Brown sugar... and why I don't write

A friend of mine tried to encourage me to write more often. I have had the best of intentions to send pictures, videos and emails in English and Afrikaans. But in reality an email update in one language, every few months is more than I can manage right now. So, this kind friend suggested that I write about what our lives look like, to give an idea of what we do all day and where my time and energy goes. I spoke to another friend, one who lives here, about this and she thought we should all make lists of what we actually do. On those lists would be bizarre things that take incredible amounts of time while being completely unknown to our friends and family back home. So, over the next while I will attempt to give you a glimpse of my daily life. Sometimes I will speak of what Karl is up to, but this will mostly be from my perspective. In our family the communication aspect is my responsibility, so I guess our sparse communication will make more sense then if I share about my life. Also, I am sure that I will sometimes sound whiny. I most probably am. But, we know that the life we live is our choice and we still find joy in it, even when it seems very odd and at times overwhelmingly tiring. 

Yesterday it was my mission to make chocolate cookies. We were going to friends’ house and I was taking dessert. I have a fantastic recipe for Mud Slide Fudge Cookies, which uses egg whites. My fridge is overflowing with egg whites because my daughter can only eat the yolks and I have guilt issues with throwing food out. So, I got the egg whites, cocoa and other ingredients ready, just to find that we are out of honey (one of the few allowed sweeteners on our diet). I decided to cheat and use brown sugar, which when you buy it in the market, is about one step away from cane juice. This would have been a fine idea, if I actually had some ground brown sugar. Turns out that all that was in my cupboards was a solid block, which is the traditional way of selling it. So there I was, chopping pieces of brown sugar off with my cleaver. A simple task turned into an ordeal. All this I was trying to accomplish with my toddler around my legs, sticking his little fingers in my cookie dough. In the background my daughter complains that I haven’t played with her in “days and days” and that she is very bored. The dishes had to wait until this morning and are still not all done... and now I have to go make dinner. We have joked about the blocks of sugar since when I first came to China (it tastes like black Wilson Toffees, by the way), but I didn’t think then that I would still be hacking away at it thirteen years later. 

So much has changed here, gotten easier and more convenient, but here in the “Wild West with Cell Phones” we still have some progress to make. All that to say that there are some things that take more time here than they would back in our home countries (paying the water bill can take a whole afternoon, and sometimes needs a follow-up trip). It is just how life is. But it leaves less time for other things, like e-mail and blog updates… and doing those in two languages. So, if you haven’t heard from us in a while, or are upset because I only ever write in English these days, please forgive me. I was hacking away at brown sugar.   

Learning to live loved

This morning while Karl and I were praying, I became so very aware of the love of Jesus.

Anyone who knows us even just a little, knows that we are not “super spiritual”, if that is the right term. We don’t pour over the Bible for hours on end every day, we don’t pray constantly and we definitely don’t walk in submission to the Holy Spirit in everything we do… and we don’t “feel” His presence with us very often. I personally am also not always gushing with love and adoration for Jesus. I read books like Brother Lawrence’s or Watchman Nee’s and they often make me feel pretty stupid and inadequate. Not the fault of the books or authors, just my own insecurities and habit of comparison. But this morning it was just there. His love. Just pure and true and believe me, not on any account of my own. I woke up grumpy and mad. Ezra had a bad night of waking constantly (and when I say waking constantly, I don’t mean once or twice, I mean 7 or 8 times in one night). I am also mad at someone who seriously harmed and slandered our family (of course all in the name of Christ and His love) and woke up with vengeance in my heart and a complete lack of desire to forgive. So, before the kids got out of their pajamas I had already yelled at the both of them more than once. We are sleeping in our living room, which is a whole different blog post, but suffice it to say that it does not do much for my attitude to have a chaotic house. I stumbled into our moldy, freezing kitchen, had a cup of tea and a cup of instant coffee, because we are out of the real stuff and we haven’t made the trek to the market to restock yet. So, tired and grumpy we huddled by the fire and decided to pray while we wait for morning to kick in. And then Jesus just… I don’t know… showed up? I know He is always present and always the same, but He just stepped into the chaos of a Monday morning and made me experience His love. It was pretty fantastic. And then, through this, I realized again what I often confess – that it is all about knowing God. Seriously. That life is a journey to bring us to understanding that we are the siblings of the First Born. That when Paul says that we are fellow heirs, it is less heady theology than just plain old truth that uneducated people like me can grasp, and LIVE! I HAVE A NEW HEART! A pure heart. A heart that actually desires God, who is my real Father. Not just positionally or “adopted” or whatever, but my real, true Father.  All of the Life that resurrected Jesus is in me. Really, completely in me. Craziness! Now that is Good News.

So, wonderfully, mysteriously, the Holy Spirit breathed freshness into my heart. Forgiveness seemed so simple and freedom so logical. And I fell in love with my kids and my life again. And I remembered that nothing we can accomplish, nothing we are part of has any value other than knowing Jesus. For real. That it all amounts to nothing. We are not driven to serve because we are saved; because so many people have never heard of Jesus and are doomed; because hordes are starving; because people get trafficked and exploited and someone should do something; or because we owe it to God. We serve because we love. And we love because He first loved us. Yes, I know all of that is in the Bible, plain to see. I needed the Holy Spirit to make it alive in my heart. For me, this means that I am leaving behind obligation and the yoke of performance. It is a constant journey for me, so you will hear me say that again. If I don’t feel like serving or caring, I will not carry the burden of “must” but ask Him to remind me again that I want to. To remind me again that He loves me so, to remind me that Jesus is my brother and I have a new, beautiful heart. And in spite of my fear that I will forget, He did say that this is the Holy Spirit’s job. 

Here is our new prayer card photo, we have prints for anyone who wants one or I can email it to you.

A Traveling Circus

I wrote this two weeks ago but did not get an opportunity to post it. We did delay our travel plans but still got to see almost everyone we wanted to see in the Seattle area. We still have a lot of traveling and visiting to do, so most of what I wrote still applies. And at the moment getting to sit down and write something happens rarely, so why waste a perfectly good, mostly finished post.

The day is halfway and my children are watching a DVD. Again. I am scrambling to pack clothes, sort through our foodstuff and make sure that I have toys and snacks somewhere that I can reach it. See, we are on our way again. This time we are heading to the west coast of the US. Except that there is a tremendous amount of snow everywhere on every road and we don’t really feel comfortable driving in these conditions with our children. This is the only week-end in which we can see a very dear friend of ours. He is an old China hand as well and is planning to drive up to Seattle to see us. If we get there. So, while Karl runs some last errands (we hope) before we leave for the coast, I shoveled snow for the first time in my life and yelled at each of my children numerous times already. I hate traveling. Really, I do. I hate having to try and get ready, with all of our dietary restrictions and consequent food boxes. I hate the long time in the car with my children complaining, crying or shrieking at the top of their lungs. I hate having to stay in a new place every four nights. And as much as I am blessed by seeing different people every day and catching up on all that happened in the past three years, I do not enjoy having to navigate conversations while keeping my kids from destroying the house of our host, because yet again they are not sure what the boundaries of this new place are. And besides the boundary issue, they just act up in general. Look, my children are probably wilder than the average American child, what with growing up in the Wild West, I realize that. But, they are not brats. And when we travel, they act like brats. They throw tantrums, are purposely disobedient, cry, scream, whine and speak disrespectfully… or more so than what they usually do. Some days they are sweet and charming, because they both like making new friends, but not being stable does take a toll on them.  I try to keep perspective and not cave under my perceived pressure of other people’s judgment. I try to remember that my worth as a person and parent is not dependent on my children’s behavior and I try to not flip out myself. But some days I crack a little. Today is one of those days. So now I am taking a minute to breathe, drink some tea, write and get perspective. I pray that Father will take my heart and remind me that I am not a raving, yelling, angry lunatic, but that I am a loving, caring mother. I need His help to calm my frazzled nerves and be the calming presence my children need to help them through this transition to the new place, new people and new experiences. I need to thrive and rest, today, in this craziness so that my children can thrive.

So, if we visit you and my children’s behavior leaves much to desired, please be patient with them. They miss our home. They miss their Nana and Papa’s home. They are transitioning.  And if you can spare a prayer for them, please do.