stormy. {day 25}

By Saturday, October 25, 2014 0 0

stormy outside, stormy inside, but peace surrounds.

may you rest in the arms of your savior, dear one. may you be still in the presence of your God. may you walk lightly while your Master shoulders your burdens and may you live bravely even when he calls you to walk in the shadows.

may the beauty of the King amaze you, daughter. might you allow him to sing over you? may you accept the gifts from the throne, princess, and may you love the saints from the overflow.

may the strength of our Lord embolden you, missionary. may you honor him with your words. may you speak of good news and may you celebrate the victory with those who believe.

31 Stories of Preparing for the Mission Field at Seasoned with Salt //

Self Care {Day 24}

By Friday, October 24, 2014 1 0


Forgot to breathe today. Took too many steps in the wrong direction, let the weight on my shoulders press too hard, heard so much crying and whining and misplaced the mama filter sometime last week so it rang in my ears even while they slept. When I’m overwhelmed I forget to just take a moment. Even thankfulness, that beautiful soul-saving habit, I didn’t drop it but I didn’t pick it up either so it just flailed like a bug on its back and I flailed too. That tree is so beautiful I can’t listen to this crying any more. Thank you God for this amazing soup and salad dinner and the strength to make it my children have refused food for four days and they keep crying they’re hungry. I am so tired and stressed out and I need a full night’s sleep you have met all my needs today, Lord. 

It goes on. I let the stress build, I battled with my own strength and lost and I was a sore loser. The sickness, the whining, the minutiae, the to-do list, the waiting on God all piled high on a china saucer.

I couldn’t even swallow my spoonful of sugar. Good things, Holy things: my naptime devotion, a marriage video and encouragement in the waiting room, I just couldn’t process. That’s when I wondered if I might not make it through the day and then the kids were done with sleeping way too early and it wasn’t even lunch time and I started stopping breathing.

Girly watched a preview of a new book about marriage on my lap and she asked about a naked distended belly so I told her. I told her that we always have food when she’s hungry. We always eat and we can always feed her good food but not every baby has food. I told her every baby cries when she’s hungry but not every mama has food to give. It hurt in my heart and my belly for those babies but it also hurt the stone in my chest that my little one is constantly asking for food and I let that show a little too.

And then while they played I read the news and there it was: my children are growing up in a world where women might as well not be human beings. Where the powers that be condemn evil actions but don’t do anything to stop them…and I can’t either. How? How can I be American and live here and have all these precious goods while the Islamic State exists and takes all those precious goods? And how can I be mom to this fussy baby when nothing I offer him soothes?

Breath. I tried, here, to get a grip. I offered a little snack to the littlest and a little video to the biggest and I turned on the TV and even though only one channel comes in – we get ONE channel in a world where you can choose the voice of your news based on your political views – I see bodies and headlines because another child shot his classmates at school.

Husband arrives and I am filling the sink with doing but all he can hear is my sobbing because I am done. Done. Undone and totally out of control and on my knees on the dirty kitchen floor whispering His name and I know He’s here with me and with those precious students and with those women in chains but I can’t calm down and I still can’t calm down this crying baby who needs a vocabulary and probably another nap.

Later. The hot water heater closet on our deck is clean and organized, the water table sanitized and winterized, old paint cans prepared to die their slow death and I am breathing again and a sweet friend, who sort of specializes in self care, is picking me up in an hour. She comes and the baby is sleeping and the husband will take care of dinner and I will feel like a human being again.

Later later, I am creating a self-care plan. I’ve been reminded more than once that if I don’t do it here, I won’t do it on the field. Even work. If I don’t serve Jesus here, I won’t serve Him there and then who will I be serving? And if I don’t take care of myself here, I won’t do it there either so I’ve got to figure out how to say “I need some Rosie time” in Spanish too.

{I have taken a class about restoring peace to body and soul, and I have tools for recovering physical, mental and spiritual balance that have changed my life for the better, truly, but this week it just never crossed my mind to engage those tactics. That’s how far gone I was.}

31 Stories of Preparing for the Mission Field at Seasoned with Salt //

A Legacy {Day 21}

By Tuesday, October 21, 2014 0 0

Before and after the Israelites make their escape from Egypt (don’t believe your Bible map for a second. It’s based on loose theories, old archeology and church “tradition,” and check this out instead), God gives detailed instructions for how to celebrate the Passover and the Feast of Unleavened Bread. The point is to remember how God brought His people out of Egypt with a strong arm and pass that legacy on to every generation after.

This week I have been spending time remembering God’s faithfulness in my life; how he has delivered me, brought me out of difficult circumstances, and provided when the situation seemed impossible. I have needed these memories because I find myself needing God’s strong arm again.

This is the legacy I want to pass on to my children: not grumbling, anxiety and fearful whining, but hanging the faithfulness of God between my eyes (Exodus 13:16) if that’s what it takes, and celebrating how God already delivered us through His son Jesus Christ (this is enough!) and how He will bring us through our trials for His glory.

31 Stories of Preparing for the Mission Field at Seasoned with Salt //

One Moment at a Time {Day 20}

By Monday, October 20, 2014 0 0

Susanna and I are sick. Austin is going through some kind of growth spurt that involves a lot of fussing and whining during the day, a lot of waking up crying at night, and a general out of character grumpiness. Today I paid ($50 and a bunch of insurance card stress) to find out that nothing is technically wrong, even though clearly, in his world, everything is wrong. Am I the only mom who uses Urgent Care when it seems Urgent that someone else Care?

I stood in the middle of my messy living room today, baby on my hip, toddler at my feet, crumbs and toys everywhere, and cried because I was tired of my current circumstances and we don’t have groceries for dinner (that was kind of the last straw).

Although I’ve done that more since becoming a mother, it’s always been my MO in OW (overwhelm).

A good cry, although a terrible idea when one is already stuffed up, seems to help me. Cuz I picked myself up (figurative), picked up the toys (literal), and created a totally new dinner out of old food.

Today it was a good reminder that even when all my dreams come true and I’m standing in the small living room of our Espartales Norte apartamento, I might still have a good cry over my circumstances.

(But at least shopping for dinner on a daily basis will be normal).

31 Stories of Preparing for the Mission Field at Seasoned with Salt //