Finding Faith in the Battle

We just finished up a delicious backyard BBQ with all the Pumpellys here in Richmond. Burgers, sweet corn, watermelon, pasta salad...yum! Yesterday we had our last Texas Roadhouse. The day before, our last Mexican.  That's what happens as we near the end of our time here in the US. Every thing we do becomes our last, it seems. But you know what we're doing that isn't our last? Packing.  I have now officially packed our blasted trunks 4 times. Every time they're exactly 49 pounds; it's just what makes up the 49 pounds that keeps changing. Most recently, we realized we needed to pack LESS of the gluten free items we had planned to take (they're heavy), and we needed to pack a better variety of each person's clothes in each trunk (in case one gets lost between here and Kenya).  Tomorrow, the 28th, we wash the last load of laundry, pack the last minute items, and roll up the toiletry bag. It's leaving day! There were days I stressed our work permit wouldn...

  We are officially half-way done with our Orientation here in Richmond, Virginia. I have cried hot tears. Made new friends. Been humbled and challenged and corrected and encouraged by God through the teachings and the incredibly gifted trainers. I came into this 7 weeks not particularly excited, but figuring it would be good for my kids and I might be able to contribute to others’ growth some. I have come face to face with how much growth I still have need of, and how good this has been for me too. When we first arrived, Omara and Isaac both spent some nights crying themselves to sleep as the reality of leaving hit in a new way. The internet is slower, the rules are different, the schedule is pretty controlled, and friends are far away. But Omara has thrown herself into new friendships with great gusto, and we rarely see her after breakfast until bedtime now! She has a group of girls around her age, plus a few older kids and lots of young adults who are simply phenomenal at ment...

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...

 Chad tells me that a concerned friend took him aside to check in on me. “It almost sounded like she was serious when she said she loved moving. What’s up with that?!?” So Mark, this one is for you.  Yes. I said I love moving. Remember—the adventure, the newness, the starting over with all the possibilities open? SO much fun. But I learned something new this past few weeks that came to a head just yesterday. I love the IDEA of moving. I do NOT, in fact, love the logistics of moving.  In fact, I hate it. I despise it. You might go as far as saying I abhor it.  Let me count the ways. 1. I hate putting my stuff on FB marketplace for the world to see, only to have obvious scammers immediately beg to buy it if only I’ll give them my number for their husband to arrange details of pick up. I still haven’t figured out their angle, but after a few go-arounds, I started immediately recognizing it and telling them sweetly that “trying to scam people is not kind”. They never res...

Picture this... A 14 year old girl from Oregon, smart but insecure. Likable enough, but too reserved to really be cool. Later voted 'Most Likely to Succeed' A 15 year old boy from Ohio who would choose getting a laugh over getting an A any day of the week. Later voted 'Class Clown'.  That was us, proving that opposites do attract, and that high-school sweet-hearts can last! And it all went down in Kenya, back in the dark ages of 1991-1995, when thank goodness we didn't have social media to document all our shenanigans! We left Kenya when we graduated high school, certain that we would never be back.  After we married in 1998, life has taken us all over: a year in Oregon, seven in Ohio, then a few in Washington state. Off to Malawi, then Kenya, then North Carolina and back to Ohio. In our 25+ years of marriage, we've moved too many times to recall. And can I tell you a secret? One that really exposes my crazy??? I love moving.  For real! It's messy and exhaus...

I started this blog decades ago (!) when we were first headed to Africa with our 2 young children. I anticipated adventures that I would enjoy sharing, and indeed we had all sorts of adventures! We spent 3.5 years in Lilongwe and added 2 kids to our crew. Then we all spent another 5 years in Nairobi, Kenya where we had more adventures--both the good and the hard kind. Our beautiful, adventurous young teen Anya was living her best life there. Our tender reed of a son, Ethan, was not. The demands of school and the loss of friend after friend to mission-life transition almost broke him. Silly little 1st grade Isaac and salty but loving pre-school Omara just went with the flow. And we made the heart-breaking decision to take a leave-of-absence from Kenya. That leave-of-absence turned into resignation as it became clearer that God was directing us to stay in the US to support Ethan. Let me be clear--it was one of the most painful things we have ever done. You can read more about it here ...

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...