Looking for a Church ... Again

Why is finding a church such a difficult process?

When we first moved to the D.C. area, almost three years ago, we spent eight months looking for a home church. We tried every single one that people recommended to us (which were mostly way too big), plus ones we found online (which were mostly too small). In June 2012, we chose a church that was thirty minutes away from us (by car), and called it home for a year. It was a sweet place for us in many regards. After a few months, however, we realized there were some pressing issues that weren't being resolved no matter how hard we tried, and though we hated the idea of 'church-hopping', when we moved house, it made sense to find a new church closer to home.

In July of last year, we began looking for a church within a 15-minute drive from our house, trying all kinds and denominations. We visited Methodist, Lutheran, Pentecostal, and Bible churches. We tried Wesleyan and Vineyard, Presbyterian and Anglican churches. We even tried an 'artsy' church that only had about 20 people at their Taizé service. Despite the uncertainty we faced each Saturday night -- "Where are we going tomorrow?" -- I actually enjoyed and appreciated the diversity of the Church. God's world is so big, and He's made us to be creative and unique people. I'm glad that churches aren't all the same! I found beauty in liturgy, and refreshment in spontaneity; richness in old hymns, and excitement in contemporary music; peace in sharing Communion with a Body I didn't know, and joy in celebrating the world's diversity with a parade of nations.

Ultimately, though, we're called to be part of a particular community, where we can grow our roots and become family with other members. And now a year later, that's what we're still lacking. Six months ago, we had narrowed our choices down to three churches, but in February, decided to try our local church for the first time. Amazingly, it fit many of our criteria and the fact that it was in our own neighborhood was a huge bonus. We attended almost weekly for the past four months, and even got involved in ESL ministry. We really thought and hoped it would be the right fit for us.

Unfortunately we're encountering a few roadblocks and wondering if we've been in the wrong place. 1) They are looking for a new pastor, and in the meantime, other staff members are preaching. We're struggling with the quality of teaching. 2) Even though we've done more than just 'show up' each Sunday morning, people have not been terribly friendly to us. Especially given Steve's time and energy that he's put into ESL classes, we're surprised that no one has wanted to get to know us. It's just expected that he'll keep teaching! 3) We really don't agree with Reformed theology and especially the conservative brand of it (PCA). Personally (more for me than Steve) the traditional format of worship and never getting to hear from women up front will (I think) really wear on me. Since both of us are more Arminian than Calvinist in our theology, Presbyterian churches aren't the greatest fit for us.

So.... last night we decided to try one of our previous "top three" again. This morning we attended United Wesleyan Church, and felt refreshed by the great sermon, enthusiastic worship singing, and amazing conversations afterward. The teaching was vulnerable, relevant and even grabbed our children's attention. How sad we were to hear that their pastor is resigning, though -- yet another church which will be in transition right when we're trying to get *more* settled, not less! It is a small church, (and we were hoping to avoid one quite that small, mostly because our home-schooled kids could really use a good source of friendship) but we'd already decided that small is better for us than big.

Despite its problems, we are wondering if this might have been the right fit for us after all. I remember the very first time we'd tried United, and the tears that had trickled down my cheeks as I'd watched half the pews fill with Africans. I've often longed for a touch of Nigeria here in America; the ladies' vibrantly colored dresses, and all of their dark skin made me think, "I've come home." Just as importantly, the church staff have international experience and hearts that beat for the world. These are folks with whom we feel a real connection (even though we barely know them) and with whom we've had remarkable conversations. This has been hard to find, given Steve's Islamic studies and our interest in true dialogue and friendship with Muslims. Most Christians we've encountered, especially pastoral staff, just don't understand where we're coming from and have a completely different view of how to act towards people of other faiths.

We continue to ponder all these things ... trying to balance theology and teaching and children's ministry and relationships and worship style. Many have said to me, "No church is perfect -- just pick one! You're taking too long!" And yet, we feel like we are choosing a spouse, patiently and prayerfully waiting on God's guidance for the right one. We want to be committed. We want this decision to be "for keeps" if at all possible. We will be here for five more years, Lord willing, and while we know that no church is perfect, we also believe God has a good fit for us. Hoping to settle on it soon....

On Being Fat

I never thought I'd be fat.

I confess that I used to look at overweight people and think, "How did they get like that?" or "Thank goodness that's not me!" The problem of weight seemed so removed from my own life. As a child, I was never skinny, but I think it's safe to say that I was very average-sized. I wasn't the most active kid on the block, but I liked to bike and skate, and even took pleasure from running the mile in 8 min. 48 sec. in fifth grade -- four whole seconds faster than my secret love at the time! For my entire childhood, my mom cooked amazing homemade dishes for us: international dinners, delicious breakfasts, and brown-bag lunches that included her handwritten notes. But over-eating was not an issue, nor was junk food (since it wasn't ever in my home).

College was the first time I remember struggling a little bit with self-control and food. My school had an amazing all-you-can-eat cafeteria with high quality, delicious food. Plus I was "on my own" and could make my own decisions about what I ate, without parents giving me limits or keeping things out of the house. I know I must have gained weight during those four years, but it wasn't a big deal to me, and didn't change how I thought of myself. By the time I got married and then pregnant for the first time, I was back to my average weight. Even after giving birth to my first, I was able to lose my pregnancy pounds not too long after.

But for the past 7 years or so, weight has been an increasing struggle, and I'm not sure why. I know I've been less self-controlled in my eating, even turning to food for comfort now, which I never used to do. Maybe it's also the fact that I'm getting older and my metabolism is changing. I've lived 3 of those years overseas, with no car, so I certainly did lots of walking and cycling. But exercise for the sake of exercise has always been difficult for me, and I'm sure that's a component as well. Along the way, I've learned some things I never expected to.

1) Being overweight is both all-consuming and no big deal. 
This is a strange paradox for me. On the one hand, being fat has become my identity. It means I hate to look in mirrors and I hate to have my picture taken. It makes it hard to hear my husband say I'm beautiful and probably even affects my relationship with God. I find it hard to choose clothes that look good on me, and every morning, I come to the same conclusion: I'm ugly.

But in some bizarre way, a lot of the time, it's very much not my identity. If I am engrossed in what brings me joy, I'm likely to forget that other people are looking at me and surely thinking how overweight I am. When I'm running with the kids at a gym night I've organized, or jumping in the waves at the beach; when I'm singing harmony in church, or reading aloud on a park bench and getting surrounded by more and more curious children ... these are my moments of bliss. And in those times, I feel normal. I forget my obesity.

2) It's a heck of a lot harder to lose weight than I ever thought.  
In my momentary choices to eat a third or fourth cookie because they tasted so darn good and made me so happy at the time, it didn't cross my mind how hard it would be to eventually get back to "average weight." Thankfully, I'm not still at my all-time high. I'm at least ten pounds lighter than that; nonetheless, I never envisioned that losing pounds would be such an uphill battle.

3) I have no idea what other overweight people are facing and am in no place to judge. 
I used to feel proud of my size and grateful that obesity wasn't one of my issues. Now my heart is softened. I look at others and think, "I don't know them and their own situation, but I do know they're a precious, valued person no matter what. And golly, they are beautiful!" Who am I to judge, when we all have different genes, different struggles, different medical conditions?

4) Every bit of encouragement helps. 
These days I really take it to heart when someone tells me what a nice smile I have, or how nice my singing is, or what sweet letters I write. I've never considered myself beautiful anyway, but certainly now, if I receive any encouraging word from someone, my spirit is lifted and I feel new hope. Maybe I am still lovable. Maybe people can see past my weight and to the heart inside me. Maybe I'm not completely ugly after all.

I desperately want to become healthy. I want to acquire the precarious balance of being content with who I am and striving for something more. I want my body to be healthy, my heart to be strong, my figure to be slimmer. But I also want to love myself and feel confident in the love of God and others. What a struggle. I never thought it would be mine. But it is.

Speech for Ethan -- a Parent's Quandary

Since the time Ethan was a baby, and he didn't babble as normal babies do, we've been concerned about his difficulty with speech. People tried to reassure us that he'd "just start talking in sentences" once he "decided" to talk, but that was not the case. It wasn't until he got one-on-one therapy in Oxford, at age 3, that he even spoke his first words. And when I say "words" I mean things like "bee" to mean "tea" and "toe" to mean "toast" (very important first words in Britain!)

After just a few months of therapy in Oxford, we moved to Amman, Jordan. We actually only agreed to that relocation upon hearing that there was a private special education school in the city that offered speech therapy services. Even though we were receiving no income at the time (Steve was a full-time Arabic language student), we 'invested' our money in private therapy for Ethan and he blossomed under his therapist Maha's direction. He could finally produce some of the tricky sounds that had previously eluded him.

Despite the impressive improvement, most people still couldn't understand Ethan, and when we moved to the U.S. in 2011, he easily qualified for speech therapy through the preschool program in Rockbridge County, Virginia. In fact, the evaluating therapist was frankly baffled by Ethan's speech problems, and said he'd never seen a student quite like him before. Ethan's intelligibility was low in conversational speech but much better in single words. Some of his sounds were so strange, the therapist was tempted to say he had 'speech dyspraxia,' but since Ethan didn't really fit the criteria of that diagnosis, no official label was given.

Within days of having Ethan's IEP in hand, we moved to Washington, D.C. where we'd been told he could receive therapy at our local Maryland school, even as a homeschooler. Sadly, this was misinformation: it turned out that every school district has the choice of whether or not to help unenrolled students with special needs. And Prince George's County most decidedly does NOT help. So Ethan spent his first two of three eligible years *not* receiving any services. His intelligibility steadily improved, which we were thankful for, but when the time came to move and we looked for a new house, a primary concern was finding a school district that would help him.

Here in Fairfax County, Virginia, the local school has indeed acknowledged Ethan's IEP, and been willing to give him therapy despite the fact that we homeschool. We are grateful. The school is a ten-minute walk away, and he's gotten 1-2 hours per month of help there. But compared to the other three therapists Ethan had in the past, this one has been the least effective, concerned, and thorough. It's been disappointing. She has focused solely on his ability to read aloud and produce sounds when given those visual cues. She has noticed new problems but never put them in an official IEP update. She claims that he's reached 90% accuracy without hearing him talk for long stretches and using a ticker to keep track of his errors. And now, near the end of his eligibility window, she's firmly saying that he no longer needs services and will not get a new IEP.

Ethan's sounds certainly have improved, and some people who hear him talk have no problem understanding him. But I still hear many problems in his speech: final consonants dropped ("God" is pronounced "Gah" routinely), indistinguishable medial vowel sounds (short i and short e sounding the same, for example), a very indistinct /er/ sound in the middle of words and weak /r/ in general, to name a few. Additionally, his multisyllabic speech, especially in conversation, is difficult to understand. 

So now I'm stuck, not knowing whether I'm just being over-anxious or whether I'm justified in my concern (especially given his dad's speech difficulties and other family history). I'm stuck not knowing whether I should pursue the possibility of further eligibility by going to the head of Fairfax County Special Services, or whether I should take the therapist at her word that there's nothing more to be done. Maybe Ethan's continuing maturity *will* straighten everything out in the end. Maybe there's nothing more that professionals can do. Maybe it's all up to me and him now. I just know that when professionals told Steve's mom to not worry about his speech issues, assuring her he'd grow out of them, they were wrong. Steve did need more help, and I even wish he'd gotten more than he did. 

What will help Ethan most in the long run? Do I keep pushing 'til the head person finally says "yea or nay"? My son loves to talk, loves little more than chatting even to strangers. My hope and prayer is that his speech becomes as 'normal' as possible, so that he can maintain his verbal confidence and be understood as he shares his voice with the world.

Looking for a Church

We are almost at our 7-month anniversary of living in D.C. and have still not decided on a home church. We have tried many, and even attended a few for 4-7 weeks in a row. But it's been a difficult search. The one we felt most sure about turns out to have an attendance of 4,000 and that's way too big for us! We're realizing that there are so many different aspects of church that matter to us -- it's really challenging to know how to hold those in balance, and how to prioritize them.

Some of the issues that are most important to us (besides the basics of Bible-teaching and Jesus-following) are:
1) Community -- we strongly feel that Church is meant to be family, deeply connected and caring for each other. Because of this we're looking for friendliness, small groups, times of fellowship, the ability to participate actively in the worship service, and a vibrant children's ministry. We want our church to be a place where our children feel loved and see Christ-following lived out in a very real way. This also means that size is a big deal to us. We feel the ideal size would be 100-250 people.

2) Worship -- we've experienced a wide variety of styles and media in previous home churches, and find that we strongly value such diversity. We appreciate both the latest songs and hymns, and the lyrics of time-tested classic hymns (though they're more fun with modern upbeat renditions!); quiet contemplation as well as exuberant praise; a bit of liturgy and a bit of freedom; choirs, praise teams, dramas and dance.

3) Teaching -- both through our undergrad years at Wheaton College, and our recent years at Magdalen Road Church (in Oxford, England) and Oasis Church (in Amman, Jordan), we've been greatly blessed with powerful, challenging teaching. We are used to sermons that have been well-prepared, well-prayed-over, and that you can't walk away from without being a changed person! We would love to find similar teaching.

4) Ministry -- we know that our lives in Christ are not just about *us* but about reaching out to the world around us. Steve has spent years learning about Islam, and God has given both of us a passion to befriend Muslims and help other Christians know how better to interact with the Muslims in their own lives. We need a church who has vision for sharing Christ, both in words and in deeds.

I think it's safe to say that at this point we have 3 churches uppermost in our consideration, though we'd like to continue visiting other new ones as well. We say the above 4 aspects are most important to us, but then we find that there are other considerations affecting our decision as well, including demographics and aesthetics. I often wish that I could take all the churches we've visited so far and just combine my favorite aspect of each into a custom-made church. Impossible, I know. So how long do we keep looking? Please pray for us.

Sickness Abounds

I'm not sure what is happening to our once-healthy family. It seems like we're the house of contagion these days.

Six weeks ago Naomi and Josiah each came down with some kind of sore throat virus thing (a week apart), and I followed them with my own cold. All five of us got head lice and it's taken 2 weeks to get rid of it by wet-combing.

Naomi's been battling impetigo on her mouth and nose for a few weeks. I was diagnosed with erysipelas (a superficial skin infection) on my cheek last Sunday, and now my visiting sister-in-law has come down with tonsillitis.

What is going on?? These are not major issues, but it's getting a bit tiring always having someone not feeling good! Naomi's impetigo and Genelle's tonsillitis are the current prayer needs .... let's get this family healthy again!!

Steve's Headaches

For the past two months, my husband Steve has suffered ongoing headaches, which he's told are probably tension headaches. The onset of them seems to coincide with his receipt of the news that he was denied a scholarship he'd been counting on for next year. So far none of his scholarship applications have panned out, and we're looking at huge loans to get us through the second year of his master's program (and our living expenses).

The headaches make it hard for him to sleep, and sometimes make him feel sick, as well. During the bad ones, it's difficult for him to concentrate on his work, and he's getting very discouraged. He's not sure he'll even be able to make it through the program.

I'd appreciate prayer for him. Not only for his physical healing, but for peace of mind. I'm looking for work that's either very part-time or else from home. No matter what, though, staying here will put a huge financial stress on us for decades to come. We need wisdom and guidance, faith and hope, realism and optimism. Thanks for caring...

Sign Language for Ethan

It was back in late elementary school that I first remember being interested in sign language. I don't know why my parents bought "The Joy of Signing," but they did and I'm pretty sure that sparked my interest. I didn't have any deaf or hard-of-hearing friends or relatives. We had no deaf ministry in our church. But something about it intrigued me.

I learned all the lyrics to a few praise songs. I started a "sign language club" for my friends at school (it never got very off-the-ground!). I studied the book and tried to learn as much as I could. Later when I was in high school and living in Nigeria, I had a few opportunities to go to a local deaf school there. I didn't remember a lot of sign, but I used what I could. It was delightful to finally put my second language into practice!

Now it's more than a decade later and I've hardly given sign language a thought. I used a few "baby signs" for Naomi and Josiah when they were infants and toddlers, but not many. My two-year-old, however, is severely challenged in the language department and I am being re-inspired to take up sign again.

Ethan is 2.3 years old and communicates great with me. He has awesome understanding, great eye contact, and huge desire to be understood. BUT his only word is Mama. He knows a few animal sounds, a few vehicle sounds, and that's it. He doesn't try to copy our words. He doesn't babble or play with sounds. He points, gestures, sometimes yells, and is often left frustrated.

I'm having him seen by a doctor in a few days, to try to get him referred to a speech therapist. I feel like I've waited long enough to see if things just resolve themselves, and nothing's improved. In the mean time, a neighbor recommended that I use sign language with Ethan. I actually had brought my "Joy of Signing" book to the UK with me, so last night I made a list of about 100 words that I use a lot with Ethan, and began to learn them. I've already used a bunch today, and am also trying to teach Naomi and Josiah.

I don't know if it will make a difference. It might very well be pointless. But I'm willing to try anything that might help my little guy on the road to communication.

The Ugly

Well, I’ve been happy for a while, and especially in blogs and facebook, trying to keep a stiff upper lip. But I’ve hit a low again. Today I just want to buy a plane ticket “home” and leave England for good. Can I whine a little here? You don’t have to continue reading if you don’t like the good, the bad and the ugly!

It’s cold – not as cold as in Illinois and Virginia, but it feels colder. My house is terribly insulated and I never feel comfortably warm in it unless I’m doing physical labor (or with Steve under a comforter, with a hot water bottle at my feet!). I’m also cold most days when I have to go outside to walk or cycle to work, the grocery store, the library, a friend’s house, church, etc. I’m tired of winter, of cold, of not having a car to warm up in and central heating to keep us cozy at home.

I’m also tired of living in cramped spaces with lively and noisy kids who bounce all over the furniture because they have no yard and no jungle gym. My home here is probably not any (or much) smaller than my apartment had been in Virginia. But it has no front porch or expansive yard of grass for the kids to safely romp in. And the rooms are all divided from each other, shut off with doors, so it has a more cramped feeling.

I had expected small because I thought everyone had small in the U.K. I’ve discovered otherwise. All the privately owned homes I’ve visited have been remodeled with extensions and feel just that much bigger. My friends are always amazed when they come over and see the space I have to cope in. To know that my English friends think my home is small makes me think: hmmm, yes, maybe my home is SMALL!

And then I’m tired of a myriad of other things … Naomi’s whining and crying (about walking too far, or getting hurt, or her brothers bugging her....); the kids fighting; worrying about money and future plans; such an irregular schedule that I feel like I can’t get into a routine of school and cooking; hearing people tell me I should put my kids in school; Naomi’s debilitating shyness; Naomi’s latest hearing difficulties and illness; not having a dryer; doing my shopping in frequent small bits (because of being on foot); having a messy home (mostly my own fault), etc.

I know it’s all relative. I have a lot compared to most of the world. I am wealthy by their standards and have a safe home that fits us. I know this all in my head. That’s probably why I try to focus on the good and be thankful. God has blessed me in countless ways. But today I’m down. Today I’m fed up and don’t want to be cheerful. Like I said: the good, the bad and the ugly. Sorry to give you the ugly!!

Friend Facing Brain Tumor

I just found out that a friend of mine about my age has a brain tumor. It is already destroying her eyesight, and I have no idea what her life expectancy is. I didn’t want to ask that question when I’d only just found out.

Why does she have a tumor and not I? It’s the kind of thing you never think will happen, right? I’m healthy, my body works fine, life is going to be hunky dory. She’s married with a son; I’m married with three kids. It could just have easily been me.

And the irony is that I’ve felt suicidal many times. God, why do you spare my life?

Parenting Cry for Help!

It has been a while since I’ve written about parenting struggles, but here I am again. I feel like every day is a war, filled with small skirmishes over anything and everything. Not every single request is met with “No!” but a significant portion are. I don’t know if it’s because the kids have been so long without routine and chores, or what. I’ve bought a book called “Parenting with Love and Logic” which I hope will help me understand how to improve, but I haven’t had time to read it yet!

People in my Oxford church who hear that I’m homeschooling look at me like I’m crazy, and they say that they’d never be able to get their kids to do anything they said. I’m no different from them. Unfortunately I often resort to threats. But I don’t think that the answer is to send my kids to school and avoid the root issues. I’ve seen families function with peace, respect, obedience, and helpfulness. I’ve seen it with my own eyes! So I know my family can be different from the way we currently are.

And then during the good times, it’s so sweet and wonderful that I want to treasure the moments forever. I truly do love my kids and love being home with them. I just need the proportion to increase more in favor of good times!

More Questions, Fewer Answers

Our Oxford plans are not moving ahead smoothly. Almost every decision is still up in the air, and financial prospects look worse. If anything, I feel much less comfortable now about making this move, so Steve and I are praying earnestly, seeking counsel and trying to get as much information about this route and other possible ones before we make a final decision (i.e. sign a lease and start paying tuition!) As of now, our only financial commitment has been the plane tickets.

We still do not have final approval for a loan, therefore we do not have an unconditional final offer from Pembroke College. Therefore we can not get our visas and also feel it would be foolish to sign a lease. Our friend has not seen the house yet, but even when he does (if he does), we'll have to ask for more time to make a decision.

If everyone would join us in prayer for wisdom and guidance, we would so appreciate it! We leave Virginia tomorrow for our road trip regardless. But we still have until our flight on October 5 to change our minds about Oxford.

We're moving --- again!!

We're moving to England!

I feel like God has breathed fresh air into us, finally ending a long waiting time and letting us move forward. We have been praying for so long (and despairing at times) for guidance as to our next steps. Steve has been unhappy and frustrated doing work that doesn't suit him, and has longed to get the training he needs in order to fulfill his passion of reaching Muslims for Christ.

Now Steve has been accepted by Oxford University to study for his master's first and hopefully his PhD afterwards, over a period of 5 years. He will be studying Arabic and Islamic history, and with his degrees, wants to teach the history of Muslim-Christian interaction in a Christian college or overseas seminary. We will fund this first year ourselves with savings and loans, and then pray that scholarships and grants come through for the following years.

School starts on October 13, so this means that we're leaving the U.S. in just 7 weeks. Our heads are spinning. But at the same time, we're so excited. I'm grateful to have lived in Scotland already so that I have a better idea of what I should take with me (there were many things I wished I'd brought when we arrived in Scotland). The kids like the idea of riding bikes and buses instead of driving a car. I'm hoping to get in better shape by walking a lot. I'm also hoping the kids remember these coming British years better than they remember our one year in Edinburgh (which is fuzzy for them to say the least). We're looking forward to attending our Oxford church, Magdalen Road Evangelical Free, and renewing friendships we made there 10 years ago. We'll also be a lot closer to our dear London and Edinburgh friends.

Our concerns are:
*finding housing
*getting financial help
*receiving Ethan's passport in time
*figuring out how to pack our lives into a few boxes!

And it will be hard to leave our dear family here, as well as new friends we're just starting to make at our current church. I've grown accustomed to the ease of American life and I've enjoyed occassionally having access to my favorite foods and restaurants. I know I will be frustrated by not having a car. But at the same time, our 2 years in Lexington have prepared me for this transition. I have not always had my own car here, and we have not been in an urban area with our favorite stores and restaurants.

So here's to fish and chips, tea and biscuits, and the locale of our engagement! Oxford, England, here we come!

Discipline - 10 PM 1/30/08

I reached a point of being disgusted with myself yet again. I'd stopped exercising and doing Bible study for months. So for the past few weeks, I've been jogging and having quiet times regularly. I'm using an InterVarsity Press book to guide my Bible reading, which is helping me by having defined passages and specific questions to answer after each reading. I'm getting more interested in the Word again.

The jogging is going so-so. I'd been doing it daily, but then didn't get to it yesterday and today . I could be doing it right now, but feel I really need to go to bed instead.

Which brings me to my next area of discipline that I'd like to improve: my sleep! I've been terrible about going to bed late and then being sleepy during the day. When given the chance, I can easily take a 2-3 hour nap in the afternoon. I feel like my lack of discipline in sleeping, keeping a schedule, and cleaning, all work together to make my life much less pleasant than it could be! It's a downward spiral, so I'm trying to make some upward changes.

Thus, enough talk. I'm going to bed. But first I'm reading my passage in Luke 8. Goodnight...

When Will I Fit In?

I’m tired of being new. Steve and I went to a newly-formed small group with three other couples at our church yesterday, and it felt so strange. I like all six of them a lot. I would love to get to know them better. I think I would learn a lot from them. But it just hit me that they’ve all known each other for six years, and we’re the newcomers.

The same thing happened when we were first married. We joined a group that had already been meeting for a year, and never quite felt like we fit. In Scotland, we made friends, but didn’t find a small group to be part of. I went to a group meeting once and people had a hard time giving prayer requests because I was there (and I was “new”).

I don’t know if I’ll ever have what I’m looking for, in terms of a small community in which I’m known deeply, cared for, prayed for and held accountable (and where I can do the same for the others). Maybe I need to find others who are new to my church. I don’t know.

Most of the time I feel tired of feeling this way, tired of making an effort, and either want to abandon church or rely on my distant friends instead of trying to make new ones. I know I shouldn’t give up, but it sure would be nice to stop caring!

Revisiting Moving Memories – August 21, 2007

For sixteen years, I’ve remembered August 21 as the anniversary of my family’s departure from Los Angeles, heading to Jos, Nigeria. But now that I’ve moved to and from Scotland with my husband and kids, I remember the 1991 move through new eyes.

As a teenager, I watched my parents sort our stuff into “take with us,” “get rid of,” and “store in the U.S.” piles. I knew that I had the allotment of one box of my things to bring with me. Even today I regret some of the choices I made then about things I gave away. But for the most part, it was my mom and dad’s responsibility to figure out how to move our family of five permanently to a new country using 30 boxes (and storing very little).

When faced with similar decisions in 2005 as an adult and a mom, I struggled with various emotions. Part of me was thrilled to be “cutting loose” and not feeling tied to things anymore. Part of me was very sad to sell or give away items I would have preferred to keep. It was not fun to have a massive yard sale and see people looking at my things through bargaining eyes. I felt a responsibility especially to my kids, to choose what was most important to our family of four and make it fit in only 6 duffel bags and a few carry-ons. At least we were only moving for a year, instead of a lifetime. Even so, for the first month in Scotland, I’d go to bed regretting the loss of one thing or another.

At age 14, I was so excited about moving to Africa. Mom and Dad had been talking about it for a few years, so I’d had time to adjust to the idea. I knew I’d have to make new friends, but in L.A. I would have been changing schools anyway. I preferred the idea of an international school and a class of 30, to a Los Angeles public school with a class in the hundreds.

My parents were the ones who had to deal with logistics: shots, passports, visas, bank changes, etc. They stayed up for multiple nights, packing and cleaning. Each box had to be as close to 70 pounds as possible (but not over) and catalogued with its contents. Mom and Dad were the ones who had to get 30 boxes approved by the airline, amidst stares from other passengers in awe of our amount of stuff. They were the ones who worried about my sister’s refusal to eat during our entire journey, and probably wondered what they were in for in this new land and new job.

At age 28, I was the one responsible for the logistics. First there was getting visas—Steve took a day off work to take a train with me and the kids to downtown Chicago, aiming to come back with the necessary British visas. Instead we found that the visa fees were four times what we thought, and that we could not walk away with the visas in our hands. Then there was selling our home—I stayed up till the wee hours of the morning, cleaning and then crying my heart out, full of memories and fondness for our house. And just like my parents experienced, we felt the stares of Europeans in the Dublin airport, condemning us for our carts of luggage (their baggage allowance is even less than domestic U.S. flights). I broke down in tears when the airline attendants spoke harshly to us, accusing us of delaying the flight as our carry-ons had to be checked due to the European baggage allowance.

I’d never really thought about what my mom had to go through, learning to cook and keep house in a different culture. At 14, I’d been wrapped up in my own transitions and my efforts to make friends in my new school. In Scotland, though, I had to adjust my recipes to a different method of measuring and different ingredients. I had to learn to shop by foot and bus, instead of driving my mini-van. I struggled to cook and do laundry with fewer amenities and in a much smaller space. Within weeks I wrote to my mom, saying how my eyes had been opened not only to her international move, but also to her days of mothering 2 preschoolers in a small space and without a car.

Little did I realize in 1991 that my first international move would prepare me for another one 14 years later. Even though I’d moved as a carefree teen, I’d seen what my parents went through and I was aware of some of what was involved. Hopefully my next international move will benefit from both of these past experiences. That is the purpose of memory, is it not?

Depression Again – August 13, 2007

I feel like a failure in every way. I don’t know how normal, happy people do it. I’m tired of my messy tendencies and my inability to keep house well. Tired of feeling disorganized and unscheduled.

I feel like a failure with my kids – when Naomi is so insolent, or I have to call Josiah three times before he comes, I just wonder why I ever thought I could parent. And how ridiculous to think I can home-school!!!

I’m a discouraging, nagging wife to Steve, and a non-existent neighbor and witness. I’ve lived here for 9 months and don’t even have friends yet. And I don’t manage to stay in touch with good friends who live far away. Worst of all, I find it so hard to pray and read my Bible.

I don’t know why doctors think that antidepressants and counseling would make an improvement for me. I don’t think anything can help.

February 22, 1997

The tears gently roll down
in the secret places of my heart.
I bow in bewilderment
burdened by confusion,
as if I were shouldering a ton of bricks.
I lift my eyes in desperation.
From heaven on high –
from right beside me –
you see my tender heart tears
And you hear my whispered heart cry.

“Father, who am I?!
What makes this heart of mine
care so much for other people
and about what others think of me?
Spirit, can you possibly take
this over-sensitive
passion
and transform it into
something –
anything –
useful?”

Sleepy eyes droop
and one salty tear
escapes from the recesses,
sliding gently down my cheek.
My fingers grope
my guitar
to find the chords
that mean
what I really want to say,
what I really want to say.

Painting Pictures of Egypt, by Sara Groves

This is a song by Sara Groves, and describes how Steve and I are feeling now (and how we felt in Scotland and probably how we’ll feel in our next location!) We'd appreciate your prayers as we look for a job and decide whether to stay in rural Virginia or not (our apt. requires a 3-month notice for another 12-month lease, so we need to decide about our apt. by July 31).

I don’t want to leave here,
I don’t want to stay,
it feels like pinching to me either way.
The places I long for the most
are the places where I’ve been.
They are calling after me like a long lost friend.
It’s not about losing faith,
it’s not about trust,
it’s all about comfortable when you move so much.
The place I was wasn’t perfect
but I had found a way to live.
It wasn’t milk or honey
but then neither is this.

I’ve been painting pictures of Egypt
leaving out what it lacked.
The future feels so hard and I want to go back.
But the places that used to fit me
cannot hold the things I’ve learned,
and those roads were closed off to me
while my back was turned.

The past is so tangible,
I know it by heart,
familiar things are never easy to discard.
I was longing for some freedom,
but now I hesitate to go,
I am caught between the promise and the things I know.

I’ve been painting pictures of Egypt
leaving out what it lacked.
The future feels so hard and I want to go back.
but the places that used to fit me
cannot hold the things I’ve learned,
and those roads were closed off to me
while my back was turned.

It if comes too quick, I may not recognize it.
Is that the reason behind all this time and sand?
If it comes too quick, I may not appreciate it.
Is that the reason behind all this time and sand?

Gardening Update

I have good news and bad news. Most of my plants are doing great. Both avocado trees are two feet high and doing well. My tomato plant has 17 baby tomatoes on it. The citrus are still small, but look healthy.

The bad news is my sweet potato vine. It was doing awesome up until a few weeks ago. I never even got a picture of it in its prime. Long branches and lots of leaves were reaching out at least a foot beyond the pot, and I had to move it away from my kitchen sink because it was getting in the way.

Then it started to have lots of holes on some of the leaves, and as this increased, I looked more carefully and saw a teensy caterpillar (?). Now, it’s lost almost all of its leaves due to the pest, and I’m not sure it’s going to survive. I moved it outside hoping that maybe spiders would help with bug control. I’ve sprayed some home remedies on it, but I’m not even sure what I’m fighting.

It makes me extra sad because it had been my most beautiful plant in its prime. I had really enjoyed its fullness and rapid growth. Should I start another one or will the same pest just wreak havoc again? Should I bring it back inside or leave it out? I welcome any suggestions from anyone out there with a green thumb!

Confessions of an Over-Eater

June 15

I’m giving up sweets (candy, chocolate, and cookies). I’m like an alcoholic: once I begin, I can’t stop. I keep telling myself that the root issue is self-control, and that to develop this fruit of the Spirit, I need to give myself opportunities to eat only a bit of chocolate. But tonight, I’m changing. It hasn’t worked to eat only a bit, so now I’m eating none. I’m going to live the verse “flee from temptation” and give it up entirely.

Is there a support group for this sort of thing? “Overeaters Anonymous” or something?

On the positive side, I’ve been exercising an hour each day, and feel much more in shape. Now I just have to lose these extra pounds.