Finding Faith in the Battle

The emotions of packing up and leaving have made my mind raw, and I’ve had random crying spells sprinkled in among times of profound gratitude. There’s nothing quite like loss to make you appreciate what God has gifted. And there really is a sense of loss—a counselor once explained that it’s called “Ambiguous Grief” because no one has actually died and in theory we can always come back and see people again. It’s not the same as when my dad died back in 2016. But we all know it won’t be exactly the same ever again, even when we do come back, and until then Kenya is really far away and FaceTime is not the same as face time. But I digress.  After an amazing week in Oregon, we are now back in Central Ohio for our last hurrah, hanging out with our adult kids. And when people say adult kids are the best, they aren’t kidding! Anya and Everett are killing this adulting thing, hosting Omara and Isaac and feeding us all for the week. Anya even woke up early and made a gluten-free lunch out o...

So I discovered I still had some lurking 'premeditated resentments,' and I didn't even realize it until it was too late! I assumed that setting up house would be easier in America than it had been in Kenya. I assumed that emails telling me to pay my bill would pay my bill if I obeyed and clicked HERE. I assumed that hot water heaters were electric. I assumed that $80 in kooky-sounding flours would allow me to bake again, gluten-free. Instead, we discovered the sellers had just cut the hoses close to the tap when they couldn't get the old washing machine tubes off. At midnight, after a week of VBS, Chad said, "Let me hook the washer up real quick for you." We all know those are famous last words! The twist of a wrench, the snap of metal, the spray of hot water, and Chad's calm voice calling out, "Miriam...we're doing this again!" And the saddest part was, I knew exactly what he meant. I gathered up the same towels, which I had wash...

During a time when it has seemed that life was put on hold, someone suddenly skipped over the 'play' button and went right to 'fast-forward'. On Friday we drove to Ohio, on Sunday the church voted resoundingly in favor of calling Chad as Pastor to Crossing Community Church , and on Monday we went into contract on a new home near the church. We had driven a car-full of packed suitcases and boxes up to Ohio, in what I like to call optimistic planning...but I refused to unpack the car until the vote came in--I may be optimistic, but I'm no fool! Monday, I drove back to North Carolina, Chad followed on Wednesday, and on Friday I flew out for Kenya, to pack up or sell every earthly belonging we had that wasn't in either the pathetically few boxes now sitting in a garage in Ohio, or sitting in a different garage in Oregon. The trip was uneventful, other than a few funny anecdotes appreciated most by those who fly frequently. The TSA man who had to specially x-ray...

I intentionally set my expectations low for my 40th, given that we are in the midst of high-stress transition, far from family and close friends. When things started out so good (sleep, flowers, chocolate caramels, lunch with new friends...I mean, really!) I felt down-right chipper and let it go to my head. Then the phone call came. All you parents with children who struggle at school know the dreaded phone call. Kids were in his face pushing him about why he wasn't doing his work. He ignored them. They pushed harder. The teachers did nothing. He responded with a "fun-fact" that was interpreted as a threat. The principal agreed that it wasn't really a threat, but he "had to" give at least a 1-day suspension. We weren't upset at our poor kid--we gave hugs and love and reassurance. But it didn't matter. The 12-eyed beast otherwise-known-as-shame had already set up house, and it managed to suck us all into that place of tension and angst. I was a...

The amazing thing about life is that it keeps on going, no matter what it leaves in it's wake. Peaceful blissful times move on; confusing painful times move on. My big 4-0 came and went in the middle of everything else going on. It seemed strange to be celebrating when so much is uncertain, but it's not every day you become a quadragenarian! I enjoyed the first half of the day very much; sleeping in while Chad got the kids to school, having unexpected chocolate and flowers arrive from coworkers, and a lunch with sweet new friends. Then school got out and life whacked me back into reality. I had no idea that asking my kids for a group photo with them would be such an unreasonable request! But there it is again. Bedtime finally arrived, life moved on. And I got a chance to celebrate again on Saturday with U-pick strawberries with happy kids and a good friend, and again on Monday when the kids went back to school and Chad and I could have a real date at The Cheesecake Factory!...

"Please help our son pull himself together so we can be back to Kenya!" It was a heart-wrenching prayer that started back on December 5, 2015. Counselors had just informed us that he needed more than we could get in Nairobi. It triggered a road of bewilderment and step-by-step following through some of the most twisted and confusing paths that we've ever walked. Chad cried out, one day, "We just played hard all season, and now we're being benched for the big game! It makes no sense!" "Please, give us the tools to help our son thrive in Kenya!" The crooked path took us to Raleigh, NC, a place where we had zero connections. A place where God provided a community, great schools, great counselors, and healing in areas we didn't even realize we were sick. It helped us cry out an equally heart-wrenching prayer that showed our growing understanding of our son's needs; understanding that he wasn't acting out of spite or purpose or sabotag...

I re-read my latest blog, The Crooked Path , and wondered if I did a disservice to the missionary struggle by not "showing my work" from the months leading up to this point! The last thing I want to imply is that we're trying to decide if we want to go back to Kenya, or suggest that we're asking God if He's released us from Kenya because it's hard there and we're done. Our hearts are in Kenya. We love the people. We love our jobs. We love our co-workers. We love being given a part to play in what God wants to accomplish there. In some ways, it feels like we were MADE for it! Of course there are hard parts about it--have I ever mentioned the traffic?--but there are also so many blessings and gifts, and it's home . So why the crooked path? Why the questions? Do you remember reading my thoughts on calling and how it was time to put my money where my mouth is? It's been awhile, for sure. For those who aren't sitting on the couch hanging o...

There are times when all the signs point towards intervention, and yet God clearly tells someone to stay put. I've seen it happen, and I've supported it, and I've praised God when He goes against conventional wisdom. It happens with financial 'signs,' medical 'signs,' and everything in between. I know. That seems to go against what I said just a few days ago . But here's the truth: as much as I rage against this reality...life isn't a cook-book, or a flow-chart, or any other simple color-by-number endeavor. It's never as black and white as the words on the screen make it appear. We can't make snap decisions that remove a vibrant relationship as we discern whether circumstances are an opportunity for faith in staying, or faith in changing. Flashback. ( Ladies down south--since you're now my coworkers and you probably don't know this story, go ahead and skip ahead now to save yourselves from retroactive heart palpitations!) Omara...

As medical coordinator, I spend a fair amount of time talking with people about calling. Sounds strange, does it? Not out here! Not when overseas workers' ability to do their jobs depends directly on events outside of their control, and when we are committed to affirm God's sovereignty in everything. There is no separation of work and life here--it's all one big circle of action and interaction as our lives minister and our ministry affects our lives in a fully integrated way. When it works, it really works. When it's hard, it's really hard. It's probably how it's supposed to be, how it worked with Jesus and all, but it's not very American. Not with separation of church and state, which so often means separation of public and private; separation of Sunday and Monday-Saturday. We chafe against it sometimes, over here. And when things happen which threaten our 'calling' we cry out, "How can this be? I was CALLED here, to do this!" An...

Tragedy is raging around us, and we're not in the very middle of any of it. But we've got court-side seats to a lot of it. Flames of others' heartbreak and suffering seem to lick at my feet at all times. Medical crises. Home invasions. Mental breakdowns. Violence. Al-Shabab. Threats. Violence. More violence. And I know that it shouldn't overwhelm me; I am only a minor player in each event. But to be honest, it does. It grieves me, and tires me, and builds up, straw upon straw , on this tired camel. I was on a business trip last week to an area near Ethiopia, and let me just give a shout-out to those working in that HEAT. Oh. My. Goodness!!!! It was a great trip, but a lot of work and a lot of sweat. Literally. Lots of sweat. I was there when the massacre occurred in Garissa, so I watched in remote horror from my hotel room. NOT AGAIN. Please, Jesus, not again. A couple of bales of straw fell as I saw those horrible photos from the aftermath. And then I de...

I have lots of friends who home-school; most out of necessity overseas in locations without other options, but many who do so out of conviction or preference or a combination of it all. Many of my friends thrive home-schooling, and some struggle. Home-school...Lots of reasons--lots of reactions--lots of opinions. I never wanted to go there. In fact, by the second day of my first child's KG--when she had no desire to let me show her how to make a capital letter A, I knew that if I ever tried to home-school my children, one of us wouldn't survive; jury was still out on which of us would succumb first, but there was no doubt that one would. When we answered the call to come overseas, we made sure it was a location that had a good schooling option for the children. One that did not involve me being mom and teacher. Does that sound like I was putting limits on God??? That's exactly what I was doing. So 3 years later, after being challenged by David Platt's Radical ...

I have a love-hate relationship with Country music. If you don't remember my last emotional foray into it, you can catch up  here . Country songs can be so great--they tell the story so much better than other genres. Or at least, more clearly. You can follow the plot--as opposed to, say, U2. I love U2's Trying to Throw Your Arms Around the World , because it resonates with me, in theory. But honestly--tell that story. You've been working all night; you're tired and beaten; you're far from home; (I'm right there with you, Bono.) Then you dream of the Dali Lama at a grocery store hugging a woman and driving a car through a needle (an updated reference to the rich getting into heaven? I don't know!) Then you gotta make your faith see (ok) and a woman needs a man like a fish needs a bike (I've had that thought before, but...nope, you lost me). So back to Country music, where the lyrics may be depressing but at least they make sense! To Chad's relief...