Still missing Zion...

We got back from another trip to Cochabamba yesterday. I decided to go with Scotty to his quarterly (they've been a bit more frequent recently) mission meetings because I was hoping to see 2 sets of people- one, a great couple that will hopefully be joining our team after they are done with language school and became instant grandparents to Natty when they were here for a visit less than a year ago; and two, a dear old friend and her family who was in Cochabamba for a visit. We set up with several mission families to spend Sunday at the lake outside of town where SIM owns a cabin. The spot is quiet, still and has a great yard for the kids to play in. There were 4 toddlers on site that day, so it wasn't as still and quiet as it could have been, but Natty didn't once complain of being tired even though she missed her afternoon nap all together. It was good to spend some time with these families that we enjoy so much but rarely get to see because of living in different cities. It was fun to watch Natty interact with other kids and do things she loves to do. I was thankful to be a part of a mission in which we are all different but all loving and serving Bolivia.

The few days passed quickly enough with good interactions with the very people I went to see. Natty had the time of her life, as usual, in the yard at the guest house. She was barefoot in the warm fall weather from morning to night and her feet were black with dirt all day. Up to this point, she has never been interested in swings at the playground, but she decided finally that she loves them and spent hours swinging on the tire swing in the backyard. I just enjoyed being outside in the warm days and mild nights. Nothing too exciting to report. Before we knew it, it was time to board the plane back to La Paz. Natty told me she was sad we were leaving...:( I found myself sitting in the airport, sad as well. But, not because we were leaving Cochabamba. For some reason, out of the blue, I felt so intensely the absence of my son. The memories of the few, precious days with him came flooding back. The momentary feeling of holding him- the desire to do it again. The longing to have him as a part of our lives. It was all so strong, so real. Sometimes those feelings seem to be in the background- always there- but less intense. Yesterday, they moved up to the foreground again. I'm thinking about him a lot today. I'm wondering if this will be how it is for the rest of my days. It's nice that those thoughts are just sad- they aren't angry or questioning or doubting or bitter-usually... God has given me a strong peace, a lack of answers in some regards, but peace and trust. I am thankful to Him for that because I know it is only from Him that it comes. I've seen the depths of my natural man and it is only God that can bring light there. He is good.

Mother's Day

The last few days have been full of some tough memories. Not really because of mother's day, since we celebrate a different day in Bolivia, so I wasn't really even aware until I started noticing posts on facebook. Instead, I have a very dear friend in town that I haven't seen for 2 years and we took her and her family over to our land where Zion is buried to show them his grave. She had brought a rock from her home to place on the special spot and then we spent some time talking about the events of his death and the days following. It was as if we were reliving those days together, crying together, grieving together- something we couldn't do when it was all happening but somehow came naturally at that moment. It was a special time to share together, but left me feeling heavy that evening and so much more aware than I have been for a long time how much I miss my little boy and how hard it is to deal with disappointed dreams. I woke up today, 6 months exactly after Zion died, still feeling the weight of sadness that can consume everything else in life. Thankfully, the depth of those hard emotions don't last as long as they used to, and I began feeling better after spending some time playing with Natty and hanging out with Scotty. I was nervous about the plans we had later this morning to go back to the clinic where I was on bed rest to pick up my medical history. I knew seeing that place for the first time since I left- a place where I had prayed and hoped for the life of my child, where I felt sure that I could keep him inside for long enough, and where I also experienced a tremendous amount of fear- would be hard. So, with Natty and Scotty along for moral support, we entered into the quiet clinic and searched around for someone to help us. The place is small and not busy because of the nature of the business (plastic surgery), so Scotty had to wander down a hall to find a nurse. Just the nurse, it happens, that took such good care of me and encouraged me that all would turn out all right in the end. I even told her I'd come back one day with my little boy and show him off to her. But, it turns out that I returned empty handed and had to see that look again that so many people have shown me when I answer their question of, "how is the baby??" with a shake of my head and an explanation that he didn't survive. Then I saw the doctor that took care of me, and even the girl who brought me food. They were all there and it felt like I had been wheeled out only yesterday. Scotty and Natty went out into the yard to play while I waited inside for them to find my records. I contemplated all that has happened since then and was thankful for the peace that has replaced most of the anger, the fear, the hurt and the confusion. Those feelings still come from time to time, but the deep faith that God has given me through the journey outweighed what I knew to be the natural reactions of a sad mommy. I know God is with us, I know He loves us, I know He loves my son and my family, I know He was in it all. I don't feel the need to ask "why?" anymore, even though I never got a clear answer. At least I can see more clearly now the gift God has given me in the pain- an ability to trust Him more, a recognition of how desperately I need to cling to Him alone, an understanding that my life is in His hands and out of my control.

IBM Camp 2011

I'm sitting in bed listening to the ongoing festivities to celebrate both Bolivia's labor day and Mallasilla's anniversary. Across the town from us, in front of the Catholic church, is the yearly 3-day drunk fest, complete only with extremely loud music, dancing and partying into the wee morning hours. Thankfully, we missed the majority of it since our IBM camp fell on these dates this year, but it looks as though we'll have to hear a few more hours of drunk ballads before it's all said and done. We got a late start leaving camp and the fog set in just a bit into the uphill return to La Paz. This particular road, nestled between high mountains and deep ravines, is prone to getting fogged in and being fairly dangerous. It was about dusk when we hit this, so before long it was densely foggy and dark. As we neared the cumbre, the highest point in the department of La Paz, the sky began to drop freezing rain and the road soon became covered in a layer of ice. The defrost on our 1995 Toyota Caldina doesn't work, so Scotty spent about half an hour wiping the inside of the windshield with a paper towel and driving about 10mph. We were both pretty tense and praying without ceasing. Following somewhere behind us were 2 bus fulls of campers and several other personal vehicles carrying our beloved church family. God led us through safely and we are praying He did the same for them as well.

Camp was a blast. There was very unseasonal rain and/or cloudiness for most of the 3 days in the jungle, but at least it kept the temps down. Bugs were at a minimal as well. We had a variety of people this year, including a group of about 25 shoe shiners who are being reached through a ministry some good friends of ours started called Kayuparu. They brought a lively dynamic and with about 7 of them on our team, we won the games competition. Bolivians can get pretty stuck on the fact that Scotty is almost 2 meters (6'8" ft.) tall, so decided our team should be called the giants. We quickly found out that another team had named themselves the same, so we ended up being the midgets- the jokes were endless... Besides hilarious games, our pastor spoke twice on the book of Joshua and the devoted Christian life, we ate lots, we waited around lots for food to be prepared, we chatted and got to know each other better. Today we had a special time of baptism. It never fails to move me to see the lives that the Lord has changed in drastic ways. The pastor's brother and his wife were baptized, both recently coming to the Lord. The wife became interested in spiritual things first and quickly began soaking up the Word and the change in her life was quick, obvious and dramatic. Her simple and deep faith is amazing to see. She began to pray for her husband and, although it took a bit of time, he came out of the water today with his hands raised in the air in triumph and joy. I think we were all in tears as he hugged his brother, our pastor, in gratitude. 2 shoe shiners were also baptized- young men who have years ahead to experience the power of God's amazing grace in lives that were so very lost. It's such a gift to see the way God has been at work in people in our church and is bringing new people in continually through His moving in their hearts. Every year I'm excited about church camp, but a bit nervous because I fight my own desire for punctuality, comfort and a bug free existence. But every year the Lord reorganizes my priorities and encourages me in the work we are a part of- because He is the one ultimately who is doing it and it is beautiful.