Soccer Tournament in Kenya and a Coloring Book in Albania: You Just Never Know

We were beginning our Bible study time in our circle on a Tuesday morning a few weeks back, sharing a highlight from the previous week.
It was my turn.

Kigen talking to the children

I shared how the soccer tournament began in Kenya we would soon be part of, and we were able to talk to our friend, Kigen, about it.  I told the ladies how over 250 kids came from all over the Eldoret area to be part of this tournament, and one of the teams was a team of street children.  They were there wearing their worn clothes, their only possessions, but they showed up.
I glanced across the circle and saw one of my new friends wiping her eyes.
I continued.
This tournament, I said, is an opportunity for these boys that they don't ever have, and it's been an encouragement to our hearts as we prepare to see the value and purpose.
When I was finished, my teary friend spoke up.
"Can I say something?" she asked.  "That was me. I was one of those children."
All of our hearts waited for her next words.

"For me, it was in the slums of Albania when nuns from Italy came to our country and offered me a meal and a coloring book.  I came because I was hungry, and I found Jesus.  They were so kind.  You never know when you're making a difference.  God can use anything."  
It was my turn to wipe my eyes as her words sunk into the depths of my heart.
She's right.
God can use anything.  We just need to sometimes show up.

5 Days 'Til We Return

Twelve years ago we boarded a KLM flight from Nairobi via Amsterdam to Los Angeles.  My burgeoning seven-month pregnant belly made the 22 hours of plane travel slightly uncomfortable.  We left the roads of Kenya thinking we would finish grad school and return after the baby was born and settle in our hut and resume life as we knew it.  However, plans changed as they often do, and we were shifted into a new plan and a new journey.  Since we've talked about going back for so long, I'm still pinching myself!

My Little Packing Helper

In a few days, I will once again walk the plane's aisles and the roads of Kenya.  This time with a one-year-old, a nine-year-old, that 12-year-old that once took the journey as he grew inside of me, and my husband again by my side.  Our first years of marriage were spent simply in a hut, and much of our habits and foundations was established during that time.  It's been a dream to take our children back to where it all began for us. 

Although it will only be a fortnight in country, we want our children to understand this trip is about something bigger than themselves.  Our society puts much emphasis on "what can I get?", or "I worked hard, so I deserve that" instead of "how can I give?", and sometimes that buds its ugly head in us and in our children.  But it's in true giving that we actually are the ones that get the most.  It seems paradoxical, but there's never been a giver who's said, "wish I didn't give."  The rewards are intangible.  It's the right thing. That's why Proverbs is slathered in verses about giving, not getting (or whining when it doesn't go our way).  It's already been a joy to see our children begin to understand the meaning of giving, and we pray it's a continual lifelong journey for all of us. 

"One person gives freely, yet gains even more."-Proverbs 11:24a

        

You Get Back Up

State gymnastics meet 2015.

A year's worth of practice culminates.

Sparkles on leo. 

Hair in bun.

Here we go.  

The first rotation begins, and our nine-year-old pixie looks sharp on her floor routine.  The score comes up: her PR for the year.  We see her quietly beam.

The second rotation begins, and she launches herself down the blue runway, onto the springboard and over the red vault.  Looks good (to our eyes).  The second vault looks a bit stronger and lands

 farther on the pad below.  Just a small step, and she presents to the judges.  The score comes up: another PR.  All is going well.

But all can change so quickly.

The third rotation begins, and she warms up on the uneven bars with her team.  She looks confident.  Excited.  Determined.  She's practiced this routine thousands of times. They raise the green flag.  She presents. 

Looks at the bar.  Completes her first kip better than she ever has.  Squat-on looks great.  Great leap to the high bar. 

And.Then.Her.Hands.Slip.

I see the momentary panic of "this has never happened before" look, she regroups in less than a millisecond, and somehow finishes her routine.  But she misses her second kip entirely.  A full 1.2 deduction.  Ouch.  She knows. She presents to the judges on her dismount, runs to her coaches, and the dam swells behind her eyes.  Her coaches give her encouragement and the hug that she so desperately needs (and I wish I could jump over the barriers and give one to her!).  One coach walks with her to get water and away from it all for a moment.  Breathe.  Regroup.  

She can't pack up her bags.  She can't quit.  She can't.  She's part of the team.  She knows she has to finish.  Plus, when you fall, you get back up.  Every time.  Every.Single.Time.

And.She.Still.Has.Beam.

Matt and I look at each other and our hearts sink for her.  We really don't care what the final results are as long as she tries her best and never gives up.  That's what we always tell her.  We absolutely mean it.  We put the pen and score sheet down.  That doesn't matter.  At all.  We didn't want to do math anyways on a Sunday!

I turn to Matt: "I guess we'll soon find out what she's made of."  I already know.  I know this girl is disciplined, determined, and never gives up.  But I also know up until this point she's never had to face true adversity like this in a meet setting. 

The final rotation: four inch wide piece of wood.  My stomach is in knots.  Final words from her

coach (and we all need coaches in our lives to give us direction and who know the "beam" a little better than we do). Her turn starts.  Judges in blue blazers with white shirts staring with pen in hand, ready to tally deductions for any bobble.  She presents and is on her way.  Steady.  Sure.  Clean.  Last handstand hold.  Dismount.  Finished.  I exhale for the first time in 65 seconds.

I'm so proud of her, and I realize that this day she is my teacher.  My baby just exemplified a lesson that many adults have a hard time swallowing.

That's why...it is so much sweeter and means so much more when the gold medal is placed around her neck. Balance Beam State Champion.  Amazing.

If my nine-year-old-four-foot-and-change-daughter can learn this life skill at this moment, she will be better off.  Shouldn't we all learn this?  Life doesn't always go your way.  I'm convinced it's what you do in the moments when it doesn't go your way that define you more than the moments that do go your way. Today was bigger than a gym meet...a life lesson for my heart. 

Dear Middle School Boy...I Love You!

My Children....Look outward and upward.  Good things are upon you this year.

It's near midnight on the eve before the first day of school.  Three children are asleep.  Our morning will come quickly.   

One of my babies will soon be crawling.  And I'm beginning to swallow that reality.

Another of my babies will be in 4th grade.  Miss Responsible has her morning to-do list ready, clothes laid out for the week, will be awake on her own, be dressed and ready to go.

My eldest baby (yes, he will always be my baby!) will enter MIDDLE SCHOOL!  Yesterday, he was learning to crawl, or so it seems. Tomorrow.  Middle.  School.  When you're a mom, your heart goes wherever your kids go.  So, tomorrow my heart will be going back to middle school.  And, Sweet Child, this is what I want you to know....

 

Be strong.

Cam on a zipline...soaring!

Be courageous.

Do not be afraid.  

Know the Lord is with you wherever you go.  

Open your eyes to those around you.

Choose your friends wisely.

Look outward.  

If someone needs a friend: be one (but you've got to notice first, so keep those eyes open).   

Soar.   

Try.  

Give.

Make the most of each day.

Tomorrow a new chapter begins.  One that's come quicker than I ever thought it would.  One that we embrace as we watch your excitement.  And, yes, whether you like it or not, you WILL find a note from me in your lunch.  I am your mom.  I love you.  I would do anything for you.  And I can't wait to hear about your day.    

"Oh, be careful little eyes what you see.  Oh, be careful little ears what you hear.  For the Father up above is looking down in love.  Oh be careful little eyes what you see and ears what you hear."  I sing this tonight over a little baby that doesn't yet know the meaning, for a 4th grader figuring out her place, and I sing it for a 6th grader entering a new season.  Same song.  Same truth. 

As the clock strikes midnight...here we go! 

A Broken Down Car and Humbled Help

That's smoke coming out of the hood of my car.  I've gotta get off now!  I thought to myself as I quickly tried to merge to the right on a 90 degree overpass on the busy freeway.  
The smoke became thicker and darker as a brief opening allowed me to veer to the shoulder and out of danger.  Like a volcano ready to spew, we didn't know if flames were going to follow the smoke.  My two older kids hurried to the embankment while I flew (literally it felt like!) to get Gracie out of the car and with her siblings.  As we stood distanced from our smoking vehicle, I saw a vehicle stopped going the opposite direction, and a man on his cell phone.  I dialed 911, and the dispatcher already knew of the situation, which meant the fire truck was already on its way.  I sent a somewhat calm text to Matt who was in an important meeting at that exact moment (and we were all okay, so there was no reason to panic him) to alert him of the situation.
Fortunately, the dark smoke did not come from or turn into flames inside the vehicle, and within a few long minutes it dissipated.  While two of the firemen helped me with the situation, two other firemen entertained and talked with my three children in the embankment.

"How are you?" one fireman asked me.
"Good.  I mean, well, yeah, I really am good," I answered.
The minute my mouth opened I thought about my response.  Was I really good?  Or did the answer just come out of my mouth without thinking?  The circumstances weren't necessarily fun: on the side of a road with an almost car fire in the hot sun and three kids wondering what was going on.  Yet, I truly from the deepest recesses of my heart was good.  My car was dead, but at the end of the day it's just a car.

In that instant, I started to see the blessings in the situation...
*My babies were safe.
*The thick traffic broke for a moment, and I was able to get over in time.
*Help had come in the form of four firemen, one ODOT worker, and one tow truck driver who were all focused on how to help safely get us to where we needed to be.
*As I was talking about walking to a safer location in order for my mother-in-law to pick us up there, the ODOT worker said, "Hmm, funny...I just looked at this location two days ago to see if there was a fence by those office buildings.  There's not, so that's a safe way to go."  I told him it wasn't coincidence at all!   
*We ended up getting a ride in the big, red fire truck to Kaylee's gym a mile away where my amazing mother-in-law was coming to rescue us, and you should have seen the look of adventure in the kids' faces as they climbed the tall stairs of the fire engine to take their seats.

As I tucked Cameron in bed tonight and said prayers by his bedside, we talked about the importance of how detours in life can either derail us or challenge us to see the good in spite of them.  We are humbled with this detour on so many levels for so many reasons.  And tonight we hold each other even closer.  Blessings in disguise. 

One Year Later: If I Knew Then, What I Know Now...

It's been one year.  Already.  So much has changed. So much has happened.  So much new.  So much hard.  So much good.  So much.  

One year ago, March 10, 2014, we left California and crossed the Oregon border to green grass, yellow daffodils springing from the fertile ground, and Mt. Hood's grandeur welcoming us. 

Here is my top 15 things of "If you had told me on March 10, 2014 that on March 10, 2015...
#15: You have 20 minutes to write this because a precious baby is sleeping and will wake up soon!
#14: Your idea of planning and trying to map out what would happen, well, just throw that out the window.
#13: You're the newbie, nobody knows you, but strangers will begin conversations (and you'll have to start them too) on the ball field, at church, or other places, and they'll become some of the sweetest friends.
#12: There will be honest times when you say, "It would have been easier if we'd just stayed" and question it all.
#11: Your children (and you) will miss their California friends dearly, but in time they will be invited to birthday parties and play dates and settle well.  They will choose their friends wisely, and all that time you spent worrying about them and their transition, well, you should have spent your time on something else.
#10: You'll become even more grateful for family.
#9: Your family pet, the one that helped you all through the transition, will unexpectedly and sadly die, but another furry friend will brighten your home and two children's hearts.
#8: The weather you were worried if you could handle, well, it turned out to be not so bad.  In fact, it's absolutely beautiful and the fresh air and colors make you feel alive.
#7: You'll look out your living room window (you know, the one you thought "are we ever going to

find our home?") to see your children playing and laughing with the neighbor kids, pink cotton candy cherry blossoms lining the street, purple crocus finding their way out of the hard soil to smile upon all that pass by, and you'll know it was worth the wait.
#6: The school the kids descended into in the 11th hour would be perfect for them.
#5: You'll find others that have moved here too and seem to have a soft spot and understanding, bonding you for life.
#4: You'll receive packages for your new baby from California addresses, humbly reminding you that just as you remember and miss those you love and left they remember you too.
#3: Your husband will take you by the hand and help you process through the laughter, tears and fears, and give you the courage to pursue your dream of writing a novel.
#2: You'll be glad you said "YES!" to this crazy, wild adventure that has challenged, stretched, and grown you and your family over the past 365 days.  
#1: You'll look into your newborn daughter's big blue eyes as she gives you a gummy smile in return,

and be abundantly grateful that God's plan are bigger and better than yours...
If you had told me all that, I would have laughed hard, wondered if I'd make it through at times, but still said "yes!"! 

As the unknown loomed over our heads and faith was all we had, I'm glad we took that step and trusted the Lord to carry us through each step. His mercies are new every morning, great is His faithfulness.
My 20 minutes has turned into two days (my new reality with a newborn)...I'm off to hold a little blessing that reminds me of the good things that come when we trust and leap!