically, they were trying to oust the President. And no, I don’t
have any clue whether or not they were successful. Thursday, I had to work.
I told Heather and Kristina that they could have a friend over, as my maid
is there on Thursday. Dan and I went home for lunch at noon, and the first
thing that greets us, tail wagging, is a PINK German Shepherd. Followed by
a pink…
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The View from the Mountaintop 