No More Restlessness

“I’m here. We’re finally here. Thank you, God.”

I waited two weeks to have that wave of peace come over me and to finally rest in knowing we were here for the long run. It was probably more like two years, if I’m honest.

I thought about that moment so much. The week before we left when I was exhausted from going and going and going and saying goodbye after goodbye: I thought about that moment.

When we left for language school I thought about that moment when we would be in Niger, unpacking our suitcases and feeling that peace.

When we were in the midst of cross-cultural training I thought about that moment. And when we were busy with an online language class and support raising, I thought about that moment. When we first got the call from God to go to the edge of the Sahara desert, I thought about that peaceful moment when there would be no more waiting. No more planning.

When we walked through security at the airport I thought, “only 24 hours and I'll feel peace about being there.” But (spoiler) it was way more than 24 hours. Because it was 2 weeks before I felt like I had time to breath. Through sickness (and then with the next child) and moving and moving again, and those expectations I didn't know I had but were disappointing when they didn’t happen. Like having all our luggage. Having a stroller for my twins who hate walking to give me some semblance of independence. Then there were all the little things and big things alike that just piled on top of each other (side note: “piled” was just auto-corrected to “puked” and that isn't a bad way to put it either).

Then, finally. I could breathe in as I hung the clothes on the clothesline and I could thank God and be at peace that we were finally where we were supposed to be. No more restlessness. No more thinking about the next thing. No more making friends knowing we were leaving soon. No more looming transitions (for a while at least). No more. Just finally being in one place until we are called elsewhere. Just peace. Resting in the sweet peace of being home.

For now, at least.

This is the view down our street with the ever present, noisy goats.

A roundabout in our city that our kids call the "egg."

You will keep in perfect peace those whose minds are steadfast, because they trust in you. Isaiah 26:3

I expect these things because I've done this before...

People keep asking me what my expectations are…

I expect to put down roots. I expect to make friends. I expect to have a deeper understanding of God and His people.

In all of our trainings they told us that our expectations probably won't come true, so in my naïveté, I tried not to have them. But that probably wasn't the healthiest way to think because I will always have hidden expectations that come to the surface later. Instead of pushing our expectations to the side they had us look for the expectations that we don't think of right away when someone asks, but the ones that are more abstract. They told us to prepare ourselves of the possibility that some will come true, but some won't. And that's okay.

I’ve done this before so I know...

I expect we’ll all get sick. Many times. I expect I'll be disoriented for awhile. I expect I’ll get lost in a new city. I expect the car will stall because I'm learning to drive a stick shift. I expect unbearable heat.

I expect to have meltdowns at my kids. I expect my kids will have meltdowns because they want to see their grandparents, friends, and cousins. I expect to worry too much. I expect to be too anxious. I expect to have a period of time where I keep to my house. I expect to have breakdowns in the shower wondering why I came. I expect to get angry about little things that aren't the same as home. I expect to scream at my husband. I expect to feel exhaustion of my body, my mind, and my soul. I expect to cry. Alot. I expect feeling helpless.

I expect to cry out to God with a heart full of sadness and one ready to give up.

I expect it won’t be pretty.

But I also expect beauty. I expect answered prayers of deep friendships. I expect new kinds of flowers. I expect a fullness in God mixed with the brokenness in my heart. I expect new, delicious foods. I expect purpose. I expect to love deeply the people around me. I expect to love their culture.

I expect that some of my expectations will come true and I expect some of them won't.

I expect these things because I've done this before. I've spent nights crying in my bed feeling homesick. I've spent showers crying out to God feeling helpless and broken. I've spent days, not wanting to go anywhere and see the beauty around me because of depression. I’ve spent weeks being too anxious to do anything alone or try anything new because of culture shock. I have had meltdowns where I scream at my husband or where I cry at him and he shows me grace and love that I feel like I don't deserve. I’ve been angry about little cultural differences. I have eaten only rice for weeks because I just missed the food my mom made or my grandma's home cooked meals. I've had the feeling of being too exhausted after weeks of night shift to get up and explore the city and find the beauty in a new place. I've watched my kids cry over the fact that they can't see their grandparents in real life after a video chat. I have cried out to God feeling defeated and helpless and sad. I have had the feeling of being lost in a sea full of people in a big city, before I've found my bearings. I've been frustrated while learning how to drive a scooter before. I have even journeyed for hours trying to find my passport in a foreign country.

And I have seen answered prayers of deep friends. I have seen my children form bonds that wouldn't have been possible otherwise. I have spoken words, and sentences, and had conversations in a new language and I've been understood. I have embraced the beauty of new types of flowers. I have wandered on a bike exploring new places. I have hiked new mountains, through tea fields and on dry ground, and seen immeasurable beauty. I have eaten strange foods that I've grown to love. I have felt purpose in the simplicity of rocking a child, not-my-own, back to sleep at 4am in a foreign land. I have had purpose in watching a mother meet her son for the first time, a son whom I have already cared for and she has already prayed for, for months on end. I have loved deeply a place where I have loved and at the same time been broken. I have fallen in love with a place and its people before.

I’ve had expectations before and I expect that in 10 years I'll look back and see how you can fall in love with new places over and over and over again. And I anticipate the sorrows and the joys that will come.

For every season I have a word...

Seek

Free

Pray

Hope

I got the idea of meditating on a word from my MOPS* group a couple of years ago. We made a vision board and chose a word to be our focus for the year. This idea helped to ground me more than I thought it would. Suddenly, I started seeing the word in more and more places. In verses, in the encouragement friends would send, sometimes even on billboards. Everywhere.

Focusing on only one word helped me to dive into different aspects of the word and the meaning and the meaning for me as a Christian. It also helped me search the Bible and other books more diligently for mentions of the word and stories with the theme of that word.

It started with “seek”. What does it mean to seek God?

That is the question I always ask first with the word.

What does it mean… to be free in Christ?

What does it mean… to pray?

And today:

What does it mean… to always have hope?

And so I am diving into a new season of hope. The reasons this word stood out to  me may seem silly to anyone not in the same season as me. This word stood out to me because I'm hoping that my kids will be potty trained soon and I'm hoping they will stop waking up at 5am and I'm hoping this season of them destroying books and everything they lay their chubby little hands on will be over soon. I'm hoping I will be able to have a quiet time without falling asleep or having to stop my child from killing themselves because they are standing on the counter trying to scale the cupboards to get candy. I'm hoping that the day will come soon when I won't dash away from two whining toddlers as soon as my husband offers to watch them so I can drink coffee in peace. I'm hoping there will come a day when I won't be so happy for a lock to keep my kids out and maintain emotional sanity (if you're reading this at an older age, kids, I love you but you were crazy as toddlers).

The point of choosing a word isn't to find the word that sounds holiest. Because I don't think wishing my kids were a little older is the best reason for choosing this word. It's not how I choose a word that matters, it is what God has taught me at the end of the season that matters.

The point of choosing a word is becoming humble to the point that I can say, God, I am willing to learn all I can about this word and this subject. Please speak to me in the months to come. I want to know how to have unwavering hope in each trial of my life that will come. And still more, I want to know how to show others that there is hope and have empathy without being condescending and bible thumping and quite frankly, annoying.

So in this season my word is hope.

What is your word?

*A group of women who meet a couple of times a months to refresh and encourage you as you try to mom.

"I imagined it [marriage] to be a little less work and a lot more kissing..."

There are some things that we both don't enjoy. The dishes. Laundry. Cleaning the bathroom. Cleaning in general. Waking up an hour (or two) too early to toddlers demanding breakfast or fighting or crying. Making coffee (even though we desperately want it).

But we keep going and finding ways to work with each other.

I ask him which chores are important to him (dishes) and he asks me which things are important to me (no salt covered shoes on the floor) and we both decide what really can go by the wayside if we are too busy (laundry). And with that we make it work. We work to help each other in doing the things we don't like and leaving the things be that don't really matter.

The crazy thing is that I am living my dream in doing this. I don't think this is what I was thinking when I was dreaming it, I imagined it to be a little less work and a lot more kissing. But I love that it's real and it's life and it's love.

I think the puppy love era lasted maybe 6 months or a year. Then the fights became longer, bigger, more intense. But so did our will to press on and love deeper, despite the deep pain we could cause each other.

The truth is that my dream is much harder than I imagined, but it also contains a much deeper love then I imagined. A love that is willing to admit a wrong (or many wrongs). A love that is willing to do the hard things for the other person. A love that is willing to stand by the other person even when the hurt is deep. A love that is not afraid to encourage the other person to stand strong in their faith. A love that is willing to challenge the other person to grow into a stronger relationship with God.

We aren't perfect. One time I asked myself why I had married someone who had such different interests than mine. He prefers video games, I prefer books. I like to be outside, he likes to be inside. He likes documentaries, and I like comedies (or really almost anything but a documentary). He thinks deeply, and I feel deeply.

I married him, I fell in love with him, because I saw that his greatest desire was the same as mine: to follow God in everything he would do in life. To seek God’s will and to serve Him.

Even though I didn't realize it when I was 13 and dreaming about falling in love, or when I was 19 and marrying a man I barely knew, I realize it more now that love takes work and my dream of following God with this man by my side takes work. It takes continually asking for forgiveness and help and it takes humility and it takes looking to God to help our brokenness and to make us whole. 3 ½ years has been enough time together that it makes our life together seem like the same old, same old. Living in a (crazy) routine with him, and growing older with him, and seeking God with him... I wouldn't trade this for anything and I wouldn't trade living it with him for anyone or anything else.

August 2014

Aliya

"...never again to be uprooted..."

Lately, I have been identifying so much with Israel in the minor prophet books of the Bible and in their years of wandering before they were in their Promised Land.

I don't know if I feel for them because I feel like we are in a state of limbo right now, or just that I identify with how they kept walking away from God in sin.

Nothing is settled in our lives right now, we have a home in Quebec, but it is only for 3 more months before we come back to the States and pack up our lives to move to Niger indefinitely. To my kids, I have started to refer to home as wherever our bed is for the night, because our home keeps changing. We are constantly moving and packing up our entire house... I can count 4 times in the last year, and soon it will be six that we have packed up everything to move to the next place. Our life is unsettled, and it will continue to be so for years.

Then there is the sin that is so appealing. For me, my biggest struggle is pride. It gets so bad that I don't even notice it anymore. Then someone says something and I realize that I have hurt them because of my pride. I have treated them as if they are lesser than me, and, oh, they are not! But it is the easy way, and the way that I default to, because I don't want to put forth the effort that takes a lifestyle change. I wish it was as easy as a couple of action steps, but for me, it will take a mindset change.

Which brings me back to Israel, running away from God in their sin, God forgiving them and telling them that He will restore them to the home he has for them, never to uproot them again. Whether it is sin, or just an unsettled life, I take hope in the fact that God loves me so unconditionally that he will permanently provide a home for me and He will take me home to forgiveness and peace in Him.

"I will plant Israel in their own land, never again to be uprooted from the land I have given them," says the Lord your God.
Amos 9:15