Day 4: Stage Fright.

When I was young, I used to do everything that was humanly possible to not be the center of attention.  If I was at school, my goal was to get through the day unseen.  I dreaded being called on to answer a question.  I felt physically ill when I had to get up in front of my class to give an oral presentation.  I even pretended I didn't feel well after I got baptized so that I wouldn't have to stand up in front of the church and have everyone come by and shake my hand (I was 17!).

As I got older, I grew in confidence and didn't mind speaking up when I had something to say and was around my friends.  But, if there was a debate to be had or even a problem to look for a solution to, I usually deferred to others to make the decision.  Even now, at almost 40 and much more comfortable in my own skin, I usually stay quiet during our small group Bible studies.

This morning I had a relapse.  We were having a women's group meeting in which we were mainly discussing details about what this semester will look like, how the time will be organized and the different ways we could serve.  Per usual, I was observing, listening, and predominantly without a strong opinion on what was being shared.  At one point, toward the end of our time, a friend of mine said, "Say something!  I want to hear what you think!" Then she stopped the person who was talking, brought everyone's attention to me and said, "I think we should hear what Lisa has to say.  This is a deep woman!"  While I was flattered, I was caught off-guard without anything in particular to add to the discussion and I was embarrassed.  I turned a little red.  Someone thought it would be cute to point that out too.  More embarrassment.  I confessed to the ladies that I really had nothing to share and the leader of the discussion could probably tell I was uncomfortable and assured everyone they would hear from me when it was my turn to teach (you can maybe now imagine how I'm feeling about that!).

I marveled later at how that instinct is still in me to feel so overwhelmed by being put on the spot.  Years ago, I read a super helpful book called Introverts in the Church that helped me put words to what I've felt all my life.  To oversimplify greatly, the evangelical church can tend toward elevating extroverted leaders and undervalue or even misunderstand an introverted persons abilities and spirituality.  One man quoted in the book compares evangelical churches to a "non-alcoholic cocktail party"- meaning there is high value placed on words, sharing, mingling and overt expressions as compared to more contemplative spiritual traditions.  He goes on to say, "To participate in the evangelical church is to join the conversation.  Introverts, however, spare our words in unfamiliar contexts and often prefer to observe on the fringe rather than engage in the center.  Our spirituality may be grounded in Scripture, yet is quieter, slower and more contemplative."  Brain science actually shows that an introverts processing centers take external information on a much longer pathway through various areas of the brain whereas extroverts have a shorter journey.  Hence, me observing and not fully processing what happened until hours later.  I've pushed myself over time to grow in this area, but it will probably always be one of my greatest challenges.

Does anyone else feel this way?

Day 3: Imagination.

Scotty took this picture in India last month.  Doesn't it just beg for a creative story??

I had a vivid imagination as a child.  I could spend a lot of time alone in my bedroom pretending my day-bed was a ship being tossed at sea and I would hold onto the metal bars to keep from being flung into the violent ocean.  Even in college I sometimes imagined that the little green lizards sitting on the pool deck watching me swim could sense that we were both made for the glory of the King.

My absolute favorite pastime with my children has always been reading creative books.  I'm halfway through The Fellowship of the Ring with Natty and I've noticed how she's started being more dramatic in the way she talks about everyday things and sometimes even waxes eloquently about immortality.  It's all in playfulness, but it makes me smile to see her come alive as her imagination is stimulated.  Moses comes downstairs after rest-time in a different super-hero outfit each day.  He tells me what super powers he possesses and how he plans on using it to defeat the bad guys.  Since Jubi and Moses spend a lot of time playing together, she was always finds a way to work a princess into the story.  These are all common games that children play, but sometimes we underestimate imagination. 

When I think about some of the stories we know in the Bible, I realize how important it is to have a great imagination to understand the full scope of what the Lord has done over the course of our history.  As someone who has been a Christian more years than not, what we read in scripture can sound familiar.  But, have you ever stopped to think about what it actually was like to be thrown down among hungry and ferocious lions only to find that their mouths had been miraculously closed?  And then to be in the kings shoes the next morning when he finds, to his surprise and relief, that your friend Daniel is actually still alive? 

There's a homeless woman who walks the streets of the area I live every day with a bundle on her back, dirty clothes and recycled tennis shoes.  She lives in a cave and has stray dogs faithfully following her.  I've never seen her interact with another human being.  What would it be like for me to see her with her hair brushed, clean clothes and calmly looking into the eyes of someone while they talked with her?  Imagining this gives me a clearer understanding of what took place in the life of the demon possessed man whom Jesus freed. 

The Lord gave us an imagination because He is creative and we are to be like Him.  He also gave it to us so we could better understand the depth of His love, His work, His grace.  I hope Scotty and I can continue to foster that in our kids for their sake and for ours.

Day 2: Efficiency

I drove real slow today.  My car is having radiator issues but we haven't had a chance to fix it and Scotty's truck is not starting, so I'm having to drive some despite the overheating.  Hence, driving slowly.  Bolivia has made me learn how to drive fast and aggressively...it's really the only way to get anywhere in a city where everyone is out for themselves behind the wheel.  However, this style of driving leads to a lot of road rage for me.  I get annoyed when people pull out right in front of me when they could have waited because there's no one behind me.  I shoot daggers with my eyes at the people who stop in the middle of the road (literally) because they're checking their phone or picking up passengers or forgot they weren't the only ones in the street.  I'm exasperated when I have to slam on my brakes because a car coming from the other direction has decided to pass a slow dump truck on a blind curve.  Basically, when I'm on the road, I'm in a hurry and that adds to the stresses me out.

But, today, I drove slow.  The guy passing on the blind curve didn't bother me because I wasn't going fast enough to have to slam on my brakes.  People turning out in front of me weren't a problem cause I was already coasting along so calmly that I just had to lift off my accelerator a little.  I felt so relaxed!  It made me start wondering about other areas of my life where I push myself to hurry- believing somehow that time is too precious to "waste".  Is efficiency so very important?  Do we add unneeded stress to our lives and even miss out on moments with those we love because we need to make sure we are packing every minute full of important things?

In this phase of my life, there is a lot going on.  I have three school age kids and a big house and errands to run and I live in a less-than-efficient country.  I've realized when I have the chance to slow down, I don't know what to do with it.  I find it difficult to always make time to sit and listen to my kids or play with them.  I feel guilty for not being efficient.  I don't think that's healthy- not for me, at least.  Driving slow today caused my thoughts to slow down, too.  It gave me a chance to think, to pray, to notice the color of the mountains around me, to realize that I live a lot of my life rushed.  It's not always been that way; it's a habit that I've formed and maybe a message I've accepted: Don't waste time. But, is slowing down a waste?  Even after I fix my car, I think I'll keep driving slow.

Day 1: Words of power.

Remember yesterday when I said I thought I could write every day for 30 days?  I might have been wrong. My mind whirls with all the trivial things that happened today and I wonder if anyone would care to read about them.  There are so many well-written blogs with handy links and perfectly crafted ideas...what have I to say that has not already been said in a hundred different ways?  Is there really any value to what I think?  I have to admit this is something I mostly subconsciously struggle with.Other people are smarter or more informed or better communicators.

But, our words have power.  It's something I've been thinking a lot about this last year or so.  Think about the last time someone complimented you...not on what you were wearing, but on your character.  An older man at church told me one time, "You do such a great job of making people feel welcome and important."  I never knew that!  It gave me the confidence and desire to put myself out there a little bit more on Sunday mornings when my natural tendencies make me want to run out of church the second it's over to avoid all those inevitable small-talk conversations.  This man took the time to communicate one small thing to me that he appreciated and it made a huge difference. 

I've been trying this out on my kids more.  It can be very tempting to communicate my displeasure with them when they are arguing or "forgot" to clean up their junk again.  But, am I taking the time to praise them when they are playing well together or just telling them what amazing little people I think they are- calling them to something a little greater?  I've read that facial expression and body language speak many times louder than the words we use.  What does my tone of voice and my death-stare communicate to my children?  Moses is especially susceptible to a harsh tone and it immediately triggers a fear response in him.  As tricky as this can be, (cause, let's face it- we mommies get annoyed sometimes) it is such an important reminder that I can show love to my children by correcting or directing them in a tone that says, "I mean business right now, but you're important to me, so let's figure out together how we can make this work." 

Think about your words this week.  What you're saying.  How you're saying it.  How's that goin' for ya?

I guess I'm doing this again...

Hey, it's me.

I just read a blog where the blogger said she was challenged to write every day for 30 days and it helped her get back into blogging (Did I use all the forms of "blog" in that sentence?).  I thought, "I could do that. I should do that." You see, as my life has gotten busier and my children have gotten bigger, I've decided that I want to keep their lives (cause that's inevitably what I write about) more private.  This internet stuff never goes away, I hear.  Who wants potentially embarrassing stuff about them on the internet?

So, I'm working on that.  For today, I'll talk about me. 

Now I know that a lot of you have probably heard about the enneagram.  I know some of you might adore it and some of you might think it's a load of dung.  For those of you who have no idea what I'm talking about- the enneagram is a model personality types.  I appreciate some things about it that have given me insight into myself.  One of these things that I know to be true is how people with my personality can sometimes fall asleep to themselves.  A sort of spiritual or emotional laziness sets in and we're not willing to really do the work of figuring out how we feel about things, what's actually important to us or how we could do a better job of being fully present to the world and the people around us.  I'm hoping this blog will be a way I can camp out a little bit more within my own mind and heart and take the time necessary to get a better grasp on what's going on and how I need to grow.  The Lord has been working slowly on me (probably more related to my stubbornness than His slowness) over the last few years and I'm excited to see where that is going.  Some of that might come out here.  And sometimes I might just ramble about my day.  We'll see.

Dys...what??

We sat down to lunch the other day and I silently hoped it would be a peaceful experience.  I knew Moses had a babysitter put him to bed the night before and he went to bed later than normal- both things that can lead to being easily dysregulated.

Dysregulation is a term used in the mental health community to refer to an emotional response that is poorly modulated and does not fall into the conventionally accepted range of emotive response.  

Post institutionalized children and any person with a history of trauma struggle often with dysregulation.  Exhibit A: while eating lunch, Moses accidentally tips his cup too far and splashes some water on his shirt and cape (he likes to dress as "Super Momo").  The cup slams down on table, the cape is thrown to the floor, he stomps off in a rage and soon I hear the door to his room slam with sobs echoing on the other side.  Now, I know some of you might read this and cringe.  Then, you would think how you might march upstairs and lay into the kid about being a brat, overreacting, getting downstairs this instant young man and finishing your lunch and apologizing to everyone at the table for your behavior.  I've been there.  But, parenting Moses has forced us to figure out what is going on inside that beautiful head of his.  Because, this is the tip of the iceberg of what we deal with.  This particular incident escalated into toys being thrown, kicks, screaming and rolling around on the floor- and this was with me being incredibly patient, loving, present and never raising my voice!  You see, much of the "bad behavior" or "conventionally unacceptable range of emotive response" we see is based in fear.  Right after this episode ended in tears and snuggles, Moses confided in me, "Mommy, you looked at me the other day like you were going to give me away to someone else."  Then he fell fast asleep.  So, the Lord graciously gave me insight into two things that were happening.  One, he lives with subtle but powerful fear instincts that often lead to self-protective and out of control behavior.  Two, he was exhausted, which also leads to a lack of proper control over his emotions.

I write this with a certain amount of fear that one day my son might read it and feel even more fundamentally broken than he already does.  What I hope he knows, but what will always be a struggle for him to believe, is how deeply and passionately we are committed to being his parents.  Parents that are committed to understanding how his neurological processes have been altered by his early life experiences.  Parents who take the time and effort required to rewire those processes.  Parents who continue to lean into the rest of God when we've run out of resources, run out of energy, run out of hope.  And, I would love to help other people understand my son.  To recognize that God has made us wonderfully complicated people who have more under the surface than anyone could know.  To not jump to conclusions when they see the external but take the time to peel away some of the layers to see what's happening beneath it all.  In the same way that the Son of Man came down, in the flesh, to walk among the broken.

8 years later.

Tomorrow marks 8 years since we welcomed our first son into the world.  I remember lying in my dark hospital room a couple days after he was born, recovering from the emergency C-section I had just had.  It was night and I was wide-awake, wondering what the future held for this tiny, 2 pound boy who came 2 and half months early for some inexplicable reason.  The doctor who delivered Zion came into my room after checking on him in the NICU- the only baby in a small, upstairs room of the hospital that really had no rules about who gets to come in and touch preemies.  She sat down and sighed.  "I'm worried about Zion," she tells me.  Take a number, I thought.  "You need to prepare yourself, Lisa."  Prepare myself for what?  For the possibility that my son might die?  How does one prepare for that, exactly?  "Doctora," I replied.  "I don't know what's going to happen with my son.  I am praying that the Lord will heal him.  But, even if He chooses to take my son to heaven, I know and believe that He is good and that He loves me."  Little did I know at that moment that a couple weeks later, I would have to walk out that belief.  That's where it gets real.  And sometimes ugly.

Every once in a while, I force myself to dredge up a painful memory from when our little boy was on this earth.  I want to make sure I'm still processing, still asking myself to do the hard work of healing (with the help of the Holy Spirit, of course) and checking my own heart to see where it is in this journey of a mother who has lost a child.  It can be easy to slide into the waters of sadness when I do this.  But, my gracious Lord has done enough healing in my heart that I can move quickly back out and into thankfulness for all that He's done in my life as I walk this road of faith.  I can honestly say that I trust Him more now than I did before I had Zion.  Even as I type that, I know that if I were to be confronted with losing another child, I would be gripped with fear.  I would ask "why".  But, I also have the hope that learning to trust that God is good in the face of Him taking something precious from me, would be where I would eventually land.  And, I'm so thankful for that.

One Fine Day.

Do you remember that movie, One Fine Day, from the '90s with Michelle Pfeiffer and George Clooney where they were both trying to get their kids to a school field trip that they were late for?  At one point in the movie, Michelle's character spills something on her shirt and she has a big meeting at work later that day so she throws on her elementary son's dino tee and totally rocks it.  I promise I went out later that week to Target looking for cute T-shirts in the boy's section of the store.  Pretty sure I bought one.  Anyway, this blog is not about that.

Yesterday was Natty's 10th birthday, and it was one fine day!  Actually, a fine weekend.  We decided to get out the big guns and book an overnight at the fanciest hotel in La Paz.  It's beautiful and fancy and has an indoor pool and fabulous breakfast buffet.  We kept it a surprise from her and had a blast trying to trick her into believing we were doing all sorts of things that she wasn't very excited about. 

The morning started with our annual Community Festival at Highlands, which is essentially a whole bunch of soccer tournaments and food sales to raise money for the school.  Natty was initially pretty miffed (do people still use that word?) that it fell on her birthday, as she likes to have every moment of her birthday dedicated just to her and satisfying her every whim.  I mean, who doesn't?  However, she eventually got excited about it and enjoyed hanging out with her school friends and gallivanting all over the school without her parents like the big girl she is.  At one point, right before she started playing soccer with her class, the teacher on the loud speaker announced that it was her birthday and had the whole crowd sing Happy Birthday (my idea)!  She stood perfectly still the whole time, thinking that if she didn't move, no one would be able to see her in her complete embarrassment.  You're welcome, daughter. 

Getting ready to rock the soccer game with her classmates.

After winning her game, we came home, ate the lunch of her request (baked potato and broccoli salad) and took off on our surprise adventure.  When we rolled up to the hotel, she still wasn't sure what was going on.  But, when we walked through the sliding doors into the swanky, massive lobby and caught a glimpse of the shimmering pool surrounded by sky-high glass windows and lush gardens- she got excited. 

Even more so when she saw her huge room with the huge bed and the free toiletries!  It's the small things, right?  We swam, we ate in bed, we watched a movie, we told Natty what we loved about her.  It was awesome. 

Dinner in bed- that never happens!

After a sound sleep, we had a leisurely buffet breakfast where Scotty and I paced ourselves and tried to out eat each other while the kids ran in and out of the dining room while nibbling on their food, but mostly enjoying the kids playground outside.  That was followed by a family devo time, some more swimming, and lunch at a local restaurant where all the kids were hungry/tired/crabby and the food took FOR. EVER.  But, we even managed to laugh a little there when we started taking slow-mo videos on my phone.  

I was able to work us a late check-out time, so after walking back to the hotel, the boys crashed on the king size bed (Mo had come down with a low-grade fever by this point) and I hit the pool and hot tub one more time with the girls.  It was a dream birthday weekend for Natty!

And now, I've officially been a mom for a decade.  My sweet, sensitive, smart, sympathetic, silly Natty is such a blessing to our family. 

That alliteration was intentional, but all true, by the way.  She brings life and drama and laughter and depth to this house and I can't imagine life without her.  I know that she will have some challenging paths to wander but she is a seeker and I trust that the Lord will hold her hand the whole way- and mine as I learn to let her learn.  We love you, Natalie Inez!!

Fifteen.

Spending time with Reyna, a young girl whose parents were in jail.  I volunteered at this after school program for kids of incarcerated adults my first 2 years in Bolivia.

I failed to write a blog back in June when I completed 15 years in Bolivia.  15 years?!  It's weird even to type that.  That's the longest amount of time that I've lived in any one city.  For those of you who don't know about my start in Bolivia, I shall recount what I can remember (15 years and the details start getting blurry).

During my senior year of high school, I felt strongly that the Lord was calling me into long-term, overseas ministry.  This, for those who knew me as a young person can attest to, is only something God could make happen.  I have always been a timid, home-body, play-it-safe kind of person.  But, the Lord called and when He does, there is nothing to do but follow.  After graduating from college (with a degree in speech therapy), I basically googled (was that a thing in 2002?) overseas Christian organizations and the first one to pop up was Food for the Hungry.  I began communicating with someone from their US office and before I knew it, was on a plane to Phoenix to do a several week orientation.  Well, by the end of that, I was sold.  I remember calling my parents from Arizona telling them that I had decided to move to Bolivia for 3 years, without coming home.  Mom probably remembers better than me, but when I shared that, there was a brief silence on the phone, followed by something to the effect of, "Uh......what??"  Fast forward after a grueling but  faith-fueling year of support raising (FH staff were sustained completely through support raising) and I was alone on a plane flying to Cochabamba, Bolivia.  Again, typing that sentence still makes me shake my head and snicker.

I have no memory who met me at the airport on the day of my arrival, but I do remember soon after meeting my 3 FH roommates- 2 American girls and one Japanese girl (she was also new).  We had a couple weeks of orientation followed by a nation-wide Food for the Hungry (including over 100 national staff) retreat.  For that event, we were housed at a convent and those nuns must not have washed everything as well as my Western tummy mandated because I ended up with some severe food poisoning/parasite/something.  I was out for a few days- often times crawling on my hands and knees to the bathroom.  I can't remember how distressing all of that was to me as a young woman far from home for the first time.  I imagine I struggled with it.  My primary role in Cochabamba was as the co-leader of an International youth group- a group of kids who all attended Carachipampa Christian School, which is somewhat similar to Highlands.  The next few weeks had me meeting with the pastor of the local international church and my new colleague, Micah.  We became instant friends- no one who's ever met Micah fails to become his friend.  And life went on from there.  I was truly in awe of this rugged, mountainous, dry city with new and different smells, dress, people, language, customs.  EVERYTHING was different.  I was young and naive and sometimes ignored some of the differences, preferring to still be my American self.  However, I began to appreciate some of the things I was learning and there began my journey of a life-time.

I became a truly independent adult here, met my husband here, became a mother here and continue to learn the lesson of being content in all circumstances (still not there).  I appreciate the opportunity to love people who are different from me with fundamentally different values and perspectives.  I love raising my kids in a culture different from mine and so rich with history and beauty.  I love the adventure the Lord has called us to and the way it has caused me to depend on Him far deeper than I could imagine otherwise.  The challenges are real, though, and to not mention that they exist would be to ignore a part of my life that requires grief and patience and grace.  But to walk confidently on this path is one I do knowing that the Lord has upheld us with His loving hand every step of the way and I know He will continue to do so as long as He has a purpose for us here.

On becoming a teacher...

So, I guess I started teaching Sunday school way back when I was pregnant with Natalie, but it was very sporadic after that because I kept having babies and nursing babies and it just wasn't an option.  A couple years ago, I picked it up again and just this past year, I was "promoted" to the 7-9 year old class, which happens to be the one Natty is in now.  I can't say that I've ever felt very adequate at teaching Sunday school- my experience is very limited, I'm doing it in another language, and because our services are pretty long, there is a lot of time to fill.  I entered this new position with a bit of uncertainty but when I reviewed the new material we were using, I got excited.  Over the course of 3 years, we'll be walking through the entire Bible with these kids, in depth.  It's taken a few months to get a handle on what works and doesn't work with my class- mainly boys- but I'm finally feeling more comfortable now.  The last three weeks we've been going through the last words of Moses to the people of Israel before he dies.  This past Sunday, the focus was Deuteronomy 28.  Have you read Deut. 28 recently?  It's a LONG chapter that starts off listing the blessings the Lord will pour out on His people if they obey Him.  Then follows about 50 verses about the horrific curses the Lord will dump on His children if they choose to turn away from Him.  Hmmmm...how do I approach this one??  I decided to make a little game where I'd write both the blessings and curses on little pieces of paper, put them in a bowl and let two teams pull them out one by one.  Whichever team received the most blessings, won.  I thought even if it wasn't that fun, at least we could go through some of the blessings and curses in a more interesting way then just reading the chapter (which would have had these kids asleep or extremely distracted about 4 verses in).  What I didn't foresee was how passionately they would play this game- at first, cheering for themselves when they got a blessing and groaning when the curse came.  Then, it got more heated as they chanted "curse, curse, curse!" for the other team and celebrated when, in fact, their sons and daughters were taken off as slaves by a foreign people. I started wondering if this was a good idea after all...  The best part came when it was all over and I asked the kids if God still pours out these curses on us when we sin against Him.  "Yeah!" they said.  "Kinda, I mean, maybe not ones quite like that."  I wasn't too surprised by their response, but a bit saddened that this is what they still expected of the Lord.  My girl was nodding her head along with the rest until she remembered the conversation she had heard Scotty and I having a few days earlier about this topic.  She raised her hand and explained that although we deserve those curses (and worse!), Jesus took all that punishment on Himself on our behalf on the cross!  Although I know she has a hard time understanding this still, and even receiving that kind of grace in her own life, I was proud of her for sharing the good news.  I got the kids' attention again and made sure they heard me VERY CLEARLY.  We are no longer under a curse.  Did you hear that guys?  Because of our sin and rebellion against the Lord, we deserve all sorts of punishment and death, but Jesus took that condemnation away from us.  I pleaded with them to pay attention, to remember, what I just said.  Some had blank stares, some weren't even looking at me and some seemed to be considering what I was saying.  Only the Lord can drive that truth deep into the heart of those kids and make it grow.  By His grace, He will continue to use me, a fragile and imperfect vessel, to continue sharing these life-giving truths.  And meanwhile, I'll try to come up with different games where the kids aren't wishing curses on their classmates. 

There's no place like home.

Our plane touched down to the breathtaking (literally, at 14,000 ft.), freezing runway in El Alto, Bolivia at 2:50 am.  Moses had woken up about 30 mins before and was exercising his lungs to the consternation of a plane full of sleepy passengers.  We tumbled out of the plane and lined up at customs.  As usual, Mo was grouchy, Jubilee was ashen and Natty was fine.  After picking up our 10 suitcases, we rolled out into the night where our friend Leo was waiting with our truck to drive us home.  The air was crisp and I was more than ready to start the descent to our house and our beds.  We were soon winding through the dark, pot-holed streets.  Out of one open doorway I spied the vulgar red fluorescent light of a brothel and took a sec to pray for our missionary friends whose lives are spent bringing hope to the women who are trapped there.  45 minutes later, we arrived to the welcome sight of our tall, brick house, the top of Natty's eucalyptus tree peeking over the wall.  The dogs welcomed us with big, wagging tails, while the kids and I stumbled upstairs and collapsed into bed.  The next two days we unpacked bags, organized belongings and went shopping for food- 2 supermarkets, one produce market, one organic chicken store and the local market got us started for meals.  One-stop shopping definitely is not a thing here.  I kept marveling at the strangeness of everything, but how familiar and homey it has become to us.  All of the stuff that makes this developing world unique and sometimes annoying, has also become our normal.  The U.S. is mostly comfortable and definitely plush but has become somewhat unknown and intimidating.  I am so thankful that we have a house here- a place that has our touches, our memories, our design inside and out.  There is always a bitter-sweetness about leaving behind loved ones and friends in the states, but there's no place like home.

America the beautiful

Well, look at how quickly 6 months passed since last I wrote!  And, we are back in the U.S. again, getting rather close to packing a million suitcases full of stuff that we wonder if we should have bought.  This time we won't be back in the states for 2 years, so we're trying to figure out what's a must for returning.  The same process happens every time we are back: (Me in a store) "I need these shoes/curtains/plates/picture frames!  Let me shop around and make sure I'm getting the best deal...  Argh!  I'm so tired of going everywhere trying to find the best deal- I'll just buy these right in front of me.  Wait, do I really need these picture frames??  They might be cheaper and better made and cuter and easier to find, but I bet if I tried really hard I could get them in La Paz.  What do I do????"  Seriously, why is it like this every. single. time.  The struggle is real.

This feels like the craziest trip we've had yet.  Now that we are on a school schedule, our longest time back is about 7 weeks- which is barely enough to get a couple weeks in with parents and trips to see supporters and churches.  That doesn't include much time for fund-raising or relaxing...two very important goals we always have coming into our stateside travel.  Although our kids are a bit more independent than last time, they are also more easily upset by making friends and spending time with family and then having to say good-bye to them. 

And, there are more doctors visits now that we've reached an age where all the kids need to see the dentist and eye doctor, not to mention the random doctor's visits Scotty and I need.  Thankfully, the kids are champs on roadtrips and have 2 10-hour trips and 2 5-hour trips under their belts.  The last 9 hour trip will be Monday!  We've been through 8 states so far!

Summer highlights for Miser kids:

ice water- hands down, this has been the most exciting thing.  Ice in everyone's dispensers!  Free ice waters in restaurants! ("You mean, they just give you as much as you want??)  Crunch crunch all day long.

Swimming!  Pools, beaches, lakes, even one Great Lake

Bikes- Natty learned to ride a bike in about 2 hours. 

New friends- oh, so many sweet kids in all our journeys.

Treats!  We've relaxed our sweets rules a bit for this trip. 

Grandparents- don't we wish we had more time together?

Sandwiches- the cheese variety! the soft, sliced bread! PICKLES!

Summer highlights for Miser adults:

Time to work out

Warm weather

Family

Seeing old friends

Reconnecting with so many precious, faithful supporters- we feel so blessed and cared for.

Starbucks

Shopping!  (A blessing and a curse.  See above.)

So, less than 2 weeks to go before we board a plane Bolivia-bound.  We will be so happy to be back in our home, not living out of suitcases.  But, we are incredibly grateful for these amazing experiences in the homeland.

Travelling lightly.

The explosion of luggage when we got home.

We recently took a holiday trip to the U.S. and got some stuff.  What can I say?  It'd been a year and a half since our last trip and we needed/wanted a few new things.  And, it was Christmas.  We received presents and gave presents to each other.  So, 5 people's worth of stuff adds up.  Needless to say, we had 7 bulging suitcases, carry-ons for everyone and 3 little people in tow.  I had to make sure that I rented a car to drive to the airport that would be big enough to hold us and our junk.  We had to figure out how to wheel that luggage, push that stroller, and keep those kids in check from one end of Miami International to the other.  It was not easy.  Especially since we haven't invested in those awesome new-fangled suitcases that have wheels that will turn any which way you so desire.  Trust me- that is on my list of things to buy next time we're in the U.S.  All this to say, I see that there are definite benefits to travelling light!

Thomas a Kempis said, "They travel lightly whom God's grace carries."  I read that and immediately imagined my family hauling mountains of luggage through MIA.  Me with several (heavy) carry on bags over my shoulders and pushing a cheap stroller whose wheels don't cooperate.  Natty and Scotty trying to drive two over-loaded baggage carts, accidentally bumping into people who get in the way.  And Jubilee, receiving the wrath and frustration of the rest of us for lagging behind.  God has been speaking to me about grace in this last year.  His gentle reminders when I lack it- for myself and others.  His kind and loving promises that He wants to extend more toward me if I would just accept it.  I'm afraid my life often looks like that scene from the airport.  I've packed a bunch of suitcases full of merit- feeling useful to people around me, shining in the compliment given to me about one thing or another, seeing success and growing maturity in my kids that makes me feel like a good parent.  These are all nice things, of course, and none evil in and of itself.  However, I have often collected all these things in hopes that they will build me up and sustain me.  But, when I see a flaw in my kids or realize I blew it in a relationship, it all crumbles.  And I begin to question myself and why I can't pull it together and how I could fail so many times!  Where is the grace??  How I long to live as a light traveler...being carried by God's grace.  Not dragging behind me all my merits and good deeds.  To recognize on a daily basis what scripture tells us that we are no longer condemned and free from the law of sin and death. And how amazing it would be to have so digested and been nourished by this truth that I would naturally extend this grace to my family and those around me.  Here's to the journey...

Thirty-seven.

Happy Mama.

I turned thirty-seven on Monday.  It's not exactly a milestone birthday, but it seems that I get a bit more nostalgic and meditative with each passing year.  In some ways, I feel like I'm just getting used to being a thirty-something and here I am, quickly approaching 40!  It turned out to be a lovely day.  I was able to connect with a dear friend and leisurely do girly things in the morning and then have lunch with her outside at a new cafe, soaking up the sun and the newly chilly breeze.  We have thankfully had a lot of rain recently, but my birthday was bright and clean and fall-like.  My husband brought a beautiful bunch of happy flowers home after school and we enjoyed an afternoon together with the kids, had a delicious dinner made by my house-helper and then a quiet night, just the two of us.  It was my kind of day.

I was talking to a friend about getting older and we both agreed that the 30s, at least for us, are when you do a lot of growing up.  My 20s were all about fun and adventure and love and new things.  The 30s have brought little kids, routine, hard work, tragedy, life changes.  I feel more grounded than I ever have in who I am, in how God has created me.  But, it has come with pain, with tears, with work, with choosing over and over again to believe the Lord and trust Him.

One thing that stands out to me from this decade is how blessed I have been by friendships.  I still have wonderful friends from my younger days, but I've been surprised by how many new, deep relationships I have been graced by in these last few years.  I don't take that for granted, especially as I am far from my home country and know that many missionaries struggle for years without good friends.  Many of these wonderful woman have come and gone and it has broken my heart each time.  But, how much more have I been able to experience God's soft and patient repair of those broken places, encouraging me to open my heart again.

What will this year have in store??

Rain, rain...don't go away!

It has come to light in the last few weeks that La Paz has all but drained its water resources.  So, we get a few hours of water every 3 days as they put some extreme rations in place.  So many thoughts swirl around in my mind:  How many people live their whole lives with barely enough water to live?  How many of them walk every day great distances to get water that is probably filled with parasites?  Why does my life seem to be revolving around this issue right now?  How long will it last?  Will I remember how precious water is when we have enough again?  Why are we never thankful for what we have until it's (almost) gone?

In our women's Bible study at church, we are going through a book called How People Change by Paul Tripp.  He talks about the "heat" in our lives- our circumstances- that bring out what is deep in our hearts.  What comes out is either fruit, from a heart controlled by the Spirit of God, or thorns, from a heart that is still sinful.  Obviously, as believers, both are there.  I'm finding it all so very timely.  Moses has given us some pretty rough nights lately.  Scotty is finding himself tired and stressed at work (which affects me, too).  And, we've only had a couple afternoons of water in the last 8 or 9 days.  These are all "heats" in my life and I wish I could say beautiful, gracious, patient things were flowing out of my heart right now.  Instead, a lot is being revealed that is showing me how far I still have to go.  It's amazing how hard we fight against this process of refinement or how we wish it could come some sweet and gentle way.  Sometimes it does, but it seems that much more frequently it is brought through trial.

My Jubilee enjoying her class party on the day of the anniversary.  

On the brighter side- Highlands just celebrated 14 years this week!  I stayed for the school-wide chapel on Wednesday and maybe cried a teeny bit when I saw my sweet 8 year old up in front of the school with some of her friends leading everyone in the hand motions for the worship song they often do in lower elementary chapel.  I watched Jubilee troop in with her class, happy as can be to be a part of pre-kinder.  A young man from Scotty's class who has recently received Christ came over and asked if he could pray for Moses.  I know that this boy has a myriad of personal struggles in his life, but he wanted to take a moment to lay his hand on our son and ask God to bless him.  Again, I was brought to tears to see our redeeming God at work in these kids and in this school.  We are so grateful to be a part of it!

Welcome to America.

Funny, I just watched Lecrae's, "Welcome to America" video (Christian rapper) and the last part was from the perspective of an immigrant who is desperate to get out of his own country and into this wonderful land where anything is possible.  I was just pondering this earlier today as I sat, happily being attended as an American in the American embassy.  As I waited for my paperwork to be completed (after skipping 50 other people waiting in line to have a visa interview), I was eavesdropping on the loud embassy employee who was grilling each Bolivian who came to her window on why they wanted to go to the U.S.  Man, did she give them the third degree!  In the short time I was there, she turned away at least 3 people, saying, "Sorry.  The American laws are very strict about who can go there."  I'm not a terribly patriotic person, but the fact that I am incredibly blessed to be born an American did not escape me at that moment.  I might get frustrated with the bureaucracy or injustice I see here, but in the end, I have an out.  I am frequently confronted by the amount of faith it requires some of our Bolivian friends to continue trusting God in bad marriages, bad work situations, no work, unfair treatment in work/hospitals/schools, etc...  We see it and say, "that's terrible!", but we don't have to live it.  Although we've renounced some of the conveniences of living in the states and the gift of being close to our families to be serving here, I think it's in the back of both of our minds that if we needed care in some way that this country can not provide, we could just go back.  I don't feel guilty but I do see that my role and responsibility is to use this blessing I have of being an American to help those in need to the best of my ability and sacrificially.  Am I willing to do it?

How is Moses?

Maybe some of you are wondering how our little man is doing.  The first year with him was such a blur of sleepless nights, I can't even remember if I updated much on how he was growing and changing.  Our trip back to the US this summer was a cause for a bit of apprehension, knowing that he doesn't always take kindly to large amounts of new people, new places, changes, stimulation, etc...  However, God obviously heard the prayers of many of you and answered them so kindly in helping Mo to transition well and even sleep better than he ever has in our hopping around from state to state during those 7 weeks!  We were so very grateful and hopeful that he had finally moved past some of his night challenges.  Well, although we are farther ahead of where we were this time last year, he has regressed a bit since returning.  We couldn't handle the idea of being back in that place where we trade off going into his room several times a night for 30-90 minutes at a time to calm him down, so we tried to bring him into our bed to see what happened.  He seemed to enjoy being with us and even though he tends to be very aware of us and to wake easily and not always settle quickly there, at least we can lie down while it's all happening.  Some nights, he disturbs our rest a little bit, but we all go back to sleep quickly.  Just as frequently or more, he wakes up for a 2 hour stint during which he talks and giggles and pretend eats things off our sheets and kicks us in the head, generally driving us insane.  I swear at that moment (every time) that we will commit ourselves to retraining him to sleep in his own bed.  But, the next night comes and I just can't bring myself to go through what I know that will take.  So, he does his first few hours of sleep in his own crib and then comes to us each night for the rest.  I love the idea that he might feel closer to us through this, even though I don't always love the reality of how it all plays out.  However, if adoption challenges have taught me anything, it's that the phases pass and change and complaining or playing the victim does nothing helpful whatsoever.  What's more, I know that God is challenging me to find contentment in Him alone and not hope in Moses becoming a perfect sleeper or anything else that isn't Christ.  So, that continues to be a challenge that I am willing to take on.

Otherwise, he has grown and matured so much!  He has lots of words, some of which only we know the meaning of.  He and Jubilee have become better friends and it's heart-warming to watch them play together and laugh.  He understands everything that I say and even when I explain to him every night how Mommy wants him to try to sleep in his bed the whole night, his little face is still with concentration and listening.  His answer to that is always, "Dada", which I take to mean that he'd rather sleep with his daddy.  He LOVES people and really enjoys the attention he gets from all the kids at school who ooh and ahh over him when I take him.  But, he will cling to me while appreciating their admiration.  His smile continues to light up the world and melt the coldest hearts.  He's obsessed with trucks, tractors, semis, cars and anything with wheels- which he has given the blanket term: Dugga.  I don't remember the girls being so fixated on one thing at his age, so it's interesting to me to see this classically boy interest coming out so strongly.  He still has pretty fierce melt-downs when things don't go his way, but probably not too much more than any other almost two-year old.  And, he has finally learned how to say "no", which comes out sounding more like, "nah".  I wish he used it that nonchalantly.  He loves to eat.  He always holds hands to pray and waits patiently, no matter how long we pray.  He can read books till the cows come home.  He has incredible fine-motor skills.  And nun-chuck skills. So, that's our Momo. He's the most handsome little man ever and so charming and we still marvel that he's ours.  Thankfully, we still haven't gotten any negative commentary from people around us, but have had our fair share of confused or interested looks as we walk by and surprise when we tell people he's our son.  I can handle that.

A new start.

Where do I even start?  My blog has grown dusty in the past few months and sometimes I wonder if it's even worth picking up again.  But, I'll give it go and see if I can keep it up.  Instead of trying to recap way too many things, I'll just start with today.

We returned from a 7 week trip to the U.S. early Saturday morning.  The 2 flights from Orlando were made longer by a wiggly little toddler who let the entire plane know when he was all-done sitting in my lap and being confined to a 2 foot square space.  Not. Fun.  Anyway, leaving is never easy.  We are blessed with families who let us explode all over their homes, sleep a little longer than normal while they play with the kids, cook us food, do our laundry, etc...  We enjoyed the freedom from some of our normal responsibilities and the luxury of clean tap water, clean neighborhood pools, clean streets, warm weather, beaches, free soda refills, free returns and blueberries.  Just to name a few.  So, coming back is a mixed bag.  We were anxious to get home to our new house, which we lived in for less than 2 months before going on vacation.  And, we were excited to see some of the new friends we had made at NICS training that we'd be working alongside of at Highlands.  We know what we leave behind and we know what we're walking into.  That can be good and hard on so many levels.  Natty kept saying, "I want to go, but I don't want to go.  I'm sad, but I'm excited."  I get you.  The first day home was a blur of shortness of breath, dogs barking, 9 (yes, 9) suitcases exploding everywhere, TIREDNESS from rolling in at 4am.  As much as I wanted to be back here, there were surprising memories that crept up from deep below that brought out some fear.  No sleep and the stress of not knowing if that would ever change.  Long work hours.  Constant frustration with the differences in culture that we would never change but continually experience.  Our last year was hard and the ease of a summer away only temporarily erased that.  I think now that most of our stuff is put away, there are some groceries in the fridge and we've had some good interactions with friends at school and church, those feelings aren't as intense.  But, I know that my security can't rest in any of those things- in my control over those things.  My resolve to thrive in the moment, whatever it is bringing me, has been made stronger by being forced to choose between living in bitterness or in faith in God's goodness and ability to sustain us.  Although I have to think this year will be less intense than last year, I just don't know.  What I do know is that God never changes and His promise to me is that all is for my good.  The challenge is when that good doesn't look like what I think is good.  I'm learning....slowly.

One thing that brought a smile to my face and reminded me of one of the reasons I love living here was the bank.  I won't go into detail about how frustrating that experience was, because I'm trying to work on my attitude a bit.  What was sweet was when a cholita came in and sat down in front of the girls.  She was dressed in traditional Bolivian gear with a big skirt and little round-toed slip-on shoes and 2 long, thick braids down her back.  She smiled at the girls and said they looked pretty, like little Barbies.  My motherly fears of my girls being compared to Barbie won't come in here.  Jubilee got up to hang out with me while I chased Moses around, trying to keep him from launching out into the parking lot looking for "duggas" (trucks), but I watched Natty from afar, chatting it up with this middle-aged, indigenous woman.  They were laughing, they were sharing information, they were communication beautifully.  Natty hadn't lost her Spanish and she looked so grown up to me, sitting alone, smiling at this older woman.  She shared everything they chit-chatted about with me and I marveled at her ability not only to interact with an adult, her ability to do that in Spanish, but the privilege of growing up getting to know another culture.  So sweet.

Home sweet home.

Wow!  I am such a terrible blogger these days!  Do people even read non-famous-people blogs anymore?  Other than my mom?

We're in the house!  Man, I did not foresee the stress it would be to move all our junk over here while a handful of workers were still milling about, important projects were yet to be completed and general chaos reigned.  I realized afresh that my personality likes order, completion, set expectations, and comfort.  I did not enjoy bathing myself and my children from a large soup pot of water heated up on the stove for the first 2 weeks while hot water got sorted.  I did not like driving by our old apartment to try to catch the wi-fi signal until internet got installed 2 weeks later.  However, that is all in the past now and we are slowly getting ourselves unpacked and set up.  There is still a list a mile long of stuff that needs to happen and the entry and back still very much look like a construction site.  But, it's home.  A day doesn't go by that I don't marvel that we are finally in here.  My favorite part, you ask?  Oh, do I have to pick one?!  My kitchen- how did I ever survive without a massive island?  My bathtub....oh, to have a real bath!  My laundry room- no more hiking down 3 floors with a full laundry basket!  The yard!  We haven't really been able to play in it fully because the whole month has been planting grass time and it is covered in a neat layer of sheep poop at the moment.  There really are too many wonderful things to mention.  Now, I would just like life to slow down enough to start inviting people over to enjoy it with us.

Speaking of that, is this our new normal?  Scotty basically works day and night.  Moses continues to wake us up for extended periods of time each night.  The house still requires lots of work and related errands.  We are just barely treading water here.  I want to feel like I have a good routine and habit of work, rest, exercise, ministry, family time, etc...  What is the secret, cause I'm all over the place?  Time is short before we're heading back to the U.S. for NICS training, fund-raising and family-visiting.  I'm hoping we'll have some time then to really think about what we want to focus our limited time and energies on regarding ministry.  It's weird to be in this totally different place but not be sure exactly what it's all supposed to look like for our family.  I think the craziness of life with 3 little kids also works against my natural desire to have everything predictable and makes me feel a bit out of control.  All things to pray about...

So, I'll try to keep up better!  Thanks for being patient.

P.S.  I started running with an informal little group of single, female teachers once a week.  I'm not a runner but I love the time with them!  Goal: 5K in May, to an Italian restaurant where we will replace all our lost calories.

Rain and tantrums.

We had strangely little rain this rainy season, until February hit.  Now, it's making up for it.  As I type, rain is pouring outside and I'm wondering if Moses and Scotty are staying dry in their trek downtown.  Although Moses came down with a bad cold earlier this weekend, I decided to make an appointment with our lawyer to go to immigration and get started on the paperwork for his passport.  We'll be travelling to the US in June and he'll still need to get a US visa, since he can't become an American citizen for two years after the adoption.  We packed a snack and diapers and wipes and all the documents and water and extra tissues since we both have the cold.  I drove us down to where the bus stop is and thanked God the rain had let up enough to get to the covered bus bench and still be dry.  An elderly woman walked up to wait for the bus and immediately started talking to Moses.  "Hey, little man!"  She tried to grab his hands and I immediately wondered where her hands had been last.  He pulled away and she tried again.  He pulled away and turned his whole body from her and she says, "He really doesn't want me to hold his hands!"....at which point she made yet another attempt to touch a stranger's baby.  Of course, nothing clever came to mind to let this lady kindly know that his mommy didn't want her touching him either.  So, she sat down and looked over at him again and made some comment about his ears sticking strangely in one spot.  Yes, his ears slightly roll...let's move on.  We made small talk about other things until the bus came and it was packed! I was thankful that a city bus system has made it to La Paz where there is a set route and the "host" of the bus makes people get up and give a seat to elderly, pregnant and people with babies.  Most public transport stops every 5 ft. or wherever someone wants to get on or off and doesn't show as much courtesy.  Anyway, we made it almost to immigration without a problem until Moses started coughing so hard that he threw up on us.  Sigh.  Wiped that off super fast and then ran across the street for some photocopies and then off to find our lawyer.  She was prompt and we got in line to wait our turn to start paperwork.  Sadly, by the time they got to us, Moses was done with being there, being held and generally being awake.  When Moses gets tired, bored, annoyed, etc... he begins to throw himself backward, usually hitting his head on something around him and if he can make it to the ground, he'll lay down crying and kicking his legs.  It's cute.  His response today was a bit toned down because he's partially lost his voice and doesn't have much energy.  But, I'd already been lugging his 25lb. self around all morning from one transport to another and it was still tiring to maintain control with one arm while I clutched my bag and paperwork with the other.  I got a fair number of looks for his childish outburst, especially from a couple of women behind the counter who were shooting me the who-let-this-woman-adopt-a-kid vibe.  We only had to endure another 20 minutes before we found out that, contrary to what our lawyer had recently been told by an immigration official, Scotty needed to come sign the paperwork- today.  Before 3pm.  Nevermind that he has a job about an hour away from the office.  Well, the Lord was gracious because he was able to get off of work early, pick MoMo up after his early nap (yay, he actually went to sleep early!) and they are currently in route.

So, one more step in making Mo official.  It's always good to get these things accomplished, even though they are never easy or convenient.  He is definitely showing some temper issues but I am trying to remind myself that he is both an immature baby and a child who had a tough start in life, which can dramatically alter many many things, including responses to disagreeable situations.  I'm so grateful for the wealth of information out there about families like us when I begin to wonder.  These last few months have felt heavy as he's started to show a bit more "spirit" and regressed a bit with sleeping.  Sometimes it just feels overwhelming as a mommy.  However, the Lord has truly given me a lot of peace and strength in those moments when I'm just not sure if I can take one more outburst, from any of my children.  And grace, for when I fail to handle them well.  He's now been with us longer than he was in the orphanage and I still remember with gratitude those long years of waiting- that they are over.  What a gift he is to our family.