a cozy close out to 2011

Anyone who knows us in real life knows that while we love people, we are not big late-night partyers. At all. So it should not come as much of a surprise that the entire family will be ringing in the new year in our pajamas, likely sound asleep.

However before the kids went to bed tonight, I had a special experience with them that I don't want to forget. We have had a great Christmas season so far, with lots of quality time with family and friends and fun reunions. Today, however, was spent with just the five of us, on a nine-hour-long road trip, as we traveled from my parents' home to see my husband's parents in south Georgia. And because we are here, our kiddos are all sleeping on the floor together for a couple of nights. After the expected grumblings about the inconveniences of sleeping on (carpeted!) floors, my attempts at reminding them that baby Jesus--God incarnate--took his first breaths surrounded by stinky animals and had a feeding trough for a bed, and my husband and I exchanging knowing looks about the upcoming challenges of mission life, it was time for these tired little people to get to bed.

Before we said nighttime prayers, I asked them to each try and recall a favorite memory from this year. Initially I got generic answers like "my class," and "Stone," their awesome school, which of course they are missing. But as I prodded a little further and reminded them of some of our many fun experiences in 2011, all three kids really got into this little trip down memory lane. We recalled the freak snowstorm in January that knocked out our home heating system for several days, during which time we moved in with our incredible neighbors, who have since become like family to us. We spoke of sledding in the winter, and road-tripping to NJ/NYC (via VA and Baltimore) to visit dear old friends for spring break. We remembered the glorious trip we enjoyed to Newfoundland in the summer, with a few days on the coast where we enjoyed hiking, relaxing, skipping stones, and catching glimpses of whales; then Caroline's debut performance as a flower girl in my cousin's wedding. We recalled summertime fun at my parents' pool, Caroline's entry into kindergarten (no more naps!), and kooky Halloween costumes. We spoke of great birthday celebrations and a few of the fun performances that they enjoyed participating in throughout the year, including Madison's ballet and Indian dances, and Joshua's violin and swim meets. We thought of our yummy Thanksgiving dinner and the chance that we had to share it with good friends and family. Caroline reminded us of how, towards the end of the year, "we sold all our stuff." And we didn't have to stretch too far back to recall the joys of Christmas in 2011 :)

And as our babes snuggled up and I prayed with them, I reminded them (and especially myself) that the same God who brought us through this year of joys and disappointments, of expected and unexpected gifts and challenges--that this same God will be with us through the new year that begins in just a little while.  2012 surely holds lots of new experiences for us all, and I wanted the kids to be reassured that we will be okay, despite the countless transitions that are coming our way. Our Lord has been faithful in all things, big and small, and we rest in His promise to continue to keep us safe, in the new year and always, in the protection of His loving embrace.

Happy 2012 everyone.

Keep your lives free from the love of money and be content with what you have, because God has said, “Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.”

Hebrews 13:5

leavings are hard

(This post was originally written on December 11, 2011--then with all the moving details, it got shelved until today.)

This phrase, "leavings are hard," is one that our parish priest used in a message some time ago, and the words really stuck with my husband.  He's been repeating them to me these past few months as I've pondered the difficulty of leaving the beautiful community of friends we have found here in Greenville.  And in these last several days, these words have come into my mind again and again.

It first happened when I had to say goodbye to many sweet friends who also happened to be colleagues at the pediatric practice where I worked.  Although I love to think and reflect through my writing, public speaking is not my forte.  Nevertheless, I felt moved to say a few words at the lunch that was given on my last day of work, and found myself speaking through many, many tears as I said a collective goodbye to that special group of people.  It's a very unique and wonderful experience to work side-by-side with people who not only love what they do, but treat others (including and especially patients) just as they would treat a family member--with enthusiasm, respect, understanding, and extraordinary kindness.  It made for many enjoyable work days, and no matter how challenging or busy we were, it was such a privilege to be in that setting.

For the weeks since then, our days have been so full that I've not had a whole lot of opportunity to feel the impending loss of our move away from here.  While I've talked about how hard it will be to leave, the busyness of the holiday season (kids' choir recitals, church pageants, swim meets, family visits), along with the endless list of things to do in preparation for our move, have kept me distracted enough to hold it together...until recently.

Last Friday night was Joshua and Madison's final children's choir concert.  This community choir is led by our school's music teacher and her husband, and Joshua was invited to be part of it within weeks after our arrival here, with Madison joining on a year later.  My husband and I have delighted in watching our kids develop both an impressive knowledge of and keen appreciation for music through this experience.  They've learned not only a number of technical aspects of music, but have also developed much discipline, stage presence, and the important lessons of truly working as part of a larger team.  It has been one of their most treasured activities, and so to realize that it was coming to a close after their Christmas program was almost too much for me.  After the spectacular concert, I so wanted to capture a picture of the kids with their remarkably talented and giving directors--but I was simply in too much of a puddle to talk to anyone.  Luckily my husband swooped in and brought everyone together for me.  I don't think I'll ever look at this wonderful picture without remembering how grateful and emotional I felt as I captured it:

The following Thursday, I had to say goodbye to my favorite instructor at our wonderful YMCA.  I know, an exercise instructor hardly seems like someone who'd bring tears to my eyes, but nevertheless, when I handed her a prayer card and she promised to put it on her fridge and keep us in her prayers, I could hardly speak.  I was suddenly struck with the realization that even in the place where I exercise, I am surrounded by supportive and faithful people...and how many people can say that?

Last Sunday evening was the children's Christmas pageant at our Methodist church and it was the first chance I had to share our plans with a few of our friends there.  Just watching their reactions of surprise, and then understanding, and then, inevitably, sincere support along with some kind words about how much we will be missed--all these were enough to start the waterworks yet again.

This morning at our Catholic parish, I was again a bit of a mess.  Just talking to friends, old and new, saying goodbye to our dear Sister Catherine who was on her way out of town this week, beginning our goodbye to our beloved Father Pat--all these made for more emotions than anticipated early this morning.

And then we proceeded on with our normal Sunday morning routine, which includes heading over to our Methodist church for the kids' Sunday school and then to the worship service as a family.  What made today so difficult was the fact that we knew this would be our last Sunday there.  Our plans are to pack up the house and drive out of town next Sunday after Mass, so today was the (dreaded) day for real goodbyes to our sweet friends at St. Matthew's.  When I went to gather the kids after their Sunday school classes, I as met by a number of friends who asked if this was, in fact, our last day there.  And then the tears began for many of us.  A couple of my friends (who are the kids' teachers) stated that they couldn't even look at the kids because it made them so emotional to realize the difficulty of our separation.  Joshua's class gave him a really nice daily devotional, made even more special by the personal inscriptions by his teacher and each member of his class.  We hugged goodbyes with promises for penpal-ing, emailing, and even Skype-ing if possible!  The worship service wasn't much better for me--I was constantly reminded of how warmly we have been welcomed into the fold of this loving church community, the friends we have made and the support we have received on so many levels.  This is where my kids have grown to know so much about the Lord and His holy Word, where they've been nurtured through fun VBS experiences and solid Sunday school curricula, where we've made great friends, and where we, as a family, had our first opportunity for local missionary work--through our participation in the city-wide interfaith hospitality network that hosts homeless families at our church twice a year.  And as if all this weren't enough to be filling my mind, the closing hymn was none other than "Blest Be the Tie That Binds."  Suffice it to say that I was unable to get through the song.  So very many emotions, thanksgivings, and poignant realizations all at once.

I've often been asked why (and how) we choose to worship with two faith communities every Sunday.  That is a subject for another post on another day, but the bottom line is that my husband and I desire to share with our children the richness of both of our faith traditions.  This morning I realized that along with the ongoing growth along our journey of faith, one of the greatest blessings of our "double belonging" is that we have the gift of twice as many precious friends in Christ!

Blest be the tie that binds

Our hearts in Christian love;

The fellowship of kindred minds

Is like to that above.

Before our Father's throne

We pour our ardent prayers;

Our fears, our hopes, our aims, are one,

Our comforts and our cares.

We share our mutual woes,

Our mutual burdens bear;

And often for each other flows

The sympathizing tear.

When we asunder part,

It gives us inward pain;

But we shall still be joined in heart,

And hope to meet again.

africa--some details

The wonderful director of Mission Doctors Association, Elise Frederick, went on a site visit to Tanzania early last month to evaluate whether a hospital community there might be a good place for us to be stationed.  During her two weeks overseas, we prayed often for her, wondered what she was seeing and thinking, and hoped that she would be able to answer at least some of the questions on our "what is it really like over there?" list.  When the date for her return came and went and we hadn't heard anything that weekend, or for the week after, we almost couldn't stand the anticipation.  And by "we," I really mean "me."  My husband has the patience of a saint and would likely be quite happy still waiting for an update.  Anyone who knows me well, however, must know that I operate not just on a need-to-know basis, but on a need-to-know-right-now thankyouverymuch basis.  Anyway, all that to say, once Elise got over some of her jet lag and reacquainted with her life in the U.S., she and I sat down for a wonderful phone reunion and I learned more than I anticipated about our likely new home for the next three years.  Here are some of the pertinent (and I think interesting) details:

• we will be living among a Benedictine community of brothers and sisters (monks and nuns), roughly two hours from the southeastern coast of Tanzania.  On that campus there is an abbey as well as living quarters, and some shops where the brothers train local people on various trades (woodworking and metallurgy are two that I remember).
• the Benedictine church there is over 106 years old and apparently beautiful and somewhat contemparary in its style and artwork
• because we will live in that community, we will have some exposure to other international volunteers (I'm not sure of the number, but I know that Elise mentioned a family from Sweden and both Dutch and Swiss doctors, and possibly another doctor from the U.S.)
• also because we will be part of the community, we will have access to a swimming hole that is a mile or so up a hill from the hospital.  Swimming?  Really--in Africa?  She said that every afternoon at about 4pm, she'd see a contingent of people heading up the hill, each with a towel under his/her arm, for an afternoon swim. Wow.  Didn't I just say something about Joshua having to hang up his goggles for three years?
• the hospital there is a 300 bed facility with a large range of departments, with a busy outpatient clinic, and serving a wide catchment area.  She mentioned that they somehow manage to treat around 400 patients in that 300 bed hospital.  Clearly, a busy place with many needs.
• she also shared that since Swahili is the national language, MDA would be sending us to language school for six weeks upon our arrival in Tanzania.  That was completely unexpected, but very good news for us all.  We're excited at the opportunity to immerse ourselves with the local population whom we will serve, and we trust that having some fundamentals of the language will go a long way towards helping us truly become a part of that community.
• she described the housing as simple and clean--cinder block walls and cement floors, and she was so excited to share that electricity is reliable and the water is wonderfully clean ("good enough to drink right from the tap!").  That is huge news, as we had been advised earlier that we'd likely need to invest in a water filter for our time there. 
• and most significantly (for me anyway), she shared that there is no primary school in the immediate area.  I've since wondered (and had friends ask) where the children of all the patients and hospital workers and the surrounding community get an education, but all such questions are really moot, in light of the fact that there simply is not a school option for our kids.  Now the old me (that is, really just a year or so ago) would have balked at the fact that I am about to turn into a homeschooling mommy.  The new (and I hope improved) me is honestly kind of excited.  This has been a transformation that has been ongoing for some time now.  Having done lots of reading, asking questions, researching, meeting wonderful examples of both homeschooling parents and children, and attending a great homeschooling conference with my husband this summer--all have worked towards preparing me to not only accept, but to welcome, this new phase.  The kids reactions have been split--Madison is over the moon excited, Joshua is withholding judgement until we get started (but I think secretly kind of pleased), and Caroline hasn't really had the chance to hear or grasp the details.  We know that the options for homeschooling curriculae are seemingly endless, and we've got lots of legwork ahead as we navigate this new course.  But the bottom line is that we are doing this--we're saying yes to the many unexpected challenges and joys, and in return we get much more time with our precious kids, get to take part in their education, and get to serve God in a way that we've not had the opportunity for in the past--and we are thankful for every part in the process.

So, reliable electricity, clean water, a swimming hole up the hill and homeschooling everyday for three years.  All good news, but who could have predicted it?

Many are the plans in a person’s heart, but it is the LORD’s purpose that prevails.

Proverbs 19:21 (NIV)