There is an article in Engage magazine written by somebody that looks a lot like me. Okay. It is me. And, though it may be a surprise to some who know me, the words that populate that particular canvas did not come easily. Like a skittish kitten, they pasted themselves to the corner closet of my mind and stubbornly refused to budge.
I have heard it said that you can live in Hungary without speaking the language.
It’s not what you expect to say when the towel comes off for the initial unveiling.
Nor does one anticipate your 7 year old son answering in the affirmative when you question whether his friend just referred to you as the ‘lady with blue hair’. If memory serves correctly, my friend and colleague, Betsy living in Croatia came to terms with her color by referencing it as ‘midnight blue’.
Midnight blue. Fuchsia. Okay, electric blue. Yes, even vibrant purple. Shocking orange. All, valid and popular color choices for Eastern European hair. Continue reading
Sometimes yesterday seems to catch up and merge
with today. Combines. Tractors. Rolling
wheat fields. Beautiful
golden yellow treasures of time
stored for future generations to wonder.
Time stands still and runs toward
There is a scene in Cheaper By the Dozen when the 7-year old twins are in search and destroy mode. In her final moments of sanity before her head blows up, the movie-mom who has birthed a dozen says in her final pre-blast off warning, “Mom’s losing it.”
Been there. Done that. Numerous times.
Just a moment ago or maybe it was almost 10 years, I had the idea that people might like to follow the unordinary life of a missionary family on furlough. I blogged. At least a little bit. Because when you are an ordinary mom with 4 little girls on a road trip that lasts three months and the most amazing accomplishment in 24 hours is the very ordinary effort to keep them clean, alive, and on a good day, with hair brushed 5 minutes before you walked into the next new church, there was not always time for profound blogging. Sigh. Continue reading
Equipped with one enormous jelly green raffle ticket roll and cute little aprons, round and round we buzzed like the proverbial summer bee at a watermelon fest. ’We’re raising money for a little boy named ‘Cash’ who is sick. Would you like to buy a ticket to help his family?” A few folks swatted us away but most bought a ticket or twenty.
We wrapped up a 4 week stay in Denair, California with a antique car rally on Saturday that Denair Connecting Point Naz hosted for a sick little boy nicknamed Cash. I punched in with the 6:30 AM early bird workers mostly to get first dibs on the breakfast tortillas and coffee. As the community started wandering in, Amanda handed me two aprons, the jelly green raffle role and told me to ‘sell raffle tickets’. Continue reading
Last night we traveled to distant, much loved lands. We broke bread together and re-told the stories of redemption. It is by design that we see Jesus sitting and talking at table over and again. It is by design that the deepest symbols of love are the bread and the wine. And, that is our story. Break bread with someone today.
You get a lot of goodbyes when you go missionary.
Every other summer, we pack our bags and mixed emotions and leave our home for a summer in the States. The odd scorching days become a whirlwind of travel, speaking at churches, fast food, strange beds, long road trips, and great family memories. Along the way, you meet weekend soul mates and then you say goodbye. Continue reading
A new friend of ours admitted that he often skips service when the missionaries come to speak at his church. It sort of falls under the ‘no guilt for not going’ category (my words not his). He didn’t believe me when I told him that I used to do the very same thing.
Even when it gets all gussied up, 98% of the missionary services have similar features. Old school slides that evolved into power point that evolved into video that evolved into youtube videos (click here to see ours made by Lexi Sunberg). There is the foyer display with intriguing accoutrements from foreign lands. Sometimes missionary kids sing but ours threatened to put us up for adoption if we made them. There is the sermon complete with stories of adventure and, nothing is complete without le triomphe final: the missionary prayer card. Continue reading